Coming Up Roses (30 page)

* * *

The following afternoon, Kate sat alone in the kitchen, rhythmically rocking in her chair in an attempt to block out the sounds that floated into the house from outside. Men's voices and steel scraping rock … the sounds of a nightmare being unveiled and exposed to sunlight.

When the noises ceased, so did Kate's frantic rocking. Curling her hands around the rocker armrests, she dug her nails into the wood. Sweat filmed her body and, not for the first time, she regretted her decision to visit the sheriff that morning. All for what? To exonerate herself? To give Joseph a sacred resting place? To put the guilt behind her? Those reasons seemed so feeble now.

Marcus had taken Miranda over to Zachariah's place. Her husband was outside overseeing the grim exhumation of Joseph's remains. Sitting here in the shadows, she was getting a taste of the dimness and loneliness that could become a steady diet for her inside a jail cell if she should be convicted of his murder.

The report of heavy boots echoed through the plank floor, and Kate knew Zachariah and the sheriff had come into the house.
I won't be able to protect you any longer. You do understand that?
Since hearing Zachariah utter those words, Kate had sensed his withdrawal from her. For the first time since their marriage, he had slept away from her last night. But it was more than that. There was an evasiveness about him, a detached expression in his eyes, almost as if he were bracing himself to say good-bye. That, above all else, struck terror into Kate.

When had she come to need Zachariah so desperately? She craved the feeling of his warm, heavy hand on her shoulder. She yearned for his gaze, twinkling and full of laughter, to search hers for an endless moment, sending messages that both puzzled her and made her skin tingle. She longed to feel his arms around her, to hear him whisper, "It'll be okay, Katie girl."

She wasn't a child. He couldn't wave his hand and make everything right in her world. Yet, somehow, she had come to count on his magic. Her rational side mocked her for that.
You don't believe in heroes, remember?
But she did believe in Zachariah. And she wanted him to slay the dragons so she wouldn't have to face them. Instead, he was pulling away his support, separating himself from her before she was even gone.

Tears burned in the back of Kate's throat. She swallowed them down. Pain and fear were her old friends. She had learned long ago never to weep with sorrow. When things got tough, you stiffened your spine and gritted your teeth.

"Kate?"

Zachariah's voice lashed across her nerves, and she sprang from the chair. Whirling, her heart slamming against her ribs, she saw her husband and the sheriff coming through the door.

"Sheriff Higgins would like to talk to you," Zachariah said softly.

Kate's gaze slid to the lawman. An individual of wiry build and average height, he looked small standing beside her husband. Because of the heat, he had removed his black serge suit jacket. Sweat ringed the underarms of his white cotton shirt, and his bow tie hung loose at his unfastened collar. In one hand, he held a box camera, which she assumed he had used to take photographs of the corpse. The thought made bile surge up her throat.

"Yes, Sheriff?"

Higgins swept off his hat and wiped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. His thin gray hair lay over his balding pate in wet strips that looked almost black. "Well, ma'am…" He cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders. "I want you to understand that I sincerely believe what you told me this morning. But—" He broke off and looked at Zachariah. "Well, ma'am, the sad thing is—"

Kate knotted her hands in her skirt. "Yes?"

The sheriff heaved a defeated sigh. "Well, to put it indelicately, the corpse is so deteriorated that it's impossible for the coroner to tell by examining the head wound if it was caused by a blunt instrument or a sharp surface on the hearth." He waved his hat in a helpless gesture. "I was hoping for cut-and-dried evidence to corroborate your story. But we didn't get it. We can't settle this with a simple inquest. I've got no choice but to file charges against you." Kate flinched and averted her face for a moment.

"Understand that I'd just let it go on your word if I could," he put in quickly. "I'd like nothing better than to end all this as quick as can be. You and the child have obviously suffered enough. But I have to follow lawful procedure."

Kate swallowed and managed to say, "What you mean is that I'll have to go to jail and stand trial for murder."

He cleared his throat again. "The evidence will go before the grand jury first. If things go well with that, there may never be an indictment."

"An indictment?" Kate remembered everything Zachariah had said last night. "That's an official charge, correct?"

"The charges are what's happening right now. The indictment comes if the grand jury decides there's sufficient evidence that a crime has been committed. If the evidence presented against you in a preliminary round is strong, you'll be indicted for murder and have to stand trial. If the evidence is too flimsy, the case will never go any farther."

Kate sought Zachariah's gaze only to find that he had braced his hands on the back of a chair and was studying the floor. "Must I be in jail until the grand jury decides?"

The sheriff shuffled his feet. "Your husband and I have been discussing just that, and I've decided to bend the law a hair. He's given me his word he'll bring you in come morning if I'll let you have this one last night at home.

More for the child's sake than yours, you understand. I'd like to make this as easy on her as I can. This will give you a chance to explain things to her and prepare her for your absence. The catch is that I have to have your word you won't—" He studied the crown of his hat for a moment. "I'm sticking my neck out, you see. If you hightail it out of here, I'll be in hot water aplenty for not locking you up, straight off."

Kate nodded. "I understand, Sheriff. And you have my word that I'm not going anywhere. I appreciate your bending the rules so I can be with Miranda tonight."

The sheriff looked relieved and smiled, albeit feebly. "Chances are the judge will set bail and you'll be able to come home in a couple of days."

"I'll pray for that," Kate replied. Then she too forced a smile. "You needn't look so woebegone, Sheriff Higgins. I knew I'd be facing serious consequences when I went to see you this morning. I don't hold you accountable for how the law reads."

"For what it's worth, I don't believe any court in the land will convict you if it comes to that."

"I hope you're right."

* * *

It seemed to Kate that those precious few hours she had left with her daughter flew by. She went through the motions of a normal evening, fixing dinner, doing dishes, taking Miranda onto her lap to tell her stories before bedtime, but with every breath she fought back tears.

With a maturity far beyond her years, Miranda took the news of her mother's departure calmly. She had seen the disturbed rose garden, and that evidently had prepared her for the worst. As best she could, Kate explained her reasons for going to the sheriff.

"It was something I felt I had to do," she whispered shakily. "We have a new life now, you and I. We're not alone like we used to be. Even if I have to go away, I know you'll be happy here with Zachariah."

Miranda nuzzled Kate's bodice and toyed with the buttons. "I understand, Ma. It's like in a story, huh? Until ever'thing gets all done with, you can't say it's the end."

Kate rested her cheek against her daughter's hair and closed her eyes. "That's exactly right. And I want to say it's the end. Until I do, it'll never be completely over. We deserve a happy ever after, you and I."

"Are you scared?"

"Not at all," Kate lied. "My one worry was what might happen to you if I had to be in jail for a while. Now I'm just anxious to get it over with."

"Is jail a bad place?"

As honestly as she could, Kate described a jail cell. "I'll be warm and comfortable. They'll bring me my meals. It won't be as nice as being at home, but it won't be terrible, either."

"I'm gonna miss you a powerful lot."

Kate hugged the child close. "Oh, Miranda, I'll miss you, too. More than you'll ever know. I love you so much.

No matter how long I'm away, please don't ever forget that."

"I know how much you love me, Ma. You're in all this trouble 'cause of me."

Kate felt she had to dispel that notion. If things went badly, she didn't want Miranda carrying the burden of guilt.

"No, not because of you," she whispered fiercely. "You must never think that, sweetness. My marriage to your father caused all of this, and that happened long before you were ever born."

"Why come did you marry him?"

Kate took a shaky breath. "It's a long story. In short, my uncle Jed arranged the marriage, and I didn't have a say."

"Was he a mean man? Your uncle?"

Kate smiled sadly. "Not at all. He was just—" She broke off and smoothed her daughter's hair. "He was very old, and he worried about what would happen to me after he was gone. He was my only relative after my ma and pa died, you see. When your father saw me in church and took a shine to me, Uncle Jed thought it was Providence .

He figured I'd be safe and well cared for if I was married before he passed away."

"Only you wasn't, huh? Pa turned out mean."

"Your pa was troubled, Miranda." There were some things Kate felt she needed to say for fear she might never get another chance—things Miranda needed to hear and remember. "So is your uncle Ryan. If it should happen that you and I never speak of this again, I want you to remember that."

"Am I gonna be troubled when I get old?"

Kate managed a light laugh. "Goodness, no. It's not something catching, sweetness. It's a confusion they were trained up to have … by their father. You haven't been raised by him, and when you grow up, you'll be right as rain."

"Why come did their pa train them up confused?"

"Because he was a troubled man, too. Imagine, if you will, loving someone with all your heart and having them run away and leave you. That's what happened to him. His wife deserted him, and left him to raise his two little boys all on his own."

"Pa and Uncle Ryan?"

"Yes, your pa and uncle Ryan. Their ma just up and left one night while they were all asleep. She didn't even tell her family good-bye. Your grandpa Blakely was filled with a lot of pain. Sometimes when we hurt, we turn the pain against the people we love most. That's what he did, I think, though I'm sure he meant well. He didn't want your pa and uncle Ryan to fall in love some day and get hurt like he had, so he raised them up to believe females were wicked."

"So Pa never loved me and you?"

Kate took a deep breath. "I think he loved us, Miranda, but it was a very twisted and ugly love. Because of the way his pa taught him to think, he was all mixed up inside his head. When we think of him, that's what we must remember."

A sound at the kitchen door caught Kate's attention, and she glanced up to see that Zachariah had entered the room. For a moment, their gazes locked. Then he looked away. Kate was left feeling desolate.

She put a bright face on it for Miranda's sake. "Well, it's about that time. Since you seem to end up there every night, regardless, what say I tuck you straight into my bed so we can snuggle later?"

Miranda seconded that suggestion with unbridled enthusiasm. Without a word, Zachariah turned his back on them and left the kitchen.