Lilacs for Laura Page 17

  Feeling her pain, his anger dissolved. “I don’t want to mess up your life,” he said gently. “I know how much your family and the flower shop mean to you. But I hope I mean something to you too. And I need a career.”

  The tears spilled over. “It’s about the money.” She buried her face in her hands.

  “No, it’s not. Money is nice, but I need work I love just like you.” He bent toward one knee. “Laura, I can’t live without you.”

  “I don’t want to live without you, either,” she sputtered between sobs.

  He bristled, standing rigid when he realized what she’d said. “Oh, you don’t want to live without me but you can. Yet you can’t leave your family, and you can’t leave your job. So you’re choosing them over me.”

  “No, Brett.” She looked up from her hands with frightened eyes, shaking her head. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Yes, it is. You won’t leave your family, but you expect me to give up the chance of a lifetime. Crystal Falls will always be here. This opportunity won’t.” He kicked the dirt floor.

  “I’m sorry,” she said dumbly, but didn’t take it back.

  Not the response he wanted. He gritted his teeth. “Laura, I love you, and I hope I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life. But I refuse to take a back seat to your family.” He stormed out of the barn and stomped home.

  He should have asked her to marry him first.

  Then a sad realization hit him. It didn’t matter. If she chose her family over him, he didn’t want to marry her. Yet how could he live without her?

  Now he had to face his mother’s questions. And return the blasted diamond in my pocket.

  ****

  Devastation overwhelmed Laura. Was she making the biggest mistake of her life? Hurt, confusion, and fear warred in her.

  How could she leave everything she knew and loved for a love she wasn’t sure of? If Brett loved her, why would he put a job and money before her?

  So much had happened. She was too unstable right now. Leaving Crystal Falls and putting her total trust in Brett scared the life right out of her.

  She walked to Sage and laid her head against his warm neck. The horse made a gravely sound in his throat and ruffled his lips. Laura’s hurt turned to outrage. Brett had tied the horse to a barn post with his bit pulling.

  Groaning, she loosened the knot and led Sage into his stall. After removing the bit and reins, she hoisted off the saddle and carried them to the tack room.

  John appeared in the doorway. “Everything okay?”

  “No!” She hefted the saddle onto its rack, hung the reins on a peg, and gathered a kit with brushes and a hoof pick.

  Her father took a brush from the kit and followed her into the stall. He brushed Sage’s coat as she pried dirt and manure from the horse’s hooves. The work diffused her anger, reducing her to tears again.

  “Brett’s choosing a job over me.” And money and race cars. Just like he did with Sally.

  Wordlessly, her father listened.

  “He expects me to drop my entire life and move away. I can’t do that. But I don’t want to lose him, either.”

  John let her pour out her heart without commenting. When she was talked out and cried out, he tossed the brush into the kit and walked toward her. He pulled her into a hug.

  Squeezing him tightly, she breathed in the smells of horse, soil, and plants on his soft flannel shirt.

  “I love you, Laura,” he whispered into her hair. “Do what’s right for you, not anyone else.”

  If only she knew what that was. What would she do without her family and Rosebuds ? And what would she do without Brett?

  ****

  Pounding through the gears, Brett drove up Route 3 to Springfield. All the parking spaces in front of the jeweler’s were full. Maybe that was for the best. He’d probably make a fool of himself in his present mood.

  He headed back to Crystal Falls and stopped at the hardware store. Nothing like a sleek set of wrenches to help a man forget about women. After examining all the options, he chose the most expensive set with the patented grip and ergonomic handles.

  A short line stood at the checkout, with Myrtle Winthrop at the head of it. Dressed in her usual prissy attire, she daintily set her pocketbook on the counter.

  “I need a box of ten gauge shot gun shells, please,” she told the cashier. “Number six.”

  A stodgy old man in front of Brett turned around and remarked out the side of his mouth, “Can’t believe the old bat is picking up shells. Didn’t think she did anything but gossip and sell dresses.”

  Brett laughed. First tin snips, now shot gun shells? What were the odds he’d run into her both times? And what was she buying that he didn’t know about? The cashier put a box of shells on the counter, and Myrtle pulled out a wallet stuffed with bills.

  “Poor old Winthrop,” the man muttered. “Never knew what he was in for when he married that one.”

  Raising his eyebrows, Brett encouraged further comment as the old cash register banged and clanged.

  “She was a looker in her day, I’ll give her that. Used her wiles to get her hands on Winthrop’s money. He gave up everything—children, career, dreams—to stay in Crystal Falls and let her keep the dress shop. He had big plans. Never wanted to be a banker like his father, but that’s what he did.”

  “What were his plans?” Brett asked in a low voice, but the cashier slammed the drawer shut as he spoke.

  “A man can only stand so much humiliation,” the man said over his shoulder as the line moved up. “Poor old guy died broken-hearted without an heir but Myrtle.”

  She pranced out with her nose in the air and a bag of shotgun shells in her hand.

  Brett’s anger flared up. Dang right, a man had to be a man. No woman was gonna tell him where to live or what to do.

  ****

  The next morning dawned a bright and beautiful Saturday. Despite her desolation, Laura filled her watering can and sprinkled the wild violets along the path toward Crystal Creek.

  She sought comfort and solace in the morning ritual. When she needed to think or pray, she sat on a big rock by the water.

  But it’d been a while since she prayed. She hadn’t followed Grandma’s advice. And look what had happened. Sure, Jake was out of the picture. But soon Brett would be too.

  She was finally desperate enough to pray.

  An eerie mist rose through the valley. As she descended the creek bank, the air suddenly chilled, sprouting goose bumps on her arms. Picking her way along the path, a strange sense of foreboding washed over her. Maybe she should turn back.

  Then something caught her eye. Through the mist and branches, she saw something under a tree next to the big rock. It looked like a pile of old clothes. She set down the watering can. A pang of fear struck her but curiosity pushed her on.

  Thick fog rose off the rippling green water. Purple clouds hid the sun, letting only wisps of light filter through the trees. Breezes rustled the leaves, and the damp smell of creek filled the air. Peering through the haze, she inched closer.

  The mound of clothes shifted.

  She gasped. A homeless man was sleeping under the tree.

  “Hoo, hoo!”

  Startled, she screamed as an owl took flight from a branch above her. The man jumped up. His bloody face looked around frantically. Laura froze, but he spied her and rushed at her.

  She turned to run and tripped on a tree root.

  He overtook her quickly. Grabbing her from behind, he clamped a cold, stinking hand over her mouth. She gagged from the stench. Brusquely, he turned her, gripping one arm and keeping a tight hold on her mouth.

  “Shut up!” he croaked. Sour, rotten breath jolted her senses. Decrepit teeth bared at her.

  In horror, she recognized him.

  “Jake!” The filthy, bloody hand muffled her shout. Fear shook her in huge spasms. She gaped in shock.

  His blood red eyes sank into puffy, blackened sockets amid bruised, purple skin and
caked blood. Desperation distorted his once charming features.

  Smelling of creek muck, his muddy clothes were torn to shreds. A gash in his left shoulder dripped fresh blood.

  He followed her gaze toward the wound. Wincing, he snarled, “You made me bust it open again!”

  Anger rose above her fear. Struggling to free herself, she thrashed against him. “Let me go!” she screamed.

  Jake strained to hold her, his strength diminishing rapidly. His face scrunched in pain as he glared at his bloody shoulder. Breathless, he growled, “Shut up!”

  She stopped screaming, but couldn’t wrangle out of his grasp. Striving for control, she muttered, “We thought you were dead! What are you doing here? What do you want?”

  “A drink! I need a drink.” Quaking, he begged, “And something to eat. I’m starving.”

  He looked so pathetic that she actually felt sorry for him. Her eyes narrowed as she hissed, “I’m not giving you a drink!”

  “Don’t get sassy with me!” He breathed vile odors into her face and pulled her against him.

  Revolted, she shoved away. He lunged at her, knocking her to the ground. A stone struck the back of her skull. She felt the warm wetness of blood.

  Jake fell on top of her, pinning her with his weight.

  Suddenly faint, she cowered beneath him. Her head spun and throbbed. Vomit stung her throat.

  Wincing with pain, he grabbed her wrists. Drool dripped from his mouth onto her forehead. Carnal lust filled his eyes. “I always wanted you, Laura.”

  “No!” she screamed. “Get...off...of me!”

  His balance wavered. Fresh adrenalin pumped through her veins. Kicking and screaming, she yanked one arm free and pounded his battered face.

  Anger filled his bloody eyes. Jerking up, he grabbed her stray arm and pinned it to her belly. His knees ground into her thighs, holding her legs at bay. Depleted, he gulped for air. She gagged at the stench when he exhaled.

  “I need a drink,” he huffed. The lust died in his eyes, replaced with sheer exhaustion. His pressure on her legs eased.

  Her heart pounded like it might explode from her chest.

  “Go straight home,” he rasped. “And get me a drink.”

  “B...but...”

  “Don’t argue!” he roared. “Straight to the house, straight back. Don’t cross me, Laura. You call the police—you tell a soul—and Rachel’s life is over.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’re planning to kill Rachel too?”

  “NO!” he blasted. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “You ran Layla off the bridge!”

  “Layla ran me off the bridge.” His expression was eerily genuine. “Because Rachel cut her brake lines. It’s surprising what jealousy makes people do.”

  “Yeah, right. I never heard about any brake lines.”

  “No big surprise, your brother didn’t tell you the whole story.” His face screwed up. “Everyone assumed I did that too.”

  Chad was tight-lipped. Maybe he was sheltering Rachel. But it didn’t matter. “No one will believe Rachel did that.”

  “Don’t be so sure. She came to the club that day. After serving me divorce papers, she forgot to get the booster seat out of my car. With her restraining order, I couldn’t come back to my own house to give it to her.” Outrage flared in his eyes.

  “So what if Rachel came to the club? That proves nothing.”

  “But you’re wrong. She was crazy jealous. Layla was just talking to me and Rachel got all fired up.” His expression was unreadable. “My boss saw the whole thing. So did my sister.”

  Laura sucked in a breath and coughed at his rancid smell.

  Ignoring that, he continued. “After a nasty scene, Rachel was out in the parking lot an awfully long time. I glanced out the window and she put something in my glove compartment. Later I found wire cutters in there like you use at the flower shop.”

  Her eyes widened. That couldn’t be true. He was lying.

  “I didn’t get it. Not at all. Thought it was some kind of sick guilt trip because she didn’t work at the flower shop anymore. She always blamed me for that,” he said sadly.

  “You made up this whole thing,” she accused, trying to tug her arms free. “Rachel wouldn’t even know where the brake lines are.”

  “Hmm.” His grip on her wrists tightened. “You wouldn’t think so. But she could look it up on the internet.”

  “I don’t believe a word of this. Everyone knows you killed Layla.” But uncertainty plagued her. Rachel hadn’t been herself. She’d never been so angry at Laura, or held a grudge like this before. And her guilt, her words....

  “Why would I want Layla dead?” Jake asked. “She was a friend. The boss would have killed me if I’d done anything to her. My fingerprints aren’t on those cutters. And now they’re locked up at the police impound lot. You can’t prove me wrong without telling the cops. Then they’ll find evidence against Rachel with or without me.”

  As that sunk in, he shifted his weight on her legs. Her mind struggled with his story. It had to be a lie.

  “They’ll have a long, torturous investigation, and air all the dirty laundry.” Concern filled his voice. “When Rachel’s hounded by the media, how do you think she’ll hold up? Like I said, her life will be over.”

  He was right. Rachel teetered on the verge of a nervous breakdown already. “How could you do that, Jake?”

  “I won’t. It’s up to you. But I’ve been in that rat-hole jail on a weekend pass. Ain’t no way I’m going to prison. I just want out.” He loosened his grip, but still held her hands.

  Puzzled, she searched his eyes.

  “I’m offering you a nice, cozy alternative. Help me out and I’ll disappear forever. You all go on like Jake Santos never existed. I’ll start a new life in California. I always wanted to go there.” His eyes brightened with sad anticipation.

  “California?” She couldn’t believe her ears. He wanted to leave? Was it too good to be true? Hope fluttered in her chest.

  “I’ll miss my girls,” he said with misery. “But they’re better off without me. Tell them I love ‘em, will ya?”

  “Okay.” She couldn’t deny him that. In his own way, he did love those girls. A horrible thought crossed her mind. “How do I know you’ll leave for good, and won’t come back later?”

  “And stir up the hornet’s nest?” His brows rose. “I don’t think so. I’m tired of hiding. I’ll have to change my name again, but if I’m dead, no one will come looking for me.”

  So he was willing to take the rap just not willing to go to prison. “You won’t contact the girls, not ever?”

  His head hung with grief. “I want them to remember the good times—how I was when they were little. I don’t want them to know what I’ve become.” He assessed his filthy clothes and his face contorted with shame.

  He was the most confusing enigma she’d ever seen. Drunken rapist, conniving cheat, charming Romeo, and a tender loving father all rolled into one.

  “Not that it matters anymore.” His voice cracked. “Rachel filed for divorce. She’ll poison my little girls against me.” His bloody eyes brimmed with tears. “Nothing matters anymore. Just let them think I’m dead,” he begged.

  Why should she believe one word he said? She could ask Rachel, but if she was guilty, she’d hate Laura for exposing her. If she wasn’t, she’d be scared to death Jake was framing her. And Laura would look like his cohort.

  “Asking Rachel won’t solve anything,” Jake said as if reading her mind. “Of course, she’ll deny it. Then she’ll be paranoid about getting caught for the rest of her life. But if I disappear, no one’s the wiser. It’s easier for everyone to let a dead man take the blame.”

  He didn’t seem worried that she’d prove her innocence. Was Rachel capable of this? Was she really that angry? She’d filed for divorce so why did she care? Laura felt faint, haunted by her sister’s guilty words. ‘Blood on my hands.’

  “Do we have a deal?” Jake implo
red. Deep hurt and shame crossed his wounded features. And maybe—regret?

  Staring up at him in disbelief, pity welled in her. She remembered the good underneath his bravado—the man he used to be before drinking sent him to the brink of insanity.

  She tamped those feelings down. He brought this upon himself, and hurt everyone around him, as well. Even if Rachel did it, it was still his fault.

  Yet Laura had no choice but to go along with his plan, hoping and praying he’d disappear forever.

  Wordlessly, she nodded.

  “Okay. Do exactly as I say and your family will be rid of me forever. Feed me until I heal, give me a little cash, and I’ll disappear.” Squaring his jaw, he released her hands but didn’t let her up.

  She rubbed her stinging wrists. Her legs had gone numb. She wasn’t giving him any cash. But she needed to get him off her.

  “Okay,” she breathed, rising on her elbows. “Let me up.”

  “Not so fast.” He pushed her back down.

  “What do you want?” she muttered in frustration, immediately regretting the question.

  “You know what I want.” His battered face contorted with a lusty grin. His bruises, swelling, and shredded, muddy clothing made him look like a monster from Night of the Living Dead.

  Lilacs For Laura

  Lilacs For Laura

  Chapter 16—Worm or No Worm?

  “A drink,” Laura stammered, striving to ignore Jake’s innuendo. She hoped the drink would suffice.

  “And silence,” he demanded. “If I see the cops, they’ll get a heads up on those wire cutters in my glove compartment. With your sister’s fingerprints.” His level gaze held a warning.

  “Okay.” She nodded eagerly. “Let me go.”

  “Not yet. I have a little advice. After I’m long gone, take your boyfriend up on his offer and leave this nowhere town.”

  “What?” she asked in disbelief. “How would you know—?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been hiding in the brush for a week while you watered the flowers and sat on that rock.”

  At the revelation, intense violation mixed with her fear. Shaking beneath him, she clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut.