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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

M olly coaxed Max into going to church with Gram and Becca, and he discovered he was actually enjoying the sermon. He found himself watching Becca, wondering what made her tick. She intrigued him.

On Monday evening Max picked up Molly from town then got back to work. Becca had been prickly for two days, and he didn’t know what to make of her. Maybe the kiss they’d shared that night had rattled her as much as it did him. He wasn’t sorry to see her pull away when all his senses were shouting for him to be cautious as well.

Shadows were gathering in the twilight outside, and his stomach rumbled. Dinner was a little late tonight. Mrs. Jeffries must have been upset over something. Maybe her son had made another appearance and upset her.

He saved his file and stood, stretching his back muscles. Becca had given high praise to his chapters, and he’d plunged full speed into his work. He told himself he didn’t care what she thought of them, but the reality was that her words of praise for his writing had meant more than she knew. She was different from anyone he’d ever met before. Maybe it was her faith. Watching her in church and at home had been a mesmerizing experience.

Mrs. Jeffries appeared in the doorway. She looked pale and somber. “Dinner is ready,” she said in a monotone voice.

“Are you all right, Moxie?”

Her dark-eyed gaze flickered to his face then dropped again. “I’m fine.”

“You seem upset.”

“I said I’m fine!” she snapped, turning on her heels and stomping away.

Max shrugged and followed her. Maybe Robert had called wanting money again. That man needed something to shake him up and make him look at his life.

Everyone else was already in the dining room. Tate was swilling his liquor as usual, and Nick stood by the window talking to Shayna. Molly was chattering to Gram and Becca.

Max stood in the doorway and watched them all for a minute. His world revolved around the contact in this dining room, a small world. He remembered when he was in college and all his dreams to travel and see the world. Would his writing be better if he expanded his horizons?

He’d traveled for a year right out of high school—France, Finland, Sweden—but he’d met Laura and settled here before he’d really experienced the world. Sometimes he wondered what he was missing, what Molly was missing. One of these days he would have to make a decision about the direction he wanted his life to go. He’d been drifting too long.

Becca glanced up and their gazes collided. The reserve in her face seemed to radiate dislike. Confusion made him frown. Had he been too hard on her in the office? He thought back to their last conversations and could see nothing that would have changed their relationship to the extent he saw in her face. Maybe she was afraid he was going to tell everyone who she really was, but he had no intentions of spilling the beans. She could tell the story herself in her own way.

He smiled to let her know she had nothing to fear from him, but she looked away, her expression still haughty. His lips tightened. Let her stew in a snit. It was nothing to him. Women were incomprehensible to him anyway so it was just as well she was pulling away.

“Come sit with us,” Gram called. “Your daughter is regaling us with tales of her escapades in town today. She’s got your gift for storytelling.”

Molly beamed at the compliment. “I’m going to be a writer like Daddy when I grow up.”

“So what happened in town today?”

“Daddy, I already told you.” Molly folded her arms across her chest.

The expression on her face reminded him of the one her mother often wore when he was lost in his current novel’s world. Some father he was. He gave her a guilty smile. “Sorry, baby girl, tell me again.”

“You weren’t listening, were you?”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t,” he admitted meekly.

“We found a kitten nearly drowned in the water. I get to bring it home tomorrow.”

“Whoa, did you really tell me that in the car?”

Molly nodded. “Uh huh. You said fine.”

Fine . Everyone was fine when he was lost in thought. “I hate cats.”

“Becca brought her cat and you don’t mind.”

“I never said I didn’t mind.”

“Well, you tolerate her. You’ll like Boo. He’s really sweet. You said okay.” Molly’s face screwed up like she was about to cry.

Max felt like the worst father in the world. He’d always told her no cats though. She should have known better than to ask.

“I told her it was all right too,” Gram put in. “We’ll keep Boo out of your way.”

“Cats never stay out of the way. They seem to know who hates them and they try to deliberately annoy me.”

Becca laughed, and he found himself turning toward her. “You tell them, Becca.”

“You won’t get me on your side. I think you’ll find out cats aren’t nearly as bad as you think. Give Boo a chance.”

“Would you just quit arguing? I’ve got a headache,” Shayna said. “Let her have the stupid cat.”

“It looks like I’m outnumbered.”

“You are.” Becca looked smug.

Max shrugged “Okay. But the first time he claws the couch, he’s out. Got it?”

“He won’t claw anything. I’ll watch him real close,” Molly promised.

“We’ll see. I never saw a cat that didn’t claw the furniture.”

“Misty doesn’t. I got her a scratching post.” Becca put her napkin on her lap as Mrs. Jeffries brought in the food.

“Maybe I’ll make Boo one,” Max said.

“Oh, Daddy, really?” Molly practically bounced in her chair.

“I’ll see about it tonight,” he promised. Maybe it would make up for not listening. He really needed to try to shake the habit of thinking about his characters even when he wasn’t writing.

He grabbed the platter of roast beef then glanced at Becca. “I suppose you want to pray first?”

She blushed and nodded. As he watched the color sweep over her cheeks, he realized he was developing feelings for her he never intended. At times she could be so shy and retiring and other times she was in-your-face bold. Sometimes a little girl and sometimes way too wise and adult.

He bowed his head, and she prayed for the food in a firm, compelling voice. He found himself listening to the nuances in her prayer. She spoke as though she knew God intimately, as though he was an old friend she talked to all the time.

When Laura was alive, he and Gram used to debate about God. He’d even toyed with the idea of turning his life over to God. Maybe he was a coward, but it was hard to think about giving up control of his own life, of admitting he couldn’t save himself. He couldn’t shake the longing that gripped his heart as he listened to her final amen.

Tate choked on the gulp of liquor he sucked down at the end of the prayer, and it broke the holy hush that had fallen over the room. Max picked up the plate of beef and took some then passed it to Shayna. Her hand lingered on his, and when he turned back around, he found an expression on Becca’s face he didn’t know how to read.

It almost seemed like—pain. Was she jealous of Shayna? She was married. Not that she acted like it some days. But even if she didn’t have the morals God gave a cat, it didn’t mean he’d fool around with a married woman. If she thought he would, she didn’t know him very well.

He turned back to his plate and scowled at his broccoli. Becca shuffled, and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She licked her lips, and he thought she looked a little pale.

“I have something I want to talk to all of you about,” she said. Her fingers twisted the napkin in her lap

The conversations that were beginning to gear up quieted as everyone turned to stare at Becca. She took a sip of water. “I need to ask your forgiveness. I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Ah, she was finally going to confess. She’d started to the other day then chickened out. He felt a little sorry for her when he saw her pale cheeks.

“You’re really a preacher and not a research assistant, right?” Shayna asked with a grin. The amusement in her voice lightened the somber tone that had fallen over the room.

“We’d already guessed that,” Tate said.

“Shut up, you guys, and let her finish,” Max growled. He’d wondered when she was going to reveal herself to the rest of them.

“Yeah, I want to hear this,” Nick said. He propped his elbow on the table and leaned his chin into his hand.

Becca bit her lip then drew a deep breath. “I haven’t been honest about who I am. My name is Rebecca Lynn but there’s more. It’s Rebecca Lynn Baxter.”

Silence greeted her announcement, then Tate leaped to his feet and threw his napkin on the floor. “Becky? You’re Becky Baxter? Cousin Becky?” His eyes were red from his drinking binge, but he looked sober.

“That’s right, Tate.” She nodded and stood.

“Why the big secrecy?” he demanded.

“I wanted to find out what had happened to my parents.”

She said the words with such dignity, Max had to admire her courage. It couldn’t have been easy for her. The last traces of his uneasiness of her motives began to trickle away. If she was revealing everything now, maybe he’d been wrong about her.

Tate looked as though he didn’t know whether to hug Becca or slug her. He advanced around the table and stared down into her face. “Little cousin Becky,” he said. “You’re all grown up. Our tree house is still out back.”

“I know, I found it the other day,” she said softly. “I wanted to tell you right from the beginning, Tate. We were friends when we were small.”

He embraced her then. “We still are.”

“Then you forgive me for the deception?” She returned his hug.

“Sure.” He released her. “But I still don’t get it. You could have come right to the door and asked about the explosion. You didn’t have to sneak in.”

“I wanted to find out the truth without anyone trying to spare my feelings.”

“But why?” Shayna put in. “What’s to know? The boat exploded. It was a terrible accident.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Max was beginning to recognize that stubborn tilt to Becca’s chin. The rest of the family would be just as incredulous as he’d been at the thought of it being anything but an accident.

“What are you saying?” Nick asked slowly. “You don’t think it was an accident?”

“What?” Tate looked around as though dazed. “If it wasn’t an accident then--.”

Max glanced at his daughter. She shouldn’t hear this.

Before he could react, Gram rose. “I think Molly and I will take our dinner on the patio.” She rose with her plate in her hand. “Come along, Molly.”

Gram thought of everything. At least Molly wouldn’t be in on the coming explosion. Gram and Molly carried their plates out the door.

Shayna stared at Becca. “No one would have wished Mason and Suzanne any harm.”

“This visit was full of fights and disagreements.” Nick rubbed his chin.

“Oh?” Becca asked.

Max wasn’t about to let the conversation go there. “He’s exaggerating. Minor family spats, nothing more.” He sent his brother a glowering look.

Nick ignored it. “Family spats? I don’t know that I’d put them in that category, Max. Especially not that one you had with Suzanne.”

Becca turned to stare at Max. “You argued with my mom?”

“It was nothing,” he insisted. Heat scorched his face, and he sent Nick another warning look.

“Tell me,” Becca said.

“Your mom had a way of getting around Gram,” Nick said before Max could answer. “Max here was afraid she’d get Gram to cut Molly out of the will.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Max protested. He cut a piece of his meat and popped it into his mouth, but it was tasteless to him.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Shayna said. “Max naturally wanted to protect Molly’s interests.”

Becca’s blue eyes focused on Max, and his forehead broke out into a light sweat. He’d thought they were getting past this suspicion of one another. She already knew he wanted to protect Molly’s interests so why did she have to look at him with that shocked stare?

“You’re making it out to be more than it was,” he said. “I simply told her they’d been gone a long time, and Gram had other family to care about as well.”

Tate took a swig of his glass. “Give him a break. It’s not like the rest of us didn’t argue with them too. Mason came waltzing in here like the proverbial prodigal son, expecting to be welcomed with open arms. Gram was happy to oblige, but too much time had gone by for the rest of us.”

“And there was too much money involved,” Nick said.

“That too,” Tate agreed.

“You all fought with my parents?” Becca was sounding bewildered.

“Yep. Even Gram,” Shayna said. “I know you loved your parents, but they weren’t perfect, you know.”

“They were to me,” Becca said softly.

“Can we drop this subject? It’s ridiculous to think any of us would have killed Mason and Suzanne,” Shayna said. “And that is what you’re saying, right? You thought one of us planted a bomb or something?”

“Or tampered with the motor.”

Max felt the weight of four pairs of eyes as they all turned their gazes on him. “Why are you all staring at me?” he demanded.

Shayna was the first to look away. “It’s just that your wife died the same way.”

“I had nothing to do with it, and all of you know that.”

“We know,” Tate said. “Look, this is getting us nowhere. I’m glad you’re here, Becca or Becky or whoever you are. For one thing, you’ve livened up a pretty dull existence.”

“Call her Becca, she doesn’t look like a Becky,” Max said.

“What’s a Becky look like?” Shayna asked. She tilted her head and looked at Becca.

“Not like a Valkyrie,” Max said. He knew he’d said the wrong thing when Becca’s eyes flashed, and she pointed her chin in the air.

“You can call me Becca,” she said.

“No way. If I call you anything, it will be Brunhilda,” he said, trying to get her to smile. It didn’t work. She continued to glower at him.

“Hey, have you ever gone to that female body builder site? She calls herself a Valkyrie. Amazing muscles for a woman,” Tate said.

“You’re not helping,” Max pointed out.

“How nice you’re having such fun at my expense,” Becca snapped. “Now back to my parents. What did you argue with them about, Shayna?”

Shayna raised her eyebrows. “Nothing really. I asked your dad if it was true you might be Will’s only child.”

Becca gasped, and it was all Max could do to hold in his own surprise. He had thought that old rumor had died long ago.

“Wha—what did my father say?” Becca whispered. The color leached from her cheeks.

Shayna shrugged. “He told me to mind my own business. But it’s true, you know, Becca. No one knows for sure.” She tilted her head. “You look a bit like that picture of Uncle Will.”

“You’re making things worse,” Tate said. His nostrils flared, and he took another swig of his drink.

“I know, but I’ve seen pictures of Jake and Wynne. Becca doesn’t look much like them.”

“I know who I am,” Becca said tightly.

“Do you?” Shayna asked. “Or do you just not want to know the truth?”

Becca’s head reared back as though she’d been slapped. She whirled and ran from the room. Max started to go after her then stopped. What could he say? This might be a truth she had to face. No amount of self denial could change facts. He’d heard all the rumors. And now that he knew what to look for, he had to wonder himself.