Seven Reasons Why Page 11

  Shifting his briefcase to his other hand, Zack muttered, “I see.”

  “I hope so. She’s not as bad as you think, you know. It’s mostly just for show.”

  “Don’t push your luck,” he told her with a rueful grin.

  Betsy May shook her head. “Oh, I know the shell is hard as nails. She’s always felt a certain sense of family responsibility, especially since Grandfather died. In a lot of ways, she’s just a lonely old woman.”

  “She brings it on herself.”

  “A lot of it, she does. But she needs me.” She glanced at the door of the study. “So I stay.”

  “You’re a good person, Betsy May.”

  “Oh, I’m not all that good,” she said with a slight, tinkling laugh. “I just pretend real well. Besides, there are certain advantages to living here. I get to know all the scandals in Keegan’s Bend long before they happen. Odelia knows everything, and I overhear most of it.”

  He gave her a thoughtful look. “I don’t suppose you know, then, who the visitor is that your aunt is expecting this afternoon?”

  “I just know her lawyer is coming with some man they’ve been looking for. I don’t know what it’s about, though. Do you think this has something to do with August?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “I don’t want you to do anything you feel uncomfortable with.”

  “I said I cared about my aunt, I didn’t say I thought she was perfect. I don’t know why she resents August so much, but it’s not fair. If Aunt Enid left her that house, she did it for a reason.”

  Chapter Seven

  When Zack found August a few hours later, he was still pondering his conversation with Betsy May. He’d have given his eye teeth to know who Odelia was expecting that afternoon. Betsy May had only puzzled him further. Another phone call to Jansen had yielded little, and even Fulton Cleese, Zack’s college friend who served as a judge in the Virginia Superior Court, was at a loss to explain Odelia’s inexplicable dislike of him. Fulton was notoriously well-informed about Virginia politics, but Odelia eluded him. Frustrated, Zack had decided to question August about Enid’s house. There had to be something, anything, that would indicate why Enid had named her in the will. At this point, he’d even listen to ghosts.

  At August’s house, he’d found the typical chaos. Emma had been alone with the boys. She’d told him that August had left, distressed by a phone call she received shortly after they returned from church. Odelia’s attorney had phoned to tell her he’d arranged a court hearing in Hampton Roads to challenge August’s right to keep the boys.

  Emma had pointed him in the direction of the stable, where he found August treating a. large chestnut mare. Zack deduced from eavesdropping on August’s conversation with the mare, that the horse, named Scarlet, had a fairly severe case of actinomycosis. All he knew about actinomycosis was that it required August to stick a syringe in Scarlet’s mouth to withdraw a nasty-looking yellow fluid. Just as revolting, he thought, as usual. Scarlet didn’t seem to like it, either.

  Zack laid the sheaf of papers on one of the tack benches, then eased up behind August All it had taken was one good look at her to bring the memories of the previous day flooding back. His frustration with Odelia was instantly forgotten as he studied August’s back. Her green T-shirt disappeared into the narrow waistband of khaki shorts, and the sight of shapely legs tapering to narrow ankles had his pulse accelerating. He couldn’t resist the urge to touch her. When he wrapped his arms around her from behind, she jumped six inches. “Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said against her neck. “I thought you heard me come in.”

  August squirmed. “I was talking to myself.”

  “I heard.” He turned her gently away from the mare. “Feeling agitated?” He bent his head to kiss her.

  “Zack, not here,” she gasped.

  He ignored her protest. “Want to tell me about it?” He nuzzled the corner of her mouth.

  “Someone might come in.”

  The grooming brushes she held in each hand limited her mobility. Zack took advantage by pressing her lower body more closely to his. “Feel any sparks?” he asked.

  “Zack, really.”

  “I do,” he said, then slanted his lips over hers. He rocked his mouth back and forth until she moaned for him. With a satisfied grin, he nipped her lower lip. “Have I told you how much I like that noise?”

  Her head dropped back to give him access to her throat. “No,” she whispered.

  “No, I haven’t told you, or no, stop?”

  When her eyes fluttered open, he saw the momentary confusion in their depths. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

  Zack pried the grooming brushes from her hands. “I think we’d better continue this somewhere else. I wouldn’t want to shock Scarlet.”

  “I have to finish brushing her,” came the weak protest.

  “Later. We need to talk, and I think we’d better do it in private. Do you have a key to your office?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. That’ll do.” He took her hand and guided her quickly from the stable, pausing only to scoop up the sheaf of papers. In silence, they made their way across the busy street to the town hall, which housed August’s office. Zack hurried her up the single flight of stairs. The building was deserted. Their footsteps echoed eerily on the marble floors.

  Zack waited while August dug her keys from her pocket. When they slipped into the stuffy interior of her office, he shut the door with a satisfying click. A flick of his wrist sent the sheaf of papers sailing through the air to land on the padded sofa. With a hand on either side of her face, he pulled her against him once more. “Let’s try this again,” he said. “I already know about the phone call. I talked to Emma.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me with this?”

  “You weren’t home.”

  “So you went and hid in Pete Flannery’s stable.”

  “I wasn’t hiding.”

  He shook his head. “Yes, you were. You going to tell me about it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can I kiss you first?”

  “Zack—”

  “Don’t bother saying no.” He bent his head. “I’m going to do it anyway.” Before she could protest, Zack captured her mouth with his. He took his time with the kiss. Leisurely, he explored the soft contours of her mouth, rubbing his lips against hers in a gentle caress. Long seconds passed before he felt her hands creep up his chest to encircle his neck. When she twined her fingers in his hair, he felt the gentle friction in the soles of his feet. With one hand at her back, and the other cradling her head, he walked her slowly backward until her thighs bumped the side of her desk.

  Zack lifted her onto the desk with a slight growl, then pressed her legs apart so he could step between them. “Hold me, querida,” he urged. “Squeeze tight.”

  In reflex, her legs clamped around his hips. “Zack.”

  “Like that.” He took her mouth again, this time with an insistent, marauding pressure that had her clutching his upper arms for balance. His tongue swept between her lips. His hands skimmed her ribs, her breasts, through the soft fabric of her T-shirt. “Oh, yes. Just like that.”

  August sought solace in the obliterating pleasure of his kiss. The insistent fear that had torn at her since she spoke with Odelia’s lawyer slowly gave way to the molten sensations that spread through her body. Why did he have to look so damned appealing? In black jeans and a shortsleeved red shirt, he was six feet, four inches of male potency. When his hands pressed flat against her hips so that he could mold her to him in an intimate embrace, his hardness pressed into her softness. His heat matched hers. And her will to resist flew right out the window.

  When he finally wrenched his mouth from hers, her breath came in ragged little gasps. His callused fingers skimmed her face, pausing at her closed eyelids, rubbing her dampened lips. “Sparks, querida” he whispered. “Like an inferno.”


  August’s eyes drifted open. The intensity in his gaze seared her. A raw, driving want burned its way from his eyes into her soul. “How do you do this to me?” she whispered.

  “Do what?” His fingers caressed the arch of her nose.

  “Make me forget everything else. I lose myself when I’m with you.”

  His smile made her stomach flip over. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

  August stole several seconds to let her breathing return to normal. Her heart rate still threatened to gallop away. The feel of Zack’s corded strength beneath her fingers, between her thighs, had her insides quivering. “Are you always this insistent?”

  “Only with you,” he said. He took a slow step backward. Her legs, bare beneath the fabric of her shorts, trembled at the friction his jeans caused on the sensitive skin inside her thighs. The sudden loss of his heat seemed startling in the air-conditioned office. Unconsciously August swayed toward him. “Don’t tempt me,” he urged. “If I touch you again, we’ll end up on the couch.”

  Her eyes darted, against her will, to the blue sofa. Guilt stabbed her when she saw the heavy folder he’d carried into the office. “Are those for me to sign?”

  Zack glanced at the sheaf of papers. “Yes. I finished going over everything this morning.” He assisted her down from the desk. “I went to find you, and Emma said you were at the stable.”

  August struggled to regain her composure. If she could muster just a tenth of his unflappable calm, maybe she wouldn’t feel as if the world were getting ready to spin out of orbit. “She told you about Odelia’s lawyer?”

  “Yes.”

  The clock on her desk chimed a soft three o’clock. Reflexively, her gaze traveled to the window. As anticipated, she saw seven small heads bobbing along the crowded sidewalk. At five minutes to three each day, a wellmeaning Emma settled onto the sofa to watch cable reruns of “Lawrence Welk.” Two minutes later, she promptly fell asleep. The boys rarely failed to capitalize on the opportunity.

  August watched them from her office window almost every afternoon. Today was no different. They hurried along on their self-appointed mission, oblivious to her gaze. Josh pulled at Sam’s arm when Sam would have paused to pet Homer Peterson’s dog. Chip dragged the enormous red bear he’d won at the Fourth of July picnic along the sidewalk while he chatted, nonstop, to a worriedlooking Teddy. Lucas and Jeff led the pack. They paused at each street corner for signs of prying glances, then raced along toward Buddy Booth’s candy shop. Bo stopped once to right a garbage can they knocked over in their haste.

  August knew this particular routine of theirs by heart. They’d hurry into Buddy’s shop, pool their money for as much candy as they could afford, then race home in time to slip back into the house before Emma noted their absence. She’d watched them execute the raid at least a dozen times. Today, it held a certain poignancy for her. She was barely holding at bay a growing sense of dread that she was losing the war. In a tense voice, she asked Zack, “Should I be worried?”

  Zack’s hands settled gently on her shoulders. “Maybe. It depends on how much he knows about the mess Kaitlin created.”

  “Odelia’s got every judge in this county in her pocket.” Reluctantly, she turned from the window. “Just ask her.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that. I got a restraining order issued, didn’t I?” He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze, then released her to pick up the folder. He pulled the sheaf of papers from it and handed them to her.

  “I suppose.” With a feeling of dread, she began flipping through the documents. “Do I need to read these?”

  “You can if you want to. Essentially, they’re petition papers, verifications of employment, confidentiality agreements, and some housekeeping stuff Kaitlin should have prepared for your signature.”

  She picked up a pen. “Give it to me in a nutshell.”

  “Your signature says you promise not to physically, emotionally or mentally abuse your foster kids, to provide them with an education, and make sure they’re well cared for. I flagged everywhere you need to sign.”

  She flipped to the first orange flag. “Does it say anywhere in here that I’ll put my personal feelings aside and take Odelia’s financial offer to leave town?”

  “August.” He approached the desk with measured steps. “This is not your fault.”

  “You don’t think so?” She flipped to the next flagged page.

  “No. Sooner or later, this situation was going to explode. At least it happened now.”

  She raised haunted eyes to his. “You mean now, while I have you to bail me out?”

  “I mean now while you aren’t alone.”

  August’s eyes remained firmly fixed on the papers as she muttered, “You can’t possibly understand.”

  “You know,” he said, “I have had just about all I can stand of you telling me I don’t get this. Just because you’ve spent most of your life analyzing your own problems does not give you the right to analyze everyone else’s.”

  “Well, thank you, Sigmund Freud.”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “For your information, I know exactly what they’re going through.”

  “Don’t be trite,” she snapped. She hadn’t meant to sound so irritated, but his kiss had her seriously off kilter. “I don’t mean to be rude, but unless you’ve been there, you just can’t get it.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then, try this on for size.”

  At the anger in his voice, her head snapped up. He was restlessly pacing her office, and she sensed a deep turbulence in him that she hadn’t seen before. “Zack?”

  “When I was fourteen years old, my mother delivered my twin baby sisters. They made siblings number eleven and twelve.”

  “You have twelve brothers and sisters?”

  “I do.”

  She studied the square set of his jaw. Only the slight ripples beneath the skin indicated his tension. And that look. That same sad look she’d seen across the fence was back in the depth of his gaze. Picturing him amid a laughing, squirming heap of younger siblings, she wondered how that look had found its way into his expression. All her life, she’d figured you could never be sad if you had family. “Were you the oldest?” she asked, already knowing the answer. His air of authority was unmistakable.

  “Yes. There were four boys, then eight girls. I was the oldest. But eleven was the magic number for my father. We were living in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, where Pop had taken a job in one of the mills. After the twins were born, he went out for cigarettes one night, and never came back.”

  August felt a stabbing sense of loss on his behalf. Zack, then a young man, had been left to cope with the desertion of his father. Like most abandoned children, she’d found some strange solace in never having known the parents who’d left her. Zack hadn’t been afforded that small refuge. This was the side of him where that haunted look fed on his remembered pain in a fountain of bitterness. “My God, Zack.”

  “Here was my mother, the abandoned Spanish-speaking Catholic wife of an Italian-American husband, with thirteen kids, no job skills and no money, living in the Protestant-middle-class capital of the world. For the next four years, she slaved away at three jobs, trying to make ends meet. I was the oldest, with three brothers after me. We all got jobs after school. Everybody who was old enough to work, did. We lived in constant terror of being separated.”

  “Somebody should have hung your father,” she muttered. “Nobody should be allowed to do that to his family.”

  Zack didn’t seem to hear her. The memories appeared to be holding his attention captive. “When I turned eighteen, my mother got ill.”

  “Oh, Zack.”

  “Six months later, she died of pneumonia because we couldn’t afford the antibiotics.”

  “And you were left with twelve kids to raise?”

  “Something like that. My brothers were sixteen and seventeen at the time. They were old enough to help, and—” he shook his head s
lightly “—except Rafael, who was old enough and didn’t want to, they were good about it. Rafe and I argued a lot, until he finally left home a year later. The rest of us scraped by. I put myself through night school for college, and managed to get a scholarship at Columbia University Law School. So I moved us to New Jersey, where my sisters could go to school while I commuted into the city.”

  “Your brothers were in college by then?”

  “College or trade school. Rafael was putting himself through the University of South Carolina. He’s an ocean archaeologist now. Miguel’s in the navy. Sebastiano is a master carpenter.” Pride, and something else, something close to awe, rang in his voice when he talked about his brothers. Even the prodigal, Rafael, she realized, had earned Zack’s respect.

  “The girls?” she prompted.

  He glanced at her, as if suddenly remembering her presence. “Oh, the girls. The twins are in college. Lucita is at Syracuse, and Amanda is at Duke. The rest are out of school and working, or married, or both. I’ve got seventeen nieces and nephews, whom I adore, and six brother-in-laws who are terrified of me.”

  “Sounds like you did a wonderful job.”

  He shook his head. “We all did. Everybody worked hard to keep us together. I’ve washed enough diapers, made enough trips to the emergency room and held enough midnight vigils to last me a lifetime.” After a long pause, he braced both fists on the desk. He leaned so close to her, she could feel his breath on her face. “So don’t tell me that I don’t understand what your kids are going through. I spent the better part of the last twenty years lying in bed at night, scared stiff that my family was going to get ripped to shreds.”

  “I’m sorry, Zack.”

  “Don’t tell me I can’t understand the fear, or the uncertainty, or the pain. I may be a man—hell, I’m even a lawyer—but before you jump to any more of your conclusions, make sure you have your facts straight”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “You did.” He bit out the words. “Sometimes I think you’re so busy feeling sorry for yourself, you don’t take the time to notice what’s going on right under your own nose.”