Читать книгу To Have And To Hold - Dawn Temple - Страница 6

When Travis awoke the next day, bright sunshine filled his rented room. He wedged his head off the feather pillow and squinted at the clock: 12:37.

Crap, I’m running late.

After the funeral yesterday, he’d driven aimlessly for hours, making so many laps around Land’s Cross he now knew every bump in every road. He’d finally quit trying to outrun his thoughts and returned to the boardinghouse, took a cold shower and flopped into bed. Then stared at the popcorn-textured ceiling until exhaustion dragged him under around dawn.

Forcing himself to sit, elbows propped on his naked thighs, he buried his aching head in his hands. The rural silence rang in his ears, competing with the throbbing beat of his pulse. Fingers pressed against his closed eyelids, he listened to the birds singing outside.

What the devil are they so happy about?

Oh, yeah. They didn’t have to face a distrusting wife and a scheming attorney in an hour.

Groaning, he stood and headed for the shower, hoping the Sheltering Arms didn’t skimp on the water pressure. Twisting from the waist, he tried to unkink the knots threaded into his spine. He thought longingly of his king-size mattress at home.

His feet stilled as Lindy’s words filled his memory. Being tied to man who’d rather fold himself onto a bed too short and too narrow to be the slightest bit comfortable than share a king-size bed with me.

That lumpy old guest room bed was the last place on earth he’d wanted to be. He’d ached to lie beside his wife, to comfort her, love her. But he’d been afraid of her reaction, worried she wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him. And after the way he’d failed her, he certainly wouldn’t have blamed her.

Fighting off the memories, Travis showered and shaved. He had to admit, being named in Lionel Lewis’s will had piqued his curiosity. What was the old man up to?

He’d find out soon enough. Gathering his keys and wallet, Travis picked up his cell phone. Amazingly he’d forgotten to turn it back on after the funeral. Probably the first time in years he’d been unreachable for more than an hour.

He switched the phone on. The voice mail icon flashed, indicating a full mailbox. Before he could retrieve his messages, the phone vibrated.

“Monroe.”

“Travis, thank God.”

Travis heard the anxiety in his brother’s voice. He was in trouble. Again. “Who’d you screw with this time, Grant?”

“Whoa, man, don’t take my head off. I was beginning to get worried. I must’ve called you at least a dozen times yesterday, but you never answered.” He sounded concerned, but Travis knew better. The only person Grant ever worried about was Grant.

“I turned my phone off.”

“Holy crap. She must be a knockout.”

“What are you talking about?” Travis paced the small confines of his hotel room, wishing he’d waited another two minutes to turn his phone back on.

“Well, if your phone’s off that must mean you’ve finally put an end to your monklike ways. So, who is she?”

Angry blue eyes flashed through Travis’s memory. “God, Grant. Are you ever going to grow up?”

“God, Travis, are you ever going to lighten up?”

Travis wrenched loose the tie he’d just knotted and roughly freed his top button. Everything about his life was constricting these days. “I don’t have time to play games. What kind of trouble are you in?”

“Not trouble, exactly.”

“What then, exactly?”

“Dad fixed me up with the spinster daughter of some business associate. Promised her old man I’d take her to the Spring Fling at the Country Club tonight.”

“Which business associate?”

“Burt Tanner.”

The leather strap squeezing Travis’s brain tightened. Had Winston Monroe lost his mind? A blind date between Grant and their banker’s only daughter?

“Grant, what does your social life have to do with me?”

“I need you to take the wallflower. I’ve got a hot date with your old flame.”

Grant hooking up with Julia Wellborne? Could plague and pestilence be far behind?

“Did you make this date before or after you found out about your date with Tanner’s daughter?”

“What does that matter?”

“After. That figures, you selfish jerk.”

Grant tried to interrupt, but Travis spoke over him.

“You don’t have a choice, Grant. If you stand Susan Tanner up, her father’s gonna be pissed. Monroe Enterprises needs his financial support to complete the Downtown Renovation Project.”

“I don’t need a lecture.” Petulance filled Grant’s voice, proving his words a lie. “I need you take the dog to the party.”

“What you need is to learn that your actions have consequences. If you screw this up, you’ll blow a ten-million-dollar deal. A loss like that’ll devastate Monroe Enterprises, and if the company goes under, not only will you lose your free ride, but our employees will be out of work.”

Travis pinched the bridge of his nose. Hundreds of people in danger of losing their livelihoods. He couldn’t allow Grant’s selfishness to destroy all those innocent lives.

“Spare me the St. Travis crap.” Grant’s words remained hostile, but the resignation in his tone assured Travis his brother wouldn’t stand Susan up. But the poor girl was in for the worst date of her life. If he were in Atlanta, Travis knew he’d probably step in, just to save her the embarrassment.

“For once in your sorry life, just do the right thing.” Travis severed the connection. Taking a deep breath, he tried to rein in his temper. He thought about the unsigned resignation letter in his desk. One of these days, he was going to sign the damn thing. Then Grant would have to learn to cover his own ass.

He scraped his free hand through his hair and sighed.

Watch over them, Travis. They’re not strong like you.

Those had been his mother’s final words, spoken as her hospital door closed softly behind Winston and Grant Monroe. His father and brother had been too cowardly to stay till the end.

Once he’d promised to take care of the weaker men, his mother’s thin hand had squeezed his. Gratitude had filled her eyes. Then she was gone.

Losing his mother, the one person who’d honestly loved him, had left a hole in his heart. For years, he’d tried to fill the emptiness by building Monroe Enterprises into an international conglomerate. Work had occupied his time. But the vacancy in his heart had remained. Until—Lindy.

“Damn.” Travis consulted the clock: 1:50. Stuffing his cell phone into his breast pocket, he grabbed his room key and rushed to his car, not bothering to turn off the lights before he left.

Grateful that Land’s Cross was such a small place, Travis flew south down highway 411. Ten minutes was almost enough time for the trip out to Lindy’s farm. In Atlanta, he couldn’t escape the parking garage in under ten minutes.

He’s late. Lindy seethed, pacing the front porch. Travis barged back into her life, made her wish for things she couldn’t have, then didn’t have the common courtesy to show up on time.

Angry footsteps carried her to the porch’s far corner. Before her, twenty-four hundred acres of month-old corn-stalks had begun to poke their way out of the earth. Breathing deeply, she sighed and turned, walking calmly back around the porch that circled three-quarters of her home. She leaned her hip against the railing in the opposite corner and smiled.

Unlike the comfort offered by the cornfields, this view pumped her heart rate up a notch. She’d spent the past year transforming these forty acres, molding them to fit dreams she’d harbored since childhood.

The large two-story red barn stood just as it had since her grandfather built it half a century ago. But she’d built the lean-to on the north side herself. It was the heart of Country Daze Farm. Inside, she’d host dozens of schoolchildren daily, teaching them about the care and feeding of livestock. Her hands-on approach would allow kids to gather eggs, pick cotton from its boll, and for the brave-hearted, a chance to milk a real cow.

Beyond the barn, she’d penned off a petting area. She felt that familiar twinge of excitement as she imagined the schoolchildren lavishing attention on the gentler animals.

A flash of metal caught the corner of her eye. Lindy turned away from her dreams of the future and faced her uncertain present head on. An unfamiliar luxury car rolled down the long driveway. It had to be Travis. No one in Holcombe County would spend that much money on a vehicle unless it harvested crops.

Lindy’s spine tensed. Watching the silver sedan park next to Pops’s battered old truck, she felt her anger return. Travis’s presence here threatened everything: her dreams, her home, her peace.

He stepped from the car and squinted in her direction, barely giving the farm around him a second glance. Guess he assessed the property’s value during yesterday’s visit.

Clutching her arms across her chest, tucking shaking hands into her folded elbows, she stomped back to the center of the porch, temper mounting with each step.

Arrogant fool. Did he think her grandfather had left him anything of value? He probably already had plans to mow down the crops and build a mall. As if she’d let him get his big-city developer hands on her land. No way. She’d rather sell the farm to one of those crazy emu ranchers.

Angry tears gathered behind her eyes. Blinking them back, she spun away from the well-dressed man climbing the front steps and scrambled for the front door.

But she didn’t move fast enough. Somehow, Travis got there first, grabbing the knob with one hand and resting the other on her shoulder. He touched her nowhere else, but his warmth penetrated the skin on her back. She felt wrapped up in him.

The uniquely Travis scent of cedar and sea breeze filling her senses also stirred her memory, reminding her of the many times she’d sought comfort in his embrace.

She shrugged away from his touch, but he still held the door closed, imprisoning her within his personal space.

“Lindy, I’m not the enemy.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Well, I am.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

Travis stood so close Lindy felt him flinch as her words hit their target. “Believe me, that’s painfully obvious. But until we figure out what your grandfather has done, I’m not going anywhere. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be by treating me like the bad guy.”

The quiet calm of his voice was hard to resist. It would be so easy to lay her burdens at his feet and allow Travis, a professional problem solver, to make all the hard decisions, deal with the unpleasantness. But taking advantage of Travis’s overdeveloped sense of duty would make her no better than his manipulating brother and father.

Nope. No matter what, she wouldn’t sacrifice her pride by taking the coward’s way out again.

Lifting her chin, she eyed him over her shoulder. “If you want to make this easier, go home. I’m sure you have pressing family business in Atlanta that needs your undivided attention.”

Another bull’s-eye. This man really brought out her inner bitch.

Lindy held her guilt in check as Travis closed his eyes for an extra long second, drawing air through his teeth. She’d seen him do that a hundred times and knew he fought his temper. When he opened his eyes, she saw he hadn’t quite won the battle.

“Like it or not, right now I have pressing family business in Land’s Cross that needs my undivided attention.” His eyes locked on to hers. Lindy felt sucked into the emotional depths of the swirling green and gold whirlpools. She saw questions there, remembered the warmth she’d often seen reflected in his eyes. The passion. At one time she’d been foolish enough to imagine love shimmering in his eyes.

The echo of tires crunching down the driveway ended their visual standoff. Travis stepped back, leaving her feeling bereft.

Chester, briefcase in hand, climbed out of his truck and approached the porch. The older man wore his poker face. Lindy’s already frazzled nerves unfurled further. Intuition assured this meeting wouldn’t end well.

Before Chester could ease the tension with social niceties, Lindy pounced. “What’s going on, Chester? What have y’all done?”

Chester blew out a frustrated breath and tightened the grip on his briefcase. “First things first. Let’s go inside and have a seat. Before we can discuss the specifics, we need to have a formal reading of the will.”

Travis finally opened the door and waved his palm, inviting her to precede him inside. Lindy crossed the threshold, feeling as though she’d stepped into a Monet painting. Everything remained recognizable, but nothing was clear.

Walking blindly past the family room, she headed down the hall and veered right, leading the way into Pops’s study. Perched on the edge of the seat farthest from the door, she forced herself not to fidget. Once the will was read, she’d know what Pops had done; she’d know exactly what she was up against.

After Travis took his seat, Chester pulled a long manila folder from his briefcase and sat behind the wide oak desk. He slipped reading glasses on his nose, opened the folder and picked up the pages inside. He began to read without preamble.

“I, Lionel Charles Lewis, being of sound mind and body…”

Those words, more than any spoken thus far, brought the truth home to Lindy. Pops was gone. She was alone. Chester’s voice droned in her ears, but like Reverend Hollister’s eulogy yesterday, Lindy couldn’t concentrate on the words.

Never-to-be-repeated scenes filled her memory. Pops tucking a frightened little girl into bed, reminding her that her parents would always be alive in her heart. Pops feeding her cheese grits and wiping away her tears as she struggled through the forgettable woes of puberty. Pops welcoming her home after she’d left Atlanta like a coward, slipping away without a word to her husband.

How would she survive without his strength? His love? Her knees knocked together and her teeth began to chatter.

I’m losing it.

No, she couldn’t lose control. She locked her knees and clenched her jaw. Pops would not appreciate a weepy show of emotions. Respect for the man who’d raised her since she’d been orphaned at the age of eight demanded she pack away her tears.

Determinedly, she dragged her attention back to Chester, who was still reading her grandfather’s words out loud.

“…a long and happy life. I’ve done a few things I’m not proud of, and I’ve thanked God every day of my life for the love of a good woman. Lindy girl, you’re a lot like your grandmother. You’ve got her good heart. I can only hope you turn out to be as understanding and forgiving as my Muriel.”

A postmortem apology? Lindy couldn’t contain the sob that hiccuped from between her lips.

Her skin tingled as Travis’s hand intertwined with hers. She tried to jerk away, but his fingers flexed, holding her hand in place. The strength of his grip offered much-needed reassurance. Her fingers relaxed beneath his. Lindy knew his support was temporary. But for a moment, she didn’t feel so alone.

“Lindy girl,” Chester’s voice continued, but the words were pure Pops, “I’ve loved you since the night you drew your first breath. All I’ve ever wanted is your happiness. In the months to come, I hope you can remember that.

“So, to the business at hand. I, Lionel Charles Lewis, leave my entire estate to my granddaughter, Lindy Lewis Monroe, and her husband, Travis Monroe. I make but one stipulation. For a period of no less than one hundred and fifty-four days, they must both reside at the Lewis Family Farm as husband and wife. Should either party refuse, my entire estate shall become a refuge for New Zealand swamp frogs. Neither party shall benefit in any way from this transaction.”

No, Pops. That’s over. He never wanted me.

Travis’s grip became painful, but Lindy welcomed the discomfort, sure that without it, she’d have slid to the floor.

Turning her head to study Travis, she found him staring holes into Chester. She noted the muscle jumping again at his jawline. Angry waves rolled off him.

His anger didn’t have anything on hers. For him, this was just a bump in the road. She could lose everything.

“How dare he!” Lindy pulled her hand free from Travis’s iron grip and jumped to her feet. “How dare you write that fool thing up, Chester. You can’t really expect us to honor such drivel.”

“Trust me, girl, I did everything I could to talk him out of it, but you know how stubborn he was. I knew if I didn’t draft the papers, he’d find someone else who would. Someone less discreet.” Chester’s mouth folded into a grim frown.

Lindy stalked around the guest chairs, into the open space in the middle of the room. She needed to move before she exploded. One hundred and fifty-four days. She’d lose her mind, cooped up with Travis for that long.

And what the hell were New Zealand swamp frogs?

Lindy paced to the door and back, rubbing her fingertips against her throbbing temples. Her heart pounded against her chest hard enough to bruise the skin.

Travis remained frozen in his chair, narrowed eyes riveted to Chester.

“Why, Chester?” she asked. “Why did he do this? And such an odd time period? What’s the significance of one hundred fifty-four days?”

“Lionel felt the two of you gave up too soon. A marriage takes time and work, especially when you hit a rough patch.” The old man leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his rounded belly. “One hundred and fifty-four days is how long the two of you lived together as man and wife.”

Stunned, Lindy stopped pacing. The muscles in her legs went limp. She slithered into her vacant chair.

She’d been certain one hundred and fifty-four days was forever. But as a measuring stick for her marriage, it sounded pathetically short.

The desk chair squeaked as Chester sat forward. “Lionel figured if he forced you two together, you’d find a way to work things out. He didn’t want pride or fear to cause you to wait until it was too late.” His voice gentled. “He knew tying up the farm was the only way to get you to make a move, Lindy.”

Her grandfather’s best friend swiveled his chair, meeting Travis’s stare. After silently studying the younger man for several long seconds, Chester spoke, his gentle tone forgotten.

“Lionel spoke highly of you, young man. Felt certain you’d be there for Lindy if her dreams were threatened. I’d say the fact you haven’t already stormed out of here proves the old goat got a few things right, even if his method was a little off.”

“A little off!” Lindy leaped back to her feet. “He’s trying to control our lives. Did he really think we’d just roll over and say, ‘Oh, what the heck? The old man’s probably got a point. Why don’t we just ignore what we want and give this a shot?’”

Travis’s hand rested on her shoulder. She hadn’t even heard him stand. She didn’t shrug off the contact, but she did resist the urge to lean backward. It would be so easy to lose herself in the temporary security of his arms.

“Lindy, calm down.” He tenderly squeezed her shoulder. “Your grandfather must’ve known he wasn’t well. What he’s done is meddlesome. And insulting. But I think it was his way of looking out for you.”

“Why can’t anyone see I can take care of myself!” Hands fisted, she itched to pace, but there was nowhere left to go. Dominating men surrounded her.

Travis’s other hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her so quickly she nearly lost her balance. She raised her face to his, shocked to see anger boiling in his eyes.

“That’s always been your biggest problem.” Travis’s voice was low, despite the way his chest heaved. His hands fell from her shoulders and he took a step backward, as if he didn’t trust himself not to take a swing at her. She’d never seen this side of Travis.

“Just because you’re capable of taking care of everything yourself doesn’t mean you’ve failed if you let someone else handle things sometimes. Or, God forbid, share the burden. You think your fears make you weak.” He pivoted with military precision, turning his back on her, stalking to the window.

“Being strong doesn’t mean doing it all by yourself,” he told her over his shoulder. “Sometimes, it takes more strength to trust someone than it does to go it alone.”

Tears burned Lindy’s eyes. “When you trust someone and they let you down, it hurts worse than going it alone!”

“Yeah, I know.” Travis turned and found her eyes. “You taught me that lesson.”

Travis stared out the study window, searching the clouds for answers, ignoring Chester Warfield’s perusal. An awkward, suffocating silence engulfed the room.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t let Lindy lose her home, her dreams. On the other hand, he didn’t think he could endure one hundred and fifty-four days of living with a woman who so obviously despised him.

Surely he could find a way to fix this. He needed a plan. First step, get his attorney involved. If anyone could find a loophole in the will, it was Brad Middleton. They needed a valid reason to contest the insane terms of the will.

Whoa. Maybe that was it. The terms were unquestionably insane. If they could claim—

“You’re thinking too hard, boy,” Warfield declared, breaking into Travis’s thoughts. “Say what’s on your mind.”

He turned and faced his wife. “How about having Lionel declared incompetent and ruling the changes invalid?”

“What!” Lindy’s cheeks bloomed with angry color.

Warfield ignored her outburst. “If you could convince a judge Lionel wasn’t in his right mind, you could probably get the will overturned. Only problem is, there isn’t a person in this county, hell, the whole state, that would say Lionel Lewis was anything other than ornery and stubborn. And those aren’t grounds for incompetency.”

“I can’t believe you’d even suggest such a thing!” Lindy’s fists balled at her sides. “There’s no way I’d do or say anything to ruin my grandfather’s good name.”

Trying to ignore his wife, Travis turned his concentration to the attorney. He needed all the facts before he took action.

“So, as things stand, in order for Lindy to inherit the farm, I’ve got to move in with her for a period of one hundred and fifty-four days?”

Warfield nodded. “Correct.”

Roughly five months. Long enough to earn her forgiveness? Maybe. Maybe not.

“Do we have to sleep together every night?” he asked.

“Ex-cuse me?”

Neither man acknowledged Lindy’s outburst, but Travis rephrased his question. “Do we both have to be in residence on the farm every night during that time period? I have a business to run. What if I need to travel?”

Warfield rubbed his chin as though contemplating the question, but Travis noticed the smile he fought to hide. Apparently the old man was beginning to enjoy Travis’s dilemma.

“While short business trips are a common component of married life these days, the intention is for the two of you to spend time together. Therefore, you must limit yourself to no more than three nights away per month.”

“Darned fool,” Lindy grumbled from across the room. Travis wasn’t sure exactly which one of them she referred to.

“Does ‘husband and wife’ imply anything other than living under the same roof? Presenting ourselves as a couple in the community?” Travis wouldn’t put anything past Lindy’s grandfather at this point. Not even manipulating their sex life.

“No. The wording was chosen to ensure you both reside at the farmhouse without any other live-in guests.” The attorney leaned forward in his chair, stacking his forearms on the desk. “I know this is hard for the two of you to believe, but Lionel thought he’d be doing you a favor by arranging this.”

“Bull—” Lindy reentered the conversation with a very unladylike comment. “If Pops thought I’d be grateful for this little scheme, he wouldn’t have kept it secret. He knew I’d be pissed. He also knew I’d consider it if it was my only way to keep the farm.”

“It’s not the only way, Lindy,” Travis said, but he knew it was. She’d never endorse petitioning for Lionel’s incompetency.

“Yes, it is. I won’t ruin his reputation. Not for anything in this world. And that includes the farm.”

“Final question.” Travis readdressed the attorney. “What happens after we serve the hundred fifty-four days?”

Warfield no longer bothered to hide his smile. The old man was definitely getting a kick out of this.

“That’s between you and your wife, Mr. Monroe.”