Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook (32 page)

And with his parting shot striking her heart dead center, cracking it right in two, he walked out of the room, out of the house and out of her life.

She wasn't sure how long she continued to stand in the bedroom that had once held sweet memories of their lovemaking. She was too busy reeling from his hurtful words, from his false accusations, to form a solid game plan.

Yet in spite of her pain and disappointment, she felt a sense of peace, too. When Joe had blamed her for causing Dave's depression and, ultimately, his death—something for which she'd also blamed herself—she'd stood up to those charges, rejecting them and defending herself. And by doing so, she was able to release the guilt that had once tormented her and accept the truth.

Dave had been devastated by the loss of his mother and by his decision to join the Marines when he should have been home trying to mend his relationship with his father. He'd also felt somehow to blame for his dad's heart attack—or at least for the estrangement that had shortened what little time on earth they'd had together.

His guilt and conflicting duty to family and country, as well as the battlefield itself, must have taken a toll on him, and Chloe refused to accept responsibility for his death.

But that didn't mean she wasn't crushed by Joe's other allegations, by his lack of faith and trust in her.

It took every ounce of strength she possessed to not fall onto the bed, curl up into a ball and cry her eyes out. But once he was long gone, she gradually moved from the disbelief and bargaining stage to anger.

How dare he accuse her of setting her designs on Dave or on this ranch?

She might not like confrontations, but she wasn't about to take this lying down. So she went to the den, plopped down in the desk chair and picked up the phone. Teresa's attorney hadn't returned her call yet, but she wasn't going to wait for him to find time to get back to her. If she had to track him down at his home or in the courthouse, she'd do it.

Luckily, Mr. McDougall's secretary said he was in the office and transferred her call right away.

“Hello, Ms. Dawson. I got your message, but things have been pretty hectic this morning. What can I do for you?”

She explained about Dave's death and about requesting the documents from the San Diego coroner's office.

“Okay. As soon as I get that report, we can get the ball rolling and settle the estate.”

“That leads me to another issue, Mr. McDougall.” Chloe didn't know how to word her question without sounding like the gold digger Joe had accused her of being. But there was no other way to get the answer she needed. “What exactly is going to happen to the estate?”

“Did Dave have a will?” the attorney asked. “I never made one for him.”

Chloe told him about the handwritten will he'd made in Afghanistan, which may have listed her as the heir. “But I don't know if it's legal. Actually, I don't even know if it exists. I haven't seen it.”

“Well, if he did have one—and you can find it—probate will go more smoothly. From what I remember, the Cummings family didn't have any other relatives or people who could lay claim to the ranch. So if the will exists—and if it's legit—then you'd be the owner of the Rocking C.”

Great. Chloe didn't want the burden or the guilt that would come along with that sort of unexpected inheritance.

“On a side note,” the attorney said, “I do have a copy of Dave's life insurance policy—the one he took out before his last deployment. It names Joseph Wilcox as the beneficiary.”

If Chloe hadn't already been seated in the old desk chair, she would have fallen to the floor. “Joe Wilcox is the beneficiary?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“Not as well as I thought I did. But I know where you can find him.” Chloe provided the attorney with Rick Martinez's contact information.

They made an appointment to meet in person, then ended the call.

Chloe would sure like to see the look on Joe's face when he learned that Chloe wasn't the only person who benefitted from Dave's death. It would serve him right to have to eat his words.

She supposed that was cruel to think something like that at a time like this. But she was still furious with Joe for breaking her heart and crushing her dreams. And she was also angry at Dave for putting her in this situation to start with.

She'd never asked for any of this.

Yet, here she sat.

Out the window, she spotted a squad car pulling into the drive. So she headed for the front door, just as Sheriff Hollister knocked.

The sheriff stood on the porch, holding two green canvas duffel bags, both of which appeared to be military issued.

“Afternoon, Miss Dawson. The clerk over at the Night Owl called us and let us know that they found these bags in the room Joe had checked into. Apparently, they were wedged under the bed. My deputy must have missed them in his initial search of the room.”

“Why are there two?”

“One appears to be Joe's. The other is probably Dave's. Is Joe here?”

“Uh, no. He's at his brother's right now.” Chloe should probably tell Sheriff Hollister that Joe had moved out, but she wasn't ready to explain why or what had happened between them.

“Should I bring them inside for you?”

No. She didn't want anything more to do with Joe, Dave or their stuff.

“Just leave them on the porch,” she said. “I'll make sure that Joe gets them.”

Chapter Twelve

C
hloe didn't want to hold on to those duffel bags any longer than she had to. So after the sheriff left, she lugged them to Ol' Greenie, one at a time, then heaved them into the back.

After returning to the house to get her purse and to lock up, she climbed into the truck and drove to Rick's veterinary clinic since she had no idea where he lived.

But when she pulled into the parking lot, which was nearly empty, she spotted Rick's truck.

Apparently, this was where Joe had holed up. Well, she'd just leave the bags with him and be done with it.

Better yet, she'd tell him he could just come outside and get the fool things himself. So she headed for the entrance to the clinic and stepped into the waiting room.

The moment Joe spotted her, he got to his feet. She felt like lighting into him, but she didn't see the use. “Sheriff Hollister stopped by with two duffel bags. I told him that I'd give them to you. They're in the back of the pickup.”

His expression softened a bit. “Listen, Chloe. I'm sorry if I might have come across a little harsh.”

She stiffened. “A
little
harsh? You were a complete jerk.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I didn't mean to jump you the moment I entered the house. It just happened. All the memories and bottled emotions erupted. And I should have at least thanked you for what you did for me. You didn't deserve to get reamed. I just need some time to think things through.”

“Take all the time you want,” she said. “But first come outside and get those duffel bags.”

Before either of them could make a move, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the display. The Sheltering Arms?

“Excuse me. I need to take this.”

When she answered, Merrilee said, “Chloe, I'm sorry to bother you, but I thought you'd want to know.”

Her heart dropped to the pit of her tummy. Could this day get any worse? “What's wrong?”

“Ethel took a turn for the worse, so I called 9-1-1. Paramedics took her to the Brighton Valley Medical Center.”

“Is she okay?”

“No, she's had a complication.”

Chloe knew what her friend was going to say before she even said a word. Still, she asked, “What happened?”

“She was diagnosed with pneumonia and given an injection of penicillin. I'm afraid she had a serious allergic reaction, so they sent her to ICU.”

“I'll head over to the hospital now. I'm going to ask the nursing staff to see if her allergy was noted in her chart. I bet it wasn't.”

“What'll you do if you're right?”

Chloe left Joe standing in his brother's waiting room and headed for the door. “After I talk to Dr. Nielson at the hospital and check on Ethel, I'm going to the Sheltering Arms. It's time I took Sam's advice.”

“What'd he say?”

“Sometimes you gotta stand up for what's right.”

“What are you going to do? You don't even work here any longer.”

“I don't care. If Sarah lied to me about Ethel's allergy being noted in her chart, or if she assumed that it was and didn't double-check to make sure, I'm going to blow the whistle on her, as well as the entire administration for not doing something about my initial complaint sooner.”

“I was afraid of losing my job before,” Merrilee said. “But I'm not going to stand by and let Sarah risk another patient's life. I'll back you up any way I can.”

“Thanks. I'll let you know if there's anything you can do to help.”

Chloe was unlocking the driver's door, sliding behind the wheel and turning on Ol' Greenie's ignition before she noticed that Joe had followed her outside.

He might want to talk, but she'd have to deal with him later. In fact, she probably ought to thank him for pumping her full of courage and spunk. Because right now, the normally mild-mannered, former nurse's aide who'd avoided confrontations at all costs was cocked and loaded for bear.

* * *

After Chloe drove away, Joe stood in the parking lot, trying to make sense of it all.

He was still standing there, staring in the direction Ol' Greenie had gone, when Rick came out of the clinic. If his brother noticed anything weird about the way Joe was gaping or at the confusion that had to be splashed on his face, he didn't say anything.

“I'm finished here,” Rick said. “Let's go home.”

“Okay.” Joe nodded at the duffel bags resting on the ground. “Let's put these in the back of your truck.”

Minutes later, Rick pulled into the drive of a white, two-story house on Chinaberry Lane. After grabbing both bags and the sack of Joe's clothes, they entered the front door.

“Honey,” Rick called out, “I'm home.”

The words had a nice ring to them, and Joe was happy for his brother.

When a beautiful blonde with an obvious baby bump entered the living room with a warm and welcoming smile, Joe reached out his hand in greeting.

Mallory took it and gave it a gentle squeeze, but instead of letting go, she blessed him with a smile. “Would you mind if I gave you a hug, Joey? You have no idea how happy your brother is to have you back in his life—and how excited I am to have you home in time for Christmas.”

As weird and awkward as it might have once seemed to be reunited with people he'd once thought he'd never want to see again, the sincerity in Mallory's gaze made it pretty darn easy to...well, to lower his guard and step into her embrace.

“Thanks, Mallory. I appreciate...having a home where I can...spend the holiday.”

“Where's Lucas?” Rick asked.

“He's at Jimmy's,” Mallory said. “He'll be back at four. Do you want me to call and ask him to come home now?”

“No, let him play. There's plenty of time to introduce him to his uncle.” Rick turned to Joe. “Why don't I show you to your room so you can put that stuff away?”

“Sure.” Joe followed his brother upstairs and to the guest room.

“Would you like a soda or iced tea?” Rick asked.

“Maybe later. If you don't mind, I'd like to go through my bag and see what's inside.”

“Take your time. I'll be downstairs.” When Rick stepped back into the hall, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Want me to close the door and give you some privacy?”

“That's not necessary.”

Rick had no more than left the room when Joe began to rummage through his bag. When he found a couple of photographs, he paused to look at them.

One was a picture of him, Rick and Clay shooting baskets at the park. That photo must have been taken right before he and Rick had been separated and placed in different foster homes.

The anger that had exploded inside him back at the ranch began to make sense. Only now, it was targeted at the people who'd hurt him the most—his uncle for being a mean drunk, his aunt for allowing her husband to abuse her and the system that had taken him away from the one person who'd always taken care of him.

But he was no longer angry at Rick, as he'd been when he'd first run away. Looking back, as an adult, Joe couldn't blame his brother for wanting to escape their childhood. Or for wanting to create a home with Mallory.

His thoughts drifted to Chloe, to the night he'd held her in his arms after making love. At the time, he'd wanted to create a home for himself, too, a place where he felt like decorating Christmas trees, eating scones and sipping hot cocoa.

But Joe had pretty much ruined any chance of a dream like that happening, especially with Chloe. It hadn't seemed to matter an hour ago, but he wasn't so sure about that now.

Was it Chloe who'd made him yearn for home and hearth? Or was it just being at the Rocking C itself?

When things had escalated at his foster home and then again at school, Joe had made up his mind to run away for good. He'd had enough and wanted to put it all behind him—the embarrassment following his uncle's arrest for domestic violence, the trouble with the principal, the perceived abandonment of his brother.

He had a little money from working on the Rocking C that summer and, instead of purchasing a ticket all the way to L.A., where someone might find him—if anyone cared to look—he purchased tickets for the trek in segments. He traveled first to San Antonio, then to El Paso and on to Albuquerque. He'd intended to end up in Los Angeles.

The only person who knew of his plan—and the only one he'd told goodbye—was Dave, who'd kept his secret as promised.

So at sixteen, Joe left town—and his past—behind him. And he never—well, he rarely—looked back.

He set the photo aside and picked up another, this one taken somewhere in Arizona with the marines who'd become his friends and family.

There'd been a bad accident on the interstate on the final leg of his trip. The marines had been on leave and were returning to their duty assignment in Yuma when they'd pulled up alongside his bus and immediately jumped out and became heroes that day.

Joe had always helped the underdogs, like Dave Cummings and Clay Jenkins, when they'd been bullied in high school. He'd also tried to protect his aunt, only to get battered for his efforts. But when Red Conway, an older marine, actually asked for Joe's assistance, he'd stepped up, of course, gaining respect and hero status in the process.

After the accident, the sergeants were in a hurry to get back to Yuma so they wouldn't be AWOL. But instead of riding with the other passengers on a different bus to Los Angeles, Joe hitched a ride with his new friends. Red offered him a place to stay, and they all took him under wing, each one replacing the big brother he'd once had.

The day he turned eighteen, in an attempt to embrace his future by shedding his past and everything that reminded him of the lost boy he'd once been, Joe began the process to legally change his name. His marine buddies encouraged him to get his GED and to join the corps, helping him set a goal and find a purpose.

Joe set the picture aside and picked up one of him and Dave outfitted in matching camouflage. Dave had followed in Joe's footsteps and enlisted a few years ago.

But in spite of getting through boot camp, Dave had a tough time making the transition from the coddled only son of an overbearing rancher to a marine. So like his buddies had done for him, Joe took Dave under his wing, doing his best to coach him and help when he could.

When he found out that Dave had been assigned to his battalion, he asked Red to pull a few strings, and they managed to get him transferred to the same squad, where Joe could look out for him.

But Dave had never been cut out to be a devil dog. Or a grunt. Chloe had been right when she'd said he was too sensitive.

Joe had always liked the guy, but he could become needy and emotional when things got tough. In fact, Joe remembered wondering what a pretty girl like Chloe saw in Dave. He'd figured money or property had interested her more. And that might have been where his angry, suspicious vibes had originated.

Sure, Dave's family owned a ranch, but if a woman who looked like Chloe had wanted to get her hands on some quick cash, she certainly could have set her sights a lot higher than Dave.

Joe's stomach flopped and his face heated as he thought of the insults he'd flung at her. Had he been so angry at Dave's senseless death, the loss of his career and his promise to return to the one place on earth he'd vowed to never step foot in again that he'd lashed out at the only person he could find to blame?

It seemed that way.

As he recalled how his words had hurt her, his gut twisted hard and tight.

Chloe had taken him in when he was a complete stranger. She'd befriended the elderly patients in the nursing home. And, from what he'd gathered after listening to her side of a telephone conversation, she'd just sped off to become a voice for them.

How had he forgotten all she'd done? How she'd made it fun to trim the tree, decorate the house, eat scones and drink hot cocoa?

And then, when he'd been caught in the throes of a nightmare that had been more real than imagined, she'd sat on the bed, whispered soothing words, stroked his arm...

He'd fallen for her that night—for the woman she really was and not the woman he'd imagined her to be.

What a heartless fool he'd been.

Joe put his stuff back in his duffel and proceeded to empty out Dave's bag on the guest room bed. Uniforms and street clothes toppled out, as well as a few pieces of mail and a folder. He recognized Chloe's handwriting on one envelope. Joe had seen that letter when he'd packed up Dave's effects and set out on his Brighton Valley trip. But he hadn't wanted to read it then.

He pulled out the folded stationery to see what she'd had to say.

Dear Dave,

I'm sorry that you're far away from home and feeling so lonely. And while I appreciate your kind words, I have no idea where you got the idea that we were even dating, let alone engaged. You're a good man, and I pray each night for your safe return home.

I've taken a break from nursing school so that I can look after the ranch until you get here. I'd promised your mother that I'd do that, and when I make a commitment to someone I care about, I keep it.

But that's the only commitment I've made—to your mother. Once you get home, I'll move into a studio apartment near the junior college in Wexler. I considered waiting to tell you these things to your face, but it seemed that with each letter you wrote, your dream of a future with me grew. And I don't want to give you false hope.

Someday you'll find a woman who truly loves you—and one who deserves you and all you have to offer her.

I hope you understand. In the meantime, please take care of yourself.

Your friend, Chloe

She'd been right. Her letter had been direct, but gentle and kind. And Dave had made a reckless choice.

What had Joe done?

Chloe hadn't wanted the ranch. Or anything from Dave—certainly not the guilt from his suicide, if that's what he'd actually done. Yet, Joe had accused her of all of that and so much worse.