It breathed of Mitch, of his spirit and his desire to break free of the gaudy constraints of his parents’ tastes.
What she’d told Mitch earlier was true; he seemed more real to her than Paul had ever been. Who were you, Paul? And she felt the corresponding ache, Paul’s ache to be more of a person, more of a husband. Was he so mired in guilt over murdering his parents that he couldn’t break out? Find the truth, he’d asked of her. What more could there be?
Paul, let me go. Let me discover if what I feel for Mitch is real … one hundred percent real. That’s the truth I seek. I am totally, completely in love with Mitch Elliot for no reason connected to Paul Elliot. But in my heart, I’m not sure.
“What are we gonna watch, Jenna?” Scotty asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.
She settled onto the couch where that first night she and Mitch had looked through photo albums. Even then, she’d been drawn to Mitch’s image more than Paul’s. Scotty settled up next to her, and she slid her hand over his tiny chest and marveled at what the affection of a little boy could do to her soul.
Could a baby be growing inside her now? The thought scared her, but more than that, it filled her with a hope that overrode the hope she’d had even when she’d been married to Paul. She wanted Mitch’s baby, wanted to give him a child he would love and teach to ride. She felt shame at remembering how she’d asked him to donate sperm so she could have “Paul’s” baby. What a fool she’d been.
The thought of going through a pregnancy alone now terrified her. She needed Mitch to comfort her, hold her hand and tell her everything was going to be all right. Once she’d been so determined not to need someone again, particularly not a man. Needing Mitch, however, didn’t frighten her or make her feel insecure. It made her feel human. If only she knew her heart.
“I can hear your heart pumping,” Scotty said, pressing his cheek against her chest. “It’s loud.”
“That’s because it likes having you so close.” She gave him a hug, then pulled a remote-control unit the size of a laptop computer from the coffee table. “Let’s see what’s on TV.”
A couple of hours later, Scotty was sound asleep. She wanted to go out and see how the mare was doing, but didn’t want the boy to wake up alone in the house. Gently, she slipped from beneath him and walked to the windows in the family room. The lights around the stables burned bright through the trees, but she couldn’t see anything beyond that. When she returned to the gathering room, she paused by the bookcase that held the photo albums. Removing one of them, she settled back on the couch beside Scotty and thumbed through the pages.
Looking at the gangly, teenaged Paul, she felt anger rise up inside her. It was a comfortable feeling, more so than what Mitch’s pictures elicited. At least with the anger, she didn’t feel torn by doubt. She was definitely angry at Paul, no doubt about that. All those memories she’d fought so hard to keep — fought Mitch to keep — were now ashes of an empty life. She’d felt more, experienced more of life, with Mitch in a week than in the five years she’d been with Paul.
Jenna focused on the album again, flipping backward through time, wondering if it was Mitch’s mother who kept such a faithful record of their lives together. More likely Betzi. Not a perfect family, but still a family.
Some pictures were at other homes throughout the years, making her wonder if they had second and third homes. There were pictures of Mitch’s mother hugely pregnant and looking immensely happy about it. Wedding pictures of a flashy young man marrying his debutante at a huge ceremony. There were childhood pictures of that debutante, a princess with everything a little girl could ask for.
Jenna found it difficult to reconcile that kind of childhood with her own. But the anger she’d always felt toward her parents was only an ember now, and Jenna let it fade away again before going into a section of black and white pictures of Tom’s — Mitch’s father — past. There weren’t many, as though he wanted to erase the blight of his poor childhood. She recognized one picture of Tom’s parents and him in front of their home: it was the one Paul had told her was of him and his parents. But before she had a chance to assimilate that, her gaze went to the picture below that.
A teenaged Tom stood in front of a souped-up car with several of his buddies, holding a trophy in victory. She couldn’t tell what the trophy was for, but that wasn’t what caught her interest. It was one of the guys who stood beside him, arm slung comfortably around Tom’s shoulders — Alan.
Of course, many years had passed between that photo and the Alan she’d met that day, but she was sure it was him. She started to get up, eager to ask Mitch what it might mean when Scotty murmured in his sleep and snuggled closer to her. Most likely Mitch wouldn’t be in a position to discuss it with her anyway, so she set the album on the floor, propped her cheek against the now-melted bag of ice, and closed her eyes.
Exhaustion crept into every muscle in Mitch’s body. He’d convinced Tawny to let Scotty continue sleeping at the house with a promise of bringing him home in the morning. He knew she’d be up early to check on the foal’s progress anyway, and getting Scotty up and ready would be one less task for an already exhausted mother.
“Ain’t that right, Harvey?” he asked his shadow. Harvey woofed softly in return.
As he cleared the woods, the sight of lights on in the house stopped him momentarily. Jenna was in there waiting for him. The realization hit him hard, a new and wondrous feeling of the warmth that came with knowing the woman he loved was home waiting for his return.
When he found her in the gathering room, another new sensation hit him. She was curled up on the couch with Scotty, looking serene and content, even with the big, red cherry on her cheek. The blue lights from overhead washed her in a surreal glow. His angel, with her long lashes, and lips that, even in sleep, turned up at the corners.
His throat felt tight and dry. Maybe it was seeing her with Scotty, or maybe it was helping Boy George get through her difficult delivery, but something clicked in his brain. He and Jenna had made love twice without any protection. It was the only time he’d done such a thing, but stopping and throwing on a condom just hadn’t been that important considering she wanted a baby anyway and she’d only been with Paul.
He didn’t want to think about that, so he went upstairs to take a quick shower and change into clean clothes. When he returned, he sat on the coffee table and looked at her and wondered what he would feel if she told him she was pregnant with his child. His throat went even tighter as he pictured her belly distended, face rosy the way Pam’s had been at church that morning. There was something magical about a woman growing a child inside her, especially when that child was his.
The only thing that would rob that magic was Paul’s presence lingering between them.
Scotty opened his eyes and looked at Mitch. He put his finger over his mouth, and Scotty nodded and closed his eyes again, falling back to sleep. Mitch saw Harvey settle down on the floor next to a photo album, making Mitch wonder what she’d been looking for. Would he and Jenna ever be able to put aside their doubts and find the kind of love he hadn’t even known existed until now?
Jenna woke when she felt Scotty stirring. It took her a minute to remember why she was asleep on the couch with him, and then another minute to realize Mitch was sleeping in one of the chairs across from them. Harvey, who’d been lying at his feet, perked up at her movement. She put her finger over her mouth when Scotty started to say something, then pointed to Mitch. Even in sleep, his body looked strong and muscular. His hair was tousled, clothes wrinkled, but he looked gorgeous. If Boy George hadn’t decided to have her baby last night, would Jenna be lying in Mitch’s bed still, their bodies naked and entwined?
Scotty pulled her out of those thoughts, yanking on her arm and leading her to the kitchen. “Where’s my mommy?”
“She’s probably asleep. Let’s get you fed, and then we’ll take you home, okay?”
“Do you have Choco Crisps?”
“Hm, I doubt it.”
She eyed the plate of brownies on the counter. Brownies in milk? Nah, probably not. “Why don’t I make up a real, old-fashioned breakfast? Eggs, bacon, the works?”
Scotty rubbed his belly. “Mmmm. I gotta peepee, but can I help after?”
“Sure.” She watched the boy amble toward the bathroom in the foyer, his features still tinged with sleep. She couldn’t help smiling, and then wondering how the mare’s baby was. Taking the opportunity, she went upstairs and washed her face, startled by the purple and red bruise on her cheek. “It’s only a bruise,” she told her reflection. “It would have been most of Scotty’s face if you hadn’t intervened.” She didn’t think she’d saved his life, but she knew he’d have been hurt a lot worse than she was.
Mitch, looking as cute and sleepy as Scotty, ambled into the kitchen at the first aroma of bacon and coffee a short while later. “You look good in here,” he said to Jenna, sniffing appreciatively over the eggs Scotty was stirring.
He might as well have said, “You just won a million dollars” for the way those words made her feel. Or maybe, “You just won the title of Queen of Bluebonnet Manor.”
She didn’t know what to say, so she simply smiled and pretended the bacon needed her immediate attention. Mitch walked closer, and she couldn’t help but look up at him.
He reached out and grazed the edge of her cheek with his finger. “Our girl’s got a doozie, doesn’t she?” he asked Scotty. “You sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”
Jenna was too caught up in the ‘our girl’ to feel anything but warm fuzzies swirling about in her stomach. That sense of belonging to Mitch grew brighter still, edging away the dark shadow of her doubts.
“I did bad, didn’t I, Mitch?” the boy asked. “Jenna got kicked because of me.”
“Yes, you did, and yes, she did. But you learned something, didn’t you, little man?”
Scotty nodded vigorously. “I’m not big enough to go in the stalls yet.”
“That’s right.”
But he still pouted, looking for all the world as though he’d lost cartoon watching rights until his forty-first birthday. Mitch knelt down in front of him. “What’s wrong?”
Scotty looked down, lower lip trembling. “The elves won’t come no more and leave a happy face ’cause I did bad.”
Mitch and Jenna shared a look and an unspoken communication that smacked of the kind of intimacy she had always wanted with Paul. She hadn’t known she wanted it at the time, but it explained the ache that had lingered within her throughout their marriage.
Jenna knelt down beside Mitch. “I’m sure the elves didn’t come last night because there was too much commotion. But you watch: they’ll be back tonight.”
Scotty’s face went from the depths of melancholy to as bright as the sun. “Ya think?”
“Yeah, I think.” She looked over at Mitch, who was giving her that same look he’d given her when he’d figured out she’d left the smiley face in the ring. She ruffled Scotty’s hair, then went back to her task. “And speaking of elves who stay up all night, how did it go with Boy George?” She picked the bacon strips out of the puddle of hot grease.
Mitch poured out three glasses of orange juice. “We tried to get her to hold off on delivery by walking her around until the vet arrived, but she didn’t go for that idea. She dropped down in the ring and went into delivery. The biggest worry in a backward delivery is the foal pinching off the umbilical cord. We don’t have much time to get the little guy out of there. We performed CPR and got him up and going pretty easily. The vet made sure nothing inside her was damaged. And then we all waited around for the first couple hours to make sure the colt passed his meconium (his first bowel movement), which is an event that is only exciting to those involved and not necessarily onlookers.”
“Or those contemplating breakfast,” she added with a smile.
“Sorry. You’d be surprised what passes for dinner conversation around here.”
“I suppose I could get used to it.” Realizing what she’d said, she felt her face flush and added quickly, “Mom and baby are doing fine then?”
“Perfect.” His gaze slid down her body. “As soon as we eat, we’ll go check on them. Everybody takes shifts to watch the foal, make sure no abnormalities show up later.”
Jenna took all her pills, explaining to Scotty what they were for, before they ate breakfast together, just like a family.
“You need a sun catcher right there,” Jenna said, pointing to the middle of the rounded windows.
There was more than sympathy in Mitch’s eyes when he reached over and gently touched the edge of her bruise. “I need a lot of things in this house.”
She had trouble swallowing the bite of scrambled eggs she’d just taken. “Mmhm,” was all she could say. What did he mean, exactly?
“Let’s go see the horsies — er, horses!” Scotty said after shoving his last bite of bacon into his mouth.
“All right, buckaroo. Why don’t you get washed up first?” Mitch scooped the rest of the food on both his and Scotty’s plates into a bowl that Harvey devoured in two seconds flat.
“Mitch, I want to show you something.” She led him into the gathering room and opened the photo album. He looked a little wary until she turned the page to the photo and asked, “Is this Alan?”
His eyebrows knitted together. “Yeah, I believe it is. I didn’t know my dad hung around with him. He never mentioned it.”
“He left his past behind when he made his money. Maybe he left his friends behind, too.”
“I’m ready!” Scotty held up his hands, still wet. “Let’s go see the horses now.”
“Hold on a second, little man.” He studied the picture more carefully. “I don’t know some of the other guys, but the one on the end is Butch Thornapple. That’s Reverend Thornapple to you and me.” He went into the kitchen and dialed the portable phone. “Hello, Reverend Thornapple, this is Mitch Elliot. Fine, thanks. Sorry to bother you so early on a Monday morning, but I have a question I need an answer to. You knew my father when you were kids, didn’t you? Drag racing? You?” Mitch chuckled, and Jenna got so caught up in the warm sound and the way it cascaded down her body, she almost forgot to continue listening. “Ah, I see. Well, can you tell me this: Were he and Alan White friends? Best buddies, huh. Yeah. Mmm. I know it was a long time ago. Just curious. All right, thanks for the information. Bye now.”
“What did he say?”
“They were best friends in high school. When my dad got his little inheritance at eighteen and turned it into a big lot of money, he left his old friends behind. Alan was pretty bent out of shape over it.”
“Enough to kill him and your mother?” she asked.
“I can’t imagine he’d wait all that time, over twenty years, to get revenge. But it gives him motive enough to cover for his daughter.” His voice went lower. “And her boyfriend. I don’t think Alan would lie for Paul, but he’d lie for Becky.”
“Can we go now?” Scotty asked, forehead furrowed from impatience.
“Sure, we can go.”
Tawny looked even more tired than Mitch, but the moment she saw them walk into the stable area, she raced forward and caught Scotty in her arms. “Missed you, big fella.” She planted a big, wet kiss on his cheek, and he scrambled to be let down. Tawny walked over and nodded a greeting to Mitch, then smiled at Jenna. “Thanks again for what you did.” She took a close look at the bruise on her cheek and grimaced. “Let me get you some ointment.”
“It’s okay. And you’re welcome.”
Tawny was already headed to the office door, but she turned and said, “As far as I’m concerned, you saved my boy. No matter what else …” She shot Mitch a meaningful look, then shifted her gaze back to Jenna. “You saved my son.” She paused, as if she wanted to say more, then turned and went through the doorway.
“Dare I ask what the ‘what else’ part is?” Jenna asked.
Mitch leaned closer, paused, and said, “No.”
They walked throug
h the stables and out the back door. Boy George and her colt were standing in a small penned-off area. “What’s the colt’s name?” she asked as they neared the fence.
“Karma Chameleon.”
“Let me guess: one of Boy George’s songs?”
“You got it. You catch on fast.”
“I’m trying.”
He smiled, and with the sun slanting across his face and lighting up his eyes, she knew she’d never forget it. She could feel it all the way deep inside. He reached out and touched her chin, one of those involuntary touches that stunned her with its impact.
“When you first came here, I was suspicious that you’d come looking for a piece of this place. Now it seems like you’ve been here forever. Like you belong here.”
Was that because Paul had been born here? She wanted so badly to believe that those words came from Mitch’s heart, that her response came from her own spiritual heart.
Tawny cleared her throat as she approached, Scotty in tow. “Here you go,” she said, handing her a small tin of ointment. “It’ll help the color go down.”
“Wow, look at the baby horse!” Scotty’s shrill voice made the mare skitter to the farthest corner of the pasture, little Karma following close behind. “I keep doing the wrong thing,” he said with a pout.
Jenna leaned down to his level and tweaked his chin. “And you know what? It happens even when you grow up. We’re still confused about things, still don’t know what we want to be when we grow up. We just stop having fun while we’re at it sometimes.”
Scotty pondered this. “Then I don’t want to grow up.”
Tawny ruffled his hair. “If you’re anything like most men, you won’t have to work very hard at that.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Mitch said, looking indignant. “I resemble that remark.” To Scotty, Mitch lifted his hand for a high five and said, “Let’s never grow up.” And then he proceeded to horse around with the boy, taking him for a ride around the stables. Scotty’s laughter floated up into the air as the two disappeared around the corner.
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