All That Matters (25 page)

“No, not wrong. We’re married. But it’s wrong if you’re only sleeping with me out of gratitude. What I said about not knowing how to love your baby...That’s the truth. I don’t. All I can promise is to try. If that’s not enough and you want to leave after the baby’s born, try to find a new life somewhere, I won’t stop you.”

He paused to grab a breath, then took both her hands and held them against his chest. “See how just being near you excites me,
darlin
’? I think you feel the same way, but there has to be more to our relationship than mind-boggling sex. I’m not complaining about that part, mind you, but we have to think about the future here.”

“Sometimes, you’re way too level-headed.” Faith rubbed her palms over the soft chambray shirt covering his chest, slowly traced his taut abdomen, then tucked her fingertips inside the waistband of his jeans. “I’ll admit I was grateful at first, and yes, I took your help for granted. But somewhere along the way, I realized my gratitude had changed to something deeper.” She tugged him closer. “Something surprisingly wonderful.”

“It did?” His heart leaped, did a crazy somersault, and landed back in his chest, amazingly intact. Did he dare to hope?
 
His dreams had been shot down too many times not to be wary.
 
When it came to fantasies of the heart, he’d learned to be pretty damn cautious.

Then she kissed him like there was no tomorrow, and Buddy Lee Walker threw caution to the wind.

O
n Friday, Scooter stopped by the shop to see if Buddy Lee wanted to go down to the courthouse with him. It seemed all of Liberty and half the county was turning out for the auction.

“No way,” he answered emphatically. He had his own reasons for staying away, choosing instead to spend his Friday focusing on putting some cold cash in his bank account. The hardware store’s beat-up van was waiting in the back bay for him to make it run another six months. Right. Everybody expected miracles.

But anything was better than watching while the Mustang he’d spent hundreds of hours restoring was driven away for a second and final time. That was
waaay
too much self-inflicted torture. He only hoped the new owner realized what that car was: a jewel of an automobile.

A feeling akin to deep grief settled in his gut, like he’d lost an old friend. . .And that was the dumbest thought he’d had in a long time.
It’s just a damned car, Walker. Get over it!

His life had changed so much in the past two weeks, he figured he ought to try selling it for a soap opera series.
 
Maybe that’d put his finances back in the black. Or at least close enough to be gray.

He tossed a wrench on the workbench and dug for a bigger one in his tool box. Not finding one in the greasy pile of sockets, screwdrivers and drill bits, he heaved a sigh of resignation and treated himself to a cold root beer from the vending machine. Might’s well accept the fact he’d never see that car again, unless someone from town bought it. Damn, he hoped that didn’t happen, either. Seeing someone else behind the wheel would be torture.

Pulling the metal folding chair away from the wall, he spun it around and straddled it, arms crossed on the top. The can of root beer dangled from one hand. He glanced out the grimy front window just as a long, black Lincoln glided past. Lionel Morgan on his way to the auction to gloat, most likely.

He clenched his jaw and mentally ran through his entire collection of cuss words plus a few extra. Although they’d come to a sort of impasse over his marriage to Faith, his father-in-law still had an uncanny way of making him feel like a loser.

He stretched to turn on the small, dust-covered boom-box on the counter. While Vince Gill sang about having forever in mind, Buddy Lee chugged root beer and thought about his sweet wife.
 
Forever
was definitely in his mind just then. To say he was a lucky man was like saying rain was wet, no doubt. And who would’ve ever thought he’d be happily married to the woman of his dreams. Of course, the shadow darkening those dreams was the all-out fact that he was still a struggling mechanic with very few assets and a truck-load of debt. Boyd’s boy wasn’t quite a success yet and couldn’t guarantee he ever would be. Was it fair to ask Faith to endure the only kind of life he had to offer?

He contemplated the alternatives and didn’t like any of them. Life without Faith wasn’t worth a plug nickel.

A commotion out front grabbed his attention as Scooter banged through the door, waving his arms like a windmill on fast-forward.

“B.L., you
shoulda
’ been there.
Sonuvagun
, the bids went sky-high. Over the top, I tell you. That ‘
stang
of yours was the star of the show.
Y’oughta
be right proud, all the work you done on her.” He balled his fist and clobbered the pop machine a couple of times. “‘Course, ol’ Royce didn’t have much in the way of assets. Some high-tech entertainment stuff. Not much else.”

Buddy Lee tossed Scooter some change and nodded toward the battered dispenser. “Don’t wreck the equipment,” he mumbled, doing a piss-poor job of acting like he didn’t care about the auction.

Scooter popped the top on his soda, launching into a detailed, bid-by-bid replay of the goings-on down at City Hall.

Buddy Lee thought he’d swallowed a crowbar, his chest ached so hard. “Who had the final bid?” The question slipped out before he caught it.
Gee, why not just ask to be crucified right here and now?
He tossed back more root beer to get rid of the crowbar. Didn’t work.

“Not rightly for certain, but nobody from Liberty,” Scooter assured him.

“How do you know that?” Maybe there was hope, after all. The car would have a new home far, far away.

“The bid was by phone. Can you beat that? The feller from the attorney’s office was in touch with the bidder on his cell phone. Some people didn’t think that was fair, but, shoot, if the guy wanted the car and had the money....” Scooter lifted his bony shoulders as if to say “Them that has, gets.”

Buddy Lee’s heart crawled back into place from somewhere down in his socks. Well, hell, that was that. He’d have to tell Faith now.

She’d stayed home, a wave of morning sickness laying her low for the day. Just as well. She didn’t need the stress and disappointment of watching him lose the car to pay off Royce’s debts. In fact, she’d almost insisted he stay at the shop until closing time. Said she needed absolute quiet to get over her wobbly feeling.

So, okay, but he still wanted to call and check on her.
 
The phone wasn’t in their bedroom, but she ought to be feeling better by now and, hopefully, would be up and about.

He dialed. Waited. Ten rings should have been enough to wake her if she was sleeping. He hung up and dialed again.
 
Must’ve dialed wrong the first time. Yeah, that’s it.

Ten more rings went unanswered and sweat popped out on Buddy Lee’s forehead. Where was she? Had something happened and she couldn’t get to the phone? A million scenarios shot across the video screen in his mind like the trailer for a suspense movie. He glanced at the wall clock. Nearly six. She should be home.

The phone bounced in its cradle when he dropped it. He slapped the light switches off, yanked the shop door shut, keyed the double-lock, and sprinted to his truck. In less time than it took to hiccup, he was squealing tires and burning rubber.

Scooter was left standing in front of the closed shop with a bewildered look and his mouth hanging open.

By the time Buddy Lee burst through the back door of his house, his heart was revved at maximum rpm’s.

“Faith!” His shout echoed back at him from the walls, then died off in the empty room. Searching for evidence that she was still home, his glance landed on the kitchen counter. And another damned note.

With what breath he had left, he huffed out a shaky sigh of relief as he read the sketchy two-liner.

Buddy Lee, I felt better and went for a walk. I’m at Mama’s. Please come and get me after you get cleaned up.

Faith.

Relief made his shoulders sag. She must be feeling better.
 
And walking was good for her. Doc had told them that right from the beginning. He wished he’d had time to walk with her and promised himself he’d make time real soon.

Yanking his shirttail from his jeans, he headed for the shower.
Clean up.
Yeah, her hint was so obvious he almost chuckled. Mustn’t go to the mansion in greasy duds. Wouldn’t do.
   
He pulled his shoes off, shucked jeans, boxers and socks, and by the time he reached the bathroom was bare as the day he’d been introduced to the world.

That thought stopped him right in his tracks. Twenty-five years ago today, to be exact, but who besides himself knew that little bit of trivia? Not that it mattered.

He soaped up, scrubbed hard—even his greasy elbows—and dried off. Towel knotted at his waist, he shaved, after-shaved, deodorized, and tried to slick back his thick, wet hair. After brushing his teeth until they hurt, he donned clean jeans and a fresh sport shirt. Pondered the sinking feeling that had slammed into him when he entered his lonely house. Before he’d ever called out Faith’s name, the hollowness in his gut told him she wasn’t there.

He’d become attuned to her presence, her scent, and the playful way she pretended to be busy in the kitchen when he knew damn well she wasn’t cooking anything. The way she laughed when he held up the take-out bag from the Pizza Palace or the Chinese restaurant just outside of town made his insides go all goofy.
 
Sometimes, if he was lucky, she tempted him with a kiss hot enough to scorch the paint off the walls.

In his own unsophisticated way, he’d become accustomed to her in his life. When she wasn’t by his side he missed her something fierce. Couldn’t imagine how it would be without her.
 
Sure as hell didn’t want to find out.

He checked his image in the mirror over the dresser, finger-combed his damp hair and declared himself presentable, even for the
Morgans
. If he was lucky, they wouldn’t be around, and he could hustle his wife back home. But when
had
luck
ever been on his side?

Oh, stuff it, Walker.
He shook his head to get rid of the self-pity keeping him company too much lately. He had Faith—the best thing that had ever happened to him—his loan had been extended to a doable deadline, his customers still straggled in to provide needed income. And he wasn’t behind bars.

Luck had played a big role in his life lately, and he’d best remember that. Now if he could just get past the “baby” issue. But the knot in his gut still bunched into a fist when he thought about Royce...and Faith.

Pushing the whole complicated mess from his mind, he concentrated on the woman he loved. That was all that really mattered. Wasn’t it?

W
hen he pulled into the
Morgans
’ drive, the unusual number of cars parked there caused a moment of panic but not surprise. Lionel and Beryl Morgan’s social circle included county and state big shots, and the CEOs of corporations in Austin, San Antonio, Houston and Dallas. More than once, Faith had told him about all her parents’ shindigs. Her stories made him glad he wasn’t society material. Why the
Morgans
chose to remain in Liberty was something of a puzzle to him, but solving it was not on his list of things-to-do today. No
sirree
, he just wanted to collect his wife and go home.

The truck ticked the rear bumper of a green Taurus when he maneuvered into a tight parking spot, but thankfully, didn’t leave any marks. He could almost swear the car belonged to Hap Donnelly, but that seemed highly unlikely. Taking a closer look at the array of parked cars, he thought it was damned strange that most of the vehicles were mid-size, family models. Not a stretch limo in sight. Hmmm.

He left his truck parked next to the green Taurus and made his way across the drive. Faith must not have known her folks were entertaining, or she’d never have walked over there. That’s why she wanted him to come after her, he guessed.

He rang the doorbell and waited.

W
atching guests mill about with drinks in their hands and awed looks on their faces, Faith paced near the mammoth stone fireplace gracing an entire wall of the sunken entertainment area of her parents’ home.

For most of them, this was their first visit to the Morgan residence, and their heads swiveled like owls, trying to take in their surroundings in one glance.

Everyone who knew Buddy Lee had been invited, and Faith had made certain her daddy spoke to each and every person as they came through the front door. He’d grumbled something about being ordered around in his own house, but had finally given in.

Faith knew he was having a difficult time climbing off his high horse. He’d been up there too long to make the change overnight. But this party was the first step in his descent into the arena of common folks, and she was determined to see that he didn’t falter.

“If you can’t act like the gentleman I know you can be, you can’t stay,” she’d admonished him upon arriving earlier that day to make certain her directions for the party were carried out.