Reclaim My Life (32 page)

Wilson closed the colonial shutters over all the downstairs windows. In the den the television’s signal came and went, but Elizabeth stayed with The Weather Channel. She jotted down everything the hurricane expert said so she could report it to Wilson while he was upstairs staking out places to watch for intruders. If he was being overly cautious, she didn’t mind a bit. Between the weather and the contract killer, she welcomed vigilance.

By the time he clopped down the stairs, she had a complete weather update prepared. “It’s changed direction a bit.”

“What’s the path?”

“It shouldn’t hit Florida at all. They predict landfall around Brunswick—”

“I hate to burst your bubble, darlin’, but Brunswick’s two hours from here. If the eye of the storm goes over Brunswick, we’re still in trouble.”

“Let me finish. The storm is moving a lot faster than expected, which means it hasn’t strengthened as much as it might have. They’re calling it a category two.”

He let out a breath. “That’s a lot better than a category four. My cabin might survive.”

“What about this house?”

“We may have some roof damage, but this house is built to last. The original structure is cypress, although the additions are pine. A few of the outbuildings could suffer, like the carport.”

“Shouldn’t you move the Jeep?”

“Where? If the carport holds, it’s some protection from trees and debris.” He headed toward the front door with a heavy length of chains. “I’m going out to secure the gates.”

“I thought you did that when we drove in.”

“That chain’s no match for seventy-mile-an-hour wind. Also, double chains will slow any unwelcome visitors.”

“May I watch from the porch?” With the shutters closed, she couldn’t see outside. “I have this irrational need to keep an eye on you.”

He smiled at that. “Sure. Just keep to the shadows.”

Still gripping her notepad and pen, she followed him out to the screened porch. She stood in the recess of the door and watched him jog down the steps and down the dirt road, the chains jingling in his hands. The entrance to Drake Oaks was about a quarter mile from the house. He reached the large metal gates and tested the single chain lock. Wrapping the heavier metal links between the two, he lashed them together to rattle and buck in the wind.

He raced back to the screened porch, panting and sweating. When he stepped inside the screen door, the rain began. “Good timing. I just hope the chains hold.”

Large drops at first, so intermittent she could count them, exploded into a loud torrent made noisier by the house’s metal roof. She inhaled the odor of wet dust mixed with wet burnt wood. After three months without so much as a sprinkle, the earth seemed to give a huge sigh.

“Oh my. Isn’t this wonderful!”

He stood beside her for a moment, gazing at the wall of water. “It sure is, darlin’.”

“I wish we could sit out here and enjoy—”

“It’s blowing in. We’ll get drenched.” He opened the door and nudged her inside. “Besides, I have to keep you out of sight.”

“I know. I promise to be a cooperative charge. It’s kept me alive so far.”

He locked the door and bolted it. “I’ve never known anyone who did so thorough a job of sticking to the rules of witness relocation. You’re a smart and brave lady.”

“Thank you.” She glanced at the notepad she gripped. “Staying alive is a huge motivator.”

“Yeah.” His expression betrayed nothing of his feelings, although she imagined a flicker of concern in his eyes.

She followed him down the hall past the staircase. “What do we do the rest of the night?”

He flashed a sexy grin filled with empty promises. They both knew there’d be no letting down their guard for acts of pleasure. “First, we organize our flashlights and supplies in case we lose power. Then we wait it out.”

“This is my first hurricane, so forgive me if I go hysterical.”

Stepping close, he gifted her with a warm smile and the touch of his finger along her cheek. “The hurricane is the lesser of two evils. As long as the weather poses a threat, it’ll keep our hit man away.”

“Yes, the hit man is definitely more evil than Mother Nature.” First, the killer had to find her. For the moment, she felt safe in Wilson’s care. No one knew where they were, and he’d gone to extremes to hide their presence. After the hurricane passed, she’d face the other storms in her life. “Okay, let’s sort the supplies.”

She followed him to the kitchen, where they’d stacked the gallon jugs of drinking water, flashlights, batteries, and canned goods. She gave a wide berth to the guns with their boxes of ammunition. Organizing and planning occupied her time, although it did little to distract her from the pounding of rain or the scraping of tree limbs against the roof.

After they’d checked the flashlights and set out the water jugs, Wilson called a Coke break. They carried their soft drinks to the den, where he sat cross-legged on the floor and groaned. “I didn’t realize I was so out of shape until I ran from the gate.”

She collapsed on the small braided rug in front of the television. “I’m in terrible shape. I used to ride horses, jog, Jazzercise—”

“What’s Jazzercise?”

“Just an exercise class that’s like dancing.”

“That’s right. You love to dance.”

“Yeah.” He’d remembered. She took a sip of her Coke and let her mind wander to her former life. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t a big eater. Gluttony is an acquired art for me.”

He shook his head. “Darlin’, you’re no glutton. And you aren’t fat. It’s a pleasure to eat with a woman who doesn’t look at what’s on her fork and recite fat grams and carbs.”

“I agree. Health nuts are a bore.”

He scowled and took another drink of his soda. “I dated this woman in Jacksonville a couple years back. All she talked about was the G.I. Diet. I figure if she’s eating like a GI, that’s not bad, right? I mean, Army guys eat healthy portions. Dumb hick me didn’t realize that G.I. stood for something called the glycemic index—”

“Why do you do that? You’re no hick. And while we’re on the subject, why do you let your brother talk down to you?”

“It’s nothing personal with Sam. He’s more educated. That’s just how he is.”

“And he treats your father like an invalid. While you were working with your deputy in the office, your brother insisted on spoon-feeding Harold. What’s that about? Then he constantly wiped at Harold’s mouth where he dribbled. He wouldn’t have drooled if your brother had let him eat at his own pace. It was all I could do to sit quietly and pretend not to notice.”

Wilson sighed, took another drink, then shook his head. “Sam is having trouble handling Dad’s stroke.”

“Well, so is your dad. The last thing he needs is—” She stopped when she saw his grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Now I know you love me. You’re my champion.”

She grinned back. “Yes, I love you. I guess I don’t understand your family dynamics. You say I’m disciplined and cooperative, but I’m a product of a close, supportive family. I took it for granted until one day I discovered that other people’s families aren’t necessarily like mine. In fact, more aren’t than are.”

He nodded. “I was sort of the black sheep of our family, or at least the runt of the litter.”

His mother was the black sheep, but Elizabeth resisted saying so. “Why do you think that?”

“I had a learning disability. Dyslexia. All through school I struggled, while Taylor and Sam made the honor roll. Everything either Taylor or Sam participated in, they excelled. I seemed destined for mediocrity. I was good at one thing only—the Boy Scouts.”

“I’ll bet you’re an Eagle.”

“Yep. A career in law enforcement evolved from scouting and was all I wanted, but it disappointed my grandmother and my father. They groomed us all to be either in academics or politics.”

“County sheriff is politics.”

“Yeah, it is. I surprised my family when I pulled that off. Dad’s taken an interest in my career for the first time since I left home.”

“I’ve watched you with Harold. You’re sensitive to his disability and treat him as normally as possible.”

“I can’t imagine treating him any other way—”

“Exactly. You wouldn’t know how to be condescending or patronizing.”

He finished off his Coke. “You’re a bit rough on Sam, especially considering the guy’s your boss.” He shrugged. “As for me, I don’t let him bother me anymore.”

Anymore? The adverb spoke volumes about the two brothers’ history, but she dropped it. “Just remember: we teach people how to treat us.”

He rubbed at his chin with his thumb, as if digesting what she’d said. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

“So tell me about your sister.”

“Taylor took up photography, entered competitions, and almost always won. Upon graduating from college, she turned down jobs because she already was in demand from a few well-paying publishers as a freelancer. She travels the world, which was always her dream.”

“Taylor Drake, of course! I’ve seen her photos. Sorry I didn’t make the connection sooner. Wasn’t she up for a Pulitzer?”

“She
won
a Pulitzer. Did I mention she’s beautiful, too? And that’s not just a big brother’s bias talking.” Pride filled his voice and warmed his smile. “As I was saying, I stayed in the shadows of my siblings.”

“Did you resent being overshadowed by them?”

He laughed. “Hell, yeah. A lot. I became the rebel child and got into all kinds of mischief. I left Drake Springs as soon as I could and joined the Army, and you know the rest.”

Not by a long shot
. “Tell me more about this rebel child phase.”

“I did the unthinkable where Dad was concerned, and dated Amy Gillespie my senior year. We were quite an item.”

“Amy, Adam’s twin sister?”

“Yep. We were all in the same graduating class at FCHS. Adam didn’t approve of our dating anymore than his mother or my father did. Eventually, Amy caved under pressure from Phyllis and called it quits, right before the senior prom.”

“Oh no. So what happened? Did you find another date?”

This time his smile seemed sad. “Yeah. Megan. She was nineteen or twenty, finishing up her sophomore year of college and home for the weekend. She told her mother she was ridiculous for imposing old grudges on the next generation. When both Amy and Phyllis stood their ground, she called me to say she’d be my prom date. Caused quite a disturbance in the Gillespie house.”

“Uh oh. Something else for Phyllis to blame on your family. So did Amy go to the prom with someone else?”

“She went by herself but left with Ben Sawyer. Two years later, she and Ben married and lived happily ever after.”

“So Megan did her a favor, or did she see it that way?”

“I never knew what anybody in that family thought after that night. But Megan did me a favor. We had a lot more fun prom night than I would’ve had with Amy, if you get my drift.”

“Are you saying you and Amy weren’t sexually active?”

“No, ma’am, we weren’t. We did some heavy petting, but she said she wasn’t ready to go all the way with a guy. I’m thinking Ben changed her mind about that.”

“I see. But Megan had no such reservations?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t think Megan had reservations about anything. College had turned her into a wild woman! She and I got drunk and stayed out all night parked at the river. I confess I was smitten with the
older
woman.”

“So then did you two start dating?”

“Nope. I never saw her again. I left the day after graduation. Megan returned to college to take her finals, came home for the summer, and died in a collision on the interstate. That’s one tragedy the Gillespies can’t blame on the Drakes.”

“Did you attend her funeral?”

“Didn’t even know about it for a couple of years. I was in the service at the time.”

“How’d you wind up in Jacksonville?”

“I hired on with JSO, worked my way up to detective, then Dad had his stroke. The funny thing was that he asked for me, not Sam or Taylor.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

He gave her a puzzled look. “Why do you say that?”

“Just a theory of mine,” she said. “Sam and Taylor are high achievers, people who demand perfection from themselves and sometimes others. Harold created two monsters incapable of having the patience for him in his impaired condition.”

“Ouch! You’re saying the stroke dragged him down to my level, so he was more comfortable with me?”

“You aren’t impaired, Wilson. You’re human and normal, which is exactly what he needs. You don’t talk down to him, and you aren’t impatient with him. You treat him as if you’ve forgotten he’s in a wheelchair. It’s … wonderful.” Love swelled inside her until tears threatened. “You have no idea how good you are with people, do you?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “No, but when you look at me that way, darlin’, I believe I can do anything.”

She resisted telling him how much she’d miss him, how much he meant to her. So many memories they’d never get the chance to make. Instead, she chose to lighten the moment. “Don’t let it go to your head, handsome.”

“Handsome, huh? Seriously, is this theory of yours borne out of what happened with your younger sister?”

She nodded. “Some of it, yes. Nina’s husband, Terry, is very good to ignore her disability or to treat her as if she doesn’t have one. It’s exactly what she needs, and she’s happier because of it. To me, it’s pure, unconditional love. Your father has yours, and he knows it.”

“We’ve never talked about love.”

“You don’t have to, but I hope you will. You never know how much time you have left with your dad. Don’t take it for granted.” Tears threatened again, and she swallowed.

“You’re remembering your father, aren’t you?” When she nodded, he went to her, pulling her into his arms and holding her. “You’re right, honey. I won’t take Dad for granted.”

Before the embrace of comfort led to one of passion, he released her and returned to his seat on the floor. They couldn’t afford to let down their guard for sex, no matter how tempted. They needed to be alert to any signs of unwanted company.

Elizabeth forced a smile. “You left off where you were in Jacksonville, and Harold had the stroke.”