Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Jeremiah was beside his sister’s hospital bed for the second time in as many days. His own head was bandaged up, thanks to Richard Montrose hitting it with the jagged end of a meat hammer.
Willow and her relatives from the Quinn County Sheriff’s Department were taking care of logistics on one end of things, and he figured he had to take care of them on the other. But not until things settled down.
Elena opened her eyes to gaze at him sleepily, then, frowning, she looked around the room. “Why am I back in the hospital?”
A throat cleared. Ethan had come in, and he walked over to the chair on the opposite side of her bed.
“There’s no easy way to tell you this,” Jeremiah began.
And she said, “It was Richard, wasn’t it? He did something to me.”
“Injected you with insulin,” Ethan said, real softly. “But we got to you in time.”
“Willow did, really,” Jeremiah added. “And Baxter, and then the whole dang clan.” He shook his head in wonder yet again. Yes, he’d heard about this sort of thing but he’d never seen it.
“Why did he do it?” she asked, her throat tight. “Why did he want me dead? Wait, the hit and run, was that him, too?”
“He hired some local troublemakers,” Ethan said. “The Barker boys. One of ‘em’s in jail, awaitin’ trial, and he’ll do serious time. The other two will testify against him. They claim they objected to what he did to you, but they were in the truck when it happened.”
She swallowed hard and looked at Jeremiah. “What else?”
“It was about the will,” Jeremiah said. “My fa—our father’s will.
Your husband had some woman pose as you, go to a lawyer with him, and contest it.
The court awarded you half.” Jeremiah said, “And I’d have given it to you anyway, I want you to know that.
And I want you to have half. You were his daughter, too. ”
“What about you?” she asked, looking at Ethan.
“I signed off on it,” he said. “He killed my mother.”
“And drove mine to suicide,” Jeremiah said.
“And drove mine to give me up,” Elena added.
“The judge made the decision the same day as the hit and run,” Ethan told her.
She lowered her head, closed her eyes.
“Listen, Elena,” Ethan said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You have family now. A lot of family, most of whom were traipsin’ through your house to save your life earlier today.”
“They’re not my family—”
“Yeah, they are,” Jeremiah said, like Eeyore would have said it. “I’m not related to ‘em by blood, either, but I’m Ethan’s brother, so they’ve done claimed me. They’ll do the same to you. It’s not optional.”
“Listen to this guy, pretendin’ to hate it.” Ethan clapped his brother’s shoulder.
Jeremiah shrugged. “It kind of grows on you, actually.” He leaned in close and gave his sister a hug. “I’ll be back in the morning, little sister.” He grinned because it felt absurdly good to say those words. “Right now, I have a mission.”
Willow stayed until the last bit of paperwork was done.
Stu Barker was in a cell in the back. He was the only prisoner in the place.
The judge had released his brothers on their own recognizance.
They could be charged for leaving the scene of an accident with injury.
They should’ve called it in. And of course, for the smashed windows around town.
But with their testimony against their brother, they could plead down to a misdemeanor, maybe serve a few months and move on.
Stu was bein’ charged for attempted murder.
Richard Montrose had escaped the custody of the Texas Rangers and was currently on the lam.
When they caught him, he would be charged with attempted murder, soliciting a murder, conspiracy, filing false police reports, and an ever-growing stack of fraud counts.
His lover would be happy to testify against him to save her own backside.
And they had him dead to rights on every bit of it.
Turned out he’d lost his job with a high paying law firm when they caught him over-billing and stealing from clients.
His law license was suspended while the Texas Bar reviewed his case, and he had no income.
That was when he’d decided to investigate his wife’s parentage, in case her unnamed father was someone with money. And he thought he’d hit the jackpot.
Montrose had figured if Jeremiah were sent back to prison, the judge would award the entire inheritance to Elena. And if he killed Elena, he’d get it all. That part of the plan still applied, even though she’d only been awarded half.
Nobody thought Elena was in danger. Richard would have nothing to gain by her death now, but the poor woman was scared all the same.
Willow logged out of the computer and got up. Her muscles begged for mercy.
“I thought I told you to get home,” Uncle Garrett said.
“It was my bust. Mostly.”
Her uncle smiled, but there was something else in his eyes. She said, “What’s goin’ on with you, Uncle Garrett? I know there’s somethin’.”
“Well, I died and then I came back. And that’s…kind of big.”
“It kind of is. Are you okay?”
He actually considered his answer. “I think so.”
“You talkin’ to Aunt Chelsea about it?”
“Wouldn’t know what to say just yet. I’m…ponderin’ I guess.” He shook off the distant expression in his eyes and said, “You need to go home and go to bed, and stay there for at least three days. You hear?”
“I hear.”
“I do need a favor from you, but later, when you’re up to it.”
“Yeah?”
“Your mom was fixin’ to get out your baby cradle as a gift for Ethan and Lily’s baby. She never got it out for me before they left, and I was supposed to do some work on it before the shower. You think you could find it for me? I got no idea where, and that house is—”
“I’m sure it’s in the attic,” she said. “No worries, I’ll take a peek.”
“When you’ve rested,” he said. He opened his arms, then, and she went in for the hug. “You did great, Willow. Your instincts are dead on. I’d just like you to take a little more care from now on. Wait for backup—it’s not a one-woman department. All right?”
“All right.”
“Now get on home.”
She got on home, leaning back against the door and closing her eyes once inside.
Poor Elena, to be so betrayed by someone she loved. It kind of put things into perspective. Still, Jeremiah had been furious, and even if he’d seemed rather over it, she wasn’t.
She lowered her head. There was no point thinking about it now. She was exhausted. Uncle Garrett was right. She needed to rest and recover. She hadn’t had time. She dragged herself into the shower, and fell into bed, and she didn’t wake until the scratching sounds interfered with her dreams.
She opened her eyes.
The scratching sounds came again, from the front door.
Okay, fine. She rolled and got out of bed, shocked when she saw the clock. She’d slept twelve straight hours.
Sitting up, she pulled on a bathrobe, walked barefoot to the front door, and pulled it open.
Beans stood in the doorway, smiling up at her. She bent to pet him—she didn’t have to bend far. He gave a happy woof and wiggled in joy. He had an envelope dangling from his collar. It had her name on it.
Without removing it from the collar, she flipped the envelope open and slid out a single piece of card stock with yellow roses in the corners.
“Don’t give up on us yet. Please come to dinner. My place. 7:00. Circle yes or no.”
She rolled her eyes, but went to the kitchen for a pen, and then hesitated over the card.
Beans had followed her in and was wandering around smelling things.
The two of them had become a unit, hadn’t they?
And Frankie, too. There was a kindness to Jeremiah, a goodness that ran deeper than his childhood, deeper than his bloodline.
She nodded then and circled yes. Then she called the dog, slid the card back into its envelope, and opened the front door.
A loud whistle came from a few yards down the drive, where she saw Jeremiah’s Jeep.
Beans raced that way, and when he opened the door, the pup leaped right into his arms and Jeremiah laughed as the dog licked his face.
Then he set him on the passenger seat, and got in himself.
She saw him pull the card out and look at it.
He sent back a wave and then off he went.
Willow dressed casually, so he wouldn’t think she was expecting anything. She still took pains, though. Her blouse was pretty, her jeans were flattering and her undergarments sexy and matching, just in case.
She arrived at his new home to find the door wide open and Beans lying on the front porch.
There was furniture, a cute little table and four chairs in the kitchen, and an entire suite in the living room.
A vase of red and white roses and champagne in a bucket of ice sat on a coffee table, with two fancy glasses nearby. The dinner table was set.
“You furnished your house,” she said.
“I was not wise with my money today, I admit it. This dinner? Catered.”
“Out here?”
“Yeah. Aunt Chelsea even delivers.” He opened the oven and used a potholder to bring homemade pot pies with golden crust in earthenware bowls to the table. Then salad from the fridge, and homemade bread, already sliced, from the counter.
“This is…wow.”
“And I have a gift,” he said, and he held out his hand.
A thumb drive rested in his palm. She picked it up, turned it over, then lifted her questioning eyes to his.
He said, “It’s my novel.”
She lost her breath, she was so surprised. Her hand went to her chest. “You said you were thinking about writing…”
“I…didn’t trust you then.” He cleared his throat. “I trust you now, Willow Brand, with something I wouldn’t trust to anybody else.”
She held his gaze, looking deep into his vivid blue eyes. “I trust you, too, Gringo. I will never snoop on you again.”
“You’ll never need to. From now on, I’m an open book where you’re concerned.”
Tears burned in her eyes. “Holy God, I love you, Jeremiah Thorne.”
“You do?”
She nodded, leaned in closer to kiss him, but he held her away, just a little. “It’s looking rough for Frankie’s grandparents, medically,” he said. “He’s gonna need a place to live, before long.”
She stared at him for a long moment. Then she said, “Didn’t Frankie tell you he was gonna live in this house someday?”
“Yeah. And I’m hoping to make that happen. I thought you should know that first.”
“First?”
“Yeah. Before I…” His hands were resting on her hips, but he took them away as he dropped onto one knee and pulled out a ring. No box, just the ring.
“You really did go on a spendin’ spree today, didn’t you?” she breathed.
“Willow Stands Alone Brand, I am your man. I can’t ever belong to anybody else the way I belong to you. I…you’re it, you’re just…something I never thought…” He stopped, took a breath, swallowed hard. “I love you, Deputy. You want to get married?”
She looked from his suddenly uncertain blue eyes to the ring sparkling in his fingertips, back to his eyes again. “Yeah, Gringo. Yeah, I do.”
She offered her hand, palm-down, and he slipped the ring on, then kissed her finger, rose up and gathered her close. They kissed like the end of a Hallmark movie and then he picked her right up off her feet.
“Where we goin’?” she asked. “Dinner’s waitin’.”
“We can reheat,” he said. “I want to show you the bed I picked out.” He kissed her again as he carried her to the bedroom.
She opened her eyes once, looking over his shoulder and holding up her hand to admire her ring.
Then she buried her fingers in his hair, and focused on the sweet, loving taste of his kisses.
Mmm-mmm-mmm!