Alaskan Sweethearts (10 page)

“I always did like your grandmother’s rice pudding,” the older man said.

No one said anything for a minute.

Then Hunter rescued the conversation by looking at the clock on the wall. “We better get moving if we’re going to ready to leave for church on time.”

There was a flurry of ties and hats.

Scarlett was inside Hunter’s vehicle before she realized how naturally she had gone to his pickup and let Joey go to the older man’s.

“I should pick up my rental car,” Scarlett said as Hunter backed the vehicle out of his parking space. She didn’t want to get too comfortable with the arrangements. “I suppose it’s fine there, but—”

“Linda at the café knows the car is yours,” Hunter said. “She’ll see that no one bothers it.”

Scarlett nodded.

“I can’t believe my grandfather let a ring stop him from proposing to your grandmother,” Hunter said as he shook his head. “That was nothing but pride.”

“And I suppose you’re not proud?”

“Of course. I just don’t think I’d let it stop me.”

Scarlett shrugged. “Five carats is kind of intimidating.”

* * *

The drive into Dry Creek went faster than she thought it would. Before she knew it, she and Joey were sitting next to Hunter and his grandfather in a pew in the small church. Several people had greeted them when they’d entered, but the music had already started so Hunter had hurried them to their seats.

Everyone was singing a hymn, but Scarlett used the time to look around. A tall wooden cross stood at the front of the church, simple glass windows ran along each side of the room and two rows of pews filled the space. A strip of burgundy carpet covered the aisle between the pews. A small round bouquet of roses sat on a table in front of the pulpit. Sun was coming through the stained-glass windows, giving the room a golden hue.

At first she thought the time here was going to be solemn, but the music was cheerful, especially when Duane Enger, who the pastor introduced as their local Jazz Man, went up front and played some songs on his guitar that had everyone clapping their hands.

Then Pastor Curtis started to talk. Scarlett watched Joey’s face as he listened to the man speak about loving one another and she was content. She remembered at his age being fascinated by the miracles in the Bible. Moses and the parting of the Red Sea. Daniel in the lion’s den. David and Goliath. She hadn’t liked the daily life applications, though. Sharing one’s toys or obeying one’s parents seemed so boring compared to the excitement of the miracles.

After the final prayer, everyone was dismissed.

Scarlett stood and saw Linda, the café owner, walking toward her and Joey. Hunter was helping his grandfather put away some spare hymnals people had used. She noticed people glancing at the two men, but no one approached them.

She was about to walk over to them, but Linda reached her first.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Scarlett said as the café owner came near. “I wanted to thank you again for coming to my rescue yesterday. And for giving Joey the napkins to make his birds.”

“I liked the pink one,” her son added shyly.

That was another thing the Jacobson men had taught her son, Scarlett realized. He’d learned tolerance as well as more about birds. He’d informed her last night that he’d wear a pink shirt if he ever had to in an emergency.

She glanced over to where Hunter and his grandfather were. Neither of them looked up. And Hunter was scowling about something.

* * *

Hunter didn’t like Scarlett talking to people in the church here; he didn’t trust what she’d hear. He suspected there was still gossip about his family, especially if anyone had overheard them talking about the contract his grandfather had drawn up. He and his grandfather had been coming here for more than a year now and they were the only two men who had never been asked to pass the collection plate. The deacons assigned the job and they’d started adding the teenage boys to the rotation schedule to make the turns further apart for the adult men. It was clear that, while people might smile and welcome them at the door, no one trusted the Jacobson men with their loose change.

That attitude might find its way into words.

Hunter didn’t want Scarlett to think any less of them. He’d tried to make inroads with the people here. He had even gone to the head deacon and said he would be glad to do a job—any job—for the church and that he was good with counting and math. He didn’t go so far as to mention the offering plate, because he didn’t want the deacon to feel undue pressure. But Hunter thought the man would put two and two together since there had just been an announcement begging for more men to pass the plate. Hunter had been disappointed when he’d been assigned the task of straightening the hymnals at the end of the worship time instead. Asking him to stack the old books required no trust. The church planned to give the books away at the end of the year anyway when the new ones they had ordered finally arrived.

Hunter was stacking the hymnals from the latest pew when he heard footsteps.

“We’ve come to help,” Joey said, excitement in his voice as he and his mother approached him.

“We’re almost finished.” Hunter put a hymnal down. His grandfather was still bringing up a couple of books from the folding chairs at the back of the church.

“We should have come sooner,” Scarlett said. “But people stopped and—”

Scarlett gestured to the two other people who had walked up with her.

“If you’re done,” Linda Enger said as she came closer with her husband, “maybe you’d like to come to the café for Sunday dinner. We’re not open officially, but I went over before church and put a pork chop and rice casserole in the oven just in case we could convince some friends to eat with us. We have plenty for the four of you. I made a lettuce salad, too.”

Hunter smiled. Ever since he’d been up front about her missing salt and pepper shakers, Linda had done her best by him.

“I made one of my carrot cakes, too,” Duane Enger added. “With cream cheese frosting. And I know Linda has a batch of fresh rosemary rolls.”

Hunter looked at Scarlett. “It’s your decision.”

He could see out of the corner of his eye that the congregation was beginning to thin out. The kids, in particular, liked to do their visiting outside on the steps of the church.

“Joey and I would love to go,” she said to him, her eyes shining.

Hunter nodded. “Grandpa and I will be there, too, then.” He turned to Linda. “Scarlett and I just wanted to touch base with Mr. Monroe on business first. I called him last night and he agreed to meet with us.”

“The Monroes are welcome to come over to the café, too,” Linda said with a smile. “I have a big pan of the pork chops. We thought the pastor and his wife might come. Now that their twins are off to college, they get a little lonesome without them.”

Hunter didn’t mention that he also wanted to talk with Sheriff Wall. That would make everyone too curious and he was hoping to keep his grandfather’s scheme quiet as long as he could. “I’ll tell them if I see them before you do. Scarlett and I just have a few questions for Mr. Monroe so it won’t take long.”

“Sounds good,” Linda said.

By that time his grandfather had joined them and had already taken Joey’s hand. The small group started walking toward the door together.

Hunter turned to Scarlett. “You brought the copy of the contract?”

She nodded and held up her briefcase. “You told me to.”

“I see Mr. Monroe walking toward us now,” Hunter said as they stood there, more nervous about this meeting with the attorney than he ever had been in the past.

The attorney was a thin man in his sixties. He’d been a local rancher until he decided to go to law school several decades ago. He did a lot of property line work, wills, trusts and bankruptcy filings. As far as Hunter knew, the man still refused to do divorces except for a few exceptions when domestic violence was involved. He generally wore new denim jeans, a white dress shirt and polished cowboy boots to church and today was no exception. He saw that the man’s wife was leaving with Linda and the others, so the word had spread.

“Hunter,” the attorney greeted him as he got close. He nodded in acknowledgment to Scarlett. “I understand you have a contract for me to look at, Miss...?”

“Murphy. Scarlett Murphy.” She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a folded document.

“We can go downstairs to Mrs. Hargrove’s Sunday-school classroom,” Hunter said. “She said it would be quiet and we won’t be disturbed.”

“Sounds good to me,” the attorney said and the three of them went out to the foyer of the church to take the narrow staircase down. The church had a basement with long, high windows and concrete walls. It was painted white and looked cheerful with the red curtains the ladies of the church had made.

Mrs. Hargrove taught the kindergartners and first-graders and her classroom room was the last door off of the large main room. Hunter knocked lightly before opening the door. The room was empty, but the low table had been cleared off and a plate of graham crackers along with three small glasses of juice stood there, obviously waiting for them.

Mr. Monroe chuckled. “No wonder her classes are so popular.”

“That’s only the beginning,” Hunter said. “On Christmas she has candy—homemade fudge and divinity. On Easter it’s jelly beans. On Valentine’s Day it is heart-shaped sugar cookies. She’s a teacher and a baker both for children.”

Scarlett was the first to sit and Mr. Monroe and Hunter followed.

They were all quiet while Mr. Monroe read the contract Scarlett gave him. Hunter spent the time watching the sun shine on Scarlett’s face. He wanted to remember the serenity he saw there because, if his suspicions were true, her expression would change.

Mr. Monroe finished reading the contract and sat quietly for a moment.

“Everything looks in order,” he finally said.

“What?” Hunter protested. “There’s got to be a loophole. There always is. I want to fix this one. But I have to know what it is first.”

Mr. Monroe shrugged. “I sure didn’t see anything to worry about.”

“You mean it’s good?” Scarlett said, relief mixed with triumph in her voice.

Mr. Monroe picked up the contract again. “Just to be sure. Let me read it again.”

Hunter noticed Scarlett look at him, her eyes puzzled. “Did you say you want me to have the property?”

“Of course,” he said.

Her eyes hardened then and she nodded toward the door. “Can I speak with you a minute outside?”

“Sure,” Hunter agreed.

Scarlett was the first one out of the door and she was careful to close it behind Hunter when he stepped through.

“What’s your game now?” she asked the man she had almost come to trust. “You’re changing sides and I want to know why.”

“I’m not changing sides,” Hunter said with a grin on his face. “I’m just seeing more possibilities. I’ve always wanted you to have justice.”

The sun was shining through the high basement windows and she could hear the muffled sounds of children playing beside the church. The day was already hot. She wanted to live in this community. She wanted Joey to play with those children. But not like this.

“I told you that kiss didn’t mean anything,” she said, her voice maybe more fierce than it needed to be. She didn’t miss the way his eyes flashed. His face turned pink and his scars were more pronounced as his chin took a noncompromising angle.

“A kiss always means something,” he protested stubbornly. “Promise. Betrayal. Something.”

Scarlett took a breath. She didn’t want to argue. Not in the basement of a church. That was almost sacrilege.

“But a kiss doesn’t mean you have to take care of me,” she finally said. “My family doesn’t need charity.”

Her hand went to the chain around her neck as though to reassure herself. They might not have much, but they had this ring and their pride. They would get along without the Jacobson property.

“It’s not charity to receive what’s due to you,” Hunter said, his voice gentle. “I always take care of my—” He stopped. “Friends.”

His eyes softened toward her and Scarlett wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

She couldn’t care about him until she could trust him. She’d not make the same mistakes twice. She wasn’t getting divorced again.

She looked down. A church was a good place for confession and something had always bothered her about this. “Technically, we’re only entitled to half of that property. If your grandfather took the money from that last haul of gold and bought the land, we should have half. That’s all we’re due.”

Hunter stepped closer and put his hand out to tilt her face up.

“You’re going to need the whole of it to make a living.” His eyes searched hers. “Even then, it will be tough. And my grandfather owes it to your family for what he did. I think some part of him wants to make it right.”

“He’s not a bad man,” she said, keeping her eyes on Hunter’s. She might not be ready to go further, but she was willing to speak the truth.

“No, he’s not a bad man,” Hunter agreed. “It’s partly our fault—me and my brothers—we drove him to what he does. He didn’t have the strength to take us in, but he did. We were a burden on him. When I think of him being in his sixties at the time, I know it was a lot to ask.”

“Seeing him with Joey makes me think he loved having you three boys with him.”

She saw the change from frustration to tenderness on his face. “He always did seem happy when we were little. Maybe we weren’t as much of a trial as I thought.”

The sunlight was shining through the high window to their left and falling on him like a blessing. The sounds of the children playing faded away as he lifted his hand to her face again, this time tracing the line of her jaw.

“How do you always know the right thing to say?” he asked.

He was going to kiss her. She knew it. She tried to think of something to say in protest. A simple shake of her head would do, but she found herself mute and immobile. He had such very nice eyes.

But then she heard the click of a door opening.

“Oh,” Mr. Monroe said. He seemed surprised to see them so close to each other.