Читать книгу Every Move She Makes - Beverly Barton - Страница 8

His mama’s house wasn’t much to look at, but it was home. And anywhere outside, even a two-bedroom, one-bath shack, had a prison cell beat six ways from Sunday. He hated knowing that his mother and sister had spent the past fifteen years here. When he’d been eighteen, one of the reasons that he had wanted to make it big, to be a success, was so that he could take care of his mother and Regina and give them a better life. But he had failed them both and left them to fend for themselves. If he had things to do over again, would he—could he—do anything different?

When they’d first arrived at the house this afternoon, he’d noticed the repairs that had been made on the place. New paint on the inside and out gave the structure a decent appearance. Inside, homemade covers for the threadbare sofa and chairs, and handmade quilts used as bed coverlets added a touch of hominess to an otherwise drab house. And his mother kept her home as spotlessly clean as she did the Carlisle mansion. Damn! After all these years, she was still slaving away as the housekeeper to people who weren’t fit to kiss her feet. He intended to find a way to change things, to move his family out of the white-trash area of Spring Creek. Once he settled some old scores and set the record straight, he’d find a job outside Spring Creek and take his mother and sister with him.

Strange how he felt confined sitting here in his mama’s living room. A restlessness stirred inside him, a need to run free like an untamed animal. Every once in a while Briley Joe would nod toward the door, a hint that he wanted them to be on their way. But Reed couldn’t bring himself to cut short his homecoming party. Mama had fixed all his favorite foods. Regina had hung a “welcome home” banner, edged with yellow ribbons, over the double doorway leading from the living room into the kitchen. And his sister had used balloons here and there to add a festive touch. Summer flowers from the beds that lined the walkway graced the center of the old wooden kitchen table.

“That was a fine meal, Mrs. Conway.” Mark Leamon smiled warmly at Judy as he stood. “I appreciate your inviting me to join your family celebration.”

“After all you’ve done to help Reed, it was the least I could do,” Judy replied. She glanced at her daughter and added, “You know you’re always welcome here. Isn’t that right, Regina?”

Regina smiled shyly as color flushed her pale cheeks. “Of course. But Mark already knows that. This isn’t the first time he’s had dinner with us.”

Reed couldn’t help noticing the way his little sister looked at Mark Leamon. The way a woman looks at a man she cares about, a man she loves. Even though Regina was nearly twenty-six, he’d continued thinking of her as that same scared little girl who’d run into his arms screaming when she escaped from Junior Blalock’s clutches. Although she had visited him when he’d been in prison, he’d never really looked beyond those big blue eyes and sweet smile to see the attractive young woman she had become. Maybe big brothers didn’t like to think of their little sisters as adults, as sexual women who would want to be with a man.

Regina was a knockout. The kind of girl men would always look at a second time. A mane of golden-blond hair hugged her shoulders. She was tall and curvy. China doll beautiful. How was it that Mark hadn’t picked up on the signals Regina was putting out? Unless he was the densest guy in the universe, it was only a matter of time until he figured out that she was his for the taking.

Reed knew he’d have to do something about the situation before that happened. It was clear as glass. His little sister had the hots for her boss. Poor girl, didn’t she realize that she’d set her sights a little high? Mark was a member of the upper echelons of local society. He was, after all, related to Senator Porter. A first cousin once removed. He might offer Regina a hot affair, but when the time came for Mark to choose a wife, he’d pick one of his own kind.

It wasn’t that he disliked Mark. The exact opposite was true. The guy had done everything in his power to help Reed, even agreeing to work with him to unearth more facts about Junior Blalock’s murder and to do what he could to get the case reopened. Mark was one of only a handful of people who actually believed that Reed hadn’t killed his stepfather. Sometimes he wondered if his mother really believed he was innocent.

Reed lifted the iced-tea glass to his lips and took a hefty swig, then stood and shook hands with Mark. “Once I get settled in, I’ll be in touch and we can start the ball rolling.”

Judy gave Reed a curious stare but didn’t question his comment—not then. When Regina walked Mark to the front door, Reed leaned down and whispered to his mother, “You need to put a stop to that before Mark realizes how easily he could have her.”

Judy shushed Reed, then countered with a question as she stood. “Just what are you and Mark up to?”

Reed draped his arm around Judy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry your pretty head about me. I promise that I’m going to keep out of trouble.”

Judy glared at him as if she doubted his word. But then again, what reason did she have to trust him? He had always promised to stay out of trouble, but somehow he’d managed to break that vow time and again.

Reed studied his mother. How was it possible that a fifty-year-old woman who’d lived such a hard life could still be so attractive? White streaked her naturally light-blond hair, which she wore chin-length and curled about her heart-shaped face. She was slender and leggy and probably didn’t outweigh Regina by more than ten pounds.

“Hey, Reed, how about we head out?” Briley Joe scooted back the kitchen chair and stood to his full six feet.

Reed glanced at his cousin and grinned. “Yeah, sure. In a few minutes.”

“Time’s a-wasting, buddy boy. Home and hearth will still be here in the morning.”

“Are you going out tonight?” Judy asked, a note of concern in her voice and a look of disapproval on her face.

“I just want to show the boy a good time, Aunt Judy.” Briley flashed her his irresistible-to-all-females smile. “A few drinks, a few laughs.”

Briley Joe clamped his big hand down on Reed’s shoulder. His nails retained a trace of grease stain under the tips. Briley Joe owned Conway’s Garage, where he was the chief mechanic. It was where Reed would start work tomorrow; no one else in town would employ him. He was determined to support himself and not be a financial burden on his mother and sister, not even for a few weeks.

“You can save that smile for someone who doesn’t know you the way I do,” Judy said to her nephew; then she lowered her voice so that only Reed and Briley Joe could hear her. “Reed’s not a boy anymore. He doesn’t need my permission to go out honky-tonking with you. But you know as well as I do that he’ll be in violation of his parole if he’s caught in a bar.”

“Ain’t gonna happen,” Briley Joe said. “The bars are full of ex-cons and don’t nobody care, least of all the cops.”

“Mama, we’re not—” Reed started to explain.

“At least stay long enough to tell your sister good night.” Judy nodded to the front door, which could be seen plainly from the kitchen.

Mark ruffled Regina’s hair the way an adult would caress a child. “Why don’t you stay home tomorrow and spend some time with Reed? Consider it a paid holiday.”

“Oh, Mark, that’s so nice of you. I’d love to—”

“She’ll be at work promptly at nine,” Judy said, emerging from the kitchen to stand, hands on hips, in the middle of the living room. “This family doesn’t take charity of any kind. It was nice of you to offer, but Regina works eight hours for eight hours’ pay.”

Damn it, Mama, Reed wanted to shout. Can’t you just once put aside your pride? Giving a valuable, hardworking employee the day off with pay wasn’t exactly charity. Judy Conway had a blind spot when it came to accepting anything for free. She always had been a proud woman—too proud to accept anything from anyone. Even when she’d had to send her kids to bed hungry, she had refused any kind of government assistance. And when other kids ate hot lunches at school, Judy had refused free lunches for Reed and Regina, instead packing peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches every day and somehow scraping together enough money for them to buy a half-pint of milk. To this day, Reed hated peanut butter. We’ll make do had been Judy’s credo. Apparently it still was.

“I didn’t mean to offend.” Mark looked down at his feet, obviously a bit embarrassed by Judy’s response to what he had probably thought of as nothing more than a kind offer. “Whatever Regina wants.” Mark opened the door, but before he left he lifted his gaze, nodded to Reed, and then said, “Thank you again, Mrs. Conway, for your hospitality.”

When Mark walked onto the porch, Regina all but ran after him. Her voice carried from outside, making it easy to hear her comments.

“Mark, I’m sorry about Mama. You have to understand that she—”

“It’s all right,” Mark said. “I might not understand your mother, but I admire her. She’s a fine woman. And if you decide to take the day off—”

“I’d better not. I don’t want to upset Mama. Besides, Reed and I will have plenty of time together now that he’s home. Oh, Mark, I just can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done to help him.”

Feeling like a voyeur, Reed put his arm around his mother’s waist. “Why don’t I help you clean up the dishes before Briley Joe and I leave?”

She nodded, glanced quickly at the open front door, and then headed for the kitchen. Briley Joe already had the back door open and was waiting impatiently.

Judy turned to Reed. “Mark is a fine young man as well as a very good lawyer. Regina’s lucky to be working for him. She has a bright future. And yes, I know she thinks she’s in love with him and he has no idea how she feels. But I do not for one minute believe he’d ever take advantage of her.”

“Good God, Mama, who are you kidding? He’s a man, isn’t he? She’s a beautiful woman who’s nuts about him.”

“If Mark ever realizes how Regina feels about him, he could discover that he has similar feelings for her. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that he could ask her to marry him.”

“The way Regina’s father asked you to marry him?” The minute the words were out of his mouth, he wished them back. In all the years since Regina had been born, they had never once spoken about the circumstances surrounding her birth. He’d been only seven, but he’d known his mother wasn’t married. The kids at school had made ugly comments about Judy, and he’d come home with a bloody nose more than once for defending his mother’s honor.

Judy slapped him, a resounding strike across his cheek. In all his life, she’d never slapped him. But never before had he ever deserved it more.

“Mama…God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Why don’t you and Briley Joe just leave? Now.” Judy gathered up dirty dishes from the table and stacked them on the counter.

“Come on, cuz.” Briley Joe nodded toward their escape route.

“I had no right to say what I did.” Reed’s hand hovered over his mother’s shoulder. “I just don’t want to see Regina get hurt.”

“You go on out and have a good time tonight,” Judy said, her voice soft and lightly laced with emotion. “I’ll leave the back porch light on for you.” She wiped her hands off on a dishcloth and turned to face Reed. Her eyes were dry. All her tears were lodged in her heart. He knew his mother. She was as tough as nails, as strong as steel. “You have your key, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ve got my key.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll holler at Regina before we go.”

By the time he’d said goodbye to his sister, Reed heard Briley Joe racing the motor of his Ford pickup. With a final wave, he headed out the back door. Well, he’d eaten his mama’s home cooking, so that meant one down and two to go—a six-pack and a willing woman were next on his agenda.

When Reed hopped into the truck, Briley Joe squealed the tires as he raced out of the gravel drive and onto the road leading into town.

“Hell, man, I thought we’d never get out of there.” Briley Joe shoved his foot down on the accelerator, sending the old truck into greased-lightning speed. “After fifteen years without a woman, you’ve got to be dying for some hot pussy.”

Reed laughed, the sound mixing with the warm summer wind blowing in through the open windows. Leave it to Briley Joe to hit the nail on the head. Reed laughed again, louder. Damn, but it was good to be free.

Ella stood outside her mother’s bedroom door. She had never been allowed entrance into Carolyn’s inner sanctum without knocking first and asking permission. She’d been taught respect for other people’s privacy from early childhood. As a little girl she’d felt privileged when she’d been allowed to bring some of her toys to her mother’s suite and play quietly on the floor. Often Carolyn had read to her, and later they’d shared a meal together, just the two of them.

Viola was always nearby. Then and now. If not in the room with them, then hovering just beyond the door to her connecting room. Of course, Ella understood the necessity of having her mother’s nurse close at hand. Viola had joined the household before Ella’s adoption, so her presence in the mansion actually predated Ella’s. Sometimes she felt guilty for wishing she could have her mother all to herself, especially when she thought about how dependent her mother was on Viola. Carolyn’s spine had been severely damaged after a dreadful horseback riding accident, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. Only daily exercises, seen to by the devoted Viola, keep atrophy from claiming Carolyn’s leg muscles.

Aunt Cybil had upset her mother this evening. It wasn’t the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last. As much as she loved her mother, her loyalties were divided. She didn’t approve of her aunt’s drinking or of the way she occasionally treated Uncle Jeff Henry so cruelly. But Ella loved her mother’s younger sister because Aunt Cybil adored her so unabashedly. Her aunt had been the one who’d bought her her first bra; the one who’d explained about menstruation; the person she’d turned to when she wanted to know the facts of life. Often Ella felt as if she had two mothers, each performing different functions in her life. Carolyn was her moral center, the one who taught her good manners and lectured her on the art of being a lady. But it was Cybil who had made mud pies with her and pushed her high into the sky on her backyard swing and taught her how to drive a car.

Whenever a family evening ended badly, Ella knew that it was her job to console her mother, while it was her father’s job—when he was in town—to help Uncle Jeff Henry control Cybil. How was it possible, Ella wondered for the millionth time, that two sisters whose physical appearances were almost identical could have personalities that were poles apart?

She lifted her hand and knocked. Viola opened the door, her expression void of any emotion.

“She’s been waiting for you,” Viola said. “I’ve changed her into her gown and helped her into bed. I don’t know why she puts up with it. Family or no family—”

“Why don’t you go on to bed, Viola? I’ll stay with Mother until Daddy returns.”

Her mother’s nurse huffed. “Very well, Miss Ella. But if you need me—”

“I’ll call you if I need you.”

Viola plodded over to Carolyn’s bed, fluffed the pillows around her, and asked if she needed anything. Ella watched how caring and attentive the nurse was, and once again she chastised herself for disliking the woman. Viola Mull looked like Mrs. Potato Head, with thin legs and a rotund body. She kept her gray hair cut in a short, straight bob that made her head look as round as her figure.

“Ella, darling, is that you?” Carolyn’s voice contained just a hint of weakness, as if she was exceedingly weary.

“Yes, Mother.”

“Come sit with me.” Carolyn patted the bed. “Talk to me until your father comes home.”

Wearing pale-yellow satin pajamas, Carolyn sat perched in the middle of the massive, canopied mahogany four-poster with white lace trailing down the posts and pooling on the hardwood floor beneath. Pristine white sheets edged with lace perfectly matched the white down coverlet that lay folded at the foot of the bed. White pillows, stacked three deep, rested behind Carolyn’s thin body.

“Let my hair down for me and brush it, would you?” Carolyn smiled at Ella. Ever since she’d been a child, Ella would do anything to be rewarded with one of her mother’s smiles. She had spent a lifetime trying to please Carolyn, hoping that in some small way she could repay this lovely woman for having adopted her and giving her a family and a life that others could only dream of having.

Ella went into the adjoining all-white bathroom and gathered up her mother’s silver brush and comb along with the matching hand mirror. When she sat down on the side of the bed, she laid the items in her lap, then scooted up in the bed so that she sat beside Carolyn. Brushing her mother’s hair had become a ceremony over the years, and to this day she loved the feeling of closeness this simple act generated between them. One at a time, Ella loosened the pins that held Carolyn’s hair in the loose bun. When she removed the last pin, her mother’s shimmery black hair fell down her back, stopping just inches above her waist. Only a few strands of gray glistened when the lamplight struck Carolyn just right.

Ella began brushing, slowly, carefully, making sure she didn’t pull too hard and cause Carolyn any discomfort. As she had so many times before, Ella marveled at her mother’s beauty: alabaster skin, silky black hair, and striking silver-gray eyes. How often had Ella wished this woman were her biological mother? If she were, then maybe Ella would be prettier. Even though people often mentioned that she actually resembled both her parents, Ella found it hard to believe that she looked anything like the stunning Carolyn. She did have the same color hair, but there the resemblance ended. Carolyn was thin and petite, classically beautiful, and feminine in an old-fashioned, ladylike way.

Ella sighed as she continued brushing her mother’s hair. When she finished the task—one hundred strokes—she held up the mirror so that Carolyn could inspect herself.

“Lovely, darling. Thank you.” Carolyn leaned over and kissed Ella’s cheek. “You’re such a good daughter. I’m going to miss having you here with me when you and Dan get married.”

Ella tensed. She’d been dreading this conversation. As a child her parents had chosen her playmates, and as a teenager they often had picked her dates. She was well aware of the fact that Dan Gilmore’s parents were part of the old-money set in Spring Creek—people whose ancestors had been a part of this town since before the War Between the States. Carolyn had telephoned Dan’s mother shortly after Dan’s divorce had become final last year and insisted on getting their children together.

“Mother…I…I don’t think Dan and I will be getting married.”

“Has that young rascal not even hinted about marriage?”

“He’s hinted, but…I don’t love Dan.”

Carolyn lifted her eyebrows and rounded her mouth as she sighed. “I see. And is there someone else?”

“No, there’s no one else.”

“Dan is quite a catch, you know. If you let him get away, some other lucky girl will be wearing his ring by this time next year. His mother has told me that he wants to get married again. His son needs a mother, and a man in his position needs a suitable wife.”

“And I’m suitable?”

“Of course you are.” Carolyn laughed softly. “You have all the right credentials. You’re bright and charming and very successful. And you’re Webb Porter’s daughter—and my only child.”

Never once had her mother ever told her that she was pretty. She knew she wasn’t, but didn’t mothers lie to their little girls and tell even the ugliest duckling that she was the fairest of them all? Carolyn had told her she was smart, clever, charming, loyal, devoted, and even sweet, but never pretty.

“I don’t want to marry a man just because he finds me suitable.”

Carolyn took Ella’s hands in hers and rested them in her lap atop the spotless white sheets. “People marry for many different reasons. I’m sure Dan loves you. Why wouldn’t he? But Ella, my dear child, you’re already thirty and you’ve never been exactly popular with men. It’s not as if there’s some white knight out there waiting to sweep you off your feet.”

“Daddy swept you off your feet, didn’t he?”

Carolyn’s smile wavered ever so slightly. “Yes, of course he did. But love like Webb’s and mine doesn’t happen for everyone. What we share is very rare. Naturally, I wish you could find someone like your father, but—”

“But girls like me don’t end up with hunks like Daddy, do they?”

“Eleanor Grace Porter! What a thing to say.” Carolyn couldn’t keep the stern look on her face and soon burst into soft giggles. “Webb is a hunk, isn’t he?”

Ella hugged her mother. “Yes, he is.”

“What are my two girls giggling about?” Webb stood in the doorway, a wide smile on his face.

“Let’s not tell him,” Carolyn said. “The man’s ego is already the size of Texas.”

“Girl talk,” Ella said. “Nothing that concerns you.”

Ella kissed her mother, retrieved the silver items from atop the coverlet, and placed them on the bedside table. She paused as she approached her father.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her out into the hall. “Good night, princess.”

Ella kissed his cheek. “Is Aunt Cybil all right?”

His smile vanished. “Cybil is her own worst enemy. She’s miserable and she tries to make everyone around her miserable.”

“I think it would be terribly sad to be married to someone who was in love with someone else.”

Webb tapped her affectionately on the nose. “You’re too smart for your own good, young lady. You always were.”

“Mother wants me to marry Dan.”

“And what do you want?”

“I want the kind of love you and Mother have—real love.”

“If you want real love, then don’t marry Dan Gilmore.”

“Do you mean that, Daddy? Even if—”

He laid his index finger over her lips. “You wait for the real thing. For that can’t-wait-to-see-him, can’t-live-without-him, want-to-be-with-him-forever kind of love.”

Ella hugged Webb fiercely. “I love you, Daddy.”

“And I love you, princess.”

Reed Conway was back in Spring Creek. Paroled today. The bad boy had returned and was sure to stir up trouble. Big trouble. He was the type who’d be damned and determined to prove his innocence. That couldn’t happen—not now; not ever. There had to be a way to put him back where he belonged—behind bars—before he asked too many questions. Before he dug too deep. If he didn’t live up to the conditions of his parole, if he committed a crime, even some minor infraction of the law, he could be sent back to Donaldson. Think. Think. How can I see to it that Reed makes a fatal mistake? Something serious enough to revoke his parole. He can’t be allowed to stay in Spring Creek long enough to unearth any long-buried secrets.