by Linda Warren
“He was murdered. Please don’t dredge it all up again.”
He shook his head. “Aunt Fran, you don’t seem to understand that Pa committed a crime. I don’t want to see him spend his last days in a mental institution. Jena Brooks wants to know where her child is and she deserves to know. Please help me get into Jared’s room.”
She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “There are some keys in Asa’s top dresser drawer. One might be to Jared’s room. I don’t know. I’ve never tried them.” She gave him a disapproving look. “Please don’t upset your father.”
“I’ll try, but he upsets himself with this crazy idea that he has to hurt Jena.”
“He’s just grieving.”
“It’s been nine years, Aunt Fran—it’s time to face the facts.”
She brushed that off with a wave of her hand. “I just hate all this tension.”
“Me, too, and it affects my kids. But this won’t be over until Pa agrees to cooperate.”
Aunt Fran turned away, so he went down a short hallway to a large master bedroom. Another master bedroom was upstairs along with four more bedrooms. When Pa had the house renovated for their mother, he’d updated and modernized it. As Carson got older he often wondered what had happened between his mother and his father for his mom to leave so suddenly. And for her to leave her children.
All the years he was growing up nothing was ever said about her. They learned early if her name was mentioned, Asa became enraged, so they never brought her up. For Asa to redo the family home, he had to have loved her dearly. Maybe it was more of a prison for her—he knew his father was a very jealous, controlling man. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with the situation now.
He stopped at the door to the master bedroom and slowly strolled in. The big bed had been removed and in its place was a hospital bed. That sight was always a little jarring when Carson entered the room. A reminder of how the times had changed. And a reminder of his father’s poor health.
Opening the dresser drawer, he saw the keys on a ring. They didn’t look familiar, but he took them, hurried upstairs and tried every last one on Jared’s door. None of them worked.
“Damn!”
What was behind the door that Pa wanted no one to see?
CHAPTER NINE
“NO. NO. NO!” Claire screeched and darted under the bed before Carson could stop her.
“Claire, come out of there.” Carson was about to lose his patience. Last night she’d cried and cried when he’d wanted to undo the braid, so he’d let her sleep in it. But now she wouldn’t let him undo it and comb her hair for school. She was a restless sleeper and her hair was mussed and straggly. He wasn’t sure when he’d lost control of the situation. “It’s time for school.”
“Okay, but you can’t touch my hair. I want it to be pretty for school.”
“Claire...”
Trey entered the room. “What’s going on?”
“We’re having a problem with Claire’s hair,” Carson told him.
“Not again. Every morning it’s the same thing. Dad, we just need to shave her head.”
“No!” Claire wailed from under the bed.
“Why don’t you call that lady,” Trey suggested. “I bet she’d fix Claire’s hair.”
That was the last thing Carson wanted to do, but he didn’t have much time or the kids would be late.
Claire poked her head out from the bed. “Call her, Daddy.”
Carson groaned, knowing when he was beat. “Let’s go.” He grabbed Claire’s brush and comb just in case. Within minutes they were in the car and on the way to school. Aunt Fran shook her head as they went out the door. She was as inept as he was at doing hair. That was why she had hers cut short.
“Call her, Daddy,” Claire insisted.
“You look like you stuck your head in a fan.” Trey made his thoughts known. “Somebody better fix your hair or you’re going to scare everybody.”
“Daddy.”
“Trey, stop teasing your sister.”
“Call her, Daddy.”
“Claire, she might be busy or asleep. It’s early.” He knew his daughter was going to keep on until he put his foot down, and that time was now.
“She’ll do it, Daddy. Call her, please.”
He stared in the rearview mirror at his beautiful daughter. How could he say no to her? He would see Jena later anyway, so what was the big deal? But...something was holding him back.
They had known each other only a few days and their lives were getting entwined too quickly. There was no way they could be friends. No way they could be anything else, either. It was strictly... Hell, he didn’t know what it was. He didn’t want his kids involved, though.
So what did he do?
* * *
A NOISE WOKE Jena at 5:00 a.m. She raised herself up and noticed a light in the kitchen. Was her mother awake? She usually slept late. Crawling out of bed, she intended to find out.
Norma was mixing flour and buttermilk in a bowl, making biscuits.
“Mama.”
Her mother glanced at her. “Oh, I’m making breakfast, but I can’t get the oven started. Is Hilary awake?”
“Uh...not yet.” Her mother seemed fine this morning; like her old self.
“She knows how to start the oven.”
“I’ll get her.”
Hilary was sprawled across her half of the bed; her head was buried in a pillow and her hair covered her face.
Jena shook her. “Hil, wake up.”
Hilary moaned. “What time is it?”
“A little after five.”
Hil curled into a ball. “Go away.”
“Mama’s cooking breakfast. How do I turn on the stove?”
“What?” Hil flopped onto her back.
“Mama seems fine. I’ll watch her. How do I turn on the stove?”
“The wrench is in my nightstand. The valve is at the back of the stove. You just turn it and be sure to turn it off again.”
“Got it.” She found the wrench and went back to the kitchen. Her mother was busy rolling out biscuits. Jena looked at the back of the stove and saw the valve. There were scratches on it from being turned so much. While her mother’s attention was elsewhere, she bent down and gave the valve a twist with the wrench. She quickly returned the wrench to the drawer. Hil was still out.
In the kitchen, she reached for matches in the cabinet and tested a burner. It came on. Kneeling on the linoleum, she opened the oven door and lit another match. Finding the hole, she inserted the match and turned the knob. The oven fired up.
Sitting on her heels, she remembered doing this so many times as a child. They had no heat in the kitchen, and it was a must in the wintertime to light the oven first thing to warm the house. Life was so different then, but in other ways it wasn’t. Back then she wasn’t happy and she still wasn’t. Was there even such a thing?
The shrill of Hilary’s alarm brought her out of her thoughts. She stood and helped their mother fix breakfast. Bacon was through frying when her sister breezed in.
Hil snatched a slice. “Are those buttermilk biscuits I smell?”
“Yes,” Norma replied. “Sit down. They’ll be ready in about five minutes.”
“Sorry, Mama, gotta run. I have to open the café. I’ll bring you a muffin about midmorning.” She kissed their mother’s cheek and mouthed at Jena, “Don’t forget to turn off the stove.”
Jena gave her a thumbs-up sign.
After Hil left, Jena had a nice visit with her mother. She ate two buttermilk biscuits slathered with butter and strawberry jam. Nothing tasted as good as her mother’s biscuits and she hadn’t had them in nine years. She enjoyed every bite.
“Do you like your job?” Norma asked.
“Yes. I’ve
met a lot of nice people.” Jena licked the jam from her fingers.
“I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
“Sweetie, you can’t stay here too long. It’s too painful for you, I know.”
It was a surreal moment, as if her mother knew her thoughts just as she had when she was a child.
“Sometimes it is, but I’m stronger now, Mama. No one will hurt me like that again.”
Norma got up and hugged her. “Don’t think about the bad stuff. It’s over.”
Tears welled in Jena’s eyes. Her mother was talking about the baby and Norma couldn’t bring herself to actually say the words. Her mother’s delicate state of mind prevented Jena from forcing the subject. But it would never be over until she knew the truth.
Norma kissed Jena’s cheek. “I’m a little tired. I think I’ll go rest in my chair for a while.”
“Go ahead. I’ll do the dishes.”
As her mother left, Jena sighed. There was no going back and there didn’t seem to be a way to go forward, either. Maybe her mother had the right idea—retreat to a happier place in your mind.
Before doing the dishes, she turned off the gas to the stove. With her hands in soapsuds, she heard her cell buzz. She grabbed a dish towel and sprinted to the bedroom for her phone. Glancing at the caller ID, she felt a flutter in her stomach.
Carson.
He’d said he was going to talk to Asa. Maybe the old man had changed his mind. She quickly clicked on.
“Jena, I have a big favor to ask this morning.” His voice was so strong and masculine it seemed as if he was in the room with her. She suddenly knew what having the vapors meant. She fanned her face with her hand.
“Jena...”
She quickly collected herself. Heavens, what was she thinking? “Yes. What kind of favor?”
“I have to have the kids at school in fifteen minutes, and Claire won’t let me touch her hair and it’s a mess. She wants you to fix it again so she’ll look pretty for the last day of school. If you’re busy, I’ll put it in a ponytail.”
“Noo!” Claire screeched in the background. Jena was screeching the same word inside her head. She couldn’t get involved with his kids. It was too personal and she didn’t want any emotional attachments to the Corbetts.
“Please!” Claire cried loudly.
Her resolve weakened. Claire was four years old and would be hurt if she said no. She couldn’t do that to a child. She planned to talk to Carson later, so what was her problem? Fear. Good old-fashioned fear. She’d just told her mother she was stronger, but when she looked into Carson’s green eyes she felt weak.
“Jena?”
“Okay.” She wasn’t meeting them at the Bar C. That was out of the question. “I can be at your office in a few minutes.”
“Thank you.”
She clicked off knowing she was getting too involved, but as long as she was aware of that she could control the situation. At that moment she realized she was still in her nightclothes. She quickly grabbed khaki shorts and a red sleeveless knit top. Slipping her feet into sandals, she reached for her purse.
In the living room her mother was watching a morning news show. “Mama, I have to go out for a few minutes. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll be fine. I don’t feel like doing much today.”
Jena ran to her car and was at Carson’s office in five minutes. He was already there with the kids. She went inside, and Claire was sitting in a chair with her hair all around her.
“I undid the braid and brushed her hair,” Carson said. He stepped one way; she stepped the other. After fifteen seconds of this, he caught her upper arms and turned her. An unexpected giggle erupted from her throat and she felt silly, lighthearted and alive.
Ignoring the new sensation, Jena quickly separated Claire’s hair and began to braid as fast as she could.
“We’re gonna be late, Dad,” Trey grumbled.
“Hang on, son. We still have time,” Carson told him.
Jena whipped a rubber band around the end of the braid and raised her hands, feeling as if she’d won a contest. “Done!” she shouted, and against every sane thought in her head, she laughed.
They all laughed and a warm inexplicable feeling settled in Jena’s heart.
“Thank you,” Claire called as they scrambled toward the door.
Carson glanced at her. “Wait for me.” There was a wealth of meaning in those three words, and she took them to mean exactly what they implied. Sinking into a chair, she couldn’t understand what was pulling her to Carson. Maybe it had something to do with the unattainable. But she wasn’t going to think it to death. She had one goal and it was still the same. Somewhere in this maze of confusion, doubts and attraction, she hoped to find a link to her child.
* * *
CARSON COULDN’T WAIT to get back to his office. Excitement chugged through his veins as potent as Willie Bass’s moonshine. It was crazy, but he couldn’t deny this exhilarating feeling. Jena was different and she stirred feelings in him he hadn’t felt in a long time.
When he opened the door, she was on her cell. She immediately clicked off. “I was talking to my sister. I wanted her to know where I was.”
He sat at his desk and couldn’t take his eyes off her. The red blouse made her skin glow and her eyes bright. She was lovely. And he was getting in a little too deep. He reined in his emotions.
“Thanks for fixing Claire’s hair. By the time she reaches her teen years I’ll be completely gray.”
She smiled. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“Yeah.” He leaned back in his chair, mesmerized by the change in her expression. “Beth would have been so much better at this.” At the sound of his wife’s name a sense of sadness came over him, and he felt guilty for his attraction to Jena.
“When did Beth die?”
He never talked about what had happened that day and no one ever asked. Until now. The urge to change the subject was strong, but instead he started to talk. “Beth had a lot of problems with the pregnancy, as she did when she was pregnant with Trey. The last two months she was confined to bed because of bleeding.” He took a deep breath and allowed himself to feel the pain. “We were scheduled to go in for an appointment, but that morning something happened. I got up and dressed and let her sleep. When she didn’t get up, I went to wake her. That’s when I noticed the blood on the floor. I pulled the comforter back and the bed was soaked. I called 911. An ambulance took her to the hospital. They saved the baby but not my wife.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I was in shock for a long time, but I had two kids to raise, so I had to stay strong for them.”
“Claire never knew her mother, then?”
“No, and she really misses having a mom.”
“She seems well adjusted, though.”
“And a little spoiled,” he admitted. “I’m not very good with discipline. It hurts me more than it hurts them.”
He was pouring his heart out as though they were best friends, and that wasn’t even close, but she was easy to talk to and she seemed genuinely interested. Still, he had to stay focused.
“Well—” he leaned forward “—we better get back to our situation.”
“Yes. Did you talk to your father again?”
“No change there.” He picked up one of Claire’s hair bands from the desk. “May I ask you a question?”
“I suppose, but I reserve the right not to answer.”
“Fair enough.” He stretched the band with his thumb and forefinger. “My father’s hate for you is maniacal. What happened to cause that? It has to be more than Jared dating you.”
“Asa was always nice to me when I’d see him at the convenience store or at the café. He’d tip his hat and say hi.”
“What changed that?”
She moved restlessly in the chair. “I told you after I heard Jared’s friends gossiping about us, I refused to go out with him. I told him to leave me alone and that upset him. After that, Asa was mean to me. He said I was white trash and not good enough for his son and for me to stay away from Jared.”
“So Asa was mad that you rejected his son?”
“I suppose so, because it got worse, especially when Jared and I started seeing each other.”
Carson thought about that for a minute. “Then the pregnancy happened and Asa thought you were trying to pass someone else’s kid off on Jared.”
“The baby was Jared’s,” she stated firmly. “Asa just wouldn’t believe it.”
“A hell of a lot of heartache for two families,” he remarked.
“I didn’t ask for any of it. I just wanted to be left alone.”
He didn’t have a response for that and thought he should get off the subject. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than she’d already been.
Her angry voice broke the silence. “You think I used Jared, just like Asa.”
He held up his hands. “Whoa. I don’t think any such thing. I’m just trying to find a reason for all the heartache and pain.”
Her dark eyes slammed into him like a physical blow. There it was—the wall of her stubborn pride. It was years in the making and it was solid steel, tested by fire and tears. She was safe behind her pride. Untouchable. Especially by human emotions. And gossip.
He carefully laid the band on the desk. “I thought we agreed to stop snapping at each other.”
“Then stop making me angry.”
He nodded. “Okay. Let’s talk about something else. I asked Asa why he stopped the investigation of the murders.”
“What did he say?” The heat in her eyes was replaced with a deep curiosity.
“He said he didn’t.”
“And you believed him?”
“He has no reason to lie. I mean, he admitted to kidnapping you, so why would he lie about something like that?”
