Chapter 9
He called Daphne after Memphis drove off in her GTO. His mom answered on the first ring. “Hi, honey. This is unusual on a Sunday. Couldn’t sleep?”
“Uh, I didn’t get a whole lot.”
“Memphis Creed in your bed will do that to you.”
He raked his hair with fingers and paced the deck, pissed off. His private life was that. Private. “I didn’t mention her.”
“I picked up Sammi after she dropped off Memphis’s car at your place at two this morning. The lights were off, so I assume your guest stayed the night. That Goat she drives is incredible. Tell her I’d love a ride.”
Fuck.His craving last night had robbed him of thinking clearly. Of course Sammi needed a ride home. Everyone was going to try to get into his business. “You can tell her yourself, Mom. I’m taking her out on my bike later. She doesn’t have any gear. Can you help and not interrogate her?”
“I’d be happy to, and I will not interrogate her.” She huffed. “I will simply be conversational.”
“Right.” He mumbled under his breath.
“Excuse me?”
“Thanks. I’m sending her contact information now.”
“Javier, I’m not trying to get in your business. I know how you value your privacy. I’m simply excited that you had a woman overnight. From the little time I spent with her, Memphis seems lovely. She is also Ransom’s daughter. How does that sit with you?”
“She is and I’m sorry I barked at you. I love you.”
“I love you too, son. I’ll call her in the next hour and set something up.”
* * *
Keeping his relationship with Memphis private was proving difficult in the Narrows, where most considered themselves friends if not family. A small group of interested locals had gathered by the time they left Smugglers Inn. Among them, the inn’s owner Cissy—who he had a sporadic sexual history with—and Rose. Great.
Memphis spoke loudly over the rumble of the Harley’s engine while they waited their turn at a four-way stop. “Are you something of a local celebrity around here?”
“Nope. I think the interest is because you’re a visitor hanging with a longtime resident.”
“I sense there’s more.”
She was right but he wasn’t going to go into it. Adept at hooking up for the sake of sex, it had been a long time since he had taken a woman on a date or appeared with one in public. There was also the fact that if Daphne knew she was Ransom’s daughter, others did too. Tongues had to be wagging.
“Hold on.” He goosed the bike forward. It was impossible to talk as they rode, so Javier focused on Memphis leaning into his backside, her arms circling his broad torso, her legs bracing his. Damn, it felt good. He took the low bridge spanning the Torch and turned onto Warren Trail. His destination was Fire Summit, the highest point in Danvers County, just south of Torch River’s town limits. After ten minutes of following the winding road, they arrived at a clearing to view the sunset. He had never seen one from the Summit, but he had to think it would be incredible.
He helped her dismount and pulled the picnic items from the bike, including a blanket, his sandals, and her flip-flops, then stripped down to his tank and jersey shorts. The light breeze cooled his skin.
“Necessary, I know,” —Memphis flashed him a smile while ridding herself of the helmet and other gear— “but too hot. This feels so much better.” She wore a pair of lightweight gym shorts and a black tank that showed off her shapely form.
She shook out and finger-combed her long red waves, then secured them into a messy and sexy arrangement on top of her head.
No bra, he noticed. Yes indeed, his cock agreed, drooling.
“Do you ever get used to wearing all the layers? How can you be comfortable?”
“It’s about safety.” Javier stepped in and bracketed her hips. Touching her had him at full attention. “Normally it doesn’t faze me,” he said, gruffly. “But it’s a challenge when I have a certain enticing woman with me. I could be naked on my bike in freezing temps and still be hot. You make me burn, baby.”
Memphis’s response was a full-throttle kiss, complete with pelvic grinding. They were both breathing hard when she broke it off. Her impish grin was accompanied by a sultry wink. Her hand slid into his shorts and grasped him. “I thought an appetizer might be nice, to ease the hunger pains. My nap was rejuvenating and a long soak in the tub did wonders.”
“What’s after the appetizer?”
“Dinner, enjoying the sunset, and …, if we’re still by ourselves, us.”
* * *
‘By themselves’ was delayed. Several large groups of young adults arrived in fast cars and loud trucks. Partying began immediately. Javier and Memphis finished their picnic and dressed for their ride back to the Narrows.
He slowed to a stop in front of the inn, turned off the Hog, and helped her off the bike after he dismounted.
“I’ll be quick.” She handed him the helmet and hurried in to pack an overnight bag. She marched out not five minutes later, her lips set in a firm line and fists clenched at her sides. Her eyes were clouded like a brewing storm.
What the fuck?He crossed his arms to ward off the chill. “What’s up?”
She glanced at him, then focused on her sandals. “It’s probably a good thing that our evening, our intentions, were interrupted. I’m calling it a night. Staying here and getting on the road home tomorrow. I’ve let this, us, get out of control. I’m only planned to be here for a short time. Do what I came for. But I got swept up in … hormones.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Hormones? You’re not a teenager and you certainly haven’t hit me as a woman who is a hookup queen. You’re an emotionally and physically strong. Smart. Driven. You’re fucking spooked, Memphis.”
She snapped back at him. “I’m not fucking spooked.”
Whoa.“I believe you are. I don’t know what’s going on, what happened that caused you to suddenly make a one-eighty. But I know you run hot. I know you want me, and I want you. I know we’re more than sex. So, what the hell is going on? It’s like winter arrived.”
“There’s more to me than my libido. Those kids partying at the summit are free of responsibilities and commitments. They reminded me that I’m not, but my actions are making it appear otherwise. I’ve veered from my goal. Instead, I’ve ended up out of my mind with lust and in your bed. I have to go home.”
“Bullshit.” He barked and stepped closer. “That’s not the story. There’s more.”
She stepped back, keeping the distance between them. “That’s the problem. Why I’m here is not bullshit. You’re not listening.”
“The hell I’m not. If you think I don’t understand, then clarify.”
“Okay. Fine. Since we never seem to get to it. Here it is. I need you and the family to come to the ranch. That’s the short and sweet of it. A simple request from your dying, estranged brother.”
“Just like that? Drop everything?”
“Yes, because after all these years, all of you, especially you, still meant something to him.” She was crying now. “I’ve got to go. I enjoyed our picnic and the sunset. Thanks for the ride.” She turned and jogged toward the inn.
He hurried past her, stopping and turning, blocking her from the steps into the inn. “Memphis.”
“Good night, Javier. It was not my intention to lead you on. You swept me away, but I’ve gotten my head back on. We can discuss details tomorrow morning before I leave, by phone.” She brushed past him, setting off sparks in his blood.
It was all he could do not to grab her and shake some common sense into her. “This isn’t over. You can’t dismiss what’s happened between us. How good we are together and how much better we’re going to be.”
At the door, she spun and faced him. “We are over. It’s been amazing. Real. But the timing is off. I have commitments to my father.”
“I’ll be at home. After you’ve tossed and turned enough, when you can’t sleep because you’re not with me, come over. We’ll hash it out.”
“No.”
“I’ll see you soon, Memphis.” He called before she disappeared inside.
* * *
She leaned against the door after closing it and let the tears flow. What the hell am I doing? What needs to be done. Stay on course. Time was up. The message she received from Eben ruined her night. She had to get an agreement and get back home. Fast.
Memphis rinsed off in a cold shower, climbed into bed, and turned on the TV, channel surfing, looking for something to grab her attention and provide a reprieve from the growing conflict between a heart full of anguish and a head rife with fear. Her thoughts flitted all over the place.
Pops had pressed a note into her hand the week before he died. She was so busy with attorneys, the hospital and doctors, the funeral home, the ranch, and on and on, that she forgot it and it remained, unread, until she changed purses for the service.
The note was short. The script was a shakier version of his surprisingly beautiful cursive:
My family. Muscle, a big presence, and rebellious. Gray wolf.
She had so many questions, but Javier was not talking—other than sweet nothings. He had seduced her, and she had been more than willing, falling for a man who lived states away. A man who she had known for days. The man she needed to convince to help her.
And what else do you need? I want him in my life.
How was she to accomplish both? Memphis scooted from the bed, flipped on the blinding overhead lights, and got her device with its digital pen off the desk. Once back in, she punched the multiple pillows into a cushioning support for sitting and bunched the covers around her, intending to write. It always helped.
Her father had suggested writing to examine inner turmoil when she struggled with decisions. Or whenever something was on her mind.
“Lindy,” he said, using Mama’s name “encouraged me to write, sweet girl. Writing helped me work through and resolve things that happened before I met her. Putting the words and feelings on paper helped me forgive myself, even though the pain lingers. It’s downright powerful. Your mama, bless her soul, she helped me to be a better man.”
His words had her mind wandering and revisiting the past.
Pops had never shared the “things” with her, and she never pushed because when he mentioned it, his voice cracked and she saw how his Adams apple moved, forcing whatever it was back down. He would look away, but not before she saw the mistiness in his eyes. Whatever it was, was deep, an undertow that had pulled at his soul.
After Pops passed, she was tasked with going through his personal items. Eben wanted nothing to do with it and spent his time with Arla and Trey Rooney at their Eastfork Ranch.
It was emotionally painful and lonely. Memphis spent weeks going through the cabinets, files, and paper in his office. Ransom Creed kept everything it seemed, except the notebooks he claimed to have written in to process the past transgressions he alluded to and any indications of the family he mentioned.
For having such a short marriage, he had abundant photos of happier times. There was no doubt he had been madly in love with Lindy Fuller and a proud devoted father to her and Eben.
Wedding pictures at the courthouse captured her beautiful redheaded mother and handsome blond father beaming megawatt grins.
Memphis as a newborn, cocooned in her parents arms. Love and pride infusing their expressions. Pops’ face wet with tears as he displayed her birth certificate, pointing to his name as father.
Only one of the four of them, taken in the hospital room after Eben’s birth. Mama barely smiling and ghostly pale. Pops wearing a smile that failed to mask his sorrow.
And then it was just the three of them. Or her and Eben. Or Pops with one of them.
There were fewer photos of Pops and Eben than of her with Pops, and she noticed how her father and brother looked more uncomfortable in each other’s presence as the years passed.
Long ago—the summer she was fourteen and Eben was thirteen—they jimmied the lock on the liquor cabinet, snuck it to Shards Creek, and passed the bottle back and forth while they sat in their swimsuits in the cool eddies under the shade of the piney trees. It was there that her brother shared his shadow with her: the guilt that he, by being born, was responsible for their mother’s death.
Memphis’s response had been lacking. Instead of consoling him, she sipped more from the bottle, and slurred her words. “That’s stupid. No one blames you.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“Pops does. I feel it.”
“Have you asked him, Eben?”
“Why reopen the wound?”
“Maybe you should. You just asked me. Ask him.”
Both of them drunk, the conversation ceased, and they crawled into the deeper shade and slept until Pops found them. They were grounded for a month each and the liquor cabinet was secured from thereout.
She assumed Eben never talked about his guilt with their father because he withdrew from her and Pops and began to hang with a rough group of boys, getting into all sorts of trouble. Pops came down on him hard. The anger was a side of their father she had never seen. She sensed a fear in him after he blew. Had it been because he lost it, or was it something else?
She organized the photos, but having so much to do and grieving, she hadn’t given them much thought other than to slide them into a manilla envelope, which is in my suitcase. Her pen poised in midair.
Memphis dashed over to the closet and unzipped the suitcase and withdrew the envelope. She laid the fifteen photos on the desk and studied them and looked at the back of each. Her father’s name and age were noted on all of them. She reorganized them chronologically and studied them. Studied Pops.
As an eight- to twelve-year-old towheaded boy, the first picture was of a petite dark-headed woman. Was it Daphne?
Two as a teen—one standing next to a dilapidated GTO and another with an older Harley Davidson.
A handful as a young man—with shaggy blond hair, a full-but-trimmed beard, and tattoos on his arms—with others, all grinning, some with bottles of beer. Was that Javier’s face turned away in one, wearing a broad smile while he seemed to be talking to a pretty brunette? Was it Sammi?
Several photos of her parents as a newly married clean-shaven groom with his radiant bride.
The photos told the story of hope, joy, and growth, but not the estrangement from family. They captured some of the man she knew: Ransom Creed, who took Lindy Fuller as his wife “till death do us part” and became her and Eben’s father.
She grabbed her device and made a bulleted list with observations and questions Did Javier or Daphne know of the “things,” of times not depicted in photos? Memphis was certain that one, if not both of them, did.
Sleep wasn’t going to happen. Come hell or high water, she was going to talk to Javier. Now.