Riley's Pond (New Adult Romance) (32 page)

The curtains keeping me hidden were shredded and pulled from the heavy bars holding them when Michael tried to escape, summoning the S.W.A.T. officers to follow him into the narrow passage way. Padded and heavily armed, wearing boots large enough to crush small children, I watched in amazement as they moved with the ease of ballerinas, leaping, jumping, and twisting over benches, through ribbon wrapped floral arrangements, and totally freaked out wedding guests, before cornering the cowering bastard dressed in the designer tux. Next to hearing Taylor whisper my name when she realized I held her, the snapping sound of the cuffs locking around Michael’s wrists was music to my ears.

When the idiot purposely spit on Taylor’s dress as he walked by, Dad’s hands clamped my shoulders. But his weren’t as fast as Mr. Barnes’s, who leveled a fast, powerful blow to the side of his son’s jaw. “Terms of endearment” were shouted between father and son. Michael’s father ended up in cuffs, too, when he tried to pull out Michael’s gelled, coifed hair.

I just bent tighter over Taylor, shielding her with my body. She went limp in my arms and I knew she probably fainted, but until that asshole had been officially removed, I wasn’t letting anyone near her. Even then, my dad and Jax pried my arms from her waist and restrained me from running after the gurney carrying her away. Her eyes locked open, holding mine in a watery gaze, but she remained silent, dazed. Dad said she was in shock, but would be all right.

I couldn’t be as sure.

**

The door opened and a large man filled the space. The one I recognized as Taylor’s father.

“Son, do you want to tell me what the hell you were thinking when you decided to take on the world this afternoon? Have you any idea the damage you’ve caused, not to mention the repercussions something of this magnitude will generate? The grounds are swarming with news crews, the chapel is in a shambles, and the stained glass window that earmarked this church is shattered.”

He bounced the weapon in this hand. The rock I threw without giving a second thought when I aimed it at the window above Michael’s head. The felonies piled up, but I didn’t give a damn. The sand disappeared in the hourglass and something had to be done to stop the wedding. Something epic. Like a rock hurling through a window and sending glass exploding everywhere, giving Taylor the opportunity to choose Michael or freedom.

Unbridled joy and excitement filled me when she took off running away from everyone, even her parents. The communication system inside my brain malfunctioned and no longer received common sense signals, when I bolted from my hiding place for Taylor. I vaguely remember Lydia Daniels screaming, but Michael ran for Taylor and I was hell-bent on not letting him ever put his hands on her again.

However, I misjudged my speed and strength when I reached the runaway bride, sending us both crashing to the floor. I’d barely got my arms around her body, buried in the layers of lace and fluffy fabric, crushing her face protectively to my chest when Michael’s fist aimed for her. The bruise on my shoulder would eventually heal and the bones in Taylor’s face were saved.

Michael grabbed my jacket and when Taylor’s father reached for him, he let go of me to swing a punch his direction. The double doors in the back of the chapel burst open, one actually dropping from its hinges into a mangled pile of wooden slats. A small army of dark clothed officers pointing guns appeared. I’d never been so glad to hear my father bellow the command “
freeze!
”

My thoughts swirled back with the smacking sound of the stone slapping the skin of Mr. Wilson’s hand. I watched the rock go up then down, almost falling into a hypnotic trance. When Taylor’s father finished listing the evidences of destruction, he paused.

“So you fancy yourself a ‘Sampson going up against a Goliath’?”

“Maybe. I just needed to save Taylor.”

“And so you did. My daughter is safe because of you.” He held his hand out. “Richard Wilson. It’s an honor to meet a young man of your caliber, Mr. Martin. My daughter is a lucky girl to have someone like you in her life.”

Not really,
I thought.
Lucky
would mean I believed Taylor in the first place and had pulled my biblical stunt the minute I met Michael Barnes.

“Is she okay? She wouldn’t talk to me.”

“Taylor’s in shock and emotionally spent. Her mother took her home to rest.”

“Can I see her?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. The trauma of what’s happened coupled with the embarrassment she feels, may be too much for her. As her father, I’m not willing to risk it. Surely, you understand.”

“No, as a matter of fact I don’t. We love each other.”

“Well,” his tongue clicked the back of his throat, “that may be true, but I still forbid it. If at some future time Taylor wants to contact you, she will.”

Mr. Wilson took my hand and dropped the stone into my palm. “I recommend you hide that.”

“How did you know it was
this
rock?”

“Until you just told me, it was an educated guess. Baseball was my chosen sport in high school. There aren’t any other rocks in the garden below the broken window that could have carried that much force.” He handed me a business card. “I’ve got a feeling you may need a lawyer. I’d like to help, but call the cell phone number. I suspect my job has been terminated with my current law firm.”

The door creaked open and I nonchalantly dropped the rock into my pocket. Dad and the preacher entered. Introductions between the men commenced and I moved back to the chair in the far corner, feeling light headed. I was in deep shit. Taylor’s dad wouldn’t let me see her and we were leaving for home first thing in the morning.

After Richard Wilson excused himself, Dad and the man who could immediately hurl my soul to Hell, stepped toward me. I stood, respectful and silent.

“Riley, this is Pastor Smyth. I gave him a condensed version of events leading to your irrational decision to chuck something through his
expensive
window. He’s graciously conceded not to press charges against you in exchange for monthly payments of a hundred dollars for one year. He’s also asked that you never enter this church again, but attend ours at home on a regular basis. Perhaps he believes there’s still a chance to save your sorry ass…I mean
soul.
”

I wicked my sweaty palm across my pants and shook his hand vigorously. “Thanks. I mean it. Sorry about the window.” I kept
how
I broke the window a secret. Confession would come later under my father’s relentless questioning.

The gentle smile on the preacher’s face made his soft gray eyes twinkle. “Son, I figure the good Lord heard Miss Wilson’s prayers and used you as His instrument to keep the Devil from intervening further.” His eyes turned to the ceiling, just like Mom. Maybe God just preferred attics. “I only wish when He chooses to move in mysterious ways, he’d give some advance warning.”

The tension eased with our irreverent laughter. The preacher left the room and Dad’s fingers clamped the back of my neck. “If I didn’t have to face your mother, I’d throw your delinquent butt in a jail cell for a couple of days so you could reflect on your choices.”

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to me. “Dad, thanks for believing me and saving Taylor.”

“I didn’t save her, Riley.
You
did that all by yourself. Today, you were her hero.”

**

I twirled the empty coffee mug back and forth. The sun blazed sideways through the shutters on the diner window, giving me a headache. None of us slept much last night. Dad undoubtedly saved my interrogation for the ride home. Last night we had a quiet dinner and spent the last hours we had with Jaxson. We presently sat at the airport café waiting for his flight to Virginia.

Jax kicked my leg under the table. “Bro? What’s with the long face? You saved the day! You should be happy, not all pouty. Geesh, Riley, reach down and check your ‘boys’.”

Dad’s coffee exited his nose and I burst out laughing. Jax knew exactly what to say to cause a reaction from Dad and lighten my mood.

“Damn, I hope the army teaches you a few things, Jaxson,” Dad snarled, blotting the coffee bubbles on the plastic placemat.

“Don’t count on it old man,” Jax replied.

“Yeah, you’ll probably still
hiss
your ‘S’ words. Say ‘Sir, yes Sir’ for me, please?” I teased. Jax swatted me with his cap and Dad ran interference, as usual.

Simultaneously, we glanced at the neon clock over the counter. Fifteen more minutes and my brother would become property of the U.S. government and not the Martin family. Deep down I already missed him and knew when he came home for Christmas, he’d be different—changed, probably for the better.

Jax gave a heavy sigh and pulled his duffle bag from the corner of the booth, lugging it over his shoulder. “Little bro, it’s been fun breaking the law with you one last time.”

I pressed my fist hard against my mouth and stared out the window. Fighting back tears proved useless as one chased another over my cheeks. The big brother I’d spent a good portion of my life plotting his death, embarked today on a new life. I, on the other hand, would return to my old one alone…without Taylor.

“Riley?” Dad asked pensively.

A sudden sob stole my breath. Jax dropped his duffle bag and leaned over the table. “Dude, what’s wrong? You can’t be missing me already.”

I half laughed, blowing snot out my nose.

“Now that’s gross,” Jax said.

I grabbed a napkin. “I have to see Taylor. I can’t go home without seeing her.”

“I’m hurt,” my brother teased. He tapped his finger on the table top. “So go see her.”

“Her father asked that we leave her alone,” Dad explained. “Riley can call her in a couple of weeks, or she can call him sooner, if she wants.”

Jax checked his watch and lifted his bag. “Dad, if Mom had gone through all the bullshit Taylor has and you busted your balls to save her, would you go home without seeing her?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly. Take Riley to Taylor, or check your ‘stones’. She needs to see him as much as he needs to see her.

“You two can’t be mine with those mouths. And for the record, my
stones
are just fine, but you better get going or you’ll miss your flight.”

I’d become a babbling bawl-baby by this point. Jaxson whistled for our waitress, much to my dad’s dismay.

“Hey sweetheart, can we get some napkins? Got a whole mess of cry babies over here.”

Laughter erupted around us and the waitress brought Jax a stack of napkins. He pulled her into him, laying a big kiss on her lips, which she seemed to thoroughly enjoy.

“I might die tomorrow and kissing a waitress is on my ‘bucket list’.”

The one thing the world could always count on would be Jax making a spectacle of himself…in our father’s presence.

**

We leaned against Bessie watching Jaxson walk across the parking lot for the airport terminal. He didn’t want either of us at the gate to say goodbye, but we managed a couple of burly hugs and shed a few more tears, before letting him go. Dad made him talk to Mom on the phone, which consisted of the two of them crying and saying “I love you” a thousand times. I swear the ground around our feet looked like a monsoon had washed through.

The long walk to the terminal building I suspect would be used to pull the pieces together and arrange them back into “bad-ass Jaxson,” who would forever be my guardian angel—with black wings and a halo made of stainless steel instead of gold. He’d probably want an electric guitar instead of a harp, too.

**

The coin toss put Dad in the driver’s seat first. We sat at the edge of the driveway waiting to pull into traffic. Going left took us to the interstate. Turning right sent us the direction of Taylor’s house. Bessie’s blinker ticked loudly, the little green arrow pointing left. My eyes gazed the other way.

“
Shit.
I’m going to regret this.”

Leaving a few fingers wagging our direction and horns honking on our behalf, Dad punched the gas and turned Bessie right. Joy bubbled in my chest. I’d see Taylor after all.

Thirty-Eight

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE WEIRD KIND

Taylor

Our usually empty house buzzed with people hovering and watching my every move. I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without Mom standing outside the door, making it next to impossible to pee. The clock radio on the counter hadn’t been used so much since last fall when I’d blast it every morning while I got ready for school. Anyone else might welcome the attention, but I found it strange. Irritating, actually. Where did this sudden concern come from? Maybe if my well-meaning family members had shown an ounce of this concern earlier, I wouldn’t be in this damn mess.

The smell of something seasoned with garlic wafted up the stairwell and the gurgle in my stomach urged me to investigate. When Mom brought me home from the hospital,
Dr. Shephard
sat a bit too comfortably at the kitchen table, indulging in a cup of coffee. Even stranger, though, Dad sat across from him, the two engrossed in conversation.

I rounded the doorway to the kitchen finding much the same scene, except a new, unexpected and not wanted visitor had joined the peculiar gathering, busily making lasagna. My “screwing-my-dad-hoping-to-be-my-new-stepmother,” Olivia.

“What’s
she
doing here,” I snarled not hiding my disdain.

“
Taylor
,” my mother chided under her breath as she passed by. The fake smile on her face clued me she was every bit as happy about “company” as me.

Mom eased next to Olivia, putting together a green salad. I couldn’t help but notice the heavy chop to the lettuce head, and wondered if Olivia’s face appeared to Mom right before she wielded her culinary weapon.

“Olivia kindly offered to help out with dinner. We didn’t know how long…you would be…at the hospital.” My dad’s carefully calculated words tripped over themselves.