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Authors: Fleeta Cunningham

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BOOK: Half Past Mourning
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“If I do get through it, I can thank you and Uncle Eldon and Sheriff Hayes,” she answered.

They took their time over their late dessert, letting the conversation turn to less stressful topics. In answer to Peter’s questions, Nina told him about her driving lessons with Uncle Eldon when she turned twelve. She explained how she’d been the despair of her classically feminine mother when her tomboy ways resulted in lost hair ribbons and soiled white Mary Janes.

“I always preferred boys’ games to dolls and dressing up. I tagged Uncle Eldon everywhere and he was my biggest fan,” she added. “Was and is, I should say. He’s always been my cheerleader. Everybody needs one.”

Peter chuckled in agreement. “Grandmother was mine. It didn’t matter how much trouble I was in, I knew Grandmother was in my corner. She might give me hell for doing something dumb, but she’d do it in private. In public, Peter could do no wrong in her book.”

A sudden yawn took Nina by surprise. “I’m sorry. You’re such an easy person to talk to, I guess I relaxed and the day caught up with me. I’m suddenly walking in my sleep. I think I’d better go to my room.”

Peter glanced at his watch. Time had slipped away as they dawdled over their snack. “You’ve had a series of long days, and this one hasn’t been any picnic. Maybe you’ve unwound enough to rest, anyway.”

Peter passed the check and some money to their waitress. “Keep the change,” he told her, “and thanks for the homemade pie. It was excellent.”

He held out a hand to Nina as she slid from the booth. Limp and worn, she stood up. It had been a long day, but somehow sitting with Peter had eased her tension. She felt certain tonight, at least, she would sleep.

They made their way around the lobby to the bell captain, who assured them their bags had been moved to their rooms. The elevators were just ahead, and Nina sighed as the tall bronze doors opened at Peter’s touch.

“It’s good the elevator is taking us up,” she told him. “I don’t think I could have made it up a single flight of stairs.”

The short ride continued in silence until the doors whispered open. Down a long hallway lined with subdued lights and a thick carpet, Peter guided her to the last two doors on the right.

“This one is yours. I’m next door. Sleep in tomorrow, if you can. We don’t have any reason to rush back to Santa Rita. Whatever is waiting for you there will keep till you’re ready to face it.”

Nina nodded, weary but somehow at peace with herself. “I’ll sleep as long as I can, Peter. I think it’s going to be all right now. The answers are going to come. And though it’s been a lot worse than I ever thought it would be, I still think I’d rather know the truth. In the long run, it’s better that way.”

Peter took both her hands in his. She looked up at him, surprised and somewhat discomfited by the intensity of his look.

“And do you know the truth, Nina? Can you answer the question I asked you not too long ago?”

Nina bit her lip, confused. “Question? I don’t remember...”

He dropped her right hand and lifted the left one to eye level. One finger stroked the place where her ring had left a small white band around her finger. “I said you wore a man’s ring but not his name, that you had a wedding but were not a wife. And I asked you if you were married or not married.” He curled her fingers over his. “And I’m asking again, my precious Nina, are you married or not? You took off your ring tonight, but I’m not sure what that means, so I’m asking.”

Nina looked at her bare fingers. She could almost feel the warmth of the ring that had been there for so long. Almost...but not quite. Her eyes filled as she realized exactly what Peter meant.

She shook her head. “Not married, Peter. Not married now and haven’t been for a long time.”

He brushed a curl back behind her ear and the stroke of his thumb along the line of her jaw made her tremble. “Not married,” he whispered. “Good, because I don’t make a practice of kissing other men’s wives.”

His lips touched hers, gently as a feather, as tenderly as a moonbeam brushes a rose. “Goodnight, Nina. Sleep, rest, and heal. I’m right here anytime you need me.” His lips brushed hers again.

Like a weary child who at last finds her way home, Nina stepped into his arms. He held her to him, and she heard the steady beat of his heart as he wrapped her closer.

“Sleep, sweetheart, sleep warm and deep.” He lifted her chin and left a slow kiss, light at first but carrying the promise of more, on her tingling lips. “Sleep well.”

Chapter 12

Much to Nina’s relief, Peter didn’t mention their brief moment of intimacy the next morning. The kisses shared in the hotel hallway might never have happened. Nina, appalled that she’d found comfort in the arms of another man so soon after realizing Danny was dead, told herself it had been a one-time thing. She certainly wasn’t going to encourage Peter. Though in the deepest part of her mind she had no doubt Danny was gone forever, she couldn’t think of another man coming into her life. She and Peter were friends, only friends, and though he might wish to change that, she wasn’t ready.

The drive back to Santa Rita felt stilted and more than a little uncomfortable. Nina stayed lost in her thoughts, examining and weighing the conclusions she’d reached the night before. Try as she might, she couldn’t find another answer. In being perfectly honest with herself, she realized that in some ways it was a relief—sad and regrettable, but a relief nonetheless—to know Danny would never come back. The boy she’d loved had never really existed, and the man wasn’t someone she could have respected or lived with. The dull ache of loss that filled her was more sadness for a young life snuffed out than mourning for a husband she’d never really known.

The miles rolled away, and before lunchtime the faded blue Mercury reached Santa Rita. Peter turned at Jasmine Street and slowed the car as it approached the lilac cottage at the end of the street. He stopped in front of the house and helped Nina from the car.

“Thank you, Peter, for making the trip,” Nina said as she waited on the walk to her door.

“Glad to help a little, Nina,” he assured her, taking her bag from his trunk. She started to take it from him, but he ignored her gesture and, laying a casual hand on her shoulder, walked beside her up the steps. “I can’t even guess how hard this has been for you,” he added.

“Hard for me,” Nina agreed, “but I can’t envy what Al Hayes is going to face when he talks to Marigold. No telling how she’s going to react.”

Peter waited as she unlocked the door and stepped inside, then handed her the small overnight case. “I have to work on the syllabus and reading list for the new class I’m teaching this fall, but I’ll call you later today or in the morning. I want to know how you’re doing and what the sheriff has found out.”

Nina made a dismissive gesture. “You’ve done so much, given up a lot of your summer already. I know you have things to do.”

Peter laid an insistent hand on each of Nina’s shoulders. “Listen to me, Nina Kirkland, and listen close. Nothing, not a single thing, is more important than seeing you clear of all the confusion and entanglements you’ve lived with the past two years.” He rocked back on his heels, and a small grin creased his face. “Besides, we have a lot to talk about, some plans to make. I seem to remember we’re entered as a team in a road rally in just a couple of weeks. And since I think we owe it to your uncle and the Princess to do our best for them, I suspect we’re going to be seeing a good bit of each other. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

The Fourth of July road rally! She’d forgotten asking Peter to be her navigator. To do well, to justify Uncle Eldon’s faith in her, she and Peter would have to spend more time together, practice till they became an efficient team.

“I guess we will need to make some trial runs and see how well we can work in tandem,” she admitted, her words cautious, tentative.

“We will,” he agreed. “And since I’ve never done this before, I expect we’ll need to take a look at some of the instructions from other runs, so I get a feel for these events.”

Nina knew her uncle would have copies of earlier rally directions at his office. He often helped plan the routes for the local sports car clubs. “I can get those,” she assured Peter.

“Deal! You get directions for us to practice with, I’ll rustle up a picnic basket, and we’ll gear up to steal the show.” He cupped her chin in the palm of his hand, the play of light on his face making him look almost boyish. “Did anybody ever tell you you’re about as cute as a kitten on a Christmas card?” His quick, featherlight kiss caught her off guard. “I’ll call you tonight or tomorrow, sweetheart. Plan to make our first run on Saturday, okay? We’ve got catching up to do if we’re going to bring home a trophy.”

Still a little dazed by the way Peter swept her into his plans, Nina closed the door and leaned against it. What was she going to do about that man? He’d been a rock in the storm ever since he’d turned up at her door with Danny’s belongings. At every step he’d tried to protect her from the pain each new revelation created. At the same time he’d applauded her refusal to quit when the truth was hard to face. And then he’d kissed her, not passionately, not offensively—no, never in a way she could object to. He’d kissed her tenderly, with warmth and sweetness, gently, as if touching a fragile flower.

And I liked it, liked it so much I wanted more.
Nina shocked herself as she realized she did want more than the gentle comfort Peter’s embrace offered.
It’s just that it’s been so long. And Danny, well, Danny’s been gone two years. I miss...

The thought faded from her conscious mind as Nina heard a car pull up to the house.
Peter came back?
She put her travel case aside and hurried to open the curtains.
Oh, heavens, I don’t need this right now.
Nina watched as the long, gleaming black Cadillac stopped beside the front walk. The almost silent motor ceased its low purr. The driver’s side door opened and the carefully coiffed head of Marigold Wilson appeared above the roofline. Nina swallowed hard. Could she pretend she wasn’t home? Ignore the woman hurrying up the walk? Marigold’s elegant blue silk suit shimmered in the morning sun. Her shoes, too tiny and fragile to be suitable for walking, tapped on the stone walkway. Then she stood at the door, lifting the door knocker and banging it firmly.

“Now, Nina, honey, I know you’re home, and you might as well let me in. You’ve just got to see that your behavior isn’t at all acceptable. Going off with a man, spending the night goodness knows where, and coming home in broad daylight as shameless as a brazen hussy. It won’t do, Nina, it just won’t do. I simply won’t have it. Come on now, open the door.”

Resigned to a painful interview with her mother-in-law, Nina turned the knob.

“Hello, Marigold, and do come in.” She stepped back so her unwelcome guest could enter.

Marigold swept in. “You must see,” she began and then stopped, a manicured nail raised to point at the mound of grey fur curled on the club chair opposite. “We’ll talk as soon as you take that filthy animal out of here. I won’t have a disease-carrying creature that close to me.” She made a moue of distaste and stepped back, brushing imaginary contaminants from her skirt.

Sinbad stirred, stood and stretched, and rolled off his perch. With total disregard for Marigold’s objections, he strolled across the room and wove a disdainful figure eight around her legs, leaving a light dusting of grey tabby cat hair along the hem of her stylish skirt.

Smothering a chuckle at Marigold’s outrage, Nina gathered up her cat and took him to the kitchen, easing his ruffled dignity with a can of tuna, though his food bowl and water were still full from the day before. “Sorry, old fella, but we have to show a little consideration for the guest’s phobias.”

She returned to the living room to find Marigold folding a hand towel over the seat of the chair and carefully arranging her sweeping silk skirts over it.

“Sit down, Nina. We must have a talk before you create further scandal. I will not have gossip spread that might reflect badly on the Wilson family. If you want to go off with some man for a clandestine rendezvous, that’s your business, I suppose, but some people still regard you as Danny’s wife. And goodness knows you’ve done nothing to take care of that situation. If you’re going to flaunt convention with a parade of other men, Nina, I insist you take some legal steps to keep the good name of Wilson out of the gossip. At least get annulment proceedings underway. And show some discretion in the meantime. Leaving in broad daylight, with a strange man, and carrying an overnight bag right out in the open! What did you think you were doing? You know how people talk.”

Nina sighed. She didn’t want a confrontation with Marigold at any time and certainly not this morning.

“It wasn’t what you think, Marigold.” She looked away to shut out the distasteful curl in Marigold’s lip and the skeptical raised eyebrow. “I went to Dallas with Sheriff Hayes to talk to Danny’s lawyers. My friend who recovered Danny’s car went along to help explain things to the attorney.”

“And what business did you have with Danny’s attorneys, may I ask? Not that they’d talk to you, I suppose.” Marigold’s icy tone for once carried none of her sugary Southern drawl.

“Sheriff Hayes wanted me to go. He had me take my marriage license, as well. When the attorney understood why I was so concerned about Danny’s whereabouts, why I asked for the address, he made a real effort to find a way we could get in touch with Danny. They didn’t know Danny and I were married, Marigold.” Nina knew without question she was going to be forced to tell Marigold the conclusions the group had reached after visiting the law offices.

“Why should they? Five minutes after he said ‘I do’ Danny knew he’d made a mistake. Of course he hadn’t told those old fussbudgets. And the loathsome lawyers told you exactly nothing,” Marigold snapped. “A waste of time. If you’d told me you were going, I could have saved you the trip. Those close-mouthed cold fish wouldn’t give you directions to the exit if the building was on fire.”

BOOK: Half Past Mourning
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