13
After two torturous days, two soul-crushing, sleepless nights, Dalton said his goodbyes, got in his car, and headed back to Redford’s Crossing. His first impulse, after the shock of Harper’s words wore off, was to drive as far as possible in the opposite direction, to run away from the pain of her rejection, to find another place to build a new life. Fight or flight. But he was far too invested to run away. He was desperate to see her, face to face. Desperate to change her mind.
I don’t think I want you in my life anymore.
He was desperate and so he waited two days. Because he knew that desperation led to reckless choices and to carelessly spoken words that could not be taken back.
As the highway stretched out before him, he once again sifted through the possible reasons she might have changed her mind and carefully considered each one. The most obvious was that Harper’s boyfriend, Bo, had reconsidered and she wanted to try to make it work with him. If that was the case, Dalton would have to accept it. Bo was the father of her child, after all. But wouldn’t she have just told him that on the phone? Why shroud it in mystery? Unless there was some other, darker reason.
He exited the outer belt in Columbus and continued on 23 N. toward Chillicothe. His gut feeling was that her change of heart had something to do with Babe Wayland. It was the night Babe interrupted he and Harper’s phone conversation that everything seemed to change between them. And though Harper didn’t owe him a thing, nothing at all, he wasn’t leaving without an explanation.
An hour later he pulled into Clara’s driveway. He sat for a long moment, gathering his courage before making his way to the front door.
Nicky answered in his pajamas. When he saw Dalton, a wide grin stretched across his face. “Dude! Harper said you weren’t coming back.”
“And yet here I am.”
Nicky gave him a fist bump. “Sweet.”
“Is she here?”
“She’s at the grocery store. Come on in. Hey, Aunt Clara, look who’s here.”
Clara came to the door. She smiled widely but he saw no recognition in her eyes. “Hello. And who is your friend, Nicholas?”
“Aunt Clara this is Dalton, remember? He’s painting our gazebo.”
“He is? How lovely. Would you like a piece of coffee cake, Dalton?”
In the kitchen, he accepted the slab of cake Clara cut for him and tried to feel Nicky out, to get some idea as to what he was up against. “So, what’s been happening since I left?”
Nicky smirked. “This is Redford’s Crossing, remember? Nothing ever happens here.”
“Everything good with you?”
“Meh. Same old.”
He clearly wasn’t getting any information out of Nicky. He forced down a forkful of cake and was trying to think of a different tack when a car pulled into the driveway. Long moments passed, and he imagined Harper noticing his car, considering backing into the street, and driving away. But then a car door slammed. Footsteps echoed on the porch and suddenly she stood in the doorway. She carried two grocery bags, which she set on the counter.
“Hello, dear,” Clara said. “Look, Dalton is here. He’s painting our gazebo.”
She wouldn’t even look at him, busying herself instead with unpacking her grocery bags. “I see that.” Without another word she turned and went back outside. He rose and followed her.
“Harper?”
“Why are you here, Dalton?”
“Because we need to have a conversation.”
She brushed past him. “I have to bring the groceries in.”
He retrieved the remaining bags from the trunk and followed her inside. “Hey, Nicky, can you help Harper out and put these things away? We need to look at the gazebo.”
“Sure.”
She almost challenged him; he could see it in her eyes. But then her gaze shifted to Clara. She sighed and reluctantly followed him outside. They sat on the gazebo steps, not speaking for what seemed forever. Back to being strangers, it seemed.
“I’m trying to understand what happened,” he finally said, “to understand what changed your mind about…us.”
She faced him full on. “Why did you go back to Cleveland, Dalton? What was the family business you had to take care of?”
“My father died.”
“Oh.” She seemed thrown off, but quickly recovered. “Is that the whole reason?”
“It’s most of it. Isn’t that enough?”
“Of course it is. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Her tone had softened, but she still seemed guarded, and he began to understand that this was not about Bo. It was about him.
“What happened while I was gone, Harper?”
She shrugged. “I found some things out.”
He considered this for a moment. What did she know, or think she knew? “What things?” he asked.
“That you’re married. Or at least you were. I’ve been reading Tasha’s blog.”
“Tasha’s blog?” The words struck him like an open hand across the face. The puzzle pieces scattered, and then they began to realign, to make sense. He put his face in his hands. “Tia,” he said softly.
“What?”
He sighed. “I was married. I’m not anymore.”
“And that’s one-hundred per cent your business. But I know that Tasha had baby. And obviously you’re not with her anymore. Obviously, you haven’t been for over a year. And I’m sure you have your reasons, but…you didn’t want your own baby?”
He groaned softly. He’d planned to tell her everything, but now, with the moment staring him in the face, he had no words, and so he stayed silent.
“I’d been hoping we could…I’m sure you know that I have some strong feelings for you. But if I’m keeping this baby, I need someone who will stay in it with me. I just don’t think that person is you.”
“I’ll stay in it.”
“I can’t be sure of that, now, can I? Not when you didn’t stay with Tasha. I need to be sure , Dalton. And I’m just not. I’m sorry.” She stood and walked away.
The pain of her walking away from him was more than his battered heart could hold. “Tasha was murdered,” he said softly.
She turned back. “What?”
His heart began to pound as his brain was assaulted by images, snapshots in rapid fire succession, the police tape, the wail of sirens, the broken balloons. The blood. His mouth went dry. “She was murdered,” he whispered.
“Dalton…” She returned and sat back down beside him. “Murdered? I don’t know what to say.”
He pulled in deep breaths, fighting for control. “I need a minute.”
“Of course.”
The afternoon sun blazed around them, and a gentle breeze whispered through the gazebo. When his breathing returned to normal, he made himself begin, made himself say the words. “About a year and a half ago a woman came to see me, Nettie Ray was her name. Her son, Cory, had been arrested. The allegation was that he’d killed an old woman during a home invasion. The prosecution said the case was open and shut. He’d confessed to the crime. But Nettie didn’t think he did it. After talking with Cory, I didn’t think so either.
“He wasn’t a bad kid. He just got mixed up with bad people, a drug cartel, very dangerous people. He was willing to spend the rest of his life in prison rather than implicate their leader, Shay Cruise. I didn’t know if I could get Cory an acquittal or not, but I knew I had to try.”
She watched him closely, not speaking, hearing him out.
“It was the toughest case we’d ever put together. My partner, Ben, was co-defense and I was the lead attorney. We ate, slept, and breathed that case for months. We got threats, but threats are part of the job.” His voice cracked.
“We pulled it off. In the end we earned Cory an acquittal, but we implicated Shay in the process. He was arrested in the courtroom and Cory was placed in a safe house. It was a huge win, both for the firm and for me personally.”
He started to tremble.
“A few days after the acquittal, Tasha told me to clear my calendar for the evening, that she had something special planned. I’d neglected her while working on the case; long nights, days would pass, and I’d barely see her. I left work early that day, stopped and bought her a bouquet of roses. As if that could make up for it. While I was leaving the florist shop, I got a call from my partner. Cory Ray had been murdered.”
She gasped.
“I knew the rest of it before he even said the words. Shay was behind bars, but his plan had already been put in place. His thugs found the safe house and murdered Cory, execution style. Then they went to my house.”
“Oh, no,” she took his hand. “Oh, Dalton.”
Tears formed in his eyes and spilled down his face. “She had a roast in the oven. It burned to a crisp. A neighbor heard the smoke alarm and called the fire department. They found Tasha in the kitchen, in the same condition as Cory Ray. But in my case, they made it personal. She’d filled the dining room with pink and blue balloons. Her way of telling me we were going to have a baby. I should have known before then that she was pregnant. The signs were all there, but I was too wrapped up in the case to see them.” He choked on a sob. “The hit man took the time to break all the balloons before he left. Every. Single. One. He wanted to send me a message, and I got it. Loud and clear. In their world, the innocent is sacrificed for the guilty. I should have left it alone. They killed Tasha and our baby to get revenge against me .”
Harper’s eyes streamed tears.
“The best they could determine from the autopsy, the fetus was a little girl. Tasha’s mother had her name engraved on the stone beside Tasha’s. The name we would have given her. Evangeline.”
“I’m so sorry. So very sorry, Dalton.”
She pulled him into her arms, and he rested there, and released all of the tears he hadn’t allowed himself to cry. With the last one spent, they sat together, no words spoken or needed. Finally, he said, “I’ll admit, at first my attraction to you was about the baby. Strange to say, I know, but it was like iron to a magnet. But then I got to know you and… it was you , Harper. It was all you and I’d like to stay and see where this goes. If you still want me to.”
“I want you to. I can’t believe you’d still want to, after the way I’ve acted.”
“I get it.” He squeezed her hand, dizzy with relief. “How did you happen to find the blog?”
“Babe found it and gave me the link.”
“Of course she did.” His anger flared. “And she was only too happy to throw me under the bus.”
“I read it and I just assumed…I had no idea. But if it wasn’t Tasha writing it, who was it?”
“Her Aunt, Tia, co-owned the business. She must have kept up the blog. I haven’t read it since…”
“That’s why you don’t practice law anymore, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been horrible toward you. I’m a terrible human being.”
“No, you’re not. I know you have trust issues. Nicky told me about your boyfriend, Bo.”
She stiffened beside him. “What did he tell you?”
“That he’s out of the picture. I can understand why, when you thought I’d left Tasha while she was pregnant, you would think I was just like him. A lowlife who didn’t want his own child.”
She sighed. “It’s not like that.”
“No? Well in my book that was a pretty low move.”
“You don’t understand.”
Why was she defending him? “Then help me to.”
“Bo wanted the baby very much. He just didn’t want me.”
“OK, then he’s not a lowlife. He’s a fool.”
She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Is he fighting you for custody? Is that why you thought I was here looking into you?”
She sighed again. “He’s not fighting for anything, Dalton. Bo is dead.”