The Minister's Maid (13 page)

"Ian."

He turned, not quite trusting his ears until he saw Betsy's weary face. Haggard and pale, she rose from the bench beside the door. He started to rush forward, but stopped just short of her position. Her expression was unreadable, and he simply held his arms out to either side and waited. He wouldn't blame her if she blamed him. He'd failed to protect the one thing that mattered to her.

He saw the hesitation in her eyes, the questions she needed answers to. He knew he couldn't answer the most important one. She moved closer, holding his gaze, searching his soul. Then she reached up and hooked her arms around his neck, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. Ian folded her into his arms, holding her tight as she finally let the dam burst.

Words came to his lips and died, none of them quite what he wanted to say or, he suspected, what she needed to hear. Empty platitudes is all they would be - just noise to fill up a silence better left alone. He held her while she cried, her tears soaking his neck as he blinked back the moisture in his own eyes. When she quieted, he slowly rubbed her back, rocking her side to side.

"Did you call Harley?" he asked finally, pulling back so he could see her face. Gently moving the hair out of her eyes, he traced the side of her face with his fingers. Something stirred deep inside him when she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

"They wouldn't let me - the lawyer he sent said my brother was with the feds or something like that...and when they let me go, my battery was dead." She sniffled, pulling out of his embrace. "I don't know what to do anymore, Ian. How do I tell him about all of this? I never told anyone about Ainsley - not even him. And now she's dead, and it's all my fault..."

She turned away, covering her face with her hands as her shoulders shook with the burden. Ian reached for her, but she pulled away, stumbling forward to lean against a pole. He followed and grasped her arms, turning her into his chest.

"Shh. It's gonna be alright, I promise." He held her again, tears streaking down his own face as her pain became his. "We'll figure it out, and I'll be here, whatever you need."

He wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, but he knew she wouldn't listen. The best he could do was get her someplace safe where they could rest. Looking out across the lot, he saw a blinking neon hotel sign just across the main road. Rest, a shower and a phone might help put things into perspective.

"Put your arms around my neck, sweetheart," he whispered, guiding her wrists up until he felt her grip just under his hair. Leaning down, he picked her up and snuggled her against his chest as he started walking.

* * *

Betsy tucked her face into Ian's neck as he carried her across the parking lot. It didn't matter where he was taking her. He'd always cared for her, even when they were young, and she knew whatever he had in mind would be exactly what she needed. He had a knack for knowing what to do, and she envied him that. If only she could be that decisive, that confident in her decisions. Maybe life would have turned out differently if she could be more like him.

Maybe Ainsley would still be alive.

She closed her eyes for what felt like a moment until he lowered her into a chair. She blinked her eyes open, noting the unfamiliar surroundings before looking up at him.

"I'm going to get us a room," he said with a tired smile. "I'll be right back. Just rest."

Nodding her head, she lay back and let her mind drift as she waited. Over and over the scene played in her head - mouthing the words to Ian, the words that made her responsible for her daughter's death. How could he still even look at her after what she'd done? Why was he being so nice? She didn't deserve nice. She didn't deserve his pity or sympathy or...or him.

She'd never deserved him.

The realization struck at her core and suddenly everything fell into place. She'd been so blinded by her hero-worship of him that she'd failed to see it at first, but she saw it now. All those times he'd gotten her out of trouble, made sure she got home okay and listened to her wail about this boy or that...it had all been because he felt sorry for her, not because he actually had feelings for her. That's why he'd always pushed her away. She'd been so stupid not to see it before.

He said he loved her, but had she finally just worn him down? Did he really care for her, or did he just feel responsible for her happiness?

Wiping the tears from her face, she got up and walked to the door, peering out at him standing at the desk. He'd been so good to her and her heart broke at the thought of having to leave, but it would be better this way. For him, at least - and hopefully for her too. Maybe they could both finally find the closure they were looking for.

Moving quietly, she slipped out the side door and away from the building, energy and angst fueling her flight. Running as fast as she could, she reached the next side street and hid behind a house when he ran out of the hotel calling her name. When he finally gave up and went back inside, she jogged in the opposite direction. She'd find a phone, call a cab, and go back to the ranch long enough to get her things and say goodbye to Harley. It was time to make some changes. Time to take care of herself for a change, instead of expecting others to do it for her.

* * *

By the time Betsy walked through the main gate of Fantasy Ranch, she just wanted to crawl into bed and never come out. Her heart hurt, but at the same time it felt empty, her spirit broken.

As she trudged down the dirt roads toward the mansion, she wondered at the quiet. The sun was coming up, and normally the staff would be bustling around from building to building, preparing for the day. It was like a ghost town, but she didn't have the strength to care aside from the passing observation.

Entering the mansion through the back door, she walked through the eerily silent kitchens, her footsteps echoing as she moved down the hall to the grand staircase and called the hidden elevator.

Tired. So tired
.

Below, the silence continued. She went to her suite and unlocked the door, locking it behind her and dropping the keys on the side table. Once in the bedroom, she looked at her bed, then at her closet. She should pack. Ian would be looking for her, and he'd come here first. She needed to be gone before he found her.

Indulging in a wide yawn, she went to the closet and pulled out a suitcase, laying it open on the end of her bed. Not bothering to look at what she was grabbing, she tossed random items of clothing into the case until it was full. Then she went to the dresser for underwear and socks, stuffing them into the empty corners and front pockets. Hurt and anger and loss all forced their way to the surface as she worked, much to her dismay. The more she felt, the angrier she got, until she was just randomly throwing things across the room.

She didn't even realize she was crying until the drops fell on her arm, and she looked down in surprise.

Collapsing face down across the bed, she grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it, trying to stifle the tears, and with them the hurt. Images of Ian from years ago, of Ainsley, even Derek in happier times flitted through her mind, and she longed to rewind her life, to undo all the pain of the past few days.

But it wasn't possible.

Exhausted and hopeless, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 14

"Betsy! Are you in there?"

The words barely penetrated the fog in her brain, and she struggled to decide whether she was dreaming or not. Again, someone called out her name, the shout accompanied by a low thumping that seemed to reverberate through her skull. She burrowed further into the pillow, then moved it to cover her head. The world could go away - she wasn't ready to face it again yet.

A loud crash sent a jolt of adrenaline through her body, and she groaned, pushing up off the bed as footsteps thundered toward her room. For a moment, she shrank up against the wall, cringing at the thought of Derek coming to beat her.

The door to her room burst open, and Harley stood there staring at her, his chest heaving at the effort.

Derek is dead
, she remembered as she watched her brother walk across the room. He sat on the bed beside her, concern in his normally hard eyes.

"Ian called and wanted to know if you were here. He said you left him at some hotel..." he paused, his brows drawn together. "He said Derek is dead, sis - is that true? And some little girl he said you'd have to tell me about. What's going on, Betsy?"

She shook her head, looking away. "It doesn't matter now, Harley. None of it matters." She scooted past him and got off the bed, rubbing her face with her hands. "I need to leave," she said, going to her suitcase and checking the closures. "I appreciate everything you've done, and I love the ranch, but I need to take care of myself for awhile." She looked into his eyes, holding a hand up when he started to argue. "Do you realize I've never done that? There's always been you, or Derek, and then Ian...I've never actually been on my own before, and I think it's time I found out what that's like."

"Is that really the reason you're leaving?" Harley went to the door, leaning against the frame and effectively blocking her path. "Or is it because you're scared to face everything that's happened in the past few days? And what might happen between you and Ian if you stay."

Betsy shrugged. "That's part of what I need to figure out. But every time I look at him, I think about my daughter, and those last few shots - how I told him to do it." She looked at her brother, smiling sadly at his quizzical expression. "I never told you I had a daughter. I'm sorry." She sat down on the bed, looking at her hands in her lap. "Her name was Ainsley. I got pregnant right before Derek got sent to jail. He kidnapped her to get to me, and she was upstairs when Ian shot Derek. Derek's gun was pointed up..." She shook her head, knowing it all sounded like a big accident, but it felt like something much more sinister.

"She's dead, Harley. I never even got to know her much, just watched from outside the yard. Maybe if I hadn't given her up, or if I hadn't lived so close to her, she'd still be safe. Alive."

A warm hand slid over her shoulder, pulling her close and she leaned into him, accepting the comfort. It hurt that she had to leave him - leave everyone behind, but she needed time to think.

Time to heal.

Harley took something out of his pocket, then knelt down in front of her.

"I understand that you need some time alone," he said, placing a key in her hand, and then grasping her fingers in his. "But you have to understand, I can't just let you go anywhere. I need to know where you are, and that you're safe. Especially after today."

Betsy looked down at the dull metal object. It was more of a skeleton key than a modern one, though there was a distinct pattern cut into one edge.

"What's this go to? I thought we had all the locks updated two years ago."

He smiled. "Remember that little cabin we thought would make a good homestead-style overnight rental at the back of the property? There's not much out there, but it's private, and you'd still be close but you could have all the time you need to think through whatever it is you need to think through."

She thought about it for a moment. "Does Ian know it's there?"

"I do. But I'll leave you alone, if that's what you want."

At the low voice behind him, Harley stepped aside. "I was wondering when you were gonna show up," he said, shaking hands with the minister. Ian looked tired, Betsy noted. Part of her wanted to run to him, to apologize and melt into his arms. He'd tell her it would all be okay, and she'd believe him, because she wanted to.

But it wasn't. It might not ever be. And that's why she needed some space.

She stood up and pulled her suitcase off the bed, slinging her purse over one shoulder. "I'll go out to the cabin, but you both have to promise not to come out there. Not for anything, do you understand? You have to leave me alone, or I'll leave the ranch."

There was a moment of hesitation, a look exchanged between the two men before both finally nodded.

"Agreed," Harley said. "Just...try not to stay away too long, okay?"

She gave him a terse nod, then eased past the them, fighting the urge to look back as she left the suite.

* * *

Ian watched Betsy walk out the door, his heart following her even as he forced his body to remain in place. She was running scared, which wasn't surprising, given her history. What he couldn't figure out was if it was the past or the future that scared her the most.

"You should get some sleep," Harley said, drawing Ian's attention back. "You look like death warmed over. And you know how she gets when she makes up her mind to do something. Nothing you can do now but wait." He clamped a hand on Ian's shoulder, strong and supportive.

Ian nodded. "I know. If she'd just talk to me--"

"She knows that." Harley stepped around to meet Ian's gaze with a hard stare. "Do you love her? I mean, after all this time, everything she's put you through - do you really love her?"

"I do." Ian lowered his head, fighting the discomfort of being so exposed in front of Betsy's brother.

His best friend.

"Well then, you're just going to have to convince her to trust you. But you're both tired, and I guarantee she's not going to talk to you or anyone else until you both get some sleep. So go on, get out of here. You'll know what to do when you wake up."

Ian held out his hand. "Thanks Harley. You know I appreciate it." Taking his hand, Harley pressed something small and cold against Ian's palm before he let go.

"I know," Harley smiled. "I've been rooting for you since day one, way back when we were kids. Don't blow it this time, okay?"

"I'll do my best." Ian chuckled, following Harley into the hall. The key Harley had given him was identical to the one he'd given Betsy, and while he knew he needed to bide his time, Ian was grateful for the gesture.