Page 54 of Point of Mercy

Heather followed Nadine into the kitchen, where a bucket, mop and basket of cleaning supplies had been set. She envied Nadine’s familiarity with the house, with the routine, with Turner, and yet she knew that she had no one to blame for the distance between herself and the father of her child but herself. She could have told him the truth anytime in the past few years, but she hadn’t.Coward! Now, look at the mess you’re in!

“I met your sister when she was back in Gold Creek,” Nadine said, opening the refrigerator and searching at the meager contents. “How about that? He knew you were coming. Pepsi all right?”

“Fine. You know Rachelle?”

“Mmm.” Nadine popped the tabs on two cans of soda and handed one to Heather. “I have a lot of respect for her. Stood up for what she believed in and came back to prove it. I was there, you know, the night Roy was killed. God, it was awful.” She shook her head and sighed. “And now things are really jumbled up. Who would’ve believed that Jackson was Thomas Fitzpatrick’s son? Believe me, that little bit of news set the town on its ear. Those Gold Creek gossips couldn’t talk of much else for three or four weeks.” She managed an amused smile. “Not that Gold Creek didn’t need to be set on its ear,mind you. But for years the Fitzpatricks and the Monroes have owned and run everything in this town. Aside from your husband’s family—”

“My ex-husband,” Heather clarified.

“Well, aside from the Leonettis, the Fitzpatricks and Monroes own Gold Creek lock, stock, and barrel. I just find it hard to believe that old Thomas Fitzpatrick let Jackson, his own son, take the rap for Roy’s death.”

“I think Thomas believed it because of June,” Heather said, a little uncomfortable with the subject. Mention of the Fitzpatricks always made her skin crawl.

Nadine shrugged and took a long swallow of her drink. “Well, I’d better get to work so I’m not late for my own boys.” She reached for her mop and smiled wistfully. “I’ve always thought that Turner could be the best father in the county. He just didn’t know it. Now, maybe, he’ll really settle down.”

“Hey, Mom! Come on!” Adam yelled from the back porch. He was waving furiously. “We’re gonna go see the life stock.”

“Livestock,” Turner corrected, holding the door open for Heather. Adam was already leading the way, running through the dappled sunlight, dust kicking up behind his new shoes. Turner and Heather fell into step together.

“She’s in love with you, you know,” Heather finally said, worried that Nadine had a place in Turner’s heart and sensing that down-to-earth Nadine, the woman who spent a lot of her time here, would be a perfect mate for him.

“Who? Nadine?” He swatted at a wasp that flew near his head.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.”

Brackets tightened around the corners of his mouth. “She deserves better.”

“Maybe she doesn’t think so.”

Turner stopped and stared down at Heather. “Don’t be playing matchmaker,” he said, his voice steely with determination. “And don’t try to get me interested in another woman or her kids. It’s Adam I want.”

She felt her face drain of color. What did he think? “I was only saying—”

“I know what you were doing, damn it, and it won’t work. Now that I know about Adam, I’m not going to fill in with some substitute.”

“I didn’t…” But her words faded when he opened the barn door and the scents of dust and hay, horses and leather assailed her. She walked past the very stall where they’d made love and her throat caught at the vivid memory. Adam dashed deeper into the interior, sending dust motes into the air and mice scurrying. “I didn’t suggest that you should be a father to just any child,” she said indignantly. Several horses snorted, and Heather caught Turner staring at her, his eyes dark and serious.

“Good,” he drawled in a low, emotion-packed voice, “because Nadine Warne isn’t the woman for me.”

The walls of the barn seemed to close in on them. Heather’s breath was lost in her lungs at the words he hadn’t spoken, the insinuation that hung, like a thin diaphanous cloud, between them.

Heather fought the thrill of hope in her heart that she might just be that woman. Angry with that thought, she shoved it out of her mind. Would she be happy here, in a run-down ranch house,living less than five miles from Gold Creek, with a lifestyle made up of horses, leather, bacon grease and P.T.A. meetings? Where would she paint? She’d have to have a studio…. She glanced back, through the still-open barn door to the weathered sheds and barns and rambling ranch house. Where would the best natural light filter in? She’d need water and light and privacy and… She caught herself up short.

What was she thinking? That Turner would ask her to marry him? Gritting her teeth, she changed the course of her thoughts and watched Adam scamper along the stalls, petting one velvet-soft nose of a horse before hurrying on to the next. His cheeks were rosy, his eyes alight with anticipation. He looked happier and healthier than he had in weeks, and Heather’s heart twisted.

As she walked to the first stall, she noticed the horse within, a stocky sorrel mare, was saddled. The mare shook her head and the bridle jangled. “What’s going on?”

“Seems to me the last time you came here, you wanted to ride.”

She flushed at the memory.

“Least I could do is accommodate you.”

“Adam doesn’t know how to stay astride a horse,” she protested.

“He’ll be with me.” Turner didn’t wait for another argument. He opened the stall gate, grabbed the reins of the mare’s bridle and stuffed them into a surprised Heather’s fingers. “This is Blitzen.” His lips twitched a bit. “I didn’t name her. She came that way.”

“But—”

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