by Hope Ramsay
“Holy crap. You’ve been holding out on me. What exactly happened when you were stranded on that boat? I want to know the whole story.”
* * *
A strange lethargy infected Topher on Wednesday. For the first time since he’d gone back to swimming, he woke up in pain and didn’t want to move. So he took a pill and slept the morning away.
When he finally dragged himself off to the shower, he was angry—at himself. For backsliding. For taking the pill. But mostly for the aching self-pity that had stolen away his focus. He had a name for this horrible feeling: Jessica.
He didn’t want to think about her, but she’d invaded his mind, leaving him with the chastening conclusion that he’d never wanted anything quite as much as he wanted her.
All the successful strategies he’d used in his past life—money, charm, power, his good looks—would never win her. In fact, there was nothing, really, that he could do to make her love him or want him back. And there were no pills that could touch the ache in his heart.
He ate some cold cereal and took up his spot in one of the rockers on the porch, while he called Erik for a status report on Caleb Tate. There was no question about it; the state representative was up to his ass in shady real estate.
He spent the early afternoon making a few calls, talking to some old friends and acquaintances, until Jackie, wearing his school uniform, came racing across the rose garden. The little boy scrambled up onto the porch railing, his cheeks flushed and his eyes alive with youth and innocence.
The pull of gravity lightened a little with the boy’s arrival. So maybe Topher would never have the family he’d imagined once. Maybe there would be no kids for him to toss a football with. But this little guy had become his coconspirator, and there was an adventure waiting. The thought lifted his heavy heart.
“Mom’s busy doing bookkeeping. She won’t come out of her office for hours. We could steal the shovel from the shed.”
“Let’s do it,” he said, pushing himself up from the chair. They purloined the spade and headed out across the grass, the man limping and the boy skipping like a stone over water.
“So what are we going to do with the treasure when we find it?” Jackie asked.
Damn. Topher hadn’t really thought about that. What if there was no treasure? Really? Of course there wasn’t going to be any treasure. He stopped.
“Look, Jackie, we may never find it, you know?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Someone may have already found it.”
“Yeah, but we might find it.”
Oh, such hope. If only he could have hope like that. “Yeah, I guess we could, huh?”
The kid grinned and rushed ahead to the tree.
“Which way is west?” the boy asked.
“That way.” Topher pointed toward the bay.
“How big is a pace?”
“Good question. I’m thinking Rose’s paces are smaller than mine and bigger than yours.”
They stood with their backs against the tree and walked five paces.
“Let’s dig,” Jackie said.
Topher handed the shovel to the kid. It was almost as big as he was, so he wasn’t all that effective even in the sandy soil. After a few minutes Jackie handed the spade back.
“I’m the cap’n. You’re the crew,” he said. “You dig.” He folded his arms across his narrow chest. His school shirt was already dirty, and it occurred to Topher that explaining the dirt might prove difficult. Ashley was going to have Topher’s ass in a sling before this escapade was over.
But he was surprised to discover that he didn’t care. If Ashley was so sunk in her black-and-white view of the world that she couldn’t, for one minute, admit to miracles or pirates or buried treasure, then he felt sorry for her.
He stared down at the boy and decided maybe believing was better than the alternative.
He got to work, digging a three-foot hole but predictably finding nothing. It was a testament to Jackie’s wide-eyed innocence that Topher didn’t feel immediately discouraged.
“You think someone else found it?” the boy asked, his faith in the treasure palpably real.
“Maybe. Or maybe we didn’t go due west. What if we made a trench north and south along this line?” He indicated the direction.
The kid nodded eagerly, and Topher went back to work. He dug for a good twenty minutes—long enough to wonder what failure might do to Jackie’s simple faith. Had he made a mistake in following the child’s lead?
And then his spade hit something.
“What was that?” The kid’s voice almost leaped from his throat.
“Probably a rock,” Topher said as he stepped on the spade again. But if it was a rock, it was a big one and made a funny sound against the shovel.
Jackie got down on his knees and started pushing the sand out of the hole with his hands, uncovering a piece of wood that might have been a box once.
The excitement and surprise that washed through Topher almost cauterized his cynicism. Holy crap. They had found something!
Topher got down and helped the boy, his heart pounding in his chest as he dug the cool, sandy soil away from the object, which was a small box about eighteen inches wide and about four inches high.
It wasn’t anything like the proverbial treasure chest in pirate movies. The box was flatter and much smaller. And the wood was heavily damaged, falling away in splinters as they tried to excavate it from the soil, leaving only the black corroded hinges and edge details.
“It’s falling apart,” the boy said in an urgent tone as Topher removed the top portion of the box in several long pieces, revealing several additional objects below.
“What’s that?” Jackie asked, pointing to a shiny object that caught the sunlight filtering through the pines.
“It’s an inkwell, I think,” Topher said, pulling a small cut-glass vial from the hole.
“What’s an inkwell?” the kid asked.
He stared up at the child, born in the twenty-first century, and explained about ink and quills. “I think this might have been a writing box.”
“What’s that?”
“It was a place to keep paper and stuff for writing, and it looks like it had a hinge on the top to provide a slightly angled surface to write on.”
“You think this is the box Rose Howland wrote her letters on?”
Damn. The question set Topher back on his heels. What had he just done?
If this was truly an artifact from the eighteenth century, or something that had once been owned and used by Rose Howland, then it deserved to be treated as an archaeological artifact. They should stop digging and start thinking about preserving.
He put the inkwell aside, pulled out his cell phone, and started taking pictures. “I think maybe we should leave this where it is and call someone who knows something about history,” he said.
“But…Mom’s going to be really unhappy about this.”
Topher studied the hole he’d made. He didn’t think there was any pirate treasure here. But there was a mystery that needed solving. The only question was whether Ashley wanted to solve it.
“I’m not sure about that. But you can keep it a secret until I talk to her about it.”
“Okay. But she can get real mad sometimes.”
Topher almost smiled. “I can take it. Don’t worry. I’m going to go get a tarp and cover up what we’ve found for now, and tomorrow I’m going to find someone who knows something about history and archaeology.”
“Okay.”
“But in the meantime, you should start working on your report. Because I think finding Rose Howland’s letter box is cool.”
“Not as much fun as finding treasure,” the boy said, his voice a little disappointed.
Topher nodded. “I guess that’s right,” he said, pushing up from the ground and tousling Jackie’s mop of hair. Topher had to stop himself from giving the kid a hug.
Chapter Nineteen
The moo shu pork sitting in the bag on
the passenger’s seat of her VW made Jessica’s mouth water. She’d worked until almost 6:30 p.m. trying to decide what, if anything, to do about Caleb Tate’s attempted shakedown.
Hillary thought she should do nothing, but the more Jessica examined the situation and her growing feelings for Topher, the more she felt the need to let Topher know what Caleb was up to.
Deciding to confide in Topher was a big step for her. A few weeks ago, she would have shoved Topher and Caleb into the same pigeonhole. But perspectives change. And Topher had forever changed her opinion of him on Monday when he’d asked her for the truth and then listened to it without judging her.
And then he’d said he was sorry.
It occurred to her that no one, not even Momma or Granny, had ever said they were sorry about what had happened to her. Granny still believed what people had said about her all those years ago. Before she died, Momma had expressed some remorse. But she’d only been sorry about Jessica’s refusal to come home earlier.
Until Topher had come along, it seemed like forgiveness was a one-way street.
She left her car and let herself into the garden by the side gate, her heart thumping as she followed the path to his door and knocked. When Topher answered, her already racing pulse went on a wild ride. She hadn’t seen him in a couple of days, but it struck her right then that she’d missed him.
He was wearing one of his many Hawaiian shirts, this one green and purple. His jeans were faded blue, almost the color of his eye, and he stood there in his bare feet looking sexy as sin.
He turned his head a bit to the left, presenting his unscarred side, and she almost called him on it. She’d grown accustomed to his face; the scars would never be something she had to overlook or “get over” as Granny had suggested. And she didn’t think he had a good side or a bad side. He was who he was.
A whole man. A man who had apologized for something that had probably never been his fault. And boy howdy, she could understand that, couldn’t she?
She held up the bag from Szechuan Garden. “I brought moo shu pork.”
“You brought me food?” He sounded vaguely incredulous. And then his gaze moved down her body, as if he were drinking her in. The look sent a flash of desire through her.
“Are you all right? Why are you here?” he asked, as if he’d read the crazy emotions and fears running rampant inside her.
“I’m fine,” she lied. “But I need to talk to you about something important.”
“Okay.” He stepped back from the door.
She crossed the threshold and headed toward the small table in the kitchenette, only to pull up short. The drawings of his ill-fated castle still sat on the table.
“You didn’t throw those away?” she asked, turning toward him.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “No.”
“Why?”
His shoulders rose and fell as he took a breath. “Because I wanted to be reminded of who I am and who I’m not.”
She cocked her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not those drawings. But for a moment I was willing to become that man.”
She didn’t know what to say, and deep within her a slow fire kindled to life.
He seemed to know that he’d surprised her because he pulled his hands from his pockets and rushed forward, crumpling up the drawings and shoving them into the kitchen trash can.
“There, the evidence of our first failure is gone. So”—he turned and faced her—“what did you want to talk about? Something house-related?”
She placed the bag on the table and shook her head. Now that she was face to face with him, she didn’t even know where to begin. So she avoided his gaze and started taking cartons out of the paper sack.
He moved into the kitchen and came back with a couple of plates, which he handed to her. He sat down while she heaped each plate with rice, pancakes, and pork.
“Thanks for bringing food,” he said as she handed him his plate. “I’m starved, and I don’t have much in the pantry.”
She sat down across from him, the aroma of the food filling the space between them. “I came over because Caleb Tate dropped by the office, and he…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to figure out the right way to frame the problem.
“What?” He spat the word into her silence. “What did he do to you? I swear, if he did anything to hurt you, I’ll—” He bit off the rest of his words.
She stared at him. “What? Do you think you’re my protector or something?”
His face colored a little. Of course he did. He was a big, strong man. He was injured at the moment, but that did nothing to change his essential nature.
“Caleb didn’t hurt me,” she said. “He tried to bribe me.”
* * *
“What?” Topher barked the question as a surge of anger coursed through him. If Caleb Tate ever touched a hair on Jessica’s head, he’d ruin him financially and every other way possible.
He ground his teeth in frustration. He wanted to put his fist through the man’s pretty face, but that wasn’t possible now that he’d lost his strength. In a physical altercation, Caleb would take him down in a matter of moments.
Hell, Caleb could have taken him down even when he was young and strong and whole. And it made him cringe to think that he’d been such a coward when it came to the team’s running back. Topher had avoided confronting Caleb about his nasty locker room talk because he’d been bigger and meaner, and Topher hadn’t wanted to screw up the vibe that championship season. In short, he’d been selfish and cowardly—two things he planned to remedy in short order.
No, he couldn’t mess up Caleb’s face, but he didn’t need to do that. He just wanted to.
“He came to my office this morning,” Jessica said, pulling Topher from his fury. “He said a lot of things that were, I don’t know, vague but kind of threatening. Like if I helped him, he’d make sure I won the contract to design the new City Hall. But if I didn’t play nice, he’d make sure I didn’t have any chance of winning the bid.”
“What does he want?” Topher pushed his plate away. He’d lost his appetite.
“He wants me to urge you to invest in something. I don’t know what it is. But he thinks he can use me to get to you, and I’m sure he believes I can help him because of the gossip running rampant in town.”
“Dammit. I’m sorry you’ve gotten mixed up in this.”
“It’s okay,” she said, leaning forward, bracing her elbows on the table. “I just wanted you to know what he was up to. Because I’m not taking his bribe and I don’t think you should invest in anything he’s involved with. As for the City Hall project, well…” She paused a moment, looking away from him, her shoulders hunched. “The truth is I never had any real chance to win that bid. So it’s not that important.”
That was a load of BS. If she didn’t have a chance to win the contract, why the hell was Caleb dangling a bribe? And besides, he could read her body language. That City Hall project was damned important to her.
He was tempted to demand her honesty the way he’d done on Monday. But he held back because he didn’t want to reduce her to tears again. Besides, right this minute, he was too stunned by her bravery.
The irony was rich. People were forever calling him a hero just because he was the quarterback of a team that had won a state football championship. But here, sitting across from him, was someone who had saved lives, who’d endured great pain, and who was as scrupulously honest as the day was long.
His admiration for her swelled.
She wouldn’t have to worry about Caleb for much longer. Topher was well on his way to making that problem disappear. And tomorrow, just to make certain she was protected, he’d make a large contribution to the City Hall building fund and demand a seat at the table.
She would win that contract. And he would never let her know what he’d done. She might never love him, but he would take care of her the way her family should have done years ago.
“I’
m really sorry,” she said, turning back to meet his gaze. “None of this would have happened except for the unrelenting gossip about me.”
“You don’t have to apologize. And what gossip are you talking about?”
She slumped back in her chair, studying the ceiling, as a truly adorable blush seeped up her cheeks. “It’s nothing.”
“Obviously that’s not true. It’s got to be something if Caleb thinks he can get to me through you.”
Her gaze shifted, and those oddly colored eyes of hers seemed to have gone toward the green side of blue. What did that color mean? Anger? Surprise? Desire?
Oh please, let it be desire.
“It’s stupid,” she said.
“Okay. But people act on stupid stuff all the time. Trust me, I’ve seen fortunes lost because of stupidity.”
“Okay,” she said on a long breath. “It’s like this. Since we got caught out in the storm, there are a lot of folks who think we’re an item. And there are a bunch of people who are ticked off at me for dumping Colton.”
Her words hit him like a two-by-four. “What?”
“I told you it was stupid. Two people go out to discuss a house project, get caught in a storm, and poof, the whole town starts making up ridiculous stories.”
“Are they so ridiculous?” he blurted, and immediately regretted the words.
She turned away again, inspecting the fireplace in the sitting room as if it needed a makeover, while the pink in her cheeks blossomed into a red the color of Ashley’s roses.
What should he say now? He had no clue. He was in alien territory. Never had he been the object of rumor or innuendo, and if he had been, he would have put his firm’s publicist on the case and spun the message.
“I just want to be clear,” Jessica said after a tense moment. “Colton and I are not a thing. In fact, I happen to know that he’s got a thing of his own going with someone, but I’m not going to gossip about it.”
“Hooray for Colton,” Topher said in a slightly acerbic tone.
She pushed her chair back, the legs scraping against the wood floors. “Well, I guess I should be going. I’ve delivered my message. I think I’ll just…”