Miss Lizzy's Legacy (15 page)

“I like it,” she said stiffly.

His fingers skimmed lower, but she refused to be distracted from her purpose in seeking him out. Catching his hand in hers, she forced him to look at her. “Judd. What's wrong?”

He held the smile in place while he looked at her in puzzlement. “Nothing. Why?”

“I don't know, but you seem—distant,” she said helplessly. “Have I done something or said something to anger you?”

He caught her face between his hands, his heart breaking at her distress. “No. I don't think you could. I'm just moody, is all.” He brushed his lips over hers, then levered a finger beneath her chin, tipping her face up till their eyes met. “I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to.”

She laid a hand over his. “You're sure?”

He grinned. “Positive.”

Over his shoulder, she glimpsed a framed picture on the edge of the piano. She reached behind him and angled it for a better look. Her eyes widened and she lifted her gaze to his. “Dolly Parton?”

Judd glanced over his shoulder at the photo. “Yeah. That was taken at the Country Music Awards two years ago. We were presenters for Entertainer of the Year.”

“Wow!” She let her gaze travel farther to the wall opposite her, noticing the framed pictures, the awards, the gold and platinum records displayed there.

She stood and crossed to stand before the wall of memories. Pictured was a side of his life she couldn't even imagine. Judd aligned with stars both new and old from the screen as well as the music world. Judd captured on the stage, his face contorted with emotion as he belted out a song.

She stared at the pictures of him, seeing the light in his eyes, the pure pleasure he got from entertaining, and wondered how he could have given it all up. “You love singing, don't you?”

“I did.”

“You still do,” she corrected, her back still to him. “And you miss it. I hear it in your voice and I see it in your face when you sing.”

“You're wrong. I don't miss it.”

“No,
you're
wrong, Judd,” she said, turning and pointing her finger at him. “That's why you're here right now playing when no one else is around to hear. You do it at the Blue Bell. You do it here. But you won't share your music with anyone else. Not even me.”

That he'd hurt her was obvious, but it couldn't be helped. Judd couldn't give her what she wanted. They'd stripped him of everything. His career. His name. His pride. All he had left was his music, and he kept that strictly for himself.

“Oh, Judd,” she said, seeing the turmoil within him and knowing she'd been right. “You have a God-given talent. Don't let what happened keep you from doing what you were meant to do...what you enjoy.”

“I'm doing exactly what I want,” he said defensively.

“Living in Guthrie and running a saloon?”

The flash of hurt in his eyes had her rushing to kneel at his feet. “I'm sorry, Judd. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I just want you to be happy, that's all.”

Because he saw the truth of that in her eyes, he cupped the back of her head in his hand. “I've had my share of the spotlight, Callie. From Vegas to Nashville and every place in between. I'd be a liar if I told you I didn't get a thrill every time I stepped onto a stage, because I did, and at times I do miss it. But I discovered that fame has two sides. That darker side is a place I never want to walk again. I'm content with my life here. For me, that's enough.”

“But not for me,” she said, staring at him dully. “You won't share it with me.”

He lowered his gaze and dropped his hands to curl them around his knees. His fingers dug into denim. “I didn't say that.”

“But it's true, isn't it?”

Judd's mouth curved in a frown. He cocked his head to look at her. “Guthrie's a small town, Callie. You're used to Dallas and your life there.”

“It's not Guthrie you're afraid of, Judd, not totally.”

She watched the war of emotions raging within him, but she wouldn't back off. Not now when everything was at stake.

“Answer me, Judd. It's not just Guthrie, is it?”

“This is my home, Callie, my refuge,” he said in a low voice. Though she could see how much the admission cost him, he continued. “Some say I'm hiding here, and maybe I am, but I would never ask you to do the same.” When she would have denied his words, he tightened his fingers. “I'm only going to say this once, so hear me out. I love you, Callie. Enough to let you come and go, and enough to never ask you to stay and live in the shadow of my past.”

He'd said he loved her for the first time, but the meaningfulness of the words were lost in the restrictions he placed along with them.

To argue was pointless, she could see that. Instead, she leaned into him, wedging herself in the V of his legs.

She touched her lips to his, withdrew slightly, then touched them again. Again and again she repeated the kiss, each time increasing the length and intensity, silently telling him that his past didn't matter while she attempted to soothe his fears with her hands.

“Callie,” he whispered huskily. “I love you so much.”

And she loved him, but knew words would never be enough to convince him. She'd have to prove her love to him. Her hands found their way to the fly of his jeans and she unbuttoned the remaining two buttons. Easing her hands around his waist, she worked the jeans down his hips and legs. After tossing them aside, she slowly moved to stand before him.

With her gaze on him, she slipped his shirt from her shoulders and let it drop to pool at her feet. She stepped out of it, then moved closer, offering herself in the most basic of ways. “And I love you, Judd,” she murmured.

Hesitant at first, he reached for her breasts, taking them in his hands and gently drawing her to him. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she straddled him while he closed his mouth hungrily over a breast.

His thighs burned hot against hers and the swell of his manhood curled hard and throbbing against her abdomen. She closed her eyes as arrows of desire shot through her to pierce that most secret part of her femininity. Wanting to please him as much as he always pleased her, she took him into her hand. A shudder quivered through him at her touch, then he relaxed on a groan of sheer pleasure.

She played her fingers up and down the swollen shaft, teasing him, wanting him. A bead of honey purled at its tip, and she took it on her fingertip and stroked it down, then up again, in a mindless game of seduction. With every touch, with every breath, showing him her love.

With his mouth closed around her breast, he caught her beneath her hips, lifting her, then slowly lowered her until she was impaled on the staff of desire she had created. On a strangled sob, she threw back her head, glorying in the feel of him buried deep within her. Then she moved against him, drawing him closer and closer to that point of highest joining.

His breath hissed through bared teeth as he arched against her. He cried out her name as he dug his fingers into her hips and spilled into her.

With her body pulsing against his, Callie melted against his chest. She held him against her, oblivious to the heat and stickiness of their joined skins as the tension gradually eased from him. “I love you, Judd,” she whispered. “Please say you'll reconsider and go to Houston with me.” She waited, hoping to hear those same precious words repeated to her and with them his agreement to accompany her to Houston.

His breath continued to blow warm at her neck, but he remained silent.

He still didn't trust her enough to give himself over to her completely.

H
is hands stuffed deep into his pockets, Judd stood in front of the plate-glass window of the Blue Bell, staring at the bleak sky overhead.

“You're going to wear a hole in that glass if you're not careful.”

Judd turned to find Hank watching him. Embarrassed, he shrugged and moved away from the front window. “Just daydreaming.”

“Never hurts a man to dream now and again.” Hank hefted to the bar a tray of dripping beer mugs fresh from the dishwasher. He picked one up and began to dry it. “Callie gone?”

“Yeah, she left this morning.”

“Guess it's kind of quiet out at your place, huh?”

Judd angled a hip onto a barstool, one side of his mouth curved ruefully. “Like a tomb.”

Chuckling, Hank set the glass on the shelf and plucked another from the tray. “Amazing, isn't it, how much noise a woman can make?” He stuffed the cloth into the mug and gave it a hard twist. “Always yappin' and carryin' on from the time they get up of a morning ‘til they go to bed at night. A man could go deaf trying to listen to it all.”

“How would you know?” Judd teased. “You're a confirmed bachelor.”

Hank snorted. “And that's why. Can't stand the noise.”

Grinning, Judd picked a pretzel from the bowl and broke it in half. He leaned over and gave Baby the larger portion before popping the remaining piece into his mouth. At the dog's soft whine, he glanced back down. Baby was looking up at him, his ears drooping, his eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored Judd's own. Judd leaned down and scratched him behind the ears. “You miss her, too, don't you, guy?” he murmured in understanding.

Hank juggled a mug to keep from dropping it. “Miss her? Callie? Hell, she hasn't been gone more than half a day.”

“We still miss her, though, don't we, boy?” Judd asked Baby. In reply, the dog whined low in his throat.

“Well, for heaven's sake!” Hank huffed in exasperation. “If you're that lovesick, you should have talked her into staying a while longer.”

Judd curled his hand affectionately around Baby's ear, then let it drop as he straightened. “She had to go to the unveiling of that statue in Houston.”

“Then why didn't you go with her?”

Judd shot him frown. “You know why.”

Hank put the mug on the bar and slung the damp cloth over his shoulder. He hitched one hip higher than the other and laid his forearms on the bar. “You know, when you were a youngun, you were meaner than sin. Your daddy was always having to get you out of one scrape or another while your mama stood by wringing her hands. Didn't slow you down, though. You'd whip anybody who got in your way.” He shook his head sadly. “In all the time I've known you, I've never seen you walk away from a fight.”

“It's not a matter of fighting,” Judd replied irritably.

“Isn't it? Looks to me like they've got you pinned to the floor and you're not doing a damn thing about it.”

* * *

Sequins in every color of the rainbow caught the chandelier's light and danced its reflection around the walls. The rich, the famous and the wannabes gathered in the hotel's ballroom to celebrate the opening of the hospital's new wing. More comfortable in her studio than in a crowd, Callie stood in the bevy of well-wishers and elbow-rubbers, smiling, making small talk and wishing with all her heart Judd was with her. She needed his calming support.

“If you're ready, Miss Benson. It's time for the unveiling.”

Callie glanced up to find the hospital administrator standing at her side, waiting. Slipping her hand through the crook of his arm, she smiled, her lips trembling at the effort. “Yes, I'm ready.”

The crowd parted, allowing them a path to the raised dais in the center of the room where a round marble table held the draped statue. As they passed through the throng of people, Callie smiled and nodded as cameras flashed, capturing the moment for the benefit of the morning papers.

She took her place beside the statue and waited while the man raised the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please...”

* * *

Judd stood at the fringe of the crowd, his back pressed to a marble column and his arms folded across his chest, silently cussing Hank. If it weren't for his bartender, he wouldn't be in Houston, Texas, tempting fate. Instead, he'd be at the Blue Bell sharing a beer with the regulars, or at home, sitting in front of a fire and rubbing Baby's belly.

He heaved a sigh. But no, he'd knuckled under, and now here he was holding up a column and trying his best to keep a low profile. So far, he'd succeeded at both. The column was still standing and no one had recognized him or so much as looked his way. Not even Callie.

He caught an occassional glimpse of her, though, in the continually shifting swarm of people around her. The top of her head, the glimpse of an emerald sequined shoulder, the graceful flutter of her hand in the air as she spoke. So far, she hadn't seen him. For the time being, he decided to keep things that way.

A camera flashed at his right and he flinched unconsciously. He glanced in that direction and saw that the camera was aimed at Callie, not at him. He breathed a sigh of relief and returned his gaze to Callie. She was on the arm of some gray-haired man now, moving through the crowd toward the dais. When they reached the platform, the guy picked up a microphone and said something into it, which only those within a foot of him could hear. Gradually the noise abated and the man's voice lifted above that of the crowd.

“If I could have your attention, please. We are here to celebrate the opening of the new women's pavilion at City Hospital. In conjunction with the opening, tonight we are unveiling the statue created by Callie Benson, which will be placed on a marble table in the reception area of that wing.” He gestured for Callie to join him at the microphone. “It is my distinct pleasure to present to you, Miss Callie Benson.”

Taking her place at his side, Callie glanced out across the sea of faces as she took the microphone. Judd was surprised to see that her hand shook.

“I want to thank you for the privilege of creating this statue.” Her voice broke and she dipped her head, pausing until she was sure she could control the quiver in her voice. When she lifted her head again, her chin was set in determination. “In sculpting this piece, my hope was to reflect the essence of woman and of motherhood unbound by any sense of time. Every artist places a little bit of themselves in their work, and this statue,” she said, crossing to it and touching the pewter satin that draped it, “is no exception. I've named it Lizzy's Legacy, in honor of my great-great-grandmother, one of the original settlers of the Oklahoma Territory. It was women like her, who shared her spirit of adventure and her strength of character, who helped settle this land. Without her influence, I never would have completed the project.”

Setting the microphone aside, she took the corner of the cloth between her fingers and slowly pulled. The top of the woman's head appeared first, then the pewter satin slipped slowly downward, revealing a face, a bare shoulder, a breast. The crowd pressed for a closer look as the satin fell to puddle on the floor at the base of the table, baring the full statue. A soft
ahhh
of approval rose from the crowd.

Judd saw the relaxing of Callie's shoulders as she monitored the response of the audience and realized for the first time she'd doubted her own talent. He shook his head in amazement.

It took a while for the crowd to thin enough for him to approach Callie, but when he reached her side, he laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned his way, smiling. When she saw him, her mouth formed a soundless
oh.
Then she was in his arms, her hands clasped tightly around his neck.

“You're here,” she whispered tearfully. “I can't believe you're really here.” Abruptly she stepped from his embrace and framed his face with her hands, as if to assure herself that he was really there and not a product of her imagination; then she was in his arms again, laughing.

“They liked it,” she whispered at his ear.

“They loved it,” he corrected, taking her hands to hold her out in front of him. His own smile grew to match hers. “Did you expect less?”

Knowing what it had cost him to come and what his presence meant to her and to their future, Callie squeezed his hands. “I wouldn't allow myself to think beyond completing it.”

“Callie, dear, I'm so sorry we're late.”

At the sound of the voice, panic flashed in Callie's eyes. She tore her gaze from Judd's and turned to greet a middle-aged couple.

“Mother. Father. I'm so glad you could make it.” She turned a dutiful cheek for her mother's kiss. “I'm sorry, but you missed the unveiling.”

Her mother pouted prettily. “Oh, dear. And it's all Papa's fault.”

Callie frowned. “Papa's?”

“Yes, the nursing home called just as we were preparing to leave, informing us that he'd taken a turn for the worse.”

Callie's expression turned stricken. “Will he be all right?”

Frances patted her daughter's hand. “Nothing to fret about, dear. Probably just another of his childish cries for attention.”

“But who's with him?”

“We engaged a private nurse to sit with him around the clock. But don't you worry about Papa. This is your party.” Smiling, she lifted her head, looking around. “Now where is that statue of yours?” she asked. “Your father and I are anxious to see it.” At that precise moment, the crowd shifted, creating a direct line between Frances and the statue. Her spine stiffened perceptibly and her facial muscles froze. She pressed a fragile hand to her throat and turned back to Callie. “How very...modern,” she finished after searching for just the right word.

Callie felt the familiar sting of tears at her mother's obvious disapproval. “Thank you, Mother.”

She felt Judd's fingers squeeze hers reassuringly as he moved into the circle. “If it wasn't already promised to the hospital, I'd buy it myself.”

Grateful for his words of encouragement, Callie smiled up at him.

A slight frown deepened the wrinkles around Frances's eyes as she witnessed the exchange. “I don't believe we've been introduced,” she offered politely.

“Mother, Father. I'd like you to meet a friend of mine from Guthrie, Judd Barker. Judd, these are my parents, Jonathan and Frances Benson.”

Judd released Callie's hand to shake first one, then the other's hand. “A pleasure to meet you both,” he murmured. “I'm sure you're proud of your daughter.”

“Yes, we are,” Mrs. Benson agreed, turning her head to steal another glance at the statue. Sighing, she turned back. “Though she might have clothed the woman and achieved the same affect.”

“Did you say your name was Barker?” Jonathan repeated thoughtfully.

“Yes, sir.”

“Any relation to the country-western singer?”

“One and the same.”

Frances's lips pursed in disapproval as she raked him with a gaze, taking in the boots, the silver belt buckle, the bola. It was an effort, Judd could tell, but she managed not to curl her nose. The frown she wore suddenly vanished to be replaced by an engaging smile as she spotted someone she knew. “Oh, look, Jonathan. There is the mayor and his wife. We must say hello.”

Frances hustled Jonathan away, and Callie looked up at Judd, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I'm sorry.”

Judd slung an arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly against his side. “Hey, the lady can't be all bad. She had you, didn't she?”

Callie looked up at him in surprise, then laughed.

“Did I hear you say you're Judd Barker?”

Callie and Judd both turned to find a man standing behind them. Judd struggled to hide his frustration at being recognized. “Yes, sir.”

“I thought I recognized you. My grandson is a big fan of yours.” The man patted his pockets, looking for something to write on. “Would you mind giving me your autograph for him?”

Judd accepted the paper and pen the man offered. “I'd be glad to.” He turned Callie around to use her back as a writing surface. “What's your grandson's name?”

“Mickey.”

Judd nodded and began to write. He thought he heard his name repeated, but wasn't sure. Then a camera flashed. Automatically, he threw up an arm to shield his face.

“Hey, Judd!” someone called. “Where you been hiding?”

Judd lowered his arm to frown at the man who'd shouted the question. “Around,” he said vaguely.

The news of his presence skipped through the room like wildfire across a prairie. Some people began to stare, while the bolder ones moved in his direction. Reporters, scenting a story, pressed forward. Judd felt Callie ripped from his side. He watched in silent fury as the crowd pushed her farther and farther away from him while questions rang out, pelting him like a volley of gunfire.

“Could I have your autograph?”

“What are you doing in Houston?”

“Is Callie Benson your newest conquest?”

“Was the lady in Atlanta telling the truth? Did you rape her?”

“How does it feel to be an accused rapist?”

“How much did that not-guilty verdict cost you?”

“It was rumored that you had a nervous breakdown. Is it true?”

In the melee, he caught a glimpse of Callie's face. Her eyes were round in horror, her face ashen. This was exactly what he'd feared, what he'd wanted to protect her from.

Another camera was shoved into Judd's face. The flash went off, blinding him.

Outraged, he grabbed the camera strap and twisted until his fist lay just beneath the cameraman's chin. He shoved until the man was pressed against the marble column. Behind him more cameras flashed, pencils scratched, camcorders whirled, recording for posterity Judd Barker's reception back into the world he'd learned to hate.