The Temptation of Savannah O'Neill (14 page)

“Okay, okay, hold on.”

“You made her cry!” She swatted at his arms and legs and he attempted to step back but he landed in the trench and fell back, hauling Katie in with him. They both scrambled in the dirt and some of the steam leaked out of Katie.

He rolled onto his back, looked up at white clouds stretched thin across a blue sky.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, turning his head to look at the girl. “I never meant to hurt her.” He ducked his head to better see her face. “Or you.”

She sniffed and brushed her nose with her forearm.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Tonight I’ll show you how I beat you at poker.”

She sniffed again and looked at him, her eyes so like her mother’s, damning. “No,” she said. She stood, pinning him to the ground with a whole bunch of eight-year-old anger. “If you don’t want to hurt us, then leave. Right now. It’ll only be worse if you stay.”

She left, running past the cypress into the shadows at the back of the courtyard.

Guilt and loss, terrible things he’d done to people because he was blind, obsessed, these things were built like a brick wall around him. The whole world on the other side. For six months he’d been building this wall, craving this solitude.

He stood and brushed off his pants, glancing toward the house in time to see through one of the windows Savannah hurl herself into a man’s arms.

Something dark and gritty rolled through him.

But then the man turned and he recognized Carter O’Neill from the surveillance photos.

But the gritty bit—like dirt and stones rattling through his guts and blood—stayed, reminding him that he had pushed away and hurt everyone who would welcome him like that.

Especially Savannah, and he felt the loss like a punch in the stomach.

“I
GOT YOUR E-MAIL
,”
Carter said, keeping his arm tucked tight around Savannah as they walked through the halls. Savannah didn’t let go of Carter. Wouldn’t for the world. He was here. Her brother was back.

“Before you get upset,” Savannah said, pulling him into the kitchen because she was starving. “Margot is not quite as sick as I might have made out in my e-mail.”

“Really?” Carter asked, grinning as he leaned against the counter.

“She’s healthy as a damn horse. And Katie is not threatening to run away to see you.”

“Somehow I figured. Where is Margot?”

“Church.”

“Church?” Carter asked, astonished. Understandable, since Margot had never been one for religion. She’d always said that she sizzled when the priests splashed the holy water.

“Her latest is apparently a believer.”

“This is the guy who took her on that cruise?”

“The same. She spends every Sunday with him and about once a month she’s gone for a few days. They travel.”

“A multimillionaire believer with a mistress?”

“Companion,” Savannah corrected, using Margot’s steel-and-petal tone. “Mistress is so gauche.”

Carter laughed. “Only in Bonne Terre.”

“Please,” Savannah scoffed. “Like you don’t have worse in the big city.”

“You heard from Tyler?” he asked, changing the subject.

She smiled, nodded. “He sent a huge bouquet of flowers when he won that poker thing.”

“I got a box of cigars,” Carter said.

“Well, that’s good.”

“Sure, you know Tyler. Money, women, good times. That’s all that matters.”

“If you talk to him like that, no wonder he doesn’t come visit.”

“Tyler doesn’t come visit because he’s too busy being the big man, Savannah.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and she was reminded of how much he used to worry about his siblings when they were still with their mother. The way he cared. “Tyler’s not the boy we knew. Not anymore.”

Savannah wanted to press for more details, but she let it go. She only had Carter for a little while, and she didn’t want to spend that time fighting.

“Things seem to be going well for you,” Savannah said, watching him out of the corner of her eye as she grabbed an apple from the fridge. “Mayor Pro Temp.”

Carter nodded. “Thank you. I wish you’d come to visit. There’s—”

“You hungry?” Savannah asked, pulling out some turkey and another apple and cheese, anything not to look at him.

“You planning on spending every minute of your life here?”

Maybe.
“Of course not.”

“Then come visit.”

“When?” she asked, thunking the food down on the counter. “Katie’s in school and Margot—”

“Is an adult. She just went to China or someplace. She doesn’t expect you to grow old with her.”

Savannah started to assemble sandwiches as if on a stopwatch.

“Savannah.” He touched her hand, pulled the knife from her fingers and forced her to look at him. “She’s not coming back. Mom—”

“I know that,” Savannah snapped, pulling her hands free.

“Then why are you waiting around like she is?”

“I stopped waiting for Mom ten years ago. This is my life, Carter. My home. It’s yours, too.”

“No, Savannah, it’s not. It never was. It’s where I was left.”

Savannah sucked in a terrible breath, her vision swimming with sudden anger. A lifetime of it. “You think
you’ve
been left? Every single—” She stopped and went back to sandwich building.

“Savannah?”

“Forget it,” she said and shook her head. She was not going to talk about this. Not going to enumerate every time that front door had shut behind someone she loved. Her mother, her brothers. Eric. And Matt, when he got around to going. Just thinking about it made her whole body hurt.

“The world is not going to hurt you, Savvy.”

Savannah laughed, bitter sadness making her feel twice her age. “There’s plenty going on here that could hurt me,” she said and Matt’s face was forefront in her mind. The sweat and the smiles, the way he made her feel, as though she’d been dipped in something sweet. That would all turn to pain when he left.

“What’s this about break-ins?” Carter asked.

She told him the story, leaving out the part about Matt
on the summer porch. Her brother was sort of an old-world Southern gentleman, charming at a distance, but a hassle under the same roof.

“And the police think it’s teenagers?” he asked, pulling his red silk tie free from his collar.

Savannah nodded.

“Is that what you think?” Carter asked.

“Yes…” She sighed. “Maybe. There’s also this situation with some stolen gems. I don’t think it’s—”

“How do you know about that?” Carter asked, his focus sharp as a knife. “How do
you
know about that?” she countered, stunned that Carter, who seemed so distanced from the family, would be aware of the gems.

“I know it was something Mom was messed up in a while back,” Carter answered.

“Did she steal them from the original thief?”

“Maybe.” Carter shrugged. “Who knows.”

“Well, shouldn’t we find out?”

“Why?” Carter asked, incredulous. He grabbed a jamjar glass from the cupboard and filled it with sweet tea from the pitcher at Savannah’s elbow. “It’s got nothing to do with us.”

“What if someone is breaking into this house thinking we have the gems? And—” she put her hands on her hips, feeling suddenly as though he was treating her like the kid she’d stopped being years ago “—how do you know about the gems?”

Carter watched her for a long time then put down the glass. “Okay. But don’t freak out.”

“Spill, Carter.”

“I was in touch with Mom ten years ago.”

It was awful, the shock like ice. The pain like razors.

“Since then, I’ve had a private investigator checking up
on her once a year. He did some digging in the past and came up with the Pacific Gems thing.”

“Why didn’t—” She swallowed.
Why didn’t she come back? Where is she? Why did she leave?
A thousand questions Savannah couldn’t ask. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

He blinked and looked away, hiding something. Carter had a secret. Another one. Another mile in the distance between her and her brothers. “Stop trying to protect me,” she cried. “I’m not a kid.”

“Our mother is not a nice woman,” Carter said, his face tight and hard.

“Carter, I know—”

“No, you don’t. You don’t remember the way she was. You don’t remember how she’d turn us on each other. How she forgot about us.”

“Okay, Carter,” Savannah whispered, stunned to see this sudden wrath. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed, his shoulders so wide, so strong sagged slightly. “No, I’m sorry. But whatever Mom is involved in, she won’t bring here. She knows better.”

“But someone has already thought we know about those gems, because of Mom’s role in all this.”

“Please, Savannah, don’t worry about it. She’s gone. She’s not coming back. Not now, not ever.”

The way he said it sent chills across Savannah’s skin, little prickles that made the hair lift off her arms. “Why do you sound so sure? She was in New Orleans, for crying out loud. She was just a few hours away!”

The back door opened and Matt, sweaty and dark with dirt, stepped in. Savannah’s belly twisted and her body burned at the sight of him. She went back to making sandwiches, praying Carter wouldn’t notice.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Matt said, lifting his thermos. “I just wanted—”

“Matt Woods?” Carter asked, pushing away from the counter. He glanced wide-eyed at Savannah. “Your handyman is Matt Woods?”

Savannah nodded and Carter turned back to Matt, his mouth open, a thousand questions poised.

“I’ll come back later,” Matt said and ducked out the door.

“What is the Savior of the Inner City doing in your back courtyard?”

Savannah sighed. “Okay. But don’t freak out.”

T
HE CLOUDS WERE PINK
in the west, dark in the east as Carter was leaving. Matt watched Savannah’s brother hug Katie hard, swinging her slightly so the girl shrieked with laughter.

Savannah watched, her heart—wounded and bleeding—in her eyes.

Matt stood under the willow in the front yard, wishing he could put his arm around Savannah. Stand at her side and shore her up.

Carter was a good guy, even if he had trouble taking no for an answer. He’d come barreling out to the courtyard with lots of talk about the inner city of Baton Rouge and how it needed someone like Matt. Someone with vision.

Carter had talked about the old buildings, historical details falling to ruin and waste. Matt had actually salivated, his imagination shooting sparks.

Sparks he ruthlessly smothered.

“I’m not in the business of saving cities anymore,” he’d said, keeping his head down, his hands busy.

“I understand. What happened in St. Louis must have been hard on you,” Carter had said, digging in his wallet for a card. “But, if you change your mind.”

They’d shaken hands, and before he’d returned to the
house Carter had apologized for his mother. “I’m sorry,” he’d said. “For whatever role my mother might have had in your father’s incarceration.”

“My father knew the risks when he took those gems,” Matt had said, slightly stunned that Carter felt the need to apologize for something so removed from him. “And really, outside of your mother, it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with you or your family.”

Carter had nodded then smiled, brilliant public figure once more. “I’ll be hoping to hear from you. At least let me give you a tour of the city at some point.”

“We’ll see,” Matt had said, when what he’d really wanted to say was
don’t hold your breath.

But now, Carter’s business card vibrated in Matt’s back pocket, making him wonder what he was going to do with himself once this courtyard was done. It would be soon—he’d finish planting the trees by tomorrow, the fountain would arrive on Wednesday, and he’d have to pick up some flowers and plants to fill in any leftover gaps.

Things were coming to an end here.

He couldn’t return to St. Louis, to Steel and Wood Architecture, he knew that. He’d tie up some loose ends, make sure his existing contracts were dealt with, but there were too many memories there, not enough of them good.

Frankly, he wasn’t sure he could ever design buildings again, and he didn’t know where that left him. What would he love as much as he’d loved his work?

A hot breeze toyed with the fine hairs around Savannah’s face as she leaned in to hug her brother.

“Christmas,” she said.

“I can’t promise,” her brother agreed. “But I’ll see what I can do about Tyler.”

Katie cheered and Matt watched, his chest burning.

Matt’s cell phone buzzed, startling him. He’d forgotten
he’d turned it on. Or even had it on him. Some kind of passive-aggressive flirtation with the life he’d left behind.

Nothing good would come of it, he was sure.

He opened it, braced for Erica, but got a surprise.

“You have a collect call from Martinsville Prison, do you accept the charges?”

Dad?
He hadn’t expected that. It wasn’t even Wednesday.

“I do,” he said and stepped deeper into the shadows.

“Matt?”

His father’s tone, all
bon amie
and good times, made him smile. Good old Dad. It was nice to have something in his life that never changed.

“Hey, Dad.”

“I tried you last Wednesday but—”

“I didn’t have my phone on,” he said. “I haven’t until recently.”

“Well, then, let me be the first to welcome you back to the living.”

Matt smiled and ran his hands through his hair.
I need a haircut,
he realized. No doubt one of the many millions of things he needed to do when he was done with the courtyard.

“What’s going on, Dad?”

“Well, I got an interesting visitor this morning.”

“Not the stripper, again, she—”

“Richard Bonavie. He’s back from the dead. Well, Los Angeles, actually, but I think that’s a different story.”

Matt sat down hard on the cement steps, feeling like his gut had turned to lead. The gems—he’d forgotten all about them. His whole reason for coming here, and they no longer mattered.

Not like Savannah.

He watched her, the sun in her hair, a smile on her face.

So much had changed, so much was different, and he didn’t care anymore, about the gems, the theft. A month ago, he’d been determined to get justice, but now this information left him cold. Sad, even. Sad that his father was who he was. The kind of man who’d been lured into a scheme that was way over his head then had gotten burned.

Matt heard the scratch and flicker of a lighter and his father took a deep breath and exhaled, smoke no doubt a cloud around his head. “You won’t believe what Richard—”

“Dad.” Matt sighed. His father was excited, juiced up about whatever this news was, and Matt wished there was a way to tell him he wasn’t interested without hurting Joel’s feelings. “I don’t want to know.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to know. I can’t fix this for you, Dad. I can’t…I’m sorry.”

“Son.” His father’s voice was warm and Matt put his hand against the tree, wishing there weren’t miles and steel bars between them. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yeah, but I got your hopes up—”

“My hopes?” Dad laughed. “I’m out in six months for a crime I committed. Finding out where Vanessa and Richard are or what they did that night wouldn’t change that.”

“Then why…?” Matt trailed off, a big chasm closing in his head, his chest. He knew why his father sent him here—the answer was in his past. “Remember when I was a kid and you’d take me to those casinos?”

“I’ve already apologized for that, Matt. I can’t change the mistakes I made.”

“I know, but remember that game, the man with the scar and the patch and the hat?”

There was a long pause and finally his dad said, “Yes, I remember.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because you were scared. Because you were bored. Because you’ve got a real big brain, son, and without something to occupy it, you’d go crazy.”