Toni stared down the long garden rows and stretched the aching muscles in her back, wishing that she’d had the foresight not to plant so many rows of peas. But the long pods of purple-hulls had been her father’s favorite.
“I don’t know what I was thinking.” She had planted them long after her father’s death.
Even if she ate peas all year long, she would never be able to eat them all. The only thing she could do was call upon her two brothers who lived nearby. Their wives would be glad for the chance to pick the patch; feeding their hungry families was a never-ending job.
The muted sounds of voices carried over the evening air, permeating her solitude. She sighed. This was the third day since the crash, and the authorities still weren’t finished with the investigation. It was getting late. They must be quitting for the day, she thought.
She glanced at her watch. Nearly four and a half hours had passed since everyone from the FAA to the coroner’s office had filed through her front yard. The crash had been ruled an accident due to the weather. Surely this investigation would end soon.
She thought of Lane and wondered where he was. He’d been resting when she left the house. But if she knew Lane Monday, he wouldn’t be flat on his back when they brought what was left of his friend out of the hills.
She hefted the bushel basket of peas onto her hip and started toward the house. Minutes later, with the peas sitting in the shade of the back porch, she entered the kitchen, pausing only long enough to wash the purple stain from the pea pods off of her fingertips.
“Lane?”
Her voice rang clear throughout the house, but an echo was her only answer. Where had he gone? She began drying her hands on her denim shorts as she headed toward the front door.
She looked out and could see him at the far end of the yard, and in the thick of things, right where she’d expected him to be. All she could see was his back, but she could tell by the set of his shoulders and the stillness with which he stood, that the impact of what was taking place had hit him hard.
His crutches were by the steps where he’d obviously dumped them in frustration. They were too short for his height, but they were the longest ones in town that had been available for rent. The jeans he was wearing were the ones that he’d had on when she found him. They had been laundered, but Toni had purposely not mended the tear in the left leg of his Levi’s to accommodate the bandages over his stitches.
As she stared across the yard, she couldn’t help noticing that blue jeans suited him better than most of the men she’d known and decided that it had something to do with his long legs and the way the fabric cupped his backside. His blue, long-sleeved shirt hung loose upon his shoulders. Untucked and unbuttoned, the tail flapped gently in the hot summer breeze as he watched the proceedings going on before him.
Toni frowned as he wiped a hand across his face. She hoped that he was only sweating. If she saw him cry, she would not be able to keep her heart at the distance it needed to stay. Already, she had become more emotionally involved with him than she’d intended. It wouldn’t pay to care for the man she’d chosen as a means to an end.
He turned at the sound of her footsteps crunching on the graveled path, and the last straw in her resistance crumbled. She’d never seen so much pain on a man’s face in her life.
When he saw who it was, he turned away without speaking, yet Toni knew that it wasn’t because he hadn’t cared about his partner, but because he cared too much.
She stood beside him without speaking, resisting the urge to hold his hand as the search crew carried what was left of five men through the clearing toward the waiting vehicles from the coroner’s office.
One black bag followed another, pitifully small and weightless. Somewhere within them were the remnants of two prisoners, two pilots and one good cop. Yet, after crashing, then burning, what more would there be?
It was impossible for Lane to put into words what he felt. He sensed Toni’s concern, and while he appreciated her presence, he could not trust himself to speak. His shoulders hunched against the sight of the five black bags. Why wasn’t I killed, too? he wondered.
Therein lay the crux of his misery. He hadn’t been able to get beyond that question. One thought after another had followed it, but it always came back without an answer.
The worst of it was that there was no reason for his survival. Upon impact, he and Emmit Rice had not even been strapped into a seat. By every rule and caution known to man, they should have been the first to die.
There should have been one more body at the crash site. And because there wasn’t, Lane would not rest until Emmit Rice was found. Officially, Rice was listed as missing and presumed dead.
Hell, they are all dead...except me.
“Your leg is bleeding.”
Lane jerked, startled by the sound of a human voice, after he’d been so lost in watching the parade of death passing by. He’d actually forgotten that she was still beside him. Toni’s quiet voice held no censure, only compassion, but his bitterness had to go somewhere, and because she was the only one around, it fell to her to suffer his rage.
“Tell it to them,” he said harshly, and pointed toward the body bags before he turned and stalked back toward the house.
Tears blurred her sight, but not so much that she couldn’t see him dragging his injured leg as he hobbled over the graveled path on his bare feet.
Knowing that he wasn’t ready to hear it, Toni waited until he was out of earshot before she muttered, “It’s not your fault, you know.”
She ignored the impetus to follow and assure him further. Instead, she turned away, unable to watch him leave. She didn’t want to feel compassion, or give in to the urge to throw her arms around him and comfort him. She needed to feel separate from him in order to do what she’d decided upon.
Last night, in the midst of a sleepless and lonely vigil, Toni Hatfield had come to a life-altering conclusion. She didn’t know how, and she didn’t know when, but she wanted Lane Monday to be the father of the child she so longed to bear. And she kept telling her heart that she didn’t care that he would come and go in her life without notice. What he left behind would, for her, suffice. If she wasn’t destined to know the love of a good man, so be it. But there was no handwriting on the wall that said she couldn’t have a good man’s child.
That was what Toni kept telling herself as she watched the last vehicle drive away. A stray lock of her hair slipped out of its clip. Toni gave it a halfhearted swipe as she turned toward the house, ignoring a painful shaft of conscience. She couldn’t afford to care about a man who would be leaving in a matter of days. She had the rest of her life to live without him when he was gone. With that thought in mind, she started up the hill.
“Miss Hatfield, wait up,” a voice said.
Toni turned and looked back down the hill. Coming toward her were the two other men from Lane’s office who had arrived the night before to coordinate the investigation. Along with a stack of papers and an armful of cameras, they had brought a suitcase full of Lane’s clothes. Someone had had the foresight to recognize the situation that a man his size would be in.
Bill Reese and Chuck Palmer were ordinary-looking men. The only thing that set them apart from just anybody on the street were the U.S. marshals' badges that they carried. From the looks on their faces, they had been affected by the situation as deeply as Lane had been.
“You both look as if you would trade your last dollar for a bath and something cold to drink. Am I right?” she asked.
The men looked at Toni, then at each other. Chuck Palmer managed an uneasy chuckle as Bill Reese spoke.
“Yesterday when you offered to let us stay here with Lane, I knew you were one-in-a-million. Now we find out you're a mind reader, as well. Just lead the way, pretty lady. We're right behind you.”
Toni flushed. Pretty lady, indeed.
“Lane’s not in a very good mood,” she warned as they neared the porch. “He’s fighting a lot of hurt from both directions. Right now, I would hate to guess what hurts more, his heart or his leg.”
Reese sighed. “Coming up a body short in the investigation doesn’t sit well with us, either. We've got searchers and dogs in the hills, checking for any sign of Rice, but we're pretty sure that he drowned in the same flood that nearly got Lane. It’s simply a matter of waiting for the body to surface, and it will. As for Lane being sad, well, he and Bob Tell were real close friends and had been ever since Lane’s wife died,” he said.
Toni stumbled and paled, but the men behind her never noticed.
“Watch that first step, it’s loose,” she muttered, and hoped that it covered her shock.
Lane had told her that he’d been married, but she’d assumed he was divorced. Knowing that his wife had died instead changed a lot of things. He might not be as receptive to what she’d planned as she’d hoped. What if he was still grieving? What if the idea of making love with another woman was repugnant to him?
“How long has he been a...when did she die?” Toni asked.
Reese frowned thoughtfully and then looked at Palmer for assistance. “At least four or five years, don’t you think?”
Palmer nodded. “At least. Monday’s two years younger than I am, and I just turned forty. He was in his early thirties when it happened. Yeah, that would be about right.”
Toni nodded while she made mental calculations. Four or five years. Surely he’d passed the celibate part of grief by now. If he hadn’t, all of her plans would be futile. The cold, abstract calculation of what she was planning made her feel guilty as hell. But the last man she’d counted on had broken her heart. She’d long since given up on being loved by a man. She was past counting on anyone but herself.
“When you're ready, supper will be waiting,” Toni said.
Both men hurried past her on their way to their rooms, anxious to remove the stench of death from their clothes and their memory.
Lane heard them come into the house. Their voices carried down the hall and into his room. He rolled over on his back and closed his eyes, hating himself for the way that he’d lashed out at Toni. It was a miserable thing to do to the woman who’d saved his life.
And yet, he couldn’t get the sight of those body bags out of his mind.
“Damn it, Tell, that wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen,” he groaned.
His stomach lurched as he fought back a wave of emotion. Like Bob Tell, Lane had contained no illusions about his job. Being a sheriff had always held more than the normal share of risks. Every lawman faced the possibility of being shot in the line of duty, maybe even dying in such a manner. But the senseless act of nature had been unexpected, and because of that, oddly more difficult to accept.
Outside his door, the sound of Toni’s laughter was soft, but unmistakable. One of the men, probably Reese, had obviously cracked a joke. Lane knew Reese was good at making strangers feel comfortable.
He wondered if Toni’s eyes had crinkled at the corners as he’d seen them do before. Or if she’d turned away to return to her work with a lingering smile on her face. And the moment he thought it, he wondered why he cared. What was happening to him? Why was he becoming so fixated upon Toni Hatfield’s every movement? She was a good woman, maybe even a special woman. But that was as far as it went.
He rolled to the side of the bed and sat up, trying to make sense out of what he was feeling.
“This connection I feel with her must be because she saved my life.” He combed his fingers through his hair in frustration and wished for things he could not have. “That’s got to be what it is. I don’t have a personal desire to get mixed up with a woman again. Damn it, I don’t!”
Yeah, Monday, say it often enough and you might even convince yourself, he thought, pulling himself to his feet.
The stitches in his leg pulled as his muscles contracted. He winced, savoring the pain; he felt he deserved that and much more. What was a little pain compared to the devastating sense of loss that the families of those crash victims would suffer? His pain would pass, but their loss would be with them forever. And Lane knew about loss in a big way.
When Sharla had died, he’d wanted to die with her. Month after month, he’d waited for the breath to leave his body as ruthlessly as it had left hers. But it hadn’t, and over time, the feeling had passed. He was proof that life did go on, maybe not as fulfilled as before, but breath was drawn, years passed and the pain faded, leaving a void where his heart had once been. That void was not going to be filled, not if Lane had anything to say about it. He had loved once. He wasn’t about to go through the pain of loving and losing again.
But while he wasn’t ready for emotional entanglements, the apology he owed Toni was past due. He’d had no reason to lash out at her when it had been himself with whom he’d been angry. Shame sent him out of his room and in search of the woman who had borne the brunt of his pain.
He found her on the back porch. He stood in the kitchen and looked out the screen door, absorbing the serenity of the scene before him.
The evening shadows that stretched across the yard were long and pencil thin, a reminder that the day was near its end. The porch-swing chain gave an occasional squeak, warning its occupant not to fall asleep. A half-empty basket of peas sat nearby, while Toni shelled from the bowl in her lap.
Toni’s repose as she worked was so much a part of the scene that Lane hesitated to interrupt. Her long, nimble fingers bent, stripped, then emptied the supple, purple pods of their bounty, spilling the dark-eyed little peas into the bowl with constant regularity. Her purple-tinged fingertips bore the mark of her labor, while a small pile of empty pods accumulated at her feet.
The screen door squeaked as Lane pushed it open. Startled, Toni turned sharply at the sound, causing a dark abundance of curls to spill from her loose topknot of hair. The tendrils fell against the back of her neck, then fluttered in the soft evening breeze, giving her face an unusually fragile, feminine look. Lane saw beyond the richness of her hair to the shadows in her eyes, and hated himself for being the cause.
“If it didn’t hurt so much to bend, I would kneel at your feet,” he said.
Her pulse jerked, then steadied. From the tone in his voice, she guessed that he’d come to apologize.
“I would settle for a helping hand instead,” she said, and gave him a judging glance before scooting over on the porch swing to make room.
Lane sighed as his guilt lifted. Just that small, telling look and a gentle smile from a woman he hardly knew, and the knot in his belly was gone. He wondered what else she might remove if given half a chance, and then the minute he thought it, he willed the thought back to hell where it belonged. He didn’t need this kind of trouble. But, if he was going to help shell peas, he did need a bowl. When she handed him hers, he wondered if she also read minds.
Blue was her favorite color, but Toni wondered if she would ever again be able to see it and not think of Lane Monday’s eyes. She looked at him and forgot what she’d been about to say, so she handed him the bowl in her lap instead.
Reflex made him grab for it, and when their hands touched, Toni jerked back and then jumped to her feet, suddenly anxious to put some space between herself and the future father of her child.
“Do you know how?” she asked.
Lane grinned. That was a loaded question if he’d ever heard one. And being the man that he was, he couldn’t resist the urge to taunt.
“Do you really want me to answer that, lady?”
The flush on Toni’s face went from pink to red before she found her voice. “I meant shelling peas, and you know it.”
She glared as he grinned.
“Maybe you’d better demonstrate,” Lane said. “Do a couple for me. I'll watch and learn.” And when Toni bent over to do just that, his deep voice rumbled in her ear. “I'm a quick study and really good at just about everything.”
Her hands trembled, but she wouldn’t have bolted for all the trees in Tennessee. This was her land, her home, her back porch, for Pete’s sake. Why should she let some overgrown oaf make her act like a silly schoolgirl?
“Maybe so,” Toni said shortly. “But you don’t float worth a darn.”
Lane couldn’t think of a thing to say in response to her less-than-subtle reminder that she’d saved him from drowning. He looked down at the bowl in his lap, then at her long, slender hands deftly working their magic on the pea pods, and he tried to imagine them holding his head above water, and pulling his limp and all-but-lifeless body from the flood.
“You aren’t paying attention,” she warned, and was rewarded by a grin before he refocused on what she was doing.
It looked as simple as unzipping a zipper, but something told him that it had probably taken her years to perfect the skill. And when she laughed at his effort, he knew he’d been right.
“You'll get the hang of it...eventually,” she said. “You're a quick study. Remember?”
Not wanting her to leave, Lane caught her hand, then turned it over palm up, and studied the perfect shape and hidden strength.
Toni’s stomach tilted, and her pulse raced as she looked down. As big as she was, his hand dwarfed her own. Just thinking about his body covering hers in the same manner made her sick with guilt, and she realized that what she was planning to do might be too cold-blooded to consider.
No matter how badly she wanted a child, she was finding it more and more difficult to face the idea of lying down with this man and taking something from him that he might not be willing to give.
There’s always artificial insemination. Her stomach turned at the thought. Now she was back to square one and a lonely, empty life unless she was able to talk this man into her bed.
The ball of his thumb traced the center of her wrist, testing the pulse that pounded beneath.
“Toni, I'm sorry about this afternoon. I hated not being a part of the search team, and I wanted someone to tell me they found Emmit Rice’s body in the wreckage. Watching them carry Bob Tell out instead was hard. I took my hurt out on you. It was uncalled-for, and unforgivable, especially after all you've done for me, but I'm asking you to forgive me all the same.”
The blue in his eyes had softened to a dusky gray. The tone of his voice had gone from sexy to serious. Resisting him was impossible; giving up her dream even more so. She wondered if it could be done. She pulled back her hand, unwilling to let him learn too much about how she felt.
“I knew why you said it,” Toni said. “I didn’t take it personally.” And then she grinned, unaware that bitterness colored her smile, as well as the rest of her response. “I learned that lesson the hard way a long time ago. A man rarely means what he says, at least not to me.”
She stood abruptly, causing the porch swing to tilt. “Supper in thirty minutes. I'll finish the peas later. Go visit with your friends or something. You don’t owe me anything, Lane Monday. I did what I did because I don’t think before I act, not because I wanted something in return. And don’t you ever say I did.”
The back door slammed as she disappeared into the house, and he wondered where the hell that had come from. All he’d done was try to apologize for being rude and offer to shell a few peas.
He sighed. Try to figure out what goes on in a woman’s head and a man will go crazy.
He looked down at the bowl in his lap, then frowned and picked up a pea. By God, he wasn’t going anywhere until he’d shelled this bowl of peas first.
* * *
The night air still held the heat of the day. Although the air conditioners hummed softly inside the house, Toni couldn’t bear another minute of being cooped up within these walls. Lane had his friends to keep him company, she’d already changed the bandages on his leg, and the last pea had been shelled and stored in the cooler. There should be no further need of her services from anyone or anything, at least not today. She slipped out the back door, careful not to let the hinges squeak. She was tired of pretending that she didn’t care.
Just when she’d gotten used to being unneeded, all of this had happened. When everyone left, she would have to adjust to loneliness all over again. But tonight, she wished for something more than a job to keep her busy. She wished for companionship, even for love. But because there was no one there to hold her, she hugged the porch post instead, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against the cool, smooth wood in weary defeat.
It smelled of paint and the fainter, but more enticing, scent of wisteria. The vine was nearby, running up the trellis and falling down around the edge of the back porch like a lavender ruffle. The thick, sweet scent made Toni think of her mother. Next to her eight children, the vine had been her mother’s pride and joy.
Toni opened her eyes and lifted her head, gazing intently into the dark, cloudless sky. The new moon gave off no glow, and the stars seemed too far away to even twinkle. She had more company inside her house tonight than she’d had since the day of her father’s funeral. But she’d never felt so alone...or so lonely.
“Toni.”
Startled by the sound of Lane’s voice, she caught her breath, thankful that the night hid her face from his all-seeing eyes. “What?”
“Are you all right?” he asked softly.
“Of course. Was there anything you needed?”
Her answer was casual, but the tone of her voice was not. During the day, something had changed between them, and although Lane wasn’t in the habit of trying to placate a woman’s whims, something about this one kept getting under his skin. Maybe it was because she tried so hard not to need anyone. And maybe it was something else he wasn’t ready to face. Whatever it was, Lane couldn’t leave her, or well enough, alone.
“Why do you keep answering a question with a question?” he asked.
Because it’s safer. Because you won’t want to hear what I really want to say.
“Sorry. I wasn’t aware I did that. I suppose that’s what comes of answering to no one but myself.”
Lane shoved his hands into his pockets and ignored the thrust of pain to his thigh.
“All through supper, you seemed...bothered. If it’s something we've done, I wish you would say so. This whole business has probably uprooted every routine you ever had. It won’t be long before we're out of here, and then your life can get back to normal.”
Normal? My life will never be the same.
Toni laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. Lane didn’t have to look to know that there were tears in her eyes.
“You're probably right,” Toni said. “I never did get through fixing that north fence.” She started past him into the house. “I'll see if the men want any more cobbler. It’s never as good the second—”
“Toni...”
She paused. A faint light from within the house cast shadows on his face, once again reminding her that this man was only passing through her life. She sighed and swallowed a lump in her throat.
“Don’t,” she said softly. “In a few days, you'll be gone. Whatever it is you're about to say, you would later regret.”
She walked away, leaving Lane alone on the porch with the night and his thoughts.
I may have some regrets, lady, but they won’t include you. Never you.
He followed her into the house. Without thinking, he locked the door behind him, as if it were his own house. Like the woman, the farm had already claimed its place in his heart. What, he wondered, would his apartment in Tallahassee be like when he returned? Would his footsteps echo from room to room? Would he pace the floor at night, longing for the sound of her voice and a sight of her smile, or would she fade with the memory of it all?
“Hellfire,” Lane muttered, and bypassed the trio in the kitchen who were sharing the last of supper’s dessert. “You know where you belong, Toni Hatfield. You're as much a part of these Tennessee hills as the trees that cover them. If I could be as certain as that, I would know more than I do right now.”
* * *
Breakfast was on the table when Justin Hatfield walked into the house without knocking, just as he’d done for all the years that he’d lived there. “I see you finally got the table fixed,” he said, eyeing the crack on the top and the edges of plywood showing on the sides that Toni had used as patches.
Toni cocked an eyebrow as a greeting. Her brother acted as if he owned the place. As the eldest in the family, she supposed it was his right, although he’d married and moved away years ago.
“Have a biscuit and a cup of coffee, Justin. Maybe they'll give your mouth something else to do besides yap.”
Justin grinned.
Lane eyed Toni’s brother, then the table, and shrugged. He still didn’t remember a damn thing about the whole episode except waking up handcuffed to the maddest woman he’d ever seen. Already a veteran of several meals at the patched-up table, he wisely shifted his plate to the end that didn’t rock and slid into the nearest chair before someone else beat him to it.
Reese and Palmer took one look at the steaming plates of eggs and sausage, the basket of hot biscuits and the jars of jelly, and groaned.
“I may never go home again,” Reese said. “Toni girl, you're going to make some lucky man the best darned wife in the state.”
The smile was halfway to ready on Toni’s face when Justin snorted, and then laughed aloud.
“She would make a better man,” he said. “Say, Toni, that reminds me of why I came. Someone knocked down your mailbox. You better put it back up before the mail carrier comes around.”
Toni froze. It was nothing more than what she’d heard from her brothers nearly all of her life, but to have it thrown in her face in front of three near strangers was almost more than she could bear. Her shoulders were stiff, her expression blank as she set the coffeepot on the table.
“Eat while it’s hot,” she said softly. “I'll be back later.” Without looking back, she walked out of the room.
Lane froze. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Reese and Palmer took one look at their buddy’s face and started talking at once, obviously aware that if someone didn’t change the subject, Justin Hatfield might find himself on the outside looking in.
“I can’t believe you said that,” Lane said.
Justin froze, the biscuit halfway in his mouth.
“Said what?” he mumbled around a mouthful of buttery crumbs.
“You know what,” Lane said, dragging himself to his feet, then leaning across the table until he was only inches away from Justin’s nose. “You don’t want to make me hurt you, do you?”
The biscuit broke into pieces and fell from his fingers as Justin stared back. “Hell, no,” Justin said, leaning forward until they were nose to nose. “But I would like to know why you're so damned mad before we start throwing punches.”
Lane inhaled. He couldn’t believe it, but it seemed as if Justin really didn’t get it.
“You've got about three seconds to clear out of this kitchen and go fix what you sent your sister to do, or so help me God, I'll...”
Justin gawked, then jerked as if he’d actually been punched. “But Toni always fixes the—”
“She shouldn’t have to,” Lane said. “She’s a woman, for God’s sake. Doesn’t anyone around here see that besides me?”
Reese and Palmer stared regretfully at their plates of sausage and biscuits and got to their feet. “We'll do it,” they said in unison.
“It’s the least we can do for our room and board,” Reese added.
Lane’s eyes never left Justin’s face, and the longer he looked at him the colder they got. Finally, he shook his head once and grinned. It was enough.
“No, boys, finish your breakfast like Toni said. I think Justin was already on his way out the door, weren’t you, buddy?”
Justin gave Lane a considering look and then nodded. “I think you may be right,” Justin said, and took a biscuit with him as he left.
Lane dropped into the chair and shifted his leg so that he didn’t have to bend it to reach his plate.
“Reese, pass the eggs, please, and don’t eat all of the biscuits. Save Toni some. She should be here any minute.”
Less than five minutes later, Lane’s prophecy was proven true as Toni entered the kitchen. As usual, her unruly curls were already on the move. A slight smudge of dust shadowed the upper thrust of her right breast, and she wore a matching handprint on the thigh of her blue jeans. Her eyes were wide and slightly shell-shocked as she went to the sink to wash up.
She would have given a year of her life to know what had been said after she’d left. But whatever it was, Lane’s expression was as unreadable as Justin’s had been when he’d taken the posthole digger from her hands and sent her back to the house with a terse command.
She slid into the empty chair and picked up her fork before she had the guts to look up at the men who were staring at her, waiting for her to make the first move.
Thankfully, Lane took the initiative. “Want some eggs, Antonette?”
Toni took the bowl that Lane offered and spooned clumps of fluffy yellow egg onto her plate without thought.
“How about some sausage, and maybe a biscuit?” Reese added, and elbowed Palmer to pass Toni the jam.
She took what was offered, then stared down at her plate, unable to take a bite. Shame and embarrassment overwhelmed her. What must they be thinking?
“Like the man said, you'll make a hell of a wife.”
Lane’s voice echoed over and over in her ears, drowning out everything except the hammer of her heartbeat.