by Isla Bennet
“So, Coop getting on your nerves again?” her cousin guessed in a conspiratorial whisper.
“No more than usual,” Valerie admitted, hanging her hat on a hook then undoing her fishtail braid. “Just a lot on my mind …” Her voice trailed off as she heard a meow close by. She stepped around Cordelia to see Pisces, the gray striped barn cat Lucy called her “fur baby.” She knelt to stroke its soft back and belly but it reared back in objection.
“Wonder what this one’s doing out and about in the chill,” Cordelia said as the cat circled her feet, swiping its tail across her legs. “On a night like this I figured Luce would’ve had it snuggled in here with blankets and a bowl of warm milk.”
Valerie dipped out of the barn, trying to peer through the deepening nightfall at the main house. It wasn’t like Lucy to forget about Pisces. A feeling of unease scooted around inside her.
Jack turned the corner, got one look at her frown and asked, “What’s the matter?”
“Maybe nothing.” Maybe everything.
Valerie tried to step around him with her cousin trailing behind. But Dinah came rushing forward with her springy gray curls bobbing around her plump face. “Lucy? Where—” Valerie demanded at the same time as Dinah blurted, “I must’ve called you nearly ten times, but the pastures—”
“Tell me where my daughter is.”
“I can’t.” Dinah glanced from Cordelia to Jack and finally to Valerie. “The school called. She didn’t show up to her last class. Darlin’, she hasn’t come home.”
“Please … no.” Valerie’s plea was a dry whisper directed at no one specifically. Who or what could she plead to when her heart was on the verge of breaking? Between Battle Creek and the school downtown were countless opportunities for something unthinkable to happen to a child. Danger lived everywhere, even in a tight community like Night Sky. The worst kind of tragedy that could strike a parent—the kind that cut a person fresh every day even as the years fell away—had happened in this town.
She knew that better than anyone.
EPISODE THREE
CHAPTER FIVE
TEARS SCALDED VALERIE’S eyes as she broke through the circle of family and friends banding around her. Fear took up residence in every cranny of her mind, and all those confused, concerned stares didn’t help. They only cared—she knew that. But they couldn’t help her. No one, not even Nathaniel Turner with all his wealth and power, had been able to help when she lost Anna.
A hand snagged her shoulder, stopping her midstride. “Where are you going?” Jack asked. “Valerie?”
“To find Lucy. Why would you even ask me that?”
“You can’t do it alone,” Cordelia protested. “I’ll call Chief Bishop—”
“Maybe hold off on that, Delia.” There was Lucy stepping out of the shadows beyond the stables. And right behind her was Peyton.
Valerie was so numb with fury that she didn’t notice when Jack let go of her shoulder. The instant anger must’ve rolled off her like radioactive waves because in a few short moments nearly everyone had shuffled away from her.
It was almost too outrageous to believe that Peyton had taken Lucy away without a single warning, without Valerie having a clue.
Could he have left Night Sky or Texas altogether with her?
The answer sent a chilling sensation sliding down Valerie’s spine.
“You son of a—” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lucy’s mouth fall open in shock.
Jack interrupted with, “Guys, let’s get a move on.” The ranch hands headed toward the bunkhouses while he, Cordelia and Dinah set out for the main house.
That left Valerie alone with Peyton and Lucy—and an anger so intense it seemed to take on its own life. “Peyton, you took Lucy from school? That’s kidnapping.”
He started to respond but stepped behind Lucy, put his hands on her shoulders and ushered her forward a couple of paces. “Either let her have the cops throw me in lockup or tell the truth.”
Lucy’s gaze flickered to Valerie as she edged slightly backward. “Uh … Mom, he didn’t take me from school. I left on my own. I wanted to see him.” Lucy turned slightly to glance up at her father, and in that brief moment they resembled one another uncannily with those piercing eyes and that identical sullen look … both so beautiful that it hurt.
Like father, like daughter, some would say. Look alike, act alike. But Valerie hated the thought of it. Just because Peyton had tried to throw his life away and had ditched this town to do who-knows-what didn’t mean Lucy would be the same way.
One thing she wouldn’t do on her own was deliberately worry her mother.
“The truth, Lucy. All of it.”
“I … um … took a taxi to Gramps’s place.” At her mother’s staggered look she went on. “Gramps wasn’t home, but like I said, I wanted to see my dad to … uh … tell him to go away.”
Valerie dragged her eyes from Lucy to Peyton, expecting to find offense in his expression. But he continued to stand stoically.
“Please don’t be mad at Jasper,” Lucy said. “I told him I had a stomachache and that he shouldn’t call you ’cause you were castrating a bull today.”
At this Peyton centered those sharp blue-gray eyes on Valerie, taking inventory from her windswept hair to her dusty boots.
She focused on Lucy, for the first time seeing not the daughter she thought she’d known better than her own reflection but instead a person capable of lies and manipulation. “Get inside and start your homework.”
“Already done. He made me finish it all at Gramps’s.” The venomous teenage attitude in her tone wasn’t lost on Valerie, who was usually the target when doling out chores, enforcing rules and, of course, making sure that homework wasn’t tossed by the wayside.
“Then set the table. The guys are eating with us tonight, so we’ll talk later. Believe that.”
Lucy didn’t object, as if she’d been expecting the anvil to drop. “Sorry, Mom,” she said in a small voice, sounding almost like the scared little girl who hadn’t understood why she’d never see her twin sister again.
“Just go, Lucy.”
Stricken by the bite in the words, she shook her father’s hands from her shoulders and ran past the stables to the house. She didn’t even stop to greet Pisces, who’d slunk out of the barn and was lingering nearby and meowing melodiously.
Valerie rubbed her arms but not because of the evening wind. “Peyton, the point of her little adventure was to tell you to go away. Did she?”
“No. Guess she lost her nerve.” He moved only a few steps toward her, but even that was too close. Close enough to make her fully aware of his height, the contours of his sinewy body, the twitch of muscle in his jaw when he briefly gritted his teeth. “You asked her to do that?”
“Did I ask my twelve-year-old daughter to cut school and take a taxi across town?”
Peyton didn’t appear contrite about the insult of his insinuation. “Maybe she got the impression you don’t want me around and figured she could get the job done.”
She stood at a momentary loss for words, feeling caught off guard and injured. “Keep speculating, but try not to bust your ass jumping to conclusions.”
“Answer the question.”
If Valerie could’ve jabbed her boot heels down any harder she’d be knee-deep in the ground. “The answer’s no. No, as in I didn’t give her that impression.” At least, she’d tried not to, even though the knowledge that he was back had her taking inventory of all she stood to lose. “Before she was even old enough to understand it, I told her that you never knew I was pregnant. After all, how could you? You were gone before I knew myself.”
She couldn’t resist adding that last jab, but somehow making him feel uncomfortable—and she knew she had by the way his mouth pulled into a tight line—didn’t make her feel any more comfy.
“Is this something that’ll always be in the way?” he asked, so gently she almost didn’t hear him.
Valerie searched his face in
the deepening twilight. His short, mussed hair looked dark under the shadows. There was a touch of stubble across his jaw and cleft chin. His nose was different—with a slight telltale crookedness that revealed he’d been hit once or twice. But for a split second he resembled the boy he used to be. “In the way of what?”
“Of me getting to know my daughter.”
The mirage shattered. Shouldn’t she be relieved though? Illusions—and expectations—were far too risky, especially when it came to Peyton.
“Like I said last night, I’m out to protect Lucy. Don’t give her all these high hopes built on nothing or on promises you know you’re not going to back up. And try getting ahold of me when you know she’s someplace where she shouldn’t be.”
He turned, hands up, and took a few steps in the direction he’d come from. Then he pivoted and shot back, “Check your messages, Valerie. The second Lucy gave me your cell number I called. What the hell was I supposed to do? Bring her to you in the mountains on horseback?”
As if he could. Years of jet-setting, of riding fast cars and equally fast women, had probably left him unable even to sit upright on a horse. Narrow-eyed, she said, “No, but you could’ve left her at the house with Dinah.” At his blank look she clarified, “Dinah, my uncle’s ex-wife. She lives with us and helps keep an eye on Lucy.”
“Seems you and Dinah’ve got your hands full if Lucy’s pulling stunts like this and racking up detention hours. Is she a class clown or—”
Valerie wondered if her color had risen enough for him to notice in the limited light. “Or what, Peyton? A mean troublemaker like you?” She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to remember to breathe. “I’m handling it, okay? And she’s never pulled a ‘stunt like this’ before.”
“Before what?” The way he said it told her he already knew exactly what she’d meant.
“Before you. First a crying jag, then cutting school. What next?”
“Next I’ll make it all better, just disappear and forget about Lucy? Forget about Anna?” His voice cracked on Anna’s name, and she knew in her gut how affected he was.
That. That right there. It’s how I feel every other second. It’s like a splinter to the heart. “So where do we go from here? This—” she gestured at the expanse of land around them “—is my world. Not yours.”
“Funny how that didn’t matter when we were friends. I would come here and do chores just to be with you. And after my grandmother died you’d visit my place just to be with me. We were good together then.”
Were. The past. Over. “It did matter, though. Evidently our friendship couldn’t hold up even then.”
Peyton waited a beat, then said, “The point is, we’re here now. In the present. I won’t be kept out of Lucy’s life. Is my name even on her birth certificate?” At her headshake he sighed roughly. “How long did you wait before telling her about me?”
“I told her and Anna about you when they were sick. That’s when your grandfather had found out who they were.” She dug the toe of one boot into the ground. “Putting your name on Lucy’s birth certificate is … fair … but aside from that—”
“Blaming me for her behavior these past two days won’t convince me to turn tail and run. I’m her father—”
This time she interrupted, because the word father dripped with apprehension. “Out of obligation, Peyton. Not because you want to be. Well, having no father at all is better than having a terrible one. Think—really think—about the circles your mother ran around you. You’ll see that I’m right.”
His eyes sharpened, and there it was—only a flicker, but surely a trace of the explosive, destructive man he’d become right before he’d run himself out of town. His mother, in his life or not, was a hellhound he couldn’t break away from, and it chilled Valerie to realize that the woman still possessed some sort of hold on him.
“Lucy needs to know I’m not walking out on her,” he said.
How close could he get before he became too close? The good doctor didn’t seem even remotely interested in healing their friendship. Probably because it was too damaged, had been for too long … and was dead far beyond resurrection.
Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, holding him at arm’s length. Despite all the measures he’d taken to avoid tying himself down, he was unwavering about this. For now, at least. Could he be some sort of father to Lucy without chipping away at Valerie’s guard? Without adding to the guilt that had resurfaced full force the moment she saw him outside the hospital boardroom?
She hoped to hell that would be the case. “We can talk about visitation—”
Peyton looked ready to shoot the suggestion down, but they were both cut short by Dinah.
“Kids, kids!” she called, making her way along the stone pathway from the house. The aroma of beef gravy reached them before she did. “Dinner’ll be done soon. You like stew, hon?”
Valerie followed Dinah’s expectant gaze to Peyton. The older woman referred to anyone as “hon” and just about anyone under the age of sixty as “kid.” “Oh, Dinah, he’s not stay—”
“In fact, I’d love stew,” Peyton broke in. “Been a long time since I had a home-cooked meal.”
“We’ll fix that straightaway,” Dinah declared with a decisive nod.
He extended his hand to her, suddenly all charm and charisma. “Thanks for the invite, Miss Dinah. I’m Peyton Turner.”
Dinah positively beamed, beside herself to have another person to feed. “‘Miss’! Hmm, I haven’t been called that in forever and a day. And I know just who you are, Doc. Your name’s on the tongue of every gossip in town, thanks to Sully Joe who tipped off Junie at the diner. Swear the reason it’s so hard to get a call through for takeout is ’cause the woman uses the phone as a hotline.” Then she smiled. “Never mind all that. My, my, you and Lucy have the same look. In the kitchen when she told me you’re her papa, I tossed my oven mitts on the counter and just had to get another peek. Goodness, same frown-y type mouth and those eyes …”
“You’d rather eat someplace in town, right, Peyton?” Valerie said.
“Actually, no.” He offered his arm to Dinah, who took it without skipping a beat. On his way past Valerie he added under his breath, “Try thinking of this as visitation.”
PEYTON WAS AWARE of Valerie the instant she entered the house. She’d come in through the same mudroom entrance as he and Dinah, though several minutes later. He half wondered whether she’d lingered outside screaming and cussing in frustration with nobody to hear but horses and cattle and that cat he’d noticed hanging around.
When she rounded the corner to the kitchen that opened to a family room now crowded with people, he could smell dirt and sweat—his guess would be human and horse—and underneath it all, coconuts.
His senses were suddenly thrown like a switch, but stuck midway between being turned off … and on.
Hell. That hadn’t exactly come out of nowhere, if he was being honest. He’d been dreaming of this same woman all night and could even now remember the actual feel of all that rich dark hair fisted in his hands.
But it wouldn’t do either one of them any good for his thoughts to go in that direction: straight to a dead end.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked her under his breath, sidling close.
“In the office. Going over some paperwork.” She tossed her head in a leftward direction and he assumed she referred to the tiny detached building nearest the main house that he’d thought to be a tool shed.
“Oh, everyone, listen now,” Dinah said over the din of conversation and laughter.
Peyton watched as every adult in the vicinity quieted and turned toward her with full attention.
Except for Lucy. She sat cross-legged on an ottoman, staring at whatever movie was playing on the television in the ebony media suite. Her back faced the kitchen and even as the adults started to move in that direction in a sort of herd, she remained seated.
He’d bet his father’s pocket watch that Lucy was no shrinking violet,
that she was a chatterbox who could talk a person into a stupor. Not at all like the wallflower she was pretending to be now. But based on what he’d seen of her today, he had nothing to support that bet.
It had pretty much taken the Jaws of Life to get an explanation out of her when he’d found her at his grandfather’s house—and even that was probably littered with half-truths. The taking a taxi from school part made sense, but when he’d asked why she’d gone there, she had insisted that she wanted to skip class and was in his grandfather’s study sketching fashion ideas.
Well, she’d admitted to her mother that she’d taken the trip to tell him to leave town. As much as it stung, he recognized it as the truth. But what she’d really been up to before she’d come barreling down the staircase was still a mystery.
After he’d gotten her to crack open a book and get started on her homework, he’d looked around the study and found everything where he’d left it—namely the chessboard that sat on the table on top of the sketchbook Lucy kept there. This morning he’d dropped a rook onto the board and it dangled halfway over the edge.
To get to her sketchbook, she would have had to move the board and the rook would’ve been shifted out of place.
She’d lied. And it wouldn’t take him too long to find out why. That, he could promise.
“All right, all,” Dinah was saying, “we’re having a guest for dinner. So try not to talk about branding and calving through the entire meal.”
“Aren’t we guests, too?” one of the men piped up with an easygoing chuckle.
“Why, y’all are family,” Dinah said. “You, too, Coop.”
The older man she called Coop only grunted and darted his eyes away as if a little embarrassed to be singled out, even in a group of familiar faces.
“Now, then,” she continued, “this evening Peyton Turner might be a guest, but we ought to start welcoming him to the family fold. He’s our little Lucy’s papa!”
CHAPTER SIX