had done nothing to assuage. After years of soul-searching he’d thought he’d finally learned to forgive himself, but apparently it wasn’t total absolution. “That was a long time ago.”
“Matters of the heart don’t know nothin’ about time,” Cyrus observed. “Your dad is a perfect example of that. The wound is still as fresh today as it was that Saturday morning when your ma left him.”
“My father is a fool,” Jerrod said with a touch of harshness. “No woman is worth that kind of suffering.”
Cyrus said nothing. For a few moments the two men simply sat in comfortable silence. As Jerrod gazed at the man who was his father’s older brother, a burst of affection swept through him.
There had been many times when Jerrod had wondered what might have become of him if not for Cyrus’s presence in his life. It had been Cyrus who had listened to Jerrod’s tales of woe as he’d been growing up, Cyrus who had helped ease the absence of his mother. And Cyrus who had, on the night Jerrod had left Inferno, shoved a handful of money and a Dallas address into his pocket and told him to make something of himself.
And he had. Although the last thing he would have believed when he’d left Inferno so long ago was that he’d eventually become a minister, that was exactly what he’d become.
“I’d better get on home,” Cyrus said as he rose from the chair. “I’ve spent the better part of the day driving home from the cabin, and these old bones are telling me it’s time for a hot shower and my bed.”
Jerrod stood, as well, and walked his uncle to his car. Again the two men embraced. “Thanks, Uncle Cyrus.”
“For what?”
Jerrod smiled. “For everything.”
Cyrus waved his hands in dismissal of Jerrod’s gratitude. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said as he climbed into the car.
A moment later Jerrod watched the old Ford disappear from sight. He returned to the porch, watching as the night shadows claimed the last of the sun.
Again his thoughts turned to Johnna.
He had betrayed her nine years ago and he’d lived every day of the time since regretting it. But she had betrayed him, too.
She’d allowed him to believe it didn’t matter where he came from, that it didn’t matter that she was a have and he was a have-not. She’d told him she loved him, but her parting words to him had revealed the truth.
He couldn’t be certain of the forces that had brought him back to Inferno, but he steadfastly refused to believe one of those forces was any lingering feeling for Johnna Delaney.
The only thing he wanted from her was help for Erin. They had played at love once, but both of them had broken the rules. He didn’t intend to play the game with her again.
Chapter 2
“Johnna was running late. Susan Boskow’s shoplifting trial had ended at five. The accused had received a sentence of probation and the promise that in the future if she found herself unable to feed her children, she’d reach out to the variety of agencies available for help.
Johnna’s brother’s wedding was set to take place at five, and she hurried from the courthouse, running down the street toward the tiny Methodist Church where Mark Delaney and his intended bride had chosen to be married.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said as she flew into the small sanctuary where her brothers all stood, looking hopelessly ill at ease and out of place.
“You aren’t late—the bride-to-be is,” Luke said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “She probably came to her senses and decided marrying Mark was a big mistake.”
Mark looked stricken and Matthew frowned irritably. “Knock it off, Luke,” he said sternly. “Mark is nervous enough without your comments.”
The beginnings of a headache banged above Johnna’s right eye. “As usual, I see we’re acting like one big happy family,” she said irritably.
In the three months since their father’s death, the four siblings had already faced an enormous hurdle. Mark had been attacked and a ranch worker had been killed in order to protect an illegal-alien smuggling ring that had been operating from the ranch.
The guilty had been arrested, including the family lawyer, who had been the executor of their father’s will. A new lawyer had been retained, several ranch hands had been fired, and somehow in the middle of all the chaos, love had blossomed between Mark and April Cartwright, the woman who’d been hired as social director for the ranch.
The shared trauma had initially forged a fragile bond among the Delaney children as they united to fight an outside foe, but that bond was stretched thin as the need to unite passed and they were once again left to deal with one another without the tools necessary. They had not been taught how to interact with one another. A basic mistrust had been instilled in each of them, along with enough emotional baggage to last a lifetime.
God bless Adam Delaney. He’d been a shrewd businessman, one hell of a rancher, but he’d been a cold, mean-spirited man who’d taught his children nothing about love or family.
Mark looked as handsome as Johnna had ever seen him. He was clad in a black suit with a crisp white shirt. In fact, all her brothers looked exceptionally handsome without their trademark jeans and cowboy hats.
Mark eyed his watch worriedly, and at that moment April and her son, Brian, flew in. Mark’s eyes flamed with an intensity so bright, so hot, Johnna felt the burn in the pit of her stomach.
Would a man ever look at her with such tenderness, such longing? A wistful yearning pierced her. Mark wore his love for April on his features—in the shine of his eyes and the curve of his lips.
Jerrod once looked at me that way. The thought snaked its way into her head and she shoved it away, knowing it was a false memory. She’d only believed that was the way Jerrod had looked at her. But it had all been a lie.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” April said, looking lovely in a beige linen suit that emphasized her blond coloring. She smiled and took Mark’s hands in hers. “Brian lost his dress shoes,” she explained.
The eleven-year-old boy held out a foot, displaying his cowboy boots. “Those old shoes were too small, anyway. Besides, I told Mom you wouldn’t care if I wore my boots.”
Mark laughed, the worried lines that had creased his forehead gone. “I wouldn’t have cared if you showed up barefoot,” he said.
The church secretary stuck her head in the door that led to the small office. “Oh, good, I see you’re all ready.”
“All we need is the preacher man,” Luke replied.
“He’ll be right with you all,” she replied.
Before anyone could say another word, the office door opened and Jerrod McCain stepped out wearing a black minister’s robe.
For a moment Johnna thought this was some sort of dreadful joke. Seeing Jerrod in preacher robes was like seeing Santa Claus without his beard—it didn’t fit.
She’d
