Fox River (22 page)

She cocked her head and smiled down at him. From this angle she could see every sunbleached strand of hair peeking from under his cowboy hat. His jeans were faded and dusty, his T-shirt the color of winter grass. He was, in a word, gorgeous.

“You might not be smiling when we’ve finished,” he warned.

“I feel like I can do anything.”

He grinned, pushing his hat farther back as he did. “Some men would take that as an invitation.”

“Well, some men are bolder than others. They grab whatever they want.”

“And is that the way you like your men?”

She pretended to consider, then she smiled. “What challenge do you have for me today?”

“We’re going for a trail ride. You need some practice outside the ring.”

She was surprised and pleased. “Really? You trust me?”

“I’d trust a five-year-old on Whitey. But yeah, I trust you. Let’s go.” He swung up into the saddle. “Ranger hasn’t had any exercise today. Normally I don’t take him riding for the fun of it, but we’ll make an exception. This is a celebration.”

As a child she had dreamed of riding across pastures, through forests, over hills. Fear had made that impossible, but now Christian had paved the way. She was anxious at first, but once she got used to the easy rhythm, she relaxed. He rode ahead, then circled back at a gallop, to take the edge off the Thoroughbred’s energy. They cantered together through rolling pasture; then, at a walk again, he rode beside her in companionable silence.

“What do you think?” he asked at last.

“I love it. This must be what it’s like to hunt. At least a little.”

“Except we’re not wearing funny clothes.”

She laughed. “I have photographs of my father, dressed as master. He was…dashing. That’s the only word for it. I like those funny clothes.”

“Do you want to hunt?”

“No.”

“Why not? You’ve come this far.”

“Well, I’d have to jump fences. There’s no chance of that.”

“No? That’s too bad, because that’s your next lesson.”

Her smile disappeared. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s the next thing you need to learn.”

“I don’t care if I learn to jump. I just wanted to be comfortable on a horse.”

“You know you’d be welcomed by Mosby. Now that Fidelity’s riding with us, you’re the only holdout. Robby rides, too, when he’s not trying to make his father angry.”

“People haven’t forgiven my mother for posting Ashbourne.”

“But you’re not your mother. And your father was master. That’s what people will think about when you ride with us.”

“I’m not good enough to foxhunt.”

“But do you want to be?”

Whitey moved restlessly beneath her, and Julia steadied her without thinking about it. “I don’t know. I used to hear the hounds early in the morning, off at Claymore Park or South Land, and…I don’t know if I have the courage to do this.”

“You’ve come so far. Come a little further. We’ll take it slow. You’ll feel like you’re flying. Like you have wings.”

If anyone else had suggested this, she would have refused immediately and permanently. But she was beginning to think Christian could persuade her to do anything.

“How do we start?”

“There’s an easy jump coming up. It’s pretty basic. You won’t even know you’ve done it.”

Her heart began to pound simply at the thought. “I don’t know….”

“We’ll look at it, then you can decide.”

They turned into the woods that bordered the pasture and picked their way downhill and over an old stone bridge. Ten minutes later Christian pointed. “Over there.”

Against the darkening sky Julia saw an uneven split rail fence. One section was lower than the rest.

“For us,” Christian said. “Easy as sin.”

“For you, maybe.”

They stopped at the edge of the field. “Want me to show you how it’s done?”

She bought time. “Sure.”

He urged Night Ranger into a canter, and before her heart could climb into her throat, the big gray was sailing effortlessly over the rails. Christian and the horse disappeared into the woods beyond, then came out and took the fence again. He rode up beside her. “What do you think?”

“I think I’d better go home now. It’s past my curfew.”

He must have seen the fear. Lord knew, she couldn’t cover up something that enveloping. He looked thoughtful.

“I don’t want to fall off,” she admitted. “Falling terrifies me.”

“You are going to fall off. If you ride, you’re going to fall eventually. That’s just the way it is. But that’s why I’m giving you lessons. So you’ll develop the right habits and fall infrequently. If you fall off during a hunt, you’ll have to help throw a party at season’s end. You and half a dozen other perfectly healthy people who made an involuntary dismount or two. It’s all good fun.” He paused. “We’ll go over together.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re safe with me.”

“There’s not enough room for both horses to take it.”

“No, I mean
together.
On Night Ranger.”

“How?”

“I’ll show you.” He dismounted and held Night Ranger’s reins. “Just tie a knot and loop Whitey’s reins over that stump.” He nodded to one side. “She’ll wait.”

She silently debated.

“Have I steered you wrong, Jules?”

She smiled at the nickname. He had begun calling her Jules at their first lesson, although no one else ever had. “No.”

“I won’t. I promise. Get down. It’s going to be dark soon.”

She did. She settled Whitey at the stump, then walked slowly back toward Christian. “I’m used to Whitey. Night Ranger scares me.”

“I’ll be with you. Nothing will happen. I’ll hold the reins while you mount.”

She almost refused. He must have seen it in her eyes, because he put his arms around her, and before she could blink, he kissed her.

The ground fell away at her feet. The sky descended. Her arms crept around him, and she kissed him back with no hesitation whatsoever.

He finally stepped away, but only after kissing her cheeks, her chin, her forehead.

“Christian, my father broke his neck and died when he fell off a horse.”

“From what I know of your father, that was the way he wanted to go. From all accounts he was as reckless as the devil. Harry Ashbourne chose to take chances. You don’t have to take as many. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Life was filled with risks, but none so personal as this. Even though Julia remembered little about her father, she did remember a powerful man who had scoffed at weakness. Now she could almost hear him tell her not to give in to fear.

“By the way, did you notice I just kissed you?” Christian said.

“Can we take that up later?”

“Just tell me if you might want me to do it again sometime.”

She put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him hard. “Christian, we’ve got to do this now, before the kiss wears off and the sun sets.”

He grinned. “Up you go.”

She was seated on Night Ranger before she had time to reconsider. “What about you?”

“Here I come.” He swung up behind her. Despite her petite size, the saddle wasn’t really big enough for two, but that seemed to be the least of her worries. “Hook your feet over my legs. I’ve got the stirrups. And sit back against me.”

That last part was easy—and thrilling. He circled her with his arms, reins in each hand. “We’re going to fly, Jules. Don’t do a thing. Just enjoy it.”

She bit her lip, so recently and thoroughly kissed.

He didn’t ask if she was ready. He probably knew she wasn’t and wouldn’t be. He urged Night Ranger into a canter. “Okay, when we lift off, just lean forward and grip with your knees. I’ve got you. You can’t fall. Don’t close your eyes.”

She was terrified. The fence was coming toward them at an alarming rate. At first she was sure they weren’t going over, then she was afraid they were.

Then they had.

Christian reined Ranger in on the other side. “Still there?”

She thought she’d probably left some part of herself on the other side of the fence. “Am I?”

“How do you feel?”

She wasn’t quite sure.

He coaxed Ranger forward, circling until they were heading back across. This time she was ready, and when they lifted high, she crouched and squeezed her knees.

“Good. Much better.” He circled again. Then again.

Finally he pulled the big horse to a halt and swung down. But he didn’t hold out his hand to Julia. “Okay, Jules. Your turn. You do it alone this time.”

She hadn’t been frightened enough to ignore the way his hard body had moved along her back, the strength in his arms. “I can’t. This is Night Ranger.”

“Who better?”

“Will he listen to me?”

“We’ll see.” He grinned. The answer was there.

A challenge had been issued. She straightened her shoulders and waited while he shortened the stirrups. Her hands were trembling, and she was sure the horse would respond badly to her fear. But he stood perfectly still, waiting for her command. It was now or never. She knew if she turned away, she would never get this far again. A door would stay closed in her life.

And Christian would think she was a coward.

“Just remember not to pull up as you reach the jump or while you’re going over,” Christian said. “That’s the worst thing you could do. Commit yourself, then go for it. Night Ranger will do the rest.”

“See you,” she said. She gathered the reins and squeezed Ranger lightly. He started toward the fence, as game as he had been the first time. They rose together, flying. She didn’t even bounce as they came back to earth. She circled him and took it from the other side.

Christian was waiting near Whitey, his arms outstretched. Night Ranger had hardly stopped before she leaped to the ground and threw herself into his arms.

He swung her around. “I knew you’d do it!”

“It was wonderful! Wonderful!”

“I’m so proud of you.” He cupped her face in his hands. “If you did that, you can do anything.”

Her eyes were shining. She didn’t close them when he kissed her again. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him as close as she could. Triumph changed to something else. She pulled away a little.

“Did you kiss me before just to give me courage?” Her breath was coming fast, and so was his.

“I kissed you because I couldn’t wait another minute.” He unhooked her barrette and twisted her hair in his hands. He kissed her neck. “The teacher isn’t supposed to take advantage of the pupil.”

“What if she wants to be taken advantage of?”

“Does she?”

She kissed him in answer.

He groaned. “Then here’s how we’ll play it. We’ll take it slowly for a while. I’ll give you time to get used to this, in case you change your mind. Then it’s no holds barred.”

She gripped his shoulders. “It’s no-holds-barred right now. We’ve taken it slowly enough, don’t you think?”

“Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying I fell in love with you at the Middleburg Races. Then I had to learn how to ride just to get your attention. I’ve waited long enough.”

“Jules, you always had my attention.” He gathered her against him, and they sank to the soft grass. Ranger wandered away to inspect the pasture near Whitey, and the sky darkened into night. The ground was damp against her back once Christian had undressed her. She didn’t care. He was warm against her, young and strong and nearly as inexperienced as she. Nothing mattered. They touched and kissed and laughed, and when he was finally inside her, they moved together with rash enthusiasm as their horses grazed contentedly nearby.

B
oth Mel and Peter had told Christian not to investigate Fidelity’s death. He understood their qualms. He had some of his own. But nobody else had his investment in discovering all the facts.

In Christian’s mind, too much didn’t add up. Although Zandoff claimed to have been working in Middleburg when Fidelity was murdered, no one had remembered him. Since Zandoff claimed that the man he had worked for had never reported his wages, his employment was still a question mark.

Then there was the matter of Zandoff’s other crimes. Zandoff strangled his victims. He had not, to anyone’s knowledge, used a knife or committed robbery, although he had always taken some token to remember the experience. He had carefully removed the bodies afterward and buried them. And he had attacked his victims sexually before killing them. There hadn’t been any sign that Fidelity had been sexually assaulted, just murdered, without even a sign of struggle.

As long as questions remained, Christian knew that some people would believe he’d been involved. His own freedom might still be taken away, and having that threat hanging over his future was unbearable.

Almost more unbearable was not knowing exactly what had happened to Fidelity and why. She deserved to be at rest, the beloved daughter of Flo and Frank Sutherland and nothing more.

At breakfast the next morning Christian reluctantly asked Peter for a ride into Leesburg so he could get a driver’s license. Peter left him at the driver’s license bureau with the keys to his Lincoln. Peter was going to lunch with a friend, and he planned to have her drop him off at home.

Paperwork and driver’s test completed, Christian got behind the wheel and considered his alternatives. He felt none of the exhilaration that he’d felt at sixteen, celebrating his first license. He was glad, though, to have the freedom to pursue his quest. And he knew where he wanted to start.

Half an hour later he was at McDonald’s, sitting across the table from Pinky Stewart, the sheriff’s deputy who had found Fidelity’s jewelry.

As a sophomore in high school, Pinky had moved to Northern Virginia from South Carolina, and Christian had befriended him. As seniors they had been on the baseball team that had taken state honors, Christian the pitcher, Pinky at first base. He was pink-cheeked—hence the nickname—and round-faced, balding now, but still boyishly cheerful. He had been thrilled to see Christian, despite dark looks from his colleagues, and he had agreed to have coffee with him when it would have been in his professional interest not to.

“You don’t look half bad, considering,” Pinky drawled. “I was glad it was me that found the jewelry. I couldn’t do a damned thing for you when you were on trial, but I dug extra hard when I heard what we were looking for.”

Despite the knot in his stomach, Christian had to smile a little. He obviously had one supporter in local law enforcement. “Were you surprised to find it?”

“Maybe a little. There wasn’t a lot of reason to think you didn’t kill her. Just that I knew you didn’t have murder in you. At least I didn’t think you did.”

Christian thought maybe he had “murder in him” now if he discovered that someone in addition to Zandoff had helped kill Fidelity and stolen nearly nine years of his life.

“There are still some unanswered questions,” Christian said. “Too many for my taste.”

“Not enough to keep you in prison.”

“I want to know exactly what happened.” Christian explained why.

Pinky listened, tapping his fingers to the rhythm of Christian’s words. “What are you telling me for?” he asked, when Christian had finished.

“I need help. I wasn’t there during the investigation. I don’t know what they found and what they didn’t. Were there other leads they didn’t pursue because they thought they had me cold? And how far have they gotten trying to prove that Zandoff was in town? Exactly what do they know that I don’t?”

“Those records are confidential, Chris. You know I can’t tell you anything.”

“Hasn’t the legal system screwed me one time too many?”

Pinky was silent, but his fingers continued to drum. “You know, I’m not very good at what I do. I don’t have the killer instinct, if you know what I mean.”

“For nine years I saw the killer instinct firsthand.”

“Yeah, well, Sheriff Gordon’s not all that pleased with my work. He’d fire me given one little chance. He’s got a nephew who wants my job worse than he wants the neighbor girl’s soft little pussy.”

“That bad, huh?”

Pinky grinned. “I’m looking at the fire department.”

“What are your chances?”

“Good enough to take some risks.” Pinky leaned closer. “I’d love to rub Sheriff Gordon’s ugly old face in this. You know? I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t expect anything right away, and don’t come around again. Call me at home.” Pinky reached for his wallet and pulled out a business card. “You remember Wanda Swensen?”

Christian thought he’d better try if he was going to keep Pinky’s friendship. He pictured his schoolmates and was rewarded with the vision of a delicate blond with an unfortunate nose. “I do.”

“We been married four years. Here’s our little boy.” He handed Christian a photograph. Christian had been right about Wanda’s nose. “He looks like a little stinker.”

“He is. Keeps us hopping. Wanda’s pregnant with number two. We’re hoping for something quiet this time. Either sex. Just quiet.”

Christian gave him back the photograph. “You’re a good friend, Pinky.”

“Come over sometime. We’ll throw a few balls. Hell, who knows, we might start another team.”

Yvonne had asked Julia to come every day for the first week, and Maisy had been more than willing to make the trip. Today she was making a detour, so they left early.

“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going?” Julia said.

“I’m not. It’s a surprise.”

“Like the clay.”

“Did you like it?”

As a matter of fact, Julia had liked it a lot. After she’d taken out weeks of disappointment by slamming it around, she had begun to pinch off little bits, using her fingers to sculpt human figures, trees, horses. She wasn’t sure anyone else would have been able to tell what she was doing—Callie had asked why her mother was making circus animals—but the vision in Julia’s head, the vision of a quiet forest, had begun to take shape and clarify as she’d worked.

She told her mother as much. “I’m glad you thought of it,” she finished.

“Well, this isn’t the same kind of surprise. This one’s about me.”

“Good for you. I can’t wait to see…” She grimaced. “Truer words were never spoken, huh?”

“Well, even if you don’t
see
this, you’ll feel it. Big time.”

Julia fell silent. Talking in the truck was difficult. And even though it was cooler today, the windows were half open and wind rushed through. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. When she awoke, they were just pulling to a stop.

“I don’t think this will take long. I’ve done most of the preliminaries by telephone,” Maisy said.

“Where are we?”

“At the Ford dealer. I’m picking up a new truck. Jake would drive this turkey until it dissolved into a pool of motor oil.”

“Does he know?”

“No, he does not.”

“Good Lord. What’s he going to say?”

“Jake will love it once he’s used to it,” Maisy said. “But this isn’t about Jake. It’s about me. I’m tired of making do when we don’t have to. We need a new vehicle, and we’re getting one today.”

“I’ve never seen you like this.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Julia laughed a little. “Well, that’s true enough.”

“I’m sorry. We haven’t gone through all the sight clichés quite yet, have we?”

“Not even close.”

“If they’re as good as their word, I’ll just sign on the dotted line, hand them a check, drive the new truck over here and make the switch. I’ve already cleaned everything out of this one. That will be Jake’s first clue. When he sees a pile of maps, water bottles and jumper cables on the front lawn.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

To Julia’s surprise, Maisy was back in about ten minutes. She warned Julia before she opened her door, but Julia had heard the soothing purr of a vehicle drawing up beside the old pickup.

“Okay, it’s a done deal. I’ll help you down.”

Julia took her mother’s arm and stepped carefully down to the running board, then the ground.

“Two steps. You got it.”

Julia climbed up into the new pickup. The smell of plastic, leather, rubber and polish overwhelmed her. “Oooh, this is comfortable.” She bounced on the seat a little.

Maisy climbed in after a brief conversation, probably with the salesperson. “We’re off. Lord, listen to this thing purr. Your seat belt’s hanging down on the right. And we’re turning on the air conditioner.”

Julia fumbled for the belt. “Do we really need it?”

“I’m going to run it all winter long just because it’s there.” Maisy pulled out of the parking lot, squealing her tires the way Robby and Fidelity had every time they pulled away from Ashbourne. Julia experienced a moment of pure nostalgia.

“On to Yvonne’s,” Maisy said. “Oh, does this baby feel good.”

“Don’t speed.”

“Me?”

“Maisy, don’t speed.”

“You sure do know how to take the fun out of life.”

“And how to keep you alive.”

Maisy slowed down.

“Describe it.”

“Ford Ranger. Fire engine red, black leather interior. Every single add-on they had. This thing will cook dinner, milk the cows and dress up in a negligee for a little late-night nookie.”

“Jake is going to
have
a cow.”

“Let him.”

Julia couldn’t let that pass. “Okay, what’s going on? Are you two falling apart because Callie and I are there? Are we putting too much strain on you?”

“Get that idea out of your head right now.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m not sure. We’re fine. It’s nothing for you to worry about. But we’re just having trouble communicating.”

“How?”

“We just seem to talk past each other. Whenever Jake and I have a conversation it’s like sonar, bouncing off objects and ping-ponging in all directions. Have you had that experience with Bard?”

“No.”

Maisy was silent.

Julia continued after a moment. “I think what you’re describing is a lapse in communication between two people who have always been extraordinarily close. You notice when you’re not communicating well because normally you do.”

“That’s probably true.”

“Bard and I say what needs to be said, and each of us understands the other.”

“Well, that’s good.” Maisy said the words, but she didn’t sound as if she believed them.

“Maybe not so good,” Julia said honestly. “Because we don’t even try to say the little things. The feelings, the funny little things that happen to us. We don’t report conversations we’ve had or hopes that got dashed or nightmares or fantasies or—”

“Did you expect to?”

On the surface the question seemed odd, but Julia thought it was a good one. “No, Maisy. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“I wanted to hear that my daughter was madly in love with her husband, always had been and planned to be forever. Barring that, I wanted the truth.”

“I don’t know if Bard would have had that kind of relationship with anybody, but I know he won’t have it with me.”

“What does that mean?”

Julia wasn’t sure of everything it meant, but some of it was clear. “Do you believe in soul mates?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, that surprises me. Your book is so, well, romantic.”

“It’s a book. Just a book.”

“Then Ian isn’t Louisa’s soul mate?”

“You’ll have to be the judge.”

“Isn’t Jake yours? Wasn’t my father?”

“No to both. They are…were two very different men. I loved them both. I felt connected to them in different ways. But did I feel either of them was the only man I was supposed to be with?”

“Did you?”

“Fate has a way of intervening in the best laid plans.”

“You were young when my father died.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You seem to have coped by dropping out of your world and finding another.”

“That’s a fair assessment.”

“Wasn’t there support to be found here? Neighbors and friends? From what I can tell, my father was a popular figure in the community.”

“He surely was.”

“And after his death, people didn’t rally around?”

“They were kind and concerned. But in one moment my life changed so dramatically, I only wanted to forget the world Harry had loved so well.”

“So you posted Ashbourne, withdrew from the social whirl—”

“And concentrated on raising you and, eventually, on loving Jake.”