A Home for Christmas (26 page)

She ended the call and returned the phone to her purse. “Your brother is being released from the hospital. I need to get over to his house and clean up any remnants of blood so Cory's distraught wife—who just suffered a miscarriage—won't freak out when she returns home and is reminded of what happened.”

“If you expect me to feel guilty—”

“I expect many things, the first of which is an apology for making your sister come to a jail to pick you up when she should be dancing the night away, showing off her fabulous new ensemble.” She swept her hand down her side, indicating her dress.

“You look great, Dix,” Grady said.

“I'm sorry, Dixie.” Blake said, and he was. He hated dragging her into this mess.

“Next, you can apologize to me, Mother and Daddy, Cory and Bebe—and not necessarily in that order—for forgetting that fighting is not how Fergusons resolve their problems. And when they're finished with you, Doc Prescott wants a word.”

Blake looked away. “If you'd like to lay blame somewhere, talk to Cory.”

“Well, I'd love to, but it would seem that his broken jaw had to be wired shut. So, you'll be doing the talking, and you
will
be forthcoming with a properly contrite apology.”

“I can't do that.”

“You can and you will, but I refuse to argue the point in the middle of a jail cell.” Her voice had gotten incrementally louder as she finished the sentence. She took a breath and a moment to regain her composure. “Do I have to sign anything to take him out of here, Grady?”

“No. You're free to go. Will you be okay with him? I'd be happy to take him home in the department's Jeep.”

“I've been standin' up to my brothers since I was a baby, Grady. He knows better than to start somethin' with me.” To Blake she said, “Let's go. We both have a mess to clean up.”

She started in on him as soon as he folded himself into her cherry-red Volkswagen Beetle. The same one she'd saved up for from waitin' tables at the diner in high school. “What is your problem? Have you completely taken leave of your senses? How could you storm into that house and accuse Cory of infidelity? Has that family not been through enough? They just lost a baby. Bebe has been in terrible shape since she came home from the hospital—something you'd know if you'd come by to check on her.”

“I sent flowers.”

Ignoring that, she continued. “Well, I've been taking food over. She doesn't eat. She doesn't sleep—”

Blake interrupted the flow of words. “I know what I saw.”

“Oh, this should be good. What was that? And while I'm askin', why are you dressed like that with filthy, bloody hands. Weren't you takin' Janice to the dance?”

“I broke down out in Coon Hollow.”

“Coon-Godforsaken-in-the-Middle-of-Nowhere-Hollow? What in the world were you doin' up there?”

“Looking over a piece of property where a client wants to build. By the time I got the truck running again, I was late pickin' up Janice.”

“Did you call her?”

“My cell phone died.”

“Oh, this just keeps gettin' better. Do continue.”

“I got to her house just in time to see her leaving with Cory. They drove straight to his house.”

“And?”

“And you know the rest.”

“Oh, no. You went off just like that? Did it occur to you that Bebe might have been sick? That he got Janice and took her to his house because Bebe needed a doctor?”

Oh God. His breath clogged in his chest. That thought hadn't entered his mind. Nausea churned his gut. That's what happened when the anger took over. How could he have let that happen?

“Are you tellin' me that you went off on Cory, half-cocked, because of something that happened between you two when you were teenagers? What was her name? Ellen?”

“Ellen. Tracy. Dawn. Tammy.”

Dixie mumbled. “Men. Never grow up. Stupid, adolescent—”

“He stole Tammy from me when I was twenty-six.”

“Good point. Any woman who can be
stolen,
as you so eloquently put it, is not worth having in the first place, but I digress. Back to your misspent youth.

“When Mother and Daddy sent you off with that preacher to build houses in Louisiana, you know, after you got expelled for punching that teacher in the face? I thought we'd never see you again. You were angry at everything and everybody. I didn't know you any other way.” Her knuckles turned white against the wheel. “But when you came home, you were the Blake that I've come to know and love. In fact, I can't remember you losin' your temper since then—until now.”

Blake raked a hand through his hair. “I really don't want to talk about any of this with you.”

“Well, you're sittin' in my car and I'm driving you away from the jail. That gives me the right to say anything I want, and since you have nowhere else to go, you will listen.

“I don't have to tell you that you have a wicked temper. You have to keep control of it, Blake.”

Blake chanced a look at his sister when she fell silent. To his utter amazement, he saw tears welling up in her eyes. He couldn't ever remember seeing his sister cry.

“I don't want to lose you, Blake. I can't stand the thought of things going back to way they were before Mother and Daddy sent you away.”

She was right. He knew it. She knew it. He felt awful for hurting his strong, seemingly unflappable sister. He closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. What was wrong with him? He'd completely lost control, and he made sure he never lost control. He had to.

Dixie sniffed. “You know what? You don't deserve a woman like Janice. For some reason, unknown to woman, she fell for you, and this is how you treat her?” Shaking her head, she pulled into Cory's driveway and killed the engine.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

“I told you, we have to clean up the foyer.”

Blake opened his door. “I'm going home.”

He got out of the car and walked over to his truck. “You can run, but you can't hide, Blake Ferguson,” his sister called after him.

Ignoring that, he put the key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened. It didn't even crank. Great. He'd have to walk. He turned the collar up on his coat and made his way down the sidewalk.

Dixie was right. He couldn't hide from the doubts she'd planted where Janice's motives in this were concerned. He felt terrible for not trusting her. But his brother, that was another matter. He didn't trust Cory further than he could throw him.

Still, if Bebe had been in a bad way since the miscarriage, he supposed it was possible that Cory had come for Janice because his wife had needed a doctor. Not likely given the fact he'd never played the attentive husband before. But possible.

Could he have made a mistake? Could old hurts and jealousy have stolen what little good sense he had and the most incredible thing that had ever happened to him?

“Who's there? That you, Blake Ferguson?”

Blake peered into the darkness toward Miss Estelee's house. What was she doing out on her porch on a cold night like this? “Yes, ma'am. It's me.”

“Well, come closer. Don't make an old lady holler.”

Blake sighed. “Yes, ma'am.” There was no denying a request from Miss Estelee. He walked up her sidewalk to stand before the porch.

“Come on up,” she said.

He walked up the steps. “Why are you sittin' out in the cold, Miss Estelee?”

She rocked a steady rhythm in her rocking chair. “Good for the circulation. So, you got yourself in some trouble tonight.”

“Word travels fast.”

“Doc told me.”

He should have known. They'd probably been at the Snow Ball when Doc got the call to come to Cory's.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Blake was taken aback. “Meanin' no disrespect, Miss Estelee, but I'm not sure we should be discussing this.”

“That's where you're wrong, Blake Ferguson.” She rocked forward and shook a short, crooked finger at him. “And twice you've been wrong in an evenin'.” Her chair squeaked when she rocked back and said, “I've took a likin' to that young lady doc. She's from good people. You got no right to be sullyin' her name.”

Blake rested his hands on his hips. The last thing he needed right now was a dressing down from Miss Estelee.

“She didn't do them things you said.”

Hell, he knew that now, but . . . ”How do you know?”

“I know.”

Here we go
, he thought.
She's about to launch into a discourse on the latest antics of the Ridge's supposed resident angels.

“Pride comes before a fall. That's what the Good Book says. I reckon you fell good and hard.
Mmm-hmm.
”

He took a step back. “If that's all, Miss Estelee, I should be gettin' home.”

“Oh, that ain't all. Trust is a precious thing. Once it's broken, it takes a heap of fixin' to get it back. That is, if a body cares to get it back.”

Blake puzzled over her words, trying to decipher their meaning. “Are you talking about my trust being restored?”

“Yours was never broke.”

She said the words that only confirmed what he already knew. Dread filled his heart at hearing it out loud. “I have to go.”

He walked down Miss Estelee's sidewalk out onto the one that ran parallel to Ridge Road. He looked to the left. Another two blocks and he'd be home. He could shut himself away there and nurse his wounded ego. Maybe not show his face in town for a few weeks until everything blew over. He looked right, back toward the lights of town, his brother's house, and Janice.

His sigh was heavy. He turned right and retraced his steps to his brother's.

Chapter 13

Janice was gone. She'd apparently left town immediately following the fiasco the night of the Snow Ball. When she hadn't returned by Christmas Eve, Blake took himself to Doc Prescott's and faced the music.

“I don't know where she is and if I did, I wouldn't tell you.”

“Sir, I know what I did was unforgivable, but I want—I mean, I
have
to try to make it right.”

“I'm sorry, but you lost that right when you broke my grandniece's heart.”

Blake sat in the chair situated in front of Doc Prescott's desk. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, so that he could look into the older man's eyes. “Doc, I love Janice.”

“Is that so? Do you treat all the women you love with mistrust? I shouldn't have to tell you trust is not something that comes easily to Janice. If you'd taken the time to get to know her as you should, you'd know that.”

The doctor wasn't saying anything Blake hadn't repeatedly beaten himself up over in the past week. “Can you at least tell me when she left?”

“When I returned from taking your brother to the hospital, she'd packed her bags and was gone. Although why I'm telling you even that much is a mystery, because it was your actions that took her away from me. I think you should leave, and take that cat with you. She complains incessantly. Nothing I do consoles her. She found a home with Janice and is lost without her.” He ended with a sneeze.

Blake looked around the office and found Angel lounging on a stack of files. As if aware of the attention, she meowed. He knew how she felt. He was lost without Janice, too.

Walking over to where she sat, he scooped her up into his hand. At the door, he turned back to Doc Prescott. “I have no right to ask anything of you, but if she calls, will you tell her I desperately need to speak with her?”

“She won't call.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She sent me a postcard from the airport saying she was taking a trip and that I shouldn't worry. She also said she wouldn't contact me until she returned.”

“Where did she go?”

“As I said, I don't know.”

Think, Blake. Think. In the time they spent together, had she mentioned a trip she'd planned? Where did she say she was going before she'd decided to spend the holidays in Angel Ridge?

“Was there something else?” Doc Prescott prompted.

“Skiing.” Blake re-entered the office and began pacing. “She said she'd planned to go skiing before she decided to spend her vacation here.”

“Yes, well, that certainly narrows the field.”

“Oh! I didn't know you had company.”

Both men turned to see Miss Estelee standing in the doorway. The doctor rose. “Come in, my dear.” He jerked a thumb in Blake's direction. “
He
was just leaving. What brings you by?”

“I thought I'd be here for the call.”

“Call?” both men said at once.

“Your grandniece is about to call.”

Blake looked from Miss Estelee to Doc Prescott, staying with the latter. “You knew she was going to call all along,” he accused.

“I knew no such thing.”

The phone rang. The two men just stared at it. No one moved to answer it.

After three rings, Miss Estelee said, “Well, shouldn't someone get that? She might not call back.”

Doc Prescott held up a hand to warn Blake off and beat him to the phone. “Hello? Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you called.
Um
—just a moment, Janice. I need to clear some riff-raff out of my office.”

Glaring at Blake, he pointed at the door. Miss Estelee stood and took his arm. “Drive me home, would you Blake? My old bones are a achin' somthin' fierce today.”

Miss Estelee ushered a resisting Blake out the door, and Uncle Charles continued the conversation.

“I'm so sorry about that.”

“Is something wrong, Uncle?”

“No, dear. Everything is fine now that you've called.”

She hesitated, as if weighing her words. “I won't keep you. I just wanted to wish you Merry Christmas.”

“Christmas is tomorrow, dear.”

“I know, but I thought you might spend the day with Miss Estelee, and I don't know her number.”

“Well, I had planned to spend the day with my grandniece.”

She sniffed. “I'm sorry, but I had to leave. I just couldn't stay any longer.”

“Dear, I know everything. I know you're hurt, and I wish you'd come home so I can help you through this.”

Surprise laced her words. “You know?”

He sat heavily. His chair creaked with the effort. “Yes.”

There was a long pause of silence on the other end of the line before she said, “Do you believe what Blake said about me and his brother?”