"Don't open your eyes yet," a sleepy voice whispered.
"Why?" Joan asked as her lips formed into a smile.
"So I can be who you want a little longer."
Even though Joan's eyes were still closed, they flinched into a blink. The dream was over. Martine had come to her to say goodbye for the last time. The tenderness between Joan's legs confirmed that. She brought her hand up until it found its way into the fullness of the hair beside her. She buried her face in its softness and ached because she was alone again.
Joan showered quickly and dressed before wandering out of the bedroom to find Monica. She was in the kitchen, one foot crossed in front of the other, drinking from a cup. "I hope you saved one of those for me," she said as she ran her hands around the supple waist.
"Not even I'm cruel enough to deny morning coffee to someone, even if it is after lunch," Monica said. She turned and Joan kissed her tenderly. "I've even managed to prepare brunch, if you're hungry."
"Starving," Joan said. She took Monica in her arms and gave her a lingering kiss. "Someone made me very hungry last night."
Monica ran a finger lightly over Joan's lips. "Good. Then have a seat."
Joan gratefully swallowed half the coffee while she waited for Monica to set two plates on the table. Joan took a bite of the quiche. "When did you have time to prepare a quiche?" she asked as she chewed.
"Wish I could take the credit, but my housekeeper, Esther, prepared it. All I had to do was re-heat it," Monica said. "Honestly, I suck at cooking."
Joan laughed. "But you're a great re-heater."
"We all have our talents."
They ate companionably for a few minutes before Joan pushed her empty plate away. "Thank you," she said. "For everything."
"How are you feeling?"
Joan finished off her coffee and set the cup down. "Free."
"Good," Monica responded, patting Joan's hand. She gazed at her, still remembering the passion and tenderness. Joan's release had been primal, but it hadn't been her name Joan cried out. She would never tell Joan and would do anything to convince Joan they belonged together. "What are you doing for the holidays?"
"Fran's invited me to visit them for two or three days, but I haven't decided yet."
"It would be good for you to spend time with her without a jillion people around," Monica suggested.
"She's opening a small gallery in the town where they live."
"She's always wanted something of her own. I can't imagine her sitting around being the good little housewife."
Joan chuckled. "Neither can I. She wants some advice about inventory. She has a couple of ideas that are worth pursuing."
"Then fly down."
Joan looked at Monica as she finished her coffee. "Go with me."
"You don't owe me anything, Joan," Monica said.
Joan reached out and took Monica's hand. "I know that, but I'd really like to spend more time with you." She smiled and added, "Besides I haven't bought a thing for anyone yet and was hoping to convince you to go shopping with me this afternoon. I could use the advice." Joan cleared her throat.
"Shopping? Hmm," Monica said tapping the side of her head. "That's a tough one. Would I like to go shopping? Since it's my favorite sport, I think I could manage it."
"I knew I could count on you," Joan said.
"Baby, you can always count on me," Monica said.
Chapter Twenty-Four
JOAN WAVED AS she pulled her wool coat up on her neck and stepped into the door of the airplane. She drew Monica against her and kissed her lightly before she looked around for Fran.
"Have a wonderful Christmas, Ms. Carmichael, Ms. Ashford," Karina said when Joan took Monica's hand to lead her down the stairs to the tarmac.
"I'll see you in two or three days," Joan said. "There are gifts for you and your crew in the back of the passenger compartment. Enjoy the holiday."
Fran ran onto the tarmac to help Joan carry their luggage and Christmas packages to her waiting car. She paused long enough to hug the members of the crew as they came down the steps. Once they were settled in the car, Fran said, "You look relaxed."
"I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I mean you look, I don't know, happy."
Joan shrugged and smiled at Monica. "It just feels good to not have anything pressing on my mind for a change."
Fran glanced at the woman next to Joan. "It's nice to see you again, Monica."
"Thank you for allowing me to tag along." Monica wrapped her arm around Joan's possessively.
"I thought we'd take your things to the house and then go to the gallery."
"We have a reservation at the Claremont," Joan said. "But if you'll give us a few minutes to freshen up, we'll be glad to go with you."
"I'm curious what you'll think of it."
"Where's Brad?" Joan asked.
Fran rolled her eyes. "Setting up his office while there's not a hundred young co-eds staring at him like he was dessert."
"I thought he didn't start until sometime in January."
"He doesn't, but he's been acting as an assistant to the chairman of his department. Taking some of the overflow. Part of his job will be acting as a student advisor and Dr. Simmons has already assigned him several students. Fortunately, or unfortunately, most of the English majors are women. And many seem to be blatantly flirtatious and pathetically obvious. The department hosted a reception to introduce Brad to the rest of the faculty and graduate students about a week ago and a couple of the graduates flirted with him right in front of me. Like I wouldn't notice."
"Ah, the perils of being married to an attractive man," Joan sighed.
"Or woman," Fran said. "I saw you fume more than once when you thought someone was coming on to Mama."
"True. But I knew she would be going home with me," Joan said smugly.
"Martine was a very lucky woman," Monica interjected, rubbing her hand over Joan's thigh and patting it.
"Brad invited Evey and Tully for Christmas," Fran said. "Thought I should warn you."
"I don't need a warning, Fran. I enjoy his mother's company. I admit I'm not as comfortable around his homophobic brother, but will deal with it. Since we won't be staying at your house our contact with him should be minimal."
"Evey told us she saw you in New York."
"I invited them to dinner to be sociable. It seemed rude to know they were in town and ignore it. Do they know we'll be here?"
"Of course. I'm sure Evey's looking forward to seeing you again."
"That's debatable," Joan said as she looked at the passing trees from the passenger side window.
"When were they there, sweetie?" Monica asked.
Joan shrugged. "Couple of weeks ago, I think."
Monica frowned and readjusted her body, still gripping Joan's hand.
After riding several miles in silence, Fran looked at her mother in the rearview mirror. "Anything you want to talk about?"
Joan smiled and looked down at her hands. "That's usually my line." She took a deep breath and shifted her eyes toward Fran. "I'm fine, honey. Just a little tired and hungry."
"DO YOU REALLY need all this stuff for a two-day visit?" Tully fumed as he threw a suitcase into the back of the Suburban. "I don't know why Brad and Fran couldn't come to the farm for Christmas," he said. "It's not fair to expect Ralph to take care of the animals while you gallivant around."
"They have a new home and want to show it off," Evey replied calmly. "Two days away from the farm won't kill you. We'll celebrate Christmas with Ralph when we get back." She smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood and patted his back. "This way we get Christmas twice."
"I don't see you speeding off to visit Beth," he said.
"Your sister is working over the holiday. She said she'd try to come home for the New Year."
"Can't say I'm looking forward to seeing that fucking dyke again," Tully spat as he started the vehicle and rubbed his hands together to warm them.
"What are you talking
about, Tully?"
"Fran's mother! The one that thinks she's a man. I heard her talking about her so-called wife the whole time she was at the farm. It made me sick," Tully said as he turned onto the main highway that would take them to Loganville.
Evey was so shocked by the disgust in Tully's voice that she almost caused him to lose control of the car when she swung her arm and slapped him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked loudly.
Tully rubbed the side of his face. "I don't give a damn what those people do unless it involves my family. Dad's not here to protect--"
"Don't you dare bring your father into this, Tully Chase. You don't know a damn thing about him. All any of you know is what I've told you."
"I know he wasn't some pervert like your "˜friend' Mrs. Carmichael!"
Frustrated with years of hiding the truth Evey faced her son. "He was a different kind of pervert," she said. "He was a monster."
"That's a fucking lie! He..."
Tears hovered in Evey's eyes. Her lips trembled as she spoke. "He wasn't the man I led you all to believe. A child should never have to know certain things about their parents. Les hurt us all in his own way. Joan Carmichael is a decent person who would never do anything to harm our family. And neither would I."
"She's a deviant piece of trash who thinks because she has money she's better than the rest of us. I've seen the way she looks at you." Tully shook his head. "And don't think I haven't seen you look at her either. Just the thought of it disgusts me."
Evey looked across the front seat, her eyes hardening. "Either turn this car around or I'll get out and walk back."
Tully laughed. "It's freezing outside," he said, shaking his head. "Don't be stupid."
"Pull over!"
Tully glared at his mother and pulled onto the shoulder, braking so hard the car slid several feet.
"I'm ashamed to call you my son. My son would never say such things," Evey said, her face red with anger as she released her seat belt and stepped out of the car. "You don't know me even after living with me the last twenty years. And you never knew the man your father was. I hope you never will." A cold, light wind whipped through Evey's hair. She slammed the door so hard she almost slipped and fell, but caught herself. She began taking long strides in the opposite direction.
Tully got out of the car and stood on the running board. "Come back, Mom! I'll take you home!" he yelled, but she ignored him, drew her coat more tightly around her body, and shoved her hands in her pockets. The tires of the Suburban spit gravel onto the road as Tully stomped on the accelerator and fish-tailed onto the main road.
Evey remembered passing a combination gas station and convenience store that she thought was about a mile or so back at the intersection for the main highway. She wasn't thrilled when large wet flakes of snow began falling, but she had been out in worse weather over many winters. The fields on either side of the highway would be pristine in another hour or so. Good places to make snow angels, she thought with a smile.
"MAYBE YOU SHOULD call, Brad," Fran said as she and Joan cleared the table after dinner.
"They probably just got a late start," Brad said, downing the last of his drink.
"Call Ralph to see so we can stop worrying, please."
"We'll clean up the kitchen, Fran," Joan said. "Then we should get to the hotel before the weather gets any worse."
Fran nodded and joined Brad in the living room as he made the call. The phone rang several times before someone picked up the other end. "Ralph? This is Brad." He smiled and nodded at whatever was said. "I understand. The horses always come first. Uh, listen Ralph, what time did Mom and Tully leave the farm heading this way?" A look of surprise crossed Brad's face and he looked at Fran. "Really? We're a little concerned because they haven't arrived here yet. Has Mom called you?"
He shook his head at Fran, who was now perched on the arm of his chair, her arm across his shoulders. "They might have stopped somewhere along the way because of the weather. There aren't that many places between here and there. I'll contact them." He nodded. "I'll call you back as soon as I know something. You do the same, okay?"
Brad stood and went to his computer. "Sweetheart, would you check for hotel or motel listings between here and the farm. Ralph said they left right after lunch. They should have been here hours ago."
"Is everything all right?" Joan asked as she walked out of the kitchen drying her hands.
"Evey and Tully are missing," Fran answered as she wrote down a list of phone numbers on a pad.
Joan felt her heart stop in her chest and sucked in a breath. "I'll contact hospitals in the area and the highway patrol," she said calmly. "Have you tried Evey's cell phone?"
"Brad's trying it now," Fran said. Her husband was sitting in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed his forehead.
"She would call if she could," Fran said, worry written on her face.
Joan turned to Monica. "Honey, can you get some of the numbers from Fran and call them?"
"Of course," Monica said.
In between calls to any place they could think of, Brad's phone rang. He snatched it up quickly. "Ralph! Have they come back yet?" Brad sat up and said. "Call the sheriff's department and have them begin a search. I'll start that way as soon as I hang up." Brad stood and opened the small living room closet, pulling out his coat. He glanced at Fran and Joan. "Ralph's calling the sheriff. I have to get down there."
"We'll go with you," Joan said. When Brad opened his mouth to protest, she stopped him with a look. She held Monica's coat for her and slipped into her own as they followed Brad to his vehicle.
Driving conditions made it difficult to make much speed and their unspoken concerns kept the inside of the vehicle quiet. Joan felt a bead of nervous perspiration trickle down her back. They all jumped when a shrill sound broke the silence. Brad grabbed his cell phone. "Hello," he snapped. His eyebrows lowered into a frown. "He's where? I'll be there in half an hour," Brad said as he accelerated.
"What is it?" Fran asked.
"They found Mom's car," he answered through gritted teeth.
"Thank God," Joan said as she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Mom wasn't in it."
As quickly as her hopes had soared they were dashed. "What about Tully?"
"Oh, they found him," Brad seethed.
They saw the familiar Suburban as soon as they pulled into the parking lot of Mo's Barn. Joan, Monica, and Fran followed Brad as he ran inside. He stopped long enough for his eyes to adjust before seeing two sheriff's deputies standing on either side of Tully, who was seated at the bar. Brad rushed toward them, the anger building inside of him. Before anyone could stop him he grabbed Tully's shirt and yanked him from the barstool. "Where is she?" Brad yelled.
"Hey, man, what're you doing here?" Tully slurred. He looked over Brad's shoulder and saw the three women. He looked back at his brother. "I see you brought the perv with you." A smile split his face and he barked out a laugh. "Mom'll be glad."
Brad tightened his grip on Tully shirt and shook him violently, almost knocking him down. "Where's Mom?" he shouted.
Tully tried to push Brad away. "Home, I guess. We had a fight. She hit me, man."
"She's not at home. I called Ralph."
Tully started to turn around to reach his drink, but Brad backhanded him, splitting his lip. "Where is she?"
Tully wiped at the blood oozing from his mouth. "She got out of the car and was gonna walk home."
"You left her out there alone in a fucking blizzard?" Fran asked.
"She likes snow." Tully laughed, forgetting his lip. "Remember how she used to get us to make those stupid snow angels? She still does that shit."
"Where did she get out of the car?" Brad released Tully's shirt and lowered his voice to a calmer tone. "Think, Tully."
Tully scratched his disheveled hair and shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe three or four miles after the turn-off for the highway."
Brad saw one of the deputies talking rapid
ly into the microphone on his coat collar.
"How long ago, Tully?" Brad asked. "It's important."
"She called me a bigot, Brad."
"She's right," Brad said as he shoved Tully away. He turned back toward Fran who wrapped her arms around her husband in a solid embrace.
"We'll find her, baby," she said.
A firm hand landed on Brad's shoulder. "We have cars out, Mr. Chase. We'll find her."
"We'll be at the farm," Brad said. He looked back at Tully. "I'll take my brother with us."
"Do you want to press charges? It's willful disregard," the deputy said.
"I know, but I need to talk to him."
JOAN DROVE EVEY'S Suburban and followed Brad back to the farm. As soon as they stopped at the side of the house, Ralph came out and helped get Tully inside. He led Tully to the kitchen table and dropped him in a chair before pouring a large mug of black coffee and setting it in front of him. "Drink it," he ordered in a tone that left no room for argument.
Brad and the others made their way into the living room and slumped into chairs. Brad leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Joan stared into the dead ashes from the last fire in the fireplace. Monica perched on the arm of Joan's chair and lightly rubbed her shoulders. Eventually, Ralph carried an armful of kindling and logs into the room and started another fire.
"What happened?" Ralph asked while he worked on the fire.
"Not sure," Brad said. "Apparently Tully and Mom got into an argument. She got out of the car and started walking home. That's all we could get out of Tully. The Sheriff's Department is looking for her."
"Should we call Beth? Let her know what's happened," Fran said.
"Not until we know something more tangible," Brad said. "No sense in worrying her if it turns out to be nothing serious."
"What were they fighting about?" Ralph asked.
"I have no idea. Is there more coffee?" Brad asked.
Ralph set the fireplace poker down and walked back into the kitchen. The sound of his angry voice brought them to their feet once again. When they entered the kitchen Ralph had Tully pressed against the wall and his forearm against the boy's throat. Tully was struggling to relieve the pressure.
The Game of Denial Page 19