Revenge (35 page)

Snatching his crutches savagely, he shoved them under his arms and plunged through the kitchen door.

“It's that Beth woman!” his mother whispered to Max. Jenner kept right on going as if he couldn't hear. “She's making him crazy, trying to pawn off that kid—”

“Cody could be his, Ma.”

“Max, really! Don't even say it. Jenner would never get involved with Harriet Forrester's daughter!”

“Like hell,” Jenner mumbled under his breath as he reached the front door and yanked it open. Fresh, cool autumn air, swept into the house. The door banged shut behind him.

It didn't really matter what Max or his mother thought, but one way or another, Jenner was going to get to the bottom of Beth's story and sort out truth from fiction. While he was at it, he'd have to make sure that the press— and the damned culprit whoever he was—didn't discover that Cody might have McKee blood running through his veins.

 

“Right here—look for yourself!” Harriet wagged the morning edition of the
Review
under Beth's nose.

“What's so important it can't wait until after Cody's bath?” Beth glanced at the section of newspaper Harriet held out and caught sight of a bold headline for the want ads.

“‘Wanted for full- or part-time position: Registered Nurse. Inquire at Post Office Box 762 in care of
The Rimrock Review.'
Didn't I tell you? I'll bet it's a job at the clinic or maybe over at Dawson Memorial Hospital.”

“Great,” Beth said, wrinkling her nose as Cody, his blue eyes gleaming mischievously, splashed water over the front of her blouse. “Then I could work with Dr. Donahue, who's supposed to soon become Dr. McKee. Max's fiancée.” She grabbed a thick, rose-colored towel and pulled Cody, kicking and protesting loudly, out of the old tub. “Why don't I just find someone to torture me slowly? You know, sticks under my fingernails, or water dripped on my forehead, or—”

“Why you say that?” Cody asked, and Beth sighed.

“I'm just making jokes. I was trying to be funny.”

Cody looked puzzled.

“It wasn't funny,” Harriet assured her grandson. “Sometimes your mother has a very sick sense of humor.”

Beth laughed and fluffed her son's hair with the towel. “So does your grandmother,” she said with a wink.

“I don't know why it would be so bad to live here close to us—”

“Mom, we've been over this a hundred times on the phone.”

Harriet threw up her hands and let the newspaper drop onto the floor. “Fine, then there's no use arguing, is there?” she said and huffed out of the tiny bathroom. Beth's gaze fell to the front page of the
Review,
which had slid away from the classified advertising section. Her heart jolted as she read the headline:
MCKEE FAMILY OFFERS REWARD

A picture of Jonah McKee, dressed in a western-cut business suit and shaking hands with the mayor a few years back, graced one side of the column. Beth couldn't help feeling a tiny speck of anger at the man who had rejected his grandson and bilked the citizens of Rimrock of their hard-earned cash and property. She didn't wish him dead, but she wouldn't miss him, and only felt a stab of guilt when she realized that her son would never know his grandfather, nor would Jenner ever see his father again.

Skimming the article, she learned that Virginia McKee was offering twenty-five thousand dollars for information leading to the arrest and conviction of a suspect involved in the arson at the ranch or connected with Jonah's death. There were quotes from the sheriff's department and a private investigator named Rex Stone, all sounding overly confident, all assuring the community that justice eventually would be served.

“Splash Mommy 'gain,” Cody said, reaching into the tub and thrusting another small handful of water at her.

“No more splashing.” She dropped the paper. “Come on, sport, let's get you out of here.” She tried to wrap Cody in the towel, but he squealed and ran down the hall.

“I naked!” he proclaimed, his damp little feet slapping against the bare floors. “Can't catch Cody!”

Harriet poked her head into the bathroom. “What in heaven's name—?”

“It's a game we play,” Beth said, giving chase. Cody was already in the living room and opening the front door.

“No, Cody, not outside!”

“Outside!” he insisted with glee. Shoving the door open, he hurtled through.

“Stop!” Beth commanded just as Cody laughed at her sorry attempt to catch him and his slippery little body collided with the long, jean-clad legs of his father.

“W
hat's this?” Jenner asked, trying to keep his balance while he picked up the kid, who was as naked as a jaybird. “You're in your birthday suit!”

“I not!” Cody insisted. He wriggled to get away from Jenner's arms, but Jenner wouldn't let go. “I naked,” he asserted, thrusting out his little chin.

“You sure are.” Warm and wet and smelling of soap, the boy had a way of wedging himself into Jenner's heart, and for a second he wondered if it really mattered whether his blood was flowing in this kid's veins or not.

“I want down!” Cody said, squirming.

Beth came to the doorway and offered him a tentative smile. “Sorry. One of the convicts escaped.”

“By boat, it looks like.” Jenner couldn't help noticing the water on her blouse, which made the fabric more sheer and gave him a view of the edge of her bra and a tantalizing glimpse of the darker disk of her nipple. A strange knot began to unravel in his gut and he drew his eyes upward again.

She let out a soft laugh. “It's true. A person could drown trying to get this guy clean.” She wrapped the towel around her son's wriggling, slick body and lifted him from Jenner's arms. “Bathing Cody is aerobic exercise. It's how I get my daily workout, isn't it?” she asked, sticking her nose into his damp hair.

The kid had left a wet impression on Jenner's shirt, and the scents of baby shampoo, soap and a fragrance he was beginning to associate with Beth lingered in his nostrils for a fleeting second.

“So what are you doing here?”

“I thought we should talk.”

She hesitated a second, then smiled, “Come on in,” she invited, holding the door open with her backside as Cody squirmed in her arms. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail that fell in wild curls past her shoulders and seemed to catch fire in the morning light.

Grabbing his damned crutches, he hoisted himself through the doorway and into the house. The furniture was worn but clean, the pictures on the walls colorful reproductions. Plants in bright pots were placed near the windows, and hand-crocheted afghans were tossed haphazardly over cushions that had seen better days.

Harriet Forrester was brushing away a speck of dust on an old Formica tabletop near the fireplace and trying to hide a surprised grin that bugged the hell out of Jenner. Dealing with Beth was difficult enough; he didn't want to have to face her mother.

“I think you know Mom.”

He inclined his head. “We've met.”

Harriet's lips twitched with undisguised pride. “Well, Jenner, what do you think of our boy?”

“Mom!”

Jenner bristled inside. Why did she want to put him on the spot? With a shrug, he said, “Seems like an okay kid.”

“Oh, he's way beyond okay. He's downright phenomenal, aren't you, baby?” she said, her gaze resting on her grandson for a second before her expression changed and her smile faded. Her lips pinched a little at the corners and she cleared her throat. “You know, I was wondering what it was that you and your grandmother want.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mom, I don't think this is the time or place—” Beth interjected.

“What
I
want,” he clarified.

“Mmm. And Mavis. She's in on this, too.”

“Mom, don't—”

“We're talking about my grandson, Beth, my only grandson and we're in my house, so I think I'm entitled to a few answers. Now, Mavis wrote you, asking about Cody, demanding you come here and let Jenner meet him, on the excuse of his accident, but I want to know where we all stand.” She lifted her chin a notch and looked over at Jenner again. “My family and yours run in different social circles and I've never hidden the fact that I'm not fond of anyone named McKee, but I'm willing to put the past aside for the sake of the child. However, I don't expect to be run over roughshod just because—”

“Please, Mom, for God's sake—”

“It's all right.” Jenner held up a hand to stop Beth's protest, then turned his attention back to Harriet. “I don't blame you for wanting to know what's up. I didn't know anything about my grandmother's letter, just like I didn't know anything about Cody until Beth showed up at the Rocking M a few days ago. To be honest, I'm not even sure what's truth and what's fiction around here. I'm trying to sort it out.”

“You still think I'm lying,” Beth accused, her green eyes snapping with fury.

He didn't bother answering.

Harriet snorted, and Beth, holding a swaddled Cody, said coldly, “I don't need to be a part of this. You two, with all your built-in predjudices about each other, work this out. You can inform me later. Right now, I'm going to get my son dressed before he freezes to death.”

“Or escapes again,” Jenner said.

Beth turned on her heel, and walking smartly through an archway that led down a hall to the bedroom, she disappeared. He itched to follow her, to have it out with her once and for all, to hold her in his arms and...oh, hell, what was he thinking?

“You have a lotta nerve,” Harriet said quietly. She hardly looked old enough to be Beth's mother.

“So I've been told.”

“Do you honestly think Beth would come back here and put her heart and pride and child on the line all for the sake of a lie? Think about it!”

“Depends on how much money is involved, I suspect.”

She reached for a partially smoked pack of cigarettes and shook one out. Her fingers seemed to tremble slightly as she placed the fliter tip into her mouth. “Money! Always money with you people.”

“With most people.”

Harriet struck a match and held the flame to the tip of her cigarette. “You sure think you can run things, don't you? Just like your father.” A shadow crossed her eyes as she waved out her match and drew on her cigarette. “He took the cake, that one. You know, I have half a mind to call up Mavis and tell her to back off.”

Despite his anger, Jenner felt the corner of his mouth lift a little as he thought about Harriet and Mavis squaring off. Kind of a battle of the grandmothers. “I've already tried. It didn't work.”

Harriet didn't see an ounce of humor in the situation. “You be careful, Jenner McKee,” she advised as she shot an angry plume of smoke from the corner of her mouth. “Don't think you can do the kind of fast shuffle your dad was so good at.”

“I'm not like my dad,” he said evenly, and Harriet, through a haze of smoke, gave him the once-over.

“Aren't you?”

“No way.” His eyes narrowed as he studied the woman whom he'd heard rumors about all his life. Rumors that linked her to just about every available male in Rimrock. Harriet Winward Crandall Something-or-other Forrester. There had been other names he'd heard, too. Floozy. Whore. Bimbo. You name it and Harriet had been called it. Though she'd never been linked to any married men, Jenner couldn't help but wonder if she'd been involved with his father. Maybe it was the way she'd nearly sneered when she'd brought Jonah up, as if she'd been familiar with him. That thought made him uneasy as he watched her take a seat on a worn couch and motion for him to sit, as well.

“So what're your plans?”

“Haven't got any.”

“McKees always have plans.”

He'd been polite long enough. “Let's be straight with each other, Mrs. Forrester—”

“Harriet. Just call me Harriet.”

“Okay. Ever since I walked through the door you've been using me for a punching bag.” Wielding his crutches, he moved so that he was standing directly over her. “So why don't you give me your best shot and tell me what it is you don't like about me?”

“You mean other than the fact that you used my daughter—got her pregnant—then left without a backward glance? Or if that's not good enough, let's take ridiculing her when she gathered the nerve to come and tell you about Cody.”

“After
the letter from Mavis.”

“Whatever.” She waved impatiently, and smoke swirled around the hand holding her cigarette. “The point is, it took guts to come back here and face you.”

“It would've taken more a couple of years ago.”

“Back then she came up against Jonah. You do remember your father, don't you? How he tried to manipulate everyone in this town?” With a final drag, she shook her head, then jabbed out her cigarette in a glass ashtray. “He didn't want you tied down to my daughter and he wouldn't accept the fact that Cody was his grandson. Prince of a fella, your old man.”

“She should have talked to me.”

“You should've stuck around. Loving ‘em and leaving 'em isn't exactly admirable.”

“I think that's enough, Mom,” Beth said, her cheeks flushed slightly, as if she'd heard more than she should have when she walked back into the room.

Jenner offered a lazy smile. “Your mother was only expressing her opinon about my family. No harm done.”

Cody ran pell-mell into the living room, his feet in new sneakers pounding loudly. His hair was combed and he was wearing a pair of stiff new Levi's. Grabbing a book from a basket near the fireplace, he crawled onto the couch and smiled up at his grandmother. “You read?” he asked her, his eyes glinting as if he knew how adorable he was.

“Of course I will.”

“I think you and I should talk,” Beth said to Jenner, then shot her mother a meaningful glance. “Alone.”

“Fine with me,” Harriet said. “I was hoping to take Cody into town later anyway.”

“That would probably be a good idea.”

This was gonna be trouble. If Jenner stuck around, Beth was going to mess up his mind, sure as shootin'. But he couldn't very well just walk out on her. Besides, a part of him was curious to know what she had up her sleeve this time.

“All right,” he drawled.

“Then you and I,” Harriet said, giving her grandson a wink, “will go down to the Pancake Hutt where Grandma works. Since it's my day off, we'll splurge on lunch and I'll show you off to some of my friends. I'll buy you a Belgian waffle with strawberry jam and whipped cream. How would you like that?”

“Mommy come?” Cody said, and his brow furrowed.

“Not this time.”

“Mommy come!” This time it was a command.

“I'll be back soon, sweetheart,” Beth promised.

“Noo!” He started to wail and Beth picked him up. He let his picture book fall to the floor. “You stay! Mommy, you stay!”

Beth bit her lip, obviously torn. “We'll be back soon,” she said to the boy, and Cody, clinging even more tenaciously to his mother, glared up at Jenner.

“No!”

“It'll be all right, honey,” Beth whispered, holding the boy close. “I'll bring you a surprise.”

“You stay with me!”

“I can't, honey, really.”

“Let me take him. You two run along.” Harriet peeled her distraught grandson from Beth. “We'll be fine. The minute you leave this'll be over.”

Beth didn't look convinced as she grabbed a jean jacket from the coat tree standing guard near the front door. “I can drive—”

“No!” he snapped quickly as he pushed his crutches out in front of him and concentrated on limping as little as possible. “I'll drive.” Cody's wails followed them to the front porch and Beth cast a guilty look behind her as she crawled into the cab of his truck and he threw his damned crutches in the back. Now what?

Trying to ignore the sounds of her son's cries, Beth eyed Jenner and wished she didn't care for him. Not at all. It wasn't as if she was in love with him or anything, but there was still a part of her that found him fascinating—on a purely sensual level. She tried to convince herself that her feelings existed simply because he was the father of her child, that of course she should care for him, but deep inside she worried that she still might harbor a little seed of the old crush she'd had on him. It was silly, really, but there it was, buried deep in the back of her mind, ready to sprout if given the least bit of encouragement.

Which she wouldn't get from Jenner, so she was safe. Out of habit, she checked her watch.

“You have to be somewhere?” he asked, braking for a red light.

“It's just that Cody...he doesn't like it when I leave him. I really shouldn't be away a long time.”

“What about when you work?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “He adjusts. I've got a wonderful baby-sitter who treats him like he's one of her own grandkids.”

“You mean she spoils him.”

“You can't spoil a two-year-old,” she said defensively. She felt her maternal talons beginning to show.

“You spoil him, too.”

“As I said—”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard. ‘You can't spoil a two-year-old.' Well, that's a pile of B.S. and we both know it.” He slid her a glance that could cut through steel, then shifted into first gear as the light changed.

“So now you're the expert on child rearing?” she asked, arching a dubious eyebrow as he worked gas, brake and clutch with relative ease.

“Nope, just an expert on being spoiled rotten. My father thought you could buy a kid's affection and my mother always worked under the assumption that being a slave to your husband and your kids would assure you a place in heaven or some such crap. Sometimes she played the martyr so well I was certain she'd be cannonized.” He snorted and his hands seemed to grip the wheel a little tighter. “It doesn't take a genius to see where my folks screwed up.”