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Authors: Beverly Barton

BOOK: The Last to Die
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Cer-ta-inly ne-ver in pub-lic. But then, from all ac-co-unts, Jaz-zy Tal-bot was no lady.

Being in-vol-ved, even as a bystan-der, to this sort of cru-de be-ha-vi-or was not what she'd bar-ga-ined for when she de-ci-ded to ma-ke this trip.
Get the hell out of he-re now, she told her-self.

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Go ho-me to Chat-ta-no-oga and for-get the-re's a wo-man he-re in Che-ro-kee Po-in-te who
might be yo-ur twin. You don't want to be re-la-ted to a wo-man li-ke Jaz-zy Tal-bot
.

While the at-ten-ti-ve cli-en-te-le ab-sor-bed the sce-ne bet-we-en Jaz-zy and Ca-leb, Re-ve pic-ked up her pur-se from the bo-oth, then tur-ned and all but ran from the res-ta-urant. Be-fo-re she re-ac-hed the do-or, she he-ard a man's vo-ice cal-ling her na-me, but she didn't slow down, didn't lo-ok back to see who it was.

Just as she got out-si-de and to-ok a de-ep bre-ath, a fa-mi-li-ar hand clam-ped down on her sho-ul-der. "Don't run off," Ca-leb sa-id.

Reve swal-lo-wed, then tur-ned to fa-ce him. "Ple-ase, le-ave me alo-ne." * "I apo-lo-gi-ze for what hap-pe-ned back the-re. Jaz-zy and I tend to ig-ni-te sparks off each ot-her. And I did de-ser-ve that slap she ga-ve me. Co-me on back and-"

"No, thank you. I've se-en qu-ite eno-ugh of Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot."

"Don't jud-ge Jaz-zy by what hap-pe-ned in the-re. If you'd gi-ve yo-ur-self a chan-ce to get to know her, you'd li-ke her. She's all right, you know. Her only prob-lem is that she's ad-dic-ted to Jamie Up-ton. And I sus-pect you might ha-ve that sa-me ad-dic-ti-on."

"I as-su-re you, NfeM-c-Cord, I do not."

Caleb la-ced Re-ve's arm thro-ugh his. "If that's true, then may-be I've be-en trying to sco-re po-ints with the wrong red-he-ad."

Chapter 3

The mi-nu-te Jim Up-ton he-ard his gran-d-son's Mer-ce-des zo-om in-to the cir-cu-lar dri-ve in front of the ho-use, he stom-ped out on-to the ve-ran-da to he-ad the boy off. He had a few cho-ice words to say to Jamie, and he didn't want any of the la-di-es to over-he-ar the-ir con-ver-sa-ti-on.

Reba had be-en so up-set with the-ir gran-d-son's out-ra-ge-o-us di-sap-pe-aran-ce from his own en-ga-ge-ment party last night that she'd go-ne to bed with a mig-ra-ine. When he'd chec-ked in on his wi-fe this mor-ning, she'd still be-en sle-eping. He and Re-ba hadn't sha-red a bed in ye-ars. Her cho-ice, not his.

Jim hadn't se-en an-y-t-hing of the Wil-lis fa-mily-La-ura, her mot-her and fat-her and yo-un-ger sis-ter. He as-su-med they we-re all still in bed. Of co-ur-se, he wo-uldn't bla-me Ce-cil Wil-lis if he in-sis-ted his da-ug-h-ter call off the wed-ding. Damn sha-me that such a swe-et, fra-gi-le So-ut-hern bel-le had fal-len in lo-ve with Jamie. The lo-ok on de-ar lit-tle La-ura's fa-ce last night when she re-ali-zed Jamie had just up and left had be-en eno-ugh to bre-ak a man's he-art.

Jim sto-od on the ve-ran-da, his arms cros-sed over his chest, and wat-c-hed his gran-d-son me-an-der up the steps, all the whi-le whis-t-ling. When Jamie saw Jim, he threw up a hand and smi-led bro-adly.
Dam-ned go-od-for-not-hing sco-un-d-rel
, Jim tho-ught. What the boy lac-ked in every ot-her as-pect, he of-ten ma-de up for in charm. But charm was wor-t-h-less in and of it-self. Just abo-ut as wor-t-h-less as Jamie. Why the Go-od Lord had se-en fit to ta-ke away Jim's son and da-ug-h-ter
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and le-ave him with not-hing but Jim Jr.'s only child, he'd ne-ver know. If only Jamie was mo-re li-ke his fat-her. But he wasn't.

And to think that Jamie had be-en such a swe-et, pre-co-ci-o-us child. Lo-ving, be-gu-iling, and se-emingly as de-vo-ted to his gran-d-pa-rents as they we-re to him. But with each pas-sing ye-ar, from twel-ve ye-ars old to the pre-sent, at twen-ty-ni-ne, Jamie had be-co-me mo-re and mo-re of a di-sap-po-in-t-ment.

If it hadn't be-en for Re-ba's ple-ading de-fen-se of the boy, Jim wo-uld ha-ve writ-ten him off as a lost ca-use a co-up-le of ye-ars ago. But Jim re-ali-zed that lo-sing Jamie wo-uld bre-ak Re-ba's he-art, and even if he didn't lo-ve his wi-fe-had ne-ver re-al-ly lo-ved her the way a man sho-uld- he ca-red abo-ut her and be-li-eved she de-ser-ved what lit-tle hap-pi-ness she de-ri-ved from the-ir gran-d-son.

Reba had her he-art set on Jamie's mar-rying La-ura. And by God, if it me-ant be-ating sen-se in-to the boy to get him to stra-ig-h-ten up, at le-ast un-til af-ter the wed-ding, then Jim was re-ady to whip his gran-d-son's ass.

"We ne-ed to talk," Jim sa-id as Jamie ap-pro-ac-hed him.

"Ah, now, Big Daddy, what go-od is tal-king go-ing to do? You'll chew me out, I'll say I'm sorry, then-"

Jim grab-bed Jamie's arm, twis-ted it be-hind his back and sa-id, "March yo-ur sorry ass aro-und to the si-de of the ho-use and in-to the ga-ze-bo. You and I are abo-ut to ha-ve a ma-j-or co-me-to-Jesus-talk, boy."

Grunting in pa-in, Jamie strug-gled. Fru-it-les-sly. Des-pi-te 1 be-ing se-ven-ty-fi-ve, Jim had the ad-van-ta-ge of not only su-pe-ri-or strength, but su-pe-ri-or si-ze. He was half a fo-ot tal-ler and fifty po-unds he-avi-er than his gran-d-son. "Hell-fi-re, Big Daddy, you're go-ing to bre-ak my arm."

"I'd li-ke to bre-ak yo-ur neck." Jim tig-h-te-ned his hold on Jamie's arm and mar-c-hed him down the steps and on-to the dri-ve-way.

Jamie stop-ped strug-gling, re-la-xed, and fell in-to step with Jim's pa-ce. As so-on as they drew ne-ar the lar-ge, or-na-tely de-co-ra-ted ga-ze-bo at the si-de of the ho-use, Jim ga-ve Jamie a sho-ve in-si-de and mo-ti-oned for him to sit down. Jamie sat in one of the two hu-ge wic-ker cha-irs. Jim pa-ced back and forth in front of his gran-d-son, then to-ok a de-ep bre-ath and sat down in the ot-her cha-ir.

"Look, it's no big de-al," Jamie sa-id. "I'll apo-lo-gi-ze to I La-ura and to Big Ma-ma and to Mr. and Mrs. Wil-lis."

Jim clen-c-hed his te-eth. No big de-al. I'll apo-lo-gi-ze. 'The-re co-mes a ti-me when apo-lo-gi-es just aren't eno-ugh. How the hell are you go-ing to ex-p-la-in to La-ura why you left yo-ur en-ga-ge-ment party be-fo-re it en-ded? Are you go-ing to tell her that you had to go see Jaz-zy Tal-bot, that yo-ur hun-ger for anot-her wo-man was so po-wer-ful that-"

"I can't gi-ve Jaz-zy up. Not en-ti-rely. Su-rely you, of all pe-op-le, un-der-s-tand that."

"Don't com-pa-re the two of us, boy. I ha-ve ne-ver do-ne an-y-t-hing that I knew wo-uld hurt yo-ur gran-d-mot-her. I res-pect her too much, ca-re abo-ut her too-"

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"What abo-ut Erin? Don't you think that if Big Ma-ma I knew abo-ut yo-ur la-test mis-t-ress, she'd be hurt?"

"She do-esn't know and she ne-ver will."

"And La-ura has no re-ason to ever-"

"Hell, boy, La-ura knows abo-ut Jaz-zy. Ever-y-body in Che-ro-kee Co-unty knows abo-ut Jaz-zy."

Jamie glan-ced away, a sul-len lo-ok mar-ring his hand so-me fe-atu-res. "I'll marry La-ura, just li-ke Big Ma-ma wants. And we'll gi-ve y'all so-me gran-d-ba-bi-es. That sho-uld ma-ke Big Ma-ma happy.

But J can't lo-ve La-ura. Not the way I lo-ve Jaz-zy."

Jim gro-aned. A part of him ac-tu-al-ly felt sorry for his gran-d-son. Jamie truly be-li-eved that what he felt for Jaz-zy Tal-bot was lo-ve. Hell, may-be it was. May-be he lo-ved Jaz-zy as much as he was ca-pab-le of lo-ving anot-her hu-man be-ing. But Jamie's lo-ve was we-ak and spi-ne-less, just the way he was.

"I tho-ught Jaz-zy had pretty much told you to get lost," Jim sa-id. " Is that what this is all abo-ut-you just can't ta-ke no for an an-s-wer? Her not wan-ting you ma-kes you want her all the mo-re?"

"She wants me." Jamie ro-se to his fe-et and wal-ked over to the ed-ge of the ga-ze-bo ra-iling that cir-c-led the twen-ty-fo-ot cir-cu-lar bu-il-ding.

"Did she let you stay the night?"

Jamie tur-ned, a wic-ked grin on his fa-ce. "I sta-yed a co-up-le of ho-urs. We tal-ked. We sa-id our go-od-byes. But I know that so-oner or la-ter, she'll ta-ke me back. She al-ways has."

"Not this ti-me. She wants mar-ri-age, do-esn't she? She knows you'll ne-ver marry her. I he-ar she da-ted Jacob But-ler for a whi-le. He's a fi-ne man who'd ma-ke her a go-od hus-band. And I've be-en told that the new bo-un-cer at Jaz-zy's Jo-int is very pro-tec-ti-ve of her. He's thrown you out of the pla-ce mo-re than on-ce, hasn't he?" 'Jaz-zy bro-ke it off with But-ler… that big, ugly In-di-an. And as far as Ca-leb McCord-she wo-uldn't marry him an-y-mo-re than she'd marry But-ler. Ne-it-her man has what Jaz-zy wants."

"And that wo-uld be?"

"Money."

Jim snor-ted. "May-be that's what she wan-ted when she was six-te-en and got her-self preg-nant with yo-ur baby, but Jaz-zy's grown up and tur-ned in-to a damn fi-ne bu-si-nes-swo-man. My gu-ess is her pri-ori-ti-es ha-ve chan-ged."

Jamie tur-ned and gla-red at Jim. "Is this con-ver-sa-ti-on over? I ne-ed so-me bre-ak-fast and a few ho-urs' sle-ep."

Jim grab-bed Jamie by the front of his fancy tu-xe-do shirt and ha-uled him clo-ser. "Be-fo-re you do an-y-t-hing, you find La-ura and you fix things with her. You get down on yo-ur kne-es and beg her to for-gi-ve you, if that's what it ta-kes. Co-me Sa-tur-day, three we-eks from now, you're mar-rying that
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girl. And if you do an-y-t-hing-and I me-an an-y-t-hing-to bre-ak yo-ur gran-d-mot-her's he-art, I'll bre-ak yo-ur damn fo-ol neck. I've had all I'm go-ing to ta-ke from you."

Jamie trem-b-led.
Go-od
, Jim tho-ught.
It's abo-ut ti-me I ma-de him af-ra-id of me.
He re-le-ased Jamie and sho-ved him to-ward the exit. "When you apo-lo-gi-ze to La-ura, you'd bet-ter be con-vin-cing."

Locking his ga-ze to Jim's, Jamie smi-led. "I didn't spend the night with Jaz-zy, but I did find so-la-ce in a lo-vely lady's arms. I think you might be in-te-res-ted in who I sha-red cof-fee and a kiss with less than half an ho-ur ago."

"I co-uldn't ca-re less what po-or, stu-pid slut en-ter-ta-ined you last night."

"Now is that any way to talk abo-ut Erin Mer-cer?"

Every ner-ve in Jim's body ri-oted, every mus-c-le fro-ze. 'Try anot-her lie, boy, be-ca-use I don't be-li-eve that one."

Jamie shrug-ged. His grin bro-ade-ned to show a set of per-fect, pe-arly whi-te te-eth. "If you don't be-li-eve me, call her and ask her if we didn't sha-re bre-ak-fast cof-fee and a smol-de-ring go-od-bye kiss this mor-ning."

Balling his hands in-to fists to ke-ep from hit-ting his gran-d-son, Jim in-ha-led de-eply and ex-ha-led slowly. "Get out of my sight. Now!"

Jamie la-ug-hed as he tur-ned and sa-un-te-red la-zily to-ward the ho-use. Jim, who wat-c-hed un-til the boy di-sap-pe-ared from vi-ew, won-de-red what he'd ever do-ne to de-ser-ve a gran-d-son li-ke Jamie.

Sally Tal-bot and her best fri-end Lu-die emer-ged from Jas-mi-ne's and he-aded up the stre-et to-ward Jones's Mar-ket Sally had a han-ke-ring for so-me cat-fish and she knew Jones's was the best pla-ce in town to get fresh cat-fish. They bo-ught stra-ight from Si-las Mon-roe, who ow-ned a pond-ra-ised cat-fish farm he-re in Che-ro-kee Co-unty. When they cros-sed the stre-et, Sally gat-he-red a mo-ut-h-ful of to-bac-co ju-ice and pur-sed her lips. She spit out a stre-am of brown li-qu-id just as they step-ped up on the si-de-walk.

"I wish you'd gi-ve up that nasty ha-bit," Lu-die sa-id. "You're go-ing to wind up with can-cer of the mo-uth, mark my word. One of the-se days-"

"My God, lo-ok over the-re…" Sally grab-bed Lu-die's arm. She co-uldn't be-li-eve her eyes. But su-re eno-ugh, right the-re ac-ross the stre-et, only half a block from Jas-mi-ne's, a wo-man sto-od tal-king to Ca-leb McCord. A wo-man who lo-oked a hell of a lot li-ke Jaz-zy. A cold fe-ar sur-ged thro-ugh Sal-ly-a hid-den fe-ar that had pla-gu-ed her for ne-arly thirty ye-ars.

"Where?" Lu-die as-ked, glan-cing up and down the stre-et.

"Over the-re by that fancy gre-en car. I think it's one of them Jag-u-wars. Lo-ok at that wo-man
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tal-king to Ca-leb."

Ludie's ke-en black eyes ze-ro-ed in on the wo-man. Lu-die gas-ped. "De-ar God in he-aven. She lo-oks li-ke… she co-uld be Jaz-zy's twin. But how's that… oh, lordy, Sally, do you think she might be-"

'’Ye-ah, I think she just might be. And if she is, you know what that me-ans."

"It me-ans our Jaz-zy is go-ing to be as-king a lot of qu-es-ti-ons."

"You got that damn stra-ight." Sally mun-c-hed on her to-bac-co, then spit on the si-de-walk. "And just what do I tell her?"

"You co-uld tell her the truth."

"She might ha-te me."

"She might," Lu-die rep-li-ed. "But kno-wing our Jaz-zy the way I do, I fi-gu-re she lo-ves you eno-ugh to for-gi-ve you."

"Come on." Sally mo-ti-oned to her fri-end. "I got to see her up clo-se. Let's go over the-re and get Ca-leb to in-t-ro-du-ce us. I might ask that lady a few qu-es-ti-ons be-fo-re I worry too much. May-be she don't know-"

"If she do-esn't know she lo-oks li-ke Jaz-zy, she will so-on eno-ugh. You know Ca-leb will tell her."

Sally yan-ked on Lu-die's arm, then all but drag-ged her short, plump fri-end back ac-ross the stre-et. As they drew ne-ar and we-re ab-le to get a bet-ter lo-ok at the wo-man, Sally's he-art sank.

This gal had to be Jaz-zy's sis-ter.
Lord, help me. I had no idea the-re we-re two ba-bi-es. If I'd
known…

"Morning, Miss Sally." Ca-leb McCord, al-ways cor-di-al and man-nerly, nod-ded in his fri-endly way. "Miss Lu-die. How are you la-di-es this mor-ning?"

"We're just fi-ne," Lu-die rep-li-ed, all the whi-le si-zing up the wo-man be-si-de Ca-leb. "Who's this pretty lady you got with you?"

Caleb chuc-k-led. "Miss Lu-die, Miss Sally, I'd li-ke for y'all to me-et Ms. Re-ve Sor-rell, from Chat-ta-no-oga, Ten-nes-see."

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