Without a Past (26 page)

His opinion was confirmed when he offered to take her home an hour later. They were in the hospital cafeteria where Jonathan had insisted she drink a glass of orange juice.

Kristin had left to check on Zach. Jenny had returned to the ranch to feed the twins.

“I'll stay,” Andi said dully. “It's the least I can do.”

“The nurse said Ida Jane is resting comfortably. There isn't anything for you to do.”

She shrugged.

“Andi, love, this wasn't your fault. She's nearly eighty-three. She has high blood pressure. It was an exciting morning. Any of those things could have triggered the stroke.”

“But it happened when she was with me. I'm bad luck, Jonathan. I have a big mouth and I don't think before I speak.” She looked at him, her eyes full of tears. “You don't want to marry me.”

“Yes, I do.”

She went on as if he hadn't spoken. “You can't move into the bordello.”

“I already have.”

She blinked. “What?”

“My bags were packed in the trunk of my car. I hadn't planned to stay in the honeymoon suite without you, so I asked a couple of the guys I used to work with to move them to your place.”

“But—”

He covered her hand with his. “I'll go back to the motel if you really want me to, sweetheart, but not tonight. Please. I can't let you go home alone. And you can't stay here. You need me. And I need you. For tonight, anyway. Okay?”

She finally agreed, but Jonathan knew it was only because she was utterly exhausted. He took her home, helped her undress then crawled into bed beside her. It wasn't the way he'd planned to spend his first night at the bordello, but in a way, it helped him get his bearings.

As he lay in her soft bed, Jon thought about the woman he loved. In the shadows that moved across her ceiling, he saw his future. A life with Andi Sullivan as his mate would be as challenging as it would be wonderful. His thoughts turned to what he'd learned about his past. Like Andi, Jonathan Newhall had been a man of action. He'd moved forward with little contemplation of what consequences his actions might bring. According to his father, he'd accomplished a great deal, but what did he have to show for it?

Not a home. Like this wonderful structure was to the people it had given shelter to over the years.

No loving family of his own—although, thankfully, he'd made steps to establish a connection with his younger siblings. With any luck, he might soon be able to provide his sisters with a niece or nephew to visit in California.

But what else did he have? His father had informed him that he'd rented a climate-controlled storage unit in Missouri before leaving on his motorcycle trip. His history was there, and Jonathan finally admitted to himself—right before dawn—that he couldn't go forward until he went back.

He would have asked Andi to accompany him, but she was needed here.

Ida Jane would recover, but she'd require various kinds of therapy, the nurse had said.

Kristin had decided to return to Oregon until the end of the school year. But she'd made up her mind to move back to Gold Creek in June. “It's time to do the right thing,” she'd told them as they sat in the waiting room. “Running away doesn't solve anything. It only puts off the inevitable.” She'd turned to Andi. “Were you serious about refurbishing and renting out the basement of the bordello? I think it would make an excellent massage clinic.”

Even the town needed Andi. If Tyler Harrison—and the company he owned—was intent on changing the face of Gold Creek, he'd have to get past Andi Sullivan first. Jonathan had seen the grim determination in her eyes when she'd vowed to rally the citizens against the outsiders.

Jonathan would help her cause as much as he could once he had his newspaper up and running, but he wouldn't operate the
Ledger
as a one-sided opinion paper. According to Andrew, Jon had a tradition to maintain. Journalistic integrity, his father had told him, was in the Newhall genes.

Yes, Jonathan decided, the big picture looked good. But before they could start building a life together, they each had something to resolve. Andi had to learn to forgive herself and accept that she couldn't run the entire show on her own.

And Jonathan had to leave.

 

“H
E'S COMING BACK
.”

Andi heard Jenny, but she didn't look up from the computer keyboard where she was entering inventory codes into the new program she'd installed. “I know.”

“Ida Jane is doing great at the rehab center. She'll be back home in a couple of weeks.”

Zero-dash-six four nine dash…
“I know.”

“That low-life drug dealer who killed Lars over the price of dope is being arraigned today.

“Isn't it fantastic the way Donnie kept tracking down every little lead until he nailed the guy? I wonder what would have happened if the stupid jerk had gotten around to washing Lars's hair and blood off the bumper of his truck before Donnie found it. I heard that he claims it was an accident. He said they fought, and Lars hit his head on the truck, but that doesn't excuse him for letting Jonathan take the rap for murder.”

“I know.”

Andi could hear Jenny moving around the antique store with her dust cloth.

“Kristin called this morning. She said Jim Rohr still hasn't heard anything from Tyler. What the heck is that about? I've been tempted to confront Gloria to see if she knows what kind of game her son is playing, but her column has been conspicuously missing from the
Ledger
the past three weeks. Do you think Jonathan got her fired before he left for Missouri?”

“I don't know.”

Jenny made a low growling sound. “If you don't stop answering every question with ‘I know' or ‘I don't know,' I'm going to hit you.”

Andi pressed Control-S to save her work then pushed back from the new computer desk in her fancy, ergonomic chair. The computer, desk and chair had been part of Jonathan's going away present to her.

“This will keep you out of trouble until I get back,” he'd told her as he'd hooked up the printer on the second Wednesday after Jenny's wedding. It had taken him a week to secure permission for his trip from the judge, and then he'd stuck around a few days longer to make certain the electrician he'd hired completed the job of rewiring the old bordello.

He'd flat out refused to leave until the work was done
and the new fax and phone lines were installed. “I don't want to get back and find a burnt-out shell of a bordello,” he'd said. “And I
will
be back. You know that, right?”

“I know,” she'd answered, but at some level her heart was crumbling. Her head believed him. Her sisters believed him. Even Ida Jane believed him.

She'd spent ten days in the hospital and then moved back to the Anberry Rehabilitation Hospital where she'd recuperated after her hip injury. The rehab center was in Atwater, a town in the Central Valley some forty-five minutes away from Gold Creek.

Andi and Jenny took turns making the drive. Today was Friday—Andi's day to visit, but Kristin had called earlier to say that she, Zach and Sarge would stop to see Ida on their way home.

They were lucky. Ida seemed to be making remarkable progress, but Andi knew that some things had changed forever. Ida no longer read the large-print books Andi brought her from the library. She didn't work on crossword puzzles or play solitaire.

Jonathan had given her two simple handheld video games when he'd stopped to see her before his trip. She'd exclaimed over them, but to Andi's knowledge they'd never made it out of their boxes.

Ida had offered Jonathan some travel advice before he left, though. “Don't try to make it over Tioga Pass till June,” she'd warned him.

Since that was two months off, Andi had nearly fainted.

“I plan to go the southern route,” he'd replied, giving Andi a private wink—as if he'd been able to guess what she was thinking.

Of course, he was coming back, she told herself sternly. He owned a newspaper now. Or would in a few more days. His thirty-day escrow would be up tomorrow. And his
gleaming maroon Hog—perfectly restored by a friend of Donnie's who Andi couldn't remember—had been delivered and was sitting in her driveway under a rainproof tarp.

Surely, an itinerant journalist would return for his bike, right? In case he got the urge to indulge in a little wander-lust.

Her sisters insisted she was being stupid. Borrowing trouble, Jenny called it when Andi had confessed her fear.

True, Jonathan called every day. At dawn. “Wake up, Princess Andi. We have a busy day today,” he would tease.

But there'd been no call this morning. And Andi was worried. Jonathan had dropped out of sight once before. He'd crashed his bike and lost his memory. He'd taken a new name, met a woman named Andi and started a life wholly different from his old life. What if…

As the thread of panic built in her belly, she took a deep calming breath and looked at her sister, who still had a contentious glare on her face. “Take your best shot. But you'd better remember I'm a ex-marine.”

Jenny made a huffing sound that told Andi she wasn't impressed. She tossed down her dust cloth and crossed the room. Except for the chatter coming from the adjacent coffee parlor, where Beulah Jensen was conducting a meeting of the Gold Creek Garden Club, the old bordello was empty.

Beulah had recently defeated Linda McCloskey for the club's presidency. Which had proved a boon for Andi, who had hired Linda on the spot to fill in when Andi was visiting Ida or working on inventory or arranging for a contractor to remodel the basement.

“I lug a pair of twins around every day of the week,” Jenny said. “You want to see biceps. I'll show you biceps. But you'd better be prepared to put up yours, baby.”

“This sounds interesting,” a familiar voice said. “Can I watch?”

Andi's heart almost leaped out of her chest. “Jonathan,” she cried just as her sister yelled, “Harley.”

Jenny blushed fiercely. “You're back,” she said. “I'm leaving.” She picked up her purse and dashed for the door. As she passed him, she bestowed a peck on his cheek and in a stage whisper said, “Thank God you're back. She's been impossible to live with.”

Andi's knees trembled so badly she had to sit down. Her handsome chair threatened to roll off its hard plastic floor protector, but before that could happen, Jonathan grabbed the molded armrests and pulled her to him. He leaned close enough that she could see the bloodshot condition of his eyes and smell the coffee on his breath. He looked exhausted.

“I missed you,” he said.

His eyes may have been tired but his expression—and the depth of emotion in his voice—gave a different message.

“You came back,” she said inanely.

“I told you I would. You believed me, didn't you?”

She nodded, her gaze dropping so he wouldn't see the lie. His pullover Henley was pearl gray and bore the logo of a sports team she didn't recognize; it was tucked into worn navy-blue sweatpants. His shoes were broken-in high-top basketball shoes.
Have I ever seen him wear tennies?

She looked at his face again. He was Jonathan, but something was different. An unwelcome little fear took hold of her. She swallowed to get enough moisture in her mouth to speak. “Is it really you?”

He leaned closer and rested his forehead against hers. “Do you know anyone else who would get up at four in the morning and drive a rental truck straight through from Flagstaff, Arizona—towing a Mercedes, no less—just to get home to you?”

The words helped, but the kiss he gave her sealed the
deal. He was Jonathan. Or Harley. The name didn't matter. It was the man inside that counted.

He straightened and pulled her into his arms to kiss her properly. He tasted the same, too. Heat and sweetness. God, she'd missed him. She'd nearly lost her mind on the long nights since he left. Yes, she understood his reason for leaving. This might be the last chance for a very long time to return for the belongings he'd left in Missouri. Once he took over the paper, he'd have his hands full with a new challenge.

“Look who's back!” a high-pitched voice chortled.

Jonathan looked toward the coffee parlor. “Beulah?”

Andi nodded, grinning. “The Garden Club has contracted to meet here once a month now. And the weekly board meetings are held here, too.”

Twelve faces peered at them. “Hi, ladies,” Jonathan called, waving cheerfully.

“Is that your fancy car behind that U-Haul?” Mary Needham asked. “Looks like a drug dealer's car.”

He made a deprecating gesture. “You're right. It does. But it's a memento from a past life,” he said. “And I needed something to replace Rosemarie,” he added. “Maybe you ladies could think of a name for it.”

That got them talking. They disappeared back into the parlor.

Jonathan took Andi's hand and led her to the bay window, away from curious eyes but with a view of the sleek Mercedes with tinted windows. “I know it looks like a gangster car, and I thought about selling it. But an old buddy of mine, Oshi Kienda, told me that particular model rates very high in safety tests. Especially when a child's car seat is involved.”

She looked at him speculatively. “Is that wishful thinking or do you know something I don't know?”

His face fell. “It was a month yesterday since we were at the mine. I guess I was hoping that you might have—”

Andi froze. Had it been a month? Really? She counted in her head, trying to visualize a calendar. Had she missed a period? Could it be possible?

Her jaw dropped open. “I've been a little under the weather the past week or so. I thought it was because you were gone.”

He looked momentarily stunned then his expression turned wary. “Don't toy with me, Andi. I've been driving for days. I could snap, just like that.” He demonstrated with his fingers.