by Marta Perry
“Tonight you’re going to have me, as well.” Trey sounded determined. “I’ll sleep on the sofa. You shouldn’t be alone after the pummeling you took in any event.”
“I can do it,” Sarah offered.
Trey shook his head. “I’m doing it.”
Somewhat to Amanda’s surprise, Sarah didn’t argue. Maybe she knew it would be useless.
“I’ll take up a pillow and bedding later. And we’ll bring supper for both of you.”
“Sounds good,” Trey said. “I’ll have to go to the office for a bit and get a few things, but I’ll be back by suppertime. You’ll look after her until then?”
“Will you stop talking about me as if I’m not here?” Amanda said, her voice tart. “I’m capable of looking after myself.”
“Not today.” Sarah could be just as firm. “You might not realize it yet, but you had a shock. And probably plenty of bruising. You need to rest and let us baby you for now.”
An argument would be futile, she realized. Maybe the best thing was to remove herself for the moment. “You might be right about the resting. I think I’ll go back to the cottage and curl up with a book.”
“I can carry you, Cousin Amanda,” Isaac said, giving her a big grin.
“Thanks, Isaac, but I can walk.” Cousin. The word jolted her. It seemed the whole family was determined to adopt her, whether she wanted it or not.
She got up slowly, not giving herself a chance to wobble in front of them. “I’ll take it slow.”
Trey put a supportive arm around her. “I’ll see you there and turn you over to Barney.”
Once again, arguing would do no good. Besides, if she could get him alone, she could pump him about what exactly they found in the barn. So they went slowly up the lane, his arm around her, their hips touching as they moved.
She freed herself and turned to him when they got inside the cottage. “Thanks, and again, I’m sorry to drag you away from your office.”
“Forget it.” He took her arm and led her firmly to the sofa, with Barney whimpering a little at her heels. Obviously he sensed something was wrong. “Now, sit down and get comfortable. Can I get you something? Coffee?”
“I’m sloshing already,” she protested. She’d like to say she didn’t need to sit, but the softness of the sofa was too welcoming when she sank into it.
Trey took a quilted throw from the sofa back and tucked it around her as she leaned against the pillows. He was very close as he bent over her, and he brushed her cheek with his lips.
“Stay put. I’ll be back later.”
“You don’t need...”
“I’ll be back.” His voice was firm, and he touched her lips lightly.
She probably should assert her independence, but she had to admit that it was comforting to be taken care of once in a while. She relaxed against the cushions, and Barney rested his head on the edge of the sofa, his eyes on her face. Patting him, she closed her eyes. She’d just rest for a few minutes.
A few minutes turned into much of the day, only interrupted by visits from Sarah and several of the children bringing food and checking on her. Trey arrived in the late afternoon and took Barney for a run. After supper, again provided by Sarah, Amanda was only too happy to return to the sofa.
She sank down with a sigh of relief, and Trey gave her a long look as he pulled a chair up next to her.
“Sure you don’t want to have a doctor check you out?”
“I am a doctor,” she said with a trace of tartness. “The human frame is much like an animal’s. If anything were broken, I’d suspect it.” Regretting her sharpness, she smiled. “Sorry. I appreciate the concern everyone is showing, but I’ll heal. I’m developing some spectacular bruises.”
“I’ll bet.” He seemed to make an effort to keep his tone easy, but she saw how his face darkened at the thought. “Amos and I were talking about whether or not to call the police. I guess I should have mentioned it to you earlier, but... Well, anyway, what do you think?”
She suspected he’d wanted to wait until she’d had a chance to recover her balance before presenting her with a decision. But she’d already been thinking about what action to take.
“I would, but will it really do any good? If I file a formal complaint, police will be swarming over the farm. I hate to do that to Amos and Sarah and the children. And I’ve got enough to deal with between the Winthrop family and my possible father’s family as it is. What do you think?” She was actually asking his opinion.
“I know how you feel about the Burkhalters, but I don’t like the idea of letting this character go wandering around looking for another chance at you.”
“Neither do I.” A shiver went through her.
“Look, how would it be if I talked with Chief Carmichaels in more general terms, saying you’ve been harassed but not filing a formal complaint? I think he’d be willing to check into Carlie’s ex-boyfriend.”
She nodded slowly. “I guess so. I just don’t want to bring any more complications into Amos’s and Sarah’s lives.” She gave him a questioning look. “Do you think I should go elsewhere to stay?”
Trey frowned, considering. “You wouldn’t be as isolated at an inn, but you wouldn’t be able to have Barney with you. All in all, this might be the safer choice, especially since everyone is on the alert. Amos and the boys insist they’ll check things out periodically.” His face lightened. “Unless, of course, you’d like to move in with me.”
“And your parents?” she asked, knowing he wasn’t serious.
“I’m one of the grown-ups now. I have my own house. And my own mortgage, for that matter,” he added, in the tone of one reminded of a fact of life.
“I didn’t realize you were a homeowner.” Put that up alongside all the other things she didn’t know about him. “In town?”
“It’s not as impressive as it sounds...just a little two bedroom cottage that’s a converted garage. Unfortunately, my guest room is taken up by exercise equipment and boxes of things I should get rid of.”
“But you don’t because you might need them someday,” she said lightly. “Or are they mementos of past girlfriends?”
“I’m not one to hold on to reminders of failures,” Trey said, just as lightly.
“All failures?” She was probably venturing too far into his private life, but he didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to.
He considered for a moment. “Not exactly. I almost got engaged once, but we both woke up in time and realized we were drifting that way just because that was the path our friends were taking.”
“What happened to her?”
“She has a successful career in Chicago, along with a nice husband and a baby on the way, according to the grapevine.”
She couldn’t detect any hint of regret in his voice. “Not sorry?”
“Not a bit. We weren’t the real thing for each other.” He leaned back in the chair, seeming ready to relax. “The trouble with living in a small town is that if you go out with someone more than twice, they have you engaged, and if you don’t watch out, you’ll be following the line of least resistance. So it’s better not to move to the third date unless it’s worth the risk.”
“That’s quite a philosophy. You wouldn’t have to stay in a small town, of course.”
He shrugged. “This is where I belong. The Alter family has invested three generations in the law firm. And having my own house gives me a little independence while keeping me close enough to look out for my parents. You never realize how suddenly that can become necessary.” He stopped, seeming to wonder if he’d said too much. “I didn’t mean...”
“I know what you meant.” She thought of her mother with sorrow, but the shock of her death seemed to be fading. “I’m just glad, in retrospect, that I came home for that last year of her life.”
; Trey reached across to take her hand, holding it lightly. “I’m sure. But...” He hesitated, maybe wondering how much he should ask.
“But what?”
“You fit in so well here. I’ve watched you with the animals, remember? I have trouble picturing you tending to pampered pooches for a living.”
“Not just pooches. There was the occasional cat or parakeet.”
He didn’t seem satisfied with the nonanswer. “You said you expected to go into large animal practice. In fact, you did. What sent you back to Boston?”
Her decision hung in the balance for a moment. She didn’t have to tell him. But she found she wanted to be honest with him.
“There was a guy.” She smiled. “My mother used to say that all my doubtful excuses started with those words when I was a teenager. Anyway, this guy was serious, or at least so I thought.”
“Someone you were in vet school with?” He was leaning forward, intent.
“Yes. We decided we’d start a practice together. It made sense at the time—we were involved, we both wanted the same thing, maybe more to the point, my mother was willing to front the money to set up my practice.”
She sensed, rather than saw, his reaction. He could probably guess what was coming.
“Maybe that’s unfair to him. I don’t know. Everything went well at first. There’s plenty of work in Lancaster County for a large animal vet, and of course we each had barn calls that took us out at all hours.” She stared down at their clasped hands. “So the predictable happened. I came back unexpectedly from a late call and caught him with another woman. Our receptionist, of all the trite things.”
“He was a jerk.”
“Not even a very original jerk.” Funny, that she could talk about it now without the stab of pain and humiliation. Maybe experiencing real grief had wiped away the shadows. “Anyway, I sold the practice, repaid my mother and took myself back to Boston to lick my wounds.”
“Understandable. But you’re over it now, aren’t you?”
“I am. Really. I think I knew even before what happened with my mother that it was time to make a fresh start. I just had to find the courage to do it.” She leaned toward him, as serious as if she were making a solemn promise. “No matter how this situation turns out, I’ll be starting over professionally. It’s time I did what I was meant to do.”
“Good.” He was holding her hand with both of his, and he lifted it to his lips. “When I said he was a jerk, I understated the case. No one in his right mind would let you go.”
His breath blew warmly across her skin, and then his lips pressed to her hand. Still holding it, he rose, stepped over Barney, and sat down next to her, drawing her against him.
She relaxed, her arms going around him, feeling the warmth of skin and muscle through the soft knit of his shirt. Their lips met, and what started as a gentle embrace turned abruptly into something far stronger, far more passionate.
Amanda didn’t even think of her bruises as she returned kiss for kiss, embrace for embrace. She welcomed the weight of his body against her, emotions reeling along with her senses. It had been so long since she’d been held this way. She hadn’t even known she’d longed for it until this moment. Trey...
Stop and think, a faint voice cried in her head. She didn’t want to listen, didn’t think she could listen to it, but then Trey drew back, just a little, so that he could see her face. He brushed her tangled hair back, his fingers lingering on her skin, sending a flare of heat through her.
“Much as I hate to say it, I think we’d better call a halt for a moment.” His voice was husky, filled with a wealth of regret. “Quite aside from the question of professional ethics, there are Amos and Sarah to consider. If she thought...”
“I know.” She took his hand and drew it away from her skin. After all, there was only so much a girl could take. “This...whatever it is between us...isn’t appropriate right now for a lot of reasons.”
He let her go slowly and sat back, looking at her with eyes that were still darkened with desire. “Somehow I think it might be better if there were a closed door between us.” He managed a slight grin with the words.
“So do I.” She couldn’t pretend she didn’t feel what he did. “I’d better say good-night.”
Trey nodded. “Take Barney in with you, just to be safe. I’ll sleep on the sofa, near the door.”
“Right.” The reminder that she might be in danger had a chilling effect. She clicked her fingers to Barney and headed for the bedroom.
Trey, moving beside her, stopped at the door. “Good night. Sleep well.” He had himself well under control now, she thought. He touched her cheek, then kissed her again, soft and dreamy this time.
Then he clasped the doorknob, stepping back. “This situation won’t go on forever. Once you’re not my client, it will be different.”
Amanda nodded, but her thoughts weren’t the same as his, she knew. Once she wasn’t his client, she wouldn’t be here in Echo Falls. So whatever might happen between them was doomed even before it started.
* * *
TREY HAD SLIPPED out of the cottage early the next morning, after quietly opening the bedroom door to check on Amanda. She’d been sleeping soundly, her hair on the pillow in wild disarray, her lips slightly parted. His reaction had been sufficient to send him straight back to his own house for a cooling down period.
Now, shaved and changed, he was heading for an early breakfast at Esther’s café. He happened to know that Chief Carmichaels went there for breakfast most mornings since his wife passed away, and a casual talk over coffee would be a lot less formal than calling at the police station.
He understood why Amanda didn’t want to file a complaint, but he hoped that a private chat with Carmichaels might bear fruit. Fortunately, the chief was a man of habit, and he was sitting at a corner table with bacon and eggs in front of him.
Carmichaels gave him an assessing look when he approached and gestured to a chair. “Trey, join me.”
He’d no sooner sat than Esther was there with the coffeepot and a thick white mug. “What’ll it be, Trey?”
“Just the coffee, thanks, Esther.”
She nodded, moving away to check on another customer.
The chief raised his eyebrows. “And some conversation?”
“You read my mind.” He’d always known the chief was shrewd.
Carmichaels took a gulp of coffee and put his mug down, his graying eyebrows drawing down. “You started something when you came to me with your questions about Melanie Winthrop’s death, you and Ms. Curtiss.”
Trey looked a question, and the chief shrugged in response.
“Thing is, I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. So I went back through what records there are again. Not much there, when all’s said and done.”
“No, I suppose not, if you felt it was clearly an accident.”
“I wasn’t the chief then, remember? It wasn’t my business to be thinking anything. Just to follow orders. And Clifford Barnes...well, he never was one to rock the boat.”
Trey vaguely remembered Barnes, who’d been chief before Carmichaels. “I don’t suppose he thought there was reason to make things worse for the Winthrop family.”
“That’s about the size of it.” Carmichaels stared at his congealing eggs as if seeing something else. “It had me wondering, though. Even at the time. And when you and Ms. Curtiss came in, that brought it all back.”
His words came as a surprise. There hadn’t been any hint before that he hadn’t been satisfied with the investigation. “What bothered you?” he asked, trying not to sound too urgent.
“That whole business of how Melanie got here, for one thing. We didn’t find an abandoned car anyplace, so she didn’t drive herself. And I’m the one who checked the buses. There was still regular bus service throu
gh town then, you know, but she didn’t come in on the bus. The driver insisted. I checked a couple of days back, but no dice. And she sure couldn’t have been hiding out in town for longer than that. Stands to reason someone would have known.”
He and Amanda had gone over that very question without coming up with an answer. “So what’s your gut reaction?”
“Somebody brought her, that’s what I figure. But who? And why didn’t they ever come forward?” He eyed Trey. “You or Ms. Curtiss have any ideas on that?”
He shook his head. “We did talk about it, but you probably know more than we do. If Melanie was Amanda’s mother, then Amanda was a two-month-old baby then. Did she leave her with friends? I take it there was no sign of an infant at the scene of the accident?”
“Nothing. Her handbag was there, but I never got a look at the contents. And I checked the coroner’s files as well as ours. There wasn’t any record of the bag. My guess is that the chief just passed it on to her grandmother.”
“Odd.” Elizabeth apparently hadn’t mentioned anything about that to Amanda when they’d talked, but then, why should she? “There might have been some indication in the bag as to where she’d been living and how she got there.”
“There’s too many loose ends to grab hold of anything.” Carmichaels pushed his plate away in disgust. “Look at that, now. I’ve ruined Esther’s three-egg breakfast with too much talking.”
Trey couldn’t help grinning. “Your arteries are probably thanking you.”
“Yeah, well, that’s about what my Jessie would have said. She’s probably up there right now, thinking I’m going to pot without her.” Carmichaels planted his elbows on the table. “So what’s going on that you want to talk to me about so early in the day?”
Trey picked his words carefully. “Since Amanda’s story got around town, she’s been...well, harassed, for lack of a better word.”
The chief’s gaze sharpened. “Harassed how? Phone calls? Anonymous letters?”
“Nothing like that.” In fact, that pointed to someone with a definite objective in mind that wouldn’t be gained by letters or phone calls. “A few days ago when she was on her way back to the Burkhalter place, a guy on a motorcycle forced her off the road.”