by Nancy Bush
And so the world goes ’round . . .
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Hawk said conversationally to Avery.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Sarah here sicced Vandeway on me,” Hawk said, shooting Sarah a look that could have meant anything. She set her jaw and glared at him. “You seem to all be pretty cozy with one another.”
“Don told me what he told you,” Avery retorted frostily. “No need to play coy.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” Hawk asked.
“Did you come here looking for me?” Avery parried. “’Cause I’m not interested in talking to you.”
Hawk gave Liz a look, and something in the depths of his eyes started a flutter in her stomach. No, he hadn’t been looking for Avery. He’d come to see Liz.
Suddenly, she wanted Avery and Sarah and everyone else out of her life. There was only room for Hawthorne and Jesse right now, and this was the time to put everything back together that had been torn asunder for so long.
“Maybe you could leave us alone,” Liz suggested softly, her gaze encompassing Sarah as well.
Avery looked as if he might argue the point, but Sarah was more than willing to hustle him out of Liz’s range. They stood together for a moment on the porch, and in that interval, you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. After they were gone, Liz glanced at Hawthorne, who seemed to be thinking about what he wanted to say.
Liz said, “I feel—weird.”
Hawk nodded. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and asked, “So, what was going on with them?”
“God only knows. Sarah had some kind of relationship with Avery that’s gone sour. She followed him over here.”
“But he’d come to see you,” Hawk finished, to which Liz shrugged. “What are your feelings for him?”
“Avery? Nothing.”
“He’s up to his eyebrows in this yew bark thing,” Hawk muttered.
“I know. And it’s connected to Barney Turgate’s murder, isn’t it?”
Hawk’s brows lifted. “You know?”
“Too many pieces fell into place.” With that, Liz related what information she’d put together and Hawthorne listened in moody silence. Eventually, he explained a little of his own themes. They talked until the subject was exhausted and then looked at each other. They had more pressing business that neither of them knew how to address.
Eventually, Hawk said carefully, “I talked to Jesse.”
Liz’s heart beat fast. “Oh?”
“He’s . . . coming around. He’s changed over the course of the summer. For the better.”
“He’s a good kid, despite everything. You did a great job raising him.”
The look he sent her was full of dark amusement. “Yeah.”
“No, I mean it. And you were right to wait to tell him about me. It was good to get to know him first. You know, he might even talk to me again someday,” she added lightly.
“Sooner than you think.”
“What? Why?”
“He’s—accepting.”
“Oh, Hawk . . .” She swallowed against a growing lump in her throat.
“I probably should have told him the truth right from the beginning. Maybe it would have helped.”
“No, no. You don’t know.”
“God . . .” He closed his eyes and she slipped her arms around him and let him sway against her for support, and he supported her as well. Her heart swelled. Moments ticked by in her mind.
For his part, Hawk could only accept that Liz was in his arms. The future was murky. He was afraid. Passion simmered beneath the surface, and all he wanted to do was make love to her. Jesse’s mother. The lover from his past.
To that end, he turned his lips into her hair. Liz responded with a soft, submissive sigh, and that was all it took. In his ungainly way, Hawk led her to the couch, where they tumbled together and made love as if it were their last night on earth.
* * *
Jesse stood on a small rise. From this vantage point, Woodside spread out in two directions—west toward Hummingbird River; east toward town and then a stretch of rural homes and farms that finally petered out and edged onto Forest Service land.
Jesse had never been much of a thinker. Not that his brain wasn’t adequate. He just wasn’t the reflective type, generally speaking, and he realized with new adult thinking that neither was his father. Hawthorne Hart acted first and buried emotions he refused to acknowledge. He’d blamed himself entirely for the death of that boy and he’d nearly imploded from the effort, his soul nearly destroyed.
But something had changed, and Jesse was astute enough to realize what it was: Liz Havers. His mother, for Christ’s sake. His father’s secret love.
He didn’t have all the details. This was no chance meeting back in the old hometown. No, the shrink lady had come here on purpose. She’d followed him and Dad because she wanted to reconnect. And then Dad had been such a mess. It was amazing, really, that they’d come to this point.
Sighing, Jesse closed his eyes and pushed all those thoughts aside with an almost physical effort. Tonight was Tawny’s dance performance. Talk about eating away at the soul. Jesse was bound and determined to be there and her parents could just bite it. He would grab Brad and they would sneak in the back so they could watch.
A thought hit him like an arrow: Maybe he could wax his way in with the shrink lady first.
Jesse headed down the hill. He would go to her house and just get an idea of how he felt. He didn’t have to go in, but there was no harm in checking it out. With thoughts of bolting and running as a Plan B planted firmly in his mind, he headed down the hill to Liz’s.
* * *
“You incredible ass,” Perry declared, throwing a file at Hawk. Papers flew everywhere. Torn between amusement and annoyance, Perry demanded, “What kind of cowboy are you anyway?”
“I didn’t feel like being benched,” Hawk responded.
“You’re injured, for God’s sake. Let somebody else do the legwork.”
“That’s why I’m telling you now,” he pointed out reasonably.
Including Perry had been a necessity. Hawk had done everything he needed to do on the yew bark case. It was over. And it had served its purpose. He’d come back to the land of the living. Okay, sure, his leg was still casted, but the quest for peace that everyone had told him he needed to take—and he’d adamantly refused to embark on—was over before he’d even known he’d set off on the journey.
Now, all he wanted to do was concentrate on his family. Jesse.
And Liz? an inner voice asked.
“You said this Vandeway character warned you off,” Perry went on. “And he is what he said he was, a federal agent.”
“But I don’t trust him.”
“You don’t trust anybody.”
“Is this your way of saying you won’t follow up?”
Perry rolled his eyes. “I’ll follow up, but I might just let them do their job. If it turns out to have something to do with the Turgate murder, I’ll even step in. But I might just step a little more cautiously than you.”
“Keep after Francis. He may not have taken out Turgate, as Sarah Lister claims, but he’s in deep. I can feel it.”
“He’s an undercover agent. They’re always in deep.”
Hawk shook his head. There was just something wrong about the whole thing, but he was tired of it. Glancing at the clock, he felt a lift to his senses. Close enough to quitting time to start thinking about the evening ahead. With Liz. Even if it was some hokey dance recital for her adopted niece.
“I’ve just got one more stop,” Hawk told Perry as he headed for the door. “Sarah Lister’s boyfriend. I think he’s a poacher.”
“Watch your backside.”
“Always.”
Hawk left the building and was congratulating himself on how much more gracefully he could climb into his Jeep these days when a hand reached in the window and touched his upper arm. He twisted violently, heart slamming, pr
epared for battle before his brain had connected the danger. Lora Lee Evans shrank back with a gasp, clutching her throat with both hands.
“Sorry,” Hawk muttered. His pulse still ran at breakneck pace.
“Have you got them yet? The killers?”
“We’re close.” Hawk hesitated. “Why do you think there’s more than one?”
She shook her head. “Manny was the one. He might be dead, but there are others.”
“Other killers, or other poachers?”
Lora Lee gazed at him as if his message hadn’t fizzed into a chemical connection in her brain yet. The sadness in her eyes looked lifetime deep. She’d been around this town a long time and it appeared she’d be here for decades longer. She was a fixture. A small-town spinster whose man was always out of reach, whether living or dead.
“Poachers . . . ?” she asked blankly.
Hawk asked, “Who’s Sarah Lister’s boyfriend?”
“Sarah Lister?”
“Do you know her?”
“Oh, sure. I know most everybody who’s been around town for long. It’s Ed McEwan,” she added. “Although that new guy’s been around, too, but he doesn’t really like her. Everybody knows that.”
Ed McEwan. Quick with information and muscle-bound as a steer, Hawk remembered their meeting at the bar. “Does he beat her or her daughter?”
Lora Lee turned a face up to the heavens and closed her eyes, drawing in a breath and sighing as if to remind the fates of their senseless cruelty. “Barney never hurt anybody, but Ed’s mean.”
Shifting his Jeep into gear, Hawk waited until Lora Lee stepped away from the car. Looked like he had one more stop before the recital.
* * *
Liz paced the living room like the proverbial caged lion, waiting for Hawthorne. It was strange. Like a real date. A first date, and she sensed the progress much more profoundly than the fact that they were merely going to see a high school dance recital together, but waiting was hard. After all these years of separation it would seem a few more minutes wouldn’t matter, but, apparently, they did because she felt nervous and itchy.
When the bell rang, Liz jumped in surprise. She hadn’t heard Hawk’s Jeep. Cautiously, she opened the door, then gasped, “Oh!” on an intake of breath. Jesse stood on the front stoop.
“Hey,” he greeted her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Come on in,” she invited. If she’d thought she was nervous before, the sight of her son with so much unsaid between them turned her insides to a mass of jelly. “I was waiting for your father.”
“Oh? Yeah?” Jesse gazed around the room distractedly.
“Are you going to the recital tonight?”
He threw her a look screened by his errant hair. “Yeah, I’m going.”
“Kristy knows you and Tawny are together,” Liz babbled, wishing she could calm her butterflies. She could really use a glass of wine, but it didn’t seem like a good idea to gulp liquor in front of her son. Instead, she stood behind the couch, gripping the back of it for support.
Jesse shook his hair from his eyes, then raked his hands through his hair in a gesture reminiscent of his father. Without the protection of those brown-blond bangs, he looked like a young copy of Hawk, his eyes so blue they seemed to pierce through Liz’s protective armor. She felt naked and vulnerable. Jesse had the power to hurt her in ways she hadn’t known existed. She waited for him to say something more, to let her know which way he stood.
“I overheard you and Dad,” he admitted in a gruff voice.
“I know.” Liz clasped and unclasped her fingers.
“He should’ve told me.” Liz didn’t respond, so Jesse added, “Or you should’ve.”
Nodding, Liz said in a strangled voice, “I didn’t know who you were at first. You were just Brad’s friend Jesse. Then, when Hawk came to Kristy’s and you were there, it was just . . . hard to believe. I know I didn’t handle it well. But I was glad it was you,” she added, daring a direct look at him. “That you were my son.”
His gaze slid away.
“I liked you right off the bat,” Liz continued doggedly. “And then, when I realized it was you! It was—like a gift. And then I wanted to tell you, but . . .”
“You could’ve just said it.”
“That would have been better?”
A hesitation. “Yeah.”
“Then I’m sorry I didn’t.”
A roar of an engine and the crunch of gravel. Headlights swept the room. Hawk had arrived.
Instantly, Jesse’s demeanor changed. All diffidence was gone. The smoldering rebel still lingered, and as Hawk knocked on the door, Jesse said, “So, don’t think we’re just one happy family now.”
“I would never,” Liz admitted, holding up her palms like a suspect under arrest. Jesse slid her an uncertain look, then threw open the door and bolted toward his bike.
“Hey!” Hawk called after him, but Jesse was gone before his father’s “Be careful!” could even reach his ears.
“You’re late,” Liz said, plumping a pillow to cover up her rampant emotions.
“Okay, let’s go” was his response.
Liz gazed at him in surprise. Hardly an auspicious beginning for their first real date.
* * *
The theater lights burned brightly on stage, but the rest of the house was as dark as midnight. Liz and Hawk sat several tiers away from Kristy, who’d graciously given Guy her extra ticket for the seat beside her. Even from her vantage point, Liz sensed Guy’s uptight personality: it was evident in the thrust of his shoulders, the tautness of his neck, the push of his jaw. With a feeling of unreality, she glanced at Hawk, who met her gaze questioningly. His handsome face was serious, and he, too, was tense. But it was the same tightly strung sensation Liz was feeling, not the judgmental quality of Guy Fielding. In the candid moment, while they silently searched each other’s gaze, Liz touched her fingers to his. Hawk’s eyes swiftly glanced down at the heat of that contact, and a second later, he linked his fingers in hers.
Music swelled. Dancers appeared. Miniature tots in tutus and makeup like war paint. Wildly flinging legs and tapping toes. Class after class appeared on stage and strutted their stuff, to the amusement of the crowd as a whole and the teary-eyed pride of the angels’ parents.
Liz could only feel Hawk’s touch. She floated in sensation that was nearly X-rated while barely making contact. Ridiculous. Wonderful. Sublime. God, she was nuts! And then Tawny came on stage in a red leotard with a flowing, shimmery gossamer skirt and began a dance that was half jazz movements, half ballet, and Liz held her breath, stunned by the beauty and fluidity of her body.
* * *
In the back, back row, Jesse ground the heel of his boot into Brad’s foot until his friend growled out in pain. “Watch it!” Brad whispered harshly.
“You light up in here and the goddamn fire department’ll come down and haul our asses to jail.”
“Did I say I was going to light up?”
“What are you reachin’ in your pocket for?”
“A stick of gum, asshole.”
“Sure.”
“Look, I—”
Jesse elbowed him in the ribs, hard. “Shut up. There’s Tawny.”
Brad muttered on, but his voice trailed off as Tawny sparkled in a sea of red gossamer and hot white lights. Jesse, who’d never had much of an appreciation for the arts apart from alternative music, was moved to stunned silence. This dumb dance thing touched him inside. The whole production was more performance than recital anyway, and Tawny was just plain fabulous. His throat closed. His heart hammered. His head filled with noise. He felt as if he were running a marathon while standing perfectly still.
It ended far too soon to tumultuous applause. Jesse melted into the shadows at the back of the theater, while Brad gazed at him quizzically.
It was magnificent torture. Jesse knew he should leave, but he had to wait for Tawny. He wanted to touch her, to check that she was real and still part of
his life.
Jeezus, life could knock you on your ass sometimes.
* * *
“You’re breaking my hand,” Hawk murmured, amused.
“Sorry.” Liz relaxed her grip, swollen with pride.
“Do you mind catching a ride with the Fieldings? I’m going to have to leave early. I’ve got to stop by the Listers.”
She glanced his way. “I thought you said you handed the case over to Perry.”
“I think Sarah’s boyfriend’s someone I’ve met. I’d like to ask him a few questions about yew bark.”
“I’m going with you.”
“You’re staying here and congratulating Tawny,” he reminded her. “Tell her she was great.”
Hawk left before Liz could do anything more. There were a couple of dances after Tawny’s, nothing nearly as spectacular in Liz’s biased opinion, then the lights came up. Liz moved with the herd to the outside deck, where tiny lights wrapped around bare-limbed trees provided illumination. The air was warm and sultry and thick. A hot August night.
She caught sight of Tawny’s flashing red costume at the same moment she spied Jesse. They were together, and the look in Jesse’s eyes made it clear he’d shared some of the same emotion that flooded Liz upon seeing Tawny dance.
Threading her way through the crowd, Liz lost sight of them for a few moments. When she was finally free again, she realized an ugly scene was in full play.
Guy was glowering at Jesse, whose back was to a railing, though he strived for nonchalance. Brad kept glancing between Jesse and Guy, flexing, as if he were about to jump on Guy if he twitched a muscle the wrong way. Kristy held Tawny’s arm in a death grip, dragging her away.
“Guy, please,” Kristy begged as Liz squeezed between a couple, the last people in the way. “It’s all right.”
“Stay away from my daughter. That’s all,” Guy growled at Jesse.
“Could you be a little more specific?” Jesse drawled with perfect insouciance. “I don’t think I understand.”
Guy bristled. Brad shifted his weight forward. Liz stepped between Guy and Jesse and placed a hand on Guy’s chest. “You’ve made your point. Please don’t make a scene.”