by Gina Wilkins
Jennings’s sarcastic words stopped Emily in her tracks. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, turning again to face him.
He shrugged. “You didn’t do it, I believe that now. All I’m saying is that if you had, I’m not so sure the chief would have done anything about it. But then, you McBrides are used to that sort of special treatment by the local authorities, aren’t you? After all, your brother got away with murder.”
“Why, you—”
Emily had to force herself not to give in to sheer instinct and slap the arrogant look right off Sam Jennings’s florid face. But she had no intention of letting his ugly words go unchallenged.
She took a step toward him, letting the full extent of her anger show in her expression. She had the satisfaction of seeing some of the cocky arrogance leave his face as he took an involuntary step backward.
“I have had enough of your insinuations, Sam Jennings,” she warned him, her voice shaking with rage. “If I hear one more accusation from you, I’ll slap you with a lawsuit so fast your head will spin. And never mention my brother in my presence again, is that clear? You aren’t good enough to speak Lucas’s name.”
She stepped backward, as far away from him as possible. And then she turned without another word and stalked away.
One day, she thought furiously, Sam Jennings would get what he deserved. She only wished she would be around to see it, but most likely she would be gone by then.
In a couple of months, she promised herself, she would never have to see Sam Jennings again—or anyone else who disliked her family.
Maybe she’d been wavering lately, wondering if she was really doing the right thing...and maybe Wade Davenport played a part in her indecision. But this incident with Jennings reinforced her belief that getting out of Honoria was the only way she was ever going to find the happiness that had eluded her during the past fifteen years.
EMILY HAD HARDLY arrived home on Friday evening when the telephone began to ring. Somehow knowing it would be someone wanting a favor, she sighed heavily before picking it up. She’d been so glad to see the weekend begin, thinking she had two whole days all to herself. “Hello?”
“Emily, it’s Wade. I need a favor.”
She’d been prepared for the reason behind the call, but not for the identity of the caller.
“Wade. What can I do for you?” she asked, assuming his call was about the sale of the house.
“I really hate to ask this. If I had any other choice...”
“Wade, please. Just ask.”
He sighed through the phone lines. “Would it be possible for Clay to spend the night with you tonight? I wouldn’t ask, of course, but Cecilia left this morning for a weekend with her family, and I’ve been called to Atlanta on an emergency. I have to leave as soon as I can make arrangements for Clay.”
“Of course he can stay with me. I hope the emergency isn’t anyone in your family?”
“No, it’s a case I worked on with Atlanta CID. Everything’s unraveling on it, and I’ve been called on for assistance. It’s critical that I get there as soon as I can, or I would have waited until tomorrow.”
“Of course. Bring him on over. We’ll have a great time together. And don’t bother to feed him. I’ll make dinner.”
“I don’t know how to tell you how much I appreciate this. I feel really rotten for dumping this on you, but you were the only one I knew Clay would feel comfortable staying with overnight...at least until we get to know everyone around here a little better. He has a couple of friends from school, but I didn’t feel that I knew their parents well enough yet to ask them.”
Emily thought it a bit unnerving that he’d felt he knew her well enough to entrust her with the care of his son. Every time she tried to convince herself that there was no special connection between her and Wade, he did something that suggested otherwise.
“Bring him over, Wade,” she repeated, not knowing what else to say. “You still have a long drive ahead of you.”
WADE PULLED into her driveway less than half an hour later. Emily had the door open before he could ring the bell. She noted that Wade was holding a child’s suitcase in one hand and Clay’s hand in his other.
Clay looked rather uncertain. Emily could certainly understand that; the child hardly knew her. And now his father was dropping him off to spend the entire night with her.
She immediately smiled to put him at ease. “Hi, Clay. I understand you and I are going to have a slumber party this evening.”
Holding a rather ragged stuffed tiger in the crook of his right arm, Clay nodded. “Daddy has to go to Atlanta for a meeting.”
“Yes, he told me. I hope you don’t mind staying with me. I’m certainly looking forward to having you as my guest.”
“It’s just for tonight,” he reminded her. “Daddy’s coming back tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll make the most of it, okay? I have some videos and some games, and I thought I’d make homemade pizza for dinner. Do you like pizza?”
“With pepperoni?” Clay asked hopefully, taking a small step toward her.
“Definitely with pepperoni. And did I mention that I own all three Star Wars films on video?”
“Okay, Daddy, you can go now,” Clay announced, releasing his father’s hand to reach for Emily’s. “We’ll be fine.”
Wade chuckled and looked ironically at Emily. “Looks like you’ve cast your spell on yet another Davenport male,” he murmured. “Just how do you do that?”
She gave him a quelling look. “Shouldn’t you be on your way, Wade? You said they’re waiting for you in Atlanta?”
He held up his right hand in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. I can take a hint. Thanks again, Emily. I owe you big-time.”
Emily suddenly, and unwillingly, thought of Sam Jennings. What would he say if he heard the chief of police assert that he “owed” her—“big-time”?
Which only proved that she’d allowed Jennings’s rude and unprovoked attack on her yesterday to bother her much more than it should have.
EMILY AND CLAY made and ate pizza together, then followed that by nestling onto the couch with popcorn to watch a Star Wars video—the first one, which they agreed was the best of the three. Emily was amused to learn that Clay could quote whole passages of dialogue.
“How many times have you seen these films?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Millions.”
“And what is it that you like so much about them?”
He looked blank for a moment, then said, “’Cause they’re exciting.”
She supposed that was reason enough for an eight-year-old boy.
“Yes, they are,” she assured him gravely.
Clay rubbed his eyes. “It’s getting kind of late, isn’t it?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Emily made a show of smothering a yawn behind her hand. “Goodness, I’m getting sleepy. Are you?”
“Just a little. Where am I going to sleep?”
“In the bedroom next to mine. The one you liked when you toured the house with your daddy—the one with the window seat?”
Clay’s face brightened. “I remember. I told Daddy I want that to be my room if we move here.”
Again, Emily was aware of that funny little pang at the thought of someone else living in her house. It wasn’t that she couldn’t envision Wade and Clay living here—she simply couldn’t imagine herself not living here.
That was something she was going to have to work on.
Emily sent Clay to brush his teeth and change into pajamas. And then she boosted him into the big bed in the room he’d claimed for his own. He held his stuffed tiger tightly in one arm. Emily tucked the covers carefully around both boy and tiger.
“I’ll leave the night-light on,” she promised, snapping on the tiny light plugged into an outlet on the wall next to the bed. “And if you need me, I’m only one room away. All you have to do is call me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good night, Clay.” She brushed his red hair away from his for
ehead, then couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Sleep well.”
Two little arms locked around her neck for a warm hug. Soft lips touched her cheek. “Good night, Miss Emily.”
Emily returned the hug, then left the room quickly, a massive lump in her throat.
Wade had accused her of casting a spell on the Davenport males.
It seemed to her that he had that situation all turned around.
SATURDAY MORNING dawned crisp, cool and beautiful. Because Clay said he liked them, Emily made pancakes for breakfast, light and thin, with maple syrup. She served him a small bowl of sliced fruit on the side, along with a big glass of milk.
“This is good,” Clay said, attacking his plate. “Cecilia usually just makes cereal for breakfast. Sometimes we have French toast or oatmeal, but we don’t have pancakes very often. I don’t think Cecilia likes to make them.”
“I’ve heard very nice things about Cecilia,” Emily said, cutting into her own pancakes.
“She’s cool. I don’t think she likes Honoria very much, though. She wants to go back to Atlanta.”
Emily hadn’t meant to pry. She’d almost forgotten that children tended to answer offhand comments with more information than was absolutely necessary. Still, she felt badly that Cecilia wasn’t happy in Honoria. The woman was probably lonely, feeling like a stranger in a strange town. Emily would have to ask Wade if he thought it would be a good idea to introduce her to some of the locals.
Of course, she wouldn’t be here much longer, herself. Soon it would be Emily who would be the stranger in a strange town.
Would she be as homesick as Cecilia?
She shook that troublesome thought away. How many times must she remind herself that this move had been her own decision, one she’d made only after careful consideration? And one she would not regret, she told herself firmly.
“When do you think my daddy will be here?” Clay asked.
Emily put her own worries out of her mind. “I don’t know. But I’m sure you and I can find something to keep us busy until he gets here.”
“Can I go play on your tire swing?”
“Of course. As soon as you finish your breakfast.”
The boy turned his attention quickly back to his meal.
IT WAS NEARLY THREE in the afternoon when Wade called. “I’m going to be late,” he warned after making sure his son was safe and happy. “Very late, I’m afraid.”
“It’s not going well?” she asked, hearing the strain in his voice.
“No.” His tone was grim. “Not at all well. I’m really sorry, Emily. If you have plans for the evening, I’ll try to make other arrangements for Clay.”
“I have no plans,” she assured him. “Clay and I are having a wonderful time. He’s just discovered my art supplies.”
“The kid loves to cut and draw and color. You probably won’t see him again for hours.”
“I’ve found that to be true of most of the children who visit me. They all seem to love a big stack of blank paper and a handful of markers.”
“Clay certainly does. You’re absolutely sure you don’t mind keeping him the rest of the day?”
“Not at all. He’s an angel.”
Wade’s laugh sounded a bit more relaxed. “Well, not always. He has his moments.”
“What time do you think you’ll be back?”
“The way it looks now, it’s going to be close to ten o’clock. You’ll probably want to put Clay to bed, and I’ll just carry him to the car when I get there.”
“He’s welcome to spend another night if you want to wait and come back tomorrow.”
“Thanks, but I’m ready to get home, myself. I’ve got a lot of work waiting for me.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later this evening.”
“Right. If you’ll put Clay on the phone, I’ll explain the situation to him.”
“Of course. Clay?”
The boy came running in response to her call. Emily handed him the phone, then stepped aside to give him a semblance of privacy.
She watched as he listened intently to whatever Wade was saying. She wondered how Clay would react to hearing that he would be with her for the rest of the day. She was relieved when he said offhandedly, “Okay, Daddy, you don’t have to hurry. I’m having fun here.”
Absurdly, Emily felt as though she’d just been given a prize. And all because Wade’s son was happy being with her. Oh, she was definitely headed for trouble if she wasn’t careful!
“’Bye, Daddy. Love you more,” Clay said in a rush, and then giggled at whatever Wade answered. And then he turned to hand the phone back to Emily. “He said he wants to talk to you again. May I go draw again now?”
“Of course.” Emily took the phone as Clay dashed away. “Wade?”
“Yeah. Just wanted to tell you thanks again.”
“Not necessary. Drive carefully this evening, okay? You’ll be tired.”
“Nice to know you’re concerned about me.” His answer was spoken flippantly, but something in his voice made Emily bite her lip. “See you tonight, Emily,” he added, then disconnected.
Emily had a sinking feeling that she would be counting the hours even more eagerly than Clay.
What a fool she was.
IT WAS ALMOST ELEVEN when someone tapped lightly on Emily’s front door. She’d been sitting in the quiet living room, reading and waiting for Wade’s arrival. She set her book aside and hurried to open the door.
She’d left the porch light on for him. His face looked haggard in the soft glare.
“You’re exhausted,” she said, studying him compassionately.
He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the gesture a weary one. “Beat,” he agreed. “I got all of a couple of hours’ sleep last night.”
“Did you get everything worked out?”
“I think so. The situation looked better when I left than when I arrived.”
“Then at least your time wasn’t wasted.”
“That’s something, anyway,” he agreed.
She closed the door behind him. “Have you eaten?”
Wade made a face. “I had a sandwich for lunch. Haven’t eaten since. I’ll pick up drive-through on the way home.”
“You’ll do no such thing. I have a plate of leftovers from dinner in the refrigerator. All I have to do is pop it in the microwave. Clay’s sound asleep, so there’s no reason you can’t relax a minute before you take him home.”
He looked decidedly tempted. “Aren’t you tired?”
She shook her head. “I can sleep late tomorrow. Come on into the kitchen. Do you want coffee, or is it too late for that?”
He followed close at her heels, peeling off his denim jacket. “Got any milk?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll take a glass of milk. How did things go this evening with Clay?”
“He wasn’t a bit of trouble. You have a delightful little boy, Wade. You must enjoy him very much.” She set the plate of leftovers in the microwave, pressed the start button, then turned to pour him a large glass of milk—the same beverage Clay had requested for dinner, she thought with a smile.
“He’s my life,” Wade answered simply...and touchingly.
The microwave’s beeping saved Emily from having to try to speak around the sudden lump in her throat. She slid the warmed plate in front of Wade, along with a fork, knife and napkin.
“Hey, this looks great.” Wade spent a moment admiring the arrangement of baked chicken, wild rice and mixed vegetables. “This is what you fed Clay for dinner?”
“Yes. He seemed to like it.” Emily poured herself a small glass of milk and took a seat at the table opposite Wade.
“No kidding. No wonder he was in no hurry for me to get here.” Wade scooped a forkful of food into his mouth, chewed, then swallowed before saying appreciatively, “Delicious.”
She smiled. “You’re just very hungry.”
“No, really. Clay and I are very fond of Cecilia, and she’s a won
der as a housekeeper, but her cooking skills are only adequate at best. We don’t complain, of course, because she more than makes up for that lack in other ways. She’s been really good to Clay.”
“Clay’s afraid that Cecilia isn’t happy in Honoria. I was going to ask if you thought it would be okay if I introduce her to some people around town.”
“You could try, I guess. Cecilia’s shy. And she’s homesick for Atlanta. She came with us because she didn’t want to say goodbye to Clay, but I’m not sure it’s going to work out. I thought if she could get involved with an active seniors’ group it would help, but she hasn’t shown much interest in meeting people.”
Emily lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “A seniors’ group?”
He nodded. “She’s sixty-six. She’d already raised a couple of kids of her own when she came to work for me. She was widowed, and lonely because both her children have moved away—one lives in California, the other in England. A mutual acquaintance brought us together, and it has worked out very well until now.”
For some reason, Emily had assumed the housekeeper was younger. No wonder the woman had been reluctant to start over at this point in her life. “What will you do if she retires? Will you look for another full-time housekeeper?”
Wade shook his head. “Probably not. Now that Clay’s in school, I really only need someone in the afternoons, except during school breaks, of course. He and I can make do for ourselves when I’m home from work.”
Emily wondered if Wade ever thought of remarrying. He was still a young man, only a year or two over thirty, at most. She hadn’t heard of him dating anyone in town yet, but surely he needed more in his life than his son and his work. Was he still in mourning for his wife, five years after her death?
Not that it was any of her business, of course, she reminded herself hastily.
Wade cleaned his plate in record time. “That was really good,” he repeated after swallowing the last bite.
“I have chocolate cake,” she said enticingly, wondering if his sweet tooth was as well developed as Clay’s. Clay had attacked his dessert with amusing enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t you like just a small piece for dessert?”