That was what Sarah wanted from life. That was what she deserved. It was something he couldn’t give her.
“What the devil?” Judson had stopped at the top of the rise to catch his breath, resting his hand on an obelisk-shaped tombstone with lettering so eroded it couldn’t be read in the failing light. “What’s Brick Bauer doing down there by my car?”
“I imagine he wants to talk to me.” Michael didn’t wait for the old man to keep up with him as he marched down the hill.
“Kenton,” Brick Bauer said, giving him a slight nod of greeting. “I was told I might find you here. Evening, Judson.” This time the greeting was accompanied by a respectful finger to the brim of his hat.
“Evening, Brick.” The older man took a moment to catch his breath. “What’s going on? Something I should know about?”
“Nothing much, Judson. Just want to ask Kenton here a couple of questions.”
Michael remembered the patrol car he’d caught a glimpse of as he walked into the cemetery. The deputy inside had obviously been the source of Bauer’s knowledge of his whereabouts.
Judson grunted a monosyllabic reply, then added, “As long as that’s all you’re doing, Brick. Don’t harass the boy.”
“I’m doing my job, sir. That’s all.”
“Then I’ll be on my way home.” He got in his car and drove away. Michael felt a fleeting, unfamiliar pang of regret. Judson Ingalls owed nothing to him. There was no reason in the world for him to stay, to stand by, to support.
“What do you want me for?” Michael asked as the sound of Judson’s car engine died away.
“Like I said, I just need to ask some questions.”
“Are you taking me in?”
Brick shook his head. “Nothing that official. Get in the cruiser. We can talk at your motel, if you don’t want to come down to the station, but it’s too damn cold to stand out here.”
* * *
“HELLO, SARAH. DOING some last-minute Christmas shopping?”
Sarah turned at the sound of Alyssa Wocheck’s voice behind her. “Hello, Alyssa. Yes,” she said. “I’ve finished shopping for my parents. I mailed their box last week. I’m just picking up a few things for my brother and his wife.”
It was a little after five, an hour before closing, and Gates Department Store was crowded this December afternoon. Sarah had to raise her voice slightly to carry over the background noise of other peoples’ conversations, telephones ringing and the swoosh and pop of the antique pneumatic tube system overhead that carried change throughout the store. It was a relic of bygone days that, for Sarah at least, was one of the chief delights of shopping at Gates.
“You aren’t spending Christmas with your family?”
Sarah smiled. “No. My parents are working at a mission in Tucson over the holidays. My oldest brother and his family are going to the in-laws and my other brother can’t get away from the radio station because all of his employees want the holiday off.”
“Are you going to be alone?” Alyssa’s eyes were sympathetic. She laid her gloved hand lightly on Sarah’s hand. “You are more than welcome to spend Christmas with us,” she said.
Sarah gave the older woman’s fingers a squeeze. “Thank you, Alyssa, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.” She thought of Jeff and Cece, and her heart contracted. They were her friends, but there was no way Jeff would accept her involvement with the half brother he wanted no part of.
Alyssa turned her head slightly, gauging their privacy. “You mean, because of Michael Kenton?”
“Yes. Jeff has been...distant. And I won’t be the cause of friction between him and Cece.”
“You’ve spoken to her?”
“Yesterday. She says she’s never seen Jeff so upset. She’s worried about him.”
“So am I,” Alyssa confessed.
“Everyone would be too uncomfortable if I spent Christmas with you. Your family has enough problems now, Alyssa. I won’t add to them.” She longed to have another woman to talk to, to confide in, but Alyssa had enough on her plate without adding Sarah’s heartache to the mix.
“I hate what’s happened. Jeff is taking this all so hard and there is nothing I can say or do that gets through to him. I know this might sound odd, but somehow I feel responsible for Michael, too. He is Ronald’s son, after all. He has no other family. I’m his only conduit to the Barons, although he’s expressed no interest in wanting anything to do with Ronald’s sister or her family.”
“He’s a very private man,” Sarah said carefully.
Alyssa tilted her head, alert to the sadness underlying Sarah’s words. “Will you be spending Christmas with Michael?” she asked.
The contraction around Sarah’s heart tightened to pain. She shook her head, not trusting her voice for a few moments. “I don’t think so.”
“Both of you will be alone,” Alyssa said, almost under her breath. A clerk approached with a gift-wrapped package. “Thank you.” Alyssa’s smile was gracious. “It’s lovely.”
Sarah picked up her own small package and turned away from the counter. “Goodbye, Alyssa.”
“Wait, Sarah. Do you have an appointment or a meeting to go to?” As though they were discussing nothing more important than the weather, Alyssa smiled and waved to Martha Bauer, who was heading for the dry-goods department at a brisk pace that belied her eighty-odd years.
“No,” Sarah said. “I stopped in on my way back from Worthington House. I always try to make extra visits this time of year. So many of the residents are alone, their families scattered here and there.”
“Come with me, then. Have a cup of tea or maybe hot chocolate at Marge’s.” She looked out the glass doors at the lowering sky. “Yes. It’s definitely a hot-chocolate day.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Come with me, Sarah, please. I think we both need someone to talk to—about Michael Kenton.”
But Alyssa talked only of inconsequential things as they walked along Main Street to Marge’s Diner. She commented on the quality of donations they’d received for the bazaar, hoped the weather would not turn bad for the big event on Saturday, complimented the chamber of commerce on the bright new decorations that adorned the light posts along the street. Paying no attention to Sarah’s monosyllabic answers, she kept up the flow of light chatter until they were settled in a booth by the front window and the waitress had set two cups of whipped-cream-topped cocoa in front of them. Then she grew silent, a little pensive.
“I love Christmas,” Alyssa said finally, looking out the window at the comings and goings on Main Street. “It’s my favorite time of year.” Her smile faded. Worry darkened her eyes. For the first time since Sarah had known her, she looked her age. “But this year it’s been very hard to find the spirit. We’re having the Christmas party at Timberlake, as usual, but it just doesn’t seem right, somehow, with things still so up in the air at the plant.”
“Have you learned anything more about the cause of the fire?” Sarah asked.
Alyssa shook her head. “The arson investigator has requested an interview tomorrow.” She stirred her cocoa, watching the whipped cream melt. “I’m not looking forward to it.”
The front door opened and closed as Pam and Patrick Kelsey, both of them coaches at Tyler High, swept in on a blast of cold air, accompanied by a group of their students. The teens were laughing and talking a mile a minute, obviously in a holiday mood. They swarmed toward a table in the middle of the room, and Sarah and Alyssa watched indulgently for a minute or two as the noisy group settled behind their menus, the boys boasting that they could bankrupt their teachers if allowed to order everything they wanted to eat.
“Pam’s looking well,” Alyssa remarked. “I hope she doesn’t overdo, being out in this cold weather so much.” Pam Kelsey had been an Olympic runner in her youth, but several year
s before coming to Tyler she had been stricken with multiple sclerosis, and while she allowed the disease to interfere with her life as little as possible, her well-being was always uppermost in the minds of her family and friends.
“Neither Patrick nor the kids will allow that,” Sarah said, returning the wave of one of her Scripture students. The gesture caught Patrick’s eye and he swiveled in his seat to face them.
“Season’s greetings!” he called across the room, as his wife waved. “Pam and I have promised this bunch an early supper and then we’re going caroling at Worthington House and Tyler General.” Sarah had heard Patrick sing. He had a marvelous baritone voice.
“How nice,” she replied. “All the residents will en-joy it.”
“How about a carol or two for my customers before you leave?” Marge Phelps herself came from the kitchen to wait on the party.
“Anything for you, Marge,” Patrick said expansively. “Anything, as long as you tell me there’s a piece of your pumpkin pie back there with my name on it.”
“There is.”
“Hallelujah,” the coach said with a grin. “Okay, kids, order up. We’re due at Worthington House at six-fifteen.”
“There,” Alyssa said with a smiling shake of her head. “Marge will keep them in line. Now we can hear ourselves think again.”
“I don’t want to think,” Sarah confessed. “I’ve been doing entirely too much of it lately.”
“I gather from that remark you’re not referring to wrestling over the wording of your Christmas Eve sermon.”
Sarah looked across the booth. She saw only compassion and encouragement in Alyssa’s blue eyes. “You’re right. It has nothing to do with my Christmas Eve sermon.”
“And everything to do with Michael Kenton?”
Sarah wrapped her hands around her mug, lifting it to her lips. “Yes.”
“I said before that I feel somehow responsible for him, although he probably wouldn’t thank me for saying it. I just keep thinking that what happened to Michael could have happened to Jeff if the situation had been reversed. All the love that Ronald showered on my son was denied to Michael.” She traced the rim of the mug with her fingertip. She lifted her eyes to Sarah’s. “I like him. I think beneath all the barbs and prickles he’s a good man. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
The question took Sarah by surprise. She answered without thinking. “Yes.” She set the mug down very carefully. “Is it so obvious?”
“No,” Alyssa said. “Only to someone who fell in love again herself not so long ago.”
“We aren’t seeing each other anymore.”
“Why not?”
Sarah looked out the window for a moment. Darkness had fallen while they talked. The lights on the trees in the square had come on, green and red and gold and blue. They shimmered like fairy stars in the tears she didn’t dare let fall. She couldn’t speak a word.
“Michael Kenton isn’t an easy man to love, is he?” Alyssa offered.
Sarah shook her head. “Sometimes.” There was a funny little catch in her voice, and she took a sip of cocoa to bring it under control. “Sometimes I’m afraid he isn’t capable of loving anyone.”
Alyssa reached out. “Don’t ever say that, Sarah. Don’t think that. I know there are people out there who truly aren’t capable of love, but I don’t believe Michael Kenton is one of them.”
“He keeps pushing me away. He won’t let me help. I was with him when the fire at the F and M started, Alyssa. But he won’t let me tell anyone.”
Alyssa closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m glad to hear you say that. I didn’t want to think—”
“See, Alyssa, even you had doubts. I can’t let this go on. But Michael doesn’t trust anyone, and he won’t let me risk my reputation by giving him an alibi. Nothing I can say or do will convince him that Tyler people won’t tar me with the same brush.”
“Most won’t,” Alyssa agreed, though her tone was rueful. “But some will. One or two I can think of in your own congregation, if you want the unvarnished truth. You’re being naive if you believe otherwise, Sarah. Michael is trying to protect you the only way he knows how.”
“He doesn’t trust me, Alyssa.” The tears were very close now. “I can’t accept that. When a man and woman love each other they must trust, as well. I trusted Eric with my life.”
“You loved Eric very much, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I loved him from the first moment I saw him.”
“Have you ever thought that it was easy to love Eric because Eric was an easy man to love?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he was a good man. A simple man, with no rough edges, no excess emotional baggage. Michael Kenton isn’t that kind. He’s intense, stubborn, scarred in heart and soul. It will take a very strong woman to love him and to heal him enough for him to love her fully and completely in return. Do you have that strength, Sarah? Because if you don’t, it will only mean heartbreak for both of you.”
Was what Alyssa said true? Was she strong enough to break through the walls that Michael had built around his heart? Was she brave enough to try?
The door opened again, letting in another blast of frigid air that swirled around their feet and ankles and sent a shiver skating down Sarah’s spine. She looked up, distracted from her thoughts. Three men had entered the diner. One of them was Cassie Wiggins’s father, Hoyt, the other Joey Schmidt and his brother, Walt. All three were employees of the F and M. They crossed the room, looking around as if in search of a friend. Alyssa’s back was to the men, her slender form hidden by the high booth. She didn’t even glance their way as she waited for Sarah’s reply.
“What you boys doing here?” Marge called from behind the counter.
“We’re looking for Howie Carson and Bill Smith. You seen them around?”
“Not tonight. You look pretty agitated, Joey. What’s up?”
“We just heard a call come in over the emergency scanner at the Hideaway. Will Benson signed a statement down at the police department. Says the man he saw running away from the fire could fit the description of that guy that’s been hanging around town here of late.”
“Brick Bauer’s out at the Green Woods Motel. He’s questioning that drifter—that Kenton fellow—about the fire,” Walt Schmidt added excitedly.
The diner was suddenly very quiet. Patrick Kelsey exchanged glances with his wife, then shifted his gaze to where Sarah and Alyssa were seated, still hidden from the newcomers’ view.
“We’re going to drive on out there. Maybe make sure Brick’s okay,” Joey Schmidt interjected. “With any luck, he’s getting ready to arrest the SOB.”
“Yeah, by tomorrow the whole town will know that Ronald Baron’s bastard kid is the one who set the fire. Then the insurance company will call off that damned investigator they sent down and Alyssa and Judson can get started on rebuilding the plant. Get us back on the job.”
“C’mon, Patrick. Come with us. See what’s going on. Your dad’s job is on the line, just like ours.”
“Don’t be fools,” Patrick said. “Let Brick do his job. If Kenton’s the man who set the fire, we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Don’t waste your time talking to him,” Hoyt said, tugging on Joey’s coat sleeve. “Howie and Bill are probably at the Pine Tree Bar. We’ll try there. It’s right on the way to the Green Woods. Let’s go.”
The door whooshed shut behind them, leaving silence in its wake. Alyssa’s expressive blue eyes were filled with apprehension. Sarah’s heart slammed against her rib cage. “Oh God,” she said. “They sounded like...like the beginning of a mob.”
Alyssa reached out, covered Sarah’s shaking hand with her own. “Don’t worry, Sarah. Brick can handle this.”
“But there were three of them. And they’re looking for two
more men. I can’t let this go on. I’m going out there right now to tell Brick Bauer what really happened.”
“From what you just told me, Michael won’t thank you for it.”
Sarah choked back a sob. “I don’t have any other choice.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WHEN THE THIRD PICKUP pulled into the parking lot of the motel, Michael began to wonder if the whole situation was going to get out of hand. Now there were six or seven men milling around, shuffling their feet, refusing to meet his eyes. At least they weren’t armed, although he’d glimpsed a shotgun or two hanging on gun racks in the back windows of the trucks. And he was outside, not trapped in his room. He could make a run for it if he had to. He doubted if half of the beer-belly-toting agitators could keep up with him for more than a few blocks.
One thing he knew for certain: he wasn’t going to jail. Not even for his own protection. Not for one minute. Not for one second. Never again.
Brick Bauer leaned against the door of the cruiser, his pose nonchalant, his eyes watchful and alert. “Evening, boys,” he said pleasantly enough. “What can I do for you?”
“We want to know when you’re going to put this son of a bitch behind bars where he belongs,” Hoyt Wiggins said belligerently, his breath coming in spurts that wreathed his bald head like steam from a locomotive. Michael wondered how many beers the man had had before he got there? Not enough to get him drunk, probably—just enough to make him reckless and a little bit mean.
“I’ve got no reason to arrest Mr. Kenton,” Brick said, his tone still pleasant but his stance no longer quite as relaxed. “I’m just here for a friendly chat.” He moved away from the cruiser, putting himself between Michael and the angry men confronting them.
“What about Will Benson? We know he was in earlier to sign a statement about the man he saw running away from the fire.”
“Where’d you hear about Will Benson coming down to the station?”
“They got a scanner down at the Hideaway,” Joey Schmidt informed Brick, naming a local bar.
Unexpected Son Page 18
