No Plans for Love (29 page)

"That was just a 'thank you' hug," Frank explained stepping around the cart that held the milkers. His gray gaze narrowed. "You just think you saw more than you did."

"I know what I saw," Mark insisted. "I saw my girlfriend in my father's arms. I want an explanation."

"I don't give a darn what you want," Frank shot back. "I don't answer to you."

"Well, someone better answer." He looked at Sherry.

Sherry's face drained of color so that Frank thought she might faint. Her mouth was so dry she could scarcely whisper. "It's like you father said."

Mark stepped closer to his father. They stood glaring at each other, neither one backing down. Frank took one step closer. "Look here, little boy, I love my wife. I don't need a girl young enough to be my daughter."

"Speaking of your wife, I'm sure she'd be interested in what I just saw."

"Leave Mom out of this," Frank ordered. It was plain Frank was riled. They stood less than three feet apart.

Sherry saw Mark's hands ball into fists. She had to do something quick. The situation was getting out of hand. She stepped between them putting her hands on their chests. "Stop it!"

As soon as Sherry's hand touched his shirt, Frank stepped back but Mark didn't. Sherry turned and put both her hands on his chest and pushed. It was like trying to move a stone pillar. She pushed harder and he gave ground until he was back against the milk tank.

"Calm down," Frank said. He went on to explain, "Sherry asked me if I meant what I said to Turner about being her mentor. I said yes. She asked me why. I told her I thought she needed a friend who'd accept her for what she is."

"Like Alison Winnette's little bastard?"

Sherry swung her hand with all the power she possessed to deal a slap to his cheek that left her hand stinging. Mark seized her wrist and bent her arm back until it hurt her shoulder.
She tried to pull free of his viselike grip but couldn't.

Frank sprang forward and grabbed his wrist in a iron grasp squeezing so hard Mark's watch band cut into his flesh. "Let her go," Frank ordered. Mark spread his fingers wide. Frank eased his grip but still held his son's wrist. "Go to the house, Sherry. I'll deal with Mark. Now go!"

She stumbled outside and leaned against the block wall of the milk house. She was shaking so she could hardly breathe. She had to get herself under control before going to the house or she would have to explain to Jan why she was so upset. She could hear Frank and Mark inside.

"It's time you straighten up and pay attention to what I'm telling you. That girl loves you and you just hurt her. You owe her one big apology. Do you think I lied to you? Do you think Sherry lied to you? We both love you more than that. I love you and I love Sherry. But I'm in love with Mom. I love Sherry almost like your sister. That's all you need to know. Now go make up with her so we can get this milking done." He released Mark's wrist.

Mark ran his hands over his hair trying to get his head around what his father was telling him. "That was awful close for a thank you hug."

"It wasn't meant to be. It only lasted a couple seconds. You just walked in at that instant."

Mark turned to the door though he was still irked about what he'd walked in on. He opened the door and saw Sherry there leaning against the wall. "Are you eavesdropping?"

"Noo!" She started to run away from him.

Frank's foot hit the seat of Mark's pants. "Didn't you learn anything? Go get her and apologize."

Mark easily overtook Sherry. He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. "I'm sorry about what I said."

She looked up at him. "I thought my doubtful parentage didn't matter to you. Apparently it does."

"It doesn't. I was angry. Forgive me."

She pulled free. "I'm going for a walk so I can think." She turned and walked away.

"It'll be dark soon."

"I've been out after dark before," she flung over her shoulder.

Chapter 23

It wasn't the first time Sherry'd been called a bastard. It was true if you wanted to get technical. What had stung was Mark's calling her that. That tender spot had turned into a raw, bleeding wound.

The evening's chill penetrated her sweater but she wasn't ready to go back. She looked up the slope at her house. Light shone from the kitchen window telling her that the police were still there. She thought of going home, of getting a start on cleaning up the place.

But there was something more pressing. Something that needed to be done ASAP. The house would be there whenever she went back to it. More important was making things right with Mark. Light from the feed lot told her Frank was doing the feeding.

She entered the barn quietly so she could see Mark before he saw her. She stopped just inside to watch him putting the milkers on the last cow in the parlor. He was completely absorbed in thought and didn't see her approach until she spoke beside him. She stepped in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders. "I forgive you but we really, really need to have that talk."

He pulled her into his arms. "Before we go to bed," he promised. "I love you, Sherry. I'm sorry for what I said. I was mad beyond reason."

"Is this how it's going to be? You sling slurs at me when you're angry? You need to learn anger management."

"I know. I'm like Dad used to be until Mom put him in his place. He's mellowed out over the years. I guess I can, too. I don't want to hurt you."

She pulled back and looked up into his dark eyes. "Then don't."

He kissed her, a tender, gentle kiss. But it deepened into another "oral invasion." She kissed him back as ardently as he was kissing her. His hands slid beneath her sweater and up her back stopping at her bra.

Frank's words were like a dash of ice water. "Why aren't you paying attention?" He caught the milkers just as Grumpy kicked them off but in time to keep the whole system from going down. "Sherry, I told you to go to the house. You're too much of a distraction for Mark. If you two keep mooning around we'll never get the milking done. I, for one, am hungry."

Sherry looked chagrined. "Sorry. See you later." She exited quickly and walked to the house. She slowed her steps to regain control after Mark's arousing kiss. She understood Frank's not wanting her in the barn just then. She was too much of a distraction for Mark. She'd seen the bulge in his pants when she pulled away from him. Her arousal might not be so evident physically but it was just as potent. She needed Mark. No one ever made her feel like he did.

Jan was in the kitchen putting together a tossed salad. "Hi, Sherry. How are you doing?" When she looked up she knew Sherry was upset. "What's wrong?"

"We just had a big row."

"You and Mark? You and Frank?"

"All three of us." She gave Jan a condensed version of what happened.

"And this ends how?"

"I told Mark I forgive him. Is there anything you want me to do?"

"No. I'm used to doing it all myself. I put the ingredients for beef stew in the slow cooker this morning." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I have refrigerated biscuits. And I'm making a salad."

Sherry smiled. She knew Jan was joking when she lowered her voice about the biscuits. Her men were used to homemade everything. Sherry picked up her bag of clothes. "Do you mind if I sleep with Mark tonight? I need his strength."

Jan looked around at her. "I thought that was a foregone conclusion. It doesn't matter what bed you sleep in. Mark's going to end up with you. Might as well be his bed. If you're going upstairs will you please take his briefcase along?"

"I don't know which room is Mark's. I've never been upstairs here."

"The one over the dining room. Up the stairs, back the hall and turn left."

"Thanks. I need some quiet time to think." Sherry went up the stairs, back the hall and turned left. She switched on the overhead light and looked around. It was a neat room considering it was a man's. She didn't know if the neatness was the result of Jan's work or Mark's. The mahogany bed that was probably more than a hundred years old was covered with a white ruffled counterpane. Two mahogany tables flanked the bed with matching maroon china lamps with pleated cloth shades that had turned a rich cream color. Beside the one north window was an armoire in matching mahogany. A dresser with a large oval mirror sat between the two east windows.

Sherry imagined what it would be like to wake in the morning to the sun shining through the venetian blinds and lace curtains. Despite all the dark furniture the room had a certain charm.  Mark's stereo sat on another mahogany piece, a chest of drawers, just to the left of the door. An oak table, darkened with age, held his small screen TV. His desk was the only light piece in the room. The white laminated pressboard writing space was supported by black tubular legs which extended up at the back to hold a shelf loaded with books. To the right of it was a six-foot-tall bookcase with sliding glass doors. Books, trophies and other collections crowded the shelves. In the corner between the north window and an east window sat a chair that looked like it was from the thirties or forties.

She laid his briefcase on his desk and dropped her bag of clothes. A flash of light on the windows told her a vehicle was coming back the lane. She spread the slats of the blind to look out. The dusk to dawn lights were on and she could tell it was a police cruiser. She went down to let him in.

Turner got right down to business. "Is there somewhere we can talk private? My shift ended a couple hours ago and I'd like to get home to supper so I want to get this over with ASAP."

She led him to the den and sat down on the love seat that had replaced the daybed. He pulled the office chair from the desk in the corner and placed a tape recorder on the end table beside her. He sat down in front of her and began to ask questions ending with, "Miss Winnette, I am going to ask you a question in which I want your opinion since you know your mother and I don't. The damage done to your property is rather extensive. Do you believe your mother had an accomplice?"

"Maybe. But Mom could have done all that. She can really break things up when she goes into a rage."

"Then something like this has happened before?"

"Yeah. Sort of. I was always there to talk her down before. I wasn't home this time. The first time was when I was thirteen. I didn't understand what was happening then. I was too green to handle damage control."

"What set her off that time?"

"She needed money and wanted to sell my guitar. She told me she was going to sell it the next day. She was already at work when I left for school. I took my guitar along and hid it under the bed in my best friend's bedroom.

"Mom flew into a rage because I wouldn't tell her where it was. She began throwing things and breaking up housekeeping. I pleaded with her to stop. I was yelling, 'Mom, stop! Please stop!' The upstairs neighbors called the police because they thought she was beating me. The cops got her settled down. I talked them out of arresting her. After they left we cleaned up the place. She didn't talk to me because she was still angry with me but she got over it.

"There have only been a couple incidents since then. All of them minor because I knew what was happening and talked her down. But I can believe she was capable of the destruction she caused today."

He asked a few more questions, ending with, "That will be all then. I need to talk to Mrs. Blakely a minute and then I'll be on my way. We'll try to get your guitar and other things back for you but there are no guarantees."

****

"Where's Mark?" Jan asked as Frank came into the kitchen where she was taking the biscuits from the oven.

"Finishing up." He looked at the biscuits. "Store bought."

"I'm tired! This hasn't been the greatest of days."

"I wasn't complaining. Merely stating a fact. I need to talk to you." He went on to explain what had happened in the milk house. "I can understand him being mad but he didn't have to call Sherry 'Alison Winnette's little bastard.' She slapped him hard. He still has a mark on his face but he asked for it."

"Sherry didn't tell me that part," Jan said. "I could tell she was upset. Turner was here to talk to her."

"Where is she?"

"Up in Mark's room. She said she needs to think."

"I just wanted to make sure you knew the details before Mark gives you his spin on things."

"If you would move out of my way..."

He grinned down at her. "I like being in your way." He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned to kiss her. As the kiss deepened he folded his arms around her and her arms went around his neck. He slid his hands down to cup them around her buttocks and press her tightly against him. Mark's sharp whistle broke the spell. Jan pulled back and Frank let her go reluctantly. He leaned to whisper in her ear, "Tonight."

Mark asked, "Where's Sherry?"

"Up in your room. Mark, she said something that puzzles me. She asked if it was okay if she sleeps with you tonight. Then she said she 'needs your strength.' I'm not sure what she meant by that."

"She means just what she said," Frank interposed as he came back to the kitchen. "She needs someone to lean on. She's just been sucker punched by her own mother and her inner strength is  depleted."

"Go tell her supper's ready," Jan ordered.

Mark took off at a trot. "Don't run in the house!" Jan called after him. She placed a red and white checked napkin in the bread basket and put in the biscuits. "He's worse now than when he was little. He's too big for me to spank anymore."

Mark took the stairs two at a time and jogged back the hall. When he saw the open bedroom door and no light on he wondered where Sherry was. His shadow blocked most of the light from the hall. He reached over and flipped on the overhead light.

Sherry clapped her hands over her eyes and sat up so fast she almost fell off the chair. "You could have warned me before you turned on the light." She shaded her eyes with her hands.

Grinning, he walked over and took her hands to pull her to her feet and into his arms. After he kissed her he told her, "Mom says supper's ready."