Читать книгу Small Town Secrets - Sharon Mignerey - Страница 8

Her heart pounding so hard it hurt, Léa slowly crossed the room. There was nothing malevolent looking about the stuffed animal, but it was no more welcome on the crib than a rattlesnake would have been. The bear’s foot covered an envelope. With trembling fingers, Léa picked it up.

Early in her marriage, she had thought of Foley’s habit of giving her cards as endearing. Later she had come to dread them because they always, always picked at her in some covert way. He was the good guy, trying to make amends. She was the one who didn’t understand. As usual, there was no name on the envelope. And why would there be, since he never called her by her name?

She pulled the tab out of the back of the envelope and slid the heavy card out. A picture of a pair of teddy bears leaning against each other was on the front of the card. She opened it and read,

Baby, I know about your adoption application. I have a plan you’re going to like.

The card was signed with his initial F in a big, bold stroke that overshadowed the words.

Léa’s heart started to pound as she crumpled the card. Of course he knew about the adoption application. In Rangeview everybody knew everything about everyone else. Her aunt Jackie had undoubtedly told her uncle Curtis, the chief of police. And he would have told Foley.

And of course he would have a plan. He always did. That awful night—he’d had a plan then, as well. He had wanted to sell her grandmother’s house so they could build a new one with all the conveniences he wanted. What Léa had wanted hadn’t mattered at all, and, when she had tried to explain why the house was so important to her, he had refused to listen. He had stormed out and returned a few hours—and a lot of beers—later, and they’d had a stupid argument with both of them shouting. She had turned to go down the stairs…and the next thing she remembered was the long ride in the ambulance and her consuming fear for her baby. Everything had shattered in an instant.

The telephone rang and jarred her back to the present.

She glanced at her watch while the phone pealed again. Twelve-fifteen. Since it was after midnight, only one person could be calling.

Her answering machine picked up, and the instant her leave-a-message recording ended, Foley’s voice came through the speaker. “I know you’re there, baby. Pick up the phone.”

She moved to the doorway, drawn by the voice, needing to know what he would say, hating that she needed to know.

“I can see the lights on.”

She had no idea if he really could see because he was close by and calling from his cell phone, or if he was guessing. Irritated that he was playing mind games with her, she went down the hallway to her dark bedroom where she peeked out the window.

From her answering machine downstairs, Foley continued to talk.

“Okay, be that way. You just need to understand one thing. You’re being plain stupid if you think you can adopt a kid without me. You need me to make this work. You know you do. I’m done with being patient.”

“And I’m done with this nonsense,” she muttered. As soon as she was sure that he’d disconnected the call, she picked up the phone and dialed the number for her aunt and uncle’s house. Never mind the late hour, her chief-of-police uncle needed to make sure Foley understood that he had trespassed.

“Oh, honey,” came her aunt Jackie’s sleepy voice over the phone after Léa identified herself and asked to speak to her uncle. “Are you sure this can’t wait until morning? You know how little sleep Curtis gets.”

“I’m sure.” Léa stared a moment at the card, then dropped it in the wastepaper basket next to the phone.

“You’re calling about Foley again, aren’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“He was so upset tonight,” Aunt Jackie said, “after I told him about your adoption application. The poor man just couldn’t imagine why—”

“Why would you even tell him? This has nothing to do with him.” Léa inwardly fumed, hating that her assumption was right—Foley had found out about the adoption from her own family members.

“Of course I would tell him,” Aunt Jackie said. “He’s a God-fearing man, and he has every right to know what you’re intending to do.”

She made it sound as though Léa planned to enlist her friends to paint the water tower Pepto-Bismol pink. To her regret, she had done just that a lifetime ago. Aunt Jackie’s notion of both her maturity and Foley’s seemed to have frozen in time ten years earlier. “Adopting a child—”

“Should be done by two parents, Léa. And let’s face it. You’re not exactly a poster child for stable.”

“Aunt Jackie, what are you talking about?”

“As if I have to remind you. One example. The time you and Sally Miller stole her father’s car—”

“I was sixteen then—”

“And got stranded in Steamboat Springs after you crashed the car,” Aunt Jackie continued. “You can’t have forgotten that.”

Léa hadn’t. In the twelve years between then and now, she had graduated from college, been married and dealt with the deaths of her parents. Yet her aunt made it sound as though it had happened yesterday. As far as her two aunts were concerned, she was still the wild child who had driven her parents crazy. Foley was still the guy most likely to succeed—the star athlete, the student-body president. Never mind they had both changed. A lot.

“I know I’m not a modern woman and all, but in my day it took both a mother and a father to raise children. That’s the natural order of things, the way the Lord meant it to be.”

“I’ve got to go,” Léa said, figuring she was a hairbreath away from one of her aunt’s diatribes against the life she assumed Léa was leading. Tempted as she was simply to hang up, she added, “I’m sorry to have bothered you so late. Good night.”

As soon as her aunt said goodbye, Léa hung up the phone. One thing was abundantly clear. She couldn’t expect any help from her chief-of-police uncle tonight, and since she had no assurance she could keep Foley out of the house, she couldn’t stay here and go to sleep. She found herself wishing Sadie was at home instead of Europe. If she had been, Léa could have gone there to sleep as she had done a couple weeks ago when Foley had kept calling every couple hours.

After she washed the greasepaint off her face, she decided she might as well go to work. At least then she’d be accomplishing something while she wasn’t sleeping. After changing her clothes, she paused at the front door, watching for a long time before finally deciding no one was outside. Though she would normally have walked the couple blocks to her café, she took her car. There, she locked herself inside and flipped on the radio, dialing through the stations in search of the show tunes that reminded her of learning to cook with her grandmother. As she slowed the tuner knob in search of the station, a deep, comforting voice came through the speaker.

“‘The eternal God is thy refuge,’” the announcer said, “‘and underneath are the everlasting arms.’ Deuteronomy 33.27.”

The words gave her pause, and she remembered a time when she had believed. Before her parents died. Before her divorce. Before her grandmother’s stroke. God hadn’t been a refuge or a comfort, no matter how many platitudes she had listened to. Léa moved the tuner to the station that played soundtracks from movies and Broadway plays—the music she always cooked to.

At nine-thirty the following morning Zach stood on the sidewalk in front of the Pine Street Café trying to decide whether to go in. Everything about the place looked inviting, from the sparkling windows to big pots of flowers on either side of the door. Indecision gripped him. If he wanted coffee, he had that at Sadie’s house. Eggs and cereal were there, too. It wasn’t as if he was going to recognize Léa Webster, but he wanted to see her. She had invited him, and coming was neighborly.

Yeah, right. He hadn’t been neighborly in his whole life, and now that he had the label of ex-con attached to him like a tattoo, he’d likely be as welcome as a cockroach. Her invitation last night had undoubtedly been impulsive. So why was he here?

He should be on the way to the police station instead, fulfilling one of the conditions of his parole by having a new mug shot taken and being fingerprinted.

A couple of old men came out of the café, bringing with them the inviting aromas of bacon and coffee. One of them held the door open with a friendly “Howdy.” Zach said hello back and caught the door before it closed, then stepped inside. Going to the police station could wait an hour.

Like Léa’s clown outfit, the dining room was rainbow-colored. The whole place reeked of cheerfulness, from the sky-blue walls to the violet counters and hot pink seats. A big Thanks for Not Smoking sign punctuated with yellow daisies hung on the wall above the open window that separated the kitchen from the space behind the counter.

“Sit anywhere that’s not taken,” a blond woman called to him as she came by—her arms loaded with plates laden with steaming, fragrant food. “I’ll be right with you.”

Zach slid onto one of the stools at the counter, deciding the blonde wasn’t Léa. Her voice didn’t match. He looked around, taking note of the daisies that were stuck in Mason jars at every table along with the usual napkin holders and salt and pepper shakers.

The waitress appeared in his line of vision, this time with a steaming carafe and a big blue mug in her hand. “Coffee?”

“Sure.” He met her friendly gaze. She had blue eyes, but she definitely wasn’t Léa.

She gestured toward a blackboard at the end of the room. “That’s today’s menu.” She filled his cup while Zach read from the selections, the expected fare of eggs, toast and pancakes, plus the daily special labeled as Beautiful Mornin’.

“I’ll have the special.” He had no idea what Beautiful Mornin’ might be, but it seemed an appropriate name for his first meal out since leaving prison. He found himself comparing that enticing name with the clown he had met last night. The anticipation of seeing her curled through him.

“Good choice,” the blonde said, “you’re in for a treat.” A second later she called it into the kitchen.

“That’s the last one,” came the returning answer, a voice that Zach knew. Léa.

He drank his coffee and watched for her to appear in the five-foot opening behind the counter. An expectant moment later she did, her back turned and a red scarf covering her head. Beneath the scarf, he could see the strap of an apron and the neckline of a white T-shirt.

Since her face had been covered with that grinning clown’s face last night, he wondered if he’d recognize her at all. He studied the fragile nape where wisps of dark hair had escaped from the scarf. He wished she would turn around.

Just then, she did and her gaze came unerringly to his.

She was everything he had expected and nothing like he had imagined. Those blue eyes he recognized. Blue like…he didn’t even know…simply a brilliant, clear blue like an inviting deep lake he’d love to dive into. Her skin was paler than he had envisioned, liberally sprinkled with freckles. Then she smiled, and the regular features of her face became…lovely. The word lingered, surprising him. He’d always liked hot women, gorgeous women, easy women. Lovely had never been part of the picture.

In his old life, he wouldn’t have given Léa’s even, pleasant features a second glance. Back then, he’d had a shallow, beautiful woman who had fit his shallow life. So much had changed since that time, and even though he had the memories, he no longer recognized…or liked…the man he had once been.

Zach knew he was staring, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from Léa’s.

“Hi,” she said, her voice barely audible through the din of other conversation and the country music playing in the background. “I’m glad you made it.”

Before he could answer, the waitress pinned more orders on the rack above the opening. Léa waved, her attention returning to her work. The country music moved into a tune about a guy falling in love as soon as she said hello, the melody winding its way into Zach’s chest. That thought was not only uncomfortable but, in his experience, unlikely.

He sipped his coffee, dividing his attention between her and the other patrons. The dining room seated maybe twenty-five, including the half-dozen stools at the counter where Zach sat. The blonde, whose name was evidently Kim, seemed to know most everyone by name. A couple people caught his glance as he looked around, their expressions filled with nothing more than minor curiosity. He tipped his head in acknowledgment and returned his attention to his coffee.

Less than five minutes after he sat down, Kim slid a plate in front of him. Beautiful Mornin’ turned out to be baked French toast slathered with hot apples, and on the side, a couple links of sausage and perfectly fried bacon. His mouth immediately watered.

For too long, food had simply been fuel for his body, something to appease hunger and nothing to be enjoyed. His first impulse was to wolf down his breakfast. His second, stronger impulse was simply to savor how the plate looked and to absorb the aroma which reminded him of a more innocent time and of having breakfast with his aunt Sadie. Beautiful Mornin’ was an apt name.

Kim refilled his coffee, then said, “Haven’t seen you in here before. Are you one of the roughnecks working the oil rigs west of here?”

“I’m Sadie Graff’s nephew.” He cut into the toast, releasing a wisp of fragrant steam. “Zach MacKenzie.”

She beamed, calling over her shoulder, “Hey, Léa, your new neighbor is out here,” then adding in a softer voice, “Sadie has been talking about her favorite nephew for weeks—and what a relief it was for her to have you looking after those pet cows of hers so she could take her trip. Nice to meet you. Have you heard from her yet?”

He nodded, taking a moment to savor the flavor of the toast before swallowing it. For a bare second he imagined the lack of censure in Kim’s voice would be permanent—that it wouldn’t change after she found out he was an ex-con. “She called this morning after she landed in Paris.”

“Ooh la la,” Kim said. “Hope she takes lots of pictures.”

“I’m sure she will,” Zach said, not quite comfortable with the way Kim’s interest had caused a couple other people to look at him. Now that he was the focus of attention, he remembered the summers he had spent here as a kid and how everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business.

Kim moved away, and he turned his full attention to his breakfast, each bite delicious. He was nearly finished when the bell above the door jangled, and a couple cops came in.

“Hey, Foley. Merle,” Kim said to them. “You guys are late. Busy busting speeders this morning?”

“No more than the usual,” one of them said, sitting on a stool near Zach.

The other cop, a wiry guy with short sandy hair, came around the end of the counter and went into the kitchen. A second later he appeared through the opening, an arm draped over Léa’s shoulder. “Hey, baby,” he said, his voice easily carrying into the dining room, and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Will you marry me?”

“Same answer as yesterday. No.” She slipped out from under his arm, everything in her body language suggesting she didn’t want the man touching her.

Zach studied him, figuring this might be her ex-husband—he had the right build to be the guy who had been trying to seem sober last night.

“Get out of here so I can work,” she added, a tight smile not quite taking the sting out of her words.

The cop faced the window with a smile and a shrug, his gaze locking with Zach’s. The man gave Léa another squeeze before coming back to the dining room. He stopped next to Zach.

“You Sadie’s nephew?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Zach wiped his hand on his napkin, then offered it. “Zach MacKenzie.”

“Foley Blue,” the cop said, shaking his hand. He nodded toward the kitchen. “That’s my wife.”

“Ex-wife,” Léa called.

He shrugged again. “Say the word, baby, and I’ll even get down on one knee.” His voice was loud enough to be heard by anyone in the dining room.

“And the answer will still be no,” Léa called from the kitchen, which made a couple of the diners laugh.

“You just keep working on her, Foley,” an old guy at a table with a couple other men said. “She’ll come around. Sooner or later, they always do.”

“Never say die,” Foley replied, earning yet another laugh as he sat on the stool next to Zach.

“Even if the lady has already said no?” Zach asked calmly, not liking that the jokes and laughter were at Léa’s expense. The one thing that had been drummed into him from the time he’d started to even notice girls was that when a lady said no she meant no.

Foley’s smile stayed in place when he turned around to meet Zach’s gaze. “Ever been married, MacKenzie?”

Zach shook his head.

“Then you can’t possibly know what it feels like to watch your marriage crumble into ashes.” Foley glanced toward the opening to the kitchen. “The vows said until death do us part.”

The words should not have sounded like a threat, but somehow they did. Tempted as Zach was to add that the vows also said to love, honor and cherish, he didn’t. Instead, he took a sip of his coffee and deliberately let his gaze slide away from Foley’s challenging one.

“Hey, baby,” Foley called to Léa. “Rustle me up a special.”

“We’re out,” she said.

“Zach here got the last one,” Kim said, appearing in front of the two cops with mugs and coffee.

“You don’t say,” he said, glancing at Zach. “Well, that’s a sure shame.”

“Your usual?” Kim asked, pouring the coffee.

“I guess it will have to do.” His focus turned on Zach. “News around town is that you’re taking care of Sadie’s place while she’s on her trip. You getting settled in okay?”

“Just fine,” Zach responded, pretty sure the police officer hadn’t connected his name to the parolee notice that had probably been faxed to the local law-enforcement agencies by now.

“If you need anything, I’m sure a lot of people would be happy to give you a hand.” He slapped his partner on the back. “Even Rangeview’s finest.”

“Thanks.” Zach lifted the coffee mug to his lips, figuring what Foley really meant was Don’t be asking my wife for a cup of sugar or anything else. One more reason, Zach thought, to ignore the twinge of attraction that slid through him every time he looked at Léa. The last thing he needed was the kind of trouble a cop could give a man on parole. Zach had no doubt—the man would take any interest in Léa as poaching.

“Enjoy your breakfast?” Kim asked, taking away his empty plate and refilling his mug.

“It was great,” he said, reaching for his wallet.

She patted his arm. “Léa says this one was on the house—a welcome-to-Rangeview present.”

“I…thanks.” Next to him, Zach felt Foley stiffen.

When Kim left to take care of other customers, Foley said, “That’s my wife—a great cook, not to mention generous to a fault. It’s tough to make a go of a little business like this one, especially when she doesn’t have sense enough to stop giving away her profits.”

Zach sipped his coffee, thinking, if he understood the situation correctly, the profits were Léa’s to do with as she wanted. One thing was sure, though. This was a no-win conversation.

“She’s letting people take advantage of her all the time,” Foley said in an us-guys-should-stick-together tone. “I keep telling her that you’ve got to take care of number one first. But does she listen? No.”

If asked, that would have been Zach’s motto. Hearing it out of Foley’s mouth made it sound like a bad thing. Zach drained the last of his coffee and pulled out money enough to cover his breakfast and a generous tip.

“Can’t imagine there’s enough to keep a man busy full time working for Sadie,” Foley said. “And jobs are pretty slim pickings.”

“I have plenty to do,” Zach said. His aunt clearly hadn’t bothered to hire adequate help in several years, and every out-building and all the fence line required immediate attention.

“Where did you work before?”

Zach stared at the coffee mug while he sifted through the gradations of the truth he had sworn to tell. The cops would learn soon enough he was an ex-con. “My last job was in sales. Sports equipment for athletic teams.”

“Big change,” Foley said, draining his coffee and fishing his wallet out of his pocket.

“Yep.”

Foley laid several bills on the counter. “Time to get back to work.” As he had when he came in, he went into the kitchen, bending his head close to Léa’s. Like before, her posture became more rigid as she put space between herself and Foley. Unlike before, the conversation between the two could not be heard until he said, “We’ll finish this later.”

Zach made sure he was staring at his coffee cup when Foley came back into the dining room. A second later he and his partner went through the exterior door, which jangled at their departure. Only then did Zach look up. Léa’s somber attention was on the window behind Zach. She sighed, pressed her lips together and turned back toward the stove.

“Need another warm-up?” Kim asked, stopping in front of him once again with her perpetually full coffeepot.

“Sure.” Zach figured he was a fool for waiting around to talk to a woman who was clearly going to be trouble.

But when Léa caught his eye a moment later and a smile lit her face, he knew he’d wait—trouble or not.