by Sandra Brown
“Hello, Mrs. Lane, Mrs. Harper.”
“Mrs. Lancaster,” they said in unison. The effusiveness of their greeting was transparent. “You poor dear,” one said. “How are you making out now that Mr. Lancaster is gone?”
“I thought it was a lovely funeral. Lovely,” the other said.
“Thank you. I’m doing fine.” She would have pushed on then, having satisfied the dictates of politeness, but one of them rushed to engage her in conversation.
“It must be such a comfort to you to have Rink home at a time like this.”
Careful, Caroline, she warned herself. These are piranhas and they’ll tear anything you say to shreds. “Rink’s return to The Retreat meant a lot to Laura Jane and Haney, our housekeeper. Despite the circumstances, they were glad to have him at home again.”
They virtually smacked their lips at every morsel she doled out. “How long will he be staying, now that he’s a bigshot in Atlanta and all? We must seem like hicks to him.”
“Rink loves Winstonville. The town is named after his mother’s family, you know. The Retreat will always be his home.”
That seemed to whet their appetites even more. They moved in closer, like beasts of prey anxious for a kill. “But what about you? Since you married Mr. Lancaster, isn’t The Retreat your home? Or do y’all plan on living there together? Like one big happy family?”
“That’s what we are,” she said, smiling coldly. “One big happy family.”
“Oh, of course,” they agreed enthusiastically.
“Give my regards to Sarah,” Caroline said to her classmate’s mother as she moved off. “I hear she had another baby.”
“Her fourth.” Colorless eyes enviously raked Caroline’s slender figure in her trim linen dress. “It’s a shame Mr. Lancaster didn’t leave you with a baby. A child would provide such a comfort to you in your grief.” It was the most insincere display of pity Caroline had ever seen. If she weren’t shaking with anger, she would have laughed at the inept performance.
“What does she need with a baby, Flo?” Another pair of eyes, just as mean, just as prejudiced, slid over her. “She’s got Rink living in that big house to keep her company and give her all the comfort she needs.”
“Oh, yes, Rink. We mustn’t forget that he’s there with her.”
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Caroline said quickly. She forced herself to pick up the last items on her list before going through the checkout and leaving the store. Tears of humiliation burned her eyes.
As long as Roscoe was alive no one would have dared speak to her that way out of fear of reprisal. Roscoe Lancaster’s wife had commanded their respect, no matter how grudging. Apparently his widow did not. She had gone back to being Caroline Dawson and it seemed that the stigma of her background would live with her forever. It didn’t matter how cleanly you lived; if you grew up poor trash, your morals were suspect.
Why didn’t she leave this place of small-minded, bigoted people?
For the same reason Rink couldn’t. Their roots went too deep. He was at the highest echelon of society and she the lowest, but her place here was as solidly entrenched as his. It was infuriating to be assigned a place at birth, with no hope of changing it. Didn’t it matter that she was managing one of the finest, certainly one of the largest, cotton gins in the region? Didn’t it count that she had gotten a college degree? Or did her accomplishments only feed their jealousy?
Why punish herself this way? Why not go somewhere where she wasn’t known?
The Retreat.
For as long as she could remember, she had dreamed of living in The Retreat. And now, when Rink claimed it as his inheritance, what would she do? Leave town? Never come back?
No. She would find another house in Winstonville and go back to dreaming of The Retreat. But she could never leave it entirely. Never.
She was quiet throughout the evening meal. They ate the fried chicken dinner in the formal dining room, Rink having declared this an official celebration of the Delta Mills deal. Haney and Laura Jane shared his gaiety. Caroline was finding it hard to be festive after the subtle persecution she had been subjected to in the supermarket.
She noticed Rink looking at her quizzically and roused herself from her disturbing musings. For the rest of the meal, she doubled her efforts not to let her distress show.
After dinner she went for a stroll around the grounds. The evening was cool and clear. A rare breeze fanned the full summer leaves of the trees overhead. She went to sit on the bench swing hanging from the huge pecan tree in one corner of the property. It was one of her favorite spots at The Retreat. The river channel gurgled nearby. Moss dripped almost to the ground from the trees. The undergrowth was lush. With the toe of her shoe barely pushing against the soft grass, she idly rocked herself in the swing.
But her indolence reversed itself when she saw a long, lean shadow separate itself from the trunk of a tree and move toward her on silent feet. He pushed aside draping wisteria vines and bent to walk under the sprawling arms of a live oak until he stood just in front of the swing.
“What’s wrong, Caroline?”
“You must have Indian blood. You’re always sneaking up on me.”
“I didn’t come down here to discuss bloodlines. Answer me. What’s wrong?”
“How did you find me?”
“I found you.” Taking hold of the swing’s ropes in each hand and stilling it, he bent over her. “Now, dammit, I’m asking you one last time. What’s wrong?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing.”
“Something. What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“I’m not budging from this spot and neither are you until you tell me. And the mosquitoes can get ferocious around here after dark. So unless you want to be carried off by a swarm of the bloodthirsty little suckers, tell me now what’s bothering you. Something at the gin? Me? What?”
“This town!” she exploded and stood up. Rink was forced to let go of the ropes. Her burst of temper was so sudden that he moved aside and gave her room. The swing rocked crazily behind her. She went to the massive trunk of a tree, crossed her hands on it and laid her forehead against them.
“What about this town?”
“It’s full of petty people.”
He laughed softly. “Are you just finding that out?”
“No. I’ve known that since I was old enough to walk behind my mama pulling her wagon as she delivered fresh laundry. I’ve always known they were prejudiced and judgmental.” She turned and braced her shoulders against the stout tree trunk. “It’s just that I thought a college degree, a good job, a new name would elevate me enough in their eyes so that I wouldn’t be considered trash anymore.”
“You should have known better. Whatever you’re born to around here, you’re stuck with.”
“How well I know. And lest I forget, I was reminded today.”
“What happened?”
She pushed her hair back and let her eyes flicker toward him before looking away again. “It’s too silly and insignificant to get upset about.”
“So tell me and we won’t get upset together.”
Sighing, she named the two women who had spoken with her in the supermarket. Rink made a rude sound. “I don’t like it already. Go on.”
“They… they commented on how lucky I was to have you around after Roscoe’s death, living in the same house with me. They made a point of stressing that. They intimated… well, you can guess what they intimated.”
“They intimated that there was more to our living together than sharing an address. Is that it?”
She looked up at him. “Yes.”
He cursed softly. “They hinted that all might not be proper.”
“Yes.”
“That something illicit might be going on.”
“Yes.”
“That we might be more than stepson and stepmother.”
She didn’t reply but merely nodded. Stillness surrounded them. Cicadas sang cheerily. Bullfrogs
croaked mournfully. They found it impossible to drag their eyes away from each other. Her breasts vibrated with pounding heartbeats. She could swear the pulse in Rink’s temple matched the tempo of hers.
“Forget what those crows said, Caroline. Gossip is their favorite form of entertainment. If it weren’t us, it would be somebody else they were raking over the coals. As soon as the newness of Roscoe’s death wears off, they’ll find something else to occupy their busy little minds.”
“I know that. Rationally I know it. But I still can’t stand their nasty innuendos. I don’t like being the subject of their vivid imaginations.” Their eyes met again briefly, hotly, before they darted away. What the gossips had suggested wasn’t all that vividly imaginative.
“It would be ridiculous for one of us to move out until all the legalities are settled,” Rink reasoned. “Wouldn’t that cause even more talk?”
“I suppose so. Everyone would wonder who had driven whom off. They would say you hadn’t approved of me.”
“As my father’s wife, you mean.”
Caroline could have bitten her tongue for bringing that up. “Yes.”
“Why would they think I don’t approve of you?”
“Because of who I was when I was growing up.” She shifted uncomfortably against the tree. The bark snagged her dress. “Because of the age difference between Roscoe and me.”
When their eyes met this time, there was no pulling them apart. “They would be right,” he whispered, leaning close to her. “I would never have approved of you as his wife.”
“Don’t, Rink.” She wanted to back away, but escape was blocked by the tree.
“Why do you worry about gossip, Caroline?” he asked smoothly, coming even closer. “Your conscience is clear, isn’t it? You know there’s nothing improper going on at The Retreat.”
“Of course.”
Closer still. “There’s nothing illicit going on between us, is there?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
The last word came out raggedly. He placed his thumbs lengthwise along her throat and enclosed her neck with eight strong, lean fingers that interlaced at her nape. With the pads of his thumbs, he tilted her head up.
“Tell me there’s no chemistry between us.” Moaning softly, she tried to turn her head aside. He wouldn’t permit it. “Tell me that every time you look at me you see only a stepson. Tell me you don’t remember what it was like with us. Tell me you don’t remember that day it rained. Tell me never to kiss you again. Tell me you never want to feel my touch. Can you tell me that, Caroline?” Her only reply was a whimper. “That’s what I thought,” he growled.
His mouth clamped hard and sure over hers. Her arms flailed uncertainly until the heels of her hands came to rest on his shoulders where she made feeble attempts to push him away. His body only pressed more intimately against hers. Like the pieces of a puzzle designed to lock in place, he fit them together. His mouth moved over hers, willing her lips to obey his command. His tongue probed the seam of her mouth.
“Kiss me back, Caroline. You want to. You want to.”
And she did. With a slight murmur of surrender, her arms circled his neck tightly. Her lips yielded to the persuasion of his tongue. It entered her mouth with no resistance and met only a welcoming warmth and entrapping sweetness. He stroked her mouth, dipping into each recess with so sexual a cadence that Caroline felt the last vestiges of her resistance melting.
Mercilessly he aroused in her a desperate need for him. His kisses were evocative and thorough. The pressure of his virility between her thighs created in her such a hunger that she couldn’t bear it. She wanted him to fill that aching void. It was of his making and only he could make it whole.
He freed the buttons of her dress and slipped his hands inside the bodice. Her breasts were covered with a lacy camisole. His senses roared as he slid his hands over their full warmth. He massaged them with lazy motions that hypnotized and seduced.
From his lips flowed curses and prayers in a thrilling litany that fell like love songs on her ears. She heard in his voice the desperation of her own soul, the hunger, the agony of unfulfilled desire. He fondled the lace and satin-covered breasts, sought and teased the crowns with his fingertips. The caress gave her immense pleasure. The sensitive flesh grew hard in response. He dipped his head and touched one nipple with his lips.
Caroline felt the kiss in her womb, deep in her innermost self. Her whole body contracted with an intense need and she made an anguished sound. She knew if she didn’t stop now, she would be lost.
She pushed herself free of his embrace. “No, Rink, no,” she cried. She covered her breasts with her hands, willing her heart to stop its erratic racing. “I can’t. We can’t.”
His chest rose and fell alarmingly with each breath. His hair had been mussed by her pillaging hands. His eyes, dilated with passion, blinked back into focus. “Why? Because of my father?”
She shook her head, sending her hair flying wildly. “No, no,” she protested miserably, pulling her dress together. “Because of the people in town. Because I don’t want to be what they expect me to be. I can’t do what their sordid minds accuse me of doing, seducing first Roscoe, now his son.”
“I don’t give a damn what they think.”
“I do!” She realized she was crying. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “Just as you said, we remain what we’re born as. You were a Winston and a Lancaster. No matter what you do, it would be considered above reproach. They wouldn’t dare criticize you. But me, I came from trash and that’s what I’ll always be to them. I have to care what they think.”
While the seconds ticked by, they stared at each other. Rink was the first to turn away and when he did, it was with a blasphemy. “I can’t live in the same house with you and not want to make love to you.”
“I know.”
“Well, I’ve admitted it. Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?” he shouted.
“No, Rink. I didn’t need to hear it to know it.” When he whirled around and looked back at her she said softly, “It’s the same for me. Did you think that it wasn’t?”
It may have been a trick of the moon, but she thought his eyes looked suspiciously moist. His mouth worked but no words came out. At his sides, his fists clenched and released reflexively. His body was taut with suppressed emotions. He looked barely capable of containing them.
She swiped at the tears on her face. “Do you see why I can’t be with you, Rink? They’re right. I do want you. But just as you can’t forget it, neither will they. I was Roscoe’s wife.”
He turned, giving her his back for several minutes. When he faced her again, his expression was hard, bleakly resolved. “What will you do after the will is read?”
She made no effort to conceal the tears that filled her eyes. “The only thing I can do, what I always knew I must do. I’ll leave.”
He nodded his head once, jerkily, before he turned and thrashed his way through the woods. Caroline sank onto the swing and buried her face in her hands. She wept.
Neither of them saw the shadow flitting through the trees as it moved away from the site.
Chapter 10
Steve?”
There were no lights on in his apartment, but the portable black-and-white television was shedding flickering silver light on the walls.
“Laura Jane?” he said incredulously.
“I wasn’t sure you were here. Were you asleep?”
Self-consciously Steve pulled the plain white sheet over his naked chest. He was lying on his back in the narrow bed. When she squeezed through the door, opening it only wide enough for her thin frame to slip through, he propped himself up on his elbows. “No I wasn’t asleep, but what in the world are you doing here? If your brother finds you here—”
“He won’t. I just saw him driving away in his new truck. He and Caroline… Oh, Steve. I don’t understand anything!” She flew across the room and flung herself over him. Automatically his arms went around her. Crying, s
he buried her face in the hollow of his neck.
“What’s the matter? What happened? What don’t you understand?”
“Rink. I don’t understand him at all. He got in a fight with you because you were kissing me. He made me feel like we’d done something shamefully wrong. But if it’s wrong, why do he and Caroline do the same thing? If it’s wrong for us, why isn’t it wrong for them? They’re not married either.”
“You saw them together? Kissing?”
“Yes. Down by the old bench swing. They didn’t see me.”
He combed his fingers through her hair. He didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was, so he answered carefully. “I think you saw something you weren’t supposed to see.”
Laura Jane raised her head. “I shouldn’t have stayed and watched, should I? Haney said you’re not supposed to watch people and listen to them when they don’t know you’re there.”
“It’s impolite, yes.”
She plucked at the edge of the sheet like a contrite child. “I know it was wrong. But I heard them, so I followed the sound of their voices. When I got there, Rink was kissing Caroline. They were standing against a tree so close together that I couldn’t tell them apart.”
As her fingers filtered through the dense hair on his chest, he became increasingly aware that he was wearing only his underwear beneath the sheet. Laura Jane was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hip fitting into the slight indentation of his waist.
She told him how Caroline had ended the kiss. “She said they weren’t supposed to be kissing because people would think they were bad. Rink listened to her, standing very still. He looked like he wanted to hit something, not Caroline. He looked like he wanted to go on kissing her.”
Laura Jane’s voice wavered. “Caroline said as soon as the will was read, she’ll leave.” Leaning from the waist, she laid her head on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want her to leave. I love her. I love Rink. I want us all to go on living the way we are now forever.”
With one hand he cupped the back of her head comfortingly. With the other he rubbed her back. He had pieced together the whole story. Hadn’t he heard Caroline remind Rink about Roscoe keeping them apart? At some point in time, they had been important to each other. But Rink had left and she had married his father. Now, still attracted in spite of themselves, they were trapped in an untenable situation. “It’s a helluva mess all right,” he murmured against Laura Jane’s hair.