Tangled Memories

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“I’m never sure how much she actually hears.” Lucas held the door for her. “Let’s go into the garden to talk.”

“We don’t have anything to talk about. Mrs. Andrews was a dead end, whether she’s telling the truth or not.”

But she walked into the garden anyway. Lucas’s presence was comforting, although the very idea would probably be repugnant to him. He had no desire to be her rescuer, any more than she wanted him to be, but he was.

Lucas waited until she sat at the small table near the roses and then took the chair opposite her. More wrought iron, but green this time instead of black. A faint breeze ruffled the roses, sending their rich scent through the air.

“I can’t see any reason why Mrs. Andrews would lie about the call,” he said.

Corrie lifted her eyebrows. She wasn’t quite as accepting of the woman’s motives as Lucas seemed to be. But then, he might have a good reason to pretend to believe her.

“Would she lie if Deidre told her to? Or if it was Deidre’s voice on the phone?”

Lucas’s face tightened, lines deepening around his eyes. “Why do you have it in for Deidre? Just because Mrs. Andrews said it was a woman on the phone, that doesn’t mean it was she.”

“Deidre has been pretty open about her feelings. Maybe you think she wouldn’t do anything rash, but I’m not so sure.”

“That’s ridiculous. Anyway, I’d have noticed Deidre in the crowd.” He glared at her as if she were to blame. “I’m telling you, she wasn’t there.”

Her temper flared at his stubbornness. “Somebody set me up. Why not Deidre?”

“This could have been just coincidence.” But his expression said he didn’t believe that himself.

“Right.” She let the contempt in her voice say it all. “If not Deidre…” A chill brushed her spine. “Mrs. Andrews would say anything her employer told her to, wouldn’t she?”

“Baxter? That’s even more ridiculous. Baxter’s the one who brought you here. Why would he want to get rid of you?”

“I can’t imagine. But then, I haven’t been able to understand why he does anything.”

She thought of the story Lydia had told, about the portrait of Trey. A man who would try to destroy the only thing he had left of his dead son would do anything. The chill intensified in spite of the warm, humid air. No, she was wrong. The portrait hadn’t been the only thing left of his dead son. She was.

“Baxter may be autocratic.” Lucas’s frown deepened. Was he thinking of something specific? “But he never acts irrationally.”

“Unless you agree with Deidre that he was irrational to bring me here.”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t understand it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a good reason.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about that. But if you eliminate Deidre and Mr. Manning from planning today’s little accident, the pool of candidates is pretty small.”

She watched his expression as he tried to cope with that. He didn’t like it, but she’d figured out by now that Lucas had a certain innate honesty. That honesty wouldn’t let him pretend, however much he might want to, that she was wrong.

Poor Lucas. He didn’t want to be allied to her in any way, but he also couldn’t connive at violence. That left him in the unenviable position of trying to protect her and defend his family at the same time.

“Daddy!” Jason plunged out of a dense clump of azaleas and darted toward his father. “I didn’t know you were home yet. Hi, Cousin Corrie.”

Lucas’s face softened at the sight of his son. He put his arm around the boy and drew him close. “What are you doing out here? Aren’t you supposed to be with your grandmother?”

Jason frowned, looking for a moment very like his father. “I guess.”

“Why aren’t you?”

For a moment longer the child pouted, and she had a sense of strong emotions withheld. Then the words seemed to burst out of him. “Grandma never lets me do anything! She just wants me to sit and work puzzles and read storybooks. That’s no fun.”

Lucas brushed fine blond hair back from his son’s forehead. “I thought you liked puzzles. Grandma got you that new dinosaur puzzle, remember?”

“I know. But I already worked it, and I wanted to play cowboys in the garden.” He flashed a glance toward Corrie. “Cousin Corrie understands. She’s a cowgirl.”

She shook her head, smiling, not willing to be drawn into their dispute. “Only once in a while. Most of the time I wait tables.”

“I want to learn to ride. Please, Daddy.”

Lucas looked troubled, and she wondered what really lay behind this apparent dispute over what Jason could do. “Grandma thinks it’s not a good idea.”

“Just ’cause I have asthma, she doesn’t want me to have any fun.”

“Jason, you know that’s not true. Grandma loves you very much.”

Judging by Jason’s mutinous expression, he’d probably like to be loved a little less at this point. So the boy was asthmatic. That explained Eulalie’s protectiveness, she supposed. Still, she’d taught youngsters in class who had asthma, and they’d been able to lead fairly normal lives.

“Jason, there you are!” Eulalie hustled toward them, her clouded expression clearing when she saw the boy. “That was very naughty, to come outside without telling me. I thought you were taking a nap.”

“I don’t need a nap. I’m not a baby. I don’t, do I, Daddy?”

Lucas looked harassed on all sides. “No, of course you don’t need a nap.” He shot an annoyed look at Eulalie. “But you shouldn’t have come outside without asking your grandmother.”

“She’d just have said no.”

“That’s not the point.” Lucas turned his son toward Eulalie. “Tell Grandma you’re sorry, and then go on in the house.”

Jason stared at the brick walkway for a moment. Then he looked up at his grandmother. “I’m sorry, Grandma.” He spun and ran toward the house.

“Jason, don’t run…” Eulalie called.

“Leave the boy alone.” Lucas’s words probably came out with more force than he’d intended. He softened them with a smile. “He’ll be fine. Thank you for watching him.”

Eulalie’s soft mouth took on a surprising firmness. “He won’t be fine if he rushes all over the place and has an attack.” She turned a fierce glare on Corrie. “All he can talk about is riding since he met you. I’ll thank you to leave him alone.”

Before Corrie could find any words in defense, Eulalie had bustled off in Jason’s wake.

Obviously Eulalie wasn’t the marshmallow Corrie had imagined. On the subject of her grandson, at least, she had strong feelings she didn’t mind voicing.

“I’m sorry about that.” Lucas sounded strained. He probably hated the fact that that little scene had played out in front of her. “Jason dislikes having his grandmother hover over him, even when it’s necessary.”

“Is it necessary? I’m no expert on children with asthma, but—”

“You’re right.” His mouth narrowed to a thin line. “You’re not an expert, and I’d appreciate it if you kept your opinions to yourself.” He turned and stalked away, leaving her staring after him.

This seemed to be her day for making people hate her. Not that she’d had to work very hard at that lately. And obviously the faint bond she’d imagined between herself and Lucas was just that—imagination.

Corrie waited on the sidewalk the next morning, feeling something less than her usual Sunday-morning anticipation. She’d had every intention of seeking out a church service on her own, but Eulalie had simply assumed she’d attend church with the family. So here she was, feeling about ten again as Eulalie surveyed her navy suit and then gave a satisfied nod. Apparently she’d pass.

Two cars pulled to the curb—the town car, with Jefferson at the wheel, then Lucas, driving what she supposed was his own sedan. Corrie hesitated, unsure which car to get in, while Eulalie and Deidre slid into the town car.

Ainsley held the door, flushing a little. “I’ll sit up front with the driver, Corrie.”

But Lucas took her arm. “Corrie will ride with us. We’ll meet you there.”

She slid into the front seat, glancing at him as he got behind the wheel. “Trying to keep me out of trouble?”

“Let’s say I think riding with us will be more conducive to a spiritual frame of mind.”

“For me or for Deidre?”

“For both of you.”

In actual fact, they probably could have walked to the church just as easily. Two squares over, two streets down—she was beginning to have a map of Savannah in her mind, the historic district, at any rate. It wasn’t large, as cities went. The squares gave the effect of a giant checkerboard to the old part of the city, where the family seemed to spend most of its time.

“Parking is always a challenge,” Lucas said. “Jason, are you keeping your eyes open?”

“I sure am.” Jason bounced a little in the backseat, as if he wanted to be the one to find a parking space.

“The church doesn’t have its own lot?” She was still trying to get used to the confined spaces of the old city, still feeling a bit claustrophobic now and then as it seemed to close in on her.