Crimes of the Heart (24 page)

Meowing, he padded past an entering Devon. His long shadow stretched across the opposite wall. “Here, let me take that for you.” He lifted it from her hands before she could protest. Setting it in the one empty spot in the sea of aromatic serving dishes, he commented, “I don’t know whether to eat half this stuff or kill it.” His slow, sexy smile and accompanying wink took the sting out of his words and sent a tingling sensation through her bloodstream.

“If you think my chocolate spiders, fudge worms, and ghost lollipops are bad, you should see what Sean and Kev have literally cooked up for the chamber of horrors.”

Grimacing, he admitted, “I think I might have given them a few ideas for that.”

The playful side of him that had resurfaced time and time again since he’d returned from Texas was infectious, spreading to Sean and herself. The old Devon seemed to be showing up a lot lately and she longed for him to stay. “Uh oh, now I’m in trouble. I’ll just skip that part. Thanks for warning me, Rhett.” She waltzed away.

The rich sound of his laughter followed her as she made her way to find Sean. The flickering candles in the Halloween decorated foyer and living room lent the only light. The fake cobwebs tickled her cheeks as she past by. Spooky howls, playing on a CD and piped through several strategically placed speakers, caused her to shiver. “Sean,” she called out, not liking the eerie isolation of being alone in a room with a coffin even if it was filled with treats for their guests.

“Yeah, Mom?”

When he popped out from behind a skeleton draped in the Grim Reaper’s cape, she jumped and nearly screamed. Pressing a shaky hand to her thudding heart, she gulped in a breath, and then another. “Don’t do that.”

“Got ya.” His and Kev’s laughs mixed.

Kev peeked out from under the black fabric covered plank bearing the weight of the coffin. “Sorry, Mrs. M. It was my idea to scare everyone as they came in.”

With the boy’s impish grin filling the space between his mummy wraps and the gory eyeball dangling crazily from the space where the socket should be, Jewel forgave them both. Joining in the spirit, she asked her son, “Have you got your dad yet?”

Rubbing his distorted monster hands together in obvious glee, Sean said, “He’s next.”

“You go hide again and I’ll take care of the dry ice. It shouldn’t be long before our first guest arrives. Where’s Cyrus?”

Even through the heavily made-up gore, he seemed to beam with delight. “He’s got one more glitch to work out in the haunted house, then it’ll be all set.”

The sudden peal of the doorbell had the boys shrieking, and then instantly scrambling for cover.

Smiling broadly, Jewel met a grinning Devon in the foyer as she went to open the door.

“Trick or treat,” Sydney, Bree, and Nick cried out in unison.

Jewel bent down and scooped up the little girl, hugging her close. “You look wonderful.” Pulling back, she fingered the white tulle and glanced toward the tiara. “Is it Cinderella or a Princess?”

“Both, Auntie Jewel.” She shivered slightly. “The music is scary, isn’t it? Is Sean here?” Her cobalt blue eyes sparkled when she mentioned Jewel’s son.

Holding out his hand, Devon said, “Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

When she went willingly, Jewel gulped hard, watching the tiny hand instantly being swallowed up in the bigger one.

Would he be as tender and gentle if they had a little girl?

“Hey, do we have to stand out here all night?” Bree asked, yanking Jewel back to her friends.

“Sorry. Come on in, Lily and Herman.” She grinned at the authentic Munster costumes Bree had created. Nick, in the big, bulky attire, shouldered his way into the house after Bree entered in her flowing gown and long dark wig with a white streak on one side. “Great job on the makeup.”

Nick grumbled good-naturedly, “It took hours for Bree to get this green glob on. I hate to see how long it’s gonna take me to get it off.”

“Oh, you loved all the attention.” Bree stood on tip-toe and gave him a lingering kiss.

With a twinge of jealousy, Jewel cleared her throat. “I’ll just leave you two and go get the dry ice.”

When Bree ended the embrace, she said, “I’ll come help. I’m dying to talk to you.”

“Ah, sweetness,” Nick called out after them, “don’t mention dying tonight, all right?”

Laughing, along with her friend, Jewel led the way to the kitchen. “I’ve got it in a cooler in the pantry. Now if I can just maneuver this dress in that small space.”

“I’ll get it for you,” Bree offered, easily extracting the red, boxy container. “The real reason why I came to help is so I could tell you my news.” Taking a deep breath, she released it along with a rush of words, “I’m going to have a baby.”

A roar sounded in Jewel’s ears. “You’re kidding me?” Then she glanced down at the cooler. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again, Bree. I know how much trouble you had carrying Sydney, so don’t try anything silly, all right?”

Tears formed in her friend’s blue eyes. She tried to blink the evidence away. But she failed. “Aren’t you happy for me?”

Remorse flooded through Jewel. Swiftly, she grabbed her best friend to her, hugging her close. “Of course I am. I just…” Pulling away, she swallowed past her clogged throat. She choked out, “I’m pregnant, too.” At the cry of joy, Jewel instantly hushed her. “No one knows.”

“Except Devon, right?”

When she remained silent for so long, dawning crossed Bree’s face. “I can’t. Not yet,” Jewel said.

“You’re still not sure about him, are you?”

Shaking her head, she whispered, “No.”
I don’t know if I’ll ever be.

Devon, listening on the other side of the door, clamped his eyes shut. His suspicions had been confirmed. Part of him rejoiced, the other half ached for both of them; she couldn’t confide in him.
When will she be able to?

As the ladies’ voices grew closer, he opened his eyes and rushed down the hall, nearly running smack into someone dressed in a long gold-trimmed, white gown with attached wings and a halo. The cat padded beside the angel. “Sorry about that.” He stopped short when he recognized the white bushy brows, big bulbous nose, and wide smile. “Father Tom?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I was just coming to find you.” He stuck out his hand, and when Devon placed his in it, the priest clasped it warmly. “Oh, it’s good to see you, son. How have you been? You wouldn’t happen to have a little bit to nip, you know, chase away the chill? This daggone costume gets some mighty drafts.”

Grinning wickedly, Devon nodded for Father Tom to follow him into his study. He flicked the light on. The yellow glow chased away the darkness. The cat brushed past him and jumped onto the desk, taking a seat on Devon’s closed laptop, a favored resting spot these days.

In three, long strides, Devon arrived at the reproduction of a fifteenth century world globe. Lifting the top to reveal the hidden bar, he explained, “A surprise of Jewel’s.” He waved a hand to the rest of the room, saying, “She redecorated my study while I was away on business.”

Undisguised pleasure vibrated in his voice as he noted the dark green walls, cozy furnishings, family pictures of Sean, her, and his parents, and filled bookshelves containing his favorite subjects on classic cars and architecture.

“She always had such a way with things, didn’t she?” Father Tom tapped a finger on his lips as he examined the globe. “Hmm, that’s some contraption. It wouldn’t be right for my beer. But maybe the good wine.”

A playful streak poked Devon into saying, “I could always give you one, Father.”

“You know I can’t because of my vow. Now, if you made a donation to the church, who am I to complain?”

At the innocent look the older man shot him, Devon had all he could do to contain his growing laughter. Coughing, he choked out, “I’ll have one delivered to the rectory this week.”

Delight beamed across the priest’s face. “You were always generous, even when you had so little.” He swept an arm about the study, his wing bobbing at the motion. “Your father would have been so pleased to see you take your rightful place here in this house.”

At the mention of his father, Devon stilled in pouring the brandy into an awaiting goblet. “Did you know him well?” He frowned, trying to recall any encounters he’d witnessed between the two men.

“Ah, don’t stop now.” Father Tom indicated the still empty glass. “I’d say, along with Gil, the three of us were the best of friends. Every Tuesday we’d meet at the pub and talk about baseball, politics, religion, you name it. By the end of the night many of the others drinking there would join us and usually it ended up in a very heated discussion.”

Grinning as he filled the goblet a quarter of the way, Devon said, “All the things you’re not supposed to discuss, right?”

“And then some. But at the end of the night we always parted as friends with no hard feelings and plans to meet again the next week.” He paused, and then pointed to the liquor. “Don’t be so stingy, son. It’s cold out there tonight and I want a guided tour of that haunted house and chamber of horrors I’ve heard so much about.”

The background noise of the party filtered in to Devon as more guests began to arrive and the CD changed to the Monster Mash song. After doubling the quantity of brandy, he asked, “Is that better?”

Father Tom smacked his lips in obvious anticipation. “Ahh, much.” He accepted the offering, and then drank deeply.

Devon broached the subject the priest had touched on a few seconds ago. “My father, did he say anything about me?” He heart seemed to still. The waiting dragged on as Father Tom dropped his gaze to his glass and drew his bushy brows together.

“Never around the others. But when we were alone he did.” He gulped the rest of the brandy down, and then placed the glass on the desk as he arranged his wings so he could sit in the large chair reserved for visitors. The cat, from his perch, eyed the angel closely, and then thumped his tail.

On shaky legs, Devon made his way to the solid structure of his desk. Once there, he leaned against the corner and faced Father Tom. A multitude of questions burned inside of him, ones he longed to ask, but didn’t know quite where to begin.

“He loved you, more than he ever dared show you for fear of his wife’s reaction.” Father Tom’s quiet voice rang with the knowledge.

Just hearing someone else say the words shook Devon to his core. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the overwhelming emotions bubbling inside of him. A mixture of joy and bittersweet sadness gripped him, refusing to let go.

“Don’t ever forget you and your mother were the only good things in his life. He was going to make it right by the both of you.”

Dragging his hand down his face, he asked, “How? He never said a thing to us.”

The priest sighed loudly. “The last Tuesday I saw him, he was unusually preoccupied. I walked him to his car, hoping he’d tell me what was troubling him so.”

By the pained expression crossing the older man’s face, Devon guessed, “He told you.”

Nodding, Father Tom said, “He was tired of living a lie. Even though she’d never grant him a divorce, he was going to leave his wife, walk away penniless, and take you and your mother away to be a family.”

Wonder filled him at this new piece of knowledge. It had always been his dream for his father, mother and him to be a real honest-to-goodness family.

“I knew how much it meant to him, so I helped with the arrangements. My relatives in Maine would take the three of you in and teach your father about their fishing business. Everything was set for that weekend. He didn’t dare breathe a word of it for fear someone would discover what he was up to and ruin everything.”

Suddenly Devon knew the rest. “But the scandal broke first.”

“He died on that Friday,” Father Tom barely managed to get out. Clearing his throat, he finished, “You know, some thought it was the shock of him being found out that did him in. But I know the real reason why he died: His heart was broken because he realized he’d probably never be able to be with the two people he loved the most.”

“My mother and me,” Devon said slowly, absorbing the enormity of it all.

Just another day or two and we would have been free. How different my life would have been.

A sliver of ice pierced his heart as he considered having lived a life without Jewel, without having created Sean. Loneliness gripped him with a cold fist. He thrust that horrible thought to the back of his mind, and then asked, “What about the money?”

Waving a hand in dismissal, Father Tom scoffed, “He’d never have taken a dime that wasn’t his. All of us ol’ timers know that.”

“You mean there are others who believe he’s innocent?”

“Of course. We just couldn’t prove anything. Simon Wainwright kept us all away. In the beginning, I think he jumped to a conclusion, confronted your father with it, and then pressed for charges to be brought up. Cyrus mentioned that Simon changed his mind right before he died.”

A clear picture came to him. His father’s friends hadn’t deserted him at all. And Devon hadn’t stood by himself in his quest and knowing how wronged his father had been. Also, the reason behind Wainwright’s decision to allow him access to the company records made perfect sense now. “But he couldn’t openly admit to making a mistake,” he talked more to himself than to the priest.

“Who? Simon?” Father Tom snorted. “Never.”

The fierceness of his statement made Devon smile inwardly. His whole being lightened, the huge, cumbersome burden lifted from his spirit. He had unwavering support for preserving his father’s reputation and integrity.

“You know, Devon, if you’re not busy on Tuesday nights you should drop by the pub. Gil and I could always use some company and the others, too. That’s if you’d like to talk to a couple of old guys, that is.”

Nearly overwhelmed by the easy acceptance into his father’s circle of friends, he choked out, “I’d love to.” He wasn’t alone anymore. Oh, he’d had Jewel and Sean, but for the first time in his life he felt a part of a community, truly welcomed.

“Good, it’s a date then.”

Laughter rang out from the other room, jarring Devon back to the party. “Come on, Father Tom, let’s see if we can find Sean and his friends so they can guide you through the pitfalls of the haunted house.”