But doubts blanketed certainty. The girl he’d known would never be in trouble with the law. But the woman she’d become? She’d been gone for ten years. Anything could’ve happened. Did he really know her?
For the first time, he heard her sobs from her apartment and bounded up the stairs. He tried the knob, but it was locked. “Emily, let me in.”
“No, Scott. Just go away.”
Tears laced her voice, and he ached to reach her. “Please, Emily. Talk to me. Trust me. Haven’t I proven you can?”
“Yes, but—” She sobbed. “I can’t talk right now. I can’t. Please understand.”
Rubbing his neck, he exhaled an exasperated breath. He wanted answers, but not like this. Not through a closed door. Still, one question burned in his soul. “Answer me this: Are you now, or have you ever been married?”
Silence pulsed for several long moments. His heart caught in his throat, and the pain of it choked him. “Em, answer me. Have you?”
The longer the silence stretched, the more he wanted to slam his fist through the door. But then, he heard her voice, weak and sad, from the other side. “Yes.”
****
Although he was in no mood for company, Scott unlocked the passenger door on his pickup to let Roger join him inside. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Roger slid into the seat and slammed the door. “Man, I’m disappointed.”
Scott scowled. In his current mood, hearing Roger’s boisterous voice grated on his nerves. “About what?”
“Finding you here. I’ve already been by your clinic and the house. My next stop was your mom’s. Too bad I found you here first. I could’ve scored a fried chicken or a pot roast if I’d paid a visit to Miz B.” He thrust his chin toward the paper cup in Scott’s hand. “How many of those have you had?”
“Three. And I don’t really want this one.” Scott sighed and handed over his root beer float. “You want it?”
“Ain’t pot roast, but it’ll do.” Roger pulled the straw out and ran it through his lips to clean it, then flipped it over and reinserted it into the plastic lid. “I’d forgotten how good these things are.”
“So why were you looking for me?”
“Got a call from Lauren about an hour ago. She sent me after you.”
“Word gets around fast.” Scott huffed out a breath. “She talked to Emily?”
“Yep.”
“And?”
“And she wants you to get your butt back over to Em’s apartment and let her explain.”
“Explain what? She’s married.” Scott stared without interest at the carhop skating down the sidewalk. His heart felt heavy, as if it had solidified into cold lead in the past hour. He rubbed his forehead. “She’s married. There’s nothing to explain.”
“Seems to me, if the woman I’d been dating for the past several weeks was married, I’d want to know why she didn’t bother to tell me.” Roger sucked on the straw and smacked his lips. “Fact is, she ain’t married.”
“She told me herself she was.”
“Was being the operative word. Lauren said that Emily said that you said—man, this sounds like some stupid soap opera. Or a kid’s drama. Don’t you feel like we’re back in high school?”
Scott flashed him a black look. “What did Lauren say Emily said?”
Roger raised his hand defensively. “Look, she said that the way you asked if Em was married didn’t leave her much of a way out. You said, and I’m quoting here, Are you now or have you ever been married?”
“Right. And she said yes.”
“She said yes to the ‘have you ever been’ part.” Roger put the sweaty cup in the holder and rubbed his damp hands down his pants legs. “She was married for a few hours to a con named Wade Coulter who got arrested the same day they got married. They never even had a honeymoon. Emily got the marriage annulled soon after. She tried to tell you, but you’d left.”
“What did she say about being involved with the cons?” Scott shot back bitterly. “Did she bring that up? Did she explain that?”
Shock registered on Roger’s face. “Involved? She wasn’t involved. She testified against him. She was as much of a victim as everyone else.”
“That’s not what Paul Goodrich believes. And if he can verify it, he’s going to run an article all but accusing her of scamming Dogwood citizens with this auction she’s planning.”
Roger shot out a breath. “She didn’t do anything wrong. She just fell in love with the wrong guy.”
The words crashed through Scott’s chest. She’d been in love with someone else. He shouldn’t be surprised. Most people in their thirties had fallen in love at least once. But not him. She’d always been the only one for him, and he’d never declared his love to anyone else, never said the words until last night.
Roger gaped at him. “You don’t believe what that reporter says, do you? You don’t honestly think Em could be involved in a felony?”
Scott shrugged. Too many questions remained unanswered. “We’re thinking of Emily Taylor, the high school valedictorian. This Emily has lived a life apart from us for years. What do we really know about her?”
“We know she was raised better. We know she’s a Christian—”
“—who has only been to one church service since she returned, and that was when Micah proposed to Mom.”
“But she’s still a Christian.” Roger drew his lips tight. “Look. All I know is, when I’m with her, she seems like the same ol’ Emily. Lauren is comfortable with her. Those two fell in together as if they’d never been separated. I don’t believe she’s changed that much in ten years.”
Emily, Millie. Married, single. Con artist, victim. Scott’s head reeled. He didn’t know what to believe.
Another tap on the passenger side jerked his attention. Roger lowered the window, and a pimply-faced kid on skates scowled at him. “Mister, we can’t have empty vehicles taking up our slots. You need to move it.”
“What difference does it make if I order from this pickup or that one, as long as I order?”
“You haven’t ordered,” he insisted.
Roger leaned over and studied the menu board outside Scott’s window. “Gimme four jalapeño burgers—Trey will eat two by himself—one order of chili-cheese tater-tots, and two of onion rings. Oh, and add three more root beer floats. Kids’ll love ’em.”
When he turned back around, the kid was glaring at him. “You’ve gotta punch the button. From your own vehicle.”
Roger rolled his eyes toward Scott.
“That’s all right. I need to be going anyway. Thanks for the info,” Scott said.
Alone again in his pickup, he sat hunched over his steering wheel. True, he needed to be going. Question was, where? Dani had clinic duty for the evening. He didn’t want to see his mom, didn’t want to face her questions. He couldn’t go to Emily’s. He wasn’t ready for that.
He prayed she’d told Lauren the truth about having her marriage annulled. The idea he’d been kissing another man’s wife was more than his soul could take. He prayed everything she’d said was the truth, and that she was single and not complicit in the cons this Wade Coulter dude committed.
But even if she had told the truth, she hadn’t trusted him with her past, with the things on her heart—not even with her double identity. Maybe he would’ve understood if she had just told him, but what kind of relationship could they build without trust? He wanted a woman he could confide in, one who would confide in him. A wife, a lover, a best friend.
Apparently, Emily wasn’t the one.
31
Emily sighed and toed the Friday newspaper, which was spread out on the coffee table. It held nothing about her; neither had Thursday’s or Wednesday’s.
For three days, Paul Goodrich had failed to reveal her secret to the town’s population. Maybe Dogwood’s “soft touch” had become old news. Maybe he had finally decided to concentrate on the arsonist instead of harassing her. Wouldn’t that be
wonderful?
Other than stepping out to retrieve the Dogwood Daily, Emily hadn’t left the sanctuary of her apartment. She tended the cats in her pajamas every morning, and was still in her pajamas when their nighttime feeding rolled around. Her days were centered on old movies and the "how-to" channels, and her nights brought little sleep. Dark rings had formed under puffy eyes. She needed a shower. Badly.
Scott hadn’t called once since he’d discovered her secret and hadn’t answered when she’d called him. After that first day, she quit trying.
She’d been so careful to keep her past from everyone. From him. Well, the truth was certainly out now, wasn’t it? Only Scott didn’t have half the facts Connor and Lauren did. He just knew she’d been married. For all he knew, she was still married.
How had Paul found out? What had sent him searching through the Harris County records? He didn’t seem surprised to see her as half-Emily, half-Millie, so he’d already figured that out...probably through Sheriff Bailey. Just because she and Scott had denied her ownership of the house the night it was vandalized didn’t mean the sheriff had. Why would he? As far as he knew, her ownership was a matter of public record.
Apparently, Paul searched the records and discovered both her house and the refuge were owned by All Creatures, Inc. It hadn’t taken him long to add two and two.
But that still left the question of how he had discovered her marriage. Did it really matter? He knew, and soon everyone else in town would know.
Although why anyone would care was beyond her. She sniffed and scrubbed her face with both hands, and wished for the millionth time Scott would let her explain.
He wouldn’t even talk to her.
How could he yank his love away that easily? How tenuous would a relationship with him be if he disappeared every time he got mad at her? If he wouldn’t listen to her, or even confront her and fight out their problems with her?
Wasn’t she worth fighting with? Fighting for?
Bitterness roiled in her stomach and burned in her throat. For the second time in her life, a man claiming to love her had lied.
Fine. She didn’t need him.
She vaulted from the couch and marched to the shower. Time to focus on something besides Scott. Something like her house. She still needed to determine her paint scheme, pick out the hardware for her new kitchen cabinets and drawers, figure out whether she wanted laminate or marble countertops. Plenty of things to keep her mind off Scott. Instead of waiting by the phone, she’d be out and about, heading to the home improvement store in Tyler. Chapman’s didn’t have what she wanted, and the road trip would do her good. She would crank the radio loud and drown the clamoring thoughts about Scott.
After her shower, she pulled on some jeans and a red T-shirt, then loped down the backstairs to her car.
She drove toward the Victorian and slowed when she saw Roger’s truck. She parked at the curb.
Roger strutted to her car. “Hey, princess! You heading out to see Scott?”
“No, just taking a road trip.” The fact she would drive right past Scott’s house hadn’t dawned on her. Or maybe it had on some level, but she hadn’t consciously planned it. Oh, well. She was miles away from the alternate route and wasn’t about to backtrack now. “How’s it going with the house?”
“We’re getting the cabinets installed, and the new beveled windows will be delivered this afternoon. We’ll put those in tomorrow.”
She climbed from the car and walked with him toward the house. “I’ll be glad to see those windows in, but don’t you think we should leave the plywood up just in case?”
“I suppose we could. Whoever did this is probably still on the loose. I haven’t heard about him getting caught, have you?”
“No, but I think I know who it is.”
Roger stopped walking. “Who?”
She bit her lip. “He looked like someone I’ve seen at Chapman’s.”
Roger rubbed his chin. “Wow.” He thought a moment, his dark brows drawn tightly over his nose. “That would make sense in a way. The acetone could’ve come from there. Are you going to turn him in?”
“I don’t know. He’s just a kid. If I’m wrong, I could ruin his life.”
“Yeah, I can see why you’d be hesitant.” He studied her for a moment. “That’s not the only thing bothering you, is it? Hasn’t Scott called?”
“No.” She snorted. “Was he supposed to?”
“I had hoped. You two need to clear up this mess.”
Her lips tightened. “Lauren talked to you?”
“Of course she did. She tells me everything. I tell her everything.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s called ‘having a relationship.’ Something you and Scott need to work at.”
“That’s not going to happen. He thinks I’m married.”
“No, he doesn’t. I told him you weren’t Tuesday night, soon as I got off the phone with Lauren.” He grinned. “That’s called ‘being a buttinsky.’ ”
Emily’s heart plummeted. “So he knows about the annulment?”
He nodded and gave her shoulders a sympathetic squeeze.
She bit back tears.
Scott knew and still hadn’t called.
****
Scott closed the gate to the pasture and strode toward his house in time to see Emily’s car speed past. For a moment, his heart stopped. Then he mentally booted it back into gear. With her new house being just up the road, she’d pass his place every time she headed out of town. He might as well get used to it.
His fist clenched around his key ring. Maybe someday, some distant day, he’d find a woman who would trust him, and Emily Taylor would be a long forgotten episode in his past. Well, no. Not forgotten. In her previous absence, he hadn’t forgotten her. Perhaps the best he could do was let time distance him from this present pain, the constant gnawing ache in his heart, the persistent questions running through his head.
He growled, ordering his mind to shut up, and unlocked his truck. Before he could climb in, a car honked, and he looked toward the highway.
Parker Milligan’s black lab, Chica, rode with her head hung gleefully out the passenger window of a maroon SUV; her ears blew back and her pink tongue dangled out of the corner of her mouth. When Parker slowed and pulled into Scott’s drive, she barked enthusiastic greetings to him, the horses, and the sparrows flittering nearby.
Parker’s window lowered. “Hey, Scott. Got a minute?”
“Sure.” He slammed his truck door and strolled over. “What can I do for you?”
Inside his vehicle, Parker snapped a leash on Chica’s collar, then climbed out with her on his heels. “Sorry to bother you at home, but Dani said you’d be here, and I don’t have a lot of time before I have to get back to work.”
“It’s no problem.” Scott scratched the lab’s ears. “Something wrong with Chica?”
“No, no. I wanted to take a look at Scotch Bonnet. Spencer’s been sulking around lately. He hinted you’d have to get rid of the horse soon. I wanted to take a look at her.”
“Come on back.”
Once there, Parker tied his dog to a fence post and followed Scott through the gate and into the field.
The bay roan lifted her head from the fresh grass and gazed at them warily as they approached. She’d calmed down considerably under Scott’s care, but she was still a bit leery of strangers. Scott clicked to her, but she skittered away a few yards before stopping, her eyes and ears focused on the two men invading her pasture.
Parker shook his head. “She seems awful flighty.”
“She’s not used to you. You should see her with Spencer. One click of his tongue, and she comes galloping.”
“Really?” Parker rubbed his neck, eyeing her beneath thoughtful brows. “He’d certainly love to have her.”
“They’re good together. Good for each other.”
“Found a place for her over on Sorrel Ridge.”
“Nice place.”
He grunted an agreement. “Just ne
ed to figure out how to get her there.”
“I’ve got a rig. Want me to take her?”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all.” With the coolness of a businessman, Scott stretched out a hand to shake on the deal, but inside, he squelched the urge to whoop like a kid. At least someone would get what he wanted, and if it couldn’t be himself, he was glad it was Spencer. “When do you want me to take her out?”
“His birthday’s a week from Sunday. Reckon we can get her stabled the day before?”
Scott winced. The auction. He’d promised to help and wouldn’t renege regardless of where things stood with Emily. “That Saturday won’t work. I’m booked. How ’bout after church on Sunday?”
“That’s fine.” Parker gave Scott’s hand an extra shake before releasing him. His expression held an excitement Scott hadn’t seen in a while. “Boy’s going to be excited when he finds out he’s a horse owner. I want to see his face when he gets a load of the animal in her new home.”
Scott clapped him on the shoulder. “I’d like to see that, too.”
****
Emily took the long way home from Tyler so she wouldn’t have to pass Scott’s house. Catching sight of his lean form this morning as she drove by was more than her heart could bear—and it had ruined her trip.
With everything that had transpired since her house was vandalized, she felt fragile. Racing past Scott’s home without the freedom to seek the shelter of his arms, or even offer a wave in greeting, crushed her.
She’d continued on her way, made it to Tyler and the home store, but once there, couldn’t concentrate well enough to coordinate the colors she wanted, and she was already doubting the hardware she’d chosen for the new cabinets. She couldn’t focus on anything but him and the last time he’d kissed her. She raised her fingers to her mouth now as if still able to feel the warmth of his lips lingering there.
A gas station’s neon lights glowed ahead, and she glanced at her gauge. It registered just above a half tank, not worth stopping. The grocery store occupied a corner lot farther ahead. She flipped her blinker and prepared for the turn. Scott probably wouldn’t be bringing cat food and kitty litter around again, so she’d better pick some up, and a few other things while she was at it.
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