Duty or Desire

by Brenda Jackson

  She had contacted her attorney, who had sent him a certified letter advising him that he needed to vacate the premises by the end of the year and that everything on the inventory sheet better be accounted for. She could just imagine what his reaction would be when he got the letter. Honestly, it wasn’t her problem.

  She glanced at the clock. A couple of hours had passed since Pete had left for the Westmorelands, taking Ciara with him. He had dressed his niece and bundled her up for the cold weather. He had knocked on Myra’s bedroom door to let her know they were leaving. She had placed a kiss on the little girl’s cheek and told her she would be there when they returned.

  “And you’re sure you don’t want to go?” he’d asked her.

  “Positive,” had been her quick response. “I’ve still got a lot to do here.” Truly, she didn’t, but the last thing she wanted to do was ride in the same car with Pete Higgins anywhere. Being on a horse beside him had been bad enough.

  “Then we’ll see you when we get back,” he’d said, before heading down the hall and out the door.

  He hadn’t said when that would be but she knew from attending one of those Westmoreland dinners that they could last for a long time, well into the night if the men decided on a poker game. She recalled Pete saying he would be working tomorrow so chances were, he wouldn’t be participating in any card game. And she’d discovered that when it came to his niece, he was very considerate of her needs. He would probably want her sleeping in her own bed at a reasonable hour.

  Leaving her bedroom, Myra walked down the hall stopping in front of a bulletin board. Bonnie had explained this board held the numbers of those to call in case of an emergency. There were also photos tacked to the board. One was a group photo. Bonnie had told her the photo had been taken the night Pete had taken custody of Ciara. She recognized members of the Westmorelands that she had met, and Bonnie had pointed out Bane’s friends and their wives, as well as Westmorelands from Atlanta, Montana and Texas, and their newfound cousins, the Outlaws from Alaska.

  Moving away from the wall, she continued down the long hall until she came to the living area. It made her feel good knowing there were some families, like Pete’s and the Westmorelands, where family meant something. It was sad that her brother’s greed was the driving force behind everything he did.

  Myra had just sat down on the sofa and grabbed the remote when the front door opened. Pete entered the house with a sleeping Ciara in his arms. Myra stood. “You guys are back.”

  He nodded. “Ciara can’t keep her eyes open past eight, which is fine since I need to get in bed, as well. I have to be to work at six.”

  She moved to take Ciara from him and was surprised when he drew back. “I’ve got her. On those days when I’m off, I like doing everything for her. I guess you can say it’s our uncle and niece time.”

  “Oh, okay. Just call me if you need me.”

  “Sure thing.” He headed down the hall with a sleeping Ciara in his arms.

  He didn’t call her and when some time passed, she figured he’d gone to bed himself. Then he reappeared, walking into the living room with his shirt out of his jeans and in his bare feet. She tried not to study his masculine build.

  Before she could say anything, he said, “She woke up when I got her jammies on and got fussy. I ended up rocking her and singing her back to sleep.”

  An image of Pete, in that rocking chair in Ciara’s room, touched Myra even more.

  “What did you sing?” she asked, wanting to know.

  He chuckled. “Well, it wasn’t your typical lullaby, that’s for certain. It was a Michael Jackson tune.”

  “Which one?” When he told her, she asked, “Oh. What made you decide on that one?”

  Was she imaging things or was his gaze focused on her mouth? Specifically, her lips. Or did she only think that because her gaze was focused on his lips?

  He slid into the recliner chair across from the sofa. “Matt was a big Michael Jackson fan. I remember visiting him when Ciara was not even a month old. A part of me was proud of how well he’d perfected the role of daddy.”

  He paused as if remembering that time. “Every night before putting her to bed, he’d rock her to sleep singing that MJ song. When I asked him why he’d selected that particular song, he said that because of his job in the army, there would be times when he would be gone away from her. Depending on the assignment, it could be for long stretches of time. That song was his way of letting her know that no matter where he went, or how long he’d be gone, she would never be alone because a part of him would always be with her.”

  Myra fought back tears while imagining Pete’s brother conveying his love to his daughter that way. She could tell the memories touched Pete and she appreciated him sharing them with her.

  The room was quiet before he said, “Whenever I sing that MJ song to Ciara, it’s as if she’s remembering Matt singing it to her. She settles down and quickly drifts off to sleep.”

  Myra didn’t say anything. She couldn’t with the hard lump she felt in her throat. “I think that’s special, Pete,” she was finally able to say.

  He raised a brow. “Do you?”

  Why did he sound unconvinced? “Yes.”

  “Why? Aren’t you the one who told me just the other day that Ciara won’t remember her parents?”

  She heard the bitterness in his voice. “Yes, but that’s just visually. Auditory memory is another story. That’s why pregnant women often read to babies who’re in their wombs, talk to them, play music to them. Babies can relate to sound. I’m sorry if I gave you the impression Ciara wouldn’t remember anything about her parents.”

  He stood. “No harm done.” Then, as if he wanted to not only change the subject, but also to end conversation between them completely, he said, “If I don’t have an unusually busy day tomorrow, I should be home by five.”

  He was so tall that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. “Okay, Pete. Ciara and I will be here waiting.”

  Too late she realized how that had sounded. “What I meant is that we—”

  “I know what you meant, Myra. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

  “Good night, Pete.”

  Myra watched him walk out of the room. She practically held her breath until she heard the door close behind him.

  * * *

  “Well, do you believe me now, Sheriff?”

  Pete studied the image on the mini video recorder. It wasn’t the best quality, but it served the older woman’s purpose. For months she’d claimed a ghost was trying to scare her out of her home. Of course, since there wasn’t any such thing as ghosts, he’d figured the eighty-four-year-old woman was just seeing things. However, when she’d called today, he’d told his deputies he would go visit Ms. Katherine. The last thing he had expected was proof.

  “How did you get this?” he asked.

  “That boy who cuts my grass, Olson Thomas’s teenage grandson. He set up the recorder for me.” She gave him an I-told-you-so smile. “What do you say to that?”

  Honestly, Pete didn’t know what to say. But he was still certain that no matter what the video showed, there was no such thing as ghosts. “I’m going to need to keep this and have the lab analyze it. In the meantime, I need to take a look around.”

  “Certainly, Sheriff. And how is that pretty little niece of yours?”

  He smiled at the older woman who he’d known all his life. “Ciara is doing fine. Thanks for asking.”

  “I understand Bonnie had to leave unexpectedly and you have a temporary nanny.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Have you noticed just how pretty she is?”

  Pete smiled. “I notice just how pretty my niece is every time I see her.”

  The older woman frowned. “I am not talking about your niece, Sheriff.”

  He held back a chuckle. “Then I
can’t imagine who’s prettier than my niece.”

  “What about that woman staying with you?”

  He met her gaze. “Oh. You mean my temporary nanny who’s living with me to take care of Ciara?” he asked, feeling the need to establish the facts.

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  He nodded. “You think she’s pretty?”

  “Yes.”

  He shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  Thirty minutes later he left Ms. Katherine’s house even more baffled. When he’d seen the video, he’d figured it had been a couple of neighborhood teens. Everyone knew of her claim of seeing ghosts. Now, after walking around her backyard, he wasn’t 100 percent sold on that theory. He hadn’t seen a single footprint.

  When he came to a stop sign, he recalled how Ms. Katherine had tried goading him about Myra. When he’d told Myra people would talk about them living under the same roof, Ms. Katherine had headed that list.

  As he turned the corner to head back toward his office, he thought about his live-in nanny. It had been a little over three weeks since Myra had moved into his place and so far, so good. They had established a routine where he pretty much avoided her when he got home from work. He’d also put an end to his drop-in visits at home for lunch.

  Myra would have dinner prepared, and he’d been surprised what a good cook she was. Granted she was into cooking healthy foods. Instead of frying chicken, she would bake it, and he was eating more salads and fewer starches. She also served herbal tea in place of sweet iced tea. He’d decided not to complain and now he’d gotten used to it. He left the table with his stomach full. After dinner he would get his niece and take her with him to the man cave. Evidently, Myra thought the basement was off-limits since she never ventured down there. Then around seven, he would return upstairs and give Ciara to Myra to get her ready for bed.

  Later he would meet them in Ciara’s room where he would rock and sing his niece to sleep. Afterward, he would retire to his own room, shower and go to bed. He made it a point to get up and leave for work before Myra got up the next morning to avoid seeing her.

  It did bother him, however, that Myra never sat down and ate dinner with them. When was she eating? Before he got home every day? When he and Ciara retired to the man cave after dinner? After he went to bed? Pete felt he had every right to be annoyed about the distance since Bonnie would share dinner with him and Ciara.

  His only problem with their living arrangements so far were those nights when he went to bed but couldn’t get to sleep. He would lie awake, staring up at the ceiling, hearing her movements beyond his closed bedroom door. He knew when she would wake up to check on Ciara, or when she needed a drink of water or milk at about three in the morning.

  He would lie in bed and remember how she’d looked when he’d gotten home that night, recalling her outfit, regardless of whether it was a dress, skirt and blouse, or a pair of leggings with a pullover sweater. She had the figure for anything she put on her body. She could wear a potato sack and he would still give her a second look. And then there was her hair. Some days she had it pulled up and some days she wore it down. It didn’t matter how she wore it, it looked good enough to run his hands through.

  She didn’t wear makeup when she was home. Honestly, she didn’t need it since her skin appeared so smooth and soft without it. And she always wore a smile that seemed to come naturally. His attitude or disposition never seemed to faze her. It was as if she’d made up her mind that he was inconsequential. The reason she was there was to take care of Ciara and she could ignore the rest. Including him.

  Especially him.

  He was well aware that she went out of her way to avoid him as much as he was trying to avoid her. So far they were doing a pretty good job at it and he should be happy. But instead he had to fight down his desire whenever he saw her. That took a lot of work. More than he wanted to put up with.

  Since he was off work most weekends, they had agreed those days would be Myra’s days off. Because she had moved into his place, she didn’t have a house to check on. Instead she had spent the first two weekends with Leola Miller, an older woman who’d lived next door to her rental and whom she’d befriended.

  Telling himself he was being considerate, he refused to go to bed on Sundays until he knew she was back, safely under his roof. Deep down he figured it was more than that. He would be sitting in the living room on the sofa and the moment she walked through the door an emotion he wasn’t used to feeling would stir inside him. That first time, she’d been surprised to see him waiting up for her and had told him he didn’t need to do that. He’d told her he did and without any further explanation, he’d gone to his bedroom. That second time, she’d known what to expect and had merely thanked him for caring for her safety. Her words of appreciation had broken the ice and before going off to bed he’d inquired about Ms. Miller’s health. Although it had lasted less than five minutes, it had been the longest conversation they’d shared since she had moved in.

  The Westmorelands had invited them for Thanksgiving dinner. She’d declined, saying she’d made plans that would include the entire weekend. She would be leaving early Thanksgiving morning and wouldn’t return until Sunday afternoon.

  A part of him had wondered what those plans were and with whom she had them, but because he had no right to ask, he hadn’t. But that hadn’t kept him from imagining things, like that guy named Wallace coming to town. The thought hadn’t sat right with him, but what she did was her business.

  * * *

  Myra smiled when she opened the door to Bella Westmoreland. After a couple of days of snow over Thanksgiving, the sun was now peeking through the clouds. Although it was still cold outside, the temperature was a lot better than what it had been. Myra had enjoyed her girls’ trip this past weekend to Breckenridge with Rekka. They hadn’t spent time together in ages.

  She had reached out to her college friend weeks ago after hearing about her recent breakup. She had been careful to pay only in cash, and Rekka had covered the hotel. Rekka was getting on with her life and seemed to be doing a good job of it. Myra was proud of her friend.

  “Come in. I’m glad to see you,” Myra said to Bella, widening the door to let her in. “I just put Ciara down for her nap. Come sit by the fireplace.”

  The one thing she and Bella had in common, being Southern girls, was getting used to the Colorado weather. At least Myra didn’t have to get used to it too much since she would be leaving to return to South Carolina next month.

  “Thanks,” Bella said, peeling off her coat and handing it to Myra.

  Myra had heard the story of how Bella had moved here to claim the inheritance her grandfather had left, ended up staying and meeting Jason. Myra thought Jason, and any of the male Westmorelands for that matter, was a good catch. Not only were they handsome, but they were also thoughtful and kind.

  She had a feeling Pete would be a good catch, too. He was handsome, but the verdict was still out for thoughtful and kind. At least he exhibited those behaviors to his niece. Bottom line, he ignored Myra most of the time. But then, wasn’t she trying to ignore him, as well?

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” Myra asked.

  “I’d love a cup. Thanks.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Moments later Myra returned with two cups of tea on a serving tray she’d found in one of the cabinets.

  “Thanks,” Bella said. She took a sip, smiled and said, “This is delicious.”

  “Thanks. So what brings you out in the cold today?” Myra sked, taking a sip of her own tea.

  Bella settled comfortably on the sofa. “Two reasons, actually. First, I wanted to see how you’re doing since it’s been over three weeks since you started here as nanny.”

  Myra braced her back against the sofa’s cushions. She liked Bella and had from the first. There was a genuine kindness in Bella that was lacking in other
people. Myra could see how Jason had fallen in love with her. “So far, so good. I’ve established a routine for Ciara, which is pretty much the same one Miss Bonnie had. She’s such a happy baby and a joy to keep.”

  “That’s good news. I knew you would work out well. The girls just loved it whenever Pete would bring Ciara over for a visit. She is such a happy baby and I’m glad Pete’s putting her first.”

  Myra nodded. “He definitely loves her, that’s for sure.”

  Bella took another sip of her tea and then said, “The other reason I’m here is to tell you about the Westmoreland Foundation Charity Ball next month.”

  “A charity ball?”

  “Yes. The Westmoreland Foundation was established years ago to aid various community causes. The charity ball is one of the ways they do so. I was selected as this year’s chairperson. The ball holds special meaning for me since it was the first event I attended in Denver and the one where I met Jason.”

  Myra was always moved by the sparkle she would see in Bella’s eyes whenever she mentioned her husband. It was love, through and through. Myra wondered if there was a man who’d put that same sparkle in her eyes one day. She doubted it. Besides, she had so much to do before the year ended and romance was not on the list.

  “I’d love to attend but I’m not sure I’ll still be here. When is it?”

  “This year it would be New Year’s Eve night.”

  Disappointment settled in Myra. She would be gone by then. “Sorry, I won’t be here then.”

  “Oh.” She could see Bella’s disappointment, as well. “I wish you could extend your visit. I would love for you to meet some of the other Westmorelands. They all fly in for the event.”

  Myra wished she could but she couldn’t. When she arrived back in Charleston, she would officially be twenty-five and removing Baron and putting Wallace in charge was her priority. “I have business I need to take care of in Charleston during the days following Christmas, but if I finish it in time, I will try and come back.”