One True Heart (19 page)

When they moved to the parlor, Kare curled up in an overstuffed chair and fell asleep midsentence.

“Does she always do that?” Millanie asked.

“I don't know. We didn't grow up together. Different mothers, same father.” Drew lifted a light cotton throw and spread it over his sister. “I wish I'd been around to look out for her.”

“Of course. That explains it,” Millanie said, as if she'd figured out a puzzle.

“Explains what?”

“Why the two of you are so different. I've watched you. There's an edge to you that people from small towns or farms don't have. You're easygoing, but you keep things close to the vest like people raised in big cities.”

“New York,” he admitted as he sat down on the other end of the couch. She lifted her cast on the middle cushion between them. “How'd you end up here?”

“More questions, Captain?” His words were direct, but his hand rested on the cast between them.

“Just one,” she grinned. “Why do you move your hand over my cast? You do know I can't feel it.”

“I know, but I can imagine. If you want to switch places you could leave your cast on the floor and stretch out your bare leg that I've already had the pleasure of touching. I liked the feel of your warm skin, especially the place halfway up from your knee on the inside of your long beautiful leg. It's softer there, less tanned.”

She breathed deep before she whispered, “How do you
know it's less tanned? You couldn't see my skin under the table when you were feeling your way along my skin.”

“I wouldn't mind checking it out. We could easily settle the matter.”

Millanie glanced at Kare sleeping, then looked at him. “Would you mind stepping into the entryway, Dr. Cunningham?”

“Not at all,” he answered very formally as he stood and offered her his hand.

She let him help her away from the chance of a sleeping sister hearing or seeing what they were doing.

Once outside the parlor, he leaned her against the door to her room and flipped off the foyer light. They were so close her body touched his every time she breathed, but he didn't kiss her. He brushed his jaw against her hair and let out a long sigh.

“Aren't you going to kiss me?” she whispered.

“More questions,” he said as he balanced her with his hands on her shoulders and moved his leg between hers. The contrast of the hard cast and her soft flesh only one layer of khaki pants away from him almost drove him insane. She was slim, but not thin. There was an odd mix of strength and vulnerability about her that fascinated him. His whole body seemed to want to say
I've finally found you. My perfect fit.
Even though the few brain cells still working reminded him he barely knew this woman who felt so right pressed against him.

Once she relaxed, knowing she wasn't going to fall, he moved his hands down her sides, taking his time feeling her through the light summer shirt. With each stroke his fingertips brushed the side of her breasts. He liked the sudden softness beneath her clothes.

He smiled when she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Her mouth was open slightly, inviting him in, but he didn't want a kiss tonight. He wanted to memorize every curve of her body.

As his hands grew bolder, her breathing grew deeper. He stayed so close that she kept touching him with her slight
movements. Her head moved back and forth as his hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt and spread out over her flesh. Her entire body was so warm. When his long fingers slowly slid over her breasts, she arched with the sudden pleasure and he leaned into her, letting his body feel her fully.

He brushed her lips but pulled away before they kissed. He wanted her to need him as much as he needed her.

She moved against him. He kissed her lightly again and she cried out softly.

“No, Drew, no.”

He kissed her throat. “Now what?”

“Don't stop,” she said so low he barely heard. “Please, don't stop. Don't pull away from me.”

He grinned as his lips trailed up her throat to her mouth. Finally, she'd said something that wasn't a question.

Drew kissed her then, long and slow. She fit so perfectly against him. He loved seeing her need for him in her eyes. He loved knowing that she wanted this between them as dearly as he did. Her arms rested lightly on his shoulders as he unbuttoned a few buttons of her blouse, then pressed his hand against the side of her breast so the mound almost broke free of any material. Along the untanned flesh he took his time tasting her as she begged him not to stop.

His hand continued to roam over her for a few seconds even after he heard someone moving onto the porch.

“We'll finish this later,” he whispered as he pulled away and flipped on the foyer light.

By the time Martha Q unlocked the door and stepped inside, Drew was lowering Millanie to her seat on the couch.

Johnny Wheeler had sworn he wouldn't go to town for a while, but by dark he realized there was no food in the house. The lettuce and grapes he'd bought ten days ago had turned brown and the bread was green. Even hermits had to have food. It occurred to him that maybe he should grow something next season that he could eat. After all, he was a farmer. How hard could it be to plant a garden?

He might even use his barn for something other than a place to leave his tractor, and of course, his wife's boyfriend's drugs. Max must have thought Johnny a complete idiot for not noticing the drugs in the barn or Max in his bed with Scarlet.

When Johnny climbed in his pickup, he couldn't help wondering where Scarlet's car had disappeared to. When Max had been arrested with the drugs, surely Scarlet had been brought in to the sheriff's office.

At first he'd thought maybe the sheriff just drove off with Max and left her behind. If so, Scarlet would have had to come inside the house for the purse she'd left behind over a week ago.

He grinned and walked over to the dryer. Opening the door, he noticed her purse was exactly where he'd put it. She'd never think to look in the dryer. He wasn't even sure she knew the thing had a door.

If she took her car after Max's arrest, someone had to drive out and help her.

“Wendell,” he said to himself, knowing his brother always came running whenever she needed help.

She wouldn't have to sleep with Wendell to get whatever she wanted; she could just pat him on the head. Before Wendell worked in mall patrol, he'd owned a key shop. He'd never considered the possibility that only a dozen people might need keys made every month. After three months of not making enough to pay the electricity on the place, he moved his tools to his garage and went looking for another job.

As Johnny drove into town, he tried to think of where Scarlet might be. Last year she'd sold her condo in Austin and said she was making some investments. She didn't want to talk about it and Johnny had thought, since it was her money, she could do whatever she wanted with it.

He'd never seen a dime, or a statement, or anything that hinted at what she'd done with the windfall.

Maybe she'd bought a place in Harmony? Maybe tonight she'd invited Wendell over to dinner at her secret place so she could talk him into confessing to a drug possession charge.

No, he thought, if she'd planned something so devious, she'd have to cook and Scarlet never did that. Plus, she wouldn't go out because she might be seen with Wendell. Even having a husband in jail couldn't damage her reputation as bad as stepping out with Wendell.

Johnny pulled into a grocery store. It was late. If he got fast food first, the store might be closed by the time he circled back. As he walked across the parking lot he heard sirens from the direction of the old town square. Sirens were rarely heard. He thought of yelling that he wasn't doing anything but buying groceries, but despite his recent record, maybe this time the cops were looking for someone else.

Johnny shoved the door to the store open, knowing it would probably take him an hour to pick up enough groceries to last a month. Once he got settled in on the farm, he didn't plan on coming back to town for a while.

Like maybe until Max's trial was over and Scarlet died of old age.

When Johnny checked out, he heard that there had been trouble down behind Winter's Inn. A man came in and said he heard a drunk had been mugged while walking in the creek bed. Word was he might have died if that woman who read palms at the bookstore hadn't found him.

Johnny told himself it was none of his business. The bookstore was long past closed and he had no idea where Kare Cunningham lived. He drove home and put up the groceries with his mind still turning over what must have happened. What if Kare got scared? He didn't like to think of her frightened. What if there was blood? She might not like that, and one thing was for sure: Even if she didn't know the guy Kare would worry about him, probably cry because he was hurt. With her soft heart there was no telling what she might do.

“Damn,” Johnny said to the empty house. “I'm jealous of some drunk who got mugged.”

He made a sandwich and grabbed a beer. If he had to he'd wake the bookstore owner up and demand to know where Kare lived.

Halfway to town it dawned on him that his plan would probably get him arrested. He'd developed a fear of handcuffs lately. He couldn't just drive around asking where some woman he barely knew lived.

He had to come up with Plan B. Only problem was when you start out with such a terrible Plan A, Plan B's not easy. Finally, he decided he'd drive around and think. Gas was cheaper than a psychiatrist.

An hour later Johnny was standing in Winter's Inn's backyard staring at where Kare had found a body. He had no idea why the mugged guy had crossed at this spot. All he cared about was why Kare had been there. If she crossed she was either taking a shortcut, which meant she lived near,
or visiting someone, which meant she had a friend in one of these old houses. Or a client?

He looked through the cottonwoods and saw the bright Blue Moon Diner sign. If she'd left the back of the bookstore and walked in this direction, she might still be near.

Staring at the big old houses, he guessed he could knock on every door, but at some point people might not see him as friendly, what with his new jail tan, hair too long, and a week's worth of beard. Hell, they'd probably all swear they'd seen him on a wanted poster.

Some of the houses had little apartments in back. Maybe she lived in one? He stared at the bed-and-breakfast. If she crossed here, this could be the place she might have been headed.

Johnny had heard of Martha Q Patterson. The crazy old lady was just the type to have her palms read by moonlight. It was as good a place as any to start.

Glancing at the three-story house, Johnny got a feeling. His first as far as he could remember. He felt like Kare was in there. The little fairy must be rubbing off on him.

Walking up to the door, he wondered if he was breaking any laws by just knocking. Surely not. After all, Winter's Inn was a business. People must come and go all the time.

He knocked.

A chubby little lady with chocolate on her chin answered the door. “May I help you?” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “I'm afraid we don't take guests this late.”

She must have looked down at his boots and worn jeans and figured he couldn't afford a place like this anyway.

“I'm not looking for a room, Mrs. Patterson. I'm looking for Kare Cunningham. I understand she had some trouble tonight and I'd just like to offer my help if she needs anything. We're friends.” The last part wasn't exactly a lie.

“We both seem to know who I am, young man, but I don't know who you are. No one comes into my house without a name.”

“Johnny Wheeler, ma'am. I have a farm out north of town.”

Martha Q laughed. “Of course you are. I can see the Wheeler look about you. Tall and broad shoulders. I knew your father, boy.”

He hadn't thought of himself as a boy in years, but he wasn't surprised she knew his father. Word was she knew half the men in town very well. Johnny took a chance with a story he'd heard once. “My dad said he saw you dance on the table at Buffalo's Bar one night. He said you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.”

She giggled. “I don't remember him being there that night, but he's right, I was beautiful. Three men proposed to me before midnight that evening.” Opening the door wider, she added, “Come on in, Johnny. We're all here.”

He didn't want to see anyone but Kare, but when a man's invited into the dragon's lair, sometimes he's got to go.

Martha Q walked him down to the kitchen and offered him a seat. Another old lady was there serving up ice cream, and a distinguished man a few years older than Johnny stood to shake his hand. The woman next to the brainy type didn't seem as friendly. In fact, she looked like she was sizing him up. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd asked him to open his mouth so she could count his teeth.

“I just wanted to stop by and check on Kare.” Johnny stumbled over his words. “I'm a friend of hers.”

The intelligent-looking man frowned at him. “I'm her brother and I assure you she's fine. She's asleep right now. It's been a rough night for her.”

“I heard. I'm so sorry.” Johnny didn't want to see any of these people; he only wanted to know Kare was fine.

“Have you known her long?” the woman with a cast on her leg asked.

“No,” he answered.

“New in town?” she shot back.

He shook his head. “I was born here. Mrs. Patterson knew my father.” Johnny doubted that would be a recommendation, but he'd try it anyway.

The woman in the cast seemed to relax and so did Kare's
brother. Johnny might be a complete lunatic for all they knew, but at least he was homegrown.

“Well, folks, I'm sorry to have bothered you. I'll say good night.” He started to back out of the room.

“Stay for ice cream, Johnny.” Martha Q snaked her arm around his. “I want to hear how your dad and granddad are doing. They were both big good-looking men like you without an ounce of fat on them.”

He let her lead him over to a chair, not mentioning that she'd forgotten to ask about any of the women in his family. “My dad died about six years ago. Heart attack. After that my grandfather lost interest in the farm and I took it over. It's not that big an operation. I only hire out help during the harvest.”

“I think I heard about your dad's passing a few years back. I'm sorry. He was a good man. Liked to drink and gamble a little, but he always went home to your mother.”

She'd just told Johnny what he'd wondered about. His father hadn't been one of the men she'd gone out with. He met her stare and another feeling hit him. Martha Q knew exactly what she was telling him with her statement.

“Yes, ma'am. He loved my mother. When he died Mom moved to Granbury, down near Dallas, to be with her two sisters. They're all widowed now and spend most of their time quilting. They've gone to shows as far away as Arizona and won a wall full of ribbons. My mom's an expert with the Lone Star pattern. I got them a long-arm machine for Christmas so the quilting part doesn't take long.”

Johnny wasn't surprised Martha Q looked bored. He'd bored himself. Wendell was right, he needed to develop an interest in something, otherwise people would start sleeping every time he opened his mouth.

Kare's brother, Drew, tried to help him out by saying, “That's interesting. I've always thought of quilting as a truly American art form.”

No one in the kitchen believed his lie.

The other old lady, who identified herself as Mrs. Biggs,
handed him a brownie and a glass of milk. Johnny downed it as fast as possible and said he had to be going.

To his surprise Martha Q insisted on walking him to the door.

When they reached the foyer, she pointed to the parlor. One lamp put off a low glow in the corner.

He saw his little fairy curled up in a huge chair. She was sound asleep. Before he lost his nerve, Johnny asked, “Would it be all right if I just sat in here for a while and watched over her? I was worried.”

Martha Q seemed to understand. She nodded and waddled back to the kitchen.

Johnny sat down on the couch across from Kare. Her wild hair was spread out behind her like a huge midnight pillow. He wasn't sure how or when it happened, but Kare mattered to him. Knowing that she was here and safe settled his heart.

Leaning back, he felt his body totally relax. Something about her was so special. If she would just let him be her friend, that would be enough. Once in a while someone comes along and you just know that person would be a blessing to be around.

He drifted off with his eyes half open just to make sure she was safe. The others were in the kitchen talking and laughing, but he was right where he wanted to be.

When Kare moved, he remained still, not wanting to surprise her or, worse, frighten her in the shadows. She'd had enough fright tonight.

“Johnny?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he answered. “Now, don't get mad. I'm just here watching over you.”

“Good,” she answered, and went back to sleep.

A half hour later, the people in the kitchen moved to the foyer and were saying good night. She woke again and the first thing she did was look at him, not the others.

Martha Q told Kare she was welcome to stay the night, and all agreed she shouldn't go home this late.

Johnny stood. “I better be going. You're right, it's getting late.”

No one considered including him in the sleepover. “Good night,” he said, and moved to the porch.

Kare followed him out and gave him a quick hug. “Thanks for watching over me,” she said before running back into the house.

Johnny walked to his pickup and got his third
feeling
in one night. He had a feeling he'd be seeing a great deal of his fairy in the future. Watching over her had been more fun than he'd ever had.