by Donna Hill
Grace was still on duty when he walked into the main house.
“Well, you’re up early,” Grace said, looking up from the newspaper. She took a sip from her coffee mug. “Anything I can do for you?”
“I’m going out of town. It may be a few days.”
“Oh.” Her brows rose in question but she didn’t pose one, unlike Terri, who would have unleashed a line of questions.
“I hope to be back early next week. Let Terri and the rest of the staff know. Josh will have to do the drop-offs and pickups of the guests while I’m gone.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“You have my cell phone number in case you really need me.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine,” Grace said in her usual casual manner.
“Thanks, Grace.”
“Drive safely, Mr. Davenport.”
“I will.”
He walked out and hurried off to his truck. Barring anything major on the roads he should be in North Carolina in eight hours. And he had no intention of coming back until he had some answers.
* * *
Desiree stood in the open doorway of her cabin and noticed Lincoln’s black Navigator drive off toward the main road.
Inexplicably she had a sudden sense of foreboding as if something that would drastically change the course of her life was about to happen.
She started to run, barefoot, toward the road. She could still see Lincoln’s truck. But he was putting more and more distance between them.
She ran faster, calling his name in a frantic plea. But he never stopped, never looked back, and then he made the turn onto the main road and was gone.
Desiree finally slowed and came to a stop. She leaned against a tree, breathing hard. She was being ridiculous, she silently scolded herself. He was probably driving into town for supplies or something.
She bent over and braced her hands on her knees, pulling in deep breaths of salt-tinged air. Straightening up, she looked around. There was not another soul to be seen. And just as in her dream, she was totally alone.
* * *
Rachel listened to the phone ring until the voice mail service came on. She tapped her foot and checked her watch. Where in the hell could Desiree be at this time of the morning?
“Your car is outside to take you to the airport, Rae!” Felicia called out.
“Tell him I’ll be right there.”
“Desi, it’s me, Rae. I’ve been trying to reach you. Please give me a call on my cell phone. I’m on my way to the airport. Have a business deal in London. My flight is at nine. Try to call before then. If not I will try to reach you when I get to the Carly Hotel. Bye.”
She grabbed her purse and headed out. Maybe something worked out between her and Lincoln after all, she thought with a smile as she settled into the limo. What other explanation could there be for Desiree not to be in her own bed at six-thirty in the morning?
Chapter 21
It was nearly three o’clock by the time Lincoln spotted the exit for Charlotte, North Carolina. From that point he was traveling on pure instinct and vague memories of having visited Desiree’s family years earlier.
He probably should have called first, he thought, coming to a stop at a red light. But if southern hospitality was as it had always been, then drop-in guests were still welcome. The light turned green and he drove through the intersection looking for any landmarks that would give him his bearings.
Lincoln wound his way in and out of downtown Charlotte until he reached the outskirts of town. This was where it got kind of tricky, he thought, remembering a time when he rode around in circles for an hour before he finally gave up and asked for directions.
What in the world would he say when he got there? he suddenly wondered as he turned onto Queens Drive, the reality of his impulsive act finally sinking in. Desiree’s mother would think that something was wrong—if she even remembered who he was. But what if she’d moved or was out of town? He had no idea how to reach any of Desiree’s sisters.
But he reasoned, if it came to that, someone in Charlotte would know where to find them. The Armstrong family was a little kingdom and everyone knew everyone else.
Nothing like New York, he mused as the lush green scenery sped past his windows. You could live right next door to someone for years and never know them by name. It must be nice to have the kind of sense of community that people shared outside of major urban cities. He always wondered why Desiree had been so hell-bent on not returning, and taking up residence in a city that bred anonymity. There was a reason, and the answers were here.
Not wanting to take a chance on spending the rest of the day driving in circles, he pulled into a gas station to get directions. He hopped out of his truck and walked over to where an attendant was washing the windows of another customer’s van.
“Be right with ya,” the man said as he meticulously wiped away all traces of water from the windshield.
“No rush. I just have a question.”
In towns like this the gas station attendants were equivalent to the bartenders in New York. They knew everyone and everything, Lincoln thought.
The attendant hooked the rag onto a loop on his pants, tapped the hood of the van as the driver pulled off. He turned to Lincoln and pulled his cap down low over his eyes to hide from the sun.
“Now what can I do for you? Need directions? I can tell you’re not from around here.”
Lincoln chuckled. “That obvious?”
“Folks stop here for three reasons, gas, gossip and directions. You gave me the idea you didn’t need gas when you said you needed to ask me something—that could only mean directions. I don’t recognize your face, so you couldn’t be coming around to catch up on gossip.” He shrugged. “Directions. That and the New York plates,” he added, pointing to the Navigator. He glanced up at Lincoln through the glare of the sun.
Lincoln shook his head and chuckled. “I was looking for the Armstrong house.”
A grin broke across the man’s face as if he’d been told he just won the lottery.
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” He squinted as if to get Lincoln into focus and pointed a grease-stained finger at him. “You a relative?”
“No. Not exactly. Friend of the family.”
The man took off his cap and scratched his head. “Seems to me if you were a friend of the family they would have given you directions and you’d know where you were going.”
This wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe this guy doubled as the local sheriff, too.
“Actually, I haven’t been here in a while. I’m…was engaged to Mrs. Armstrong’s daughter, Desiree.”
The man’s brows shot up to his hairline. “Oh, you’re the fella,” he said as if he held some secret he didn’t want to share. He placed his cap back on his head and stroked his stubbled chin. “Hmm. Well, that’s all in the past now anyway.”
“What’s all in the past?”
The old man looked at Lincoln from the corner of his eyes, sizing him up. “They took it pretty hard when she broke the news that she wasn’t getting married. Those Armstrong women have a real strong sense of family. If I remember right, it nearly killed her mother when she found out.”
He had to be exaggerating, Lincoln thought, but kept quiet.
“Matter of fact, poor Desiree is the only one who ain’t hitched.” He shot Lincoln a look of accusation. “Nice girl like that should have a husband.”
“My feelings exactly,” Lincoln quickly offered, sensing that he was venturing on very touchy territory. It was becoming pretty plain that the Armstrongs and possibly everyone else in town somehow believed the breakup was all his fault.
“I was hoping to talk to Mrs. Armstrong, straighten things out.”
“
Don’t you think you waited a mighty long time to straighten things out?”
The old man’s skepticism wasn’t lost on Lincoln. “Well, a few things have happened since then.”
“Oh yeah, like what?” He leaned against a gas pump as if he was ready to settle down for a long story.
“I’d really rather talk to Mrs. Armstrong about it,” Lincoln replied, keeping his tone light and friendly.
“Hmm.” He looked Lincoln over. “I guess I could tell you where she lives.” He eased off the pump and walked toward the station’s exit. “Make a left up at the second tree. Take that road down about a mile. You’ll see a church on the right-hand side. Go past the church and make two lefts. You’ll be right there.” He glanced up at Lincoln from beneath the beak of his soiled cap. “Got all that or you need me to write it down?”
Lincoln bit back a chuckle. “I got it. Thanks.”
“Anytime. The name’s Wally. Stop by on your way out. I’ll give you a good deal on some gas and wash that pretty truck down for you.”
“Thanks, Wally, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“What’s your name, son?” he asked as Lincoln climbed back into the truck.
“Lincoln Davenport.” He turned the key in the ignition and the engine kicked to life.
“Yep, you’re the one,” he muttered as Lincoln drove off.
* * *
Wally’s directions were right on point. In less than ten minutes Lincoln was pulling up to the Armstrong property. He came to a stop at the top of the road that led to the house. It looked very much like what he remembered from the few times he’d visited during the family reunions and once during Christmas.
The white-framed house was a two-story structure with windows that wrapped around the front with the standard porch complete with rocking chair and a few azalea bushes on either side of the steps. It was plain by anyone’s standards, but from what he recalled what it lacked on the outside it made up for with plenty of love and frivolity that went on behind the simple wood doors.
The pride and joy of the Armstrong home was the massive backyard that boasted its own stream and mighty oak trees that saw many families come and go. It was where the annual Armstrong reunion was held, and if he closed his eyes he could almost see the platoon of screaming children running through the grass, aunts, uncles and cousins sitting in striped chairs, stretched out on blankets, or giving orders to the cooks about how real barbecue was supposed to be done. This was the kind of life he’d always wanted. A big family, a house filled with love and a woman whom he adored. How could Desiree have turned her back on all this for the sterile existence of the city?
It had always been like pulling teeth to get her to come home. She found myriad reasons why she couldn’t go, didn’t want to go; from illness to work to being too tired.
Why? What was here that she couldn’t face?
He got out of the truck and walked toward the front door, noticing that the house could use a paint job and the steps were in need of repair. He knocked and waited, listening for sounds of life from inside.
Several moments later the door inched open and Desiree’s mother stood in the archway with a quizzical expression on her face.
“Yes? Can I help you?” She wiped her hands on a towel that was tucked around the waistband of her skirt.
“I don’t know if you remember me, Mrs. Armstrong. I’m Lincoln Davenport.”
Vera peered a bit closer at him and her hand flew to her chest. “Oh, my goodness. Lincoln.” A broad smile spread across the mouth that was so much like her daughter’s. “Come in. Come in.” She stepped aside and Lincoln walked in.
He turned to face her as she closed the door.
“I’m sorry to just drop in on you like this without calling first.”
“No problem. Can I get you something to drink?” Then suddenly she stopped. A frown creased her forehead. “Is something wrong with Desiree? Is she okay?”
He held up his hands. “Desi is fine. Really.”
Her expression relaxed and her smile returned. “Then you’re here visiting relatives? I don’t remember Desi ever saying you had relatives in the area.” She headed for the kitchen. “Come, we’ll sit and talk in the kitchen. I was putting on dinner.”
Lincoln followed her and took a seat at the counter.
“Iced tea?”
“Sure. That sounds great.”
She went to the fridge and took out a pitcher of iced tea, then took two glasses from the cupboard and set them on the counter.
“So what brings you all the way out here, Lincoln?” She handed him a glass of tea.
He swallowed and looked her in the eye. “Actually it’s about Desiree.”
Slowly she sat down, holding on to the edge of the counter as if bracing herself for something awful.
“I guess you know that Desi and I haven’t…seen each other in five years.”
She nodded.
“Well, this past weekend…”
He went on to tell her about how he and Desiree had reconnected, how she seemed so happy and then suddenly turned cold again. That he was worried about her and more importantly he wanted to know what she was constantly running from. That he still loved her and knew that she loved him as well but was unwilling to work out their issues.
“I know it may be out of line for me to ask you these kinds of questions about your daughter, but I need to understand. I need to know if I should try to stick it out or walk away for the last time.”
Mrs. Armstrong sighed heavily and pushed herself up from the table and walked to the backyard window.
“Desiree was always the most sensitive of my three daughters. She would cry at the slightest thing, always took in stray pets, looked after anyone who was sick or injured. She has a kind and giving heart, always open and accepting.”
Lincoln listened, trying to reconcile the Desiree he knew with the person her mother described. He couldn’t.
“Her father pampered her. She was his favorite. He took her everywhere with him. They were inseparable. I think her sisters resented all the attention Louis paid to Desi. I talked to him about it, how it would alienate Desiree from her sisters. That it wasn’t healthy. He said I was overreacting, that he loved all of his daughters, but that Desiree needed him more than the others.”
“What happened? What changed her?”
She turned to face him. “It was Desiree’s tenth birthday,” she said, a note of wistfulness in her voice. “Louis planned a big party. It was all he could talk about. The backyard was decorated like something from a fairy tale. He hired a clown for the children. He even had a pony. Desi was so excited.” She swallowed hard and lowered her head as her eyes filled. “I’m sorry.” She sniffed and reached for a napkin from the holder on the counter.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Armstrong, you don’t have to—”
“No. No…you need to finally understand.”
* * *
By the time Lincoln was back on the road, his head was spinning with all that Desiree’s mother had told him. His heart ached for her. What he was told explained so much about Desiree. But now that he had some of the answers, the question still remained: how could he use this new knowledge to help Desiree become all the woman that she could be? And would she let him?
Chapter 22
“Excuse me.” Desiree stepped up to the reception desk.
Terri looked up from the computer and smiled. “Well, hello. I haven’t seen much of you since you arrived. Are you enjoying your stay?”
“Yes. But I need to leave. Something has come up and I have to get back to New York.”
“Oh, nothing serious, I hope,” Terri said, itching for details.
“Not serious but important. I need a ride into town and a train schedule.�
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Terri looked at her a moment to see if she could discern anything in Desiree’s eyes. She saw nothing. She’d make a good poker player, Terri thought absently. She reached beneath the desk and pulled out several leaflets. She fished through them until she found the right one, then opened it up and turned it toward Desiree.
“There is a train leaving at three, and the last one leaves at six.”
Desiree glanced above Terri’s head to the clock on the wall. It was already two forty-five. She’d never make it.
“Can someone drive me to the train for the six o’clock departure?”
“I’ll put a call in to Josh. He’s taking over since Mr. D. went out of town.”
Desiree kept her expression even. “Really? Did he say when he would be back? I mean, I’d like to say goodbye before I leave.”
“He said he might be gone a few days.” She rested her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. She lowered her voice to a sister-girl level. “I have his cell phone number if you really need to reach him.”
Desiree shook her head and forced a smile. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll just leave him a note.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I gave it to you,” Terri pressed. She took a piece of paper from the desk and scribbled the number down, then handed it to Desiree. She smiled. “Just in case.”
Desiree swallowed. “Thanks,” she mumbled and stuck the number in the back pocket of her jeans. “I’ll probably never use it.”
Terri shrugged. “Probably.”
“So you’ll let me know if Josh can take me?”
“I’ll put a call in to him now. Do you think you’ll be coming back or are you totally checking out?”
“I won’t be back.”
Terri nodded. “Well, I hope the service was good and that your accommodations were up to par. We take a lot of pride in how our guests are treated. Mr. D. would be really upset if he thought you didn’t enjoy your stay.”
“Everything was fine. Really.”
“Listen, I know you don’t know me from Adam’s house cat and you may think I’m totally out of line, but Mr. D. is a really cool guy. He gave me a job when no one else would give me the time of day. And I appreciate that. I look out for him, because he sure won’t look out for himself. All he does is think of other people and this place.” She waved her arm expansively.