He drew in a sharp breath. The thought was ugly. Unforgivable.
He pushed it away as he took his suitcase from the truck and headed toward the house. Even though the night was cloudy and none of the outside lights were on, he had no trouble making his way. He'd spent hundreds of nights at this cottage when he was a child.
How many times had he and Cal slipped through a back window after Annie had gone to bed so they could explore? Ethan had been too young to go with them, and he still complained about having missed out on some of Gabe and Cal's best adventures.
An owl hooted in the distance as Gabe came around the side of the house. His shoes made a soft swishing sound in the grass, and his keys jingled in his hand.
"Stay where you are!"
Rachel's shadow loomed on the, front porch, tall and straight. His lips framed a wisecrack, but, as he made out his grandmother's old shotgun pointed at his chest, he decided being a smart-ass wasn't a good idea.
"I've got a gun, and I'm not afraid to use it!"
"It's me. Damn, Rachel. You sound like a bad detective movie."
She dropped the barrel of the shotgun. "Gabe? What are you doing out there? You scared the life out of me!"
"I came up here to defend you," he said dryly.
"It's the middle of the night."
"I planned to arrive earlier, but I ran into a little trouble with Ethan."
"Your brother is a moron."
"He's crazy about you, too." He stepped up on the porch and took the shotgun away from her with his free hand.
She reached inside the screen door to flick on the yellow porch light. His mouth went dry as he saw her standing there with bare feet, bare legs, and the same blue workshirt she'd been wearing the morning the house was vandalized. Her rumpled curls looked like ancient gold in the porch light.
"What's that?" she asked.
"As you can see, it's a suitcase. I'm moving in for a while." "Did Kristy put you up to this?"
"No. Kristy's worried, but this is my idea. As long as she was living here, I never believed the danger to you would go beyond threats, but with her gone, you're more vulnerable."
He walked into the living room where he set down his suitcase and checked the shotgun. It wasn't loaded, so he gave it back. At the same time, he thought about the .38 he'd locked up before he left the house. Keeping a loaded gun next to his bed had suddenly seemed obscene. "Put that away."
"You don't think I can take care of myself, do you? Well, I can, so just hop back in that redneck truck of yours and go away."
He couldn't quite hold back a smile. She did that to him. "Save it, Rach. You've never been so glad to see anybody in your life, and you know it."
She made a face. "Are you really moving in?"
"I have enough trouble sleeping as it is without worrying about what's going on up here."
"I don't need a baby-sitter, but I guess I wouldn't mind a little company."
That, he knew, was the closest he'd get to an acknowledgment that she was worried. She disappeared to put the shotgun away, and he carried his suitcase down the back hallway to his grandmother's old bedroom, which was now empty of Kristy's things. As he gazed around at the old rough-hewn bed and the rocker in the corner, he remembered how scared he'd get at night when he was little. He used to sneak in here and crawl in with Annie. He could have climbed in with Cal, but he hadn't wanted his older brother to know that he was afraid. One time, though, he'd slipped in with his grandmother only to discover that his big brother was already there.
He heard Rachel behind him and turned. She looked rumpled and beautiful. The V-shaped crease in her cheek told him she'd been asleep when he'd driven up. He studied the shirt she was wearing more closely and felt vaguely irritated. "Don't you have anything else to sleep in?"
"What's wrong with this?"
"It's Cal's. If you need a shirt, you can wear one of mine." He tossed his suitcase on the bed, opened it, and yanked out a shirt that was clean, but marked here and there with various stains that hadn't come out in the laundry.
She took it from him and regarded it critically. "His is a lot nicer."
He glared at her.
She gave him an impish smile. "But yours looks more comfortable."
"Damn right it is."
She smiled again, and pleasure leached into some of the barren places inside him. He thought about how she managed to find amusement in the smallest things, even with her life hanging in shreds around her.
Her green eyes grew crafty, and he braced himself. She planted one hand on her hip, a gesture that hiked up her shirt a few more inches. She was killing him, and she didn't even know it. "If you expect me to cook, you have to buy all the food."
Rachel had more ways of holding on to her money than anyone he'd ever known, and he couldn't resist giving her a hard time. "Now why would I expect you to cook? I'm probably better at it than you are."
She thought about that. "You also eat a lot more, so it wouldn't be fair for me to spend my money on your food. Really, Gabe, you have the most enormous appetite I've ever seen. You're always eating."
Before he could figure out how to respond to that one, a small voice interrupted.
"Mommy?"
He whirled around and saw the boy standing there in the doorway. He was wearing a new pair of pajamas so big they had to be rolled at the cuff. Trust Rachel to protect her pennies by looking to the future.
She moved to his side as if the kid were burning up with fever, and when she bent over, he saw the edge of her panties. The boy gave him a brief, unfathomable look, then stared down at the floor. Gabe turned his back on them and busied himself unpacking.
"Come on, sweetie," Rachel said. "Let me tuck you back in."
"What's he doing here?"
She began moving him out of the room into the hallway. "It's Gabe's cottage. He can come here whenever he wants."
"It's Pastor Ethan's cottage."
"He and Gabe are brothers."
"Are not." Gabe heard them turning into Annie's old sewing room. The boy said something he couldn't quite make out, but it sounded like behead—a peculiar word for a five-year-old to know. The kid was strange, and Gabe knew he should feel sorry for him, but memories were swallowing him up.
Jamie in his pajamas fresh from his bath. That little whorl of dark, wet hair on the top of his head. The way he'd snuggle into Gabe's lap with his favorite book, sometimes falling asleep before they reached the end. Sitting there with a sleeping child heavy in his arms and one small, bare foot cupped in his hand…
"Do you have everything you need?"
He hadn't heard Rachel come back in. He blinked his eyes and shook his head. "No." The breath left his lungs in a shudder. "I need you."
She came to him at once, pressed her body against his, and he knew this waiting had been as hard on her as on him. He pushed his hands underneath the shirt she wore, his brother's shirt, and touched the soft skin beneath. But then she broke away. He felt a chill at her desertion, only to realize she was locking the door.
How many times had he or Cherry done that? Locked the bedroom door in that old Georgia farmhouse so Jamie wouldn't wander in? The pain came back.
Rachel cupped his jaw, and her soft whisper fell on his cheek like a prayer. "Stay with me, buddy. I need you, too."
She always seemed to understand. Once again, his hands found her warm flesh. She wiggled against him and began tugging at his clothes. She was demanding, impatient, and her clumsy eagerness aroused him to the point where he could barely think. In moments he was naked except for one sock.
He had known Cherry's body as intimately as his own. Where she liked to be touched and how she wanted to be stroked. But Rachel was still a mystery.
He stripped his brother's shirt from her, being deliberately rough enough to tear a few buttons so she wouldn't be tempted to wear it again. Then he pushed her back on the bed.
She immediately rolled on top of him. "Who made you boss?"
He laughed a
nd buried his mouth against her breast. She straddled his hips. She hadn't taken off her panties, and now she tortured him with them, lightly sliding the nylon back and forth, up and down, leaving a damp, silky trail.
When he couldn't stand it any longer, he curled his hands around her hips and brought her down hard against him. "Playtime's over, sweetheart."
She leaned forward, dragging her nipples across his chest. Her hair curled around her freckled shoulders, and, as a strand fell over his lips, the preacher's widow regarded him with devilish eyes. "Who says?"
He groaned, slipped his fingers inside her panties, and gave her a dose of her own medicine.
After that, both of them went a little crazy, and because they couldn't make any noise, their lust was all the more frenzied. She bit his chest, then sucked his tongue. He swatted her rear then kissed her until she was breathless. First one rolled on top, and then the other. She made him sit up, then impaled herself, not taking off the panties, merely pulling the crotch aside. Their passion was red-hot, visceral. Thrilling beyond belief. The very walls of the room oozed sex.
He hated it when he awakened in the night to find that she'd gone back to her own bed.
An idea tugged at the corner of his mind. Maybe he should marry her. It would keep her safe and out of trouble. And he wanted to be with her.
But he didn't love her, not like he'd loved Cherry. And he couldn't raise her son. Not now. Not ever.
For the rest of the night, sleep eluded him, and at dawn, he finally gave up and took a shower. He knew she was an early riser, but she still wasn't awake by the time he'd dressed. He smiled to himself. He'd worn her out.
The kitchen was quiet. He unlocked the back door and stepped outside. A wave of nostalgia hit him. He felt as if he'd taken a step back into his childhood.
Both he and Cal had been born when their parents were teenagers. His father had been in college, and then gone on to medical school, before he'd eventually set up practice in Salvation. His Bonner grandparents were well-to-do and embarrassed by their only son's forced marriage into the trashy Glide family, but Gabe and his brothers had loved their Glide grandmother, and they'd spent as much time on Heartache Mountain as their parents would allow.
He remembered running outside first thing in the morning, so eager to start the new day that Annie had to threaten him with her wooden spoon to get him to eat breakfast. As soon as he'd wolfed it down, he'd race back out to find the creatures that waited for him: squirrels and raccoons, skunks, possums, and the occasional black bear. Bears weren't as common now. The chestnut blight had wiped out their favorite feed, and the acorns that replaced them weren't nearly as reliable a food source.
He missed them. He missed working with animals. But he couldn't think about that now. He had a drive-in to run.
The thought depressed him. He moved down off the step and gazed toward the old garden. Last summer, his mother and Cal's wife Jane had tended it during the period when they'd both moved out on their husbands. It was overgrown again, although he could see where someone—Rachel, probably, since she didn't seem to know how to relax—had begun tidying it.
A shrill, high-pitched scream broke the morning stillness. It was coming from the front, and he shot around the side of the house, his heart pounding, thinking that this time it would be worse than painted graffiti.
He came to a dead stop as he saw the boy standing alone on the front porch, near the far end. He was still dressed in his pajamas and frozen in fear as he stared down at something that was blocked from Gabe's view.
Gabe ran forward and immediately spotted what had made Edward scream. A small snake coiled against the wall of the house.
He reached it in three swift strides. Shoving his hand through the railing, he snatched up the snake before it could slither away.
Rachel came flying out the front door. "Edward! What's wrong? What's—" She saw the snake hanging from Gabe's hand.
Gabe regarded the cowering child with impatience. "It's only a garter snake." He held the snake toward the boy. "See that yellow down its back? That's how you know it won't hurt you. Go on. You can touch it."
Edward shook his head and took a step backward.
"Go on," Gabe commanded. "I told you it won't hurt you."
Edward shrank farther back.
Rachel was at Edward's side in an instant, babying him as usual. "It's all right, sweetie. Garter snakes are friendly. There used to be lots of them on the farm where Mommy grew up."
She straightened and gave Gabe a look of cold fury. Reaching down, she snatched the snake from his hand and pitched it over the railing. "See. We'll let it go so it can find its family."
Gabe regarded her with reproach. She was never going to make a man out of the boy if she kept protecting him like this. Gabe had exposed Jamie to snakes when he was a toddler, making sure he could tell the good ones from the poisonous ones, and he'd loved touching them. The voice of reason told him there was a big difference between a child who'd grown up with snakes and one who hadn't, but his son was dead, and he couldn't listen to reason.
Edward curled against her. She patted his head. "How about some breakfast, Mr. Early Bird?"
He nodded against her belly, and Gabe could barely make out his words. "Pastor Ethan said I was s'posed to come to Sunday school today."
Rachel looked annoyed. "Maybe some other time."
He mentally cursed his brother for planting the idea in the boy's head. Ethan hadn't given a moment's thought to what Rachel would go through if she walked into a church service.
"That's what you said last Sunday," Edward complained.
"Let's open the new box of Cheerios."
"I want to go today."
Gabe couldn't stand listening to the kid argue. "Do what your mother says."
Rachel whirled on him. She began to speak, only to clamp her mouth shut and hustle her son inside.
Gabe avoided them both by taking a long walk in the woods until he found the place where he used to keep his animal sanctuary. He'd built some cages when he was. around ten or eleven and used them to doctor whatever wounded animals either he or his friends happened to find. Looking back, he was surprised at how many he'd been able to save.
The memory brought him only sadness. Now he didn't even want to be around animals. He'd been able to heal so many living creatures, but he couldn't heal himself.
He wasn't ready to face either Rachel or the boy, so he headed into town, where he picked up coffee at McDonald's. Afterward, he made his way toward Ethan's church and parked in his accustomed place a block away. He'd been attending services the last few Sundays, always sitting in the back, coming in late and leaving early so he didn't have to talk to anyone.
Rachel had turned her back on God, but he'd never quite been able to do that. His faith wasn't strong like his brother's, and it hadn't helped him. But something was there, and he couldn't let it go.
Despite his recent irritation with Ethan, he liked hearing him preach. Ethan wasn't one of those irritatingly righteous men of God who thundered absolutes and acted as if they had the only pipeline to heaven. Ethan preached tolerance and forgiveness, justice and compassion—everything, Gabe realized, that Ethan wasn't showing to Rachel. His brother had never been a hypocrite, and Gabe couldn't understand it.
He glanced across the congregation and saw that he wasn't the only latecomer. Kristy Brown sneaked into a rear pew long after the Prayer of Confession. She wore a yellow dress with a very short skirt, and her expression practically dared people to make something of it. He smiled to himself. Like everyone else in Salvation, he'd never paid much attention to Kristy unless he'd needed something done. Now she'd become a force to be reckoned with.
After the service, he drove to Gal's house and called his brother to tell him he was moving out for a while. When Cal heard why, he exploded.
"You're moving in with the Widow Snopes? Ethan said you were tangled up with her, but I didn't believe him. Now you're living with her?"
"It's
not like that," Gabe replied, even though that wasn't quite the truth. "She's become a target around here, and I think she's in danger."
"Then let Odell take care of it."
Gabe heard a soft little mouse-like squeal in the background, and realized it was coming from his niece. Rosie was a beautiful baby, full of mischief and already itching to try her wings. A small pain lodged in his chest.
"Look, Gabe, I've talked to Ethan. I know you've always had a weakness for wounded animals, but this wounded animal is a rattlesnake. Anybody who's been with you for five minutes can tell you're an easy mark when it comes to money, and—Hey!"
"Gabe?" His sister-in-law's voice cut in. Although Gabe had only been with Dr. Jane Darlington Bonner a few times, he had immediately taken to her. She was brainy, assertive, and decent, exactly what Cal needed after making a career out of youthful bimbos.
"Gabe, don't listen to him," Jane said. "Don't listen to Ethan either. I like the Widow Snopes."
Gabe felt duty-bound to point out the obvious. "That's nice to hear, but I don't believe you've ever met her, have you?"
"No," his sister-in-law replied in her no-nonsense voice. "But I lived in her awful house. When Cal and I were having all our trouble—I know it sounds silly, but whenever I was in her bedroom or the nursery, I'd feel this funny kinship with her. There was this wickedness about the rest of the house, and a goodness about those two rooms. I always thought it came from her."
He heard a bark of skeptical laughter from his brother in the background,
Gabe smiled. "Rachel's the farthest thing I can imagine from a saint, Jane. But you're right. She's a good person, and she's having a tough time. Try to keep big brother off my back for a while, will you?"
"I'll do my best. Good luck, Gabe."
He made some other calls, including one to Odell Hatcher, then packed up the perishables from the refrigerator and headed back to Heartache Mountain. It was mid-afternoon when he parked next to the garage. The cottage windows were open and the front door unlocked, but Rachel and the boy weren't inside.
He carried the groceries into the kitchen and unloaded them in the refrigerator. When he turned around, he saw the boy standing just inside the back door. He'd entered so quietly that Gabe hadn't heard him.