Playing Dead in Dixie

by Paula Graves

  Wes took a deep breath. "She's already told me she's not the settling down type."

  Shannon snorted. "Baloney. She wasn't here a week before she was tangled up in this place. Settled into this little town like she'd lived here all her life. And she loved it." Shannon stood up and looked down at him. "But okay. Let's say she's going to be a rambler for the rest of her life. Ever thought maybe you could ramble with her?"

  To Wes's surprise, a flicker of excitement sparked through him at the thought. The Marines had given him the chance to see the world. And if a lot of what he saw was a nightmare, there had been good parts, too. The ruins of ancient Greece, the ancient holy places in Israel and Saudi Arabia. He'd seen the sapphire waters of the Mediterranean and the breathtaking pyramids of Egypt.

  All experiences he couldn't have sitting behind a desk in the Bangor Police Department until he was old enough to retire.

  The sound of Sarah Jane's hungry howls broke into his thoughts. Shannon turned at the sound. "The parasite's hungry again," she drawled, the snarky words softened by the love shining in her eyes.

  "Go ahead. I'm going to stay out here a little while, if anyone misses me." He watched her go back inside, his mind already drifting back to thoughts of Carly.

  What if he could find her? What if he offered to go with her, wherever she wanted to go?

  Would that defeat her purpose for roaming in the first place?

  He'd never know unless he tried.

  SHE'D THOUGHT IT WOULD be easy to move on, once she got her life back. Her savings account was still in the Atlantic City Federated Bank, enough money to make picking up and moving on a whole lot easier. She paid off the back rent she owed on her apartment and enough extra to make her landlord tear up the lease. None of her furniture was worth much, so she'd paid the landlord's college age son haul it off to Goodwill in his truck.

  She'd met with Agent Phillips and found out that her car had been impounded by the FBI after she disappeared from the casino. He'd helped her get it back last week. She'd gotten her replacement driver's license in the mail a day earlier.

  This morning, she packed all the clothes she'd had to leave behind when she hopped the casino tour bus, stuffed the bag in the trunk of her car, and hit the interstate, heading west.

  She should have been happy as a clam in butter. Free from fear, no longer hunted by Manning or the FBI. Free to use her real name, her real resume. She could go anywhere she wanted, take any job she liked, rent any apartment she could afford.

  So why had she ended up on the front stoop of her mother's tiny house in Downingtown, Pennsylvania, slumped and miserable as she waited for her mother to answer the door?

  The house was a little bungalow, with peeling paint and a sagging awning over the concrete stoop. A weathered wooden plaque hanging on the wall by the door read "God Bless This Home." Carly touched the faded lettering, unexpected tears stinging her eyes. She'd made this plaque in fourth grade art class. She had no idea her mother still had it.

  The door swung open. Carly dropped her hand from the plaque and braced herself for the first sight of her mother in almost six years.

  Bridget Devlin Sandano was only fifty-four years old, but her hard life had added ten years to her pale, freckled face, carving lines of misery in her cheeks and brow. But that tired old face lit up from the inside when she saw Carly. "Lottie?"

  "Hi, Ma. How ya doin'?"

  Bridget smiled. "I was hopin' you'd come and see your old ma. That man from the FBI called to let me know ya hadn't died in that crash—" Her Irish lilt broke off, tears welling in her green eyes."

  Carly's heart dipped, guilt flooding her in big, queasy waves. "I wasn't sure you'd even heard about the crash, Ma. I'm so sorry."

  Bridget touched her cheek. "It's all right, Lottie girl. You're here now. I'll call Lorna and Teresa. They'll be wantin' to see ya."

  "I don't want them have to drop everything."

  "Don't be silly. They miss you as much as I do." Bridget led her into the tiny living room and motioned toward shabby but comfortable-looking sofa. She sat in the worn recliner across from Carly. "Sit down, love. Tell me all about what happened to ya after the crash."

  Carly lowered herself to the sofa, trying to organize her thoughts. What could she say about the last few weeks of her life that wouldn't make her burst into tears?

  But the tears came anyway, spilling into her eyes and down her cheeks as the story came out in soft hiccoughs and sobs. Her mother left the recliner and came to sit on the sofa beside her, wrapping her thin arms around Carly's shoulders. Murmuring soft words of comfort, she listened as Carly told her about Wes, about the little town of Bangor and the people who'd welcomed her into their lives there. She related the nightmare of Dominick Manning's murder attempt and the hell of realizing, when a life with Wes was in her grasp, that she just didn't have it in her to stay.

  Bridget patted her knee and offered her a tissue to wipe her tears. "If the man loves you like you say he does, why'd you run away?"

  Carly dashed her tears away with the tissue. "How can you ask me that? You know what it was like, being trapped in a marriage the way you were. Papa could go anywhere he wanted any time he wanted, and you had to stay at home and raise the kids and try to keep it all together." She stroked her mother's cheek. "You cried every night, Ma. I heard you. I don't want that for me."

  Bridget pushed a lock of hair away from Carly's damp cheek. "I can understand why ya wouldn't want to become your old ma. But I don't see why you have to turn into your papa instead."

  Carly looked at her mother, horror dawning. "You think I'm like Papa?"

  "Have you stayed put for more than a year at a time since you left home?"

  No. She hadn't. She'd spent the last ten years roaming, moving from place to place, breaking leases and quitting jobs whenever she felt the noose begin to tighten. It wasn't an instinct, she realized. It was a habit.

  "Do you love this man, Wes Hollingsworth?"

  Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "Yeah, Ma. I do. I've never known anyone like him. I don't think I ever will again. I'm so. . .homesick for him."

  Bridget smiled. "Then stop runnin' from him. I'd love ya to settle down near me like the other girls, but if you've found a man who's good to ya, who makes ya happy, go back to him. Tell him you're sorry and you'll not leave him again."

  "It's too late."

  "You won't know that 'til you ask him for a second chance, now, will ya?"

  Carly met her mother's gentle gaze, a strange sense of freedom unfurling inside her. She nodded, emotion tight in her throat.

  Bridget smiled. "There, now. Was that so hard?"

  Carly gave a watery laugh, wiping her cheeks. "Can I stay here tonight? I'd like to see Teresa and Lorna before I leave."

  Her mother patted Carly's knee and went into the kitchen to make the calls.

  WES CHECKED THE ADDRESS jotted on the back of Agent Phillips' business card, then looked at the brightly colored sign in front of the restored Victorian on a quiet street in Thorndale, Pennsylvania, a little town just outside Philadelphia. According to Agent Phillips, Carly's sister Lorna worked at the day care as a teacher.

  It was all the help Phillips could give him. "She's already broken the lease on her old apartment. I wanted to update her on the case against Manning's associates, but she'd already left town."

  She'd warned Wes that she wouldn't be staying in New Jersey for long. He just hoped she'd gotten in touch with her sister before she headed to the next new place on her list.

  The police I.D. he showed to the day school's receptionist did little to ease the wariness in her eyes. When he mentioned he wanted to talk to Lorna, her alarm grew "Nothing's wrong, I hope?"

  "No. Actually, I'm looking for her sister. I was hoping Miss Sandano might know where I can find her. Is she still here?" Parked across from the school, watching dozens of pre-school children erupt from inside the house at the end of the school day and line up in fidgeting rows until their parents cl
aimed them, Wes had worried he'd arrived at the day care too late to catch up with Carly's sister.

  "She's still in her classroom. I'll let her know you're waiting." The receptionist motioned toward a line of straight-backed chairs against the wall.

  Wes sat down in one of them, tamping down the growing impatience roiling in his gut. Once he'd decided to chase after Carly, he found himself chafing at anything that made him wait. Talking Phillips into parting with any information about Carly had taken most of his skills of persuasion and every ounce of charm he possessed. He hoped Lorna Sandano would be an easier sell.

  A couple of minutes later, a tall, dark-haired woman in her late twenties emerged from the back. She lacked Carly's stunning beauty, but she was quietly attractive, with her sister's quirky mouth and glossy black hair. She caught sight of Wes, her lips curving into a smile. "Wes Hollingsworth?"

  He stood, extending his hand. "I'm a friend of your sister Carly."

  Lorna chuckled softly. The sound reminded him of Carly's laugh. His stomach tightened. "She hit thirteen and suddenly, she wanted to be called Carly. Teresa and I made sure to call her Lottie twice as much as usual."

  Wes smiled in return. "Do you know where I can find her?"

  Lorna cocked her head, her smile broadening. "This is your lucky day, Mr. Hollingsworth. Got time for a little trip?"

  CARLY JOINED HER MOTHER in the kitchen as she finished the call to Teresa. "Is she coming?"

  "She'll be here around four-thirty. She didn't want to show up with grease under her nails." Bridget opened the cabinet over the breakfast bar. "I bought some ginger snaps at the grocery store yesterday. I know ya love them."

  Carly smiled. "I'll get the milk."

  They settled down at the kitchen table, the cookies between them. Carly gave into nostalgia and dipped her cookies in the creamy milk, savoring the spicy sweet flavor. "When's Lorna supposed to get here?" she asked her mother.

  "Any time now. She said she was leaving right away."

  Carly dunked another cookie, unable to suppress a delighted grin. It was good to be home, she realized. Why hadn't she seen how much she needed her family before now?

  She stretched out her fingers impulsively, taking her mother's hand. "I'm sorry, Ma."

  Bridget looked surprised. "Whatever for, Lottie girl?"

  "For staying away so long."

  "Your papa hurt us all. You no less than me, love."

  "I shouldn't have blamed you for your misery. You didn't want to hurt so bad. You sure didn't mean for us kids to suffer with you. I know that now."

  Bridget threaded her fingers through Carly's. "Maybe I should have stopped lettin' him come back to us. But I loved him, Lottie. We all did, didn't we?"

  Carly nodded. "I forget that, sometimes."

  Bridget squeezed her hand. "I do, too."

  A car door shut outside. Bridget let go of Carly's hand and headed for the door to greet Lorna. Carly stayed in the kitchen and grabbed a glass to pour some milk for her sister.

  She was bending over, replacing the carton of milk in the refrigerator, when she heard Wes's voice call her name. "Carly?"

  She froze, her heart stumbling.

  "Or are you going by Lottie again?"

  She turned slowly, certain that she'd find him nothing but a figment of her imagination. But there he stood, big and solid and oh-so-sexy, in the doorway of her mother's kitchen.

  She tried to think of a sassy retort, something that would save her from the sudden rush of emotion choking her, filling her lungs with a sweet ache. But she barely managed to squeak his name before she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her hot, tear-stained face against his throat.

  He lifted her off her feet, crushing her tightly against him. He kissed her hair, her temple, the side of her neck, murmuring wordlessly in her ear.

  "I've missed you so much," she whispered, pressing her lips against the curve of his jaw. "Please take me home."

  He threaded his fingers through her hair, drawing her head back to look into her eyes. A lop-sided grin stretched across his beautiful mouth. "Well, damn. I came here to offer to be your rambling partner. I had visions of Vegas, baby."

  She laughed softly, cradling his face between her trembling hands. "You can't leave Bangor behind and you know it."

  He kissed her palm. "I'm willing to try."

  She realized he wasn't kidding. Her heart filled to the point of bursting. "I love you."

  She saw moisture well up in his eyes, catching her by surprise. He gave a watery little laugh as one teardrop spilled down his cheek. "Promise you won't tell J.B. you drove me to tears, okay?"

  "How's he doing? And did Nate make it? He was still alive the last time I saw him, but it didn't look good."

  "He's doing really good. It was touch and go for a while, but he's back home. So's Shannon."

  "I really hate to interrupt this," Lorna said drily from the kitchen doorway, "but I can't get to the cookies."

  Carly laughed and grabbed Wes's hand, moving him aside so her mother and sister could enter the kitchen. She led him to the table and sat him down adjacent to her so she could hold onto his hand.

  She took a moment to introduce him to her mother and sister properly, although he'd already met Lorna, he explained, having gone to her for help finding Carly. "Phillips didn't want to give me any information about your family, but I talked him into at least giving me a place to start."

  She twined her fingers through his. "Wes's the Chief of Police in Bangor, Ma. I know it's not quite a doctor—"

  Bridget laughed. "Lottie's talked of nothin' but you and your town since she got here."

  "Ma—"

  "Like the man can't tell by now that you're crazy about him?" Bridget offered the plate of cookies to Wes. "Gingersnaps. They were always Lottie's favorites."

  "I have a new favorite now," Carly admitted. "Ever had Mississippi Mud Cake?"

  "Oh. My. God." Lorna's eyes widened. "I had some a couple of months ago at a restaurant in Lancaster."

  "Women and chocolate," Wes murmured. He reached into his jacket pocket and laid something on the table in front of Carly. "Brought you something from Shannon."

  Carly looked down at the little photo he'd put on in front of her. A squinty, red-faced newborn glared up at her. Carly's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Wes."

  "Sarah Jane Burgess. Born last Tuesday at nine-thirty-four in the evening. Eight pounds, one ounce. Healthy as a horse."

  "And I missed it." Her heart ached with regret.

  "Lucky you. Bonnie was Shannon's birth partner. She says she still can't feel her fingers."

  "And everybody's okay?"

  "Everybody's fine." He squeezed her hand. "They all miss you, too."

  Carly turned to her mother. "Ma, I know I said I'd stay tonight—"

  Her mother smiled. "Go where your heart tells you, Lottie. We'll be waitin' when you're of a mind to visit again."

  Carly turned to Wes. "My sister Teresa's on the way. I'd like to see her before we head out."

  "Of course."

  Bridget stood up and cleared her throat, tugging at Lorna's arm. "Lorna, I have something to show you in the back room."

  Lorna dragged her gaze away from Wes and Carly. "What? Oh, yeah." She got up and followed her mother into the back of the house, leaving Carly alone with Wes in the kitchen.

  She turned to him, taking his hands in hers. "I'm so sorry about leaving the way I did. I was stupid. I thought I was trying to avoid my mother's mistakes, but all I was doing was repeating my father's."

  He lifted her hand to his lips. "I wondered if you'd finally figure that out."

  "I want to be with you. I need it. I can't tell you how much I missed you." She tightened her grip on his hands, half-afraid he'd change his mind and realize he was better off without such a flighty woman in his life.

  "You were everywhere I went," Wes admitted. "I couldn't go to Charlie's Diner without seeing you. Couldn't go to my father's h
ouse without remembering how you sassed him that first night." He smiled. "You should see J.B. now, Carly. He'd decided to go back and try therapy for his hand again."

  "You're kidding!"

  "No, I'm not." He touched her face, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip. "We need you, Carly. I need you. I know this is probably pushing you past where you're ready to go, but I want you to marry me. And I should warn you, I'm not going to give up until you say yes."

  "Yes."

  He blinked. "Okay, I wasn't expecting that."

  "I'm unpredictable, remember?" She laughed, sliding from her own seat to settle across his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I think you like that about me."

  "I think I love that about you." He drew her down for a long, sweet kiss.

  Her heart danced, unshackled by the past and the doubts that had haunted her as long as she could remember. She didn't have to live her mother's life or follow her father's wandering footsteps. She was finally free to follow her heart.

  All the way home.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen