The Hopechest Bride (9 page)

“Because we need to talk,” he answered, returning her stare. “Because I need to know how Toby died,
why
Toby died. I want to know why he thought you were worth dying for, and I by God sure want to know how you could leave him there on the floor, dying, and just walk away.”

Emily shook her head. “No. I can't talk about that. I will not talk about that.”

“Funny,” Josh said, getting to his feet, looking down at her. “I don't remember giving you a choice.” He walked to the mouth of the cave, flung the contents of his mug into the rain, then pulled his slicker off the makeshift clothesline. Shrugging his arms into the slicker, he bent low, ducking under the rope, and went out into the storm.

To get away from her? To calm down, cool down in the slashing rain, before he touched her…shook her until she told him what he wanted to know?

Emily wasn't sure.

 

Rebecca looked up from the grant application she was trying to decipher, and smiled as she saw Martha Wilkes walk into her office. “Back so soon?” she asked teasingly. “And why aren't I surprised?”

Martha dipped her head slightly, smiled. “I take it you were expecting me.”

“Oh, yeah. I was expecting you. Tatania, on the other hand, was just plain
hoping
you'd be back. You two really hit it off, you know. Not that she's started chattering like a magpie, but she is interacting more with the other children since your visit yesterday. She even told Billy Rogers to shut up when he began singing during grace at dinner last night. Quite the little mother, our Tatania. I think, given half a chance, she'd soon be the leader in her age group here at Hopechest. I—we
all
can't thank you enough.”

“I just talked to her,” Martha said, ever modest about her own skills. “That's all she really needed. Someone to talk to her, someone to listen.”

“We all talked to her, Martha,” Rebecca reminded her. “We all listened, not that she said anything. No, you did something special, and if we could bottle it, all the kids here would be the better for it.”

“Thank you,” Martha said, giving in, not wishing to hear more, as she hadn't come here this morning for praise. “Rebecca? I was wondering…”

Rebecca folded her hands on the desktop and leaned forward slightly. “Are you going to ask if we could use another volunteer around here? Because if
you are, the job's yours. The pay is lousy—nonexistent—but the fringe benefits are great. I already spoke to Blake—that's Blake Fallon, he runs the place—and he said I should put you in a half Nelson and
drag
you back here until you agreed to help us.”

Martha frowned. “Fallon? Would that be any relation to Emmett Fallon? The man who tried to kill Joe?”

Rebecca nodded. “Yes, Blake's his son. Emmett was never a great dad, and Blake actually ended up as one of Mom and Dad's foster children, like me. Blake considers running Hopechest part of his payback to Mom and Dad for, as he tells it, saving his life. Ironically, it was Blake's devotion to my dad that pretty much sent Emmett over the edge, so that he tried to kill him. Blake's still dealing with that, poor guy. I think he's afraid he could end up like his dad, but that will never happen. Blake's one of the good guys.”

“Circles,” Martha said, shaking her head. “It's amazing how everything goes in circles. Circles within circles.” She smiled slightly, looking at Rebecca. “And one of those circles expanded to bring me here, to California, to the Hacienda de Alegria, to Hopechest Ranch—to Tatania. Do you believe in fate, Rebecca?”

“Around here, it's kind of hard not to,” Rebecca told her seriously. “What are you saying, Martha?”

Martha took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Well, for today, I guess I'm asking if I can visit
with Tatania again, maybe take her into town, buy her some ice cream. Talk.”

Rebecca bent her head, hiding her expression, then looked up at Martha again, her large, blue-gray eyes sparkling. “I think that would be wonderful, Martha. I think that would be really, really wonderful.” She stood up, walked around the desk. “How about I take you over to Blake's office, where Holly Lamb can give you the papers you need to fill out in order to become an official volunteer?”

Martha stood, smoothed down her skirt. “Yes, I'd like that. Let's start making things official. I already took the liberty of seeing about having my credentials transferred to California. But you probably knew that already, didn't you, Rebecca? You already figured out that this may have begun as a trip, a chance to help Meredith—but that it's turning into a lot more.”

“Yes, I rather sensed that,” Rebecca said, leaning forward to give Martha a quick kiss on the cheek. “You'd be surprised at how easy it is to become a part of Hopechest, to become a part of the Colton family. So welcome home, Martha. Welcome home to you, and to Tatania.”

“This might not work out, you know,” Martha said quickly. “I know you said Tatania has no other family, but that doesn't mean I'd be approved to—”

“Are you looking for somewhere to live?” Rebecca interrupted as they walked down the hallway toward Holly Lamb's small office.

“I went on the Internet last night, as a matter of
fact, and checked out a few properties for sale in Prosperino,” Martha answered, feeling her cheeks growing hot. “I wouldn't have any trouble selling my house in Mississippi, and I know of at least two psychologists who've offered to either have me join them here as a partner, or sell them my practice back home. I've made good investments over the years, and can pretty much live off the interest, plus the money I'd get for my house, the practice. And, of course, I could run a small practice out of my new house—I'm looking at properties that include an attached office.”

Martha shook her head, smiled at her own daring. “Am I crazy? Am I rushing things? I'm not usually so…so impromptu…but this just, well, this just feels
right
to me, Rebecca. I lay awake all night, going over things in my mind, and this just seems right.”

“Someday I'll tell you how I came to be at Hopechest, how I came to be a Colton—and how I met the person who made me whole, the way you've just found Tatania. It always seems right, Martha,” Rebecca said, “when we finally find our home.”

E
mily liked camping out in her cave. She liked being alone, having time to think. When you've been raised in a big, loving but loud family—even as much as you loved them—you needed a place that was your own.

Meredith and Joe had understood that, bless them, and Emily had been given permission to be herself, which is the best thing you can be given—the right to be your own person.

But now her “alone place” had been invaded by Josh Atkins. The cave wasn't hers anymore, because he was there. Her morning wash was hurried, she'd felt horribly conspicuous and almost naked just because she had to brush her teeth while he was there.
Her trip outside, made in her slicker and damned uncomfortable in the first place, was an embarrassment to her.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't stay here with him, in this cave, until the storm passed.

And she couldn't leave until the storm passed.

She was stuck, she was here, and neither of them were going anywhere.

“That's quite a look you've got on your face, Emily,” Josh said as he reentered the cave, slipping out of his slicker. “Almost as if you've been contemplating saddling Molly and heading out of here. But no, I'm wrong. Only an idiot would consider trying to get back to the ranch right now, considering that it's more than a three-hour ride in fair weather.”

Emily glared at him, wishing he didn't look so good, so manly, so competent. Or so smug.

“How nice that you don't think I'm an idiot,” she told him, her teeth clenched. “It's about the
only
rotten thing you've not thought about me.”

Josh hung his slicker over the rope once more and approached the cold campfire. “There's not a dry stick of wood out there, although I am going to take your axe and cut some of the drier underbranches, then drag them in here and hope they dry out enough to make at least a small fire tonight. It'll be smoky, but it's all we've got.”

Emily nodded her agreement. “I'll help. There are a couple more caves, higher up on the hill, and maybe there's some dry brush or something that's blown into
them. But you'll have to check them out, because there are bats in those caves and I won't go inside.”

“Bats, huh? I was wondering why there aren't any bats in this cave, to tell you the truth.”

“It's because it's just a small cave, Dad said.” Emily looked around her once safe haven, a space that was about the size of a two-car garage, and only about fifteen feet high. “There's a cave up higher that has two entrances, one on either side of the hill. The bats like it better there.”

There was a full minute of uncomfortable silence before Josh spoke. “Okay, so we've decided that we're not going anywhere. We are going to try to gather some wood. And we know you don't like bats. I don't like bats, either. Now what? See any good movies lately?”

Emily directed a long, dispassionate stare at this infuriating man, who just smiled back at her. “I thought I'd read my book,” she said tightly. “I came up here to be alone, not to entertain guests.”

“Especially unwanted guests,” Josh replied, his smile growing wider. “But you have to admit, Emily, I do come in handy. I'm taking care of the horses, and I've noticed that you've already ripped into my stash of M&M's.”

“You drank my coffee,” Emily shot back, then sighed. “Oh, this is ridiculous! I'm not going to talk to you about Toby, so you can just get that idea out of your head. You don't like me, it's clear you don't like me, and anything I'd say would just give you
another reason to glare at me like I just crawled out from beneath some slimy rock.”

“So you did leave him there to die.”

“No!” Emily stood up quickly, headed for her poncho, pulled it on over her head. “But I am
why
he died. Do you think I don't know that? I'm going to look for firewood,” she ended, and bent low, slipping under the rope, knowing she'd feel safer out in the storm than she did looking into Josh's eyes.

 

Austin McGrath pushed the last manila folder into his briefcase and looked across the coffee table at Meredith and Joe Colton. “There's a lot of information here, just as you said, Joe, but I can already think of a few avenues that weren't pursued by any of Patsy's investigators. I'm not proud to say this about fellow P.I.s, but it would appear that the ones Patsy hired were more interested in getting her money and stringing out the investigation than they were in locating Jewel.”

Meredith leaned forward on the couch, her hands clenched tightly as she rested her arms on her knees. “Really? Patsy would hate to hear that, she always took so much pride in being smarter than anyone else. But you think you can do it? It was such a long time ago, Austin.”

“Over thirty years,” he agreed, making a slight face. “However, that might be the one thing in our favor. Adoption law has changed, and many adoptees have begun looking for their biological parents.
They've set up organizations, sites on the Internet—and many formerly closed adoptions are now pretty close to public record.”

“So Patsy's daughter, grown now, actually might be looking for her?” Joe put in, also leaning forward. “I hadn't thought about that. She's certainly old enough to be in charge of her own life, make her own decisions about something like this. And she could be out there, looking. Searching the same way Patsy has been searching.”

Meredith sighed. “Her father murdered, her mother the murderer. Her lying, cheating father selling her at birth to hide the illegitimate child from his wife and family. Maybe she shouldn't be looking, Austin. Maybe she's better off not knowing. Maybe we're doing more harm here than good.”

Joe and Austin exchanged glances, and Austin said, snapping his briefcase shut, “Tell you what, Meredith. I'll look at this from both directions—our hunt of Jewel, and her possible hunt for her biological parents. If I find her, and if her name appears nowhere on any list of adoptees looking for information about their biological parents, then we'll stop right there, possibly reconsider our approach. But if she's already looking for Patsy? If she has indicated in any way that she wants to find her biological mother? Well, then we should probably go ahead. What's that old saying? Better the devil you know?”

“Patsy being the devil Jewel would finally know, the answer,
any
answer, being better than a lifetime
of questions,” Meredith said, reaching into her pocket for a small white linen handkerchief, then pressing it to her eyes. “Joe?” she asked, turning to look at her husband. “What do you think?”

He reached over, squeezed her hand. “I think we should let Austin get to work,” he said, then rose, extending his hand to the private investigator who was also his foster daughter's husband. “One thing's certain. At least this will all stay in the family. The last thing we need is more press. Austin, thank you.”

“You got it, Joe,” Austin said, then went over to bend down, kiss Meredith's cheek. “I'll report back as soon as I learn anything. Just please remember that I'm following an awfully cold trail, so this might take a while.”

Meredith reached up, stroked Austin's cheek. “I promise not to pester, Austin,” she said, blinking back tears. “But we only have a month. Patsy only gave us a month.”

 

“I'll see your three M&M's, and raise you two. Blue ones. They count as quarters, right?”

Josh picked through his own stash of candies, pushing three red and two blues into the pile on the sleeping bag. “Quarters, right. That must be some hand you have there,” he said, inspecting his own cards, three twos and two kings.

They'd found the deck of cards in the plastic container, and Josh had challenged Emily to a few hands of poker, never believing she'd take him up on it.
M&M's were their chips, and Emily was beating him, badly. If she'd agreed to strip poker, he'd be down to his shorts by now.

“Call,” he said, then leaned back, waited for Emily to lay down her cards.

“Full house, queens over tens,” she said, and he threw his own cards facedown on the sleeping bag, indicating that he'd lost.

“Let me see,” she said, reaching for his cards.

“Hey!” he countered, quickly scooping them up again. “I thought you promised me that you know the rules. You win the pot, not a peek. I'd rather my strategies remained my own, thank you very much.”

“Strategy? You have a strategy? What is it—hoping like hell? I'll bet you were bluffing.”

Josh looked at Emily, her eyes bright, her smile wide, that glorious hair of hers tumbling down in a warm, living flame. “I never bluff,” he said, trying to sound dark and menacing.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Emily said with a sniff, gathering up the cards and beginning to deftly shuffle them against her bent knee. “And you never back down, either. Except maybe when you almost walk in on a hibernating mama bear and her cubs. Then you don't back down—you run like hell. Except it wasn't a bear, was it? It was just a shadow.”

Josh sucked in his cheeks. “Could have been a bear,” he offered weakly, knowing that he'd only pretended to be scared, just so that Emily would react,
have a good laugh at his expense, maybe relax her guard a little.

“Could have been a lot of things,” Emily agreed, unable to hide her satisfaction. “Luckily, it was a huge rock and a bunch of dry scrub that blew into the cave and lodged against it. The fire is nice, by the way.”

“Anything to please the lady,” Josh said, picking up the cards she'd dealt him. He looked at his hand—pure garbage. “You wouldn't be dealing from the bottom of the deck, would you?” he asked as he anted-up—two brown M&M's. “Or maybe these cards are marked?”

Emily sat up straight, sort of wiggled around where she sat, her eyelids narrowed as she deliberately wiped the side of her hand beneath her nose. “Them's fightin' words, cowboy,” she told him.

“Oh, yeah? And what are you going to do about it?” he countered, turning his cards around to show her the mess of nothing she'd dealt him. “We haven't even drawn cards yet. Let me see your hand. Now.”

“You get the pot, not a peek,” she said, repeating his own words to him as she went to pick up the deck, slide her own hand into the pile.

He caught her wrist with one hand and reached for her cards with the other. She wasn't letting go, and she slapped at his hands to make him release her. Within moments, they were rolling around on the sleeping bag, M&M's scattering everywhere, Emily giggling as she fought to keep control of her cards.

Josh got her onto her back, then straddled her, her efforts to free herself beating against him with all the impact of butterfly wings. Within moments he had her cards, then sat back on his haunches, on her, to look at them.

“Four jacks and an ace,” he said, shaking his head. “Now tell me these cards aren't marked.”

“Well, I did think that was being a little greedy. I was going to take two cards, giving back the ace and one of the jacks,” Emily said, trying to be sincere, although her giggle sort of ruined her sincerity act. “Honest.”

“Uh-huh, sure you were,” Josh said, turning one of the cards over, inspecting the back of it. “Marked. And not even well. I guess I wasn't paying attention. Damn! Where did you get these?”

Emily lifted her arms to push her curls away from either side of her face. “Rand, my brother, gave them to me when he was cleaning out his room before he left home. They're ancient, from some bunch of magic trick stuff he'd had stuck in the back of his closet. I just keep them up here if I want to play Solitaire. I forgot they were marked, honest. But…then I remembered.” She bit her bottom lip, trying not to smile. “I like M&M's, okay?”

Josh flipped the cards to one side, then took hold of Emily's wrists, pressed them back against the sleeping bag as he bent low over her face. “You…are…a menace,” he said, trying to keep his
own humor in check. “What if I had said we could play strip poker?”

Emily lowered her eyelids for a moment, and then he was dazzled once more by the sight of her huge blue, mischievous eyes looking up at him. “Wow,” she said. “Strip poker, huh? Wouldn't that have been something?”

Josh looked at her, feeling the mood change, shift, slide into something not at all teasing. He lowered himself until his face was within inches of hers. She was so soft, beneath him. Her chest rose and fell, and he could imagine how she'd feel through the soft, worn flannel. Her mouth was so inviting.

Another inch. All he had to do was move another inch lower. Close the gap. Taste her.

Emily looked up at him, not flinching, not withdrawing, not trying to free her arms from his grip. She pressed her lips together, the tip of her tongue appearing for a moment as she moistened those lips. “Um…I think…I think you should get off me now,” she said, her voice low, nearly a whisper.

“Yeah,” Josh said, at last reclaiming at least a small part of his common sense. “I think so, too.” He let go of her wrists, reluctantly, then lifted himself off her. “I'll go hunt up something for the horses while you decide what we're having for dinner, okay?”

“Okay,” Emily said, quickly jackknifing herself to a sitting position, turning her back to him. “That sounds like a plan.”

“Only one I've got,” Josh said, heading for his slicker. He should leave it in the cave. He could use a cold shower.

 

“Rain's stopped,” Martha said, standing at the French doors, looking out into the garden as the sky rapidly turned dark. “No stars, though, and no moon. Just what looks to be a bunch of gray clouds hanging low over the ocean.”

“Another storm,” Meredith said, bending over a box of clothing Joe had brought to her from the basement storage area. “Although this one might actually go south, Joe told me. I hope so. Emily has yet to phone us, and her phone is turned off, so we can't reach her. She'd phone if she had any trouble, I'm sure of that. Joe said reception could be interrupted up in the hills, because of the storm, and— Oh, Martha, I know Emily has a good head on her shoulders, but I still don't like the thought of her stuck out there, unable to get home.”