Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3)
Page 58
“I’m interested,” Cara said. “But I’d rather concentrate first on getting the appointment rather than starting to raise the funds for a judicial campaign.”
Harriet smiled.
“Who says you can’t do both?”
3
As the last of the volunteers from the Friends of Lawson left the grounds, Drake retreated to the nearby picnic shelter to rest. The gazebo supplies were under the cover of the shelter, far from the rising waters of the confluence.
Other volunteers had thought the idea to build any structure so near the water to be inviting nature’s mockery if not wrath. But he had managed to convince them that building the gazebo would look great and help the campaign to get the preserve declared a state resort park. Many people in Craig County had long dreamed of a state park lodge on the preserve grounds, but politics and lack of funds had repeatedly torpedoed the notion.
Lawmakers had finally taken notice of the tourism potential of Craig County because of the successes of the Old Garnet visitors’ center and the distillery’s joint tours with GarnetBrooke. A common complaint of tourists was the lack of nice, affordable hotels in the area. After spending the day in Bourbon Springs at the distillery and GarnetBrooke, they took their overnight dollars elsewhere, such as Bardstown to the southwest or Frankfort or Lexington to the northeast. Although there were a few bed-and-breakfasts in the area, they could not accommodate the numbers of people making Craig County a stop on their own personal bourbon tour of the area’s distilleries.
He had watched the area’s burgeoning tourist trade with mixed excitement and concern. Although he wanted to see Craig County thrive, he did not want it overrun with development. Having the amenity of a state park lodge would help squelch the louder voices of growth, and if that meant sacrificing a bit of the preserve to maintain the quality of life in Bourbon Springs, so be it.
But there was a small piece of that life he wanted to claim for himself.
Drake was hopeful that in next few months he would finally achieve his dream of buying property along Brush Grove Creek. The house and land he had his eye on fronted on Brush Grove Pike, with the creek forming the rear boundary of the property. The spot was less than a mile away from Mack Blanton’s house, where his former client would soon take up residence with his wife-to-be, Jorrie Jones, his law partner.
Although he had long kept an eye on properties in the area, Mack had been the one to alert him that the owners, an elderly couple looking to downsize, were interested in selling. Although the people wanted to move, their timetable wasn’t firm.
Drake could understand why.
The property was stunning. The tract was about ten acres, with the focal point being the creek at the back. The preserve was right across the water, with the confluence of the creeks being about a mile downstream. Little wonder the owners were reluctant to part with such beauty.
When laughter drew his attention to the playground where several children romped under the watchful eyes of parents, he immediately thought of Cara. He hoped she wasn’t too angry with him for his absence in court that morning, but it had been an emergency. The volunteer group had little money and couldn’t afford to lose the substantial supplies they had purchased for the gazebo construction.
His thoughts of Cara settled upon the memory of her sheer terror during her search for her son. The insidious infectiousness of her fear had shocked him.
He’d lived a relatively simple and carefree life, unburdened by a lot of grief or problems. He knew that he wasn’t immune from life’s turmoils, but he had managed to keep his commitments and contacts to a minimum, thus generally avoiding the losses that attachment often brought.
But now as he drifted into his later thirties, his priorities were changing. His first hint of his new attitude had been his crush on Pepper Montrose. Smart and sexy, she was just what he liked in a woman, and that lovely red hair was a nice bonus. But he hadn’t understood the depth of attraction and attachment between Jon and Pepper, despite knowing both of them. He was happy that Jon and Pepper were together, but whenever he saw her, he felt sad.
Not because he wanted Pepper.
Because he wanted that experience of love and commitment with a woman.
But his subsequent attempt to find that kind of love had failed.
After Pepper, he’d briefly dated Selena Cormack, the county clerk for nearby Van Winkle County. For years, he’d occasionally asked her out, but Selena had demurred, saying she had a boyfriend out of town. At first he’d thought the guy was imaginary, a convenient excuse not to date him. But after Selena broke up with her mystery man, they’d dated for almost a year until she eventually admitted she was still hung up on her former flame and ended the relationship.
He wasn’t surprised by their demise since he had sensed Selena’s heart was elsewhere. Nevertheless, he was left disappointed that Selena hadn’t been able to break out of her sadness to see the future they could have claimed.
Now he seemed to be repeating this pattern with Cara Forrest.
Why did remote, aloof, damaged women attract him? Was it some deep-seated dysfunction that betrayed he didn’t want to commit? Or did he have some kind of need to rescue women he perceived to be vulnerable and hurt?
He didn’t like either choice but realized that his preferences did reveal his own need.
He wanted someone to want him. And he really hoped Cara could be that someone.
Drake drove to the office without bothering to go to his house to clean up. His mind was cluttered with worries about the preserve, Cara, and his cases on the docket that morning. He usually would’ve had Jorrie cover for him, but she was in a felony criminal trial in front of Judge Richards. Fortunately, his matters in front of Judge Forrest had been status conferences in misdemeanor cases, and he knew from experience that the county attorney did not have a problem passing those as the need arose.
When he got to his office behind the courthouse on the square, Drake expected the only other person he would encounter would be his secretary, Mona. But Jorrie was in her office, talking excitedly on the phone. He stood in her doorway expectantly as she finished the call.
“Yes, yes!” she exclaimed. “Definitely in. And I see someone else I think you can count on for support.”
Jorrie ended the call and smiled at Drake after looking him up and down.
“Sorry for my attire, but I didn’t expect you to be here today. What happened with your trial?”
“Commonwealth made us an offer we couldn’t refuse, and we took it this morning,” she said, shrugging. “He got time served with probation.”
“Sweet.”
“Tell me about it. Oh, Judge Forrest’s office called and said all your cases from today were passed a week. You get everything squared away at the preserve?”
“For now.” He explained that the weekend ahead would be consumed with trying to get the gazebo built but that the good news was that they had saved the supplies.
“Mack said he was sorry he couldn’t help. They were expecting delivery of a new piece of equipment today at the bottling house, and he had to be there.”
“Understood.”
Mack had quit his teaching job and worked full time at the distillery, where he was now head of the bottling house. He had told Drake that he missed teaching but was making better money at Old Garnet and loved working with the Davenports. Mack was now technically part of the Davenport clan since his grandfather had married Goose’s mother. He got his fix of being with kids by volunteering at the nature center at the preserve and was a dependable guy when it came to work that needed to be done around the property.
After asking Jorrie whether she could help him with a brief he needed to file soon with the Court of Appeals, she started beaming.
“Funny you mention that very court, because that was the subject of the conversation I was having when you walked in.”
He gave her a squinty, skeptical stare. “You were awfully excited to be talking about the Court of Appea
ls.”
“You’ll be excited, too, when I tell you what’s afoot.”
“Afoot? The only thing that’s ever afoot is mischief.”
After laughing, Jorrie told him that Judge O’Toole had announced his retirement. “Can you guess who’s interested in the appointment?”
“Someone local, I take it,” he said, finally collapsing into a chair in front of Jorrie’s desk. “Rachel? Brady?”
Jorrie shook her head and smiled. “Cara Forrest.”
“Cara? You’re kidding.”
“Not kidding. I was talking to Harriet Hensley when you came in. She said she’d had lunch today with Judge Forrest and CiCi Summers and they brought it up to her.”
“You mean they talked her into it?” Drake asked, incredulous.
“Maybe not talked her into it as it made her realize her interest. Harriet said that Cara wasn’t only going to seek the appointment but run for the seat should she not get it.”
“Who’s the competition?”
“Garner Robson.”
Drake whistled. “Old money, old name. And I heard he recently married into even more money. It could be a tall order for Cara to get the appointment.”
“Perhaps. But she’s going for it. We’re forming her campaign committee. You want to help?”
Cara angling for a judicial appointment and being up for a campaign didn’t square with his cautious image of her. Yet Jorrie presented him with news that she was at least adventurous when it came to her career.
Cara was a damned good judge, widely respected, and would be perfect on the Court of Appeals where the atmosphere was calm and scholarly. That would be the kind of position in which she could really thrive and blossom, rather than the rough-and-tumble legal world of district court in a rural county in Kentucky.
And if Cara got the appointment, she’d have one less excuse to keep him at bay. He’d no longer be practicing in her court on a regular basis.
“Count me in,” he said.
“I don’t mind watching him tonight,” Cara’s mother said through the phone. “Where are you going?”
Her mother’s inquiries were usually not so necessary or pointed since she knew Cara’s schedule intimately. So when Cara asked her to watch Nate that evening when she had not previously announced any plans, she could tell that her mother’s curiosity about her nonexistent personal life was piqued.
“I’m just going to go to dinner by myself and for a walk. Need a little time to myself.”
“Dinner by yourself? Doesn’t sound like much fun to me.”
“Sounds like heaven to me,” Cara said, thinking about mealtimes with Nate and how she rarely ate without interruption. Taking him out to a restaurant was a tricky proposition that required an abundance of patience as well as wet wipes.
“Suit yourself,” her mother said. “Where are you going?”
“My little secret.”
“Let me know if you’d like an overnight sometime, because I’d love to have one with him.”
“I may take you up on that offer soon. Soaking in my tub on a Friday evening sounds almost decadent.”
“Cara, you really need to get out more,” said her mother, chuckling before ending the call.
Half an hour after dropping Nate at her mother’s house, Cara was standing in line at The Windmill, waiting to give a takeout order. Her original plan had been to eat in, but the diner was unusually packed for a Monday night. She ordered a double cheeseburger, onion rings, and a chocolate shake and headed back toward town, unsure where she would dine.
Going back to the house would be waste of the small slice of freedom she had that evening. So she drove by her street and toward downtown Bourbon Springs.
She briefly considered going to the small picnic area outside the courthouse but likewise rejected that spot as being too ordinary and unworthy of her precious free time. The nature preserve was too far away, and she didn’t want to go there alone.
So the city park it would be.
There were plenty of picnic tables in a flat grassy area away from a small stream that ran through the park. Cara chose a table near the water, but the little spring reminded her of the weekend escapade with Nate and made her miss him. She looked down disgustedly at her food, angry with herself that she couldn’t detach for a few hours and enjoy herself.
She was still on edge about the experience at the nature preserve, all the more so since she’d been a varsity swimmer in high school and college. Yet whatever skills and strengths she still maintained from those years had proven worthless in the face of anxiety and fear, those evil twins, which had left her helpless.
Cara’s hunger finally overcame her distractedness, and she tucked into her meal, enjoying herself and gradually relaxing. After she’d finished her food, she sat staring at the creek and remembered that this was supposedly one of the sites from which Bourbon Springs got its name.
Most locals believed that the town was named for the large springs on Lila McNee Davenport’s land. But to the tourists passing through on the way to the distillery or the land preserve, this small spot provided an alternative version of history, especially since Lila’s springs were not open to the general public.
Sucking down the last of her milkshake, Cara checked the time and realized that the library was still open. It had been a year or longer since she’d checked out a book, and she had missed the experience of browsing the stacks, reading magazines, and finding a few books to take home.
The problem was that leisurely reading was usually out of reach. By the time she got Nate in bed at night, the only thing she wanted to do was hit the hay herself.
But as she sat there in the encroaching twilight, listening to the cicadas hum and the frogs chirp, Cara resolved to go to the library and find at least one book. She felt quite rebellious although her big night on the town only would be composed of a fast-food dinner and a quick library trip.
“Come here often?”
She was so startled to hear a man’s voice that she let out a sharp gasp.
4
But of course it was him.
Drake was holding a familiar-looking paper bag. He’d been to The Windmill as well.
Was he following her?
She wouldn’t put it past him.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He took a step closer. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.”
Drake sat and scanned the area as he pulled his food from the paper bag. “Where’s Nate?”
“With my mom tonight. You think I’d let him near water again so soon?”
Drake unwrapped the same thing she had just consumed: a double cheeseburger with onion rings. “How did you manage to escape his little clutches tonight?”
“I asked my mother to watch him. Wanted some time to myself.”
“So you do get time away from the asylum,” he said, nodding.”
“And how is it that I’m spending those precious moments with the likes of you?”
He shrugged and shoved the small tray of onion rings in Cara’s direction. She took one.
“I guess it’s destiny we’re here together tonight.”
She snorted as she bit into the onion ring, causing her to choke and laugh at the same time. After she recovered, she finished the onion ring and wiped her hands on the last paper napkin in her possession.
“Coincidence does not make destiny.”
“It can. And in our case, it remains to be seen.”
“So tell me what quirk of fate or coincidence brings you to this park tonight,” she said and reached for another onion ring.
“Purely practical reasons although I’m more than willing to change my plans,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her.
“So are you stalking me?”
“Nope, our meeting here is pure fate.”
“Mere coincidence.”
“Cynic,” he taunted. “I happen to be on my way to Minnick’s this lovely evening because my cupboard is bare. I swung by The Windmil
l to get a bite to eat, same as you. We must have missed each other by minutes.”
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“Northern edge of downtown, off Sheridan Street, around the corner from where Walker Cain used to live.”
“I live on the other side of Main Street from you. I’m on McCook Avenue.”
“Again, my dear,” Drake said, wagging an onion ring at her, “fate.”
“So you didn’t have time to get to the grocery today?” she asked, trying to steer him away from his more romantic notions. “Were you at the preserve all day?”
“Not exactly. And sorry for missing court, by the way.”
“You didn’t miss much. All your matters were passed to next week.”
“That’s what Jorrie said when I got back to the office. Oh, she also told me an interesting bit of news about you.”
Cara grabbed another onion ring.
“You know about… about…”
She found it hard to articulate her ambition since it was so new and alien to her.
“About you going for the Court of Appeals slot? Yes, and I’ve been drafted to be on your campaign committee.”
“I have one?”
“You will. There’s already talk of an organizational meeting.”
“So I have handlers and didn’t even know it.”
She bit her lip and sighed, wondering whether she’d gotten into something that was going to take too much of her time and overwhelm her with demands.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be great, and a lot of a people around here will have your back,” Drake said.
She smiled, warmed not only by his words but by the thought of having supporters.
“I am excited about it,” she admitted.
“You should be. And you’ll be a great appellate judge.”
“You sound confident about my chances.”
“Aren’t you?”
“I’m confident in my abilities, not so much my chances. I’ve never been good at politics and glad-handing.”
“But you got the appointment to the district court bench,” Drake said. “That had to take some political skill.”