The Prodigal's Return (13 page)

Who could have known that facing her parents in public would be easier for Traci than the face-to-face meeting Jenn had been lobbying for from the start.

“She's been busy today, even though she wasn't at school,” Jenn offered when it seemed Traci had run out of words. “She was helping out at Nathan's. The man's very ill, and his house is in terrible shape.” She let the reality of that sink in, daring anyone who happened to make eye contact not to feel guilty for the suffering being lived in their midst, with not a nod of concern from any of them. “She cooked him dinner tonight, and she'll be helping out more over the next few days. If he were a bad influence, I wouldn't let him spend time with my own child. And he's watching Mandy now, isn't he?”

Traci nodded.

“Thanks…thanks to Ms. Gardner,” the teenager said to her parents, as if the rest of the spectators had faded away, “I'm finally starting to realize—”

“What you should be realizing, is that it's time to come home,” Traci's father insisted. “This is ridiculous. Your place is with your family, not doing whatever you're doing with strangers.”

“I've known Traci her entire life, Bob,” Jenn's
father reminded the man. “I'm hardly a stranger. And I'm hardly unaware that the best place for her is at home, with her parents supporting her.” He waited for Jenn to look his way. “But that's not always what families do. I am all too familiar with that reality as well.”

“Joshua,” Mr. Hastings said. “You're not actually—”

“I'm doing what I should have done eight years ago, but my wife and I were too afraid back then, and maybe too blind. I'm trusting my daughter. Jenn's helping a child no one else seems to be able to reach, and I support her one hundred percent. I'm fully willing to accept this council's decision—”

“My father's not the issue here,” Jenn interrupted through a rush of tears. It was impossible not to remember another time, another public forum, when she'd been desperate for his support but so sure she'd never have it again. “I'm the one who took over the teen group, despite his warnings. The meetings have been successful up until now, but—

“We're very aware of your track record with this church's youth, Ms. Gardner.” Mr. Hastings peered at her over the rim of his reading glasses. “But you must be aware that no one in this room is overly impressed now, given the current circumstances.”

More half whispers surrounded them, like they had in that courtroom so long ago. Jenn made eye
contact with as many people as she could, including Traci's parents and, unfortunately, Jeremy Compton.

People she was done cowering in front of.

Catherine Compton stood again, her manner more composed as she addressed Jenn directly.

“You're a horrible role model for the youth entrusted in your care. Your father could have stopped this months ago. Failing to tell parents when their children are taking part in inappropriate behavior is inexcusable. Taking the youth group out for burgers and heaven knows what else when you were supposed to be working with them at the church—”

“It was more than just going out for burgers,” Brett Hamilton said from where he sat beside his father.

“Brett—” Jenn smiled her thanks, shaking her head at the same time. She could hear Traci catch her breath beside her. Brett's defense of the youth group's activities, considering he had every right to feel burned right along with Traci's parents, was as dear as it was unexpected. “You don't have to—”

“The youth outings are great.” He stood, ignoring his father's disapproving frown. “Kids have been coming from all over the county.”

“Brett!” Sheriff Hamilton, the man who'd handcuffed Neal and taken him off to jail, pulled his son back to his chair. “That's enough, son.”

“I would have to agree.” Mr. Hastings stopped fiddling with his pencil and sat forward. “I think I can
speak for the council when I say we're appreciative to everyone, Brett and Traci included, for their insight into everything that's transpired. But this meeting was called to review Reverend Gardner's role in this situation, so let's stick to that, please.”

“There's nothing to review.” Jenn's dad's tone was equally calm and reasonable. “I've seen Jenn act responsibly, in my opinion, with regard to her position in this church. When it became clear her interests were in conflict with our views, she removed herself rather than causing strife within the congregation.” He gave Jenn a nod, then his glance fell on Traci. “I've also seen her stand beside a scared young girl and refuse to let her leave town before she took the time to think long and hard about the consequences of what she was doing. And that same young girl is here tonight, standing up for Jenn. Even Nathan Cain is turning around under my daughter's care, if he welcomed Traci out at his place today just to take some of the heat off of me. How can I not support results like that?”

The room began to buzz again. Or was the static only in Jenn's ears? She gripped the edge of the conference table. Her dad, in his own quiet way, had just sided with her in front of God and everybody.

“You may be inclined to indulge your daughter,” Catherine Compton said, “but that doesn't mean the rest of us have to. She's enabling that child's poor choices, despite the Carpenters' express requests to
the contrary. And Traci and her own child's daily exposure to the town drunk isn't exactly cause for celebration.”

“Don't lump everyone into one pot.” Albert Perry stood at Jenn's right. He was a deacon and the owner of the local hardware store where Nathan Cain had once spent a small fortune on the home-improvement supplies needed to keep up his enormous home. “I, for one, think what she's doing with old Mr. Cain is just fine. I say we should be thinking about helping the woman, not punishing her father for the good she's done.”

“She's teaching my child to disregard my wife's and my wishes.” Bob Carpenter looked from Mr. Perry to Jenn's father. “And by allowing her to do it under your roof, you're as good as supporting the entire thing, Joshua.”

“Stop talking around me, Dad.” Traci stepped directly in front of her parents. “Try talking to me for a change.”

“Come home, sweetie,” Betty Carpenter reasoned. “Come home, and we'll talk about all of it. Let your father and me help you decide what's best.”

Traci shook her head, standing straight and tall. But Jenn could see the tremor in her arms as she crossed them.

“That's exactly what my parents thought eight years ago, Mrs. Carpenter.” She glanced another
apology toward her father. “My parents tried to
help
me make decisions about my pregnancy. They did everything but listen to me. When I left, they waited for me to come to my senses and come back home. But that never happened. It often doesn't with pregnant teens on the run.”

“And you're going to do nothing about this?” Catherine Compton demanded of Jenn's father.

“These aren't my decisions to make, I'm afraid,” he said.

“Joshua, if you continue to support this behavior,” Mr. Hastings said, “this council will have no choice but to—”

“Why doesn't the girl just stay at
my
father's house?” a voice boomed from the back of the conference room.

Everyone in attendance turned to find Neal Cain looming in the doorway. He stared angrily at Jenn, then with dawning shock at the room full of people now gaping at him.

“I'm sorry,” he said to Jenn, who'd raised a hand to cover her gasp at having him appear as if out of nowhere to defend her. “I…I'm sorry.”

Then before another word could be spoken, he turned and left.

T
HE ROOM ERUPTED
in confusion at the spectacle of the town's blackest sheep making an unexpected appearance.

Jenn gave Traci's shoulder a quick squeeze, nudged the girl in the general direction of her parents, spotted Jeremy Compton headed her way with a less than friendly expression on his face, then she began pushing the other way through the milling crowd. Ignoring Hastings's demand for order, stumbling past chairs and people, she forced her way to the door and out into the hallway's dimness. She caught a glimpse of Neal as he slipped through the glass doors that led to the parking lot.

“Jenn?” Her father's hand fell on her elbow. “Did you tell Neal about the council meeting?”

“No. Of course not. I haven't spoken to him since last night.”

“Yet, here he is, riding to your rescue.” Her father's concern turned into a shocked kind of smile.
A smile that on any other father might have been a precursor to parental meddling.

“What? Dad—” But puzzling out what was going through his mind was interrupted by the meeting overflowing into the hall, more than one person motioning for her father's attention.

Jenn left him to his church politics and headed after Neal.

What
was
he doing here? And more to the point, why was it impossible for her not to follow him outside?

Yesterday she'd talked herself into being grateful for the closure they'd found. But after that display in the conference room—

Exiting through the same outer doors as he had, she turned the corner of the building and stopped short. His vintage Mustang was double-parked at the curb. Neal stood beside it, his back against the driver's door, hands in the pockets of jeans that looked just as amazing on him as his suit had.

He was like a living dream. The white knight her dad had joked about inside, standing right there in the shadow of the church that hadn't comforted either of them for years. Even in his jeans and sweater, he looked civilized. Successful. Tamed. But with his strong shoulders bunched as he stared up at the steeple, he was also every bit the angry young man people in Rivermist remembered.

He shook his head as she approached. “I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me back there. I came to talk to you, then everyone was on your case, and—”

“It's okay.” It wasn't, of course, but she couldn't let him apologize for standing up for her.

He sneered. “Nothing's changed around here, has it? The town's out for blood, and they know just where to find the kind they like. What are you doing here, Jenn, putting yourself out there for them to take potshots at?”

“I'm trying to help a young girl and my father.” What was
she
doing here? “Because Traci's pregnant, and because—”

“Because no one was there to help you when you needed it?” Responsibility clouded his features, the same as last night. “Because you know exactly how she feels?”

“Not exactly.” But he'd hit the mark close enough. It scared her how close.

“Is that really Bob Carpenter's daughter?” At her nod, his humorless chuckle rumbled. “Bob Carpenter's daughter is knocked up and living with you at Reverend Gardner's. And just to add variety to your problems, she spent the day hanging with my outcast of a father. Something tells me I'm not in Kansas anymore.”

“Nathan didn't have to agree to help.”

“Between you and the girl, the man's collecting people the way he used to collect cars.”

People, but not his own son.

Jenn glanced from Neal to his Mustang—Nathan's favorite vintage model, if memory served. The two of them had been restoring one similar to it together, so Neal could take it to college. They were going to spend Neal's junior and senior year remodeling the hunk of rust they'd brought home from that junkyard….

“I…I think he's missed you.” Neal's
get real
glare made it impossible for her not to continue, even though this wasn't her fight and everyone would be better off if she butted out. “If you don't believe me, you should take a look in your dad's garage. Or go see your room—”

“My room?”

“He's kept all your things there, exactly the way you left them.” She hadn't been able to stop herself from peeking into Neal's room while cleaning the upstairs hallway that morning. And she'd never forget the shock of what she'd found inside. Or the moment she'd fully understood the depth of Nathan's pain, and what he'd sacrificed when he turned Neal away yesterday. “Everything's covered in dust now, but he hasn't parted with one bit of it.”

Neal's shoulders rose and fell.

“You don't have to sell me on staying, Jenn. I
told you I'd keep trying.” He seemed to be trying to convince himself more than her. “I know Nathan doesn't want anything to do with me now, but—”

“That's just it. I think he cares more than he wants anyone to know. He just doesn't want to trap you here. Underneath all that crankiness, I think he's more worried about what you need, and where you want to be. Why else would he keep all your things but not come after you when you got out of prison?”

The look that flashed across Neal's face reminded Jenn of Traci, when the girl told her parents she was willing to leave—but Jenn had been certain what she really wanted was for someone to make her stay.

“Why are you here, Neal?” she asked. “Instead of home with your father?”

“Nathan was sleeping.” At her disbelieving look, he gave her a good-ol'-boy shrug she remembered all too well. “When Traci told me about the meeting, I…I needed to see you.”

“You needed to see me…. At church?”

His scowl gave way to a sigh. “I knew what was going to happen here. I left you to face crap like this on your own once before. If I can help now…”

To her rescue
her father had said. Fast on the heels of the daydream image came the same panic as yesterday. Having him here, here for her, meant losing him again.

“You…You should be focusing on Nathan.” She didn't remember either of them moving, but he was closer. “He's the reason you came back to Rivermist.”

Neal was shaking his head in that absent way he had when they were kids and he'd been lost in thought.

“What if Nathan's not the only person I want to help?” The expression in his eyes was suddenly that of the boy she'd lost, rather than the stranger who'd walked back into her life. “I'm a fighter, Jenn. I discovered that in prison. But I never fought for what I wanted most. For the things I lost here. Lord knows, I've tried hard enough to stay away. And look at how much pain that's caused.”

“But you're here for Nathan, now. That's what's important.” She clutched his arm, needing him to believe her. “You should be over there now, not here with me.”

Neal held tight when she tried to inch away.

Where was the cold stranger who'd showed up yesterday?

“Nathan's not the only one I hurt.” His hand cherished her cheek. His fingers were tracing the highlights in her hair. “I thought forgetting you was the right thing to do,” he said. “So I stopped feeling anything at all. Now being here, being next to you and seeing everything I threw away—”

“You didn't throw me away.” Her hand found his chest. Her fingers actually tingled. “You went to prison, and it was a long time ago. You have to stop feeling responsible for things that aren't your fault.”

It was a lesson she'd yet to master herself, but she'd preach it to him, regardless. Whatever it took to not keep from circling back to this every time they saw each other. She couldn't take much more.

His hand covered hers. “I didn't mean to leave you alone, Jennifer. I thought you'd have your family…your future.”

“Future?”

Without him?

He gently pulled her closer.

“Don't!” She put more conviction behind moving away.

Where they were, what was at stake inside the church for her father and Traci Carpenter, was where Jenn's attention should be. But Neal held firm, the familiarity of his touch as hypnotic as the deep pitch of his voice.

“Is it so terrible that I want to help you?” he asked.

It was devastating.

“You… You don't know what you're saying.”

Taking comfort and concern from others wasn't her strong suit. From this man, it would mean disaster.

“If you think these people are out for my blood,”
she reasoned, “what about you? Do you have any idea what you'd be getting yourself into, jumping into the middle of my problems with the Carpenters?”

“Probably not.” His chuckle sounded so much like Nathan's. “And I usually make a habit of being the one person in the room who knows the most about whatever's going on. But as long as you're part of it, I think I'd be willing to get into just about anything. You were amazing up there in front of that room of vipers.”

The pride in his voice completely did her in. His instinct to care about her, after every unfair thing he'd been through, clutched at her heart. Terrified her.

“You're an amazing woman, Jennifer Gardner.”

Muscles along his jaw flexed, reminding her of just how good it had felt to kiss all that strength. How long she had needed just one more taste of what she'd never found with the countless boys who'd followed him.

And then his lips were brushing hers with soft, gentle, almost-nothing kisses that were all the more erotic because of the fierceness of the memories and emotions igniting between them.

“Stop. Please,” she begged, tears breaking through the beauty of the moment. “I can't.”

“Jenn?” He was still holding her, still making her want this. “Don't—”

“I can't.” She pushed against the immovable strength holding her so safe and close.

“Get your hands off her, you son of a bitch!”

Jenn was ripped out of Neal's arms before Jeremy Compton's words fully registered.

“You've got no business here, Cain.” Jeremy slid an arm around her.

Dislodging herself would have made more of a scene, so she settled for shooting him a nasty look as more and more people exited the church to watch the spectacle.

“Actually, this is
none
of your business,” she said. The proprietary way he was holding her was creepier than usual, considering the hateful stare he'd shot her inside.

“Did he hurt you?” Jeremy turned until his back was to Neal. His arms circled her waist as he took stock of her from head to toe, like a man checking his car for damage after a fender bender. “I know my mom was rough on you in there, but no one wants you spending time with this guy. Do you want me to take care of him?”

“And you'll what, Jeremy?” The way Neal pitched his voice no one beyond the three of them could hear. “Manhandle Jenn some more, just to piss off me and your mama?”

Sure enough, Catherine had joined the growing circle of onlookers, her hand covering her mouth
in shock at the sight of her baby talking with the town outcasts.

“I don't give a damn what my mother thinks.” Jeremy rounded on Neal. “No one wants you here. I'm sure Jenn and her father have no interest in your help. I don't know what you think you were doing in there, but you're just making things harder for everyone.”

“I'm making things harder?” Neal's expression turned arctic cold as Jenn tried to step around Jeremy, only to have the younger man restrain her once more. “Looks to me like your assistance is the last thing the lady wants.”

“What I don't want, is to be talked about like I'm not standing right here.” A stomp to Jeremy's instep allowed her to finally move away. The sight of Neal squaring off against Bobby's kid brother had shot what felt like ice water through all the warmth his kisses had left behind. This wasn't going to happen. Not again. “I'm a big girl. I don't remember asking anyone for assistance of any kind. So back off, both of you. You boys aren't going to get into it on the church lawn, not over me.”

She caught the half smile teasing Neal's lips. A quick
atta-girl
nod of respect. The tension eased from his powerful frame.

“Don't tell me you're falling for this guy.” Jeremy sneered at the look that had crept across her face. “I
was right. One whiff, and you're using his sick old man, your problems with the Carpenters and this town, whatever you can get your hands on, to get back in his pan—”

“You never did know when to shut up, Jeremy.” It was like Neal was channeling the brilliant attorney his father had once been, the way his voice smoothed out and his tone made it sound as if he was talking about nothing more titillating than the evening's weather.

But the bite of each word was evidently too much for Jeremy. He hurled himself forward, his fists driving straight toward Neal's face. Neal's lightning-quick reflexes as he sidestepped the blow, Jeremy's growl as his forward momentum caused him to trip and topple to the ground, shocked everyone, Mrs. Compton most of all.

“Oh, dear God!” she shrieked as she ran up to the scene that must be straight out of her nightmares. “Stop it!”

Gasps escaped from the growing crowd as Jeremy lurched back to his feet, battle-ready for a second pass. Jenn stepped forward, intending to hold him off. Neal hadn't so much as raised his hands in defense.

“Guess that's my cue to leave,” he said, straightening the sleeves of his sweater as if he'd done nothing more than swat away a fly. “I'll see you and Traci back at my father's, Jenn.”

He didn't bother to look at Jeremy as he eased with quiet dignity into his car and drove away. Rivermist's most dangerous son now carried himself with the sophistication of the businessman no one here had ever dreamed he'd become.

“Do you really think I should stay with Mr. Cain?” Traci asked. She stepped closer, her parents following. “Would you move over there with me if I did?”