by Jacquie Gee
Goodness, who’s in charge here.
I look down strangely at my fingers clinging to his muscled forearm like they don’t belong to me.
“Stay,” my mouth blurts. It’s as though my whole body has declared mutiny. Even my brain has gone all lewd and lusty. Parts of me stir, buzz, and rebel. “Please, don’t go. Stay with me…” I yank him down.
Okay, it’s over. I’ve lost complete control.
Of their own volition, my hands pull him over me.
He's warm and heavy against my skin.
He’s a bit nervous too, I can feel him shaking.
Or is that me?
A breeze sifts in through the window Mom’s likes to keep slightly ajar in summer. Likely because winter’s so long around here, and summer’s so short and sweet. And why is my mind wandering like this when there’s a hot guy draped over me. The breeze pushes my hair in a flutter about my face.
"You know, you really shouldn't drink this much." Trent runs a soft finger down the side of my neck.
“Yes, I know, but if I hadn’t you wouldn’t have had to rescue me, and we wouldn’t be here right now.”
Not one of the more profoundly romantic things I’ve ever had to say.
“So that was your plan, was it?”
“All along.”
He grins. “I really shouldn’t be here—”
“It’s okay. My mother doesn’t know,” I whisper, sniggering, pressing a tender finger to his lips.
“I should in no way spend the night—”
“Of course, not.” I shake my head. “That would be bad.”
“Very bad.” He grins.
“Or, very good.” I snake my finger down the front of his chest, and his breath hitches.
“All kidding aside, we shouldn’t do this. Not here, not now, not like this.” He pushes away from me.
“Do what?” I draw him back. “What are we going to do? I just want you to lie here with me until I fall asleep.” I tease.
“I can in no way do just that. So, I’d better go.” He lifts up, and I yank him back down, kissing him, lightly, letting my lips linger over his.
“This isn’t right.” He shakes his head. I don’t want to—”
“Stay with me. Please.” I whisper into his mouth.
He stares down at me, his velvet, emerald eyes sparkling. My hands cup the sides of his face, as I pull him to me, pressing my mouth to his mouth, kissing him over and over again, wearing down his defenses. Slowly, his hands find their way to the back of my neck, his tongue, wildly, exploring my mouth. He leans, kissing me harder I and sink into the warmth of his lips, shuddering under the touch of his hands as they explore me.
"I'm so very glad you came home to visit this summer, Miss Becca Lane," he whispers into my mouth.
"I'm so very glad I did, too." I kiss him, hard.
The scents of sand, oiled wood, and lavender seep in through the crack in the window. In the distance, the wild cry of a loon sounds.
He lowers himself down over me, and every vertebra of my spine alights, his hands gliding over the canvas of my body like a brush.
Chapter 56
“Get up!” Trent shakes me. “Get up! We’re late.”
“What? What’s happened?” I bolt straight up in bed.
“The meeting.” Trent jumps about the room, one leg in his trousers, one leg not, frantically trying to pull his pants on. “They’ve changed the time. The meeting is this morning.”
“They what?” I leap from the bed.
“The meeting. About the bridge. The government’s rep is here. I just got a text message.”
“But I thought the meeting was at one?”
“Well, apparently, they moved it up. The Jefferies clan is already there—”
“You’re kidding!” He doesn’t need to say more. I fly at my closet, head pounding, in search of clothing. “What time is it now?”
“Quarter to our making our case,” he shouts, clearly, frantic.
He grabs a shirt off the floor and yanks is on over his head, then works on his socks.
I hoist up some jeans, fish a T-shirt out of my dresser drawer and bolt out the door behind him. The two of us barrel down the hallway as I struggle to tie my hair back, and into the kitchen right past Mom’s room.
“Wait!” I shout-whisper to Trent as his hand is on the door. "Coffee. I need coffee, or I'll never survive this." I spin back around and slam right into Mom, who's holding a fresh cup.
“Nice night?” She greets me with arched brows.
“Aaah.” I gulp, looking shocked. I take the coffee from her hand and bolt for the door. “I’ll explain later.”
Trent and I hit the staircase, racing down it, our shoes echoing off the treads. “Maybe, she won’t remember when we get back,” I whisper to Trent.
“I heard that!” Mom shouts.
The meeting room is packed when we get there. Almost everyone from town is here, along with a good number of reporters with their camera crews. They are all set up and ready for the big show. I hope it ends in our favor. It was our original mission to make front-page news. I’d say we’ve certainly accomplished that.
Trudy, stands at the front at a raised lectern, as I run in. She’s dressed in another adorable Lucille Ball throw-back special and wears a stunned-looking grin. “How’s it going?” I sweep in beside her. “Everything under control?” I ask her. She juggles a set of papers in her hand. “If by, ‘under control,' you mean chaos, then yes, everything's great." She taps the stack of papers into a pile.
I’ve prepared cue cards of talking points. I give one to her and keep one for me. She glances down at it.
“What are we going to do if they don’t believe us?” She gulps, looking peaked.
“Don’t think like that.”
“Jebson’s threatening to sue, you know that right?”
“Sue? For what?”
“Defamation of character. He’s coming after you over what you said about him at the bridge.”
“What? The truth.” I re-arrange the copies of the stuff I gave to Mr. Bolley in my pile, so they end up on top, the search the crowd for him, standing at the back of the building.
“He says you had no right to tell the media, you have no proof.” Trudy pops a mint, offers me one.
“We’ll see after today if he thinks I have no proof.”
She glares at me.
I take out my phone and text Mr. Bolley in case he hasn’t heard about the change in the meeting time, hoping he can make it on such short notice, though I don’t think he’d miss this for the world.
“Jebson’s threatening that if you bring it up again today, he’ll have you put in jail.”
“The only one going to jail around here today,”—I slap down my evidence— “is him and his father.” I pat Trudy on the back. “You worry too much. Now, would you please calm down? You’re making me nervous.” I look out over the angst-stricken faces in the crowd. These people are depending on me to save their livelihood. To save their town from total annihilation.
“I wouldn’t test that theory if I were you.” She shudders. She paces the floor behind the lectern, firmly hugging herself.
“Why don’t you go sit. I’ve got this.”
“No. We’ve come this far. I’m standing with you.”
“And I love you for it.” I hug her. “But I think it might be better if you sit down.”
A representative from the government appears at the back of the room. I can tell by the police escort. And the fact that he’s not carrying a camera. And that other than him and the reporters in the room, he’s the only other person I don’t know. He walks to the front, nodding to people, and takes his place behind a second podium to our left. Trudy elbows me, nods her head in that direction, and then to the back of the room. “What are the RCMP doing here?” she says through her teeth.
“How would I know?” I turn to her wide-eyed.
Mr. Bolley slips in through the back doors at the last possible second, and m
y sped-up heart slows down. He looks up me and tosses me a wink, and I settle back into my shaking skin. I’d go to him, but there isn’t time, the proceedings are already starting.
Justice of the peace, Percy Keller, steps out from a side room. What he’s doing here, I don’t know. Whatever the reason, he’s a much better choice than Judge Clancy. He takes his place behind an elevated desk, propped up in the center of the room like this is court or something. He clears his throat and calls the meeting to order. My shoulders jump at the sound of his voice over the squelchy microphone. “Your attention, please.”
The crowd sways to a mumbling stop.
Jebson moves closer to the back set of doors. I catch his movement out of the corner of my eye, and I’m instantly worried he’s up to something. He fixes his gaze on me. I look away trying to overcome the unsettling feeling that comes over me, as Trent steps up behind me.
He touches my shoulder, and my nerves smooth out. I turn to see his smiling face. “You’ve got this,” he whispers, then steps away.
I’m prepared. I’m ready. I’ve got this. He’s right.
I turn back, feeling more confident than before.
“I’m Justice of the peace, Percy Keller from up the road in Musquash. I am the neutral party chosen to preside over the affairs here today. This not a court of law, nor is it a formal court proceeding, but I am here to keep the peace and make sure everyone is heard, so you will abide by my rules. Understood?”
The room full of people nods.
“As I’m sure you may or may not know, I’m here today to get to the bottom of a dispute between a…” he shuffles the papers in his hands, “Mrs. Laura Lane—alleged owner of the Heartbeat bridge—and the Ministry of Transportation.” He reads verbatim, then lowers his glasses and looks at the line again, as if he can’t believe it.
Everyone around these parts knows everyone else. And everyone knows my family. We’re the owner of the bridge. It’s cut and dried. I’m sure Justice Keller can’t figure out why we’re here.
“The purpose of this meeting is to hear from all interested parties regarding the issue of the bridge and its current condition—how it got that way, who’s responsible, and why? Oh, my…quite a full plate for one proceeding.”
He looks up from his orders and addresses the crowd. “This meeting will run at my discretion, in an orderly fashion, as I said before, which I, and I alone, will determine. Rest assured by the end, all arguments will be aired, and all opinions heard. My job here is to come to an amicable conclusion. I’m sure Premiere Westley here, wouldn’t settle for less.” He nods in the premiere’s direction. “Let’s start with you, shall we?” He nods my way.
A man in gray suit tucks in next to the Williamses, which I’ve noticed have sat near the back. The man in the suit whispers something to Mr. Williams, and his face turns ashen. Suddenly they’re up and leaving. Mrs. Williams looks back at me over her shoulder, frightened.
“What’s up with them?” Trudy leans close, whispering.
“I dunno.” I job my head, trying to get a better look.
Two or three times, Vera Williams looks back at me as they’re ushered out the door.
“Look.” Trudy flicks her eyes in the opposite direction. “There’s another one.” Another man in a gray suit visits another member of the crowd. “He’s intimidating people.”
The men in the suits seem to move whenever Jebson nods to them. “Jebson’s controlling them,” I whisper. “Who are those men?”
“No idea. But I’d bet they work for his dad.” We share a quick and worried look. My stomach aches.
Justice Keller continues. “Ready?” He prompts me again to get started, then under his breath, adds, “This should prove to be an interesting day. Briefly, outline your side of the argument for me, will you please?”
I can tell he’s already annoyed with the situation.
Trent gives me the thumbs-up when I step up on the box.
In the back, Jebson crosses his arms.
I grasp the sides of the lectern to help steady myself. I’m shaky all of a sudden. I lean in, tap the microphone to see if it’s working. It makes a slight popping sound.
“Hi. As most of you know, I’m Becca Lane, Laura’s daughter. I’ll be speaking on behalf of my mother today.” I go on to state my case, or rather Mom’s case, as clearly as I can. I talk about the trumped-up tax charges that were suddenly dropped, how my Mother was harassed into re-wiring her entire business, and the mysterious damage done to the underside of the bridge, along with its near demolition. I express my concerns for Mom and the town's livelihoods and leave out the facts around the cigarette butt I found, and my Mom's current condition.
I'm careful not to talk about Jebson, personally, or allege any crimes. I finish with, “For these reasons, I believe the bridge was sabotaged for monetary and professional gain—either by members of the Jefferies entourage, or by Mayor Jefferies himself, or both.”
The crowd gasps, and begin chattering.
Justice Keller has to bring them back to order.
I’ve been clear. I’ve been brave. I’ve put it all out there.
“Do you have proof of this?” Jebson shouts from the back, acting the sarcastic jerk he is. Jebson stares into my eyes as he makes his point trying to intimate me. Inside, my bones clash, but on the outside, I stand firm.
I will not let him win.
“Do you?” Justice Keller asks.
I glance over at Mr. Bolley who nods at me, then carefully draw in a breath. “Yes, I do, sir,” I answer confidently, tipping my chin up in the air.
The crowd stirs. They cross their arms. Things are getting juicy.
“Your honor,” Jebson bellows. He charges toward the front. “It might behoove this gathering if we started these proceedings by forcing these people to prove they own the bridge before we start entertaining any number of their wild and half-baked accusations. With all due respect, that’s how we got here in the first place.”
“With all due respect, this is my proceedings, not yours. It would behoove you, Mr. Jefferies, to give your political rhetoric a rest. It won’t work in this setting, now, I’ll ask you to stand down and return to your seat, until after I’m finished hearing what the young woman has to say, or I’ll have to ask you to leave the premises.”
“But sir—”
“Have I not made myself clear!” Justice Keller’s voice drowns out Jebson’s.
Jebson slowly returns to his former post.
"As you were saying." The Justice turns his head to me, and nods.
I’m still shaking from the exchange. Jebson glaring at me out of the corner of his eyes isn’t helping. I rustle through my stack of papers, completely forgetting about my cue cards and the talking points I’ve made and wing it. “Actually, sir, I would like to agree with Mr. Jefferies proposal.” The crowd balks.
Justice Keller stirs.
“I would like, at this time, if it pleases your honor, to clear up the issue of the ownership of the bridge.” That’ll be the first and last time I concede to Jebson.
I turn to Justice Keller, who nods. “If you’d like.” He shakes his head as if he feels the whole thing is insane.
Shakily, I proceed, hoping Mr. Bolley is prepared to jump in with proof after I ignite this fire, to a five-alarm blaze it's sure to become.
I glance back, checking for him. He nods to me continue with the plan.
My throat goes dry, and my voice cracks when I try to speak. “As you all know, this past Saturday night I chained myself to the bridge to stop the demolition of it—a very valued historic land site here in Heartland Cove.”
Every reporter’s pen in the room starts moving, camera’s flash, video rolls.
“What you might not know is why I felt compelled to take such drastic measures and the threat that spurred me on. An action that was carried out by the Mayor, against my mother, and our property." The crowd fusses. They know where this is going.
“How is this establishing ownership
of the bridge, again?” Jebson shouts from the back, throwing his hands in the air.
“I’ll decide that.” Justice Percy glares in her direction. “Continue, Miss Lane, but try to get to your point,” he says to me.
“Yes, thank you. That evening, the Mayor claimed to possess legal ownership over the bridge and…” I stammer and blink through the reporter’s light at Jebson immobilizes another man in a suit. The man quickly exits the room through the back door behind them. What’s happening? What’s going on? “…and…” What is he doing? He’s back again, and another man in a suit moves through the crowd toward the front. I stop, regroup, check my papers, find my place, and reformulate my argument. “That bogus claim sparked the controversy, as it is a complete and utter lie.”
Jebson folds his hands and smiles.
“The audacity of the local Mayor to claim ownership of a privately-owned heritage building caused me to take the actions that I did.” I’m rambling now. I sense that, but I can’t seem to get back on track I’m so distracted. “Otherwise I would never have acted as I did.” Okay, so I’ve established me as a good citizen, now what about the bridge? “It was drastic measure on my part taken to gain control back over our property.” I glance over at the Premier who is listening, but checking his watch. He’s quickly growing bored. “That evening, the Mayor produced this paperwork.” I finally bring myself back on track. I hold it up. “Claiming to own the bridge. In it, it states that the deed to the bridge had been passed over into the hands of the municipality back in the late seventies when the bridge was joined to the roadway. Only trouble is, the bridge was never joined to the roadway.”
Jebson seems shocked to hear this.
“As it turns out, this is an old document my father refused to sign. Yet, you will see here that it is signed.”
Jebson’s eyes flash when I hold the document up. First the one with the bogus signature, and then the one from my father's files with a note from his lawyer to the municipality stating he refuses to sign. "In fact, my father went to great lengths to make sure this would never happen, by having the land around the footings of the bridge severed and added to the property the store and house are currently on. You can see that here in this registry site plan, the one my mother has always paid taxes on." I hold up the ledgers. The crowd lifts their chins in interest. “Furthermore, my family has always owned the bridge and the surrounding property, since its inception, when my great-grandfather constructed it with his own hands. That is indicated here on the deed for the land my mother still holds.” I hold that up, as well.