As Kane’s face flashed on the screen, Regina grabbed the remote and switched the TV to a cartoon channel for Stephan. She didn’t want to see Kane’s image, didn’t want to hear his voice. She really couldn’t stand it.
No word had come from him the day she left the courtroom; none had come since. She never expected to see or have contact with him again, which was exactly the way she wanted it.
If the trial was officially over, then she was free to leave. Regina jumped up immediately and began gathering the few belongings she and Stephan had accumulated. Taking the shirts and pants, skirts and blouses from drawers, she folded them into the discount-store suitcase she had bought.
“Mama?” Stephan said, sitting up on the side of the bed where he had been sprawled out playing with a book of Batman stickers. “Are we going somewhere?”
“Yes, sweetheart, we have to.”
“Where?”
“I don’t really know yet, just somewhere.”
She had thought of New Orleans, or maybe South Florida. It didn’t make a lot of difference so long as it was far away from Turn-Coupe. They would get into her rental car, she and Stephan, and just drive, turning right or left at the stoplights as whim moved them. It might be best, in fact, to have no set destination. If she had none for herself, then there was less likelihood of Gervis’s finding her.
Stephan kicked his feet, staring at his toes. “I like it here.”
“That’s because Miss Betsy has been spoiling you.”
“I like Miss Betsy, too,” he said in quiet stubbornness.
“So do I.” She smiled at his bowed head, thinking at the same time of how easily he had fallen into using the Southern titles of respect. She had developed a certain appreciation for them, as well, since it appeared that the respect itself often followed the form. There was much else she could have appreciated, she knew, given the opportunity, but there was no chance of it. The sooner they both faced it, the better.
Regina picked up a dirty sock from beside the bed and tossed it at the suitcase, then sat down beside her son. She took his small, square hand in hers, smoothing it, rubbing at the rough cuticles. Before she could put what she wanted to say into words, however, there came a knock at the door.
It was Betsy who stood there. “Hi, hon,” she said cheerfully, then looked beyond her to wave at Stephan. “Hello there, sport. Hate to bother you, Regina, but I had a call from Mr. Lewis. He said would you mind giving him a ring.”
The call had not come to Regina because she had unplugged the phone after several requests from reporters for interviews about her affair with Kane. Now she said, “Oh, I don’t know. I was just—”
“You’re leaving, right?” Betsy looked toward the open suitcase on the bed behind Regina. “I told Mr. Lewis you might be. He said would you stop by at least a few minutes before you take off.”
“I suppose I could do that.” It was the last thing she wanted, but she had little right to deny whatever he asked.
“Good,” Betsy said as she turned to leave. “I’ll let him know you’re coming.”
If it had not been for that assurance, Regina might have decided against going after all. The idea of Mr. Lewis watching and waiting for her while she drove off in the other direction didn’t sit well, however, so she turned toward Hallowed Ground. It was only as she pulled into the driveway that she realized she had never once thought of the wasted time involved in the visit. She had apparently begun to think like a Southerner, now that it was too late.
Mr. Lewis was at the rear of the house, working in the garden near the carriage house. He waved her around to the back parking apron, then took her inside through the kitchen door. Dora met them there, then enticed Stephan into stopping in her kitchen for the gingerbread man she had made just for him. Mr. Lewis ushered Regina into the sitting room next to the parlor with a promise that warm gingerbread and tea for her would be forthcoming.
“I really can’t stay,” she said in protest as she took the seat he indicated.
“I know, and I’m more sorry than I can say that you’re leaving us. I’d hoped for a different outcome. But I did want to give you a small token of my gratitude before you go.”
As he spoke, he picked up a box covered with worn velvet from a side table and held it out to her. She made no move to take it. “You have no reason to be grateful to me.”
“I disagree. Without your generosity in sharing your knowledge of Berry’s activities, my case would not have been so handily won. This geegaw once meant a great deal to my wife, and I’m certain she’d be happy to think someone owned it who could appreciate its value. Please?”
He opened the box this time as he pressed it on her. Regina looked down at what it held and was startled into silence. The necklace that glittered up at her was a mid-Victorian piece with bloodred stones holding a purplish tint that identified them as Bohemian almandine garnets. The workmanship was exquisite, an intricate gold-over-brass design of delicate flowers and medallions surrounding a perfect Georgian cross.
“It’s lovely, truly beautiful,” she said in soft acknowledgment as she touched it with a single reverent fingertip, “but far too valuable to give away out of your family.”
His smile was wry. “Not at all. No one could deserve it more than you. Garnets, you know, are said to represent truth, constancy and faith.”
“And you think I need those things, I see.” She could feel the heat of a flush spreading upward from her neckline.
“By no means,” he said in stern repudiation. “I think you have them already. Good Lord, have you no idea what you’ve done for this family? You shook up my grandson, knocked him out of his cynic’s self-absorption and made him and his old granddad see that being afraid of getting hurt is no way to live. You taught us that the truth is a two-edged sword, that it’s possible to learn more of it than you want to know. You kept me from being swallowed by a corporate python, gave me back my heritage and my trade. And that’s only the beginning.”
“I had my reasons, selfish reasons,” she answered. “Besides, I didn’t do any of it by myself.”
“We all have our reasons, something I hope you’ll remember next time someone needs a second chance. And none of us ever really acts alone.”
Just then, Dora appeared in the doorway with a tea tray in her hand. Her face was as serious as her voice as she said, “Mr. Kane’s coming up the drive.”
Regina gave a low cry and sprang to her feet. “I have to go. Where is Stephan?”
“Stay, please. You and Kane should talk.”
“I don’t think so. There’s nothing left to say.”
“You may feel that way, but I don’t believe—”
“No!” She moved swiftly toward the door, wondering if she could escape the back way before Kane realized she was there.
“I think it’s too late, my dear. You’ll have to face him. Unless you’d like to stay out of sight until he’s gone?”
She hesitated, glancing toward the front windows. Beyond the curtains, she could see Kane already getting out of his car. With an abrupt nod, she said, “If you don’t mind, that would be perfect.”
“In here, then.” He indicated the front parlor. To Dora, he said, “Take that tea tray away, will you? And keep Stephan as quiet as you can. Oh, and give us a second before you open the door, all right?”
Regina didn’t pause to hear the housekeeper’s answer, but slipped into the parlor, glancing around for a place to hide for a few minutes. She was considering the space behind the front curtain when Mr. Lewis followed her into the room.
“No, no,” he said hurriedly as he strode to the antique coffin that had started it all and pulled a footstool forward to act as a step. “In here.”
It was the last thing she wanted, but there was no time to argue. The doorbell was ringing in a sharp, imperious command. Regina climbed into the box and lay down, tucking her skirt around her knees. Mr. Lewis closed the lid and the latch clicked into place.
Panic swept over he
r in a wave. Locked in. Dark, smothering, dusty closeness, as black, airless and quiet as the grave. How could she have forgotten? How had she let herself be rushed into this again?
It was insane. It was also undignified and downright chickenhearted. She should face Kane instead of hiding. If she could just find and release the trip latch as he had that first day, she would do that after all.
She felt for the metal closure. Her fingertips brushed it, and she zeroed in on the mechanism, feeling for the way to release it. Surely it couldn’t be too difficult since it wasn’t really designed to keep people locked inside. With the promise of freedom in sight, her breathing eased.
Then she heard the baritone rumble of Kane’s voice. She went perfectly still.
“Betsy said Regina was here. Don’t tell me she’s gone already?”
“You see her anywhere?” Mr. Lewis asked. His voice came from just outside the double parlor doors, as if Kane had caught him as he emerged.
Kane made a sound between a snort and a sigh. “I might have known. I’ve never seen a woman like her for making things difficult.”
“I’d say you’re pretty fair at that yourself.”
“You could be right. I seem to have made a mess of things.”
“Nothing that can’t be straightened out,” the older man allowed, then added, “Of course, you have to have the nerve for it.”
There was no answer from Kane for long seconds, though Regina strained her ears to hear. She began to work once more at the coffin’s closure.
“I don’t think it will work,” he objected finally. “I did everything except call Regina a prostitute in public.”
Mr. Lewis made a sound of agreement. “I thought you’d gone plumb crazy for a while, until I figured out what you were doing. You were setting the record straight, weren’t you? Making it crystal clear that whatever she had done was because she was forced into it. You cut off the gossips at the knees.”
Regina blinked, then stared wide-eyed into the coffin’s darkness as she realized what Mr. Lewis was saying. It put a different perspective on the interrogation she had endured.
“The only trouble,” Kane said grimly, “is that I cut myself out of the game at the same time.”
“You went a little far, I’ll admit that.”
“I know.” Kane’s voice retreated as if he’d moved away in the direction of the window. “But there she was, under oath, at my mercy. It was more than I could resist.”
“So you made her say what you wanted to hear. But you couldn’t do a damn thing about it, there in public, without jeopardizing the case, giving the other side the chance to yell collusion between you and the witness. You should have thought of that before you started.”
He certainly should have, Regina thought. At the same time, she worked frantically at the latch.
“I did think about it. It just seemed worth whatever it might cost to know, once and for all, what it had meant to her. I was afraid that if I missed that chance, there might never be another one.”
“Now you know. So what are you going to do?”
“I thought if I could see her this morning, talk to her, there might be a chance.”
It was then that the latch clicked open. Regina shoved the lid away from her face with such force it flew back on its hinges and thudded against the wall behind it. Jackknifing to a sitting position, she turned at the waist to stare at the two men.
“Of all the arrogant, underhanded tricks I’ve ever heard, this one really takes the cake,” she said in strained vehemence. “I can’t believe anybody would do such a thing.”
Kane whipped around. “Regina! I can explain.”
“Shut up,” she snapped, “I’m talking to your grandfather.”
“To Pops?” Kane glanced at the older man who was trying to look innocent in spite of the amusement in his eyes.
“Exactly. Mr. Lewis Crompton, the so-called gentleman who lured me here under false pretenses and probably did the same to you with Betsy’s help. He had Dora keep my son busy, tried to bribe me into sticking around with a piece of antique jewelry, then he inveigled me into hiding in this stupid coffin again while he conned you into making your case so I could hear it. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit to learn he had some scheme in mind to see we wound up in this thing together again!”
Kane looked at his grandfather. “That right?”
“Guilty,” Mr. Lewis said without visible remorse beyond a hunching of his shoulders. “I had the best of intentions, I swear. I’ve never seen a pair who belonged together quite as much as you two.”
“You really had some plan for getting us back together in that coffin?”
“Crossed my mind,” the older man mumbled.
“Let’s hear it.”
“What?” Mr. Lewis gave him a startled stare.
“What?” Regina did the same before glancing at Kane.
“I want to know how he was going to get me back in that coffin,” Kane said with a wicked gleam lurking in the blue of his eyes.
“Well now,” his grandfather allowed as he rubbed the side of his nose, “I’d thought I might give you a hint that I’d finally found a use for this old coffin of mine, maybe whisper real low to you who was in it. Then I’d tiptoe off, go see if Dora has another piece or two of gingerbread in the kitchen or something. Sort of like—well, just about like this.” He eased away as he spoke, then turned and walked quickly from the room.
Kane gave a low laugh and shook his head. Then he stalked to the coffin, climbed up in a quick movement, and shoved Regina unceremoniously to one side as he got in. Reaching for her, he lay back and pulled her into his arms.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked dangerously as she struggled upward again to prop herself on one elbow.
“Finding out how we’ll fit together about, oh, say, seventy or eighty years from now when they bury us side by side.” He lifted his arm to cradle the back of her head, then pulled her elbow from under her and settled her securely against him.
As she shifted a little to find a more comfortable position, she asked, “And what makes you think I might be interested?”
His voice beguiling but rich with satisfaction, he answered, “That, my heart, is a matter of public record.”
So it was. It was useless, then, to deny it.
With some asperity, she said, “You know, it seems to me you have a thing about wooden boxes. First this coffin, then the duck blind.”
“Can I help it if you’re too hard to pin down any other way?”
“You did an excellent job in court,” she returned tartly.
“Witness box,” he said with mock complacency. “When I find a good thing, I run with it.”
She laughed; she couldn’t help it. His body was warm and strong against her. In his hold was security, encompassing peace, and the slow rise of heady promise. It wasn’t easy to remember why she was supposed to doubt his intentions. In something less than complete coherence, she said, “I can’t believe the things you do, and get away with, too. But we can’t stay shut up in a box forever.”
“No, but if I can’t lie with you like this through all eternity, I want to do it the rest of my days. I want to live my life with you, making up every second for all the ways that I’ve hurt you. I want to marry you, to tie you so tightly into my family and this town that you can never get away. I want you to have my children and to love them as you love your Stephan, to let them share your heart with your son as he will share mine. I love you, Regina Dalton, and as strange as it may sound, expect to love you even after we are both long gone and buried. Will you let me?”
It was completely impossible, she found, to stay properly irritated with a man who was proposing such a lasting future together. Still, the thought of his grandmother, who had proven to have a love very similar, drifted through her mind. “Is this preoccupation with graveyards and eternal togetherness some Southern family thing I should know about?”
“Could be,” he answered on the ghost o
f a laugh. “What do you think?”
“It’s strange, but I believe I just might fit into the program.”
He kissed her, quick and fierce and gloriously. Then he reached up and began to lower the coffin lid.
“What are you doing?” she asked in tingling suspicion.
“Testing,” he said, his voice gravelly in his throat.
She studied his face in the increasing dark just before the latch clicked into place, then asked in last, lingering doubt, “Not testing me?”
“No, love, only possibilities.”
“Of love in the hereafter?”
“Now what,” he growled against her ear as he pulled her closer, “ever gave you such a weird idea?”
Dear Reader,
It’s my great pleasure to introduce Kane, the first book in a series about the Benedict clan of Turn-Coupe, Louisiana. Though the people and the place exist only in my imagination, they are as real to me as if I’ve known them all my life—or could have been related to them, since I’m a seventh generation Louisianian. This warm affection is the reason I’ve established them at the heart of my Turn-Coupe trilogy.
The fictional Benedict clan is a family whose history dates back to the earliest days of Louisiana. One branch has a Native American bloodline, another admits to Scots progenitors, while others include French or Spanish forebears in their family trees. Using these various ethnic backgrounds, I expect to explore the rich blend of cultures that is so vital an aspect of modern Louisiana. I also want to include something of the architectural diversity of my home state by giving each family line a different type of dwelling to go with their cultural history, from the grand neoclassical Greek temple so familiar as a symbol of the antebellum South, to a West Indies mansion, or maybe even a big dogtrot log house indicative of backwoods Louisiana. The common thread binding these different dwellings together will be their location on a beautiful lake which segues into a swamp: the name, Horseshoe Lake, is borrowed from a body of water that figured large in family vacations when I was a child.
Kane Page 30