Gabe remembered the way Jamie had flown into their big old rambling North Georgia farmhouse, door slamming, sneakers banging, usually yelling at the top of his small lungs that he'd found a special earthworm or needed a broken toy repaired.
"Is your mother outside?"
The boy looked down at the floor.
"Please answer me, Edward," Gabe said quietly.
"Yes," the boy murmured.
"Yes, what?"
The boy's shoulders stiffened. He didn't lift his head.
The child definitely needed some toughening up, for his own sake. Gabe forced himself to speak quietly, patiently. "Look at me."
Slowly, Edward lifted his head.
"When you talk to me, Edward, I want you to say, 'Yes, sir' or 'No, sir' 'Yes, ma'am' and 'No, ma'am' when you talk to your mother or Kristy or any lady. You're living in North Carolina now, and that's the way polite children speak around here. Do you understand?"
"Uh-huh."
"Edward…" Gabe's tone carried a soft warning note.
"My name's not Edward."
"That's what your mother calls you."
"She's allowed," he said sullenly. "Not you."
"What am I supposed to call you?"
The child hesitated and then muttered, "Chip."
"Chip?".
"Don't like Edward. Want everybody to call me Chip."
Gabe considered trying to explain to him that Chip Stone might not be the best choice of names, then abandoned the idea. He'd always been good with children, but not this one. This one was too strange.
"Edward, did you find the ball of string?"
The back door opened and Rachel came in. Her dirty hands and smudged nose indicated that she'd been working in the garden. Her gaze immediately flew to her son, as if she were afraid Gabe might have used thumbscrews on him when she wasn't looking. Her attitude made him feel guilty, and he didn't like that.
"Edward?"
The boy went over to the old cupboard, tugged open the left drawer with both hands, and pulled out the twine ball that had been there, in one form or another, for as long as Gabe could remember.
"Put it with the bucket I was using, would you?"
He nodded, then gave Gabe a wary glance. "Yes, ma'am."
Rachel regarded him quizzically. Edward let himself out the back door.
"Why'd you name him Edward?" Gabe asked, before she could start in on him about what had happened that morning with the garter snake.
"It was my grandfather's name. My grandmother made me promise to name my first son after him."
"Couldn't you call him Ed or something? Eddie? Nobody calls little kids Edward anymore."
"Excuse me. I seem to have forgotten… Exactly which part of this is your business?"
"All I'm saying is that he doesn't like his name. He told me I have to call him Chip."
Dark-green storm clouds gathered in her eyes. "Are you sure you're not the one who told him something was wrong with his name? Maybe you told him he should call himself Chip."
"No."
She stalked forward, finger pointed toward his chest like a pistol. "Leave my son alone." Bang! "And don't you dare interfere between us again the way you did this morning." Bang! Bang!
She'd never been one to mince words, and she kept after him. "What you did with that snake was cruel, and I won't allow it. If you try anything like that again, you can move right back out of here."
The fact that she was right made Gabe feel cornered. "In case you've forgotten, this is my house." It was his mother's. Close enough.
"I haven't forgotten anything."
A small flutter of movement in the periphery of his vision caught Gabe's attention. He looked past Rachel's shoulder toward the screen door and saw Edward standing there, taking in the argument.
Even through the screen, Gabe could sense his watchfulness, as if he were guarding his mother.
"I mean it, Gabe. Leave Edward alone."
He said nothing, merely looked past her toward the door. Edward realized he'd been spotted and disappeared from view.
The lines of strain at the corners of Rachel's mouth put Gabe out of the mood to argue with her. Instead, he wanted to pull her back to the bedroom and start all over again. He couldn't get enough of her. But they weren't alone…
He extracted the square of paper he'd stuck in his back pocket and unfolded it. It was his guilt offering for what had happened that morning, but she didn't have to know it. "Odell gave me the the names of everybody who was at the airstrip the night G. Dwayne escaped."
Her bad mood vanished. "Oh, Gabe, thank you!" She snatched the list from him and sat down at the kitchen table. "Is this right? There are only ten names on the list. It seemed as if there were a hundred men there that night."
"Four from the sheriff's office, and Salvation's entire police force. That's it."
Just as she started to study the list more closely, they heard a car approaching. He went into the living room ahead of her, then relaxed as he saw Kristy get out of her Honda. She was dressed to kill in khaki shorts and a slinky green top.
Rachel hurried to greet her. Edward raced around from the side and threw himself at Kristy. "You came back!"
"I told you I would." She bent down and kissed the top of his head. "I'm tired of working, so I came by to see if you want to go to the pig roast with me this afternoon."
"Wow! Can I, Mom? Can I?"
"Sure. But go clean up first."
Gabe wandered back to the kitchen and was pouring himself a cup of Rachel's pansy-assed coffee when the two women came in.
"But why would you want Dwayne's Bible? What do you—" Kristy broke off as she caught sight of him. He knew she'd been worried about Rachel being here alone, and he detected relief in her expression. "Hi, Gabe."
"Kristy."
"I want the Bible for Edward," Rachel said, without looking at him. "It's a family heirloom."
So, Gabe thought. She wasn't even going to tell Kristy the truth. He was the only one who knew.
Kristy sat down at the table and studied the list.
"One of these men had to have stolen it the night they confiscated my car." Rachel picked up the cup of coffee Gabe had just poured for himself and took a sip. He didn't know why, but it felt nice to be taken for granted. Rachel seemed to be the only person who expected anything from him these days.
Kristy regarded the list thoughtfully. "Not Pete Moore. He hasn't been inside a church in years."
Rachel leaned back against the sink and cradled the mug in both hands. "The person who took it might not have done it for religious reasons. He could very well have wanted it as a curiosity piece."
In the end, Kristy entirely eliminated six names and said the other four were highly unlikely, but Rachel refused to be discouraged. "I'll start with those, but if I don't discover anything, I'm talking to the rest."
The boy rushed into the kitchen. "I'm clean! Can we go, Kristy? Are they going to have a real pig there?"
As Rachel went over to check Edward's hands, Gabe picked up the coffee mug she'd abandoned and walked out onto the back porch. A few minutes later, he heard Kristy's car drive away.
Quiet once again settled over Heartache Mountain. He and Rachel would have the cottage to themselves for the rest of the afternoon. Heat rushed through his veins. God bless Kristy Brown.
He shut his eyes for a moment, ashamed of how much he wanted Rachel, because he didn't love her. He couldn't. That part of him no longer worked. But he loved being with her. She calmed something inside him.
The screen door banged behind him. He turned toward her, only to feel his anticipation fade as he saw the determined look in her eyes.
"Let's go, Gabe. We're going to find that Bible right now."
He got ready to argue, but then gave up. What was the use? Rachel's mind was made up.
Chapter Fifteen
« ^ »
"Another waste of time," Gabe said as he closed the door of his truck.
The interior was hot, and the seat belt burned Rachel's fingers as she snapped it together over the skirt of the dress she'd been reserving for a special occasion, a square-neck yellow cotton printed with black-and-orange monarch butterflies. "We only have one more name to go."
"Let's eat instead. I could use a hamburger."
"I swear you have a tapeworm. We just ate an hour ago."
"I'm hungry again. Besides, checking up on Rick Nagel's going to be an even bigger waste of time than this was. The fact that he cheated off Kristy's geography test when she was in fifth grade doesn't mean he should be a suspect."
"I trust Kristy's instincts."
Gravel crunched beneath the tires as Gabe backed out of Warren Roy's short driveway. Rachel watched him flip on the air conditioner. At the same time, he gave her a look that combined both tolerance and irritation. He thought she was on a wild-goose chase, and he was probably right. The blank expressions on the faces of the first two men they'd visited had convinced her neither one had any idea what she was talking about. Still, the Bible had to be somewhere.
Something had been nagging at her ever since she'd first seen the list, and once again, she took out the paper to study the names. Bill Keck… Frank Keegan… Phil Dennis… Kirk DeMerchant… She hadn't known any of them.
Dennis. Her gaze shot back up the list. "Phil Dennis? Is he related to Carol?"
"Her brother-in-law. Why?"
She jabbed her finger at the paper. "He was there that night."
"Then you're out of luck. I heard he moved out west a couple of years ago, so if he took your Bible, it's long gone."
"Not if he gave it to Carol."
"Why would he do that?"
"She was loyal to Dwayne. She still believes in him, and that Bible would mean a lot to her. Maybe her brother-in-law knew that and took it."
"Or maybe not."
"You could be a little more encouraging, you know."
"This is as encouraging as I get."
His attitude was irritating, but at least he was sticking by her. She studied his profile with its hard planes and blunt angles and thought about telling him a knock-knock joke so she could watch his face soften when he smiled. A lassitude stole through her, a need for him that wasn't going away. She wanted to tell him to turn his truck around and head right back up Heartache Mountain, but she couldn't do that, so she concentrated on folding the paper instead. "I want to see Carol next."
She waited for him to protest. Instead, he sighed. "You sure you don't want to get a hamburger?"
"If I eat another hamburger, I'll start to moo. Please, Gabe. Take me to Carol's house."
"I'll just bet she's another charter member of your fan club," he grumbled.
"Um." No need to tell him exactly how much Carol Dennis disliked her.
Carol lived in a white colonial tract house set on a rectangular lot fronted by two symmetrically planted young maples. Matching redwood planters filled with purple and pink petunias sat on each side of the front door, which was painted Williamsburg-blue and held a grapevine wreath decorated with yellow silk flowers. Rachel stepped ahead of Gabe and braced herself for what could only be an unpleasant interview, but before she could push the bell, the door opened and two teenage boys came out, followed by Bobby Dennis.
It had been nearly a month since she'd seen him with his mother at the grocery store, but as he caught sight of her, his face hardened with the same hostility. "What do you want?"
Gabe stiffened at her side.
"I'd like to speak with your mother," she said quickly.
He grabbed the cigarette the red-haired boy on his right had just lit, took a drag, and handed it back. "She's not here."
Rachel shuddered at the thought of Edward turning out like this. "Do you know when she'll be back?"
He shrugged, already bummed out on a life that had barely begun. "My mom don't tell me shit."
"Watch your mouth," Gabe said in a low, almost toneless voice that sent a shiver up Rachel's spine. Although he didn't do anything overtly threatening, he seemed to loom over the surly teenagers, and the Dennis boy began to study one of the petunia pots.
His red-haired friend, the one he'd taken the cigarette from, shifted nervously. "My mom and her are workin' at the pig roast today."
Gabe's lips barely moved. "You don't say."
The redhead's knobby Adam's apple wobbled in his throat. "We're goin' down there later. Do you want us to give her a message or something?"
Rachel decided to intercede before the poor kid swallowed his cigarette. "We'll find her. Thanks."
"Punks," Gabe said as they returned to the truck. The moment they were settled inside, he turned to her. "You are not going to that pig roast."
"You know, Bonner, finding this Bible is tough enough without having to drag you along every step of the way."
"The minute people set eyes on you, they're going to truss you up and stick you on the spit, right along with the pig."
"If you're going to be a wimp about it, you can just drop me off there. I'll get a ride home with Kristy."
He threw the truck into gear with a quick, irritated motion and backed out into the street. "We had that cottage all to ourselves this afternoon. Just the two of us. But are we taking advantage of it? Hell no."
"Stop acting like a horny teenager."
"I feel like a horny teenager."
"Yeah?" She smiled. "Me, too."
He stopped the truck in the middle of the street, leaned across the seat, and kissed her, a faint brush of the lips, sweet and fleeting. Ribbons of sensation unfurled inside her.
"Sure you don't want to change your mind about that pig roast?" He propped his elbow on the back of the seat and regarded her with an expression that was so mischievous it made her laugh.
"I definitely want to change my mind, but I'm not going to. Just one more stop, Gabe. I'll talk to Carol Dennis, and then we'll go back to the cottage."
"Why do I think it's not going to be that easy?" With an expression of resignation, he pointed the truck toward town.
The pig roast was being held in the athletic field attached to Memorial Park, the town's largest public space. The park itself contained green metal benches and neatly laid-out flower beds that bloomed with impatiens and marigolds. Beyond it, the athletic field baked in the midday sun with the only shade coming from the tents and canopies erected by the county's civic organizations, which used the annual pig roast to raise funds. The smell of charcoal and roasted meat permeated the air.
Almost immediately, Rachel spotted Ethan and Edward standing near a small pavilion where a bluegrass band played. Edward nibbled a cloud of pink cotton candy without taking, his eyes from the musicians, but Ethan kept glancing toward a food tent about twenty feet away. Rachel followed his eyes and spotted Kristy listening to a sandy-haired man who seemed to be doing his best to impress her.
Ethan scowled. With his blond hair glimmering in the sun, he reminded Rachel of a morose young god. It served him right, she thought, for being so shallow.
As she and Gabe moved closer, she felt the stares of the people around her. Only the Florida retirees seemed oblivious to the fact that the notorious Widow Snopes had joined their ranks.
Edward turned toward her, just as if she were wearing a maternal homing device. "Mommy!"
He ran forward, sneakers flying, cotton candy dangling from one hand, Horse from the other. His sticky mouth turned up in a wide smile. He looked so happy, so healthy. Her eyes stung.
Thank you, God.
The prayer had been automatic, but she pushed it away as Edward charged into her legs. There was no God.
"Pastor Ethan buyed me cotton candy!" Edward exclaimed, his attention focused so completely on her that he hadn't spotted Gabe, who was standing a few feet behind. "And Kristy got me a hot dog 'cause I almost cried when I saw the pig." His face fell. "I couldn't help it, Mommy. It's dead, and it had eyeball holes, and… They killed it and cooked it over the fire."
Another small los
s of innocence on the path to adulthood. She wiped a ketchup smear from his cheek with her thumb. "That's why they call it a pig roast, partner."
He shook his head. "I won't ever eat a pig again."
She decided not to mention the probable contents of his hot dog.
"Kristy bought me a balloon, and it was red, but it broke, and—" Edward caught sight of Gabe and fell silent. She watched him draw Horse against his chest with the rabbit's hindquarters tucked under his chin. His withdrawal was almost palpable, and she remembered the ugly scene on the porch with the snake. Sometimes she thought she understood Gabe, but his callous behavior this morning had proven how little she knew him.
Ethan came up next to them, gave her a curt nod, then chatted with his brother, pointedly ignoring her. Apparently she wasn't the only one who felt ignored. She detected a small movement at her side and glanced down just in time to see Edward drop his cotton candy on Gabe's shoe.
Gabe jerked his foot back, but it was too late. He made an exclamation of disgust as a sticky pink mess covered the brown leather.
"It was an accident," she said quickly.
"I don't think so." He stared down at Edward, who stared at him in return. Resentment darkened her son's brown eyes, along with just enough five-year-old's cunning to tell her it hadn't been an accident at all. He'd wanted Ethan to himself, and he blamed Gabe for taking his attention.
She reached into her old cloth purse for a tissue and found the toilet paper she was using instead to save money. She withdrew a neatly folded strip and handed it to him to clean his shoe.
Ethan touched her son's hair. "You've got to be careful with that stuff, Edward."
Edward looked from Gabe to Ethan. "My name's Chip."
Ethan smiled. "Chip?"
Edward nodded at the dirt.
Rachel darted a furious glance at Gabe. She didn't know how, but somehow this was his fault. "Don't be silly. Your name is Edward, and you should be proud of it. Remember what I told you about my grandfather? That was his name."
"Edward's stupid. Nobody has that name."
Ethan gave Edward's shoulder a comforting squeeze, then regarded his brother. "The volleyball game'll be starting soon. Let's play."