by Kate Little
Now she believed he was angry with her, blaming her, unable to understand that it had simply been an unfortunate accident and nobody’s fault, really. If anyone was to blame here, it was himself for giving Tyler permission to ride in the first place. But Carey—sweet, gentle, caring Carey—thought he couldn’t understand.
Hell, he felt like a heel doing it. But maybe he had to just let her keep believing he was mad at her. Tyler needed a few days to recover—three or four, at least—before they could leave. Agonizing days of being near Carey and unable to touch her. But after they’d gone, when she read his note, she might even be thankful he’d had enough self-control to push her away.
“I do understand if you’re mad at me, Luke,” she assured him. She stared straight ahead at the dark road as she spoke. “I really do. It was poor judgment on my part. But I hope you know I wouldn’t risk his safety for the world.”
Luke swallowed hard. He reached over Tyler’s sleeping form and touched Carey’s shoulder. A brief touch. All he dared to allow himself.
“I know….” His voice was tight, nearly choked with his inner struggle. He pulled his hand back and stared out the window again. “Look, I just don’t want to talk about it anymore right now.” His words were quietly spoken, but uncompromising.
They drove along in silence for a while. Finally he glanced sidelong at Carey, the dark cab of the truck illuminated only by the dashboard lights. He saw her bite down on her lower lip and the sparkle of silent tears clinging to her lashes. She swiped her eyes with back of her hand, her gaze still fixed on the road.
How he longed to reached out to her. His arms ached to hold her, to cradle her golden head against his shoulder and promise her that everything would be all right.
But it wasn’t all right. It could never be. And only he knew the worst of it, far beyond Tyler’s little accident.
Luke folded his arms stiffly across his chest, willing himself to remain silent until they reached the ranch.
For the next two days Carey ignored her ranch work and devoted herself to entertaining Tyler. She thought him very brave and stoic. He barely complained about his injuries, and she imagined other children would have made much more of a fuss.
He was a sweet, smart little boy, too. Eager for affection, he seemed to bask in her attention, which made it all that much easier to give. She wasn’t sure at first what to do with a housebound five-year-old boy. But Tyler was never at a loss for ideas—though some were quite impractical. He plainly enjoyed calling the shots and patiently taught Carey the games he liked to play.
As they played simple card games, drew pictures, built curious structures from sugar cubes and glue or read a book, Carey wondered time and again about the boy’s mother. Luke had said that she had not been a very attentive caretaker and simply hadn’t treated Tyler right. Carey hurt for the boy, thinking about that, and wondered what kind of person could not wholeheartedly love a child like this one? She felt as if he’d already claimed a special place in her own heart. And parting from Tyler would be another sad loss when it was time for her and Luke to go their separate ways.
During some quiet moments with Tyler, reading him a story or watching him nap, Carey fantasized about being a real mother to him and a wife to Luke, creating a real family. Now she could finally understand her father’s wishes for her. It was like a lightbulb going on in her brain. His means had been medieval, but his intentions had been in her best interest, for Carey could now understand that the fate of being a wife and mother, of loving one special man and standing beside him, sharing the good and the bad, was perhaps a modest, traditional life for a woman—but could be filled with unimagined riches.
Had she been less stubborn and taken her father’s advice when she was younger, she wouldn’t be in this predicament now, that was for sure.
And as for the daydream about her and Luke, and the children they might raise along with Tyler someday…well, that was plain pie-in-the-sky ridiculous, she chided herself.
Hadn’t Luke’s attitude toward her these past few days made that painfully clear? Luke had remained angry with her, and Carey tried to hide her dismay and hurt feelings with a pleasant, though equally impersonal, air. She saw him only briefly, at mealtime and when he took short breaks from his work outdoors to check up on Tyler.
At one point, while Tyler and Carey were engrossed in a game of Go Fish, Carey looked up to find Luke standing silently in the doorway, and Carey had the feeling he’d been watching them for a while. His expression was thoughtful, brooding even, she thought, though she could not tell what was on his mind. Later at dinner he thanked her tersely for keeping Tyler occupied, but it was the kind of thanks offered out of obligation, Carey felt, rather than sincere sentiment.
Maybe Luke was not exactly angry, she decided on the second day, but certainly unable to breach the gap that had occurred with Tyler’s accident. While Carey yearned for a chance to clear the air she had to admit she still did not know Luke all that well, despite their passionate night of love. Perhaps this silent treatment was his way of working things out within, she decided. Carey felt she had no choice but to respect Luke’s reticent distance and wait for him to make the first move in her direction.
On the boy’s third day indoors, Carey, Tyler and Ophelia’s grandson, Peter, spent the long hours after lunch constructing a fleet of paper airplanes. Along with showing the boys the proper folding technique, Carey also showed them how to launch the miniature jets so that they covered some ground.
They had just begun racing the planes in the long hallway that connected the foyer to the kitchen when Carey heard a vehicle pull up in front of the house. On the count of three, she launched her airplane, then turned to swing open the door.
Dr. Garland had said he might drop by that afternoon to give Tyler a clean bill of health before he was permitted to play outside again. But when Carey looked outside, she did not see the good doctor’s bright blue utility vehicle, but a long, black luxury sedan and her despicable cousin in the driver’s seat.
“I beat you both! Mine nearly made it to the kitchen. Come see—” Tyler enthused, grabbing a handful of Carey’s baggy denim shirt.
Carey rested her hand absently on the boy’s soft dark hair, while her stomach turned in tight, sour knots of dread.
Roger Burkett took his time getting out of his car and strolling up the walk to the front steps, a plain brown manila envelope in one hand. His thin, cruel smile and beady eyes reminded her of a fox, moving in on its prey, and the comparison set off even more inner sirens.
“Tyler, go inside. You and Peter go find Ophelia,” Carey told the boy as Roger approached.
“No need to chase the kids away, Cousin. I’m not contagious.” Roger came up on the porch, but did not attempt to enter the house.
Tyler took one look at Roger, then followed Carey’s instructions and scampered off toward the kitchen.
“Where’s your lord and master? Taking a little time off from defending your ladyship’s honor?” Roger’s taunting tone sounded a bit muffled, and Carey noticed then that his lower lip was still puffy.
“What is it, Roger?” She looked him squarely in the eye, her arms folded across her chest. “I don’t have all day for your nonsense.”
“Oh, I think you’ll have time for this nonsense, honey. Just got some news about your better half. Seems the guy you married has a record, ran afoul of the law about two years ago and was convicted for assault and battery and… Just a minute. I do want to give this to you straight…”
Carey felt the blood drain from her face as she watched Roger calmly slip on a pair of reading glasses, then open the manila envelope and pull out a sheet of paper from within.
“Here it is—assault and battery. Destruction of private property. Disturbing the peace….” Helooked up at Carey, not bothering to hide his malicious glee. “Well, there’s more. But you might as well read it all for yourself. Seems your betrothed even did some jail time. Now, can I smell a loser or what?” He laughed har
shly. “Heck, you don’t have to take my word for it, Cousin,” he added with a shrug. “Read it for yourself.”
He held out the envelope to Carey and she snatched it out of his grasp, feeling the pit of her stomach sink to the soles of her feet. This couldn’t be true, could it?
“I will read it,” she managed. Her head pounded with anger and frustration.
“So, he’s not exactly the model citizen your daddy had in mind for you, is he?” Roger prodded her. “Heck, I wouldn’t be too hard on him, Carey. You did take him for better or worse.” Roger slipped off his reading glasses and slowly returned them to his jacket pocket. “And you know what they say, the first year of marriage is the rockiest,” he advised blandly. “Why I’d bet, you living out in Hollywood all those years, trying to make it in the movies…I’d bet there’s a few things from your past you haven’t told your hubby about….”
“Get out of here. Now,” Carey said tightly. “Or, I swear I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Get your jailbird husband to punch me in the nose again?” He laughed. “That’ll suit me fine. Just stack the deck even more in my favor,” he taunted her.
“You’ll be hearing from my attorney,” Carey told him as she began to swing the door shut in his face.
“I look forward to it,” he replied with a burst of laughter that infuriated her. “I am sincerely looking forward to that conversation,” he shouted as he got back into his car.
Carey sagged against the front door and briefly buried her face in her hands. She made it to the study on shaky legs and closed the door, then dropped down onto the leather couch to read the pages in Roger’s envelope.
If the information was authentic—and she had no reason to believe it was not—then Luke had indeed been arrested and served time in jail—a sentence of only a few days. Still, jail was jail. Men of good character did not go to jail, did they?
She read on. Apparently, he’d been involved in some kind of barroom brawl. Not something to be proud of, but surely not such a dire offense. The records stated he’d waived his right to a trial and had pled guilty to the charges. Perhaps he’d been unable to afford a good lawyer, Carey thought, one who could have gotten him off with a fine of some sort and no record of arrest. The way a man of less character might have, she reflected. For example, a man like Roger Burkett.
She sighed heavily and left the documents on her desk. Did this mean that Roger had fair grounds to contest her father’s will? Whether or not he had grounds to win, Carey had no doubt now that he’d drag them all back to court for a process that might even take years.
She had to speak with her lawyer immediately, Carey decided and dialed the number she knew by heart. The secretary put her right through, and Katherine Cutler greeted Carey warmly.
Carey quickly explained the situation and Katherine heard her out, interrupting now and again with questions.
Finally Katherine said calmly that though it was true Burkett would try to use this to mount a case, she did not believe that a single event of this kind was enough to overturn the will.
“There may have been extenuating circumstances on your husband’s part, which would go a long way to justifying his actions.”
“Extenuating circumstances?” Carey asked. “For instance?”
“Well, maybe he got involved in the fight defending a woman, or someone who was weaker, from a barroom bully. Or maybe Luke thought the guy was trying to pick his pocket, or simply slandered him. Every good judge knows that there are two sides to every story, and the truth usually lies someplace in the middle,” Katherine added. “Also, if this was an isolated incident, his only misstep, that would also lessen its importance considerably.”
“I see,” Carey said, feeling somewhat relieved. However, she then felt obliged to confess that Luke had recently hauled off and punched Roger in the jaw. Katherine just laughed. “If I were about six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier I would have done the same myself, any number of times.”
Katherine went on to say that her job now was to convince Burkett’s attorneys that it was in their client’s best interest to avoid a costly, drawn-out suit that would not succeed.
“I believe we can weather this,” she added with a confident note that lifted Carey’s spirits. “But it may take some time. We may finally have to offer Burkett some type of settlement, just to make him go away,” she added with a note of distaste. “Maybe that’s all he’s really angling for at this point.”
“I hope so,” Carey confided.
“Fax me those documents, and I’ll get right on it. I’ll need to speak to your husband, too, to hear his side of the story. Is he there now?” Katherine asked.
“Uh, no. He’s out working. I’ll have him call you later, or tomorrow at the latest,” Carey promised.
“By the way,” Katherine added, “how are you enjoying married life, Carey?”
“So far, never a dull moment,” Carey replied, smiling despite herself.
“Well, good. That’s how it ought to be,” Katherine said, laughing. “I hope to meet that husband of yours soon. He sounds like quite a guy.”
“Oh…he is,” Carey answered honestly.
Katherine’s calm, knowledgeable air helped Carey breathe easier for a while. But as she looked over the documents once more, it wasn’t long before worries and doubts surged up again. She paced across the room, dragging her hands through her hair as she contemplated confronting Luke with the news.
A sharp knock on the door sounded, followed by Luke’s voice. “Carey, can I come in?”
Her nerves felt shattered. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to face him. “Door’s open,” she finally replied.
He opened the door swiftly and entered the room, his hat in one hand. He looked as though he had just come in from outdoors, his bronze complexion alight with a sheen of perspiration, his dark hair smoothed back from his brow, still holding the impression of his hatband.
“Ophelia said Burkett stopped by before,” he began in a gruff, self-conscious tone. Then, his voice growing softer he asked, “Are you all right?”
He took a step toward her, his dark gaze searching out hers, unspoken words of concern and even affection in his eyes.
It was the most emotion he had shown her for days, and Carey had to fight back the impulse to simply throw herself into his arms.
“Actually, I’m not all right.” She turned her back to him and picked the sheaf of papers up off her desk. “Roger gave me these documents. He says it’s a record of your arrest and jail sentence two years ago.”
The shocked look on Luke’s face told her all she needed to know. But she asked him the question, anyway. “Is it true?”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, it is.” He swallowed hard and reached for the papers. He looked at them briefly.
“I’m sorry, Carey. I should have told you about this before, when I heard about that character business in the will. But by then, it seemed too late to do anything about it. I didn’t realize someone like Burkett would try to dig up dirt on me. I wasn’t trying to trick you. Honestly,” he added.
He looked so sincerely sorry. It was clearly painful for him to own up to this blemish in his past, and Carey hated to hurt his pride this way.
“I believe you,” she said. “I can see now I should have asked you directly about your past. But those references you gave me were all so glowing. Not one of your former employers had a bad thing to say about you…. And I guess I was going on my own intuition, too,” she admitted. She looked down at her hands and nervously toyed with her wedding band.
“But now I need to know the whole story,” she said, looking back at Luke. “I’ve spoken to my attorney, Katherine Cutler. She doesn’t think it’s all that serious. Well, it is serious,” Carey corrected herself. “But she feels very sure that Burkett could not overturn the will with this alone. She says if this was your only run-in with the law, it would help—”
“It is,” Luke interrupted. “I swear it.”
&
nbsp; “And, if there are circumstances that can explain or justify your actions, it would go a long way, as well,” Carey added.
She stood quietly, hoping he would offer up the information. He stared down at the rug and rubbed his forehead.
“I had my reasons, I guess you could say,” he replied finally in a low, gruff tone.
The time had come to tell Carey everything. He’d never wanted to, but he didn’t see now that he had any choice.
“Carey, I need to tell you something about myself,” he started.
There was more? Carey felt her stomach clench in a king-size knot.
“I’m listening,” she said simply, trying hard to keep her voice even, to keep out the note of alarm.
“It’s hard to tell you this. I’m afraid…” His voice trailed off. “I guess I’m plain afraid you’ll hate me.”
It was a great admission on his part, Carey knew. So great he couldn’t even face her.
Standing with his back to her, he placed both hands on hips and shook his head. She could see the knots of tension in his broad back and shoulders, and remembered all too clearly running her palms across his bare skin, massaging and caressing those muscles with infinite delight.
She stood close behind him, knowing that in one short step she could circle his slim waist with her arms and press her cheek to his back. She wanted to swear to him that, whatever he wanted to tell her right now, she could never hate him. Nothing would change her feelings for him one tiny bit.
And that promise would be true, Carey realized. Maybe there was something more important than keeping this ranch, than carrying out her careful plans….
But when he turned to face her, something in his grim expression stopped her in her tracks.
She felt a shiver of cold, though it was a mild summer day. There was more to this story than a simple barroom brawl.
Eight
“You see, Carey, it’s like this,” he began in a slow, gruff voice. “I was married once before. To Tyler’s mother. Her name is Emily….”
