Never Again (30 page)

Authors: Michele Bardsley

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Paranormal, #Romance

BOOK: Never Again

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“I meant the town itself.”

“No, it’s not poor. Not at all.” He frowned. “I handle the banking. Honestly? Taylor told me what the town needed, and I wrote a check. He took care of it. Everything. I’ve been a terrible Guardian. I let everyone down because I couldn’t let go of my pain. . . . No, it’s more than that. I’ve been ashamed.”

“There is no shame in loving the wrong person. At least you had that.”

“It was an illusion.”

“Your love wasn’t. Hers was. I gave myself to Bernard without any love at all. I traded my body and my dignity for room and board. That’s shameful.”

“You were doing what you had to for survival.”

“Actually, I was doing what I had to for Dolce and Gabbana.”

“So if I offered to buy you Dolce and Gabbana everything, you’d want it?”

Lucinda shook her head. “No. I’d want you to spend it on the general store.” Gray was staring at her in a sorta what-crazy-pill-did-you-swallow kind of way. She licked her lips, and gathered her courage. “I talked to Maureen for a long time last night. You should’ve heard her talk about the general store. It was her husband’s legacy, and after his great-grandfather gambled it all away, no one could ever afford to buy it back.” Her words were tumbling out faster now, and she was practically tripping over her own tongue. “She said there was no place to shop here, that people had to order online or drive for hours to get to Dallas. The store is right there. It’s got all that space, shelves, registers . . . Who knows what else? Maureen and Henry want to do more than just exist here. They want to contribute.”

Gray didn’t say anything for a long time. Lucinda got so nervous that she thought her eggs might make a return trip.

“I own it,” Gray said hoarsely.

“The store?”

He nodded. “When Nevermore was founded, the Guardian granted deeds to the families who were running the businesses. Everyone owned their land and their building, but they had to pay a percentage of their profits into the town coffers. It’s kinda like taxes, I guess. That’s the money Nevermore uses to pay its bills, take care of street work, and so on. If a family defaults on their payments, their deed reverts back to the Guardian.”

“That’s how Ember got her tea shop—the place that’s the neutral ground.”

“Yeah. I sold it to her, or rather Taylor did. He probably didn’t realize she was going to paint it purple. That building she bought was empty for so long that no one remembers what it used to be. I didn’t realize it was neutral ground until I pulled the deed.”

“Do you pay the town for the general store? The taxes, I mean?”

“No. It’s a little hard to explain. I am the town, and the town is me—that’s what Grit used to say all the time. I oversee the town’s money.”

“You’re the bank.”

“For the town, not for its citizens.” He pushed his plate away. “If a property is no longer contributing, it’s not used. There’s no reason to have utilities turned on or have garbage service.”

“Are you poor?”

He blinked at her. “Um, no.”

“Because the Archers are. I don’t know if they could afford the taxes, or whatever you want to call ’em, much less the utility bills. Not right away.”

“You want me to give the Archers a personal loan?”

Lucinda lifted her hands palms out. “I would, but you know . . . I literally don’t have any money. But I could work there for free—until they get everything settled and can afford to hire some help.” She couldn’t figure out what Gray thought about her idea. He wasn’t exactly leaping for joy over it. “The Archers wouldn’t take charity. They’d want to pay their bills same as everyone else in Nevermore. They just need a little assistance.”

He cleared his throat. “Just so I have this straight . . . you want me, as the Guardian, to hand over the deed to the general store gratis to the Archers. Then, you want me, as Gray Calhoun, to loan them the money for start-up costs, and then you, my wife, will work there for free until they can afford to hire clerks.”

“Please, Gray. Just think about it. Having that store back would make them so happy. And give them a purpose. Everyone needs a purpose. And Nevermore needs that store.”

“You’re begging, aren’t you?”

“I can get on my knees, if it’ll help.”

“I can hear it in your voice.” He stood up, rounded the table, and then knelt before her. “You’re brilliant. I should’ve thought of it myself.” He shook his head. “Damn it all! I was so selfish. I could only see my own pain. Five years sitting in this house thinking only about myself. I was such a fool.”

“You built walls to protect yourself,” she said, her heart growing fuller by the second. “I understand, Gray. You have to stop beating yourself up over past mistakes. You’re doing the right things now. That’s what people will remember.”

“You would’ve begged me for their sake, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. If it meant they’d get their family legacy back, then yes, I would beg.”

He sighed. “I’m not even gonna think about how insulting it is for my own wife to think she has to plead with me—on behalf of people I’ve known my whole life.” He picked up her hands and kissed her knuckles. “The world is yours, baby. I’ll give you anything.”

Lucinda knew that wasn’t true. He couldn’t give her love. Or a baby. Or a real marriage. For all the healing his heart was doing now, there was no room in it for her dreams. Gray had his own path, and it was directly connected to Nevermore. He needed this town, and everyone in it needed him.

One day, she would be gone from here, and she hoped to do some good before it was time to seek out her own new path.

“I have some other ideas,” she said.

“Okay. Let’s go in the library and talk.”

“You want Grit’s advice?”

“No, I want to annoy him.” He stood up and pulled Lucinda to her feet. “C’mon. Let’s go figure out how to change our little corner of the world.”

Anthony rolled over in bed, and groaned. His eyes felt gritty and he was damned groggy from a bad night’s sleep, not least of which was caused by his inappropriate thoughts about Happy. She was sixteen, for Goddess’ sake! She was pretty—all that blond hair and those blue eyes framed by a heart-shaped face, not to mention she had a woman’s fulsome body. And when she smiled, she had dimples. Dimples! But her heart and her mind were still those of a girl. He felt like a lecherous old man just thinking about her in a sexual way.

He needed coffee.

And a cold shower.

He’d gone to bed in his pajama bottoms, which was a concession to their female guest. Usually he wandered around in his underwear. He pulled on a T-shirt and went downstairs, heading into the living room to check on Happy. The couch was empty. He stared at the folded blanket carefully centered on the pillow. Her backpack was gone. And so was she.

Shit.

“She went outside.”

Ant whirled around. Taylor stood in the foyer, a mug of coffee in his hand, dressed in full uniform.

“Her stuff’s gone.”

“She left it in the kitchen. I made extra pancakes, if you want any.”

Ant’s mouth dropped open. “You stayed in the kitchen long enough to cook? And you made her breakfast?” He narrowed his gaze. “Who are you and what did you do with my big brother?”

“Ha-
ha.
The kid was hungry. I fed her. End of story.”

“You could’ve poured her a bowl of Lucky Charms.”

“Mama would roll over in her grave,” said Taylor. “Happy’s polite, but closemouthed. Wouldn’t tell me why she came to town or who she’s looking for.” He sighed. “Maybe a good sit-down in the office will scare her into talking.”

“I doubt it,” said Ant. He could see that Happy wore stubborn like other people wore coats.

“Me, too. But I have a secret weapon.”

“Arlene.”

“Yep.”

“I’ll take her in,” said Ant.

“Okay. Then I can meet Ren at the café. He thinks he found the point of ignition.”

“What? He’s an arson investigator now?”

Taylor laughed. “He’s serious about law enforcement, is all. And there’s not a lot of opportunities to investigate real crimes.”

“I wish y’all didn’t have so many to investigate now.”

“I don’t much like it, either.” He drained the mug, and handed it to Ant. “I cooked. You clean.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Ant headed to the kitchen, putting the mug in the sink. He heard the ancient SUV rumble away, and he turned away from the dishes.

Happy’s pink backpack lay in one of the chairs tucked underneath the table. He warred with his own conscience. The girl was entitled to her privacy, but she also needed help, which she was refusing to ask for. Maybe a clue about her identity or purpose was inside that bag.

So. What to do?

Ant walked to the table and reached down, only to stop before his fingers brushed the zipper. Damnation. He was already having lascivious thoughts about the girl. Violating her trust seemed an even worse infraction.

He’d never been so out of sorts over a girl in his life. He had four sisters. He understood the female mind well enough—at least as far as a man could. He sensed that if Happy found out he’d gone through her things, she’d never talk to him again.

He couldn’t get the girl out of his thoughts, but he could get her out of his home. She was wrecking his libido and his concentration. He was grown, and she wasn’t. End of freaking story.

He headed outside. She wasn’t on the porch or in the front yard. He went through the house and out the back door. Over the rolling acres were his creations—gardens that came from his imagination. Every time he touched a plant, dug his fingers into the earth, inhaled the essences of flowers and grass, he felt as though he’d found his place in the world.

He stepped onto the brick path, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled, “Happy!”

“Back here,” she answered. “I’m in the heart.”

Ant felt his pulse stutter, but he didn’t know why he’d had such an odd reaction. In the heart of what? Oh. He realized she was talking about the red and white rosebushes he’d used to create a huge valentine. In the middle of it he’d placed a stone bench. It was his mother’s memorial garden. Sometimes, he went there to talk to Mama. He knew she wasn’t around anymore, but he still felt like she heard him.
Love never dies,
she’d told him, and he believed her.

Ant found Happy sitting on the bench. He paused at the entrance to his sanctuary, feeling as though someone had struck him in the chest with a hammer. She wore a pink summer dress, which showed off the very shapely legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. She was barefoot, and he noticed her toenails were painted purple. She wore a toe ring on her left foot.

Her long blond hair hung down in ringlets that cascaded over her shoulders. Her face was turned up toward the sun. In that moment, she looked like a flower blooming. And he knew that he could coax Happy into a beautiful blossom, fragrant and perfect, just like all his other plants.

He was having too visceral a reaction to the girl. He tried to think about jumping into the icy waters of Lake Huginn during winter, but envisioning that scenario wasn’t helping much.

“You’re beautiful.”

The words just popped out of his mouth. Good Goddess! What was wrong with him?

She looked at him, and smiled. “You didn’t want to say that, did you?”

“Not really.”

“It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I appreciate it.”

Happy patted the spot next to her. “Sit down.”

“I don’t particularly trust myself right now.”

She laughed. “I should torture you by flirting outrageously, but I feel too wonderful. This is such a lovely garden, Ant. It’s magical.”

“I’m not, though.”

“Yes, you are.” She tilted her head. “How could you not know?”

“Both of my parents were mundanes.”