by C. C. Coburn
“So why didn’t you let us know?” Sarah demanded.
“Because I needed time to think, Mom.”
Adam wasn’t about to tell them that the whole experience had been so shattering that afterward he’d taken a drive back to the crossroads where Rory had died. He’d sat there for hours trying to figure out what he had to do. In the end, he knew.
“What’s to think about?” Will said. “You overthink everything, Adam.”
“If he overthought everything, he might not have saved Molly,” Jack pointed out.
All eyes turned to the dog, and Will reached out to scratch her head with his foot. She closed her eyes in bliss.
“The Polinskis’ son and daughter-in-law arrive tomorrow to take them to Miami,” Sarah said. “Carly told me that Mrs. Polinski thought their daughter-in-law wouldn’t want a dog living with them.”
“That’s strange,” Matt said. “Because I got a call from Mrs. Jasmine Polinski trying to confirm if Molly was a pedigreed bassett hound. She wanted her papers. I explained there was nothing left of the Polinskis’ possessions after the fire. She got downright unpleasant when I asked why it mattered. I have a sneaking suspicion that she intends to sell her to a breeder.”
“What?” Becky shouted. “No way!”
Will laughed. “I think they’ll find her mom mated with something else first.”
“We could tell her Molly’s already been spayed and she’d lose interest in her,” Becky said.
“I thought you were a judge?” Jack shook his head with a grin. “Upholder of the law and all.”
“Sometimes the law’s an ass,” she said. “And sometimes you’ve got to do what you can to keep a family together.”
“Then it’s agreed?” Jack asked. “We’ll tell them Molly’s been spayed.”
Becky raised her eyebrows. “And to think you were almost a priest.”
“Obviously not a very good one,” Matt said, and raised his glass to his brother.
“This will only work until the Polinskis tell their daughter-in-law that Molly’s still intact,” Carly told them. “She had an appointment to be spayed in a couple of weeks.”
“Is it too late to call the vet and arrange to have her spayed tonight?” Will suggested.
Becky swatted him. “You can’t go and have someone else’s dog spayed!”
“I feel sorry for the Polinskis when they discover the daughter-in-law’s evil motives,” Jack said.
“Which brings us back to the problem of finding a permanent home for Molly,” Will murmured. “A home that will respect her whether her lady bits are intact, or not.”
“I promised I’d look after her for them,” Carly admitted. “But I was sort of backed into a corner, and I didn’t have the heart to say no.”
Sarah said, “She’s welcome to stay here until we can find her a home. But she’s not a ranch dog, so I worry she’ll be left behind on those short little legs of hers.”
Carly chewed her lip. “How can we stop the daughter-in-law from taking Molly?”
“We could offer to buy Molly,” Adam suggested. “Although I’m hoping it won’t come to that because she’s going to expect a lot for her.”
“I wonder if her husband knows what she’s got planned,” Jack said. “Maybe we can appeal to his humanitarian side?”
“Spoken like an eternal optimist,” Luke mumbled.
“We’ll put plan A into place tomorrow morning when the Polinskis’ son and daughter-in-law turn up,” Will said.
“What plan?” Jack asked.
“I haven’t thought of one yet.”
Matt held up his hands. “Much as I want to help, you’d better count both Becky and me out. In fact, this conversation never happened.”
“Good point,” Will said. “Mom and I will take care of the details.”
THE DRIVE TO INSPIRATION Point after dinner didn’t happen.
Adam was relieved when Carly said she needed to check on her kids and might make it an early night, because during dinner he’d started having serious misgiving about taking things to the next level with Carly.
What was he thinking? Getting involved with a woman with four children had never been on his agenda. Ever. He didn’t want the responsibility that came with it. Didn’t trust himself. And Carly sure wasn’t the kind of woman to indulge in a casual affair.
He’d been thinking with another part of his anatomy when he kissed her on the porch, and it wasn’t anywhere close to his brain.
The excuse that she needed an early night since she had a lot of clients to see in the morning suited him just fine. Although he sensed that Carly was as relieved as he was when he hadn’t protested.
Anything had to be better than staying at the ranch, seeing Carly every day. Wanting her… Wanting her like he’d never wanted any woman before.
CARLY HEADED TO THE apartment over the stables, thankful that she had a plausible reason for not going to Inspiration Point with Adam. Lord knew what trouble she’d end up in if she did!
She’d only been with one man in her entire life. And although Adam would probably be a wonderful lover, Carly knew they didn’t have a future. She had too many responsibilities; he had too many hang-ups.
Carly didn’t have room for another person in her life. Another person with even more baggage than she had.
WHY HAD HE KISSED HER on the porch like that? Adam wondered. The woman was bewitching him, getting under his skin like no other woman ever had. What was it about her? She was everything he didn’t need—an eternal optimist, an idealist, a woman with too many kids, too many responsibilities. And yet…she was a free spirit. He almost resented the way she could pick herself up after misfortune, the way she could smile and light up a room as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
At least he’d be at work for the next two days, so he wouldn’t have to talk to her, look at her, let her enchant him with those blue eyes, that ready smile.
Adam used to be attracted to girls like her in high school. But after Rory died he’d shut himself off from relationships—he didn’t even attend his senior prom. He dated occasionally, but as soon as anyone wanted to make the relationship exclusive, tie him down, he was outta there. He hated that fickleness of character, but it was a way of protecting himself from having to care.
But now he was starting to care. He cared about Carly, her kids. Molly. He cared about his family. He worried that hearing about the night Rory died would distress them, but it was something he had to confront. No more running away.
ADAM PULLED UP OUTSIDE the mountain cabin Matt shared with his wife, Beth, and daughter, Sarah. He’d purposely waited for an hour after Matt and Beth had left the ranch following dinner. He’d given them enough time to get home, get Sarah settled. With luck Beth would already be in bed. Adam didn’t want any witnesses to what he had to tell Matt.
He took a few minutes to compose himself. This was going to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life and he dreaded the disappointment in Matt’s eyes when he confessed the truth about what had happened that night fifteen years ago.
He climbed out of the car and made his way through the freshly fallen snow to Matt’s door. His hand trembled as he raised it to knock.
Matt answered a moment later. “Adam! What are you doing here? Come on in,” he said, stepping back to allow Adam to enter the house.
“Can we…talk outside?” There was no way he’d have any privacy at Matt’s place. In time, he’d admit the truth to Beth, but right now he didn’t want her burdened with his shame. Not until there was some resolution. The O’Malleys would have enough to endure over the coming weeks, when the circumstances surrounding Rory’s death were revealed to the community of Spruce Lake.
Matt frowned, but didn’t query him further. “Sure, I’
ll get my jacket.”
Moments later, Matt joined him on the stoop and shrugged into his warm jacket. “It must be twenty below out here,” he said. “What’s up that you didn’t want to come inside and have some tea or hot chocolate with Beth and me? Or talk about it at the ranch, for that matter?”
Adam turned away and started toward the gate leading into the property, giving Matt no alternative but to follow.
“If it’s relationship advice you want, little brother, then you should be talking to Beth.”
Adam spun around and said, “I killed someone and I want to make it right.”
Matt stopped in his tracks and peered into his face. “Run that by me again?”
“I was the one driving the night Rory was killed.”
Matt let out a long breath. “Damn,” he muttered.
“I can’t live with the guilt anymore, Matt. I hate being hailed as a hero, when the truth is, I’m a complete lowlife who killed his best friend and was too much of a coward to admit it.”
Matt placed a comforting hand on Adam’s shoulder and said, “I think we need to talk inside.”
Adam shrugged him off. “I can’t. I don’t want Beth knowing about this yet. I can’t tolerate the embarrassment. I wanted to talk to you first and find out what I have to do about turning myself in. And then…I need to talk to Rory’s mom.”
“Why didn’t you tell someone about this when it happened?”
“You’re kidding, right? I was fifteen. I was knocked out for a couple of days, and by the time I came to, the funeral was over and the accident investigators had concluded that Rory was driving. Case closed. I was scared and I didn’t see any point in telling the truth—that I was in the driver’s seat and thrown clear when the truck rolled. Yeah, I know it was lousy of me. Cowardly. But like I said, I was fifteen. Selfish and scared. Who do I turn myself in to?”
“Since it happened outside the town limits, me, I guess.”
“How long do you get for murder?”
“For a start, it would be classified as vehicular homicide. That’s a class-four felony and the usual term is from two to six years if memory serves me—”
“Six years?”
“You asked.”
“I know. I know. On the one hand it’s a shock, but on the other it seems too short a sentence for such a serious crime. So do you arrest me here or take me down to the sheriff’s department or what?”
“If you’d let me finish what I was saying earlier, I would’ve told you that the statute of limitations on vehicular homicide in the state of Colorado is five years.”
“Which means?”
“You won’t be facing a jail term.”
Adam let out his breath in a whoosh. “But?”
“There is no but. Because you didn’t come forward within five years of the accident, no charges will be laid and you won’t have a record.”
Adam shook his head, disbelieving. “It doesn’t seem right. I killed someone and I walk free?”
“You’ve lived with this for a lot of years.… It’s torn your guts out, and I don’t see that as walking free, Adam. You’ve led an exemplary life, saved lives in the line of duty. You’ve repaid your debt to society.”
“Then why do I feel like crap?”
“Guilt? The knowledge that it’s too late to make amends?”
“I need to talk to Rory’s mom.”
“And what do you think that will achieve? You’ll be bringing up old memories. Maybe she’d prefer them to stay in the past.”
“I need her to know that Rory wasn’t responsible for his death.”
When Matt was about to object, he held up his hand and said, “Yeah, yeah, everyone knows Rory was always doing daring things and everyone believed he was going to mess up his life, but Mrs. Bennett deserves the truth.”
“You could be opening a whole can of worms—not the least of which is that she could sue you.”
“Which would be her right.”
“It could ruin your life.”
“So? I’ve ruined hers. Mr. Bennett drank himself to death after the accident and she’s been alone all these years.”
“Grant Bennett was a drinker long before you were born, Adam. You can’t blame yourself for his death, too.”
“I can’t help feeling that I contributed to it.”
“For all you know, Rory could’ve gone down the same path as his old man. He had a blood alcohol level more than twice the legal limit, if I remember. And there’s evidence that alcoholism runs in families.”
“It still doesn’t account for the lousy life Mrs. Bennett’s led. As a result of my actions, her only son is dead.”
Matt sighed. “Do you want me to come with you when you talk to her?”
Adam shook his head emphatically. “I have to do this on my own.”
Matt clapped him on the back. “I admire you for coming forward, even if it is fifteen years later. It takes guts to own up to something like that.”
Adam wasn’t listening. “And then I need to talk to Mom and Pop.”
“Oh, no! I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Matt, this is going to get around town. Even if Mrs. Bennett doesn’t go ballistic and sic the lawyers on me, the truth will get out. I don’t want Mom and Pop hearing it from some third party.”
Matt nodded. “I can see you’ve thought this through. I’ll come with you to see our folks, then. Mom might react badly.”
“I can’t talk to them tonight. It’ll have to wait until after my next shift at the fire station. In the meantime, can you keep this to yourself?”
Matt clasped his shoulder and turned him back toward his vehicle. “You have my word, buddy.”
A HALF HOUR LATER, ADAM parked outside the Bennett residence. It was a tiny weatherboard house that could do with a coat of paint and some repairs to the gutter and roof, he noticed.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of his car onto Gray Street and crossed the road to Mrs. Bennett’s front walk.
He paused at the rusted gate. What was he doing? It was way too late to be visiting someone. Especially when you were bringing bad news. Reviving bad memories.
He was about to turn back to his vehicle when the front door opened and Mrs. Bennett came onto the porch.
Adam wanted to shrink into the shadows. It had been many years since he’d seen Rory’s mom. She’d always been slender, but now she was painfully thin. She wrapped her arms around her against the chill of the night and called out, “Who’s there?”
Now she probably thought she had a prowler. Adam didn’t want to cause her any worry, so he walked through the gate and said, “It’s me, Mrs. Bennett. Adam O’Malley.”
“Adam! How lovely to hear your voice after all these years. Come into the light where I can see you,” she said, gesturing with her hand.
On shaking legs, Adam strode up her shoveled path and onto her porch. The harsh light showed the lines on her face, but she had that smile he still remembered. Rory’s smile.
“Hello, Mrs. Bennett,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have come to ruin this good woman’s night by bringing back all the memories of the night her only son died.
“It’s Jennifer, please!” she said, and hugged him. “You’re much too old to be calling me Mrs. Bennett these days.”
Adam hugged her back, but carefully. She felt so frail beneath his hands.
“Have you got time to come inside?” she asked, and Adam could hear the yearning in her voice, the desperation for someone to keep her company.
“Sure,” he said. “I was coming to see you, anyway, but then I thought it might be too late.”
She opened her door and ushered him insid
e. A small fire burned in the grate, barely warming the living room. “I’m sorry I don’t have much of a fire. I’ve hurt my back and can’t split enough wood to get a good fire going.”
“I can do that for you,” Adam offered.
“Thank you. You were always such a kind boy.”
Adam swallowed down the guilt that was choking him. He wondered if he should split her wood now, before his big admission, or later.
“Would you like some hot chocolate?” she asked. “I just boiled the water.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” Adam knew he was being formal with her, but this was the most awkward situation he’d ever been in.
Jennifer Bennett tipped hot chocolate mix into two mugs, then filled them with hot water. She stirred them, then handed one to Adam and indicated they should return to the living room. She hastily brushed aside some newspapers opened to the crossword section so Adam could take a seat on her worn sofa.
Adam placed his mug on the coffee table. There was no way he could drink anything right now. He needed to get the words out before his courage failed him.
Courage. What a joke.
“Mrs. Benn—Jennifer, I have something I need to tell you and you’re not going to like it.”
ADAM LEFT JENNIFER BENNETT’S house two hours later. A lot of emotions had been spent in those hours. And a friendship forged.
It astonished him how happy Rory’s mom had been to see him, how she’d welcomed him like a long-lost son. And then he’d told her what had happened the night Rory died.
She’d thanked Adam for admitting the truth, praised his courage in coming to her. And then, most astonishing of all, she’d forgiven him.
They’d talked for a long time. Jennifer had gotten out photographs of Adam and Rory together and they’d remembered the good times. Then he’d split what remained of her meager wood pile.
Guessing she probably didn’t have the money to get in more firewood, he told her he’d bring a truckload around when he finished his forty-eight-hour rotation and split it for her. She’d have more than enough to keep her house warm through the winter.