Emily and the Stranger (28 page)

She shook her head. "Not now. Not when everything is so perfect."

"Everything isn't perfect, Emily. Not as long as your distrust stands in our way."

"My distrust?" Drawing away from him, she sat up in bed, resting her back against the headboard as she pulled the sheet up to cover her nakedness. "I trust you, Mitch. My Lord, I love you. I've forgiven you for the past. I've begged you to forgive yourself. I'd put my life in your hands."

Sitting up beside her, Mitch lifted a lock of dark hair away from her face, draping it behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her neck, caressing her tenderly. "We have to talk about it. The problem is not going to go away."

"Not now, Mitch. Later, after we know who's been harassing me and he's behind bars. I can't deal with so much all at once."

"Yes now. Not later. We can't put off facing the truth. We're going to discuss it now, while we're alone with nothing separating us, not even our clothes. Now, right after we've just made love, when we're both vulnerable and all our defenses are lowered."

"Please—"

"I love you, Emily. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know that I don't have a lot to offer. Not right now. But I can give you all my love."

No, don't say it! Please, don't tell me that you love me!
She wanted to scream at him, but it was too late. He'd already spoken the words, made the declaration—and she didn't dare let herself believe him.

The desire to run away overcame her, but she knew it would be useless. Mitch was right. Sooner or later they'd have to deal with her doubts. She only wished it could be later.

"Emily?"

Nodding, she clutched the sheet in her hand, wadding it into a knot at her throat. "You know…" She gulped in air, her breath catching on a sob. "You understand why I… How can I ever be certain that you really love me?"

"If you trusted me, you'd believe me." He let his hand drift down her neck to her shoulder, to rest there in a gentle grasp.

"I do trust you. It's just that … that…"

"You don't trust me. You think I'd lie to you. After what we've been through, you think I'd sacrifice myself to make you happy. That's what it all comes down to, isn't it?"

"I know you care about me, that you'd do anything to make me happy, to atone for the past." Emily bit back the tears. She wouldn't cry, dammit! Not now! "Tell me how I could ever be sure you truly loved me."

"There's only one way." He pulled her into his arms. The sheet separating them dropped away, leaving their naked bodies touching, her breasts against his chest. "You have to take me on faith. You have to believe what I say is true, believe that I'd never lie to you."

Tears burned her throat, the pain in her chest threatening to cut off her breath.
Take him on faith. Believe that he'd never lie to you.

Mitch sprang out of bed and hurried around the room until he found his jeans. Delving inside the back pocket, he dug out his wallet and held it up in the air like a trophy.

"I want to show you something," he said.

Emily stared at him, her heart racing, her mind a jumble of wild, confusing thoughts.

He flipped open his wallet, reached inside and pulled out a dingy piece of pink material. Emily gazed at the dirty scrap of silk he held between his thumb and forefinger. He walked back to the bed and sat down beside her, his hip bumping hers.

He grabbed her wrist. She balled her hand into a tight fist. Forcing her palm open, Mitch laid the tiny, grungy fragment in the middle of her hand. "See this?" he asked her. She nodded. "I've been carrying this little piece of pink satin gown around with me for over five years."

Every nerve in Emily's body zinged with anxious anticipation. Her breath lodged in her chest.

"When I heard what had happened at the Ocean Breeze Apartments that morning, I rushed over." Mitch's hands trembled.

Emily stared down at the scrap of pink lying in her palm, and knew on some instinctive level exactly what he was going to say.

"I was too late, of course, to do anything but watch," he said. "Moments after I arrived, a fireman brought out a woman wearing a pink nightgown. I didn't get a good look at her face, but I'll never forget her dark, singed hair hanging over the fireman's shoulder. And the memory of that pink gown seared into her back has haunted my dreams all these years."

Tears welled up in Emily's eyes. Oh, dear Lord in heaven, she didn't think she could bear for him to tell her more.

"I picked up a piece of her nightgown off the sidewalk." He bent her fingers, closing them over the tattered silk square she held in her hand. "Do I feel guilty? Do I blame myself? Would I do anything to make it up to you if I could?"

"Mitch, don't."

"Don't what? Don't admit that I owe you, that the collapse of a building my construction firm erected took your life away from you and now I want to give you a new life to replace the old?"

"Out of guilt and regret, not out of love."

"That's where you're wrong. That's where you're going to have to take me on faith. That—" he nodded at her clutched fist "—is the last secret between us. Now you know everything, have all the evidence against me."

Pressing her fist against her cheek, Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm going to throw this away. It's part of the past. You don't need it anymore."

Mitch grabbed her. Her eyelids flew open. She stared at him, trembling, tears trickling down her face.

"I love you, Emily. More than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. But I can't make you believe me."

"I want to believe you." She tried to smile through her tears. Her lips trembled with the useless effort. "Please believe me."

"I do, honey. My believing you isn't our problem."

"Will you give me time, Mitch?"

"If I thought time would change the way you feel, I'd give you all the time in the world. But if you can't take me on faith now, do you honestly think a week or a month or even a year will make a difference?"

Tell him you believe him! Take him on faith. You know you want to. He's offering you your heart's desire.

"Are you … I mean, do you want to marry me?" she asked.

"Hell, yes, I want to marry you. What do you think I'm talking about here? I want to be your husband. I want to give you those children you've always wanted. Be my wife, Emily, and I'll spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to make you happy."

"Please, Mitch. Right now isn't the right time to make such a monumental decision. I can't think clearly with you so close to me, so soon after … after… I need some time away from you to think."

"All right. Take some time. But please, pretty lady, don't break both our hearts." He kissed her. Softly. Sweetly. Pleadingly. "Don't you think that we've both suffered enough?"

Chapter 16

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"
R
od's upstairs waiting for you." Nikki walked into the storage room.

"He's early, isn't he? Or have I lost track of time?" Emily laid the knife she'd been using to open boxes on top of the battered old wooden desk, dusted off her hands on her jeans and checked her watch.

"He's early," Nikki said. "And something's wrong. When he asked if you were here, he couldn't even look me in the eye."

"Maybe I should go on up and talk to him. See what's wrong."

When Emily moved past her, Nikki grabbed Emily's arm. "I know you'd like to credit Rod's strange behavior lately to his artistic temperament, but you know as well as I do that there's a good chance he's the person who's been harassing you. And if he's the one who hired those boys to break into your house, then he's lost it. I mean
really
lost it. He could be dangerous."

"Just let me go upstairs and talk to him." Emily smiled reassuringly, hoping she could convey a sense of calm that she really wasn't feeling. She knew as well as anyone that Rod might be responsible for the harassment, but her instincts told her that he wasn't dangerous. Despite her convictions, she felt a sudden unease settle in the pit of her stomach.

"Scream if you need me. I have a gun in my purse."

Emily gave Nikki a disapproving glare, shook her head and uttered several tsk-tsks. Nikki shrugged, the look on her face one of pure innocence.

"All right, all right." Nikki waved her hands expressively. "So I agree with you. I can't see Rod as some dangerous stalker, either."

Sighing, Emily nodded, then headed upstairs. Rod stood alone in the middle of the studio, his gaze riveted to the new painting he'd just begun. Already a departure from his earlier, safer works, this abstract held the potential of being his best ever, Emily thought.

"Nikki seems to think you have a problem of some kind," Emily said, trying to convey both understanding and strength in her voice.

Rod turned around slowly and looked directly at Emily, his eyes bloodshot and swollen. A dark stubble covered his face. Apparently he hadn't shaved since the last time she'd seen him. His clothes were wrinkled, looking as though he'd slept in them. Normally Rod was neat, clean shaven and filled with energy.

"I—I won't be able to take any more lessons." His voice trembled every so slightly. "I'll probably be going away for a while."

"Why, Rod? Has something happened?" Emily approached him, but when he started backing away from her, she stopped several feet from him.

"I'm going to turn myself in to the police today," he said.

"Why are you going to do that? What did you do?" Please, dear Lord, don't let him tell me that he's the one who's been harassing me. Emily's stomach knotted painfully.

Slumping his shoulders in defeat, Rod bowed his head. He looked so pathetic. Like a lost and frightened child. It was all she could do not to rush over and caress his dark curls and whisper soothing words to him.

"I didn't have anything to do with either of those break-ins at your house. I swear I didn't." Lifting his eyes just a little, he peered shyly at Emily through his long, black eyelashes. "I wrote the letters and made the phone calls. I didn't have the courage to tell you face-to-face how I felt about you. I thought if I could be romantic, be your secret admirer for a while, then… But just as soon as somebody broke into your house and painted that warning on your mirror, I never sent another letter or made another phone call."

"You're the one who wrote the letters and made the phone calls, but you weren't responsible for the break-ins or the threats. Is that right?"

Emily wondered if she'd be a fool to believe him. Maybe so. But her instincts told her that Rod wasn't lying. There was no reason for him to confess to anything. The police had no proof of any kind against him. Only Rod's own sense of guilt had prompted this poignant confession. She supposed she should be angry with him, but she couldn't find it in her heart to chastise him when she felt only sympathy for him.

"I'm sorry that I ever did something so stupid, writing the letters and making the phone calls." Rod lifted his head just a fraction, his gaze dancing nervously around the room, not focusing on anything. "I didn't mean to harass you. The last thing I wanted to do was frighten you. I love you, Emily. I … I'm sorry. I'm going straight to the police and tell them what I did."

"Oh, Rod." Emily rubbed her forehead in frustration. "Do you want me to go with you and tell them that I believe you?"

"Do you, Emily? Do you really believe me?" Lifting his head completely, he looked directly at her. The tears that filled his eyes began to spill down his cheeks. "I would never threaten you. I'd cut off my right arm before I'd hurt you. I hope you know that."

"I believe you." She held out her hand to him. "Now, let's go clear things up with the police."

"You don't have to go with me. There's no need for you to put yourself through any more than you've already been through. I can do this alone." He walked toward the landing, hesitating before taking the first step down. "If—if I need you, I'll call you. Will that be all right?"

"Of course it'll be all right."

"Can you ever forgive me?" Not waiting for an answer, he bolted down the stairs.

Emily slumped against the wall, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her. Poor Rod. He'd courted her
in
a shroud of secrecy, with sweet, poetry-filled letters and breathy, lovesick phone calls. But he swore he hadn't been responsible for the break-ins. That he hadn't been the one who had threatened her, warned her to stay away from Mitch. And she believed him. But if it hadn't been Rod, then who? The only other person she could think of was Charles. But it couldn't possibly be Charles, could it? He was so … so … so normal. And normal people didn't have the house of someone they professed to love vandalized, did they?

* * *

"I cannot believe you're doing this," Mitch Hayden said. "The boy harassed you for weeks on end. And just because he says he wasn't behind the break-ins doesn't mean he wasn't."

"Look, if you don't want to go in with me, then you don't have to," Emily said. "I can do this by myself."

Mitch grabbed her arm, stopping her from opening the door to the Fairhope police station. "You can't post bond for him until after he's sent to Bay Minette. You might as well wait until they've made the transfer. If you insist on helping him, I'll drive you up there in the morning."