Chapter 13 #2
She belonged. She was not the stiff and polished lawyer her father had always insisted on. She was not the proper and perfect partner for her ex.
She was here in this tiny town, being highly entertained. And it felt wonderful.
Children dressed as Easter bunnies sprinted and wove their ways through the thick crowd.
The mayor and his wife, done with their carriage ride, were seated on the makeshift dais, looking as pleased as punch.
Before long, it was time for Kenneth to crown this year's Ms. Birchwood, a petite blonde with a wide smile and heaps of blonde hair tumbling to her waist. When Kenneth placed the crown on her head, she held onto him, lifting her mouth to be kissed.
The crowd roared with laughter as he turned his head to look at Aria as if waiting for her permission.
With a gay wave of her hand, she gave her consent, shocked at the dart of jealousy she felt when the girl wrapped her hands around his neck and deepened the kiss.
He managed to extricate her arms from his neck and put her away. When he came back to where she was standing with his father and uncle, he gave her a sheepish smile.
"You smell like a perfume store." She told him loftily, sipping her iced tea. The sun was high in a brilliant blue sky with just a few puffy white clouds dotting the surface. "Which means I don't want it transferred."
"You gave your consent." He started to reach for her, but she danced away.
"You looked like you were enjoying the lip lock."
Just managing not to roll his eyes, he grabbed her around the waist and held her against him.
"You know you're the only woman I see." He whispered in her ear, sending shivers along her spine.
"Really?"
"Hmm. As soon as we get out of here, I intend to show you."
Settling back, she leaned into him and closed her eyes as he continued to play with the earrings decorating her lobe. And was completely unaware they were being photographed.
*****
"How is he?"
Stifling the comment that had sprung to his lips, Jack meticulously hung up his sports jacket on the hook just inside the foyer.
They had had to scale down drastically and were now living in a modest but very neat house on Paver's Street.
The neighborhood was quiet enough and decent and he found himself musing that it could have been worse.
They had lived in a large well-appointed townhouse in the city, but that was no longer the case.
Turning to face the pale woman who was a shadow of her former self, he felt pity and love washing through him.
Wilma Moore had suffered as a result of the scandal and had been caught up in the backlash from the reporters.
When they discovered that she had been romantically involved with Sylvan Copeland, they had refused to leave her alone.
She was no longer welcomed in polite society, and her so-called friends had dumped her.
Now she was trying to get back into her husband's good grace. Jack wondered how long it was going to take her to realize it was a waste of time.
The man he had left in prison had only one thing in mind and that was revenge and to get back what he thought was his.
"He looks good." Jack lied. He loved her. While his father was always in and out, more out than in, she had been there for him.
He was well aware of the old man's disappointment in him, and it stung deeply. Nothing he had ever done had been good enough. If he was not so afraid of the old bastard, he would have given him a piece of his mind a long time ago.
But the man scared him right to the bone.
"Says he doesn't want you coming to that dreadful place.
" Slipping her hand through his arm, he led the way into the small kitchen where she was making bread.
Wilma had always been an excellent baker and now she was putting her talent to use by supplying to local bakeries to supplement their income.
Jack was fiercely proud of her. She had made her mistake and was rising above it. That to him took courage.
She could have folded her arms and decided to give up, but she hadn't. He loved her all the more for it.
"Did you give him my letter?" Walking over to the oven, she gently removed the soda loaf and placed it on the cooling rack. The scent filled the air and made his mouth water.
And he had no qualms about lying. The poor woman looked so hopeful and pathetic.
"I did." Smiling at her gently, he accepted the cup of tea and slice of lemon cake she passed to him. Their company was gone, thanks to Sylvan Copeland, but they still had each other.
On a sudden impulse, he took her hands, his expression earnest.
"Let's go someplace else, Mom."
She looked at him, startled, her body going still. "As in leaving our house?"
Sparing a brief look around the tidy homey kitchen with the scent of baking, he gripped her hands.
"We could make a fresh start. Start over.
Go to a place where no one knows our name and reporters would not find us.
" It reminded him suddenly that he had work to do, but if his mother agreed, they could leave, and he would not have to be saddled with the unpleasant task of trying to find Aria.
He had seen the look on his old man's face and knew what would happen if he did.
"We couldn't." Drawing her hands away, she continued to coat her bread with honey, avoiding his eyes.
"Why not?" he demanded.
"Because we cannot abandon your father. I would never dream of it."
"He wants me to find Aria." He told her abruptly. The tea and delicious cake were forgotten.
She looked up at him with a resigned expression. "I thought he might want to."
"Do you have any idea what he's planning on doing to her?" Shoving from the counter, he paced over to the window. She had managed to plant a garden and the bright yellow of tulips vied with the blush pink of the cabbage roses.
He turned to look at her.
"He wants revenge."
A guilty flush stained her cheeks. "Sylvan ruined our lives."
His stare had the blush spreading.
"You slept with him."
"I'm still your mother." She stiffened her shoulders and tried to look authoritative. "You don't get to speak to me like that."
"I was just stating a fact. You were the one who confessed."
"And I did that to justify why your father did what he did."
He had thought that was the reason for the confession. "And what he did was have someone murder the man."
"He stole from us!"
"He was already paying the price!" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Aria is innocent of all this. What Dad wants me to do is insane. I cannot do it."
Her lips puckered. "Then you're not being loyal. You know how your father gets when you disobey him. He's still your father." She wiped her hands into her apron and crossed over to him.
Gripping his hands, she sent him an imploring look.
"I've always been there for you. Haven't I been a good mother?
Then do this for me, for us." Her grip tightened as her tone became even more impassioned.
"If you do this, then maybe your father will find a way to forgive me, and we could get on with our lives. "
Jack felt the pity swelling inside him as he stared at her. She looked so much older, he thought in surprise. He had always seen an elegantly poised woman, one exuding confidence.
Now she just looked like a beaten-up old hag with the scent of baking clinging to her. Feeling guilty at his uncharitable thoughts, he dragged away from her clinging grip.
"I need to think."
"What's there to think about?" She demanded. "Do whatever is necessary. We're your family."
He turned to face her. "Even if it means torturing Aria? That's what he's implying. Is that okay with you, Mom?" Even though she ducked her head, he saw the guilty flush on her face and knew the answer.
"That's what I thought. I have to get some air." He practically ran for the door and went out to his car. For a long time, he just sat there.
*****
Her face was still glowing, eyes sparkling. It was midnight, but she was revved and wide awake. The coronation had been followed by an impromptu concert, with people singing, reciting poetry, some Keats and Byron!
"Your snobbishness is showing." Kenneth whispered in her ear when he saw her look of surprise.
"I'm not a snob." Her haughty tone belied the words and had him grinning.
"A first class one." He continued, wrapping his hands around her waist. "I'll forgive you this time if you dance with me."
"Who says I can?"
His thick brows arched.
"Gut instinct." Pulling her out into the crowd, he twirled her when the band struck up a lively tune and brought her back in.
The tune segued into something whimsical and had him drawing her flush against his body. Lifting her head, she felt a jolt at the possessive look on his attractive face. The rest of the crowd had faded and it was only them.
Her body responded to the touch of his fingers on her skin, the feel of his long, lean body against hers.
He was making love to her with his eyes, and she felt the shock of awareness trembling along her spine. Nerves danced and quivered. Heat spread and settled into her lower body.
Her breathing became constricted.
Triumph was thick as the blood racing through his body at her reaction. His hands continued the journey up and down her back, his body charged and ready.
"We should go." He said thickly.
"We should." She agreed immediately, her body trembling.