“You were in a church?” his father roared. “Have I taught you nothing? Religion is for the weak-willed. I’ve taught you to stand on your own two feet, not kowtow to some false sense of guilt. I’ve made sure you’ve never been in a church in your life, and now this?” He raised a clenched fist, and his wife caught his wrist before he could strike Jesse. He gave a final, furious glare, then stomped away. Moments later the front door slammed.
His mother sank onto a chair. “Don’t infuriate your father like that.”
Shaken, Jesse sat beside her. How was he supposed to know what infuriated the man when he didn’t even know him? “Why is he so opposed to religion? I felt such peace in that place. Like maybe I could start over, be a better person.”
She took his hand. “You’re fine the way you are, son. A good boy. Don’t go back to that church. I don’t know what your father would do if he found out you ignored him.”
The Jesse he’d been finding out about wasn’t a good person. Besides, he was way past the age where his parents could make demands of him. He set his jaw. “But why? What’s he got against church?”
“Your grandfather was a preacher. Strict and, well, abusive. He liked to use the strap on your dad’s back. When your dad left there, he swore he’d never darken the door of another church.”
“What do you think about God, Mom?”
She rose and carried her empty glass to the dishwasher. “There’s no God, Jesse. What we make of ourselves in this life is all there is.”
The words rang hollow in Jesse’s heart. He hadn’t done a very good job up to now, from what he’d heard. The old traps still lay ahead of him. When his friends began to come back around and he started visiting his familiar haunts, would the hedonistic Jesse return? The one who cared nothing about anything other than his own wants and desires?
He sure hoped not. This mission of self-discovery was turning into a horror show, and he was the star.
Murder-suicide. Could he really have been capable of killing Liam? Jesse feared the answer might be yes.
Thirteen
Her friends were gone, and the house felt too empty. Alanna paced the drawing room carpet and glanced outside from time to time. She was bored, that’s all it was. Liam used to entertain her in the evenings with his giant bubbles. Or they’d go to the gym and work out. She wasn’t used to such solitude.
The dog. She’d forgotten to take food to Prince. She went to the kitchen and rummaged in the fridge for leftovers. A container held the last of some roast chicken. Perfect. She carried it out the back door. A security light illuminated the garden and revealed the vast expanse of grass.
“Prince!” she called. She should have brought a torch. Did the dog even know his name? She heard a meow behind her. “Pussy,” she coaxed. “Here, pussy.” A tiny kitten approached her. She held out a morsel of food for it, and it nibbled from her fingers with sharp teeth. “You’re wet.”
The kitten was drenched as though it had been in the lagoon. It complained plaintively and accepted another bit of food. Alanna saw a movement from the end of the garage. “Prince?” She held out a piece of chicken in that direction. “Come get your supper.”
The skinny setter crept across the grass on his belly. His tail gave a tentative wag. Inch by inch, he approached her. Alanna barely breathed, afraid of causing him to bolt. He reached her and she laid the chicken on the grass, where he gobbled it up.
She touched the top of his head, and he flinched but didn’t pull away from the food. His skin quivered as she petted him, and she saw the tension gradually ease from his body. “Poor love. No one will hurt you here.”
Prince finished the chicken and lay quietly under her hands for several long minutes before he licked her fingers, then rose and slipped back into the night. She’d made progress. She stood and wiped her hands on her jeans.
The kitten still rubbed against her ankles. She scooped up the half-drowned scrap and cuddled it. It licked her chin and she carried it with her across the grass to the path around the lagoon. If she stayed on the path, she wouldn’t have any run-ins with the alligator.
Her bare feet hit a pebble on the flagstone and she winced, then put down the kitten to brush the rock off her foot. The kitten hunched at her feet and cried. “What’s wrong, little one?” She scooped it up.
She heard a splash in the lagoon and a loud meow from a different cat. Aiming her light through the gloom, she saw a white feline head above the water swimming furiously toward shore. A figure ran from the lagoon. Man or woman, she couldn’t tell, but she suspected whoever it was had launched the cat into the water.
The cat yowled, and the note of despair in its cry galvanized her into action. She gasped and ran for the water. Was throwing the cat into the lagoon a deliberate attempt to feed it to the gator? She glanced around for the sinister reptile but saw nothing. The cat screeched again, and it turned a plaintive gaze toward her. Surely she could save the poor thing. She dropped the kitten to the ground and rushed to save the other cat.
Wading into the water, she felt along the muddy bottom with her toes. Ick. The gooey stuff clung to her feet. She listened for the horrific roaring she’d heard last night, but only the sound of tree frogs and crickets echoed around her. Her outreached hands touched the cat, and it practically climbed her wet shirt.
Alanna clutched it close and began to wade back to the shore. She heard a sound that made her mouth go dry. A rustle, then a loud splash. She glanced back to see eyes shining above the surface of the black water as the gator swam toward her.
The shore was still five feet away, and the muck on the bottom of her feet weighed her down like an anchor. Her pulse raced. What had she been thinking? She carried precious cargo—Liam’s child.
She tried to move faster, hindered by the fact that she was clutching the cat. She spared another glance behind her. The gator was three feet away and gaining fast. She thought to hit it with the torch but knew that would do little good. All she could do was try to put one foot after the next in the muck and get to shore.
She saw Barry at the edge of the water. “Barry, help me!” Her shaking hands dropped the light. It sank into the dark waters.
“Hurry, Alanna!” He tossed something white toward the gator.
At first Alanna was confused, then she remembered that he fed the gator marshmallows. She moved as fast as she could. There was no time to look back. If she wasted a split second, the gator would take her in its jaws.
She heard those massive jaws snap and expected to feel searing pain, but the teeth hadn’t clamped on her. On her knees at the edge of the water, she crawled the last few feet out of the murky lagoon.
Barry yanked her to her feet and propelled her away from the water. The moment her toes touched the flagstone path, she wanted to collapse, but she glanced back toward the lagoon and saw the gator again, only its eyes above the water. Looking for the prey she’d nearly become.
She dropped the cat and threw her arms around Barry. “Thank God you were here, Barry. He would have eaten me for sure.”
He caught her in a fierce hug. “What were you doing out there, sugar? I could shake you.”
“The cat,” she babbled. “Someone threw the cat into the water to feed the gator, I’m thinking. I had to save it.”
“You nearly were food to Pete yourself. I couldn’t have endured it.”
His mouth swooped down and claimed hers in a kiss. The fury and passion in his lips whirled her away from noticing she was wet and dirty and frightened. She clung to him and returned his kiss. How wonderful that someone cared so much if she lived or died. Barry was someone she could depend on. He’d been there for her since the day they first met.
His hand traveled down her back to her waist, and he pressed her more tightly against him. The movement brought Alanna to her senses. She wasn’t ready for a real marriage yet. This was physical attraction, nothing more.
She tore her lips from his. “I need to draw a bath. I reek of the lagoon. Thank you for s
aving me, Barry.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, his eyes intense. “Don’t scare me like that again.” He dropped his arms, then put his hands in his pockets. “The cat isn’t worth your life.”
“I had to help,” she said. “I can’t explain it.”
The cat and the wet kitten still huddled at her feet, and Barry kicked at them. “Stupid cats, I’d kill them myself,” he said fiercely. “Cats are good for nothing, and you nearly died to rescue one. What were you thinking?”
Alanna watched the cats streak away and dive under the front porch. “I wasn’t thinking about the baby the way I should have been,” she admitted. Her warmth toward him evaporated. “How did you happen to see me?”
“I was looking for you,” he said.
She remembered the figure she’d seen by the water. Someone had thrown that cat in. “Had you been out here long? Did you see anyone?”
He shrugged. “A few minutes.”
“How did you happen to see me?”
“When I couldn’t find you, I decided to feed Pete. Good thing I did.”
She couldn’t be arguing with that. Still, the thought that he might have thrown the cat into the water haunted her. Who else could it have been? Grady was here. Hattie lived across the way, but Alanna couldn’t see the older woman doing such a thing. So it had either been Grady or Barry, or possibly a transient. Though she doubted anyone would trespass to capture cats and feed them to the gator.
The kitten had been wet too, as though it had been put in the lagoon but managed to escape without being gator food.
“I need a bath,” she said again. As she turned toward the house, she caught sight of a cardboard box by the water. “What’s that?”
“Nothing important. Just stuff I was feeding Pete.”
“What kind of stuff?”
He shrugged. “Garter snakes and lizards I’ve caught.” She shuddered. “Are they alive?”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Sugar, where is this questioning going?”
“They’re alive, aren’t they?”
He shrugged. “Pete likes to catch his food. It’s fun to watch.”
Alanna grimaced. “You watch him catch snakes and lizards? That’s sick, Barry. You threw the cat in the water, too, didn’t you?”
She watched him closely, wishing for a strong denial she could believe. When his shrug came, she took a step back. “You did it?” she whispered.
“I told you—I hate cats. The sneaky creatures slink around, and I fall over them when I least expect it. Don’t make such a fuss about it, sugar.”
Alanna felt ill. Did she know him at all? “I can’t talk about it right now,” she choked out. She ran for the house and paused only to scrape the gunk from the bottom of her feet on the grass by the porch. Inside the manor, she fought tears as she raced up the steps and to her bedroom. She grabbed pajamas and a dressing gown from her dresser before going into the bathroom.
Her cheeks were hot, and she sat on the toilet lid and turned on the shower. There was no bathtub in this room, and she was too dirty for a bath anyway. She shut the door, then stripped off her filthy clothes. Tears still rolled down her cheeks as she stepped under the hot spray. The water at her feet ran dark with South Carolina dirt.
Something creaked. The floor? The muscles in her throat tightened. “Is someone there?” she whispered.
“It’s me, sugar,” Barry said from the other side of the shower curtain. “I wanted to see how you are. I’m sorry if you didn’t understand. I never imagined you would care so much about the cats.”
She heard his steps come nearer and tried to cover herself with her hands. “Please leave, Barry. I’m not dressed.”
“Say you forgive me first. I never meant to hurt you.”
She was frantic to get him out of the bathroom. “I forgive you. Now please leave. I need to get out.”
“Of course. I’ll just take your wet clothes. And I’ll leave your cats alone.”
She heard the door creak again, then a click. Peeking out the shower curtain, she saw she was alone again. Shudders hit her then, an emotional reaction rather than a result of the cold. Her teeth chattered, and she turned up the heat until the water nearly scalded her skin.
Maybe she was overreacting. Not everyone loved animals the way she did. But her reassurances did nothing to stop her teeth from chattering.
Fourteen
The next day Alanna managed to avoid Barry until he left for the office. She didn’t know how to face him now that she’d seen a side of him that dismayed her.
She took her tea and an omelet to the porch and sat, chewing on her lip. When Thomas Connolly accepted that she was actually beyond his reach, she might be able to gain more independence from Barry. She shied away from the word divorce. This issue with the cats was just a misunderstanding. His brutality might be accounted for by a cultural difference she didn’t understand. For all she knew, Americans despised cats the way women she knew hated mice. She wouldn’t have been so upset if he’d thrown mice to the gator.
Sunshine lit the garden. Her mates had promised to come out later to practice. She swallowed the last of her tea, then carried some scraps of omelet in a piece of plastic wrap with her in case she saw Prince. She could see Hattie now.
Not surprisingly, as she approached the shrubs at the far side of the garden, a black nose pushed out from under them.
“Here, Prince.” The Irish Setter crawled toward her, his tail swishing ever so slightly more than it had. He was warming up to her. She petted and made over him, then left him licking his chops and made her way along the path to Hattie’s cottage.
Such a fine spring day. With the birds singing and the sunshine warming her shoulders, she could almost forget the night’s horror. A pregnant woman was supposed to be emotional. That might be a problem she hadn’t expected. Her hands smoothed her belly, and she smiled when she felt the baby kick.
The cottage played peekaboo through the trees until she exited the grove and trod the stone path to the front of the small white house. The freshly painted green shutters matched the door. Planters of blooming flowers sat on the windowsills. More flowers lined the path as she neared the front. Hattie had a green thumb.
Alanna raised her hand to knock when she heard whistling behind her. She turned to see Hattie walking toward the house with a basket of grasses. Her hair was down today, a curly white waterfall that came to her waist. She wore capris and a matching top in a bold red Hawaiian pattern. Her feet were bare.
She hesitated when she saw Alanna, then smiled. “I hoped you’d come for a visit.” She set the basket on top of a tree stump and came the last few feet. “Have you had tea?”
“I have.” Alanna followed her inside. The scent of cinnamon greeted her, and she closed the door behind her. The drawing room was miniscule, just big enough for a small sofa and two wing chairs pulled into a cozy arrangement by the open hearth of a fireplace.
There were a couple of pictures on the walls, and she saw a photo of a young boy in a frame on a table by the sofa. She picked it up and studied it. The child was about five.
“That’s your Barry,” Hattie said. “He was quite a handful back then.”
Alanna set the picture back. “When did you quit working for the Kavanaghs?”
Hattie settled on the sofa and drew her legs up under her like a young girl might. “Barry was fifteen. He didn’t need me anymore.”
“Did you care for Grady?”
“I was gone by the time he came. He’s not been treated well, from what I can see. Poor boy. Patricia clearly hates him. You’ve not met her yet, you said?”
“Not yet.”
“Be prepared. She hates all things Irish. It’s a constant battle between her and Barry’s father, Richard, who practically idolizes his heritage. Barry too. She’ll hate your guts at first sight.”
Lovely. Alanna sat in the wing chair. From this vantage point she could catch a glimpse of the manor house through the trees. She realized why
she’d come this morning. She wanted to ask Hattie’s opinion on the incident regarding the cats. It was a difficult subject to bring up.
She twisted a red curl around her finger and glanced around the room as she tried to decide how much to reveal. A sweetgrass basket held magazines by the door. Another one held pens and stationery on the table by the picture of Barry. She knew there would be more in the other rooms of the house.
“Do you sell your baskets?” she asked. “I’d love to buy one.”
“I’ll give you one,” Hattie said. “What would you use it for?”
“I can’t let you do that,” Alanna protested.
“You can’t stop me. I’ll not take the money of a Kavanagh. I have three that are finished. Let me get them.”
She rose and exited the room. Alanna wished she hadn’t brought it up. She didn’t want Hattie to think she’d been hinting for a gift.
Hattie returned carrying three baskets. One was about forty centimeters square, and Alanna’s gaze was drawn to it. It would be large enough to store magazines and books by her bedside. The second was round and smallish. It might be good for pens and paper. The third was shaped like a boat.
“I can see you like this one.” Hattie extended the large square one toward her. “Take it. I’m honored to give it to you.”
Alanna’s fingers closed over the basket. Even the texture and weight of it made her smile. “Hattie, I know this must cost you dearly. Please let me pay you for it.” She’d heard what these baskets sold for. “I feel guilty to take it for free.”
“You’re family now, Alanna. Let this be the end of your protests.” Hattie set the other two baskets on the sofa and curled back up into her previous position. “Now tell me why you really came. Something is troubling you.”
Alanna clasped the basket to her chest and rested her chin on the top of it. “Is it usual for Americans to despise cats?”
Hattie frowned. “Cats? Why no. I have half a dozen kittens running around here most of the time, though usually different ones. No one cat seems to stay around for long. Most of us love our cats and spoil them rotten.”