by Diana Tobin
The counter was bare but for one cookie, smashed and crumbled inside its clear holder, and a key. It was Lynn’s key to the padlock. Not a spare, not a duplicate. The bright red nail polish covering it told him it was hers. She’d marked it to distinguish it from her others.
JC pressed one long finger to the teeth of the key, but left it where Lynn had placed it.
Opening a drawer, he found the little cash box she’d used. There was no money in the box, not a penny, and he remembered the envelope he’d found on the table. Knowing it was from Lynn, he’d ignored it. He felt sure the cash from this box was in that envelope.
He stepped outside, looking for some sign that she’d just taken the day off from the stand. He’d told her to only work when it was convenient for her, when she could spare the time.
Sunflowers remained in the rusted milk can. They’d lost their sunny looks, now drooping on the stems, and a foul odor came from the water. Meaning she hadn’t put fresh water in the can for days. Something she did every morning since she began cutting and placing them here for sale.
The scarecrow, dressed in Lynn’s paint smeared clothes, still held on to the handles of the old wheelbarrow. JC knew he was in trouble when a pile of rags had the ability to glare at him in recrimination.
She was truly gone.
Turning his back on it all, he trudged back up to the house. He didn’t bother to close the door to the stand or lock it. It didn’t matter. Nothing did, now that he’d lost Lynn.
○◊○
Hours later, he couldn’t say what woke him. It could have been the light of the flames or the scent of smoke. He’d fallen asleep in the recliner in the living room, knowing he’d get no rest in his own bed. Not alone. The window beside his chair was open, letting in drifts of smoke. He thought the house was on fire until he stood at the window and saw flames engulfing the farm stand.
Jamming his bare feet into his boots, he grabbed his phone and ran out of the house. JC snagged a hose, turned the water on full blast, and prayed it would reach the fire. He called the fire department even as he sprayed the surrounding area with water.
Other than Lynn’s hard work, losing the stand was no big loss. Having the fire spread, taking out his house and property, or his neighbors’, would be a tragedy.
Dawn was slowly approaching when JC finally sat down on his doorstep. He was covered in soot and mud, his throat raw. He’d been shoveling dirt over the flames when the firemen arrived. Fortunately, the fire hadn’t spread, and the sheriff was talking with one of the fire fighters determining how the blaze had started.
Now that he’d had a few minutes to think about it, he’d like to know how that had happened. He wanted a drink of water. He just had to work up the energy to turn on the hose bib again. Before he could move, three men walked up the drive.
“Benjamin,” greeted the sheriff. “This is Tom Lansing, a volunteer with our fire department.” JC gave a slight nod to the man. “Mr. Owens says he knows you.”
“What brings you out, Wil?”
“Planned to have a talk with you today.” Wil stuck his hands in his pockets and aimed a steely gaze at JC. “Nettie and I heard the sirens. Considering how close they were, thought I should take a look.” He continued to stare at JC. “You remember Nettie, mother to my daughter, Lynn.”
“Don’t be an ass, Wil—”
“Could we tend to the matter at hand?” interrupted Tom Lansing. “The fire was deliberately set. We found a gas can near the road.”
“Who the hell would want to burn down my farm stand?”
“You had problems with anyone lately?” asked the sheriff. “Gotten into any arguments or fights?”
“Hell, no!” he shouted, then rubbed a dirt smeared hand over the back of his neck. “Had a bit of a thing with Pete Landers, but he’s too damn lazy to come over here and burn one of my buildings.”
“What kind of thing?” insisted the sheriff. JC explained how he was going to mow Landers’s field, but the man hadn’t cleaned up the junk as agreed. “Anyone else?”
Wil rocked back on his heels. “I can think of a few people having a problem with you, JC, but none of us would burn down your place. Frankly, I’d rather kick your balls up to your throat. I’d rip out your heart, if you had one.”
“Now, let’s settle down,” said the sheriff.
“Wait a minute,” Tom Lansing jumped in again. “Your name is JC?” Staring up at the blond man didn’t intimidate the fire fighter in the least.
“Yeah. What of it?” JC had come to his feet when Wil started in on him.
Ignoring JC, Tom turned to Wil. “You have a daughter, Lynn?”
“That’s right. Technically, she’s my step-daughter, but as far as we’re concerned, we’re just family.” Wil had removed his hands from his pockets, curling them into fists.
“Does Lynn have a sister, Michaela Reigh?”
“How do you know my girls?” asked Wil, narrowing his eyes at the man.
Tom straightened to his full six feet. “I’m the contractor for the Reigh’s house. Seems Michaela and Lynn had a bit of a…celebration the other night. Something to do with a JC.”
Wil turned his glare on JC in time to see a fist smash into his jaw, knocking JC back on his ass.
“Sheriff, you’ve got an arsonist on your hands.” Tom turned his back on the three men and walked down the drive. What he’d done was completely unprofessional, but in his capacity as a volunteer fireman the worst that could happen was he’d be asked to step down from the force. The sheriff could be after him in the next minute, arresting him for assault, but it was worth it. No one should make a pretty little lady like Lynn cry.
Wil grinned down at JC sprawled on his granite doorstep, then hurried to catch up with Tom Lansing. “Tom?” Patting the younger man on the back, Wil stuck out his hand. “Scours my pride a bit, but I want to thank you for what you did.”
“Just doing my job.”
“Ayah. I can see where punching a man is part of fighting a fire.”
Tom hunched his shoulders a bit. “Jerk will probably have my ass in jail.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” stated Wil. “Let me take you to my wife’s coffee shop to show my appreciation.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
JC scooped up more debris from the fire. The one thing he’d managed to salvage was the sign Lynn had made, JC’s Best. One end was singed and he didn’t know why he bothered keeping it.
Yes, he did. It was all he had of Lynn, other than some great memories.
Fat lot of good memories did him. When Suzanne had finally left him, he’d all but danced in joy. He didn’t have one single good memory of their time together. There had to have been some; however, reality had soured them into nothing.
He was doing just what Lynn had accused; letting the bad times with Suzanne ruin his chance for happiness.
So much for giving it his best.
Backing up the tractor, he went in for another load of broken and burnt lumber. The stand wasn’t worth repairing. If he continued with the business he needed to build a newer, better, bigger building. It wouldn’t happen unless Lynn was willing to be part of it.
He needed her to help plan a new farm stand. One that would allow them to do the things she’d talked about. He needed her to help with the wagon rides to the pumpkin field. He needed her to help decide what he should plant and what they should sell.
He just plain needed her.
He also needed to find out who set the fire. The sheriff had all but accused him of setting the blaze himself. As JC pointed out, if he’d started the fire why did he phone for help? Why did he try to contain the fire instead of letting it spread? And, why would he leave a gas can out when he could put it back where he kept spares behind the barn?
JC didn’t know if his reasoning had gotten through to the sheriff or it was the fact he refused to press charges against Lansing. Either way, he was currently free and wondering what the hell was going on with the
fire fighter and Lynn.
There was one way to find out. Shutting down the tractor, he pulled out his phone.
“The Hair Mousse. Michaela speaking. How may I help you?”
“Hi, Micki. This is JC.”
“Oh.” Her warm greeting turned frigid.
“I had some trouble out here earlier this morning.” When she said nothing, he continued. “One of the firemen was a Tom Lansing. Said he knows you.”
“Yes. He’s a wonderful man. Lynn could do worse than getting involved with a man like Tom. Oh, wait. She has. Is there something you wanted Mr. Benjamin?”
“Are you telling me she and this Lansing are seeing each other?” While JC hadn’t expected effusive friendliness from Lynn’s sister, he hadn’t expected to be hit with ice shards.
“I’m not telling you anything. I know my sister deserves only the best, which is not you.” Michaela hung up before JC could think of a reply.
The call had been a waste of time. He hadn’t learned any more about Lynn and Lansing. All he’d confirmed is that Lynn’s whole family was ready to kick his ass. Just because he deserved it didn’t mean he wanted it. He worked his jaw, still sore from Lansing’s blow.
He’d be damned if he’d just step aside and let someone else move in on Lynn. He’d wanted Lynn Baxter since high school. Hormones had driven him back then, and hormones had done a good job of getting him close to her the past few months.
JC rubbed his aching eyes. Was that all it was? Just sex? If it was just sex, why couldn’t he sleep alone anymore? Why was Lynn constantly on his mind? How many times a day did he think of something he wanted to share with her?
He needed to do some serious reappraisal.
○◊○
Wil had taken great pains to regal Lynn and Nettie with how Tom Lansing had put out the fire at JC’s. For his part, Tom has shrugged it off, claiming he was part of a team.
Lynn served them coffee and muffins and brought the ice pack Wil had requested. “Did you get burned?” she asked Tom.
“No, I uh—” He placed the ice on his bruised knuckles.
“He did something I really wanted to,” said Wil with a grin. “Stung my pride a bit, but any man willing to take up for one of my girls is okay in my book.”
Lynn was torn between grief at what she might have caused, and joy that she had a father willing to live up to the title. “What did you do?”
Puffing his chest out in pride, Wil said, “Wasn’t me. It was all Tom.”
Tom glanced down, away from Lynn. “Could we not discuss it? It wasn’t one of my better moments.”
A laugh burst from Wil. “From my point of view, seeing JC hit the ground was a fine sight.”
Lynn gasped. “What happened?”
“I lost my temper,” Tom growled out. “I expect the sheriff will have a warrant for my arrest any moment. Thanks for the coffee.” He pushed up from the table. “I’ve got a crew to see to.” Ignoring Wil’s protests, Tom left the coffee shop.
Sinking into the vacant chair, Lynn stared at her step-father. “Are you going to tell me what he did?”
Nettie joined them, refilling Wil’s cup. “Yes, Wil, what did you do?”
Grasping his wife’s hand, he said, “Looked after our Lynn. Micki has Ethan to take care of her, unless he’s the one who hurts her, then he’ll answer to me. Marc can take care of himself, but I’d have his back if needed. As for Lynn,” he smiled at her across the table. “I don’t know the whole story, but I’d planned to have a talk with JC Benjamin. Let him know how I felt about him causing my girl any distress.
“When Tom said he suspected arson, the sheriff wanted to know who JC had problems with. I let him know JC wasn’t one of our favorites, but I’d rather kick his…uh, never mind. I let the sheriff know we wouldn’t handle our differences with a fire. Tom sort of took it from there. Did my heart good to see that boy knocked on his ass.” Quickly he picked up his cup and gulped down hot coffee. “I’d’ve probably needed more than an ice pack if I’d punched JC the way Tom did.”
Tears welled in Lynn’s eyes. She tried to blink them back, but they escaped down her cheeks.
“Now, honey,” Wil soothed. “He’s not worth another tear. I’m sure he’s fine, and Tom’s only got bruised knuckles.”
“It’s not… It’s you,” she said softly.
“Me? Ah, hell.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I know I’m intruding, but I’ve loved you since you were a little girl. I couldn’t stand by and see you hurt again.”
Lynn got up and went around the table. She hugged Wil’s neck and kissed his bristly cheek. “You are the best dad. Thank you. I love you.”
Nettie smiled as she grabbed a napkin, turning away to wipe her eyes.
Wil blinked the moisture in his own eyes. “Well, don’t that beat all.” Wrapping his arms around Lynn, he held on for a moment longer.
○◊○
Since she was no longer working at the farm stand, Lynn had plenty of time for making her cookies. Pumpkins, bats, and ghosts were in high demand with Halloween fast approaching. It would be nice to have some real pumpkins for display around the coffee shop. She’d have her mother speak to JC about getting some.
How was he going to sell them now that the stand had burned down? She sighed as she cut more ghosts from the cookie dough. JC, and his farm, were no longer her problem. Still, she couldn’t help wondering who would set the place on fire. Maybe it was an accident, despite what Tom Lansing said. A couple of kids fooling around. Dangerous, but possible.
Lynn smiled, thinking of Wil. What a sweet gesture for her step-father to want to beat up the man who broke her heart. Barbaric, but sweet. Not something that would’ve crossed Ted Baxter’s mind, which just proved, again, he wasn’t much of a father.
The situation with JC was her fault, despite what her family thought. She’d tried explaining that to them, but they wouldn’t listen. Lynn didn’t want to be the cause of a rift between her family and JC. The best she could do was keep her misery from showing and put this failed episode behind her.
Lynn put together a basket of cookies and headed out for Livermore to see Mr. Perkins. He had come into Moose-ley Coffee during the heat of summer and he and Lynn had gotten into a discussion about honey. Lew Perkins raised honeybees and said he’d have jars of honey for sale in the fall. Lynn had offered to sell them at JC’s farm stand. Now that she and the stand were gone, she wanted to let the man know. Perhaps she could sell some at the coffee shop.
Clouds had moved in, bringing an early darkness to the fall afternoon. Lynn shrugged aside the possibility of rain, determined to enjoy the drive through the colors of fall.
She had stayed visiting with Mr. Perkins longer than planned. He’d insisted on giving her a tour of his place, showing off his hives with pride. His wife, Anne, had made tea and served it with biscuits hot from the oven so Lynn could sample the honey.
A drizzle became a downpour and the Perkins’ had refused to let her leave. When the rain let up, Lew loaded boxes of honey jars into Lynn’s car. Promising to return, possibly with her nieces, Lynn headed for home.
She’d enjoyed her time with the couple, thinking how much they were like her mother and Wil. Nettie and Wil each had their own business, but the love shared between them was obvious. Just as the Perkins couple had appeared devoted to each other. A love and devotion she thought she’d had with JC.
Stop it, Lynn! She chided herself. JC was part of her past. She was too impatient. She hadn’t explained her plans for a baby well. He might have given her her heart’s desire if she’d expressed it better. Her true heart’s desire had been to have him and his children, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not as long as he let what happened with his ex-wife control his future.
She’d been guilty of letting her past guide her present and future, but at least she’d been willing to give it a chance. And, she would again, in time.
Her family was pushing Tom Lansing at her, always bringing up his name, expounding
his merits. As for the man himself, he’d begun stopping in for a go-cup when he learned she opened the shop each day. He was a nice man and Lynn liked him, but she wasn’t ready to get involved with anyone at this point. Not even as just friends.
That was how her relationship with JC began. That was, also, how her relationship with Donny began.
Headlights from the car behind shone in her rearview mirror, making her squint harder. Her head and neck were beginning to ache and the glare from the car following didn’t help. Rain began to pelt down. She pulled as close to the edge of the narrow road as she dared to let the tailgater go around her.
Instead, the car came closer. For just an instant, the shape of the silhouette of the person driving made her think of Donny.
She blinked, hoping to clear her eyesight, and concentrated on staying on the road. Puddles appeared from nowhere and potholes were filled with water.
A bump at the rear of her car told her the driver following was too close.
Panic skittered through her, then she breathed a sigh of relief when the other driver slowed down, putting space between them. She moved to the middle of her lane, hoping the person realized what he’d done.
Keeping her eyes on the road ahead she was shocked when something crashed into the back of her car.
Fiercely gripping the steering wheel, she tried to remain calm. She increased her speed a bit, fearing the jerk behind her, and just as fearful of the wet road and lashing rain.
Flicking her gaze from the road ahead, she was again blinded by the glare of lights in her mirror. Before her eyes could adjust to the change in light, the other car rammed into her again.
A scream escaped, becoming curses at the idiot following her.
Lynn needed help. She didn’t dare let loose of the steering wheel to reach for her phone. Instead, she kept her gaze on the road ahead, looking for a turnoff, a crossroads, anything that might be of aid.
She was rammed again just as she hit another puddle.
Her car was headed for the side of the road. Lynn thought she had her car headed back on the road when she was hit again. She struggled with the wheel, but the driver of the other car kept pushing hers.