She crossed to the sofa, rubbing her hands across her folded arms. Mary Elizabeth’s diary still lay on the faded fabric where she’d left it the night before. Sighing, Callie picked it up, then pulled the chain to switch on the floor lamp by the sofa.
Memories of the previous night came rushing back. The eerie feeling of someone being upstairs with her. The lonely quality in the song Judd had played that had drawn her down to the bar. Finding him sitting on the stool, a guitar cradled against his chest. The kiss. The surge of passion. The warring emotions. The long, anticipatory walk back to the hotel. Being in Judd’s arms. Making love.
She grabbed for the chain and pulled, throwing the room back into darkness. She didn’t want lights. She wanted darkness to hide her troubled emotions.
She sagged onto the sofa, her chest tight, her throat burning with tears. Clutching the diary in one hand, she dragged the moth-eaten shawl she’d used the night before across her chest. Tears budded and fell, rising in tempo and intensity until her chest heaved with each gulp of air.
“Oh, Judd,” she cried softly. “I need you.”
* * *
“Callie?”
Callie tried to open her eyes, but her lids were simply too heavy.
A hand touched hers and she stiffened at the unexpected contact. She slowly relaxed as warmth and comfort stole over her. Knowing somehow that there was nothing to fear in the gesture, she curled her fingers around the offered warmth and reassurance.
“Callie? Why are you crying?”
“I’m so confused.”
“About what, dear?”
“Stephen.”
“Your young man?”
“Yes. No.” Callie swallowed back frustrated tears. “He’s not my young man. Everyone thinks he is, himself included, but he’s not. He’s just a friend.”
“Is that the reason for your tears?”
“Partly, but the worst of it is that Stephen wants to marry me.”
“And you don’t want to marry him?”
“No, but I don’t want to hurt him, either. He’s a dear friend.”
“That is a problem, for friends are too precious to lose.”
“Yes, they are,” Callie agreed, her heart heavy with the weight of her problems, for she considered both Stephen and Judd her friends. She reflected a moment on the feelings she felt for each of them. The first, a friendship strengthened by years. The other, a passion that constantly burned deeper and deeper. Her feelings for both were strong.
“There is someone else,” Callie murmured, testing the sound of the words as she shared them aloud for this first time.
“Oh?”
“Yes, which is crazy, because I’ve known him less than a week.”
“And Stephen? How long have you known him?”
“Five years.”
“And have your feelings for Stephen grown in that length of time?”
“No,” Callie said slowly.
“Then perhaps time has nothing to do with feelings at all.”
Callie tightened her fingers around the hand that held hers. “May I ask you a question?”
“Certainly, dear.”
“How do you know when you’re in love?”
A soft chuckle whispered over her. “When you are in love, you won’t have to ask that question. You will know.”
“But how?”
The hand on hers squeezed reassuringly. “Your heart will tell you.”
* * *
Callie jerked to wakefulness, her heart thumping, her body drenched in a cold sweat. She pushed to an elbow and glanced around, sure that she wasn’t alone.
Early morning rays kissed the main room of the whorehouse, its predawn glow masking the ravages of years of neglect. She dropped her head back on the pillow and groaned.
It was only a dream, she told herself, fighting back tears. Yet, already she yearned for the comfort she’d received from the mysterious woman in her dream, and the wisdom and strength of her words.
* * *
It was early yet, but Callie was anxious to get this over with. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand and knocked.
Stephen opened the door, fully dressed. “Good morning!” he said cheerfully.
Though he wore a smile, Callie saw the flicker of nervousness in his eyes at her unexpected appearance. She forced a smile in return. “Good morning, Stephen. Mind if I come in?”
He opened the door wide and motioned her inside. He watched her as she walked past. “I was waiting until I was sure you were up before I called to see if you would join me for breakfast.”
“I’ve already eaten.”
“Oh.”
Unable to meet the disappointment in his eyes, Callie dropped her gaze. She knotted her hands at her waist and surged past him to cross to the window.
On the street below, Guthrie was showing signs of life. A merchant across the street was out sweeping the sidewalk in front of his store. An occasional car whizzed past. A lone jogger wearing fluorescent spandex and a stocking cap chugged out of sight.
The normalcy of their activities made Callie wish for some order in her own life. And she’d have that. The first step was setting things straight with Stephen. She struggled to find just the right words. “Stephen, this is difficult, but I hope you’ll understand.”
She turned to find him standing where she’d left him, watching her. “I know that you want to set a wedding date, but I—I can’t.”
“You need time,” he said patiently.
“No. Time won’t change my feelings. I simply can’t marry you.”
Stunned, he could only stare. “But, Callie, I love you.”
His declaration of love had the desired effect. She felt herself weakening, hammered by guilt that she’d allowed their relationship to go on so long, then she stiffened, strengthening her resolve. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, let a sense of obligation keep her from doing what she knew was best for them both. “I love you, too, Stephen, but as a friend. Nothing more.”
His eyes remained on her, his gaze unwavering. “You’re sure?” he asked finally.
Callie bobbed her head, tears pushing at her throat. “Yes. I’m sure.” She crossed quickly to him and rose to her toes to press a kiss on his cheek before heading for the door.
“Callie?”
She stopped with her hand on the knob. “Yes, Stephen?”
“If you change your mind...”
The offer hung between them, but Callie couldn’t find the heart or the words to respond. Softly, she closed the door behind her.
* * *
Judd pulled the ball from his pocket and let it fly. Baby churned grass as he raced after the yellow fluorescent orb. Usually the game brought a smile to Judd. But not today. His heart hurt too bad. He sighed and dropped back against the cold marble monument behind him as he rubbed a hand across his chest as if he could ease the pain.
He stole a glance down the street to the Harrison House, his eyes instinctively seeking Callie’s second-floor room. The shade was down, the drapes drawn. He wondered if she still slept. He wondered, too, if Stephen slept with her. The same bed that he and Callie had shared the night before. The thought made him squeeze his eyes tightly shut to block the the image.
Baby raced back with the ball and dropped it at Judd’s feet. When Judd didn’t pick it up, the dog stuck his nose against Judd’s hand and nudged.
Judd gave him a half-hearted scratch behind the ears. “Sorry, Baby. I’m not much in the mood to play today.” He scooped the ball from the ground and stood, shoving it deep into his duster pocket. “Let’s take a walk.” With a slap on his thigh, he signaled Baby to follow. Together they headed off down the street.
They’d almost reached the corner of First and Harrison when Judd saw him. Stephen. Callie’s fiancé. Stepping out of the entrance to the Harrison Hotel. The expression he wore wasn’t what Judd would expect to see on the face of a man who’d just spent the night with his fiancée. His shoulders were tense, his mouth set in a grim li
ne. He crossed to the sleek silver car with the Texas license plates and tossed a leather garment bag into the trunk.
Was he leaving? So soon?
Judd didn’t want to see the man, much less feel obligated to speak. Justified or not, the feelings were honest. He started to cross the street to avoid him, but he was too late. Stephen saw him and lifted a hand in greeting.
“Good morning, Judd.”
Judd’s greeting was a little more reserved. “Mornin’.” He drew even with the car and cut a glance to the open trunk and the suitcase inside. “Thought you were staying the weekend.”
Stephen’s mouth twisted in a sardonic smile as he slammed the trunk lid. “So did I, but things didn’t work out as I’d hoped.” He rubbed his hands briskly together and hunched his shoulders against the cold. He stuck out his hand and forced a smile. “It was nice meeting you. If you’re ever performing in Dallas, let me know. I’ll try to catch one of your concerts.”
Judd didn’t bother to tell him he wasn’t doing concerts anymore, but shook the offered hand. “Yeah, sure thing.” After all, it wasn’t Stephen’s fault he’d gotten himself engaged to a liar.
* * *
“Let me make sure I understand all this. You think the grave out at Summit View Cemetery that bears the name William Leighton Sawyer, does not contain the body of William Leighton Sawyer?”
“That’s correct.”
“Then whose body do you think is in the grave?”
“I don’t know. Possibly no one.”
“And what proof do you have that the body of William Leighton Sawyer doesn’t rest in that grave?”
Callie pulled out the birth certificate and leaned to lay it on the desk in front of the lawyer. “This is my great-grandfather’s birth certificate. He is very much alive and lives in Dallas, Texas.”
The lawyer shoved his glasses back on his nose and lifted his chin to peer through the bifocals at the document in front of him. He studied it, turning it over, then holding it up to the light. “Looks authentic to me,” he muttered.
“I assure you it is.” Callie settled back in the chair. “What legal action is necessary in order to exhume the grave?”
The lawyer reared back and pursed his lips, studying Callie over the top of his glasses. “You’re sure you want to do this?”
“Positive.”
The chair squeaked as he lowered it back into position and took up a pen. “I’ll have to draw up the Exhumation Order and file it with the District Court Judge. You’ll have to sign the papers as primary next of kin.”
“Primary next of kin?”
He looked up from his note taking. “You are the closest living relative, aren’t you?”
“No, not exactly.”
He laid down his pen. “Who is?”
“Both of his children are deceased, so I suppose my mother is, since she’s the oldest grandchild.”
“Then she’ll need to sign the order. There will be expenses involved.”
Callie stood, her hopes sagging. There was no way in hell Frances Sawyer Benson would go to the expense of paying a lawyer and having a grave exhumed to satisfy an old man’s whim. But she knew she couldn’t give up until she’d at least tried to convince her. “Thank you for your time,” she told the lawyer. “I’ll let you know what my mother wishes to do.”
* * *
Callie squeezed her temples with one hand while keeping the phone pressed to her ear with the other.
“I’m not asking you to rob a grave, Mother. I’m simply asking you as Papa’s closest living relative to sign the Exhumation Order.”
“Whether I dig it up myself or order it done, the result is the same. The grave is robbed.”
“We are not robbing the grave! We simply want to prove that William Leighton Sawyer is not in the grave.”
“We already know that, so what’s the point?”
Worn out from arguing with her mother, Callie dipped her head to her palm. “The point is, there is a grave here with Papa’s name on it. I want to know why. Don’t you?”
“No,” she said simply. “And besides, there are bound to be expenses involved. Who will bear the brunt of these costs?”
“I will.”
“And my signature is required before any of this can transpire?”
“Yes.”
Silence hummed for a good five seconds. Callie waited, not daring to breathe, much less hope.
“Have you spoken to Stephen?”
The abrupt change of topic took Callie by surprise. “Yes. He drove up yesterday.”
“Is he still there?”
“No, he left for Dallas this morning.”
“Obviously, he wasn’t able to persuade you to forget this nonsense about locating Papa’s mother.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“Did the two of you make up and set a wedding date?”
“It’s not a matter of making up, Mother.”
In exasperation, her mother cried, “Then why won’t you set a date and marry him, for God’s sake, and do something sensible with your life for a change?”
“Because I don’t love him enough to marry him.”
“Love,” Frances flung back at her. “You and your silly concept about love. Friendship is what’s important. And respect. The rest will take care of itself.”
“Not for me, Mother.”
Callie could hear the swell of anger before her mother replied, “Well, you might as well pack your things and come home, because I’m not signing any Exhumation Order.”
“I’m not coming home, Mother. With or without your help, I intend to find out everything I can about Papa’s mother.”
* * *
With the appointment with the lawyer behind her and still feeling the effect of the call to her mother, Callie headed down the sidewalk toward the Blue Bell. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about her confrontation with Judd. She couldn’t. Not when she had the appointment with the lawyer and her mother to deal with. But now that her obligations were complete, her thoughts turned to Judd, and Stephen’s ill-timed introduction of her at the Sand Plum the night before.
This is the young woman I was telling you about earlier, my fiancée, Callie Benson.
She shuddered at the memory of Judd’s face. He’d immediately become the gunslinger again, the lines around his mouth and eyes hard and unforgiving. He’d swung his gaze briefly her way, giving her no more notice than he would a stranger. But she’d seen the hurt, the betrayal in his eyes before he’d turned away.
She approached the Blue Bell, her nerves jumping beneath her skin, and opened the door to find Hank standing behind the bar.
Callie forced a smile. “Catch any mice this morning?”
Hank laughed good-naturedly. “Nah. Maybe tonight, though.”
Callie glanced around. “Is Judd here?”
“No, he hasn’t been in yet. Expect him before long, though.”
“Oh.” Callie tried to hide her disappointment. “Well, I’ll be working upstairs. When he comes in, would you tell him I need to talk to him?”
“Sure thing.”
Callie climbed the staircase that led from the bar to the second floor, her spirits sagging. She wasn’t sure how much longer her nerves could take the suspense.
Less than an hour later, she heard his steps. She rushed from her studio, then stopped midway across the main room, her heart sinking at her first glimpse of him.
His walk was almost a swagger, his face set in the hard lines she’d learned to dread. She could feel the anger emanating from him, almost taste it in the thick, musty air. He held the frown in place as he shortened the distance between them. “Hank said you needed to talk to me,” he said curtly.
Callie tried to smile. “Yes, I do. About—about Stephen.”
“Seemed like a nice guy,” he said through tight lips.
“He is a nice guy.”
He cocked a hip to one side and gave the brim of his Stetson an impatient punch with a finger. “Listen, if you
’re worried about what happened the other night, don’t be. That’ll be our little secret.” Before Callie could respond, he added, “It was a roll in the hay, was all. A one-night stand. Don’t lose any sleep over it. I assure you, I won’t.”
Callie sucked in a shocked breath. “That’s all it was to you? A roll in the hay?”
His lips curved in a lazy grin. “Why sure, honey.” He raised his thumb to line her lower lip, the action as provocative as it was demeaning. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little cheat between friends.” He dropped his hand and winked. “Anytime you feel like another roll, you give me a call, you hear?”
Seven
Aroll in the hay. A little cheat between friends
Judd’s words burned in Callie’s chest like a physical pain, searing the scar he’d left on her heart. She told herself it didn’t matter, that she didn’t care, it had been the same for her.
But it was a lie. Not an hour passed that she didn’t think of him, wish for him.
Sleep became her enemy, her dreams filled with Judd. She would awaken with tears dampening her pillow and her heart heavy with memories she’d rather forget. With nothing but her work to console her, she mired herself in her project, working twelve, sometimes sixteen hour days. The statue grew, both in height and emotion, yet the face of the woman continued to elude Callie. She lacked focus, she told herself, and tried to blank out the nagging memories of Judd.
But his words continued to haunt her.
A roll in the hay. A little cheat between friends.
God, how could she have been such a fool! She never wanted to feel that level of pain again. Never.
* * *
For over a week Callie’s presence in the building wore on Judd’s nerves like the irritating drip of a leaky faucet. He heard her when she unlocked the door of a morning and creaked her way up the stairs. He heard her gentle rustlings as she moved about above him throughout the day. Most nights he was still in the bar when she creaked her way back down the stairs and let herself out the side door. She never once approached him or acknowledged him in any way. Stubbornness born of pride kept him from approaching her.
But after a week neither pride nor stubbornness could keep him from going upstairs after she’d left, to see what she found to do up there all day.
Miss Lizzy's Legacy Page 10