No Plans for Love

by Ruth Ann Hixson

  "Does the word 'mentor' mean anything to you?"

  "What are you mentoring her in?"

  "Life. We talk."

  "About what?"

  "Just about anything."

  "Do you ever talk about sex?"

  "Yes, but not with each other. She's my son's girl. I've known her since the day she was born. If you want to make something of that, go ahead. I have beans to shell." Frank went down the steps and headed for the combine just as Chad Wertman came to the porch.

  "What do we have?" he asked Turner.

  "Did you happen to look in the kitchen when you came past?"

  "Uh-ha. Looks like someone was really mad."

  "Since all the keys are accounted for and there's no evidence of forced entry and the windows were all broken from the inside, it seems like there's no way someone got in unless Miss Winnette is lying to me."

  "I didn't lie!" Sherry turned to Mark and laid her head on his chest.

  "You didn't touch anything?" Chad asked in a gentler tone than Turner had used.

  "The telephone when I called Frank."

  "Wouldn't you call the police first?" Turner wondered.

  "Frank was closer! I needed someone right then. He called the police, and Mark, and Jan." She turned around abruptly. "Wait! I did do something. I just remembered. When I came in I noticed the garage door was open and Mitzi was gone."

  "Mitzi?"

  "My kitten. I don't know what happened to her."

  "She's in the den," Turner said.

  "Is she okay?"

  "Seemed to be."

  "When she didn't come I closed the garage door."

  "Bingo!" Mark exclaimed. "She didn't need a key to get in. She had the remote to the garage door. It was on the dash of her car the day Sherry kicked her out. I saw it when I carried her suitcase out to the her car."

  "Alison," Chad guessed.

  "Why would she do this to me?"Sherry cried.

  "Who's Alison?" Turner asked.

  "Alison Winnette. Sherry's mother. The woman who made that call to the radio station to try to get Mark in trouble." Chad shook his head. "Why does that not surprise me?"

  "Why would Sherry's mother do this?" Turner wondered.

  "Hypothesis," Mark replied. "Alison came to see Sherry either to get her to sell those war diaries or to allow her to move back in. Or both. Sherry isn't here so Alison goes looking for the key to the safe deposit box..."

  "My keys." Sherry ran to the kitchen and carefully stepped through the broken glass and china to the kitchen cabinet Judy's mother gave her. The roll front door was opened, her purse and keys gone. "She stole my purse and keys!" Sherry cried. She headed for the den with Chad close on her heels.

  As soon as she opened the door she saw it was gone. It was too big to be hidden. "She took my guitar!" she wailed. "How could she? She knows how much that means to me."

  "Just calm down." Chad put his hands on her shoulders. "Take some deep breaths." He took her arm and guided her back to the porch. "Her mother took her guitar," he told Mark and Turner.

  "I guess that changes it from vandalism and petty theft to grand larceny."

  "How so?" Turner asked.

  "Tell him Sherry."

  "That is a custom-made 1938 Martin acoustic guitar worth more than thirty thousand dollars. Gramps gave it to me for Christmas when I was thirteen and learning to play. He said the arthritis in his hands was too bad for him to play anymore. It belonged to his brother who got killed in the Korean War. It was an heirloom and it meant more to me than just dollars and cents. It was special.

  "She tried to sell it once before but I hid it away at a friend's house. It was then the music teacher told me how to mark it by putting my initials in an inconspicuous place. Mom doesn't know about that. I never told her. I also added my New Jersey driver's license number."

  "You can identify it then?" Chad asked.

  "Yes. But what about her having my keys and purse. She looks just like me or like I did before I had my hair cut short and dyed it blond. My checkbook is in that purse."

  "Not to mention the key to the safe deposit box," Mark added.

  "What's in the safe deposit box?" Turner wanted to know.

  "Old war diaries. Dating back to the French and Indian War all the way to halfway through the Civil War. Cousin Hannah has the ones beyond that."

  "How much are they worth?"

  Sherry shrugged. "Priceless to me. I don't know how much they're worth in dollars and cents."

  "According to Violet Winnette, Sherry's grandmother, about a half mill," Mark answered. "I don't know if that's just the ones she had or all of them."

  Chad let out a low whistle. "She'd have to take them out of state to get that much for them. Or at least to one of the big cities."

  "First she'll have to get past Mom at the bank," Mark asserted. "She's known Alison since they were in school together. Besides, Mom knows about Sherry's hair. I think Mom can freeze Sherry's checking account so Alison can't cash checks." Mark took out his cell phone and scrolled to Jan's number.

  "Mom, I know Dad called you about what happened at Sherry's. Can you freeze Sherry's bank account so Alison can't use it?"

  "As soon as I can get to a computer."

  "Where are you?"

  "Parked outside Sherry's house. Where are you?"

  "On the back porch."

  "Be there in a sec." Jan stepped onto the back porch a moment later. Passing through the breezeway, she glanced at the destruction in the kitchen. "Dad told me what happened but I didn't expect it to be so bad. Sherry can't stay here now."

  "She can go home with you. I'll walk down and drive the truck over so Dad won't have to walk back." Mark could see that his father was emptying the bin to the combine into the truck box. "I can walk over for my truck."

  "Sherry can drive my car over. I'll drive your truck. First I've got to talk to these troopers about how the bank is involved in this."

  "I need to get some clean clothes," Sherry cut in.

  "We can't have you messing up a crime scene," Turner objected.

  "This is my house," Sherry asserted. "I need clothes. I won't mess up your crime scene. You can probably get the best evidence from the handle of the hammer she used."

  "I'll go with you," Chad offered and turned to follow her.

  "I need to feed Mitzi. And she'll need her litter box."

  "Where is it?"

  "In the breezeway. First I've got to get this debris away so I can get the pantry door open."

  Chad used his foot to push aside a smashed casserole dish. While he went to the breezeway, Sherry got out a can of cat food and found a plastic dish to put it in. Then she took it to the den. Chad followed along carrying the litter box.

  Sherry got the clothes she needed. "I just need to get my toothbrush." But she couldn't get her toothbrush because the mirror to the medicine chest was shattered, the shards lay in the sink with the hammer.

  "Looks like she just threw the hammer." Chad looked over the bathroom.

  "Probably after she found my purse and keys," Sherry guessed. "Don't worry. I'll get by until tomorrow." She turned to leave. Outside she encountered a new problem. The media. That same female reporter who had given her trouble before stood on the lawn just beyond the police tape Turner was stringing from the dogwood tree to the corner of the garage. Her assistant had his camera rolling.

  "Get off my property!" Sherry stormed.

  "I'm outside the police tape," the woman excused.

  "I know you can legally shoot from the road but this is my property. Now get off it or I'll have you arrested."

  "You heard the lady," Chad said from beside her. "If I catch you here again, I'll book you for defiant trespassing. Now go."

  "Thanks, Chad."

  He opened the driver's door to Jan's black SUV. "One of us will be over to take your statement." Just then a call came over the radio clipped to his shoulder. "I have a feeling it won't be me."

  "Hi, Frank." Sherry walked
into the kitchen with Jan's purse strap over one shoulder and her bag of clothes in the other hand. He sat at his usual place at the table with his usual cup of coffee. She took a mug from the cupboard to get coffee.

  "How're you doing, kid?" Frank asked as she sat down on his right.

  "I think I'll live. I've been sick at my stomach ever since I saw what happened to my house."

  "I noticed Mark brought the truck up. I turned on the fans in the bin to help dry the beans. They're calling for light rain tomorrow." Frank usually talked about the farming when he talked to her. It gave her a chance to get her thoughts in order.

  She stirred her coffee watching the light brown liquid swirl around in her cup. "I think what happened has shaken me to the foundation of my soul. It just hurts so bad that my own mother did it. It's like everything's frozen into a hard knot around my heart."

  He reached over and laid his callused hand over hers. "You need to get past it so you can put your life back together. You don't have to do that alone. You have Mark now. And Jan and me."

  "I'm going to need all the help I can get. I may be able to clean up the mess but I can't fix the broken windows."

  "Mark can go to Lowe's after school tomorrow and get a roll of plastic to cover the windows for now. It will keep the critters and the weather out. You want to help me put the milkers together? Doing something may take your mind off of it a bit."

  "I might as well. I'm not doing any good sitting around."

  As she took a teat cup down and began to attach the hoses on it to a claw, Sherry asked, "Did you mean what you told Turner about being my mentor?"

  Frank shot her a grin. "Sure did."

  "Why? Why do you go to so much trouble to be my friend?"

  "I thought you need a friend who's willing to take you just as you are."

  "Oh, thank you! Thank you!" She deposited the claw and its attachments on the stainless steel cart and stepped to him throwing her arms around him. "Thank you so much."

  He closed his arms around her. "You're welcome, kiddo. I'll always be here for you. Count on it."

  "What the hell's going on here?" Mark stood in the open doorway.

  "Nothing," Frank said as they sprang apart.

  Sherry flushed from her head to her toes. "There's nothing between Frank and me," she said hastily.

  "You can say that again." Mark's dark eyes flashed with anger. "There certainly was nothing between you a moment ago. Not even air."

  "That was just a 'thank you' hug," Frank explained stepping around the cart that held the milkers. His gray gaze narrowed. "You just think you saw more than you did."

  "I know what I saw," Mark insisted. "I saw my girlfriend in my father's arms. I want an explanation."

  "I don't give a darn what you want," Frank shot back. "I don't answer to you."

  "Well, someone better answer." He looked at Sherry.

  Sherry's face drained of color so that Frank thought she might faint. Her mouth was so dry she could scarcely whisper. "It's like you father said."

  Mark stepped closer to his father. They stood glaring at each other, neither one backing down. Frank took one step closer. "Look here, little boy, I love my wife. I don't need a girl young enough to be my daughter."

  "Speaking of your wife, I'm sure she'd be interested in what I just saw."

  "Leave Mom out of this," Frank ordered. It was plain Frank was riled. They stood less than three feet apart.

  Sherry saw Mark's hands ball into fists. She had to do something quick. The situation was getting out of hand. She stepped between them putting her hands on their chests. "Stop it!"

  As soon as Sherry's hand touched his shirt, Frank stepped back but Mark didn't. Sherry turned and put both her hands on his chest and pushed. It was like trying to move a stone pillar. She pushed harder and he gave ground until he was back against the milk tank.

  "Calm down," Frank said. He went on to explain, "Sherry asked me if I meant what I said to Turner about being her mentor. I said yes. She asked me why. I told her I thought she needed a friend who'd accept her for what she is."

  "Like Alison Winnette's little bastard?"

  Sherry swung her hand with all the power she possessed to deal a slap to his cheek that left her hand stinging. Mark seized her wrist and bent her arm back until it hurt her shoulder.

  She tried to pull free of his viselike grip but couldn't.

  Frank sprang forward and grabbed his wrist in a iron grasp squeezing so hard Mark's watch band cut into his flesh. "Let her go," Frank ordered. Mark spread his fingers wide. Frank eased his grip but still held his son's wrist. "Go to the house, Sherry. I'll deal with Mark. Now go!"

  She stumbled outside and leaned against the block wall of the milk house. She was shaking so she could hardly breathe. She had to get herself under control before going to the house or she would have to explain to Jan why she was so upset. She could hear Frank and Mark inside.

  "It's time you straighten up and pay attention to what I'm telling you. That girl loves you and you just hurt her. You owe her one big apology. Do you think I lied to you? Do you think Sherry lied to you? We both love you more than that. I love you and I love Sherry. But I'm in love with Mom. I love Sherry almost like your sister. That's all you need to know. Now go make up with her so we can get this milking done." He released Mark's wrist.

  Mark ran his hands over his hair trying to get his head around what his father was telling him. "That was awful close for a thank you hug."

  "It wasn't meant to be. It only lasted a couple seconds. You just walked in at that instant."

  Mark turned to the door though he was still irked about what he'd walked in on. He opened the door and saw Sherry there leaning against the wall. "Are you eavesdropping?"

  "Noo!" She started to run away from him.

  Frank's foot hit the seat of Mark's pants. "Didn't you learn anything? Go get her and apologize."

  Mark easily overtook Sherry. He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. "I'm sorry about what I said."

  She looked up at him. "I thought my doubtful parentage didn't matter to you. Apparently it does."

  "It doesn't. I was angry. Forgive me."

  She pulled free. "I'm going for a walk so I can think." She turned and walked away.

  "It'll be dark soon."

  "I've been out after dark before," she flung over her shoulder.

  Chapter 23

  It wasn't the first time Sherry'd been called a bastard. It was true if you wanted to get technical. What had stung was Mark's calling her that. That tender spot had turned into a raw, bleeding wound.

  The evening's chill penetrated her sweater but she wasn't ready to go back. She looked up the slope at her house. Light shone from the kitchen window telling her that the police were still there. She thought of going home, of getting a start on cleaning up the place.

  But there was something more pressing. Something that needed to be done ASAP. The house would be there whenever she went back to it. More important was making things right with Mark. Light from the feed lot told her Frank was doing the feeding.

  She entered the barn quietly so she could see Mark before he saw her. She stopped just inside to watch him putting the milkers on the last cow in the parlor. He was completely absorbed in thought and didn't see her approach until she spoke beside him. She stepped in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders. "I forgive you but we really, really need to have that talk."

  He pulled her into his arms. "Before we go to bed," he promised. "I love you, Sherry. I'm sorry for what I said. I was mad beyond reason."

  "Is this how it's going to be? You sling slurs at me when you're angry? You need to learn anger management."

  "I know. I'm like Dad used to be until Mom put him in his place. He's mellowed out over the years. I guess I can, too. I don't want to hurt you."

  She pulled back and looked up into his dark eyes. "Then don't."

  He kissed her, a tender, gentle kiss. But it deepened into another "oral invasion." S
he kissed him back as ardently as he was kissing her. His hands slid beneath her sweater and up her back stopping at her bra.

  Frank's words were like a dash of ice water. "Why aren't you paying attention?" He caught the milkers just as Grumpy kicked them off but in time to keep the whole system from going down. "Sherry, I told you to go to the house. You're too much of a distraction for Mark. If you two keep mooning around we'll never get the milking done. I, for one, am hungry."

  Sherry looked chagrined. "Sorry. See you later." She exited quickly and walked to the house. She slowed her steps to regain control after Mark's arousing kiss. She understood Frank's not wanting her in the barn just then. She was too much of a distraction for Mark. She'd seen the bulge in his pants when she pulled away from him. Her arousal might not be so evident physically but it was just as potent. She needed Mark. No one ever made her feel like he did.

  Jan was in the kitchen putting together a tossed salad. "Hi, Sherry. How are you doing?" When she looked up she knew Sherry was upset. "What's wrong?"

  "We just had a big row."

  "You and Mark? You and Frank?"

  "All three of us." She gave Jan a condensed version of what happened.

  "And this ends how?"

  "I told Mark I forgive him. Is there anything you want me to do?"

  "No. I'm used to doing it all myself. I put the ingredients for beef stew in the slow cooker this morning." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I have refrigerated biscuits. And I'm making a salad."

  Sherry smiled. She knew Jan was joking when she lowered her voice about the biscuits. Her men were used to homemade everything. Sherry picked up her bag of clothes. "Do you mind if I sleep with Mark tonight? I need his strength."

  Jan looked around at her. "I thought that was a foregone conclusion. It doesn't matter what bed you sleep in. Mark's going to end up with you. Might as well be his bed. If you're going upstairs will you please take his briefcase along?"

  "I don't know which room is Mark's. I've never been upstairs here."

  "The one over the dining room. Up the stairs, back the hall and turn left."

  "Thanks. I need some quiet time to think." Sherry went up the stairs, back the hall and turned left. She switched on the overhead light and looked around. It was a neat room considering it was a man's. She didn't know if the neatness was the result of Jan's work or Mark's. The mahogany bed that was probably more than a hundred years old was covered with a white ruffled counterpane. Two mahogany tables flanked the bed with matching maroon china lamps with pleated cloth shades that had turned a rich cream color. Beside the one north window was an armoire in matching mahogany. A dresser with a large oval mirror sat between the two east windows.