After You Were Gone

by Alexis Harrington

  “All right,” Mitchell said, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Let’s do your shopping. It might make you feel a little better to have something else to wear and to talk to a few friends around town. Janey Starr at the Fashion Corral said a lot of people are buzzing about what happened last night. And they’re angry, Juli. They’re supporting you.” He pushed open the main door and held it for her.

  She glanced up at him. “Really?” In all these months no one had said much about the trouble she’d been having, even though at least some had known it had been happening. “I didn’t think anyone paid much attention.”

  He shrugged and rooted around in his pocket for the truck key. “They probably didn’t take much notice of the smaller stuff, like dog-shit torches or what they might have seen as graffiti.” His expression turned wry. “Hell, they probably thought I was responsible for those. At the time, anyway. But breaking display windows and starting fires—man, that’s a whole different story.”

  Mitchell escorted her to several shops along Rosalita Street and Alamo Drive. Although he received some suspicious, even hostile looks when they first walked in, once people saw her with him, most were polite enough to hide their disapproval. Everyone Julianne talked to was sympathetic and supportive, as Mitchell had told her, and some of the places offered her credit for her purchases. At Diller’s Pharmacy, Mary Diller came out from her post behind the counter to throw her arms around Juli.

  “My God, I’m so glad you’re not hurt,” she said. She gave Mitchell a quick, baffled glance, but she was polite, which Julianne appreciated. The older woman’s reaction was understandable. Most people around town knew only that the Tucker brothers had burned down her barn. Mitchell and Julianne had worked hard to keep their early relationship a secret.

  “Thank you, Mary,” Julianne responded, heartened by the encouragement she’d received from everyone, just at Mitchell had predicted. “I’ll get back on my feet.”

  “Of course you will, honey, and Gila Rock will help. You have a lot of friends in town.”

  “I didn’t think so sometimes,” Julianne admitted, putting her toiletries on the counter. All those years alone, trying to make the hog farm succeed—she’d yearned for the friendships she’d had as a married woman. They’d seemed to dry up after Wes died.

  “You’ve just had your hands full. We’re here.” Mary rang up the toothpaste, deodorant, and the other items, and bagged them. Julianne handed her a twenty-dollar bill, but Mary wouldn’t take it.

  “I can pay you.”

  “Nope. Just think of this as an early Christmas present.”

  Julianne gaped at her. “You can’t stay in business if you give away your stock!”

  “We wouldn’t stay in business if we didn’t think about the people we serve.”

  Julianne stumbled all over her own words. She couldn’t come up with a way to argue with such thoughtful courtesy. “I d-don’t know what to say, except thank you.”

  Mary turned a level, steady gaze at Mitchell. “I’ll count on you to be her friend, Mitchell Tucker.”

  Julianne saw color rise in his neck. “Yes, ma’am. I’m counting on that, too. More than anything.”

  Mary smiled at them.

  “I’ve got a kitchen table and chairs, a bed, and some other odds and ends,” Julianne said, sighing. Under any other circumstances, she might find the situation discouraging. But things were looking up. She sat across from Mitchell in one of the two plastic patio chairs the Satellite Motel called “guest seating” outside the office. They were under a short overhang that offered a bit of shade next to the ice machine. The late summer sun still glared at West Texas, but at least the blacktopped front parking lot didn’t shimmer with heat waves. Beyond, traffic on the highway flew past, kicking up dust with tires that whined on the hot pavement. “But I don’t want to go back to the farm. It seems so far from help now. Cade is still out there somewhere.”

  “It’s the best choice for the time being,” he replied, poking around in a bag of potato chips. “You don’t want to stay here, and I’m not crazy about it myself.” He tossed a chip to Jack, who pounced on it like a starving street dog.

  “I guess.”

  “I have just one condition.”

  She turned in her chair. “Oh really. And what would that be, Mr. Tucker?”

  “You have to marry me before I come out there. Otherwise, what will people think? I have my reputation to consider after all.” He lifted his chin and gave her a look of haughty primness.

  Julianne couldn’t help but laugh. His expression made her think of a huffy spinster. Life had taken the strangest and yet most satisfying turn. Never in her most outlandish daydreams would she have imagined Mitchell Tucker proposing to her at this point in her life. “You look like you’ve been sucking a lemon.” Her laughter trailed off, and she gazed at him with a full heart. “I accept your condition, Mitchell.”

  He held her gaze for a moment; then he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “This is our time now, Juli. Everyone else has taken a shot at us. From here on, it’s us two, and our happiness.”

  She studied the distant hills that made up this part of the Texas Hill Country. Somewhere out there, an out-of-place saguaro cactus grew in that desert. It was an unlikely little miracle that they had discovered.

  Another unlikely miracle had brought Mitchell to her again, so they could start over. They were wiser now, and more careful with each other’s tender hearts.

  She nodded and squeezed his hand. “We’ll take life head-on together.”

  He smiled back at her. “That was always my plan, Juli. You and me, together.”

  EPILOGUE

  PRESIDIO COUNTY COURTHOUSE

  MARFA, TEXAS

  “The defendant will rise.”

  The defendant pushed back his chair and stood, wearing a black-and-white striped jailhouse jumpsuit. His court-appointed lawyer stood with him, wearing a rumpled suit and a fatalistic expression.

  The Honorable Matthew Webber sat on the bench, and stared at the subject over the tops of his rimless reading glasses. “Darcy Lynn Tucker, a jury of your peers has found you guilty of attempted murder, arson with the intention to commit murder, and”—he scanned the page in his hand—“a number of other charges. Ordinarily, these charges alone would be enough to compel me to sentence you to a minimum of fifteen years in a Texas state prison. However, during these proceedings, a witness testified to seeing you commit the very same crime nine years ago. You took the life of Wesley Emerson and let Mitchell Tucker believe that he was guilty. Mitchell Tucker—your brother—served seven years for a crime he did not commit, and you will be tried for that crime separately. But in consideration of that additional, selfish act, I hereby sentence you to a term of not less than forty years, with no possibility of parole. Mr. Tucker, please keep your dirty looks and mumbled threats to yourself, or I will add another five years to your sentence. Bailiff?”

  Julianne sat next to Mitchell in the front of the courtroom, watching the proceedings. Her heart pounded so hard, she was certain that her necklace was bouncing off her chest. For both of them, it was like reliving a nightmare that ended differently the second time. Darcy was led away, hostile and arrogant, but shuffling along in full manacles, under appropriate guard.

  “Mr. Mitchell Brett Tucker, are you present in the courtroom, sir?”

  Mitch jumped, obviously not expecting to hear the judge call his name. He stood. “Yes—yes, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Tucker, please approach the bench.”

  “W-what—? Why—?” Julianne stumbled, a rush of fear flooding her. She rose halfway out of her seat.

  “Mrs. Tucker, please remain seated,” the judge instructed.

  She sat again, feeling as if she were being pulled down by the weight of a rock in her stomach. Mitchell walked up to stand in the area in front of the judge, but he didn’t get too close.

  “You, sir, confessed to a crime you did not commit, but believed that you did. I understand
from your testimony that you were trying to protect your brothers, Darcy, and”—he consulted his notes—“one James Nelson Tucker.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The judge removed his readers and gestured at Mitchell with them. “That was a foolish thing you did.”

  Julianne swallowed hard, trying to shift the knot that had formed in her throat. Her hands had suddenly turned icy.

  “I’ve reviewed that case and find that although you were present, you did not start the fire that took the life of Wesley Emerson. Witnesses stated that you were intoxicated and had passed out when the fire was set.”

  Mitchell briefly closed his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

  “I am officially expunging your prison record, Mr. Tucker. As I said, your actions were foolish, but your motive to protect your minor brothers was understandable. Questions?”

  “Sir, does this mean that no one can refuse me employment because of my sentence?”

  “Your sentence will be a bad memory only to you. It won’t exist in the records of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice.”

  Even from where she sat, Julianne heard him exhale a deep breath. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  Judge Webber banged his gavel. “Court adjourned.”

  “All rise,” the bailiff called out.

  When the judge had exited the courtroom, Mitchell turned and opened his arms to Julianne. She rushed into them, weak with relief. Around them, attorneys and their assistants gathered papers into folders and briefcases, and people got to their feet. A low drone of conversation buzzed through the room. “Can you believe it? It’s finally over. Finally over.” She gripped her husband in a tight hug.

  “Yeah,” he whispered. “Thank God.” He rested his head against her shoulder for an instant. “Now no one will be able to object to me taking that coaching job at the school. I’m just Mitchell Tucker, ordinary citizen.”

  “Mitchell Tucker, my husband,” she added. “And I can sure use your help now that this is all behind us. I wish we didn’t have to come back here for Cherry’s trial, but the district attorney said we have to testify.”

  “Darcy wasn’t as nice to her as I was to him. He offered her up and told the police everything they’d done. I guess he was hoping to cut a deal.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “It didn’t work.”

  “I don’t feel sorry for her,” Julianne retorted. “She and Darcy could have killed us that night they tried to run us off the road.” She gripped the reassuring muscle under her hand. “And every time I think of Cade in cahoots with her—it just boggles my mind. Those two planned at least a third of the things done to us.”

  Cade had disappeared three months earlier. Just last week Julianne had received an e-mail from him. In it he had told her that he’d finally seen a copy of his birth certificate at the Jeff Davis County records office in Fort Davis. Everything Julianne had told him was true. His mother’s name was Tamara April Lindgren. His father’s name was listed as Paul Boyce. Yes, the people who had raised him were his grandparents. His message had included a stilted apology that lacked sincerity, in Julianne’s estimation. But Cade was gone. He’d sent the e-mail from a library in Del Rio, a border town about three hours east of Gila Rock. She’d passed on the information to Detective Ortiz, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Cade disappeared into Mexico, despite the BOLO alert, and never came back.

  Careful scrutiny of her surveillance video by the sheriff’s office had put him at the scene of some of the crimes, including when the gallon can of paint had been thrown through the window.

  “Would you press charges if he came back to town?” Mitchell asked now.

  Would she, despite their history? No question. “Of course. I don’t know which man was the real Cade Lindgren, the one who worked for me, or the one who showed himself after you got home. Just the idea of him living at the farm and planning to stay there with me gives me the creeps. It was just so . . . weird. And the property destruction—wow.”

  “I’d feel better if the law had caught up with him. Especially considering how he lured you back to the farm with that oil-filter setup.”

  She stood straight and put out her chin. “Hah! I fixed him!” She dropped her brave face. “I was so scared, though. After I caught him trespassing, and with the other stuff, I guess he figured he’d better be gone.”

  “He figured right.”

  Julianne had her hands full these days. She had repaired the store, this time hiring professional contractors with the insurance coverage she had. She’d hired a manager and a full-time counter person to help run Bickham’s, and good money was coming in. Her attention was currently focused on the new bed-and-breakfast she’d opened at the farm. In honor of the five generations of Boyces who had held that land, she’d named it Boyce’s Country Inn. It hadn’t been finished in time for the spring break crowd, but she was booked for the fall, and she and Mitchell had moved in last month.

  Mitchell had talked again with Ray Schroder, the high school principal, about a coaching job. Now there was no conviction or record standing in the way. If that didn’t pan out, they were considering opening a baseball camp on the farmland.

  “Let’s go home, Citizen Tucker,” she said, pulling on his hand to file out with the rest of the spectators. From the moment she’d passed him on the sidewalk last year, he’d been around, watching out for her, loving her. But he’d also respected her as a person and a woman, and he’d never tried to dominate her. Mitchell was her partner.

  “I don’t know. After all this, I think we deserve a little vacation.”

  “A vacation—where? Not to the Satellite Motel.”

  He laughed as he followed her. “What, you didn’t appreciate my humble lodgings?”

  “I guess compared to sleeping in a burned out building or in the truck, it was okay.” They stepped out into the glaring West Texas sun.

  He laughed. “I was thinking about a week in San Antonio at the Menger Hotel.”

  “Isn’t that place haunted?” she asked as they walked to the sleek, new silver truck they’d bought.

  “Only if you believe that stuff. Anyway, I’ll protect you,” he said, thumping his chest. She laughed, too. “We can go anywhere you want. After all, we’re free.”

  Julianne leaned against him as they walked, and she knew now that no matter what, he’d always be there for her.

  This was real happiness. This was theirs forever.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2011 Elena Rose

  Alexis Harrington is the award-winning author of more than a dozen novels, including the international bestseller The Irish Bride. She spent twelve years working in civil engineering before she became a full-time novelist. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys jewelry making, needlework, embroidery, cooking, and entertaining friends. Harrington lives in her native Pacific Northwest, near the Columbia River, with a variety of pets who do their best to distract her while she’s working.