Fourteen
They told Emma that she was going to be released, that the charges had been dropped. She was happy about it, although she couldn’t be sure that Connor might not have the charges pressed against her again, at some future date. She’d long since given up hope that he might relent. Memories of his hard mouth on hers, his arms holding her, had slowly faded into the same substance as dreams. It seemed so long ago that he’d wanted her, hungered for her. But the woman he thought she was hadn’t existed.
She’d let him marry her, knowing he was unaware of her true identity, that she’d been responsible for his blindness. He’d thought she was honest and kind and free of any criminal impulses. But she hadn’t been his ideal woman, and his private detective hadn’t pulled any punches laying it out for the man who hired him.
Emma knew that she would never forget the way it felt when she saw the disbelief and anguish and rage in Connor’s face. She’d lied to him, he shouted. She’d played him for a fool. She was the woman who’d caused him to lose his vision, condemned him to a lifetime of darkness. And she’d married him, knowing he hadn’t had the truth. She was nothing but a cheap con artist, looking for an easy life. Well, it would be no easy life for her! He’d make sure of it!
She remembered with kindness the public defender who’d come to see her shortly after her arrest. He had a caseload, he’d said, that looked like Mount Rushmore, but he’d do what he could for her. She’d answered his questions in a dull, uncaring tone.
He’d frowned. “This was an accident. There was no malicious intent...”
“Mr. Sinclair had warned me about speeding in the boat before,” she’d said softly, not adding that he’d been her husband. “He thinks it was malicious.” She looked up at the public defender. “Mr. Sinclair is one of the richest men in the world,” she added. “Even a court of law is going to find it hard to go against him. He has the best attorneys in America on retainer.” She smiled sadly. “I’ll be convicted if he has to find a way to intervene with handfuls of money. He wants me here.”
He grimaced. He knew how the system worked even better than Emma did. “All right, I’ll do my best for you, anyway. But how about bail?”
“Bail is not possible,” she said softly. “I have no money, none at all. I had a little in a savings account, but I don’t think a hundred dollars will take me very far. My father just disowned me because I disgraced him, being in jail. My former employer is somewhere overseas. I wasn’t allowed to try and call her, even if I could find out where she went. But I wouldn’t want to ask her to go against Connor. She did, once before, and he cost her her career. He is—” she swallowed hard “—very vindictive.”
The young attorney had stared at her sadly. “I’ll do what I can to see about getting you out of here.”
“Sir, I have no place to go, even if I get out. Unless I could get into a homeless shelter...” Her voice broke. She bit down hard on her pride and lifted bright eyes to his, her mouth set firmly against weakness. “I’ll manage. I did blind him, you know,” she added. “There’s no way around that. Intent might matter, but facts are facts.” She lowered her eyes. “So I’ll take my licks.”
Brave woman, he thought silently. He’d do what he could, if he could think of anything. Sadly, without collateral, she wouldn’t make bail. He thought about going up against the attorneys who worked for the multimillionaire and gritted his teeth. A famous trial lawyer would hesitate to tackle that bunch. He’d heard rumors of men Sinclair had ruined. He really didn’t want to join the ranks, although he felt very sorry for Miss Copeland. She was pure gold, despite accidentally blinding the tycoon. He truly wished he could help. Emma had watched him go with no real enthusiasm. She knew how things were. But she’d remember that the young man had wanted to help her.
* * *
She was surprised that Connor had dropped the charges. She’d been certain that he’d find a way to make sure she never got out of jail. But apparently he had no more taste for vengeance. Mr. Sims seemed to feel that way. But Emma was wary. Right up until the day she was released and Mr. Sims drove her away, she wasn’t really sure she’d get out at all. She’d learned not to trust people in the two months she’d spent in the detention center. It had soured her on life. Connor might have some other purpose in mind, some darker purpose. She was grateful that she was going to be free, but she’d have to think of some way to make sure Connor never found her. Especially now.
* * *
Connor had slept around the clock, sedated by his local physician. When he came out of it, he was quiet and oddly subdued. He ate breakfast without any real enthusiasm and asked Alistair to stop by. He was on his second cup of coffee, in the office, when the attorney arrived.
“When are they releasing her?” he asked.
“Tomorrow,” Alistair replied. He put his briefcase on the desk.
“Have you spoken with her about where she wants to go?” he asked.
“No. She wasn’t really in much shape to talk. They stitched her up, but she’s almost suicidally depressed about the child.”
It hurt him, thinking how much Emma loved children. Of course she’d wanted it, and not for any underhanded reason. She must be in hell.
“I’m sorry about the child,” Connor said heavily. “I accused her of being mercenary when that’s the last thing she is. I was disoriented by what happened, by the shock of knowing who Emma really was. I just...went a little crazy. I never meant for her to stay in jail that long! I never wanted her hurt!”
“They’re charging the other woman with attempted murder. Her public defender will probably plead it down to felony assault, but she’ll do more time. The woman has mental issues that were never addressed.”
“The woman stabbed Emma,” Connor said icily. “She’ll do time, all right. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Meanwhile,” Alistair said quietly, “I’ll get Emma out of jail.”
There was a hesitation. “About the divorce papers...”
“She signed them,” he told Connor. He opened his briefcase and took out the divorce papers. “She said she wouldn’t accept alimony even if you offered it. A proud woman.”
Connor’s conscience was killing him. “Yes. Proud.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
He left. Connor looked at the red-and-black painting on the wall. It was called Despair. It seemed a very appropriate adornment for the study now, he thought sadly. He’d put Emma in harm’s way, helped damage her emotions and her body and her spirit. He’d thrown her away because she was driving a boat that accidentally ran over him and caused, or seemed to cause, his blindness. He was punishing her for an accident. If he’d been looking, he’d have seen the boat coming. If she’d been looking, she would have seen him. It was just damned bad luck on both sides, but that wasn’t a criminal issue. Emma would never have hurt him deliberately. He should have known that.
Anger had been riding him when he had her arrested. He was ashamed and sorry that he’d taken things so far. He didn’t think Emma would be able to forgive him for what had been done to her. Imprisoned like that for two whole months with a woman after her blood. And he’d been relaxing on a beach near Nice, enjoying the sun and his new ability to see, and feeling that he had the world in his pocket. He’d had the world when he had Emma, but it had taken time to come to his senses. Now, he almost wished he hadn’t.
Emma would hate him. She should hate him. He’d done terrible things to her in the name of vengeance. He could never make up for the misery he’d caused her, for not trusting her, for betraying her. She hadn’t even had the money to call Mamie overseas, because he’d sent her away without her clothes or her purse.
At least Alistair could bankroll her. She could have a place to stay, money for food and necessities, while he debated ideas to get her back into his life. He’d do anything to get her forgiveness.
The divorce papers lay on the desk, unread. With a groan of self-contempt, he grabbed them and threw them into the open fire in the fireplace. He watched them burn. They’d still be married, even if Emma didn’t know. He’d find a way to keep tabs on her, to make sure she was all right. If she found someone else...well, he’d let her go. What a shame, he thought, that he hadn’t realized what she meant to him until it was too late, until he’d shattered her life.
He’d spent his whole life being vindictive, paying people back for things they’d done to him, even innocent things. Now he was seeing the other side of the coin, and it wasn’t pleasant. He’d lost the one person in the world who’d really cared about him. Emma had loved him. He’d told her that he only wanted her. She probably believed it now, after what he’d done to her.
Vengeance, he thought miserably, was a tragedy in itself. He wished he could go back in time and undo the anguish he’d caused Emma. He’d lost her and a child he hadn’t even known he wanted, all because of vengeance.
He sat down behind his desk. He had more money than most people on the planet. But right now, he had nothing. Nothing at all.
* * *
Emma winced as she tried to walk. She had a cane, a present from Bess, the guard who liked her. She hugged the woman with tears in her eyes.
“You just get better, you hear?” Bess asked softly, her black eyes smiling like her lips.
“You take care, too,” Emma said. “I’ll never forget your kindness.”
“It’s not hard being kind to nice people. I don’t meet many in this business,” she added with a smile.
“If you ever hear from Delsa or Sudie, can you tell them that I got out? I’m sorry they didn’t.”
“I will,” she promised. “We have a mutual friend. They’ll be happy for you.”
“They were so kind to me.” Her voice broke.
Bess hugged her. “You’re the kind one, sweetheart. Be happy.”
“So long.”
Emma followed the lawyer out to his car, an expensive sedan like the one Connor drove. She got in, favoring her leg. The wounds in her belly were still painful, and she was having gas pain like nothing she’d ever dreamed.
“What did they say about that leg?” the lawyer asked as he pulled away from the curb.
“The doctor just sewed me up,” she replied. “He didn’t say anything much except that I might need further surgery. I don’t know for what.”
“I see.” He glanced at her. “Connor told me to find you a place and make sure you had enough money.”
“I don’t want anything from him, Mr. Sims,” she said with quiet pride. “I just want bus fare to Texas and a ride to the bus station in town, and that’s all. I’ll be obliged if Mr. Sinclair doesn’t mind lending it to me. My father doesn’t want me, but I have a cousin who’ll let me live with her.”
He didn’t look at her. He wondered if Connor had ever known this woman at all. She was fiercely proud. “Connor wanted me to tell you how sorry he was—”
She held up a hand. “He doesn’t owe me a thing,” she replied. “I paid for what I did to him. Not enough, maybe...”
He groaned out loud.
She glanced at him. His face was shuttered now. He looked straight ahead. She wondered why Connor felt sorry for her.
“You told him about the baby?” she asked.
He wished he could tell her how Connor had reacted. He didn’t dare. That was for Connor to tell her, if he ever decided to. “Yes. I told him.”
She knew something about the baby that she wasn’t telling him. The wounds on her stomach had been largely superficial, because the shiv had been very small, with a short blade. The baby was still tucked safely in her womb. The doctor had smiled at her expression of joy when she knew.
But Connor wasn’t going to know. He was divorcing her. He wouldn’t know, so he wouldn’t ask to have her get rid of the child. He’d think she was hoping for an easy life of luxury if she told him, even if he didn’t insist on ending the pregnancy. So she wasn’t telling the lawyer, and she wasn’t telling Connor.
“What about your belongings, Miss Copeland?” he asked suddenly.
“Oh. I only had a few things at my... At Mr. Sinclair’s house.”
“Your purse and your cell phone and some small bills. They’re here.” He reached into the glove compartment and handed them to her.
“Thank you!” she exclaimed. Now she had her identification, her credit card and some cash. After the weeks of being in jail, it was like finding a fortune under a rock.
He smiled at her enthusiasm. “You had some items of clothing but...” He hesitated. Connor had thrown them out. He’d even had Marie burn the wedding photos that had been taken in Las Vegas. But Connor didn’t know that Marie had saved one, the one that had captured all the love and anguish of Emma’s heart in it, of her looking up at Connor. She’d told Alistair that she just couldn’t throw it away. He promised he’d never tell.
“It’s okay,” she said, discerning what the man didn’t want to tell her, about her clothes. She knew Connor and his temper very well. “I have some clothes at Mamie’s house. I know where she keeps the spare key.” She didn’t mention that she still had her own key, in her returned purse. “She wouldn’t mind. Could you drive me there on the way to the bus station, please?” she asked, wide brown eyes meeting his.
He felt guilty, just looking at her. He wondered if there wasn’t more damage than surface damage on her leg. That limp seemed out of place if there had only been a shallow cut.
“Sure.”
“And...could you go around, so we don’t go by Pine Cottage?” she asked tautly, without looking at him.
“We can do that, as well,” he agreed.
“Thanks.”
He let her out at the door of Mamie’s huge lake house and watched while she went painstakingly up the steps and pretended to look for the hidden key. She had it in her hand when she turned.
Emma waved it with a smile and went inside. She went to her room and looked around. It seemed an age since she’d been here. So much had happened in between.
She gathered up her things and put them in the small, battered suitcase. She didn’t have much. Sentiment was expensive, space-wise. But she had pictures of her mother and the ranch, the way it had once been. She didn’t have a single photo of her father. She didn’t want one.
She checked to make sure she had everything and carried the suitcase into the living room. It was heavy. It hurt to walk at all, much less carry something. She’d have to call Mr. Sims and ask him to lift it for her.
On an impulse, when she saw the fancy mock-French phone on the table in the living room, she picked it up and dialed Mamie’s cell phone.
“Hello?”
She hadn’t expected Mamie to answer. She gasped. “Mamie!”
“Hi, baby! How are you?”
Emma burst into tears. “I married Connor but he found out that I blinded him. He had me arrested. I’ve been in jail, and I got stabbed...!”
“Slow down, slow down. Stabbed? Jail? My God, why didn’t you call me?”
“They wouldn’t let me make an overseas call.” Emma sobbed.
“Dear God! My poor baby! Listen, what do you need? I can get you the best lawyers...!”
“I’m out. Connor dropped the charges. I may still face misdemeanor charges for reckless driving on the lake, though.”
“You can stay at the house,” Mamie said.
“Connor’s still at the cottage,” she said through her teeth. “I can’t stay here at the lake, not now.”
“Where will you go?”
“Texas. I have a cousin there. I told the investigator I spoke to that I’d make sure he knew where I was, in case they want to press charges.” Her voice sounded dull. Lackluster.
“Emma, Connor will go to his house in Nice very soon. He’ll stay there for several months while he does business all over Europe. He won’t be back until late September. You can stay in the lake house, at least while he’s gone.”
“He hasn’t gone anywhere and I can’t risk bumping into him. Even though he can’t see...”
“But he can!” Mamie explained. “Didn’t you know? It was in the papers.”
She caught her breath. “He can see again? The lawyer didn’t tell me.”
“What lawyer?”
“Alistair Sims. He’s been so kind. He got me out of jail and persuaded Connor to dismiss the charges. He’s going to drive me to the bus station.” She hesitated. “Connor can see.” She laughed as she glimpsed herself in the mirror. She didn’t even look like the old Emma.
“Yes. But he’ll be leaving soon. Honest.”
“Mamie, there’s another reason I can’t let him see me,” Emma said. “He thinks I lost the baby when I was stabbed, but I didn’t. I don’t want him to know, ever. He’ll think I did it for money. He thinks that’s why I married him when he was blind.”
“You’re pregnant? You married him? You were stabbed?”
“I’m all right. He’s divorcing me. I signed the papers. I’m better, from the wounds. They let me go.”
“He only saw you a couple of times before he lost his sight, didn’t he?” Mamie was thinking out loud.
“Yes,” she confessed. “Once at the party and once on the pier, then outside when I was sitting on a log, but he didn’t get a close look at me.” She laughed. It had a hollow sound. “He wouldn’t recognize me now. I don’t look the way I did anymore.”
“Then stay at the lake,” Mamie said firmly. “Listen to me, you can put a wash on your hair to make it look red. You can pretend you have a husband who works in Saudi Arabia. My godson. I hired you to house-sit while I’m working on research in Europe. Just say you’re two months earlier along in the pregnancy than you really are so Connor wouldn’t connect your baby with his even if he was suspicious.”
Mamie was determined and Emma was weakening. Texas was a long way away. The lake had been home for a long time. This was a nice town in which to raise a child. If Connor only came home for a few weeks, maybe she could go away for that time. If he saw her only from a distance, and she dyed her hair...
“I can hear you thinking about it. Just say yes. I’ll take care of everything.”
Emma drew in a breath. “You’re so kind to me, Mamie,” she began.
“It’s not hard. You’re kind to the world. You know where everything is. I have credit with the merchants in town. They can deliver food every week. You just call them and say it’s for me. I’ll call the local limo agency and give them my credit card number, so you can get a ride to town when you need one. You could have used the car, but I loaned it to a friend. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you’d be there... But, anyway, spare cash is in a canister in the kitchen for little things you need.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t go out at night. Don’t let Connor know you’re there.”
“I won’t. Thank you!”
“You’d do it for me,” was the soft reply. “If anything comes up that you can’t handle, call me.”
“I will.”
“Get some rest. You poor child. I’m so sorry!”
Emma fought tears. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”
“Thank you for taking care of the house! I’ll make sure you have a check every two weeks.”
“Thank you for that, too.”
“You know I can afford it. I meant to get back sooner, but I’ve had so much fun over here that I just didn’t want to get back to work. I’ve got a lot of research done. I’ll send my notes to you in an email. Get them in some sort of order when you have time. And keep me posted. I want to know how you do.”
“I’ll do that,” Emma promised. “I’ll let the lawyer drive me to the bus station. When he leaves, I’ll get a cab back here.”
“Wise woman. I’ll talk to you later, Emma.”
“Okay. You take care, too.”
“Always.”
* * *
Emma hung up. She moved to the door and called to Mr. Sims, to ask him to help her with the suitcase.
He came right up the steps and lifted it as if it weighed nothing. Emma relocked the door and put the key in her purse while the attorney put her bag in the car. She walked very slowly down the steps, using the cane the kind guard had given her. He was holding the door open for her.
“You need to have that leg looked at by a specialist,” he commented.
She managed a smile. “I’ll see if my cousin knows one,” she replied.
“Good idea.”
He drove her to the bus station. “Do you have enough money for the ticket?”
“Yes.” She opened her purse and pulled out a few twenty-dollar bills that she’d found in Mamie’s household money in the canister.
He smiled. “Okay.”
He carried the suitcase in for her, waited while she pretended to buy a ticket and was going to wait for the bus with her.
“No. That’s not necessary, but thank you for being so kind,” she told him with genuine feeling. “Thank you for getting me out of jail.” She choked up and had to blink the moisture out of her eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done,” she concluded.
He didn’t, either, but he wasn’t going to say so. He shook hands with her. “About those divorce papers...”
“It’s okay. I don’t blame him,” she said. “It wasn’t right, him marrying somebody like me. He needs one of those sophisticated, modern women who can hold their own at cocktail parties and fancy dinners.” She smiled sadly. “It was never me, if you know what I mean. Thanks again, Mr. Sims.”
He shook hands with her. “If you ever need help,” he said, and fished out a business card. “I won’t tell Connor,” he added with a sad smile.
She returned the smile. “I’ll remember.” She would have thanked him again, but she felt like a robot already for having said it so much.
He nodded, turned and walked away. Emma waited fifteen minutes, then she picked up the suitcase with some effort and started toward the front door.
An elderly man saw how hard it was for her to manage the cane and the suitcase.
“Here, little lady, let me help you with that.” He took the suitcase. “Where to?”
“Just out front,” she said. “I have to get a cab.”
He smiled. “No problem. I’m seeing my wife off to Buffalo to visit our son and daughter. She’s in the snack shop.”
“Thank you so much.”
“No need for that. Just pass it on when you can,” he said, depositing the suitcase where a taxi had just pulled up. “That’s what makes us human, helping each other out. Have a safe trip.”
“I hope your wife does, too. Thanks.”
He waved and went back inside. The taxi driver grinned, put her suitcase in the trunk and opened the door for her. “Where you wanna go?” he asked.
She gave him the address. When they got there, she pulled out a ten-dollar bill.
“No, no, it is only three dollars,” he began.
“It’s a tip, for being so nice.”
“Senorita, may the good Lord bless you.”
“May He do the same for you,” she said with a warm smile. “Thank you.”
“If you ever need me to take you someplace, you call me, okay?” He handed her a card.
“I certainly will.”
He deposited her suitcase on the front porch of Mamie’s cabin and left her with a smile.
* * *
So Emma moved back into Mamie’s house. She kept a low profile. She made sure the lights facing Connor’s house were never on. She never ventured outside. She stayed in the house and organized the notes Mamie sent her, kept the house clean, did whatever she could to keep her mind off Connor altogether. In the meantime, she dreamed of her baby. She was going to love it insanely. It would never want for love, even if it never had money.
She found a midwife, recommended to her by one of the men who delivered Mamie’s groceries to her. The midwife, a nice woman in her forties, came to see her often, to make sure things were progressing well. She knew that Emma’s mother had died in childbirth, so she was extra vigilant. When the baby came, she added, if she suspected any problem at all, they’d call an ambulance. Emma relaxed a little.
She wondered how Connor was, but they had no mutual friends and she wasn’t about to blow her cover by calling the house or even Mr. Sims. She imagined Mamie was right, that Connor would be in France by now, living it up.
* * *
In fact, Connor wasn’t living it up in France. He’d walked around the lake house like a ghost for days after he knew what he’d done to Emma. Marie and Barnes worried about him. He was so unlike himself. His suicide attempt had rattled them. Until then, they’d had no idea just how emotionally involved he was with Emma—or what losing her had done to him.
Several days later, he took one last look around the house and called Alistair to tell him to put it on the market with all the furniture included. Alistair, sadly, agreed.
Then Connor packed up the household, had their odds and ends warehoused and flew them all to his home in Nice, where Edward welcomed them with joy and some curiosity.
“What is wrong?” he asked Marie when Connor was walking aimlessly up and down the beach out back. “I understood that Mr. Sinclair had married?”
“It’s a long story, Edward,” Marie replied sadly. “I’ll tell it to you one day. He’s a mess,” she added, nodding toward the solitary figure outside. “He’s put the lake house on the market and he says he’s never going back to Georgia. He had Mr. Sims deliver divorce papers to Emma for her to sign. I guess he’s filed them already. It’s such a shame,” she added sadly. “She loved him almost too much. I thought he cared for her, too. If he did, it’s too late now.”
“But why?” he asked.
“She drove a motorboat into him and blinded him,” she replied.
“It was she?” Edward exclaimed. “On purpose?”
“Of course not. She isn’t the sort. But he thought she did. He had her arrested and put in jail.” She grimaced. “She was pregnant. Another woman attacked her in jail and she lost the baby.” She drew in a long breath, registering Edward’s look of horror. “She actually told Mr. Sims that she deserved everything that happened to her, because the boss went blind.”
“An exceptional woman.”
“She cared so much for him. She sat up with him when he had migraines, did everything she could to keep him happy. I was sure that they’d be together forever, even when he was denying that he felt anything for her. It’s such a mess,” she said again.
“But she would forgive him, no?” he asked.
She nodded. “In time, yes, I think so. Right now she’s emotionally raw from losing the baby, especially the way it happened. She needs time to get over it.” She glanced out the window. “We have to watch him,” she added. “He tried to shoot himself when he found out what had happened to her. Mr. Sims actually wrestled a pistol out of his hands.”
Edward crossed himself. “Mon Dieu!” he exclaimed.
“He’s still not quite himself. We can’t leave him alone. Not until he’s had time to work through it.”
“What about Miss Emma? Where did she go?”
“Back to Texas, where she was from. Her own father disowned her when he knew she’d been arrested.”
“Some father,” Edward said coldly.
“Amen.”
“She has other family?”
“I think so,” Marie said. “A cousin. She’ll have a place to stay. Revenge is a very sad thing, Edward. A very sad thing indeed.”
* * *
Emma ventured out late one afternoon with her cane. She hadn’t seen any activity down Connor’s way and she was curious.
She walked to the log that had played such a part in her relationship with Connor and paused there, looking toward Pine Cottage. What she saw shocked her. There was a huge For Sale sign out front, with a Realtor’s name and telephone number.
She sat down on the log heavily. So he was giving up a family home to run from the memory of her. She knew that was why he’d put it on the market. He must truly hate her to do that. He wanted to make sure that he never saw her again. He needn’t have worried. Emma was never pushy. She wouldn’t have gone near him, even to beg forgiveness.
Perhaps he was just tired of the place. He loved France. Certainly, that would explain it. Except that he loved Pine Cottage. He’d told her once that he never had plans to let go of it. The place held so many memories, most especially of the brother he’d lost.
He hadn’t wanted to risk running into Emma, if she went back to work for Mamie. That had to be it.
It made her sad, that even with all that had happened, he bore a grudge. He was sorry for her, but that didn’t mean he’d forgiven her for blinding him. He was a man who never forgot an injury. So maybe it was just as well, that he’d gone.
She thought of the long years ahead, without even a glimpse of him, and hot tears stung her eyes. But she still had the baby that he didn’t know about.
One small hand smoothed over the hard little knot in her belly and she smiled sadly. At least she had a part of him that she’d never have to give up.
She turned and walked slowly back toward Mamie’s cabin.