Stonebrook Cottage Page 14

  "I didn't mean it that way." Henry's voice was small, but his huge eyes were defiant, daring her to doubt him. "I meant are you glad you're governor. Do you like being governor?"

  She was screwing this up on every level. "I don't know yet. It's too soon."

  She answered honestly, her shoulders slumping as she realized how exhausted she was.

  She didn't know what to say to her children, what to do to keep from making the situation any worse—to keep them from coming to hate her. They only had her. But she would be useless to them if she didn't have some kind of life apart from them. Still, serving as gov-ernor…maybe it was too much, especially on top of the shock of losing Big Mike.

  Henry seemed somewhat satisfied by her answer. Lillian pretended not to be paying attention, a tactic she used, Allyson knew, when she wanted to avoid confrontation.

  "I'll get better at being governor," Allyson said. "I'll be more efficient with my time. These past two weeks have been particularly intense, but it won't always be that way. We'll get used to being without Big Mike, all of us." She paused, but neither child spoke. "I didn't send you to Texas to get rid of you."

  "We know that," Henry said, as if she were an idiot and had once again underestimated him and his sister.

  Allyson felt a surprising tug of confidence. He was a tough little nugget, her Henry. "If I'm missing the point, tell me what it is."

  He got to his feet with his lemonade. "Can we go outside? It's hot in here. I want to put my feet in the brook."

  "Me, too," Lillian said.

  Her first impulse was to make them stay and to keep at it until they told her everything, explained what possessed them to run away and say whatever they'd said to manipulate Kara into bringing them here. Instead, Allyson nodded. "Don't go far—and be careful."

  "Can we stay here with Aunt Kara tonight?" Lillian asked.

  "I don't know if she's able to stay—"

  "She is," Henry said. "She said she was supposed to take a few days off from work."

  Allyson seized on the idea. A few days with Kara might just do the trick, snap Henry and Lillian out of whatever funk they were in—and, Allyson admitted, that would give her a bit more time to settle into her new role and decide how to handle the anonymous calls, should they continue. Either they'd end, or she'd have to tell someone. She couldn't go on pretending they weren't happening.

  The kids scooted off to the brook, and she headed out back. Sam Temple politely excused himself, leaving her alone with Kara. Allyson raised her eyebrows as she watched him retreat into the cottage. "Kara, Kara, you do amaze me sometimes."

  Her friend was sitting in an Adirondack chair in the shade and deliberately ignored Allyson's remark—but she would. As open as Kara was about so many things, she was deeply private about her intimate longings and desires. If she hadn't moved to Texas, Allyson wondered if she'd have told her friend about Pete Jericho. Probably not, because of their history, but Allyson missed telling Kara everything, missed having her around.

  "The kids went mum on you, didn't they?" Kara sighed, motioning for Allyson to join her in the shade. "I thought they might, hoped they wouldn't—and flat out asked them not to."

  "It's all right. Well, it's not all right, but I can be patient now that they're here." Allyson sank onto the second Adirondack chair, remembering countless times she and Kara had sat out here drinking margaritas, laughing, watching Henry and Lillian play. They'd built a tire swing for them, just she and Kara together. "They trust you, Kara. Thank God they had you to run to. I know it hasn't made your life any easier—"

  Kara waved off her apology. "That's the least of my worries. They're great kids."

  "They are. Eleven and twelve." Allyson smiled halfheartedly. "Can you imagine what it'll be like around here when they're teenagers?"

  Kara laughed. "Why do you think I moved back to Texas when I had the chance?"

  "You're awful. They've missed you—so have I. Hatch has, too." Allyson paused, but she knew Kara wasn't going to respond. "He'll want to see you."

  "He doesn't like how I handled the situation, does he?"

  "Of course not, but that's because he doesn't like anything about the situation. You should have heard him pleading with that Texas Ranger brother of yours to keep this quiet." Allyson stretched out her legs, feeling more relaxed, more comfortable with Kara. She gave her friend a sideways smile. "I take it you didn't invite Ranger Temple up here."

  "He came on his own."

  "Ah. He's protecting you—"

  "No, he's plotting ways to get me back to Texas so he can throw me in jail."

  Allyson smiled. "I don't know, that could be fun."

  "Allyson!"

  "God, that was my first genuine laugh in days. Big Mike would be pleased—he knew Texas would agree with you." But Allyson couldn't sustain her teasing mood and paused, gazing at a bumblebee buzzing in a patch of burgundy hollyhocks under the kitchen window. "The kids would like to stay here with you for a day or two. Would you mind? It might be a good idea, a chance for us all to settle down after the past couple of days."

  "You know I'll do anything I can to help. And I'd love to spend some time with the kids. I was looking forward to having them for a few days in Austin. We can have our visit here, instead."

  "Your job—"

  "I was just instructed to take some time off. I've been pushing it lately."

  "No surprise there," Allyson said. "I knew when Big Mike died you'd end up burning the midnight oil. You always do when you're upset about something."

  Kara didn't argue. "It's hard, losing him."

  "Damn hard."

  They stood together and walked over to the brook, which was technically on Jericho land. Henry and Lillian were preoccupied with a frog that had escaped them, and they both seemed cheerful and normal when Allyson said goodbye. She explained that they could stay at the cottage tonight—she'd be at the barn if they needed her. That suited them fine. "I'll bring you fresh clothes later on this afternoon, okay?"

  "Sure, Mom," Henry said without looking up from his frog-hunting.

  Allyson led the way back to the cottage, fighting tears. Why wouldn't they talk to her? What was wrong? But Kara said nothing, offered no opinion, no comment, as they walked around back. Sam Temple was working on the hibachi. He struck Allyson as a man who wouldn't tolerate stonewalling or any measure of bullshit, but he couldn't have gotten more out of Kara and the kids than she had.

  He offered to walk her back. Allyson shook her head. "That's not necessary."

  "You're wasting your breath," Kara said, amused.

  "I just fended off my security detail."

  "They work for you. Sam doesn't." She smiled. "Trust me on this, Allyson."

  Allyson couldn't even begin to guess what Temple was thinking, but saw his dark eyes settle on Kara in a way that made her own knees quake. She relented. "All right, after you—what is it people call you?"

  "Sam'll be fine, ma'am."

  The half grin and black eyes coupled with the well-muscled physique—Kara couldn't possibly have failed to notice. And Temple obviously had an opinion about Kara's dark eyes and slim physique. The idea of a macho Texas Ranger on Kara Galway's case was Al-lyson's first genuinely entertaining thought in days, and she was sorry Big Mike wasn't there to enjoy it with her.

  Twelve

  Kara returned to the brook and crept along a narrow path down to a small, shallow pool amidst rocks and coppery mud. Lillian squatted in the ferns and skunk cabbage and pointed to a frog in the wet moss. "Shh," she whispered. "He's scared."

  "Of what?" Kara asked softly.

  "I don't know."

  The frog jumped and landed in the water with a loud splash, startling Lillian. She rose, brushing mud off her knees. Henry got up from the rock where he'd been sitting and shook his head. "I knew you couldn't catch him."

  Lillian tossed her head. "I didn't want to catch him. I wanted him to be free."

  "Come on, you two," Kara said cheerfully. "If you'
re going to spend a few days out here with me, we need provisions. Oatmeal, stale coffee and Ben & Jerry's ice cream will only get me so far."

  "There's macaroni and cheese," Lillian said.

  "It's orange. Look, you'll be doing me a favor. Sam's walking your mom to your grandma's. I want to get to town and stock the cupboards before he gets back."

  This was just common sense on her part. He'd left her and the kids to their own devices only because he'd calculated that it was more critical for him to get a read on Allyson and her state of mind. The Texas Ranger at work. He wasn't just going to sit around and scrape gunk off an old grill. He wouldn't like Kara slipping off to town without him riding shotgun, but that was too bad. They needed food. Henry and Lillian needed to help out with the grocery list and getting the cottage in order. And, she supposed, she needed to reestablish some measure of autonomy with Sam, even if he did have her gun.

  She knew he'd see what she'd seen in Allyson—the strain, the gauntness, the worry. Big Mike's death had taken its toll, the responsibilities of being governor and now her concerns about her children. She'd seized on the idea of having them stay at Stonebrook Cottage. Kara wondered if those who saw Allyson every day even noticed the transformation, the erosion of confidence and optimism that, a year ago, had seemed an integral part of her friend's personality.

  Sam wouldn't need to know the details of Henry and Lillian's flight to Austin to recognize that something was very wrong with Allyson Lourdes Stockwell, governor of Connecticut.

  Henry relented first, then Lillian, skipping off ahead of Kara. She called to them to jump into Sam's car. It was blocking hers, and she'd found the keys right there on the dresser in the bedroom. No point wasting time moving it out of the way just so she could take her rental.

  Henry rode shotgun this time. He stared out the window, looking fairly neutral for a boy who'd just stonewalled his governor mother. "If you and Lillian really are in danger," Kara said, "I should tell someone. You'll want backup if this guy who followed you to Austin comes up here."

  Henry lifted his thin shoulders and said nothing, but Lillian leaned forward from the back seat. "Sam will back you up. He's got a gun."

  Kara nearly drove off the road. "How do you know? Do you notice everything?"

  "That's right," Henry said. "Sam can protect us."

  For reasons she didn't care to contemplate, Henry's comment went up one side of her and down the other. She decided not to tell him that Sam would play it by the book and sic a dozen Connecticut state troopers on them. "Sam's only carrying a weapon because he doesn't want you to get hold of it." Or her, Kara thought. "Look, he's a professional. He's not some wild-eyed nut who's going to start shooting up the place. He'll only use deadly force as a last resort."

  "If you see the man," Lillian said, "and Sam's not around, what will you do?"

  "Call the police—"

  She gasped. "But you can't, you promised."

  "Henry, Lillian—listen to me. Your mother's the governor. She has security guards whose job it is to protect her and her family. If you don't feel safe, she can get you 24/7 security, a couple of state troopers who'll

  watch you like hawks."

  "We don't want them," Henry said. "We trust you."

  "At least let me tell Sam about the man from the ranch."

  "She doesn't believe us." Lillian leaned forward in her seat and whispered to her brother. "If she did, she'd tell Mom everything, and you know what Mom would do—"

  "Lillian!" Henry shot her a silencing look over his shoulder. "You talk too much."

  "I don't know what I believe," Kara said diplomatically. "I'm keeping an open mind. But Lillian's right, if I believed you were in any serious danger, from this guy or anyone else, I wouldn't be taking you out to buy groceries. It's not that I don't believe you saw a man following you—I'm just not sure what it means. It's a good sign, I'd say, that he didn't do anything to you at the ranch or at my house in Austin and hasn't shown up here."

  "You want us to tell Mom about him?" Henry asked.

  "I want you to tell your mother everything."

  Kara didn't bother to hide her frustration. Here she was, still dealing with Henry and Lillian and their fears and secrets. Everything seemed to be at a standstill, and she couldn't help but think Allyson had sidestepped her responsibilities. Kara glanced at her godson, then into the back seat at her goddaughter. They were so young. She felt a sudden urge to cry.

  Damn. Wasn't emotionalism another sign of pregnancy? But her hormones couldn't have changed that radically in just two weeks—the stress of the situation must be causing her volatile emotions.

  "If you think your mother is in danger," she said, keeping her voice calm, deliberate, "you need to tell her. You need to tell me and let me tell her. We can't withhold that kind of information. It's not fair. As for witnessing what you did from your tree house, it's my advice, as an attorney and as your godmother, that you tell your mother that, too, and let her inform the police. You won't get into trouble."

  But they'd been through all this before, and their answer was the same as it was last night and this morning. Henry delivered it. "We'll think about it."

  "Think hard," Kara told him.

  She parked at a small grocery store on a side street near the town common. Both kids seemed delighted to charge through the aisles grabbing food they liked while Kara gathered up fruits, vegetables, milk and bread, and three new flavors of Ben & Jerry's ice cream. She also picked up a bottle of vitamins. Folic acid—if she was pregnant, she'd need to make sure she was getting enough. She'd intended to make use of the pregnancy tests after work the other night, but Henry and Lillian went missing and all hell had broken loose. Now she had Sam in her shadow. Not that it mattered. She wasn't pregnant.

  She needed to focus on her godchildren. Although she was trying to keep an open mind, she suspected Henry and Lillian had taken bits and pieces of what they'd seen and heard since Big Mike's death and created a scary scenario of conspiracy and danger. They easily could have seen a series of different men at camp, maybe a guy brought in to fix a broken light, another guy who'd come in to remove brush after a storm, a father who'd had to pick up a sick kid—who knew? Given the turmoil of their summer, Henry and Lillian probably needed to talk to a professional, a psychologist or counselor who could help them better understand and cope with what had happened. The accident at the Fourth of July bonfire was enough to deal with, and they'd barely mentioned that to Kara. But their own near escape from serious injury, then their helplessness as they'd watched Big Mike—it had to have had an impact on them.

  Allyson, she knew, would resist intervention. Kara remembered her at Lawrence's funeral ten years ago and at Big Mike's two weeks ago—Allyson was of the stiff-upper-lip school of psychology. She'd never see it as repression, simply as being dignified and mature.

  Of course, the guy in Texas could be some creep on the kids' tail who had nothing whatsoever to do with anyone in Connecticut, in which case she should tell Sam so he could notify Texas authorities and have the bastard picked up.

  Sam wouldn't give a damn that she was caught between a rock and a hard place.

  Kara picked up a pound of fresh-ground, knock-you-on-your-ass coffee because she knew Sam Temple wasn't going anywhere. He might appreciate a little warning and a hell of a lot more information, but he didn't have to be in Texas not to take kindly to anyone coming after two children. If this guy showed up, Sam wouldn't need time to adjust.

  Kara put the groceries on her American Express card and grimaced at the bags of chips and boxes of cookies and snack bars, the huge box of microwave popcorn with real butter, that Henry and Lillian had dumped into the cart. At least Allyson had never said she trusted Kara to feed her kids properly. They pushed the cart across the parking lot to the car, Lillian taking the keys and opening up the trunk.

  "Kara? Hey, there. I thought that was you." Billie Corrigan trotted across the parking lot with two plastic bags filled with what looked like Ch
ristmas lights. She grinned at Kara, then at Henry and Lillian. "How are you? Besides keeping Bluefield, Connecticut, in gossip."

  Kara smiled. "Billie, it's good to see you. We just slipped out for a few groceries."

  "And no reporters have descended on you?You've always been lucky like that, Kara." Billie laughed, her good cheer infectious. Kara didn't know her well, but they'd always gotten along. Billie lifted one bag onto her hip, let the other drop to the pavement. "I was over at the junk store seeing what I could find. If Madeleine Stock-well knew where I get half my decorations, she'd never hire me again. It's all in the presentation. I learned so much from my father, bless his drunken, no-account soul."

  "You do great work," Kara said.

  Billie squinted at her. "Think I'd make a go of it in Texas?"

  Kara laughed. "We'd love you."

  "'We.'You really are staying down there, aren't you? Well, I don't blame you. Must be nice to be near family. I know moving up here to be closer to my brother's one of the best things I've ever done, not that I see enough of him." She turned to Henry and Lillian, who were lifting the grocery sacks into the trunk. "What're you kids up to? If you were mine, you'd be chipping rock, running away like that."

  They mumbled a polite greeting and scooted into the car, shutting the doors quickly behind them. Billie shook her head, her expression serious now. "It's been hell around here since Big Mike died. I don't blame them for acting weird. We've all wanted to run away, I imagine, at one time or another. Anything I can do?"

  "I don't think so, but I'll let you know if something comes up. Thanks, Billie."

  "Have you seen Hatch yet?"

  Something came into her eyes, and Kara wondered if Billie Corrigan knew how her brother felt about his longtime friend from Texas. "Not yet."

  "He misses you," Billie said.

  "I miss everyone, too. Nice seeing you, Billie. I have to go."

  Allyson led Sam along a wide lane through the woods, explaining that it had all been farmland at the turn of the twentieth century. She pointed out the old stone walls that used to mark the fields, the occasional fence post and length of rusted barbed wire, the relative youth of the forest itself. When she thought about the power of nature, she said, she didn't fret so much