Читать книгу The Ballad of Dixon Bell - Lynnette Kent - Страница 8

DIXON KEPT HIS FISTS in his pockets. “Thanks, but no thanks.” This was the bastard who had left Kate—and his own kids, for God’s sake—to be with another woman. No way was he going to dignify the man’s existence with a handshake.

LaRue waited a few seconds, then let his arm drop. The grin stayed on his face, considerably stiffer than before. “We can deal on the price. I just wanted you to know I’m interested.”

“No, we won’t deal. I’m not selling.”

“Aw, come on, Dixon. The place is falling down around your ears. Your grandmother needs a decent place to live out her old age. Let me build you a new house and get you out from under this white elephant.”

Dixon imagined the pleasure of planting his knuckles directly under the bridge of those shiny shades, but decided not to start a brawl on his own front lawn, weedy though it might be. “Like I said, Mr. LaRue, I’m not selling. Have a good evening.” He headed up the walk, leaving LaRue behind.

But Kate’s husband did not, apparently, get the message. “I’ll give you four hundred grand,” he called as Dixon climbed the semicircular steps that had been built with bricks made on the property more than one hundred fifty years ago.

“No, thanks.”

“Four-fifty’s my top offer!”

Gritting his teeth, Dixon shut the hand-carved mahogany front door between himself and L.T. LaRue. He would have liked to punch a wall, but there were enough holes in the plaster already. Out in Colorado, he could have saddled up and galloped his horse through the sagebrush until they were both tired enough to sleep.

But he’d left his horses—Brady, the bay gelding, and Cristal, the quarter horse mare he had yet to break to saddle—at the ranch until he could find the right place to board them in North Carolina.

Meanwhile, the evening was wearing on and he hadn’t had his dinner. Maybe some good food would take the edge off his temper, mitigate his urge to murder L.T. LaRue. And since he doubted Miss Daisy’s cats would be willing to cook for him, Dixon grabbed the keys to his truck and headed for the one place in town he could be sure of getting a decent meal and friendly company.

If he couldn’t be with Kate, the folks at Charlie’s Carolina Diner were the next best thing.

KATE FELL ASLEEP at the kitchen table and woke to find Kelsey staring down at her. “What are you doing?”

She sat up, wincing at the stiffness in her back. “I’m not sure. What time is it?”

“Almost eight.”

“It’s not!” But, of course, it was. Kate braced her palms against the table and pushed herself to her feet. “Um…let me see what I can find to make for dinner.” Standing at the door to the pantry, with her mind still fogged by the wisps of a dream, she couldn’t seem to find much inspiration. “We’re down to the bare bones here. Mushroom soup, anyone?” Kelsey stuck her tongue out. “Refried beans?”

“We could have burritos.”

“Except there’s no cheese, no salsa and no tortillas. Just beans.”

Trace came into the kitchen. “Gross.”

Kate agreed. “No eggs, no butter, no pasta or sauce.”

Kelsey crossed her arms. “So let’s go out somewhere.”

For once, Trace agreed with his sister. “Sounds good.”

Kate shook her head. “I don’t have enough cash for fast food.” And she really didn’t like eating out of a paper bag.

“So we can go someplace that takes plastic.”

“Possibly.” She looked at her kids. Trace wore the oversize T-shirt and hugely sagging pants that comprised the required uniform among his friends. Both pieces had been ironed at the beginning of the day, for all the good it had done. Kelsey’s shorts were just that—barely conforming to the dress code that required them to reach her fingertips. Once home, she had changed the relatively modest shirt she’d worn to school for a clinging tank top that left a strip of midriff showing and almost nothing to the imagination.

As for herself…well, she was decent, in shorts and a T-shirt, but not really dressed. “Where could we go at this hour, without changing clothes?”

Kelsey snapped her fingers. “I saw a sign at the diner. Charlie takes plastic now.”

“Really? I haven’t eaten there in years.” Kate wasn’t sure why, but the suggestion seemed like the perfect solution for her dilemma tonight. “So, here’s the deal. Kelsey, you put some kind of shirt over that tank top.”

“Why?”

Kate ignored the question. “And the two of you agree not to fight, not even to insult each other for the next two hours. If you get into an argument while we’re eating in public, I will drag you out by your ears and you’ll be grounded for the rest of the summer. And that’s a promise.”

The two teenagers glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes, a kind of mutual commitment. Kelsey looked at Kate again. “Do I really have to wear a shirt?”

“Only if you want to drive the car.”

Fifteen minutes later, Kelsey stopped the Volvo in front of the diner. Kate let out a long, relieved breath. “That was good. You’re getting to be a very smooth driver.”

The girl’s increasing confidence did not, however, serve to ease Kate’s anxiety about being responsible for teaching her daughter to drive. And in just two years, she would have to start all over with Trace.

He walked a step behind as she and Kelsey crossed the parking lot, past a couple of pickups parked next to each other near the front door. “Next time, Kelse, maybe you could park in a regular space.”

Kelsey turned and stuck her tongue out at him. “There aren’t any spaces, you jerk. It’s all gravel.”

“But people usually line up at the same angle, in a row, more or less. You aren’t anywhere close to these trucks. Talk about dumb.”

Kate gave him a quelling glance. “Talk about this anymore and we’re going home without dinner.”

Since Trace ate almost constantly, in order to support his still-growing frame, the threat worked beautifully. The three of them got inside the diner without another cross word being exchanged.

The bell on the door jingled as they came through, drawing the attention of the four people talking at the counter. Kate was aware of Abby Brannon and her dad, Charlie, the owners of the diner, and Adam DeVries, one of her classmates from high school…familiar faces she might have expected to find here any night she chose to come. But the fourth person was, again, totally unexpected.

“Dixon?” She whispered his name, feeling as if she’d conjured him up from her dream in the kitchen.

But he heard her and got to his feet, looking just as good as he had this afternoon—tall and cool in khaki slacks and a light-blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled back. “Hey, Kate. Two accidental meetings in one day— I’d say I’ve got a lot of good luck going for me. And it’s not raining this time.”

“No…no, it’s not.” Thank goodness she had combed her hair and put on some lipstick before she left the house. “It’s a lovely evening.” She recovered her manners and pulled away from his deep-brown gaze. “Hi, Abby. How are you?”

“Just fine.” The other woman came around the counter. Hands on Kate’s shoulders, Abby kissed her on both cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re here. The kids come in all the time, of course, but I only get to see you out in the car, waiting to take them home. Have a seat.” She led them to a booth on the wall. “What can I get y’all to drink?”

The kids ordered soft drinks and Kate asked for iced tea. Abby whisked away…and then two tall, handsome men pulled a freestanding table and a couple of chairs over to extend the booth. Adam sat down on Kate’s side of the table and Dixon sat across from him.

“It’ll be easier on Abby this way,” Dixon explained when Kate looked at him. “If you don’t mind?” His grin was apologetic and yet confident, inviting her to share a private joke.

“Of course not.” And she didn’t, except that seeing him again had seriously disrupted her ability to think. Her heart was pounding under her ribs, her breath had caught in her lungs. She didn’t think she could actually eat in this state.

Kelsey and Trace were staring at Dixon, confusion and even a little suspicion on their faces. Recalled to her responsibility, Kate made the introductions. “Dixon, these are my children. Kelsey and Trace, this is Dixon Bell. You’ve met Miss Daisy Crawford—he’s her grandson. He went to school with Abby and me, but he’s been gone for a long time and just came home. You know Mr. DeVries, of course.” She only hoped they wouldn’t comment on the fact that DeVries Construction competed with their dad’s company for business around town. “How are you, Adam?”

Adam nodded toward the kids, then gently shook the hand she extended. “J-just f-fine, Kate. I t-trust you’re the s-s-same. All r-recovered f-f-from the w-wed-ding?” Courtly in manner, tall, with dark hair and a construction worker’s muscles, Adam should have been anybody’s dream husband. Kate had never understood why he was still single.

Dixon leaned forward. “Somebody’s just married?”

Kate met his gaze. She could feel herself blushing, though there was no reason to be embarrassed. “Pete Mitchell and my sister, Mary Rose, got married a few weeks ago.”

“That’s terrific. I haven’t had a chance to call Pete since I’ve been home. I’ll be sure to look him up and offer my congratulations.”

“He p-p-plays b-basketball on S-Saturday mornings,” Adam commented. “With Tommy C-Crawford, Rob Warren and m-m-me. F-find one m-more player and w-we could g-go three o-o-on three.”

Trace looked over at the suggestion, then quickly went back to staring out the window into the growing twilight. But Kate saw that Dixon had noted his interest.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said just as Abby came back with their drinks. Then he turned toward Kelsey, on his right. “I noticed you got out on the driver’s side. You’re working on getting your license?”

“Uh-huh.” Kelsey darted a glance in Dixon’s direction, but didn’t meet him eye to eye.

“I learned to drive in my grandmother’s New Yorker—this big yellow boat of a car, ’bout thirty-some years old now but it only has fifty thousand miles on it because she never goes more than a few miles outside the county line. I never did learn to parallel park that monster—the officer who gave me the test was a second cousin once removed, or something like that. He let me slide.”

“Parking is the worst,” Kelsey agreed. “Backing up is almost as bad.”

Dixon nodded. “It’s always hard to know which way to turn the wheel.”

Trace snorted, but Kelsey was captivated. She and Dixon embarked on a discussion about driving that lasted through most of dinner. Listening to their easy dialogue, Kate wondered where Dixon’s inordinate charm had come from. When had the awkward, inappropriate boy become such a lady’s man? Miss Daisy possessed more than her fair share of social skills, of course, but Kate didn’t remember a single hint in the young Dixon Bell of the charismatic skill he was using to draw Kelsey out of herself.

And then she wondered if he’d used that same skill on her this afternoon, if the flattering interest she’d basked in was just a tool Dixon plied on any woman within talking distance. Her soon-to-be ex-husband had been a zvery smooth operator fifteen years ago when she’d first known him. Still was, if his success with various younger women around town was all that rumor reported. Recently, so she’d heard, he’d settled down with just one of those young women and was planning to marry her. Despite his image as a man about town, L.T. was a conventional soul at heart. Perhaps he’d just needed to find the right person…

A person who wasn’t her. The knowledge that L.T.’s real problem with their marriage had been as simple as falling out of love with his own wife struck Kate with the force of a felled tree. Devastated all over again, she stared down at her chicken casserole and knew with complete certainty that she couldn’t possibly manage another bite.

DIXON SAW a stricken look take over Kate’s beautiful face, but couldn’t figure out what might have caused it. He and Kelsey were getting along just fine—he’d exerted himself to reach out to her, wanting to make sure Kate knew that her kids were no barrier, as far as he was concerned. The boy would be harder to get to know. Trace had a hunger about him that Dixon had seen in runaways and abandoned teenagers, a hunger for attention, for guidance, which Dixon had no trouble at all attributing to the boy’s father. L.T. LaRue had left his son at a vulnerable point in the boy’s young life, with an emptiness that only a father could fill. Dixon understood that void, having grown up without his dad. At least he’d had Miss Daisy. And Trace had Kate. But even the most loving mother couldn’t completely take a father’s place.

“So what’s everybody having for dessert?” Abby Brannon stood at his shoulder, surveying the remains of their meal. “Kate, honey, you’ve hardly touched your food. Is something wrong?” Kate shook her head and Abby didn’t press for an answer. She moved around the table clearing plates, a woman of ample curves and ample concern for everyone she encountered. He remembered her as a shy girl, coping with her mother’s terminal illness even as she got ready to leave high school and start her own adult life. While he had struck off on his own, ranging far and wide in an effort to discover who he was, Abby had stayed at home. Was she satisfied with what she knew about herself? About the rest of the world?

Then again, Dixon wasn’t sure he was satisfied, after everywhere he’d been and everything he’d done. And look at Kate—valedictorian of the graduating class, voted Most Likely to Succeed, the one student among them whom everybody was sure would launch a brilliant career and make her mark on the world. As he recalled, she’d planned to be a lawyer like her dad. Thirteen years later, she was a spurned wife in the same little town she’d grown up in. Yet another of life’s ironies.

She certainly didn’t seem happy, didn’t radiate the kind of confidence and joy he remembered adoring in her all those years ago. She was still breathtaking, with her dark hair, her pale, perfect skin and her slender figure, but muted, as if a shadow hung over her life. The shadow of L.T. LaRue.

“Who are you planning to kill?” Abby leaned over to take his plate and slide the knife out of his clenched fist. “And what do you want for dessert? Lemon meringue pie? Chocolate cake and ice cream?”

Dixon deliberately relaxed. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you, too. And just coffee, thanks. I’ll save dessert for tomorrow.”

“All you disciplined people.” Abby sighed. “Why do I spend my time making pies for people who won’t eat them?” Shaking her head, she headed toward the kitchen with a trayful of used plates and glasses balanced on one arm.

“I don’t know how she does it.” Kate, too, was shaking her head. “Always smiling, always ready to serve, and she works harder than anybody I know.”

“A-Abby’s a w-wonder.” Adam leaned back in his chair. “Charlie s-s-still comes t-to w-work, but s-since his heart attack, he m-mostly v-visits with the c-customers. Abby’s d-d-definitely the p-prime mover around here.”

The bell on the diner’s front door jingled, announcing new arrivals. Dixon glanced over out of curiosity, only to have his gut tighten with a combination of irritation and dread when a young woman wearing a mind-bending red dress stepped inside, followed by L.T. LaRue.

Beside Dixon, Kelsey gasped and stiffened. On the other side of the table, Kate and Trace and Adam couldn’t see, without turning around, what was going on. But all Kate needed was her daughter’s face. As she stared at Kelsey, reading the girl’s reaction, what little color she had left in her cheeks drained away. She pressed her lips together for a few seconds and took a deep breath.

“Well, this has been fun.” Her voice shook slightly. “But Kelsey and Trace have homework, so I think we should be getting home. Adam, if you’ll excuse us—”

DeVries had taken a quick glance over his shoulder to gauge the situation. “Of c-course.” He got to his feet to let Kate slide out of the booth. Dixon did the same for Kelsey, all the while keeping an eye on LaRue. Abby, bless her heart, had herded L.T. and his girlfriend to the other side of the diner. For a minute, Dixon thought disaster had been avoided.

But LaRue let his companion sit down and then strutted across the room to stand directly in Kate’s path of escape.

“Well, look here. What an interesting group this is.” He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels. “Hey, Trace, Kelsey. I was looking forward to seeing y’all on Saturday for breakfast. How’s school going?” He sounded genial enough, if a little distracted. And he didn’t wait for an answer from the kids. “You’re keeping strange company these days, Kate. Selling secrets to my biggest rival?” LaRue’s laugh set Dixon’s teeth on edge.

Kate shook her head. “Just visiting with old friends, L.T. Have you met Dixon Bell? He went to school with Adam and me, and has just come home after a long time away.”

“I have, in fact.” LaRue nodded at Dixon. “Which is why I’m really interested to see him talking with the head of DeVries Construction. Thought you’d get a better offer, did you, Dixon? I’m telling you that’s not likely.”

“And I’m telling you I don’t care what the offer is, LaRue. Magnolia Cottage is not for sale.” Dixon strived for the same calm Kate had demonstrated. LaRue had already made him mad once tonight. He didn’t intend to repeat the experience. That would give the man too much importance.

“Y-you m-must have a p-p-persecution complex, LaRue.” Adam shook his head and gathered up the checks Abby had left on the table. “I-I’ve got a-a-all the w-work I c-can handle. I d-d-don’t n-need to go h-harassing p-p-people to s-sell me their a-ancestral homes.” He turned to Kate, put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I enjoyed s-seeing you again. Y’all, t-too,” he said with a glance at Kelsey and Trace. “I’ll t-take care of the b-bill.”

“Oh, Adam, you don’t have to do that.”

He gave her a wink. “I—I know. Call me, Dixon.”

“Will do.”

In the silence Adam left behind, LaRue narrowed his focus to Kate. “Kinda late for my kids to be out, isn’t it? Don’t they have homework? Not to mention a curfew, after all that trouble they caused last spring?”

“Yes, and yes, and yes.” Kate put the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “So we’ll say goodbye and let you get to your dinner.” She took a step that brought her within inches of LaRue, who grinned but didn’t move. “You’re in my way, L.T. Please let me go by.”

Her husband—ex-husband?—held her in place until Dixon started around the table. Then LaRue retreated. “See you bright and early Saturday, kids. Don’t be late.”

Like mice caught out in the kitchen when the light was turned on at night, Trace, Kelsey and Kate scurried out of the diner while L.T. had his back turned toward them on the way to his table. Dixon stood for a minute, considering the possibility of a showdown, here and now, but decided Abby and Charlie didn’t need the hassle. The time would come, though. No doubt about that. So, with a wave toward Abby behind the counter, he headed for the door.

Outside in the hot July night, Trace and Kelsey were arguing about something as they unlocked the Volvo. “Come on, Kate,” Kelsey called. “Let’s go.”

But Kate had stopped just beside the front of Dixon’s truck, as if her legs wouldn’t take her any farther. When he put a hand under her elbow, he could feel her whole body tremble.

“Are you okay?”

She turned sightless eyes upon him. “Um…I don’t think so. I need a minute. Which is silly, isn’t it? Nothing happened. There’s no reason to be so upset.” She put her hand over her eyes. The deep breath she drew shook with the sound of tears.

Aware of the lighted windows behind them, Dixon pulled her around until the body of the truck stood between Kate and the diner. Then he opened the truck door, put his hands around her narrow waist and lifted her onto the passenger seat. He made himself let go quickly. She didn’t need another predator stalking her tonight.

But as she sat there, elbows on her knees and head in her hands, he wrestled with the powerful urge to close his arms around her and never let go. He wanted to put himself between Kate Bowdrey and the rest of the world, make sure nothing and nobody ever hurt her again. His heart ached with the need she had always inspired in him. And he couldn’t let one bit of what he was feeling show.

Someday, he would be free to tell her how much she mattered to him. Surely, someday.

But not yet. So he stood stiff and silent while Kate struggled alone with her despair.

Kate knew she was being weak, knew she shouldn’t give in to the anguish L.T. provoked in her these days. When she knew she would see him, she could prepare herself and get through the encounter pretty well. But accidental meetings like this just swept under her defenses, gave her no chance to control her reaction. And so here she was, quivering like a beached jellyfish.

With Dixon Bell standing there watching.

At the realization, she jerked herself upright. She’d accepted his help, let him practically hide her from the world, then forgotten he was there. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped as her cheeks heated up. “What you must be thinking…” She couldn’t meet his gaze, and she couldn’t get out of the truck because he was standing right in front of her.

His fingertips brushed across her cheek. “I’m thinking you’ll be well rid of that bastard. And that I’m really glad I got to have dinner with you tonight after all.”

Something in his rich voice encouraged her to look up. She found no pity in his eyes, only a depth of understanding she would never have expected.

“Me, too,” she admitted, under the spell of his smile. And discovered that she actually felt free to smile back.

But darkness had fallen while she huddled in Dixon’s truck. Loud rock music blared across the parking lot from the Volvo where Trace and Kelsey waited. Kate sighed, sat up straighter. “I’d better go.”

She thought he would step back and let her hop down from the high truck seat. Instead, he placed his hands on her waist and swung her around and down, setting her gently on her feet. She felt a little dizzy, a little breathless as she stared up at him.

“Thank you. For everything.”

Again, he stroked his fingers over her cheek. “My pleasure. Good night.”

She lifted her hand, backed up a couple of steps and then, reluctantly, turned toward the Volvo. With great resolve, she managed not to look around again until she had the car door closed and her seat belt fastened. Dixon was still standing by his truck, watching, with his hands in his pockets and one foot crossed over the other. When she waved, he waved back. Then Kelsey turned the car onto the highway, and they left the diner behind.

Back to the real and dreary world, Kate told herself. When she thought of the expression in Dixon’s eyes, however, the gentleness in his voice, his touch, she couldn’t repress a surge of hope.

Or maybe not.

L.T. PRETENDED TO READ the menu, though he pretty much always ordered the same dinner when he came to Charlie’s. He pretended to listen as Melanie chattered on about her mother’s new boyfriend and her sister’s old boyfriend and…whatever. As long as he said something every once in a while, she was happy just to keep talking and believe he heard everything she said.

“That so?” he said when she paused.

She gave him her little-girl smile and started up again.

Charlie Brannon limped over to their table, blocking L.T.’s view of Kate and the kids as they left the diner. “What can I get y’all tonight?” The old man had been a marine drill sergeant and acted as if he still had that kind of authority.

Melanie ordered a salad plate. L.T. went for the usual. “Fried chicken, white and dark, mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits.”

Charlie nodded. “Be right back.”

With Brannon out of the way, L.T. stared out the plate-glass windows on the front of the diner, trying to figure out what was going on. The Volvo was still parked at the far end of the lot, and he could see the kids inside, doors open, lights on. They’d wear down the battery if they weren’t careful. Where was Kate? Why hadn’t they gone home?

He finally realized that Kate was sitting in Dixon Bell’s truck. The lights were on there, too, because the door was still open. L.T. could see the silhouette of her head and, beyond, the shadow of Bell’s face. They appeared to be talking. About what?

Shaking his head, he picked up his iced tea and drained half the glass. Old times, probably, the ones he’d never been a part of. He’d come into this town as a stranger. Sure, he was Kate Bowdrey’s husband, and that gave him some leverage. But most of her friends and their parents had looked at him as if he belonged on another planet instead of in a different town. He had never really fit in.

He’d made money, though, and that had bought him acceptance. He built their new houses, renovated their old ones, and they liked him for it. Unless something went wrong, of course. Nobody realized that you couldn’t get perfect work at reasonable prices. The economics just didn’t add up. L.T. gave them the prices they liked, and they just had to live with the flaws.

“Chicken salad plate and fried chicken.” Charlie set down their plates and a basket of biscuits. “Abby’ll be here to refill your tea in a minute. Anything else?”

L.T. shook his head and attacked his meal. But with a piece of chicken in his fingers, halfway between plate and mouth, he looked outside again to see the Volvo driving away. Dixon Bell came around the front of his truck and then he, too, was gone.

Good riddance. Crunching into Abby’s crispy chicken crust, L.T. thought about Bell’s attitude that afternoon at the house. Wouldn’t sell. Well, they’d just see about that. It took a strong man to resist L.T. LaRue. A strong one, or a very, very rich one. He’d have to find out whether Dixon Bell fit in either category.

And then find a way to break him, anyway.