by Linda Wisdom
“Thank you for the compliment, even if you only said it in hopes I would change the subject. I won’t, you know. I do want to find out why,” she told him. “I will promise not to pry too much, though. Will you tell me something about your work before you came to Henderson, or is that another long and complicated story?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No, but it can be pretty boring.”
Sara stared long and deep into Jess’s dark eyes. “I wouldn’t be bored.”
“All right, you’re asking for it.” He then launched into a lengthy discourse on his work with runaways while he lived in Atlanta. He responded to Sara’s questions, barely stopping for breath when their meals arrived.
“Why would you want to leave such a fulfilling position to come out here and preach in a small town?” she asked.
Jess’s eyes darkened with pain. “I began getting too emotionally involved with the boys’ problems,” he murmured, toying with the rest of his steak.
“And now you have Mrs. Masterson to contend with. I think you got a raw deal.”
Jess’s lips twitched. “Yes, she is a bit overpowering at times.”
Sara laughed. “Overpowering? Margaret Hamilton could have taken lessons from her on how to properly act like the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“She’s also the church’s main contributor.”
“Only because she feels it will put her in charge, just as she’s in charge of practically everything else in town.”
“But not you.”
“But not me,” she confirmed. “I’m certain I’m a very nasty spot in her record book, too. I’m sure you’ve heard all the lurid stories about me.”
“Enough.” He shook his head, saddened that rumors could be so vindictive. “Why did you stay In Henderson when a fair portion of the townspeople resent you?”
“Because it’s the town I grew up in, the school system is good, and I didn’t want to hide away for the rest of my life fearing I’d run into someone I knew and perhaps reveal that I wasn’t a divorcee or widow after all,” she replied candidly. “I didn’t want Tim to grow up ashamed that he didn’t have a father.” Her expression turned bitter, but it was not directed at Jess. “Little did I know that the town that always stood behind its people would shun me. There are so many dark secrets in that town that it’s laughable. I’m talking about hot and heavy affairs that are handled so very discreetly, drunken husbands who beat their wives on a regular basis, deputy sheriffs who look the other way when the crimes are committed by sons and daughters of prominent citizens. But, you see, my crime was treated differently. Instead of going out of town to have my baby I had him right there, and then refused to put him up for adoption. I kept my shame with me. Oh, yes, I committed the crime of the century in their eyes because I refused to hide my indiscretion. I have a son, and I’m very proud of him, flaws and all. After fifteen years many of them have finally realized I’m not going away, so I’m more or less tolerated.”
Jess felt a pain deep in the region of his heart. He knew Sara didn’t blame him for all that had happened, but that didn’t stop him from blaming himself for not being more understanding when they’d had their arguments. He stared down at his plate, his thoughts roaming wild in his head before he looked up. “Sara Murdock, you’ve grown up into quite a woman.”
“If so, you have Tim to thank for doing such a good job of raising me.”
“To Tim.” Jess raised his glass in a toast.
“To Tim,” she echoed, raising her glass.
She couldn’t remember enjoying a dinner out more. Jess talked about his hopes and dreams for his new church during the balance of their meal, and Sara talked about the changes she’d made in the station over the past few years during dessert. “Dinner was wonderful. Thank you.” Sara was afraid she sounded all too polite and proper, but she’d finally run out of small talk, and while they had skimmed over what had happened years ago, she had no desire to go into great detail. Why bother rehashing old events that couldn’t be changed anyway.
“Thank you for coming.” His sincerity was disarming to her. Not that Jess hadn’t been sincere before, but now, well, there was a strong peace of mind behind it.
He settled the check, and they walked outside to their cars. He stood by Sara’s trusty Mustang as she unlocked the door. “What’s it like to drive an antique?” he teased lightly, leaning against the rear fender.
“I’ll have you know this baby is a classic,” she informed him, her pert nose turned up daintily in the air. “And between Jackson’s and my efforts we’ keep it in top running condition.”
“Aha! A dragster at heart.”
“You betcha.” Sara laughed, tossing her purse into the passenger seat. Her earlier feelings of unease vanished under his lighthearted manner. “Fred hasn’t given up trying to catch me.” She mentioned the town’s sheriff, who had kept his job more because no one else wanted it than because of his so-called criminal justice skills.
A heavy feeling that had nothing to do with their meal settled in the pit of Jess’s stomach as he studied Sara’s upturned smiling face. Unthinking, he reached out and cupped her cheek. She froze under his touch, but he wasn’t about to allow her to evade him.
“Please, don’t Jess,” she murmured, a thread of fear in her voice. “Call it for old time’s sake.” His head lowered and tilted to one side. His lips barely touched hers once, twice, then retreated in the same slow manner they had captured hers. “See, all very harmless.” The streetlight illuminated his slow smile.
Sara’s tongue crept out to moisten lips still carrying his taste. “Of course, you were always so right.” Her low-voiced reply held a touch of irony. “It was one very harmless kiss that cannot be repeated, ever.”
Jess’s laugh held disbelief. He stared down into her upturned face fascinated by the way the moonlight caught the blue in her eyes. “You sound as if this were a completely isolated incident that we’re to merely tuck away in our book of memories.”
“I guess you could say that.” She refused to back down now. There was too much at stake here. Jess didn’t know the townspeople of Henderson the way she did. And what pain they could bring down on the unsuspecting. She knew even the most innocent of meetings between them could be misconstrued by the wrong people. Tonight was their chance to realize their lives had been meant to part years ago, that she was very sure of. “Our lives are on different levels now, Jess, and they aren’t meant to converge. Can’t you see that?”
He frowned darkly at her tone of gentle finality. “You sound as if tonight were it, and we’ll never see each other again.” He didn’t like what he was hearing, and he intended her to know it.
“Naturally we’ll see each other on Sunday morning. After all, I was baptized in that church, and I don’t intend to change now.” Sara spoke matter-of-factly, although her insides were churning. She mentally crossed her fingers, praying Jess couldn’t tell she was lying. Dinner with him had whetted her appetite for more. She wanted to know what prompted his choice of vocation, and a tiny part of her wondered where he had been fifteen years ago when she had forsaken her pride to try to contact him to tell him he had a son. But, if anything, the years had turned her into a very practical woman. “And I certainly wouldn’t snub you if we ran into each other, but believe me this is for the best. After all, you’re new in town, and with your position you must maintain an immaculate image. I don’t think that could be accomplished very easily if you were connected with me.”
Jess’s fists bunched at his side. For years he hadn’t had any reason to lose his temper, and in the space of a few moments Sara had managed to chip away at that solid wall.
“You’re not making much sense,” he finally got out between clenched teeth.
“Yes, I am, Jess, and you know it.” Sara opened her car door. “The facts are very simple: you’re the town’s minister, and I’m their scarlet woman, and never the twain shall meet.” She slipped inside and started up the engine, driving off before Jess coul
d protest her words.
“You’re wrong about a lot of things, Sara,” he muttered, watching her receding taillights. “And very soon I intend to show you.” It was a long time before he turned away to climb into his truck and make his way home.
SARA WAS GLAD for the fairly long drive home, because she sorely needed something to concentrate on so she couldn’t think about Jess’s kiss. It might not have been the most passionate she had ever received from him or anyone, but it touched her soul all the same. She tried to blame it on the late hours, the meal, her hormones suddenly deciding to go out of whack, anything but the truth. Her interest in Jess Larkin was rapidly renewing, but that had to be stopped before it went too far. The pain that would otherwise come wasn’t something she could live through again. She wasn’t afraid just for herself but also for Tim. She feared if Tim found out about his father, she would lose him and losing him meant losing everything.
When she stopped her car in the garage, it took her a moment to realize she was home, and she had no idea how she’d gotten there. So much for her intense concentration on the road!
“Where the hell have you been?” Jackson’s unexpected roar from behind brought a frightened scream to her lips.
“Don’t ever do that again! You just aged me a good ten years I can’t afford to lose,” she gasped as she climbed out of her car.
“Do you know how long I’ve been waitin’ for you to get home?” he went on, ignoring anything she might have to say.
“I ran into a friend in town, and we had dinner.” There, she hadn’t lied at all. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”
“Then you shoulda called,” the old man groused. “Fred called a couple hours ago. He’s got Tim.”
Sara’s blood froze. “Tim’s in jail?” she croaked, grasping the door handle as her knees threatened to give out. “What happened?”
“He didn’t say, but you better get down there right away.”
“Yes, I should.” She got back in the car, fumbling in her purse for her keys before she found them in her hand.
“Move over,” Jackson ordered gruffly, opening the driver’s door. “Last thing you need right now is an accident.”
Sara surrendered the keys without any protest. The drive to the sheriff’s station may have only taken five minutes, but it could have been five hundred for all she knew.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had been in the nondescript building set in the middle of town. Tim had been in trouble before, but Fred had always brought him to the house and talked to her there. This had to be very serious indeed, her troubled heart told her. She shivered, feeling very cold although the night air was very warm.
Fred was sitting behind a battered, gray-painted metal desk, his chair tipped back with his feet propped on the blotter.
“Sara.” He nodded at the woman standing in the doorway. He stood up, adjusting his belt over his large belly.
“Where’s Tim?” Her lips trembled as her eyes searched the empty waiting area for her son.
“He’s fine. I did have to put him in a holding cell though.”
Sara closed her eyes, visions of bright lights, rubber hoses and other forms of hideous torture running through her mind.
“Buck up, girl,” Jackson said gruffly, gripping her elbow tightly when he saw her face pale.
Fred gestured to a rickety wooden chair next to his desk. “I’m afraid it’s more than just a broken window or stealing Mr. Carlson’s apples this time, Sara,” he said in his slow drawl, after she had been seated with Jackson standing behind her in a protective stance, his hand resting on her shoulder.
“What happened!” she continued, fearing me worst. There had to be a mistake! “
There was a fight at the Summers house tonight. One boy ended up with a broken arm, another’s got some pretty sore ribs.” Sara moaned. “There’s also a matter of Chad Lowell’s car sporting a broken windshield, slashed tires and a dented hood.”
Sara breathed deeply to keep the nausea at bay, she could feel nervous sweat trickle down between her breasts and down her sides. More than anything she wanted to sit there and have a good old-fashioned bawling session, but this wasn’t the time. She drew down deep inside for hidden reserves of strength.
“Naturally we’ll pay for the damages.” She spoke calmly, which was surprising considering the tension in her body.
“It’s more than that. Due to the nature of his crimes there will have to be a hearing, Sara.” Fred’s faded blue eyes showed sympathy for her. He had always believed in the motto Live and Let Live, and had only been hard on Tim in the past in hopes he would learn to stay out of mischief and because Sara Murdock was a nice young woman who didn’t deserve any more trouble.
She pressed her fingers against her lips as she realized his meaning. “Judge Carmody?” she whispered, feeling dread fill her veins.
He nodded slowly.
The nausea threatened to rise again. “May I take him home? Do you … do you require bail or something?”
“I’ll release him into your custody, Sara, because I know you ‘II make sure he stays in town and out of more trouble,” he assured her. “I’ll give you a call about the day and time of the hearing.”
By then Sara was completely numb. She remained seated in the shabby old chair while Fred sent a deputy to get Tim. She had no idea what she would say to her son when he arrived. She only knew she had to get out of there before she started screaming. She stared down at the scratched linoleum floor, idly noticing the cracks and scuff marks from the many years of use. What seemed aeons later, large feet shod in beat-up Nikes stood before her. She lifted her head slowly to gaze at her son’s subdued and apparently frightened, expression. Sara stood up feeling like a very old woman.
“Mom,” Tim began tentatively, holding out his hand.
She held her own hand up indicating silence. “No, not now. I have enough to deal with.” She led the way out of the station, certain he would follow her.
Jackson stayed behind a moment to speak to the sheriff.
“Did he start it?” Jackson asked.
The other man shrugged. “According to them he did, but we all know what some of those kids are like. I’d say there was a nasty practical joke involved. We just can’t prove it. Don’t let that boy lose his temper again. Old Man Carmody’s going to be tough on him as it is.”
Jackson nodded and hurried outside, where Sara and Tim waited in silence by the car.
The silence remained thick during the drive home. When they stepped inside the house, Sara turned to Tim.
“You will not leave this house until further notice,” she ordered quietly, her face pale and drawn from the strain.
“Aren’t you even going to listen to my side of the story?” he demanded.
“Right now I don’t care to listen to anything. I’ve had it, Tim. You get into trouble at the drop of a hat and try to blame it on everyone else, but this time there’s no one else around to blame. Right now I intend to go to bed and I suggest you do the same.” Without looking at him, she went into her bedroom and closed the door. It wasn’t until she was alone she collapsed on the bed and gave in to tears. The fact that they were for the father and the son made them all the more bitter.
TIM COULDN’T SLEEP due to the anger still nesting in his heart. Anger at kids who thought cruel jokes were funny and anger at a stone-faced mother who refused to listen to him. He lay, still dressed, on his bed in the dark as he thought back over the evening. How could he have been so stupid as to think Lora wanted him to come to her house?
Male adolescent pride was extremely fragile, and Tim’s, right now, was shattered into many small pieces. And one very lovely girl with an obvious heart of stone was the cause of it. The events of the evening were going to stay with him for a long time.
Why had she done it?
He had been eager the first part of the evening. Since his mother was gone, he’d only told Jackson he was going to a friend’s house and promised not to be out too la
te.
Lora’s parents’ house was on the other side of town, a not-too-subtle sign he should have recognized. The two-story white house with bright green trim had been ablaze with lights and sounds of Whitney Houston filtering through the front door. Tim parked his motorcycle out front behind Chad’s car, a sleek black Toyota, a present from his father when he made the varsity football team that year. Tim had wryly wondered what he’d get when he graduated the following year. Tim made a quick check that there were no spots on his shirt or jeans, then ambled up to the door and pushed the doorbell. A giggling Lora opened the door. Upon seeing her visitor, she sobered.
“Tim, what are you doing here?” Her look of curious innocence was a work of art. He felt confused. “What am I-You invited me.” He stumbled over his words. He suddenly had a very bad feeling.
She laughed, the sound trickling down his spine like a layer of ice. “Oh, come on, Tim. Why would I invite you? I mean it’s not as if you’re part of our group or something. After all, your mother runs a gas station.” She made the words sound obscene, and the eyes he always thought of as soft brown were cold and hard like her grandmother’s.
“The rage building up inside was hot and swift. ”You tease,” he sneered.
“Now look here, Tim Murdock.” Lora’s voice rose shrilly.
“What’s wrong, Lora?” Chad appeared, slipping a possessive arm around her waist as he glared at Tim. “Aren’t you on the wrong side of town, Murdock? Why don’t you go back where you belong and leave us good folks alone?”
By then Tim was aware of nothing but the need to hurt someone as badly as he hurt. By the time the sheriff arrived, a couple of Chad’s friends were screaming in a combination of pain and outrage, and he stood on the sidewalk holding a wrench over the shattered windshield of Chad’s car while Chad screamed obscenities at him. While the sheriff led Tim away, he heard the group swear he’d be in jail until he was an old man if they had anything to do about it.
From there it was listening to Sheriff Travis ask him what had happened, and he merely shook his head for an answer. In the end the man sighed and led Tim downstairs to one of the two holding cells to wait for his mother. The other cell housed Otto, who was affectionately known as the town drunk. Tim sat on the hard cot, inhaling the sharp tang of disinfectant as he waited. God knew how long, for his mother to come get him. And now he sat alone in the dark, the anger finally draining away leaving him empty in mind and spirit.