A Weaver Vow

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  The package of fabrics arrived from New York. Someone set it unopened on the table. Another wave of people passed through. Isabella finally excused herself and closed herself in her bedroom, just to get away from them all. She changed out of her pink uniform and pulled on a pair of jeans. But when her hands automatically reached for Jimmy’s old shirt, she pulled out a black turtleneck of her own instead. She prayed that Jimmy was watching out for his son, because she’d failed miserably at it.

  Then she found her purse and hunted through it for her cell phone. She needed to hear Erik’s voice.

  But her cell phone wasn’t there. Nor was it on her dresser—or in the kitchen, or anywhere else when she went to look.

  “What is it, honey?” Hope had noticed her search.

  “I can’t find my cell phone.” Despite the turtleneck, she felt cold. “Maybe...maybe Murphy took it.”

  Hope’s expression sharpened. She gestured, and Tristan seemed to magically appear. “What’s the number?” he asked.

  She reeled it off even as she shook her head. “Murphy’s not going to answer it if it’s anyone from here calling.”

  “We’ll see.” He headed back outside again, his phone at his ear once more.

  “I need to tell the sheriff.” Isabella reached for the phone on the kitchen wall. She should have thought to look for her cell phone earlier. Hours earlier.

  “Tristan will take care of it,” Hope assured her. “But you make any call you feel the need to make.” She proceeded to clear the kitchen so that Isabella would have a modicum of privacy.

  But when Isabella dialed Erik’s cell-phone number, she got only his voice mail. She hung up without leaving a message.

  What was there to say?

  She went to sit on the couch again, too numb to do anything but stare blindly at the pieces of popcorn Murphy had left behind.

  Lucy spoke her name a few minutes later. “Iz. Erik’s back.”

  Isabella bolted from the couch and tore out the front door.

  He met her halfway up the yard, catching her arms in his hands. “He’s in Braden,” he said without preamble. His father was standing nearby. “At the bus station there.”

  Braden was the closest town, but it was still well over an hour away. Her legs wanted to go out from beneath her. “How’d he get there?”

  “Don’t know that yet.” Despite her shaky legs, he was walking her to his truck. He pulled open the door and helped her up inside, then turned back to his father.

  “We’ve got eyes on him,” Tristan said cryptically. “They won’t approach until you get there unless he moves.”

  “Thanks.” Erik shut the door and rounded the truck, leaving Isabella looking through her window at his father. The older man smiled slightly.

  “What did he mean?” Isabella asked as soon as Erik got in. He’d left the engine running and he put the truck in gear, roaring down the street with no regard whatsoever for residential speed limits.

  “He means he has people watching Murphy.”

  “What people?” She was glad for any help, but why it was coming from a video gamer and not the authorities puzzled her. “Was your dad a cop or something?”

  “Or something.” He turned the corner and they flew down the sleepy Main Street. “He’d have found Murph earlier if we’d known he had your phone.”

  Dismay still had her in its grip. “I should have looked,” she said thickly. “I didn’t—”

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Don’t. The point is we know where he’s at now. And he’s safe. We can just be glad that he had the phone turned on.”

  It had been only minutes since she’d realized it was missing. It stunned her that he’d been located that quickly because of it. “I thought this sort of thing only happened on television,” she said. “Your dad must have a lot of computers or something.”

  “Or something,” he repeated. “Someday he’ll probably tell you about a few of the things he’s into.” He squeezed her hand again. “If this had happened even ten years ago, a cell phone wouldn’t have mattered. There wasn’t really any service around back then.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek, staring out the window, wishing the miles would pass even faster.

  Erik was doing his best, though. The countryside was flying by.

  When they got to Braden, it appeared to be only slightly larger than Weaver to her. The bus station was located in the center of town. Erik pulled up in a no-parking zone and they got out. A man wearing a cowboy hat and dark glasses was standing on the sidewalk. He’d obviously been waiting, and he gestured toward the building. “He’s sitting close to the back entrance. We’ve got it blocked in case he bolts.”

  “Thanks.”

  The man just tilted his head slightly and ambled toward the illegally parked truck. He leaned back against the truck bed, looking casual.

  Someday, Isabella might wonder over it all. For now, she was just anxious to get to Murphy. But worry about his reaction to being caught made her feel as if her feet were mired in wet cement

  Seeming to understand, Erik took her arm. “Let’s take him home.”

  “What if he runs away again?”

  He seemed to sigh a little. “He won’t,” he promised.

  She felt like crying. “You don’t know that. Even if he didn’t, when our caseworker learns about this—” She broke off, unable to continue.

  His hand tightened for a moment, and then he relaxed his grip. “I do know that he won’t run.” His voice had dropped an octave. “He saw us kissing last night, Izzy.”

  Her heart, already dwelling somewhere in her belly, dropped all the way to her toes. Why hadn’t Murphy said something when she’d gone inside?

  Instead, he’d just sat on the couch, eating his popcorn. Ignoring her.

  “It was just a kiss,” she said faintly. Stupidly. There’d been nothing “just” about it.

  Erik’s lips thinned. “It wasn’t just a kiss to him.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hit a button before handing it to her. “Message came in last night. I didn’t notice it until this morning.”

  A moment later, Murphy’s voice blasted from the phone. Aside from every other word starting with f, the general slant was that Erik could take his broken window and shove it where the sun didn’t shine. Murphy was glad he’d broken it and he would break everything else of Erik’s he could get his hands on as soon as he had the chance.

  When the vitriol ended, Isabella silently handed Erik his phone. “He didn’t mean it,” she whispered. “He was upset. He’s scared and feeling like he’s all alone.”

  Erik deleted the voice mail. “All the more reason for him to learn that crap like this—” he gestured with the phone in his hand “—doesn’t fly with the people he does have.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket. “Let’s just get him and get out of here,” he said, leading her through the doorway. “We’ll work it out when we get home.”

  There were other things she wanted to say, but finding Murphy took priority. Inside, the station was sparsely occupied and she spotted him immediately.

  He was slouched in a chair, wearing his black hoodie.

  Almost as soon as they spotted him, he spotted them. He jumped up, his expression darkening. But he didn’t bolt for the glass door located behind the row of chairs were he’d been sitting.

  Instead, he charged forward, his gaze locked on Erik’s. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Alarm coursed through her.

  “Taking you home,” Erik answered evenly.

  Murphy glared even harder. The reply he gave was shockingly rude.

  Isabella gasped, her stomach turning to stone. “Murphy!”

  “Not physically possible,” Erik answered the boy curtly. “The water tank wasn’t enough? You can apologize to Isabella or you can have another lesson.”

  Isabella watched in horror as Murphy’s fist curled and flashed out, his fledgling manliness fully offended. She didn’t know what to do, but she
had to do something, and instinct propelled her forward.

  She heard Erik’s curse.

  And she felt all of Murphy’s anger explode against her cheek when the blow he’d intended for Erik hit her squarely in the face instead.

  From somewhere she heard a startled scream.

  And after that, she heard nothing at all.

  * * *

  “I didn’t mean to hit her!” Murphy’s voice had gone up at least an octave as he trailed them into the employee break room where a clerk was hurriedly directing them.

  Erik had never felt such darkness inside him in his life. He carefully settled Isabella on the ugly green couch that took up half the room and crouched next to her. Thankfully, she was already coming around, groaning and holding her hand gingerly to her face.

  The clerk had disappeared and Murphy was hovering there nervously. “Is she okay?” His voice was a squeak.

  Ignoring him for the moment, Erik yanked open the freezer in the corner. He’d hoped for ice but settled for a plastic Baggie full of some indeterminate-looking stuff. He yanked it out, banged it once on the counter to break it up and crouched next to Isabella. Her eyes were closed. A tear crept down her cheek. “Here.” He pulled her hand away from the red imprint left by Murphy’s fist long enough to tuck the plastic bag there. “Hold this against it.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Murphy said again. His face looked pale against his unruly black hair.

  Erik didn’t so much as lift his hand toward the boy. Murphy was genuinely upset. But so was Erik. He gave the boy a hard look. “Go somewhere. Not far. And sit down.” Erik knew his dad’s associates wouldn’t let him disappear again.

  Hostility toward Erik was screaming from Murphy’s pores when he turned around and stomped away.

  “He really didn’t mean to hit me.” Isabella swung her legs down and sat up, trying to brush aside Erik’s hands. “I’m fine. Really.”

  He was angry. More so at himself than anyone. She wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine. “I know he didn’t mean to hit you.” The kid had wanted to take Erik’s head off. He’d known it even before Isabella had told him he’d disappeared. “But he still did it.” He gingerly drew her hand with the frozen Baggie away from her cheek. Murphy’s fist had landed high. “You’re probably gonna have a shiner, sweetheart.”

  She groaned and slumped back against the ugly couch. “I can only imagine what people will say to that.” She pressed the bag back to her face, wincing a little. “It’s cold.”

  “That’s the point.”

  She opened one eye to peer at him. “I should just pay you for the window.”

  “Dammit, Isabella! This isn’t about that freakin’ window.” He’d met with Jessica briefly the day before and ordered its replacement. She’d been cool, but had taken the order nonetheless, particularly after he’d told her it would be hanging in a church for half the town to see and not stuck unwanted in a closet somewhere. It would be ready in a month. The cost of the window had become moot to him. What it stood for, though, where Murphy was concerned, was a matter of integrity. And for a kid on the cusp of growing up, that was beyond price. “And handing over money doesn’t solve Murphy’s issues.”

  She lowered the bag to her lap. The welt on her face stood out redder than ever. Even though it had been Murphy’s fist that connected, Erik felt he’d put it there and it made him sick.

  He should have been able to protect Isabella, no matter what.

  He should have been able to protect her boy, too.

  That was what a man did when he loved a woman.

  “The only thing that will help Murphy is being able to trust that I’m not going anywhere,” she said huskily. “He’s obviously got it into his head that—” She broke off. Her eyes shied away. “That something’s going on between us,” she finished abruptly. “What can I say? He’s eleven. He doesn’t understand.”

  “He understands more than you think. I want to marry you, Izzy.”

  Her eyes went wide. Her mouth rounded and her cheeks flushed. “Erik—I—”

  He let out a joyless laugh. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m well aware that my chances on that score are slim to none.”

  “We...we hardly even know each other.”

  His jaw ached. She’d already admitted to becoming engaged to Murphy’s dad after a short time. Had they known each other better? Had Jimmy looked into Isabella’s eyes and seen the same things that he did? Known, in his bones, the things that he knew?

  “Time’s not going to change things,” he said gruffly. “I already know I could spend the rest of my life happy to see you smiling at me. And that our kids would have your eyes and—God help ’em—my chin. If there’re things about me you want to know, all you have to do is ask me. Or pretty much anyone else in Weaver.”

  She was staring at him as if he’d grown a second set of arms and a tail to boot. “There’s nothing wrong with your chin.” Her voice was faint.

  He took the bag and pressed it to her cheek again. “Keep it there. A stubborn chin. I come by it honestly.”

  Her hand brushed his as she took the bag. He paced across the break room. He couldn’t think straight unless there was some distance between them.

  “I don’t know what to do, Erik.” She sounded miserable. “Murphy needs me. He hasn’t even had a chance yet to trust in me, much less me and...and someone—” She broke off.

  He knew where she was going. The kid believed he’d be edged out.

  “I know Murphy needs you.” Erik needed her, too. But Murphy was a child. Erik was the adult. He let out a long breath, clawed his fingers through his hair. “So we’re going to have to make a change.”

  She paled again. “Change?”

  “I’ll pick up Murphy on Saturdays from now on. He’s gonna work off that window like he agreed. All the way through the end of the school year at the very least.”

  She dropped the frozen bag to her lap again. “I don’t understand. You still want him out at the Rocking-C? Even after everything he threatened?”

  “Especially after everything he’s threatened.” He let out a long breath. “How else is he gonna learn a man stands by what he says if he’s not shown how?”

  Another tear crept down her cheek and it was almost enough to unravel him. “There’s no reason for you to have to drive in and out to get him,” she finally said huskily. “I know how busy you are out there, and you’re already doing so much, I—”

  “I don’t want you coming out to the Rocking-C.” He pushed out the words, cutting her off. She blinked. Her lips parted, and he wanted to believe it was pain that crossed her face, but where she was concerned, his judgment was getting too clouded.

  “But I—”

  “Not unless you decide it’s where you want to stay for good and you’re ready to wear another man’s ring on your finger,” he finished.

  Which just had her lips snapping shut and color flagging her cheeks again. Combined with the swelling red splotch under her eye, it gave her a whole lot of color.

  He crossed the room and leaned down toward her. “I told you,” he said softly. “This interest you think I have isn’t going anywhere.” Then, because he was a man and could only take so much, he brushed his mouth slowly across hers.

  When he straightened, she looked dazed, and he took some comfort in that.

  “You need time to face that fact just as much as Murphy does.” Then he nudged the cold bag against her cheek. “Keep it there,” he reminded, and helped her to her feet.

  They left the break room.

  Strangely enough, he was no longer angry. Half-numb, maybe. Exhausted, definitely.

  But at least he didn’t feel like tearing something off its hinges.

  Murphy was sitting on a chair close to the break room and he jumped to his feet when he saw them.

  “Let’s go.” Erik’s voice was short. He couldn’t help it.

  The boy didn’t look at him.

  The truck was right where Erik had left it. His dad�
�s undercover crony tipped his hat and disappeared around the corner of the building as soon as they were inside the vehicle.

  They drove back to Weaver in silence.

  Isabella’s house was empty when they arrived. Not for lack of caring on anyone’s part, he knew, but because people were allowing them some privacy.

  Erik saw Isabella and Murphy inside, making sure that Isabella was settled on the couch before going into the kitchen. He found a bag of frozen beans in the freezer to replace the thawed Baggie from the bus-station break room, and he took it out to her.

  Then the three of them just stared at one another.

  Erik knew he was the odd man out.

  “Did you buy a bus ticket?” he asked.

  Murphy grimaced and shook his head.

  “Then what were you doing there?”

  The kid shook his head. “Nothin’.”

  “Murphy.” Isabella tossed aside the beans, looking pained. “We can’t go on like this. Talk to me. I know you were angry about me kissing Erik, but you can’t just run away!”

  “Why not? You’re gonna go off and marry him.”

  Isabella gave Erik a startled look. “What did you tell him?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything,” he said evenly. “He has eyes in his head.”

  She looked shaken. She moistened her lips, her gaze shying away as she focused on the boy. “I loved your dad very much,” she said carefully. “But he’s not here anymore. And just because you and I are...having...having lives...doesn’t mean I’m forgetting him. Sweetheart, every time I look at you, I see him in you.”

  Erik wondered if she really believed her own words or if they were only for Murphy’s benefit.

  “Until you don’t have room for me. Just like my real mom. She still doesn’t want me.”

  Murphy’s voice was low.

  And despite everything, Erik hurt for the kid. Just as much as he hurt for the rest of them.

  “Murphy.” Even though he flinched, Isabella rose and put her hands on his shoulders. “What do you mean about your real mom?”

  He shrugged off her hands and gave them both a raw look.