FORGOTTEN VOWS

by Maggie Shayne

  Joey's tongue darted out to moisten her lips. She obviously wanted to say something, but hesitated.

  "Go on, Joey. What is it?"

  "I think...I think Ted might've known, too. I mentioned this morning that we might go back there." She crossed the room, putting her back to both men, and stared out the window between the white slats of the blinds. "I don't think it was him, though. I really don't. Not Ted."

  "I thought you said it was a woman?" Radley's voice conveyed confusion.

  "She—the person—was wearing a skirt. I never got a look at the face. It could've been a man." Ash stepped up behind Joey, placing his hands on her shoulders. "It would explain a lot. Ted's late-night calls, the things he's been keeping from your sister. And he was in Vegas during that other string of murders."

  She whirled to face him, and his stomach tightened when he saw the dampness in her eyes. "It wasn't Ted. And suspecting only the people who could have known where we were is a mistake. There's always a chance we were followed."

  "She has a point there, Ash."

  Ash heard Rad's words, but kept his eyes on Joey's face. He suddenly understood what she'd meant in that cave, when she'd said she felt his pain. Because he felt hers now. It would tear her up if Ted turned out to be the Slasher. And it would tear Ash up to see it. He felt close to her, too damn close. As if they were a pair of vines twisting around the same tree, twining together as they grew. Separating two vines so completely entangled would kill them both.

  He blinked at the unexpectedness of that thought, and tried to tell himself the vine analogy was overkill. Sure, he was growing fond of her. But he knew they'd go their separate ways in the end, and he knew he wouldn't wither and die because of it. Even if he might wish he could. Damn, there he went again, exaggerating his feelings. What was wrong with him, anyway?

  She looked up at him, her eyes so intense he wondered if she'd been reading his mind again. "I want to go home, Ash." She closed her eyes, shook her head slowly. "It's been a long day. I just want it to end."

  He nodded, turned her toward the door and slipped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close to his side. It had been a long day. They'd gone back to the lake with the police, answered endless questions, waited restlessly while the area was scoured for evidence. All for nothing. Not a single clue had been left behind. Whoever he or she was, the Slasher was good. Careful. Cunning. Sooner or later, though, there would be a slip. And then the killer would land behind bars. And then...

  He stared down at the top of Joey's head Seemingly sensing his gaze she looked up, met his eyes. And then what? he wondered.

  #

  The closer the car got to her house, the better Joey felt. She had to put all of this out of her mind, just for one night. She wanted to relax in a steaming bath, drink a glass of wine and spend the night wrapped in Ash's strong arms, feeling safe from the world.

  She tensed, though, when Ash drove the car over the graveled driveway and the house came into view. Lights glowed in the windows. Shadows moved behind them. Dread ran in her veins like ice water, and she shot Ash a glance, seeing the same alarm clouding his beautiful face. Then it eased, and he pointed.

  "Look. It's Caroline's car. She's back."

  Joey glanced in the direction he pointed, seeing her sister's station wagon parked in its usual spot on the paved strip. It could be no one else but Caro. She'd left her car at the airport. But instead of relief, Joey felt an even deeper fear take root inside her. Caro shouldn't be here. She was in danger. God, she'd only been in Florida for a couple of days. Why did she have to come back now?

  Ash pulled the car to a stop beside Caro's, and Joey was out like a shot, limping around the house as fast as she could manage, flinging the back door open. "Caro? Caroline! Where are—?"

  Her words were forcibly stopped by two small bodies hurling themselves into her arms and hugging the breath out of her. She returned the girls' hugs, but didn't hear their giggling greetings. She focused beyond them, to the foot of the stairs, flooded with relief at seeing Caro there.

  She released her pent-up breath all at once, smiling. But the smile died on her lips when the tall, straight form stepped from the bottom stair into her range of vision. Her arms fell limply to her sides, and she gaped.

  "Hello, Joey."

  Ash was at her side. She felt his strong presence there, felt his eyes on her. But she couldn't look away from the man.

  "Isn't it great, Aunt Joey? Grandpa came back with us. He's gonna take us to the zoo and..."

  The stream of high-pitched words faded. A dull roar filled Joey's ears instead. Gritting her teeth she forced herself to speak. "Hello...Father."

  "Joey." He came forward, smiling, stretching out a hand to clasp Ash's. "You must be my son-in-law."

  Joey watched Ash's hand gripping her father's, shaking it "Ash Coye," he said. "Good to meet you, Mr. Bradshaw." As he spoke, Ash glanced her way.

  "Matthew to you," he replied. "I had to come. Had to meet the man who managed to lure my Joey to the altar."

  "I am not your Joey. I'm not your anything."

  Caro bustled her way between them, gathering the girls away from Joey's legs and chattering loudly in an effort to break the tension that filled the room to bursting. "Let's all go upstairs. I made us supper, and if it stays in the oven any longer it'll be dry as a chip. Come on."

  Joey opened her mouth to say she was leaving, but clamped it shut before the words escaped. She couldn't leave Caro alone, not when the Slasher was so close, so perceptive, always seeming to know where she was, what she was doing.

  "Go on ahead, girls, and finish setting the table," Caro instructed.

  They groaned, but obeyed. When they'd left the room, Joey glared at her sister. "What is he doing here?"

  "You can address me directly, Joey. I'm standing right in front of you."

  Her gaze shifted to him. He looked older. His skin had lost its tightness and some of its color. His hair was grayer than she remembered. "I have nothing to say to you."

  "Well, that's good, because I have a lot to say to you. Maybe you'll be quiet and listen for a change, hmm?"

  She shook her head quickly, her hair flying over her face. Ash's arm came around her and squeezed, infusing her with strength when she thought her knees would buckle.

  "Come on, Dad," Caro said softly. "Come on upstairs. Just give her a minute." She tugged on their father's arm and, reluctantly, he turned and went with her.

  The second they were out of sight, Joey turned into Ash's arms, burying her face against his hard chest. Her arms twined around his neck and she clung to him as if she would never let go, battling tears that fell, anyway.

  He held her tightly, nearly crushing her to him. One hand stroked her hair. "It's okay, honey. I'm here, just hold on to me. You can get through this."

  "I don't want him here."

  "I know."

  "Make him leave, Ash. Throw him out, tell him—"

  "Baby..." He cupped her face in his palms and tilted it up to his. "You have to tell him. Whatever it is that's burning inside you, you have to let it out, say it to his face. And maybe hear whatever it is he feels he has to tell you."

  She blinked the tears away. "I don't want to do this. I can't."

  One hand left her cheek to brush the hair away from her face. "Sure you can. I'll be here for you. I'll help you."

  As she stared into his eyes, Joey saw the pain in their velvet brown depths. Pain for her. And steely strength, as well. If he would stay beside her, hold her close to him, maybe she could get through this night. With Ash at her side, she felt all of a sudden, she could get through anything. Anything at all. My God, how had she let herself fall so hopelessly in love with him?

  He lowered his head and caught her lips with his, still cupping her face with one hand, while the other threaded through her hair. He tasted her, sipped from her mouth. A tender kiss, but one packed with more emotion than any they'd shared. He slanted his lips over her face, kissing away her tears, t
hen lifted his head, staring into her eyes.

  "I need you, Ash." Her voice was choked, hoarse. The words came of their own volition.

  "You've got me, Joey."

  She closed her eyes, knowing all too well that she didn't have him. Not really. Not for much longer. But at least for tonight.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The doors were locked. The gun loaded and within his reach. Brittany and Bethany were finally asleep upstairs, but only after insisting Ash tell them a half-dozen fractured fairy tales. Ash had Beverly Issacs's word, for what it was worth, that a squad car would cruise the neighborhood all night, just in case.

  Joey stood stiffly, watching him. Her sister occupied the rocking chair, and Matthew Bradshaw sat in the recliner. Ash took a seat on the sofa, and Joey immediately sat down beside him, her body tight to his. He put an arm around her, bent to kiss her cheek. Why he felt like a lion protecting its cub, he didn't know. He wished he could take every ounce of her pain and suffer it himself. But he couldn't. The best he could do was help her through this, as he'd promised he would. She'd seemed to take strength in that promise. He vowed to live up to it.

  "Does Ted know you're back?" Joey's voice was as tense as her body.

  Caro shook her head. "I'm going to call him later, before I go to bed."

  Joey glanced at Ash, worry in her eyes, then looked back at her sister. "Why don't you wait until tomorrow, Caro?"

  "Why?" Caroline stopped rocking, her brows furrowed. "Do you know something, Joey? Is he out meeting some—"

  "Of course not!" Joey's eyes widened in surprise. "God, you think I'd keep something like that from you? I just thought you could use tonight to unwind, get your head together. That's all."

  Caro still looked skeptical, but she settled back in the chair and began rocking again.

  "My God," Matthew Bradshaw said in a gruff voice. "My God, just look what I've done to my daughters." He addressed Ash, and his eyes were brimming. "It's all because of me, you know. They can't trust any man now, because the father they thought was perfect had a flaw."

  "A flaw?" Joey turned her icy stare on him, and he seemed to shrink back into his seat "Is that what you call it? You broke our mother's heart, and it's nothing to you but a flaw? She died alone in her room, while you were out doing God knows what with God knows who, and it's a flaw?"

  Ash squeezed her closer, hearing the tears that choked her voice, but she pulled free and shot to her feet, immediately adjusting her stance to take most of her weight on the good leg, then turning as if to leave the room.

  Her father stood, as well, gripped her shoulders and forced her to face him. "Your mother didn't die alone, dammit. She died with her lover right in bed beside her."

  Joey slapped him so hard he rocked back on his heels. "How dare you!"

  He lifted a hand to his face, running his palm over the red mark she'd left there. "You're going to hear some harsh truths tonight, Joey." He glanced at Caroline, who had gone utterly still, and white as a ghost. "Both of you are. And you're going to sit here and listen to them. After that you never have to see me again, if that's the way you want it. But no one is leaving this room until I've said what I came here to say."

  "No. I won't listen to you spew lies about my mother!"

  Again she turned from him, and again he caught her shoulders. Roughly. Too roughly. Ash got to his feet and shouldered between them, folding Joey into his arms. Her entire body shook, and he held her tighter. He looked over her, at her father, and saw the man's distress. Matthew spun away, pacing a small circle, pushing his hands through his hair.

  "Look, I'm not trying to tarnish her memory. I'm not saying she wasn't the most wonderful woman on this planet, because she was. But, Joey...Caroline, she never loved me. I never loved her. We married because she was pregnant. We were both too young to know anything about love."

  Joey turned in Ash's arms, but held them around her waist and kept her back pressed to him. "I don't care why you married her. She was your wife. She gave her life to you, and to Caro and me. She didn't deserve..." Her voice trailed off. Her head lowered and a sob wrenched her body.

  "We both knew, Joey. Our feelings were out in the open. We decided to stay together, raise you girls in a stable environment. We planned to go our separate ways when you grew up. As time went on, she fell in love with someone else, and so did I. It wasn't a secret, dirty liaison. It was right on the table. When we moved to Florida, we lived separate lives. We only kept up the pretense for the sake of you two girls. Your mother couldn't bring herself to tell you the truth."

  "Because it isn't the truth," Joey whispered. "It isn't—"

  "It was George Prentiss, wasn't it?" Caroline spoke for the first time, her voice soft, wounded. "He was always coming around, bringing presents for us...and for Mom. Sometimes he'd be there when we came home from school...."

  "Uncle George was just a friend! God, Caro, how can you believe this garbage?" Joey's voice rose until she was nearly shouting at her sister.

  "Easy, Joey." Ash reached down to close his hands around her clenched, trembling fists. "Easy. Hold on to me, remember?"

  She opened her hands, laced her fingers through his and held on tightly.

  "Yes, it was George."

  "Liar," Joey spat.

  "I don't expect you to take my word for it." He stared at Joey, his eyes filled with pain. "I brought your mother's diary. It's all there, written in her own hand. I think she'd want you both to know the truth now." He shook his head, his shoulders slumping. He looked like a beaten man. "You're adults, women, with families of your own. It's time you understand...and forgive. If you can."

  Joey shook her head rapidly. "Get out, damn you. Just go, I don't want to hear any more of this."

  He nodded. His feet scuffed the floor as he walked into the kitchen and through the door, down the stairs to the back entrance. Caro ran after him. "Daddy, wait!" Her footsteps pattered down the stairs, and their muffled voices floated up from below.

  A few minutes later, the back door slammed. Then the sound of an engine came, and Caro's car headlights moved slowly away from the house.

  Joey stiffened, then pulled free of Ash's arms and limped to the top of the stairs they'd descended. "Caro?"

  Caroline came up slowly, her face tear-stained. "He's going to a hotel." She clutched a small satin-bound book in both hands. She bit her lip and handed it to her sister.

  Joey stared at it and shook her head slowly from side to side. "It isn't true. None of what he said is true."

  Caro pressed the book into Joey's hands. "I don't know what to believe anymore. Was our entire childhood just one big lie?" She closed her eyes and turned toward the stairs, starting up them. "Read it, Joey. I can't"

  "No. I won't read it."

  Caro stopped, but didn't turn. "You've always been the strong one. I can't do it. You have to." She moved the rest of the way upstairs and disappeared into one of the extra bedrooms, closing the door behind her.

  Ash stood in the center of the living room, watching. Joey looked at the diary. She stared hard at its cover, and he knew she was trying to work up the courage to open it. But at last she seemed to decide against it. She crossed the room and set it down on the coffee table. Then she lifted her gaze to meet his.

  "What can I do, Joey? What do you need?"

  She drew a deep, shuddering breath and let her head tip back until she faced the ceiling before releasing it. When she looked down again, there were fresh tears in her eyes. "Just hold me, Ash." As he moved forward to wrap her in his arms, she went on. "Yes, hold me. The only time I feel right anymore is when you hold me." She melted against him, her bones going limp.

  Ash shifted his stance, scooped her up and held her tightly as he mounted the stairs. She wasn't faking the emotions that racked her body. She wasn't faking the tears that burned red trails into her cheeks, or the tremors that passed through her, or the desperation he felt in her arms. She clung to him as if he were the last life preserver on the Titanic.


  No, he decided as he reached the top of the stairs and turned toward the bedroom, she definitely was not faking any of this. What, then?

  He nudged the door open with one foot and carried her inside. Was she really turning to him for support and comfort in the most confusing time of her life? Why, for God's sake? It was almost as if she were beginning to believe this phony marriage was for real.

  He heeled the door shut, crossed the room and lowered her to the bed as gently as if she were a fragile bird with a broken wing. He caught himself brushing the spun-honey hair away from her cheek, where tears had glued it in place, then stroking the tears away, as well. And even knowing this was all a sham, her feelings for him, and his for her, he leaned over her and pressed his lips to her quivering mouth.

  He drew back, gave his head a quick shake. Whatever delusions she was suffering, he was showing symptoms of the same—the way his throat tightened until it hurt to swallow, the way his eyes stung, the way his stomach clenched. He reacted to her pain as if he really was her husband, as if he really was in...in love with her. God, what a harebrained notion that is!

  He pushed the errant thought aside and went into the bathroom to start a hot bath. He sifted through the cabinet there, sniffing one bottle after another until he found a scent that seemed soothing, then sprinkled the water with perfume. He draped a thin towel over the light fixture on the wall, taking care that the material didn't touch the bulb.

  The effect was a softer, slightly pink hue rather than the harsh white glare. He drew thicker towels from the shelf and stacked them near the tub.

  Without even asking himself why a man who was only passingly fond of a woman would go to so much trouble, Ash slipped out the bathroom's other door and trotted down the stairs to search for wine and glasses. He found both, and returned without pouring, carrying the full bottle of white zinfandel, which he already knew was her favorite wine. He left the bottle and glasses beside the tub, shut the water off and returned to the bedroom.