It Takes Two: Deep in the Heart, Book 1 (16 page)

It sounded like she was accepting a penance. Annie’s heart felt squeezed. “I think Mr. Rayez is sitting on the porch. Why don’t you go talk to him for a minute, keep him company?”

Mary glanced uncertainly toward the door, then slowly shuffled out of the kitchen.

Annie frowned. Her daughter had cozied up to Zach quickly on his first visit, to the point where Annie had been bitten by tiny pangs of jealousy. Now her child appeared reluctant—or was she simply retreating into that shell she’d pulled around herself when her father had died, and never really let go of?

Outside, Zach seated himself on the wooden porch, which, despite a coat of gray paint, was worn and weathered. He glanced up at the evening sky that was quickly assuming the protective shades of night and wondered for the hundredth time if he was doing the right thing. Did he have the right to warn Annie? Would she welcome his involvement in her problems?

The screen door creaked open. “Hi, Mr. Zach,” Mary said.

Zach swiveled his head to see the little girl peering at him. Her big eyes took his measure with a grave expression. Obviously, this was not a moment to be treated with latitude.

“Hey, little lady. Are you through eating?”

She nodded.

He cleared his throat, trying to gauge Mary’s attitude toward him. “Did you come out to see me, or to play?”

“There’s nobody to play with.”

Zach nodded, appearing to mull over her statement. “I could play with you. If you’d like.”

Mary looked up at him thoughtfully, releasing her hold on the screen door, which slammed shut with a loud crack. “What can you do?”

“Well…” Zach tried to think quickly and resourcefully. The very brains he had used to outwit men much smarter and richer than he felt like they were atrophying in his head. “Have you checked on the fish yet today?”

Mary shook her head. “Mama’s been busy trying to get Grandpa some dinner. He’s been kinda sick.”

Zach grimaced.
Yeah, honey, and I’m the spark that lit that dynamite.
Wryly, he said, “I hope he’s feeling better.”

“He is. Grandpa says as soon as he gets some of Mama’s cooking in him, he’ll be a new man.”

“But you’re still out a trip to the fish pond.”

A tiny smile hovered at Mary’s mouth, and her eyes turned, excited and beseeching, to his. “Do you know anything about fish, Mr. Zach?”

“Not enough to put on the end of a hook, honey.”

“Oh.” Mary sighed, as if she couldn’t understand why adults were so unconcerned about the things that really mattered in life. “If you’ll walk me down there, I’ll try to teach you about them.”

Her tone implied that Zach would be a near-impossible case in her eyes. He grinned and stood up. “Let’s go, then. There’s only about an hour of sun left if you’re going to knock any fish sense into my head.”

Sedately, Mary stood, allowing Zach to hold her hand. Together, they started off at a meandering pace toward the foreman’s shack. Zach glanced at the small girl beside him. Rarely had he seen the child smile, although one had nearly peeped out at him tonight. Was she always so earnest, so world weary?

His childhood had been extremely grim, with very little to smile about. He hated to think that Mary was suffering in any kind of way. She was a sweet and truly beautiful little girl. Yet she was in no way abused; that was certain. Zach knew Annie thought the sun rose and shone in that child. Cody was obviously a beloved uncle, and Mary’s tough-as-petrified-cow-bricks grandfather would clearly go to his grave with Mary’s name on his lips. In many ways, Mary was lucky, but growing up with adults had made her old and wise beyond her years. And something had made her sad.

They were within a hundred feet of the pond now. Suddenly, Zach had an idea. “I think I remember how to skip,” he said. “We could give that a shot.”

“Skip what?”

She didn’t let go of his hand as they walked, just continued staring up at him. Zach felt the importance of her serious gaze as he realized the child didn’t even expect him to know how to do such a simple thing.

Or maybe that frivolous occupation hadn’t been a part of her childhood yet.

“We could skip the rest of the way. If I can remember how.” Zach relinquished Mary’s hand gently and, saying, “Watch this,” over his shoulder, started an awkward gait of knees up, boots down, in the direction of the pond. After skipping about twenty-five feet, he stopped and turned around.

Mary hadn’t moved. Her eyes squinted with concentration. Zach didn’t say anything as he waited for the little girl to react.
Come on, Mary!
he thought.
I know you’ve got a smile in there!
She looked at his feet, then looked back up at his face as if she was gauging her trust in him. He nodded encouragement. Mary lifted one knee hesitantly, as if she was trying to get the feel of the next movement, gave an admirable hop-and-stumble—and came to a halt.

“That was great! Try again,” he urged.

She looked uncertain. He walked to her side. “Look, we can kind of do this together,” he said, linking his hand to hers again. “Go!”

Together, they started off on an awkwardly jolting hop-skip motion, heading in the right direction. Careful not to go too fast and drag her down, nor to let his boots get near her little sandaled feet, Zach was too busy concentrating to notice the smile spreading across Mary’s face. She laughed outright, a child’s hearty giggle of excitement, and Zach looked down in amazement. Already a beautiful child, she was downright gorgeous with proud happiness on her face and the weight of whatever was bothering her lifted from her shoulders.

And suddenly, Zach realized Annie rarely smiled either. Not that she’d had any reason to since he’d met her, but he’d be willing to bet the facial muscles used for a smile were terribly out of shape in her lovely face. Annie was a survivor, not a pampered female like LouAnn, and survivors were too busy trying to keep their heads above water to open their lips into a smile. Otherwise, they’d take on water and drown in their troubles.

But damn, oh, damn, how he’d love to be the one to put a smile on her face.

Cody’s eyes narrowed as he watched Zach and Mary from the kitchen window. “The snake-eyed varmint’s heading toward the pond,” he announced. “With Mary.” He turned around and shot Annie a questioning look. “Does that bother you?”

“No.” Annie shook her head and got up from the table. “But help Papa into the living room, will you? I’ll clean up later.”

She washed her hands and fluffed her hair before strolling toward the door, aware that Cody and her father were watching her with he-man, protective scowls. Slipping out, she let the screen door close quietly behind her. The evening was balmy with humidity that teased of much-needed rain, but Annie looked at the empty Texas sky with knowledgeable eyes. At this point, Desperado required a miracle from God to bring the soothing, regular showers her crops had to have before they were ruined.

The letter from the bank popped into her mind heedlessly, flaring like a warning flag and making her frown. On the briefest puff of wind, childish laughter and a hearty man’s chuckle carried to her ears. The letter was immediately forgotten. Annie walked faster, drawn to the happy sounds.

She rounded the foreman’s shack, realizing that Zach and Mary sat close together with their heads almost touching., His bare feet dangled in the water, boots discarded beside him and jeans rolled to the calf. The two intently watched something in the water, most likely curious, tame fish coming to see what food was being tossed in and finding Zach’s heels instead. And her daughter looked so content, sitting there beside the big man, that Annie’s eyes burned with tears of gratitude.

“I thought you weren’t ever coming back,” Mary suddenly said, looking up at Zach with intent accusation on her face.

Annie froze, automatically putting a hand against one of the old willows in her path.

“I didn’t think I was, either,” Zach replied. He sounded uncertain and careful with his reply.

“So, why didya?”

Only willow leaves rustling against tree trunks interrupted the silence. Annie could tell Zach was weighing his answer. It was a question she’d wondered about herself.

“I need to talk to your mother,” he finally said. “That’s why I’ve come back.”

“Oh.” Mary nodded in understanding. “But I liked you.”

Zach paused. “I like you too.”

“You didn’t even say good-bye,” Mary pointed out.

“Ah, no, I guess I didn’t.”

There hadn’t been time, of course. Annie closed her eyes briefly, remembering that hasty flight to the hospital, with Cody taking Mary away in the hearse. Nobody’d had time to say anything.

“But I wanted to,” Zach suddenly said.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Annie saw Zach’s decisive nod. “I wanted to say good-bye to you. I wanted to make sure your mother’s finger was all right. I wanted to see if your grandfather was going to be okay. But I had to go, little one.”

“Oh.” Mary looked down at her feet, floating next to Zach’s in the water. For a moment she was silent. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to the man watching her. “My father left without saying good-bye to me, too,” she said softly.

But Annie heard. Hot tears of denial sprang to her eyes, and she covered her mouth with her hands.
Carlos didn’t leave you, baby!
she wanted to cry out.
Your daddy would never have done that!
But there had been too much blood, too much agony, and she’d been unable to explain what had happened to Mary’s father.

In slow, uncertain motion, Zach’s hand lifted to pat Mary on the back. “I’ll tell you a secret, Mary.”

Annie crushed her lips together, leaning forward to hear, anxious to hear how he would soothe her daughter.

“My mother left me without saying good-bye.”

Annie’s eyes widened with shock.

“She did?” Mary asked. Her small voice was filled with awe that someone older than she might possibly understand her sorrow. “Your mother left you without saying good-bye?”

Zach’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, she did.” Annie watched as he pulled her little girl tightly to his side. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“I was just about your age.”

“You were?”

Annie heard his deep, heavy sigh, and it resonated somewhere in the recess of her own agony-tormented soul.

“Yeah,” Zach Rayez told her baby. “And you know what else?”

“What?” Mary’s question was just a soft breath in the night.

“I have a feeling neither one of them wanted to leave us that way.”

Chapter Ten

“I’ll handle this.”

Cody’s husky voice near her ear made Annie jump. She started to speak, but he was already walking toward the pair at the pond’s edge.

“Catch anything?” he asked easily, hunkering down beside Zach and Mary.

Hesitantly, Annie followed Cody’s lead and nonchalantly walked forward. She sat down cross-legged beside him, staring out at the water as if nothing was out of the ordinary. As if she hadn’t just overheard searing pieces of a man’s inner misery.

“Nope,” Zach replied. “Although these fish don’t look like they’d put up much of a fight if we threw a hook in.”

Cody nodded. “They’re so tame they’d jump up in your lap if you asked them to.” He dangled one hand in the water and a small, daring fish came to nibble at his finger. Scooping it up, he let Mary examine it closely for an instant before tossing it back in.

They all watched silently as the little fish zoomed off to deeper water, enlightened about humans and their seemingly innocent appearance.

“How about some dessert, Mary?” Cody asked. “I think your ma’s got some fresh pineapple in the refrigerator.”

“Okay, Uncle Cody,” she said, getting to her feet. “See you later, Mr. Zach.”

“I’ll be up at the house in a minute,” Annie said, meeting the warning in Cody’s eyes with stubborn assurance. “Save some pineapple for us.”

When Cody had taken her child away, Annie trained her gaze on Zach without sympathy for the conversation she’d overhead. There was a motive for this man to return to Desperado, and it was best not to forget that. “So, you wanted to talk to me, Zach.”

Annie’s hard indigo stare reminded Zach that there was no truce between them. How could there be? He hadn’t been completely honest with Annie about anything, and she was too smart to be sucked in by a smooth line. And suddenly, he knew that if he was ever going to set things right with Annie Aguillar, he was looking at the hangman’s last chance to speak.

Because she’d sure as hell never trust him again—or another word out of his mouth. And it was imperative that she believe him now.

“Yes, I wanted to talk to you,” he said slowly, admiring the way her ebony brows slanted over her eyes, silently daring him to sweet-talk her. He sighed.
The first thing I want to say is how badly I wanted to see you again.
No. Scratch that. It might be true, but she’d point him to the end of the Aguillars’ lane if he said that now. And he couldn’t say, “Had any bad news lately, because I have a gut feeling my employee is after your lovely toast-and-cream skin with a vengeance?”

Hell, no. Annie cocked her head at him quizzically. Zach felt like the world’s biggest fool, sitting there with his tongue tied in a hundred knots.