скачать книгу бесплатно
“Ah, my saintly son has returned.” Jerrod’s father sat at the small burn-scarred kitchen table, a bottle of beer in front of him. From the look of his red-rimmed eyes and the slur of his words, it certainly wasn’t his first drink of the day.
“Have you eaten today, Pop?”
“Not hungry.” Mack McCain finished his beer and shoved the empty bottle aside. “Did you get all settled over at the church?”
Jerrod shrugged out of his suit jacket and grabbed a skillet from the cabinet. “Yeah, starting in two weeks, I’m ready to begin converting the sinners of Inferno every Sunday morning.” He withdrew a stick of butter and a carton of eggs from the refrigerator.
Mack leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand across his grizzled jaw. “Still can’t believe it. My son—a preacher. Wonder what your ma would have made of it.” He frowned and stood unsteadily. “Think I’ll have me another beer.”
“Why don’t you have some eggs and toast with me, instead?”
Mack fell back into his chair. “I suppose I could eat a little.”
Dinner was a silent affair, and once again Jerrod’s thoughts returned to Johnna. Since coming back to town last week, he’d driven by her law office a dozen times, cruised by the small house where she lived just off Main Street, to catch a glimpse of her. He should have spoken to her then—before Erin had been arrested, before he needed Johnna.
There had been a time when Johnna Delaney had been his lamp, the shining beacon that had pierced the darkness that was his life. He’d been nineteen and she’d been eighteen, and neither had been prepared for the passion, the wealth of emotion that had exploded between them.
He shoved the thoughts away, not wanting to remember the Johnna of his youth—so soft and warm, so sweetly giving. She’d been needy, and so had he. It had been a need greater than mere sex, stronger than loneliness. For a while they had assuaged that need with each other, and for a while it had been wonderful.
He cleaned up the dinner dishes, then realized his father had fallen asleep—or passed out—in his easy chair. Some things never change, Jerrod thought as he helped his father from the chair to the bedroom.
His father had been a drunk since the day Jerrod’s mother had walked out on them. Jerrod had been seven, and he’d watched his father crawl into the bottom of a bottle and never crawl out.
He’d hoped things would change in the years he’d been gone. He’d written his father often, sent money on a regular basis and hoped the man would find the strength to build a life for himself. Instead, Mack had merely continued to mourn for a woman long gone and a love that hadn’t lasted.
“You shouldn’t have come back here, boy,” Mack muttered as Jerrod covered him with the sheet. “This place will suck the life from you. You should have stayed away.”
Jerrod started to reply, then realized Mack had fallen back asleep. He left the bedroom, fixed himself a glass of iced tea, then stepped out the front door and into the simmering evening air.
The old wicker chair on the porch gave a familiar creak as he sank into it. He sipped his tea, his gaze focused on the trailer across the way. At one time it had been where Erin McCall and her mother had lived. During the time Jerrod had been away, Erin had surprised everyone. She’d finally made her way out of the trailer park by marrying Richard Kramer, one of the most affluent businessmen in town.
Jerrod had received a wedding announcement from Erin, along with a chatty letter telling him she’d finally found happiness. And now she was facing life in prison for the murder of her husband. What on earth had happened?
He took a long swallow of his tea and smiled as a dusty old Ford pulled up in front of the place. He set his glass down on the porch and stood as an old man climbed out of the car.
“Uncle Cyrus.” He greeted the man with a warm embrace.
“I go away for a week and return to find my favorite nephew has finally come back home where he belongs.”
Jerrod motioned to the wicker chair across from where he’d been sitting. “Want something to drink? Some tea or lemonade?”
Cyrus shook his head and eased himself down into the chair. “Nah, I’m fine. How you doing, boy? You look good.”
“Thanks.”
“You seen Johnna Delaney yet?”
Jerrod laughed dryly. “You never were one to waste time or mince words, Uncle Cyrus.”
Cyrus McCain was the only person on earth who knew everything that had happened between Jerrod and Johnna so many years ago. It had been with Cyrus’s help that Jerrod had left the trailer park, Inferno and Johnna behind.
“I’m seventy years old, boy. I don’t have time to mince words.”
Jerrod leaned back in his chair and picked up his tea. “Yeah, I’ve seen her.” A vision of Johnna filled his mind.
For a moment he remembered her as he’d known her nine years ago. Then her hair had been long and thick and her eyes had been a soft ash-gray, which only hardened when she spoke of her father, Adam.
Today there had been no hint of softness about her. Her hair was almost boyishly short, and yet the style emphasized the sharp angles of her face, the fullness of her lower lip and the beauty of her eyes—eyes that no longer held any softness or vulnerability.
“She looks good,” he finally said.
Cyrus nodded. “She’s got that strong Delaney bone structure. I imagine she’ll always be quite an attractive woman.”
Jerrod frowned. “Have you heard about Erin?”
“I stopped in at the diner for some supper on my way back into town, and the whole place was buzzing with the news.” Cyrus shook his head. “Somebody should have seen that marriage was a train wreck waiting to happen. Everyone in town knew Richard beat the hell out of Erin on a regular basis. I suppose she just decided to give it right back to him.”
Jerrod took a sip of his now tepid tea. “She says she didn’t kill him.”
Cyrus raised a white eyebrow. “And I’m a fairy princess,” he said.
Jerrod ignored him. “I asked Johnna to defend Erin today.”
Cyrus stared at him in disbelief. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“No, no kidding. Erin wants her.”
“Did she tell you to kiss her—”
“She told me no,” Jerrod said before Cyrus could finish.
“What did you expect her to say? You cheated on Johnna with Erin.”
Jerrod’s stomach knotted and a wave of guilt swept through him. Guilt that the years had done nothing to assuage. After years of soul-searching he’d thought he’d finally learned to forgive himself, but apparently it wasn’t total absolution. “That was a long time ago.”
“Matters of the heart don’t know nothin’ about time,” Cyrus observed. “Your dad is a perfect example of that. The wound is still as fresh today as it was that Saturday morning when your ma left him.”
“My father is a fool,” Jerrod said with a touch of harshness. “No woman is worth that kind of suffering.”
Cyrus said nothing. For a few moments the two men simply sat in comfortable silence. As Jerrod gazed at the man who was his father’s older brother, a burst of affection swept through him.
There had been many times when Jerrod had wondered what might have become of him if not for Cyrus’s presence in his life. It had been Cyrus who had listened to Jerrod’s tales of woe as he’d been growing up, Cyrus who had helped ease the absence of his mother. And Cyrus who had, on the night Jerrod had left Inferno, shoved a handful of money and a Dallas address into his pocket and told him to make something of himself.
And he had. Although the last thing he would have believed when he’d left Inferno so long ago was that he’d eventually become a minister, that was exactly what he’d become.
“I’d better get on home,” Cyrus said as he rose from the chair. “I’ve spent the better part of the day driving home from the cabin, and these old bones are telling me it’s time for a hot shower and my bed.”
Jerrod stood, as well, and walked his uncle to his car. Again the two men embraced. “Thanks, Uncle Cyrus.”
“For what?”
Jerrod smiled. “For everything.”
Cyrus waved his hands in dismissal of Jerrod’s gratitude. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said as he climbed into the car.
A moment later Jerrod watched the old Ford disappear from sight. He returned to the porch, watching as the night shadows claimed the last of the sun.
Again his thoughts turned to Johnna.
He had betrayed her nine years ago and he’d lived every day of the time since regretting it. But she had betrayed him, too.
She’d allowed him to believe it didn’t matter where he came from, that it didn’t matter that she was a have and he was a have-not. She’d told him she loved him, but her parting words to him had revealed the truth.
He couldn’t be certain of the forces that had brought him back to Inferno, but he steadfastly refused to believe one of those forces was any lingering feeling for Johnna Delaney.
The only thing he wanted from her was help for Erin. They had played at love once, but both of them had broken the rules. He didn’t intend to play the game with her again.
Chapter 2
“Johnna was running late. Susan Boskow’s shoplifting trial had ended at five. The accused had received a sentence of probation and the promise that in the future if she found herself unable to feed her children, she’d reach out to the variety of agencies available for help.
Johnna’s brother’s wedding was set to take place at five, and she hurried from the courthouse, running down the street toward the tiny Methodist Church where Mark Delaney and his intended bride had chosen to be married.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said as she flew into the small sanctuary where her brothers all stood, looking hopelessly ill at ease and out of place.
“You aren’t late—the bride-to-be is,” Luke said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “She probably came to her senses and decided marrying Mark was a big mistake.”
Mark looked stricken and Matthew frowned irritably. “Knock it off, Luke,” he said sternly. “Mark is nervous enough without your comments.”
The beginnings of a headache banged above Johnna’s right eye. “As usual, I see we’re acting like one big happy family,” she said irritably.
In the three months since their father’s death, the four siblings had already faced an enormous hurdle. Mark had been attacked and a ranch worker had been killed in order to protect an illegal-alien smuggling ring that had been operating from the ranch.
The guilty had been arrested, including the family lawyer, who had been the executor of their father’s will. A new lawyer had been retained, several ranch hands had been fired, and somehow in the middle of all the chaos, love had blossomed between Mark and April Cartwright, the woman who’d been hired as social director for the ranch.
The shared trauma had initially forged a fragile bond among the Delaney children as they united to fight an outside foe, but that bond was stretched thin as the need to unite passed and they were once again left to deal with one another without the tools necessary. They had not been taught how to interact with one another. A basic mistrust had been instilled in each of them, along with enough emotional baggage to last a lifetime.
God bless Adam Delaney. He’d been a shrewd businessman, one hell of a rancher, but he’d been a cold, mean-spirited man who’d taught his children nothing about love or family.
Mark looked as handsome as Johnna had ever seen him. He was clad in a black suit with a crisp white shirt. In fact, all her brothers looked exceptionally handsome without their trademark jeans and cowboy hats.
Mark eyed his watch worriedly, and at that moment April and her son, Brian, flew in. Mark’s eyes flamed with an intensity so bright, so hot, Johnna felt the burn in the pit of her stomach.
Would a man ever look at her with such tenderness, such longing? A wistful yearning pierced her. Mark wore his love for April on his features—in the shine of his eyes and the curve of his lips.
Jerrod once looked at me that way. The thought snaked its way into her head and she shoved it away, knowing it was a false memory. She’d only believed that was the way Jerrod had looked at her. But it had all been a lie.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” April said, looking lovely in a beige linen suit that emphasized her blond coloring. She smiled and took Mark’s hands in hers. “Brian lost his dress shoes,” she explained.
The eleven-year-old boy held out a foot, displaying his cowboy boots. “Those old shoes were too small, anyway. Besides, I told Mom you wouldn’t care if I wore my boots.”
Mark laughed, the worried lines that had creased his forehead gone. “I wouldn’t have cared if you showed up barefoot,” he said.
The church secretary stuck her head in the door that led to the small office. “Oh, good, I see you’re all ready.”
“All we need is the preacher man,” Luke replied.
“He’ll be right with you all,” she replied.
Before anyone could say another word, the office door opened and Jerrod McCain stepped out wearing a black minister’s robe.
For a moment Johnna thought this was some sort of dreadful joke. Seeing Jerrod in preacher robes was like seeing Santa Claus without his beard—it didn’t fit.
She’d had no time to gather her defenses, to steel herself for the assault of seeing him again. She hadn’t remembered his shoulders being quite so wide, his hair so rich and thick and his eyes such a piercing shade of blue.
She was suddenly aware of the run in her hose, the drab gray of her suit and the knowledge that her hair was probably standing on end.
As his gaze met hers, she raised her chin and refused to look away, hoping she conveyed a cool confidence and indifference that belied the tumultuous emotions racing inside her.
Finally he broke the gaze, moving to greet each of her brothers and the prospective bride. To Johnna’s relief, the ceremony began almost immediately.
As Jerrod spoke the words that would bind her brother and April together as husband and wife, Johnna tried to defend herself against the wave of memories that assailed her.
At one time she and Jerrod had talked of wedding vows and marriage. They’d spoken of forever and always, and for the very first time in Johnna’s life, she’d felt valued…wanted.
It hadn’t mattered that her father hated her, that he’d been bitterly disappointed that she hadn’t been another son. It hadn’t mattered that he had never forgiven her for surviving a difficult birth while his wife had died. None of it had mattered as long as Jerrod loved her.
Lies, she thought bitterly. All smoke and mirrors. No substance…no truth. Any love she might have entertained for Jerrod, despite the lies and betrayal, had died an irreversible death on the day she had buried Miranda.
She shoved these thoughts aside, refusing to go to the dark places in her soul where she mourned the baby girl she had lost. Although her brothers knew she’d lost a baby years ago, none of them had known the depth of her grief. She’d never shared that with anyone.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Jerrod said, his deep voice bringing Johnna firmly back to the present.
“And son,” Brian quipped, his face beaming with happiness.
Mark laughed and ruffled Brian’s hair. “And son,” he agreed.
“You gonna kiss the bride, or do I get to do it for you?” Luke asked.
Mark gathered April into his arms. “I think, dear brother, this is a job I can handle all by myself.”
As he kissed his new bride, Johnna was once again filled with a bittersweet wistfulness. She hardened herself against it, hating herself for entertaining any weakness or desire for anything remotely resembling love.
Fortunately, the congratulations were over quickly. Mark and April departed for a one-night stay at a bed-and-breakfast in town. Brian left with Matthew to return to the ranch, where he was spending the night with a friend.
Luke scurried out, probably in anticipation of a hot date, and Johnna headed for the door with him, unwilling to be left in the small church with Jerrod.
She needed time to think, and she headed to the place where she’d always done her best thinking. In the lobby of the courthouse, she stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the top floor.
