The First Law of Love (41 page)

‘
Fairly despicable
'
indeed.

“So Turnbull buys the power plant, knowing it will put enough people out of work around here so that his buddy Yancy can sweep in and purchase. Destroying our homes for a profit,” Case understood. He studied me intently. “When I thought of you going back to Chicago and working for that man, of you being alone there without me to protect you, it nearly killed me.”

“He had me fooled,” I said, sliding my hand into Case's, holding tightly to him. “He used me. He knew I would come out here and…God, he must think far less of me than I could ever imagine. He probably figured Derrick would seduce me over to his side, all without me knowing that Turnbull was responsible in the first place. And that bastard
tried
. Oh my God, Case…”

“Hey,” he said, curling his fingers more securely around mine. “Tish. You're way too smart to fall for that. Look at what you've done here this summer. You've done the opposite of what Turnbull wanted, proven him wrong.”

I was working myself into a slow-burn kind of rage. I said, “I'm calling my dad. And Al. And Robbie. I want this to be the equivalent of front-page news.” Then I realized, “It won't matter to Turnbull. That fucker is untouchable.”

Still, I found my phone and tried Robbie. I told him everything I had learned before I tried Dad. But Dad was probably still on vacation. At last, when it was apparent I could do nothing more this evening, Case suggested that I let it rest for now, take a bath and relax. And so I did.

***

An hour after that I
was soaking in the tub, determined to forget about Turnbull, at least for the evening. The water was just shy of scalding and Case was out in the kitchen, singing softly as he washed about a week's worth of dishes. My heart smiled at the sound of his beautiful voice and I reached to brush a strand of hair from my eyes, soapy water dripping down my forearm. I loved how he sang so often – while showering, while shaving, doing little chores around the house. He was writing me a new song he called “My Blue-Eyed Patricia,” of which he would sing snippets to tease me, telling me I could hear the whole thing in its entirety once it was finished.

This is happiness
, I marveled.

You finally know
.

Tears brimmed in my eyes and I sat up a little, sloshing water, intending to call out to Case, to tell him that I needed to see him at this very second, but he came into the bathroom right then as though he had known anyway, his eyes so warm and full of love that my tears overflowed.

“Sweetheart,” he said tenderly, sitting on the edge of the tub and leaning to kiss my lips. “The sight of you in here almost does me in. My woman, the woman of my dreams, all sweet and naked in the bath.”

I curled my wet fingers into his and kissed the back of his hand. I studied his eyes and said around the lump in my throat, “I'm just so happy. I'm so happy to be planning our home with you.”

“Me too. I could die happy right now,” he whispered, gently tucking damp hair behind my right ear.

“Don't say that,” I reprimanded softly. I hated when he talked about dying.

“You're so beautiful. I want to get right in there with you,” he said.

I smiled at that, at the thought of his big, strong body fitting in this cramped little tub, along with mine. He kissed my lips again, lingering, and my hand had just curved behind his head when there was a sharp rapping on edge of the screen door, out in the kitchen.

I startled and Case straightened; the dogs were barking now, frantically. He said, “I didn't hear a car…”

He rose to go and see who was here; I had just wrapped a towel around my damp body, suddenly and oddly frightened, as I heard Case ask someone, “Can I help you?”

His tone clearly indicated that he didn't know the person at the door. And then, to my greatest of stun, I heard my father, Jackson Gordon of Rockford, Gordon and Bunnickle, Attorneys-at-Law, say crisply, “I'm looking for my daughter, Patricia.”

Oh Jesus, oh sweet Jesus.

This can
'
t be happening.

There was a moment of horrible, tense silence before Case obviously gathered himself together and said politely, “Please, come in. She's here.”

Oh God
…

Oh God. I don
'
t even have clothes in here.

Frantically I dried myself, imagining Case and my father silently regarding each other in our kitchen. Leaving my hair in a messy bun, I slipped into Case's dark blue terrycloth bathrobe; there was no chance in hell of trying to pretend otherwise, that I hadn't just made love with this man in his trailer, in too many ways to count. Our trailer, but I decided that news could wait for the moment.

I squared my shoulders as I came into the kitchen, tightening the belt on the robe and meeting my father's eyes without shame. Dad was just inside the door, wearing jeans and a dress shirt, and I had never seen him look quite so thoroughly speechless. Case and I moved instantly to one another; Case put his right arm around my shoulders, protectively, as though Dad had come with the intent of dragging me out of here by the ear. Though, given my father's expression, I didn't think that was far off track from what he wanted to do.

“Tish,” Dad said weakly.

“Hi, Dad,” I said, keeping my voice level. I was shocked to the roots of my hair to see him here, in Montana and in Case's home, to boot, but I kept all of that from my face.

“Case, this is my father,” I said. “Jackson Gordon…”

“Sir,” Case said, leaving my side only to shake Dad's hand.

The gesture was too deeply ingrained; Dad shook with Case, and my father looked pale and sickly.

“Charles Spicer,” Case said, by way of introduction. “And I love your daughter, I think you should know that right now. I apologize for meeting you in circumstances like these, but here we are. I love Tish with all my heart. I am going to marry her.”

My own heart sang and swelled at hearing him speak this aloud. Case came back to my side and his eyes were tender with love as he said softly to me, “Isn't that right?”

I nodded, telling my father, “This is the man I am going to marry, Dad. I love him. I'm happy here, and I am never going to leave this place.”

It was too much for Dad; his face lost its incoherent look and he snapped, “I've heard more than enough. Get your things together this moment. You are leaving with me and I will never hear another word of this,
do you understand?
”

Dad had never spoken to me this way, even when I was a child; he had always indulged me and let Mom do all the disciplining. To hear him use this tone only created a swirl of buzzing anger in my chest.

“How dare you talk to me that way?” I asked him; Case saw the fury gathering in my eyes and rubbed a hand gently over my back, as though to encourage me to chill out.

Dad licked his lips and then let loose, further stunning me as he shouted, “How dare I? You have got to be joking. When we got home and I heard your message, I thought I must have misunderstood. But then I called Ron to confirm and he told me that you'd declined his offer and I realized that I must be going crazy. I told him that you'd never do such a thing, not without contacting me first.”

“You're not crazy,” I told him, keeping my voice controlled, reminding myself that I was hardly in a position to take a tone with my father, bare naked and damp beneath my lover's bathrobe. I added, “I declined that offer because I would die going back to Chicago. I would wither up and die. I found myself here, in more ways than one. I will never go back there. And Dad, you'll never believe what I found out tonight —”

“I will not hear another word of this insanity,” Dad said, cutting me off, a vein bulging in his temple. His eyes moved between Case and me, incredulously. He fired his words at Case then, snapping, “If you love her, as you claim, then surely you can see how her staying here will destroy her career. Everything she's worked for since she was a teenager. She doesn't belong here.”

Case's jaw tightened but he said calmly, meeting Dad's gaze without flinching, “Tish belongs here more than anywhere else in the world. If you think I'm just going to roll over and agree with you, then you have another thing coming.”

Dad's eyebrows lowered ominously and I had a sudden vision of him from ten years ago, summer in Landon, the night everyone found out about Mom and Blythe's relationship. Dad had punched Blythe in the face that night, and gotten his own ass kicked for the trouble. Dad was wearing a similar expression now, and I moved towards him at once, placing myself (I hoped discreetly) between him and Case.

“Dad,” I said intently. “I know this is a shock for you, I do, and I am sorry for that. But there is no way that I'm coming back to Chicago. I'm not a little girl. I am a grown woman and I make my own decisions.”

“I caught a plane the moment I heard,” Dad said, as though I hadn't spoken. “I couldn't find you anywhere, until I bullied Al into telling me where he thought you were. And sure enough, here's my daughter behaving like…” And here Dad choked back what was surely an uncharitable comment. Instead he said tightly, “Tish, I would never have believed this of you. Not
you
. Jesus.”

Case set me gently to the side and my heart clanged hard as he said dangerously, “Father or no, you will not speak to her that way, especially not in my house. I will not ask you again.”

“She's my daughter,” Dad said to him, though some of the fight had left his tone. “My daughter, who is going to make a life for herself in Chicago. I funded her entire education with that in mind. I will not let her throw her life away here, in some Sticksville sort of place like this.”

It suddenly occurred to me that he was talking about himself and my mother, more than anything. Case was having a lot of trouble restraining angry words and so I jumped in with, “Dad, I love it here. I have done everything I could this summer to save this town from the Yancys and Ron Turnbull, both, and I want to work here, with these people, and make a career here. It's nothing ‘less than' because it's not Chicago. My God, I
matter
here. I belong here, and I will never leave this man's side, not ever again.” Case released a tense breath at these words, and his eyes were on me then, soft with love. I tucked myself literally against Case's warm side and said, not unkindly, “This is where I belong. And I'm still your daughter, Dad. Jesus.”

Dad plunged a hand through his hair and asked, “Does Joelle know about this?”

I nodded cautiously.

“Of course she does,” he said bitterly, and then turned without another word and stormed down the steps, back towards what I assumed was a rental car.

I went to the screen and called out, “Dad! Wait! I need to tell you about something else!”

Dad didn't look back, throwing his right hand into the air. He said, “I can't hear any more tonight. I'll be at Al's.”

He slammed the car door and then Case and I watched his taillights disappear down the road, a thin cloud of dust trailing the car. Mutt and Tiny barked after him.

“Oh boy,” I said, tipping my forehead to the screen for a second.

Case put his hands around my shoulders and said, “I feel like a jerk. If you were our daughter and I saw you for the first time in weeks in some man's house, a man who was a stranger to me, and you were obviously intimate with him…”

I couldn't help but giggle a little at this, feeling slightly guilty for doing so, as Case went on, “I'd want to kill him too. But still, I won't let him talk to you disrespectfully.”

“Dad will recover,” I said, certain of this. “He's just in shock. I get it. Shit, and I didn't even get to tell him about everything. I'll call him later.”

Case lowered his arms to my waist and collected me against his chest. I lined his forearms with my own, holding tightly as Dad's car disappeared; Mutt and Tiny were still barking after him. Case put his chin on the top of my head and said, “I liked hearing you say those things. About belonging here. About never leaving my side. Sweetheart, my sweet Patricia, you matter so much here, and to me, that I could never explain in words. Oh God, you are everything to me. Absolutely everything.”

I turned to snuggle closer to him, breathing his scent, as I said softly, “I love you so. I loved hearing you say that you're going to marry me.”

He rocked us side to side and said, “I would make you my wife tonight, right this minute, if I could.”

“Will you play me my song?” I whispered.

“Of course,” he said, kissing my right temple and then cupping my jaw. His lips curved into a teasing smile as he said, “Shit, here you are in my bathrobe. I thought your dad was going to faint, for a second there.” He ran his warm fingers just inside the loosening lapels, skimming along my bare skin. He allowed, “This might have been too much of a shock. Probably I deserve an ass-kicking.”

“He'll get over it. I'll call him a little later,” I said again, threading my arms around my man's neck. “Take me to our bedroom, please, take me there and play my song for me.”

And he swept me into his arms without another word.

***

Much later that night, wrapped
in each other's arms and utterly replete, I woke from a strange dream. I rolled closer to Case at once, pressing my cheek to his bare chest. He murmured a little and smoothed a hand over the length of my thigh before resuming the deep breathing of sleep. I blinked once and then once more, feeling as though something wasn't quite right, my sleep-drenched brain staggering a little, but then I realized that I could see not only Case but the interior of the bedroom with much more clarity than this early in the morning should allow.