Higher Than Eagles (Donovans of the Delta)

by Peggy Webb

  “You crazy, wonderful man. I love you too,” she whispered.

  Vashti smiled.

  o0o

  Late that afternoon, Jacob called her. He made no mention of the airplane stunt, and neither did she.

  “Since you’re busy tonight, I thought I’d stake my claim for tomorrow night. Before or after your show.”

  “I’m sorry, Jacob. I can’t.”

  “That’s okay. The night after will do.”

  “Sorry again.”

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re otherwise engaged for the next two weeks.”

  She laughed.

  “Of course not. I never make plans more than two nights in advance.”

  “Is that something new with you, Rachel?”

  “It could be, Jacob. There are a lot of things you don’t know about me anymore.”

  “One way or the other, I intend to find out. Goodbye, Rachel.”

  o0o

  Jacob came to her club that night, but he left without coming backstage. She’d expected another confrontation. In fact, she’d counted on it. When she left the club, she was so upset, she got stopped for speeding on the way home. And she hadn’t even realized she was going fast.

  “Your driver’s license, please.”

  She prided herself on knowing most of the police force because they were big fans of hers. But this officer was new. What the heck, she thought. She’d try to charm him anyway. She hated fines with a passion, and she’d use any ploy to get out of one.

  “You caught me red-handed, Officer. I hope you won’t be too hard on me.” She gave him a smile she hoped was devastating, and she even batted her eyelashes at him. She hoped lightning didn’t strike her dead for her shameless ways.

  He was not impressed. He checked her license, then turned his flashlight onto her face. “Rachel Devlin, are you?”

  “Yes. I’m the singer.” She smiled again, but the officer was still not overwhelmed. She decided she’d lost her touch. Leaning out her window, she read his badge. “Officer Richards . . . can I be frank with you?”

  He grinned. “You might try that instead of flirting.”

  “Flirting?”

  “Yeah. All that fluttering and simpering. I’ve got a wife and six kids. I’m immune—even to a good-looking dame like you.”

  “I’m a little frustrated tonight, and I really wasn’t paying attention to the speedometer. Man trouble.”

  He leaned down to get a closer look at her face. “Not abuse, is it?”

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that. It’s just love. We can’t seem to get things right. First he’s willing and I’m not, then I am and he’s not. It’s very complicated.”

  “Love always is.” Officer Richards handed her driver’s license back to her. “Under the circumstances I’m going to let you off with a warning. Take it easy.”

  “In the car or in the love battle?”

  “Both.”

  He tipped his hat and left.

  Rachel drove at a snail’s pace all the way home. She saw the shadow on her porch the minute she swung into her driveway. Her foot hit the brake, and her hand reached for the spray bottle of ammonia under her front seat. While she was trying to decide whether to turn around and drive for help or whether to attack the intruder with her household ammonia, he stepped into the light. His red hair lit up like a flame.

  She rolled down the window.

  “Jacob, you scared me half to death.”

  “What took you so long, Rachel?”

  “First my zipper got stuck and I had to get Louie to get me out of my dress, then I got stopped for speeding. I tried flirting and nearly got arrested for trying to bribe an officer. And then you show up on my front porch. Jacob Donovan, I could kill you.”

  He roared with laughter. “Can you wait until after the concert, love? I couldn’t play too well as a corpse.”

  “What concert? It’s nearly three o’clock in the morning. Are you crazy?”

  “I’m crazy in love.” He opened the door on the driver’s side and scooted her over. “And so are you. Since you’re so busy avoiding me, I decided the only way to get this thing settled is to kidnap you.”

  He drove the car smoothly into the garage and locked the doors. Then he turned to face her.

  “It took me a while to figure it out, Rachel. And I’ll have to tell you that I’m impressed. You show remarkable spunk for a woman your age.”

  “A woman my age. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “A woman your age should be married and having kids.”

  “Jacob Donovan, wipe that smirk off your face. I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”

  “ We certainly are. As soon as we get this settled.”

  He lifted her onto his lap and pulled out his harmonica.

  “What in the world are you doing?”

  “This afternoon, after you’d turned down all my invitations, it occurred to me that you wanted to be courted. You’re playing hard to get, Rachel.” He grinned at her. “You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist it, didn’t you?”

  “I’ll reserve my answer until I hear this concert. I’m not easily won, you know.”

  “I know.” He put the harmonica to his lips and began to play his song. Even when he missed the B-flat, the music was soft and hauntingly beautiful in the car. Rachel began to sing along.

  When it was over, she pressed her head against his shoulder. He brushed his lips against her temple.

  “Will you come awaltzing with me, Rachel?” His teasing tone was gone, and his voice was so tender, it made her throat ache.

  “Where, Jacob?”

  “To the altar.”

  “You want to get married?”

  “I’ve wanted you to be my wife since the first day I saw you. Fate has delayed us a while, but I think we can make up for lost time.”

  “We’ll fight a lot, Jacob.”

  “Making up will be fun.”

  “I still don’t really like flying.”

  “As long as you like me.”

  “Sometimes I’m grouchy in the morning.”

  “I have a cure.”

  “And in the winter my feet get cold. I’ve been known to wear socks to bed.”

  “I’ll keep you warm.”

  She cupped his face. “Will you love me, Jacob?” she asked fiercely. “Will you love me always, and not ever, ever let me go?”

  “I’ll never let you go again, Rachel. I’ve lost you twice. I don’t intend for that to happen again.” He kissed her softly, then leaned back to look into her eyes. “Can you live with my profession, my sweet?”

  “Yes. I’m stronger than I used to be. I found that out in Maracaibo.”

  “I want Benjy to bear my name. How do you feel about that?”

  Her smile was tender. “From the day he could walk, he’s wanted to fly. He’s always been a Donovan at heart. We might as well make it legal.” She leaned closer, searching his face in the dark. “Are you sure the past is behind us, Jacob? Have you forgiven me?”

  “Yes. My heart forgave you from the moment I knew Benjy was my son. It just took my mind a little while to catch up. Will you marry me, Rachel?”

  “Yes. But will you do something for me, first?”

  “Anything.”

  “Play that song again. I think it’s the most beautiful song in the world.”

  “And afterward?”

  “You won’t think I’m easy if I say this?”

  “Try me.”

  She smiled. “How do you feel about making out in the car?”

  “I can handle that.”

  EPILOGUE

  “Look at that, Rachel.” Jacob bent his face close to the tiny bundle he was holding. “He knows me already. See how he’s smiling?”

  “That’s gas, Jacob. All babies have gas.” Rachel stood in the doorway of the nursery and watched her husband dote on their infant son. It was a memory she would cherish forever.

  “Nonsense. All the Donovans are smart. Do
you think it’s too soon to start filling out his application to Vanderbilt?”

  “There’s one little thing we should do first.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Feed him. Otherwise he’ll misbehave at his own christening.” She took the baby from Jacob and leaned down to croon into his sweet face. “We can’t have that now, can we, little one?”

  Jacob leaned over Rachel’s shoulder and watched his son nurse. The sight made him misty eyed. He began to hum Waltzing Matilda, off-key. Outside, the March winds, singing over the Mississippi River, seemed to keep in tune. The sounds of a child playing drifted through the house. Benjy, Jacob thought, making the house in Greenville a home with his laughter.

  Suddenly a little bright-eyed face peeped around the nursery-room doorway.

  “Daddy?”

  Jacob hurried to his oldest son. Squatting down so he would be on Benjamin’s level, he put his arm around the boy’s small shoulders. “What is it, son?”

  “Vashti says for Joe to hurry up, or we’ll be late to the church. Can you fix my bow tie? It got whopsided.”

  o0o

  All the Donovans were waiting at the church for the christening of Jacob’s son—all the Donovans except Tanner. He’d called from Dallas that morning to offer his congratulations and to ask Rachel how to tie hair ribbons. He was trying to dress his two daughters so they’d look gorgeous to welcome their baby brothers home from the hospital. Six days earlier Amanda had given birth to triplets.

  As Jacob and Rachel walked down the aisle with their two sons, he looked at his family. His mother, Anna, didn’t look a day older than she had twenty years ago. Maybe there was more silver in her hair, but her smile was just as young and gay. Matthew still stood as straight and tall as any of his sons, and he still had that devil-may-care spark in his eyes as he stood with his arm around Anna.

  Charles, Glover, and Theo Donovan took up four pews with their large families. Charles even had a son-in-law and would soon be a grandfather.

  Martie Donovan sat alone, for her husband, Reverend Paul Donovan, would be performing the christening ceremony. Martie was still the flamboyant beauty who had fallen out of the tree and into his brother’s arms, Jacob thought. Her bangle bracelets tinkled softly as she pushed her long blond hair back from her face. She looked radiant, even in the last trimester of her pregnancy. The twins hadn’t lost that angelic look, especially blond and beautiful Elizabeth, who was unmercifully poking her twin brother and punching her younger brother. Jacob almost laughed aloud. Looks were certainly deceiving.

  His sister Hallie and her husband, Josh Butler, occupied the next pew. Still very much the scamp herself, she winked at Jacob as he walked down the aisle. She held her six-month-old son, and Josh cradled the head of their small daughter, who had fallen asleep in his arms, her golden hair fanning across his lap.

  On down the aisle, Hannah had tears of joy in her eyes, for she of all Jacob’s brothers and sisters, knew what his happiness had cost him. When Jacob passed the pew where she and her husband Jim Roman were sitting, he stopped to give her a quick hug. Her daughter with the dark gypsy hair and blue eyes, so like her mother, whispered, “Uncah Jacob, can I swap my baby brother for your baby? Britt squalls too much.”

  Across the aisle, Martin Windham chuckled. He had not only become reconciled to having Jacob for a son-in-law, but he’d been heard bragging around town that he had the handsomest, most intrepid Donovan of the lot as the father of his grandchildren. Nobody dared disagree with him.

  Reverend Paul Donovan waited at the front of the church. Jacob stood proudly at the altar, holding Benjy with one hand and circling Rachel’s waist with the other. The baby in her arms smiled in his sleep.

  Paul opened his Bible and began the christening ceremony of Joseph Windham Donovan.

  o0o

  Afterward, cuddled together in the large bed that faced the river, Jacob whispered to his wife, “Do you think we might have another eight-month baby?”

  “Let’s try for nine this time, Jacob.”

  He smoothed back her hair and kissed her cheek.

  “Jacob?”

  “Hmmmm?”

  “Fly with me.”

  “The Baron is in the hangar.”

  “We don’t need a plane to fly.”

  Smiling, he shifted her under him. “I’m going to take you higher than eagles, my Rachel.”

  And he did.

  o0o

  Only Yesterday, Excerpt

  (time travel romance)

  Peggy Webb

  CHAPTER ONE

  She hadn't set out to buy a clock that day. She'd been intent on getting a new latch for the screen door. But the temperature hovered near ninety, and Ann had detoured by the ice-cream shop to get something cool to eat, then she'd caught a glimpse of the sign over the door of the quaint little shop in the middle of the block. Blast from the Past the sign promised, and she wasn't disappointed by the delivery.

  John Wayne, Marilyn Monroe, and James Dean stood in the back of the shop, life-size, cardboard smiles frozen for posterity. Through the speakers mounted over the soda fountain, Percy Sledge crooned, "When A Man Loves A Woman." A leather trunk plastered with stickers from the Hotel Palace in Mar del Plata and the Continental Hotel in Tangier hinted of grand adventures in times gone by.

  But it was the clock that drew her to the shelves at the back of the store, a black plastic cat, tail wagging, big pop eyes rolling.

  "Aren't you the sassiest little thing?" Standing on tiptoe, she tried to get the clock off the shelf, but it was out of reach.

  Out of the blue a pair of very tanned, very masculine hands plucked the clock from the shelf. Ann was not the kind of woman who agonized over possessions, but all of a sudden she wanted that clock in a way that made her almost frantic.

  "That's my clock."

  She whirled around, puffed up for a fight, but what she saw took the wind right out of her sails. He had a smile that would light the entire South in a blackout and enough body heat to raise the temperature ten degrees. He was standing so close, her nose was only inches away from his broad chest, and he showed no intention of moving. Furthermore, she'd stepped on his fine black leather boots.

  "Pardon me." Her apology only increased his amusement. Ann wanted to hit something.

  "Do you always talk to yourself?" he asked.

  His voice matched the rest of him, big and dark and mysterious, the kind of voice that set foolish women shivering. Darned if she hadn't joined the ranks of the foolish. Her tank top was plastered to her back with sweat, but she was shivering like a willow in a spring storm. And over a perfect stranger.

  Ann felt like a traitor. Unconsciously she twisted the diamond on her finger. The minute she got to Windchime House she would phone Rob.

  "Don't you ever reply to anything anybody says to you?" She removed her foot from his boot and tried to take a step back, but the shelves were in her way. This gloriously gorgeous man had her trapped and had her clock, to boot, and she couldn't even muster up enough sparks for a stinging rebuke.

  "Down here we do things in a more leisurely fashion."

  Leaning in close, he propped one elbow on the shelf near her head. Ann wondered why swooning had gone out of style. For a moment she thought about reviving the lost Victorian art, right there in the heart of downtown Fairhope, Alabama.

  "For instance, we introduce ourselves, and then if we like the person we've just met, we might sit down together and have a cool drink of lemonade." He turned up the voltage on his smile. "Colt Butler. I'm buying."

  "I'm engaged."

  The minute the words were out of her mouth she wanted to bite her tongue off. She sounded prissy and defensive, two qualities she deplored.

  "My congratulations to the lucky man."

  He actually tipped his hat, a battered old baseball cap without lettering, a faded butternut twill that looked soft to the touch. Ann curled her fingers tightly together to keep from reaching toward that tattered cap. Seeking reli
ef, she slid her gaze lower. It came to rest on a pair of shocking blue eyes. As brilliant as neon. As mesmerizing as bits of bottle glass found in the surf.

  When her toes curled under she knew she was in serious trouble. The Debeau curse.

  "When your toes curl under, that's when you know," her great aunt Gilly had told her. Had it been only three months ago?

  "Know what, Aunt Gilly?"

  "That it's true love."

  Ann had laughed. She'd waited years for the famous Debeau sign, but when she'd met Rob she knew that love was choice, not fate.

  "Rob and I don't need silly signs. When something is right, it's right, Aunt Gilly."

  "Sooner or later it happens to all the Debeau women."

  "You're going to love Rob. You'll be the first to dance at our wedding. In fact, I'm going to send you a ticket so you can come up to New York and help me pick out the wedding dress."

  A month later she'd sent the ticket, but by then it had been too late. Gilly Debeau was hospitalized, heavily sedated with painkillers, struggling through the final stages of the liver cancer nobody'd even known she had.

  "Hey . . ." Colt Butler cupped her cheek, his hand warm and reassuring. "Are you all right? If it's the clock I—"

  "It's not the clock." Ann tucked her dark hair behind her left ear, a habit Rob was trying to break her of.

  Colt Butler took her arm, and before she could protest she was sitting beside him on a bar stool at the soda fountain.

  "Two of your banana split specials, Marge," he said.

  "That's very thoughtful of you." Ann didn't even tell him she'd just had a strawberry ice cream. What the heck? She'd skip supper. Not that there was anything in the cabinets to cook. She'd spent the days prior to Aunt Gilly's death at the hospital, and the days since the funeral organizing her aunt's possessions and trying to decide what to do about the house. Eating was secondary.

  "How did you know I love ice cream?" She plowed into the banana split with gusto.

  "I have this special radar. It hones in on fat gram counters a mile away. I always head in the opposite direction." Suddenly he leaned over and wiped the corner of her mouth with the tip of his index finger. Her toes curled under again.