by Rebecca York
Sophie turned to Jack. If she was going to bring up the subject of his helping her, this was her chance. “I want to ask you a favor.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to talk about it in front of Emeline.”
“Oh yeah, right.”
“Could you meet me later? After I finish work.”
He blinked, not expecting the request. “Where,” he blurted.
“I could come up to your house.”
“Not a good idea,” he said at once. “I don’t want you stumbling up the road in the dark.”
“OK, then where?”
“We could meet back here.”
She considered for a few moments, then nodded. “OK.”
“What time?”
“Seven thirty.”
###
Sophie stacked the last dish in the drainer, then went to her room. She combed her hair and washed her face before grabbing her coat off one of the wall pegs. She felt a little like she was sneaking around. But she told herself that she was on her own time now because she had finished her work for the day.
She could have told someone in the house that she was going out for a while, but she didn’t think anyone would come looking for her.
Outside, she stopped for a few moments. The air was frigid, and she wrapped her coat more tightly around herself.
Light came from inside the house, casting some illumination on the grounds. This was familiar territory, and she didn’t need a flashlight, she told herself as she headed for the rendezvous. Still, the farther she got from the house, the deeper the shadows, and by the time she reached the barn, she could see almost nothing. The big door at the front was closed, and she slipped in the side entrance.
“Are you here?” she called out to Jack.
“If you keep coming, you’ll bump into me.”
She stopped short. “Thanks for meeting me.” After a beat, he said, “You wanted to ask me a favor.”
To reassure herself, she reached out and laid her hand on his arm.
He jumped.
“Sorry.” Was touching him in the dark too familiar?
“No, that’s OK. What did you want?”
She dragged in a breath and let it out. “It’s not like you owe me a favor or anything.”
“Actually, I think I do.”
“OK, then I’ve got something kind of big to request.”
She could feel him tense under her fingers, and she wondered what he was bracing himself for.
Quickly she said, “I was hoping you’d be willing to help me prove that my father didn’t steal that jewelry.”
“Prove your father didn’t steal the jewelry? Whoa.”
She let the implications hover for a few moments.
“How would I do that?” he asked.
“Help me investigate.”
“What—you’re Nancy Drew and I’m—what’s his name. Neil or something?”
“Ned,” she corrected. “No, I don’t think I’m Nancy Drew. Those books are pretend. This is real life. My father is in jail for a robbery he didn’t commit, and I can prove he didn’t do it.”
“You can prove it?” he challenged.
“Well, maybe not prove.” She went on quickly. “Mr. Conway left a newspaper in the living room, and there was a front-page article about two houses being robbed. The things that were taken were the same kind of things that were in the bag he found.”
“That’s not proof of anything.”
“I know where Dad found the stolen goods. We could see if there’s anything else there now.”
Jack didn’t reply. He had argued with her. Was it because he thought her father really was guilty?
That was what he’d thought at the beginning. Or maybe now he was just being cautious?
Chapter Twelve
Sophie waited with the breath frozen in her lungs. There was more riding on his answer than she had thought. She felt the relationship they’d been building crumbling. But what if she really was asking too much?
“You mean now?” he finally asked.
“Yes.”
Centuries passed before he said, “OK.”
The relief was like a dam bursting, sending a great wave sweeping her toward him. If she hadn’t reached for him, she might have been swept away. Instead, she clasped her arms around his body. She raised up, and he bent his head. In that supercharged moment, their lips met. They had kissed before—when she’d helped him climb out of the well and he’d flopped onto the ground beside her. Tonight, they weren’t roiling in the aftermath of a physical emergency. This was entirely emotional—Jack Dorsey showing his faith in her, showing her that he was willing to help in her crazy scheme.
She knew he was startled when her body impacted with his because he went stock-still. Then he snapped into the reality of her kiss. His lips moved against her, firm and yet soft, claiming and yet asking.
Her answer was wordless as she moved her mouth against his. She had little experience kissing, but she wanted to gain that experience—now. She tried slanting her head, first one way and then the other. And when she felt his tongue swipe against the seam of her lips, she opened for him, opening herself to more pleasure.
The intimacy of what they were doing built a fire inside her. She wavered on her feet, clinging more tightly to him to keep from spinning off into space. He walked her backwards until her shoulders were pressed against a wall, increasing the contact with his body.
What his mouth was doing to hers was wonderful, but it made her want more. And she realized he must feel the same. They were both wearing heavy coats. He pulled hers aside, then fumbled with his own buttons, so that he could push the garment out of the way and gather her too him.
She heard his breath coming fast, matching hers. This was making her feel the way she had when she’d dreamed about him. Now maybe she would find out where the heat racing through her was leading.
One moment they were kissing. In the next, he pressed his hand on the wall and pushed away.
She blinked, trying to absorb the abrupt shift in his behavior. When she reached for him, he took a step back.
“I won’t take advantage of you like this,” he said in a gritty voice.
“I’m the one who kissed you.”
“Yeah, but I’m the one who has to stop, because I’m the one who knows where this is leading.
Because her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, she could see the harsh lines of his face. “This is how girls get in trouble,” he said.
She was glad the darkness hid the flush that rose on her cheeks because she knew he spoke the truth. Could getting this close to him have been her secret reason for coming out here?
He ran his hand through his hair. “We’d better get out of here while the getting is good.”
She struggled for coherence, focusing on her stated reason for the meeting. “Is it OK for you to take the truck out at night?”
He laughed. “You’re the one who suggested it.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“You won’t,” he answered, but she wasn’t sure she heard absolute conviction in his voice.
“I’ll get it.”
“I’ll come with you.”
He could have asked her to wait. He had told her before that it wasn’t a good idea for her to walk up the gravel road in the dark. Was that why he took her hand and clasped it tightly as they started back the way he’d come.
A couple of times she did stumble, and she was glad he was holding on to her.
To fill the silence, she asked, “How’s your house coming?”
###
Jack was glad she’d given him something to focus on besides the feel of her small hand in his large one. But he didn’t love admitting that he was living under primitive condition.
He cleared his throat. “It’s pretty well winterized now.”
“What about heat?”
She would have to ask. “I’ve got the fireplace, and plenty of wood.”
“Where are you cooking?”
“You’d be surprised what you can cook over an open fire.” He laughed. “I guess I’m living like the pioneers.”
“Your mom would feed you.”
“I know, but I don’t want to make more work for her. If I see she’s got extra food, I may take some.”
Up ahead the house was just a dark shape against the night sky. They reached the truck and climbed in.
Glad that he didn’t have to invite her inside his cottage, he asked, “We’re going to the feed store?” he asked.
“Uh huh.”
He felt the intimacy of driving in the cab of the truck with her. It was certainly a much different ride than that first time when he’d driven her home. This time he was aware of her knee every time he reached to switch gears.
Before she’d first gotten the job at the farm, he’d thought of her as a threat. He had long since gotten over thinking she would do anything dishonest, but he still wasn’t sure about her father. Maybe this was a chance to find out.
He’d never driven away from the farm so late at night, and it was strange being on the road now. Only occasionally did they pass another vehicle. And, of course, there were no wagons out in the dark.
He slowed as they approached the feed store.
Sophie craned her neck toward the parking lot. “I don’t see any cars or wagons.”
“Yeah. I assume we’re not going to pull up in front.”
“I guess I didn’t think this through. Maybe you should keep going down the road and find a place to pull over a little farther on. And I can walk back.”
His answer was immediate and firm. “You’re not walking back by yourself.”
He turned onto Frederick Road and kept going. The feed store was in a small area of commercial development, but once they got away from the few stores, there was nothing else around besides farm fields and wood lots.
He drove for perhaps a quarter mile before turning around and heading slowly back, finally pulling off where several small trees had grown up near the road. They wouldn’t hide the truck, but maybe they would make it less noticeable.
Cutting the engine, he turned to her. “We’ll take the flashlight from the toolbox. But it’s better not to use it until we get to the place you want to search. If anybody saw the light, they’d wonder what was going on in the middle of the night.”
“That sounds right. Do, uh, you think cop cars drive up this way at night?”
“I don’t know.”
Before she exited the cab, he came around to her side. “Watch out, the ground is uneven,” he said as he helped her down.
He felt Sophie shiver, since the temperature had dropped several degrees. Or perhaps she was just nervous about proceeding with her plan. All the way over from the farm, he’d been telling himself this was a bad idea. But they were here now.
He retrieved the light and checked to make sure it worked before shoving it into a carry bag, which he slung over his shoulder. Once again, he reached for her hand as they started toward the feed store.
She’d told him she’d walk back by herself, but now she was clinging to his hand. He slowed his pace for her.
As they approached the dark bulk of the building, he muttered, “I assume we’re not going to break in.”
“No. There’s a place where they dump hay that’s come loose from bales.”
“OK.”
They crossed the parking lot, and she led him in front of the high porch to an attached structure. “Up there.”
Stairs led up to an area where a roof jutted out, creating a cave of darkness beyond. At the top she requested the flashlight.
When he handed it over, she switched it on, aiming into the darkness, illuminating an untidy mound of hay.
“Dad was cleaning this up when he found the jewelry,” she said. Rounding the pile, she disappeared into it.
As Jack watched her vanish, he couldn’t help wondering why he’d agreed to this dumb idea. All he said was, “I’ll keep watch.”
She popped her head out.
“Could you hold the light,” she asked, “so I can have two hands free.”
“OK.”
###
Sophie headed for the back of the pile, sweeping her hands through the hay, hoping to feel something that didn’t belong. Hay was mounded against the wall, and she pressed her way through it, feeling nothing and fighting disappointment. She’d been excited when she’d come up with this idea. It wasn’t turning out to be so easy.
Teeth gritted, she pressed in further until she was buried in the hay.
“Are you OK in there?” Jack called, sounding anxious.
She couldn’t answer without getting hay in her mouth. The best she could do was make a grunt that she hoped sounded positive.
Maybe she’d reached the middle of the pile. She didn’t know, and now she had her eyes closed to keep them from getting scratched.
Just as she was getting ready to admit defeat, her hand found something that felt out of place. When she closed her fingers around a cloth bag, her heart started to pound.
Could this be what she was looking for?
Debris from the hay was tickling her throat, and she had to stop and cough. Moving as quickly as she could, she backed up, using the wall for a guide.
Finally, she emerged from the pile, her throat clogged and her eyes watering. “I found something,” she managed.
Jack rushed to her side, playing the light on the bag she clutched in her hand.
With fingers that felt numb, she plucked at the drawstring holding it closed and finally managed to fumble it open. Reaching inside, she pulled out what looked like a lady’s engagement ring—then a cameo broach.
“My God,” Jack wheezed.
“This is it. We can take it to the police.”
“No, we can’t.”
Chapter Thirteen
She turned to him, her eyes questioning. “What do you mean? This is the proof my father didn’t steal the jewelry. He’s in jail, and someone else put this here.”
“That may be true, but if you take it to the police, they’re going to think you stole it.”
She blinked. “But. . .”
“Think about it. Your father got arrested because he took a bag of jewelry like this home. Now you’ve got another bag. Do you think they’re really going to believe you just found it here—the way he found it?”
“It’s not the same at all. I went looking for it when I read the article in the paper.”
“You can say that. But they probably won’t believe you.”
“Then why did you come with me?
“To find out if it was true.”
She jerked back. “Are you saying you thought he was a thief.”
“I didn’t know.”
Just then, she heard the sound of a car engine. Jack immediately switched off the light and grasped her hand, dragging her around the hay pile and out of sight, where he clasped his arms around her.
She tried to wrench herself away, but he held her fast. “Don’t.”
The car came closer, and she quieted. Who was out there? And had they seen the light?
As the vehicle reached the parking lot, she held her breath. Long seconds passed. And then finally it was moving past.
She pounded a fist against Jack’s chest. “You thought he was guilty all along.”
“I didn’t know. I just had your word for it.”
“He would never. . .” To her dismay, she started to cry.
When he reached for her, she tried to slip away. But he didn’t allow her to elude him. He grabbed her, reeled her in, and folded her closer, rocking her in his arms, his lips brushing her forehead. “Don’t cry,” he murmured.
She didn’t want to weep like this, but her frustration and disappointment were too great to stop. He continued to hold her, stroking her hair, rubbing her back and shoulders.
“We’ll fix it,” he whispered. “We’ll fix it.”
She struggl
ed to control her emotions. And finally, she was able to stop the sobs.
Jack reached into his pocket and gave her a handkerchief.
As she blew her nose, she focused on what he had just said. “Fix it? How?”
“We’re going to get a lawyer.”
“We can’t afford a lawyer.” She struggled to say the words without screaming.
“I think Matt will help us.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a good guy. You work for him. I’ve known him since I was a little kid. If he understands the situation, he’ll help.”
Would he? She clutched onto that as she put the bag back where she’d found it. When she emerged once more, they climbed down to ground level.
“You’re covered in hay,” he said.
“You, too.”
Each of them brushed their fronts off and did each other’s backs before they returned to the truck.
Could she believe that this was going to come out OK, Sophie wondered. She dared to hope that Jack was right. The temperature had dropped, and she was shivering by the time they reached the truck. Jack pulled a plaid blanket from the back and draped it around her. She clutched the red and green wool as he drove.
It was close to midnight as they approached the house, and she hoped she could slip back inside with nobody knowing she had been gone. But as they drew even with the front door, it opened, and Matthew Conway stepped onto the porch. Lifting a flashlight, he shined it toward them.
“Stop right there,” he ordered, his voice hard and flat.
###
Jack jerked the truck to a stop, cut the engine and set the brake.
“What—were the two of you out joyriding?” Mr. Conway demanded.
His face rigid, Jack climbed out and walked toward his boss.
Sophie did the same. Her chest was tight, and her heart was pounding, but she was the one who spoke. “No. I wanted to prove that my father didn’t steal anything, and I asked Jack to help me.”
“Maybe you’d better explain that,” Mr. Conway said, his tone a bit less threatening. “Come inside.”
He turned and entered the house, and they followed him into the living room. “Sit down,” he ordered, pointing to the sofa.