Love in Deed: A Silver Fox Small Town Romance (Green Valley Library Book 6)

by Smartypants Romance

  “Not hundreds, baby.”

  He’s kidding me, right? “Get out of here,” I whisper, but venom drips from my tone.

  “I’m just joking, Beverly. It wasn’t that many.” Is any number a limit? I’d say one outside the marriage is one too many. Obviously, Howard’s and my math skills differ.

  “I said get out.” My voice seethes, a bitter taste mixing with the saliva.

  “Bev, don’t be like this.”

  “Get out!” I scream.

  Howard flinches, but he doesn’t move from the kitchen. He combs his fingers through his thinning hair and holds the back of his neck.

  “We aren’t getting off to a good start. I’m going to the living room to relax a bit. When you settle down, we can talk.”

  “We have nothing to talk about,” I yell. “And I said get out. Get out of my house.”

  “Our house,” he mutters.

  “Mine,” I snap, picking up the blender I use for mixing soaps and hurling it at him. It comes nowhere near his body and hits the refrigerator, denting the old mustard color.

  “You’re going to fix that,” he warns and turns for the living room, removing his suit coat jacket as he walks.

  I scream at the top of my lungs, more like a roar, and then I turn for the back door, making my way as fast as I can across the drive. My vision blurs. I fumble over larger chunks of rock in the gravel but continue moving forward, pressing at the barn door and closing myself inside. Instead of leaning on the large wood, I hobble to the middle of the barn and scream again.

  Anger. Hatred. Grief.

  Why is Howard here? Why, why, why?!

  As the scream subsides to an echo, I hear a thump up above in the loft and recall the first time I heard such a sound. Jedd had just finished building his room in the barn, and I was snooping.

  “I know you’re up there,” I call out. The stillness within the old structure gives away his presence even more, and my thoughts flip through the feedings and finding him outside the garage. And then the night Jedd and I rode out under moonlight, I saw him slip his broad body through the slats and disappear inside this structure.

  “And I know who you are,” I yell even though I’m not certain. “Boone, you need to come down.”

  There’s still not a response. No movement. No sound. And unfortunately for me, I can’t go up. There’s no way I’d risk climbing the rusty rungs of the ladder leading upward a full story or more.

  “Jedd’s been looking for you,” I say, lowering my voice just a little. His questions about the house. The Crawford estate. His old home. Tears cloud my vision once again; only this time, I don’t blink them back.

  “I’m so sorry, Boone,” I whisper because I didn’t know. There’s so much I didn’t know. A boy turned to man turned to recluse, alone in a house on my land. I’d never seen him, but I also didn’t pay attention. I’d been too absorbed in myself, acting in my own reclusive behavior. “It’s time to come home.”

  The words are no more than a squeak as the sobs fill my throat, and I fall to my knees. With my hands over my face, I rock forward as tears bath me in all the regrets. Hannah. Boone. Jedd.

  Even Howard. I’ve wasted too much time and too much energy on him, and I’ve lost years because of it, because of him.

  No more, I cry. No more. But the tears continue to fall, and I let them. I need to let it all out.

  Drained of all emotion, I finally return to the house. I did walk down to the stables, worried about the horses needing food or stalls cleaned as Jedd is gone. Surprisingly, the animal care is done, and I smile despite my mood, thinking my guardian angel has taken care of things again.

  The days are slowly creeping longer, and it’s dusk as I enter my home. As the back door closes behind me, Hannah comes down the stairs, and Howard makes his way to the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?” he questions Hannah in her yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, a bag over her arm which holds her makeup kit and skimpy outfits.

  “To work,” she tells him over her shoulder as she approaches the coat hooks by the back door and grabs her jacket.

  “You work a night shift?” His eyes leap to me, accusatory once again.

  “I work at the Pink Pony, Daddy. Aren’t you proud?” His mouth drops open at the salty words, and she slips her jacket over her arm and reaches for the back door.

  “You’re a stripper?” His face turns white, and his lips drain of color. A sickening thought crosses my mind that Howard might have seen his own child naked and strutting her stuff without ever recognizing her. I shudder as the color returns to his face, morphing from blanched to pinkened to a deep maroon. “No child of mine will be a stripper.”

  “Pot meet kettle,” Hannah states, pointing from him to her and back. She turns to me. “Come with me.” It’s a plea of concern because she’s afraid to leave me alone with Howard.

  “Your…Howard was just leaving,” I answer, keeping my voice low. I reach out and pat her arm. I’m more concerned Howard will do something to the house without me present, and I want him gone.

  “Grizz knows you’re here, and I’m calling Jackson to come check on you as well.” The comment surprises me, especially as Hannah has issues with Jackson James, the sheriff’s deputy, because he likes to pull her over and issue unnecessary moving violation tickets.

  “We don’t need no small-time police coming out here,” Howard threatens, but Hannah ignores him, giving him a dismissive eye roll before opening the back door.

  “I love you, Momma,” she says, focusing her eyes on me.

  “I love you, too, sunshine.” I smile to reassure her.

  As soon as Hannah exits, Howard asks, “What’s for dinner?” and I turn on him.

  “I’m not running a restaurant here. Get out. And then don’t return.”

  “Careful, Beverly,” he warns. “Seems entertaining a man has made you smart-mouthed.”

  At this point, I should be frightened. He’s threatening me with his glare, but I know Howard. He’s a lover, not a fighter, and I don’t mean that in a positive way. He wouldn’t touch me. Gazing out the kitchen window, I see a figure, large and broad, in the receding taillights of Hannah’s car, and I know I’m safe. My savior-angel is out there.

  I’m ready to make my way to my room when another set of headlights illuminates the drive outside the window. Holding my breath, I want to rush to the glass in hopes Jedd has returned. The thought hits me hard. Will he come back?

  For another second, I consider Hannah has turned around and come back to force me to follow her, returning to her status as the domineering child over the stubborn mother, but I quickly notice the car is not Hannah’s, but a smaller vehicle. It’s a VW convertible Bug. As the headlights turn off, two doors open at the same time, and I’m shocked to see the outlines of my sisters.

  “Now what?” Howard snaps. He’s still standing by a kitchen chair, but his arms cross over his thin chest. The sight of him in a threadbare dress shirt strikes me as so opposite of Jedd. Sleeves to his wrists, Howard’s skin is pale compared to Jedd, proving he’s spent more time indoors than out. I have no idea what he’s done for work over the years, and I don’t even want to ask.

  “Knock, knock,” comes the false cheer of my sister Naomi as she helps herself to enter my house through the back door. Flabbergasted, I stare in amazement as my other sister Scotia follows Naomi in a sleek dress suit with a bright red skirt and coordinating blazer. Her lips are red to match. Her dark hair, with a single stripe of white, is perfectly coifed compared to the waves of our other sister, whose untamed riot is wild and long, giving her the appearance of a good-natured witch.

  “Well,” Scotia drawls immediately, addressing Howard, “look what the cat dragged in.”

  My mouth pops open.

  “Sissy…” For some reason, I relax. I want to hug her for being the demeaning woman she can be. She’s going to eat Howard alive, and I almost want to step back and see where my sister goes with this, but this is my fight
, and I need to get Howard out of here.

  “Howard was actually leaving,” I admit, turning to him.

  “Now, Beverly, we were about to have dinner. Perhaps your sisters would like to join us.” The sugar-sweet tone doesn’t settle with me nor does the inviting sentiment.

  “You are not joining us,” I growl, taking comfort in my sisters’ presence. Naomi crosses the room to the refrigerator, leaning against it like a human shield to protect the stock of casseroles and prepared meals.

  “We’ll not offer you a morsel,” Scotia states, holding firm to her spot as if moving might soil her ensemble. While pleasantly shocked, I’m still grateful for her presence. “What do you want, Howard?”

  Her condescending tone could make the best of men grovel, but Howard stands tall, attempting to exert status over my sister.

  “How’s your husband, Scotia?”

  “He’s dead,” she blurts, and Howard’s head snaps back. Score one for Scotia. Howard isn’t about to tell her anything she doesn’t already know about her deceased man.

  “Where’s your whore, Howard?”

  “Scotia,” Naomi hisses, and I pinken with shame on his behalf.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Howard states, but a trickle of sweat graces the edge of his brow. I must admit it’s growing warm in the suddenly cramped kitchen.

  “We can play this game all night, Howard. I can go twenty rounds with you if I need to.”

  “Oh, I’m scared,” Howard mocks, putting up his hands in a mocking boxer’s stance as if preparing to go rounds with her. His eyes dance. “What are you, a hundred by now?”

  “Bless your heart, Howard. I’m forty-seven, and that means I’m out of fucks for men like you. Now, tell us why you’re here.”

  Still shocked at my sister’s rebuttal, I almost miss Howard’s next words.

  “I don’t owe you an explanation,” he definitively states, but Scotia doesn’t blink.

  “Any explanation you offer will be weak, like you, but we’d like to hear it all the same.”

  “I’m here for my wife.”

  My mouth falls open, and I meet the eyes of Naomi across the room, who still has a hand on the freezer handle.

  “You forfeited your right to your wife when you stepped out on her. Then you left. She’s not your concern,” Scotia states, and my head turns to my oldest sister. She has always been forceful, but I’ve never seen this side of her.

  “What’s between my wife and me is none of your business,” Howard states, and I’m tired of being spoken about as if I’m not in the room.

  “The wife is present and has a name, and no longer wishes to be your wife.”

  Scotia turns to me for the first time, and her expression softens just a smidge from the Cruella de Vil look she has going. “I’ve filed for divorce,” I tell her.

  “Naomi told me,” she says, and I wonder when Scotia and Naomi became friends, although something tells me there’s more to the story this evening. They’ve never been friendly, not like this.

  “We aren’t divorcing,” Howard states, and all heads turn to him.

  “By the goddess you are,” Naomi blurts. I want to chuckle at my sister’s outburst but hold the laughter in.

  “Right,” Howard drawls. “Still up to your kooky ways.” Howard wiggles his fingers in the air as though he’s spooked.

  “That’s enough,” Scotia snaps in a disciplinarian tone with the addition of a scathing glare. “Get out of here, Howard. Whatever you want, you aren’t getting it.”

  “I own everything,” I tell my sister, who turns to me. “The land. The house. It’s all mine. Ewell left it to me in his will.”

  “Which means it’s mine by half because we’re married.”

  Naomi’s mouth falls open at this statement, and Scotia crosses her arms. “Being as Tennessee is an equitable state, I can see where you think that’s your right, but again, you forfeited that right when you left. No judge in his right mind is going to give you half this estate based on several factors.”

  I’m impressed with my sister’s knowledge of Tennessee law concerning divorce, and it makes me wonder if she ever considered leaving her husband, Karl, before his death.

  Howard’s jaw clenches. He wants to ask questions, but if he does, he’ll appear unknowledgable about the battle he’s trying to wage.

  “I have a meeting with my attorney tomorrow,” I announce, and Howard’s head swerves to me.

  “Janice?” Howard questions, a slow, sly grin crossing his face. He looks like the Grinch who stole Christmas, proud of his evil ways. “I’d love to speak with her again.”

  “It’s not a joint meeting,” I tell him. “And officially, my attorney is Ramirez Caeser.” Howard blanches a bit again, and it triggers the thought that Howard is familiar with the divorce lawyer.

  “I’ll be contacting Haywood.”

  Scotia shakes her head like Howard is a silly boy who doesn’t understand the consequences. “You’ll be hard-pressed to find someone sympathetic to you around here.”

  “Haywood and I go way back,” Howard argues.

  I have no idea if this is true, but something outside the window catches the corner of my eye. A flash or a spark, like lightning. It’s not uncommon for a thunderstorm this early in the season. The weather’s warming nicely. Spring is on the horizon, but that spark seemed a bit unusual. My eyes narrow, watching out the dark window for another sign. Thunder. Rain. It’s not warm enough for only a lightning show.

  Naomi’s head turns in the direction of my gaze. Finally, she releases her hand from the freezer and crosses to the sink to get a better view. Her head instantly turns back to me.

  “Jedd isn’t still out there?” she questions, knowing he moved into the house months ago. Panic paints her face.

  “No, why?”

  “Because your barn’s on fire.” The statement is made with cool calm, and Scotia steps over to the sink window as well.

  “Bless my soul.” The higher pitch to Scotia’s voice sets Howard in motion, and I reach for the cell phone I left on the table. Punching in the numbers for 911, I make a call I’ve never had to make and exhale into the phone when the dispatcher Flo McClure answers.

  “911. What’s your emergency?”

  “Townsen farm. Our barn is on fire.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  [Beverly]

  With Naomi’s assistance, I make it outdoors, frozen in place as the blaze begins in earnest. The structure is old and the wood brittle, so within minutes, the entire backside is engulfed. It won’t take long for the remainder of the barn to catch, and fear slowly creeps in.

  “There’s a tractor inside.” Gasoline could be an issue. “And what about the house?” I murmur, noting the distance between the barn and my home. Will it be enough space to ward off the leaping flames?

  “The horses,” I note, clicking through a mental checklist, but the animals are down the drive a bit and not in any imminent danger of flames.

  “Boone,” I whisper. Sweet butter on a biscuit!

  “There’s a man in there,” I say, the words catching in my throat and not reaching the volume or warning level I intend.

  “What?” Howard asks.

  “There’s a man in the barn,” I repeat louder as a hand comes to my chest. Oh my, Boone! My heart races faster as a chorus of who, what, and where follows from Scotia, Naomi, and Howard.

  “A homeless man,” I explain. “He’s been using the barn to guard against the weather.”

  “He’s what?” Howard asks.

  “How could you?” Scotia scoffs.

  “I’m so proud of you,” Naomi offers, and I turn my fearful face to her.

  “We need to get him out of there.” On instinct, I step forward, although I’d be no good at rescue efforts. Naomi reaches a hand for my forearm stopping me, and Scotia glares at me when she asks, “Where do you think you are going?”

  I turn to Howard. “He’s in there. He might need help.”
/>   Howard’s forehead wrinkles in disgust. “And what am I supposed to do about it?” If I’d never been disappointed in Howard before, this moment solidifies it. Not that he’s trained to rush into a burning building, but his total lack of empathy surprises even me. Thankfully, we hear the fire sirens approaching and see the rotating red lights in the distance.

  Within minutes, a fire engine, ladder, and tanker truck have invaded the drive. Carter McClure, the fire chief, is the first to approach us as his men begin the heavy work of lifting hoses.

  “Everyone accounted for?” he inquires.

  “Yes,” Howard answers as if he’s an authority, and Chief McClure does a double take at Howard’s presence.

  “A homeless man was living in my barn. He might still be in there.” I step forward, nudging my way around Howard. Carter doesn’t blink at my intrusion but begins barking orders about a possible person in the burning structure. I send up a silent prayer that Boone isn’t inside or has gotten out at this point. Then I notice the outline of someone who could be Grizzly Grady, and more prayers are sent out like the sparks floating around us.

  “Guys, I’m going to need you to step back.” Carter holds out his arms in a protective shield, forcing us to move. “Maybe the front yard would be safer for y'all?” he directs, and my stomach falls.

  “Is the house in danger?”

  “Shouldn’t be,” he clarifies. “We’ll set up a perimeter of water to deter the flames from traveling. At this point, Ms. Townsen, you must know that barn isn’t worth saving. There’s nothing of value in there, correct?” Some people store old cars or beat-up trucks under cover of their old buildings. Jedd’s already removed his bag and the trunk with his buckles and awards.

  “The only equipment inside is an old tractor.” I’d be sad to see the ancient thing go as it had new life under Jedd’s hand, not to mention Jedd and I shared kisses on it, but none of that seems important to mention.

  “Possible gasoline!” Carter calls out the additional warning to his men as he steps away from us once he’s ushered us to the front lawn. The air around us should be cool under the blackened sky, but the heat generating off the blaze feels like the sun landed in my yard. Tears prickle my eyes at the sight. Naomi’s arm comes around my shoulders, and I let her draw me to her.