“It’s Galen.”
“You can’t possibly know that. He’s still half a mile away.”
“His truck has a whistle. Hear it?”
Ben didn’t reply, and Emma looked over to see him rubbing his face with his hands. “I feel like I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole.”
She patted his arm. “Try thinking of this as an adventure.”
“All I wanted was a simple, old-fashioned date tonight.”
Emma stifled a somewhat hysterical giggle as Galen’s truck drove past, her senses reeling. Ben wanted to marry her! He was either nuts or he thought he had to marry her for Mikey’s sake.
Which left her smack in the middle of two stubborn men and her own conflicting emotions. She could never marry Ben. She was barely surviving his courtship, if that was what he’d been doing all week. Her brain was screaming one thing, her body another, and her heart was trying very hard to stay neutral.
Her body might have won most of the battles, but the voice in her head was making itself known just as loudly. It was her heart, though, that was most in danger of surrendering. His declaration tonight that he would never leave her had been a powerful blow.
“Come on,” she said. “There’ll be other cars soon.”
“I suppose I’m going to have to buy a new set of tires as well now,” he grumbled, stumbling after her through the bushes. “Galen probably slit them on his way by.”
He fell into step beside her as Emma set a brisk pace for home. At the rate they were going, it would be sunrise before they arrived. And she had to pick up a group of hunters at the seaplane base in Bangor at eight in the morning.
They were cutting it close.
“Everything just bounces off you, doesn’t it?” he asked, his long strides easily matching hers. “No matter what gets thrown at you, you just deal with it and move on.”
“I have other options?”
He was silent so long, Emma figured the subject had been dropped.
Then he said, “Like this night from hell. Most women I know would be a ball of tears by now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry you have such bad taste in women.”
She laughed and started running, but was saved from certain reprisal when bright lights suddenly crested the knoll ahead of them. “A logging truck,” she said with another laugh when Ben’s face became fully illuminated. Lord, she wished L.L.Bean could see their number one customer tonight. Her date was not weathering the evening well.
She looked down at herself. Neither was she.
“He’s going the wrong way,” Ben said.
“Right now, any way is the right one.” She stood in the middle of the road and waved, then quickly stepped to the side.
The huge eighteen-wheeler, looking illegally overloaded, braked to a stop beside them, bringing a blinding cloud of dust with it.
“Little late for a stroll, ain’t it, Emma Jean?” Stanley Bates asked from high over their heads.
“Our truck broke down and we need a ride, Stan. Can you take us to Medicine Creek Camps?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, chicky. There’s no place to turn this rig between here and Medicine Gore. I’ll haul you there, though, if you want. Hop in.”
That was easier said than done for a woman wearing a dress that lacked inches in the length department. Emma had to slap Ben’s hand away more than once and reposition it three times before she made it into the cab.
“You broke that new truck of yours already, Emma Jean?” Stanley asked, his words muffled by the spit of air brakes releasing.
“No. Ben’s new truck broke,” she shouted back over the rev of the engine laboring through the gears.
Stanley peered at the man whose lap she was sitting on. “Hey. I remember you. I gave you a ride out to Medicine Creek a couple of weeks ago. I see you found it okay. What’s wrong with your truck?”
Emma answered. “The oil light came on.”
Stanley looked over and suddenly seemed to notice all the leg she was showing from her thigh to her sneakers. She saw poor Stan’s eyes widen just before his face turned a dull red.
“You … you been to the dance, Emma Jean?”
“Part of it.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be carrying any oil, would you?” Ben asked, yanking her coat down over her thigh.
“Ah … yeah. Sure. I got a couple of gallons,” Stan said, ripping his gaze away to look at the road.
Emma nearly laughed out loud. Stanley Bates, like most of the men in town, hadn’t seen her in a dress since Sable Jones’s funeral. He looked as if he’d forgotten she actually had legs.
“I don’t know if there’s a puncture in the pan or if the cap was loosened,” Ben continued. “But maybe we could stop and check.”
“We can fix ya up, mister.”
A heavy sigh hit the back of her head. “That’s assuming I still have four round tires,” Ben said.
Emma patted his arm. “If not, we can ride to Medicine Gore and file a complaint with Sheriff Ramsey. Then he can take fingerprints and issue a warrant for the arrest of the vandals.”
He squeezed her.
Stanley Bates chuckled. “Like my daddy used to say, if they got tires or tits, they’re gonna give you trouble.”
Emma reached over and smacked Stanley’s arm.
“Gosh, Emma Jean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean nothing by that. It just popped out.”
“Aren’t you running a little heavy tonight, Stanley? Your load looks pretty high to me,” Emma said in response, giving him a good glare for insurance.
“Now, Emma, I said I was sorry.”
“The guy was only stating a truth, Emma Jean,” Ben added, pulling her back against him. “Don’t threaten the man who’s saving us from an all-night walk.”
Within minutes they covered the distance it had taken them half an hour to walk. Stanley pulled the eighteen-wheeler to a noisy stop. After the dust settled, Ben climbed out, then gallantly—and somewhat lecherously—helped her down.
“I bet you’re going to think twice about wearing this dress again, aren’t you?” he whispered before he let her go.
“Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like all the attention it gets me,” she purred, bolting for the Suburban. She turned when she reached it, and saw Ben was just coming around Stanley’s truck. He seemed to be adjusting his own clothes, tugging on the legs of his pants.
Stanley was already crawling under the Suburban, which in itself was an amazing feat. The man weighed a good three hundred pounds, and Emma feared he was going to get stuck.
“Your drain cap was loosened,” he hollered from under the guts of the engine. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose it completely.”
“And look,” Ben added. “My tires aren’t flat.”
With much grunting, Stanley reemerged from beneath the truck. “Oil pressure’s got nothing to do with tire pressure,” he said, looking confused.
Ben appeared momentarily startled, then shook his head and chuckled. “I’ll remember that,” he told Stanley, who was already headed back to his truck for the oil.
“Open the hood. I’m guessing it will take five or six quarts,” Stan hollered over his shoulder.
Ben unlocked his truck and popped the latch.
“You know, it’s a good thing you had Emma with you, young fella. A man could get lost walking these roads at night,” Stanley said as he poured oil into the filler pipe.
Ben walked around the truck with a flashlight, apparently checking for other damage.
“There ya go, Emma Jean. Your ride’s full of oil and ready to go. Why don’t you start her up,” he instructed Ben, who was shining the light in the ditch beside the truck.
“Not yet. I found this in the ditch,” Ben said, holding up a lug nut. He bent down to inspect the right rear tire. “The hub covering the lug nuts has some grease on it.” He pulled out a pocketknife and pried it open.
The cover fell off and the flashlight showe
d that only two nuts were left holding the tire on, and even they had been loosened.
Stanley whistled beside them. “Oh-ee. Someone don’t like you.” He looked more closely at Ben. “You one of them tree huggers?”
“No, I am not.” He held the lug nut up in the light, looking at Emma. “We could have gotten hurt if we’d taken off without discovering this.”
Headlights appeared on the horizon, coming from town. A short burst of siren sounded two seconds after the headlights landed on them.
“What in hell else can go wrong?” Ben said with thinning patience.
“That’s Ramsey’s Blazer,” Emma said. “Why would he be out here?”
Ben sighed. “It must be Michael.”
Chapter Twelve
Sure enough, Emma recognized the silhouette in the front seat of the sheriff’s truck. His head hanging like that of a cooked goose, Michael Sands was a boy who knew he was in very big trouble.
“This is all your fault,” she hissed at Ben as they rounded the back of the Suburban. “‘Go out and get into boy trouble,’ you told him. ‘Hang out with your buddies,’ you said. I swear, Ben, if Mikey ends up with a juvenile record—”
She was pulled up short. “This is one of those times when Mike needs a father, Emma. Please, let me handle this.”
Damn, she hated when he threw her words back at her. She took a step back. He gave her a swift peck on the cheek and walked to the sheriff getting out of his truck.
Emma sidled over to within hearing distance, but then she caught sight of Mikey looking her up and down and grinning. She walked over to his window. “I’d wipe that smirk off my face if I were you.” She opened his door, then noticed—
“Handcuffs!” She glared at Sheriff Ramsey. “You get them off him right now!” Running around the front of the truck, she shoved Ben out of the way. “You get those handcuffs off that child this minute, Ramsey, or I swear you’ll never have clean sheets again.” She pointed her finger at him. “If Greta finds out what you’ve done, you’ll have burnt meals for the rest of your life. He’s only a child!”
Ramsey snorted. “Michael is no more a child than I am. I was just teaching him a little lesson.”
“On emotional scarring?”
“On what happens when you get caught in a criminal act,” the sheriff returned, his face growing serious. “And what’s going to happen if I ever catch him causing trouble again.”
“It’s okay, Nem,” Mikey said from beside her. “Sheriff Ramsey is actually being lenient. I could be in jail now instead of being escorted home.”
She turned to Mikey with a frown. “What did you do?”
Ramsey unfastened Michael’s cuffs. “The boy was pulling another prank with his friends—adolescent stuff. I was trying to scare a little sense into him.”
He pocketed the handcuffs, then brushed Emma’s hair over her shoulder in a fatherly fashion. “Nothing’s going to happen to your boy, here.” He looked over at Ben. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’ll be okay.”
“Can I go home now, sir?” Michael asked.
“I can’t prove you were responsible for the earlier damage to the environmentalist’s truck, Mike, but I caught you red-handed this time. You can go home, but if I ever see you in town after ten o’clock at night again, I’m going to haul your ass to jail. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes, sir.”
Ramsey nodded. “Good. You’re much better than your actions tonight, Michael.” He looked from Emma to Ben, then back at Michael. “And you’ve got other things to be more interested in.”
“He’ll stay out of trouble, Sheriff.” Ben guided Emma back to the Suburban. “Why don’t you sit in the truck while Mike and I fix the wheel.”
“You got car trouble?” Sheriff Ramsey asked.
Ben turned. “Just a loose wheel. We’ll be fine. Thanks.”
Mikey moved to flank her other side. Emma rubbed her forehead. She wasn’t used to leaning on anyone, much less letting them coddle her. It kind of made her light-headed.
“Why didn’t you tell Ramsey about the oil and the tire?” she asked.
“I’m not willing to stir up any trouble just yet, and we can’t prove anything. It could have been kids, thinking I was a tree hugger.”
“What happened to the truck?” Mikey asked.
“It was sabotaged,” Emma told him.
“Take this flashlight and see if you can find any more lug nuts in the ditch, would you, Mike?” Ben asked.
“If you folks don’t need me anymore, I’ll be on my way,” Stanley said from the driver’s side of his truck.
Ben pulled out his wallet. “Let me give you something for the oil, and for helping us.”
Stanley waved the offer away. “I don’t need nothing from you folks. Emma Jean’s pulled my butt out of hot water more times than I can count.”
“Well, thanks again for your help,” Ben said. “It’s appreciated.”
“Thanks, Stanley,” Emma called out from the Suburban’s window, waving at him as he climbed into his rig.
Ben leaned his arm on the roof of the truck and stared at her, silent and thoughtful. She could practically see the wheels turning in his brain.
“I have to go away for a couple of days. I’m needed in New York. Why don’t you and Mike come with me?”
Emma knew he was worried about their safety. “Unfortunately, I can’t, I have a business to run.” She looked at the clock on the dash. “In three hours I have to get in my plane, fly down to Bangor, and pick up some sports. The archery deer season starts Monday.”
His frown deepened. “Hire it out. I want you two with me.”
“Take Mikey. He would love to see New York.”
“I want you to come, too.”
“I can’t.” She reached out and touched his chest. “I’m not in any danger, Ben. You are. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“We’ll discuss this after you get back tomorrow morning,” he said, striding away.
Emma stared at the dark road ahead of them. Sheriff Ramsey had gone back to Medicine Gore, Stanley following him. The lonely stretch of road was covered in silence again, except for the soft murmurs of Mikey and his father working at the back of the truck.
Ben seemed truly worried. She’d heard it in his voice when he asked her to go to New York, and she had seen it in the taut lines of his face when she had refused. It was kind of nice to have someone worry about her.
Kind of … comforting.
She sat in the truck, soaking up the stillness of the night, and wondered if Ben even realized what was happening to him. He was gathering moss by the bucket load now. He had fallen in love with his son, he’d asked his son’s aunt to marry him, and at the dance he had promised the town he would find the man responsible for blowing up the dam sixteen years ago.
Yup. He was definitely knee-deep in moss.
“I’d feel better if you were both coming with me.”
“You’re just worried about missing Mikey’s cooking,” Emma said patiently.
They were all seated around the kitchen table. Ben already had his bags in his truck, but he was making one last effort to get her and Mikey to go with him. Realizing she wouldn’t budge from her position, Ben had conceded that Michael probably should stay with her. Emma had rolled her eyes at his reasoning, and voted that Mikey go see the bright lights of New York. Mikey had simply folded his arms over his chest and softly said he was staying.
So they were sitting at the table, having a good-bye snack.
“Don’t feel so bad, Ben. You’re not the first man who’s had to deal with the two of us in our stubborn mode.” She looked at Mikey and winked. “Judge Bracket didn’t have any better luck.”
Mikey chuckled as he set his cup of coffee on the table. “That man didn’t know what to do with either one of us, did he?”
As she’d intended, the mention of a judge turned Ben’s attention from his sulking. “Who’s Judge Bracket?”
“He�
��s the judge who awarded me custody of Mikey.”
Ben gave her a curious look. “Did you have much trouble getting it? You couldn’t have been twenty or twenty-one at the time, and you were single.”
“I didn’t apply for custody until Mikey was nearly eight and I was twenty-three. After Kelly left, nothing much was said about his living with me. Everyone in town, including me, thought she would be coming back soon.”
“I was already going to school before Mom left,” Mikey added. “So Nem didn’t have to deal with enrolling me.”
“So Mike was living with you for three years without the state knowing it?”
Emma reached across the table and touched his hand. “You have to understand, Ben. People around here usually saw Mikey with me, not Kelly. When a year went by and she didn’t return, no one was willing to call the authorities. They didn’t want to see Mikey taken away from me.”
“So when did Judge Bracket become involved?” he asked.
“When Michael broke his leg and had to be taken to Bangor to have it set. The Greenville hospital thought he needed special attention, because it was a bad break. I signed the guardian papers, but I made the mistake of mentioning I was his aunt to someone in Bangor.”
“All hell broke loose then,” Mikey added, grinning in memory.
“Mikey called them the ‘kid police.’”
“I was eight,” Mike defended. “They wanted to take me away from you and put me in a foster home until custody could be legally awarded.”
“Jesus.” Ben looked appalled. “They wanted to uproot a child from his home after he’d had the trauma of an operation?”
“Don’t worry, Dad. Nem didn’t let them.”
“Darn right I didn’t. I stole him out of the hospital once he was safe to travel, and flew him to Medicine Gore. I hid him at Greta and Sable’s.”
“But they must have come after you,” Ben said, still looking horrified.
“When they arrived at my door, I gave them hell for losing my nephew.” She laughed out loud. “You should have seen their faces when they couldn’t find Mikey, and I kept raging at them that they had lost the kid.”
Ben didn’t laugh with her. “What about Judge Bracket?”
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