Dying To Marry (21 page)

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Authors: Janelle Taylor

BOOK: Dying To Marry
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“If it's a girl, Dylan wants to name her Lizzie, after me. Isn't that sweet?”
Holly nodded, her heart too full to speak. “And if it's a boy?”
“Dylan Dunhill IV,” Lizzie said.
“I'm so happy for you, Lizzie,” Holly said, squeezing her cousin into another hug.
“I know you are, Hol,” Lizzie said. “I'm sorry for not telling you sooner than I did. There's so much I haven't told you, so much I've been keeping to myself.”
“You can tell me, anything, Lizzie. And I promise I'll never judge you again.”
And she wouldn't.
“I wonder what Dylan's mother is thinking right now,” Lizzie said.
“She's going to be a grandmother,” Holly said. “I'm sure she's thrilled.”
“Well, my mother was thrilled, that's for sure. But my mom loves me. Dylan's mother doesn't even like me,” she added with a frown. “And she might not be too thrilled about my being pregnant before the wedding.”
“I have a feeling she'll be so happy about her little grandchild-to-be that she'll forget about the timing,” Holly said.
Lizzie didn't look convinced.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I wouldn't be surprised if the value of our companies' stocks plummeted,” Mrs. Dunhill muttered, slamming the
Troutville Gazette
, open to the Town Tattler, on her desk. “This is an absolute disgrace!”
Jake and Dylan sat across from Mrs. Dunhill. Jake glanced at his friend; the guy looked like he was about to explode.
“Mother,” Dylan said between gritted teeth. “It's not a disgrace. It's a
blessing
. And it's too bad you can't see that. That's what's a disgrace.”
“Dylan Dunhill the Third,” Mrs. Dunhill said, “If your father heard the way you just spoke to me he would turn over in his grave.”
Exasperated, Dylan shook his head. “Jake, talk some sense into my mother, will you?”
“Jake isn't running around fathering babies out of wedlock,” Mrs. Dunhill snapped. “Or being forced into marriage because of it.”
Dylan started to rise, no doubt to walk out on his mother. Jake put a calming hand on his shoulder. “Mrs. Dunhill, with all due respect, I'm with Dylan on this. You're having a grandchild. That's something to celebrate.”
“I'm not about to arrange a parade for news of an illegitimate child,” Mrs. Dunhill said.
“Well, Mother, I guess Lizzie and I will just celebrate on our own,” Dylan said. “In fact, I'll be leaving now to do just that.”
“This isn't about my being old-fashioned,” Mrs. Dunhill said. “It's about morality. Propriety. Social standing. People in town look up to us.”
As Dylan and Jake stared at her with incredulity on their faces, Mrs. Dunhill picked up the receiver of her antique telephone and dialed. “Pru, dear, it's Mother. I'd like to see you in my office, please. Yes, dear, it's important. I said
now,
Pru. Not in five minutes.”
A few moments later, Pru Dunhill, looking as though she just walked out of a beauty salon, popped her head in. At the sight of Jake, she went into power flirtation mode, thrusting out her chest and twirling the ends of her hair. “Why, Jake Boone, what have you possibly said to upset my mother so?”
Oh, brother.
“Pru, come in, please,” Mrs. Dunhill said. “Have a seat.” She gestured to the chair next to Dylan. “Have you read the
Gazette
today?”
“I assume you're referring to the news about Lizzie's pregnancy,” Pru said, examining her nails. “I didn't read the column myself. Arianna read most of it to me over the phone. I was too bored to listen to the whole thing.”
“Bored?” Mrs. Dunhill said. “You find it boring that you're going to be the aunt of a bastard child?”
“Well, if it's a bastard, I'm not the aunt, am I?” Pru said.
“She's got you there, Mother,” Dylan said, shooting his sister a look. “So you have nothing to worry about. The baby won't be your grandchild if you consider him or her illegitimate.”
Mrs. Dunhill seemed to take this in. “Are you threatening me?”
“Threatening you?” Dylan asked. He looked to Jake and threw up his hands. “What the hell is she talking about?”
“Don't you dare use that language in this house!” Mrs. Dunhill yelled.
“Oh, but bastard child is all right?” Dylan said.
“Can I go now?” Pru said. “I have an appointment for a pedicure. This color looks simply awful with this dress, don't you think, Jakie?” She lifted her knee so and rested her foot on the edge of her chair. Her white, flowered underwear was visible. She spread her knees ever so slightly.
“Pru, I can see your underwear,” Dylan said. “A little decorum from the daughter of the Ettiquete Queen, please.”
“Pru Dunhill!” Mrs. Dunhill snapped, reaching over the desk to slap down Pru's knee.
“Mother, I'm late,” Pru said, getting up. “It's not like news about the pregnancy is any worse than news about the marriage, so why get all upset?”
Dylan stared at the ceiling and began counting to twenty. Again Jake put a calming hand on his shoulder.
“Jake, let's go,” Dylan said and stood.
“I'm not finished,” Mrs. Dunhill responded.
“I am,” Dylan retorted.
The moment they were outside the front door, Dylan kicked the brick wall so hard that he winced.
“Dylan, let out your aggression at the hoops, not here,” Jake cautioned. “The last thing you want is a broken foot.”
“You're right,” Dylan said, jogging down the steps to his car. “Let's get the hell out of here.”
Once in Dylan's car and on the road, Dylan calmed down. “I think Lizzie's cousin had the right idea by leaving Troutville. I can't even stand my own family anymore. And I'm beginning to hate this small-minded, gossipy, crappy town. I've been thinking a lot lately of leaving. Lizzie wants to stay, but I think we'd be happier somewhere else. Somewhere new. Where we can start a new life together without all these ridiculous prejudices and feuds.”
“Well, if you two do move, move to a bordering town,” Jake said, tossing his friend a smile. “The Boys' Center needs you.”
“I know,” Dylan said. “I'd never leave the center, although there are needy kids everywhere.”
“Speaking of the center,” Jake said, “according to Lizzie, she told you about the pregnancy at the center. She said there were several boys around. Do you recall if any of the boys could have overheard you? Or were any of them waiting outside the door as you and Lizzie were leaving?”
“I'm trying to remember,” Dylan said, turning onto Troutville Plaza. “I was so stunned by the news that just about everything went out of my head. Oh, wait—I do remember seeing Billy Mayville and Logan Jefferson before Lizzie came in. They wanted help with their three-point shots. And Jimmy Morgan was waiting for me as Lizzie and I were leaving, but I was so rocked by the news of the pregnancy that I barely acknowledged him.”
Jake's heart sank. “Have you seen him since?”
Dylan shook his head. “I didn't even remember him until right now. I owe him an apology. Until a couple of weeks ago, I spent a lot of time with him. And now, it's dwindled down to nothing.”
As Dylan pulled his car into a parking space near their offices, Jake could barely breathe.
Please don't let Jimmy Morgan be our guy
, he thought.
 
“Holly, right?”
Holly turned around to find Jimmy Morgan, the teenager she'd met at the engagement party, sitting on a bench, throwing pebbles at a stray cat who was trying to eat from a can of tuna that someone had left for it. Every time the cat neared the can, Jimmy tossed a pebble. Not hard enough to harm the cat, Holly noticed, but enough to frustrate the poor animal.
Lizzie's mom had come over with hugs and congratulations about the pregnancy, and Holly had slipped out for some fresh air. She needed to think about this morning with Jake—and last night.
“That's right. Holly Morrow. And you're Jimmy.”
“Surprise, surprise,” he said, jamming his hands into his pocket. “Usually I'm beneath noticing.”
“Of course I remember you,” she said. “You're Jake's friend.”
“I used to be,” he responded, throwing another pebble at the cat.
“Used to be?” Holly repeated. “Stop bothering that poor animal.”
“Forget it,” he said. “Just like Jake's forgotten me.”
“Jimmy—”
The boy jumped up. “Whatever. First Lizzie and now you. Before you came to town, Jake had time for me. And he was all I had left since Dylan went into la la land with his marriage plans.”
“Dylan and Jake both care very much about you,” Holly said, knowing she needed to be very careful with what she said. The boy looked as though he might explode at any moment.
“Funny way they have of showing it,” he muttered. “And now that Dylan and Lizzie are gonna have a kid, I can really forget about him helping me with my game or working with me on my algebra.”
You know about the baby?
she thought. She doubted Jimmy read the gossip pages. Then she remembered Lizzie's words:
There were some boys in the hall at the center when I told Dylan I was pregnant ...
Oh, no, Holly thought. For everyone's sake, please don't let Jimmy be the one.
With a shrug of resignation, Jimmy ambled off.
Slowly, Holly neared the cat. When the cute stray was convinced she wasn't going to throw a rock, it rubbed against her jeaned leg. She scratched behind its ears. “You eat up your lunch, little guy,” Holly said, stroking the cat's silky fur. For a stray, the cat was clearly well tended to. “Someone will take you home, I'm sure,” she said.
Jimmy clearly felt like a stray, she thought. But enough to take his anger and resentment out by hurting the person Dylan loved?
Holly gave the cat a final pat on the head and headed through the park, her mind heavy with questions to which she had no answers. A group of boys were playing basketball, some children were horsing around in the playground, but Holly barely heard the cacophony of sounds. She began jogging toward the pay phone by the public restrooms. Great—it was unoccupied. In an age when just about everyone had a cell phone except for her, pay phones usually were free.
Unfortunately, the pay phone ate her quarter and was out of service. There was another pay phone, if it was still there, by the tennis courts about a quarter of a mile away. Holly turned and started to head in that direction when she was suddenly grabbed from behind.
“Hey!” she screamed.
But something was placed over her head, something scratchy and heavy, like burlap. She resisted and kicked wildly, but whoever had her had too strong a grip on her.
Panicked, Holly tried to scream, but the burlap was tight against her mouth. She could barely breathe. She felt something going around and around her neck.
No! she screamed silently, flailing wildly to get free.
Suddenly she was shoved hard, and she fell against the ground. She heard footsteps.
“Help me!” she tried to scream against the burlap. “Help!”
She realized she was free. No one was restraining her. She pulled wildly at what felt like a rope around her neck. Finally, it loosened and she pulled it away, then ripped off the burlap sack.
She breathed deeply until she had enough air in her lungs again. And then she opened her eyes and looked all around her. There was no one. She'd been pushed behind the restrooms; behind her was a bank of trees. If her attacker had wanted to kill her, she most likely would be dead right now.
Catching her breath, Holly angrily tossed the burlap away from her.
And that's when she noticed the note taped to the front of it.
On an ordinary piece of lined paper was typed:
Go back home, Holly the Whore. Or next time, I will kill you.
Will had been underlined twice with red marker.
Panic rose again and gripped her. Her legs too shaky to support her, Holly fought for control.
Just get up and get the hell out of here,
she ordered herself.
Get up!
Finally, she found the strength to stand. And then she ran.
 
“Jake, Miss Morrow is here to see you. She says it's an emergency.”
Jake hurried to the door to his office and threw it open. Holly stood, pale and trembling, by his secretary's desk. Her arms were wrapped around herself. She looked scared to death.
“Holly?” he said, rushing over to her. With his arm firmly around her, he led her into his office. Once the door was closed, she collapsed against him. “Holly, what happened?” She shook her head, but couldn't seem to speak. He held her, stroking her hair. “Let it out, Holly. It's okay. You're okay now. You're safe.”
She began to calm down. She straightened up and he led her to the sofa by the window. “I—” She stopped. “I was attacked.” She reached into her tote bag and pulled out a burlap sack, some heavy string, and a white piece of paper.
Jake took it all and read the note. “Oh, God. Tell me what happened, Holly.”
She took a deep breath and relayed the terrible story, starting with running into Jimmy Morgan and ending with being shoved against the ground.
“I didn't want to think it was Jimmy,” she said. “But the timing, Jake. It looks very bad for him. He was so angry. And the way he was throwing the pebbles at that poor, hungry cat.”
“It doesn't look good at all,” he said. “But if Jimmy is the culprit, he's not just some lonely teenager mad at the world. He's a deeply disturbed teenager who is going to face some very serious consequences for his actions.”

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