The Outsider (30 page)

She would never know what those things were.

She smiled with a carefree wave. “All right. I’ll watch the clock.”

He took her bag and placed it in the boot. They were close enough for her to smell one of his good cigars on him. She’d grown fond of that scent and breathed it in as if to make it last. He put his hands on either side of her waist and she reached up for the seat. But instead of boosting her, Dodge held her a moment longer, his hands dangerously familiar in the way they fit her. When she glanced at him in question, she saw a glimmer of odd intensity in his eyes. Fearing that if he looked much longer she’d give herself away, she leaned forward to kiss his cheek, meaning the gesture to be a quick good-bye. She hadn’t counted on how hard it would be to pull away. Her lips grazed the rough burr of his skin. Her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape. Oh, how she wanted to cling forever to everything she had. But knowing she wouldn’t have him for much longer, even if she stayed, made it easier for her to let go.

“I left supper for you on the stove. Don’t work too hard.” She choked out the words. She had to turn away, stretching up for the seat. He lifted her and she quickly slid across the cushion, tucking her skirts around her. She found the reins and cracked them on the horse’s rump, startling it into a trot because she needed to get away before the tears burning behind her eyes began to fall.

She didn’t look back. She didn’t have to. The image was carved upon her heart.

Using her key, she unlocked the door to the bank. The room was dim, but she could still see well enough for all the memories to come crowding back. She meant to go straight to the vault, but she hesitated as her gaze touched upon the faintly pink floorboards she’d scrubbed with such vigor, the glass windmill that had been Jonah’s still sitting on the corner of her husband’s tidy desk. The bars of the teller’s cage made slanting shadows on the wall, crisscrossing her own as if she were in a prison of her own making. She closed her eyes as ghosts filled the room: Tyler, leaning on the counter to tease her with his grin, and then leading an endless parade of Pride citizens mouthing their gratitude to the one man in the county who could save them—the man she’d married.

With a fierce oath, she shook off those images and strode purposefully toward the vault. She knelt before it, calling the combination up with a remote clarity of mind. Tumblers clicked into place and the heavy door opened. Then she was scooping the contents into her bag, enough to see to her ticket and to a new start for herself and Christien. She didn’t look around but kept her focus ahead, on what she was doing and where she was going, not on what she was leaving behind.

She stood, aware of how much heavier her bag had became—not because of what it weighed, but because of what it carried.

It carried the hopes of the people of Pride. It carried the seed of her husband’s ambitions, just as she’d once carried the seed of his dreams.

No matter how many times she told herself that the money would be repaid, she couldn’t block off the picture of Dodge discovering it was gone. Nor could she shut out the thought of his humiliation as he tried to explain who had taken it. He didn’t deserve to be so horribly disillusioned.

She clutched the satchel to her hammering heart. There was no time to return the money, no time for last-minute pangs of conscience. She couldn’t go back.

But how could she go on?

The selfishness of a lifetime failed her.

How could she leave the man she loved to face the sins of what she was doing? Could it be worse than asking him to share the shame of what she’d done?

In minutes she could be miles away.

But could she outrun her sense of shame?

She reached for the heavy safe door, needing it to support her failing strength while she tried to shore up her flagging courage.

That was when she understood. What she was doing took no courage. She could hear Dodge’s voice claiming,
Running away never solves anything
. She was running because she lacked the courage to stay, the courage it would take to trust in her husband’s claim of love.

She had no time to cry out as her wrist was
gripped firmly, spinning her around. To face her fears in the form of an accusing Hamilton Dodge.

She gave a soft moan, her knees giving out, but his hold on her arm was too tight to allow her to fall all the way to the floor. The bag dropped from nerveless fingers, the impact sending up a fountain of greenbacks.

“The Glade is the other direction, Starla. Did you think Patrice was going to charge you for the meal?”

She hung from his imprisoning hand, cringing beneath the harshness of his tone.

“Tony, I can explain.”

He glanced down at the contents spilling out of her bag, the angles of his face grating together. “Put it back.”

Without a word, she bent, using her free hand to shovel the money back inside the safe, where it fluttered about until he slammed the door shut. Giving the dial a spin, he said, “Remind me to change the combination in the morning.”

All she could think to sputter was, “How did you know?”

“Patrice came to see me.”

“Patrice?”

“She told me she and Reeve were dining with the Bannings. A going-away party for Noble. Imagine my surprise when you said she’d asked you out to the Glade. In fact, imagine my surprise when you stopped off to pick up a little traveling money.”

He’d known. And he’d followed her.

“Wha-what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to listen to that explanation, then I’m going to buy you a ticket to wherever it is you were planning to go.”

Starla fought not to cower. She’d never before had reason to fear Dodge, but this cold-eyed man was a stranger to her. A stranger who’d been hurt and lied to beyond the limits of his endurance. She didn’t know what he was capable of. His hands were white-knuckled, as if he were trying to keep himself from striking her. He toed her nearly emptied bag.

“Pick that up. We’re going home.”

With that fierce claim, he hauled her out to the buggy. She scrambled up, not waiting for his aid as she fought to contain her weeping, certain it would earn her no sympathy.

Dodge angled the buggy up next to the modest house. Starla leapt down and dashed inside, seeking refuge in a huddle on the parlor sofa. She buried her face in a velvet pillow and sobbed until she heard her husband enter the house with a slam of the door. Then she sat up, dashing a rebellious hand across her eyes to greet him boldly. That bravery faltered in the face of his deadly calm as she waited for him to speak. She expected recriminations decrying how she’d betrayed his trust, but that wasn’t how he began as he stalked the room with a fierce tap of his cane tip.

“Are you in love with him?”

“With whom?” she squeaked in confusion.

“Banning. Who the hell else would I be asking about?”

“No.”

“No, you’re not in love with him, but you were sneaking off with him!” He raised his hand to brush it back through his bristled hair. She cringed at the movement, and that made him angrier. “Damn it, I’m not going to hit you.”

But the way he gripped the head of his cane gave her no tremendous confidence.

“I wasn’t running away with Noble.”

“Just thought he might like the company, is that it? If you were so damned sick of mine, why didn’t you just say so, instead of lying to me and robbing my bank?”

He began to pace again, not trusting himself to stand near her. How could he tell her how it made him feel, to learn of her unhappiness in such a brutal fashion? How could he explain how it hurt to have her lie to his face without a betraying blink? Or how it tore the soul from him to watch her use the trust he’d given her to cheat not only him, but the townspeople who’d placed their funds in his care? He couldn’t explain and he couldn’t begin to understand. And he couldn’t bear to look at her now to see the huge tears welling in her eyes, eyes that even in the face of her duplicity shone with such innocence.

“I would have had the money from the bank replaced out of my trust fund.” She sounded insulted by the suggestion that it was stealing.

“And that makes it all right, is that what you think?”

“No. Of course not.” Her gaze lowered to the hands twisted together in her lap. She looked like a repentant schoolgirl, guilty by deed rather than intention. Dodge knew that wasn’t true. He knew it, yet his mood still softened. But pain and pride kept his tone crisp and curt.

“Did I give you some reason to be afraid to come to me? If you needed money, I’d have given it to you. If you wanted to leave me … I’d have let you go.” Though he wouldn’t have wanted to. He saw her shoulders shake slightly. He sighed fiercely. “Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted out of our arrangement?”

Arrangement
That sounded so much more impersonal than marriage, implying no emotional involvement, no intimate commitment. If only he could have kept it that way, he wouldn’t be crawling over hot coals now. Could he blame her for not feeling the same way about him? Was that why he felt so angry, so betrayed? Because all the emotional ties were on his side alone?

She didn’t look up. Her voice was small, but still strong with conviction. “I thought it would be easier this way.”

“On whom?”

“Both of us. I thought this way it would be easier for you to get on with your life, to find someone else who could give you the children you wanted.”

“You thought—” He couldn’t continue. He turned away, but not before she saw the quicksilver brilliance in his eyes. “You thought I’d cast you off because you lost the baby? Why would you think that, Starla?”

“You said you wanted to marry me because of the baby, because you wanted a family. I couldn’t give you those things anymore, and I know you were too kind to tell me I was no longer of any use—”

“Starla, I told you I loved you. Didn’t that mean anything at all?” He looked back at her to find her gaze upon him, somber and sad.

“People say they love you all the time, then turn right around and leave you. My mother said she loved me, too. I didn’t think the one thing had anything to do with the other. Why else have you kept your distance from me all this time if not because you regretted our bargain?”

“Because I—because of that damned dress!”

“What dress?”

“The red one. The one you wore so Noble Banning couldn’t keep his eyes off you. How long did it take for him to charm you out of your garters while your brother and his friends were kicking my face in? Is that when you two decided to run off together?”

She sat staring up at him, her features perfectly immobile. Finally, she rose with an icy dignity, took one step toward him, and slapped him hard enough to shake his eyeballs.

“If you weren’t such a stupid man, you’d know I wore that dress for you, because—oh, what difference does it make? You saw what you wanted to see, what you expected to see.”

She whirled away, ready to flee the room, but Dodge caught her wrist, holding her in place.

“What else was I supposed to think? You were out all night and came home smelling like him—”

“So I must have slept with him, based on that evidence. Like the evidence I had with you and Irma Sue?”

“I never—”

“Neither did I!”

He took a ragged breath, struggling for control, for a calmer reasoning. “Damn it, Starla, if you’re lying to me—”

“Have you always been so honest with me? Were you forthcoming with the truth about your injury? Did you tell me your life—our lives—were in danger because of your work at the bank? How was I to know you didn’t blame me for the baby when you wouldn’t say anything to me at all? Tell me, how was I supposed to build a future on all that honesty?”

He couldn’t answer right away, because she was right in all she said. She was right to be angry with him. He’d told himself he was telling those lies to protect her, but they were lies nonetheless. He took another breath, this one shaky with dread.

“Do you still want a future with me?”

The shimmering in her eyes totally belied her whispered words. “Let me go, Tony.”

“No. Not unless you tell me you don’t want me.

Brightness continued to well, and with a blink, dissolved into a wash of tears. “I don’t—I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then why are you leaving me?”

“Because—because I love you too much to stay.”

He forced a jerky swallow, then another, grabbing for air as if every particle had been sucked from the room—then finally just grabbing for her. The reality of her hugging to him with an equal fervor sent all logic careening. “My God … I’ve been waiting forever to hear you say that!”

She was sobbing. “You have to let me go. You don’t understand what could happen.”

His grip on her tightened. “Then you’re going to tell me. Right now. You’re going to tell me everything.”

“I met him at a party at the manor when Patrice’s father was going off to war. His name was Stephen Fortun, and he was in Pride on business, buying horses from Squire Glendower. He was drunk and he proposed to me. I—I was having a bad time of it at home, so I said yes.”

They sat side by side on the parlor sofa, letting the natural darkness shade the room as Starla’s narrative shadowed the atmosphere.

“I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing or where I was going. I was afraid my father would try to come after me. We stopped in Chattanooga long enough to get married. He took me to his home in New Orleans, then went off to join the fighting. We—I have a son, Tony. He’s three years old. His name is Christien.”

Starla felt his surprise and the intensity of his gaze upon her, but she couldn’t look up at him, not until she’d told him everything: about Stephen’s return and his dependence upon opium, which turned him into a violent and irrational stranger. About his mother’s refusal to accept her only son’s weakness, and how her greed for the family’s money made her blame her son’s death upon his widow so she could have sole guardianship of Christien and the fortune he’d inherit. Of how she’d allowed herself to be intimidated by the Fortun money and power into leaving the house without her child. And she told him about Beau LeBlanc.