was what made her career so rewarding.
Grabbing the book off the caddy, she cracked it open and began to read, only she hadn’t realized it was a book with a hero in the military. It normally didn’t bother her, but her emotions were too unsettled with Fisher in town and so she set the book aside and picked up her wineglass.
As she took a sip, she recalled the sight of him and Jericho standing outside the church. Jericho had been so handsome in his tuxedo, but it had been Fisher standing there in his Army uniform, medals gleaming in the sun, that had caused her heart to skip a beat.
Even if she hadn’t had any doubts about her marriage to Jericho before then, that reaction alone would have made her realize she was making a big mistake.
No matter how much she tried to forget it, her one and only night with Fisher had left an indelible memory. One she had driven deep inside her heart when she had made the decision to marry Tim Ward.
The right decision, she reminded herself as she took a small sip of the wine.
She and Tim had been destined to be together, their short breakup in high school notwithstanding. Tim was kind and patient and honorable. When she had told him she was pregnant just a short time before their wedding, he had been understanding and had even talked to her about telling Fisher.
She had considered it back then and in the many years since. But Jericho had been going on and on about how happy Fisher was in the Army and since their night together, Fisher never approached her again.
Talk had been that Fisher was the kind of man who couldn’t commit and back then she felt he had loved and left her. When she had heard about his enlistment in the Army, it had made no sense to ruin his life by telling him about a child he probably wouldn’t want.
But then she recalled the way he had looked at her on the steps of the church. Imagined she had seen desire in his gaze along with hurt. Not that she could hurt him unless he actually had feelings for her. Something which she didn’t want to consider because it would complicate things.
Forcing her mind from such troubling thoughts, she placed her nearly untouched glass of wine on the caddy and sank farther into the bone-melting heat of the water. The fragrance of roses wafted around her, reminding her of the profusion of wild rose bushes tangled amongst the small stands of trees just outside the Esperanza town limits.
Reminding her of how the night had smelled while she made love with Fisher.
She shot upright in the bath, mumbling a curse, but then the phone rang and she mumbled yet another curse.
She had left the portable phone in her room.
As it continued to ring, demanding her attention, she climbed out of the bath, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. She raced to her bedroom to pick up before the answering machine kicked in.
Unfortunately, the answering machine engaged just as she reached it and heard across the speaker, “Mrs. Ward. This is Deputy Rawlings.”
Her stomach dropped at the identity of the caller. At his next words, sadness and disappointment filled her soul. “I’ve got your son down at the station.”
Chapter 6
T.J. walked out of the sheriff’s office beside her, his body ramrod straight and stiff with tension. He hadn’t offered up much of an explanation for the speeding which had led to his running into another car just on the outskirts of town.
Luckily the damage to both cars had been minor and no one had been injured. But because of their age and the speeding, the Deputy had decided to take the boys in and call her and Jewel.
She looked over her shoulder at her boss who walked beside Joe. The teen had a hangdog look on his face and clearly seemed to be sorry for what had happened.
Unlike T.J.
As they exited the police station, she spotted Fisher strolling out of Lone Star Square. Judging from the activity in the square, the movie had apparently just let out in the theater on the other side of the plaza. Some of the people headed to the cars parked all along the edges of the central space while Fisher and another couple waited to cross the street. He noticed them leaving the police station and condemnation flashed across his features.
It made her want to go over and wipe that critical look from his face, but she plowed forward. Speaking with T.J. about what had happened tonight needed to be her number one priority right now.
As they approached the parking lot, she inspected yet again the damage to T.J.’s car—a big ugly dent along the front bumper and part of the passenger side panel of the 1974 Pontiac GTO.
The GTO that his dad had bought as a rusty heap and had been restoring for years before his death. The GTO that T.J. had also been, as he called it, “pimping.”
She paused before the car and stared at the damage before she looked up and met Jewel’s concerned gaze, Joe’s sheepish one and T.J.’s stony countenance.
“Luckily no one was hurt and the damage to both cars can be repaired. When we get home, we’ll discuss how you’re going to pay for those repairs and the speeding ticket,” she said. Handing T.J. the keys to the GTO, she finished, “I’ll follow you home.”
Turning to Jewel, she noticed her friend’s concern, but also Jewel’s interest in Fisher as she glanced back across Main Street toward where he still stood on the edge of Lone Star Square, watching them.
She laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “Can we talk about it in the morning? It’s late and we should all be heading home.”
Jewel nodded, faced Joe and said, “Let’s go. You and I have a lot to discuss, as well.”
As the two walked away, Macy waited for T.J. to get in his car and then she went to her own late model Cherokee, starting it up and then idling it until T.J. pulled out of the parking lot.
T.J.’s pace as he exited was slow.
Slow enough that it gave her yet another chance to see Fisher, the disapproval still stamped on his face as he observed them.
“Tell me again what happened?” she pressed, sensing there was something off about T.J.’s version of the speeding and accident.
“It was just an accident, Ma,” he said, slouching negligently in his chair in the kitchen.
“Tell me again why you were speeding?”
His big hands, like those of Fisher, man’s hands on a boy’s body, flopped up and down before settling on the surface of the table. “I didn’t mean to only…There was another car. It was fast. It kept getting in our face—”
“In your face? As in threatening you? Why didn’t you pull over? Use your cell phone to call the police?” Macy asked as she rested her hands on the table where T.J. sat, leaning closer.
A glimmer of fear flickered across his features, impossible to miss. “No, not like that. You know like…challenging us. Trying to prove their car was better.”
She understood about men and cars. Entire industries had been built about proving who was
