by Lyn Cote
“I regret that we couldn’t make it work and that it cost me the chance to pursue my own happiness, but I don’t regret the load of worry it took from two sets of parents or the pleasure I’ve had from being Callie’s father.”
Hearing how he felt, Hannah’s certainty that she was standing in the presence of a changed man grew. Here was a man who could advise people with true understanding and compassion because he’d stood where many of them were standing.
“What happened?” Hannah asked.
“After Callie was born, Josie and I tried to make our marriage real. We even thought about having a baby of our own—another wrong move—but thankfully she never got pregnant, and a few years ago, we both just sort of gave up on things. We loved each other, but we were never able to fall in love, no matter how much we wanted to. She met David at a friend’s house, and when she realized she was falling in love with him, she asked me for a divorce. It seemed senseless not to give her one.”
“And you’re still friends?” Hannah asked, knowing that state of affairs between divorced people was rare.
“The best of friends, and I thank God for that. The hardest part about coming back here is that I don’t get to spend as much time as I’d like with Callie.”
Neither of them spoke for long moments. “No more questions?” Griff asked at last.
“Not at the moment. I’m just sitting here feeling like the world’s biggest fool.” She managed a weak smile. “I can’t believe I was so gullible, that I never once suspected a thing.”
“Never be sorry for trusting in love, Hannah, and don’t be afraid to trust your heart to another man. You’re too special a woman to waste away in that big old house doing for other people.”
She gave a soft, embarrassed laugh. “I thought I was providing a needed service, making happy memories for folks in town.”
“You are. But you were made to love and be loved by someone.”
You, Griff? Was I made for you to love? Hannah didn’t speak but knew the question must be in her eyes.
“Back when we were kids, I really had it bad for you,” he said.
“You did?” she said in a soft voice.
“Bad,” he reiterated. “Surely you knew I felt something for you after I kissed you at your dad’s gas station that day.”
She gave a little shrug. “I thought you did it because you could. You could have any girl in town you wanted, why should I be any different? I never suspected it meant anything to you.”
Griff smiled his mocking smile. “It meant more than you’ll ever know. Every time I thought about you kissing Johnny, every time I saw him walk out the door to pick you up, every time he came home grinning and telling me about something you’d said or done, it was like someone ripped out my heart.”
“Are you saying you were…” Her voice was so low she could barely hear it.
“Jealous? Yeah. I was crazy about you. But I knew I wasn’t good enough for you. You were the town’s sweetheart. Home-coming Queen. Most Likely to Succeed. I was too old, too jaded, too bad, so I deliberately stayed away and let Johnny move in on you. I guess my not pursuing you was my one stab at decency.”
Hannah stared at him, unable to believe what he was saying. He left his spot at the fireplace and came to sit on the sofa, close to her.
“What about you?” he asked. He reached out and took one of the hands clasped tightly in her lap and laced his fingers through hers. “Did the kiss make you feel anything special?”
The warmth of his hand gave her comfort and hope. “It scared me to death.”
Griff smiled, but his eyes looked troubled. “You really know how to boost a guy’s ego.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “It scared me because I liked it so much. I knew you were too old and worldly for me. I knew you were dangerous and that I’d never be able to tame you.”
“Funny,” Griff said in a husky voice. “I always knew you were the only one who could.” Seeing the disbelief on her face, he said, “It’s true. I loved you then, and I love you now.”
Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. “How can you love me when I’ve been so terrible to you?”
“I can’t answer that. I guess that’s how real love works. All I know is that when I saw you this morning at Breakfast with Santa, wiping the frosting off that little boy’s face, it was all I could do not to cry.”
“Why?”
“You were so beautiful. You looked like a Pre-Raphaelite portrait of the Madonna with your hair pulled back and that soft smile in your eyes. All I could think of was that that’s the way you’d be with children of your own.”
With her heart filled with gratitude, love and thanksgiving, Hannah threw caution to the wind and herself into Griff’s arms. His kiss was everything and more than she remembered from their two previous kisses. When they had tasted and tested themselves long enough, Hannah leaned back in Griff’s arms and smiled up at him. “I do have one more question.”
“Shoot.”
“Will you marry me and be the father of my children?”
Griff smiled at her. This time there was no derision in his smile. “It would be my pleasure Ms. West. I only have one stipulation.”
“What’s that?”
“That we keep it small and simple and soon?”
“Of course we can.” She offered him a serene smile and tilted back her head for his kiss. She had no illusions about her marriage to Griff. He wasn’t perfect, but then neither was she. As his lips found hers, she knew that perfect or not, he was the best man for her, and with God as the center of their marriage, however many years they had left would be as close to heaven as she could ever hope for on earth.
Epilogue
The church auditorium and fellowship hall might have passed for a florist’s shop they were so full of flowers. White roses, stargazer lilies, alstromeria, ferns of every sort and delicate swathes of tulle festooned every nook and cranny.
To say the wedding was well-attended would be an understatement, since it seemed half the town was in attendance. Hannah and Griff had said their “I dos” eaten cake, drunk punch and opened wedding gifts. Now, wearing a going-away suit of winter white, Hannah joined her new husband, who, looking just a tad harried, was surrounded by a roomful of friends and well-wishers.
“Did I tell you how gorgeous you are?” Griff said under his breath as they stood at the top of the steps.
“Only a dozen or so times,” Hannah said, “but in this case I don’t mind redundancy.”
“I hate being redundant,” Griff said. “So how about my telling you how lucky I am instead?”
Hannah felt her eyes fill with tears. No. She was the lucky one. Standing on tiptoe, she gave him a quick, hard kiss.
“Stop smooching and throw the bouquet!” Someone in the crowd yelled.
Blushing, Hannah turned her back to the crowd and tossed the posy of roses and rosemary and thyme over her head. She heard several groans of dismay and a squeal of happiness followed by a roar of laughter. When she turned around, she saw Phyllis Sinclair holding the bridal bouquet. Nearby, red-faced but smiling, stood Jake’s dad. Hannah found Elizabeth in the throng. Her friend gave an I-don’t-know shrug of her shoulders.
“Let’s go,” Griff said, taking Hannah’s hand. Laughing, ducking the shower of birdseed that rained down on them, they made their way to the waiting limo. Ensconced inside, they poked their heads out of the sun roof and waved as the car pulled out onto the street.
Jo and Elizabeth broke through the crowd and ran behind the car a few dozen feet, yelling something.
“What are they saying?” Griff asked.
Hannah smiled and waved harder. “Friends forever!” she yelled back. “Friends forever.”
From her place on the sidewalk, Aunt Becky watched the car disappear around the corner, feeling like a cat who’d just lapped up spilt cream. “All in Your time, Lord,” she said with a satisfied smile on her plump face. “All in Your time.”
And now, turn the page for
a sneak preview of
REASONABLE DOUBT, the first book in
THE MAHONEY SISTERS
miniseries by Tracey Bateman,
part of Steeple Hill’s exciting new line,
Love Inspired Suspense!
On sale in August 2005 from Steeple Hill Books.
Chapter One
Justin Kramer knew two things for certain.
One, he didn’t murder his wife.
Two, the detectives weren’t buying it.
The four-month-old memory of Amelia’s body lying face-down on the blue living room carpet etched a horrifying image in his mind. An image Justin knew he wouldn’t shake for the rest of his life—which, if the cops had their way, would be spent up the river, without possibility of parole.
The detectives stood over him like a couple of lions working together to bring down a zebra. Justin’s glare swept them both. “What do you think my wife’s killer is doing while you two are playing good cop/bad cop for the third time?”
Detective Raney slapped his hands flat on the table and rested his considerable weight on apelike arms. He leaned forward and stared Justin square in the eye.
Disgusted, Justin clamped his lips together and shifted backward. The guy’s breath stank of cigarettes and coffee—one or the other was enough to gag a horse. Together they were nothing less than cruel and unusual punishment.
The detective pressed forward to close the distance caused by Justin’s not-so-subtle retreat. “Just shut your smart mouth and answer the questions.”
Without even trying to hide his amusement, Justin twisted his lips. “I can’t shut my mouth and answer the questions at the same time.” He knew he sounded like a delinquent punk, but he was getting pretty sick of being accused of murder when he’d done nothing worse than allow Amelia to run all over him for years.
Detective Appling clapped his partner on the shoulder, effectively getting him out of Justin’s immediate air space.
Appling’s face molded into an amiable expression—one carefully practiced and intended to instill confidence in the would-be criminal. “Come on, Justin. Don’t you think it’s time to tell the truth?”
The good-cop routine was getting old. Justin leveled his gaze at Appling. “Didn’t you two switch roles? Seems like last time you hauled me in for questioning, you were the heavy.”
Detective Appling’s eyes glittered hard. His lips tensed and turned down at the corners. He perched on the edge of the table, no longer playing like a pal. “Let’s talk about where you were the night your wife was killed. Say…around eleven-thirty.”
“He’s told you where he was. Repeatedly.” Bob Landau, a friend and the only attorney Justin knew, sat in a chair at the other end of the table, looking a lot more comfortable than he had any right to while Justin’s freedom dangled from a worn-out thread.
Detective Raney sneered at Bob. He snagged a metal chair leg with his booted toes and pulled it out. With a grunt he plopped into the seat. “I’m tired of getting the same answer.”
Too bad for him. Justin only had one answer to give—the truth. “For the third time, I was at the Victory Mission Men’s Shelter. All night. I didn’t leave until a little after six the next morning.”
Raney jerked his head at Justin and picked up a manila file folder from the table. He waved it under Justin’s nose like a filet mignon. “Know what I have here?”
“Not a clue. But I bet you’re going to tell me.”
In one fluid movement, the officer slapped the file open on the table with the flat of his hand, keeping the bottom of the page covered. “Signed testimony from two men who say you left during the night and came back later.”
Triumph gleamed in the detective’s eyes. Closing the file, he leaned back, lacing pudgy fingers over his ample gut.
Unwilling to give Raney the satisfaction of knowing how badly the news had rattled him, Justin forced himself to keep a bland expression. “You’re bluffing.”
The officer glared over the rim of an enormous coffee mug. He set the cup back down, gathered a long, slow breath and started again. “The cards are stacked against you, Kramer.” He held up his thumb then one finger and another as he counted off the marks against Justin. “A murdered woman, no sign of forced entry and there are witnesses who demolish your alibi. And, I have to tell you, those separate bedrooms don’t exactly speak of marital bliss.”
Bob shifted forward. “Why don’t you guys give him a break? You haven’t even charged him with a crime.”
“Yet.”
Bob shot from his chair. “Do you realize that Mr. Kramer’s cooperation is voluntary?”
“We hear you, Mr. Landau. But we have a good reason for questioning him about his so-called alibi. And like you said, he agreed to the questions, so he might as well answer the right ones, or there’s really no point, is there?”
“Just watch how you phrase your sentences. I’d hate to slap you with a lawsuit.” Bob grabbed his briefcase from the floor next to his vacated chair. “I think you’ve taken enough of Mr. Kramer’s time today, so unless you plan to arrest him, we’re going to walk out of here now.”
The detectives exchanged looks that clearly revealed their reluctance to let him go. Justin’s stomach churned.
A scowl twisted Detective Raney’s fat face. “Get out of here,” he snarled, his breath assaulting Justin’s air space once more.
Justin balled his fists to keep his hands from trembling. “I’m free to go?”
“For now.”
Deputy Keri Mahoney opened her mouth wide to take a bite of her on-the-go burger when her cell phone rang to the tune of “Deep in the Heart of Texas.” She jumped, and ketchup escaped the bun, globbing onto her uniform before she could stop it. “Great.” Why had she ever allowed Dad’s Southern belle fiancée to program that stupid song into the phone? It nearly sent her through the roof every time it rang.
Negotiating the hamburger, to prevent another glob of ketchup from plopping onto her clothes, she tried to snatch her cell phone at the same time. Impossible. With a growl, she pulled into the nearest Wal-Mart store parking lot and located the phone.
“Yes?”
“Kere?”
Swiping at the ketchup stain on her tan slacks, Keri scowled.
“Who else?” she barked.
“Sheesh. Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed, or what?” Her sister Raven’s voice only irritated her more, but she fought to keep her temper in check.
“What’s up, Rave?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“Yeah, I’m in the Jeep.”
“It’s about Justin Kramer.”
She stopped swiping and gave Raven her full attention. “What about him?”
“I think the KC police are getting close to an arrest.”
Swallowing past the sudden thickness in her throat, Keri managed to croak, “How do you know?”
“Eugene. Who else?” Raven’s contact at the Kansas City PD. A dispatcher with a crush on the annoyingly gorgeous TV reporter.
“Is it still off the record?”
“Yeah, for now. But he said Justin and his lawyer spent the better part of the afternoon in an interrogation room with the detectives working his wife’s homicide.”
“I just can’t believe it,” she breathed, almost to herself.
No longer in the mood for lunch, Keri wrapped her barely eaten sandwich and stuffed it back in the bag.
“I absolutely don’t believe it,” Raven said emphatically. “Justin Kramer is no killer.”
“Not when he was fourteen, you mean.” But considering her childhood friend never even bothered to come back to visit like he said he would before moving away, how could she really know if he was capable of murder at the ripe old age of twenty-nine?
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