Fugitive Father

by Carla Cassidy

  Now it suddenly didn’t seem to matter any longer. She didn’t care what people would think. She didn’t care what gossip might circulate. She was going home, and that’s all that mattered.

  She pulled the car off to the side of the gravel road, her attention focused on the large billboard that loomed out of what had once been the Johnson family’s cornfield. She got out of the car and approached the sign: Future Site Of The Boswell Power Plant.

  She squinted her eyes, searching out the spot where the Johnsons’ house had once stood. In its place was a variety of heavy earth-moving machinery, all parked and waiting only the touch of a human hand to put them into motion.

  The mark of progress, she thought with a scowl, kicking a beer can that lay discarded at the foot of the massive sign. She looked northward, able to see in the distance the two-story house that had been her home.

  Maybe it’s a blessing that Mama won’t be around to see this, she thought, easily imagining how the steel-and-concrete power plant would mar the beauty of the fields. It will make great scenery from the kitchen window, she thought dryly, once again gazing at the farmhouse in the distance.

  From this vantage point, the dwelling looked dark and foreboding. Not even the brilliant autumn leaves of the trees surrounding the house could brighten the aura of darkness that clung to it.

  For a moment Sarah studied the structure where she had grown up, wondering if it really looked as forbidding as she thought, or if it was merely the fact that she knew her mother was gone that made her perceive the house as such.

  It wasn’t until moments later when she pulled up in front of the farmhouse that she realized it wasn’t just the absence of her mother that colored her perceptions. Neglect would be apparent to a stranger. She stared at the house in dismay, shocked at its obvious state of disrepair. The once white paint was weathered gray and peeling. The screen door hung crookedly from one hinge, and one of the steps leading up to the front porch was broken in half.

  It had always been difficult for the three female Calhouns to maintain the farmhouse. There had been too little money, too few hands and too much hard work. Sarah had hoped some of that would change last year when Lindy married Ben Watters. She’d been grateful there would be a man around the house to take care of the place, ease the burden on her mother. Things had changed all right. In the six years she’d been gone, they appeared to have gotten worse.

  “Jackie, wake up. Honey, we’re here.” Sarah got out of the car and opened the back door. She smiled as Jackie mumbled incoherently but didn’t wake up. Oh, to be a child and sleep that deeply, with no adult worries or concerns to interrupt, she thought. She scooped the sleeping child up in her arms and started for the house.

  The steps leading to the front porch creaked and groaned beneath their weight, and she grabbed the wobbly handrail for support. The place looked deserted.

  As she opened the front door, Sarah bit back the automatic impulse to yell for her mother. “Hello? Anyone home?” she called. “Lindy? Are you here?”

  She walked in, wrinkling her nose as she smelled the familiar scent of old wood, lemon polish and an underlying mustiness. She made her way into the living room, squinting against the darkness of the room. She frowned as she saw that all the heavy draperies were pulled tightly closed so that not a single ray of sunshine could peek through. Shifting Jackie’s weight from one side to the other, she opened the curtains. Where was everyone?

  She placed Jackie on the sofa, where the little girl curled up, still in the deep throes of slumber. It was her habit to nap for a couple of hours each afternoon.

  Knowing she probably wouldn’t awaken for a while longer, Sarah left the living room. She went from room to room, opening curtains and calling Lindy’s name. Everywhere she saw the remnants of her mother’s life, frozen in time as if awaiting her imminent return—needlework in a basket, the floral apron on a hook by the oven, the bottle of rose-scented hand lotion she would rub on after doing the dishes. Sarah’s heart ached with emptiness.

  Sadness welled up inside her, but she knew her mother was gone and it was Lindy she was now worried about. Where was she? She’d sounded like a total basket case the night before.

  Sarah’s concern increased as she searched the rest of the house and still found no sign of her sister. “Where can she be?” she asked aloud, staring out the front door.

  Of course. The dogs, she thought suddenly. Her mother had told Sarah often about Lindy’s dogs. Whenever Lindy was upset or worried, she always sought out the companionship of her animals. After checking to make sure Jackie was still soundly sleeping, Sarah headed for the dog pen beyond the back door of the house.

  Lindy was there, in the middle of the large pen, surrounded by the animals with whom she’d always felt most at peace. It was an incongruous picture, the dark-haired, small-boned, frail-looking woman surrounded by three of the largest, strongest of dogs. At Sarah’s approach, the dogs barked and jumped at the high fence that enclosed them.

  “Sarah?” Lindy’s blue eyes widened, then filled with tears. “Oh, Sarah!” She quickly let herself out of the dog pen and moved into Sarah’s embrace.

  Sarah wrapped her arms around her sister and hugged her tight, tears burning in her eyes. Too long...it had been far too long. She should never have allowed her pride and her fear to keep her away from home.

  She released Lindy and stepped back to look at her. When Sarah had left Clay Creek, she had been seventeen and Lindy had been fifteen and just beginning to show the symptoms of her disease.

  Margaret Calhoun had kept Sarah informed about the battle with Lindy’s manic-depression and Sarah had been under the impression that it was being controlled by medication. However, as she gazed at her sister, clad in a wrinkled nightgown, her hair looking as if it hadn’t even been combed that morning, Sarah knew that her sister wasn’t in terrific shape. Was it her illness or was it the horrible events of the night before? She hoped it was the latter.

  “You okay?” she asked, wrapping an arm around Lindy’s shoulders as she guided her back toward the house.

  Lindy nodded, even the small action seeming to take enormous effort. “I’m fine now that you’re here. Everything is all mixed up. I just can’t think. I couldn’t handle everything...” Tears once again welled up in Lindy’s eyes. “And I can’t seem to stop crying....”

  “I’m here now, and we’ll handle everything together.” Sarah gave Lindy’s shoulders a squeeze. Maybe it was just the shock of Mama’s death and not the disease, she thought hopefully. But as she remembered the drawn curtains in the house, she knew it was more than a reactive depression—Lindy was on the verge of going under.

  “Did you bring Jackie with you?” Lindy asked.

  Sarah nodded. “But she’s sleeping right now. You two will have plenty of time to get acquainted later. Right now we need to talk.”

  They walked in the back door and Lindy immediately slid into a chair at the kitchen table, as if she’d expended too much energy walking the short distance from the dog pen to the house. She ran a hand down the front of her nightgown. “I—I meant to shower and get dressed earlier.”

  “It’s all right,” Sarah said gently. “Have you eaten anything today?” Lindy shook her head. “Why don’t I make us some lunch, maybe some soup and sandwiches. By that time Jackie should be awake.”

  “Where is she? Can I just see her? I promise I won’t wake her up.” For the first time since she arrived, Sarah detected a spark of life in Lindy’s eyes.

  “Sure,” she agreed. Together the two women left the kitchen and went into the living room, where Jackie was still curled up on the sofa.

  “Oh, she’s beautiful,” Lindy whispered, tears once again filling her eyes. She reached out a hand as if to stroke Jackie’s hair, then froze suddenly, and Sarah saw that her gaze was now focused out the window where a patrol car was winding down the lane toward them.

  Lindy turned to Sarah, the tears coursing faster down her cheeks. “Please...please don’
t make me talk to him. Not now. I can’t. I can’t talk to anyone. I just can’t.” Without waiting for a reply, Lindy turned and ran for the stairs, leaving Sarah to face whoever had pulled up out front.

  Chapter 2

  Even if a hundred years had passed, Reese would have recognized her anywhere...on any street, in any city of the world. He would have known that lustrous dark hair, the attractive heart-shaped face and those Calhoun eyes, so hauntingly blue they almost shimmered violet. He would have known the curve of her jawline, the swell of her breasts, the shapeliness of her legs no matter how many years had gone by.

  At the sight of her, anger and resentment swept through him so swiftly, so suddenly, it nearly buckled his knees. Damn her. She was every bit as beautiful as she had been the last time he’d held her in his arms, the last time he’d made love to her. Damn her for coming back here and making him remember things better left alone.

  “Sarah,” he said in greeting, grateful that his voice was cool and didn’t betray any of his tumultuous emotions. He approached where she stood on the porch. “Anna wondered if this tragedy would finally bring you back.”

  She nodded curtly. “But only long enough to take care of things and settle the estate.” She smoothed her skirt with one hand, then reached up to pull an errant dark curl away from her large blue eyes. “When I saw the car pull up, I expected Sheriff Taylor. I certainly didn’t expect to see you.”

  “You’ve been gone a long time. Things change. Jim retired last year and I’m now the man in charge.” He couldn’t help the small touch of pride that deepened his tone.

  “I’m surprised to see you here at all. I’d have thought you would have left Clay Creek long ago.”

  Reese shrugged and cast her a bitter smile. She looked so cool, so calm. If any memories of what they’d once shared lingered, they didn’t faze her. Maybe he’d never been important enough to remember. Again anger swept through him and he swallowed hard to keep his composure. “I guess some of us just dream of leaving Clay Creek, and others actually do it.”

  She opened her mouth as if to say something, then seemed to change her mind and clamped it shut. She looked back at the house, her body radiating an inexplicable tension. She gazed at him once again, her eyes slightly narrowed. “What do you want, Reese? Why are you here?”

  “I need to talk to Lindy. I’ve got a few questions I need to ask her. Paperwork...” He saw her slender shoulders stiffen.

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible at the moment. She’s really confused and upset by all this. Can’t it wait a day or two?”

  Reese hesitated. He knew of Lindy’s mental instability. Over the last several years the whole town had witnessed Lindy’s bouts of manic-depression. He knew there was no point in trying to talk to Lindy when she was in a manic phase or deep in a depression. “What about tomorrow? I can come back out here.”

  “No.” She said it sharply, firmly. “I’ll bring her into town in the next day or two.”

  The questions he’d wanted to ask for years whirled around inside him, but he refused to give them voice. He didn’t want to hear Sarah’s reasons or explanations. She’d disappeared out of his life as cleanly as a dream, and perhaps that’s all she’d ever been. In any case, it no longer mattered. She was ancient history.

  “Fine.” Again she looked back at the front door. “I’d better get back inside. As I said, Lindy isn’t handling all this very well.”

  Reese nodded and turned to walk away, then, as a new thought struck him, he looked back at her once again. “About your mother. She’s been released to Walt Decater over at the funeral home. He’s waiting for somebody to make arrangements with him.”

  Her expression didn’t change, and if not for the momentary flicker of pain in her eyes, he would have sworn the thought of her mother’s body lying unattended in a mortuary hadn’t fazed her. But he had seen the shaft of raw pain and he fought a crazy impulse to gather her into his arms.

  Reese got back into his patrol car and slammed the door more forcefully than necessary. Damn her hide. He’d thought he’d gotten over her, thought his heart had healed from the hurt she’d left behind when she’d disappeared from his life with no warning.

  And maybe his heart was healed, but his body still remembered the satiny feel of her skin, the scalding heat of her caresses, the sweet nectar of her kisses. His body remembered every single time they’d made love...and he wanted to again. And that made him angry, so angry he trembled with the effort of suppressing the emotion.

  As he drove back toward town, he wondered how it was possible to hate a woman so deeply, and yet want her so desperately at the same time.

  * * *

  Sarah sagged in relief, watching until the last dust particle from his tires had dispersed in the air. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, trying to regain her composure.

  She’d almost fainted when he’d gotten out of that patrol car. It had taken every ounce of her willpower not to show her shock—first at seeing him again, then at seeing him in that uniform.

  Reese Walker was the sheriff of Clay Creek. She couldn’t believe it. It simply wouldn’t compute.

  Thank God Jackie hadn’t awakened and wandered outside while he’d been there. She didn’t want Reese to know about her. He didn’t deserve to know.

  What was he doing still here in town? she wondered. She’d been so sure he would have been gone by now. He’d vented his hatred of Clay Creek and everyone in it so often. And what in hell was he doing in a sheriff’s uniform?

  When she’d first seen him getting out of the car, for just a single moment reality had seemed to fade away and it wasn’t the patrol car parked before the house but Reese’s soupedup, rusted-out Chevy. In her memory she could see him bounding up the stairs, clad in obscenely tight worn jeans, a white T-shirt and a leather bomber jacket. He’d smell like hot oil and lube grease and cold beer. And his eyes would burn with the fervor of repressed anger, shattered dreams and the passionate wildness that drew her to him with a force she couldn’t fight.

  He’d been like an angry bee, and Clay Creek the bonnet that held him tight. She’d known that he would eventually sting her, but she hadn’t been able to resist his fiery appeal.

  She shook her head, dispelling yesteryear’s images, not wanting to remember the exquisite pleasure and the torturous pain that those memories always evoked.

  As he’d approached, she’d noticed the changes that had occurred in him in the past six years. Although his hair was still the black of midnight, it was much shorter, neater now. His was a face chiseled by trouble, sculptured by anger’s heavy hand, and time had only deepened those lines. Unfortunately, the deepening of lines simply added to his overall attractiveness.

  The biggest change of all had been in his eyes. Those charcoal eyes had always held the glow of smoldering fire, but the eyes of the sheriff had been cool, with no hint of the old, wild tempest within. Still, it was a handsome face...dangerously so.

  Some of us just dream of leaving...and others actually do it. A bitter smile curved her lips as she thought of his words. She hadn’t just left. She’d been forced to leave.

  She’d been seventeen years old and pregnant. Afraid of the town’s censure, fearing Reese’s anger, his rejection, she’d been forced to leave her family, her home. She’d had no other choice. She’d heard his opinions on marriage and children a hundred times and knew there was no way she could stay. So she had left the place she loved, and for that alone she would never forgive him. And she would never give him the opportunity to reject Jackie.

  Jackie. Thoughts of her daughter drew Sarah back into the house. She was surprised to see Lindy sitting on a chair in the living room. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a blouse, and her hair, although still lank, looked as if it had just been brushed. She’ll be all right, Sarah thought hopefully. Jackie and I can pull her up before she descends all the way down.

  “Is he gone?”

  Sarah nodded, still shaken by the shock of seeing Ree
se again. “Why didn’t somebody tell me he was still here?” she asked softly, hoping her voice didn’t betray the tumultuous emotions that swirled inside her.

  Lindy shrugged. “You never asked about him. Mama always told me not to mention him to you unless you specifically asked.”

  Of course she’d never asked. It hurt too much to think of him, let alone speak his name. “Is he married?” The words fell stiffly from her lips. She was instantly sorry she’d asked. What difference did it make?

  “No. He dates Suzanna Wilcox quite a bit, but that’s been going on for years and I don’t think it’s really serious.”

  The answer didn’t surprise Sarah. He could put on a uniform, but that didn’t change who he was. No commitments, no strings, that had always been Reese’s way.

  Lindy gazed at Sarah sadly. “You aren’t going to stay, are you?”

  Sarah knew immediately what Lindy was talking about. There had been moments on the trip back when Sarah had thought she might come back to Clay Creek to stay. She’d envisioned settling back here, resuming the life she’d had before her pregnancy. She’d missed it so desperately and would have loved to raise Jackie in the small-town atmosphere. But now that she knew Reese was still in town, there was no way she would make her home here.

  “I’ll stay as long as you need me...long enough to get everything settled.”

  Lindy sighed. “I’d hoped you’d be home for good.” She leaned her head back against the chair, looking scarcely older than she had at fifteen. “I used to stay awake at night, plotting ways to get you to come back home. I missed you so much, and felt so lost without you. I would have done anything to get you back here.” She looked down at her hands, then up at Sarah. “Especially lately I’ve needed you here. Mama and I hadn’t been getting along very well and Ben is having an affair.”

  Sarah gasped in surprise. Although she had never met her sister’s husband in person, she’d spoken to him by phone many times. Margaret had always told Sarah what a wonderful man he was, so patient and so obviously in love with Lindy. “You must be mistaken,” Sarah protested. “What makes you think he’s having an affair?”