The Hero (11 page)

“Wow,” she said, “you can even dance!”

“I’ve chaperoned a ton of high school dances,” he explained.

She tapped his beer bottle with a long, pink, manicured finger. “No beer at those dances, I bet.”

“Not where I could see it,” he answered with a laugh.

“Hard to believe times have changed so little since I was in school. It’s been a couple of years.”

“Has it now?” he asked, playing dumb.

Dance over, he found himself standing around with Coach Rayburough, Cliff and Mac. The talk was football, of course. And his eyes kept drifting to Devon—she either danced or visited with women friends or sat on the blanket. It wasn’t late, but inevitably the party dwindled—people started leaving.

Spencer was tackled around the legs by his son. Austin looked up at him and said, “Can I go home on the Razor?”

“Who’s driving?” Spencer asked, joking.

“Ha, ha. You know.”

He looked around and saw Landon was saying his goodbyes, shaking Cooper’s hand, giving his sister a kiss on the cheek. Then Landon was striding toward Spencer. “Eve and I are going to head out. We’ll take Austin home in the Razor, if it’s okay with you. If it’s not, I’ll walk him and Eve will drive the Razor. Or we could leave it for you.”

“As long as he has his seat belt on and you go slow,” Spencer said. “Don’t hit any wedding guests. That’s bad luck.”

“For sure.” Landon laughed.

“We’ll swing by and grab Eve and Ashley on the way home,” Mac said. He glanced at his watch. “Half hour or so?”

“Come on, Mac, it’s Saturday night!”

“You gonna bring ’em home?” Mac asked.

“Yeah, later! After Spencer gets home.” Then he looked at Spencer and said, “There’s no hurry on that....”

They were walking off in the direction of the far side of the beach, Austin with four teens. And then the saxophone player spoke into the microphone and said, “We’ll give you a couple more, then this old band is packing it up....”

Spencer handed Mac his beer bottle and said, “Excuse me.” He walked across the dance area. He was thinking,
Get a few beers in me and I’ll do any stupid thing.
In front of him Devon was talking with Scott Grant as he folded up that beach blanket. “Almost missed my chance,” he said, holding out a hand to Devon. “The band’s shutting down.”

“Aw, that’s nice,” she said, putting her hand in his. Then she looked at Scott. “If you want to go, I’ll see you in the morning when I come for Mercy. I can get across the beach on my own.”

“Got your whistle?” he asked.

She laughed at him, but Spencer, half expecting an argument, said, “I’m her neighbor—I’ll make sure she gets home.”

And then to his surprise, Scott Grant said, “Okay. Later, then.”

Probably shouldn’t have done that, Spencer thought. He already knew he found the girl intriguing and attractive and complicated—spending more time with her just didn’t make sense for a man in his position, single father, recently widowed, vulnerable. But then he put his hand on the small of her back, brought her gently up against him, and that’s where all thinking ended. He was vaguely aware of someone in the band singing
You’re just too good to be true
,
can’t take my eyes off of you
.
...
He swayed with her, their feet barely moving, her head resting lightly against his shoulder, her hair under his chin.

She lifted her chin and smiled up at him. “Did you have a good time tonight?” she asked.

He just nodded and pulled her a little bit closer.

He tried to make sense of this. It had been so long since he’d had his arms around the warm, soft flesh of a woman—that’s probably all it was. He’d held his wife in her last months, weeks, days, hours...but that wasn’t the same as this. This woman was all too alive. And her hair...the fragrance was just knocking him out.

“What is that fragrance?” he asked her in a whisper. “What do you wash your hair with?”

She looked up at him and laughed. “Baby shampoo.”

Okay, he was clearly losing his mind. Baby shampoo? Whatever was filling his senses was much more serious and sensuous than that. The song ended and the next began. He felt her pull back slightly, but he just gathered her up closer. And she came to him. He heard the music, but he was also vaguely aware of the sounds of packing up. Coolers opened and closed, trash was gathered, there was talking and laughing, bottles clinked. He lifted his head, opened his eyes and they were the only couple dancing.

And then, too soon, the music stopped.

“Thanks,” he said. “That was nice.”

“It was. I’m going to see if I can help before heading home,” she said. And with that she walked right over to Carrie, who gave her a brief hug and shook her head. It looked as if they were just about done with everything they had to do tonight. Once the food and trash was gathered and stowed, everything else would wait until morning.

Spencer went to where Devon had been sitting with Scott and picked up her flip-flops. He stood there at the edge of the party area holding her shoes, waiting. It seemed just about everyone was gone; Cooper and Sarah stood on the deck with his parents, saying good-night. Mac and Gina were halfway across the beach. The band was packing up their equipment. And he had an overwhelming desire to wait them all out, to wait until it was only himself and Devon on the beach, under the twinkling lights.

She was beside him again. “Thanks,” she said, reaching for her flip-flops. She slipped them on her feet and they began walking toward the marina. “What a nice wedding. I admit, I cried a little bit.”

He said nothing.

“I think the little kids would’ve liked it, but I’m glad they weren’t there. I would’ve spent the whole night chasing them. And I haven’t been to a grown-up party in so long, I can’t remember when.”

He stopped walking and looked down at her. “Devon. You and the doctor?”

“Huh?”

“Are you with the doctor? Are you seeing him?”

“Scott?” she asked on a laugh. “Oh, my gosh, no!” She laughed again. “I’m sharing his babysitter so I can work for him, that’s all. He’s been wonderful about that—but of course I do pay Gabriella. But seeing him? Spencer, I can’t be dating my boss! I can’t be dating anyone!”

“You can’t?”

“I’m a single mother! I have a lot of responsibility! I can’t—”

He stopped walking. He slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her up off her feet and planted a kiss on her, cutting her off midsentence. He moved over her mouth and decided immediately that the taste and texture were perfect. But her arms hung limp at her sides. He lifted his lips from hers. “Me, either. I can’t get involved with anyone, either.”

“You have a very strange way of demonstrating that, Mr. Lawson....”

“Kiss me back,” he said. “Come on, can’t you see I can’t help it?”

“Seriously?”

“You’re beautiful. You smell so good. You taste like heaven.”

“And I’m not dating!”

“We’ll be friends,” he said. “Very good friends. While we figure out if we should date. I haven’t been on a date in years.”

She laughed at him, shaking her head. “Are you drunk?”

He let go of her, let her drop to her feet. “No, I’m horribly sober. So you don’t want to kiss?”

“I think it would be a bad idea. I only kiss boyfriends and I haven’t had one of those in...forever.”

He shook his head. “You have no idea how much we have in common....”

“Come on,” she said, taking his hand. “I’ll give you a ride home. And behave yourself.”

They were almost to the marina when he said, “Devon, we should...I don’t know...spend some time or...” He stopped walking again. “Do you need someone to cut your grass? Help you paint something?”

She shook her head. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m very helpful by nature.”

She began walking again. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

When they got to the truck, she asked, “Do you want a ride?”

“I think I’ll walk. It’s just a few blocks. And I should clear my head. I’m not usually so...” He shrugged. “I don’t grab and kiss women like that. And I could tell you didn’t like it. I think I should probably do some chores for you or something. Prove I’m not rude...”

She put a hand on his arm. “That’s all right, Spencer. It was just the twinkling lights and the wedding. Made you feel a little reckless.” She tilted her head and he really wanted to dig his fingers into that messy, willful short hair of hers. So he put his hands in his pockets. “Will you be all right?” she asked him.

“I’m fine. Be careful driving home.”

Nine

O
h.
My.
God
.

Devon sat in the truck, in the driveway of her duplex. She felt a slight trembling in her extremities and it was not from cold or fear or embarrassment. It was from that very alien feeling of desire that rippled through her arms, breasts, toes...and lips. He’d kissed her. Really kissed her right off her feet. He’d stunned and paralyzed her and it made her want to kiss him back.

Instead she’d scared him away. Which was probably for the best. The last time she’d felt anything like that, it had been for Jacob, much older, much more practiced in seduction, much more dangerous. At least she thought that’s how Jacob seemed compared to Spencer.

It had been so long. Of the seven women she’d lived with at The Fellowship, only three of them were regularly sharing Jacob’s bed—Charlotte, Pilly and Lorna. Devon had foolishly believed he had fallen for her—the new girl. And the others didn’t tell her, warn her, didn’t explain that all the children were his. When she’d realized the truth, she’d wanted to run for her life, and then it was the women who convinced her to stay. “You don’t have to accept his advances and we’ll take care of you. He might try with you, but he would never hurt you or force you—you’re safe,” Reese had said. “You’re pregnant and have nowhere to go—just stay close to me and you’ll have everything you need.” By which Reese meant food and shelter and friendship. So at first she stayed because there was nothing else for her, then she stayed because she felt it was safe for her and Mercy. It didn’t take long to realize what Jacob was—a manipulative liar who liked having his harem, his kingdom. He was omnipotent and as long as he believed himself to be the Divine Ruler, he was manageable. But she was never his lover again and she could tell it made him angry. Reese made him angry as well, but he needed her medical skills in his camp.

She came from such an ordinary, white-bread background she still couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to be duped into that lifestyle. But they all had. Jacob liked ’em young—early twenties at the most.

She thought Spencer was all the things Jacob was not. She imagined him as generous, guileless, honest and innocent; she knew he was a single father, a widower, a dedicated teacher. She’d been successfully ignoring the fact that he was also hot—built, sexy, sweet. Those deep brown eyes with the golden flecks under sometimes brooding brows—those eyes were deadly. There were plenty of hot men around, but they were all locked into very serious relationships, so they were easy to ignore. A little eye candy, that’s all, because all Devon wanted was a way to sort out her life and be free of the kind of entanglements that could mean trouble.

Except Spencer, who was single, as new to Thunder Point as she was, was so kind. She’d always been a sucker for this quality in a man.

She was going to have to ignore Spencer. She had a feeling he could complicate her life.

She should go inside, she told herself. The duplex was dark and although the summer night was mild, it looked cold to her. On instinct, she drove away from her home and across the small town to Scott’s house. She parked, knocked softly on the door and waited until he answered. He was changed into plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. He was holding an open book and the house was dim and quiet.

“Devon! Everything all right?”

“Fine. Fine.”

“I was wondering how... How’s Mercy doing with spending the night?”

“Gabriella said the kids were very good. They stayed up a little later than usual to watch a movie and were in bed around nine-thirty. They’re curled up like a bunch of puppies, sound asleep. Gabriella and Charlie went out for a while. Want to check on the kids?”

“Maybe if I could just kiss her good-night...”

He chuckled. “Just down the hall.”

She walked toward the bedroom—it was Jenny’s room, where the girls napped together. But there were only the two of them there and she circled back to Scott, a little panicked. “Scott, Will isn’t there!”

“He’s not?” Scott joined her in the hall, then looked in his own bedroom. He laughed. “He’s already migrated to my room. Happens all the time.”

“Um, this is the first night since Mercy was born that I haven’t slept beside her.”

She could see he was shocked silent for a moment. Then his voice came gently. “Would you like to take her home, Devon?”

“She’d be so disappointed,” she said. “She’s been so excited. I’ll just kiss her good-night. We both have to grow up sometime....”

“Lay down beside her for a while, if that helps.”

“But you’re going to bed...”

“Not for an hour or so. It’s okay. I’ll be out here, reading for a while.”

“Thanks.” And she went into the bedroom. The little girls were curled around each other, like sisters. She moved them over just enough to lay on the edge of the bed, an arm draping over them, pulling Mercy close, smelling her sweet little-girl smell.

Why couldn’t she be tempted by Scott? Maybe because it was obvious he wasn’t tempted by her? But Devon didn’t want a man at all! Since birth, they’d let her down, every one. After all, her mother had been alone, reaching out to a neighbor to step in when Devon was orphaned. The last man to be kind to her had betrayed her. Men had never proved to be a good idea for her....

Yet she was interested in this one, this Spencer, who was clumsy in his impetuousness, yet he made her feel all soft and gooey inside.

She closed her eyes for a moment. All she really needed in life was to be with Mercy, to be able to take care of her, make sure she was safe, strong and smart. She could do that, given the right circumstances.

And then those deep brown eyes under expressive brows came to mind again and she allowed herself the luxury of remembering their time together that night. Dancing with him and being held close in his arms felt so good. For just a little while, she indulged in that fantasy again—that there was someone for her, someone real and normal and true.

* * *

Scott finished the chapter he’d been reading, closed the book and finally decided enough time had passed to go into the girls’ bedroom to check not on them, but on Devon. He found what he expected—she was sound asleep, curled around them. He laughed softly to himself. Her sundress was riding up a little, laying bare her strong, shapely legs. Her arm was holding both girls protectively against her.

He grabbed a throw from the living room sofa and covered her, tucking it in around her and she didn’t even stir.

This is what he wanted, what he’d been looking for—a pretty young woman with a sharp mind who was completely devoted to the children. Someone dependable and smart; someone fun and energetic. He was ready; he’d been ready for a while. He’d been grieving his wife for almost four years, wondering if he’d ever have another. But he was starting to believe he was ready for someone
like
her. And he’d been looking, trying to find a woman who could slide into the place Serena left.

He found himself wondering—
Does Devon make chocolate chip pancakes? Does she knit or make soup or bread? Did she like being pregnant?
The joke on him was that his wife had
loved
being pregnant, yet died of an aneurism postpartum. He’d been in love with his darling Serena since high school; they’d waited a long time to start their family, given the complications of med school and residency. Was Devon the kind of woman who could endure the demands of a doctor’s life?

He decided he’d find out. Dinner—they could have dinner together. Let things evolve as they naturally should.

* * *

Reese Brolin was prepared to leave The Fellowship with her seven-year-old son, Mark, but in the end she couldn’t leave without Mariah, the pregnant twenty-year-old who felt as much like a daughter to her as a sister. Reese was the one who got them all through labor and delivery and she wasn’t sure what would happen to Mariah if she was left to the other well-meaning but untrained women. None of them were nurses or doulas.

Sister Laine had offered her this chance. She told her about the secret opening in the fence, the backpack with a change of clothes, the bottled water and apples.

“Did you also help Devon to leave?” Reese asked.

“No,” Laine said. “I had planned to follow her, but things didn’t work out for me. You should take this chance while you have it. I know you want to go.”

“What makes you say that? I have a pregnant girl to deliver. I can’t go!”

“You should go, Reese. Take Mark out of here before something happens. I think Jacob is breaking down. It’s time to get the children out. Trust me.”

“How do you know this?”

“We all know. He’s not the same as he was when I first got here. The level of anxiety around here is growing by the hour. Something’s going on. I think there might be trouble coming and you know Jacob will fight back. He’ll never give up this acreage, his herb farm. You have a chance. You’re strong enough and can keep Mark safe. Go south.”

And it was then that Reese knew. “You’re not who you pretend to be,” she said to Laine.

“Don’t worry about who you think I am, just take this one chance. And, please, don’t talk to anyone about this or it will be very bad for me. Deadly bad. Do you understand, Reese?”

Reese said she did. She had suspected that Laine wasn’t one of them. She could sense she was trying to fit in but there was something just a little off. Reese knew because The Fellowship wasn’t her first experience in a commune or religious sect. She had been born in Africa to white missionary parents—this was hardly her first tribe.

Laine was a spy and Reese knew it.

In the end, she whispered to Mariah late at night when everyone had gone to bed, “Shh, come with me. I’ll explain...”

Mark didn’t utter a word, because Reese had told him to be completely silent. She had told him this was important and he mustn’t make a sound. She carried what supplies she could and guided her son and her friend to the secret opening in the fence.

“What are we doing?” Mariah whispered as they climbed through the fence.

“Shh,” she said. “I’ll tell you in a second. Put these things on. Come with me.”

They walked out to the road, difficult for Mariah—the baby was a month away and she was big and ungainly, and the brush was thick.

As a child, Reese had been in the thick of African tribal uprisings. Her family had escaped death, and she had seen too much unrest and was no stranger to it. Her instincts were very good; a tribal leader in the Sudan once told her she had the intuition of a hawk and would always know what to do. So, when she saw the road curve where Laine had promised a truck would be waiting, she grabbed young Mariah’s upper arms and said, “Jacob is in trouble. There’s no doubt the police are coming and he’ll fight to keep his possessions. People will be hurt, they will be taken away. If you come with me now, we might escape. If you don’t, your baby will be born in jail. I can almost guarantee that.”

“No!” Mariah said in a sudden panic.

“Mama?” Mark was suddenly frightened.

Reese crouched down to Mark’s level, peering into his eyes. “We have to leave, Mark. We have to leave now or face danger. You have to do as I say.”

Then she rose to Mariah. “You can refuse to come with me, but if you do, we are all in danger. You most of all, I think. See that truck? I was told it would be waiting for us. Let him take us to a safe place before it’s too late.”

“And you’ll stay with me?”

Reese brushed her hair back a little. “I’ll never leave you, I promise. Never.” Reese took Mark’s hand, then Mariah’s. “Say nothing and trust me,” she said, leading them down the road where a dark truck waited.

Reese opened the door and looked inside. The man wore a ball cap, but the hair on his head was short. There was a rifle in his gun rack. He turned his head to look at her and then immediately he started the engine. “Hurry up,” he said.

She lifted Mariah into the truck first then Mark, then she squeezed in.

The man pulled away, using only fog lights until he’d gone quite a distance. When he turned on the headlights, she said, “Take us to the police.”

“Police it is,” he said.

* * *

It was barely dawn when Laine was putting plates and flatware around the long table—enough for fourteen people, and a high chair for a two-year-old. They were six women and four men, including Jacob who sat at the head, and five children including little Liam. The women were busy preparing the meal and rounding up the children. Lorna was making toast and bacon, Pilly was scrambling eggs and Charlotte was spooning oatmeal into bowls for the children. And then Jacob arrived.

“There’s a hole in the fence!” he boomed. “Who knows about this?”

The women all looked fearfully at each other. Laine knew, without a doubt, she would be the most suspect, given the fact that she was the newest to this clan.

“Who’s missing?” he thundered. He looked around the kitchen. “Where are Reese and Mariah?”

The women exchanged even more troubled glances. Finally it was Lorna who said, “Gathering eggs, I think. That’s where they should be.”