“I’m not talking about keeping up appearances. I’m talking about living. You should be out living instead of babysitting a sick old woman.”
“I’m not following you.”
“You used to have so much life in you. Now you’re just going through the motions.”
“I used to be hell on wheels to quote you.”
“Exactly.” A smile touched her lips. “You were a handful back then. But then you had to go and grow up.”
“That’s a good thing, Mimi.”
“Yes, I suppose it is. We all have to grow up sometime and let the past go.” The sadness was back then. “Even if we don’t want to.”
“What’s going on, Mimi?”
She didn’t answer for a long moment as if lost in her own thoughts. But then she smiled and patted his hand. “It makes no nevermind. So tell me all the juicy gossip. Did Gerald have a penile implant? ’Cause that’s what Maureen told Stella who told Janine. Said she heard it from Lorelei herself. Said everybody is saying that he wasn’t discombobulated, but in actuality he was. Gerald just had a penile implant to repair everything so that Haywood wouldn’t think he got the best of him.”
“If the man had to have an implant then Haywood definitely got the best of him.”
“So you’re saying it’s true.”
“It’s not true. It’s ridiculous. I was just saying that a penile implant is not winning any war.”
“Told you, Pam.” Mimi glanced at the nurse. “No penile implant.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Clara waved a hand. “Good for him, disappointing for the rest of us.”
“You don’t seriously like seeing the Tuckers and the Sawyers going at it all the time, do you?”
“It makes no difference what I like. It’s a fact just like the sun rising and setting. That’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years here. You can try all you want, but you can’t change people. They are who they are. You can only change people’s perceptions of you. Like you did.”
“But I did change, Mimi.”
A gleam touched her eyes. “Let’s hope not. I think I’m ready for my nap.” She turned to Pam before Hunter could ask her what she meant. “Take care,” she told him.
“I’ll see you next time.”
She didn’t answer and a strange sense of worry wriggled through him. “What’s up with her?” he asked Pam after she’d signaled an orderly to take Mimi back to her room.
“I don’t know. She woke up yesterday complaining that she was still tired. I called the doctor. He sent out some medication for her until he gets in for rounds tomorrow. He said it’s probably just her age catching up to her. I should be so lucky as to be in that good of a shape when I’m ninety-two. If I ever get there.”
“You and me both.”
His Mimi was getting old. It made sense that she would start to slow down mentally as well as physically. Even say a few off-the-wall things.
“You used to have so much life in you. Now you’re just going through the motions.”
Like hell. He wasn’t going through the motions. He was still living, all right. Living a better life than the one he’d had. He was making a contribution to the world. Doing some good. Paying it forward instead of stuck in a selfish rut just worried about his own happiness.
He’d spent far too long chasing the rush of a good ride, feeding his own need for excitement.
But the world didn’t revolve around him and no way was he just going through the motions now.
His Mimi was wrong. Confused. Old.
He knew that.
So why did her words still bother him so damned much?
* * *
Clara’s baby was dead.
Jenna sat on her grandfather’s overstuffed plaid chair—the last piece of furniture still left in the house—and reread Clara’s words of anguish and grief and blinked against the burning behind her eyes. Denial rushed through her and her heart all but stopped as she read the heartbreaking words …
… I held my beautiful baby girl for the first and the last time. I held her for hours even though they kept trying to take her away from me. I prayed for her to open her eyes. For her skin to pink up and warm to the touch. But my prayers went unanswered. Like always. They finally took her and left me with nothing but my self-loathing. She’s gone and I have only myself to blame because I couldn’t save her from the inevitable, just as I couldn’t save you from the hatred of an entire town …
Jenna folded the paper and stuffed it back inside the envelope. There were still six more letters that she’d intended to get through before finishing up the last of her packing. Brody and his guys were anxious to get started on the demolition. Something that should have happened days ago, but she’d been too busy with work to empty out what little remained in the house.
Too busy with the letters.
With Hunter.
She’d been stalling, putting off the inevitable just as Clara had been when she’d held her baby and refused to let go.
But Jenna was doing just that.
It didn’t matter that the letters continued and there were still a few odds and ends in the kitchen cabinets, life had to go on. Clara’s life, where it had seemed more like an intriguing soap opera before, now seemed more real this time. The pain palpable. Jenna knew that she could no more keep reading than she could put off the demolition of the house, or keep up the agreement with Hunter. All three—the letters, the packing, Hunter—had been a distraction from the reality of what she was doing.
Evolving.
Changing.
Saying good-bye.
But things were getting too real now. The feelings too intense. Forget a distraction. All three were sucking her in, pulling her in different directions and she needed to get back on track.
It was time to let go of the letters.
The house.
Hunter.
Time to move on.
CHAPTER 29
“Miss Clara?” Jenna stood in the doorway of Room 5C at the senior living facility and eyed the frail woman lying on the bed.
She’d seen Clara Bell many times over the years. At the weekly church picnic. At the annual jalapeño festival. Out and about town with her senior shopping group.
But she’d never seen her like this.
“She’s not feeling well,” came the familiar voice behind her. Jenna turned to see her second cousin Pam. “I don’t know if now is such a good time for a visit.”
“I just came by to drop off something that belongs to her.” Jenna fished out the stack of letters from her purse. She’d thought about giving them to Hunter, but they just seemed too personal and so she’d gone straight to the source. “If you could give them to her…”
“Who’s that?” came the old woman’s voice.
Jenna turned to see Clara Bell staring at her with familiar blue eyes.
Hunter’s eyes.
“It’s me. Jenna Tucker. I’m renovating my granddad’s old house and I found something that I think belongs to you.”
“Something of mine? At James Harlin’s house?”
“It seems so.” She waited for the old woman to say something negative. That’s the way it always was with the older set in Rebel. They were still caught up in the feud that had torn the town apart so many years ago.
But Clara only smiled. “Well don’t just stand there, girl. Bring it over here.”
“I’ll just leave you two,” Pam said, motioning Jenna forward. She left then, closing the door behind her.
“I found these in an old trunk in the attic. They have your name on them.” She handed over the pink letters and watched as recognition lit the old woman’s eyes.
“Why, I haven’t seen these in years.” She took the letters with one frail hand and set them on the bed beside her. “I figured they got thrown away a long time ago.”
“No, ma’am.” Jenna licked her lips and tried not to think of Hunter with those same blue eyes.
Eye
s that had looked into her and seen everything she’d fought so hard to hide from everyone. From herself.
“I read them,” she said before she could stop herself. “Not all of them, but some. I didn’t know what they were at first.”
Clara Bell arched one silvery brow. “And then they got pretty juicy so it was hard to stop, right?”
“I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Don’t you worry about that.”
“I just want you to know, your secrets are safe with me. I won’t tell anyone about the baby. Or P.J.”
Regret lit her eyes and her hand tightened on the stack. “I appreciate that. It’s hard to believe in such a small town that there are still secrets. But then people believe what they want to believe. When my daddy said Archibald Tucker betrayed him, everybody believed him. No questions asked. Their imagination was better than any answer Daddy would’ve given them. Still, it’s hard to believe that nobody put two and two together, what with my running off to Chicago. But then P.J. was here making sure that no one suspected the truth. Even my daddy.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Your daddy knew about P.J., right?”
“Of course he did. It’s hard to ignore a man who steps up and takes responsibility for the bastard child growing in his daughter’s belly. Daddy blamed P.J. and, therefore, Archibald. That’s what caused the rift between them. Bless P.J. He was my one true friend. He gave up everything to save my name, even though he didn’t have to.”
“But he did have to, right? I mean, morally. He was the father, after all.”
“P.J.?” She actually looked surprised before she gave a sad shake of her head. “Sweet girl, P.J. wasn’t the father. He was my best friend. The father of my dear Bonnie was my high school Physics teacher.” Her eyes gleamed. “I loved that man with all my heart. I never stopped loving him, even after I lost the baby. I came back home hoping to see him again, but he’d moved away.” She shrugged her frail shoulders, her nightgown sliding off one shoulder just a fraction to reveal the pale translucent skin beneath. “It turns out he didn’t love me as much as I loved him. Isn’t that always the case?” She shook her head. “P.J. was a good friend, but I wasn’t. I let him risk everything for me because I was willing to risk everything for the father of my child.” She settled into a sad silence for a few moments before shaking her head. “But enough about my secrets.” Her gaze grew hopeful. “Tell me some of yours.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hear tell from Pam who heard from a friend of hers that you and my great-grandson were out dancing last Friday night.”
“I … That is, we…” She licked her lips again, her mind racing now that Clara had turned the tables on her. “We didn’t actually go together, but we did do a little dancing while we were there.” In the back parking lot, that is.
“And?”
“And nothing. That’s all it was. Just a few dances. But now it’s over,” she rushed on. “We’re not really right for each other. Not enough for a relationship or anything like that.” What the hell was she saying? Clara Bell hadn’t said one word about a relationship so why did Jenna feel the need to explain? Because the old woman eyed her as if she knew exactly what was going on.
As if she could relate.
She could, Jenna realized as she sat there with Clara Bell Sawyer. The woman knew what it was like to fall for a man that was all wrong for her. And to suffer the consequences.
Hunter might look like the right man for Jenna on the surface, but beneath the uniform and the respect of an entire town, he was every bit the wild child he’d been back in the day.
He made her feel every bit the wild child she’d been.
Then.
“I’m not interested in him and he’s not interested in me,” she added. “He’s not my type and I’m not his.”
“And that matters because…?”
“Because it’s a disaster waiting to happen.” She was trying to alter the course of her life. To leave her old self behind. To change. She couldn’t do that with a man who constantly reminded her of the woman she’d once been. A bad boy who called to the bad girl deep inside. “You know that.”
“I do, don’t I?” She shook her head. “Still, it’s a shame.”
“Excuse me?”
“For all the heartache, I wouldn’t go back and change anything. I mean, I would. I wouldn’t let P.J. step up and take the blame. That much I regret. I tore apart our families and I’m sorry for that. But I don’t regret falling in love. Or having my baby. Those were the good parts. The high notes, so to speak. It’s been downhill from there.”
“I can’t say that I’m following you.”
“What I’m trying to say is Hunter’s a good man. He deserves to have a little fun once in a while regardless of what the folks around here think.” She sighed then, the sad, lonely sound of a woman who was really and truly tired of her life and everything in it. “I think I’d like to go back to my nap now. You run along. And if you see my great-grandson again, make sure he has a good time.” She closed her eyes. “When you get old like me, the memories are all that you have left.”
* * *
“Here you go.” The owner of the hardware store handed over the short list of names to Hunter. “We sold exactly three of those locks in the past two years. Here are the folks who bought them.”
Hunter took the paper as a wave of excitement rushed through him. This was it.
Sure, there was always the possibility that the lock had been bought somewhere else. A slim possibility since Bucky had informed him that he was the only authorized dealer of this particular type of lock for a two-hundred-mile radius. The odds were in Hunter’s favor.
Even more, there was just something deep in his gut that told him he was this close to uncovering the truth and shutting down the entire operation.
A bust that would make him a shoo-in for the next election.
“Thanks, Bucky.”
“Anytime, Sheriff.” The man waved him off as Hunter headed out to his SUV.
Climbing behind the wheel, he texted the three names to Gator to see if he might know of a connection and then he called in to Marge to pull the address for the first name.
“Boris Miller? What do you want with that old coot?”
“Parking violation.”
“But I didn’t see anything in the file—”
“Just pull the address so I can go by and talk to him.”
“Sure thing. Oh, and I stuck a blueberry muffin in your glove compartment. You need to keep up your strength.”
“Thanks, Marge.”
“Oh, and there was a call from the senior center while I was at lunch. You’re supposed to stop by as soon as you get a chance.”
“I’m not bringing Mimi a slingshot. You can tell her I said that.”
“It wasn’t Clara Bell. The call came from that nurse—Pam Tucker.”
She’s just calling to give you an update.
That’s what he told himself. But he knew the minute he heard her name that something wasn’t right. Mimi always called herself. If Pam was calling, that meant that Mimi couldn’t. Which meant …
The thought rooted in his head, the worry, the fear, the truth.
He shoved the key into the ignition, gunned the engine and hauled ass down Main Street, headed for the Royal Rebel Arms.
CHAPTER 30
“I’m so sorry about Clara Bell,” said the familiar female voice.
It was the same sentiment Hunter had heard over and over for the past few days since he’d arrived at the senior center to find that his Mimi had had a massive stroke and passed away.
He’d known the truth even before Pam had stared at him with that regretful look and told him he would have to talk to the doctor for a complete update on his greatgrandmother’s condition.
The update had amounted to a thirty-second explanation of how she’d been suffering a few ministrokes over the past few days, which had rendered her tired and listless and made her seem slightly off.
The ministrokes had led up to the big one and now she was gone.
And Hunter was all alone.
“She was a fine woman,” Myrtle Sinclair added. “One of the good ones.”
“She was,” Hunter agreed, shaking the woman’s hand and turning to the next person passing in front of him. An endless stream of faces blocked his view of the casket as it was lowered into the ground at Sawyer Hill, a stretch of rolling green hills dotted with lush flowers and shrubs. The final resting place for the entire Sawyer clan. Clara Bell was going in right next to her eldest sister and younger brother, though Hunter knew she would much rather have been cremated, her ashes sprinkled out by Rebel Lake where she’d had so much fun as a girl.
But it didn’t matter what Clara Bell wanted. All that mattered was what Hunter’s father wanted. He and Hunter’s mother had arrived just that morning, after making the arrangements long distance for the actual service. They would be leaving immediately after the funeral.
After making a quick stop at the massive headstone that sat a few yards away where Hunter’s younger brother had been laid to rest.
Travis had been put in the ground with the same fuss that Clara Bell was receiving, with tons of people and flowers and sobbing regrets. Albeit he’d had a ten-gun salute from the local VFW Hall vets thanking him for his service. While the veterans weren’t saluting Clara Bell, they were still out en masse.
Hunter stared at the stream of old men clad in their uniforms, their sparse gray hair slicked back, their looks expectant. No doubt they were counting down the minutes until they reached the First Presbyterian reception hall that had been loaded down with casseroles and hams and pies thanks to the local ladies’ auxiliary. They’d provided a feast in honor of Clara. Plenty of good food to soften the blow of everyone’s loss.
But there was nothing that could ease the pain twisting inside of Hunter. The anguish because he’d been too late to say good-bye.
Hell, he’d never thought to say any such thing. Clara had always been a permanent fixture in his life and he’d never even considered that there would come a time when she wouldn’t be there.
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