Love, Lust, and The Lassiters

by Merrill, McKenna

  * *

  “Simon!” Veronica woke with a start, calling his name, and he was there, holding her sleepily, kissing her shoulder.

  “Mmm?” he said.

  “Simon. I had a bad dream.”

  “It’s okay, lover, I’m here. Come lie against me. That’s nice.” He kissed her hair, rubbed her back. “Do you have bad dreams often?”

  “No, no I never do. It’s so strange. And I dreamt about Lilah.”

  Simon woke up a bit more. “What about her?”

  “She was a baby, just a little baby. She was outside the inn, and it was raining, and the door was locked, I couldn’t get to her, but I could hear her crying, and I couldn’t get out to bring her out of the rain. She was in a gym bag. The top was open, so she was peeping out. And she was, well—”

  “What, Beauty?”

  “She was mine. She was my child, and yours, and I felt this terrible feeling, like I would never see her again. And I can’t explain it, how much I loved her, what it did to me to see that little bundle, to hear her crying for me.” Veronica was almost in tears, as she had been in the dream.

  “Just a dream,” he whispered in her ear. “Go to sleep, love.”

  “I read this book once. Jane Eyre. Have you read it?”

  “Mmmm—no.”

  “She had these dreams of a child, and her nanny always told her that was a bad omen, to dream of a child. And then it turned out that her husband-to-be had a wife already, a madwoman that he kept locked up in the attic, and when it was revealed, they couldn’t be married. You don’t have a madwoman locked in the attic, do you?”

  Simon’s laughter calmed her more than his gentle hands. “Oh, Veronica, you are the sweetest girl in the world.”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  He grinned at her in the darkness. “No madwoman in the attic, just a silly one in bed with me. She’s very cute, though, and I asked her to marry me.”

  “And what did she say?” she breathed as she watched his mouth come closer to hers.

  “She promised,” he said. “And vows can’t be broken, even by madwomen.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Suzie James sat on the terrace, bundled in a jacket, enjoying hot chocolate. She was in a strange mood today, detached from her own feelings, as though she was somehow unconsciously avoiding them. She knew that she felt guilty, but even that seemed unreal to her as she contemplated the pines and the blue sky, and smelled the freshness of tree sap on the air. It was December 1st, but still there was no sign of snow. Her father had always said it was a bad sign when the weather hadn’t turned freezing by December. He’d had all sorts of ominous superstitions like that, about the weather, the stars, the trees, all things from nature, which she supposed was where superstition began. She looked into her cup, stared at the creamy chocolate, remembering her date with Pat and how she’d yelled at him. She’d never talked that way to anyone, and to have done it to that sweet man was just unforgivable. She didn’t know what had come over her.

  She hadn’t seen Pat since he’d stood near her in Simon’s office. He’d been quiet, which, in the few days she’d known him she’d realized was not a natural state for him. He had been holding back, wanting to talk but knowing she didn’t want to hear it. He hadn’t pouted, though, or been sullen about her rejection. He’d simply looked sad, as though he’d been misunderstood. Perhaps she had misunderstood him, but really. To propose to her? After a four day acquaintance? It was unheard of. He’d pointed out that she shouldn’t worry about what people thought. Maybe she did worry about that. Fine, then, she would base it solely on her feelings.

  Suzie James sighed, and asked herself what her feelings were. What, really, did she feel about Pat Lassiter? She thought of him as she’d first seen him, his lean body and glowing blue eyes. She remembered how she’d felt when he’d called her “ravishing” and how his touch on her arm had been warm; she thought of the first time he’d kissed her, surprising and amazing her with the sweetness of his lips; she realized that each time she said no, or walked away from him, she was fighting against an inner feeling that was saying the opposite. He made her feel young. He made her feel pretty. He made her laugh. She wanted to be with him.

  “Oh, good God,” Suzie said aloud.

  Suddenly Pat was there, standing next to her. She was speechless. He said, gravely, “Good morning, Suzie; may I sit down?”

  She nodded.

  He sat in one of the wrought iron chairs and set down the newspaper he was holding. “Rather cold out here, isn’t it? I came back from getting my paper, looked all over for you inside, then spied you out here, cuddled up in your sweater.”

  “Isn’t the scenery lovely?” she asked.

  “What scenery?” he responded absently, staring at her face. She realized in an instant that he wasn’t even trying to be charming; he was distracted. He felt terrible. That much she could see in his eyes. She had put the hurt look into those blue orbs. How did she have the power to scar a man she’d just met?

  “Pat, I apologize for yelling at you yesterday. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m a proud woman, I guess, and I just—reacted. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” She put a hand on his arm, tentatively.

  “It was my fault. As you said, not everyone understands our little . . . family secret. But I’m not ashamed of it, Suzie, and I’d never speak anything but the truth to you.”

  “I believe that.”

  “Suzie.” As he looked at her there was a softening, a lightening in his eyes. “Darlin, I won’t rush you into anything. But you wouldn’t walk away from me forever, would you? Not now that I’ve met you and fallen in love with you, you wouldn’t do that to this old man?”

  “You’re not old,” she said crisply. “You’ll never be old, Pat Lassiter.”

  She stood up, her drink forgotten, and walked to the edge of the terrace. She looked down the hillside, but didn’t really see the beauty before her. She felt him come up behind her, felt the light touch of his hands on her shoulders. She wanted to be young, lighthearted, and in love, but that wasn’t her. She was a widowed mother, she had a job, she had a home; she had to be practical. Pat’s hands slowly slid around her waist until he was hugging her tightly against him. She leaned back and closed her eyes. It felt free, leaning against him, letting him be strong.

  “There’s a dance tonight,” he said into her hair. “At the antique barn. The kids are going. It will be a lot of fun, a chance to dress up, a chance to drink and swing a pretty girl around the room before you sneak her out under the trees and kiss her.” His voice was compelling, Suzie thought. She felt almost hypnotized.

  “How exciting,” she murmured.

  “Will you go with me?” he asked.

  She turned and met the challenge in the blue eyes. Who said she wasn’t brave? She pulled his head down and kissed him hard. She felt the surprise, the increasing pleasure in him as the kiss grew longer. It was he who pulled away first.

  “Suzie, you lied to me,” he said hoarsely.

  “You’re right, I did. And I’d love to go to the dance with you.”

  They stayed there, the two of them, reading the truth in each other’s faces, and smiling like the young lovers that they were.

  * *

  Simon woke alone. He felt a burst of disappointment so strong he had to take a breath to calm himself. Then he heard the water of the shower in his bathroom, sighed with relief and pleasure, and jumped out of bed to join her.

  He pulled back the curtain and saw her brown eyes widen in surprise. His gaze roved over her slick, wet body, her silky hair now plastered against her head in a very appealing and sexy way.

  She smiled at him. “I need to get cleaned up. I’m going to a dance with my boyfriend tonight.”

  Already naked, he stepped in beside her. “I heard he was your fiancé,” he said, pulling the cu
rtain shut and kissing her possessively.

  She gasped as she broke away. “God. You’re right, he is my fiancé, but no one knows yet. How did you find out?” She struggled, giggling, in Simon’s iron embrace.

  “I know everything about you,” he said. “Except what it’s like to make love to you in the shower.”

  She gasped. “What will my fiancé say?”

  His hands were roaming over her deliciously slippery body. “I’ll let you know,” he told her.

  Lilah sat on her bed with General. Because her daddy no longer wanted her going outside alone, she’d gotten permission for the cat to come in, but first Grandpa had taken him to town and gotten him sprayed for fleas. He’d bought Lilah a cat food bowl and a little litter box, and General had taken to her room as though it had been his rightful place all along. It was getting cold out, and the yellow cat seemed to appreciate the warmth of his new quarters. At first he’d slept right on the heat vent, but he’d eventually thawed out enough to leap onto her bed and sit on the pillow with squinted eyes. Lilah loved him. She wondered if she could take him back to Chicago. Oh, she didn’t want to go home, she really didn’t.

  She heard a noise in the hall, and crept to her door. Her father was talking to her grandfather, and both men seemed agitated.

  “The ring, Great-Grandmother’s ring,” Daddy was saying. “I want to give it to her. We got engaged last night.” Lilah’s heart skipped a beat. Veronica, he was talking about Veronica! Oh, she knew her baby sister was meant to be.

  “Son, I know your mother would want you to have it, but I wasn’t thinking about that when I gave it away.” Grandpa’s eyes were twinkling, Lilah could see it even through the crack in her door.

  “What do you mean, you gave it away?” Daddy said.

  “I mean, I got engaged this morning,” Grandpa said. Lilah exchanged a glance with General. This was really the most romantic place she’d ever been, better than Bindy’s soap operas.

  Now Daddy and Grandpa were hugging. “Is it the Lassiter boys or the James girls who are irresistible?” her dad asked.

  Grandpa shook his head. “It’s a lethal combination, son. And by the way, I think you can’t get married. I can’t let my son marry my daughter,” he said sternly.

  Daddy laughed. “I’ll just have to get married first,” he said. “Now let me go, I have to pick something out in town.”

  “Son—let me give you some money. I made a mint selling the farm, you know I did. Let me give you something, to make it extra special.”

  The two men shook hands, and Lilah closed her door, sensitive enough not to want to intrude on their moment. She would act surprised later, with everyone else. She lay down next to General and told him her secret: “My Daddy’s getting married and he’s going to have more babies, and I’ll have a sister, and a brother maybe. And Mrs. James is going to be my Grandma.”

  She sighed and smiled and looked at her ceiling. Life at the inn was wonderful, like something out of a story, or one of those old movies where everyone danced and sang.

  Simon came back from a trip to town with a little bag and a big smile. Logan stopped him, looking harassed. “Oh, there you are. You do work here, don’t you? Listen, we’ve got a problem in Room 214—” he seemed to notice Simon’s face for the first time. “You’re in a good mood, man. What gives?”

  Simon showed him what was in the bag, and Logan whistled. “You work fast. Sally wants to pick hers with me, and we haven’t even gotten to it yet. So, tonight’s the night?”

  Simon nodded. “Tonight we make it official. Forever Amen.”

  “No, that’s called a wedding. This is an engagement,” Logan joked. He saw, though, that in Simon’s eyes there was no less devotion than a man making his oath at the altar. “Go put away your precious purchase and come down here and help me. It’s a crazy Saturday as usual.”

  Apologetically, Simon clapped him on the back. “You’ve got it, brother. Sorry. My head has been elsewhere.”

  “You’re head’s been smashed up against her head,” Logan mumbled as he watched Simon retreat. “You big idiot.” He smiled, though. He was happy for his friend.

  Pat Lassiter grinned as he pulled out the clothes he intended to wear that evening. He was going to look sharp. All the Lassiter men looked dashing in dress clothes. It was in their genes. Pat examined the pants of his black suit; they might need a bit of ironing. He wished he’d been able to tell Millie Cromwell that morning at the store that he had a date for the dance. She’d asked him, nosy as usual, and he said he might. “You’ll just have to look for me there,” he’d responded evasively. Luckily, Millie had not pursued it, but had gone on and on about her new handyman, and how lucky she’d been to find him, literally walking past her doorstep.

  Pat set down his pants, sat down on the edge of his bed. Veronica’s stalker had been registered under an assumed name in the Claremont House; he’d checked out again before John O’Malley had gotten to him. Clever devil. John couldn’t find him, not anywhere in town. But what better place to hide in plain sight than with one of the townspeople? By God, if he didn’t think that was it.

  Pat rushed out of his room. He would go confront Millie and find out a bit more about this handyman, and he’d have this cleared up for his future daughter-in-law before the hour was over.

  Millie Cromwell lived just across the hill; hers was in a line of houses hidden in pines along the bluff. She had a view of the Inn from her window, and so, Pat supposed with growing urgency, did her handyman. Pat consulted his watch. He needed to hurry. Suzie would be waiting for him.

  He marched across the hill in no time. He was in excellent shape. A farm boy never lost his muscle; that’s what his father always said. He thought of the song Veronica had sung them that day at their dinner in Simon’s room: It’s a long way to Tipperary, it’s a long way to go; It’s a long way to Tipperary, to the sweetest girl I know. He hummed it to himself as he walked. He reached Millie’s sloping drive and marched the upward incline, crunching over pebbles with his hardy boots.

  Poised at the door to knock and speak to Millie, he came face to face with the man who emerged: a short, plump man with glasses and dark hair. He’s just a kid, was Pat’s first thought, until the kid saw the recognition in Pat’s eyes and pulled out a knife.

  Pat’s farm boy muscle was still intact, and he lunged at the young man before he could strike. They fell to the ground, struggling, muttering oaths as they fought for possession of the weapon. Pat turned it at one point, saw it cut the boy’s face, saw the madness grow in his eyes. Crazy, Pat thought, the boy’s crazy, and then he felt the blow, like a punch in the gut.

  He thought he had been punched, even after the boy rose up and ran away, until he looked at his hands, which had been clutched against the pain, and saw that they were covered with blood.

  God, no, Pat thought, and he saw Suzie in his mind’s eye. The sweetest girl I

  know . . . It’s a long way to Tipperary . . . . Pat lay there on the ground, his life’s blood draining rapidly away, his blue eyes blurred with suffering. Suzie, he thought, Suzie.

  Chapter Twenty

  At seven o’clock Simon was waiting in the lobby. He consulted his watch, adjusted his tie, looked at his watch again. God, he was nervous. He patted the ring box in his pocket, smoothed his hair. He saw his daughter go slipping past, a cat at her heels. “Lilah,” he called.

  “Yes, Daddy?”

  “Remember what I told you. You can stay up until ten o’clock, because it’s a special night, and then you have to go to bed. Your sitter Carla knows the number of Sarah’s Barn, in case you need anything.”

  “We’ll be fine, Daddy,” she said, kissing him as he bent to her. “You have a nice time with Veronica. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Simon thought she had a secret little smile. God, someday she was going to drive a man crazy.

  He looked up to see Veronica emerge
from the hall: he grabbed the counter for support. She was wearing a little black dress, cut just low enough on top and just high enough at the bottom to make her easily the most gorgeous woman in the free world, and he thought he’d seen her looking her best. She ran to him, smiling, radiant. Her hair shimmered as she lifted her chin to kiss him.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said. “You’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen plenty.” He ran a finger down her face, touched her lips. “Ugh. Sorry, I messed your lipstick.”

  She held up her purse. “I have a tube in here. I figured I’d need it—I plan to do lots of kissing tonight.” She smiled mischievously and took his arm.

  “I’m yours, Beauty. Do you mind if I stare at you all evening?”

  “I’ll be mad if you don’t.” He kissed her lightly on her cheek, and she purred in his ear.

  “Where are your dad and my mom? Aren’t they coming with us?”

  “No way. I want you to myself. They’ll have to meet us there. I don’t know who’s going to do more making out, us or them.”

  She laughed. “Simon, I can’t believe they’re engaged. I can’t believe we’re engaged. I can’t believe anything here; it’s like Brigadoon.”

  “Well, you never have to leave, so don’t worry about us disappearing on you.” He led her to the car, opened her door, buckled her in. She smiled at him the entire time.

  “I’m not even afraid any more. I feel like nothing can touch us now,” she told him.

  “Nothing can. No one can. No one is going to harm someone that I love, and I love you.”

  They kissed, meltingly, and then Simon walked around the car.

  “See?” she said. “All my lipstick is gone.”

  Suzie had paced her room long enough; she went to his. She knocked, then cautiously opened the door. She saw his clothes lying out, but no sign of Pat. It was strange. He’d been so excited, like a boy, and he’d told her he was going to prepare for the dance. That had been two hours ago.