Dream a Little Dream (12 page)

All his life, Gabe had wanted to be a vet, but he’d never planned on becoming a multimillionaire. His sudden wealth had amused everyone in the family, since Gabe was notoriously indifferent about money. It had happened accidentally.

His brother was insatiably curious, and he’d always liked to tinker. Several years after he’d opened his practice in rural Georgia, he’d developed a specialized orthopedic splint to use on one of the championship thoroughbreds he was treating for a local breeder. The splint had worked so well that it had quickly been adopted by the wealthy horse-racing community, and Gabe was making a fortune from the patent.

He had always been the most complex of the three brothers. While Cal was aggressive and confrontational, quick to anger and equally quick to forgive, Gabe kept his feelings to himself. Still, he’d been the first person Ethan had run to when he’d gotten into scrapes as a child. His quiet voice and slow, lazy movements could calm a troubled boy just as well as they soothed a frightened animal. But now his gentle, pensive brother had turned into a bitter, cynical man.

Ethan was distracted from his reverie by the arrival of Laura Delapino, the town’s newest divorcée. She’d tossed a gauzy lime-green blouse over a black halter top, which she wore with a pair of tight white shorts. Her long fingernails were polished the same deep shade of red as the toenails visible through the straps of her silver sandals. Her breasts were lush, her legs long, her hair big and blond. She exuded sex, and he wanted some of it.

Men of God who secretly lust after trashy women! Live today on Oprah!

He groaned inwardly. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

But it was no use. The Wise God knew a ratings hit when she saw one.

Tell us, Reverend Bonner—we’re all friends here—why is it you’re never interested in any of the nice women who live in this town?

Nice women bore me to tears.

They’re supposed to bore you. You’re a minister, remember? Why is it only our more flamboyant sisters who catch your eye?

Laura Delapino bent over to talk to her little girl, and he could see the outline of a pair of very lacy bikini underpants beneath those tight white shorts. A shaft of heat shot straight to his groin.

I’m talking to you, Mister,
Oprah said.

Go away,
he replied, which only made her mad.

Don’t you start with Me! Next thing you’ll be whining about how you’re not cut out for the job and how the ministry is ruining your life.

He wanted Eastwood back.

Pay attention to Me, Ethan Bonner. It’s time you found yourself a nice, decent woman and settled down.

Could you please shut up for a minute so I can enjoy the view?
Laura’s breasts strained against the cups of her halter top as she leaned forward to regard her daughter’s artwork. Damn it! He wasn’t meant to be celibate.

He remembered those wild years in his early twenties before he’d gotten the call. The beautiful, busty women; the nights of hot free sex—doing it every way he could think of. Oh, God . . .

Yes?
Oprah replied.

He gave up. How could he enjoy Laura’s body with the Greatest Talk-Show Host of them all listening in? As he turned away, he found himself wishing he could counsel teenagers to celibacy and preach on the sacredness of marriage vows without actually living those beliefs himself, but he wasn’t made up that way.

He greeted Tracy Longben and Sarah Curtis, both of whom he’d grown up with, then he commiserated with Austin Longben over his broken wrist and admired Taylor Curtis’s pink sneakers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Edward Snopes standing off by himself.

Stone, he reminded himself, not Snopes. The boy’s last name had been legally changed. Too bad Rachel hadn’t done something about that first name. Why didn’t she call him Eddie or Ted?

His conscience pinched him. The boy had been at the child-care center for three days, and Ethan hadn’t once sought him out. It wasn’t Edward’s fault that he had dishonest parents, and Ethan had no excuse for ignoring him except misplaced anger.

He remembered the phone call he’d received from Carol Dennis the day before. His anger was nothing compared to hers. She was furious that he’d let Rachel stay in Annie’s cottage, and he’d been too protective of Gabe to tell her it had been his brother’s decision.

He’d tried to reason with her, gently reminding her they needed to be careful about passing judgment, even though he’d passed it long ago, but she wouldn’t listen.

He didn’t like crossing Carol. Although her brand of religion was more restrictive than his, she was a woman of deep faith, and she’d done the town a lot of good.

“If you let her stay in that cottage, Pastor,” she’d said, “it will reflect on you, and I don’t think you want that.”

Even though she was right, her attitude had irritated him. “I guess I’ll have to deal with that when it happens,” he’d replied as mildly as he could manage.

Now he made himself walk over to Edward and smile. “Hey there, buddy. How’d your day go?”

“Okay.”

The child gazed up at him with large brown eyes. He had a sprinkle of pale freckles across his nose. A cute kid. Ethan felt himself warming to him. “You made any friends yet?”

He didn’t respond.

“It might take a while for the other kids to get used to having somebody new around, but sooner or later they’ll warm up.”

Edward looked up at him and blinked. “Do you think Kristy forgot to come and get me?”

“Kristy doesn’t ever forget anything, Edward. She’s the most reliable person you’ll ever know.”

Kristy overheard Ethan’s words as she came up behind them.
Reliable.
That’s all she meant to Ethan Bonner. Good old
reliable
Kristy Brown.
Kristy’ll do it. Kristy’ll take care of it.

She sighed to herself. What did she expect? Did she think Ethan would look at her the way he’d been looking at Laura Delapino only a moment earlier? Not likely. Laura was flashy and perky, while Kristy was plain and uninteresting. She had her pride, though, and over the years she had learned to hide her painful shyness behind a brutal efficiency. Whatever needed to be done, she could do. Everything except win Ethan Bonner’s heart.

Kristy had known Ethan nearly all her life, and he’d been attracted to flashy, easy women ever since eighth grade when Melodie Orr had gotten her braces off and discovered shrink-wrapped jeans. They used to make out every day after lunch next to the choir room.

“Kristy!”

Edward’s face lit up as he spotted her, and warmth spread through her. She loved children. She could relax with them and be herself. She would have much preferred working in child care to her job as a church secretary, and she’d have quit years ago if she hadn’t so desperately needed to stay close to Ethan Bonner. Since she couldn’t be his lover, she’d settle into the role of his caretaker.

As she knelt down to admire the collage Edward had made that day, she thought about the fact that she’d loved Ethan for more than twenty years. She clearly remembered watching him through the window of her third-grade classroom when he went out for recess with the fourth-graders. He’d been just as dazzling then as he was now, the handsomest boy she’d ever seen. He’d always treated her kindly, but then he’d treated everyone that way. Even when he was a child, Ethan had been different from the others: more sensitive, less inclined to tease.

He hadn’t been a pushover, though; his older brothers had taken care of that. She still remembered the day Ethan had fought D.J. Loebach, the junior high’s worst bully, and given him a bloody nose. Afterward, though, Ethan had felt guilty and gone over to D.J.’s house with a couple of melting grape Popsicles to make peace. D.J. still liked to tell that story at deacons’ meetings.

As she stood and took Edward’s hand, she caught the whiff of a heavy, sensuous perfume. “Hey, Eth.”

“Hi, Laura.”

Laura flashed Kristy a friendly smile, and Kristy felt her heart curdle with envy. How could some women be so confident?

She thought of Rachel Stone and wondered where she got her courage. Despite all the horrible things people in town were saying about Rachel, Kristy liked her; she was even in awe of her. Kristy was certain she’d never have the courage to face people down the way Rachel was doing.

She’d heard about Rachel’s encounter with Carol Dennis at the grocery store, and yesterday Rachel had stood up to Gary Prett at the pharmacy. The intensity of people’s hostility upset Kristy. She didn’t believe Rachel had been responsible for Dwayne Snopes’s greed, and she couldn’t understand people who called themselves Christians being so judgmental and vindictive.

She wondered what Rachel thought of her. Probably nothing at all. People only noticed Kristy when they wanted something done. Otherwise, she was white wallpaper.

“So Eth,” Laura said, “why don’t you come over tonight and let me throw a couple of steaks on the grill for us?” She rubbed her lips together as if she were smoothing out her lipstick.

For a fraction of a second Ethan’s eyes lingered on her mouth, then he gave her the same open, friendly smile he gave the old women in the congregation. “Gosh, I’d love to, but I have to work on my sermon.”

Laura persisted, but he managed to fend her off without too much difficulty. Kristy suspected he didn’t trust himself to be alone with Laura.

Something painful twisted at her heart. Ethan always trusted himself to be alone with her.

R
achel kept
the beam of her flashlight low. As she neared the back of the house where she’d known so much misery, she bunched her hooded sweatshirt more tightly around her, warding off a chill that came as much from within as it did from the cool night breeze. The house was as dark as Dwayne Snopes’s soul.

Even though the night was cloudy and visibility poor, she knew where she was going, and, with the few shards of gray moonlight that penetrated the clouds, she managed to navigate the curved path across the small stretch of overgrown lawn. The paint-spattered skirt of her dress caught on some shrubbery. As she freed it, she considered the fact that she would have to buy something else to wear soon, but her new resolution to take better care of herself didn’t extend to luxuries like clothing, and she decided to postpone it.

She couldn’t believe the difference having a full stomach made in the way she felt. It had been her turn to cook dinner tonight, and she’d eaten a full meal. Although she was still tired, the dizziness had vanished, and she felt stronger than she had in weeks.

The house loomed over her. She turned off her flashlight as she approached the back door. It led into a laundry room, and from there into the kitchen. She hoped Cal Bonner and his wife hadn’t installed a security system. When she and Dwayne had lived here, their only problems had been with overly zealous fans, and the electronically controlled gates at the bottom of the drive had kept them at a distance.

She also hoped they hadn’t changed the locks. Slipping her hand into the pocket of her sweatshirt, she pulled out a house key attached to a loop of coiled purple plastic that she used to slip over her wrist when she went on her walks up the mountain. This had been her spare key, the only one the police hadn’t taken. She’d found it several weeks after she’d been evicted tucked into the pocket of this very same sweatshirt. If the key no longer worked, she would have to break one of the windows in the back.

But the key did work. The lock caught in the same stubborn place, then gave way when she pulled on it. A sense of unreality encompassed her as she stepped inside the mudroom. It smelled damp and unused, and the darkness was so thick she had to feel her way along the wall to the door. She pushed it open and stepped into the kitchen.

She’d always hated this room with its black marble floors, granite counters, and a crystal chandelier more suited to an opera hall than a kitchen hanging over the center work island. Dwayne’s well-groomed appearance and polished manners camouflaged a man who’d been born poor and needed opulence surrounding him so he could feel important. He’d loved the house’s garishness.

Even though it was dark, she knew the kitchen well enough that she could ease her way along the counters until she arrived at the entryway to the family room that stretched across the back. Even though the house was deserted, she moved as quietly as her heavy shoes allowed. Enough weak moonlight came through the sliding-glass doors for her to see that nothing had changed. The pit sofa and matching chairs still conjured up memories of an eighties bachelor pad. In the oppressive silence of the empty house, she crossed the room toward a back hallway and, with the aid of the flashlight, approached Dwayne’s study.

The lofty room with its Gothic furnishings and heavy draperies had been Dwayne’s idea of something that might be used by a member of the British royal family. A quick sweep of the flashlight revealed that the animal trophy heads were gone. So was the Kennedy chest.