What the Heart Wants (12 page)

Jase sucked in his cheeks. Why the hell was she being so difficult about him footing the bill? Whatever the problem was, someone had to break the ice, and it didn't look like she was going to be the one to do it. He cleared his throat.

“Um, mad at me?”

What a jackass thing to say. Of course she was mad at him, but he had to get her to start talking somehow. At least he'd learned something for the small fortune he'd forked over to the shrink every week for four years.

Barely moving her lips, Laurel answered him in a flat, clipped tone. “I don't like you paying for the groceries. You're my guest. It was the principle of the thing. Guests do not pay for food.”

Jase reached over and touched her arm lightly in apology. “I'm sorry I offended you, Laurel, but I didn't think it would look good for us to go through the line together. You have to live with these people, at least until the house sells, and I thought…I thought it would be easier on you if they didn't know that you…that you had a male guest…that you and I…” He floundered to a stop. “Damn it, Laurel, you have a reputation to keep up!”

After a pause, he saw her shoulders relax, She gave him a quick, penitent smile. “I'm the one who should apologize, Jase. I overreacted. Thank you for buying the groceries.”

He heaved a sigh of relief. Their first quarrel. It was bound to happen. At least now he knew for sure she was human.

Laurel could still feel the color washing into her face. Jase had been trying to protect
her
. God help her, but he didn't know how far her star had fallen. She doubted if anyone cared if she had a live-in lover. She wasn't Pastor Harlow's virgin daughter anymore. She was the divorced daughter of the man who'd betrayed the town's trust.

At least she'd been lucky in the store. She'd actually been relieved when Jase suggested they separate to shop. That way, there would be less chance of anyone seeing her and Jase together and spilling the beans to him about Daddy. But as she was putting milk and chicken and frozen pizza in her wheeled basket, she became more and more anxious about the possibility of some old acquaintance cornering Jase when he was alone and bringing him up-to-date on the goings-on in Bosque Bend. The only thing to do was move him out of the supermarket quickly and take the groceries through checkout by herself. But he beat her to it, and paid for the groceries besides.

Principle was important, but it was even more important to extend Jase's visit as long as possible. She was more in love with him than ever.

Jase rolled his sleeves down. “Would you mind if we drive over to the old place after we get the groceries put away? I need to pick up my clothes. I really do own more than one shirt.”

“No problem. I'll even throw in a guided tour so you can see all the changes that have taken place around here since you left.”

“And don't make anything for dinner. I'll take you out.”

“Out? I-I'm not dressed to go out anywhere.” And she didn't want to go out to eat anywhere. They might run into someone who knew her.

Jase laid his hand on her knee. “Relax, babe. Just for a hamburger.”

She let herself start breathing again. Fast food. That should be safe. Most of the chain restaurants were on the new side of town, and no one would recognize her over there.

Twenty minutes later they were in the car again, with Jase behind the wheel this time. To her surprise, he kept on going north instead of cutting over to the east.

“Where are we going? I can't think of anything out that way.”

“How about Hardy Joe's? I spotted it on the way into town. Couldn't believe it was still there.”

“Sounds great. I used to go there a lot when I was in high school.”

Jase nodded. Of course, she'd gone to Hardy Joe's. It had been where all the popular kids gathered, which had pretty much cut him out of the picture. He liked the idea of buying Laurel a hamburger there to make up for all the ones he hadn't bought her sixteen years ago.

A low-slung building came into sight. On its roof, a neon fisherman was reeling in a giant neon swordfish. Jase laughed. “More than twenty years, and that damn fish still hasn't been landed.”

It was a miracle the drive-in was still in operation, but times moved slower in small towns. In Dallas, ol' Hardy Joe's would've long since been knocked down for a parking lot—maybe one of his.

He swung Laurel's Escort into the drive-in and ordered for them from the speaker.

Laurel took off her dark glasses and glanced around. “It looks like this is still a high school hangout. We must be the only adults here.”

“Not all the teenagers are customers,” Jase said, indicating a girl carrying a red tray and heading their way. She looked something like Lolly, blond, eyes of blue, five foot two—except that Lolly was barely five feet, much to her chagrin. He pulled out his wallet and extracted a credit card as the girl placed the tray on the stand beside the car.

She gave him the tired smile of someone who'd been toting trays in the hot sun all afternoon.

“Hardy Joe's, home of the SuperBurger, hopes you enjoy your meal, sir. That'll be twelve ninety-five.”

He signed the tab and handed her a fiver for herself. Having served his time in low-paying service jobs, he made it a point to overtip. And always in cash so the manager wouldn't claim a cut.

Her smile perked up and her eyes sparkled. “Gee, thanks, Mister. Have a great day!”

“You too.”

He watched her as she walked back to the restaurant, then reached for their drinks and lifted the hamburger bags off the tray, passing Laurel her SuperBurger Special.

Mmm.
Smelled good.

A teasing smile crossed Laurel's face as she unwrapped her burger. “Did you ever bring a date here after a school dance?”

“I never went to a school dance.”

She looked shocked. “Why not?”

“I didn't think anyone would go with me, at least anyone I was interested in.” God knows, he'd never allow Lolly to associate with the sort of bottom-feeder he'd been.

“Is this the first time you've been in Bosque Bend since high school?”

He eased around to face her. “I came back when my father died and a couple of other times to set up the house for rental. There wasn't much reason to visit while he was still alive. Growler was never much of a family man.” He bit into his hamburger, chewing slowly to savor the taste. What was the big deal about the burger? It was okay, but didn't match up to its aromatic promise—nothing really “super” about it. Must be the frustrated fisherman that drew in the customers.

Laurel took a sip of her drink. “What happened to your mother? She was Maxie's sister, wasn't she?”

“Yeah, there were five girls. Hanna was the youngest, the black sheep. Lolly looks something like her. Hanna and Growler were quite a couple for a while, I've heard. I've seen old pictures, and my father was fairly presentable before the booze got to him. He was still on the wrestling circuit back then. Anyway, my mother was killed in a car accident when I was three, and Growler went even further downhill after that.”

She reached her hand out to his arm. “I'm sorry, Jase.”

“I survived.”

There didn't seem to be much more to say after that. They finished their supper in silence and hit the road again. Laurel took over navigation, guiding him back south, toward town. Her first point of interest was the new Walmart. Jase didn't have the heart to tell her he'd already noticed it the day before.

“They built it four years ago. You should have seen the grand opening. Daddy gave the invocation, the mayor cut the ribbon, and the chamber of commerce provided hot dogs and soft drinks. It was a big party. Everyone in town was there.”

“What's the mayor's name?” Getting acquainted with local officials was vital if he decided to invest in the area. Some places didn't like new blood, and he wasn't about to fight that battle.

“Larry Traylor.”

“He was one of your father's pals, wasn't he? I think I met him once, at a football dinner.”

“Um—yes.” Her gaze immediately switched to the other side of the street, as if she was trying to change the subject. “And look—here's the Dairy Queen. The Mayfields have remodeled it again.”

“What's that beside it?” He nodded toward a squat cinder-block building with a dog-shaped sign in the window. “Old Man Sawyer's moved the
Retriever
over here? That used to be a doughnut shop.”

“His headquarters over on Washington Avenue burned down a while back. Half the town thinks he torched it for the insurance to keep the newspaper going.”

Jase laughed. “Wouldn't put it past him. I liked the old goat, but he was tough as nails. Hired me to throw papers for him, and he kept me on till Growler got drunk and tossed my delivery in the river one time too many.”

They stopped at a red light, and he looked over at her as the light turned green. “Which way?”

“Still south, but we've got a lot of one-way streets now, so you'll have to zigzag. I want to show you the courthouse. It's been completely restored.”

He turned to the right and moved over to Bowie Avenue, then drove straight south, toward the river. This was the main commercial district, he remembered. Might as well check it out. Bosque Bend could be a real find. Ordinarily he didn't get involved with small-town properties, but it was advantageous to get in on growth areas, places on their way up but not yet at their peak.

Everything looked good so far. The copper roof of the courthouse gleamed in the harsh evening sun, and its buff-colored brick had been sandblasted within an inch of its life. They'd removed those tacky green-and-white-striped aluminum window awnings too—and landscaped the grounds. Only two storefronts on the square around it seemed to be vacant, he noticed, and there wasn't an overabundance of those silly gift shops small towns tended to load their squares with.

The data was adding up. If Bosque Bend had the money to spend on prettying up its courthouse square, it was on the move.

Laurel was obviously relishing her job as tour guide. “Now, I want you to see what's happening down at the river.”

He glanced at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “The Shallows?”

She eyes sparkled. “You'll see. Just get to First Street—but don't turn here!”

The warning came too late.
Damn.
The street was one-way now, but he was halfway through the intersection and couldn't retreat. He'd just have to circle the block and try again. Exhaling in frustration, he swung to the left at the next intersection and stopped dead.

Smack-dab in front of him stood the setting for many a recurring nightmare: Bosque Bend High School. Tall antebellum columns marched across the front of the structure, and the slanting sun transformed the yellow brick into slabs of pure, cruel gold. The parking lot was chained shut, and the windows were boarded up with plywood.

“It's being used as a storehouse for administration records and old equipment now,” Laurel explained. “There's a new consolidated high school outside of town to pull in the country kids. It's good for football. Brought us up to 4-A in Interscholastic League.”

Jase didn't say anything, just sat at the stop sign in silence, staring at the gilded building in front of him.

This had been his school, his sanctuary. Maybe he hadn't been the most popular guy on campus, but no one cuffed him around, the football coaches valued him, and he could fool himself that he blended into the crowd—until he got kicked out because Marguerite Shelton had a yen for teenage boys.

Laurel reached over and put her hand on his arm. “It's all in the past.”

He didn't reply, just squeezed her hand, flipped the turn signal, and pressed his foot on the accelerator. Then, with his jaw set so tight it hurt, he made his way toward First Street and the Bosque River just beyond.

W
hy was Laurel so intent on his seeing the Shallows? The best thing that could be done for that eyesore was pave it over with cement.

Mrs. Johnson, his fourth-grade teacher, had dedicated a fair amount of her Texas history unit to the origins of Bosque Bend, so Jase knew that after the early settlers had driven out the Huacos, a peaceful tribe that had been cultivating crops on the fertile bottom land for decades, the town had been laid out in an unrelenting grid that started about a half mile above the ever-changing riverbank. That left a swampy no-man's-land about two miles long between First Street and the Bosque to accommodate the inevitable flooding. The Shallows, as the area was called, always had a reputation for dark dealings. Its further reaches harbored a semipermanent homeless encampment, and all sorts of debris littered its shores—mattresses, condoms, broken syringes, and the occasional bloated corpse. Every spring, Jase recalled, the Methodist Sunday school would spend a couple of weekends cleaning up the area, but, come the next flood, the Shallows would be business as usual.

The aura of danger, of course, was a surefire lure to any teenage boy worth his escalating testosterone. Jase's teammates used to talk about driving across the county line to Beat Down and loading their trunks full of Growler's booze for weekend beer busts in the Shallows. It was even more exciting if the cops showed up and everyone had to make a run for it.

He'd never been invited to one of the get-togethers—the guest list was limited to the upper social stratum and their dates—but it didn't matter. There was always beer in the refrigerator at home, and getting shit-faced and playing hide-and-seek with the law was not his idea of fun.

He glanced at Laurel. “You ever go to a party at the Shallows?”

She looked at him as if he were crazy. “Me? Heavens, no. But Sarah did—once. She said it was gross. The guys got drunk, took off their shirts, and danced around the fire like lunatics, then went off into the bushes and hurled their guts out. She called her dad to come pick her up.”

“Mr. Bridges. I remember him.”

Charles Lehman Bridges, the district attorney. The man Reverend Ed had talked to about going after Marguerite for statutory rape, for what little good it did. Sarah's father had obviously thought Growler Redlander's son was as irredeemable as the Shallows. Jase smiled to himself. With a little luck and a lot of hard work, he'd been able to make something of himself, but the Shallows were hopeless. Whatever the Methodists had done this time, it wouldn't last.

He turned onto First Street and nearly ended up in the oncoming lane as his eyes took in a graceful rock-walled concrete walkway winding next to the river.

Damn!
Someone must have finally gotten a flood control engineer involved.

Driving slowly, he rubbernecked the entrance to the park, where a large fountain sparkled in the setting sun. Gone were the knee-high weeds and scraggly underbrush, replaced by a carpet of green grass and scattered groupings of redbuds and mountain laurels. A line of frothy pink crepe myrtles bordered the wall.

Jase signaled for a right, entered the gravel parking area, and took a space two down from a dark blue minivan with a car seat in the back. Turning off the ignition, he rested his arms on the wheel and stared.

“I don't believe it.”

Laurel grinned like a chessy cat. “The city council went after a federal grant to channel the river all the way through town and build up its banks. Then the garden club got into the act and planted the trees and shrubs. You should see the place in the spring. They seeded the whole area with bluebonnets and red poppies.”

Jase took a quick glance at the blaze across the western horizon and opened his door. “Let's go for a walk while there's still light enough to see anything. I want to check this thing out up close.”

They headed toward the self-latching gate at the entryway. Yellow lantanas crowded the path inside the park, and just beyond, surrounding the fountain, was a cobblestone plaza edged with clumps of purple verbenas.

Jase paused, absorbing the moment. Paved paths branched off from the plaza toward the east and west. Taking Laurel's hand, he started down the path to the left, putting their backs to the brilliant sun. “We'd better get a move on. Wouldn't want to get caught out here after dark.”

A frisky little dog, its pink tongue hanging out and its tail rotating with glee, scrabbled up the path toward them, two boys hurrying after it. The taller one held a leash with a red collar still attached.

“Petey, come back here! Stop! Stop!”

Jase laughed as the pup ran at them, but the escapee, obviously assuming Laurel was more sympathetic to his cause, made a beeline for her and leapt up on her legs. To Jase's astonishment, she screamed and started flailing at the puppy as if she were being attacked by a pack of wolves.

Laurel was afraid of dogs? And this one was supersmall—probably a toy breed.

Jase reached down, encircled the dog's middle, and lifted it up to his chest. The pup squirmed upward and licked at his chin as the boys rushed forward to claim their pet. The older one reached out as Jase handed the dog over.

“Thanks, Mister. Petey's figured out how to slip his collar. He's real smart.” He petted the pup's head and regarded Laurel warily. “Sorry he scared you, ma'am. He just likes to make new friends.”

The younger boy nodded in solemn agreement. “Petey won't bite.”

“Try to keep him on the leash from now on,” Jase advised. “Some people aren't used to dogs.” He watched the boys as they carried their charge toward the gate.

“I guess I overreacted,” Laurel ventured, pushing her hair back into place. “I feel like a fool.” She glanced at Jase. “You probably grew up with dogs.”

“There were always a couple of mongrels hanging around, though God only knows why,” he said, still staring after the boys. “Growler never so much as put out a water bowl for them.”

Refusing to succumb to melancholy, he took Laurel's hand, swinging it as they continued down the winding path. They walked in silence for a while, their shoulders and hips touching frequently. Just being around her soothed him. Somehow she healed a pain so deep within him that he couldn't even name it.

A redbird flew across the trail in front of them, and a bushy-tailed squirrel sat up on its haunches to chitter at them for invading its territory. Gentle breezes rustled through the live oaks along the eastern boundary of the park. Except for a couple of runners who'd thundered past, they were alone on the path.

Was that a doe and her dappled fawns in the shadows? Jase wasn't sure. One thing he did know—as long as Laurel was with him, he could walk down this trail forever.

He pulled her against himself for a long, tender kiss.

The light had dimmed considerably by the time they reached the turnaround at the end of the trail. Jase looked around. The trees were gathering too much darkness under their low, spreading branches to suit him, and he'd bet there was still a homeless camp somewhere in the woods. Glancing at his watch, he was surprised to see they'd been strolling for almost an hour.

“Time to go back.”

She nodded and huddled closer to him as a sudden gust of night wind chilled the air. He couldn't help but seek her lips, then reach up to mold a breast with his hand. What he really wanted to do was lay her down on the soft grass and make sweet love till dawn, but his brain told him that sex in a public park was not a good idea. Besides, he'd noted a couple of suspicious-looking exchanges between some of the guys on the trail. Never a good idea to be in the vicinity when anything like that was going down.

“Tonight,” he breathed, moving against her so she could feel his arousal.

“Tonight,” she repeated in a dreamy voice, lifting up to fit herself to him, then jerking back as one final bare-chested runner came toward them at a fast clip. Jase stepped in front of her as the man ran by, and watched as he turned at the end of the path and started back up the trail into the dying sun, passing them again. The guy looked harmless enough, but there was no telling. If bad stuff was gonna go down, the Shallows would probably be the place for it, and he didn't want any part of it.

The sunset had faded to a golden memory reflected in the Bosque's placid waters when they arrived back at the plaza. Jase scouted the parking lot with his eyes as they walked past the fountain toward the gate. Only one other vehicle, the minivan, was still in place.

Probably belonged to that last runner. He must be doing the western path too—which reminded Jase that he needed to get a good run in soon. It'd been three days since he had a chance to hit the pavement. He let his hand trail across Laurel's hip.

Not that he wasn't getting plenty of another kind of exercise.

The runner came into view again, waving his arm. “Redlander! Wait!”

Jase went rigid and handed his car keys to Laurel. “Get in the car and lock yourself in. If there's any trouble, drive off and don't worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

He turned to face the newcomer, every muscle in his body primed for action. The man was tall and muscular, but he'd be winded from a long run. There'd be no problem taking him down, even if he pulled a knife, but a gun would be real trouble. Not many people out running would carry a firearm, but this was Texas.

The man slowed, stopping a couple of feet away and bending over with his hands on his knees to get his breath. “Took me…a while to figure…out who you were.”

Relief flooded through Jase as he recognized the voice. “Ray Espinoza, you fuckin' dawg!”

Still panting a little, the runner stood up, a big grin spreading across his face. “Long time, no see,
hombre
.”

Jase seized his old teammate's extended hand, slapped him on the back, and lifted his clenched fist for a knuckle thump. “Linebackers rule!”

Ray stepped back and wiped his forehead again. “Coach was really pissed about losin' you senior year, dude. Tried movin' me into your spot, but all I did was get my front teeth smashed in.” He grinned at Jase, thrusting his upper jaw forward. “Like my implants?”

“Sorry about that, dawg. You shoulda chomped down harder on the mouth guard.”

Ray shrugged. “Water under the bridge.” He reached through the half-open window of the minivan for a T-shirt and pulled it on. “You still playin' football?”

“A little tennis and a lot of gym workouts, but no football. I'm into real estate now. In town from Dallas looking at a few properties. What about you?”

“Buildin' houses with
mi padre
out east of town. Can you believe it? Bosque Bend actually has a suburb.” He patted his haunch as if looking for a pocket, then smiled ruefully. “Sorry, don't carry any cards in my runnin' shorts.”

Jase laughed. “I think I'll remember the name.”

Ray was one of the few teammates he'd developed a friendship with strong enough to extend past the football season. All fall, Jase had played strong-side linebacker, the human tank the team depended on to obliterate any running backs or tight ends who were dumb enough to crash through the line, but come Thanksgiving, he became the scummy spawn of the Meanest Man in Texas again.

Ray moved closer to the car. “Hey, who you got with you? That your wife?” He peered in the window, then reared back as if he'd been bitten. “Reverend Ed's daughter!”

Jase positioned himself in front of the window and smiled broadly and firmly. “Ms. Harlow's been kind enough to give me a tour of the changes in town, but I guess I'd better get her home now.”

Ray seemed uncomfortable. “Yeah.” He backed off toward his own vehicle. “Uh, well, gotta scram-o.
Mi esposa
expected me about fifteen minutes ago.” Clicking his door open, he climbed in, waved at Jase, backed around in a spray of gravel, and was gone.

Laurel braced herself for questions about his friend's reaction to her when Jase got back in the car, but all he did was start the car and turn to pull out.

“That was Ray Espinoza,” he said, driving slowly to the exit. “He was telling me Bosque Bend has some new construction east of town.”

“Yeah. I recognized him once he got up close.”

Of course she did. Ray's younger brother had been one of the boys paid off to keep his mouth shut. Sarah's father had arranged it all. He'd visited the house almost daily back then, keeping Daddy up-to-date on negotiations and picking up more big settlement checks. Whenever Mama spotted Mr. Bridges crossing the street, briefcase in hand, she'd flee to her bedroom, now separate from Daddy's, which meant Laurel had to be the one to usher him into her father's study.

Jase glanced out his window at the pale twilight, crisscrossed by garish streamers of pink and purple clouds. “It's going to be semilight for at least an hour yet—I'd like to check the area out.”

“What area?” She'd lost track of what they were talking about.

“Ray's subdivision. Is it across the river?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it's called Lynnwood, after his sister. Lots of new families with little kids. I used to teach at their elementary school.”

The sodium vapor lights were coming on, one by one, as Jase turned onto Lynnwood Drive and entered the subdivision. The heat of the day had died down, and the neighborhood residents had moved outside for the evening, the adults sitting in lawn chairs and quaffing iced tea while their children yelled back and forth and raced from lawn to lawn.

Laurel stared out the window. How many of those children had been in her classes last year? Did they miss her? Was their new teacher keeping up the after-school piano lessons she had offered?

Finally they ran out of streets. Jase leaned back and exhaled slowly, apparently having satisfied his curiosity about Ray Espinoza's development.