Dream a Little Dream (4 page)

“I left them at my beach house.” She rose. “I’ll just slip into the ladies’ room and wash off some of this dirt.”

She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t try to stop her. Edward followed her to the back of the building where she found the ladies’ room locked, but the door to the men’s room open. The plumbing was old and unsightly, but she spotted a pile of paper towels and a fresh bar of Dial soap.

She washed as much of herself as she could reach, and, between the cold water and the food, felt better. But she still looked like a train wreck. Her dress was filthy, her face ashen. She combed the snarls out of her hair with her fingers and pinched her cheeks while she tried to figure out how she could possibly recover from this latest disaster. The Impala wasn’t going anywhere, and she couldn’t give up.

By the time she returned to the snack bar, Bonner had finished putting the plastic cover over the fluorescent light. She summoned a bright smile as she watched him lean the folded ladder against the wall.

“How about if I start scraping these walls down so I can paint them. This place won’t look half bad when I’m done.”

Her heart sank as he turned to her with his flat, empty expression. “Give it up, Rachel. I’m not going to hire you. Since you wouldn’t leave with the tow truck, I’ve called somebody to come get you. Go wait by the road.”

Fighting despair, she gave a saucy toss to her head. “Can’t do it, Bonner. You forgot about the bliss thing. Drive-ins are my destiny.”

“Not this one.”

He didn’t care that she was desperate. He wasn’t even human.

Edward stood at her side with her skirt crumpled in his fist and that old-man worried look on his face. Something inside her felt as if it were breaking. She would sacrifice anything, everything, to keep him safe.

Her voice sounded as old and rusty as her Impala. “Please, Bonner. I need a break.” She paused, hating herself for begging. “I’ll do anything.”

He slowly lifted his head, and as those pale-silver eyes flicked over her, she was conscious of her wild hair and dirty dress. She experienced something else—an intense awareness of him as a man. She felt as if she’d come full circle right back to the Dominion Motel. Right back to six days ago.

His voice was low-pitched, almost inaudible. “I seriously doubt that.”

He was a man who cared about nothing, yet something hot and dangerous filled the air. There was no lechery in his gaze as he studied her, but at the same time, a primal alertness in the way he was watching her told her she was wrong. There was, indeed, at least one thing that he cared about.

A feeling of inevitability came over her, a sense that all the battles she had fought had led to this moment. Her heart slammed into her ribs, and her mouth felt like cotton. She had fought destiny long enough. It was time she gave up the struggle.

She drew her tongue over her dry lips and kept her eyes nailed to Gabriel Bonner. “Edward, sweetie, I have to talk to Mr. Bonner in private. You go over and play on that turtle.”

“Don’t want to.”

“No arguments.” She turned away from Bonner long enough to lead Edward toward the door. When he was outside, she gave him a shaky smile. “Go on, pug. I’ll be over to get you before long.”

He moved away reluctantly. Her eyes began to sting with tears, but she wouldn’t let a single one fall. No time. No point.

She drew the doors of the snack shop closed, twisted the lock, and turned to face Bonner. She forced her chin high. Fierce. Haughty. Let him know she wasn’t anybody’s victim. “I need a regular paycheck, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

The sound he made might have been a laugh, except it was as devoid of amusement as a scream. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I mean it.” Her voice cracked. “Scout’s honor.”

She lifted her fingers to the buttons on the front of her dress, even though she had nothing on beneath but a pair of blue nylon panties. Her small breasts didn’t justify the expense of a bra.

One by one, she opened the buttons while he watched. She wondered if he was married. Considering his age and overwhelming masculinity, the odds were strong. She could only breathe a silent apology to the faceless woman she was injuring.

Although he’d been working, there were no dark rings under his fingernails, no half-moons of sweat staining his shirt, and she tried to feel grateful that he was clean. His breath wouldn’t reek of greasy onions and bad teeth. Still, an inner alarm warned her she would have been safer with Clyde Rorsch.

His lips barely moved. “Where’s your pride?”

“I’m fresh out.” The last of the buttons gave way. She slipped the soft blue chambray dress from her shoulders. With a soft whish, it dropped around her ankles.

His empty silver eyes took in her small, high breasts and the ribs that showed so plainly beneath. Her low-cut panties didn’t conceal either the sharpness of her hipbones or the faint stretch marks that showed above the elastic.

“Put your clothes back on.”

She stepped out of the dress and made herself walk toward him, clad only in her panties and sandals. She held her head high, determined to keep her dignity intact.

“I’m willing to work a double shift, Bonner. Days and nights. No man you hire is going to do that.”

With grim resolve, she reached out and cupped his arm.

“Don’t touch me!”

He jerked away as if she’d struck him, and his eyes were no longer empty. Instead, they darkened with a rage so profound that she took a quick step backward.

He snatched up her dress and shoved it at her. “Put it on.”

Defeat curled her shoulders. She had lost. As her hand caught the soft blue fabric, her eyes found the photo of G. Dwayne Snopes staring at her from the purple flyer curling on the wall.

Sinner! Harlot!

She slipped into her dress while Bonner made his way to the doors and unlocked them. But he didn’t push them open. Instead, he planted his hands on his hips and bent his head. His shoulders rose and fell as if he were breathing hard.

Her stiff, cumbersome fingers had just managed to fasten the last button when the snack shop’s doors swung open.

“Hey, Gabe, I got your call. Where—”

The Reverend Ethan Bonner froze in place as he saw her. He was blond and breathtakingly handsome, with finely shaped features and gentle eyes; he was the complete opposite of his brother.

She saw the exact moment when he recognized her. His soft mouth thinned and those gentle eyes glazed with contempt. “Well, well. If it isn’t the Widow Snopes come back to haunt us.”

G
abe turned
at Ethan’s words. “What are you talking about?”

Rachel sensed something protective in the way Ethan looked at Gabe. He moved closer, as if he were guarding him, a ridiculous notion since Gabe was larger than Ethan and more muscular.

“Didn’t she tell you who she is?” He studied her with open condemnation. “I guess the Snopes family hasn’t ever been known for truthfulness.”

“I’m not a Snopes,” Rachel replied woodenly.

“All those downtrodden people who sent money to keep you in sequins would be surprised to hear that.”

Gabe’s gaze moved from her to his brother. “She said her name was Rachel Stone.”

“Don’t believe anything she says.” Ethan addressed Gabe in the gentle tones people usually reserved for the sick. “She’s the widow of the late, but hardly lamented, G. Dwayne Snopes.”

“Is she now.”

Ethan walked farther into the snack shop. He wore a neatly pressed blue oxford shirt, khakis that held a sharp crease, and a pair of polished loafers. His blond hair, blue eyes, and even features formed a marked contrast with his rugged brother’s more brutal good looks. Ethan could have been one of heaven’s chosen angels, while Gabriel, despite his name, could only have ruled a darker kingdom.

“G. Dwayne died about three years ago,” Ethan explained, again using that solicitous sickbed voice. “You were living in Georgia then. He was on his way out of the country at the time, one step ahead of the law, with a few million dollars that didn’t belong to him.”

“I remember hearing something about it.” Gabe’s response seemed to be made out of habit rather than interest. She wondered if anything interested him. Her striptease certainly hadn’t. She shuddered and tried not to think about what she’d done.

“His plane went down over the ocean. They recovered his body, but the money is still on the bottom of the Atlantic.”

Gabe leaned back against the counter and slowly turned his head toward her. She found she couldn’t meet his gaze.

“G. Dwayne had been playing it pretty straight until he married her,” Ethan went on, “but Mrs. Snopes likes expensive cars and fancy clothes. He got greedy to feed her habits, and his fund-raising activities became so outrageous they eventually brought him down.”

“Not the first televangelist to have that happen,” Gabe observed.

Ethan’s lips tightened. “Dwayne preached prosperity theology. ‘Give that it may be given unto you.’ Part with what you have, even if it’s your last dollar, and you’ll get a hundred dollars back. Snopes presented God as the almighty slot machine, and people fell for it big-time. He got Social Security checks, welfare money. There was a woman in South Carolina who was diabetic, and she sent Dwayne the money she needed for her insulin. Instead of sending it back, Dwayne read her letter on the air as an example for everyone to follow. It was a golden moment in televangelism.”

Ethan’s eyes flicked over Rachel as if she were a piece of garbage. “The camera caught Mrs. Snopes sitting in the front pew of the Temple of Salvation with her sequins flashing and tears of gratitude running through her rouge. Later, a reporter for the
Charlotte Observer
did some digging around and discovered the woman went into a diabetic coma and never recovered.”

Rachel dropped her eyes. Her tears that day had been ones of shame and helplessness, but no one knew that. For every broadcast, she’d been required to sit in the first row all decked out in the teased hair, overdone makeup, and flashy clothes that had been Dwayne’s idea of female beauty. When she’d first gotten married, she’d gone along with his wishes, but as she’d discovered Dwayne’s corruption, she’d tried to withdraw. Her pregnancy had made that impossible.

When the corruption in Dwayne’s ministry had become public, her husband had engaged in a series of emotional televised confessions in an attempt to save his skin. Using lots of references to Eve and Delilah, he talked about how he had been led from the path of righteousness by a weak and sinful woman. He was canny enough to take the blame himself, but his message was unmistakable. If it hadn’t been for his wife’s greed, he would never have strayed.

Not everyone had bought his act, but most had, and she’d lost count of the number of times in the past three years she’d been recognized and publicly berated. At first she’d tried to explain that their extravagant lifestyle had been Dwayne’s choice, not hers, but no one had believed her, so she’d learned to keep quiet.

The door of the snack shop squeaked on its hinges, opening just far enough for one little boy to slip through and fly to his mother’s side. She didn’t want Edward to witness this, and she spoke sharply. “I told you to stay outside.”

Edward hung his head and spoke so quietly she could barely hear him. “There was this—this big dog.”

She doubted that, but she gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze anyway. At the same time, she regarded Ethan with all the fierceness of a mother wolf, silently warning him to watch what he said in front of her child.

Ethan stared at Edward. “I forgot you and Dwayne had a son.”

“This is Edward,” she said, pretending nothing was wrong. “Edward, say hello to Reverend Bonner.”

“Hi.” He didn’t take his eyes off his sneakers. Then he addressed her in one of his very audible whispers. “Is he a charlotte town, too?”

She met Ethan’s quizzical eyes. “He wants to know if you’re a charlatan.” Her voice hardened. “He’s heard it about his father . . .”

For a moment Ethan looked taken aback, but then he recovered. “I’m not a charlatan, Edward.”

“Reverend Bonner’s the real thing, kiddo. Honest. God-fearing.” She met Ethan’s eyes. “A man who withholds judgment and is filled with compassion for the less fortunate.”

Just like his brother, he didn’t back down easily, and her attempt to shame him failed. “Don’t even consider trying to settle here again, Mrs. Snopes. You’re not wanted.” He turned to Gabe. “I have a meeting, and I’ve got to get back to town. Let’s have dinner together tonight.”

Bonner tilted his head toward her. “What are you going to do with them?”

Ethan hesitated. “I’m sorry, Gabe. You know I’d do anything in the world for you, but I can’t help you with this one. Salvation doesn’t need Mrs. Snopes, and I won’t be a party to bringing her back to town.” He brushed his brother’s arm, then headed for the door.

Gabe stiffened. “Ethan! Wait a minute.” He shot out after him.

Edward looked up at her. “Nobody likes us, do they?”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “We’re the best, lamb chop, and anybody who can’t figure that out isn’t worth our time.”