The Gazebo

by Kimberly Cates

  See how she was dreading it, sense that there was something Deirdre was hiding.

  Deirdre turned toward Emma to tug one of her daughter’s wayward curls. “I’ll bet you can con Jake into giving you a blow-by-blow description. You two are getting to be thick as thieves.”

  “Well, if he’s going to be my stepdad and the father of my future siblings…”

  “Emma, don’t.” Deirdre warned more sternly than she’d intended. “Don’t count on anything. I still don’t know how I feel about…”

  “Jake?” Emma filled in, undaunted. “Well, I do. You’re crazy in love with him. I figure it’s a good thing I’ll be out of the house soon. It’ll be downright embarrassing, all those yearning glances, him trying to sneak kisses. I mean, really. That last little trip the two of you took into the laundry room? You don’t have to close the door to fold socks, Mom.”

  Deirdre’s face flamed. She’d told Jake it was too risky. But he’d been so hungry for her, his eyes black with need. She hadn’t been able to resist.

  Sneaking away like guilty teenagers, trying to come before they got caught.

  The thought was both titillating and terrifying, Deirdre’s dread for her daughter still racking her nerves.

  “Emma,” Deirdre said, suddenly serious, “maybe I haven’t been such a great example lately. For you, I mean.”

  Emma’s eyes filled with love, tenderness. “Mom, maybe it’s time I clued you in on something. I mean, I owe you, I figure, for coercing you into buying this dress. Drew and I…well, we’re not having sex. And we’re not going to. At least until we’re older.”

  “But you…at Sullivan’s Point…”

  “I got dressed in the dark, Mom. That’s why I buttoned my shirt wrong. We were just talking and kissing and…well, part of me wanted to do more, but another part of me thought about all the stuff you said and it scared me.”

  Relief weakened Deirdre’s knees. “You mean…”

  “Drew and I love each other and I know I want him to be my first. Someday. Not now.”

  “And this…this is okay with Drew?”

  Emma’s chin jutted up. “Yeah. He says I’m worth waiting for. However long it takes. How great is that?”

  “That’s wonderful.” Tears burned Deirdre’s eyes. “Oh, God. Emma, I’ve been so scared.”

  “I know. And I’ve been a real butthead about it. Letting you believe Drew and I were doing the dirty deed. But you’ve been acting so psycho about the whole dating thing, it just made me crazy. I felt like I had to fight back just to do normal stuff the rest of the kids were doing. Forgive me?”

  “If you forgive me,” Deirdre choked.

  “No way.” Emma raised one brow in Jake-esque fashion. Deirdre knew her daughter had been practicing the gesture in the mirror for dramatic effect. “Not if you make your mascara run. It took me forever to get your makeup just right!”

  Deirdre gave a soggy laugh. “Have I mentioned I think you’re the most wonderful creature on earth?”

  “Yeah, a few jillion times. Can I give you a hint for tonight, Mom? On the romantic front, that is?”

  “I can’t wait to hear it.”

  “Don’t talk about me tonight. Stone’s already worshipping at my feet.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “One more thing.” Emma suddenly sobered. Deirdre felt a frisson of fear.

  “Don’t let what happened to you in high school ruin tonight. Getting pregnant, I mean. It all turned out great, didn’t it? You and me against the world?”

  “Oh, Emma.” Deirdre touched her daughter’s face. “You’re so…so amazing. Growing up so fast.”

  “I am, Mom. Growing up, I mean. Maybe someday you’ll even be able to tell me why…” Emma hesitated. “Why you get that haunted look in your eyes. What happened to make you afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Afraid to be happy. Afraid to say yes to a man who loves you as much as Jake. I keep hoping that maybe someday you’ll trust me.”

  If only it were that simple. Deirdre’s heart twisted.

  “Marry him, Mom. You know you’re dying to.”

  Was she? She closed her eyes, imagining a lifetime of Jake Stone in her bed, at her breakfast table, teasing her, fighting with her, making love to her.

  It was dangerous to care that much for anybody. To let Jake in to secret, scarred places in her soul, where all her doubts and fears and flaws lived.

  But Jake knew it all—the dark of her as well as the light.

  Marry him… Emma’s plea reverberated through Deirdre, leaving her shaken.

  She kissed Emma on the cheek. “I love you,” Deirdre whispered, and blessed Jake for ringing the doorbell before she cried.

  JAKE CURVED HIS ARM around Deirdre’s slim waist, feeling like a jungle cat marking his territory. It was all he could do to keep from glaring at the people crowding the hall, knowing what they did—how they’d made Deirdre’s life hell.

  But the woman whose bare back was underneath his palm was worlds different from the defiant outsider she’d been in school. She was fire and passion and quicksilver humor, a dazzling blaze in a room of lackluster mannequins trying desperately to recapture their youth.

  He’d seen their faces as he’d led Deirdre onto the dance floor. He’d stared deep into her eyes to touch the center of her, the place where she was learning to love him. He’d whispered in her ear, “Dance just for me.”

  She’d melted against him, holding his gaze like a lifeline. Their bodies did the rest, so in tune with each other by now that the movements of the dance became just another way of making love. People stopped, stared, a circle of onlookers forming around them.

  But even with the crowd watching, Deirdre hadn’t gone shy on him. She’d clung to the bond between them and let him…let him show her off, keep her safe, make every man in the room wish he was the lucky son of a bitch who held her in his arms.

  It was damned near perfect until a skinny redhead in an outdated prom dress called out, “Too bad Adam Farrington isn’t here, Deirdre! If only he could see you now! You sure didn’t dance like that with him!”

  “She was too busy doing other things with him,” one of the redhead’s friends sniggered.

  Jake had felt Deirdre miss a step, squeezed her hand as if force of will could drive the jibe out of her mind.

  “You’re just jealous,” Lucy’s neighbor Liz cut in, trying to smooth things over. “Not only does Deirdre date the homecoming king in high school, but her escort tonight is the handsomest man in the room.”

  Decent save. Stone had to give Workout Barbie credit. He’d been close to breaking Manoletti’s first rule of chivalry. Never hit a woman. Of course, jamming a wad of crepe paper into the bitch’s mouth would have been listed under “just cause” in any courtroom under the circumstances.

  “Don’t let them bother you,” Deirdre had said, keeping her smile pasted in place. “I quit caring about that kind of catty stuff years ago.”

  But she shouldn’t have had to put up with it at all, Stone thought grimly as they all ate dinner. And he wished the scum who’d left her open to that kind of torment was somewhere within his reach.

  Stone gritted his teeth as they milled through the crowd once again. When he thought what the bastard had done to her, all the years of guilt, fear in her cold, lonely bed, killing fury filled Jake’s gut.

  “Did I step on your toe or something?” Deirdre asked, low. “You look like you’re in pain.”

  Stone tried to force a smile. “You never even came close. Trula would have been proud.” But he couldn’t deny Deirdre’s query had hit a nerve. Pain? Hell yes, he was in pain, every time he thought of Deirdre at Emma’s age, pinned underneath the crushing weight of the slime who’d raped her.

  “Jake?” She squeezed his hand.

  He kissed her to hide the fury in his eyes.

  The bandleader, a guy who looked like a bald Bob Dylan, saved Jake’s ass by grabbing the microphone.

  “A
nd now, the event we’ve all been waiting for,” the musician announced. “The vocal stylings of Whitewater High’s class of ’88’s student voted Most Likely To Be Famous. Our very own bad girl, Deirdre McDaniel.”

  Stone stiffened and wondered how the Bob Dylan clone would look without his front teeth.

  Jake felt a tremor go through Deirdre. She glanced up at him, for reassurance. He brushed a kiss close to her ear and whispered, “Knock ’em dead.”

  DEIRDRE MOUNTED THE STAIRS to the makeshift stage, her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest. It had been so long since she’d taken that solitary walk, felt the stage lights heat her face, curled her fingers around the microphone and slipped it from its stand.

  She’d been so sure it would feel alien, somehow. Like relics from an archeologist’s dig, interesting, intriguing, but completely foreign to the woman she was now.

  Instead, the sensation floored her. It was just like coming home.

  Home, the place she’d found in Jake’s arms. Whole, the way she felt when he made love to her. Right after so many things she’d done wrong.

  Every eye in the room was on her. She felt the tingle of excitement at the nape of her neck, a power that spread along her nerves, setting her whole body aglow with the anticipation she saw reflected in her audience’s eyes.

  It was crazy, intoxicating, no wonder she’d been drunk with the sensation she was feeling. No wonder she’d craved more.

  But it had cost her so much. Emma’s small, distraught features rose in her memory, her little-girl arms clutching so tight about Deirdre’s neck she could barely breathe. For months and months I couldn’t find you, Mommy…Where did you go?

  The lights blazed into her eyes, the room beyond dark, people just shadows and shapes. Guilt flooded through her, a sick self-loathing. And for a moment she wasn’t sure she could go on. Then she saw Jake move to the front of the crowd, a good three inches taller than anyone near him, his ruggedly handsome face familiar even in shadow, his teeth flashing white in a smile that was for her alone. His confidence in her almost a physical touch, a powerful belief in her that Deirdre could never feel toward herself.

  Deirdre swallowed hard, holding on to the love Jake was sending.

  “I’d like to open tonight with something a little different from my usual,” Deirdre said into the microphone. “A Cole Porter melody my mom used to sing, ‘Someone To Watch over Me.’ Mom, wherever you are, this one’s for you.”

  Deirdre bowed her head, breathed deep, waiting. The band played its intro and Deirdre reached for the music, indefinable, elusive, something so near her heart she wasn’t sure she could still find it.

  When her voice rippled out from her throat, Jake’s heart filled to bursting with the beauty of it, the ineffable longing, the exquisite loneliness, the silvery thread of hope that made him want to close the space between them, crush her in his arms, promise her he’d love her forever. She didn’t have to search for safety anymore. He’d watch over her for the rest of their lives.

  A hush fell over the crowd, conversations dying, trailing off until the room was filled with nothing save Deirdre’s stunningly beautiful voice.

  Her spirit poured out from the lips he’d kissed, her proud, courageous, tenacious-as-hell heart bared for all to see in a way Deirdre would never be able to reveal if it weren’t for the shield of her music.

  She’d shown them all, Jake thought. The self-righteous bastards. She could walk out of this place with her head held high and all that fire in her eyes. And she would know, for the rest of her life, that here in this room she’d reclaimed what was her own.

  Her power. Her strength. Her soul-stealing gift.

  As the last notes faded, dead silence fell. Jake saw Deirdre look up, as if shaken from a trance, her eyes full of questions only her audience could answer.

  Jake froze, knowing he couldn’t be the first to start the applause. It would only mean something if it came from someone who didn’t love her, someone with whom the music was the only bond.

  After what seemed an eternity, the room exploded, a roar of cheers, a thunder of clapping, a hundred faces filled with amazement.

  Jake felt the praise fill her up in places that had been empty for six long years. Saw her skin glow, her eyes sheen over with a pleasure almost as intense as when he made love to her.

  His throat ached as he clapped until his palms burned, adding his praise to everyone else’s. He might have been jealous if Deirdre hadn’t searched him out in the crowd. Her mouth formed silent words, meant for only him and he could barely believe they were real.

  Marry me.

  Jake staggered back a step, trying to believe it was real.

  “Encore!” someone in the crowd roared. Other people taking up the plea.

  Deirdre gave a graceful bow, then whispered something to the band. She straightened, spoke into the microphone. “The last song was from my past. This one speaks to my future.”

  Oh, God. She’d really meant it. She’d be his wife, Stone marveled as Nat King Cole’s ballad, “Unforgettable” cut straight to his heart.

  He was glad the lights were low so he could blink away tears. His chest felt too small to hold all this—Deirdre’s love, her triumph, his awe at the fact that this incredible woman meant to let him slip his wedding ring on her finger.

  It was all he could do not to tug her down from the stage and into his arms, carry her back to his house where he could make love to her for the first time knowing she’d be his wife.

  But tonight was Deirdre’s night. They had all the time in the world.

  A crowd of about ten people crossed in front of him, and Jake slid deeper into the crush, glad for his sudden anonymity, time to pull himself together. He heard a rustle of excitement, some late arrival no doubt. He closed his eyes, concentrating to block out any sound but the voice of the woman he loved.

  The music carried him away until he felt the intrusive press of a hand on his arm.

  “Jake!” the redhead trilled, smiling up with feral innocence. “Here’s somebody you just have to meet! A real blast from Deirdre’s wild past.”

  Jake turned in irritation, intending to shut the woman down. He found himself staring into a man’s face. Curly black hair framed skin that had spent time in a tanning booth. The man had the body of a professional tennis player and a suit that cost more than Jake could earn in a month.

  The new arrival offered Jake a hand adorned with a diamond the size of a lemon drop.

  “Looks like I made it to the reunion after all,” the man said heartily.

  “This is Jake Stone,” the redhead said.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you,” the man said looking at Jake with Emma McDaniel’s eyes. “I’m Adam Farrington.”

  Black rage roiled into Jake’s gut.

  “Dr. Adam Farrington,” the redhead exclaimed. “Jake is Deirdre’s date.”

  “Make that her fiancé,” Jake growled. He saw a flicker of fear in the man’s eyes before Dr. Rapist shuttered it away under cool superiority.

  “You’re a lucky man, Jake,” Farrington said levelly. “Deirdre has a real talent.”

  “But for what?” the redhead elbowed Farrington slyly. She slanted a glance up at the stage, like a cat sucking down cream. “Now that you’re here, Adam, the night is just perfect. I can’t wait to tell everyone the best news of all. The medical practice Adam is planning to buy? Why, it’s right here in Whitewater! Looks like our homecoming king is coming home to stay.”

  CHAPTER 19

  HATE RAGED WHITE-HOT through Jake’s veins, and in that moment he knew what Tank Rizzo had felt when he’d pulled the trigger. He wanted Adam Farrington dead.

  Dead.

  Before the good doctor could move back to Whitewater. Before Deirdre would have to risk stumbling into him on her way to the grocery store or the bank or Emma’s school.

  Dead before the innocent young woman Jake loved like his own daughter stumbled across Adam Farrington and found the man st
aring back at her with eyes the same as hers.

  Jake’s hands knotted. Damned if he was going to let the prick tear down Deirdre’s new confidence, threaten the new joy she found in her body and in Jake’s. Adam Farrington could practice medicine in hell for all Jake cared. But the asshole would practice it here in Whitewater over Jake’s dead body.

  Jake’s head pounded as he counted out the number of songs Deirdre had left in the set. It gave Jake time…

  To what? Grab the guy by the collar? Break his neck in front of Deirdre’s whole senior class?

  The bastard deserved it. Let all the prom queens and his swimsuit-model wife hear the truth about the son of a bitch. That he was lower than pond scum. A rapist who’d gotten Deirdre pregnant and left her to bear the shame of it alone.

  Farrington deserved to be exposed, Jake reminded himself. Deirdre didn’t. But there had to be some other way.

  Jake started at the sound of a voice at his shoulder.

  “Hey, Mr. Stone. I mean, Jake.”

  Drew Lawson. He’d told the kid to quit calling him “Mr. Stone.” It made him feel like he was eighty.

  So damned young, the kid smiled up at Jake as if he was a hero or something.

  “I just wanted to thank you for, well, smoothing things out for me with Emma’s mom. I can’t figure out where I goofed up. Moms usually love me, you know?”

  Funny thing about moms who’ve been date-raped, Stone wanted to say. They don’t trust guys who take their daughters up to make-out central.

  “Yeah, well, keep your nose clean when it comes to Emma, or you’ll deal with me.”

  Drew must’ve heard the edge of danger in Stone’s voice. The boy straightened as if a ramrod had been run up his spine. “Yes, sir. I promise, sir. I want you to know that I really love Emma. I’d die before I let anyone hurt her.”

  Jake stared at the kid’s earnest face. You’d die before you let anyone hurt her…but there are things worse than death. Living, and knowing, anytime, anyplace, your wife might have to face the animal who brutalized her. Or your stepdaughter might stumble across her father, find out… Emma, sweet, bright little Emma had been conceived in a night of violence while her mother screamed….