by AnonYMous
At the entrance to the Civic Center, wealthy Mrs. Brubaker greeted me and smiled through her sugar white dentures. “Your mother says you’re home to stay for good.”
“Yes. Mom needs to be able to take a break from the store.” And I had some ideas about merchandising that I wanted to implement to improve sales, too.
“Do you think she’ll bid on Tommy again?”
I smiled. “If she doesn’t, are you going to?”
“Well, he’s not much of a house painter, poor boy, but I didn’t want him to feel left out last time because no one bid on him.”
“Ahhh.” And also because he was the cheapest labor money could buy. But cheap, as Mrs. Brubaker found out, doesn’t always mean getting the best value for your money.
“Are you going to bid, dear?”
“No, Mrs. Brubaker. I’ll leave it to Mom; I wouldn’t want to take all her fun away. Do you know why the auction was moved to this Friday?”
“Kenny Rodriguez had laryngitis last Friday, and we just couldn’t do it without our auctioneer. He does it just right.”
Just then a teen walked onto the stage and the auctioneer said, “Who will bid one hundred dollars for the services of this young man, Michael Callahan?”
I noticed then that Amy had her hands over her chest, waiting in breathless anticipation.
A lady waved her number.
“Mrs. Kleindale has bid a hundred. Can we have a bid for one hundred and ten?”
On one side of the stage, I saw a group of men standing in a single file line. All were waiting their turn to strut across the stage in hopes they would bring the highest dollar bid for the annual event. But there wasn’t one guy I knew in the lineup that was my age, except for Tommy. He had his hands shoved in his jeans pockets and was eyeing the young kid.
Before I could shift my attention to try and locate where my mother was, someone tall invaded my space slightly behind my right shoulder. I turned to see who was sneaking up behind me and saw Jimmy Cantrell, his dark hair a bit spiked, giving him a roguish appearance—or maybe it was the leather jacket. He gave me a lopsided grin, and it was like we were sixteen all over again.
The bidding continued beyond us, but I didn’t hear what was being said because of the waterfall of memories that washed over me: fall hayrides; sneaking up to Table Rock and stealing kisses just like men and women did a hundred years earlier; exploring the cave behind The Stagecoach Inn where food was stored before refrigeration was available; checking out other caves where robbers had hidden out from the local posses in times past; and wading in the creek, trying not to fall in when crossing the mossy, rounded stones.
“Looking good, Cyndi,” Jimmy said. His dark chocolate eyes could melt a body into a puddle of pliable wax. And his voice was deeper, sexier—if that was possible.
“When…when did you get back in town?” I wanted to ask if he was staying, if he wanted to take up where we left off, what had happened in the last six years since he’d been gone…although not necessarily in that order.
I must have looked a fright, because he grabbed my elbow and gave me a Texas-sized smile, the kind that could warm me all the way through on a blustery, cold day. He quickly eased me into a chair at the back of the Civic Center.
I fought the tears pooling in my eyes and wished I wouldn’t look like such a sop. What would he think? The first time Jimmy had seen me in all these years and my mascara would be running down my cheeks in black rivulets, my nose would run, and my face would crinkle up into a blubbering mess. My father, God rest his soul, always told me not to cry in front of guys because I was not a beautiful crier like my younger sister had been.
But Jimmy and his mother had slipped out of town in the dead of night one winter and had run away from his abusive father—an alcoholic, drug-addicted wife beater.
Jimmy and his dear mother had left, while his rotten father had stayed behind. And I’d never heard from Jimmy again.
Why didn’t you write or call? I wanted to ask, but something deep inside told me to bite my tongue.
He rubbed my arm and crouched beside me. “Wanna take a walk?”
Oh my gosh, yes, all the way to the moon and back. But six years is a long time…and we had gone our separate ways. We certainly weren’t the same moonstruck teens of so long ago.
I belatedly realized he was still waiting for my answer, his fingers still on my arm, blazing a path straight to my heart. “Yes,” I quickly said, my cheeks burning in embarrassment. I kept telling myself it was foolish to think about how much we had cared about each other then, and how I didn’t even know him any longer.
Yet, when he took my hand and walked me outside, I felt transported back in time. He still had the same serious, responsible expression, the same kind of protective actions—like when he’d stick up for his mother against his father’s abuse and pay for it dearly.
I casually cast him a glance, but he seemed to be deep in thought—probably reliving the horrors of when he and his mother were still with his father here in town. We walked by the old one-room building that had once been the stagecoach stop, the post office, and a saloon until the temperance ladies shut it down—but now was a gift shop.
We walked along the bridge constructed over Salado Creek in the early days to keep the cattle from muddying the town folks’ water supply that bubbled up from underground natural springs. Winter rains had filled the creek, and we leaned over the metal railing and peered down at the spring-fed water rolling over rounded stones. I could listen to the water running downstream forever and never tire of its soothing sound.
“Remember the last time we walked across the creek in the summer and you slipped and fell, pulling me down with you?” Jimmy asked.
I smiled, bedeviled by the dimples in his cheeks and the twinkle in his dark eyes. “I did it on purpose, remember? I was hot and I wanted to cool down. But you wanted to show how macho you were and wanted to cross those slippery stones without falling.”
“You wanted to fall,” he said, one dark brow lifted, not asking a question, but rather making a statement.
“Yep. Cooled us right down, didn’t it?”
He ran his hand over mine, his gaze focusing on me. The moment of truth. We suspected he and his mother had run away from the abuse of his father, but we had never known for sure what had happened to them.
“He’s dead,” Jimmy said. “Dead and buried.”
He didn’t sound bitter, just resigned to the way things were.
I squeezed Jimmy’s hand. “We worried about you,” I somehow managed to say. I had cried for weeks, concerned his father had killed them both and hid their bodies in the woods somewhere. But when my mother called the sheriff about their disappearance, he had said they were all right and not to worry.
And then I had hoped and hoped Jimmy would get in touch with me. But he never did. I figured then they had found a better life and never wanted to look back.
Jimmy ran his calloused finger down the side of my cold cheek. “Your mother said you were pretty shook up.” He sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, really sorry. But we had to go into hiding. Even if I’d tried to get in touch with you, my Dad could have found out. He’d found us three times before. And every time it was worse. You don’t want to know what happened when he caught up with my mother each time. We couldn’t risk it. Not again.”
“Why…why didn’t your mother file charges?”
“She did. Nothing seemed to work.” Jimmy shrugged. “It’s done now.”
“How is your mother?”
Jimmy’s mouth curved up, and I could see some of the past hurt instantly vanish. “She remarried five years ago to a man named Roger Doffendorf. He was a godsend.”
“Doffendorf?” I squeaked. “Then, you…you took your stepfather’s name?”
“Yep. He’d never had any children and raised me as his own. I didn’t know fathers could be so caring until I had one of my own. Of course, yours was great, too. I’m sorry to hear that your dad is gone.”
&n
bsp; “Thanks. The cancer took his life quickly so there wasn’t much suffering, but it was so awfully unexpected.” I looked up at Jimmy and suddenly realized he was supposed to be in the auction. “Then you were on the chopping, um, auction block already?”
Jimmy gave me one of his slow, sexy smiles. “Your mother bought me for the weekend.”
My icy cheeks turned sunburn hot.
He tugged my hand and walked me past the Stagecoach Inn, once The Shady Villa Inn that served as the stagecoach stop also. Live oaks stretched branches over the grassy lawn, some of the trees nearly as old as the town. My grandfather’s family had owned the place back in the old days, and we were some of the few who were related to the first settlers. Now, a red metal stagecoach sits in the playground as a reminder of years past, and a real stagecoach gives tourists a ride through town in the summer months.
“You must have a lot of painful memories of this place.” I couldn’t understand why Jimmy would come back here now, but I sure hoped it had something to do with me. I was never the pushy type when I was a teen, and I’d never changed. Would he stay for good this time? Or would he leave and break my heart all over again?
“Lots of good memories, too,” Jimmy said, leading me to Table Rock, a monolithic stone where for centuries folks had escaped for lovers’ trysts. “The sheriff sent word to my mother’s cousin that Dad had died, and, well, I had to come back here.”
For me?
I always had been a sentimental sap, believing in love at first sight, in soul mates, in a lot of stuff that had never materialized for me.
Jimmy helped me up the steep cliff to the top, where the ancient limestone stood high above the creek bed some twenty-five feet below. Crouching down, he located our names, encircled by a heart, among numerous other initials, mottos, and verses that dated all the way back to the earliest settlers in the area—well over 150 years ago.
The wind whipped about us, chilling me further, and Jimmy stood, pulled me into his arms, and warmed me. “I spoke to your mother earlier.”
“She never said anything to me about you being here.”
“I told her I wanted to surprise you myself.”
At once, I knew why she’d ducked out of the shop so quickly to check on the cookies for the auction. “That’s why she ran out of the store like a jackrabbit when I arrived. She can’t keep secrets—ever.”
His eyes sparkled, and he leaned over and kissed my cheek, leaving a hot imprint. But I wanted so much more!
“I remember how she told you she got you a computer for high school, but she couldn’t wait for Christmas to arrive.”
I laughed at the memory. “She tried, but two weeks before Christmas she broke down and spilled the beans.” And a week after that happy event, Jimmy and his mother had vanished for good.
I swallowed back the sadness and yanked ineffectually at Jimmy’s hand. “So, Mom’s hired help, Amy, said you were managing the settler’s estates. Does that mean you’ll be around for a while?”
“You bet, Cynthia. In fact, I’ll be staying with you and your mom for the weekend because I’m having some major renovations done on the house. But I’ve heard working for your mom can be a good thing.”
Oh no. I hoped he hadn’t heard about Mom’s deal with Tommy and me.
“What?” I asked, kind of perturbed.
Jimmy just gave me another grin. “I’ve heard whatever the daughter wants, the daughter gets.”
I wish! “I don’t know what you mean.” I was shivering from the cold despite Jimmy’s arms wrapped around me in a bear-like embrace.
“Come on. You’re freezing. And before long, it’ll be too dark and dangerous to climb down from Table Rock. We’d have to sleep up here, and your mother would have a posse out looking for us.”
“I don’t believe she would if she thinks I’m with you.”
“Oh?”
I twisted my mouth and gave Jimmy an annoyed look. “Mom thinks I should marry every guy she picks out for me.”
“Ah. So it hasn’t worked out for you yet?”
“Nope. Not for you, either?”
“I’m afraid I’ve had some issues with girls. None of them could quite measure up to my strict standards.”
I gave him a bright smile. “I didn’t know you had any standards.”
We laughed, nearly falling all the way to the base of the hill.
At a much brisker pace, though my legs felt numb from the cold, we hurried back to the Civic Center and my car, then drove back to my mother’s shop. “So, what did Mom intend for me to have you do?”
I shut off the engine and Jimmy leaned against the passenger door, his broad form dwarfing my compact car. “Your mother said that you were planning on remodeling some to improve merchandising and sales. I’ve got a crew coming to work on the settler’s homes, so I’m free for the weekend. I’ll help you move merchandise, set up shelves, whatever you need.” He winked, and I felt as though he was offering much more if I was willing.
I was definitely willing, but the problem was that I was living at home with Mom. “Um, okay. But I have to warn you, you’ll be busy. I want to set up a tearoom—serve fresh baked cookies and pies, specialty coffees, and teas. Food brings people in to shop, and there are never enough eating places here in Salado. By the time of the next big art festival, I want to have an old-fashioned tearoom set up. So you could help me with some of the preliminaries.”
“Sounds good.”
As soon as we got out of the car, I saw a sign in the window: Carter’s Boutique Closed for Renovations.
“Now what?” I hurried to the shop door and unlocked it, not sure what to expect but knowing that with my devious mother, anything was possible.
Jimmy took in a deep breath when he walked into the shop. “Your mother’s home always smelled like heaven. I don’t think I ever forgot the scent.”
Her home and shop might smell like heaven, but she had the devil in her. I was still wondering what Mom was up to. I relocked the door and hurried to the counter to set my purse down and give her a ring on her cell phone, when I stopped mid-step. In the center of the counter was a note: Cynthia, I’m taking a little trip to Las Vegas. Be back in a week. I trust you to do what’s best for the shop, and I look forward to seeing what you’ve done with it upon my return. Amy has the weekend off. Don’t work Jimmy too hard, dear. Love, Mom.
Dumbfounded, I just stared at the note.
“Is something wrong?” Jimmy asked, glancing over my shoulder at the letter.
“Um, no,” I said, moving to the back door that led out to the house. “It looks like our chaperone skipped town and we’re on our own.”
Jimmy chuckled, and the deeply sensual sound sent a thrill of expectation skittering up my spine. Now I wondered if we’d get any renovations done at all this weekend, and knowing Mom, she’d be just as thrilled.
We shrugged out of our coats in the living room of my mother’s century-old two-story colonial, and Jimmy went to work right away on the fireplace. In all my fantasies, I’d never envisioned him looking right at home before our hearth, like he owned the place, like he belonged. He soon had a golden fire crackling in the redbrick fireplace.
“I’m…I’m glad you’re home, Jimmy,” I said, and then the dam broke. I’d fought and lost. The loss I’d felt when he and his mother had vanished from my life, the years of wondering what had become of him, the worry that he’d turned out like his father, all hit me as if an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler had slammed into me.
Before I was aware of what was happening, Jimmy had moved me to my mother’s pinstriped sofa, and I was soaking his turtleneck shirt with my tears. At least he couldn’t see how awfully I cried, though I sounded pretty broken up.
He ran his hand over my back and kissed my head. “I wanted to tell you where we were, but we couldn’t risk it, Cynthia. Not until Dad died and couldn’t hurt my mother any longer. But believe me, I’m back to stay.”
“But what about your mother and your stepfather?” I
asked between sniffles. I finally managed to grab a tissue off the coffee table and tried to demurely blow my nose.
“They knew I always intended to come back here.”
I couldn’t ask him the question dangling on my tongue: Had he come back for me? What if he had? What if I’d married or was long gone?
“Did…had you. . . ?” I couldn’t ask him if he’d talked to anyone in town. He’d already said he wasn’t able to, but I had the sneaking suspicion that he had, or he wouldn’t have wanted to return so badly.
He let out his breath in exasperation. “I had to know if you were still free, Cynthia. So I made discrete inquiries about town every so often.”
“Who did you ask?” I wanted to wring whoever’s neck it was that hadn’t let me know Jimmy had been making inquiries about me.
“Mrs. Brubaker.”
My mouth gaped wide. Why in the world had he contacted her, the wealthiest widow in town?
As if reading my mind, he explained, “She was my dad’s distant cousin. And she’s about the most tight-lipped woman I’ve ever known. She knew how important it was to keep the secret. She’d never had anything to do with my dad, so there was never any worry that he would bother her. But I couldn’t get in touch with either you or your mother for fear my dad would try to intimidate either of you to get back at me and my mother.”
Intimidate was a polite way of saying his father could be sadistic and brutal.
Jimmy leaned over and kissed the tears off my cheeks, his fingers combing through my wind-tangled hair. And suddenly he was kissing my lips and I was kissing him back, with tenderness, longing, hope, and encouragement, and I sure was glad Mom had vamoosed to Las Vegas.
But then I broke the kiss. “My mother had to have set this whole thing up.”
“When the sheriff called my mother’s cousin last week to say my dad had died, I called your mother. I wasn’t waiting a second longer. She told me you were coming home today. But I’ve been here the whole week buying the settler’s place, worrying about how you’d react, and getting myself in shape for the auction.”