Maggie's Mountain (15 page)

“No, no way. He just doesn’t understand.” She took a deep breath, stood on tired legs. “I’m not ready to handle the fallout.”

She spoke the words out loud that had been said the night before. Yes, there was fear, but it wasn’t the fear she’d labeled years ago as fear for her mother. It wasn’t even the fear of hurting Hale or Trent, or the fear of how she would survive when Hale tired of her and moved on. It was the fear of what the fallout meant for her as Maggie Mae Cooper Brannon, not as a daughter or a lover. It was a truth that hadn’t occurred to her in the heat of her argument. Now, it smacked her like a bucket of ice water.

“That’s…that’s crazy.” Still, the air rushed out of her lungs and she was forced to drop back down on the mattress. “It makes no sense.”

Yes, it did. Her world would be different.
She
would be different. How she was perceived, how people acted around her, the flare-up of old resentments mixed with new scandal. It was one thing to deal with the old prejudices; it was another to try to handle a different list of biases. She could practically hear them now, talking about her over dinner and backyard fences, saying the same things Hale had accused her of. She was a masochist, she had a martyr complex, she enjoyed the attention, however negative. Worse, they might figure out she’d done it because there was something deeper, something that involved Hale.

Shuddering, she bolted back up to her feet and hurried to get dressed, tossing on jeans and an old orange Vols jersey.

“I am
not
like that. I’m not.” She jerked her hair up into a quick twist, secured it with a clip. “He’s insane. They’re all insane. Or maybe I’m the one who’s insane; I’m talking to the mirror.”

Releasing a disgusted breath, she flung her bedroom door open and jogged down the stairs. The coffee was brewing, fresh and pungent, but even that small comfort didn’t help. She stopped long enough to gaze at the kitchen, only to have her stomach do a quick somersault.

“No breakfast for me.”

She stalked the living room, annoyed with herself for the frustrated energy that crawled through her bones. She had been so calm before Hale had turned up again; she’d been content and mostly at ease. He was driving her into quiet despair, robbing her of coherent thought.

“Puts his hands on me, I forget how to speak. Kisses me and I turn into jelly. Accuses me of all sorts of things and turns me into a knotted tightrope.”

Growling, she jerked her front door open, stood in the entry way, and inhaled great gulps of frigidly crisp air. She felt her lungs expand, grateful for the clarity the fresh breeze brought. She wasn’t going to give those letters to anyone; of that there’d never been a doubt. But why she was keeping them…well, that shocking revelation was something she would just have to ease into. Bit by bit, like immersing into a cold body of water, allowing herself to acclimatize to the realization until she could examine it without running away.

Maggie nodded her head in silent confirmation, though only she knew what she was agreeing to. She opened her eyes with slow deliberation, absorbing the morning sunshine as she continued to school her breathing. The setting served to soothe her nerves, as it usually did. The birds still trilled their greetings, the wind was a gentle shake through the falling leaves, the tall trees waved in what seemed a crazy choreographed dance. Even the sun was determined to cheer her, bouncing merrily off the dew covered grass, the cold drops on her car, the spider web pattern of her windows—

She gave a violent shake of her head. “Wait, what?”

She eased down the steps, tilting her head as she examined the damage to the windows. The glass in the doors had been punched out. Large, gaping holes, irregular in shape, were centered in each shattered remains. She moved closer, circling the Toyota, searching inside the vehicle without touching it. She didn’t see any rocks, so it wasn’t a crime of opportunity. Someone had been deliberate with their vandalism.

Anger swept in, followed closely by resignation. The peace she’d managed to find was neatly erased. “I don’t want to deal with this right now.”

“Maggie?”

She spun around, barely pulling her right hook when she realized who was standing behind her. “Trent!”

His eyebrows knit together as he studied first her face, then her car. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He gazed at her, an eerie replica of his brother’s skeptical stare.

She sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to budge until she replied. She cocked her hip and crossed her arms over her chest. “You Warrick men are so annoying.”

“Won’t deny that. We’re charming, though.” He flashed her a quick grin. “I came by to ask you about some of your pickles for Dulan, but I seem to have caught you at a bad moment. I see someone had a vendetta against your car.”

“Yeah, well, it’s such an intimidating compact.” Giving up, she prowled around the vehicle again. “Someone must have snuck out here last night, though I’m surprised I didn’t hear—”

Trent watched her for an intent moment. “Didn’t hear…?”

She closed her eyes as recognition dawned. “My dream.” She stared at Trent as she felt the blood leach from her face. “Last night I dreamed about breaking glass. I must have heard this happening.”

Concern drew lines across his handsome features. “You’re lucky they didn’t decide to take out your cabin windows.”

“They knew better. I keep a gun.”

He gave a little jerk at her clipped statement. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

She hummed in agreement as she turned back to her car. “This is going to be a headache. The insurance company, getting the windows replaced, trying to explain this down at Peterson’s Auto.”

They stood, silent for a long moment as Maggie began to mentally calculate how long it would all take. She jumped when she felt Trent cup her shoulder with his hand.

“Let me pay for it.”

“What? No!” She shook her head in denial. “You didn’t do this.”

He shrugged and squeezed her shoulder. “Maybe not directly, but I know what this is all about just as well as you do, Maggie. This happened because of my family, so we’ll take responsibility.”

She pulled away and plunked her fists on her hips. “I can’t let you do that, Trent. I appreciate the thought, but it’s too much.”

He was already whipping out his cell phone. “I’m doing it, Maggie.”

She let out an annoyed grunt. “I don’t want you to.”

He flipped through numbers as he replied. “Maybe I need to do this, for myself as much as for you. You can pay me back in food. I’ll take a couple of those pies the Wilson’s give out at Easter, and one of your roasts in that pastry stuff; what’s it called…Wellington? I had it over at the Douglas Law Office Christmas party; Jolene said you’d made it. Oh, some of those little potatoes with the green sprinkles you had to go with it, too.” He winked at her. “I’ll eat like a king.”

She opened her mouth, had a disconcerting moment when his gaze dared her to stop him from dialing, then clicked her mouth shut. “You are just as bad as your brother.”

His grin was shameless. “I know.”

There was nothing she could do but chuckle. Trent made it much too difficult to stay upset, especially when it was something he was doing for her. He winked at her again as he began to talk to whoever was on the other end of his call.

Maggie stood, patient to the end, as he made arrangements for an auto glass repair company to come out to the middle of nowhere to replace her windows. As she listened, she realized the rest of the town had underestimated Trent Warrick. His smooth manner convinced her he could charm the moon straight from the sky if he wanted. He may not have the same magnetism as his older brother, but his quiet charisma could beguile even the hardest of hearts.

“They’ll be out this afternoon. Lucky for you this model is pretty common, so they have the glass on hand.”

“At least they do for you.”

He sent her a sheepish smile. “Hey, if I can’t use the Warrick influence to help my friends and neighbors, why have it? You know, Hale isn’t going to be happy when he hears about this.”

“He’s not going to.” On this point she had absolute resolution.

Trent raised surprised eyebrows. “You think you can keep this quiet?”

“I know I can. Only you and I know about this, and the glass company you called is from out of town. There’s no reason for Hale to ever find out.”

“Maggie—”

She put her hand up to stop his protest. “I mean it, Trent. Not one word. Your brother is already struggling with…things, and I’m not going to add this. What happened isn’t his fault any more than it’s yours.”

He didn’t reply, but studied her face. Obviously what he saw there told him she wasn’t going to bend. With a heavy sigh, he tucked his hands into his jeans and shook his head.

“These sorts of things never stay a secret for very long.”

“You’d be surprised.” Her muttered phrase earned her a curious look. “Just promise you won’t tell him. This will all sort itself out, and adding fuel to the fire….”

She didn’t need to finish her thought. He gave a reluctant nod of agreement.

“You have to promise to tell the sheriff if this sort of thing happens again, Maggie. I’m serious.”

There was no way to quibble. “Okay, I promise.” When he narrowed his eyes, she crossed her heart with her finger. “I swear I will.”

"I’ll just wait with you until they get your car fixed.”

“But don’t you have work? The horses?”

“Dulan is fine without me, and Hale is…he’s at home.”

He didn’t expound and she didn’t ask. “Well, if you’re staying, would you like a cup of coffee?”

Another happy grin lit his face. “I’d be much obliged, Ms. Brannon.”

Allowing his easy mood to lighten her own, she led Trent inside and tried to push the foggy gloom away from her mind. She’d get her car fixed, thanks to Trent, and then she’d deal with everything else. Until then, the upheaval of the night before would just have to wait.

Chapter Thirteen

She hadn’t had a good night in the two days since she’d found her car vandalized. No, if she were honest, she hadn’t slept well since her argument with Hale. Three days without a decent night’s rest was wearing on her nerves. Maggie’s fingers tangled in the French braid she was making and she winced. She deliberately slowed her movements to save her scalp from another unintentional yank. If she had no concentration it was all Hale’s fault.

She grimaced at the uncharitable thought. She knew the truth, even if she hated admitting it. She was blaming him because it was easier than turning the mirror onto herself. She'd never questioned herself about the choice to keep the letters hidden. She hadn’t considered going to Cordelia Warrick and exposing Royce’s duplicity for what it was. At least, she hadn’t after her mother had told her in plain, undeniable words how easy it would be for all of that to be turned around and used as weapons.

And still he made her question her motives.

Securing her handiwork with a band, she let the expertly twined braid fall against the soft blue cotton of her shirt. She didn’t have time to sit around and mope. There was work to do. She had to deal with the remnants of her dead garden, and that meant tilling the soil back under. She normally grew in the same spot for two years before moving to another area. That wasn’t going to happen this time. She’d have to be careful to mark off several feet of leeway just in case whatever chemicals the vandals had used had tainted the ground.

She was still furious that someone had come out and killed her plants, then had targeted her car. Angrier still that the incidents had caused her shaky sense of security to collapse. There was nothing to be done, though. What good would it do to call the police and report it? They would have no way to gather evidence or follow leads because there wasn’t any. Besides the fact it hadn’t been that long since vandalism had been a common occurrence on her land. Really it wouldn’t be worth the trouble. Once Hale was settled in and the day to day life of Exum and the Warricks was reestablished the episodes would stop again.

Complacency, she thought, and wanted to bang her head against the wall. It would have been so much more satisfying to track down the people who’d done it, get in a few good verbal punches before calling the sheriff, then watch them go to court and stand in front of a judge. You had to know when to stir the pot, though, and this wasn’t one of those times.

“Hale stirred it first,” she ground out as she slammed her feet into her shoes. “Had to come out and be seen with me. Nice going, Warrick.”

The anger was there, but it wasn’t aimed strictly at the town's golden boy. It was aimed at herself, at her emotions, at their rioting hormones. Taking a deep breath, she determined not to think of him for at least five minutes. Five minutes would be a good goal for the day.

She strode down the stairs, swung into the living room and tried not to remember their kisses. She deliberately rushed past the kitchen and the images of their last conversation. The small dining room was at least safe since he hadn’t been in there. Yet.

She shook her head to clear it of wayward thoughts and pulled the side door leading to the porch open. And stopped dead when she saw what was hanging there. Her first instinct was to scream, but the noise couldn’t make its way past the tight fist in her throat. The second was to vomit, but she swallowed the bile spastically and took several deep breaths. The world dimmed at the edges and she slammed the door shut, refusing to neither faint nor stare at the bloody sight a second longer.

Her mind was a complete blank as she stood and stared at the dark stained door. Thank God she had the small curtains on the upper glass panels closed. Her eyes refused to move to the windows that lined the room, afraid they might catch a glimpse of the horror that had shocked her to immobility. The air began to collapse in around her, suffocating as it pressed on her chest. Her move to sit was instinctive. It wasn’t until she had her hands folded in her lap that she realized every piece of her was shaking. The adrenaline of shock still raced through her veins, ebbing and flowing like rain swollen rapids.