God, he hated to leave. “I g-guess I will g-go b-back to work. I c-can take Erin with m-me and d-drop her at s-school, if that’s the only r-reason you’re g-going in.”
Jacquie slapped her hands together. “Sounds like a plan.”
Within thirty minutes he and Erin were in the truck, headed to New Skye. He asked a couple of questions about what he knew to be her passion—three-day eventing, where, Phoebe had explained, horses competed in cross-country races, stadium jumping and dressage events—and Erin steered the conversation from then on, sharing her aspirations for Olympic gold with the unbounded confidence of a teenager with the whole world in front of her. And a mother who supported her every dream. Lucky kid.
Having dropped Erin off at the same New Skye High School entrance he’d used thirteen years ago, Adam went home to change. He intended to walk by the answering machine without checking messages, but responsibility had once again settled on his shoulders like a vulture.
Less than two days, eighteen messages—seven from Tommy, who had known where he was the whole time, a couple from Theresa and Tim, the rest from work. Adam stood under the shower and thought again about Phoebe’s farm, about the peace and contentment he found there. About the sustenance Phoebe herself drew from the animals and the land.
Then he thought about where and how he lived, the work he’d chosen for himself and the new venture he’d taken on when he decided to run for mayor. What kind of compromises would he need to make to blend his life with Phoebe’s? How much would each of them give up in order to be together?
By the time the water ran cold, he knew the only truly important question was…what wouldn’t he do to make and to keep Phoebe a part of his life, as long as they both should live?
WHEN PHOEBE WOKE UP AGAIN and wandered through the house, she found Jacquie sitting at her kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a book.
“Oh.” She staggered a little, from weakness and surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you.” And she was too weak not to ask, “Where’s Adam?”
“He had to go to work.” Jacquie got up and pulled out the other chair. “Sit down before you fall down. I’m sure you would rather him still be here, but that’s okay. Want some juice? Hot tea?”
“Tea, please.” They were good-enough friends to make tact unnecessary. “I was hoping to see him again, though I couldn’t believe he stayed to begin with. I can’t even begin to think about him changing my clothes. Giving me medicine, putting up with the dogs…”
“Pretty heroic.” Jacquie set down a steaming mug and took her own seat. “That’s not a man you want to let get away. Most of them run the other direction when a woman gets sick and needs attention.” Her usually cheerful, matter-of-fact voice wore an edge of bitterness.
Instead of protesting, Phoebe allowed herself to follow that line of thought. “I don’t know if Adam and I could make things work. There are so many differences, and that’s before you stop to consider that he may be the next mayor.”
“You wouldn’t move into town for him?”
“And leave the horses?”
“No, I guess not.” The farrier studied her coffee cup. “He couldn’t live out here?”
“Why should he want to? I mean, the house is nice, but it’s not special, like his place. He appreciates fine workmanship, and this is just a standard seventies ranch house.”
“Phoebe, you’re hopeless. He would want to live out here because you are here. What other reason does he need?”
“I—” The argument made sense, and Phoebe couldn’t explain why she didn’t accept the logic. Adam choosing to leave his life in town and move out to the country just because of her seemed too big a sacrifice for a man like him to make. “I think I’ll take my tea and go back to bed for a while.”
“Good idea. The vet is coming to my place in about an hour, so I’ll take off and come back when he’s finished. I’ll bring some soup with me—you need to eat something.”
“Thanks, Jacquie. What would I do without you?”
“If you were smart, you’d call Adam. And he’d come, you lucky woman, you.”
Phoebe shook her head. “Give it up, why don’t you?”
On the other hand, she thought, crawling back into the bed Adam had made for her, why should she expect her friend to accomplish something she herself couldn’t do?
BURIED UNDER OVERDUE paperwork, Adam snarled when the intercom buzzed late Wednesday afternoon. “What?”
Fortunately, the only person who scared his secretary was his mother. “Phoebe Moss would like to speak with you.”
Though he hated phone calls, his mood improved on the instant. “Thanks. J-Jody?”
“Yes, sir?”
“S-sorry.”
“You’ve still got my vote.”
Grinning, he picked up the phone. “How are you?”
“Much, much better.” She did sound stronger, though far from well. “That’s why I called.” A pause, then an audible breath. “You really don’t have to come back out here tonight,” she said in a rush. “I mean, you might not have been planning to, but I wanted to catch you before you left, if you did, so that you didn’t make the trip. Because I’m better, really, and the fever hasn’t come back at all, I’ve eaten the soup Jacquie brought and some toast, spent the day drinking juice and tea, and I’ve fed the dogs already and Jacquie will do the horses. So…”
“S-so you don’t n-need m-me anymore?” He meant to tease her a little.
But she took him seriously. “Oh, Adam, no. Don’t think that.” Her voice thickened. With tears? “I am so grateful for what you did and I can’t believe I wasn’t even conscious enough to know you were here. I just want to spare you more trouble, and I know you have campaign events, and Tommy’s going to have a fit—”
“Phoebe. Phoebe, s-stop.” He held on to the phone with both hands, since he couldn’t hold on to her. “I was teasing, honey. It’s okay.” Listening intently, he tried to decide if she was crying. “I’m g-glad you’re b-better. That’s all that m-matters. You’re not c-crying, are you? Please say n-no.”
She sniffed, and sniffed again. “N-no.”
The little joke reassured him, even though she was lying. “I’ll stay in town, if it’ll m-make you feel b-better. Promise me you’ll c-call Jacquie if your fever c-comes b-back. Will you d-do that?”
“I promise. I’ll be okay.”
“I know you will.” He wouldn’t, though. Hanging up was going to feel like cutting off a hand.
“So,” she said, after a few seconds of silence, “do you have an event tonight?”
“N-not official. There’s a h-homecoming rally at the high school. Tommy wants me to show up and shake hands.”
“Are you very behind at work?”
He looked at his stacked desk, his littered floor. “Only a little.”
“You’re lying.”
“A little.”
“I’ll let you go back to what you were doing.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“No, you don’t. Take care, Adam. And thank you so much.”
“You’re very welcome. You g-get well.” He glanced at his calendar. “Don’t worry about any of the c-campaign stuff. I’m hoping you’ll be well enough to c-come with me to that s-speech for the League of Women V-voters n-next week. Pretty important.”
“I’ll take some extra vitamins to get ready.”
“That’s a plan. S-sleep well, Phoebe.”
“Bye.”
Phoebe hung up the phone and blotted her wet cheeks with the sleeves of her gown. She’d done the right thing, and sometimes doing the right thing hurt. Adults knew and accepted that fact of life.
So who wanted to be an adult, anyway?
Willa had canceled her appointments for the rest of the week, and both she and Jenna insisted they would change the door locks if Phoebe tried to come to work. So she stayed home. Jacquie brought over more soup, a chicken-and-rice casserole and a pumpkin pie. “Lots of iron,” she insisted. “
Good for you.” Erin gave Brady and Cristal some exercise in Dixon’s honeymoon absence, and they all walked down to watch Samson dominating his empty pasture. By Sunday morning, Phoebe felt like herself completely, and was only deterred from a full day’s work outside by the chilly rain pouring down when she woke up.
So she would work inside, after church. She dressed, went to the service at the little chapel she’d found not far from her farm, and then, for a treat, decided to drive into New Skye for lunch at the Carolina Diner. Good food and Abby’s friendly smile would complete her cure.
And maybe Adam would be there, too. They’d talked several times over the last few days, but she’d insisted he get back to his regularly scheduled life and not come out to see her. He’d complied, though whether with relief or regret, she couldn’t tell. He didn’t like using the telephone, so she tried not to keep him talking long.
The first thing she noticed, when she stepped inside the diner, was that his regular booth was occupied by someone else. After the surge of disappointment, she then noticed that the entire room had gone quiet. Phoebe looked around and realized that all eyes were on her.
In an instant, the noise picked up again, even louder than before. But she still felt the prick of observation as she found an empty table for two up near the counter.
“What’s up?” Abby brought her a cup of hot tea. “Feeling better?”
“Much, thanks. And you tell me what’s up. Why are they staring?”
For once, this frank, honest woman avoided her gaze. “I…um…” Abby glanced around the diner, and at all the customers, who now stared at something else. “Oh, hell. You’re in the paper today, Phoebe.”
Her recovered appetite vanished. “Is the picture that bad?”
“The picture’s good.” Abby went behind the counter and came back with a folded newspaper section. “You might as well see. And you should order before you read it.”
“No, thanks. I don’t think I’ll be staying.” If Abby was this upset, the article must be devastating.
Abby put a hand on Phoebe’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’ll be okay. I know you will. Your tea is on the house.”
Great. Free tea meant really bad news. Phoebe took a sustaining gulp, opened up the folded paper, and prepared to meet her doom in front of the Sunday lunch crowd at the Carolina Diner.
THE POUNDING ON HIS FRONT door pulled Adam away from his account books in the dining room, where he’d been buried since about 7:00 a.m. “C-coming. D-dammit, Tommy, keep your pants on.”
But when he flung open the door, Phoebe was the one standing there, breathing as if she’d run a marathon. “I’m s-s-sorry,” she said. “S-so s-sorry.”
“What are you talking about?” Hands on her shoulders, he pulled her into the house and shut the door. “You’re wet. Where’s your c-coat?”
“Did you read this?” She held up a soggy newspaper. “Did you read it?”
“N-no. Sit.” He set her on the couch and went for a blanket and towels. “Take off your shoes. D-did you walk here?”
“I c-can’t believe it.” Her teeth chattered, but more worrisome was the wildness in her eyes. “She p-put the w-w-worst p-possible interpretation on anything anybody told her. I talked to my family last weekend. They didn’t even m-mention they’d s-s-seen her. D-damn them. Oh, d-damn them.” With the newspaper still clenched in her fist, Phoebe put her head on her knees and sobbed.
“Don’t. Shh.” Adam tried to put his arms around her, but she fought him.
“Read it.” She shoved the paper at his chest. “J-j-just read it.”
With the sound of her crying as a background, he did as she said.
This was the companion piece to the earlier article on Kellie Tate. Samantha Pettit had gone to Atlanta, had interviewed Phoebe’s family, friends and co-workers, her professors at college and some of the women in her dormitory. The picture drawn from those interviews showed an aloof woman who didn’t talk much, didn’t mix well with other people, a woman who shunned her family and eventually abandoned them.
Even worse, the article created the image of a trusted therapist who encouraged a young boy’s crush, then rejected and dismissed him for personal convenience.
Cynthia DeVries’s comments went further, questioning Phoebe’s honor, her motives in becoming engaged to him, her honesty and personal values.
The fact that the woman in the article bore no resemblance at all to the real Phoebe Moss was small consolation.
Adam let the paper drop to the floor. “Phoebe, honey—”
The phone rang. There wasn’t much doubt about who would be calling. “Hey, Tommy.” The ensuing diatribe didn’t require answers, so he simply listened until Tommy took a breath. “Phoebe is here. We’ll talk later.” Then he unplugged the phone from the wall.
When he turned back to her, she was on her feet, slipping into her wet shoes. “You’re n-not going anywhere.”
She pushed her hair back from her face. “I’m g-going h-home. But…” Swiping the heels of her hands over her cheeks, she took a breath that shook. “I w-w-want you to announce that I broke up w-with you. As soon as p-possible.”
“Phoebe—”
“You and-and T-Tommy can f-f-figure out the best way to h-h-handle it. Nobody’s going to blame you, or even ask qu-questions. I won’t comment to anybody about anything.” The smile she tried failed miserably. “And you’ll still h-h-have my v-vote.”
“No. No way.”
“You h-have to, Adam. You deserve to w-win this election, because you care about the city and its people. I know what T-Tommy said just now, and I know that he’s right. As long as I’m on board, the voters will run like lemmings over a cliff, away from you.”
Unfortunately, that was pretty much exactly what Tommy had said. “S-so, in the interest of my election, I should d-dump my fiancée over a little n-negative publicity?”
“A m-massive amount of negative publicity. Y-y-yes.”
“What kind of man would do that to the woman he loves?”
“A smart one. Especially when…when it’s all pretend, anyway.” She stood with her fists clenched at her sides. “But if you w-won’t do it, I will. I don’t w-want to see you anymore, Adam. Our engagement is officially over.” A quick turn on her heel, and she headed for the door.
“The hell it is.” Adam got there before she could touch the knob, put his arms around her and pulled her back against him. “You don’t really think I’m going to let you go, do you?” He bent his head, breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. “You’re what I’ve looked for all my life. I’m not giving you up now.”
“Adam.” Phoebe struggled, but he had too strong a hold on her body, on her heart. With a moan of protest at her own need, she turned in his arms and dragged his head down so their lips could meet.
Mind, logic, reason…gone. Yesterday, tomorrow…irrelevant. Only now mattered, only the desire arcing between them in the safe, solid fortress of Adam’s home.
She wasn’t sure how they got to his bedroom, didn’t know if she’d led or followed. The light was dim, the walls dark blue, the bed firm as she lay beside the man she loved, staring into eyes that seemed to take on the darkness surrounding them. His hands moved over her, a quest for knowledge, for experience, in an adventure she was only too glad to share. Phoebe touched in return, learning the planes of his chest, the angles of collarbone and shoulder blade, the beautiful symmetry of his legs. Their mouths clung, teased, wandered to taste and test, then met again in a frenzy of deep, drowning kisses.
“Phoebe.” He whispered her name as the delirium built, as control started to shred. “Phoebe, tell me when. I want this to be perfect, but I’m not sure…” He broke off with a groan as she touched him.
Like the sudden flare of a match, she understood what he meant. That she was the first woman to know him so completely filled her with surprise, with awe, with an incredible gladness. Shaken and more aroused than she had ever been, Phoebe drew Adam deeply into her embrace, then broug
ht him home.
ADAM ONLY REALIZED HE’D fallen asleep when he woke up. An apology came instantly to his lips, but then he realized that Phoebe was asleep, too. Smiling, he closed his eyes and relaxed. He was glad to be awake—this was too good to miss a single minute.
She lay curled against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her palm weighting the beat of his heart. Small, soft, and yet she had such incredible strength: she’d pulled his soul from his body, sent him crashing and sliding through ecstasy, and then put him back together in an entirely new way. Nothing, nothing, would ever be the same again.
“Mmm.” She stirred, smiled, snuggled closer.
“That covers it,” he agreed.
“Speaking of covers…” They managed to get underneath the sheets and the quilt without letting go of each other.
“Better?” He loved smoothing her hair over her shoulder, every so often touching the velvet skin underneath.
“Better than perfect? Nope. Just…good.” She was quiet so long, he thought she’d gone back to sleep. “Adam? I’m really honored.”
He felt his cheeks heat up. “I d-don’t know what to say to that.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” She turned around so they could look at each other. “But you trusted me in a way you haven’t trusted another woman. That’s the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Setting his hand along the line of her jaw, Adam stroked his thumb over her pink, kiss-swollen mouth. “I should’ve d-done it sooner.”
She returned the pressure with her lips…on the pad of his thumb, and at the base, and then in the center of his palm and at the pulse of his wrist. “I thought so at the time. Maybe I was wrong.”
He drew a deep breath. “It’s getting a little warm under all these blankets.”
Phoebe flung off the covers, then returned to her kisses. “Better now?”
“Ah…no.” Fire licked its way through his veins. “What’s that saying? Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder?”
She fell away from him, laughing. “Idiot.”
The Last Honest Man Page 19