Down by the River (21 page)

“I'm ten minutes up the highway from you, Grace. Lock the doors until I get there.”

Grace did, and when she heard Jack's car and then his knock a little later, she opened the front door to him with tears in her eyes and flung herself into his arms. He held her close and said soothing things to her, and it felt like coming home. Grace leaned fully into him and let her senses take in the male scent of him and the musky undertones of the familiar cologne he always wore. A side of her knew she was staying in his arms a little longer than she needed to, but she really didn't care at the moment.

He pulled back from her at last, reaching out to wipe off a few stray tears from her face with his thumb. Jack's eyes were tender as he looked down into her face. But the smile he gave her was as devilishly handsome and irresistible as she remembered.

“Remind me to thank Crazy Man later for this,” he said, grinning.

“Oh, you!” Grace pulled away and glared at him. “This is serious, Jack.”

“I know it is, or you wouldn't have called me. Tell me about the note.”

“It's in the kitchen.” She turned and started down the hall. “Come back and I'll show it to you.”

He followed her into the kitchen, where she picked up the note from the kitchen table. She read Jack the words with a shaky voice.
“Protect your girl. There are wicked men around here.”

The words were written in the usual black marker, but were plastered across a collage of cutouts from area newspapers telling of rapes and murders of young girls. Grace handed the note to Jack to look at, her hands still shaking.

“Confound it.” Jack studied the note with an angry frown. “That man's crossed the line with this one.”

Jack reached out a hand to steady Grace's and urged her into one of the kitchen chairs. “Where did you find this, Grace?”

She told him.

“I'm going to call the sheriff,” he said. “And we'll need to talk to Margaret.”

“Oh, do we have to, Jack? I don't want her upset and frightened!”

“She needs to be on the alert, Grace. We can't know what this message means. And we both know Margaret has had more sightings of Crazy Man than anyone. She told me the other day she'd felt someone was following her when she walked down to visit Jo Carson. And last week she said she got ‘creeped out,' as she put it, while she and Vince sat out on the stone bench by the creek talking. She suddenly felt like someone was watching them.”

“I hate that this has happened right now.” Grace dropped her head into her hands. “This has been such a happy week for Margaret. I hate to spoil it.”

Jack reached out a hand to take one of Grace's in his. “Margaret's a big girl, Grace. And she has a Higher Power to lean on now when there is trouble. She'll be all right.”

The next hour or so was eventful. The sheriff came, the story was told again, and the house and property of the Mimosa were searched. Then the sheriff, Jack, and Grace went over to the realty office to talk to Margaret. Margaret took it all in stride, more than Grace would have thought.

“Maybe it's like the situation with Ruby.” Margaret tapped her nails thoughtfully on her desk. “Maybe it's only a warning to me to be more careful. Maybe this man knows there's some danger, and he's trying to alert me.”

“Maybe.” Sheriff Walker scratched his head, pushing back his cap. “Or maybe the man's getting more aggressive. We can't know. But I don't like cutouts from the newspapers about rapes and murder pasted on warning notes like this. It ain't natural to try scaring folks in this way. And I don't like it one little bit.”

He tucked the note into a plastic bag. “I'm gonna have this analyzed real good for prints. And I'm going to get a couple of deputies, and we're going to start going out through the community to see what we can learn about this man—see if anybody knows anything about him. Somebody's gotta know something. And this kind of stuff has got to be stopped.”

Swofford stood and hitched up his pants. “You women keep your doors locked, and you call me if anything at all unusual happens, you hear?”

Jack walked Grace back over to the inn after the sheriff left.

She felt suddenly awkward with Jack then, walking along beside him and knowing he had held her not so long ago.

As they came to her doorstep, she turned to him, searching for some sort of conversational note to fill up the moment. “Morgan came to talk to me this morning about something that was troubling her, Jack.”

The sensual tension that had been building before was broken quickly as Jack took this statement in. “What's bothering Morgan?” His voice was alarmed.

Grace smiled. “Just something she needs to talk to you about, Jack. I encouraged her to come to you with it, and she promised me she would tonight. I thought it would help if you knew—so you'd be open to talk with and to listen to her.”

A small frown touched his forehead. “I always listen to my girls, Grace.”

“I know you do,” she soothed. “But you know how Morgan is—so much like you sometimes. Irritable when she has something important to say that is difficult. Reluctant to talk about it. I simply wanted you to be ready to listen.”

He looked down at her quietly for a moment, and then sighed. “You know me rather too well, don't you, Grace Conley?”

Unsure of Jack's meaning, Grace didn't answer, dropping her eyes.

He leaned over then and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. “You remember to lock your doors tonight, Grace. And I'll see that I'm attentive to whatever it is that Morgan needs to talk to me about.”

Grace looked up then to find Jack studying her with a deep gaze. They stood like that for a moment, just looking at each other, and then Jack nodded a good-bye and turned to start back toward the realty company—leaving Grace weak-kneed and confused.

J
ack watched Morgan fidget through dinner that evening. He felt grateful that Grace had alerted him to the fact that Morgan had something on her mind. It was obvious she was worrying over it. Oblivious to Morgan's unrest, Meredith happily shared her day's events with them, chatting away with excitement about the visit the Scouts planned to make to the Little River Railroad Museum soon.

“It's part of our walking tour for the My Community badge we're working on.” She reached for one of the brownies Bebe had left for their dessert. “Ms. Grace said it's good to learn more about your community and what you can do to make it better. We're going to do a cleanup project down at the park by the river, too. Maybe even paint the picnic tables if we can get permission. And plant some bulbs to come up in the spring.”

Meredith glanced at her watch. “It's time for our TV show, Morgan.”

“You go watch it, Mer. I'll help Daddy clean up, and then I'll be there later. I've seen this episode, anyway.”

“Okay.” Meredith grabbed another brownie and headed out of the kitchen. They soon heard her footsteps as she galloped up the stairs to the den.

Jack watched Morgan moodily help clean up the kitchen table and load the dishes into the dishwasher. He finally felt sorry for her.

“There's a full moon out tonight, Morgan.” He looked out the kitchen window. “You want to go down to the patio and look at it? We could sit there for a little while and watch it shine down on the river. Maybe see some stars.”

“Yeah, that would be good.” Morgan's voice almost sounded relieved.

Jack took a cup of after-dinner coffee with him and led the way down to the patio. He sat down in his favorite chair and propped his feet up on the rock wall. The moon above shone like a glowing, white ball in the dark sky.

“Daddy,” Morgan said after a while. “I need to talk to you about something, and I don't want you to get mad.”

“Did you break something valuable in the house or black some kid's eye?”

She giggled. “No.”

Jack waited.

“Daddy.” She paused. “Is our mother really dead?”

Jack caught his breath. This was not what he'd expected. “What makes you ask that, Morgan?”

“I put a few things together recently and got to wondering.” She told him about the letter she'd found and about hearing Samantha mention their mother's name.

“Have you and Meredith talked about this?”

Morgan shook her head. “No, I haven't told Mer. You know how she can get kind of emotional and stuff. I thought I needed to ask you about it first.”

Jack noticed she didn't mention that she had talked to Grace earlier in the day. “That's a pretty big and serious question, Morgan.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I think if we're going to talk about this that Meredith needs to be here, too. Why don't you go and get her? This is a good place to talk with the moon looking down on us.”

Morgan looked up. “Yeah, it's real pretty. I'll go get Mer.”

Jack listened to her footsteps recede toward the house. The break gave him a few minutes to catch his breath and think about what he wanted to say. He'd known this time would probably come some day; he'd just thought it would be later when the girls were much older.

When Meredith came back with Morgan, grumbling about having to miss her television show, Jack started in. “Morgan has asked me if your mother is really dead or not, Meredith. I thought, if we were going to talk about this question, that you should be here, too.”

“You mean she isn't?” Meredith's incredulous voice came out in a squeak.

Jack grinned, in spite of himself. “No, actually she isn't dead. She's alive. She just doesn't keep in touch with us anymore. She was never interested in being a wife or a mother, and she left us when you girls were only small babies.”

The girls were silent for a minute, and then Morgan asked, “Did you tell us she was dead so we wouldn't be hurt that she left us, Daddy?”

“That's pretty much it, Morgan. It was a hard thing, and I didn't want you girls to be hurt by it. I always thought I'd tell you when you got older—when I thought you could understand it better.”

“Why did she do that, just leave us?” Meredith's voice was quiet and pained.

Jack winced. “She left a note saying she didn't think she felt cut out to be a wife or a mother. She wanted to go back to Hollywood and get into acting again.”

“You mean she's an actress?” Meredith's voice was incredulous. “Is she somebody famous?”

Morgan kicked at the rock wall. “Pooh. I haven't ever heard of any famous actress named Celine Teague.” She frowned.

Jack worked hard to keep his voice calm in reply. “Your mother is a soap opera actress, and she uses her maiden name, Celine Rosen. She took her own name back after the divorce. She's pretty well-known in her field, I guess.”

“Are the soaps like the daytime stories that Aunt Bebe watches sometimes when she's ironing?” Meredith asked. “She says they're not very virtuous, and she always turns them off when Morgan and I come in.”

Morgan giggled. “Yeah, she likes one called
As The Years Go By,
but she doesn't like to admit that she likes it.”

“Is that the one our mother is in?” Meredith looked at Jack questioningly.

“No. It's another one. Some medical show. I can't even remember the name of it, Meredith. But your mother is a pretty big star in it.”

“Wow. Our mother is a movie star.” Meredith sat forward in her chair in excitement. “Can we tell people?”

“No, silly.” Morgan glared at her. “Then we'd have to tell everybody she cared more about doing movies and getting famous than about taking care of us and Daddy. It's kind of a crummy thing to have to tell people.”

Meredith's face dropped. “Does anyone else know?” She turned her brown eyes up toward Jack in question.

“Some people know.” He reached over to pat her head. “Your grandmother and Bebe know, and some of our other relatives and friends who lived here a long time ago also know what happened. But a lot of people don't know. We don't talk about it much.”

“Because it was a mean thing to do, and you don't like to tell it.” Morgan spit the words out. “It's selfish and mean to go off and leave your husband and your little babies because you want to become a movie star.”

Meredith sighed. “But maybe it was her great dream. Maybe it was her one chance, and she had to make the sacrifice.”

Jack snorted. “There's no sense in over-romanticizing the facts, Meredith. Although I'm sure it makes you feel better to do so.”

Meredith frowned. “I was only trying to put myself in her place and to think why she would do it.”

They were silent for a few minutes.

“Do you have any pictures of her?” Meredith asked. “Is she beautiful?”

“She is a very fine-looking woman—red-headed with cat-green eyes and ivory skin. She could catch a man's eye. But I got angry when she left, and I burned her pictures and everything else she left behind.”

“I bet we could find her picture on the Internet.” Morgan offered this.

“No doubt.” Jack wanted to insist the girls not do that, but he tempered his response. If he sounded too oppositional to their learning about their mother, they would probably feel more compelled to covertly seek out information about her.

“Does she ever write to us?” Meredith asked this.

“No, I'm sorry, pumpkin, she doesn't. I haven't heard from Celine for over four or five years now. In the first few years after she left, I occasionally got a letter from her—when she needed money. I guess it was one of those last letters that Morgan saw.”

Jack looked over to see tears dribbling down Meredith's cheeks. “It sort of hurts to know she didn't love us or want us, Daddy. Mothers are supposed to love their babies and little children.”

Morgan looked mutinous. “I bet Ms. Grace would never have walked out on her babies. How come you didn't marry someone nice like Ms. Grace, Daddy?”

“You can be sure I've asked myself questions like that a hundred times or more, Morgan. But I want you both to know I did love your mother when I married her, and I loved having both of you. I have never regretted being your father.”

Meredith came over to sling herself into his arms. “I love you, Daddy. And I'm sorry you got hurted by our mother.”

Jack felt close to tears himself by that point. “Let's have a tri-hug,” he said, opening up his arms to take Morgan in, too. “We're a team, the three of us. Two M & M's and a Jack. We've been okay all these years, and we're going to be okay in the future. You hear?”

They nodded. In a few minutes, Morgan went back to her chair, and Meredith curled up on Jack's lap to look up at the moon with him.

“Daddy?” Meredith asked. “How come you haven't ever dated Ms. Grace? She's real nice. And I think you like her.”

“Daddy likes stupid, young bimbos like that dumb Ashleigh Anne Layton and that silly Twyla Treece,” Morgan's voice snapped back.

“Morgan, you're talking disrespectfully.” Jack gave her a warning glance.

“Sorry.” Morgan hung her head. “But it embarrasses me and Meredith what people say about you and
girls,
Daddy. We like Ms. Grace, and we sort of got to hoping you might like her, too. You look at her like you do sometimes.”

“And what do you know about that?” Jack frowned at her.

She gave him a prim look. “We're not babies anymore, Daddy. We know about stuff now. And we listen a lot.”

“Maybe since Daddy had his change at church on Sunday, he'll be changed in not running after girls anymore. I heard my Sunday school teacher say she hoped that would be so.” Meredith smiled up at him.

Jack shifted in discomfort. Sometimes living in a small town was like living in a goldfish bowl. Everybody knew your business, and no one hesitated to comment on it.

“Do you like Ms. Grace, Daddy?” Morgan pressed.

“Of course, I like Ms. Grace.” Jack knew his voice sounded irritable, but he was beginning to feel a little crowded here.

Morgan leaned back in her chair to look at the moon. “Then you should ask Ms. Grace out,” she advised. “Women know that you like them when you ask them out. How is Ms. Grace going to know you like her if you don't ask her out or anything?”

“I guess you have a point.” Jack grinned to himself. “I'll give some thought to it, Morgan. But don't you girls be cooking up romantic notions for me. Grace and I are not fresh, young kids anymore. A lot of that courting, cooing, getting married and everything is for the young kids.”

“Like Vincent and Margaret.” Meredith announced this matter-of-factly.

“What about Vincent and Margaret?” Jack looked down at his daughter.

She giggled. “Me and Morgan saw Vincent kiss her down by the river earlier today.”

“Meredith! You weren't supposed to tell that!” Morgan reached over to punch her arm.

“I forgot!” Meredith wailed.

“You shouldn't spy on people.” Jack gave them both an admonishing glare.

“We didn't mean to. It was an accident.” Morgan spread her hands.

Jack gave them both a cautionary look. “Well, don't tell anybody else about it. That sort of thing is private.”

“Okay.” Meredith got off Jack's lap then. “Can we go back and watch TV now, Daddy?”

Jack looked at his watch. “No. You need to get your baths, and then it will be nearly bedtime.”

“Will you read to us?” Meredith asked. “I want you to finish the Harry Potter book we started. It's getting to a good part.”

Jack nodded. Even he liked the Harry Potter books.

An hour or so later, Jack came back down to the patio to sit in the dark and look up at the moon. All in all, the talk with the girls had gone pretty well. They'd been upset, but it hadn't been as bad as he had imagined it would be.

He frowned into the dark, remembering those early months after Celine had walked out on him, remembering how humiliated, hurt, and angry he'd been. He'd given a lot of that hurt up on Sunday—in a meaningful prayer with that minister. He'd felt lighter since. Better. Off the wrong path in some ways, more back on the right one.

Jack smiled thinking about Margaret and Vince. Jack and Margaret talked every day at the office—they had gotten pretty close—but she hadn't told him about that kiss. However, the knowledge didn't surprise Jack much. He'd watched the attraction simmer between those two since the beginning. It kind of tickled him to think of the preacher finally making his move. Who knew what would come of that?

As those thoughts passed through his mind, Jack looked down toward the Mimosa Inn across the river, thinking of Grace. He was grateful to her for warning him Morgan had something on her mind. And he respected the fact that she'd been discreet with the confidences of his daughter. Hadn't even told him—but had urged Morgan to talk with him. She was a wise woman. And a kind one.

The back door of the inn's porch opened as Jack thought about Grace, and he watched her come out with the dogs. He'd learned Grace's routine . . . and often sat here to watch her walk in the yard with the dogs at about this time every evening before she turned out the lights to go to bed. She had on one of her Capri sets—this one in lavender like the color of the morning glories that bloomed by the front porch of the inn. The color looked pretty on her. Jack watched her walk down through the yard to the patio by the river, saw her glance up toward his house.

Jack's thoughts grew hungry and sensual as he watched her swaying walk as she started back toward the inn. No woman had ever stirred him as Grace had or kept him as intrigued—and as antsy and lovesick—as Grace Conley. He'd expected the intensity of his feelings for her to die out as time passed, but it hadn't. His feelings had only increased. He entertained rich fantasies about Grace Conley now on a regular basis. She had gotten deeply under his skin.