Deception

by Carolyn Haines

  When he lifted his head, breaking the kiss, Connor felt as if she were waking from a dream. His hands, spread across her back and ribs, held her up until she regained her sense of balance.

  “Come with me,” Clay said, and his voice was thick with passion.

  Still dazed from the kiss, Connor followed as he took her arm and walked toward the spring. Taking both her hands, Clay eased her to the ground. When she was seated, her back propped against the dogwood tree she’d earlier admired, he took a seat across from her.

  “This is either the most foolish or the smartest thing I’ve ever done,” he said. “I want to make love to you more than anything I’ve ever wanted. I’d do it, except that I’m afraid you’ll take off like a hunted animal.”

  Connor’s thoughts grew clearer as her passions slowly ebbed. She listened as Clay talked, and watched the play of emotions across his face. There was something in his eyes, some emotion that touched her deeply.

  “I want to explain to you about Talla and the rumors. It’s going to sound like the oldest story in the world, and you’ll probably think it’s a convenient excuse for my behavior. But I want you to know, to hear it from me. Then whatever you decide will be an informed decision, not something made on gossip.”

  Connor didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded. Clay was struggling. He looked down at the ground as he searched for the right words, and she had to quell her instinct to reach out and touch him. If she let her fingers caress his cheek, the fire would consume them both. And she wanted to hear what he had to stay. She had to hear it.

  “I married Talla because it was the right thing to do. I was ambitious, and she was the right woman. At first, we were fond enough of each other. We both wanted children and a solid marriage. We both wanted to build something together. She was as ambitious as I, and so I thought it was a match that would work.” He looked up at Connor. “I thought we wanted the same thing. Telling it like this, it sounds cold and calculating, but all my life I’d been told what my parents expected of me. There were excuses for boyish misconduct, but it was always crystal-clear that when I became an adult, there would be no excuses, no exceptions. I would assume the role my parents had prepared me for. Part of that was a good marriage.”

  Connor gripped her ankles as she listened. There was no shred of self-pity in Clay’s voice. Had there been, she might have been able to walk away and never look back. He wasn’t sorry for himself. He’d made a bargain and it had been a bad one.

  “Anyway, after Danny’s birth, Talla got tired of playing the role. I worked too hard and too much. Talla got bored and decided to find ways to entertain herself. At first it bothered me.” The side of his mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile. “The old male ego and all. But then I saw that it wasn’t really hurting the marriage. We didn’t have a marriage, we had a contract. And as long as she was discreet, it wouldn’t hurt our business arrangement. I honestly didn’t feel much of anything for her, so I didn’t care what she did.”

  There were several things Connor started to say, but she held them back. It was Clay’s story. This was his time to tell it.

  “I met a young woman, and I became involved with her. She was kind and generous and she worshipped me.” He reached across and picked up Connor’s hand. “It sounds so horrible, so weak of me, but I needed that. Talla had always been so withholding, of her affection, of her love, of her time. And this girl was the opposite. She showered me with her love. But I told her I’d never divorce Talla. Never. And when she began to press for that I stopped seeing her. She took it badly, but she was a very bright young woman who’d never had a lot of opportunity. I gave her money to go to college, to become a lawyer or whatever she wanted to be.”

  “You bought her off?” Connor was surprised that she’d spoken.

  “I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She’d been so generous to me, with her love and affection. But I didn’t love her, Connor. God help me, I didn’t. I cared about her, and I occasionally get a letter from her. She’s in California and she’s doing fine. She’s happy, from what I hear. I couldn’t give her what she wanted, but I tried to give her a future.”

  “Does she still love you?”

  “Her feelings have weakened. At least in her letters she talks about her life there, her friends, her classes.”

  “And what about since Talla’s death? Isn’t she still interested in marrying you?”

  “She’d already gone to the West Coast by the time that tragedy happened. She was in school, and she wanted to come back to Mobile, but I discouraged her. I told her the truth. I told her that we had no future.”

  “Because she wasn’t from an old Mobile family?” Connor hated herself for saying it, but she had to know.

  “I made that mistake once. No, If I’d loved her, I would have married her no matter what her background. She gave me something I desperately needed when I became involved with her. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself love her as I should. She would have been devoted to me for the rest of our lives. But after years of marriage to Talla, I wanted to find someone who made me feel alive, challenged, a partner, not someone who fed my needs and ego.”

  Connor took a deep breath while Clay continued. “To an outsider, like Richard, who probably heard about the whole thing from Talla, I know it sounded cruel. But it was never that way. I cared for her, as much as I could. And I was truthful with Talla about my involvement with Melanie. We weren’t sleeping together anymore, and it didn’t seem to matter to Talla.”

  A terrible thought occurred to Connor. “Maybe it did matter. Maybe it mattered a whole lot.”

  Clay nodded. “That’s been part of the gossip, too. I’m surprised you haven’t heard it before now. That Talla killed herself because of my infidelities.” He shook his head. “Hardly. I had to take a number and get in line to find ten minutes to talk with my wife. Once she decided to abandon the shackles of marriage, she kicked over the traces completely. Ask Jeff, if you need any confirmation.”

  “You knew about Jeff?” Connor couldn’t believe it. “Yet you keep him on? Why?”

  “He’s a good foreman, and he wasn’t Talla’s first or last. Why should I blame him for taking what she so freely offered? If it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else.” Clay shrugged. “I didn’t love her, so I didn’t take it personally, as I said before. And the same was true of me: She didn’t care about Melanie. There was no connection between Talla’s suicide and my affair. None. And I have a completely clear conscience about that.” His blue eyes stared directly at her. “Completely clear.”

  “Why did she kill herself?” Connor took a breath. “I confess, I’m asking for personal reasons, but also for Renata. I mean, when Mrs. Sumner killed herself, she abandoned that little girl. If I knew why she hanged herself, I thought maybe I’d better understand what your daughter has gone through.”

  “Tallulah had a million secrets. She hid things, inconsequential things. What she planned to serve at a dinner party was always a secret. Her recipes were secrets. Her hairdresser, her seamstress. Where she bought her clothes and how much they cost.” Clay picked up a twig and tossed it into the still water of the spring. Ripples spread out in perfect circles from the place where the twig floated. “Her lovers were often very secret. Sometimes I stumbled on one, like Jeff, when it was right under my nose. To be honest, though, I have no idea who she was associating with or what she might have gotten involved in.”

  “That’s pretty bleak.” Connor looked from the twig to Clay.

  “Harlan heard rumors that she was involved in some kinky activities. She, uh,” he picked up a larger stick and drew a line in the dirt, “she liked certain activities that didn’t interest me. Sexual games, you might say. I didn’t enjoy sex like that, and we didn’t discuss it much.”

  “I get the picture.”

  Clay looked up at her. “She made me feel … inadequate in some way. As if I was too uptight, too traditional. As if that was a sin.”

&nb
sp; “She liked it dangerous, and maybe she got involved with something she couldn’t handle. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “That’s one possibility. Tallulah had so many different areas of her life that she didn’t share with me, or with anyone. She was up and down a lot. Deep depressions that she wouldn’t talk about. Highs that lasted for days. I made her see a psychiatrist, but she said he gave her a clean bill of health.”

  “No diagnosis?”

  Clay shook his head. “I told the doctor whom Renata saw in New Orleans about Talla’s mood swings. He was very interested, but he could only speculate.”

  Connor lifted her hand to brush a strand of hair from her eyes. Clay’s hand beat her to it. “I wanted you to know all this. I’ve seen other women since Talla’s death. Quite a few, if anyone’s keeping score. None seriously. And not a single one will tell you that I wasn’t straight with them from the beginning.”

  Connor leaned back against the tree and tilted her head up. The leafless branches spread across the blue sky, as if the blue had cracked like old china. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through. And I appreciate what you’ve told me. I’ll think about it.”

  “That’s all I can ask. Think about it, and understand that what I feel for you is different. Let’s ride back to the house. By the way, I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your horse.”

  “I told you before, use either one whenever you want. They need the work. And I’m going this weekend to see about a gelding for you. I’ve got a line on a really nice one, if he’s as good as he’s said to be.” Connor felt like she was swimming to shore after a long, arduous struggle in heavy surf.

  “How big? How old?” Clay rose to his feet in one fluid, graceful movement.

  “Sixteen-one, a chestnut with white stockings. Flashy. He’s five.”

  “Old enough to be sensible, with a lot of room to develop.”

  Connor smiled as she took Clay’s hand while he helped her to her feet. “My thoughts exactly.” She brushed off her pants and stuck her hand in her jacket pocket. Her fingers closed on the stock tie.

  “Clay?”

  “Yes?” He turned away from Tinker and smiled at her. “Need a leg up?”

  “Hardly. Is this yours?” She pulled the tie from her pocket and held it out to him. “I found it in the woods, hanging from a tree limb.”

  Clay took the material and turned it over. He studied the monogram a moment. “It’s mine. All my riding equipment is in the attic. I had it packed away before Talla died. She hated the horses fiercely and whenever I rode she went crazy with some kind of irrational rage. It was simpler to give up riding than it was to deal with her anger. It was as if she hated the horses because they were beautiful.”

  “Why would someone take your tie out of the attic and bring it to the woods?”

  “That’s a good question.” Clay folded up the tie and put it in his pocket. “I’ll ask Willene if Sally has been cleaning in the attic. Maybe she opened the trunk and decided to wash the clothes in there. Who knows what women do when they get on a cleaning binge?”

  Connor frowned. “I felt like someone was watching me, Clay. It was an eerie feeling. As if they …” She looked up and checked the expression on his face. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, but it was as if they’d left that for me.”

  Clay didn’t laugh. “If it wasn’t Sally, then it had to be one of the children. They’re always poking into things. I told you Talla was very secretive, and Renata takes after her. She loves to hide things, and to poke around into other people’s possessions. She doesn’t steal, but she plunders. That’s one reason I gave you a key to lock your door and why there isn’t a spare key to your room lying around Oaklawn anywhere.”

  Connor’s thought turned back. There had been the night her door was open. She remembered the incident clearly. She’d been sure she’d locked the door. But if Clay had the only spare …

  “I’ve tried to impress on Renata how rude it is to poke into other people’s private business, but she hasn’t learned yet. Do keep your door locked.”

  “She’s just a child.” Connor said the words, but she didn’t mean to excuse Renata’s behavior. The idea of Renata or anyone else going through her personal items was irritating.

  “Child or not, she has to learn to respect other people’s privacy. After all, I don’t want to find that I’ve raised some scurrilous reporter.”

  The sides of Connor’s mouth twitched into a smile. After hours of serious conversation, they were finally creeping back to some light-hearted banter. “Only a politician would say that about a member of the Fourth Estate, the watchdogs of the public, the protectors of our freedom.”

  Clay laughed out loud. “Mount up, or eat my dirt.”

  Connor swung into the saddle and nudged Cleo into the lead. With a laugh thrown over her shoulder, she gave the mare full rein and let her gallop.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “We always felt that Hilla was an innocent caught in the web of evil spun by that horrible outlaw.” Opal Bounds leaned her elbows on the high library counter and rehooked her sweater clasp. The silver fox heads bit deep into the red acrylic yarn. “I know these things are out of style, but I like my sweater over my shoulders, and if I put the button in the hole it stretches it out.”

  Connor smiled at the librarian. The woman was eccentric as all get-out, but she knew plenty about the past history of Lucedale, Mississippi, and how it had come to be. She was much better informed than most big-city librarians. Of course, there wasn’t as much history in the small town.

  “Hilla Lassfolk was really a footnote to the Dickerson story,” Opal continued. “In the long run, she had no real effect on him, and we can only hope that his wicked, wicked influence on her wasn’t permanent. Since you’re living proof she married and found happiness, then James Dickerson didn’t do too much damage.”

  “Is there a book about the Clan here? Willene Welford was telling me that there was some type of history written about the Dickerson Gang.”

  “Oh, my yes! It was quite a scandal in those days. The story was that Dickerson spilled his guts in print. That book named names, and I guess for an outlaw on the gallows, he had nothing to worry about. Once he was hanged, what were they going to do, sue him for libel?” Opal giggled. “You can’t do much damage to a dead man.”

  “That’s true,” Connor agreed. “Do you have the book?”

  “We’ve had at least three copies of it. Someone keeps stealing it. Last one was taken even before I was librarian here, and that’s several decades ago.”

  Connor frowned. “That’s the same thing that happened to the copy in the Mobile library. Who would do such a thing?”

  “Well, that book named names, as I said, and some were prominent Mobile families. Families that still have a lot of power today. Those people would just as soon bury the past. See, Dickerson had some powerful friends in high places over in Mobile. They helped the Clan carry out their evil deeds. Lots of people believe James Dickerson couldn’t have carried on his thieving and murdering ways without the help of those people. So they’re as guilty of murder as Dickerson was. They just never got caught. Folks around here believe that James buried his treasure over in Mobile in a swamp and that some of those Mobilians know exactly where it is.”

  “Prominent families, buried treasure, stolen slaves—why hasn’t someone made a movie of this?”

  Opal shrugged. “Somehow, those Hollywood movie moguls got it in their heads that the only real outlaws were out West. Maybe John Wayne couldn’t do a southern drawl. Anyway, no one wanted to hear about a southern outlaw. Not one that used revivals and camp meetings.”

  “But that’s what makes it so fascinating,” Connor countered.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Opal said. “But I can’t help you with that book.”

  “Would it be possible to look up your records and see who checked it out last?”

  Opal narrowed her eyes. “You’re not aiming to go out there and tell them
they’ve stolen a library book, are you?”

  “No, just curious … wouldn’t it be interesting if the person who took the book was related to one of the names you might remember?”

  That prompted Opal to bring down a stack of dusty overdue notices. She leafed through them, and then went back. “The card’s not here.” Her eyebrows arched. “Whoever took that book deliberately stole it. Just took it off the shelf. They didn’t even bother to check it out because they meant to steal it all along.”

  “Willene warned me that history is very much alive in the South. She wasn’t kidding. The Dickersons rode in the 1850s. That’s a long time to try and cover up a family member’s sin.”

  “Honey, you don’t know the half of it. Folks around here are constantly recreating their past. Some of those fools come in here to look up family trees.” She laughed. “It’s amazing how they can twist a few simple facts and presto, before you know it, they’ve found themselves a coat of arms.”

  Connor couldn’t help but join in the laughter. Opal Bounds was a robust, genuinely likable character. Connor felt she could have spent the rest of the afternoon listening to her talk about Lucedale and the past, but there were chores waiting back at Oaklawn.

  “Thanks for your help, Mrs. Bounds.”

  “Now, you come back if you need any information. Willene knows all the old stories. She can fill you in on the gory details of bloody Dickerson and all his gang. She might even be able to take you down to the swamp where he was supposed to have stashed all his jewels and money. Just remember, if you go digging around and find something, I get a commission. Or at least, the library does. We need some new books in the worst kind of way.”

  Connor held up two fingers. “At least twenty percent,” she agreed with a laugh. “See you later.”