Judgement By Fire (32 page)

“How are you
fixed for that great shopping trip?” she asked, pleased to see the startled
expression of delight on the other woman’s face.

“I can be ready
just as soon as my better half can get into his city clothes and bring the car
around,” Lucy beamed.

“Well, I’ve got
Tom Perry outside, raring to drive Jon’s old truck, so I thought maybe you’d
follow us, we’ll get the truck back to its rightful owner. Then Paul can drop
us at the GO station and we’ll get the train into Toronto while the menfolk
come on back here. Let’s stay overnight—my treat!” It was worth the effort it
took to be cheerful, just to see Lucy’s relieved and happy face as she agreed
to the plan.

In the Howards'
spare bedroom, Lauren pulled a brush through her hair, swiped on some lipstick,
and threw some essentials into an overnight bag. Then she took the check sent
to her by the Rush Co. lawyers from its envelope and stuffed it into her jeans
pocket. She checked that her credit card and checkbook were in her purse.

They’d have a
shopping spree, after all, she couldn’t hang around in cast-off clothing
forever, but she was damned if they’d do it with Jon Rush’s money!

*
* *

Lauren enjoyed
Tom Perry’s company, taking pleasure in his sheer enthusiastic delight at the
experience of driving the restored truck, and they were laughing as they pulled
up in front of Jon Rush’s magnificent old farmhouse.

Tom, wearing the
young person’s uniform of flannel shirt not tucked in, hooded sweat top, and
jeans, scarcely looked old enough to be out of high school, let alone be an
officer in so staid an organization as the West River police force, one of the
few remaining independent municipal police forces in Canada.

“So, what
happens to you guys when the municipal council finally decides to join everyone
else and hand over the reins of policing duties to the Ontario Provincial
Police?” she asked.

“Well, whenever
that happens—and with this year’s budget going up again, I guess it gets
likelier to happen all the time—then me and the other guys get new uniforms and
a big pay hike. Not to mention all sorts of fancy crime-fighting equipment.
It’ll be a real hardship, ma’am, it truly will,” Tom said with a disarming grin
as he swung down from the cab and rushed around to open Lauren’s door.

At that moment,
a tall figure leading a beautiful Palomino stallion came around the side of the
barn. Jon showed no surprise at seeing Lauren and her entourage, and greeted her
with a sardonic “Hello, Lauren.”

She couldn’t see
his eyes, shadowed as they were under the brim of his Stetson, but she knew
there was no welcome in his voice. Her heart sank but still she managed to
speak. “Hello, Jon. I just thought it was time to bring the truck back. Thank
you for the loan of it.”

“This is your
truck, sir?” Tom seemed about ready to wriggle in puppy-dog delight and
completely oblivious to the undercurrents passing between the man and woman
alongside him. “It’s one the best restoration jobs I’ve ever seen!”

Jon reached into
a pocket, pulled out a ring of keys and tossed them to Tom. “Why don’t you take
the truck around the back of the house and open up the garage. You can store
her in there and take a look at the Edsel I’m working on, if you like.”

Tom’s face
filled with delight and, with a yell of thanks, he threw himself into the truck
and took off in a swirl of exhaust.

“Needs some fine
tuning,” Jon said obscurely, pushing the hat back off his head.

Lauren’s heart
twinged at the signs of strain that had appeared on his face in the few weeks
since Stephen’s funeral.

“Do you mean the
boy, or the truck?” she asked with a smile.

“The truck.
You’re the one who’d know if the boy needed tuning. My, my, it didn’t take you
long to find yourself another lover, but I’d have thought he was a bit on the
young side for you.”

Lauren flinched
in shock, her eyes drawn to his tight, angry face and white-lipped mouth.

“What the hell
are you trying to say, Rush? That you think Tom and I are lovers?”

“If that’s how
you want to put it.”

He couldn’t help
himself. He’d burned with jealousy the moment he’d seen her laughing with the
boy -  he admitted to himself her companion was little more than a
boy -
and even though her reaction had made him feel ridiculous, pride wouldn’t let
him back down now.

Lauren’s hand
went back, aiming to knock the contemptuous smile off his face, but his hand
was faster, grabbing her by the wrist.

“Don’t,” he
ground out tightly. “We wouldn’t want you to be hurt anymore.”

“You’re right,”
Lauren said, shrugging his hand off. “I think I’ve suffered quite enough from
the Rush men. More than enough to last a lifetime.”

Jon’s eyes were
on her bandaged hands and the raw emotion on his face stilled her tongue from
further caustic comments. His look rose to take in the purple bruises, fading
to green and gray that still marked her face.

“How are you,
Lauren?” he asked quietly, his body so close to hers that she could feel his
breath on her face as he spoke.

“The cuts and
bruises are healing, Jon,” Lauren said with deliberate calm.  “The doctor says
I should be able to paint again. If I ever want to, that is.”

She tried to
meet his eyes, but failed, afraid her own would betray her feelings. Then Jon
tilted her chin gently with his forefinger so he could search her face, and his
stomach contracted as he read the pain in her eyes and heard the quiet
desperation in her voice.

“And why
wouldn’t you want to?” he asked.

But he knew.
Lauren’s bright spirit glowed and throbbed through her work, her luminosity of
vision turning paint and canvas into a living, breathing thing of beauty. It
didn’t take a genius to see, from her pale face and sad eyes, that her spirit
was at low ebb indeed. And Jon knew whose fault that was.

Goddammit!
It took every
ounce of his willpower not to pull her into his arms, to plead and beg for
forgiveness, to ask her to have him back, at any price.

Yet he couldn’t
do it. Not because he wasn’t capable of swallowing his pride—one look into
those gorgeous eyes of hers and he’d be willing to crawl on hot coals—but
because he couldn’t bear to see her get hurt when she realized he could not
provide her with what she needed. What any woman needed. A loving, attentive
man who could do more than focus his every living breath on business.

*
* *

Lauren was
soothed to her very soul just by this man’s presence. Involuntarily she found
herself leaning ever so slightly towards him, wanting desperately to raise her
head and meet his eyes with hers, to drink deeply of his lips and obliterate all
that had passed between them at their last meeting. Yet it couldn’t be.

Instead, she
summoned up anger and outrage from her inner reserves. Yanking the check from
her jeans pocket, she almost hurled it at him.

“I don’t need
anything from you,” she hissed quietly. “You can keep your conscience money.”

“Conscience
money?” Jon was genuinely puzzled until he smoothed the check from its folds
and saw the name of his company lawyers. His chest ached. Could he do nothing
right? He hadn’t meant to offend her.

“Lauren, it’s
only right that you should have this. It’s little enough to cover what you’ve
lost, and I know you don’t have insurance.”

“Go to hell,
Jon, and take your money with you,” Lauren gritted through teeth she had to
keep clamped shut to prevent herself howling with the pain she felt. “I
thought, that first day in the woods when we talked, that you were different.
That you were man enough to have a life outside your business and your bank
account. That you knew that not everything had a price tag. But I was wrong.
Sorry, my mistake.”

  Hearing a car
coming up the driveway behind her, Lauren turned on her heel and marched away,
pausing at the corner of the house to call for Tom Perry. Without a backward
glance, her spine ramrod straight, she marched over to Lucy and Paul’s car and
got in.

“So, everything
all right?” Lucy asked brightly as Tom climbed in beside Lauren and slammed the
door.

“Just drive,
Paul. Let’s get out of here,” Lauren ground out, struggling to hold back the
tears.

 Jon watched her
go, standing beside the palomino and gently stroking the horse’s soft muzzle.
At least she was angry. If she was angry, maybe she was on her way to getting
over their affair. Jon sighed. He wished he could say the same for himself.

Lucy and Lauren
made their first stop in Toronto at an upscale sandwich bar in the exclusive
Yorkville district for coffee and a snack while they planned their shopping
campaign.

“I guess I need
just about everything, but let’s start with basics,” Lauren said brightly,
trying for Lucy’s sake to be enthusiastic when she really wanted to run back to
the little spare room in Haverford Castle, pull the covers over her head, and
wail.

“Okay, so
Victoria’s Secret for underwear—or are you a Marks and Spencer’s cotton-lined
gusset girl?” Lucy asked, her eyes mischievous.

“No, I’m a
middle of the road, comfort first but a touch of silk is nice, type,” Lauren
replied. “And anyway, Marks and Spencer’s is closed.”

“Oh, no—wherever
will my Paul get his flannelette pajamas?” Lucy declared in mock horror, and
Lauren really did have to laugh.

“I doubt Paul
has ever worn flannelette p.j.’s in his life,” she retorted, and Lucy gave a
knowing leer which reduced them both to a fit of the giggles.

“My God, just
look at the two of you—like a couple of schoolgirls in town for the day,” a
familiar voice said, and Lauren wheeled around to see her friend Jane Rollands.

“Is this a
private giggle, or can anyone join in?” the lawyer asked.

“You’re more
than welcome to join us. This is my good friend Lucy Howard, and we’re in town
to replenish my wardrobe,” Lauren told her.

“Lucy Howard? Of
Robin the Rook fame?”

“Guilty,” Lucy
said.

“My niece just
adores your work. We’ve got to get to a bookstore so that I can get you to
autograph one of your books for her,” Jane declared. Turning to Lauren, she
looked more serious as she asked. “How are you doing? Are you
healing—spiritually as well as physically?”

Jane and Lauren
had renewed their friendship with long hours on the telephone in recent days,
and Jane knew about the nightmare Lauren had lived through - including the way
her relationship with Jon had ended. She had been delighted at first to see her
friend laughing. But now, on closer inspection, she saw the strain and
unhappiness on Lauren’s face, and guessed the other woman was merely putting on
a brave show.

As they finished
their coffee, Lauren reached into her back pocket to find change to pay the
bill—and pulled out a crumpled envelope.

“Gosh, this came
with the blood money from Rush’s solicitors, and I guess I forgot about it,”
Lauren explained, slitting the envelope open with her thumb.

“Blood money?”
Jane inquired, her eyebrows rising into the cover of her fringe. “Do tell what
this is about?”

So the second
letter had to wait until the details had been filled in, with Lauren editing as
she went along to keep the more painful details to herself. Then she smoothed
the letter flat on the table and gave a little whoop of pleasure.

“You know how
the Harrison Gallery sponsors an annual arts awards contest? Well, it looks
like your favorite artist has been chosen to receive the award in the wildlife
category!” she announced to her friends and momentarily felt her depression
lift as they congratulated her.

“Oh, God—would
you believe the ceremony is only two days away? Looks like the letter must have
gone to my studio and been returned as undeliverable—then someone at the West
River Post Office who knew I was staying at Lucy and Paul’s place snagged it
and sent it on,” Lauren said.

“Well, in that
case, thank your lucky stars that we’re shopping. After all, that’s not much
time to get ready.” Lucy was positively glowing with anticipation.

“I hate to burst
your bubble, my dear, but there’s no way I can go to a fancy dinner ceremony.
Look at me, I’m bruised and battered and bandaged, and definitely not in the
mood!”

“Don’t be
ridiculous, Lauren, of course you must go! If we don’t acknowledge and
celebrate our own achievements, no one else will do it for us,” Jane declared
firmly.

“No.”

Jane cocked an
eyebrow, looked at Lucy, and then back at Lauren. “So, afraid Jon will be
there, are you? Plan to spend the rest of your life in hiding because some
creep of a mere male has jerked you around?”

Lucy spluttered
through her coffee, and Lauren, too, had to laugh.

“Okay, you win.
A couple of pairs of jeans, some sweats and undies, from a not-too-expensive
store…and then we’ll go look for something sensational enough to dazzle people
into not noticing what a wreck I look!”