“Finally,” Adam said, “the grand prize of the night will be awarded to the panel that expresses a very special sentiment—the love we all share for this place we call home. The town of New Skye has sheltered its citizens for more than two hundred years now, through war and peace, prosperity and depression, sadness and joy. Tonight, we award this wonderful living symbol of the season to the painters of ‘New Skye Retro’—Abby Brannon and Noah Blake!”
As had all the other artists, Abby started across the dance floor toward the stage. She was sure she must be beet-red from her hairline to her collarbones, and probably all the way to her toes. Did she have to say more than thank you? Did she have to do this all by herself?
As she reached the stage, a shadow detached itself from the darkness behind the nearest panel and Noah walked across the floor to meet her.
He took her breath away, in a simple black tux that skimmed his great shoulders, his lean waist and long legs. His shirt was blinding white, his bow tie perfect. In the two weeks since he’d arrived his hair had grown enough to make a decent haircut.
He looked like the man she’d always loved.
Taking her hand, he steadied her as she stepped up onto the platform, and then he joined her.
“Congratulations.” Adam grinned at them, shook Noah’s hand and kissed Abby on the cheek, then turned to the crowd once more. “The reunion dance committee would like to thank Noah and Abby and all of you who contributed to this beautiful setting and a terrific holiday party. I suggest that our panel painters step out on the floor to begin our next dance. Everyone else, feel free to join in.”
The band started up “Silver Bells” as the artists, most of them husbands and wives, moved into each other’s arms.
“Do you know how to waltz?” Noah asked Abby as he helped her off the stage.
“Three beats,” she said. “That’s about the extent of my experience.”
“Good. I won’t be embarrassed.” As if they danced every day, he drew her into his arms. “We’ll do what feels good,” he murmured just above her ear. “Nobody will notice in this crowd.”
As far as Abby was concerned, what felt good was merely standing close together, so close that the slightest breeze couldn’t have slipped between them. Noah’s hand was warm on her bare back. Hot, in fact. Or perhaps that was her skin, reacting to his touch. Somehow her right arm was twined with his, resting snugly against his chest, while her left hand was free—free to stroke his hair, smooth the fabric over his shoulder, set her palm along the line of his jaw.
Noah turned his head and pressed a kiss into the center of that palm. Abby’s knees buckled underneath her.
“Sorry,” he said, keeping her on her feet. “I haven’t danced much. Does your foot hurt? We can stop anytime.”
“No, oh, no. I’m fine.” Her deep breath shook. “I’m just not very good at this, myself.”
He drew back a little and smiled at her. “I don’t have a single complaint.”
All at once, staring into his dark eyes, she felt completely at ease. “Me, neither.”
Smiling up at Noah, humming along with the music, Abby didn’t notice disaster approaching until a long finger tapped on the shoulder right in front of her nose. She jumped, startled, and Noah stopped moving for a moment to glance back at the man behind him.
“Cutting in,” Wade said. The smile he’d worn all night was conspicuously absent.
“Sorry,” Noah replied. He turned to Abby and began to dance again.
This time, Wade grabbed Noah’s shoulder and jerked him backward and around, away from Abby. “I brought the lady. I want to dance with her.”
Noah didn’t raise his voice. “You’ve confused me with somebody who gives a damn about what you want.” Around them, the dancers slowed, stopped, stared.
Surely he didn’t mean to stage a confrontation now, in front of everybody. Abby put a hand on Noah’s arm. “It’s okay. I’ll—”
He glanced at her. “You’re not letting this creep put his hands on you ever again.”
Wade said a foul word and shoved at Noah’s shoulders with the heels of both hands. Noah staggered a few steps but recovered quickly and surged forward with fists clenched and eyes flaming.
Suddenly, Adam and Dixon were there between them, with Pete grabbing Wade’s arms from behind while Rob gripped Noah’s shoulders.
“Take it outside, gentlemen,” Adam ordered. “This is a party, not a wrestling match.”
“I don’t want to fight,” Wade insisted. “I just want to dance with my date.”
“Not an option anymore,” Noah told him.
“Out of here,” Pete said in his fiercest trooper voice, and practically frog-marched Wade off the dance floor. Principal Floyd followed, complaining and getting in the way.
Rob kept a hand on Noah’s shoulder as they followed, while Abby brought up the rear with Adam and Dixon. She wasn’t about to be left behind now.
The procession came to a halt in the lobby. A few interested onlookers started to join them, but Tommy Crawford and Rhys Lewellyn closed the double doors in their faces, standing guard so that no one else came in. While the party continued inside the gym, Abby realized that the moment she’d been dreading had arrived.
“Let go of me.” Wade shook off Pete’s hold, but only because the trooper allowed him to. “What do you think you’re doing, manhandling a fellow officer?” He glared at Noah. “You’re screwed, Blake. Totally screwed. I’m sending you back to prison.”
“Doubtful.” Noah stepped away from Rob’s hold. “I believe you’ll reconsider that threat before too many minutes have passed.”
“Sure. You’re about to stage some grandstand move, I guess. For a convicted felon, you’re pretty cocky, you know that? You think you’ve got something on me? Go ahead, put it out.”
Noah folded his arms across his chest. “Arson, for starters.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Mr. Floyd crossed his arms and stared at Noah with contempt. “Are you ever going to let this go?”
Wade looked around, pretending to be confused. “Did we have a fire here in town, recently? I must’ve missed it.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass, Wade.” Pete cuffed him in the shoulder. “You know what fire he’s talking about.”
“You mean the one he started, fifteen years ago?”
“Good try.” Noah nodded. “But now we know it was your bike outside the school that night. You’re the one who burned the school records.”
“Uh-huh. What did you have to do to convince ol’ Charlie to change his story? Agree to take his bitch of a daughter off his hands?”
Noah exploded across the space between them, closing his hands around Wade’s throat. Though the policeman was heavier and taller, size didn’t seem to matter as Noah knocked him to the floor.
“I’m going to gag you with your own tongue,” Noah promised. “You’ve made the last lewd comment of your life.”
“Stop him!” The principal flapped his hands. “Somebody stop him.”
Rob and Dixon were already dragging Noah back again. Pete pulled Wade to his feet. “I’d watch your mouth, if I were you.” He made a pretense of dusting off Wade’s jacket and slacks. “Next time, we won’t get involved.”
The threat actually seemed to make Wade hesitate. “Look, the arson is no big deal, okay? I’ll let the subject alone if you will.”
“Okay,” Noah said, to Abby’s surprise. “We’ll let the arson charge drop. Let’s move on…to blackmail.”
She expected Wade to laugh, make another denial, throw out one of his sarcastic comments.
But he looked nervous now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about threatening phone calls, with promises to use the legal authority of your job to harass a private citizen.”
“You’re crazy.”
“If you’re not interested in dealing with blackmail, how about breaking and entering? Vandalism? Or maybe charges of tampering with an election?
”
Wade seemed to shrink where he stood. “I’m getting out of here.” He glanced at Abby. “I guess you can find your own ride home.” When he turned toward the doors, though, Pete stood like a rock in front of one set.
Sheriff Hayes stood in front of the other pair of doors, his face as rigid as stone. “Election tampering?” he said, as if the idea had never occurred to him. “Son, what the hell have you been talking about?”
In a matter of seconds, Wade had disappeared, followed by his father. Principal Floyd looked at Noah, and then the rest of them, with his mouth working as if he wanted to say something. In the end, he just threw his hands up and walked back into the dance.
“Well,” Dixon commented to no one in particular. “That was exciting.” He caught Kate’s hand and turned toward the gym again, gripping Noah’s shoulder for a moment as he went by. “Welcome home. We’re glad to have you back.” Rhys and Tommy opened the doors again, letting out the music and the noise of the crowd.
Rob and Valerie, Phoebe and Adam, Jacquie and Rhys all had something equally nice to say. Tommy and Sam Crawford took a moment to congratulate Noah.
“I understand you didn’t like my article,” Sam said.
Noah shook his head, frowning a little. “I didn’t want my problems, my family’s problems, spread all over the front page. But,” he said, lightening up, “things have turned out better than I expected. Just don’t use me for any more stories. I’m really not all that interesting.”
Sam winked at Abby. “I know somebody who thinks differently.”
When Abby looked around, she realized that everyone else had gone into the gym to eat and to celebrate. She and Noah stood alone in the lobby.
“Want to finish our dance?” he asked, holding out a hand.
“Oh, yes,” she said, starting toward the gym door.
But Noah pulled her back, all the way into his arms. “It’s crowded in there. Let’s stay where we are.”
The music came through a little muted, but the tune was easy to place. Mel Tormé’s “The Christmas Song” surrounded them as they fell once more into each other’s rhythm. This time Abby wrapped both her arms around Noah’s shoulders. She could feel his palms on her back, one above the other, his fingers spread wide as if to absorb every inch he could touch.
“Where should we tell them to deliver the Christmas tree?” she murmured, closing her eyes to block out the overhead lights as she focused on soaking up all the sensations of Noah she could collect.
“How about my mom’s house? She doesn’t have any kind of decorations, and I think she might actually want to think about Christmas this year.”
“What a lovely idea.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “You are a kind and gentle man. Well, except when you’re threatening to gag someone with his own tongue.”
“I plead extenuating circumstances. Not guilty by reason of temporary insanity.”
Abby didn’t have to ask for further explanation. “Thank you for the glitter. It was perfect.”
“My pleasure.”
She lost track of time as the song wove its wistful melody around them, creating a moment she would remember all her life. When the end came, she drew back to look at the man holding her. He was everything she’d ever wanted. And tonight, she thought he’d finally come to believe in tomorrow.
“How about a drink?” he asked, and they turned toward the gym doors together. Inside, the lights had been dimmed for the final dance—“I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” Abby sipped the glass of punch Noah brought her, staring out over the crowd, enjoying the pleasure of being with her friends, the delight of being with the man she loved. His hand on her shoulder was all the warmth she would ever need.
“This will be a big cleanup job,” Abby commented, turning her face a little to the side so Noah could hear. “I’m glad we can wait until tomorrow to do the bulk of the work.”
He started to answer but stopped to glance at the new arrival coming through the gym door. The dim light glinted on a badge on a law enforcement uniform. As he stared, the marshal’s gaze met his. The man nodded, and beckoned Noah to follow him out the door.
Though his breath was stuck in his chest, Noah managed to squeeze Abby’s shoulders. “Be right back.”
When he joined the marshal in the lobby, he found himself facing a very tall, stern-faced officer. “What’s going on?”
The guy handed over a paper written in legalese. “I’ve been detailed to escort you back to Atlanta, Georgia.”
“Why?”
“There are proceedings under way with reference to your parole.”
“What kind of proceedings?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. Come with me.” He pivoted toward the outside doors.
Noah stood his ground. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow? I’m in the middle of a party here. Come in and have some punch.”
“Now,” the marshal said firmly. “I’ve got a car outside.”
“Okay, then, let me say goodbye—”
When Noah turned toward the gym entrance, the officer grabbed his arm. “I have orders to bring you back to Atlanta without delay. Now, are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way?”
One thing he’d learned in prison—don’t argue with the people in power. They always got you back.
“Whatever you say,” Noah conceded. “Just lead the way.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Diary of Abby Brannon
May 3, 1989
Dear Diary,
Noah is gone. Kate asked one of the teachers who knew the facts, and it’s true. The police are blaming the fire in the principal’s office on Noah—thanks to my father, of course—and I guess that was as much as he could take. I didn’t get a goodbye. I wonder if any of his girlfriends did.
I don’t think he’ll come back. There’s so much world out there, and now he has the chance to see it all. I’d give anything to be with him right now.
I wonder…if I ran away, could I find him somewhere? Would he let me stay?
THERE TURNED OUT TO BE very little talk around town about the confrontation between Noah Blake and Wade Hayes during the reunion dance, mostly because the witnesses refused to discuss it. Though Abby felt as if time had stopped with Noah’s disappearance, the days of the week rushed past. By Thursday, Christmas Eve, Wade had dropped off the radar altogether. Pete Mitchell heard that he’d taken a leave of absence from the police force and gone to Florida.
“I also caught wind of a rumor that the sheriff is hinting he’s ready to retire and move to the beach.” Pete and Mary Rose had come into the diner for breakfast before doing some last-minute shopping for Joey. “Nobody knows for sure whether Wade’s boast about fixing elections was just his big mouth or actual fact.”
Abby set down two plates of pancakes and sausage. “Isn’t the sheriff coming up for election this very next year? Who’ll run in his place?”
Pete glanced at his wife, then concentrated on pouring syrup over his pancakes. “I’m thinking about it.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded, and Mary Rose’s smile confirmed the good news. “I’m a little young, maybe, but I’ve got almost fifteen years of law-enforcement experience. And I guess it is time I thought about protecting my own skin. Let the younger guys chase the villains. I’ll be glad to sign their paychecks.”
“You’ve got my vote,” Abby told him, with a pat on the shoulder. “We’ll even put up a sign in the window of the diner. Vote Pete Mitchell for Sheriff.”
He grinned. “I like the sound of that.”
A few hours later, Kate and Dixon Bell came in for lunch, bringing Kelsey and Sal and Trace along with them. “We’re celebrating again,” Kate announced as Abby served their drinks.
Abby wasn’t sure whether to mention the baby or not. “What’s the news?”
Kelsey gave two thumbs-up. “I got in. Vanderbilt wants me!”
“Oh, terrific, honey.” Abby gave her a hug. “I’m so happy for you.” She noti
ced Sal was looking fairly happy himself. “You’ve got a very talented, intelligent girlfriend.”
He put an arm around Kelsey’s shoulders. “I know it. I’m a lucky man. I just hope she won’t forget about me when she’s so far away.”
Abby looked a question at Kate. “Sal’s got a new job,” Kate said. “He’s going to be the manager at that QuickChange auto-repair shop they’re building south of town.”
“Congratulations to you, too, then.”
“The salary is too good to pass up,” he said. “If Kelsey and I want to get married after she graduates, I need to save as much money as possible.”
“You’re engaged?”
“Unofficially,” Kelsey explained. “We’re being cool about everything. We’re too young to make irreversible decisions about the rest of our lives.”
“Here’s an irreversible decision,” Trace said. “I’m starved. Can we order some food?”
Laughing, Abby took their orders and served up the meal fast enough that Trace didn’t faint from hunger. The flow of customers was steady, but not too rushed. By two, the diner was empty of everyone but Abby. Charlie had taped a sign to the front door—“The Carolina Diner will be closed from 2:00 p.m. December 24 until 6:00 a.m. January 2. Happy Holidays!” Once Abby had assured him she could get the place cleaned up and closed for vacation, he’d left for home. Valerie and Rob had invited them to Christmas Day dinner and Charlie had volunteered to make desserts. That meant a lot of pies and two cakes to bake before noon tomorrow.
With the last of the day’s dishes loaded and washing, Abby swept and mopped the floors, cleaned the tables, scoured the bathrooms and dusted and closed the blinds on all the windows. The hungry folks of New Skye would have to make their own breakfasts for a week. She planned to sleep until noon and only eat what someone else had cooked.
As she took her coat out of the closet in the kitchen, though, she thought she heard the doorbell jingle. Somebody evidently couldn’t read—Charlie’s sign was right in front of their face. Tired, sad, lonely, Abby ignored the instinct to open the door. Instead, she punched her right arm into and through her coat sleeve.
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