Chapter 10
Mitch stood on
the beach, not looking out at the bay, but at Emily Jordan sitting
alone on her porch, a huge straw hat on her head and a sketch pad
in her hand. They were back where they had started—as strangers,
watching each other from afar. He wanted to go to her, to tell her
how sorry he was for everything she had suffered, but he wasn’t
sure he had the courage. Days had passed, turning into a week, and
still he waited.
Nikki was staying at the cottage with
Emily. He saw the two of them coming home in the evenings together,
saw them taking long walks on the beach and often sitting on the
porch until dark.
He’d found out from Zed, who’d taken a
personal interest in the situation, that Emily’s secret admirer
hadn’t made any more phone calls or sent any more “love” letters.
That could mean anything, couldn’t it? Maybe Emily’s admirer had
gotten one of the things he’d wanted—for Emily to stop seeing Mitch
Hayden. But the thing he wanted most, he still didn’t have—Emily
herself. So why no more phone calls, no more letters?
The police had questioned Mitch—twice.
He was sure Fowler Jordan had implied that he was the man they
sought. Maybe Jordan truly believed he posed a threat to Emily.
Mitch was afraid that if the police concentrated all their
attention on him, the real stalker might remain free. Free to break
into Emily’s home again. Free to attack her.
Out there somewhere was the real
culprit. Zed had warned Mitch to keep a close eye on Emily’s
cottage. Whoever was responsible for the break-in might try again,
when Emily and Nikki were at home.
But Mitch needed more than to guard her
at a distance. He needed to talk to Emily, even if she never
forgave him. He needed to tell her his side of the story, to
explain that he hadn’t realized until it was too late what his
business partner was doing. He wanted Emily to know that he had
spent the last five years in a guilt-induced hell.
But would she talk to him? Would she
even let him near her?
“He’s coming this way,” Nikki said,
shading her eyes with her hand. “I’m going inside to fix some iced
tea.”
“No, Nikki, don’t go. Don’t leave me
alone with him.” Emily clutched the charcoal pencil in her
hand.
“It’s taken him a week to build up
enough courage to come over and talk to you. You’ve been waiting
for this. You want to hear what he has to say, and neither of you
need me around when he says it.”
“Yes, I know. It’s just that I don’t
know if I have the courage to see him.” Emily laid down her sketch
pad and pencil on the wicker table, placed her hands in her lap and
waited for Mitch. Nikki hurried along the porch toward the back of
the house.
She sat quietly, listening to the waves
roll into shore, listening to the soft wind blowing and to the
sound of her own heartbeat drumming in her ears. What would he say
to her? How would she respond? She had long since made her peace
with the hatred she’d felt for the unknown man, M. R. Hayden, but
there was no peace between her and Mitch. There never could be as
long as they didn’t talk to each other.
Mitch put his foot on the bottom step,
looked up at Emily and waited for some sign from her. She stared at
him, her brown eyes filled with sadness.
“May I—”
“Yes,” she said.
He couldn’t remember a time in his life
when he’d been so nervous, so damned scared he’d say or do the
wrong thing. This was his one and possibly only chance to make
things right with Emily, to plead his case and beg her
forgiveness.
Mitch took the steps two at a time,
then halted abruptly at the edge of the porch. “How have you been?
Zed told me that the letters and phone calls have
stopped.”
“For now,” Emily said.
“I’m glad Nikki is staying with
you.”
“I know you’ve been keeping an eye on
us, and that Mr. Banning is doing what he can to help, as a favor
to you. He—he even offered to hire a bodyguard for me, but I think
that’s going a bit too far, don’t you?” She couldn’t bring herself
to look directly at Mitch; instead she stared at his
feet.
Mitch couldn’t stop staring at Emily,
at her downcast eyes, at her soft, pink lips, at the fall of dark
hair curling out from underneath the straw hat. “If things
escalate...if this guy becomes violent again...a bodyguard might
not be a bad idea.”
“If things worsen, I’ll probably move
back to Mobile.” Emily wrung her hands. “I was always safe when I
lived with Uncle Fowler. He protected me from the world. But I
wanted to start living again, to get out on my own.” She laughed,
the sound a mockery of the real thing. “Just look what’s happened
to me.”
Mitch hadn’t been overly impressed with
Fowler Jordan upon his brief meeting with him, but he didn’t doubt
the man’s devotion to Emily. Stuart Jordan’s uncle had devoted the
past five years of his life to Emily. But maybe during those five
years, he’d become too accustomed to running Emily’s
life.
“You still don’t have any idea who is
harassing you and why?” Mitch asked.
“Do you know that since last Sunday
morning, all sorts of crazy thoughts have gone through my
mind.”
When Mitch took a tentative step toward
Emily, she glanced away from him, turning her head slightly to gaze
out at the bay. “I’ve wondered if it’s possible that Uncle Fowler
is right about you. That you really are my tormentor.”
“You can’t honestly think
I’d—”
“Yes, the thought did cross my
mind.”
“Emily, for crissakes, I would never do
anything to hurt you. I would never—”
“No, you wouldn’t do anything to hurt
me. Nothing except kill my husband and child and...” Emily scooted
her chair away from the wicker table, intending to stand up and run
into the house. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t have this
conversation with Mitch. Despite what she’d thought, she wasn’t
ready. “I’m sorry. I know what happened with the Ocean Breeze
Apartments wasn’t your fault.”
Mitch touched her. She froze to the
spot. Reaching out, he grasped her shoulders in a gentle yet firm
hold. “I’d lie down and die for you right here and now if it would
change anything. If I could give you back your life, I’d do
it.”
Emily refused to look at him. She hung
her head, avoiding any eye contact. “Please, let me go. I know...I
understand that you were duped by your partner, that you were taken
in by some woman.”
Noting the jealousy in Emily’s voice,
Mitch rejoiced inwardly, realizing that Emily had to still care
about him to be jealous. He willed himself not to smile about this
one small reason to hope.
“Her name was Loni. She was blond and
sexy and...and I didn’t really love her. Not the right way. I was
young and stupid and acted like a damned dog running around after a
bitch in heat.” Mitch gave Emily a gentle shake. “I made so many
mistakes, honey, but I’ve paid dearly for them, and I’m still
paying. Nothing has ever hurt me the way seeing you in so much pain
does.”
She swallowed her tears. She would not
let him see her cry again. “I don’t hate you, Mitch. I came to
terms with what happened to Stuart and our baby a long time
ago...but I can’t forget. I’ll never be able to forget.” She pulled
away from him. “You see, I have scars on my back that will be a
reminder to me for as long as I live.”
“Emily?” Mitch clasped her chin in his
hand, tilting her head upward until she looked him directly in the
eye. “I thought that if you could forgive me, it would be enough,
but it’s not. I want more. I want you to let me try to make things
right. I don’t know how, but I need to do something, anything to
help you.”
She saw the truth of his words in his
ice-blue eyes, the sincerity of his plea. “Remember what you told
me about pity? Well, I don’t want your pity. Not now or
ever.”
“It’s not pity, Emily. I care about
you. I care so much it hurts. Please, help me find a way
to—”
“Do you really want to do something for
me?”
“Anything.”
“Then go away, Mitch. Go away and leave
me alone. There is no place for you in my life. I—I’ve decided that
I...I’m probably going to start seeing Charles again. He’s very
fond of me...and...” When Mitch glared at her, anger glimmering in
his eyes, Emily jerked her chin out of his grasp, turned quickly
and walked away.
“Emily?”
She stopped just before rounding the
corner of the porch, but she didn’t look back at him.
“Yes?”
“They don’t matter to me, you know. The
scars on your back. If you had allowed me to see them, I would have
told you how beautiful you are. And you are beautiful to me. All of
you.”
“Goodbye, Mitch.”
He stood on the porch for several
minutes after she walked from the side porch to the back of the
house and went into the kitchen. “This isn’t goodbye, pretty lady,”
Mitch whispered. “I couldn’t leave you now, even if I wanted
to.”
There wasn’t a damned thing Mitch could
do about Emily’s decision to date Charles Tolbert again. Nothing
except let the anger inside him fester, growing like a rotting
sore. He couldn’t help thinking of Emily as his. If that made him a
fool, then he was a fool. If he believed Tolbert could make Emily
happy, it might make letting her go a little easier. But as long as
Emily wanted him, then she couldn’t find happiness with anyone
else. And he knew she wanted him.
So, for the time being Mitch had to
stand by, doing what little he could. He watched Emily’s house at
night, listening for any signs of an intruder. Sometimes, in the
early-morning hours, he’d stand outside her bedroom window, at a
discreet distance, and remember when he’d held her in his arms all
night long.
But since the night of the break-in at
Emily’s house, there had been no more letters or phone calls. Could
that mean Tolbert had been her secret admirer, the one who had
warned her to stop dating Mitch, and now he had what he wanted? Or
was this mystery man simply playing a waiting game? Hopefully,
Emily would be safe for the time being. Safe in another man’s
arms
Seeking freedom from his pain, Mitch
got on his Harley, accelerated quickly and raced up the highway.
He’d come a long way down from the top of the world where he’d been
five years ago. He’d sunk pretty low by the time Zed found him in
Arkansas, but he’d worked hard the last few months to put his life
back together. Emily had given him a reason to care again. She’d
given him hope.
Some of the guys at the construction
site had told him about a rough and rowdy nightspot where the music
was loud, the beer cheap and the women available. He wasn’t
interested in another woman—only Emily. But he sure as hell could
use a few beers and enough noisy distraction to dull his senses for
a couple of hours.
Mitch parked his motorcycle in the
parking lot, hung his helmet on the seat and headed toward the Blue
Lagoon. By the sound of the upbeat country music he heard, once he
got inside he wouldn’t be able to hear himself think.
A smoky haze permeated the crowded
room. A small band blasted out an instrumental hit. Mitch made his
way to the bar, ordered a beer and ignored the blonde who was
giving him the eye.
“Want some company, sweetie?” She sat
down on the empty stool beside Mitch.
“No.”
“What’s the matter—your girl leave you
for another guy?”
Mitch jerked around, staring at the
woman as if she were a gypsy fortune teller.
Grinning, she ran the tips of her
fingers up his arm. “I guessed right, huh?”
“Look, I’m not
interested.”
“Don’t you like blondes?”
“I used to,” he told her. “But my
tastes have changed. I prefer brunettes now. One brunette in
particular.”
“Lucky lady.” She leaned into Mitch’s
side, brushing her large breasts against his arm. “Last chance,
sweetie. If you don’t want what I’m offering, I’ll find somebody
who does.”
“Then go find him, sweetie, and leave me the hell alone.”
Ignoring the woman, Mitch ordered
himself a second beer. Maybe he was stupid to refuse her. Maybe he
should buy her a drink and find them a table somewhere. Within an
hour he could have her laid out naked on a motel bed, with her legs
spread and her arms open wide. God knew he needed a woman. Needed
one bad. But just any woman wouldn’t do. Not anymore.
A few months ago, he would have taken
the blonde up on her offer of “companionship.” But not tonight.
He’d lost his taste for loose women. Mitch clutched his beer,
waiting for the woman to leave.
“Hey, Kellie baby, come over here and
meet some friends of mine,” a loud masculine voice called out from
across the room.
Lifting the beer to his mouth, Mitch
took a deep swallow and looked over the edge of his glass, scanning
the room. His stomach knotted tightly. For five years he had
frequented places like this, places where he could pick up a woman,
get drunk cheap and find a few hours of forgetfulness. But he had
left that life behind him, and he wasn’t going to sink that low
again. Not ever.
Mitch paid for his beers and headed for
the door. The refreshing night air hit him the moment he stepped
outside.
Once he had thought that Emily Jordan’s
forgiveness would be enough. He’d been wrong. He needed more from
her. He needed to find a way to make her happy, to give her the
life she truly wanted. Somehow, someway, he was going to do just
that.
Emily stood a discreet distance behind
Rod while he worked on his most recent painting. She’d never known
a student as talented as Rod; actually, his talent far exceeded
hers. But he hadn’t quite matured enough to come into his own. He
was still searching for his unique style. She had told him that
there was only one Monet, one Picasso and one Rod Simmons. Once he
truly knew himself well enough to know he must paint for himself
and himself alone, he would learn to takes risks—risks that could
create his best work.
She inspected the still life he was
creating, a study in contrasting textures and values. “This
painting has been a real challenge to you, hasn’t it?”
Rod stepped back a couple of feet,
studying his work, then turned to Emily. “Trying to capture the
light through those clear glass objects has been one of my most
difficult projects. But I think using the series of glazes, each
one in a different color, helped me achieve the effect I
wanted.”
“I’d like to display this piece in our
window, once you’ve finished.” Emily laid her hand on Rod’s
shoulder. He tensed instantly and she wondered why. She had often
placed her hand on his back or shoulder and he’d never flinched at
her touch the way he’d just done. Emily removed her
hand.
Rod stepped away from her, closer to
his painting. “All I lack now is the finish.”
“Color lifting will soften a highlight
edge,” Emily commented, her mind wandering as she checked her
watch. Charles was supposed to pick her up at six and it was five
till now. They were going to meet Uncle Fowler for dinner and both
men would be displeased that she hadn’t taken time to run home and
change. But this last class of the day had run over a few minutes
and when Rod had asked if he could stay and speak privately to her,
she’d agreed.
“I appreciate all the extra time you
give me, Emily.” Rod began gathering up his supplies. “You’re
really a wonderful person.”
Rod’s innocent compliment stirred a
sense of uneasiness in Emily. Since the break-in, she’d been
questioning every little comment others made, especially men. Even
though nothing else had happened, not even a note or phone call,
she didn’t feel completely safe. Uncle Fowler had tried to convince
the police that Mitch Hayden was behind Emily’s harassment and the
break-in, that he could have easily hired someone to ransack
Emily’s home while he wined and dined her. Nikki still thought
Charles was the culprit, but then, Nikki didn’t like Charles and
made no secret of the fact she thought Emily was an idiot for
dating him again. And now here Emily was suspecting Rod, simply
because he’d told her she was a wonderful person.
“I’m more than glad to give a talented
student a little extra help,” Emily said. “Rod, I don’t mean to
rush you, but I do have a date tonight, so could you tell me why
you needed to see me privately?”
“Is your date with that Mitch guy?” Rod
peered at her with eyes narrowed to slits. A harsh frown marred his
youthfully pretty face.
“No, it isn’t, but I hardly think
that’s any of your business.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right.” Rod
proceeded with the cleanup job he’d started. “I asked you to stay
over because...well, I ... er...” Turning abruptly, he unbalanced
his easel. Just as it began to topple, he reached out and grabbed
it. With his back to Emily, he said, “I’m awfully sorry about what
happened at your house. I think it’s terrible that anyone would be
that destructive.”
“How did you know about—”
“The police questioned me.” Rod turned
around slowly and lifted his eyes to gaze directly into Emily’s
face. “I hope you know that I’d never break into your house and
destroy your nice things. I’d never do anything to hurt
you.”
Rod was the second man in her life who
had swom he’d never do anything to hurt her. And she wanted to
believe them both. “Rod, no one has accused you of anything. I’m
sure the police are questioning many of the people I know. Probably
all of my male art students, since my mystery caller is definitely
male.”
Rod’s face turned crimson beneath his
tan. “Well, there’s a big difference in calling someone and sending
them letters and in breaking into their house. I mean calls and
letters aren’t destructive. They don’t hurt anyone. But breaking
into a person’s house is a different matter
altogether.”
“You’re right.” Emily wished she didn’t
feel so nervous simply because she was alone with Rod in her
upstairs studio. She was being silly. Of course Rod would never
hurt her. Besides, Nikki was still downstairs. All she had to do
was call out her name and she’d come running.
“I’d say that they’re two different
people, wouldn’t you?”
“What?” The more Rod talked, the more
uneasy Emily became. A sudden sense to run almost overcame her. She
backed slowly away from Rod.
He took several tentative steps toward
her. “Don’t you think it’s possible that whoever broke into your
home is someone other than the man who’s been calling you and
sending you letters?”
“The police seem to think it’s the same
person,” Emily said. “They think we might be dealing with a
stalker.”
“No, you aren’t!” Rod surveyed the room
quickly, as if he were looking for an escape. “What I mean is that
whoever broke into your house might be a stalker, but not the other
person.”
“Why do you think that?” Emily checked
her watch again. “Rod, I’m sorry, but—”
“Emily,” Nikki called out from the
stairway.
“Yes,” Emily replied. “What is
it?”
“Charles is here.”
“Tell him I’ll be right down.” Emily
rushed to the stairs, halted momentarily and glanced back at Rod.
He looked like a lost and frightened kid. Suddenly she felt very
foolish for suspecting him. “Thanks for trying to help me make
sense of this mess, but why don’t we leave all the theorizing to
the police.”
“I suppose you’re right. Goodbye,
Emily. Have a nice time tonight.”
“See you day after
tomorrow.”
Emily rushed downstairs. When she
reached the bottom, Nikki pulled her aside, into the
storeroom.
“Nikki, what are you doing?” Planting
her hands firmly on her hips, Emily glared at her
friend.
“You’re making a major mistake dating
Charles Tolbert.”
“Stay out of this. Whom I choose to
date is my business.”
“The only reason you’re dating Charles
is because of what happened with Mitch.” Nikki pointed her index
finger in Emily’s face. “You’re doing just what Charles and your
uncle wanted you to do. You’re falling back into the safe life
Fowler Jordan planned for you.”
“Right now, a safe life doesn’t seem so
bad,” Emily said. “Not after what happened with Mitch. I took a
chance on love and see what it got me.” Emily opened her hands,
palms up, in an exasperated gesture. “My God, Nikki, I fell in love
with a man whose construction firm was responsible for Stuart’s
death!”
“Mitch Hayden didn’t kill Stuart or
your baby. He isn’t responsible for the scars on your
back.”
Emily dropped her hands to her sides
and nervously rubbed them against her hips. “I can’t discuss this
right now. I don’t want to talk about Mitch. I don’t want to think
about Mitch. All I want to do is forget him.”
Emily ran from the storeroom, slowing
her pace when she saw Charles waiting by the counter, a concerned
look on his face.
“Is everything all right?” he
asked.
“Yes, of course. Everything’s fine.”
She walked behind the counter. “Just let me get my purse and I’ll
be ready to go.”
“Are you sure you’re all right? Nothing
has happened, has it?” Charles asked. “You haven’t had any more
calls or letters, have you?”
“No, I haven’t. Nothing is wrong. I’m
just running behind a little this evening.” Emily picked up her
purse, came out from behind the counter and smiled at Charles. “I’m
sorry I didn’t get a chance to go home and change.”
“Your slacks are a bit casual, but you
look lovely.” Charles took her arm and draped it over
his.
“Nikki,” Emily called out. “Don’t wait
up for me tonight. I don’t know what time I’ll be
home.”
Nikki appeared in the storeroom
doorway. “Stay out as late as you’d like, and have
fun.”
Nikki’s smile was pure devilment, and
Emily knew what her friend was thinking. She might as well have
said it aloud. Have fun. If you can have any fun
with someone as boring as Charles.
“I’m sure we’ll have a delightful
time,” Emily said, then walked out the door with her
date.
She might not have fun with Charles
Tolbert, but she would be safe. Uncle Fowler had kept her safe for
five years, but as soon as she’d left his protection, her life
began to unravel. Letters and phone calls from a secret admirer.
Her house broken into and her living room ransacked. But worst of
all, she had opened herself up for love again and had been
destroyed by a truth she still didn’t want to face.