by Lisa Gregory
He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her. He wanted to feel her arms around his waist, her head resting trustingly against his chest. He was so empty without her. The nights were long and lonely, and he didn't sleep well. He lay awake thinking about Sarah, missing her warm body curled up against his. He missed talking to her. There was so much inside him that in the past he would have released by telling Sarah. Now it stayed within, festering.
He missed making love to her. That fact racked him with guilt; he felt like an animal. Despite how fragile Sarah was, despite what his desire had cost them, despite how recently she had lost the baby, he still wanted her.
At first he had been too angry and disgusted with himself to even feel desire. But lately it had been creeping back into him. When he had seen Sarah standing on the back porch a few days ago, calling to Emily, the breeze tugging her hair from its knot and molding her skirts to her body, hunger had stirred in him. Today when she leaned across the table to set down a dish, he had noticed how the material of her blouse strained across her breasts, still a little large from her pregnancy, and he had wanted to bury his face in that lustiness. He lay awake at night, thinking about her lying in their bed across the hall and remembering what they had once done together there. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world to him, and his body responded to her, even when his mind told him it wasn't decent.
Having to hide his desire made Luke even more tongue-tied and awkward around Sarah. She would be thoroughly disgusted if she realized that he wanted to make love to her again. He was afraid that his eyes would give him away or that he would let something slip. So he avoided looking at and talking to her.
Luke ate quickly, and got up from the table as soon as he was through. He planned to spend the rest of the day as he had yesterday, finding chores to do outside that would keep him out of Sarah's presence.
There was the sound of a buggy pulling up beside the house. Luke groaned inwardly. The last thing he wanted was to have to sit in the house all afternoon with company, trying to act as if everything were normal.
"I wonder who that is." Sarah rose and went to the window. A buggy stood in the driveway, and a woman was alighting from it. Sarah stared. She had never before seen a woman who looked like this one.
Their visitor wore a vivid blue satin dress. It had enormous puffed sleeves and was cut far too low in the front, so that much of her milk-white chest showed, A wide blue hat with an extravagant feather curling around its brim sat on top of high-piled blond hair, arranged intricately in curls. Her skin was pale, her mouth and cheeks unnaturally red. She walked with a sway, and she held her skirts too high off the ground, showing an indecent amount of ankle and calf
Even though Sarah had never seen one, she knew exactly what this woman was. "My goodness." She turned to Luke, her eyes round with amazement. "Luke, come look."
He crossed the room quickly and looked out. He stared, his eyebrows rising. "What in the—" He broke off and glanced over at Emily.
"Who is she?" Sarah asked.
"I haven't any idea." They continued to watch as the woman made her way to the side steps. "Good God!"
Sarah glanced up at Luke. He appeared stunned. "What? Do you know her?"
"I think—I think it's Tessa Jackson."
"Tessa Jackson!" They stared at each other. How could she have the nerve to come here? It was she who had sent Luke to prison on a false rape charge so many years ago.
Luke's face went hard and blank, and suddenly he looked as Sarah remembered him from the past. "I'll take care of her. You stay here."
He strode through the kitchen and opened the door just as the woman raised her hand to knock. She stepped back, startled, and drew a quick gulp of air. "Luke!"
"Who else did you expect?"
"No one. I—you surprised me, that's all."
Luke looked down at her. She was a year younger than Sarah, but she appeared years older. Lines radiated from the comers of her heavily painted eyes, and her skin sagged beneath the makeup. She was garish and cheap. Luke wondered how he could have slept with her. Sarah's natural feminine sexuality was far more stirring than Tessa's obvious, well-used lures. But he hadn't known Sarah then. He hadn't known love at all.
Luke stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. Tessa glanced at the closed door, and her mouth drew into a bitter smile. "My, come up in the world, ain't ya'?Afraid the sight of me will contaminate your little high-class wife?"
"My wife is not a topic for you to discuss." Luke walked down the steps, so that Tessa had to follow him. She grimaced with irritation, but went after him, holding her skirt high enough that he would get a good glimpse of her shapely legs.
Tessa stopped inches away from Luke and smiled up invitingly, her hand straying to her throat so that his eyes would be drawn to the exposed tops of her full breasts in the low-cut dress. "You're still a powerful good-looking man, Luke. Maybe even better looking." She trailed her forefinger down the front of his shirt. "I wonder, are you still as good in—"
Luke grabbed her wrist, his fingers biting into her skin, and almost flung her hand away. "Believe me, there's no chance of you finding out." He backed up, his mouth tight with disgust. "Do you really think I'd have any interest in you?"
Tessa shrugged, her chin going up defiantly. "A lot of men do." She braced her hands on her hips, pulling her elbows back to emphasize her breasts. "I reckoned you weren't getting much, with that dried-up little church-going wife."
"I told you not to talk about Sarah." Luke's eyes blazed. "Now, unless you'd like me to throw you up in that buggy and send you on your way, you better tell me what you came for. And tell it quick."
Tessa's eyes flamed, but she pulled her anger under control. "I come to ask a favor of you."
"A favor! My God, Tess, why in the hell do you think I'd do you a favor? You're lucky I didn't come out of that door with a shotgun in my hand. You sent me to five years of hell. You think I would welcome you with open arms? Help you out of whatever trouble you're in?"
"I didn't want to hurt you! I didn't have any choice! Daddy kept on hitting me, 'til I couldn't take it no more. I couldn't let him hurt the baby."
"You could have done a lot of things. You could have come to me"
She snorted. "I didn't know what a family man you was. Besides, you wouldn't've taken me in. You wouldn't've married me. You'd a said it wasn't your kid. There wasn't no way to know."
"I wouldn't have let your father hurt you."
Her shoulders sagged, and she glanced away. "I didn't know that. I couldn't count on you—or none of the other boys I'd been with. I couldn't think of nothin' else to do."
"So you cried rape."
She nodded, still not looking at him. "I'm sorry, Luke. I always felt real bad about it. I know—I know I ain't your favorite person."
"That's putting it mildly."
"And you got no reason to help me." She paused, then lifted her head. Luke was surprised to see that her eyes were wet with tears, making the thick makeup run. "But I ain't askin' for me."
"Then for who?"
She swallowed. "For your son."
"What?" He stared at her blankly.
"Your son. That baby I had—it was yours, Luke."
Chapter 10
Luke stiffened. His lips curled with distaste. "You think I'm an idiot? You didn't have a clue who the father of that baby was."
"I didn't back then. But when he got older, I knew. Cal looks just like you."
Luke's heart picked up its beat. His son? No, it was impossible. With all the men Tessa had lain with, anyone could have been the father. "I don't believe you. What is it, Tess? You need a little cash?"
Tessa's eyes hardened. "No. That ain't why I come here. I make good money in Fort Worth. I don't need to beg from you. But I—it ain't a good life for the boy. I kept him with me some at first, but it's hard."
"I can imagine a child would cramp your style."
She shot him an angry look. "You didn'
t use to be so mean."
"It's something you learn in Huntsville."
"I'm sorry." Tessa's lower lip quivered, and she pressed her lips together to stop it.
Luke felt a flash of pity. "All right. What's this favor?"
"I want you to take Cal."
"Your son?"
"He's your son, too. I swear it. My life ain't a decent one for a kid. He sees things he shouldn't; he gets into trouble. So most of the time I've left him at home."
"At your father's?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I didn't want to, but I didn't have nowhere else. He's been living there all the time for a couple of years. I just see him now and then, when I can get home—and when Daddy'll let me in. The thing is, well, you know how Daddy is."
"Yeah, I know." Every time Luke had visited Tessa when they were young, her father had launched into a long diatribe about how worthless and godless Luke was. George Jackson was a brutal, sanctimonious man with puritanical beliefs. He believed that he was the absolute ruler of his house, and he beat any family member who didn't conform to his rigid ideas of right and wrong. Most of his children had left his house as soon as they were old enough, and generally they had turned out to be the opposite of what he had tried to make of them. Tessa had turned whore; one of her brothers had died in a knife fight in Dallas; and another brother was in Huntsville for armed robbery.
"He's mean to Cal. He's worse than he was with me and Rachel and the boys. Ma's not there anymore to calm him down. He says that Cal's full of sin 'cause he was born out of sin."
Luke sighed. "Poor little bastard."
Tears spilled out of Tessa's eyes, streaking her cheeks with black. "Cal ain't bad, Luke. Not deep down. But he's like Bobby always was; he defies Daddy, and then Daddy's even harder on him. Cal hates me; he'll hardly talk to me. Who can blame him? But I can't take him out of there; he can't live with me. It's just no life for him. I saw him this weekend, and it broke my heart. And I thought—maybe you would take him. He could grow up here; you could teach him bow to act. And he'd have a—a good woman for a ma. I promise, Luke, if you'd take Cal in, I wouldn't ever bother you. I swear it. I wouldn't try to come see him or anything. I'd stay clean out of your lives."
"Tessa. I'm sorry for the boy, but..."
"You don't think he's your kid."
"I don't know how you could tell."
"Go look at him." Tessa grabbed his arm with both hands. "Then you'll know. He's yours, Luke. I ain't lying. Just go over to Daddy's place tomorrow and look at him. You'll see."
Luke sighed. "All right. I'll ride over to see him tomorrow morning."
A smile burst across Tessa's face. "Oh, thank you! Thank you." She squeezed his arm and let out a giggle. "I know you'll do the right thing. Then I won't have to worry about him being there anymore."
"Tessa, I didn't say I'd take him in."
"I know, but once you see him, you'll believe that he's yours. And you won't leave your own son with Daddy."
She wiped the tears from her face with her hands and climbed into the buggy. She picked up the reins, then paused and looked down at him. "You know, Luke," she began, her voice low and almost shy, "you was always the best. You was the only one who didn't treat me like dirt."
She slapped the reins and the horse started forward. Luke watched her turn the buggy and drive out onto the road. He walked over to the steps and sat down heavily.
It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. Tessa had to be lying—or else she wanted to believe it so much that she had convinced herself that it was true. She knew that he, of all the boys she'd given her favors to, now had the means to take care of a child well. She knew that he would do the right thing. So she told herself that the child looked like Luke, that he was Luke's child.
And yet... what if it was true? What if the boy was his son? It was possible, of course. God knows, he'd visited Tessa often enough when he was young. It could have been his seed, and not some other man's, that had taken hold inside her.
A son. What if he had a son? Had had a son all these years and never even known it? How old must the boy be now? Nine? Was his son growing up in poverty and hate, just as Luke himself had done?
Luke closed his eyes. He couldn't bear the thought. He had sworn that his children would never be touched by the hunger and anger that had haunted his life. The thought of a child of his flesh being in George Jackson's hands made him ill.
And what was he to do if he couldn't tell for sure whether Cal was his? How could he leave the boy if there was even a possibility it was his son? How could he leave any child with that man?
He heard the kitchen door open behind htm, and he turned, flooded with relief. Sarah would know what was right. She would show him the way; she always had.
"Luke?" Sarah stood in the doorway, her face puzzled. "What is it? Why did she come here?"
He rose. "She wanted to ask me a favor."
"A favor! You're joking." Sarah came down the steps to him.
"I wouldn't do it as a favor for her, of course. But if what she said is true ..." He paused. "She wants me to go to the Jackson place tomorrow to see her boy. The child she was carrying when she testified against me."
"Why?"
"Because she says he's mine. My son."
"What? No!" Sarah backed up. "He couldn't be. How could she know?"
"She says he looks like me."
"There are other blond men around."
"I know. At first I figured she was lying, too. But she was so sure. I think she believes it."
"If it were true, why didn't she come to you before? Surely she needed money then, too."
"I was in prison until four years ago."
"And since then?"
"I don't know. Maybe it took her awhile to get the courage to do it."
"It took nerve, all right. She's trying to use you. What does she want? Money?"
"No. She wants me to take him in. She's a, well, you could see what she must do for a living. She can't have the boy with her, and she doesn't want to leave him at her father's any longer. George Jackson is a brute; I'm sure he makes the boy's life hell."
Sarah's stomach turned to ice. "She wants you to bring him here to live?"
"Yeah. I'll go see him tomorrow. If I can tell that he's mine, there won't be a problem. I'll bring him home. But if he doesn't look like me, I don't know what to do. He—"
"No!" Sarah interrupted fiercely. Panic rose in her throat. Her son had just died; Luke couldn't mean to bring in another boy in his place. He couldn't be that callous and unfeeling. "He's not yours!"
"But I don't know that. He could be mine. Even if he doesn't look like me much, he could still be mine."
Sarah's hands knotted together. "You aren't going to bring him home. Luke, tell me you're not."
He frowned. What was wrong with Sarah? "Well, of course I'd bring him home if he's my son."
His son. The words cut like a knife through her. Luke thought he had a son—the son she had failed to give him.
"No. Please, I couldn't bear it."
"What do you mean?"
"My son is dead! I won't have you trying to put another child in his place."
Luke went still. "I would have thought you would like it. That you'd want a child here, someone you could love and care for."
Sarah's face was deathly white, the faint sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks standing out starkly. "You think that I can replace my baby with some other woman's child? Do you think his death means that little to me?"
"Of course not." Luke reached out to her, but Sarah jerked away from him.
"Does it mean that little to you? Does it? My son, Tessa's son, what's the difference? Is that how you feel?"
"Sarah, you're being hysterical." Her reaction amazed him. He would never have dreamed that Sarah, of all people, would show so little concern for the child. The Sarah he knew would have cried at the thought of a poor little boy in Jackson's house. His Sarah would have been urging him to bring the child home, no
matter whose it was.
"I am not!" Sarah's hands clenched in her skirts. She couldn't believe that Luke could be so cold and callous to her. Did he really believe that she would want to take in a strange boy when her own son had died only weeks ago? How could he think that Tessa Jackson's son by God-knows-whom could take the place of her own child? "How can you ask that of me? How can you do it yourself?"
"If he's my son, I don't know what else I can do,"
"He's not your son! I won't have you bringing that boy in my house!"
Luke stared at her for a long moment , his eyes cold and blank. "I never would have believed that you could turn so hard."
He wheeled and walked off. Sarah sat down on the steps. She felt stiff and cold. She wanted to cry—she ached to cry. But she couldn't.
❧
Julia settled in at her new house quickly. She and the children didn't have enough possessions to make unpacking a time-consuming chore, and James's housekeeper had left the place so spotless that there was no cleaning to do. It seemed as if she spent most of the time walking around the house, admiring it.
Saturday afternoon Julia walked to the grocery store— what luxury to live only five blocks from the stores!—and purchased their supplies with the salary James had insisted on giving her in advance. Sunday at noon, her family sat down to their first real meal in their new home. Looking at Bonnie and Vance on either side of the table, Julia felt more at peace than she could ever remember. At last she was able to give her children a lovely, peaceful home and ample food on the table. She couldn't forget that it was James who had made it possible.
Bright and early Monday morning Julia walked to James's office. The front door was unlocked, and she stepped inside tentatively. The waiting room was unlit, the shades closed. "Dr. Banks?"
She walked down the hall leading off the waiting room. Dark rooms lay on either side. She almost tiptoed, feeling like an intruder and unsure what she should do. A stream of light fell across the hall from the room at the end. Julia went up to the door and peeked inside.
It was James's office, and he sat behind his desk, a stack of files and a tray of food before him. He ate as he read through a file. He glanced up at the sound of Julia's footsteps, and broke into a smile. "Ju—I mean, Mrs. Dobson."
