by Debbie Mason
“I’m sorry. I know how difficult this day must be for you.”
“Don’t… don’t be nice to me. I did this.” He gesticulated wildly to the kitchen. “You know I did. I thought you were like my wife, but you’re not. I saw your interview. Wish I’d have known. Wouldn’t have done this.”
“So why are you here, Stu?” Her hand closed around her cell phone. She needed to keep him talking so he wouldn’t notice her texting. “Did you come to apologize?”
He reached into his pocket, set down a key and a pack of matches. “I was going to frame that Maria broad. I’ve seen her with your husband. She’s the same as that lowlife who went after my wife. Stealing what doesn’t belong to them.”
Grace ignored his accusations and pressed another key. So far she’d typed in Stu.
“But now it’s too late,” he continued, nodding at his phone. “Desiree says the cops are at her place. Won’t have her lying for me.”
As he continued to talk about Desiree, about how his wife would find out what he’d done and how he’d never see his kids again, Grace typed is here. Has gun.
“Turn yourself in, Stu,” Grace said, raising her voice as she sent the text. “I’ll make a statement on your behalf. We’ll get you help. I’ll talk to my dad and Ethan. They’ll know what you need to do.” She felt a glimmer of hope when he didn’t shut her down and continued, “If you run, you’ll never see your kids. This way, you might have a chance. There are organizations that can help you. And one day, it’ll be up to your kids if they want to see you, not your wife. You can have a relationship with them, Stu, but only if you make the right choice now.
“I’m not making excuses for you. What you did was wrong, but what Lisa did to you was also wrong. Everyone deserves a second chance.” She thought about how much Stu loved his kids and realized something. “You made sure little Jack woke up that night, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I threw stones at his window. I wouldn’t have let him get hurt—you, either. I just wanted you to suffer like you’d made your husband suffer. Like I thought you’d made him suffer.”
“Will you do it, Stu? Will you turn yourself in?”
Before he had a chance to answer, Jill pushed through the swinging doors. “Grace—” She broke off when she saw Stu and went for her gun at the same time he did.
“No.” Grace put her hands up and, without thinking, stepped between them. “No, don’t shoot. Put your guns down. No one has to get hurt.”
“Grace, goddammit, get the hell out of my way.”
“Put your gun down, Flaherty, or I’ll shoot Grace,” Stu threatened in a menacing tone of voice.
“Oh, stop it, Stu. You’re not going to shoot me, and you darn well know it,” Grace said. “You’ve got your safety on. So stop bluffing before you get yourself killed. Jill, put your gun down.”
“Seriously, Grace, you’re starting to tick me off. Get out of my way.”
“No. He won’t shoot me, but he might shoot you.”
Stu and Jill started trading insults. “Stop right now, the two of you,” Grace yelled. “Now lower your damn guns.”
They stopped fighting, shared a look, and slowly did as she asked. “All right, that’s better. Now we’re going to figure out the best way to do this.” Recalling the text she sent Jack, Grace pulled out her phone. The last thing they needed was for him to arrive on the scene. She typed All good. Happy fishing.
Arms crossed over her chest, Jill said, “Why do you think I’d do anything to help him?”
“You remember how you felt when you thought I’d asked your brother for a divorce and kicked him out of the house?” Jill looked at the ceiling, then gave her an almost-imperceptible nod. “Well, just think how’d you feel if I did to him what Lisa did to Stu.”
“All right, you made your point,” Jill grumbled and took out her cell.
“Good, now let’s see what Ethan thinks we should do,” she said once Jill hung up from the station.
As Grace disconnected from Ethan, Jill prepared to take Stu in. “Thanks,” Grace said, giving her a hug. She knew backing down hadn’t been easy for her sister-in-law.
Eyes narrowed, Jill pointed a finger at Grace. “Don’t think I won’t tell my brother how you put yourself between two loaded guns.”
“We can discuss what we’ll tell your brother later. Right now I have to—”
“Explain to your husband what the hell you were thinking,” Jack said from where he stood at the back door with Gage.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sawyer turned off the sander as Jack joined him on the front porch. “Last day on the job, buddy. What’s your wife up to today? Disarming bad guys? Breaking and entering?”
Sawyer had been ribbing Jack about Grace for the last ten days. He hadn’t teased him immediately after because he had been as upset with Grace as Jack had been. “You need to get some new material,” Jack said, tossing his helmet on the now-repaired swing. He grabbed a can of paint, frowning as he poured it into the tray. “I thought the house was supposed to be pink, not purple.”
Sawyer snorted. “As if you want to live in a pink house.”
“Uh, first off, we don’t know that I’ll get the house—bank only approved me for two hundred and fifty thousand.” Oddly enough, over the last couple of days, Jack started to see the benefits of buying the old Victorian. Not only would it make his wife happy, but they could use the extra space. He’d gone so far as mapping out the backyard—where the swing set would go and the barbeque and fire pit. And there was an old oak that would be perfect for a tree house. He hadn’t had any of those things growing up and liked the idea of providing them for his son.
As word got out, thanks to Sawyer, that Jack was interested in buying the house on Sugar Plum Lane, they’d had an uptick in volunteers. Volunteers who knew what they were doing. “Second, purple’s not much better than pink. You run the color change by the historical society?”
“Damn, forgot about that, but I’m sure they’ll be fine with it. Like you say, purple’s not much different from pink. Besides, the house is on Sugar Plum Lane. It should be purple.”
“You’re starting to worry me. Next you’ll be telling me you watch HGTV.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Before Jack could respond, Fred, Ted, and old man Murray walked up the stone walkway carrying paint guns. “Jack,” Fred said, “think your wife might’ve gone a little crazy again.”
He rested the roller on the edge of the paint tray. “What do you mean?”
“Saw her driving down I-70 and that Skye gal had her head stuck out the window screaming.”
“Shut up,” Jack said to Sawyer, who started to laugh.
“That gal’s a bad influence, if you ask me. Gracie never got in trouble before she came to town. She’s always been a good girl,” Patrick Murray said. “You better sit your wife down and have a talk with her, Jackson.”
“I don’t know, Patrick. Jack always had a thing for bad girls. Maybe he’s the problem and not Skye,” Sawyer said.
“Thanks, dickhead,” Jack muttered.
“Patrick’s right, it’s that Davis gal’s fault. She’s a bit of an odd one,” Ted said.
Fred agreed with him, and the two men started listing everything that was odd about Skylar Davis. Her being a tree-hugging liberal topped their list.
“All right, quit your jawing. If we want to have this old lady painted in time for the auction tomorrow, we’d best be getting to it,” Murray said, heading for the side of the house.
Murray’d started showing up the day after the fire. Knowing how the old man felt about Grace, Jack figured he’d heard he planned to buy the house for her and wanted to lend a hand. Patrick Murray was a master carpenter. The dark wood cabinets in the kitchen were incredible.
Jack pulled out his phone to call Grace at the same time a text came in. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered upon reading his wife’s text. No sense in calling her now.
Sawyer stopped
sanding. “What’s up?”
He turned his phone, showing his best friend the picture of Grace standing on a platform with a helmet on her head. “She’s zip-lining.”
“Huh, guess you cutting off little Jack’s hair sent her to the dark side again.”
“How was I supposed to know when I told him not to swallow his gum he’d stick it on his head? And I didn’t cut his hair, Dan did.” It’d happened two days ago, and Jack wasn’t sure Grace had completely forgiven him. Good thing Dan had thought to send him home with a couple of little Jack’s curly, long locks for his baby book or there’d be no doubt she wouldn’t have. “Maybe the thing with Stu scared her more than she let on.”
“Not from what I heard. Jill said it was like she’d channeled her father,” Sawyer said.
His sister had told Jack and Gage the same thing. Gage had even suggested she’d make a great hostage negotiator.
“Do you think she has any idea you’re going to bid on the house?”
“Surprisingly, since everyone in town seems to know I am, no.” He’d even dropped subtle hints, feeling her out.
Five hours later, they’d finished painting the front of the house. Ted, Fred, and Murray had finished up the rest. Jack, along with the three older men, accepted a beer from Sawyer’s cooler. Doors slammed as they toasted one another on a job well done. They turned to see Nell, Mrs. Tate, and Mrs. Wright getting out of the red pickup. “Get over here and give us a hand,” Nell called, unloading plants from the flatbed.
The older men groused, and Sawyer grinned. “Looks like Grace is going to get her wildflower garden.”
As Jack opened the gate on the freshly painted white picket fence, he looked back at the house. If he could give her her dream, maybe it would make up for all that she’d gone through without him.
Gage pulled up behind the red pickup. He got out of the SUV and looked up at the house. “You guys did a great job. Better keep your noses clean. Madison has her sights set on a Victorian on Taffy Lane.” Gage’s radio went off, his smile fading as he listened to whoever was on the other end. He glanced at Jack. “Yeah, thanks, Roy. I’ll take care of it.”
Gage rubbed the back of his neck and eyed Jack. “Roy just responded to a call at the lodge. People reported a woman screaming. It was Maria. He thinks she’s been drinking and fell. She has a bruise on her cheek. He tried to take her to the hospital, but she refused. Wasn’t much else he could do.”
Jack frowned. He thought she’d left town. After she’d pulled a repeat performance of the night of the break and enter, Jack had told her he would no longer consult on the book. He’d done his best to avoid her since then. She didn’t make it easy, turning up here, showing up there. Three days ago, frustrated when she’d once again filled his voice mail, he’d finally had it and called her to suggest she leave town.
Jack glanced at Nell ordering Ted and Fred around. “I’ll head over as soon as we finish up here.”
“I’d feel better if you checked on her now. I’d go myself, but I doubt she’d open up to me. You’re the only one she’ll talk to, Jack. I’ll help out here.”
“You’re probably right,” he admitted and went to retrieve his helmet off the porch swing.
“Come over to my place when you’re done. Skye and Grace are picking up Jill and little Jack and heading over now. Thought we’d celebrate the house being done, and the girls have work to do on Skye’s costume.”
“Sounds good. If you don’t mind, keep it on the down-low where I am. Grace doesn’t need to hear about it.” Obviously, since she was zip-lining, he didn’t want to add to whatever had set her off this time.
* * *
As soon as Maria opened the door to her room at the lodge, the memory of the morning Jack’s mother died assaulted him. It was the smell—puke and booze. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other and go inside.
“Jack, what is it?” Maria asked, standing before him in a short, stained white robe, her long hair matted around her pale face.
He closed the door, then gently clasped her chin between his fingers, turning her face to study the bruise. “You look like hell. What did you do to yourself?” he asked, lowering his hand.
She touched her cheek. “I heard something and got up to check it out. The room was dark, and I tripped on the chair.”
“Bullshit,” he said, taking in the four empty wine bottles on the table. The heavy brown drapes were drawn, the bed unmade, the desk cluttered with papers and her computer. He walked across the room, pulled the drapes aside, and opened the patio door. Sunlight sparkled off the kidney-shaped pool, where two young boys were splashing their parents, the family’s laughter filling the room with light and life. Digging his phone from his pocket, he turned to her. “Have a shower. I’m taking you to Dr. Trainer.”
She sat on the edge of the bed. “No. I had a bad night, that’s all.” She gestured to the computer. “I’ve been working a lot. It’s been hard. It’s been hard going through it by myself.”
Jack pulled out the chair at the desk and sat down. “I’m sorry.” And he was; the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, to see her suffer. But he couldn’t be what she wanted or needed. “You have to get help, Maria. Gage told me they got a complaint about you screaming.”
Wrapping her arms around her waist, she averted her gaze from his and stared out the patio doors. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. I, ah, fell asleep a couple of hours ago. I had a bad dream, that’s all.”
“The nightmares are getting worse, aren’t they?”
She went to shake her head, then choked back a sob and nodded.
“Is there anyone I can call… friends, family?”
“I burned those bridges a long time ago, Jack.” She got up from the bed and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll be okay. Thanks for checking on me.”
Jack rubbed his jaw, glancing at the open document on the screen. He started reading and couldn’t stop. Even though he wanted to, he couldn’t.
“Jack?” Maria said, coming out of the steam-filled bathroom ten minutes later, a white towel wrapped turban-style around her hair, another around her body.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her eyes flicked from him to the screen, then she shrugged. “I thought you would’ve guessed.”
“No. Jesus”—he held her gaze—“I’m sorry, Maria. I shouldn’t have touched you like I did. You didn’t need someone coming on to you, not after what you’d been through. I wish you would’ve told me. I wouldn’t have…”
“You have nothing to apologize for. I needed you to kiss me, to hold me, to touch me. After what he did to me, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to bear the feel of a man’s hands on me again. You changed that.”
“Let me call Dr. Trainer. I’ll go with you.”
“I finally forced myself to write the chapter last night. That’s why I had the nightmare. I’ve got it out of me now. It’s over.”
He went to the table beside the chair and scooped up the bottles, tossing them in the wastebasket. “No more drinking,” he said as he walked to the door. “Get dressed. I’ll wait for you outside.”
“God, you’re stubborn. I’m not going to see Dr. Trainer.”
“You’re not staying alone, either. You need to be around people. I’m taking you with me to the McBrides’.”
* * *
“I guess I won’t be able to participate in the triathlon,” Grace said, doing her best to sound disappointed as Dr. McBride gently removed her tennis shoe. She made sure to wince when he carefully bent her foot. Skye winced along with her, Madison arched a brow, and Jill crossed her arms. Sawyer snorted a laugh, turning at the sound of Jack’s voice. Gage led her husband into the living room. When she saw who accompanied him, Grace sighed.
It appeared the honeymoon was over. The last seven Maria-free days had been blissfully perfect. Well, aside from the day that Jack had cut their son’s hair. Grace wasn’t sure she believed the gum story.
Jack frowned and came to her side. “What happened?”
“They didn’t adjust the tension for Grace’s weight, and she kind of used her foot as a brake,” Skye explained.
Dr. McBride patted Grace’s knee. “There’s no bruising or swelling. You should be fine to continue your training, honey.”
Grace gaped at him. For goodness’ sake, if you had the sniffles, he confined you to your bed for a week. “Are you sure…” She no longer held his attention. “But you, young lady, are not fine,” he said, giving Maria a concerned frown. He stood up and went to her. The others did so as well.
Everyone except Jack. Grace felt his gaze upon her as she picked up her tennis shoe. “How did Maria hurt herself?” she asked.
Jack shared a silent exchange with Sawyer, then came to sit beside Grace on the couch. “We’ll talk about that in a minute. Right—”
Nell popped her head through the French doors off the dining room. “We’re ready for the burgers.”
“Too nice out to waste it standing around in here,” Sawyer said, ushering everyone from the living room onto the deck.
Lifting Grace’s legs, Jack draped them over his lap. “Right now, I want to talk about you,” he said, taking her foot in his hand. “I thought we’d agreed how to handle your stress.” His strong fingers gently kneaded her instep. “You promised no more crazy stuff.”
“Zip-lining isn’t crazy.” He raised a brow. “Okay, maybe for me it is. But it wasn’t my stress we were dealing with today, it was Skye’s.”
“Come on, princess. You expect me to believe that a woman with more money than God is stressed?”
Grace glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was in the room. “I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else.” She waited until he agreed. “She’s broke. She told me today.”
“Are you kidding me?”
She explained how Skye managed to lose all her money due to her overly generous nature and bad investments. “She’s going to work for us at the bakery.”