by Kelly Lane
I couldn’t imagine what was going on. Were we in mortal danger? Were the guys in military fatigues hunting for us?
Still pressed on top of me, I could feel Buck adjust himself as he tried not to squash me. Somehow, he supported himself while still covering me with his body. It must’ve taken incredible strength. We lay that way in the brush, without a word whispered between us, for what seemed like fifteen minutes or more. I felt Buck’s every breath as his chest heaved above me, his puffs of expired air tickling my ear. I remembered the way he used to tease me when we were in high school, blowing in my ear because he knew it made me crazy.
As we lay that way, I realized that despite the danger, I’d nestled comfortably under Buck’s muscled warmth—his smooth, honeyed skin mingled with whatever that scent was that he wore; it was a mix of powdery freshness and Oriental spices. Wearing a tee shirt and jeans, he felt good against my skin. No, he felt great. And I couldn’t help but think about how happy we’d been together long ago. I’d never been happier.
And I’d tossed it all away for Dex.
I felt a hot tear pool out of my eye before it hit the dirt beneath me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Buck bent his head close to my ear and whispered, “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Babydoll.” I felt his lips brush my ear.
Had he kissed me? My heart thumped. Something low in my abdomen flipped as I felt Buck tighten his hand softly around my wrist.
“No,” I whispered, “I mean, I’m sorry that I left you.”
“Left me?”
“At our wedding.”
Buck tightened for a moment. Maybe not. He put his mouth to my ear and whispered, “Forget it.”
“It was . . .”
“Shhh,” he whispered close to my ear.
I knew that Buck was watching, scanning the woods around us for more military men. Clearly, he knew what was going on. Why were they there? Maybe we’d never come out alive. It seemed as good a time as any to finally come clean.
I have to tell Buck what happened.
“Remember when we were engaged, and I was in college . . . the time I went to Manhattan to be a bridesmaid in Bibi’s wedding?”
Bibi Bambolari had been my roommate at Mount Holyoke College. Her father owned the Bambolari fashion house in Italy.
Buck put his head down close to mine. Then he whispered, “Wedding in Saint Pat’s Cathedral. Reception at the Pierre.”
“Everyone who was anyone in the fashion world was there.”
Buck nodded. Then he whispered, “You came home and couldn’t stop talking about it. You beamed for days.”
“There was a guy in the wedding party. From Boston. He liked me.”
Buck nodded again. “Of course he did. Here.” He got up off me, offered me his hand, and pulled me up off the ground.
“Is someone going to shoot us?” I whispered.
“I hope not,” he whispered back, dragging me through the woods behind him. He moved like a cat between the trees. I stayed close to him and kept whispering in his ear.
I have to tell him.
“We were paired up at the wedding—just as friends. He knew that I was engaged.”
Buck nodded as he pressed on into the woods. He seemed to know where he was going. I stayed as close to him as I could, almost pressing myself against his back as we scurried through the trees.
“Except he kept in touch afterward. Kept asking me to come visit him in Boston.”
Buck wasn’t looking at me as he pressed on. Still, I knew he was listening.
“His family had horses and sailboats. And he traveled for work. He sent me gifts—perfume from France, silk scarves from Japan, chocolates from Belgium. He even invited me to Paris.”
“Paris?”
I nodded, oblivious to the fact that Buck couldn’t see me behind him.
“Let’s make a run for it,” Buck said, tightening his grip on my hand. And he took off even faster. Quickly, I charged behind Buck as he sprinted through the woods, zigzagging this way and that, between the trees and bushes. It was all a blur as the briars tore at my legs. Just inches behind him, I simply focused on and followed his hard-bodied form as he glided stealthily and easily through the thicket.
Buck moved like a panther through the trees.
A few minutes later, I was huffing and puffing when we reached a gravel path. As we pressed onward, I noticed the landscape changing. Soon, it became more open. And there were fewer longleaf pines and more hardwood trees and shrubs. Here and there were some boulders. Finally, Buck slowed to a jog, and we followed the gravel path to a high stone wall with an open black iron gate. I noticed a security camera mounted high up on the wall. With Buck still holding my hand, he led me through the gate.
On the other side, it was like the world opened up into a fairy tale. Buck closed the gate, and we faced acres and acres of majestically landscaped lawns and gardens, which flanked the magnificent, French chateau–styled Greatwoods mansion, sitting high on a knoll.
“Glad to see you’ve kept in shape, Babydoll,” said Buck. Then he started running toward the mansion.
“Wait!”
I wasn’t finished. I hustled right behind Buck. Even though I was an experienced runner, it took all I had to keep up with him as he raced up the knoll toward the great house.
“Listen!” I cried. “I’m not finished. I . . . must . . . explain. Please! Being with him . . . with Dex . . .”—I huffed—“made me . . . realize . . . how small-town, how ignorant . . . I was. There was a whole world out there waiting for me. I didn’t want to come home and be a farmer’s wife . . . not then, anyway. But it wasn’t about you . . . really . . .”
Buck turned and started to say something, but I raised my hand and kept yammering as we scampered over an immaculately manicured, lush green lawn.
“For the first time . . . I realized . . . how sheltered I’d been . . . I wanted to see more . . .”
I was having trouble breathing while running and talking. Still, I was determined to get it out.
Once and for all.
“I was just . . .” I jogged a few more steps as Buck kept moving like a panther—quick, smooth, and sure—up the hill toward the formal gardens and terrace. “. . . a small-town farmer’s . . . daughter from . . . the boonies. Other than college . . . I’d never been anywhere . . . dated . . . or been with anyone . . . other than you . . . It made me feel . . . unsure . . . of who I was . . . what . . . I wanted. How could I . . . commit . . . to you . . . when I felt . . . so unsure . . . about myself?”
I was completely out of breath.
“We can walk now,” said Buck as he slowed.
I stopped, put my hands on my knees, and took in some deep breaths while Buck stood and watched me. Then I stood and took in the Greatwoods mansion. The place reminded me of the Rosecliff mansion in Newport, Rhode Island, which I’d often visited. Rosecliff was designed by architect Stanford White to resemble a small version of the Grand Trianon of Versailles in France. And like Rosecliff, Greatwoods was built in a similar vein during the Gilded Age of the late nineteenth century by cotton magnate Duke Dufour and his railroad heiress wife, Dina Abbot Dufour—the same couple who’d built the local library before donating it to the town. It’d been the summer playground, hunting retreat, and lavish party palace for some of the world’s most rich and powerful people. In addition to the main mansion, the mega-thousand-acre Greatwoods Plantation had numerous hunting lodges, stables, guest cottages, barns, and more.
I wanted to stop and take it all in slowly—the stunning mansion, the lawns, the topiary gardens—except, already Buck was walking.
I hurried to catch up.
Clad in white terra-cotta tiles, the residence was basically H-shaped with an arcade of arched windows and Ionic pilasters and columns that ran across a central loggia. There was
a second story with French doors to balconies outside. A balustrade ran along the edge of the roofline. Much of the interior was lit that night—early morning, I should say. It all looked warm and glowy inside, including the space behind the loggia and some upstairs rooms.
Apparently, Ian Collier was a night owl.
Buck and I hiked toward a massive and well-lit stepped terrace with a huge pool flanked by big fountains, marble benches, lots of statuary, and well-tended gardens with topiaries. As we neared the back of the mansion, the flowering shrubs sweetened the summertime air. Fountains gushed water around the pool. It was easy to imagine the many exuberant and extravagant Gatsby-like parties that took place during an earlier, more extravagant era. The fresh scratches on my legs from the briars were beginning to bleed and sting.
“Remind me,” I asked Buck, “why were we running?” I stopped atop the knoll, putting my hands on my knees. I bent over again, trying to catch my breath. My head pounded and my face was hot.
“No reason after we hit the gate,” said Buck with a grin. “I just wanted to see if you’d keep up.”
I smacked him on the shoulder. His arm was like a rock.
“Ow!”
Buck huffed a little laugh. It made me mad that he wasn’t even breathing hard.
We pressed on toward the Greatwoods residence, finally reaching the terrace steps. We climbed to the pool area. Huge marble cherubs danced around up-lit gurgling fountains. I felt so hot and tired—pretty gross, actually—it was all I could do not to jump into the crystalline water in the fancy tiled pool. Looking around, I couldn’t imagine living in such luxury.
Buck strode across the terrace like he owned the place.
“Wait! I’m not finished!” I cried.
After eighteen years, I needed to get it all out. Finally.
“You don’t have to explain,” Buck answered with a wave of his hand.
“Yes. I do.”
Buck stopped and took me in. I saw a flash of that keen look he gets when he’s on a case. Alert. Cunning. Like a wild animal who hears something approaching. Then he nodded and motioned for me to follow him around the pool. We headed toward a lit area at the back of the building—what looked to be a service entrance in a corner of the mansion. Near the door was another carved marble bench flanked by two potted evergreens trimmed to look like stags. Buck motioned for me to sit down.
“I’m listening, Babydoll.”
“Okay. Here goes,” I said, seating myself.
Buck sat on the bench next to me.
“On that day,” I continued, “the day we were to be married”—I hated the sound of my own voice— “the Boston guy called me.”
“Dex Codman.”
“Yes. Dex. He was several years older than me. A year or two older than you, actually. Anyway, he’d flown down from New England in his corporate jet and said that he’d come to ‘save’ me. He said I was too good to be a simple farmer’s wife living in Georgia swampland. He’d show me a world that I’d never known. Never dreamed of. We’d travel together. Go to Paris. Milan. Hong Kong. There’d be a home in Chestnut Hill. A summerhouse on Martha’s Vineyard. We’d host parties for some of the most influential people in the business world. And he said he’d support my dream to attend graduate school—I’d wanted to study art history, remember?”
Buck nodded. “And did he tell you that he loved you?”
“What?”
“Did he tell you that he loved you?”
“Of course he did. Well, I think . . . No . . . Actually, I don’t remember. It was so long ago. I’m sure he did.” Had he told me that he loved me? “He’d been like someone from a fairy tale, you know? Handsome, rich, powerful, educated. And I thought he made me feel safe.”
“I didn’t make you feel safe, Babydoll?”
“Of course you did. I was just . . . so young. And confused.”
Buck nodded. “So you ran.”
“Yes. I . . . I ran. Everything that he said made me doubt everything that I thought I knew about myself. About us. It was the first time that I could imagine a different sort of life. Something other than living here, in Abundance. I was so naive. I was in college. I thought that I knew everything . . .” I shook my head. “And I was blinded by his smooth style.”
“And his money?”
“Yes. I admit it. Young and foolish, I was smitten by his money. I’d never imagined living the way he did. Traveling to the places he went. Possessing the kinds of things that he and his family had. They owned racehorses! But it was more than that. There was his education. And his Boston heritage. I was curious. I mean, the Brahmins were the people who started the Boston Symphony Orchestra, the Museum of Fine Arts, the Peabody Essex Museum, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, WGBH public broadcasting . . . so many wonderful things and places! And I was hungry and greedy for all of it. And I guess, somewhere inside, I wondered why my own mother ran away from us when we were little. What had she known that I didn’t? What had she discovered, out in the world away from Abundance, after she left us? Why had she never returned? Surely, I was missing something . . . great.”
Buck just nodded.
“Of course, things ended badly, to say the least. And when I finally realized what a colossal mistake I’d made, after what I’d done to you, to your family, to my family, to everyone, I was too ashamed to come back and face you.”
“So, you stayed in New England, all that time—for eighteen years—because you were too embarrassed to come home?”
“Yes.” I looked at the ground. “And ashamed.”
Now that I’d said it, finally, after all those years, I felt somehow greatly relieved and terribly sad and stupid at the same time. I heaved a deep breath. Something twisted and ached in my gut as I felt my eyes fill with tears. How could I have been so spoiled? So selfish? So stupid and uncaring? I was still embarrassed about how I’d behaved. How I’d hurt the people who loved me. And although I hadn’t told Buck the entire story, I’d told him enough. At least for that moment.
“I’m so sorry.”
Buck said nothing.
“I’ve never told anyone. Not even Pep or Daphne. Oh crappy,” I said, wiping a hand across my face. I was embarrassed to be so weepy in front of Buck. What a mess. “None of them ever knew why I left you. And none of them ever knew about my relationship with Dex.”
“Even after you were engaged to marry him?”
I shook my head.
“No. They still don’t. It’s . . . complicated.”
I’d said enough. I didn’t want to say any more. Especially something that might implicate me in a murder. At least, not until I had more time to figure it all out for myself. Although, deep inside, I knew that I just wanted to bury all the bad things that had happened between me and Dex . . . forever.
“I feel terrible about how I treated you. I’m sorry. Really sorry,” I whispered. “It was all a mistake.”
I was trying desperately to hold back eighteen years’ worth of tears. “I wish I could take it all back,” I whispered.
“Babydoll.”
I was making it all about me, and it shouldn’t have been. For once, I needed to take Buck’s feelings into account. Put him first.
Of course, I wondered if he still had any feelings left for me. Other than hurt, disgust, and disappointment. And then, of course, there was Debi . . . What the heck had been going on at the Roadhouse earlier? Why had Buck ignored me? And what was happening between me and Buck all these hours later? It was like he wasn’t even the same person . . .
Buck let out a slow sigh.
“God, you’re a mess, Babydoll.”
When I finally turned and looked at Buck sitting next to me, studying me, his deep brown eyes appeared like soft pools of chocolate. This was the man I remembered loving. Not at all the icy cool man who’d been with Debi in the Roadhouse earlier.
&nb
sp; Buck reached out and dabbed a bloody scratch on my knee with his hand. I caught a little whiff of his powdery, spicy fragrance. Then he smiled softly before he cupped his big hands around my cheeks and pulled my face toward his. He held me close. I could feel his eyelashes brush against my cheek. His muscled chest heaved in and out next to mine as his warm breath fell against my neck. Then slowly, he turned my head to face his, and with a fervency and tenderness I’d never known, Buck pressed his warm, wet lips into mine and kissed me, long and slow.
That’s when my insides melted into a million pieces.
CHAPTER 33
The Greatwoods service door flew open.
“Well, well, well! Lookee who the wind blew in,” tittered Precious with a silly grin. “At it again, you two?”
Precious laughed raucously. She wore a long silk kimono with multicolored butterflies and flowers patterned over it. And a multicolored silk turban on her head. And, yes, she was wearing Louboutins, even in the middle of the night.
Maybe she sleeps in them, I thought.
I pulled back from Buck and jumped up from the marble bench. Buck took his time standing, then took his finger and wiped the tear from my face before turning to face Precious.
“Miss Darling,” Buck said too politely with an unfazed expression. “Miss Eva and I were just about to step inside. She’s looking for Dolly.”
“Uh-huh,” Precious said with a wink. “It don’t look to me like you two were about to step inside.” Precious stepped back and gave me a look. “Lawdee, Sunshine, what happened to you? You two been makin’ whoopee in the prickers?”
She roared with laughter.
I looked down. My arms and legs were covered with bloody scrapes and scratches. And my poor skort was riddled with tears and pulls from all the woods. Buck raised his eyebrows and said nothing.
“Don’t you ever not wear those ridiculous spiky shoes?” I asked Precious.