All That Matters (19 page)

“Hey, man, rotten luck.” Scooter got up and gave his friend an awkward pat on the back. “What’re you gonna do about Faith?”

“Meaning?”

“You know, how’re you gonna support a wife? You
ain’t
gonna have two nickels to rub together for a while. And babies cost a
helluva
lot, I hear.”

Buddy Lee frowned. Scooter’s habit of raining on parades was about as much fun as a slap upside the head. Jeez. “Faith is
not
to find out about this, understand?
 
Not one word. I’ll figure out something. The main thing is to keep Royce from showing up and trying to claim the baby. He’ll stop at nothing to get revenge, if he’s of a mind to. As far as this town knows, Scoot, the baby’s mine. That’s the way Faith wants it, hear?
 
Not even her folks know any different. And nobody but Doc Sutter, and now you, know the whole story.”

He walked over to Scooter and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’m counting on you to see that it stays that way.”

Scooter nodded. “You know I can keep a secret, B.L..”

“Yeah, well--” Buddy Lee had his own opinion on that, but he had to trust his friend this time. What other choice was there?

It was after eleven when he finally left the shop. Faith would be worried, but he didn’t call. Didn’t want to wake her.
 
Thinking of how he’d left her in his bed, so warm and well-loved, he knew he’d done the right thing by relinquishing his valuable Mustang to Royce. Making certain there was no longer any threat to Faith or her child was all he wanted. Keeping Royce Webb out of their lives permanently would always be his priority.

Pretty sure that Scooter would keep the details of the sordid mess to himself, Buddy Lee stayed in his office, going over the books, looking at every possible way to scrape enough money together to pay his note. There wasn’t any. He’d known that even before he started searching. Still he’d hoped.

He rested his head in his hands and grudgingly accepted the fact that there was still one last possibility. A choice he’d tried his best to avoid, but now he had to swallow his pride and go for it. For Faith.

“A
re you sure he gave the car to Royce, Scooter?”
 
Faith sat at the little kitchen table trying to make sense out of what Buddy Lee’s friend had just told her.

Startled out of a sound sleep by a frantic knock at the door, she had stumbled out of bed to find Scooter in such a state of distress he’d babbled incoherently until she let him in.
 
Now he sat across from her at the table, fidgeting and darting glances around the room.

Faith wondered if he’d been drinking. Scooter’s wild story about Buddy Lee giving his Mustang away to Royce was just too unbelievable. He’d never do that. Especially when she knew he needed the money and intended to sell it.

“God’s truth, Faith,” Scooter swore, crossing his heart and placing his hand on his chest in a child-like gesture. “I figured you
oughta
know about it, even though I promised B.L. I wouldn’t say nothing. He’ll probably have my hide if he ever finds out. But,
dammit
all, that car was his ace-in-the-hole. Kinda a safety net,
ya
’ know, and now he’s gone and lost it to that scumbag, Webb. He wouldn’t do a dang fool thing like that unless he had good reason. He’s got nothin’ left. It
ain’t
fair, Faith. Buddy Lee never hurt nobody in his whole life.” He fiddled with the cold drink on the table in front of him.

She’d given him a glass of iced tea when he first sat down.
 
She wasn’t about to offer him anything stronger, even if he wasn’t driving. He was already bouncing off the walls.

After listening to his story, her whole body shook with anger. At Royce, for the degrading way he’d used and abused her; at her father, for putting the importance of money before his family; and at her mother, for allowing it. But most of all, she was angry with herself for the tangled mess she’d made of her life...and Buddy Lee’s.

Leaving him wasn’t the answer. That was too much like running away. She needed to be here for him, the same way he’d stood by her so many times. Yes, this time she would do what had to be done.

“I’m glad you told me, Scooter. You did the right thing.
 
And don’t worry, I’ll make sure Buddy Lee doesn’t find out.”

“An’ you did the right thing, too, marrying him instead of Royce,” Scooter said, nodding emphatically.

That was true. She’d realized it the minute she found the evidence of Buddy Lee’s intention to sell the car. That had been hard enough to accept. But the impact of knowing he’d given it away, sacrificed it for her in order to keep Royce from claiming her child and complicating her life, simply overwhelmed her.

Buddy Lee had tried to keep her safe, like he’d always done. And he’d shown his love for her in so many ways. Ways that, as a defiant, self-absorbed teen, she hadn’t recognized.
 
Thank God, she’d finally grown up enough to see what was in her heart. She loved him, too, and this new discovery was all that mattered now.

She sat at the table for a long time after Scooter left, sorting through the events of the last few weeks. What had driven her to accept Royce’s proposal in the first place? Their relationship had never come close to what she had now. Oh, he’d been attentive, showered her with compliments and took her to all the right places on dates, but none of that had given her an inner joy. Something had been missing, but she’d chosen not to search for it.

Looking back now, she realized Royce had always been distant. Even the one time they made love, he’d been too insistent, too forceful. There’d been no romance except in her imagination. How had she missed that? Had she really believed her father’s approval of Royce Webb validated her choice? Hoped her choice would make him proud? If so, she’d been dead wrong.

All she’d accomplished was to make matters worse. Her recent actions had changed the course of both her own life and Buddy Lee’s. Even her parents’ lives had been affected by what she’d done. And how typical that she’d shocked and embarrassed them again. In her own selfish desire to prove her personal worth to her father, to make him sit up and take notice of her, she’d managed to put lives in danger, destroying any respect she might have gained.

And how typical that Buddy Lee had come to her rescue once more. She didn’t deserve to have him in her life, but knowing he was there made her heart swell with emotions too immense to contain. He deserved all the love she had to give. All she had to do now was convince him to accept what she offered.

The clock on the bedside table glowed eerily in the room’s darkness when she finally crawled back into bed to wait for her husband to come home. One-fifteen. Where was he?

T
here were no lights on in the Morgan mansion when Buddy Lee stopped his truck at the front entrance and got out. A full five minutes passed before the man of the house answered the door and another five before he agreed to let his son-in-law in.

“What makes you think I’ll help you, Walker?” Lionel Morgan sat behind his desk, studying the tip of his imported cigar as he spoke. With slow, precise movements, he snipped the end off with a gold clipper, touched a flame to it from a matching gold lighter in the shape of a dollar sign, and puffed a couple of times to draw the fire.

Buddy Lee stood in front of the massive mahogany desk, aware that he was seeing the banker at his pompous best, but
dammit
, he refused to be intimidated by his father-in-law’s air of superiority.

A ribbon of pungent cigar smoke curled toward him, stung his nostrils and made his eyes water, but he stayed where he was and stubbornly refused to cough. Instead, he silently choked back a string of colorful suggestions as to what the man could do with his
gawdawful
habit, and took satisfaction in the sour look pinching Lionel’s mouth.

The banker leaned back in his leather chair with such a high-and-mighty expression, Buddy Lee had to ball his hands into fists to keep from punching him right between the eyes. Of course, that would only make matters worse and add another alligator to his already overstocked swamp.

“Thought you might want to do it for Faith,” he said, keeping a tight lock on his emotions, in spite of the slow burn spreading through him.

There was no sound in the house other than the ticking of the carved grandfather clock in the hall. When it chimed the last of twelve notes, his glance shifted to the window.
  
Already midnight. Liberty’s inhabitants were likely tucked in bed by now, safe and sound, oblivious to what was taking place inside the Morgan residence.

He wished now he’d phoned Faith from the shop. He hadn’t intended to be gone this late. If she was still awake, she’d be worried as all get-out and the last thing she needed from him was more grief. One of these days, he’d see about getting a cellular phone, so when her time got closer she could get in touch with him no matter where he was. But for now, he’d be damned if he’d ask her daddy for any more favors. Not even the use of his phone.

Lionel snorted. “Faith gave up her family when she took up with the likes of you. Her mother and I no longer consider her our daughter.”

He thought he heard a twinge of regret in the old
man’s voice, but he’d swiveled around in his chair so that all Buddy Lee could see was his back. And everyone knew Lionel Morgan didn’t waste time on regrets.

A fist of bitterness clenched his gut. Morgan didn’t deserve to have a daughter as fine as Faith. By God, neither did Beryl. She’d been a shadow of her husband for too many years, never standing up for Faith when Lionel bad-mouthed her in public. Faith had never had the mama she needed. His heart twitched at that thought. His own mama had been a loving one, but he hadn’t had her nearly long enough.

He remembered how Lionel’s public reprimands had humiliated Faith something awful. She’d pretended not to care, but her thinly disguised hurt was obvious. And his heart had broken for her because he loved her and he couldn’t take away her pain. That’s when he hated his name most of all.
Boyd’s boy
would never be good enough for a Morgan.

“You know, you’re no better than my old man,” Buddy Lee spat out. “He didn’t give a damn about his kid, either. But guess what? Your money didn’t make you a good parent. You should’ve paid attention to your daughter long before this. Why the hell do you think she pulled those crazy stunts when she was younger?”

He planted both hands on the desk and aimed his words at Lionel’s back. “Do you know why she challenged every rule you ever made for her? She wanted your attention, you damned old man, not your money. But you were so blind you drove her away with your demands for perfection. You focused on her faults, instead of her goodness and the qualities that made her the wonderful woman she is. The daughter you should be proud of.”

Lionel spun his chair around, stood up and leaned across the desk into Buddy Lee’s face. His eyes blazed hot. His scowl was fierce, and when he stabbed the air with his cigar, Buddy Lee dodged sideways to keep from getting branded.

“What goodness?” Lionel’s deep voice boomed like thunder. “She shamed her mama and me with her wild ways. She’ll bring no more disgrace to this family. When she chose to have your baby and claim the Walker name, she gave up any rights to her heritage.” His face contorted with rage as he shook his fist. “And don’t forget, your note is still due day after tomorrow. Now get out of this house and don’t come back again, begging favors like a loser.” He clamped the cigar between his teeth so hard, Buddy Lee expected it to fall apart.

The air between them crackled with resentment. Buddy Lee figured he’d better leave before he did something he’d regret, like leaving the imprint of his fist in the banker’s florid face. Damn, it was getting harder and harder to keep from acting like the notorious Boyd’s boy. He reeled in his anger with every bit of gut strength he could summon. But he couldn’t leave without saying one more thing. He lowered his voice and let the anger heat his words.

“Faith’s only shame was the burden of your wealth. She never wanted to be different, but because of you and your blasted money, she believed she was, and she hated that. The real loser is you, Morgan. So, live with that...sir.”

On that parting shot, he stormed out, so full of rage he didn’t notice Faith’s mama standing in the hallway until she spoke.

“Lionel?” she questioned in that soft voice of hers. “Why are you shouting at Buddy Lee?”

He didn’t stop, just kept on going. He’d already reached the porch when he heard Lionel answer her.

“Go on back to bed, Beryl. You didn’t see anyone, you hear?
 
Not Boyd’s boy or anyone else. Now, go.”

Well, isn’t that the final kick in the ass?
He thought as he climbed in his truck. So, Boyd’s boy is invisible, huh?
 
He stomped on the accelerator, laid a patch as he peeled out of the drive, and hoped he’d permanently embedded a
bitchin
’ black streak in the fancy driveway.

Not exactly anxious to face his wife and admit he was fixing to lose everything he owned, Buddy Lee drove to the outskirts of town and turned down a deserted gravel road. After making certain there was no one around, he hit the gas pedal, spit a shower of dirt with his wheels and took his truck on a ride that would make any NASCAR driver proud.