Приносящая детей матушка. Народное творчество
she didn’t quit. She pushed back.
It had become habit for Jerrod, after tucking his father into bed, to pour himself a glass of iced tea and sit out on the porch and relax as the night shadows cooled the day’s heat.
After he’d left the diner earlier in the day, he’d met with Shirley Swabb, a real-estate agent, and she’d taken him to see several houses that were for sale in town.
The trailer park was dying, was for all intents and purposes dead. There had once been no less than twenty trailers in the area, but now there were only twelve, and three of those were abandoned and now were just ugly tin skeletons awaiting an official burial.
However, it wasn’t the demise of the trailer park that encouraged Jerrod to look for a new home for his father and himself, rather it was the need to remove his father from the haunting memories of his wife.
Jerrod’s mother had lived in the trailer for eight years before she’d left to buy the proverbial “pack of smokes” and never returned. That had been nearly twenty-three years ago, and still, at least for Jerrod’s father, her spirit lived in every room.
Jerrod sipped his tea and tried to remember the woman who’d given birth to him. He had very few memories of her, and his strongest were of a woman who’d been miserably unhappy.
He thought of his father. How horrendous it must be to be tormented by thoughts of a lost love for twenty-three long years. And yet, hadn’t Jerrod himself been tormented by thoughts of Johnna for the past nine years?
He rejected this momentary illumination. Ridiculous, he scoffed. He’d gotten over Johnna Delaney long ago. The fact that he’d had no real relationship with a woman since her had nothing to do with anything other than he’d chosen a lifestyle and embraced a set of moral standards for himself that didn’t allow for passionate, uncommitted relationships.
Still, when he’d felt her hand, small and soft beneath his at lunch earlier in the day, he’d wondered if the magic that had once sparkled between them might still exist, or if it had been forever extinguished beneath the weight of betrayal and the poison of cutting words.
A car approached, its beams slicing through the darkness and momentarily blinding him. It parked in front of the trailer, and he stood, surprised to see the woman who had been on his mind.
He set his glass down and left the porch to greet her. “Johnna,” he said, wondering what on earth had brought her here.
“Thought you might like to see the new paint job somebody did on my car.” She gestured to the hood.
Jerrod moved around to the front of the car to get a better look. “When did this happen?”
“I’m not sure. Sometime this evening while I was in my office and the car was parked out on the street.”
“Did you report it?” he asked, trying not to notice how the moonlight brought out the rich luster of her hair and gave her features a soft, silvery glow.
She leaned against the side of the car. “Yeah, but I’m sure nothing will come of it.” She dug in her back pocket and handed him a folded piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
“A note that was stuck under my windshield.”
He tried to make out the words in the darkness, but couldn’t. “Come on up to the porch,” he said.
Together they walked to the tiny porch and he read the note, then looked at her sharply. “You showed this to Sheriff Broder?”
She nodded and sank into one of the wicker chairs.
“Want some iced tea? A soda?”
“Tea would be wonderful,” she replied.
Jerrod grabbed his empty glass, then went inside to get the drinks. For a moment he leaned against the counter and fought a wave of anger as he thought of anyone threatening Johnna. The anger was tempered with a sickening swirl of fear for her safety. He checked on his father, who was sleeping soundly, fixed two glasses of tea, then stepped back out to the porch and handed her one.
“Thanks,” she murmured, and took a sip.
In the yellow glare of the porch light, he noted she looked drawn. He sat in the other chair and looked at her intently. “Maybe you should drop the case. I can give Erin the names of several good attorneys in Texas. They’d be glad to take her on.”
She eyed him with disbelief and he saw the stubborn thrust of her chin. “You really think I’m going to allow an anonymous note and a little spray paint to scare me away? Not a chance.”
“I should have known better,” he said dryly. There were times he’d wondered if his appeal to her had been based on her stubbornness and her refusal to bend to what others thought appropriate.
“What I can’t understand is why somebody would care whether I defend Erin or not.” She frowned thoughtfully. “It’s not like if I don’t do it, nobody will.”
“Maybe somebody is afraid that you’re such a good attorney you’ll get Erin off.”
She emitted a burst of laughter. “Boy, can I tell you’re new in town.” She frowned again. “My law office has only been open less than a year. I haven’t exactly made a reputation yet.”
“You’re wrong.” He pulled his chair closer, so close his knees bumped hers. “You have made a reputation for yourself as a determined and passionate advocate for the downtrodden in this town. You’re a good lawyer, Johnna, just as I always knew you would be.”
Her eyes flared with a momentary glitter of gratitude, as if she rarely heard words singing her praises. She’d been a teenager who’d needed to be told often that she was good and worthwhile, and it appeared that much hadn’t changed in the intervening years.
And something else that hadn’t changed. When they’d been young and in love, Jerrod had been fascinated by Johnna’s mouth. He’d seen her full, bottom lip as a blatant invitation and now found himself remembering the sheer pleasure of kissing her.
Johnna kissed like she did everything, throwing herself into it with passion and heart. A spark ignited in Jerrod as he thought of the kisses they’d shared in the past. Hot, fiery kisses that had stirred him to his core. Heaven help him, but she was a temptation.
“Jerrod, you’re staring,” she said with a trace of embarrassment.
“Sorry.” He mentally shook himself and sat up straighter in his chair. “So, where do you go from here with the case?”
“The first thing I intend to do is hire Judd Stevens to do some investigative work for me. I want to get as much background material as I can, and with having to work twenty-five hours a week at the ranch, I just can’t do it all myself.”
“Why do you have to work twenty-five hours a week at the ranch?”
Again a frown creased the smooth skin of her forehead. “My father’s will.” She paused a moment to take a sip of her tea, the tip of her tongue darting out to lick her lips. Again Jerrod felt a burst of heat suffuse him. “It’s my father’s attempt to control us beyond the grave.”
“What do you mean?” Jerrod took a long swallow of his own tea in an effort to cool himself.
“According to Father’s will, none of us can inherit the ranch for a year, and during that year we all have to work twenty-five hours a week there. Otherwise we forfeit everything and Aunt Clara gets it all.”
“Why would he do something like that?”
She stood, as if unable to discuss her father from a relaxed position. “Because he was a mean, hateful man who loved to control the four of us.” She paced in front of Jerrod. “I wouldn’t mind forfeiting myself. I’ve always hated the ranch.”
Jerrod said nothing, although he knew better. “But,” she continued, “the ranch is so