Once and for All (19 page)

“We’re going to discuss this.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Beau said, echoing words Sam had said to him more than once. “Jodie gets people off so they can go out and do the same thing all over again.”

“She was just doing her job. It’s the way the law works. The judge and the cops that screwed up the procedure are to blame, too. It was circumstances.”

“Well, it sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“So pretty much everybody else is to blame for Mom and Dad getting hit by that car except for Jodie?” Beau asked in a challenging tone.

“That’s not what I said.”

Ty shook his head and walked out of the room. Beau gave his uncle a long look and then followed his brother.

Sam leaned his hands on the counter and let his head drop. In Tyler’s own words, this sucked.

Things weren’t any better with Jodie. He’d tried again to call her and, just as before, she refused to pick up his calls. He thought briefly about using another phone, then decided not to use those tactics. She needed time, the boys needed time. The problem was that time didn’t seem to be making anyone heal. It simply seemed to exacerbate the situation.

Finally, he realized he couldn’t wait for Paige to get back. He needed some moral support. Now. He got her cell number from Tricia and called, thankful that Paige did not seem to mind him hunting her down and impinging on her private time.

He told her what had happened, how he’d handled it. It was so weird to be doing this. A few months ago, before he’d called Tricia at the high school, he never would have poured out his personal life to anyone. But now he was desperate. He wanted to save his nephews, and he wanted a chance with Jodie.

Paige was silent for a moment, then said, “Sam…you’ve given them a scapegoat. Someone they can blame other than Colin Craig.”

“Did I make a mistake?”

“No, but just because you were up front doesn’t mean the people involved are going to see things the way you do.”

“Is there any hope?”

“I wish I knew,” she said softly. “My advice is to keep the doors of communication open. Allow the boys time to deal with the anger.”

“What if they never deal with it?”

“You mean what if they never accept Jodie again?”

Sam put a hand to his forehead. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“It may happen, Sam. I’m sorry. But regardless of that—”

“I need to step back and let them deal with this.”

“I’m afraid you do. But…maybe I could talk to the boys? Give them something to do until I get back and we can meet again in person?”

“That’d be good.”
And do something miraculous while you’re at it.
He went down the hall to the boys’ bedroom and tapped on the door.

“Yeah?” Tyler’s sullen voice came through the closed panel.

“Paige wants to talk to you guys. She’s on the phone.”

The door opened, and first Beau came out and then Tyler. They silently walked past him and down the hall to the office as if they were going to the gallows. But Paige must have done some good, because the call took almost a half hour, during which time Sam did the dishes and started a load of laundry.

When it ended, Beau and Tyler came back into the kitchen.

“We’re going to meet with her alone next week,” Beau said, before heading down the hall.

Tyler was more forthcoming. “She gave us some stuff to work on.”

“All right,” Sam said, hoping for more information.

“This is kinda harder on Beau than it is on me, Sam. He really liked Jodie a lot.”

“I know.”

Tyler tightened his mouth, as if to keep from saying anything more. He nodded at Sam and then followed his brother down the hall.

She shut her door, hung up her jacket, booted up her computer. Only then did she unfold the letter, which she’d set on her desk, and start to read. By the time she’d finished, she was numb, yet oddly grateful.

Beau Hyatt pulled no punches. He hated her. He never wanted to see her again. He wished something bad would happen in her life so she could feel real pain.

Jodie set the open letter on her desk and leaned back in her chair, regarding it dispassionately.

What more evidence did Sam need that there was no future for the two of them?

She folded the paper and slid it back into the envelope, then put it in her briefcase for safekeeping. As time passed and she started to feel hopeful, she would pull it out and read it.

Perhaps she’d even read it again tonight. For penance.

During the days following the letter, Jodie was even more off her game than she’d been before, making stupid mistakes—or rather, overlooking things that had never escaped her in the past.

She put her head down on her desk after realizing that she’d missed an important point in the case she was preparing. Damn Sam and damn her father. Most of all damn Colin Craig.

Sam had tried to call several times after returning to Wesley. Her father hadn’t tried to call her once. Magnanimous forgiveness put a person in the same position as withholding love did. The bottom slot. Jodie hated being there, hated being the one who owed something to someone else.

The brief she was resting her head on was warm beneath her cheek, fresh out of an overworked copy machine. She closed her eyes. Tried to count her blessings.

She had her health.

One corner of her mouth quirked sardonically and she raised her head, sat back in her chair.

She had a job that she’d found challenging up until a few weeks ago. Now she felt as if she was barely able to focus on it. The work that had gotten her through her divorce wasn’t helping her out now. In fact…it was hard to admit…she was beginning to feel overwhelmed. And her boss had been none too pleased when she refused the DUI case he’d assigned her.

She was edging closer and closer to hating her job.

She had to do something. Did she want to give up the law? No. But—and a few months ago she never would have believed she would be thinking this way—she wanted less pressure. Fewer hours.

She didn’t want to be in a position where she might be making life-and-death decisions by putting people out on the street again who shouldn’t be there. She was spending so much time second-guessing herself that she was no longer effective in her job.

She dropped her head back into her hands. She was going to become a freaking real estate attorney if she kept acting this way.

Jodie went shopping on her way home, picking up supplies for her nearly empty fridge. Driving out of the parking lot, she almost hit a car because she wasn’t focused.

She went home, made a fried egg sandwich and started reviewing career options. Maybe a smaller town, a smaller firm. Nothing as small as Wesley, but maybe a city with fewer DUIs, fewer people than Vegas. Maybe somewhere in Montana. She’d grown up in Illinois and was used to the cold. After her weeks on the ranch, she kind of missed the rural life, although she’d rather be in a small town than miles away from one. It wasn’t likely she’d be spending time on her father’s ranch in the foreseeable future. Even if he did loosen up and deign to forgive her, for once in her life, Jodie wasn’t certain she was going to return the favor. She’d had it with yo-yo affection. Better to just cut bait.

Her only concern was her mother, whom she talked to a couple times a week. Nadine never said a word about Joe, and Jodie never fessed up about Sam. Instead they talked about painting, Jodie’s job, cooking. Ultimately, Jodie decided that she and her mother could continue their relationship as they had up until now—by meeting in a city and spending the weekend together, with Joe out of the loop. Sad, but realistic.

She paced through the house. So did she seriously start planning a change? Or wait and see if this was a phase, caused by an unexpected trip into a Sam Hyatt-inspired fantasyland, which ended as all fantasies must—crushed by a heavy dose of reality? Jodie had never been a big believer in happily ever after. All she had to do was look at her parents’ marriage to know that no matter how much in love you might be, one partner always seemed to be on the losing end.

So bottom line—she needed to regroup, get back on top of her game. And yes, it might be with another firm, in another city, but for right now she was going to do the best she could with the job she had. After all, she was Jodie Barton De Vanti. This was what she did best.

“I have a question for you.” Joe did not look good. His face was drawn, the lines in it more apparent than they’d been the last time Sam had seen him, at the feed store a week ago.

“What’s that?” Sam asked, meeting the older man’s gaze dead-on.

“Do you have anything to do with Jodie not returning my calls?”

Sam couldn’t hold back the disbelieving snort. “I think that’s all you, Joe.”

Not what he’d wanted to hear. His thick black brows drew closer together. “I heard you two were…involved.”

“It’s none of your business if we were.”

“Damn it!” Joe exclaimed angrily. “I want to know if that’s why she won’t talk to me!”

“No!” Sam shouted back. He ran a hand over the side of his head, telling himself to cool it. A yelling match in the clinic wouldn’t do either of them any good, and shouting was Joe’s modus operandi. Be scarier than the guy coming at you. Then he’ll back off. Sam had known other people like Joe and refused to play that game.

“I don’t believe you.”

“So what do you think I did? Poisoned her mind against you?”

Joe didn’t answer, probably because the accusation did sound stupid when spoken out loud.

“It likely has something to do with you yelling at her for calling me out to your place.”

“I’ve yelled at her before.”

“Maybe she’s had enough.”

A shadow crossed Joe’s features, as if he’d wondered that himself. “She’s never done this before.”

“She’s thirty years old. Maybe she’s tired of being a good girl, tired of trying to live up to your demands for perfection.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Sam gave Joe a withering look. “What do you think I’m talking about?”

“I never demanded perfection.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

Joe looked surprised, so surprised that he forgot to appear intimidating, and for a brief second Sam was treated to a glimpse of a confused and concerned old man. “Explain what you mean.”

“She’s tired of you demanding that she be the best in everything. She’s tired of having to live her life without making mistakes.”

“What in the hell are you talking about? I never told her she had to be the best, that she couldn’t make mistakes. I wanted her to do the best she was capable of.”

“That wasn’t what she heard,” Sam replied flatly.

Joe ran a hand over the lower part of his face, then gave Sam a lawyerlike glare. “Are you being truthful? Or just trying to get back at me for suing you?”

“If I’d wanted to do that, your gelding would have bled to death in the snow and you’d be short about five healthy calves.”

Joe planted his hands on his hips, glanced down at the floor, then back up at Sam. He shook his head and walked out of the clinic without another word.

Sam watched him go, feeling both anger at the man’s arrogance and stubbornness, and a twinge of empathy because he now had an idea of just how damned hard it was to raise a kid, how many mistakes there were to make. It seemed as if Joe had made his share, too.

Sam went to his desk, sat in the chair and leaned back. He didn’t doubt for one moment that Joe had wanted Jodie to be the best, but his trip here must have cost him his pride. He’d come to ask what the deal was from the guy he despised most in this town. Yeah, that had to be tough.

It didn’t make Sam like the guy any more, but he could better understand Jodie’s relationship with her father.

And perhaps why she was doing what she was.

Jodie thought love was conditional. Screw up and love was gone. That was how Joe had motivated her to be the best. Affection for the winner, a cold shoulder for the loser.

Successfully defending Colin Craig had made Jodie a loser. She’d been truthful when she said she expected no forgiveness. She hadn’t had a lot of that in her life. Instead of forgiveness, she’d won back affection by achieving.

Good thing Joe had left, because Sam was feeling a strong urge to throttle the man.