Heaven, Texas

by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

  I can’t marry you, Bobby Tom. I deserve something better.

  And she did. God help him, she did. She deserved a man, not a boy. She deserved someone who loved her more than he loved his own legend. His legend. For the first time in his life, the thought filled him with disgust. Whatever legend he’d had his behavior last night had destroyed, and he didn’t even care. All he cared about was getting Gracie back.

  He was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of panic. What if she’d already left town? Her moral fiber was the toughest thing about her, and now that it was too late, he understood how important her principles were to her. Gracie always meant what she said, and once she’d made up her mind she was right about something, she didn’t change it.

  She’d said she loved him, and that counted for a lot with her, but by playing fast and loose with her affections and not respecting her feelings, he’d put her in a position where she couldn’t back down. When he’d looked into her face last night and heard her say she couldn’t marry him, she’d meant every word, and not even a public declaration of his love had been good enough to keep her.

  A whole range of alien emotions bombarded him, but the most unfamiliar was desperation. After a lifetime of easy female conquests, he realized he’d lost his confidence. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so certain that once she got away, he’d never get her back, but now he knew he was going to lose her forever. If he hadn’t been able to win her on his home field, how could he hope to earn her love anywhere else?

  “Well, well. Seems like the hometown boy got himself in a speck of trouble last night.”

  He lifted his head and gazed through bleary eyes at Jimbo Thackery, who was standing outside his cell with a nasty smirk on his face.

  “I’m not up to trading insults with you right now, Jimbo,” he muttered. “What do I have to do to get out of here?”

  “The name’s Jim.”

  “Jim, then,” he said dully. Maybe it wasn’t too late, he thought. Maybe she’d had a chance to think things over, and he could get her to change her mind. He swore before God Almighty that if she’d marry him, he’d buy her her very own nursing home for their first wedding anniversary. Before that, however, he had to find her. Then he had to convince her that he loved her more than he’d ever even thought about loving any other woman. He’d do whatever it took to make her forgive him.

  He sat up straight on the edge of the bed. “I have to get out of here.”

  “Judge Gates hasn’t set bond yet,” Jimbo said, taking open pleasure in his misery.

  He pushed himself painfully to his feet, ignoring the acid churning in his stomach and the fact that his bad knee throbbed like a son of a bitch.

  “When will he?”

  “Sooner or later.” Jimbo pulled a toothpick from his shirt pocket and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. “Judge doesn’t like it when I call him too early in the morning.”

  Bobby Tom could just make out the wall clock on the other side of the bars. “It’s almost nine o’clock.”

  “I’ll call him when I get a chance. It’s a good thing you’re rich because you’re facing some serious charges: battery, disorderly conduct, criminal damage to property, resisting arrest. Judge isn’t gonna be too happy with you.”

  Bobby Tom was feeling more desperate by the second.

  Every moment he spent behind bars meant Grade was slipping farther away from him. Why had he behaved like such an ass last night? Why hadn’t he swallowed his pride and gone after her right then, gotten down on his knees if he’d had to and told her he was sorry. Instead, he’d wasted all that time acting tough and talking trash so he wouldn’t lose face with his buddies, something that had been a hopeless proposition from the beginning after his sickening performance at that microphone. He could no longer even remember why he’d cared so much about their opinion. He enjoyed his friends, but they weren’t the ones he wanted to live his life with or bear his children.

  He couldn’t hide his agitation as he limped over to the bars. “I’ll do whatever I have to, but just not right now. I only need a couple of hours. I have to find Gracie before she can leave town.”

  “I never thought I’d see the day that you’d make a fool of yourself over a woman,” Jimbo sneered, “but you sure did last night. Fact is, she doesn’t want you, B.T., and everybody knows it now. I guess those Super Bowl rings of yours weren’t enough for her.”

  Bobby Tom grabbed the bars. “Just let me out of here, Jimbo! I’ve got to find her.”

  “Too late.” With one last smirk, he flicked his toothpick at Bobby Tom’s chest. His heels clicked on the hard tile floor as he made his way to the door and disappeared through it.

  “Come back here, you sonovabitch!” Bobby Tom shoved his face between the bars. “I know my rights, and I want a lawyer! I want a lawyer right now!”

  The door stayed firmly closed.

  His eyes flew to the clock. Maybe she wasn’t planning to leave today. Maybe she’d stay around. But he didn’t believe it. He’d hurt her too much last night, and she’d get away as soon as she could.

  “I’ve got to make a phone call!” he yelled.

  “Shut up over there.”

  For the first time he realized he wasn’t alone. The city jail held only two small cells, and the bed in the next one was occupied by a seedy-looking character with red eyes and a scraggly beard.

  Bobby Tom ignored him and kept on shouting. “I get a phone call! I want it now!”

  No one answered.

  He began limping frantically around the cell. His bad knee protruded through a jagged tear in his jeans, most of the buttons on his shirt were missing, along with part of a sleeve, and his knuckles looked as if they’d been through a meat grinder. He returned to the bars and began calling out again, but the drunk in the next cell was the only one who responded.

  The minutes ticked by on the clock. He knew how much pleasure Jimbo was getting out of seeing him like this, but he didn’t care. His voice grew hoarse, but he couldn’t keep quiet. He tried to tell himself his behavior was foolish, that there was no logic behind this sense of urgency, but his panic wouldn’t abate. If he didn’t get to Gracie right away, he’d lose her forever.

  Nearly half an hour elapsed before the door that led out to the main room of the station opened again, but this time Dell Brady, Jimbo’s good-looking black deputy, walked through. Bobby Tom had never been so glad to see anybody in his life. He’d played ball with Dell’s brother, and the two of them had always gotten along.

  “Damn, B.T., you’re about yelling the place down. Sorry I couldn’t get in here earlier, but I had to wait for Jim to leave.”

  “Dell! I’ve got to make a phone call. I know I’ve got the right to make one phone call.”

  “You made it last night, B.T. You called old Jerry Jones himself and told the owner of the Dallas Cowboys you wouldn’t play for his team if it was the last one on earth.”

  “Shit!” Bobby Tom slammed his fists against the bars, sending shafts of pain shooting up his arms.

  “Nobody ever saw you so drunk,” Dell went on. “You about destroyed the Wagon Wheel, not to mention what you did to Len.”

  “I’ll take care of all that later, and I promise I’ll settle up with Len. But right now I have to get to a phone.”

  “I don’t know, B.T. Jim’s really got it in for you. Ever since you and Sherri Hopper—”

  “That was fifteen years ago!” he shouted. “Come on. Just one call.”

  To his relief, Dell reached for the keys on his belt. “All right. I guess as long I’ve got you locked up again before Jim comes back from the coffee shop, what he don’t know won’t hurt him.”

  Dell took so long fumbling with the keys that Bobby Tom wanted to grab him by the throat and yell at him to hurry up. Finally, however, he was out of the cell and walking through the door that led into the main room of the police station. Just as he got there, Rose Collins, who’d been working for the department for as long as he could remember and whose gr
ass he used to mow, looked up at him and held out her telephone.

  “It’s for you, Bobby Tom. It’s Terry Jo.”

  He snatched the phone from her. “Terry Jo! Do you know where Gracie is?”

  “She’s renting a car from Buddy right this minute so she can drive to San Antone. She can’t see me—I’m in the back room—but she told Buddy she’s got an early-afternoon flight. He’s making me call you, even though I swore to him last night that I was never going to speak to you again as long as I lived. I never knew you could be such a bastard. Not only what you did to Gracie—she’s wearing sunglasses and I know she’s been crying—but you should see Buddy’s face. His jaw’s all swole up twice its size, and—”

  “Tell Buddy not to rent her that car!”

  “He has to or he’ll lose his franchise. He’s tried to stall her, but you know how she is. Looks like he’s giving her the keys right now.”

  He cursed and shoved his hand through his hair, wincing when he hit a gash near his temple. “Call Judge Gates right now and get him over here. Tell him—”

  “There’s no time; she’s climbing in the car now. It’s a blue Grand Am. She’s a pretty cautious driver, B.T. You can take her easy as long as you get going now.”

  “I’m in jail!”

  “Well, get out!”

  “I’m trying! In the meantime, you’ve got to stop her.”

  “It’s too late. She’s pulling out now. You’re going to have to catch up with her on the highway.”

  Bobby Tom slammed down the phone and turned to Rose and Dell, who had been listening with open interest. “Gracie’s just left Buddy’s Garage. She’s on her way to San Antone, and I need to catch her before she reaches the interstate.”

  “What the hell’s he doing out of that cell?” Jimbo Thackery came storming through the door, donut crumbs on his shirt and his swarthy face mottled with anger.

  “Gracie’s leaving town,” Dell began to explain, “and Bobby Tom needs to get to her before—”

  “He’s under arrest!” Jimbo shouted. “Lock him up right now!”

  Dell turned reluctantly toward Bobby Tom. “Sorry, B.T., I’m afraid I’m going to have to put you back in the cell.”

  Bobby Tom held out his hands, and his voice was low with warning. “Don’t come any nearer, Dell. I’m not going back in that cell until I’ve had a chance to talk to Gracie. I don’t want to hit you, but I will if 1 have to.”

  Dell studied Bobby Tom for a moment, then turn to glare at Jimbo. “What’s the harm in giving him an hour or so to take care of his love life, especially since you been playing fast and loose with his civil rights ever since you arrested him?”

  Jimbo curled his lip, and his shaggy brows met in the middle. “Lock him up, goddammit, or you’re fired!”

  None of the Bradys had ever liked being pushed around, and Dell was no exception. “You can’t fire me; Luther won’t let you! If you want him in there so bad, you lock him up yourself!”

  Jimbo went apoplectic. With a roar of rage, he lunged forward. Bobby Tom grabbed a chair from behind the nearest desk and fired it across the tile floor, where it caught Jimbo in the knees and sent him sprawling.

  Bobby Tom raced to the door before the police chief could get back up, calling out to Rose as he ran. “I need a car!”

  She snatched up a ring of keys from her desk and threw them at him. “Take Jimbo’s. It’ll be right by the door.”

  He ran outside and jumped into the nearest vehicle, the police chief’s shining white squad car. Tires squealing, he peeled out of the parking lot and set off down Main Street. It only took him a few seconds to find the controls that activated the siren and the flashing red lights.

  Back inside the police station, Rose Collins grabbed for her telephone to spread the news that Bobby Tom Denton had just broken out of jail.

  HEAVEN, TEXAS

  A PLACE IN THE HEART

  The colorful banner that had been hung at the city limits grew smaller in Gracie’s rearview mirror until she could no longer see it. She reached for one of the tissues crumpled in her lap, and as she blew her nose, she wondered if she was going to cry all the way to San Antonio. Last night she’d been dry-eyed and stricken while Ray had taken her back to her apartment to pack her belongings and then driven her to the motel where she’d spent the night. But she hadn’t slept. Instead, she’d lain in bed and replayed Bobby Tom’s damning words over and over again.

  We both know I was just trying to do you a favor . . . why the hell would I marry you?. . . don’t ever let me see your face again!

  What had she expected? She had humiliated him in front of everyone who was important to him, and he had struck back viciously.

  She pushed a tissue beneath her sunglasses and blotted her swollen eyes. The new owner of Shady Acres was going to send someone to pick her up at the airport in Columbus and drive her to New Grundy. Shady Acres was where she belonged, and by this time tomorrow morning, she’d make certain she was so busy that she wouldn’t have time to brood.

  She’d known this had to end, but she had never imagined it ending this badly. She had wanted him to remember her fondly as the one woman who had never taken anything from him, but last night had destroyed any possibility, of that happening. Not only had she taken his money, but without intending to, she’d ended up taking something much more important to him, his reputation. She tried to find comfort in knowing it was his own arrogance that had ultimately brought that about, but she still loved him, and she would never take pleasure in seeing him hurt.

  She heard a siren behind her, and as she looked into her rearview mirror saw the flashing light of a police car fast approaching on the two-lane highway. A glance at the speedometer reassured her that she was driving well within the speed limit, and she edged over to the right to let the car pass. It drew closer, but instead of moving to the left, it came up behind her.

  The siren made a rude sound, ordering her to pull over. Disturbed, she looked more closely into the mirror and couldn’t believe what she saw. The man behind the wheel was Bobby Tom! She pulled off her sunglasses. So far, she’d held herself together by the strength of her will, but she couldn’t endure another confrontation with him. Setting her jaw with determination, she sped up, only to have him do the same.

  A battered pickup truck loomed in front of her. Her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as she swung into the left lane to pass. The speedometer crept to sixty, and Bobby Tom stayed right with her.

  How could he do this? What kind of town would let one of its private citizens take a police car to chase down an innocent person? The needle crept to sixty-five. She hated driving fast, and she was perspiring. He hit the siren again, further rattling her. She gave a hiss of alarm as he came up so close behind her she was afraid he was going to bump into her. Dear God, he intended to run her right off the road!

  She didn’t have a choice. He was a born daredevil, and while he might be perfectly comfortable playing bumper tag at seventy miles an hour, she certainly wasn’t. Anger consumed her as she lifted her foot off the accelerator and gradually slowed to pull over to the side of the road. As soon as she stopped the car, she threw the door open.

  He got out of the squad car before she’d taken more than four or five steps, and she faltered in her tracks. What had happened to him? One of his eyes was swollen shut and the other looked wild. His clothes were ripped and his ever-present Stetson was missing, while the ugly gash crusting near his temple made him look primitive and dangerous. She remembered what she’d done to him, and, for the first time since they’d met, she was afraid of him.

  He advanced toward her. She panicked and whirled around with a half-baked notion of climbing back into the car and locking the door, only to discover she had waited a fraction of a second too long to move.

  “Gracie!”

  In her peripheral vision, she saw him reach out for her, and she jerked away just in time. Acting purely on instinct, she began to run. The smooth soles of her sandals
slipped on the gravel, nearly sending her to her knees. She stumbled but somehow managed to right herself and keep going. She flew down the white line on the side of the road, running as fast as she could. Any second she expected him to grab her, and when he didn’t, she risked a peek over her shoulder.

  He was gaining on her, but limping so badly it had slowed him down considerably. She pressed her advantage by pushing herself even faster, and as she did, the story Suzy told her of the nine-year-old boy who had been publicly punished for hitting a girl raced through her mind.

  After all these years of treating women politely, something inside him had snapped.

  Her foot missed the edge of the asphalt, and she slipped into the gravel on the shoulder, then stumbled into the weeds. The sandy soil poured into her sandals. Terror swept through her as she heard him right behind her.

  “Gracie!”

  She screamed as he brought her down in the weeds with a bone-jarring tackle. She twisted as she fell, and when she landed she was looking up at him. For a moment, she knew nothing but pain and fear. Then she began to gasp for air.

  She had lain beneath him many times before, but they had been making love and she’d felt nothing like this. His brutal, unrelenting weight imprisoned her against the ground. The unfamiliar smells of stale beer and sweat clung to him, and .his unshaven jaw abraded her cheek,

  “God damn it!” he shouted, pushing himself up on his arms. He grabbed her, and lifted her shoulders from the ground just far enough so he could shake her as if she were a rag doll. “Why are you running away from me?”

  The veneer of facile charm and relentless affability had peeled away, leaving a violent, angry man who had been pushed over the edge.

  “Stop!” she sobbed. “Don’t—”