***
Angelique handed her aunt another Dutch apple pie to add to the several being boxed to take to the Kinnison barbecue that night. Emilee had pleaded to go with her grandpa to help him with chores before the guests began to arrive.
“What time is Sally stopping by to pick you up?” Her aunt asked as she carefully arranged the pies so they wouldn’t overlap in the shallow cardboard tray.
“Around four, unless you need her to come earlier?” Angelique sampled the potato salad, adding more pepper to it. This was her kind of heaven, cooking with her aunt in this old country kitchen. She knew where everything was kept, knew how the scorch mark on the kitchen Formica came to be during a trial run of baking her first cookies alone.
“Emilee seems to enjoy helping out with the baby and helping with the horses,” her aunt remarked, tearing off another piece of foil to cover another pie.
Angelique smiled as she spooned her salad into large tubs for ease in transporting. “You know how she loves horses.”
“She mentioned that Dalton is teaching her how to ride. He seems to have taken a shine to her.”
Angelique had been well aware of how much her daughter spoke about Dalton. While she appreciated his kindness, she couldn’t help but wonder about his sudden change of heart with children. A self-proclaimed bachelor and proud of it, children had always been more of something to be tolerated. Maybe being an uncle had changed his perspective. In the past few days since their discussion, she’d noticed via Emilee how much more present he seemed to be to her—taking time to teach her to ride, how to tie various knots in a rope, mucking stalls, showing her how to identify wildflowers from poisonous plants. Guilt more than anything else pushed the next words from her mouth. “Well, school will be starting in a few weeks. I’m not certain it’s best for her to be spending so much time in Dalton’s company.”
Her aunt offered no response and for a few moments, they worked in amiable silence. Angelique finished loading the salad into the cooler and shut the lid. “There, I think we’re about ready. Was there anything else?”
Her aunt spoke as she continued her task of wrapping another pie. “When are you going to tell that boy the truth?”
Angelique’s heart faltered. “What boy?”
Her aunt’s steady gaze looked up to meet hers. “Dalton Kinnison.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Rebecca dropped her fist holding the hand towel against the countertop. Her eyes pinned Angelique where she stood. “I mean when do you plan to tell him who Emilee’s real father is?”
Unable to speak, she lowered herself to a nearby breakfast stool—the same one she used to climb up and prop her knees on so she could watch her aunt put together her pies. “How did you know?”
Rebecca’s gaze softened. “I didn’t, not until this moment. I’ve seen similarities in her behavior—little things. But those eyes, their color, and her smile—they’re unmistakably Dalton’s.”
Angelique covered her face, unwilling to acknowledge the lie she’d kept hidden for so long. She looked up at her aunt and tried to hold the desperation inside her at bay. “You must promise me that you’ll not breathe a word of this to anyone—not even Uncle Michael.”
Her aunt frowned at the request, but after a moment, she pulled up another stool and sat across from her, waiting for an explanation. “If you truly feel that’s what’s best, I will honor that for now.” Her hand covered Angelique’s. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you. I didn’t want to press you to tell me everything that you went through. But one day Emilee’s going to reach an age--very soon--when she’ll want to know more about her father. You’ve fabricated this story of him as a war hero, who died serving his country. What will you tell her when she asks to see pictures of him and realizes that she doesn’t look like him at all?”
She pulled away and twisted her fingers together in her lap. “I was just trying to get us on our feet. Start a new life.” Angelique looked down at her hand where her wedding band used to be. “I’d planned to explain it to her one day when she was older and able to understand.”
“Why don’t you tell me everything? Help me to understand what happened; why you couldn’t tell us the real reason you wanted Emilee far away from Chicago.”
Taking a fortifying breath, she stared out the kitchen window, its bright yellow gingham curtains pulled back to reveal the open field beyond. “That night with Dalton,” she began. “I knew when I got back to Chicago that something was different. I suspected I was pregnant and took one of those early tests that proved my suspicions were true.”
“What did Anthony say?” Rebecca asked.
Angelique shook her head. “I didn’t tell him at first. I honestly didn’t know whose baby it was. I only knew that Tony, with all his faults, said he loved me and wanted to marry me. It was clear back then that Dalton didn’t want to be tied down.” She glanced at her aunt’s concerned face. “I thought if we got married, if Tony and I could start a family, a home, maybe it would give him a new purpose.”
“A fresh start?” her aunt offered.
“Yes. I hoped it would help. Give him incentive, pull him out of the depression he seemed to be in.” She stared off into space, thinking back to those tumultuous days, never knowing what mood he’d be in when she came home from work, or if he’d be there at all. “For a while he was better. He acknowledged his angry times, tried to do better. The hitting stopped--” Tears welled in her eyes. She felt her aunt’s hand squeeze hers.
“Why didn’t you come home? Ask us for help?”
Angelique pressed her lips together, summoning the courage to continue. Even now, she questioned her choices. Her state of mind at that time wanted to believe she could change him. “If I could just show him that he was loved, that someone cared, maybe he’d change.” She looked up searching her aunt’s sorrowful gaze.
“Oh, child.” Her aunt touched her cheek and she pressed on, wanting to free the lies, to get out everything she’d bottled up inside her all this time.
“One day I had to work late at the restaurant. I’d left Emilee with a woman down the hall--a nice woman who kept giving me flyers and telling me there were people who could help me in my situation.” She closed her eyes, remembering the day. “It was after dark. My shift was to end at five, but the woman on nightshift called in sick. I had a chance for a little overtime and so I stayed until they could find a replacement.
“I walked out an hour later, hurrying to get to the corner stop before the next bus, and saw Tony’s car sitting in the parking lot. He revved the motor and leaned out the window. His eyes were wide and glassy, his grin like a crazy man.
‘Hey, you’re late,’ he said. ‘That woman almost wouldn’t let me pick up Emilee tonight. What the fuck? I want you to find a new babysitter. Dammit, it’s always something with you isn’t it?’
“He wasn’t making sense and I questioned getting in the car, but what choice did I have?”
‘Could you be any slower,’ he said, revving the motor as I walked around the car. ‘Come on, I’m hungry and we need beer. Get the fuck in the car.’
She looked down at her hands, wondering if she could have done anything different. “I saw Emilee in the back seat and pleaded with him to let me take her out, that I’d go on home and get dinner started while he did his beer run. I barely had my hand on the door handle when he screamed, ’Fuck this’ and threw the car in reverse, dragging me with him until I yelled loud enough that people began gathering at the restaurant window. He stopped suddenly and I was scared that he’d hurt Emilee. He leaned across the front seat and glared at me.
’Get in now, bitch, or you’ll never see your brat again.
“He pushed open the passenger door. I got in. I had no choice. I had no choice,” she heard herself say in the silence of the old kitchen.
“I’m so sorry you went through this, Angelique.” Her aunt brushed a soothing hand down her hair.
“Oh, it got worse. He tore out
of the parking lot and into traffic. I remember tires squealing, horns honking, but I didn’t dare tell him to slow down. He was out of control. He pulled into a corner gas station. He actually smiled as he took the keys from the ignition and held out his hand. ’I need money.’ Emilee started to whimper and I knew it was past her suppertime. I gave him everything in my apron.”
As though in a trance, she remembered him slamming the door, jarring her to her senses. “I looked around but most things were closed. The neighborhood was run down and I was too scared to try to find help, afraid that it might be worse. He came out a few minutes later, a six-pack under his arm and a gun in his hand. He stopped in front of the car and fired back at the store. I couldn’t see what happened. Gas pumps blocked my view. Then he was in the car, tossing the beer in my lap and the gun on the seat.”
Aunt Rebecca gasped in horror, covering her mouth.
“It discharged and the bullet sliced through the side of my foot. I was screaming, Emilee was crying. He was yelling for us to stop, banging his hand against the wheel. I pulled my seat belt on as he started the car and prayed that Emilee was secure. He flew through traffic and soon I heard sirens. He cursed, and drove faster, trying to outrun the police. I was helpless to do anything but hang on. He tried to get around a car, turning the wheel too far, and he couldn’t recover. The car went airborne, landing nose first on an embankment. The back end slammed to a rest, shattering the back window. I didn’t remember anything else until I woke up in the hospital.”
Tears stained Angelique’s face and she realized that her knuckles were white, gripping her aunt’s hand. “When I came to in the hospital, they told me that Tony had wounded the clerk at the gas station in the robbery. Aside from the beer, he’d taken money and, worse, they’d found a packet of cocaine in his jeans.” She released a breath to try to lessen the tightness in her chest. “They told me Emilee was fine, but said it was only our seat belts that saved us. I was terrified what might happen to Emilee. That’s why I called you. The woman who took care of Emilee found me a lawyer who handles domestic abuse cases--that’s how she was able to be turned over into your care.”
She looked at her aunt. “I felt like such a failure. I was in no shape to care for a child. I had no idea what to do, what would come next.” She stood then and crossed her arms over her chest, walking to the window. “It took weeks…months, for me to heal. I stayed with Mrs. Harrison, went to group sessions for women like me who’d been in abusive situations. It was a start. But there was still Tony. It came to light that he’d been involved with drugs—not only using but also selling. I knew he’d used occasionally, but only once or twice did he do so at home. I agreed to testify against him, give them names of people he’d mentioned when he’d go drinking. I offered my lawyer an account of Tony’s violent behavior, what I knew about his using and it wasn’t difficult to obtain a divorce. I was able to have you come get Emilee, because Tony never asked about her. He never knew that I hadn’t listed him as the father.”
A car horn sounded outside and, wiping her face, she looked back at her aunt.
“You are a brave woman, Angelique.” She walked over and wrapped her arms around her. “I had no idea that you’d been through so much.”
“I-I didn’t want to end up like my mother,” she said, her voice breaking as fresh tears flowed against her aunt’s cotton dress.
Aunt Rebecca stroked the back of her head, offering soothing words of comfort, quieting Angelique’s soul as she’d done so often in the past.
“It’s all behind you now, sweetheart. And your courage and love for Emilee is the reason for your accomplishments. No one could want for a better mother. She’s a lucky little girl.” Rebecca held her at arm’s length. “We’re here for you as always. And we’re so proud of you, Angelique. So very proud.”
She sniffed, wiping her face once more. “Sally’s going to wonder what’s keeping us.” She managed a wobbly smile.
Rebecca took her chin in her hand. “Do you have feelings for Dalton?”
Searching her aunt’s gaze, she shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe. He rejected me once before. Tony deceived me and it almost cost Emilee and me our lives. Maybe I need to stand on my own for a while. Besides, it seems Dalton still has an issue with drinking and I can’t afford to be messed up with someone like that again. I guess if I’ve learned nothing else, it’s that I can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved, no matter how much I love them. I need to take care of me and Emilee for now.”
Rebecca nodded. But even as her aunt pulled her into another embrace, Angelique knew that her feelings for Dalton were as strong as they ever were. That kiss they’d shared behind the barn and the number of times she’d replayed it in her head was undisputable evidence. How would he react to the knowledge that Emilee was his? She wasn’t about to box him in with obligations—not after all this time. She and Emilee were just fine on their own, and when she saved enough to find a place—well, she’d decide then what was best for the two of them.
Chapter Five
He was damn tired of thinking about her and he’d be double-damned if he was going to stick around. He was a stupid-ass fool for thinking that kiss meant anything, and he had paid for it every night this week. He was hungry for more and she’d given him the decree that it wouldn’t happen again. Which was why he’d decided to head up to the cabin to do a little fishing this weekend. It was a helluva lot better than sitting around here tormenting himself with having to keep his distance.
“Hey, where’re you headed?” Rein asked, walking down from the back of the house where he’d delivered wood for the fire pit. He swiped the wood chips off the front of his shirt, waiting for an answer. Dalton figured he wasn’t going to like it.
Dalton hefted his metal cooler into the back of the truck. His tackle box, rod, and assorted gear followed. “Heading up to the cabin. Want to get in a little fishing before the weather turns.”
Rein slipped off his hat and scratched the top of his head, causing his sandy brown hair to stand on end. “You forget we have a barbecue tonight and half the town is invited?”
“Nope.” Dalton snapped his rifle into the rack behind the jump seat.
Rein grinned. “Gonna shoot them fish?”
Dalton tossed him a look. “Like I have to remind you about the bears up there?”
“Ok, fair enough.” Rein nodded. “Plan on being back before supper?”
“Nope,” he answered again, and lifted a box of food and cleaning supplies in the back.
Rein held out his arms, confusion etched on his face. “Hey we’ve had a lot of people say they were coming. It’s kind of our grand opening. Clay’s supposed to arrive, and—“
Dalton swung his gaze around and looked at his brother. “Everyone is exactly why I don’t plan to be around. You, Wyatt, Aimee, and Liberty can handle everything just fine.” He slung his old duffel bag on the truck, followed by a jug of kerosene and some fresh towels. “I’ll have my cell phone, but you know how sketchy the signal can be up there. Plan to bring back some walleye and make sure the cabin’s shut down for the winter.” He dug in his pocket, retrieving his keys.
“Wait a minute,” Rein said. “It’s because she’s going to be here, isn’t it?” He narrowed his eyes on Dalton.
He flipped his ball cap around on his head and leaned against the truck, crossing his arms over his chest. He slid his sunglasses over his eyes. “Let this go, Rein. I don’t have the time or energy for it.”
“Something’s eating you about her. And for the record, it appears that I’m not the only one who needs to let go.” Rein pointed his finger at him.
Dalton blew out an impatient sigh. “It’s not what you think. Even if I was interested—which I’m not,” he lied. “She sure the hell isn’t. Done. Conversation over.” He turned, grabbing the door handle, hoping that Rein would drop it.
“And you’ve talked to her about this?”
Dalton jerked open the driver’s door. “Yes, as a matter o
f fact, we did have a talk.” He crooked his fingers for emphasis and wished he’d left just a little earlier to avoid this interrogation.
“And?” Rein asked.
Belligerent bastard, that is.
Dalton swiped his hand over his mouth and eyed his brother. Angelique’s comments about his drinking and trying to forget her past still stung when he thought about them, which was every damn time he thought about her. “She thinks I drink too much.” He held up his hand to stop Rein’s response. “And I know that you and Wyatt feel the same. Hell, half the county probably feels I drink too much.” Anger simmered just below the surface. He needed to get out of there before he said something he’d surely regret.
“Dalton,” Rein’s voice was calm, much calmer than Dalton felt. “You do remember her mom, don’t you? Angelique grew up having to care for an alcoholic mother.”
He waited patiently for Rein to finish. “You know, I understand that, but just because her mom was a drunk doesn’t mean that I am.”
Rein held up his hands. “I never…we never said nor do we believe that you’re a drunk. I’ve told you before I get concerned because drinking seems to be how you handle your problems.”
“And you think I can’t control it?”
Rein shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Dalton climbed in the cab. “I’ll be back on Sunday. And for the record. there’s no beer in the truck.”
“Dalton, come on, man.”
However, the roar of his truck swallowed Rein’s words. He glanced at the rearview mirror once and saw Rein shaking his head. Fine. A couple of days would give them both a little time to cool down.
He stopped at the Git-n-Go to pick up a few things, tempted when he walked past the cooler to add a six-pack under his arm. Pausing, he eyed the frosty bottles. “Screw it,” he muttered and snagged the beer. If he wanted to relax with a beer or two, that was damn well his own business.
Renegade Hearts (The Kinnison Legacy Book 3) Page 7