Texas Redeemed

by Isla Bennet

  He hadn’t given any indication of when that would be, but was always reminding her—and his sister and mother—that his presence in Night Sky was temporary.

  With mold festering on the structure, the bunkhouse wasn’t suitable for anyone to live in. Now that it was early March and the days were consistently warm with sunshine, she could get some of the major repairs underway.

  “Hey, Lucy,” Chase said, getting up from his chair. “Still searching for a new nickname for you. How about Little Chanel?”

  “No way! Keep searching,” Lucy said, smiling at him with undeniable hero-worship. In her eyes there was only Chase the tough-as-hell soldier who’d fought the good fight in a place destroyed by war. She didn’t see the Chase who was hurting and trying to outrun something that was much too fast to escape.

  On his way out Chase pointed his beer at the scrapbook Lucy was crushing against her chest. “What’s that?”

  “Just something I need to show my mom.”

  Valerie closed the door behind Chase and returned to her chair. “Let’s see it.”

  Lucy relinquished the scrapbook and lingered near the desk as Valerie studied the cover.

  “This is what you and Dinah have been working on at the hobby shop?”

  “Yeah, but will you help me now, Mom?”

  “‘My Life in Texas,’” Valerie read aloud, tracing the embroidered image of a tree on the cover that had apples hanging from it with slots for name tags to be inserted. Inside were copies of photographs from Valerie’s albums, of Lucy and Anna as babies and toddlers, of Valerie and Peyton as teenagers standing outside a movie theater in the city.

  There were pictures of Peyton with his grandparents, and one of him as a baby snuggled up to his father while his mother stood slightly to the side wearing a beautiful suggestion of a frown.

  “This scrapbook,” Valerie said, carefully closing it, “is for your father?”

  Lucy took it, clutching it almost protectively. “Whenever he goes on an assignment he can take it with him, or just look through it before he leaves. Oh, he could add photos from all his travels—”

  “What if he doesn’t leave, and chooses to stay in Night Sky with us?” Peyton hadn’t outright agreed to let Doctors Without Borders go, but surely that was a given. He had her love and trust and friendship now, all he’d wanted from her … except for total honesty … and in their give-and-take relationship, his reckless wanderlust was something he had to give up.

  “But he can’t quit helping all those people in other countries.” Lucy shrugged. “He can live here and still do that. It’s called travel in the twenty-first century.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “No, it’s really simple. Grownups just make everything complicated.”

  Lucy hadn’t experienced Peyton vanishing into a sea of billions of people and not making contact for years. She didn’t know that kind of hurt and underestimated how his returning to the life of a wanderer would affect the father–daughter relationship she had obviously learned to count on.

  “About the scrapbook. I’ll need the newspaper article.”

  The article in the town newspaper printed the day after Anna had passed away in the hospital. “You don’t want to include that.”

  “Dad would want it there.”

  “You called him Dad.”

  Lucy set down the scrapbook with trembling hands. “It doesn’t feel weird to call him that now.”

  Valerie enfolded her in a hug. “Peyton’s going to love this. We’ll go through all of our photo albums and I’ll get the article about Anna. We can use that photo program on the computer to make copies.”

  “He has to love it. He’ll love it so much that the bad stuff I’ve done won’t matter.”

  Valerie’s brow knit with surprised confusion. When her daughter didn’t try to squirm out of the embrace, something like fear brushed the surface of Valerie’s heart. “Lucy …?”

  “Just another second. A mom’s hug is the best kind.”

  AT EXACTLY EIGHT p.m. Valerie arrived at the Turner mansion, as Peyton had requested when they’d crossed paths at Memorial the previous day. He’d been in scrubs, assigned to the emergency room which was located in an entirely separate wing of the hospital from the children’s library where she’d spent the afternoon volunteering, so it hadn’t been a chance encounter. He’d hung around for a while before he scribbled something in crayon on a sheet of construction paper and enlisted a boy to deliver the note to Valerie.

  She’d read the invitation to dinner for two and nodded with a private grin before he left the library to return to his side of the hospital.

  Now, in a little black dress and heels, Valerie climbed down from the driver’s seat of her quad-cab pickup, grabbed the gift-wrapped box from the front passenger seat and hurried to the portico to find Peyton in a suit, waiting for her.

  “A host gift,” she said once inside the parlor off the foyer. When he opened the box and stared at the jars labeled with fruit names—strawberry and pear and apricot—she explained, “Marcella Boone makes the most heavenly jam you’ll ever taste. These are from my stash.”

  “Any other guest would’ve brought chocolate or wine or flowers.”

  “Oh, I’m not any other guest.”

  He put the box aside and wound his arms around her waist, drawing her close. “Thanks, Val. I’ve got a taste for something else now though.”

  “Maybe I can help you with that.” Her eyes drifted closed and there was only the scent of his aftershave, the feel of his lips on hers, the taste of want on his tongue.

  When he finally let her go, she was dizzy with brewing desire, no longer hungry for food.

  Nevertheless, they ate in the formal dining room that Valerie joked could comfortably seat the Senate, and chatted over beef stir-fry with scallions and snow peas and white wine. Then he led her to the solarium where she looked at the stars through his grandmother’s telescope.

  “Can you see anything interesting?” he asked, standing at her side.

  “Not much. Too cloudy tonight.” They began walking through the house that seemed even larger and more imposing with both Nathaniel and Jasper away. “You do know where the best possible spot is around here to see the stars, right? Still iffy about climbing the Crest?”

  “Not ‘iffy.’ Absolutely certain that I won’t do it.”

  “If you can handle disaster areas and deserts and jungles … and riding horseback in an ice storm … you can manage the Crest. I visit once every season to watch the stars. I’m going up again at the end of the month or early April, then again in June on the summer solstice—if the weather’s all right. In case you change your mind, the offer’s open.”

  They ended up at his bedroom door and he led her inside. “I’ve got the place to myself and an unbelievably hot brunette in my room. This would’ve broken a few of my grandparents’ rules back in the day.”

  “You always were a rule-breaker.” Valerie moseyed to the desk and opened the medical textbook on top of the stack. “Are these from college?”

  “They are. I haven’t gotten around to unloading them yet.” He came over to take the books but she blocked him. “Not so fast, Doctor. Let’s test your knowledge.”

  Peyton’s eyes swept over her. “Make it interesting.”

  Accepting the challenge, she sat on the desk and thumbed through the textbook. “For every question you answer correctly, I remove one item of clothing. Shoes count as one item.”

  “Strip trivia,” he said, almost in awe. “Go.”

  “What’s the correct way to prioritize patients in an emergency room?”

  “By urgency of injury or illness,” he said without blinking, lowering to the bed. “That was too easy, Val.”

  She toed off her high heels. “Next question, then.” She flipped a few chapters. “What is used to treat organophosphate poisoning?”

  “Atropine.”

  “Correct.” She stood, unbuttoned her dress and wiggled o
ut of it, letting it slide down her arms to the floor. “Next question is … what does nitroglycerine do to blood vessels?”

  Peyton watched her intently, awash in total arousal as she stood there, stripped to her undies. “Nitroglycerine,” he said slowly, “dilates blood vessels.”

  She unhooked her bra, let it join her dress and shoes on the floor. “I should’ve worn layers,” she said.

  “So glad you didn’t.”

  “I have a really hard one for you now.” When a suggestive smirk tugged at his lips, she giggled and shut the book. “Listen up. And this one’ll be timed.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “What—” she eyed him from his suit jacket to his leather shoes, and was impatient to have him naked in her arms “—am I thinking now?”

  Peyton rose, began to move closer. “That’s not a medical question.”

  “Clock’s tickin’,” she replied, tapping an invisible wristwatch. “What am I thinking?”

  “That my clothes should be on the floor, too?”

  Valerie’s mouth opened in amazement. “Incredible guess.”

  Peyton took the liberty of slipping her lace thong down her legs, and nipped her neck. “Well, it’s what I was thinking, too.”

  “We should play this game more often.”

  He flung his suit jacket aside and gave her ass a playful slap as he followed her to his bed. “Count on it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  EVEN BY NIGHT Sky standards, Sully Joe Keate did everything slowly—on account of he’d seen everything he’d wanted to see in his ninety-odd years and wasn’t in a rush to retire with the Good Lord. After a day in the Texas heat wading through dirt, grime and cow waste, Valerie wasn’t up to shooting the breeze with him and the barbers from the unisex salon up the road when she pulled up and found them sitting out front. The quicker she filled the tank and zipped off, the less likely she’d be to run into Marin who every so often put in hours stocking cigarettes and magazines and Night Sky tourist brochures.

  But Sully Joe waylaid her, offering a gumdrop and reminiscing about when she’d first come into the store, no bigger than a grasshopper and begging her uncle to buy her some Bazooka. Then he insisted on filling her pickup with regular, and whistled “Danny Boy” while shuffling his matchstick-thin frame to the pumps.

  “Ain’t that interestin’,” Sully Joe said, nodding at something beyond Valerie’s shoulder. “There’s hope for humanity yet, if rich folks’ll bring their own cars to the fillin’ station.”

  Valerie turned, met Nathaniel’s storm-waters-gray eyes as he exited a Rolls-Royce and approached her truck with a swagger that was wealth and cockiness swirled together. Sully Joe tactfully stepped away, and Nathaniel said without prelude, “About my plans for Lucy. We each want our next generation to have something to cultivate and keep. It took a long time for me to accept Peyton’s choices. Don’t make the same mistake with your girl.”

  “Sage advice from the winner,” she said quietly, more out of hurt than anger as she swept up a squeegee and went to work on her windshield. “My daughter’ll carry on your business, and I’ll have no one.”

  “What about Rhys Jordan’s children?”

  “He left the ranch to me.”

  “Still—they’re his offspring, and the daughter’s pregnant. Little Valerie, you could have more children. Peyton’s invested completely in you.”

  Peyton was “invested completely” in her? It was what she’d wanted, but didn’t think she could have. “Is his choice to be with me what you’ve accepted, Nathaniel?”

  “Consider what I’ve proposed.” With that, he nodded decisively and returned to his car.

  A fraction of a moment later Marin Beck emerged from the store and sprinted to the truck before Valerie could hop in and leave. She wore that sweet “Who, me?” expression for the audience in front of the gas station, but up close her eyes reflected pure, concentrated venom. “Bud’s barbecue’s coming up. Peyton wants to bring you and Lucy, so he told me not to show.”

  Peyton’s invested completely in you. “I don’t care where you go, Marin, so long as it’s not Battle Creek.”

  “I didn’t knock on your door the last time I was in town.”

  “Because the ranch was turned on its ear.”

  A frown only flickered on her mouth. “Superiority?” she whispered. “From you? Know what? I’m done being your secret-keeper. The second Peyton finds out what you did he’ll drop you—for good.”

  “Marin—”

  “Got to get back to work.”

  Valerie didn’t remember even driving off, navigating the roads that were so familiar she could find her way blindfolded. Only thoughts of guilt and fear and finality floated through her, until she arrived at Memorial desperate for the truth.

  PEYTON SENSED VALERIE minutes before he found her in the rush of people in the trauma wing. One glimpse into those whiskey-brown eyes that he knew so well had him bracing for a hit. “Val—”

  He was interrupted by the chief of staff, who had a foam cup of coffee and a mad-as-hell expression. “Reed’s gone AWOL again. Can I put you down? Ten to eight—night shift.”

  “Can’t do it, Chief.”

  Chief Lindsey sized up Valerie, noting her disconcertion. “Ah. Then I don’t have to guess what the final word is on the Africa assignment, Doctor Turner.”

  Shit. Peyton felt the surge of instant shock rise from Valerie’s skin like invisible lava. “If we could get into this another time, Chief?”

  Chief Lindsey was already walking away, but called over his shoulder, “Be sure to give ample notice. Don’t leave Memorial in the lurch.”

  Valerie shoved her way outside through the heavy glass revolving doors, but Peyton caught up to her in the lot behind two EMS rigs.

  “Nathaniel was wrong,” she blurted over the sirens and commotion as beams of red and blue crisscrossed over her face. “You’re not completely invested in me. You’re planning to go to Africa instead!”

  “Field workers don’t choose when assignments become available. But we do decide whether or not we want to go when Doctors Without Borders matches us. I haven’t had a sit-down with Chief yet, but I’ve already passed on this mission—just like the one in Bangladesh.”

  “Bangladesh? Something else I didn’t know about.” She shot him a confused glare. “I came here to give you complete honesty. But where’s your complete honesty?”

  The doors swooshed open behind them and two nurses sauntered out with a lighter and one cigarette to share, and he sardonically thought about his colleague Sawyer, whose pack-a-day habit evidently wasn’t enough to chase the demons away after all.

  Peyton snared Valerie’s wrist, brought her to sit on the bumper of the rig farthest from the hospital. “What have you been holding back?”

  “This is all you need to ride out of town again, guilt-free.” Her hand slipped from his grasp. “Marin stepping out, and you destroying Estella’s gravestone? It’s on me.”

  “How?”

  “She wasn’t sober then. I’d caught her drinking liquor, and … I knew she wanted a payoff. So I gave her the idea to get a few thousand from you so she’d leave town.”

  “It’s a one-bedroom place with a lovely view, but I haven’t saved up a big enough deposit,” Marin said to Peyton as she and Valerie waited on the outside of the batting cage.

  “A deposit?” He was skeptical on the spot, having heard similar stories from her all throughout his twenty-one years. But he swung his bat, hit the ball with precision and said, “Will you be signing a lease?”

  “Yes, certainly. I-I’m here to stay this time, Peyton. Ask Valerie about the apartment. She’ll back me up.”

  Valerie cleared her throat, then said brightly, “It’s a nice place. I’ve seen it myself. Give her the money.”

  “There wasn’t an apartment,” he said now, abandoning the bumper.

  “It was a lie. She wouldn’t leave town without the money. You were supposed to be better off with
out her.” She stood, touched his hand, but her fingertips now felt unfamiliar … cold.

  Valerie, the one woman he thought was honest and had his best interests at heart, had conned him. “You had me pay my own mother to run out?”

  “I did it to help my friend. It was killing you, what she was doing to you.”

  “Conning me was, what, a favor?” At the sight of her tears, he almost relented. Almost. “Or was it part of an agenda?”

  “An agenda?”

  “My grandfather found out about the twins around the time this ranch took off. Dinah and Cordelia and Jack didn’t give you that kind of money—you pay their salaries. Tell me it’s a coincidence. Tell me this whole thing is a misunderstanding.”

  She was shaking now. “Nathaniel offered me money to turn Battle Creek around because I couldn’t support myself or the girls. I didn’t want a handout—he certainly didn’t want to give me one—but it made sense. As a mother how could I let my daughters suffer?”

  How could you destroy the man you call a friend? “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  “No. I was afraid to. I—I couldn’t trust how you’d react. I thought you’d turn on me, ask Nathaniel to come after me … that you’d take away everything.”

  “You couldn’t trust? I can’t trust you, Valerie. You expected me to completely give up Doctors Without Borders—to give up who I am—to prove myself. I might’ve done it, too, because I love you.” His gaze moved over her dispassionately. “No, I did love you.”

  “Real love can’t be turned on and off, just like that.”

  “The truth’s got a way of changing how a man feels. You’re a liar who found an opportunity to get some fast cash from a rich bastard.”

  “You don’t know how wrong you are.”

  “One of us needs to be honest. How can I believe anything you say?”

  “Believe that I’m your friend. Believe that I care about you. And believe that there’s only so far you can push me.”