Читать книгу Tangled Memories - Marta Perry - Страница 11

Adrenaline pumped through Lucas. He plunged past the figures between him and the street. The acrid scent of burning rubber, the shriek of brakes. No time to think, just act. He grabbed Corrie’s hand and yanked her out of the street and into his arms.

For an instant longer rational thought evaded him. He held her close, rooted to the pavement. The car rushed by, so close it seemed to touch them, horn blaring as if Corrie, not the driver, had been at fault.

He managed to take a breath. That had been close. Too close. He took a step back from Corrie, his hands still supporting her. “Are you all right?”

Around them the crowd, briefly interested, briefly concerned, moved on. Corrie stared up at him, eyes dark with shock. She shook her head, as if to orient herself, and the shock faded.

“I’m fine.” She moved to free herself of his grip, but he held on.

“Not fine. Not yet, anyway. Come over here and sit down for a second.” He steered her to a wrought-iron bench in front of an antique shop.

She sank down abruptly, and he suspected her legs were still shaking. Small wonder. He didn’t feel all that well himself, come to think of it. If he’d been a little farther away, he’d never have reached her in time.

The thought sent a surprising wave of anger rushing through him. “Don’t they teach you how to cross streets out in the boondocks?”

She just looked at him, her eyes regaining focus. “Someone pushed me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The anger accelerated.

“I’m not.” Answering anger brought a flush to her cheeks, chasing away the strain. “I tell you, someone pushed me off the curb.”

“The crowd—” he began, but she cut off his words with a scornful look.

“I know the difference between a crowd moving and a hand in the middle of my back.” She winced, as if she could still feel it. “Someone put his hand between my shoulder blades and shoved me off the curb.”

He wasn’t sure what to do with her certainty. On the face of it, the thing seemed impossible. People didn’t go around the streets of Savannah shoving total strangers in front of cars.

And then he realized that she was looking at him with suspicion.

“And you think it was me?” In an instant the anger took over again. “I assure you, I don’t dislike you that much.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “You want to get rid of me.”

“You’ve got me there.” The anger vanished, replaced by a small measure of amusement. “But I’d like to see you gone, not dead. I’m neither so stupid nor so impetuous that I’d try a stunt like that.”

Corrie frowned at him for a long moment. Then she nodded. “Okay. I guess I buy that. You’re not stupid. And so far I haven’t seen anything impetuous about you.” She made that sound like a fault.

“Trust me,” he said, touching her hand lightly. “My methods are far more orthodox.”

For an instant his gaze seemed to tangle with hers. Then she snatched her hand away as if his touch had burned.

She focused on the crowds passing by, her breath still uneven. “Nobody reacted much to my sudden plunge into the street. At home something like that would be a nine days’ wonder.”

“Savannah is used to eccentrics. If you decided to walk on your hands down the sidewalk, folks would just smile and say good morning.”

“Maybe if you did it. Me, I’m an outsider. They’d say I was crazy, not eccentric.”

“You may have a point. Shall we put it to the test?” He gestured toward the sidewalk.

Corrie’s smile banished the lingering shadow from her eyes. “Not today, thanks. I’d better get on my way to the lawyer’s office.” She rose.

He stood next to her, hand under her elbow to assure himself that she wasn’t going to stumble. “If you’d rather put it off, I’m sure they’d understand.”

“Why? Just because somebody tried to push me under a car doesn’t mean I’m incapable of walking down the street.”

“Do you intend to tell Courtland and Broadbent that?” He frowned down at her, wondering what Baxter’s conservative attorneys would make of her claim.

“Not at the moment. After all, I didn’t see who pushed me.” Her gaze held a challenge.

“I thought we agreed I didn’t.” He walked beside her to the corner. If Corrie felt anything when they stopped at the curb, she didn’t show it.

The light changed, and they started across the street. She didn’t speak until they were safely on the other side. “I agreed you wouldn’t try to get rid of me that way.” Her tone seemed to reserve judgment on what other ways he might try. “I’m not so sure when it comes to your covering up for someone else.”

He’d like to respond with righteous indignation, but he couldn’t. He might not be either impetuous or stupid, but he couldn’t vouch for Deidre and Ainsley, not the way they’d been behaving lately.

“If you’re talking about Deidre and Ainsley, I can assure you I’d have noticed them if they were anywhere near you. They weren’t.” He kept his voice carefully even.

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for that, won’t I?”

“Corrie…” He touched her arm, stopping her brisk stride down the sidewalk.

“What?” She swung toward him.

What could he say? She was right—he did want to be rid of her. And he couldn’t really trust the behavior of anyone else in the family.

He gestured, pulling the door open for her. “The office is here. I don’t suppose you want me to accompany you inside, so I’ll wait and walk you home.”

“That’s not necessary.” Her chin came up at the suggestion that she might need an escort.

“Maybe not, but I’m waiting.” He smiled at her baffled glare. “Take your time.”

She whirled and stalked inside, letting the door bang behind her.

He turned his back on the plate glass window that showed the outer office of Courtland and Broadbent, surveying the street. Traffic flowed by, tourists thronged. Nothing out of the ordinary.

It had been an accident. What else could it have been? It was ridiculous to go putting familiar faces on lurking dangers. When Corrie came back, he’d do his best to convince her that it had been an accident. The last thing they needed was to have her run to Baxter with tales of assault.

He didn’t have to wait long. He heard the door swing and turned. Corrie came down the single step, her expression—what? Curiously blank, that was the closest he could come.

“Corrie? What’s wrong?” He took her arm, and his touch seemed to recall her.

She focused on him, frowning. “The lawyers. Neither of them is in today.”

“Then why—”

“The receptionist says no one from the office called asking for me. The message was a fake.”

“Well, that didn’t accomplish much.” Corrie frowned at the stout figure of Mrs. Andrews, retreating back to her kitchen domain.

“I’m never sure how much she actually hears.” Lucas held the door for her. “Let’s go into the garden to talk.”

“We don’t have anything to talk about. Mrs. Andrews was a dead end, whether she’s telling the truth or not.”

But she walked into the garden anyway. Lucas’s presence was comforting, although the very idea would probably be repugnant to him. He had no desire to be her rescuer, any more than she wanted him to be, but he was.

Lucas waited until she sat at the small table near the roses and then took the chair opposite her. More wrought iron, but green this time instead of black. A faint breeze ruffled the roses, sending their rich scent through the air.

“I can’t see any reason why Mrs. Andrews would lie about the call,” he said.

Corrie lifted her eyebrows. She wasn’t quite as accepting of the woman’s motives as Lucas seemed to be. But then, he might have a good reason to pretend to believe her.

“Would she lie if Deidre told her to? Or if it was Deidre’s voice on the phone?”

Lucas’s face tightened, lines deepening around his eyes. “Why do you have it in for Deidre? Just because Mrs. Andrews said it was a woman on the phone, that doesn’t mean it was she.”

“Deidre has been pretty open about her feelings. Maybe you think she wouldn’t do anything rash, but I’m not so sure.”

“That’s ridiculous. Anyway, I’d have noticed Deidre in the crowd.” He glared at her as if she were to blame. “I’m telling you, she wasn’t there.”

Her temper flared at his stubbornness. “Somebody set me up. Why not Deidre?”

“This could have been just coincidence.” But his expression said he didn’t believe that himself.

“Right.” She let the contempt in her voice say it all. “If not Deidre…” A chill brushed her spine. “Mrs. Andrews would say anything her employer told her to, wouldn’t she?”

“Baxter? That’s even more ridiculous. Baxter’s the one who brought you here. Why would he want to get rid of you?”

“I can’t imagine. But then, I haven’t been able to understand why he does anything.”

She thought of the story Lydia had told, about the portrait of Trey. A man who would try to destroy the only thing he had left of his dead son would do anything. The chill intensified in spite of the warm, humid air. No, she was wrong. The portrait hadn’t been the only thing left of his dead son. She was.

“Baxter may be autocratic.” Lucas’s frown deepened. Was he thinking of something specific? “But he never acts irrationally.”

“Unless you agree with Deidre that he was irrational to bring me here.”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t understand it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a good reason.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about that. But if you eliminate Deidre and Mr. Manning from planning today’s little accident, the pool of candidates is pretty small.”

She watched his expression as he tried to cope with that. He didn’t like it, but she’d figured out by now that Lucas had a certain innate honesty. That honesty wouldn’t let him pretend, however much he might want to, that she was wrong.

Poor Lucas. He didn’t want to be allied to her in any way, but he also couldn’t connive at violence. That left him in the unenviable position of trying to protect her and defend his family at the same time.

“Daddy!” Jason plunged out of a dense clump of azaleas and darted toward his father. “I didn’t know you were home yet. Hi, Cousin Corrie.”

Lucas’s face softened at the sight of his son. He put his arm around the boy and drew him close. “What are you doing out here? Aren’t you supposed to be with your grandmother?”

Jason frowned, looking for a moment very like his father. “I guess.”

“Why aren’t you?”

For a moment longer the child pouted, and she had a sense of strong emotions withheld. Then the words seemed to burst out of him. “Grandma never lets me do anything! She just wants me to sit and work puzzles and read storybooks. That’s no fun.”

Lucas brushed fine blond hair back from his son’s forehead. “I thought you liked puzzles. Grandma got you that new dinosaur puzzle, remember?”

“I know. But I already worked it, and I wanted to play cowboys in the garden.” He flashed a glance toward Corrie. “Cousin Corrie understands. She’s a cowgirl.”

She shook her head, smiling, not willing to be drawn into their dispute. “Only once in a while. Most of the time I wait tables.”

“I want to learn to ride. Please, Daddy.”

Lucas looked troubled, and she wondered what really lay behind this apparent dispute over what Jason could do. “Grandma thinks it’s not a good idea.”

“Just ’cause I have asthma, she doesn’t want me to have any fun.”

“Jason, you know that’s not true. Grandma loves you very much.”

Judging by Jason’s mutinous expression, he’d probably like to be loved a little less at this point. So the boy was asthmatic. That explained Eulalie’s protectiveness, she supposed. Still, she’d taught youngsters in class who had asthma, and they’d been able to lead fairly normal lives.

“Jason, there you are!” Eulalie hustled toward them, her clouded expression clearing when she saw the boy. “That was very naughty, to come outside without telling me. I thought you were taking a nap.”

“I don’t need a nap. I’m not a baby. I don’t, do I, Daddy?”

Lucas looked harassed on all sides. “No, of course you don’t need a nap.” He shot an annoyed look at Eulalie. “But you shouldn’t have come outside without asking your grandmother.”

“She’d just have said no.”

“That’s not the point.” Lucas turned his son toward Eulalie. “Tell Grandma you’re sorry, and then go on in the house.”

Jason stared at the brick walkway for a moment. Then he looked up at his grandmother. “I’m sorry, Grandma.” He spun and ran toward the house.

“Jason, don’t run…” Eulalie called.

“Leave the boy alone.” Lucas’s words probably came out with more force than he’d intended. He softened them with a smile. “He’ll be fine. Thank you for watching him.”

Eulalie’s soft mouth took on a surprising firmness. “He won’t be fine if he rushes all over the place and has an attack.” She turned a fierce glare on Corrie. “All he can talk about is riding since he met you. I’ll thank you to leave him alone.”

Before Corrie could find any words in defense, Eulalie had bustled off in Jason’s wake.

Obviously Eulalie wasn’t the marshmallow Corrie had imagined. On the subject of her grandson, at least, she had strong feelings she didn’t mind voicing.

“I’m sorry about that.” Lucas sounded strained. He probably hated the fact that that little scene had played out in front of her. “Jason dislikes having his grandmother hover over him, even when it’s necessary.”

“Is it necessary? I’m no expert on children with asthma, but—”

“You’re right.” His mouth narrowed to a thin line. “You’re not an expert, and I’d appreciate it if you kept your opinions to yourself.” He turned and stalked away, leaving her staring after him.

This seemed to be her day for making people hate her. Not that she’d had to work very hard at that lately. And obviously the faint bond she’d imagined between herself and Lucas was just that—imagination.

Corrie waited on the sidewalk the next morning, feeling something less than her usual Sunday-morning anticipation. She’d had every intention of seeking out a church service on her own, but Eulalie had simply assumed she’d attend church with the family. So here she was, feeling about ten again as Eulalie surveyed her navy suit and then gave a satisfied nod. Apparently she’d pass.

Two cars pulled to the curb—the town car, with Jefferson at the wheel, then Lucas, driving what she supposed was his own sedan. Corrie hesitated, unsure which car to get in, while Eulalie and Deidre slid into the town car.

Ainsley held the door, flushing a little. “I’ll sit up front with the driver, Corrie.”

But Lucas took her arm. “Corrie will ride with us. We’ll meet you there.”

She slid into the front seat, glancing at him as he got behind the wheel. “Trying to keep me out of trouble?”

“Let’s say I think riding with us will be more conducive to a spiritual frame of mind.”

“For me or for Deidre?”

“For both of you.”

In actual fact, they probably could have walked to the church just as easily. Two squares over, two streets down—she was beginning to have a map of Savannah in her mind, the historic district, at any rate. It wasn’t large, as cities went. The squares gave the effect of a giant checkerboard to the old part of the city, where the family seemed to spend most of its time.

“Parking is always a challenge,” Lucas said. “Jason, are you keeping your eyes open?”

“I sure am.” Jason bounced a little in the backseat, as if he wanted to be the one to find a parking space.

“The church doesn’t have its own lot?” She was still trying to get used to the confined spaces of the old city, still feeling a bit claustrophobic now and then as it seemed to close in on her.