She threw her arm around my shoulder. “Thanks, Em, but don’t bother. White Deer’s on her way. She’ll help me sort out this mess. Between her and Jimmy, I’ll be fine. You tell Joe we love him and that he’d better get well in time for the wedding or I’m getting out the shotgun.”
I humored her, forcing a laugh, but inside I was worried. Worried about Joe, worried about Murray. It was bad enough when things happened to me, but far worse when events turned nasty on my friends and loved ones.
I headed out the door, giving Jimbo a quick peck on the cheek as he entered the room. As I clattered down the stairs, I heard his cry of surprise, and Murray’s quick voice. Wishing I could stay to help, I slipped into my SUV and aimed myself toward the hospital, stopping at Starbucks on the way. Caffeine was the best attack against stress, I’d found. As long as it was spiked with plenty of chocolate and flavored syrup.
Five
WHEN I REACHED the hospital, Joe was waiting for me, his shoulder bandaged with a light dressing that barely covered the bruising. I gathered that being grazed by a bullet hurt a tad more than a skinned knee. He fussed as the nurse pushed him in the wheelchair toward the entrance.
“I can walk—”
“Hush! We’ve been through this already. It’s protocol.” The nurse gave me a harried look. “Is he this much trouble at home?”
I grinned at her. “Only when he’s awake.”
Joe snorted. “Trouble? She’s the troublemaker in the family.”
“Be good or I may rethink marrying you, Files.”
His eyes glittered at me, a little curl giving his lip a seductive turn. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll sit still until we hit the doors.” I’d brought him a loose shirt that wouldn’t pull at his bandage and his favorite jeans. He cleaned up pretty good, though he hadn’t let them shave him. Joe was trying to grow a beard, a proposition I found appealing, as long as he didn’t try to outdo Jimbo. ZZ Top wasn’t my idea of sexy.
We finished the paperwork, maneuvered him into the car with only a couple of groans, and headed for home. I stared at the road as it passed beneath our wheels. Time to spill the beans about his brother, as much as I dreaded approaching the subject. Might as well get it over with now, because he’d be expecting to find Nathan at home.
“Babe, I have some bad news.”
“What now? You find a dead body in the shed or something?” He was joking, but I detected a tinge of worry behind his smiling face.
“Jeez, give me a break. I did not find a dead body.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, now would it?” He snickered. “You know I’m forever going to be on the lookout for corpses, ghouls, skeletons, and ghosts. Somehow I don’t think that Brigit was your last. Face it, you’re hooked.”
“Stop it! If I swerve off the road it’s all your fault,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. “I’m being serious.”
He raised one eyebrow, then cocked his head. “Yes, Ms. O’Brien?” he said with mock solemnity.
“Joe! You make me feel like Mrs. Robinson when you call me that.” I took a deep breath. “Okay, so here goes. I called Nathan last night to tell him about you and he—”
“He flaked out, didn’t he? He’s not going to show.” He said it so flatly that I realized this wasn’t the first time Nate had screwed over his brother.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I’m sorry, babe. He’s on his way to Sweden with a friend.” Joe stared out the side window, mute. As I turned onto Hyacinth Street, he let out a long sigh.
“Nate’s a fuckup, just like Dexter.” Joe never called his father by anything except his first name or “the old man.” “He doesn’t give a damn about anybody but himself. Ten to one, he’s been playing up to some sugar mama just to get a free trip, and when he’s over there, he’s going to find some snow bunny just out of high school to screw around with. That’s it, I’m done with the whole family, except Aunt Maggie. She’s the only one who has any common sense. She’s been more a mother to me than my own mother.”
I turned into the driveway and switched off the ignition. “Joe, there’s not much I can say. I can’t make it better. I can’t make them into what you wish they would be. But you have family. You have your aunt, you have me and the kids, and you have our friends. Harlow and Murray adore you; count them as your sisters and Jimbo and James as your brothers. Sometimes, we have to create the family we need.”
Even though I’d been happy as a child, at a young age I’d realized that Nanna was better suited to raise me than my mother. Klara was a career woman at heart, but I always knew she loved me, and with Nanna by my side, I felt complete. Rose, on the other hand, had turned to Grandma M. out of anger. She and Klara were still dancing around each other in a waltz of guilt and resentment.
Joe shrugged, wincing. “I guess you’re right. Well, Nate can go to hell. I’m just grateful to be alive, to be marrying you.” He edged himself out of the car and we went inside.
“Speaking of getting married, do you want to postpone the wedding? Your brother can’t make it and you were just shot—”
The look on his face was answer enough. “Are you crazy? Even if I’d taken the bullet smack in the shoulder, I’d have White Deer over at the hospital to marry us. Even if she had to dress like a nurse and sneak into my room. I’m not letting you slip through my fingers, Emerald. And incidentally, I’m okay with you keeping your last name, so tell Grandma M. to back off. She waxed long and hard on that subject during the party, trying to sympathize with me. I know she thinks I mind, but I don’t. It may be Roy’s name, but you should have the same last name as your kids.”
“And this is one of the many reasons I love you,” I said, settling him in on the sofa with the remote, a six-pack of Coke, a bag of pretzels, and the phone. “I’ve got errands to run,” I said. “You rest. And if any of my family calls, tell them I’ll talk to them tonight.”
He looked at me, suspicion clouding his eyes. “You aren’t trying to find out who shot me, are you?”
I gave him a long look. “Joe, you know perfectly well that I’m not about to let this go. The cops aren’t going to find much, that we can be sure of, unless the dude dropped a calling card out there and that’s pretty unlikely. But right now, I’m thinking about something else. Murray found her house trashed when she got home this morning.”
“What?” Joe straightened up.
“Her place was trashed, and I do mean ransacked. Thing is, nothing but a few pieces of lingerie were missing. And … we found a gift there.” I told him about the ring. “She doesn’t want Jimbo to know about it yet. She’s afraid he’ll lose it and hurt somebody.”
“Did she report it?”
“She promised me she would. But Joe, her whole place felt slimy. Icky, like something had crept in and nested.” I dropped into the recliner. “I’m worried about her. What if she’d been in the house?”
Joe shook his head. “Murray has a gun, Em, and she knows how to use it. She probably would have blown their head off. You can be sure she’s a lot better marksman than whoever took a potshot at me.”
Another thought had crossed my mind. “At the party, Mur got into it with Roy, too. Remember how rude he was to her? I wonder …”
“Don’t. Don’t wonder. Don’t even think about it.” He leaned back and I could tell he was sleepy. “Besides, Roy wouldn’t give her a present, would he? Let alone a wedding ring.”
“You’re right, I guess.” It didn’t make sense, now that I thought about it. And Roy almost always made sense, even if it was of the wrong kind.
“I think I’m going to take a nap, babe. See you when you get back. Let me know if they find out who broke into her house.”
I kissed him, gently at first, then a passionate, full, tongue-meets-tongue kiss. “What do you want for dinner, Files?”
He reached around and cupped my ass. “You, but Italian will do as an appetizer.”
A shiver of anticipation running through me, I gave his hand a gentle slap, grabbed my ke
ys, and headed for the shop. That man could push my buttons like nobody else in this world. I thanked my lucky stars that he felt the same way about me.
AFTER A QUICK stop at Starbucks for another mocha, I pulled into a parking space near the Chintz ’n China.
Cinnamon was waiting on Farrah Warnoff, who’d been one of my regular customers since I’d first opened the shop. As I looked around, I realized that—as much as I was anticipating my wedding—I could hardly wait for it to be over and for things to be back to normal. I missed coming in every day, arranging the teapots and tea, greeting the gentle ladies of Chiqetaw who accepted my quirks and eccentricities with a mere blink of the eye. I’d become somewhat of a local legend to them, a status to which I’d never aspired, but sometimes fate propelled us into positions we weren’t comfortable with at first to make us stretch and grow.
And grown I had. My shop was thriving. I was in love with, and beloved by, a good man. My children were growing and evolving along their own paths. What more could I ask for? And if ghost-busting and falling over dead bodies was part of the process, then who was I to say the universe had it wrong? I’d finally given in, accepted my place in the scheme of things, and was over and done with freak-out city. Well, in the long run. In the short run, I was still at the mercy of caffeine and panic.
Cinnamon motioned to my office. “The invoices are in there, as well as the new shipment from Amberlane China. I think you’re going to go nuts over it. I doubt the pieces will sit on the shelf for more than a day.”
I settled into my chair. It felt good to be back, even if it was just for an hour or so. As I cautiously opened the first box from Amberlane, my pulse quickened. Their teapots and cups were made by hand and, as such, were terribly expensive. But the glaze shone with an opalescence that reminded me of the full moon on a summer’s night, and the delicate attention to detail was obvious in every curve of the pot. I’d ordered four of the teapots, knowing full well that if they were as beautiful as I thought they might be, I’d be buying one myself. Thank heavens I’d planned ahead.
I picked out my favorite, then jotted a note for Cinnamon to display the others, making sure they were on one of the protected shelves. I had four shelves specifically glassed in for the extremely expensive pieces. Though not foolproof, it at least lessened the chance some bull might come into my china shop and break them.
After turning my attention to the bills and assorted admin work, I leaned back, staring at the phone, a plan formulating in my mind. I had no doubt that Murray and her crew would do their best to find whoever had taken aim at Joe, but I knew the odds and they weren’t good. However, with my abilities, I might be able to ferret something out. I grabbed the phone and put in a call to Jimbo.
“Yeah?” His usual greeting, but I was used to it.
“Yo, dude, I want to come out and walk your property like I did when I was looking for Scar. I thought I might be able to pick up something on the frootloop who took a crack at Joe. You up for visitors?”
Jimbo cracked out a laugh. “You take the cake, O’Brien. But I owe you one. You just won me twenty bucks.”
I rubbed my forehead. “Say what?”
“I bet Anna twenty bucks that you’d be asking to come out here before the week was over. She said you’d be too preoccupied.”
With a snort, I said, “Uh-huh. By the way, how’s she doing?”
His voice dropped into scary mode. “If I ever catch whoever ripped up her house, he’s dead meat. O’Brien, I’m worried about her, but she won’t even think about leaving for a few days. White Deer’s staying with her, but neither one of them are strong enough to KO some pervert. I’m going to camp out there for the next few days. I’ll be at home tomorrow though. Eleven A.M. work for you?”
I jotted a note to myself. “Sounds good to me.”
“Cool beans. I think I’ll call in some of my buddies from the enclave to search the property for me. Make sure no psycho’s hiding out in the back forty.” Jimbo’s buddies from the Klickavail Valley bikers’ enclave were a formidable crew. I wouldn’t want to be any trespasser they might catch.
“Good thinking. Okay, well, I’m outta here for now. See you tomorrow.” As I hung up, I turned over several thoughts in my head. One was flashing a neon red alarm, and I had to put it to rest, one way or another. Might as well grit my teeth and get it over with. I grabbed my purse, stuck a Post-it on the teapot I’d chosen for myself, and headed out. With a wave to everybody and a slew of good wishes following me out the door, I jumped in my SUV and pointed myself in the direction of the Four Seasons Motel where Roy was staying.
THE LOOK ON Roy’s face when he opened the door was priceless. Made me wish I had a camera. Before he could ask what I was doing there, I pushed my way into the room, tossed my purse on a chair, and perched my ass on the desk.
“Okay, let’s get this over and done with. I’m ready to hash it out once and for all. And I’m sure you want to go home.” I’d be able to tell whether Roy had been the one who shot Joe. He wasn’t good at hiding his feelings, even though he’d been an excellent liar during our marriage. I’d been in such denial, I’d ignored every warning sign until I couldn’t turn away anymore. After the last blow up, ending with me starting a fire using his clothes as fuel, and him giving me a black eye, I knew it was over. From then on, I never had a problem pinpointing his lies.
Roy stared at me, uncertainty clouding his face. “Fine. What exactly are we hashing out?”
“First—what the hell were you thinking when you showed up at the party? You’re lucky that I sent the kids home early, but they sure got an eyeful when the paper came out with Ingrid’s article in it. They—and everybody else in town—now knows what a drunken buffoon you are. Not only that, probably half the town thinks you shot Joe.”
His eyes narrowed and he let out an exasperated sigh. Typical. The martyr rode again. Oh poor me, my ex-wife just won’t quit ragging on me. “I didn’t intend on losing it.”
“Then why did you show up? You know you aren’t going to control yourself. What on earth possessed you to open your mouth when you know it always gets you into trouble?” I shook my head. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but we’d been round and round for the past five years, and I was tired of it.
Roy leaned against the wall. He was still a handsome man, that I’d give him, but his arrogance had grown to outshine the charm that had snared me in when we first met. Five-ten, with a curly mass of strawberry blond hair the same as Kip’s, he’d kept himself trim. For just a moment, I flashed back to the good days, before the kids and I’d become burdens to him rather than joys. We’d had some good times, a fact that I conveniently tended to forget.
“Emerald—oh never mind.” He suddenly slumped. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” I said softly. “Talk to me like a human being for once and maybe I’d surprise you. Surprise me, Roy. Be a man instead of a spoiled brat who throws a temper tantrum when he can’t get his own way.”
And to my shock, he took me up on the dare. He slid down to the floor, hands clasped between his knees as he stared at the floor. “What can I say? What do you want me to say? You want me to be happy for you? Well, I am. So there. All better now?”
I decided to take a chance and sat on the floor next to him. “No, not all better. Yes, I want you to be happy for me, just like I’d like to think you’re moving on with your life and not holding the kids’ feelings hostage. Why are you so mad at me? I’m not the one who—”
“Who cheated. I know—you never let me forget. Will I ever be forgiven for that slip?”
I stared at him, aghast. “Slip? You call it a slip? Roy, think for a moment. Put yourself in my place. Your slip ended our marriage and you traumatized Randa. Why the hell did you decide to fuck Tyra in our daughter’s bed? I’ve never understood. The day I burned that bed on the front lawn, along with your suits and everything else I could find of yours, I burned up any chance of forgiving you. You don’t deserve it.”
&
nbsp; Roy blinked—one long, slow blink that drew me in. A whirl of sorrow, a vortex of tangled feelings slid over me and I realized that he would never have an answer. That he didn’t even know why he’d done what he did.
“You have no idea why, do you?” I asked.
He slowly shook his head. “No, I’ve never been able to figure out why I acted like such an idiot. You think I wanted to hurt you? To hurt Randa? I didn’t.” A pause. “Maybe I did, but I don’t know why. There’s something you don’t know about that time. I never told you because I knew you’d use it in court.”
My stomach lurched. Had he hurt one of our children? Surely he wouldn’t admit it to me now if he had. “What? What were you doing?”
“At that time …” He paused, and for the first time since I’d known him, I saw fear on his face. “Emerald, I was strung out. I was hooked on cocaine. That’s where the money was going that you thought I spent on Tyra.” He wouldn’t—or couldn’t—look me in the eye.
I turned away, staring at the bed, at the dresser, at anything but him. So, that’s what had been going on. “And when you hit me that night? The last time?”
“Higher than a kite. I never said I was sorry. I know it won’t do any good, but I want to say it now. I’m sorry, Emerald. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I hurt the kids. I know I can’t ever make up for it.”
He caught my gaze and held it. I blinked and looked away, a flurry of confusion raced through me. I’d spent so many years hating him, hating what he’d done to us, that I didn’t know how to handle his confession, nor his apology.
“Roy, I don’t know what to say,” I stammered out.
“I didn’t expect you to say much of anything, actually. In fact, I thought you’d laugh in my face.” He bit his lip and I saw a few drops of blood dribble down the corner of his mouth.
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