Where the Heart Leads (16 page)

Moira wiped her forehead and prayed for strength.

The first day of the week, and the adult rehearsal was a bummer.

It figured. She'd been headachy and depressed most of the day. Maybe it was the letdown from her weekend with Rafe. Maybe it was the autumn time change that had messed up her internal clock. Maybe it was that Rafe had called and canceled their lunch date.

“It's Delilah,” he'd explained. “She took her fairy wand to pre-school and hit one of the little boys with it so she has to stay home for three days. I've got her in the office with me for the morning, but Cousin Sharon can't take her till two this afternoon.” His voice softened. “I'm sorry, Moira, but I probably won't be able to make the rehearsal either. I'm supposed to meet with a prospective client in Waco at three.”

Rafe. She would miss him. Her mind kept replaying the weekend. He'd made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. If he called her back right now, she'd hop in the car and drive out to the ranch like she'd been offered the lead in a Joss Whedon epic.

But instead, he had canceled on her all the way around.

And if he was canceling out on her already, how long would their relationship last? Rocky, who should be a reliable source, had said Rafe's affairs were short run. Well, she'd better make the best of it. But what would she do when it was over?

Rafe had made it clear from the outset that her job was safe, but would she want to stick around after they broke up? If she missed him this much after just two days, how would she feel after they'd been together for two months?

To counter her malaise, she'd thrown herself into a frenzy of activity, but when she stopped to drop fabric swatches off with Mrs. Bridges, the ever-threatening rain had cut loose and she'd been soaked so thoroughly that Marilyn insisted on wrapping her in bathroom towels and wouldn't let her leave till she was dry.

Damnit, how can a state supposedly parched by drought have so much rain?

And now, the rehearsal too was a total loser. The light crew hadn't shown up, the chorus seemed to have a Halloween hangover, somebody had played around with the controls so the curtain got stuck half open, Phil was acting more distant from Micaela than ever, and Vashti and Xandra, still fighting the battle of Micaela's dream ballet, were giving each other looks that would have killed lesser women.

To top it off, Billie Joe, still under the impression that
Gift of the Magi
was teetering on the edge of Hollywood stardom, had asked her about Boyd Yancey again.

And just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, the storm hit its zenith and the auditorium lights started flickering. She gritted her teeth and put in another request for fortitude, then edged back into her seat, bent her head, and covered her face with her hands.

Someone came down her row, and a gentle hand touched her arm. Moira looked up. It was Carmen Atherton.

“Everything will work out, Moira. You're doing a good job.” She nodded toward the piano, where her mother and Xandra Fontaine were stiff-necking each other. “Mom and Xandra always have at it. They're each other's favorite enemies. But it's all for the good of the play. You'll see.”

Moira looked at Carmen. With the vibrant Micaela around, it was easy to look past her, but she was really quite pretty—fairer than her sister, pale really, with calm gray eyes and a Madonna face.

There was a stir onstage and everyone was looking at the door. Moira turned around. Rafe and Travis were coming down the aisle, grinning like chessy cats and dripping with water.

Rafe waved at her. “I made it, Moira! And look at who I found wandering around the ranch with nothing to do. Thought, I'd bring him with me so we could have an appreciative audience!”

Laughter filled the auditorium, and the two men strode down front.

Moira felt herself relax. Big Red was here. Her world was in kilter again.

The rain was down to a dribble as Rafe walked Moira out of the museum and across the street. Backing her against her car, he went as far as he could go without being arrested for public indecency. God, he missed her. Missed her so much he couldn't sleep last night.

He knew every inch of her now, but she was so much more than beautiful. He liked talking with her, laughing with her, watching her learn how to ride, listening to her silence. He'd done everything he could to get out of that appointment in Waco, but the Baylor gig was on the line.

God, he was horny. Maybe he and Moira could get together tomorrow.

He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “What are you doin' in the mornin', darlin'? Tuesday is Art Day in Taylor so Sissy's drivin' down there to help her mother set up her display so that daybed in my office is just waitin' for company.”

Moira opened her car door and stepped behind it. “Sorry. Donna Sue's home now and I told her I'd come visit.”

He heard the rest of the sentence loud and clear.
And she wasn't going to be available at his convenience.

He'd known it was a mistake as soon as the words came out of his mouth. They sounded crass even to him. Besides, he wanted more from this woman than a noontime quickie.

Moira searched the side of the road for her turnoff. There it was, Cedar Hollow Road. The Gomez-Sweeny family lived even farther down the highway than Rafe did.

Donna Sue met her at the door with Genevieve Valentina in her arms. Her dimples flashed in welcome.

“You got here at the right time—my kettle just whistled hot cocoa.” Moira followed her hostess through the house into a warm, cozy kitchen. “How about you pulling out a chair and holding Ginny for a sec—she's wearing your adorable little shoes—while I mix the cocoa. Or would you prefer tea? I could fix that too.”

“Anything hot. It's cold and wet out there.”

Moira's heart quickened as Donna Sue handed her the baby. Ginny made a sucking sound, and her hand crept out from under the blanket. Five perfect little fingers grasped at her thumb.

Donna Sue put a mug and a napkin down in front of her. “Did you have any problem—some people do—finding us out here in the boondocks? Bosque Branch is what they call a rural subdivision. Everyone on the street has about five acres and our neighbors to the north—the Fishers are totally super—have a couple of horses, and they let Xavier and me—he's my husband—ride them whenever we want.”

Ginny squirmed and began to make fretful little noises, and Donna Sue reclaimed her. “Oh, babes, let me put her in her crib. She can get cranky.”

Moira crossed her arms over each other in self-comfort. Would she ever hold a baby she didn't have to give back?

Donna Sue returned to the room and sat down across from her. “Xavier—he's a saint from heaven—took Leonard off to visit his great-grandmother in Little River-Academy—so it'll be just us girls this morning.” She took a sip from her mug. “Now, tell me—how did my classes go? You were so good to go talk to them—I think Mr. Hurst will give me Teacher of the Year for this—and I hope they behaved themselves. Did they ask about anything—I mean about
anything
—other than Johnny Blue?”

Moira laughed. Donna Sue knew her classes well. “Not really.”

Donna Sue took another sip of cocoa and hunched in closer across the table. “I've heard some really bad things about him lately and not just in the scandal sheets.”

“He's self-destructive.” Moira breathed deep and exhaled softly. “He's been good to me, but I wish he'd be better to himself.”

Ginny cut loose with a wail that would melt a snowman's heart, and Donna Sue made a quick trip to the nursery and back. “She lost her binky,” she explained as she sat down again. “But Mommy found it for her.”

She flashed her eyes at Moira. “Okay, now—spill. How are things going—I mean really and truly—with the show?”

Moira laughed. “Well, I should have the entire first act shaped up by Saturday, which will give us two weeks to pull the second act together and a week to polish.”

“Sounds great! What about Phil Schoenfeldt? I wasn't sure about him in a romantic role, but he's got such a great voice.”

Moira paused. “He's a little…
wooden
, but I'm sure he'll come around by showtime.”

“I'm sorry, babes, but he and Sergio are the only reliable tenors in town—I tried everyone but everyone out—and Sergio's too young for the part.”

“I'm confident Phil will settle in.” No, she wasn't sure at all, but that was her worry, not Donna Sue's.

“I hope so. What about Travis and Micaela?”

“I was never in the production that didn't have backstage hanky-panky going on, but to tell you the truth, Travis and Micaela make me uncomfortable, probably because I know Rocky.”

“You can't do anything about it, babes. Travis—whom I absolutely adore—is digging his own grave. I'm five years older than Rocky, but she was in my little sister's grade so I knew her reputation—a good friend and a bad enemy. If Travis gives her much more grief—I'd
kill
Xavier if he played fast and loose with me—she might take a frying pan to him.”

Moira smiled. “Not till after the show is over, I hope.”

Donna Sue exercised her dimples and lowered her voice as if someone lurking behind a door might overhear her. “And how are things going with you and Rafe?”

Oh crap, she wasn't expecting that, but of course, Donna Sue would know she was sleeping with Rafe. Everyone else did.

Rafe folded up the proposal he was trying to proofread and put it away. It was impossible to concentrate on repurposing yet another old small-town high school as the town museum when Mervin had come by this morning to give him the latest news. The pathologist said the trajectory of the bullet that killed Beth was all wrong for celebratory gunfire.

“I'll need you to come down to the station next week,” Mervin had said. “How about Monday morning—so I can get you on video about the weeks leading up to her death. We've had reports that y'all were quarreling and that Beth was going to leave you.”

Rafe gave his cousin a hard stare and slapped the Baylor proposal down on his desk.

He and Beth were quarreling?

“That's Chub talking, and you know it. He's had it in for me ever since he married Alice Fuller. She's an echo of her mother.”

Mervin massaged the back of his neck, like a hick sheriff, which he wasn't. “I know that and you know that, but we gotta get you on tape. I'm pursuing this case, Rafe, and when we find out what happened, I want to make sure it's airtight.”

Moira held Ivanhoe back by the collar as she opened the door.

On the other side of the screen stood an eye-blinding vision in a leopard vest, purple shirt, and jeans with gold trim down the sides. Her fingernails were spotted like a leopard's paw print.

“Rocky! Wait a minute while I put Ivanhoe out.”

“Sure thing, hon. That dog looks vicious. We don't have them on the ranch. They spook the cattle.”

Moira expelled Ivanhoe to the backyard, then tracked back to open the screen for Rocky. Donna Sue yesterday and Rocky today—her social life had picked up.

Rocky walked in and gave her a quick hug.

“I was visiting with Bertie next door, and I thought I'd stop in and see how you're doing. Have a minute?”

“I've got all day, and sometimes it's a little lonely. Astrid is working all day now. Let's go on into the family room. It's cozier.”

Rocky looked around as they passed through the house. “I like the way you arranged that furniture you got from Josie's—the desk, the armchairs, and the other stuff. Hon, you sure know how to make a place look good.”

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, and I'll check the pantry for sugar cookies.”

She walked back to the table. Rocky was looking around the room as if searching for the house she used to know. Moira felt a twinge of sympathy. It must be hard for her to deal with someone else living in her mother's house. She put the plate of cookies down in front of her as an offering of comfort and apology.

“Does it feel odd to be back here in your old home?”

Rocky shrugged and reached for a cookie. “Not really. I spent most of my time at Beth's or the C Bar M. Ma always said that this place was just a house we were passing through till we got to where we were meant to be.” She gave Moira an impish grin. “And Ma was meant to be in Florida with her honey, and I was meant to be at the C Bar M.”

Moira finished Rocky's sentence for her. “With Travis.”

Rocky bit into the cookie. “Yeah, the C Bar M is in my blood.” She glanced over at Moira and grinned, her eyes dancing. “Hey, hon, how are things going with
Gift of the Magi
? What about ol' Phil?”

Moira laughed. It was a good thing that Rocky had stopped by. She needed to vent, and she certainly wasn't going to let her hair down to anyone connected with the show. “He's driving me crazy. He has this wonderful voice, but can't seem to relate to…some of the cast.”

No need to mention which particular member of the cast. Rocky and Travis were having a hard time right now without her throwing Micaela's name in her face.

Rocky laughed, a tinkling of bells. “Hon, Phil never could act. You should have seen him in our high school play. He looked like a wooden puppet. We called him Pinocchio all the rest of the year. It made him so mad.” She laughed again, and her eyes danced. “And what's going on with Vashti? She's usually good for a chuckle.”

“Vashti is crossing swords, muskets, and cannons with the Fontaines every time I turn around. They're mostly at odds about one of Desdemona Benton's ballets.”

“Hon, Vashti can be a real pill. And have you seen her house? I swear, hon, she's got more concrete in her front yard than Walmart's parking lot.”