by Lee Magner
“That she might seduce Peter,” Clare guessed.
“Yes. So I was very strict with him, trying to fill his days with work for the church. He’d loved it in earlier years, but this became a wedge between us, and…” Reverend Lightman rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “I think I drove him away from his calling that summer. And even theological seminary couldn’t heal the wounds that I inflicted on him.”
“But why are you telling me?” she pleaded, mystified.
He smiled and looked at her then. “Because, Clare, I have known you since you were a little girl, and of all the people in this town, you are the person I trust to be kindhearted and levelheaded and without greed and envy and deceit.”
“Reverend,” she said, overwhelmed. “I think you may have too high an opinion of me, but I’m honored.”
He patted her on the arm. “I know you’re looking into what happened. Martha mentioned the discussions from the last Ladies Aid and Comfort Society. She went on about Lexie and the murder and the suspicions that some of the women had had about Lexie’s scandalous behavior… although none of them ever had the courage to tell Walter or Anita. They just gossiped among themselves.”
“Did you know that—” Clare hesitated.
What if he hadn’t known that Lexie was pregnant? What if he were the father of that unborn child? She didn’t want to add to his pain. And yet…there were so many deceptions, so many lies. How could she unravel the truth if she didn’t ask the hard questions that needed to be asked? She thought of the insults and smears to his reputation that Case had endured all those years. No one had worried about protecting him. That hardened her tender heart enough to ask the unaskable.
“Reverend Lightman, did you know that Lexie had gotten pregnant?”
He paled, but he did not flinch. In that instance, Clare knew that he had indeed known. All these years.
“Yes. She told me, defiantly, a few days before she died. When I begged her to let Peter go. She laughed at me. She said he might be the father of her child… or…”
Anguish convulsed his face.
“Or I might be.”
Clare reached out instinctively to touch his arm in as comforting a way as she could.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry.” He laughed, and it was the hollow laughter of a man drowning in his own pain. “I, too, am sorry. So deeply, so profoundly, sorry.”
The sound of voices coming closer arrested their conversation.
“Thank you for telling me, Reverend Lightman.”
“I ask one favor of you in return, Clare.”
“What?”
“That none of this be made known. Especially to my wife, Martha. If there is any way to avoid it, you will have my eternal gratitude.”
Clare sighed. His confession was a motivation for murder. She couldn’t imagine that Lexie’s involvement with the minister and his son could be completely swept under the rug if there were a reinvestigation of the case. She frowned.
“Why wasn’t any of this discovered at the time of her murder?” Clare asked quietly.
“I tried to protect Peter by saying that he was praying with me in the chapel at the time that Lexie was killed. I knew that if either of us were without an alibi, the entire scandal would be fodder for the defense attorney. And I was certain that Peter couldn’t kill a fly, let alone Lexie Clayton.”
“And why did he lie also and say he was with you?” Clare asked, following the argument thoughtfully.
“I imagine that he suspected I was involved with Lexie, and didn’t want to scandalize the town.”
“You both lied in order to keep your involvement with her a secret and out of the papers.”
“Yes.”
“Reverend Lightman, has it ever occurred to you that the wrong man was convicted of murder fifteen years ago?”
“No!” he said hurriedly. Too hurriedly. “I…I didn’t think so at the time. He had the knife in his hand. He was near the body. It seemed so simple. So uncomplicated. And Seamus had led a peculiar life. It was easy to believe it.”
“But…?”
“But…I heard what he said at the cemetery after he’d been praying at Lexie’s grave, and there was something in his voice that bothered me. I began to have a small, a very small… doubt. And so I called the prison. And I spoke with the chaplain there, hoping he might give me some insight.” The minister laughed bitterly. “No. I was hoping that he would reassure me that Seamus was a murderer. But that didn’t happen. The man—his name is, uh, Douderbeck—he told me of the last day he’d spent with Seamus. And his conviction that Seamus might indeed have been innocently incarcerated all these years.”
And that was when Clare realized why Reverend Lightman had come to her with this scandalous confession.
“And you want to help him be exonerated, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “But I lack the courage to come forward and say that to the police. I am a weak man, it seems. But if what I have told you can help in any way… it would please me. Greatly.”
“Roland!”
They turned to see his wife walking toward them. When she reached them, she embraced her husband affectionately, kissing him warmly on the cheek and slipping her arm through his. Patting his hand and beaming at him proudly, she was the picture of the well-nested little woman, happy in her home and in her marriage.
It broke Clare’s heart to see the pleading, terrified look in Roland Lightman’s eyes as he looked over his wife’s graying head at her.
“Good luck, Reverend,” Clare said.
“And good luck to you, too, my dear. Good luck…to all of you.”
As the Lightmans strolled arm in arm toward the area where the speeches would soon be given, Case came walking across the grassy lawn toward Clare. He was carrying something in one hand. A cellular phone.
“What was that all about?” he asked curiously, nodding his head in the direction of the Lightmans. He had seen the exchange between the minister and Clare and knew something significant had happened.
“I heard his confession,” Clare said with a sigh.
“Are you taking holy orders?” he teased, kissing her cheek. “I’ll make it very hard on you,” he warned. “There’s a celibacy requirement, you know.”
Clare laughed and slid her arm around his waist.
“Celibacy isn’t too bad,” she teased. “I’ve managed to endure it this long.”
His eyes darkened and he put his arm around her possessively.
“I think we should do something about that,” he said softly.
Her heart beat a little faster. She’d been thinking the same thing. For fifteen or sixteen years. Maybe they’d thought about it enough.
Some of the other people nodded at Clare as they arrived at the area where the platform and podium had been installed. Some still sent Case looks of open dislike. But many smiled at him and said hello. Apparently, not everyone in Crawfordsville held a grudge, or had a long memory.
“Do we have to sit through this?” Case whispered as they sat on the hard wooden folding chairs.
“Yes. It’s a historical event,” she told him primly.
He sighed and stretched out his legs as much as he could in the limited space. People seemed to be as bored with the speeches as he was, Case thought as he noticed a few of the respectable citizens’ heads begin to nod sleepily. Clare, on the other hand, was dutifully taking notes.
He leaned close to Clare and whispered in her ear. “I’d like to propose a historical event for you and me to attend after this is all over.”
Something in the huskiness in his voice got her full attention. Her pen hovered and she tried to glance at him without being too obvious.
“What event?” she asked in a whisper.
His lips were so close to her ear, his breath warmed her delicate skin when he spoke again.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to sit this close to you and not put my arms around you? Or kiss you?�
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Her throat went dry. The pen created a funny little doodle in the middle of her notes.
“This is a strange place to say that,” she murmured, giving him a look of confusion. She was leaning close to him to speak, so no one would hear. The heat in his eyes was obvious. And it made her own blood warmer by the second. “This is crazy… we’re in the middle of a…”
”… historical event,” he said through a wolfish grin. “Just the beginning of it, though. Well, maybe not the beginning… The beginning was years ago… I’ve wanted you that long, Clare Browne, and it’s getting worse, not easier, all the time.”
His eyes were direct, and the softness of his speech just made her heart beat faster. She could guess where this conversation was going, now. And suddenly, she was scared. She swallowed, but it didn’t help get rid of the lump of anxiety and excitement in her throat.
“You certainly picked a strange place to say this to me,” she whispered faintly.
His uneven grin and slight laugh warmed her heart.
“Yeah. Well, I’ve been trying to avoid it, but… damn it, I want you like fire craves oxygen to burn.”
Her gaze clung to his. She nodded.
“I know exactly what you mean,” she murmured weakly.
“Do you?” His gaze traveled over her face. He was serious now. Deadly serious. “I want you to come away with me tonight. I want to be alone with you. For hours. For as much as we can steal from this disaster. I need you, Clare.” His voice was barely audible, even though his lips practically brushed her ear as he spoke.
Need? Her heart ached. She wanted his love so badly she could taste it. Was need close enough? When he said need, did he mean something more? Or was that just her own heart’s hope getting in the way of her hearing?
“You got to me years ago,” he admitted huskily. “You’re driving me crazy,” he added with a very soft laugh. “Crazy.”
She pulled away so she could look into his eyes clearly. Her pen dropped to the ground, forgotten. The crowd suddenly was no longer there, as far as she was concerned. The intent look in his eyes said more clearly than words just how intensely he did need her. She felt his hand cover hers and his fingers lace through hers, holding her tightly.
“Will you come with me?” he whispered, leaning close again.
“Yes.” It wasn’t a very steady reply, but she saw the hot gleam in his eyes as he heard it.
“I want to kiss you so badly I can taste it,” he muttered, frowning. He sighed and looked away, staring fixedly at the speaker.
Clare felt weak with desire. Why of all times and places had he finally admitted this here? she wondered, a little deliriously. She was happy he’d acknowledged his feelings, but…
They couldn’t kiss. Not here. There were too many people around for that. And the speeches! They’d never taken so long to be delivered. Finally the clapping started. But it seemed to go on forever.
When the ceremonies concluded, Case pulled her close to him. They threaded their way through the crowd as quickly as possible, but it felt like an eternity to Clare. There were so many people, and Clare desperately wanted to be alone with Case. And Case seemed to feel the same, because he used every crush of the throng to pull her body close to his, to slide his hand over her shoulder or her waist or her hip.
They reached her car first. He handed her the car phone.
“I got one for you, one for Luther and one for Seamus. Mine’s in the car, but I’m wearing a pager on my belt, so I’ll know if any of you are calling me. The pager number’s preprogrammed, number one.” He grinned down at her as she slid into the driver’s seat. “I sure hope I’m sophisticated enough to keep up with your expectations, ma’am.”
She laughed.
“Come on,” he murmured softly. “Let’s get out of here. Unless you want an audience,” he teased. “Say, you aren’t into exhibitionism, are you?”
She swatted him in playful outrage. He jumped back, avoiding her slap but capturing her hand.
“Follow me,” he suggested.
She nodded.
Case went to his car and she followed him in hers as he drove to Luther’s farm, where they parked.
“Where are we going?” she asked as butterflies fluttered inside her heart.
“To Columbus,” he said with a grin, walking toward the barn.
“Uh, that’s a long drive,” she murmured, trotting along behind him.
“But a short flight,” he said easily.
They rounded the barn and there, sitting in the middle of Luther’s flattest field, was a helicopter.
“I don’t believe this,” she murmured in astonishment. “Do you fly?”
“You’re about to find out,” he said with a roguish grin. He held out his hand and helped her up into the helicopter.
An hour later they were walking into an elegant hotel suite in Columbus.
He could fly, all right. Obviously, she had a lot to learn about how Case had spent the past fifteen years.
They went into the room and Case closed and locked the door behind them.
She lifted her arms and put them around his neck.
“I’m going to ask you a lot of questions,” she murmured against his parting lips. “Later…”
He pulled her into his arms, covered her mouth with his and kissed her, just the way he’d been wanting to for hours. For days. Forever.
She sighed and ran her fingers through his soft dark hair, relishing in the sweet torture of loving him. His mouth was hard and demanding against hers, and the force of his need made her melt more and more into his arms.
“Clare,” he murmured huskily, trailing light; provocative kisses across her lips, her jaw, down across the smooth, sensitive skin of her throat. “I’ve wanted you for so long I’m crazy with it.”
His sharp intake of breath underscored his urgency, and Clare reveled in the knowledge of his intense attraction to her. Maybe it didn’t matter that it wasn’t exactly a declaration of love. Coming from Case, this was a lot. More than she’d ever hoped to hear.
She arched her back as he pulled her closer, gasping with pleasure as he loosened the buttons on the front of her dress and found the soft flesh of her breast with his mouth. She felt the fabric slide down her body as the dress slipped to the floor. He deftly unhooked her bra and dropped it, too, lifting her in his arms as he fastened another skillful, demanding kiss on her lips.
She was overwhelmed by his wanting her, overcome by the need that she felt driving him. His fingertips left trails of fire everywhere he touched her, and everywhere he touched, she had needed him to touch.
She’d never known how much she had needed this closeness with him. This fire that burned but did not destroy. The cool tickling that twisted and never unwound.
He pulled off his shirt and loosened his belt. Nearly undressed, they fell together between the open covers of the bed.
His openness helped eliminate her shyness. Nakedness didn’t seem to bother him. He looked at her, and smiled. And it was the warm, tender smile that made her heart melt.
He was hungry for her, and he wasn’t hesitant to let her know that. As he breathed harder, his face became intense and focused entirely on her, as if she were his entire universe. He treated her as if she were the most precious thing he had ever held in his hands, caressing her breasts lightly, touching her nipples delicately, smoothing the soft skin of her belly with long, warm strokes of his palm.
She felt like satin beneath his hands. And every inch of her responded to his touch as if it had been kissed by electricity.
The pouting flesh yearned for yet another kiss, and when he ran his tongue over it she moaned in delight.
He rolled over her, pressing her down into the bed, sliding his knee intimately between her thighs. Then he pushed up against her, gently but firmly, and she felt the hard throbbing desire that burned between them.
He was whispering in her ear, brushing the hair away from her face, kissing the dampness of her neck.
> “I want this,” he said hoarsely. ‘’You know how much. But I—” His voice broke a little then, and he couldn’t go on talking.
She opened her eyes and turned her head so she could see his face a little. He was anguished and flushed with desire, and he was trying to hold himself back.
“After this, there is no going back,” he whispered. He opened his eyes and looked deeply into her own. “I don’t want you to ever regret this moment. So if you don’t want to…”
She pulled him closer and kissed him, holding his head close and sliding her tongue gently between his teeth and across the sensitive surface of his mouth.
He trembled in her arms and gripped her hips with his hands.
He tore his mouth away from hers, breathing hard, and said in a desperate whisper, “Wait…”
He yanked a small packet out of his trouser pocket, an arm’s length away on the side of the bed. He tore it open with his teeth and took her hand in his.
“Like this,” he whispered huskily. Together, they slid the condom on him. Then their mouths fused in a deep, infinitely sweet kiss. And he pushed into her body in a long, hard thrust.
It hurt. Like tearing a part of her in two.
And then it receded. And the feel of his warm strength over her and around her made her want to be even closer.
They were wrapped in each other’s arms, and slowly, inexorably, they began to move. Like a rhythm to a dance that had no music. Each slow, deep stroke gave a new and more wonderful pleasure.
And his hands moved over her, sliding across her sensitive skin, sending fireworks over every inch of her. Kissing her more and more deeply. Faster. Deeper. Sweeter.
Clare moaned and writhed beneath him. She didn’t know where she stopped and he began. Like one being, they swelled and soared and gave up to the building crescendo.
And when it came upon them, she cried out and he cried out and their joy filled the universe. They shook until the last ounce of pleasure had been wrung from their bodies. And then, slowly, they slid down into a completely relaxed and loving state.