Natural Born Charmer (35 page)

Dean forced himself to put his own misery aside. He looked down at Riley. “Beat it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I need to talk to them,” he said. “Grown-up stuff. I’ll tell you everything later. I promise.”

Riley thought for a moment, and then she and Puffy made their way to the house.

“I don’t want to date him,” April hissed as Riley disappeared. “This is nothing more than his thinly disguised attempt to get me into bed. Not that I consider myself so irresistible these days, but try convincing him.”

Dean winced. “Please. Not in front of the child.”

April pointed her brush at Jack, and a trickle of paint ran down her arm. “You like a challenge, and I won’t put out for you. That makes me a novelty.”

As repulsive as it was to hear about his parents’ sex life—or apparent lack of one—he had a stake in this conversation, and he forced himself to stay put.

“What makes you a novelty,” Jack said, “is the way you can’t shake off the past.”

They started tossing around insults, both of them so intent on self-protection they didn’t see the hurt they were inflicting, but Dean saw it. He climbed down the ladder. Just because his own life was a mess didn’t mean he wasn’t clear about what other people needed to do. “It would mean a lot to me if the two of you really liked each other,” he said, “but I guess that’s my problem. I know you don’t want to make me feel like a mistake, and putting up a front whenever I’m around has to be getting old.”

Sucker’s bait, and Blue would have seen right through it, but she was currently locked up in the city jail for stealing a necklace Nita had planted in her purse, and these two were awash in guilt. “A mistake?” April exclaimed, getting rid of her brush. “Don’t ever feel like you were a mistake.”

Jack came down the ladder and moved to her side, the two of them suddenly a single unit. “You were a miracle, not a mistake.”

Dean rubbed at some paint on his hand. “I don’t know, Jack. When your parents basically hate each other…”

“We don’t hate each other,” he said sharply. “Even when we were at our worst, we never hated each other.”

“That was then, and this is now.” Dean rubbed off more paint. “From where I stand…Never mind. I shouldn’t let it bother me. I’ll be satisfied with what I can get. When you come to my games, I’ll shuffle the tickets around so your seats are as far apart as I can get them.”

Blue would have been rolling her eyes, but April pressed her hand to her chest, leaving a paint smear behind. “Oh, Dean…You don’t have to separate us. It’s not like that.”

He pretended to look perplexed. “How is it then? Maybe you’d better tell me because I’m confused. Do I have a family or not?”

She whipped off her bandanna. “I love your father, as stupid as that might be. I did then, and I do again. But that doesn’t mean he can pop in and out of my life whenever he pleases.” She was sounding more confrontational than loving, and he wasn’t entirely surprised when Jack took offense.

“If you love me, why the hell are you giving me such a hard time?”

The old man wasn’t handling this as well as he should, so Dean slipped his arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Because she’s done with fly-by-night relationships, and that’s pretty much all you’re offering. Isn’t that right, April?” He turned back to his father. “You’ll take her to dinner a couple of times and then forget she exists.”

“That’s bull,” Jack shot back. “And whose side are you on anyway?”

Dean thought it over. “Hers.”

“Thanks a lot.” Jack’s earring bobbled as he jerked his head to
ward the house. “Make yourself scarce, too. Your mother and I have a few things to settle.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean snatched a water bottle and disappeared. He wanted to be by himself anyway.

Jack grabbed April by the arm and hauled her inside the barn where they could have a little privacy. He was burning up, and not just from the midday heat. He was burning up from guilt, from fear, from lust, and from hope. The dusty barn still held the faint scent of hay and manure. He backed April against a stall.

“Don’t you ever again say that all I want from you is sex. Do you hear me?” He gave her a little shake. “I love you. How could I not love you? We’re almost the same person. I want a future with you. And I think you should have let me figure that out on my own without trying to convince our son I’m a sleaze.”

April couldn’t be intimidated. “Exactly when did you realize you loved me?”

“Right away.” He saw the skepticism in her eyes. “Maybe not the first night. Maybe not exactly right away.”

“How about yesterday?”

He wanted to lie, but he couldn’t. “My heart knew it, but my head hadn’t completely sorted it out.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “You were braver than me. The moment you said those words out there, it was like this big egg cracked open and I could finally see what was inside.”

“Which was…?”

“A heart filled with love for you. My sweet April.”

His voice choked with emotion, but she was tough, and she looked him straight in the eye. “Tell me more.”

“I’ll write you a song.”

“You’ve already done that. Who could forget your memorable lyric about ‘blond beauty in a body bag’?”

He smiled and let a lock of her hair slip through his fingers. “This time I’ll write you a nice song. I love you, April. You’ve given me back my daughter and my son. Until these past few months, I’ve been living in a world where all the colors had run together until they were muddy, but when I saw you, everything started to glow. You’re a magical, unexpected gift, and I don’t think I could survive if that gift disappeared.”

He waited for her to give him more trouble. Instead, a smile gradually tugged at the corners of her soft mouth, and her hands dropped to the waistband of her shorts. “Okay. I’ll put out. Take off your clothes.”

He gave a hoot of laughter and pulled her deeper into the barn. They found a mangy old blanket and stripped off their sweaty, paint-spattered clothes. Their bodies had lost the tautness of youth, but her softer contours pleased him, and she drank him in as if he were still twenty-three.

He couldn’t disappoint her. He lay her back on the blanket where they kissed for an eternity. He explored her curves and recesses while the blades of light filtering through the barn’s slats fell in thin golden ropes over their bodies like bondage cords.

When they could no longer tolerate the torment, he lowered himself gently upon her. She opened her legs. Let him in. She was wet, tight. The hard floor tested their bodies—tomorrow they’d pay—but, for now, neither of them cared. He began to move. This was missionary love. Straightforward, love inspired, pure. Without the randiness of youth, they had time to gaze into each other’s unshielded eyes. Time to speak wordless messages and make unspoken pledges. They moved together. Rocked together. Surged. And, when it was over, they rejoiced in the miracle that had happened to them.

“You made me feel like a virgin,” she said.

“You made me feel like a superhero,” he said.

Enfolded by earthy smells of sex and dust, of sweat and long-forgotten farm animals, they held each other. Their joints ached from the hard floor. Their hearts sang. Her beautiful long hair skimmed his body as she eased herself onto her elbow and kissed his chest. He stroked the beads of her spine. “What are we going to do now, my love?”

She smiled up at him through the golden web of her hair. “One day at a time, my love. We’re going to take it one day at a time.”

Being incarcerated wasn’t quite the nightmare Blue had imagined. “I like the sunflowers,” Deputy Carl Dawks said, rubbing his short afro. “And the dragonflies are real pretty.”

Blue wiped off her brush and went to the end of the hallway to check the proportions on the wings. “I like painting bugs. I’m going to add a spider, too.”

“I don’t know. People are funny about spiders.”

“They’ll like this one. The cobweb will look as if it’s made out of sequins.”

“You sure do have some ideas, Blue.” Carl studied the mural from a new angle. “Chief Wesley thinks you should paint a skull and crossbones in the lobby as a warning to obey the law, but I told him you didn’t paint that kind of stuff.”

“You told him right.” Her stay in jail had been oddly peaceful, as long as she didn’t let herself think about Dean. Now that she’d started painting what she wanted, ideas were flooding her brain so fast she couldn’t keep up with them.

Carl wandered out into the office. It was Thursday morning. She’d been arrested on Sunday, and she’d worked on the mural in the jail’s hallway since Monday afternoon. She’d also made lasagna for the staff in the community kitchen and answered the phone for a couple of hours yesterday when Lorraine, the clerk, had picked up a bladder infection. So far April and Syl had visited, along with Penny
Winters, Gary the hairdresser, Monica the real estate agent, and Jason, the bartender at the Barn Grill. All of them were sympathetic, but except for April, no one was anxious for her to get out of jail until Nita had signed the final papers agreeing to the town improvement project. That was the bargaining chip Nita had played to trigger Blue’s arrest. Blue was furious with her…and touched beyond words.

The person who hadn’t visited was Dean. He’d warned her that he wouldn’t come after her, and he wasn’t a man for idle threats.

Chief Wesley stuck his head into the hallway. “Blue, I just got word Lamont Daily is stoppin’ by for a cup of coffee.”

“Who’s he?”

“The county sheriff.”

“Gotcha.” She put down her brush, wiped her hands, and went back to her unlocked cell. She was currently the jail’s only prisoner, although Ronnie Archer had been here for a couple of hours after Carl had picked him up for driving with a suspended license. Karen Ann had bailed out her lover, unlike Dean. But then Carl’s bail was only two hundred dollars.

Her jail cell had proven to be a good place to think about her life and sort through the rubbish that was shackling her. Syl had sent over an easy chair and a brass floor lamp. Monica had brought a couple of books and some magazines. The Bishops, the couple who would now be able to turn their Victorian house into a bed-and-breakfast, had provided her with decent bed linens and fluffy towels. But Blue couldn’t enjoy any of it. Tomorrow, Dean left for training camp. It was time for a jail break.

A perfect fingernail moon shone down from the midnight sky onto the dark farmhouse. Blue parked by the barn, which had a fresh coat of white paint, and headed for the side door, only to discover it was locked. So was the front. A creeping sense of dread trickled through
her. What if Dean had already left? But when she reached the backyard, she heard a porch glider squeak, and she could make out a broad-shouldered shape sitting there. The screen door was unlatched. She stepped inside. The clink of ice cubes drifted her way. He saw her but he didn’t say a word.

She twisted her hands in front of her. “I didn’t steal Nita’s necklace.”

The glider squeaked again. “I never thought you did.”

“Neither does anyone else, including Nita.”

He kept his arm draped over the back of the cushions. “I’ve lost track of how many of your constitutional rights they’ve violated. You should sue.”

“Nita knows I won’t.” She moved toward the small iron table at the end of the glider.

“I sure would.”

“That’s because you don’t feel as close to the community as me.”

The edges of his cool chipped away. “If you feel so close, why were you running?”

“Because—”

“Point made.” He set his glass on the table with a heavy thud. “You run away from everything you care about.”

She couldn’t work up the energy to defend herself. “I really am a coward.” She hated feeling so exposed, but this was Dean, and she’d hurt him. “The thing is, a lot of really good people have cared about me over the years.”

“And they all gave you up. Yeah, I know.” His expression said he didn’t care. She snatched up his glass, took a big gulp, and choked. Dean never drank anything stronger than beer, but this was whiskey.

He rose and flipped on the porch’s new floor lamp, as though he didn’t want to be alone with her in the dark. His stubble had grown a good quarter of an inch past the fashionable point, his hair was flat on one side, and he had a paint smear on his arm, but he could still
have posed for an End Zone ad. “I’m surprised they let you out,” he said. “I heard that wasn’t supposed to happen until Nita signed off on the town plan next week.”

“They didn’t exactly let me go. I sort of broke out.”

That caught his attention. “What does that mean?”

“As long as I get Chief Wesley’s car back before he goes off duty, I doubt he’ll notice. Just between us, he runs a fairly loose operation.”

He snatched the tumbler from her. “You broke out of jail,
and
you stole a squad car?”

“I’m not that stupid. It’s the chief’s personal car. A Buick Lucerne. And I only borrowed it.”

“Without telling him.” He took a swig.

“I’m sure he won’t mind.” Her sense of being ill-used rose to the surface. She plunked into the wicker chair across from the glider. “Thanks for rushing over to bail me out.”

“Your bail is set at fifty thousand dollars,” he said flatly.

“You pay nearly that much for hair products.”

“Yeah, well, you’re pretty much the exact definition of a flight risk.” He resumed his former seat.

“You were going to take off for Chicago tomorrow without seeing me, weren’t you? Leave me here to rot.”

“You’re hardly rotting.” He settled back into the cushions. “The word is that Chief Wesley loaned you to the Golden Agers yesterday morning for an oil painting demonstration.”

“It’s his work-release program.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “You’re glad I was arrested, aren’t you?”

He took another slow sip, as if he were thinking it over. “Ultimately, it doesn’t mean much, does it? If Nita hadn’t done her worst, you’d have disappeared by now.”

“I wish you’d at least…come to see me.”