Wishmakers (39 page)

“Just don't lose your temper and get arrested for assault and battery.”

Jack laughed. “I'll give it a good try. Bye.”

He turned up the collar of his coat, left the booth, and walked quickly down the street to the hotel. The black limousine in the parking lot could only belong to Masterson.

“What room is Masterson in?” he asked the desk clerk.

“Two oh three.” The clerk looked up and stared at the big man in a fur-lined jacket with snowflakes on his thick, dark hair and beard. “But…”

“But what?” Jack's green eyes bored into the man's face.

“Nothing.”

Jack didn't wait for the elevator. He took the stairs two at a time. He rapped on the door of room 203.

“Who is it?”

“Room service.”

The door swung wide open and Jack was inside before Marvin could stop him. He sputtered and drew several deep breaths before he could regain his composure.

“Get out of here!”

“In a minute,” Jack said evenly. “I want to make a few things clear to you.”

“Get out, or I'll call the police.”

“You try it, and I'll break your arm.” Jack spoke softly, but he stared fixedly at Marvin.

“I've put in a call for the sheriff. He'll be here any moment.”

“Then you'd better listen to what I have to say before he gets here. I just talked to my lawyer in Chicago, who, by the way, is a good friend of the chairman of the Republican party in your district.”

“So what?” Marvin sneered. “I'm one of the largest contributors to the party.”

“So this, you bastard!” Jack took a step forward and grabbed the front of Marvin's shirt. “If you make another move to force Gloria to come back to you, you'll find yourself in court on child abuse charges. Then the Republican party will dissociate themselves from you so fast it'll make your head swim, with or without your large donations.”

“Why—why, I've never laid a hand on that kid!”

“There is such a thing as
mental
abuse, you know. That kid is scared to death of you! I wonder how the voters in your district would feel about a candidate who abused his wife
and
his child?”

Marvin's cheeks turned red. “I never abused her. I never even touched her after our wedding night.”

Jack stood back and scratched his beard. “There's not a red-blooded man in your district who'd understand a man having a wife like Gloria and sleeping with her
one
time in five years. That would make mighty good copy for the tabloids.”

“Damn you! I gave her everything.”

“Everything but love and companionship.”

“What can
you
give her? Look at you,” Marvin sneered. “She wouldn't have been seen on the streets of Cincinnati talking to you.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I've got a heart full of love for that woman, and, by God, you'd better leave her alone and flag your ass out of town while you've got one to flag. Gloria is through with you. Do I make myself clear? So get on the phone and call that judge, or I'm setting the wheels in motion that will ruin your political career whether a jury finds you guilty or not.”

“It's blackmail!”

“Yeah.”

Ten minutes later Jack left the room with the court order in his pocket and a smile on his face. He met the sheriff on the stairs and nodded a greeting as they passed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A
FTERNOON TURNED INTO
evening. Gloria fixed dinner for herself and Peter and made a pretense of eating with him. He was unusually quiet, and when she suggested he get ready for bed, he went willingly. She put him in the sleeping bag on the cot, and before she'd finished reading him a bedtime story, he was asleep. It was only seven o'clock, but to Gloria it seemed like the middle of the night.

She washed the dishes and put the roast in the warming oven of the cookstove. After that she filled the firebox and that of the potbellied stove with fuel Jack had left in the woodbox. She suddenly understood how the pioneer woman, alone with her children in an isolated cabin, must have felt as she waited for her man to come home from a dangerous mission. Almost without realizing it she went to Jack's old leather jacket hanging on a peg beside the door and buried her face in the soft lining. The familiar smell of his maleness brought a flood of tears to her eyes. She turned out the gas light, plunging the room into darkness, and took up vigil beside the window.

Minutes turned into hours. She became chilled, and reached for the jacket to drape about her shoulders. She found herself obsessed with the memory of Jack's face, especially his beautiful green eyes. She had seen those eyes in so many different moods; they had laughed, teased, smiled, grown fierce with anger. She found she could not bear to think of them looking into hers with icy coolness in their depths, or into another woman's with warmth and love. She wondered if she would be able to bear the loneliness if she went away from him for good.
It's lonely now, knowing he'll be back,
she told herself,
but how would it be if I knew he'd never…
She shook her head, not wanting to think about it. She strained her eyes toward the horizon, watching and waiting for a moving speck, anything that would mean Jack was on his way home.

When she finally saw headlights in the darkness, she didn't know if she was sorry or glad; they could mean the two men were coming back, or they could mean Jack had returned. But soon she could see that it was one vehicle and not two separate ones. The lights came steadily forward, at times bright, at other times blurred, as the wheels stirred the light, fluffy snow.

When at last she could see the outline of the Jeep, such an overwhelming gush of relief swept over her that at first she felt weak and sagged against the window. By the time the Jeep had stopped in front of the building, new life had surged through her and she flung open the door and vaulted out onto the snow-covered porch.

“Jack!”

The lights and the motor were turned off and the door opened almost at the same time. Gloria jumped off the porch into knee-deep snow and struggled to reach the man getting out of the car.

“Jack! Oh, Jack—”

“Gloria, baby! What's wrong?” He came to meet her. She threw herself into his embrace. He clasped her to him, trying to hold her up out of the snow. Her arms were around him and her face pressed against his chest.

“I love you! Oh, I love you, Jack!” She sobbed. “I was so afraid they'd find you and hurt you. Don't leave me again!” Her arms tightened fiercely.

“It's all okay, baby. Everything's taken care of. Oh, my God! You'll freeze! You don't even have on a coat.” He lifted her up in his arms and walked carefully, searching with his booted foot for the steps in the snow, then carried her into the building and kicked the door shut. “It's pitch-black in here.”

“Did you hear what I said? I said, I love you.” Gloria's voice was loud and insistent. “I want to live with you. I don't care if it's here…or in a shack…or on the road…. I'll get Peter to school somehow. Did you hear me, Jack?” she went on anxiously. “I love you…you idiot! Say something! Have you changed your mind about me?”

“Yes, I heard you, sweet and pretty girl. And I'll never hear words more beautiful,” Jack said softly, and stood her on her feet. “And, no, I've not changed my mind about you. The day was a year long while I was trying to do what I had to do so I could get back to you.” He wrapped her in his arms and strained her to him. “Say it again, sweetheart.”

“I love you…Peter loves you. We need you,” she whispered hoarsely, breathlessly.

“And I love you.” He felt as if he would weep. “Oh, sweetheart, we've got to get a light on and get you out of those wet jeans. Stay right here.”

Jack found his way to the gaslight and lit it. Gloria blinked against the brightness, then her mouth dropped open as she gazed in stunned silence at the stranger looking back at her.

Handsome? No, beautiful. The curly dark hair was cut and styled to cover just the tops of his ears, and was lightly dusted with snow. His cheeks were flat, clean plains that sloped to a strong, square chin beneath his wide mouth. But for the moment his quizzical green eyes commanded all her attention; they were all that was familiar to her.

“Jack!” she moaned. “Say something so I'll know it's you.”

“Glory, Glory, sweetheart—”

“You're a…stranger!”

“No. I'm the same. I'm the same on the inside.”

“But…you loved the beard.”

“I love you more.”

“I don't know if…I like it.”

He laughed, and the sound bounced into every corner of the room. “It'll take two years to grow another that long.”

Gloria couldn't take her eyes off him. “It'll take some getting used to. Why did you do it?”

“I decided I couldn't face the next fifty years without you, and if you wanted a conventional husband, complete with clean-shaven face, three-piece suits and a briefcase, that's what you'd have—if I was lucky enough for you to accept me.” The words fell from his lips softly and sincerely.

“I don't know what to say!” She ran to him and threw herself in his arms. “I'm sorry, darling. I don't want you to change. I want you like you are.” Slim arms wrapped themselves around his neck. He saw her lips trembling into the shape of syllables that were surely endearments, but her tears made them unintelligible, so that what reached his ears was the strangled rasping of a sob.

“Silly girl. I've not changed. What's on the outside of me doesn't change what's on the inside. I love you. I'll make a home for you and Peter wherever you want it to be.”

He held her so tight she could scarcely breathe. She turned her face and nuzzled the warm flesh of his neck. The crackle of the fire was the only sound she heard above the beating of his heart. Her arms slid from his neck to wrap around his waist. She pressed her full length against him.

“Darling,” he groaned huskily. “You're wreaking havoc with my self-control. If I start kissing you the way I want to kiss you, I'll not be able to stop. We've got to get you out of these wet clothes or you'll be sick.”

She raised her head to look at him. He was so close, she could see every little detail of his face: the smoldering green eyes, the strong nose, the sensual curve of his mouth. She could smell the masculine smell of his body, and an aching stirred inside her. Then his lips were against hers, rough and demanding with an insistence that sent her blood thundering through her ears. His hands moved down her back, touching her hungrily, urgently. Naked desire left her trembling in his arms.

Jack was breathing heavily. He moved his lips from hers and they traveled over her face and then, as if compelled, back to her mouth. He kissed her deeply.

“Glory, Glory…” He clasped her shoulders and pushed her from him. “Go get out of those wet clothes,” he said almost crossly while his eyes lovingly devoured her.

She sat on his lap in the armchair beside the potbellied stove. The lamp was turned low, so that most of the room was in shadows. Gloria had put on her gown and robe, and Jack an old jogging suit and sheepskin slippers; the Indian blanket covered them. Her fingers moved gently over his face, tracing his lips, his brows. They were peacefully content to be together.

“I've got a lot to tell you,” Jack murmured.

“I've something to tell you too. Two men were here today. I didn't go to the door.”

“Good girl. In this case it would have been all right. I saw them down by Ethel's. They said they'd been here and there was a good plume of smoke coming out the chimney, so they knew someone was here. They're neighboring ranchers looking for a cat that's been bringing down their calves.”

Gloria raised herself up so she could look at him. “I thought Marvin had sent them out here to hurt you.”

“No, pretty girl. You can forget Marvin. I scared the pants off him. He'll not give you any more trouble.”

“You what? Marvin isn't scared of anything. He'll hire thugs—”

“I scared him with the power of the press.” Jack laughed at the puzzled look on her face and pressed her head to his shoulder. “I talked to a friend of mine in Chicago and he suggested I run a bluff. But it really wasn't a bluff; I was prepared to drag him through the courts for mentally abusing that child. He's so set on a political career, he backed off and called the judge in Ohio and told him he was relinquishing custody rights and would allow me to adopt Peter. For the child's good, of course.”

“Of course! Oh, Jack. Do you mean we don't have to worry about Marvin?”

“That's just what I mean, pretty girl.” He kissed her lingeringly. “Glory, it's time I bared all the secrets of my sordid past, if you're going to share my future.”

“I don't care about your past,” Gloria said, suddenly frightened that what he would tell her would snatch away her happiness.

“I want to tell you…before I start making love to you. I may never stop.” He punctuated the words with soft, loving kisses.

He proceeded to tell her about his marriage to his high-school sweetheart and how, because of their immaturity, the marriage had been doomed from the start. He told her about the divorce, and his wife's subsequent remarriage to a man with underworld connections that eventually led to her and his daughter's death.

“I felt I had failed Wendy. My spirits were at the lowest ebb of my life when I came here to Hangtown. My little girl had died in a faraway place….” He paused and buried his face in her hair, then continued in a husky whisper. “I didn't care for anything or anybody. I was living in a kind of limbo until I met you and Peter. I kept thinking that if I could break out and reach you, I'd find peace.”

“Oh, Jack! Oh, darling…” Gloria stroked his head. “And I was so nasty to you, so narrow minded!” Her face was against his, and she felt his wet lashes against her skin.

“She was just a little girl and she's gone.” There was anguish in his voice.

Gloria cradled his head in her arms and kissed him on his brow. “No, darling. She isn't gone. She'll always be in your heart—as you'll be in mine.”

“I fought back the only way I knew how—in the courts. I had a small real estate business and spent everything I made trying to get custody of Wendy. When it was over, I just drove out of town. I'd bought Hangtown several years before while I was out here on a hunting trip. So I came here and holed up, licking my wounds.”