by Lisa Jackson
She giggled and wiped a drip of rain from the tip of his nose. With a gruff voice that she didn’t recognize as her own, she whispered, “Hey, soldier, what about an encore?”
* * *
THEY RAN TO the pickup. Their clothes were streaked with mud, their hair sopping wet, their spirits laughing upward to the dark clouds that had the nerve to block the moon.
Carlie cuddled close to Ben as he flipped on the radio and pulled out of the empty lot. Stephen Stills was singing “Love the One You’re With” as the windshield wipers slapped raindrops from the glass. Ben’s truck splashed through puddles on the road back to town and the sky was inky black. Only the occasional oncoming headlight flashed over the interior of the cab, giving Carlie a chance to stare at Ben’s handsome features. Would he really sign his life away and join the army, leaving Gold Creek forever? Her heart squeezed though she knew she was being foolish; she, too, was planning to shake the dust of this small town from her heels.
But now, after making love, after realizing what it was to give yourself to one person, she wondered if she would have the guts to leave. What if Ben didn’t go? What if he stayed here and worked for Thomas Fitzpatrick or Hayden Monroe, putting in hour after hour, shift after shift, day after day and year after tedious year?
Her throat tightened. She could never ask him to give up his dreams, to stay here forever.
So what if you get pregnant? her wayward mind nagged. She hadn’t planned on making love with him, nor had either of them taken precautions. Though she knew the chances of it happening were slim, there were people who conceived children the first time they made love.
Made love.
She bit her lip and wondered about a baby possibly growing inside her: Ben’s child. Oh, Lord. She was torn between being in awe of the miracle of life and knowing that neither she nor Ben were emotionally equipped to raise a child.
The truck sped along the road, toward the glow of lights that shimmered up against the heavy clouds, the town of Gold Creek. Hadn’t she sworn that she’d never live her life here, that she’d see the world before she settled down to raise a family, that she wouldn’t make the same mistakes her parents had? And yet, a part of her would give up all her glamorous plans for a future of adventure and fantasy if she could know that Ben Powell would love her forever.
They drove down Main Street and stopped at a red light. He glanced in her direction and must’ve read the confusion in her eyes. “Regrets?” he asked, touching her hand.
“None,” she assured him. “You?”
He laughed and kissed her cheek. “What do you think?”
The light changed and Ben crossed traffic just as the sound of sirens split the night.
Two police cars, lights flashing, sirens screaming gained on the old pickup.
“Great,” Ben said, pulling over, but the cruisers sped past, sirens wailing shrilly. “Accident,” Ben said and Carlie felt a cold drip of fear slide down her spine. She watched as the police cars rounded the corner of Main Street and Spruce. Ben stepped on the throttle. “That’s Kevin’s street,” he said with a shrug though his brows drew into a worried line.
Of course nothing was wrong with Kevin. Just because he lived on Spruce Street was no reason to believe the police were after him.
But Ben didn’t turn onto the side street leading to the Lakeview Apartments complex. Instead, as if drawn by some kind of morbid magnet, he turned onto Spruce and a ball of ice tightened in Carlie’s stomach. “What’re you—Oh, God!”
The cruisers were parked cockeyed in front of the house Kevin shared with a roommate. Colored lights strobed the sky. A fire truck and rescue van were already pulled into the driveway. Several firemen and police officers were scattered around the yard. Some talked into walkie-talkies, some huddled together, others were in the garage huddled around Kevin’s shiny Corvette.
Neighbors filtered out of their houses and the whole scene played out in slow motion.
Ben yanked out the keys and jumped out of the pickup before the truck had come to a complete stop. Carlie scrambled out behind him. “What’s going on here?” Ben demanded of the first policeman.
“Get back, boy!”
Ben ignored him. “My brother lives here!” he said when the officer tried to restrain him.
“Who’s your brother?”
“Kevin Powell. He—” His voice broke when he stared into the officer’s grim face and Carlie’s lungs seemed to give out. She couldn’t breathe. Her blood pounded in her ears.
“Your brother’s dead, son,” the officer said, sadness etched on his features. “Your sister found him. They took him over to County General, but it was too late.”
“Oh, God,” Carlie whispered, her knees threatening to buckle. This was all a horrid dream. That was it…a dream. She watched as if from a distance.
“No, you’re wrong!” Ben threw off the policeman’s arm. “Kevin—he’s here. He lives here!”
“Son, I’m telling you—”
“You’re a liar!” Ben screamed.
Carlie thought she might be sick. She tried to reach for Ben, but he twisted away from her.
“Kevin’s okay, Carlie! He’s okay!” Ben yelled. “He’s okay!”
“I’m sorry, kid. Maybe I should get you a ride—”
“Like hell. Kevin’s okay! He’s okay!” Ben repeated. His features were etched in fury and disbelief, his body tense and spoiling for a fight as rain sheeted from the sky. “I don’t know why you’re lying to me!”
“Look, son, if you don’t believe me—”
“What’s going on here?” a senior officer intervened and Carlie, willing her knees not to give out, stood next to Ben.
“There’s been some kind of mistake,” she said, her voice nearly failing her. Kevin couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t. “This is Ben Powell, Kevin’s brother, and—”
“Then you’ve got your work cut out for you,” the officer cut in, staring at Ben. “Your sister’s not dealing with this very well and your father has been taken to the hospital with chest pains. I know this is difficult, but you’ve got to face it.”
Carlie’s legs turned to water. Deputy Zalinski caught her before she slid onto the muddy ground.
“You’re wrong!” Ben said, backing away from the policemen. Rain flattened his hair and ran from the tip of his nose and his chin. “You’re wrong! Kevin’s okay! He has to be!”
“Get a grip, Powell,” the officer said evenly. “We can take you to the hospital—”
“No way!”
“Ben,” Carlie said, walking up to him and touching his arm. Her lips were trembling and tears filled her eyes. “Come on—”
“Let go of me,” he snarled, yanking his arm away, his eyes filled with dark, unspoken accusations. Carlie’s heart turned to stone when she saw the sudden hatred in the angry line of his mouth.
“We’re investigating this as a possible suicide,” the officer said. “But we’re not certain of anything. Not yet. It looks like alcohol could’ve been involved and—”
“No! Man, this is crazy—” Ben cried, but the anger left his features, replaced by cold, certain fear. “No!” he screamed, his fists clenched as he turned his head to the sky. “No! No! No!”
Tears washed down Carlie’s cheeks. She reached for Ben again, but he backed away, nearly stumbling on the curb before he turned around and ran through the night, abandoning her and racing under the streetlamps, faster and faster through the rain. She took a step forward to chase him, but Zalinski restrained her.
“Give him time to deal with this.”
“But I—”
“He needs some space. He’s had a helluva shock.”
But I love him, she cried mutely, feeling the officer’s strong hands restraining her as Ben disappeared around a corner.
�
�He’ll be okay,” the officer assured her. “It’ll just take a little time. He needs to be alone for a few minutes, but don’t worry about him, I’ll send a squad car after him.”
Carlie, numb, couldn’t say a word.
The officer motioned for one of the paramedics. “Hey, Joe, you got a blanket and a cup of coffee?”
“Comin’ right up.”
Carlie barely heard the exchange. She was still staring down Spruce Street where neighbors had clustered and stood whispering and shaking their heads, but her eyes were still searching for Ben.
A blanket was tossed over her shoulders and a disposable cup of warm coffee placed between her fingers, but she didn’t move. She wanted to run after Ben, to hold him, to kiss him, to make love to him again and tell him everything would be all right. But he didn’t want to hear her lies, nor did he want her comforting touch.
Shivering, Carlie began to sob. Deep, racking, pain-filled sobs. For Kevin. For the Powell family. But mostly for Ben.
BOOK TWO
Gold Creek, California
The Present
CHAPTER FIVE
CARLIE SLID HER Jeep between two cars and told herself she just had to get through the ceremony, then she could leave. Watch Nadine Powell Warne become Mrs. Hayden Monroe, say congratulations and be off.
Except that she’d have to see Ben again! Ben the Impossible. Ben the Cruel. Ben the Terrible. She could give him a thousand names but it wouldn’t change the fact that she’d have to pretend that he meant nothing to her, that the past was dead and buried and that she was content to live her life without him. Which, of course, she reminded herself, she was.
How ironic that they were both back in Gold Creek after years away. She hoped that he was just passing through, staying only long enough to watch the wedding ceremony, then climbing back into his beat-up pickup and taking off for parts unknown.
She’d leave, too, if she could, but her father’s health wasn’t what it once was. The doctors thought he’d had a series of tiny strokes, and he’d been forced to stop working for a while, maybe forever. Carlie’s mother was sick with worry. Carlie, as the only child, had offered to stick around until things were settled.
And she’d found a job. Not just a job. A “career opportunity” Rory Jaeger, her old boss, had told her when she’d approached him about working part-time. He’d scoffed at her proposal. Hadn’t she been a New York model? Hadn’t she seen Paris? What could she possibly want with his little business? She’d explained that though she didn’t need work, not desperately, quite yet, she needed a studio to develop her pictures. As well as a place to put down a few roots—shallow ones perhaps, but roots nonetheless.
Rory had become more interested and they’d struck a deal. For a small investment, she could own half the shop. He was close to retiring anyway and they’d shook hands on their agreement, sealing her fate to stay in Gold Creek for at least a year, probably longer, at which time she could sell her interest back to Rory or to someone else, upon Rory’s approval.
The documents were being drawn up by the lawyers and within the week she would become part owner of the shop. If she needed extra income, she could drive to San Francisco and talk to a modeling agency there and she’d called her old agency in New York, giving the owner, Constance, her telephone number and address. The modeling was a long shot; she hadn’t been in front of a camera in years and she didn’t have much interest in trying to revive a career that had barely gotten off the ground. Still, she couldn’t afford not to keep all her options open.
So she was stuck in Gold Creek for a while and she’d just have to be able to face Ben if she ran into him again, which, in a town this size, was a foregone conclusion.
She locked her Jeep and started walking to one of the largest houses built upon the shores of Whitefire Lake. The house was cozy, despite its size. Now, in the coming twilight, Monroe Manor looked like something out of an old-fashioned Christmas card. Snow was piled on the third-floor dormers, golden light glowed warmly through frosted windows and smoke drifted lazily from a chimney. Icicles hung like crystal teardrops from the gutters that separated the house from the garage. Two dogs, one black-and-white, the other a yellow Lab, wandered through the tree-covered acres.
It’s now or never, she thought, wondering what she would say to George Powell. Before she could second-guess herself, she rang the doorbell and prayed that she would be inside before Ben arrived.
She heard the rumble of a truck’s engine as the door opened and a boy of about seven or eight, with red-blond hair, freckles and mischievous hazel eyes stood before her. Dressed in a black suit and white shirt, he shoved out his hand in a gesture that looked as if it had been practiced a hundred times over. “Hi, I’m Bobby.”
Ah. Nadine’s younger son. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Carlie.” She shook his hand firmly.
His nose wrinkled thoughtfully. “You’re the model, aren’t you?”
Laughing a little, she said, “I was, but that was quite a while ago.”
“Wow! Wait until I tell Katie Osgood. She said you wouldn’t show up and that—”
“Robert!” A short, blonde woman whom Carlie recognized as Ben and Nadine’s aunt Velma, came to the rescue. “We’re glad you could come,” she said with a smile, then shooting a warning look to Bobby.
“Thanks.”
Bobby, suddenly remembering his manners said, “Oh…um, can I take your coat?”
“Sure.” Carlie peeled out of the coat and watched as the boy tried diligently not to let the hem drag as he carried it upstairs. He looked over his shoulder at the landing. “You’re s’posed to sign the book!”
“The guest register,” Velma clarified, “when you have a minute. Now, come on in.” She touched Carlie on the arm. “The ceremony’s going to start in about ten minutes, so you might want to grab a seat pretty quick.”
The doorbell chimed and Carlie’s stomach tightened, thinking that the next guest might be Ben. Rather than wait for round two of their argument, she walked through the foyer to the living room where folding chairs had been set up to face the fireplace. Soft music drifted through hidden speakers to vie with the sounds of laughter and conversation flowing through the spacious rooms. Flowers and ribbons decorated the walls and stair railing and the scents of carnations, roses and lilacs mingled with an underlying smell of burning wood.
She recognized more than a few people. The Fitzpatricks, though separated, were together. Despite rumors of impending divorce, Thomas sat by his wife, June, and their daughter, Toni. As Carlie walked in, Thomas glanced in her direction. Beneath his mustache, his lips curved into a quick smile of recognition, but quickly faded and Carlie was reminded of all the times she’d met him as a girl—and how uncomfortable he’d made her feel.
Along with the Fitzpatricks, the Reverend Osgood and his family, as well as the Nelsons, Pattons, McDonalds and Sedgewicks, were already taking seats.
“About time,” a voice called from the stairs. Carlie’s best friend, Rachelle, was hurrying down the steps. Her mahogany-colored hair was curled and fell to the middle of her back. “I was afraid you were going to chicken out,” Rachelle teased. “Looks like I lost that bet.”
“You bet on whether I’d come or not?”
Rachelle winked. “Couldn’t help myself. There was this pool, you see. Heather, Turner, Jackson and I—”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Carlie said, though she relaxed a little at her friend’s gentle teasing. “And I hope you lost big-time—thousands of dollars. You deserve it. Besides, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
“Oh, sure. Remember, Carlie, I know you. I can just imagine how desperately you wanted to be here.” Grinning, Rachelle grabbed Carlie’s hand. “Jeez, you’re freezing!”
“I stopped for a walk around the lake.”
Rachelle’s eye
s narrowed a fraction, but the smile didn’t leave her lips. “Getting your nerve together?”
“Something like that.”
“Think you can handle seeing Ben again?”
Carlie lifted a shoulder in nonchalance. “Now that I’m here, I guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“It won’t kill you,” Rachelle predicted with a knowing smile. “In fact, it could be fun.”
“Fun? Yeah, about as fun as having all my teeth extracted.”
“You might be surprised.”
“Don’t count on it.” But Carlie felt more relaxed than she had since she’d decided to attend the wedding. She’d been friends with Rachelle for as long as she could remember. “Friends for life,” they’d once pledged and so far, despite the miles and years that had separated them, they were still as close as sisters.
“Come on,” Rachelle urged, “Heather and Turner have saved us seats up near the front.”
Rachelle pulled on her hand and soon Carlie was standing in front of a folding chair facing the fireplace. She didn’t see Ben come in, but she knew the moment he entered, sensed his presence, as surely as if she’d watched him stride across the threshold. The air against the back of her neck felt suddenly chilled, but her shoulders burned where his gaze bored into her. Cold and hot—like dry ice. Ignoring the temptation to glance over her shoulder, she sat in her chair and watched the ceremony unfold.
Reverend Osgood stood before the fire as Nadine’s older son, John, gave the bride away. Then, while Carlie’s throat grew tight, Nadine Powell Warne and Hayden Monroe IV stared into each other’s eyes and pledged their lives and their love for all time.
To have and hold…from this day forward. Bits and pieces of the traditional words filtered through her mind, and she thought back to her own wedding day, so distant now. She and Paul had stood before a judge and the entire ceremony had lasted less than ten minutes. Cold, stark, without feeling.