His skin was nearly white in the candlelight, his eyes sunken. “Both of the young men I hired to make problems for Jake and Jared had specific instructions that no one was to be hurt.”
“But people were hurt,” she said tightly. “Savannah and Emma almost died in the barn fire, and Jared was nearly killed when his compressor blew up.”
Carlton’s face twisted with anger, and the glow from the candle created a frightening mask. “Those men were incompetent. Idiots.”
Though she hated to leave Hannibal’s side, Jessica moved toward Carlton. “Yeah. It’s impossible to find good help these days, isn’t it?”
“Precisely.” He nodded his agreement, completely missing the sarcasm. “So with you, I decided to handle business myself. It’s easy to stop a few shipments or lose an order.”
“That was you?” She stared at him in disbelief. “How?”
“You’re so naive, my dear. Money, of course. I have a great deal of it. Grease a few palms, as they so coarsely say, and anything is possible.”
“And the fire in the saloon?”
“Yes, my dear. I’m afraid so.”
Even faced with the truth, she couldn’t believe it. Myrna’s father had always used his money to get what he wanted, but she’d never known him to be mean. “How could you do this? We’re family.”
He shook his head. “Myrna’s my only family. After her mother ran away with another man, I made a vow that my little girl would have everything she ever wanted. I kept that vow, too. Until your father died and left her with no land. Stone Creek was the one thing I couldn’t buy her. You were all too damn stubborn to sell.”
He started to cough then, a deep exhausting cough that left him gasping for air.
“Myrna doesn’t know about this, does she?” Jessica asked when he’d composed himself again. “What will she say? Will she want land you cheated from us?”
Her question obviously distressed him. He pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket of the blue sports coat he wore and wiped at his brow. “She’s not going to find out.”
“I’m going to tell her, Carlton. I have to.”
There was fear in his glazed eyes, something that Jessica had never seen before. He slipped his handkerchief back into his pocket, then reached behind him and locked the side door of the church. He threw the key into the darkness, and she heard it land somewhere with a metallic clink. “You can’t do that, Jessica. I won’t let you.”
She looked to the front doors of the church and gauged the distance. She could outrun him and get back to her truck.
“I already locked those doors, too,” he said calmly.
She still couldn’t believe he would actually hurt her, but she realized he wasn’t the same man she’d known all these years. “Carlton,” she said softly, “you’re sick. Let’s go back to the hotel and talk.”
“I’m dying, you know.” He moved closer to the altar and stared at the candle’s flame. “Myrna thinks it’s just a little case of stress and overwork. But I only have a few weeks left.”
“Then spend it with Myrna. Stop trying to buy her things. Give her yourself for whatever time you have left.”
He shook his head slowly and picked up the candle. The flame wavered, sending grotesque shadows over his face. “This is the last thing I can do for her. The last thing I can give her. I’m sorry you found me here, Jessica. I truly am fond of you.”
He pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket. When he opened the bag and pulled out a rag, Jessica smelled gasoline.
Oh, God, no! He was going to set the church on fire!
She forced herself to remain calm, but her insides were shaking. “Don’t do this. Please. I’ll sell you my land, Carlton. All of it.”
He hesitated for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, my dear, but I commend the effort. I also want to thank you for firing Dylan. It was terribly difficult to get around the man when he was here, and my time was quickly running out.”
She reached toward him as he lifted the candle to the rag. “No! Carlton. Please, no!”
“Nooooo...”
Another cry echoed Jessica’s. The hollow desperate cry of a woman. It filled the church with its anguish. Carlton paused, confused at the unseen voice. A cold breeze lifted the ends of Jessica’s hair, swirled around her, then circled Carlton.
The candle went out and they were in darkness.
The smell of sulfur lingered in the heavy air. Jessica couldn’t see Carlton, but knew he was close. She heard the strike of a match, but there was no flame. Blindly she stumbled toward the man, determined to do whatever necessary to stop him.
A furious pounding from the front of the church made her scream.
“Jessica! Open the door!”
Dylan! It was Dylan! Relief poured through her as she turned and felt her way along the pews. “I can’t. They’re locked,” she yelled.
He continued to pound, yelling her name. She was almost to the front of the church when a cold hand—Carlton’s—wrapped around her arm and dragged her to the floor. She hit her head on the corner of a pew and white spots swam before her eyes.
Carlton lit another match. The flame burst to life, casting eerie shadows over everything. He lifted the match to the rag.
The front doors of the church flew open. Dylan rushed in, then froze at the sight of Carlton with the rag and the lit match.
“You’re too late, Mr. Grant,” Carlton said, bringing the match to the rag. “Too late.”
It was no breeze this time, but a strong wind that blew through the church. Cold and furious, it swept over them, pulling the rag from Carlton’s hand and nearly pushing Dylan back. The match went out again, and a woman’s cry was distinctly heard over the roar of the wind.
They were in darkness again. Jessica felt a shuffling around her, but was too dazed to move. She gasped as another match was lit, then breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the man holding it was Dylan. Carlton sat huddled on the floor two pews away.
“Jessica!” Dylan knelt beside her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded slowly. “Dylan, how...why...” She winced as she touched her fingers to her aching skull. “What are you doing here?”
“We’ll talk about it later.” He lit another match and gathered her close with one arm.
She couldn’t stop the shiver running through her. “He was going to burn the church down, Dylan. All this time it was Carlton who wanted Stone Creek—for Myrna.” She pushed away suddenly and tried to stand. “Hannibal! Carlton drugged him. He’s by the back door.”
Dylan helped her up, then made her sit on a pew. “I’ll take care of him, but I’m going to get you back to the hotel first.” He glanced over at Carlton, who rocked back and forth, his head in his hands.
“I can manage on my own. It’s Carlton who needs help,” she said quietly. Dylan started to protest, but she shook her head. “He’s sick, Dylan. Please.”
With a sigh, Dylan nodded. After he relit the altar candle, he helped Carlton to his feet. Jessica stood slowly, then glanced around the church she’d come so close to losing. She breathed a long sigh of relief and smiled.
“Thank you, Meggie and Lucas,” she whispered softly.
* * *
“I still can’t believe this.”
Dylan watched Jake pace the floor in Jessica’s bedroom. The entire Stone family had arrived almost an hour ago and congregated in the room, with Annie and Savannah sitting on the bed where Dylan had insisted Jessica stay put. Emma sat on the floor with Hannibal’s head cradled in her lap. The dog was still groggy, but opened his eyes and wagged his tail every time Emma talked to him.
Jared sat on a chair in the corner, shaking his head. “Carlton, of all people. Why would he risk everything to buy a few acres of land for his daughter?”
“Stone Creek is hardly a few acres,” Jake said.
“Myrna and Carlton don’t know any other way to love each other,” Jessica said. “Money is all they have.”
; “You’re right.” Myrna stood at the bathroom door, her eyes red and swollen from her tears. Carlton was lying down on Dylan’s bed, and she’d been in there with him since she’d arrived.
Twisting her hands, the woman moved hesitantly into the room. “Money has always been the basis for my relationship with my father. Bigger and better meant more love.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “The only problem was it was never enough.”
She started to cry then. Not the manipulating sniffles the Stone children had seen over the years, but true heartfelt tears. Savannah went to the woman and put her arms around her.
“I’m so sorry,” Myrna sobbed. “I didn’t know. Please believe me.”
Jessica reached over and took Myrna’s hand. “We called the doctor, Myrna. Your father may have to go to the hospital.”
She nodded. “He’s ill. I didn’t realize how ill. There’s so much we haven’t told each other.”
“You can catch up,” Jessica said gently.
“We haven’t much time,” Myrna whispered.
Jessica squeezed her stepmother’s hand. “It’ll be enough.”
Dylan watched the exchange between Jessica and Myrna and he realized what true forgiveness was. Myrna’s selfishness, and her father’s obsession had nearly destroyed Jessica’s dream. Yet here she was, comforting the woman.
He could learn a lot from her, he realized. About trust. About the truth.
He just didn’t know if he was brave enough.
* * *
Jessica refused to stay in bed one minute longer.
She threw back the covers, pulled on her clothes and sneaked to the door. She was perfectly all right, for heaven’s sake. A little bump on the head. It was certainly nothing for everybody to get so tied up in knots about. Besides, almost an entire day had passed. Even Dr. Sanders had said she was fine, that all she needed was a little bed rest. So she’d rested enough already.
Unfortunately Carlton hadn’t been so lucky. He’d taken a turn for the worse after everything that had happened, and the doctor had admitted him into a hospital in Midland. Everyone, including Myrna, understood he wouldn’t be coming home.
She peeked into the hallway, half expecting a guard outside her door. The coast was clear.
Quietly she tiptoed down the stairs, hesitating at every squeaky step. Savannah and Annie had fussed over her like mother hens all day, and Jared had nearly carried her back to bed when she’d tried to sneak out after dinner two hours ago.
She was fine, she’d tried to tell him. Perfectly all right.
Except that she was miserable.
But it had nothing to do with the bump on her head and everything to do with a certain six-foot-four dark-haired handsome foreman.
Dylan had left last night with barely a goodbye. He’d had the strangest look in his eyes when he stepped outside with Jared and Jake, and a few minutes later, she’d heard his bike roar out of town. The sound was like a knife through her heart.
She’d known he was leaving. She’d told herself that she was ready for it, that she could handle it. She’d even foolishly told him that she’d manage just fine after he left. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
There’d been a spark of hope last night when he’d shown up at the church. She’d thought for one insane moment that he’d come back for her. That maybe he’d realized—she paused at the foot of the stairs and closed her eyes—he loved her.
She ran her hand over the smooth oak banister and stared at the fine grain of wood. Dylan’s hands had worked wonders with the wood. He had skillful hands, large and rough, gentle, yet demanding. The memory of those hands on her skin and the wonders he worked there brought a shiver to her.
She still didn’t know why he’d come back last night. Perhaps she never would now.
She sighed, calling herself an idiot ten different ways for giving in to her pain. She’d move on with her life. Makeshift would keep her busy, keep her life full, even if her heart was empty.
Cautiously, expecting one of her wardens to jump out at her, Jessica moved into the kitchen.
It was empty. In fact, now that she thought about it, the hotel was quiet. Even Hannibal, who had recovered completely after sleeping most of the day, was nowhere to be seen. “Anybody here?”
No answer.
Hands on her hips, she glanced around the kitchen, then spied a note on the table.
Jess, Thought you might like some privacy. Will stop by to check on you tomorrow. The gang P.S. We let Hannibal out. You might want to go look for him and maybe get some fresh air to clear your mind.
Jessica stared at the note in her hand. They’d left her! Without so much as a goodbye! One minute they were hovering, the next, poof! Gone.
She tapped her foot on the floor and folded her arms. They were up to something. She didn’t know what, but she knew there was something funny going on.
Shaking her head, she grabbed the sweater on a hook by the back door and stepped outside. The air was cool and crisp, and a brilliant ceiling of stars sparkled overhead.
Hannibal was barking down the street by the church. Not an angry bark, more of an insistent, come-here-and-play-with-me bark. Shaking her head, she moved in the direction of the church, then went still as she noticed the light flickering through the leaded glass.
No! It wasn’t possible.
It couldn’t be happening again!
Her heart pounded as she crept toward the open front doors.
And when she looked inside, she froze.
Thirteen
There were candles everywhere. Dozens of them. Inside the doorway, along the pews, on the altar. They swayed to the soft music of Tchaikovsky like hundreds of tiny glowing ballerinas. She stared in amazement and wonder, mesmerized by the display of dancing flames.
And there were flowers. Baskets and vases overflowing with red roses and white lilies. Their sweet scent filled the church.
This was a dream. A beautiful dream. Breath held, she moved down the aisle, taking in every detail, afraid to blink and make everything disappear.
He stood at the end of the aisle, his expression intense, his eyes dark and sensual as he watched her. She stepped in front of him and spread her hands wide.
“Dylan,” she whispered, “what is all this?”
“Tradition.”
“Tradition?”
“I believe you told me that on special occasions, the people of Makeshift lit candles in the church.”
Confused, she looked up at him. “I did, but—”
He put a finger to her lips. “I told you last night we would talk later. We never got that chance.”
“You left,” she said quietly, hoping her voice didn’t sound as desperate as her heart felt.
“I couldn’t stand it. Not being able to hold you, to crawl in that bed with you and pull your body against mine so I could hear your heartbeat and know you were safe.”
She was sure he could hear her heartbeat now it was pounding so loud. “You could have.”
He shook his head. “Your family had a big enough shock. I don’t think Jared and Jake would take kindly to me climbing into your bed.”
She lifted one corner of her mouth. “So you are afraid of my brothers,” she teased.
He moved closer and gently took hold of her wrists, then placed her palms on his chest. “Do you feel that?”
His heart thundered in his chest. She nodded slowly, looking into his eyes.
“It’s not your brothers I’m afraid of, Jessica, it’s myself.”
The movement of his fingers on her wrists created tiny electrical currents that coursed over her arms. It was all part of the dream, she decided, and gave herself up to it. Maybe that hit on the head was a good thing, after all.
“Dean came to see me,” he went on. “Yesterday, right after you left Cactus Flat. He heard I was leaving, and he wanted me to take him and Troy with me.”
Dean wanted to leave with Dylan? “But you can’t—”
He pressed his thumb
to her lips. “I know that. I told him no.”
His thumb, which was now tracing her bottom lip, distracted her momentarily. She pulled in a slow breath, then reluctantly tugged his hand away. “How did he take it?”
“Not well. Oh, he pretended like it was fine, but I felt as if I’d thrown a puppy into the ocean.”
Her heart went out to Dean. He’d known so much disappointment. “What did you do?”
“What I always do when I feel trapped—get the hell out. I started to pack my things when I picked up the gloves you gave me. I sat down and put them on, and thought how well they fit me, how perfect they are.” He tilted up her chin and looked into her eyes. “Like you, Jessica.”
She didn’t dare to believe what he was saying. It frightened her. Because if she was wrong, if she misunderstood, she thought she might die.
“He told me to tell you I was sorry,” Dylan said. “When I told him I had, he said, ‘Maybe you should try harder.’” Dylan brought his face closer to hers. “That’s what I’m doing, Jessica. I’m trying harder, as if my life depends on it. Because it does.”
The hammering of her heart settled to a slow heavy thud. She leaned against him, certain her knees would give out if she didn’t. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you love me.” He brought his lips to hers, but his kiss was no more than a whisper.
The flames from the candles seemed to brighten; the smell of roses and lilies surrounded her. She felt his warm body against her own, felt his lips on hers. This wasn’t a dream. It was real. “Dylan,” she murmured, “the candles and roses. I don’t need all this.”
“I need it,” he said gently. “I wanted to give you everything I’ve never given anyone before. Music and flowers, candlelight. And this...”
He pulled a small box out of his pocket and flipped it open. A cluster of tiny diamonds surrounded a single solitaire. The jewels sparkled in the candlelight.
All she could do was stare. She didn’t even feel the beating of her heart anymore. She was numb. Eyes wide, she looked up at him. “You’ve certainly been busy today.”
Texas Pride Page 16