Down by the River (24 page)

Jack grimaced. “I wouldn't put it past Morgan to have told her I said it was okay.”

“Even so,” Grace reasoned, “Celine should have talked to you to confirm that you'd agreed to let the girls fly out. There's no excuse for her encouraging those girls in a trip like this at their age—and alone!”

Jack headed downstairs to find his phone. The next hour proved to be a difficult one. There was tight security around Celine's home, and it wasn't easy to gain any contact information. Sheriff Walker finally dropped over to tell them he'd made a connection with a detective in Los Angeles willing to help recover the girls. Twenty minutes later the detective called Jack.

“You need to fly out here,” he said. “We've found record of the girls arriving on a direct flight that came in earlier today. The stewardess saw that they were picked up. She said they were met by a security guard from Celine Rosen's staff—who showed the flight attendant identification. That's the last that's been seen of them.”

The detective paused. “My feeling is that the twins are at Celine Rosen's place. But in case there's an attempted kidnapping involved, I think we shouldn't alert her before we go over there to retrieve the girls. And I would hate to go in there to get those little girls alone and frighten them. I'll be able to get through her security, but I think you should be with me.”

“You're right.” Jack agreed. “I'll get the first flight out that I can and go with you.”

“Call me as soon as you get that arranged. I'll post a couple of officers to watch the house until then, to make sure the girls don't leave.” Jack heard him shuffle some papers. “My name, again, is Cole Strader. I'll meet your flight, and we'll go over to see if we can find your girls as soon as you get here. We'll have backup in case we need it, but it may be that she simply wanted to see the girls. You say she hasn't seen them since they were born and that you think the girls contacted her. She might have just been curious. Everything might be okay.”

“Then why haven't she or the girls called me?”

The detective grew quiet for a moment. “I don't know that, Mr. Teague.”

Jack hung up the phone and turned to Sheriff Walker and Grace. “I'm going to fly out to California. This detective and I will go over to Celine's place when I arrive. He can get me in past her security. He thinks it's best we don't alert her first.” He sighed. “Just in case it might be a kidnapping—and in case she might try to hide the girls in another location before I get out there.”

Offering a hand to Swofford Walker, he said, “Thank you, Swofford. I appreciate all your help. I'll keep you posted as I can.”

The sheriff nodded and turned to leave. “Want me to go by to talk to anyone for you?”

“No.” Jack shook his head. “I'll call Bebe and my mother after I make my plane reservations. They'll tell anyone else.”

“And get folks to praying.” Swofford hitched up his pants. “Be sure someone calls the minister. Me and the missus—we'll sure be lifting this up.”

“Thanks.” Jack saw Swofford to the door, and then came back to slump into a chair at the kitchen table, a phone book in his hands. He opened the book to the airlines' numbers. “I know the Internet is faster, but I'm going to look up some phone numbers, too, in case I can't find what I want online.”

He glanced up at Grace. ‘You can go on home now. I'll call you as I can and let you know how things are going.”

Grace crossed her arms. “I'm going with you, Jack. You might as well book for two.”

Jack heaved a sigh. “There's no need for that, Grace. My guess is it will be six hours or more getting out there.” He looked at his watch. “Even with all the time-zone changes, it will probably be ten or eleven at night by the time I can get to the Los Angeles airport. And I'm sure I'll need to stay over. You don't need to put yourself through all that.”

She gave him a stubborn look. “There's no point in arguing with me, Jack. I'm going. And that's final.” She sat down at the table and put her hand over his. Her voice softened then. “I want to be a help to you, and I want to go for the girls.”

He wanted to argue, but as he looked into her eyes, he knew it would be of little use. She had that determined set to her mouth that he'd come to recognize.

Jack shook his head and shrugged in resignation. “Well, let's see what flights we can find.”

T
hey couldn't get a direct flight. However, Jack was fortunate to find an evening flight with an airline going out of Knoxville and connecting through Memphis before heading straight on to Los Angeles. It was a six and a half hour flight. They wouldn't arrive in California until nearly eleven p.m. Pacific time, even with the time change from East to West.

Grace walked home to pack a bag for herself and to let the dogs out, leaving Jack to pack and make some necessary calls to his family. She felt grateful she had no guests coming in this weekend to the bed-and-breakfast. The one family scheduled had cancelled earlier this morning.

Margaret had already left on her date with Vince. Grace wrote her a note rather than calling her. She hated to call Margaret in the middle of their dinner. Grace looked at her watch. She would call her later before the plane left. Grace smiled to herself. She also didn't want to give Margaret the opportunity to try to talk her out of going.

After changing into some comfortable clothes for traveling, Grace picked up a small picture of the girls to look at while she waited for Jack. Lord, she hoped those girls were safe and well. She knew they'd hardly been out of the valley here in Townsend except to go to the beach or to Disneyworld in Florida once.

When she heard Jack's knock at the door, Grace dropped the photo of the girls into her purse. They might need it later to show to someone. And Jack wasn't the sort to carry family pictures around in his wallet.

His face looked strained as he let himself in the house.

“I made some coffee if you want a cup.” Grace smiled at him.

He glanced at his watch. “I'll get some at the airport if we have time. I think we'd better go on. I don't want to take any chances on getting bumped off this flight.”

She nodded, and then moved forward to slip her arms around his waist and lay her head against his chest. “It's going to be all right, Jack. I know it. I've been praying here while I've been waiting, and I believe everything is going to be all right.”

“Ah, Grace Conley, you are such a comfort.” She felt him relax a little against her, his lips wandering over her forehead and into her hair.

He stood still for a few minutes, as if drawing strength from her, and then he pulled away. “We'd better go.”

Jack reached down to pick up her small travel bag. “Is this all?” He seemed surprised.

“Yes. Except for my little carry-on bag here. I've traveled a lot, Jack, and learned to travel light.”

They stayed quiet on the way to the airport, saying little. Once there, they checked in and then went through security to the airline boarding area. There they sat, flipping through magazines, until their flight was called.

To Grace's surprise, Jack led her to the first-class section.

He actually grinned at her as they sat down. “I got a Y-Up deal, first class at coach prices because I bought at the last minute. Sweet, huh?” He leaned back with pleasure and crossed his long legs.

She smiled back at him, glad to see that devilish grin—for whatever reason. “It is certainly nice.” She looked around in admiration.

“Did you and your husband travel first class?”

“Very seldom.” Grace answered his question honestly.

She enjoyed seeing another of Jack's smiles. She wondered if he would always compare himself with Charles—and want to know how he stacked up against Charles. Maybe it was a guy thing.

Nervously, her thoughts slid to Celine. A young movie star—and very beautiful. Would Grace look dowdy and old to Jack after he saw Celine again? It seemed inevitable they would see her. Jack had once loved Celine very much. Grace felt uncomfortable at the thought.

Jack played with the seat, looked around the compartment with interest, and explored the brochures provided by the airlines. Then he glued his nose to the window and watched the movement on the runway. Grace smiled to herself. He was like a kid—excited to be on an adventure, even if it was an unhappy one.

As they lifted off, Jack took pleasure in peering down at the scenery below as it grew smaller and smaller. “Problems seem a little less significant from this perspective, don't they?”

“Yes, they do.”

Jack leaned back and heaved a sigh. “You know, I thought at first that Crazy Man might have taken the girls. I've worried that his next step might be to hurt someone ever since he followed Margaret. His old pattern of staying hidden seemed to be changing.”

“I can't help but wonder what sort of twisted thoughts are in that man's mind to cause him to do the things he has done.”

“Well, he certainly isn't operating on all cylinders.”

“Has Swofford Walker come any closer to learning his identity? Found any clues?”

Jack shook his head. “None that we don't already know about.”

Grace flipped open a fashion magazine she'd brought with her and paused to study a dress that caught her attention.

“That would look good on you.” Jack pointed to the dress. “That length of skirt and that swirly kind of material are flattering to you.”

She smiled at him. “Not many men notice those sorts of details about a woman's clothes.”

“I told you I've always liked women.” He grinned. “Liked looking at them, enjoyed watching them, liked being around them. I've always noticed things about women—more so than most men.”

“That's flattering to women—when you notice what they wear, what they like, the scents they use.”

He leaned toward her. “You always have that musky floral scent on. Pleasures. Your husband was right to say it suits you. It does.”

Jack leaned over to kiss her full on the mouth.

“Jack!” She pushed him back, feeling a blush steal up her cheeks. She looked around furtively to see if anyone had noticed. “We're in a public place.”

He traced a finger over her lips before he sat back into his seat. “I'm glad you came with me, Grace. It will be a long six hours. I'll be glad for some company. It will keep me from worrying so.”

“Do you think Celine would really hurt the girls?”

He shrugged. “Not maliciously, I don't think. But she's self-absorbed and not very responsible. She wasn't the best mother even for the short time she was with our girls. Hated to get up in the night with them. Got cross and agitated when they cried. Resented it when they were needy when she was engrossed in a movie. Always wanting to get a sitter and go out.”

“I don't see much of that character in the girls.”

“Thank God for that.”

“And they look more like you with their brown eyes and dimples.”

“Their hair has a touch of red like their mother's. They didn't get the Teague black hair.” He ran a hand through his own hair. “I'm starting to turn white-headed like my mother. My father, too.”

“It's very attractive.” She looked at the threads of silver gray running through Jack's hair.

He studied her. “You're not graying at all yet. And you're about the same age I am.”

Grace laughed. “I've only seen a rare gray hair so far. And I plucked it out as soon as I did.”

Jack chuckled in reply. “If I did that, I'd soon be bald.”

She looked over at him with warmth. “I love the way you look, Jack. And I like looking at you, too.”

His eyes darkened. “Don't flirt with me, woman. It feels intimate in this plane, and it will be growing dark soon. You might give me ideas.”

Grace studied her hands, feeling shy—but as always enjoying his compliments.

“I'm not sure you should have gotten linked up with a man like me, Grace. But I'm glad you did.”

They sat back in silence for a few moments.

“Tell me how you met Charles,” Jack asked.

Surprised at the question, Grace's eyes flew up to Jack's.

He met her gaze. “We've never talked about it. And I've been curious. I told you about how I met Celine. Got fascinated by her and squired her around when she did a movie in the Townsend area. Ended up marrying her.”

Grace nodded and searched her memory for where to begin her story about Charles. “You remember I told you that I modeled part-time while in college. Well, the agency I worked for in Nashville sent me over to Conley Carpets one day for a shoot. Charles was there, of course. He was older than I, already graduated from Vanderbilt, and helping his father to run the business.”

A faint smile played on her lips. “I knew he found me attractive. I could tell by the way he watched me. We talked at the break. Later, he invited me to lunch. We found so many things to talk about then. Enjoyed each other much more than we expected to. It surprised us both, I think. He began to call me after that. To take me out.”

“Margaret said he was a good man.”

Her eyes lifted to his in surprise. “Margaret talked to you about Charles?”

He shrugged a shoulder carelessly. “We were both talking about losing a parent one day. I wasn't probing, Grace. She painted a nice picture of her father.”

“He was a good man. Hardworking, ambitious, bright. He truly loved the business—and loved the socializing that went along with being a major business owner in the Nashville area.” Grace paused. “Charles liked having money, liked knowing people with money and doing things that moneyed people do. Much more than I did. I hadn't been raised in society. My roots began in a small town around simpler people. Sometimes, I thought we were the most different in that.”

“Because he had money?”

“No. Because it mattered so much to him. That he ranked and rated people by how much they had. I felt uncomfortable with that.”

“He left you well-to-do?” The statement was a question.

“Yes. Several generations of Conleys had built the business by the time Charles inherited. He left me a generous income and left a lot to the children, too, in trusts. And, of course, he left the boys the business.”

Jack reached down to scratch his ankle, shifting in his seat, already restless before even an hour of their flight was finished. “Are the boys coming around about your having moved over here?”

“A little, although Elaine and Margaret seem to understand more. I think the boys still feel they lost an aspect of control that was their due. They are very much like their father in that. He was a bit chauvinistic.”

“And you were okay with that?” Jack looked surprised.

Grace considered his question. “It was flattering at first, I guess. Charles was older, and he had a very strong character. It was easy to let him take the lead, easy to just follow. I suppose it became a pattern. It's easy to get into patterns, you know—even if they aren't the best for you in every way.”

“Tell me about it.” Jack's words were sarcastic, but touched with humor.

“Then with four children, all their involvements, my civic groups and volunteer work, and all our business and social activities—my time was full. I didn't feel really suppressed or unfulfilled, except at odd moments.”

“And how did you feel at odd moments?” He was watching her, sincerely interested.

She smiled at him. “Like I was only someone's wife, someone's mother, someone people always called on to head committees, to bring a dish, to plan an event. In odd moments, I wished I could be someone on my own.”

Grace leaned back in her seat, remembering. “Sometimes I would meet a woman who had really accomplished things beyond being a good wife, mother, and civic leader. I'd envy her—so polished, confident, sure of herself. And, then, of course, like a typical woman, I'd find a way to tear her down in my mind—to try to make myself feel my choices were better than hers. That my life was the richer.”

“Why do women do that? Compare themselves against each other that way?”

“You don't think men do?” She lifted a brow.

“Not in the same way. And I don't think they're as vicious.”

She shrugged. “Maybe it's from being a minority group for so long. Men have never had to strive for their identity like women have. Men have always had a clearer life path, clearer expectations. But women, they've always been torn—wanting and needing two things and finding it hard to do both of them well.”

“Hmmmm. I guess I never really saw that struggle very much in my mother. She seemed to always realize she needed to be involved in the business. And Bebe always seemed happy at home, taking care of Roger and me, doing the home thing.”

“Well, I felt some conflict. Many women do.”

Jack turned to look at her. “I think Charles contributed to that, Grace. I think he wanted you to stay at home, tending to him, second to him, dependent on him. Some strong men are like that. And they have subtle ways of discouraging a woman from seeking more, from finding her own success, her own way. I'm not saying that they belittle her, but they have subtle ways of encouraging her to stay right where they want her.”

Grace raised her eyebrows and turned to look at him. “Funny. My mother said the same thing. She said she felt Charles and his mother had kept me from developing. And that she worried that I'd lost something of myself over the years in the process.”

Jack picked up the magazine off Grace's lap and flipped its pages. “And do you think you've found the real Grace Conley now?”

Grace's face flamed. “Don't tease me, Jack. And, yes, I do think I've found myself in a sense, come into my own more. I like who I am now.” She raised her chin.

“So do I. And I didn't mean to tease you.” Jack gave her a roguish grin and leaned over to kiss her unexpectedly. “I like who you are
very
much, Grace Conley.”

Caught off guard, Grace struggled with conflicting feelings, not knowing how to reply. He'd gotten her to reveal much more than she'd intended to.

Jack held her chin in his hand for a moment and looked at her with an intense gaze. “I like strong women, Grace. They don't threaten me one bit. You can keep becoming all you want to be with me. I'll enjoy watching it happen, enjoy celebrating all your successes with you. I'll never try to hold you back.”