“I don’t care who put the ad in the paper, do you?” Jocelyn’s face was wreathed in smiles. “I know I felt stupid at first and I was worried what people would think of me but not anymore.” She poked at her stew. “It gave me a chance to get to know you better so I’m glad it happened.”
“So for sure it wasn’t you,” he stated flatly.
Jocelyn frowned. “For sure it wasn’t me. Your mom wasn’t the only dead mother mentioned. Josephine isn’t around to announce my engagement either. I thought we had a deal. I’m honest with you and you’re honest with me, which is the only reason I’m choosing not to be thoroughly pissed off with you right now. It was not me. I don’t know who did it and I don’t care.” Her cheeks turned a luscious shade of pink. “That person did me a favor as far as I’m concerned. I like hanging out with you.”
Jeremy sat back in his chair, boneless and weak. He was so fucking happy to hear her say that, he could hardly contain himself. When Jocelyn was cleared, his father would accept her. Kenneth had a bad impression of her because he thought she was guilty. When there was proof she was innocent, his father would change his mind and Jeremy wouldn’t have to stop seeing her. They could be a real couple after this week. This could really happen. The possibility of being Jocelyn’s boyfriend, of seeing her every night, taking care of her, talking to her about her day—the prospect made Jeremy so happy, he could hardly breathe.
Jeremy nodded, smiling at her, and lifted his fork to keep eating. Everything in him wanted to leap across the table and ravish her on the kitchen floor.
Jocelyn got to her feet and flipped the dial on the stove to turn off the stew. The apple torte was still in the oven, keeping warm. “Are you busy?” she asked.
“I’m eating but I wouldn’t call that—”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall to her bedroom. Jocelyn kicked the door open. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.” She dragged him inside.
Jeremy closed the door and pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. “We must be psychically connected. I was about to go all caveman on you on the kitchen floor.”
“We seem to like having sex with each other.”
“We seem to be good at it,” he said, his voice strangling.
Jeremy felt for the zipper on her dress and tugged on it, releasing her from the smooth cotton sheath. Jocelyn was completely naked underneath. His legs buckled a little. “Was this for me?”
“Just you,” she whispered and kissed him deeply. “Only you.”
Chapter 12: Forces Conspire Against Them
THE MANAGING editor of the Gazette listened with heroic patience to his reporter’s convoluted story about Andrea meeting Janice Feron on the town green, only it didn’t look like Janice because Trevor has sisters and that made him an expert on hair color.
“Say again?” Jason Fiske asked wearily. “What does Andrea have to do with your sisters’ hair color?”
“Not Andrea—Janice Feron. You know, the chick who was engaged to Sheriff McIntyre. She changed her hair color. She’s not a blonde anymore, she’s a brunette, but it’s the same woman. I saw her talking to Andrea last night. They were huddled together plotting the overthrow of the Gazette.”
Trevor giggled and leaned back in his chair. His unfinished story on the escape of Lavery’s cows sat on his computer. Procrastination was Trevor Ottoway’s middle name and now it seemed he meant to make it Jason’s as well.
“What does one thing have to do with the other? You’re a reporter—where’s this story going? Andrea was talking to Janice last night. Okay. What does that have to do with the Gazette?”
Trevor looked offended. “Hey, I’m just the messenger. I thought it was interesting is all. Janice Feron is in town—in disguise—at the same time an anonymous engagement notice is posted in the paper by the only person who could’ve posted it—Andrea Tarnham.”
Jason propped his elbows on his desk, clutched his hair and moaned. “Obviously you have a theory and you aren’t going to let it go until you tell me. So speak.”
“Andrea is in cahoots with Janice. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Janice is probably the mastermind. But they’re behind the bogus classified ad.” Trevor squinted at the ceiling, his mouth pursed. “I don’t know Andrea’s reason for doing it, but Janice Feron has had it in for the boss ever since Shelby stole the sheriff away from her.”
Jason stared at his junior reporter like he’d gone insane. “Trev, you’ve got to stop reading fanfic and get a clue. Janice Feron was in town for the wedding like the rest of New York. Dyed hair isn’t a disguise and the boss didn’t steal the sheriff. Janice left the guy high and dry.”
“Have it your way, but Andrea is mixed up in something and it could get her fired if the boss finds out. I’m just giving you the heads-up is all. When the shit hits the fan, be ready.”
“Why are you only telling me this now,” Jason demanded crabbily. “You had all day to give me the fucking heads-up. It’s after six and I still don’t have today’s copy from you.”
“Wow,” Trevor whistled. “Just wow. I did not expect this hostility. Backlash for doing the right thing by coming to you first when I should have gone to the boss. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you earlier. Busy, remember? Got Lavery’s cows to chase on a weekly basis, okay? I’m telling you now. I saw Andrea with Janice and when the boss finds out, it’s going to get ugly around here.”
“You overestimate the boss’s level of interest. She won’t give a shit.”
“Then why did you tell Jeremy Marks it was you who put the ad in the paper? Falling on the sword for Tarnham is only going to cause trouble when the truth gets out. All I’m saying is you and Andrea better have your stories straight before the boss figures it out herself.”
Jason jumped to his feet and snatched up his jacket, grinding his teeth. “It’s like fucking middle school around here!”
Trevor looked up from his computer in mild surprise. “Where are you going?”
“Where do you think? To the diner to order us some goddamned take-out! At the rate you’re going, I can tell it’s going to be another late night. If you see Andrea, do me a favor and shut the fuck up about that engagement notice. It’s over, got it? It’s over because I said it’s over and if you say one more word about it, I’m going to fire your ass. Now, do you want a cheeseburger or bratwurst for dinner?”
“Cheeseburger, thanks,” Trevor said in a cowed voice. “And a coke if you don’t mind.”
Jason Fiske nodded and slammed out of the newspaper office, marching toward the diner, fuelled by anger and worry over Andrea.
♥
FILLMORE RIDGE was empty, they had the place to themselves, but Ryan felt vaguely ridiculous bringing her there. Paula had lain down on the backseat to keep out of sight when they drove through town. It bothered his conscious that he was sneaking around with her but she said she understood his need for privacy. They’d talked for hours last night and just when he thought he’d ended it, they fell into bed together.
“Jeremy wants to take you out,” he said, injecting a note of friendly disinterest in the announcement. “You should consider going out with him. He’s your age, a nice guy. You had a good time with him at the wedding. You should go out with him when he calls.”
Ryan cleared his throat and tried to enjoy the view. Fillmore Ridge was the make-out spot for the local teenagers. Great. If his brother was on patrol tonight....
“Jeremy is in love with Jocelyn Tate. He’s not going to call me.”
She was wearing a green dress printed with tiny yellow flowers that fitted her body tightly and then flared to a bell shape. She was too short for her weight, Ryan thought. Paula was curvy. The curviest woman he’d ever been with.
Girl, he reminded himself. Paula was ten years younger than him. Ryan had brought her here to talk it out and end the affair amicably.
“We aren’t right for each other,” he said.
Paula leaned her head back agains
t the seat and sighed. Her neck was pretty. She gazed at him without blame or anger in her gray eyes that were like silver in the moonlight. “I know. I’m okay with whatever you decide to do.”
The ball was back in his court. If she got angry, they could at least have a big fight and end it that way. If she had any reaction at all, other than this calm resignation, Ryan could end it. This is how the discussion started last night and he wound up in bed with her.
Paula Dunlop had the silkiest skin he’d ever touched. And she smelled like strawberries. Her body was too soft and plump for his taste, yet he couldn’t get enough of her. He was insatiable last night. He never meant for any of that to happen when he showed up at her apartment.
“We have to stop seeing each other.”
“Okay.”
“Just like that—okay? You don’t even want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to talk about it. If it’s not there then it’s not there.”
“If what’s not there?”
“Chemistry. Love rising. If we don’t have it, there’s nothing we can do to get it so we should call it quits.”
“Love—rising? You mean like bread dough? I don’t get it. What does it mean?”
“Jocelyn Tate’s mom used to say it. I went to Mandrake Falls High with Joce. We used to hang out once in a while until she decided she needed a better class of friends. Her mom was a sweetie though. Love rising was her expression. I guess it’s kind of like yeast. When there’s chemistry between two people and it’s about to turn into something but not quite there yet. You can’t manufacture it or expect it to develop over time. It’s either there between people or it isn’t.” She frowned. “I don’t think yeast can be killed, but it can be made to go dormant. I’ll have to look it up. But it’s the same principle—yeast or love. It rises.”
“Do you think we have yeast?” he asked half-seriously and then he could have kicked himself for asking. He didn’t want to know. He was ending with her. How did she draw him into these conversations?
Paula said “Yes.”
Ryan melted against the back seat and gathered her in his arms. She clung to him as he kissed her feverishly, all the while thinking that this was the last time. He had to end it.
He had to.
♥
THE PHONE was ringing in the kitchen. Jocelyn rolled in Jeremy’s arms. They had dozed off after making love for the second time. Jeremy claimed she was trying to starve him into sexual submission. He wanted to go back to the kitchen and retrieve his unfinished chicken stew but she wouldn’t let him.
“Go,” she had said. “I’m not stopping you. I’ll be here—waiting.”
She had reclined against the pillows, her blonde hair fanned out about her head, her long legs falling open ever so slightly—just enough to give Jeremy ideas. He had hardened almost immediately and forgot all about the stew.
Jocelyn squinted at her alarm clock. They’d been in bed for three hours. The phone rang again, shrilly insistent that she get up and answer it. Jocelyn dragged her silk wrapper over her shoulders and hurried to the kitchen. Her telephone was the old push button type attached to the wall, a model from the 1970’s, moss green to match the painted plywood cupboards. Jocelyn picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Joce, Jocie? I’m sorry. I—I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve been sick these days—getting over a cold or something—can’t shake it off, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry I hit you. I am so sorry. I promised your mother I would never hit you and I blew it. I blew it....”
“Dad? What’s wrong? Don’t worry about what happened—it’s forgotten. How long have you been sick? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jeremy had followed her into the kitchen. He watched her face transform from mild irritation to real fear. Jocelyn turned away and cupped her hand over the receiver to muffle her response. He heard it anyway.
“How bad is it? Are you coughing or is it your sinus again? Do you need a doctor? Dad, just tell me—that sounds serious. Call Dr. Lewis—we’ll figure it out—Dad? Dad—!”
Jeremy took the receiver from her hand. He listened to the hollow void on the other end and then the line went dead. He hung up and caught her hand. “Come on, we’ll get dressed and go check on him. I had less than a glass of wine three hours ago; I’m okay to drive.”
She glanced back with anguish at the meal she had made. She’d wanted to do something nice for Jeremy and her father seemed determined to interfere. This was just the beginning. He was going to demand her attention until Jeremy got tired of coming in second and dropped her. Norm might really be sick or he might be playing the sympathy card. It was hard to tell with Norm. When he wanted something he wasn’t above manipulation to get it.
They dressed hurriedly, Jocelyn in sweatpants and the baseball jersey she had from high school. She jammed a hat on her head and let Jeremy help her into her spring jacket. He didn’t say much but having him there, making decisions and taking care of her, calmed her down.
March was warming up fast and furious. The snow was almost gone. In another week the daffodils would be up in her back yard.
Jeremy swung the Toyota out onto the highway as she directed and Jocelyn felt the familiar dread in her stomach of bringing a friend to the house she grew up in. But this time it was different. She knew she wouldn’t have to apologize to Jeremy or make excuses for her family’s poverty. The Tate family weren’t bad people; just the type that attracted bad luck. Jeremy wouldn’t judge her but she was terrified nonetheless for dragging him into her family’s problems. Sickness meant bankruptcy and this time the slide would be permanent. If her dad needed long-term care, she’d have to move home to help pay the bills.
Norm lived on the outside of town—very outside. Jocelyn could make out the signs for the town dump even in the dark. She told Jeremy to turn left onto the dirt road that skirted it. She’d spent a lot of time in that dump when she was a kid, scrounging for anything that could be salvaged. Most of her bedroom furniture had come from there, a fact she kept to herself.
“Dad’s house is at the end of the road, hidden in the pines. The lights are on. That’s a good sign don’t you think?”
Norman Tate had housed his small family in a smaller trailer that had been extended by additions shooting out at all angles. Some of the additions had sagged over the years from a combination of snow load and cheap materials. Norm had tried to create a uniform look by cladding everything in red vinyl siding.
Jeremy pulled up to the house and turned off the motor. Jocelyn peered through the windshield at the house she thought she’d left behind four years ago.
“Norm thought red was cheerful. He wanted my mom to have something happy to look at when she was working in the garden. It doesn’t look great now but you should’ve seen this place when Mom’s garden was in bloom. There were hollyhocks and sunflowers and she even got roses to grow. Dad let it go to weed after she died. I did my best but I was busy with school and part-time jobs.”
Jeremy only nodded.
“When Norm got it into his head I was his golden ticket out of here, he cheered up. You think your dad is disappointed?” She tried to laugh about it. “Norm expected me to be living in a Park Avenue penthouse by now. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
Jocelyn opened the squeaking metal door and Jeremy followed her inside. The living area was on the right and the rest of the space was divided by a lunch counter. The kitchen was decorated in avocado and harvest gold. It would have been chic forty years ago.
“Dad?”
The lights were on. The room smelled of cooking grease and dirty laundry. Jeremy figured the roof leaked in places judging from the water stains on the dropped ceiling. Mold would be a constant problem. He thought about Norm’s lungs.
There was a sound from the back bedroom and Jocelyn dashed down a dark hall toward a door. She flung it open and saw her father curled up on his rumpled bed in a comatose state. The phone was off the hook beside hi
m.
Jocelyn turned him over and lightly slapped his face. “Dad, it’s Jocelyn. What happened? Can you breathe?”
The man regained consciousness; his eyes fluttered open and fixed on Jocelyn’s face. Norm appeared confused for a couple of seconds and then he recognized her. His eyes were bloodshot and swam to Jeremy and back again to his daughter.
Norm nodded his head and tried to smile. Jocelyn sagged over him with relief.
He couldn’t lift his arms or stand. Between them, Jocelyn and Jeremy managed to pull him to his feet and get him to the door.
“Where are you taking me?” croaked Norm, resisting. “Just get me some water and let me sit for a bit. I’ll be fine.”
“We’re taking you to the hospital, Mr. Tate,” Jeremy said firmly.
“No, no hospital. There’s nothing wrong with me. I ate something. Or I’m getting the flu—no hospital! I got no insurance and no money to pay. I swear I’ll swing for you if you take me out of this house.”
“We’ll tell them you’re my father-in-law and get you on my insurance. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll bring you home and Joce can line up a nurse to take care of you until you’re back on your feet. But we can’t leave you like this.”
Jocelyn flushed but she knew he was right. Her father’s health problem might not be serious but they couldn’t leave him in his present condition. Somehow, she’d have to find a way to pay for the exam and lab tests. She helped Jeremy load her father into the back seat of the Toyota. A deep weariness had settled over her. She was only twenty-two and she felt like she was ninety. If Norm needed real care, Jocelyn had to make sure he got it. He wasn’t the greatest parent in the world but he was the only parent she had and she wanted him around. She wasn’t ready to be an orphan.
When they arrived at the hospital, Jocelyn was too distracted by what the doctors were saying and signing admittance forms to comprehend what was happening or how much it was going to cost. Norm was lifted onto a gurney and rolled down the hall before she could think. Her father had had a mild heart attack, the doctor said. Medical treatment was absolutely necessary. She watched helplessly as her father was whisked away for tests.
Love Rising: Spring (Mandrake Falls Series Romance Book 4) Page 12
