Confessions: He's the Rich BoyHe's My Soldier Boy

by Lisa Jackson

  “It wasn’t,” he said firmly, his nostrils flaring.

  “It died. Died in the accident. Your half brother or sister.”

  He took her into his arms and held her close. She felt near tears, for a baby who had never had the chance to live, for Hayden who had endured the hardship of being fathered by a man who had never known the meaning of the word love and for herself. She loved him. With all her stupid heart, she loved him and yet there was so much she didn’t know about him. He’d been raised in a different world from hers and there was so much pain between their families.

  “You may as well know it all,” Hayden said, holding her close.

  “There’s more?”

  “I wasn’t driving the boat.”

  “But the accident report—”

  “Shh.” His breath ruffled her hair. “Wynona blamed me because we had a fight. Because of the baby, she begged me to marry her and I wouldn’t. She was out of her mind and told me she was going to kill herself. I didn’t really believe her but she ran out of the house and down the dock. I chased after her, and managed to get into the boat before she took off, but she was already at the helm. She tore away from the dock as fast as she could and I let her drive. I figured it would do her good to let off steam. So I didn’t try to wrestle the helm from her. She tried to scare me, driving recklessly, but I didn’t stop her. I saw the other boat before she did and yelled at her, but it was too late. The other guy bailed out and we struck the fishing boat broadside.”

  “But everyone thinks...the police reports...”

  “They said I was the driver. For insurance purposes. No one was supposed to drive the boat but members of the family. There was some restriction because the boat was so powerful. Lots of other people did, but when the accident occurred, everyone thought I was behind the wheel. I was unconscious for a couple of days and by the time I came around and the police talked to me, my dad had told me what to say. I didn’t want to, of course, but he convinced me it would look best for everyone. Especially Wynona. She was already blaming me for the accident because I was the reason she took the boat in the first place. And I felt guilty about the baby. For once I believed my old man and rather than cause more of a scandal, I went along with the story.” He sighed. “For keeping my mouth shut so long, my dad finally paid me off.” He motioned to the room around him. “With this.”

  She wanted to believe him, to trust him, but needed time to sort through his story, decide for herself what was fact and what was fiction. Slowly she pulled herself out of his embrace and asked a question that had been on her mind for years. “There were rumors, Hayden. Lots of them. You had a reputation.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “A girl named Trish London.”

  “Hell.”

  Again a sick feeling. “You were involved with her?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she was sent to stay in Portland with her sister to have your baby?”

  “What?” His head snapped up and his eyes focused hard on Nadine. “There wasn’t a baby. Dad gave her family money, true, but she left because her mother was unfit to care for her. Her older sister offered to give her a place to live and help her with college. Trish really didn’t have a choice. She’d already been branded in this town, so she took off. Wrote me one letter. Trish and I had an affair, I won’t deny it, but we were careful.” He looked at her long and hard. “In fact, the only woman I haven’t been careful with has been you. Until the past couple of weeks I never wanted children and I was damned careful to make sure that I didn’t sire any.”

  His world was so different from hers. Money was and always would be the answer. He grew up learning that money could solve any problem. She heard his change of heart toward a family, but she wasn’t sure she believed him. There was just so much to learn.... “What does Wynona want from you now?”

  His lips curled in disgust. “What do you think?”

  “Money.”

  “Right. The old man didn’t leave her much and she wants more, plans on suing his estate for what she considers her share.”

  So it all came down to money. And it always would. As long as Hayden was the rich boy, money would always rule his life.

  She stood quickly. He reached for her but she drew away. Why was she prolonging this agony? Why didn’t she just leave him now, break it off, save herself and her children any further heartache?

  He drew her into his arms, but she resisted. “I think I should leave,” she said again, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  Fighting tears, she placed her hand along his jaw, felt the beard stubble in her palms and nearly broke down. “That’s the problem. I do believe you. I believe that you’re right. For the rest of your life you’ll live in a world I can’t begin to understand, a world run by money. You said you didn’t want a wife and children and I said I didn’t want a husband. However, there’s no future for us. There’s no reason to prolong this any further.”

  He touched her and she fell back a step. “Don’t.”

  “Nadine, listen, I—”

  “Shh.” Placing a finger against his lips, she shook her head. “It’s over, Hayden. It really never did exist. We can be happy now, knowing we fulfilled our childhood fantasies, but we can’t expect this to go on indefinitely. You’re planning to sell the mill, and what then?”

  He didn’t say a word, and she suddenly felt as cold as the bottom of the ocean. “Believe me, this is for the best.” Turning quickly, she headed for the door, hoping to feel his hand on the crook of her elbow, silently praying that he’d grab her and tell her he couldn’t live without her, dying with each step as she approached the door.

  Finally she heard him move, heard his footsteps behind her. Her heart leapt unexpectedly when she thought he would crush her to him and tell her that he wouldn’t let her go.

  Instead he said, “I think you’ll need a ride.”

  * * *

  HAYDEN KICKED HIMSELF for being such a damned fool. She’d only been gone eighteen hours and he was going out of his mind. Like an idiot, he’d decorated the house by himself and now he sneered at his attempts at Christmas spirit. The house with lights and tinsel and a tree near the fire was as cold as the feeling in the middle of his heart. All the decorations and lights and gifts in the world wouldn’t make up for the emptiness he felt without her and the boys. He’d even bought gifts, wrapped them and placed them under the tree. For Nadine and her kids. Not that she’d want them.

  He’d learned long ago that everything came with a price, and her price was his loss of freedom and a life in Gold Creek. The freedom part he could handle. The family part he surprisingly decided he would embrace. But Gold Creek and his father’s sawmills? He could still sell them, of course, but that thought was beginning to sour his stomach and he didn’t want to be a part of the “idle rich.” No way. Selling out to Thomas Fitzpatrick or some other rich timber baron was the coward’s way out.

  He climbed into the Jeep and drove into town. Snow had been predicted, and the first flakes were starting to collect on the ground. Good. It didn’t matter if the whole damned lake froze over. Hayden couldn’t get any colder.

  The Silver Horseshoe wasn’t very crowded on the twenty-third of December. A few of the regulars hung out at the bar, several younger guys played pool and Hayden recognized a few faces. Erik Patton, who worked at the mill, was huddled over a mug of beer, a cigarette burning in the ashtray beside him. Ed Foster, who had recently retired from the coaching staff at Tyler High, was nursing a tall one, and Patty Osgood Smythe gave him the once-over as he approached the bar. There were other people there, as well, men who seemed to bristle when he slid onto his stool. In the mirror behind the bar, he caught a few hard glances cast his way and knew that some of these men and women were dependent upon him for their livelihoods.

  He ordered an ale, nibbled at peanuts and wondered what life would be like if he settled down in Gold Creek for good. What if he buried the past, made peace with his fath
er and took over the helm of the sawmills? He could go through the company books, make restitution where it was necessary. If other people had been swindled by his father, maybe there was something that could be done. Better late than never.

  He could run the mills. He had the education and the experience. What he didn’t have was the employees behind him. That would take time. No one really trusted him.

  A gust of cold wind followed a newcomer into the bar. Hayden glanced over his shoulder and spied Ben Powell, Nadine’s older brother, as he sauntered in. His dark hair cut military-short, Ben surveyed the room in one glance, caught sight of Hayden and froze. “I figured you were back,” he said, his features hard, his hazel eyes cold. “I heard that your father had died.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Running things, are you, now?”

  Hayden nodded. “Let me buy you a beer.”

  Ben’s mouth twisted into a mirthless grin. He reached into his pocket and threw a couple of bucks onto the polished counter. “I don’t want any of your money, Monroe.” To the bartender, “Give me a draft—anything you’ve got on tap.” Leaning closer to Hayden, Ben said, “Well, I’m back, too. For good. So just stay out of my way.”

  “Might be hard.”

  Ben’s eyes narrowed.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I’m going to ask your sister to marry me.”

  “You’re what?” Ben asked, paling a little.

  “You heard me.”

  Ben’s reactions were quick. With skill learned in the army, he hauled back and landed a right cross to Hayden’s face. Hayden’s head snapped back, but he heard the rip of cartilage and felt blood gush from his nostrils as he stumbled against the bar.

  A woman screamed as all eyes in the bar turned toward the two men squaring off.

  Quickly he was on the balls of his feet, spoiling for the fight. It would do him good to hit something, and Ben’s angular face seemed a ready target. “Come on,” he taunted, “brother.”

  “You bloody son of a bitch!” Ben came at him again, and Hayden sidestepped the blow.

  The bartender vaulted over the bar. “Enough. You’re outta here, mister,” he said to Ben, but Hayden waved and found a cocktail napkin to staunch the flow of his blood. “Don’t you two know anything about the Christmas spirit?”

  “Outside!” Ben demanded, but Hayden only laughed.

  “It’s over,” he said to the bartender. “Let me buy this man a drink. Hell, I’ll buy a round for everyone.”

  The bartender hesitated, but the small crowd in the bar cheered, and Hayden felt that for the first time since he’d returned to Gold Creek, he was beginning to belong. Still eyeing Ben, the bartender started pouring drinks.

  Ben’s expression was thunderous; his eyes narrowed in fury. He grabbed his glass of beer and poured it slowly onto the floor. Without bothering to pick up his change, he turned on his heel and left.

  “Who was that guy?” the bartender asked.

  “Someone with a grudge,” Hayden said. “And it’s only going to get worse.” Just wait until Ben found out that he and Nadine had been sleeping together. All hell was bound to break loose. Hayden grinned. Ben wouldn’t make such a bad brother-in-law.

  * * *

  “YOU DID WHAT?” Ben roared, his face florid, his hands balled into tight fists of rage.

  Standing at the dining room table, Nadine smoothed the foil wrap around a game that she’d bought for John. Christmas cookies were baking in the oven, and the exterior lights glowed in the falling snow. If not for Ben’s bad mood and her heartache over Hayden, this Christmas could be the best one in a long, long while. “I said I went out with Hayden last night,” she repeated, unnerved by the fire in Ben’s eye. She’d been happy to find him in the house, waiting for her, his duffel bag stuffed in a corner of the living room. But he’d come at her like a tiger.

  “You’ve been seeing him again? Damn, what do you think you’re doing?” Ben strode in front of the fireplace, his back stiff, his eyes flashing with anger. “Does Dad know?”

  “Yes,” she replied sweetly. “And he’s given me his blessing, just like you.”

  “But Monroe—”

  “Stop it, Ben! You can’t walk back into my life and start big-brothering me all over again. I’m a grown woman, for God’s sake. I take care of myself and my children, and you have no right, no right whatsoever, to tell me what to do or start second-guessing my judgment. Besides—” she taped the package and worked on the bow, avoiding his eyes “—I think it’s over. I left his place and it was pretty much understood that we wouldn’t see each other again.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it and leaned a shoulder against the mantel. “Good—just remember what that bastard and his father did to this family.”

  Her head snapped up and she pinned him with a glare meant to cut steel. “I haven’t forgotten, Ben, but it’s time to bury the past, don’t you think?”

  “Never.”

  “It’s Christmas.”

  “So I’ve heard,” he said cryptically.

  “Well, I’ve at least come to terms with what happened. You’d better, too.”

  “Why? So you can marry the bum?”

  Her spine stiffened. “No. It’s over with Hayden.”

  “You wouldn’t do anything as stupid as marry him, right?”

  “Marry him?” she repeated, her heart tugging. “I don’t think you’ve got to worry about that.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “He hasn’t asked you?”

  Her heart thudded painfully. “It won’t happen, Ben. Don’t worry about it.” The bell on the stove rang softly, indicating that the cookies she was baking were done. She left the package to take out one sheet of apple squares and shove in another of pumpkin bars.

  The house smelled of warm cinnamon and nutmeg, fragrant pine and bayberry candles. A fire blazed in the hearth; the Christmas tree glowed warmly in the corner, its lights reflecting in the windows. Everything was perfect, except the house seemed empty. Even with Ben here. The boys were still with Sam, and Hayden...God only knew where he was and what he was doing. She glanced out the window, past the snow falling upon the dark waters of the lake to the pinpoints of light she knew were burning from the Monroe home.

  She didn’t hear Ben approach. His voice startled her. “More snow’s been predicted. Looks like we might have a white Christmas.”

  A lonely white Christmas, she thought, burning herself on the hot cookie sheet as she brushed up against it. “Hmm.”

  Ben found a knife and cut himself a gooey apple square.

  “Help yourself,” she said, teasing, as she handed him a napkin. “Milk’s in the fridge. Or I can make coffee—”

  He waved away her offer. “Don’t bother.” When she glanced through the window again, he said, “You’re really hung up on that bastard, aren’t you?”

  “I told you I’m not seeing him again. I told him so tonight.” Glancing back at him, she saw the ghost of a smile touch his thin lips. “But if I change my mind, I expect you to keep your mouth shut about it.”

  Ben smiled coldly. “You always did have a way with words.”

  “So did you. Now, come on, make yourself useful. I bought new bikes for the boys, and you can put them together. I’ll even make you something to eat. Something more than cookies.”

  “I’m not all that hungry. I’ll just have another one of these—” he said, and winced as he grabbed the knife. For the first time she noticed that the knuckles on his right hand were swollen. “What happened to you?” she asked, and he cut another bar from the pan.

  “I, um, had a little altercation down at the Silver Horseshoe.”

  “A fight? You’ve been in town less that twenty-four hours and you’ve already been in a fistfight? Didn’t you learn anything while you were in the army?”

  “The guy had it coming.”

  “Oh. Okay, sure,” she said sarcastically as she peered into the oven. “Wh
o was the guy and what did he do?”

  Ben didn’t say a word, just looked at her and she knew. Her heart sank. Her brother had rolled into town, run into Hayden and promptly tried to punch out his lights.

  “You already saw Hayden? That’s how you found out about us?” she said, sick at heart. “What happened?”

  “He tried to buy me a drink.”

  “And you hit him. Nice, Ben. Real nice.”

  “He had it coming,” he said, rubbing his wounded hand with his fingers. “Has had for years.”

  Nadine shook her head. One part of her wanted to run to Hayden, to see that he was all right. The other wanted to slap her older brother across his self-righteous chin. “So you took it upon yourself to defend my honor.”

  Ben rubbed his jaw and for the first time seemed slightly contrite. “I couldn’t help it, Nadine. The bastard said something about marrying you.”

  * * *

  BEN’S WORDS HAD stuck with her. Marriage? Hayden was talking about marriage?

  She couldn’t still the beat of her heart, and expected him to show up on her doorstep. But he didn’t. Nor did he call. Nadine was beginning to think that Ben hadn’t heard Hayden correctly or that Hayden had been teasing Ben, just to get a rise out of him.

  She considered calling Hayden, but didn’t. Nothing had really changed. Though Hayden had mellowed a little on his stance about children, he still didn’t want to be tied down. Never had, never would. He’d said as much.

  Nadine slept restlessly, thinking of Hayden, and Ben left early the next morning to spend the day looking for an apartment he could rent, as well as visit their father.

  Nadine kept herself busy cooking and cleaning, wrapping a few presents and putting the finishing touches on the house. By the time the boys arrived home, she wanted everything to be perfect. She glanced across the lake more times than she could count and found herself listening for the whine of Hayden’s Jeep’s engine.

  The phone rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She answered with a breathless hello and was disappointed when Sam told her he was running a little late; he and the kids were at a Christmas party and he’d bring the boys home a little later.