She had never expected to see him again, at least not outside of court and the effect he still had over her was overwhelming. She had wanted to run to him and beg him to tell her everything had been a lie, but it hadn't. She had seen the video herself.
As she studied the old tiles which uncaringly hung above the bed, she exhaled. Each ceiling tile had been counted hundreds of times. Each nick in their surfaces memorized. Mindless occupation had always been her way of blocking out the damage done to her emotions. Clearing her mind, she began the age old ritual of counting the tiles and immediately reconnected to them on a personal level. To anyone else they might be inanimate objects decorating her room, but to her, they were friends who harbored secrets and pains. It was once again time to forget the hurt. As she had done in the past, Angie began to count her sorrows away. "One, two, three, four…"
"Ang, can I come in?" Carla's voice interrupted her count.
"Sure," she said, putting her finger down. Sitting up, she plastered what she could of a smile to her lips.
Sitting beside her on the bed, Carla laid her hand on Angie's leg. "You can stop."
"Stop what?" she asked.
"Stop pretending. I can see past the smile. I know that seeing Dean had to be hard."
"It was," she surrendered. "I fully expected that the next time I laid eyes on him would be in court."
"I won't pretend to know what you're going through, but I have to tell you something."
"What? Are we having deer meat for supper again tonight?" she asked, hoping to make light of the conversation.
"No, though we could if you'd like."
Carla's motherly ways reminded her much of her mother's. If her brother hadn't been sterile, Carla would have made a fine mother.
"No, that's quite alright. Don't get me wrong, you're a great cook, it's just been a long time since I've eaten wild game."
With a snicker, Carla nodded. "I suppose life in the city is a lot different than it is here. We must seem simple minded."
"The people operate at a faster pace and the availability of twenty-four hour shopping can be a godsend, but the amount of fake smiles and uncaring asses are abundant. I'm not exactly sure what draws me to a life so far away from what I grew up with, but I love Dallas. Horatio will always be special, but Dallas has settled in my bones and I don't think I'll ever truly be happy living a simple life again."
"I can't for the life of me imagine the appeal, but then again I can't imagine a life away from here. If you tried to talk me into moving to the city, you would be hard pressed to drag me kicking and screaming from here."
Angie smiled at the mental image Carla created.
"What I'm trying to say is, far be it from your brother, Cutter, or anyone else to expect you to turn your back on what's inside of you. You are an amazing woman and I'm proud to call you sister-in-law. Sometimes I wish I had the gumption to become a high paying executive or an independent business woman, but that's not who I am. But, it's who you are Angie. Don't let them persuade you into giving up on your dreams."
"I won't," she promised. "They talk a good game and I pretend to listen just to pacify them, but I haven't once seriously considered moving back."
"Good for you," Carla smiled. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I have something to tell you but you have to swear to me that you'll hear me out before you say anything.
"I swear."
"No, I need you to pinky swear because this is huge."
Wrapping their pinky fingers around one another's they shook. "I pinky swear," Angie said. She hadn't done such a thing since her days in grade school, but if Carla wanted a pinky swear, who was she to deny it?
"You're going to be pissed when I tell you this, but if you'll let me finish. I think it will change your perspective on things. I know it did for me. I was going to tell you later tonight after the men were in bed, but after seeing Dean, I decided it couldn't wait."
"What does this have to do with Dean?" she snapped.
"You pinky swore," Carla warned.
Nodding her understanding of the agreement, Angie waited as Carla collected her thoughts. With a shaky but informed voice, Buddy's wife began to tell a tale even more preposterous than the video she had seen of Dean placing a bomb in the club's walk-in freezer unit.
"First, let me start by saying thank you for saving the farm. Buddy finally told me everything and just before I ripped his head off for not telling me sooner, he explained your part in paying off our debt. It's because of that, I felt compelled to give help in return. What Buddy doesn't know is that I've been selling jams to women at the church as well as doing clothing alterations. I've been stashing my earnings in a coffee can in the basement."
"You dirty dog," Angie retorted with a grin.
As if to explain herself, Carla winked. "Not that I thought anything would ever happen between me and Buddy, but my momma always said that a woman can never be too prepared," she smiled.
"I agree with your momma." Angie had a new found respect for her sister-in-law. She too, was a firm believer that all women should have a stored supply of funds for emergency purposes, even if those emergencies were as simple as buying a spouse or significant other a surprise gift. Shared bank accounts made things such as that nearly impossible.
"Once you told us what happened, something gnawed at my gut. I stayed up half that night trying to figure it out. Then it occurred to me. You said that you saw the video of Dean placing the bomb in the club but that the marshal referred to him as Dan. You also said that Dan was arrested at a different address than what you knew Dean to live at."
"Yes, he's a con artist. Apparently it's what they do."
"You pinky swore to let me finish."
With an apologetic smile, Angie ran fingers across her lips as a sign that she was zipping her mouth closed.
"Very good," Carla grinned, patting her sister-in-law's arm. "Be sure to keep them zipped because what I'm about to tell you is going to throw you for a loop."
Shaking her head up and down in agreement, Angie waited. The air in her chest constricted with impatience, but she knew Carla took her time when telling anything and it was best not to rush her along.
"As I was saying, you said there were two addresses. You also said that Dean had confessed to having lost a wife but the marshal said that he didn't think Dan had ever been married." Seeing that Angie was on the verge of saying something, she held up a pinky finger to remind her to keep silent.
"Again, something a con artist might do, but the fact that Dean took you to his wife's grave and shed real tears as well as the age differences between the supposed Dean and Dan really weighed heavy on my heart. Remember me asking you during your revelation about the date on the tombstone?"
Angie nodded affirmatively.
"It coincides with being close to the age Dean claimed to be. Anyway, being the noisy country bumpkin that I am, I used some of the money I had saved up, and hired a private investigator."
Eyes wide with shock, Angie blurted out, "You did what?"
Carla placed a finger to her own lips. "Shush."
"Oops."
"I gave him what information I had including his cousin's name and her place of employment. Candy, I believe you said it was?"
Again she shook her head up and down.
"Here's where it gets interesting. Dean Murray has a brother."
"A lot of people do," she said, unable to keep her mouth shut.
"That brother's name is Dan and he works for that man who keeps trying to buy your club. Dean was never arrested because Dean didn't do it. The night of the fire, Dean was at a poker game. I wasn't completely sure how accurate the investigator's research was, but when Dean showed up on our door step, I couldn't deny the PI's findings. After you came inside, I called the Dallas fire marshal and asked if Dan Murray was still in custody. He said that he was and his bail denied. So you see, Dean was telling you the truth. He isn't the man you thought. Or maybe he is the man you thought, but had been forc
ed into thinking was someone else because of the video."
As much as she had interrupted during Carla's revelation, Angie was suddenly short on words.
Standing, Carla placed a sisterly kiss to the top of Angie's head and started to leave the room. Reaching the door, she turned back. "Please don't tell Buddy about the stash of money. I don't want him to think that I'm planning on leaving because I would never do such a thing. You know that, don't you?"
Still stunned over Carla's cunningness and insight, she agreed. "It's our secret."
"Thank you."
"I'm the one who should be thanking you."
"It's what sisters do," Carla said with a wink before exiting the room.
The woman she had once thought to be timid, and at times overly subservient to her brother, quietly closed the door and left, leaving Angela staring slack jawed in her wake. The genteel ways of a country girl, had once again been used to contain secrets beyond what anyone around her could have imagined. Deep in her heart, Angela knew that the hidden money was only one small secret, but who was she to judge? As long as no physical or emotional harm came to her brother, her sister-in-law could harbor all the secrets she wanted. Besides, it was the way of the true southern woman and was a tactic which had been used for hundreds of years and would likely continue for hundreds more.
To the general public, Carla Fletcher appeared to tell all and hide none, but those who knew the ways of the country girl knew better. Angela smiled as she was fondly reminded of why southern women were infamous for pouring on the innocence and gullibility while almost always coming out on top.
Chapter 19
Was he really the ultimate con artist?
Angela finished out the rest of the evening pretending to be unaffected by Dean's unexpected appearance. Other than a few well-meaning warnings from Cutter and Buddy to stay close to the house; nothing else was said about it.
Subtle side glances and winks between her and Carla were the only indications that the conversation which had taken place in her bedroom had actually happened. The men were too intent on discussing farming news and soaring temperatures to notice.
Unable to sleep, she glanced at the clock on her phone, crawled from her bed, quietly tip-toed down the hall past the guest room where Cutter was sleeping and stepped out onto the porch. The warm breeze was welcoming. Finding her way to the cedar rocker which had once belonged to her mother, Angela sat down and stared off into the star dotted distance. It was nights such as these that she truly missed living away from it all. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the chair and rocked, thinking of her mom. "What do you think about all of this?" she asked, wishing her mother could respond with words of wisdom. Instead, she was answered by the sound of crickets.
The feel of fur against her bare ankle caused a smile to curl her lips. Opening her eyes, she looked down to greet the feline culprit. "Hello," she said cheerfully, picking it up. "What are you doing out so late?"
"The same could be asked of you."
Startled, Angela felt her body stiffen at the sound of Dean's voice. "You shouldn't be here," she said, nervously glancing to the door. If Buddy or Cutter came out and saw him, there was bound to be a physical confrontation. On top of that, she wasn't prepared to deal with him just yet. The thought of Dean's brother conspiring against her, had opened the door to a whole other round of questions which was the reason she was unable to sleep in the first place.
"If your brother shoots me down in cold blood, then so be it. I need to set things straight, Angela. I didn't do what you think I did."
"I know," she sighed, gently lowering the cat to the porch. After tangling itself around Dean's ankle, it lifted its tail and curled up on the porch step to listen.
"You know I didn't do it?" he asked hopefully. "But how?"
Unwilling to reveal the secret her sister-in-law had entrusted to her, she forced a smile. "Suffice it to say that southern women have their ways and news travels fast down the back roads of Arkansas."
"What exactly is it you know?" he pressed. Could winning her back be this easy?
"I know about your younger brother. I know that he worked for Mr. Benson and I know that you were playing poker the night of the fire. There are a few more details, but there you have it. To sum it up, I know that you weren't the man on the video."
"Did you know all of this when I was here today?" he asked inquisitively.
"No. I found out shortly after you left."
"You have to know that I had no idea what my brother was up to. We haven't been close since long before Aubrey's accident."
"Why didn't you tell me he worked for the competition?" she quizzed, still unsure as to whether or not she fully trusted him.
"I didn't think it was important. I mean, I know Mr. Benson wanted to buy your club, but let's face it, he wants to buy every club that outdoes his and I had no way of knowing that Dan was capable of this type of criminal action. I swear it, Angela."
Drained of emotions, she didn't have the energy to raise her voice or argue. Glancing at him, she shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe you did. Maybe you didn't. It will all come out in court."
"Yes, it will. Then you'll know that I had nothing to do with it. I would never intentionally hurt you."
"The fact that you hid the truth about your brother's ties to Benson, after I cried to you and told you I feared he might be behind the fire is hurtful. Your flesh and blood worked for the one man in Dallas that I thought might be responsible for burning me out and yet you said nothing."
"I can't and won't make excuses for what my brother did, but I will admit that I should have told you about my brother's ties to Benson. At the time, we had just begun seeing one another and I was afraid you would hold it against me. My brother and I have been estranged for years, so I didn't think it relevant. I'll admit that I should have mentioned it, but I didn't want my brother's employment status to come between us."
"I'm business partners with the brother of the man who nearly destroyed my livelihood. Your brother worked for the one person who wanted to see me fail and now I'm financially obligated, in a roundabout way, to the enemy. I should have been given all the facts, Dean. How do you think this makes me feel?"
Walking over to the matching chair, he took a seat and stared off into the distance as if he were pulling memories from the darkness. With forearms on knees, he bowed his head and said, "It was not my intention to betray you. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to help, but you're right." Turning his head to look at her, he frowned. "I should have told you. I'm so sorry, Angela. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I shouldn't have come."
After briefly meeting his gaze, she stared out into the night before whispering her next words. "You're right, you shouldn't have."
Dean knew that he should leave. Though he hadn't meant to hurt her, he had and she had every right to be angry. Hell, he was angry with himself. The past, however, could not be undone. He had come to explain his innocence in the matter, but hadn't considered the magnitude of her feelings concerning the business partnership. He never would have deemed himself to be the enemy, but when she put it the way she had, he understood just how dire things between them actually were. He had to find a way to prove that he hadn't meant to mislead her. He had to win back the woman that had stolen his heart and filled his every waking thought.
He had lost his wife to an automobile accident and had never expected to love again, but Angela had given him a second chance at life. She had taught him that it was acceptable to love more than once. She had shown him that love comes in many forms and that it was ok to remember the past while creating a future. She had opened his eyes to new beginnings and he didn't want to walk away from the world they had begun to create together. She had carved her name across his heart and embedded herself in his soul. Walking away from what they shared was unimaginable. He craved to reach out to her and beg her forgiveness. He wanted to find the words to help her understand, but knew it was too soon for her to hear the poetic
renderings of his heart's song.
Angela felt as if she should ask him to leave, but she wasn't ready to let go. He wasn't the one who had set fire to her club. Should he suffer the penalty for a crime his brother committed? He said they had been estranged for years. Maybe she was being too hard on him. Or was he really the ultimate con artist? Had he used his brother's ties to Benson against her to gain the upper hand? Without a doubt, Benson wanted Bare Assets. Now that Dean was an investor, would he sell his interest in the club to the very man she had tried so desperately to keep it away from? Had he skillfully crafted the ultimate betrayal or was she grasping at straws in order to push away the one man who had broken through the icy walls around her heart? Was this her mind's way of protecting her from what she feared most? Was she mentally trying to sabotage the relationship in order to avoid future pain?
She couldn't deny that their lovemaking had been filled with tangible passion. She'd had enough one night stands to know the difference between lusty need and heartfelt desire. Though their sessions had been heated, they had been filled with emotions unlike any she had experienced until him. They were kindred spirits who had been carelessly tossed into the winds of agonizing loss and left to drift on the currents of loneliness. Two broken spirits had saved one another from the chasms of eternal solitude.
She had seen the tears of release in his eyes the first time they made love. Hadn't those tears mingled with her own? Was it possible for a man to fake such raw emotion? Hell, was it even possible for a woman to? The tenderness and compassion he had given was real. She knew deep within her soul that he had opened the cavity in his life and filled it with her. There was still a lot about him that she didn't know, but she didn't need to see his personal portfolio to know that their time together had been untouched by the hands of malicious intent. He had been genuinely authentic each time he touched her, each time he kissed her, each time they made love.
Each time he looked at her, his eyes mirrored the canorous song in his heart and the melodious tune was ethereal. Over the past two weeks, Dean Murray had carried her to the gates of an earthly heaven and had laid her safely upon a cloud of dreams.
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