Bachelor No More

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She was warned not to leave Northbridge and assured she would be kept under constant surveillance to make sure she didn’t, but on her attorney’s insistence, she was released from even informal house arrest and told she was free to leave her apartment.

“We’ll be in touch” she was told as they all stood to go, giving the parting an ominous ring.

Mara appreciated that Cam made sure he was the last to follow, spending a moment alone with Celeste, Mara and Jared to tell Celeste that she’d done well, that he hoped the Reverend would cooperate when he returned from his conference and retreat, and that everything would finally be put behind her.

No sooner had Cam left, too, than the telephone rang. It was the call Celeste was expecting from Stephanie to discuss what had gone on. Celeste took the phone to her bedroom, leaving Mara and Jared alone.

“How are you doing?” he asked, sounding as if he genuinely cared.

“I’m glad it’s over,” Mara confessed.

“Me, too. What’s on the agenda for the rest of the evening?”

“Who’s thought about anything beyond this?” Mara joked.

“Okay, then,” he said, clearly taking control. “Break out that bad brandy and have a shot while I do some shopping. Then I’ll fix you both a dinner fit for kings.”

“You cook?”

He wiggled his eyebrows mysteriously. “Wait and see.”

Jared actually could cook. Very well, Mara discovered. He prepared an old-fashioned meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn bread and salad. It was not fast food, however, and by the time he, Mara and Celeste had eaten, it was nearly ten o’clock.

Celeste was obviously worn out so Mara encouraged the older woman to go to bed. “I’ll clean up,” she assured, knowing she was taking on a substantial task because while Jared might be a good cook, he was hardly a tidy one.

“I’ll stick around and help her,” he told Celeste when the older woman seemed hesitant to leave it all to Mara.

That was persuasion enough and Celeste said good-night to them both, heading off to bed while Mara began to tackle the kitchen.

“How do you think she’s holding up?” Jared asked the minute they’d heard the bedroom door close behind Celeste, pitching in just as he’d said he would.

“I think she’s doing okay, all things considered. We’re both just hoping this was the worst of it and that she’s cleared from here without being put through any more.”

“After hearing what she had to say, it seems to me there shouldn’t be any more suspicions about her. But I suppose that’s going to depend on the Reverend.”

Mara had never heard any one of the Reverend’s grandchildren call him by anything but his title so Jared’s reference didn’t surprise her.

“Cam says your grandfather hasn’t been very cooperative,” Mara said. “I’m hoping that will change.”

“Change is not his long suit,” Jared said disparagingly. “Change, forgiveness, understanding, leniency, tolerance, compassion—none of it’s in his makeup. At least, not as far as I’ve ever seen.”

“You really don’t like him, do you?” Mara asked.

Jared had rolled up his sleeves to cook but now he also unbuttoned his collar button as if he were relaxing more and more the longer they were together. It helped her relax with him, she realized as they worked and talked.

“I don’t think it’s any secret that my grandfather and I don’t get along,” Jared admitted in response to her question about his feelings for the Reverend. “Not after that screaming match we had at my graduation—if I know Northbridge, it was well discussed.”

“I was only a kid, though,” Mara pointed out. “I knew it happened, but I don’t remember anything about it. What did you fight over?”

“What it was my duty to do with my life,” Jared said as if he were reciting something. “None of the grandchildren had it easy with the Reverend. I knew exactly what Celeste was talking about when she said his expectations of her were superhuman, and I’m sure Noah and our sisters and our cousins would back her up, too. But as the first grandchild and, even worse, the first grandson, I don’t think I was supposed to be human at all—super or otherwise.”

“You had to stay out of trouble,” Mara guessed.

“Oh, so much more than that. I couldn’t have a hair out of place or a scuff on a shoe. I couldn’t raise my voice even in play, let alone say a cuss word. My grades had to be straight As, my behavior exemplary at all times. And as a teenager? Forget about normal teenage rebellion—I couldn’t even do what was just plain normal. Like wear jeans—I had to wear dress pants and a dress shirt any time I stepped out of my house because I was representing the Reverend. I couldn’t wear jeans in Montana, of all places. Do you have any idea how much I stuck out? And not in a way a teenager wants to stick out.”