Wouldn't he?
MONTHS AGO, JOY had laid the ground work, just in case Sophie decided to stage a coup. Now was the time to reap what she had sown—so to speak. But how to get to Forbes first was the question.
As she walked down the hall, she met Newt as he came out of Forbes' room, and found her answer.
"How did it go?" Newt asked, taking her hand.
"Sophie was surprised. But happy for us," Joy told the lie without a second thought. "How about Forbes?"
"The same. It looks like you can start planning a wedding."
"Wonderful. Will Forbes be coming down for breakfast?"
Newt chuckled. "After a long shower and some aspirin. He tried to hide it, but I think my son overindulged a bit last night."
Good, Joy thought. The longer Forbes was in the shower, the more time it gave her to act on the plan forming.
"I should start packing."
"Don't worry about taking very much. I'll buy you whatever you need when we get to Paris."
Damn straight you will. Joy waved at Newt as he headed downstairs, her smile beaming. The second he was out of sight, she burst into action.
Heading to her room, she pictured the perfect outfit to wear. Something in a sympathetic black. And the perfect words to say. Emotional but not over the top.
If Sophie thought she could stop the wedding, she was in for a big surprise. Joy had waited a long time for a chance like this. Nothing—no one—would get in her way.
Once that platinum band was on her finger, Sophie could spill her guts until the end of time. It wouldn't make a bit of difference.
PULLING ON HIS right sock, Forbes ran a hand through his damp hair. He felt like a big breakfast—a sure sign that a hangover wasn't in his future. Dreaming of scrambled eggs, bacon, and jam-covered toast, he heard a knock on his door.
Eyes flashing with distress, Joy stood in the hall. She was dressed in black. Leggings. Suede ankle boots. A heavy cable knit sweater. Her hair was pulled back, held by a clip at the base of her neck. Her makeup—as always—was impeccable. Except for the trail of mascara down one cheek.
"I'm sorry to disturb you in your room. But I need to talk to you in private. May I come in?"
Forbes stepped back. He closed the door after Joy rushed in.
"Are you crying?" Joy and his father couldn't have argued already.
Her back to him, Forbes couldn't see Joy biting her lip, scrunching up her eyes, willing liquid to form. To her regret, Joy didn't have the talent that allowed her to summon tears at a moment's notice. Her eyes were perfectly dry. But Forbes wouldn't find out. Keeping her face averted, she sniffled. Loudly.
"Sophie doesn't want me to marry your father. She…" He heard a catch in Joy's voice. "She said some terrible things."
"What kind of things?"
"I don't want to repeat them. She told me that if I didn't break the engagement, she would tell Newt nasty lies that would turn him against me."
Forbes was torn. How could he dispute Joy's accusations? She obviously was distraught. Crying. However, he found it hard to believe Sophie would say such things. It went against everything he knew about her.
"Are you sure you didn't misinterpret Sophie's meaning?"
"I was there, Forbes. Her words were perfectly clear. Ugly, but indisputable."
"I'll speak with her."
"She'll lie." Brushing at her cheeks, careful to keep her head down.
"Leave it to me. You and Dad will be on that plane. Sophie doesn't have the power to stop you." Forbes gently took hold of Joy's arm, leading her across the room. "Go to your room. Splash some cold water on your face. And stop worrying."
"Thank you, Forbes." Joy gave him a tentative smile, her chin low. "I didn't want to tell your father. He's so proud of Sophie's achievements. I don't want to upset him unless absolutely necessary."
"I agree."
It wasn't until Joy was out of eyesight that Forbes realized he had a death grip on the doorframe. He took a deep breath. In and out. In and out. Trying his best to center his emotions. Confronting Sophie in anger wasn't a good idea. He didn't know what she would say or do. How she would react. Playing football had taught him how to stay calm in the eye of a storm. No matter what, he wouldn't lose his temper.
"I need to talk to you."
Forbes tightened his grip. It was the only thing that kept him from jumping out of his socks. Somehow, Sophie had snuck up on him. Holy shit. It felt as if they had picked that morning for a round of musical chairs. Only the players were moving from room to room.
"Come on in."
Sophie was dressed in jeans, thick socks, and a plaid flannel shirt. Forbes knew she ate regularly. He could bear witness to the fact that her stomach seemed to be a bottomless pit. Yet for some reason, she never put on any weight. This morning, standing in the middle of his bedroom, she seemed slighter than usual. Tall. Long legged. But delicate. Vulnerable. It made what he had to say all the harder.
"We have to stop the wedding."
"Jesus, Sophie." Forbes ran a hand over his face. So much for the slightest hope that Joy was mistaken. "It's going to happen. You don't have to worry. You won't lose your sister just because she's married."
"Lose my—" Sophie clenched her fists. "You've spoken to Joy."
"I don't know what you said to her. I don't care," Forbes interrupted before Sophie could launch her attack. "Joy was in tears. How does that make you feel?"
"Joy hasn't shed a genuine tear in her entire life."
Forbes tamped down his impatience. "I don't know what the problem is between the two of you. I—"
"What did Joy say?"
"That you cling to her. You don't want to share her with anybody."
Sophie snorted.
"And that you made up a bunch of lies to tell my father."
When Sophie didn't answer, Forbes couldn't resist taunting her. "Aren't you going to tell me that you never lie? That was your claim when we first met."
"I lie."
"Joy was telling me the truth?" Forbes wished that Sophie had an explanation. A viable excuse. "Why?"
"Please, Forbes. I know you can talk your father out of this. At least postpone the wedding. Your father has been so good to me. I'm sorry I let things get this far. But I'm sure Joy will show her true colors sooner than later. She's already—"
"Enough!" Forbes grabbed Sophie by the arm, giving her a shake. "You selfish little bitch. My father is happy. Joy is the reason. Stop trying to ruin it. Understand?"
The look of hurt and betrayal in Sophie's eyes almost weakened his resolve. Almost, but not quite. Forbes would put his father first every time—no exceptions.
"This isn't a game, Sophie?"
"Sure it is." Sophie pulled away. "And Joy wins every time."
"What does that mean?"
"You don't want to know, remember?" Sadness had replaced the hurt in Sophie's eyes, and, in spite of everything, it twisted Forbes' guts into a knot. She held his gaze. "I won't say another word. Not to you. Not to Newt. Especially not to Joy."
"Good. That would be for the best."
"Just one question? If you don't mind? Something for you to think about."
"Okay."
"What if I'm right?"
CHAPTER TEN
CHRISTMAS CAME AND went. New Year's. January. Valentine's Day. As February ended and March came in like a lion with a major snowstorm, Sophie had no problem keeping her word to Forbes. She didn't speak a single word to Newt. Or Joy.
It was easy. They weren't around.
The Paris honeymoon had turned into a full-blown tour of Europe. France. England. Germany. Belgium. Spain. Portugal. One postcard after another with basically the same message.
Having a great time. Glad you're not here.
"What is that man thinking?" Maeve asked with a shake of her head, sliding a stack of pancakes onto Sophie's plate.
They were alone in the kitchen on a snowy S
aturday morning. Mike and Jerry had finished their breakfast and had left to put out feed for the cattle wintering on the south range. Forbes was down at the barn, tending the horses.
"Newt must be having a good time," Sophie shrugged. After buttering each cake liberally, she added a healthy amount of warmed maple syrup.
"That woman has him bewitched, damn her." Maeve patted Sophie on the shoulder. "No offense, honey."
"None taken."
Sophie didn't add her two cents worth, but silently, she agreed with Maeve. Bewitched? She thought it as good a term as any. However, Joy's powers had always been of a temporary nature. Until Newt.
"Newt belongs back here. On the ranch. Forbes could talk him into returning, but that boy won't listen to a word I have to say on the subject."
"He wants his father to be happy. I can't blame him for that."
Sophie repeated the mantra to herself over and over in an attempt to find peace with what Forbes had said to her. She understood. And she wasn't blameless. She had lied by omission. Over and over again. But when he called her a selfish bitch? It hurt. Her tender feelings turned to anger. Though some of the red haze had faded, she couldn't entirely let it drop.
"This house is empty ninety percent of the time. My feet echo through the halls. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have a reason to stay." Maeve diligently scrubbed the already-gleaming countertop. "Jerry and Mike appreciate my cooking, but they are more than capable of taking care of themselves. Between his social life and whatever sport is in season—I can never keep track—Forbes is never around anymore."
"I'm sorry."
"It isn't your fault, sweet girl."
That was the problem. It was Sophie's fault. Her happiness had come at a price she hadn't anticipated. Knowing she could have put an end to Newt and Joy before they got beyond the wild weekend stage sat like a solid lump in her stomach. One that grew with each passing day.
If Sophie could go back to the day she first met Newt—knowing what would happen—she wished she could say she would do things differently. How could she? Six months ago, she was starving. For food. For knowledge. For friends. For the tiniest bit of kindness and affection. Now, she had all of those things. Only a saint would have the strength to not only give them up but change the past, so none of it had happened.
Sophie was a lot of things. A saint wasn't one of them.
"I'm the reason Forbes is gone all the time."
Maeve gave a dismissive snort. "It's been getting worse with each passing year. Football. Basketball. Baseball in the spring. Around the time puberty hit, Forbes spent more time with his friends. Those kids drove to each other's house and back long before they had a license making it legal. You aren't the reason, Sophie. He's been stretching the apron strings for a long time."
"It's more than that," Sophie insisted. "We had a… disagreement."
Talk about your neon-emblazoned definition of an understatement. However, it was as much of an explanation as Sophie could manage.
"Is that why you started taking the bus every morning instead of riding with him?"
Sophie nodded, pushing the last few bites of her pancakes around the plate.
"That little stinker." Tossing the sponge into the sink, Maeve placed her fists on her hips. "If men are supposedly so tough, why are their egos so easily bruised? You should have said something sooner. I'll set Forbes straight the next time he bothers to honor us with his presence."
"No! Please, Maeve. Don't say anything to him."
Sophie didn't want Forbes to think she had put Maeve up to it. Not that the housekeeper could help. Things had gone from cool to cold, to downright glacial. For any kind of thaw, one of them would have to make the first move.
One of them not named Sophie.
"I'll keep my thoughts to myself. Lord knows I've gotten good at it since the day your sister arrived. Thank goodness you came with her." Maeve poured herself a coffee before joining Sophie at the kitchen table. "I was dreading when Forbes graduated in June. The way things stand, it feels like he's already gone."
Maeve had been good to her. Better than good. Sophie had been dropped in the woman's lap—unasked for and unexpected. Instead of treating her like an interloper, Maeve fed Sophie. She taught her to make cookies. To knead bread. And prepare a casserole out of leftovers that in anybody else's less-capable hands, never would have gone together.
Because of the housekeeper's kindness—and because she had come to genuinely like the woman—Sophie knew what she had to do. Though it was a mighty bitter pill to swallow.
"I'll talk to him."
"That would be best." Maeve smiled.
Suspicious, Sophie raised an eyebrow. "Have I just been played?"
"Don't feel bad. I've been doing this a lot longer than you. Would you like anything else?"
"No. Thanks."
Unlike when she first arrived, Sophie had her saturation point. These days, instead of ten or twelve, six pancakes were her limit. Of course, it helped to know another big meal was only a few hours away.
Maeve carried Sophie's plate to the sink, scraping the scraps into the garbage disposal. "You'll feel better once you and Forbes clear the air."
"I can't make any promises."
"I have every faith in you."
Sophie finished clearing the table, filling the dishwasher with the rest of the breakfast dishes. When Forbes was at home, he spent most of his time at the bunkhouse with Mike and Jerry. So, task number one? Get Forbes alone? Then what? Sophie let out a heartfelt sigh. She had no idea.
"WHAT THE HELL is wrong with you?" Forbes demanded when the baseball he lobbed at Aaron plonked his friend on the top of the head. "Ever hear the term 'keep your eye on the ball?' This is where it comes from."
"Ever heard the term 'stick it up your ass?' I have no idea where it comes from but probably from a situation a lot like this one."
Aaron retrieved the ball, whipping it back at Forbes. Walking across the gymnasium, he sprawled onto the bleachers, the whole time attempting to rub the sting from his head.
The March morning was cold. Unlike the pros down in sunny Arizona and Florida, the Cloverdale baseball team's version of spring training performed drills on the hardwood normally reserved for indoor sports. Practice had ended thirty minutes ago, but neither Forbes nor Aaron had felt like heading home. Each lost in their own thoughts, they tossed the ball back and forth.
"If you wanted to quit, all you had to do was say the word. Sometime before I plunked you would have been nice."
"I wasn't concentrating," Aaron mumbled.
"No shit." Forbes took a seat, stretching out his long legs. Sweats and t-shirts were their usual practice attire. In deference to their indoor location, they had swapped cleats for sneakers. "You want to tell me what's crawled up your ass. Whatever it is has been hibernating for over a week. I'd say the sucker could use some air."
Aaron snorted. It was as close to a laugh as his friend had produced in way too long.
"I'll spill if you will."
"Me?"
"Yes, you." Aaron slapped Forbes on the arm with his catcher's glove. "I'm not the only one with something lodged up my backside. Only yours has been there a damn sight longer."
Forbes swiveled until he was stretched out on the wooden bench, his hands behind his head. For several moments, he stared in silence at the florescent light-littered ceiling.
"When did life get so complicated?" he began. "I miss the days when my biggest problem was that summer vacation never lasted long enough."
"Summer was the best," Aaron agreed. "We could play outside for hours and hours. Swimming. Biking."
"Those were the days."
"Cindy broke up with me."
The nostalgic smile fell from Forbes' lips. He jackknifed to a sitting position.
"What? When?"
"About a week ago."
That explained a lot. Aaron's normally laidback disposition had headed south about
then. It had been impossible to ignore.
"Now the tough one. Why?"
"I cheated on her."
Forbes rubbed a hand over his face. They could long for simpler times all they wanted, but lost love and infidelity were definitely grown-up problems. One more piece of evidence that there was no going back.
"Who with?"
Clenching his fists heavenward, Aaron let out a long, loud wail of frustration. "Why is that the first question out of everybody's mouth?"
"Cindy?" Forbes had to assume that Aaron's longtime—recently ex-girlfriend—was the other part of everybody.
Miserable, Aaron nodded. "It doesn't matter who. I told Cindy that it didn't mean anything."
"What if the tables were turned? Would you like to walk down the halls wondering which guy she had been with? Some fuckwad smirking because he had sex with your girl before you did?"
"Are you trying to make me feel lower than I already do?"
"I'm trying to help you see it from Cindy's point of view. She's hurting. You hurt her. Try not to rub any extra salt in her wounds."
"The girl I had sex with doesn't go to our school."
"There's still a chance that Cindy could—"
"They won't meet." Aaron rounded on Forbes, his eyes blazing. "Okay? They don't know each other."
"No need to bite my head off."
"Count yourself lucky. I feel like punching you in the face."
"Thanks a lot."
"It isn't personal. I've had the urge since Cindy kicked my ass to the curb."
"I won't ask why you did it."
"That was Cindy's second question."
"Please tell me you didn't put the blame on her."
"I'm not a complete idiot." Aaron frowned. "Though now that you mention it—"
Forbes knew he was supposed to have his best friend's back—part of an unwritten code. Any other time, his support would have been a given. However, he had known Cindy as long as he could remember. She was the sweetest girl he knew. Generous to a fault. With a smile that could light up the gloomiest of days. He wouldn't sit silently by while she was thrown under the bus.
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