One True Heart (4 page)

W
HEELER
F
ARM

Johnny Wheeler waited until well after midnight before turning every light off in his big old rambling farmhouse. He walked out the back door with a shovel in one hand and a grain sack in the other. He planned to bury the memory of Scarlet tonight if it was the last thing he did.

The moon offered plenty of light as he walked the rim of the ravine on the north side of his place. When a car passed, he just stood still, knowing it unlikely anyone would notice him. Across the road was an old rest stop used for picnics in the summer. Johnny figured it was too late for dinner out and too early for teenage parkers.

Johnny had to find just the right spot for what he thought would be his one love. Scarlet was a choosy woman; any old hole wouldn't do. Once, she'd dragged him around the mall in Amarillo three times before she found just the right nightgown for their honeymoon to Hawaii. Then she'd made him drive back the next day and take it back because she
said the color didn't look good in daylight. He'd tried to help her with the flawed logic, but she didn't appreciate it.

Scarlet was picky, plain and simple, and now he'd take his time figuring out where to dig.

Finally, a half mile away from his house, he found the circle of dirt about five feet across that was surrounded by rocks. Weeds as high as his knee grew up in the place where a plow had never cut. His boot caught on one of the rocks and he took a tumble into the weeds. Several other boulders decided to join the fight, bruising his face and bloodying his left hand, but Johnny persisted in the burying.

Apparently, the earth didn't want any part of Scarlet either, but this was one battle he planned to win.

Propping his worn Justin boot on one of the rocks, Johnny opened the sack. He'd packed everything Scarlet had left behind, except him. Two pair of panties he'd found under the bed. Lotions, creams, and serums she was always lathering on herself. A picture of her and her best friend, Max. He'd found the photo in a book on her side of the bed that had been lying there since they married.

At the last minute, as he walked out, Johnny tossed in the funny playlike birdcages she called decorations and a few of the garden gnomes she thought looked good by the back door. If he didn't have Scarlet to put up with, he didn't have to tolerate her junk.

Johnny stared at the picture of his wife and Max in the moonlight, barely making out two people smiling. Hell, he'd thought Max was gay until he'd come home early to find them hugging just like they were doing in the picture. Only somehow, the day he'd found them, they'd both forgotten their clothes.

He swore. That had been the first hint he'd noticed that Max wasn't gay. Johnny decided that at twenty-seven, he should have known better than to trust the smooth-talking best friend of his wife.

Johnny rifled through combs with some of her bleached blond hair still in them. A nightgown he'd bought her in
Hawaii that she never wore. One shoe. Birth control pills. Those she'd probably miss. Several letters tied up with a ribbon. She'd said they were from her mother in Seattle, but he'd opened one earlier and found her mom signed them, “Love, Frank.”

Somewhere about the time he'd collected all she left behind, Johnny figured out that he had to be too dumb to breathe. When it came to women, most men, including him, were cross-eyed. They seemed to see two of everything. Two big blue eyes looking lovable. Two long legs heading toward heaven. Two breasts peeping up as if saying hello.

He decided if men really saw most women, there wouldn't be a next generation.

He closed the sack. Scarlet was dead to him, and tonight he'd bury her memory and never think of her again. He'd wasted three years trying to make her happy, and now it was about time to get on with his life.

In the moonlight he dug the hole three feet deep and plenty wide. Then he dropped in what remained of Scarlet and covered the junk with dirt. Just to make sure some coyote didn't dig her up, he used his shovel to play golf with the rocks nearby so the opening would be forever blocked from future digging. No one would ever find Scarlet's left-behinds.

As he walked back across his dry farmland, he calculated that at twenty-seven he had about fifty or sixty years to live with what a fool he'd been. She'd gone through his savings within six months after they married, then complained every day he worked that he wasn't spending any time with her. When he didn't work, she complained they didn't have any money. On and on it went. The house was too small. They needed a pool. She never had anything to wear. He wasn't understanding, or sympathetic or empathetic. Hell, he didn't even know what that meant, so he might as well add
dumb
to her list. She was always telling him how great Max was on the computer. Johnny hadn't even seen the need to buy one.

Johnny stopped walking and debated hitting himself in the head with the shovel. “It's over. Stop thinking about
her!” he yelled to himself as he lifted the shovel near his temple just to prove he meant business if his mind didn't turn off the flood of memories that had been drowning him for a week.

Luckily, before he beat himself to death with the shovel, Johnny noticed all the lights were on at his place. For a second he thought she might have come back to collect the minerals in his blood, and then he spotted his brother's pickup parked out front.

Wendell Wheeler, Wen; for short, was the one person he knew who got his days and nights mixed up when he was a baby and never recovered. He'd driven everyone in the family crazy running around all night and sleeping all day until he finally started school. Then he slept there. Their dad made him move out to a small apartment in the barn when he was twelve. He made so much noise out there the cow quit giving milk, but their dad said it was a small price to pay for the rest of the family to get some sleep.

“Evening, John,” Wendell yelled from the porch. “You out planting by the moon?”

“Nope,” Johnny lied. “Just taking a walk, just me and my shovel.”

Wendell offered him a cold beer. “Here, take one of my drinks. I just got them out of your fridge. You might want to think about shopping, brother, you're running low.”

Johnny took the bottle and sat down on the top step of the porch. “What brings you out here? Shouldn't you be at work? Who's watching Harmony's shopping center?”

“I asked off when I heard Scarlet left you. I didn't know if you'd be celebrating or crying in your beer, but I wanted to be with you.”

“She left me for Max Dewy.”

“I thought he was gay.” Wendell looked shocked.

“I don't think that rumor is true.” Johnny found little comfort in knowing his brother was as dumb as he was. “Not from what I saw, but he's probably real happy right now and she'll keep him that way until the ten thousand she pulled out of our checking account runs out.”

Both brothers gave up talking and just drank for a while. Finally, Johnny broke the silence. “Did you ever think that maybe we're doing something wrong in this life?” Johnny had always thought of himself as fairly good looking, and he'd had enough brains to finish two years of college before he started farming. Only luck never seemed to go his way. Not in love or business.

Wendell shook his head as he tossed his beer bottle into the flower bed, taking out the last garden gnome. “Maybe you, John, but I know I'm doing it all right. Staying single suits me just fine. Play the field.”

Johnny didn't bother to tell Wendell that he probably didn't even know where the field was, and working as a mall guard wasn't exactly living an exciting life. “I just want to settle down with someone I can love and who can love me. I want to raise my crops and maybe someday a few kids. That's all. Is that too much to ask?”

Wendell thought as he stared at the moon. Finally he answered, “That's boring, John. No wonder every girl you ever had ran. I love you, brother, but watching okra grow is more exciting most days than talking to you. Nothing ever happens to you. You got about as much depth as spilled table salt.”

Johnny hated the thought that his brother was right. He was boring. He always had been. Standing, he stomped his way across the porch. “Good night, Wen. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait. While you're drowning in your bad luck, think about me. You got the great build, the looks, Hell, you even got Momma's brown eyes. If you can't find a woman, what chance do I have?”

Johnny didn't feel very lucky. “Right, Wen, I pretty much emptied the good side of the gene pool before you came along. Too bad you got all the luck.”

Wendell stood. “What you going to do tomorrow?”

Johnny glanced back and smiled. “Change.”

W
INTER
'
S
I
NN

The strange man who'd driven her to Harmony stood behind her, his hands lightly bracing her waist as Millanie McAllen wrote her name in the guest book of an old inn that looked to have been one of the first homes in Harmony.

“Should I lay out towels for one or two?” Martha Q asked in her not-so-subtle way of seeing if Drew Cunningham planned to stay.

Millanie was exhausted and the warmth of Drew near her made her want to cuddle close to this man she'd just met, but she had no plans of sharing a bed with a man she didn't know.

She glanced over her shoulder and caught the shock on his face that the innkeeper would even ask if he planned to stay. He obviously was a very proper gentleman with his professor clothes and polished manner. Men like him would never have a one-night stand.

When she looked back at Martha Q, she saw the slightly
raised eyebrow as the corner of her lip twitched. The innkeeper was having a joke, knowing Drew wouldn't be staying. Knowing she was embarrassing him.

Millanie decided to surprise this woman who obviously thought she knew the shy, sweet man who'd taken the time to be a Good Samaritan. She leaned in, pressing against his side, and whispered loud enough for Martha Q to hear, “You're welcome to stay, but I know you have to get back to Twisted Creek tonight.”

So he wouldn't say anything and ruin the innkeeper's shock, Millanie kissed him, quickly, a short, impersonal kiss. He took her full attack without retreat, which surprised her. Maybe he wasn't as shy as she'd thought. She was so tired her judgment might be slipping.

When she pulled away she'd expected him to be angry or flustered at her action, but he simply studied her and acted like he'd kissed her before. Her action hadn't surprised or shocked him. More accurately, she'd have to say, intrigued him.

Now it was Millanie's turn to be surprised.

“Well, I'll say good night,” Martha Q managed as she moved away to allow them some privacy. “Your room is right behind you, dear. Breakfast is between eight and ten on Saturdays.”

“Don't set me a place. I plan to sleep late.” Millanie pulled away from Drew Cunningham as she took her crutches.

“I'll get your bag,” he said, already halfway to the door.

She left the door to her room open and had made it to the bay window when he rushed back.

“Well, that's it. Delivered safe and sound, Miss McAllen. I hope you have a pleasant stay here in Harmony.”

“Thank you,” she managed. “You're very kind.” She almost added,
and forgettable
. He was totally one of those men who didn't linger in a woman's mind. If she saw him a week or a year from now she'd have trouble remembering anything about him, except for the kiss maybe. That had been nice.

He took a step toward her. “About that kiss,” he said, as if planning to apologize for something he'd done.

“Sorry about the kiss.” She stopped him. “I shouldn't have done that. It's not like me. You do know the landlady was teasing you about the towels. I just wanted to fire back, but I may have laid it on a little thick.”

He opened his mouth as if to apologize for her apology, and then he stopped and grinned. “You're right. Martha Q was probably shocked by such a display. Maybe we should talk about the damage you've done to my reputation.”

She laughed. The geek was making fun of her and she found it sweet. Embarrassing him had been unkind, but his good-natured comeback let her know he'd forgiven her.

“That's why”—he took another step—“I'm giving the kiss back.” His hand slid around her waist and pulled her against him so fast the crutches tumbled.

She grabbed his shoulders to make sure she didn't fall as his mouth captured hers. There was nothing shy or hesitant about the way this man kissed. He was taking no prisoners.

Maybe it was because she was tired or maybe she just wanted to feel something other than pain, but Millanie let the kiss wash over her. His fingers dug into her hair and fisted in her curls, turning her head slightly so he could deepen the kiss. His warm body felt so good pressed against her that all she wanted to do was drink him in.

The kiss turned tender, loving almost. A kiss between lovers who knew how each liked to be kissed.

Slowly, he pulled her deeper into the pure pleasure of feeling wanted to the point of losing control. No one except doctors and therapists had touched her in so long. It felt wonderful to have a real hug and know the man giving it was attracted to her.

No, not just attracted to her. This kiss was born of a need, almost as if this moment might be life and death for them both. She held on tight, wanting what he offered. Wanting to feel something more than duty or pain. This man was no one she'd ever get to know, but for a few heartbeats he filled her senses.

When he finally raised his head, his hands still caressed
the small of her back. “You're tired, Millie; you need some sleep.” His words were those of a stranger, but his touch seemed familiar.

She nodded, too surprised to form thoughts. Drew was so far out of the realm of anyone she would ever be interested in, yet right now she didn't want to let him go.

He shifted and lowered her to the window seat. “Get some sleep. We'll continue this discussion later.”

He was gone before she could ask what discussion.

She leaned forward and grabbed one crutch, hopped to the bathroom, stripped off her clothes, locked the door, and fell into bed.

Twelve hours later she woke, realizing she hadn't moved all night. It took all her effort to climb out of the warm covers, put on a sweatshirt and baggy shorts from her bag, and unlock the door.

The aroma of coffee greeted her.

She followed the smell to a kitchen three doors away and found a thin, white-haired woman making bread.

“Morning.” The granny type smiled up at her. “I'm Mrs. Biggs, the cook here. I kept the coffee warming thinking you'd be wanting it when you woke.”

Millanie collapsed in the nearest chair and took a cup. Before it was cool enough to drink, a plate of sandwiches and cookies sat before her.

Mrs. Biggs was polite but didn't fuss over her. Millanie liked that.

“Did you just get out of the army, dear?” Mrs. Biggs pointed at the shorts and shirt that both were stamped with the
ARMY
logo.

“Yes.” Millanie took one of the sandwiches and stuffed it in her mouth. She wasn't ready for all the questions yet.

Mrs. Biggs seemed to understand. “With that leg, I'd be happy to deliver you a tray to your room every morning.”

“Thanks.” Millanie didn't want to think about how terrible she probably looked. She took a few cookies off the plate before Mrs. Biggs kicked her out. The clock had probably circled twice since she'd bothered to comb her hair.

“Room service is no trouble. You're our only guest. We'd love to pamper you. I'll bring breakfast at nine and serve tea anywhere you like at three. The porch might be a good spot this time of year. You'd rest easy in one of those wicker rockers. It has a stool that rocks right along with the chair.”

“You're very kind.” She downed her cup of coffee and two more cookies. “Do you know that man who delivered me here last night? Andrew Cunningham.”

“Oh, yes, Dr. Andrew Cunningham. He's lectured at our church a few times. Very intelligent. I feel smarter just sitting in the audience.”

Millanie didn't look up. If she had she might have been tempted to call the sweet woman a liar. No man who kissed like hell on wheels would be lecturing at a church. Mrs. Biggs hadn't seen Drew. Maybe she had him mixed up with someone else. He did have that nice-guy look about him; it had almost fooled her.

“Tall guy, thin, looks like a teacher or an accountant?”

“That's Andrew,” Mrs. Biggs nodded. “I'm not likely to get him mixed up with those two hulks who came by yesterday to see if a McAllen had arrived.”

Millanie pulled out of her own thoughts and paid attention. “Mrs. Biggs. No one knows I'm here.” The sweet old lady must be losing her mind. “So no one would have called for me yesterday.”

“Maybe I'm mistaken. I wish Martha Q had been here. She would have asked them questions. They wore dark suits as if it were their uniform. Dark glasses too. Both wide shouldered and frowns firm on their mouths.”

“Did they ask for me by name?” Millanie tried again.

“No, dear, they asked for Captain McAllen. I told them we had a McAllen, but it wasn't the one they were looking for. Now, seeing those clothes, I may have made a mistake.” Mrs. Biggs hurried out the kitchen door toward a phone ringing somewhere down the hall.

Millanie let her mind drift. In a town with so many McAllens there could be another captain besides her. She had no idea what the two men had wanted, but it probably
wasn't her. She'd told no one where she was headed when she left the hospital in Germany. Her army days were over. Now all she had to do was finish recovering and find a life.

When she'd finished both the plate of sandwiches and all the cookies, Millanie limped back to her room and found extra towels, a box of trash bags, and duct tape. Everything she needed for a proper shower.

An hour later she felt almost human. Except for underwear, everything in her bag was either army issue or too small to fit over the cast. She made it out to the porch with her laptop and propped herself up in a huge old wicker chair. About the time Mrs. Biggs delivered afternoon tea to the porch, Millanie had ordered a half dozen outfits online, along with several books she'd always wanted to read, and chocolates for fun.

After enjoying the warm tea and blueberry scones, she lay back among the extra pillows Martha Q thought she might need and decided to take a nap. Now and then a car would pass or she'd hear the bells in the clock tower, but peace surrounded her. She'd finally made it home. Nothing in Harmony had changed since she'd been eleven. She'd visited now and then over the years for family weddings and once for a family reunion, but after her parents passed away, it had been too painful. Six years ago she'd returned for one day, her grandmother's funeral. She'd expected the sadness to still be there, but no sorrow remained. Only peace. Good memories. Home.

Maybe she'd stay here a while. Maybe she'd go to New York and visit her brother. Maybe she'd stay on Winter's Inn Bed-and-Breakfast's porch and just daydream the rest of the summer away.

But one man, one kiss, kept walking through her thoughts. She didn't know who or what he really was, but no man who kissed like that could be the shy professor type. He had to have a wild side, a reckless past, an alternate life he didn't let the people of Harmony know about.

She had to see him again and she wasn't sure if it was because the kiss had affected her or because she'd misjudged
him so completely as harmless. For twelve years her job, her life, had depended on being able to size people up at first glance.

Millanie's memories blended with her dreams as she drifted. At thirty-two she'd never loved any man, at least not long enough or hard enough to give up the army. She'd had many men as friends, and a few had become casual lovers, but none made her think of settling down.

Andrew Cunningham wouldn't either. When she got to know him better, if she got to know him at all, she was sure he'd disappoint her. Or, worse,
she'd
disappoint him.

Evening shadows stretched across the porch when she finally awoke. The outline of a stocky man blinked into her peripheral vision and for a second she stiffened, preparing for trouble, and then she saw the uniform he wore.

Reality pulled her fully awake and she turned to the man leaning against the railing a few feet away. Short, thirty pounds overweight, and silver-gray hair. He was older, but she knew him immediately. “Sergeant Hughes.” Shoving her hair away from her eyes, she stared at the induction officer who'd sworn her into the army twelve years ago.

“You remembered me.” He smiled. “I'm touched, Millanie, or should I say Captain McAllen?”

“I'm out of the service now,” she said, tapping her leg. “But I'll never forget you.” She'd skipped her graduation from Texas Tech to talk to him. They'd spent hours planning what she'd like to do as a career. That evening Sergeant Hughes and his wife had taken her out to dinner to celebrate the degree she'd earned. It wasn't part of his job, he just didn't want her to be alone on such an important day. Graduating and joining the army. Stepping out of one life and into another.

“How's the boss?” Millanie remembered that was what he'd called his wife.

“Hard to live with as ever. Now she's a grandmother. I haven't seen an R-rated movie in years and I know all the words to the
Frozen
songs.”

Millanie smiled, remembering how much she liked Hughes. “You just come by to check on me, Sarge?”