Autumn's Shadow (21 page)

Harlan's words repeated in his mind: "Don't waste love." He shied away from this. But he still wanted to do something for this brave woman. Realizing the answer was right in front of him, Burke braced himself. "Keely, I noticed when we did the big tour that you need some painting and wallpaper here and there." He motioned toward the walls of the room.

"Are you ...volunteering?" She stared at him.

"I'm volunteering Nick and myself for odd jobs the weekend before Thanksgiving. Nick's mom is coming up to see us for the holiday."

Her brows drew together, wrinkling her forehead. "That's thoughtful, but I can't let you use up your time like that."

He saw the hesitation in her large eyes and forgot his own. "I want to help you."

She tilted her head, watching him with wariness.

All the tender feelings he had for her moved him nearer her, irresistible. The inches between them became charged, alive with energy. He lifted her chin with his hand, her skin velvety against his. Touching her worked on him, deepening his tone, roughening the words in his throat. "Let me help you."

She didn't reply, but he noticed the softening in her eyes. He brushed a few wisps of hair off her smooth, soft cheek. The urge to hold her close was strong. But she had never given him any sign that she wanted that. He tried to make himself pull back. He couldn't.

He waited now—not wanting to repeat that first reckless kiss. He'd trespassed then. He wouldn't again. Yet his feet wouldn't move away.

Keely studied his face as though trying to read him. He lost himself in her luminous eyes. Everything in him shouted, "Take her in your arms!" But he fought it. He had no right to hold her. And if he did fold her close, he would kiss her a second time for sure.

The wind outside buffeted the windows in a soft swish-hush. It echoed the beat of his heart, the pulse at her temples. They stood in a silence, so close, so intimate. He cupped both her slender shoulders in his hands, his fingers squeezing, trying to communicate his tender feelings toward her through the knit of her sweater.

The moment of togetherness stretched, Burke gazing into the hazel eyes of this lovely, sweet woman. So many misunderstood her—all because of her father and his reputation and clout. How Burke longed to shield her. He didn't deserve her.
I want what you want, Keely. What do you want
? Again, Harlan's words: Don't waste love came. Without meaning to, he tugged her ever so slightly toward him.

Her only response was a sudden relaxing of the tension he felt in her shoulders. Accepting this sign, he brought her closer, inch by inch. Not permitting himself to embrace her, he bent his forehead against hers. "Keely," he whispered, her warm breath fanning against his cheek. Warning bells clanged inside him, telling him to pull back. "Keely, I—"

Ring!

The phone. Burke nearly cursed.

Breaking their contact, Keely reached for the phone on a nearby table. After listening a few moments, she turned to him, not meeting his eyes. "It's the sheriff's department." She offered him the receiver.

Regretting the sharp separation from her, Burke took the phone. "Sloan here."

As he listened to the unwelcome news that he was needed to finish a shift for a man who'd come down with the flu, Burke studied her. He hung up. Everything in him yearned to stay here with this woman. If he didn't leave immediately, he wouldn't leave at all. "I'd better be going."

She followed him to the entry way. There he struggled with himself. Should he tell her what he had felt? No. He made himself leave her in the doorway without taking her into his arms again.

He glanced back. She stood with her arms folded against the autumn chill, watching him walk away. The image stirred him. Why was this wonderful woman living here alone? His desire to let her know his feelings for her strengthened. Yet he walked away, a coward.

Chapter Twelve

Very early on Wednesday, a blustery November morning at the LF Cafe, Keely looked across the booth at her father. He'd called and ominously told her to report home for breakfast. She had countered that he meet her here for breakfast. She might be a coward but she was smart enough to know that this setting would set some limit on her father's demands. Or that's what she'd hoped. Now she knew she'd underestimated her father. "Why," she demanded in an undertone, "are you talking to me about this?"

"I told you Grady has been accepted at Hawley College out East. He just has to graduate."

"I know. I heard you the first time. I'm happy for him." Feeling drained, Keely felt like folding her arms on the table and resting her head on them. "Again, why are you talking to me and not Grady about his needing to graduate?"

The cafe had begun to fill up. Toward the front, loud greetings were exchanged as the regulars arrived. The buzz of conversation increased in volume.

Her father glared at her, pressing his lips together as though holding in his aggravation. "You know why I'm talking to you," he snapped. "I need you to make sure he graduates."

She stared at him, trying to believe that he'd actually put this demand into bald-faced words. "I shouldn't be surprised that you are trying to make this my business. And I don't really want to waste time arguing with you." I can't. I don't have the strength. She'd expected a rough year with Grady at LaFollette, but nothing like this. Did her father live in a dream world? "Grady will graduate if he attends class and does his schoolwork. It's that simple. That's how I graduated from high school."

The bell on the cafe door jingled and jingled again. Someone thumped down into the booth seat that backed hers. A migraine was gathering strength at the base of her skull.

"You were different from Grady." Her father grimaced. "Girls mature earlier than boys—"

"That may be part of it." She held on to the frayed ends of her patience. "But Grady is in deep trouble. I think he's trying to get your attention—"

"I've given him my attention—"

"Only when he does something like fighting at school or getting suspended."

"It's all that new kid's fault." Her father swept Grady's misbehavior away with a hand.

"New kid? Nick?" Why was she surprised? Of course, blame couldn't attach to a Turner no matter what.

"That's right. That deputy's nephew. If he hadn't come here, Grady would be doing fine."

The morning waitress was bringing around the coffee pot. Keely hoped they weren't being overheard. Keely stared at her father, wondering how someone could indulge in that much self-deception. "Did Nick get Grady kicked out of four prep schools?"

Her father's face reddened. "That's enough."

"You're right." She stood up. "I'm not going to argue with you. If you want Grady to graduate, you talk to him. If nothing else, bribe him." She couldn't help herself; her father's manipulation had pushed her over the emotional edge. Sarcasm tinged her voice. "Maybe a Porsche will do it."

The waitress stopped in her tracks, staring at them.

"I'm not finished talking to you, young lady. I want you to stop seeing Sloan," her father blustered. "He just doesn't cut it with your mother and me—"

She turned and walked away before she said anything else she would regret.

Her father didn't have to tell her to stay away from Burke. She'd already decided that on her own. The county was already arrayed against Nick and Burke. They were convenient scapegoats. Any interest she showed in Burke would only make his situation more sticky. The bad feelings toward her family would be transferred onto him.

Worse, if she showed more interest in Burke, her father would go further and do whatever he could to impugn both of their reputations. There was just too much standing between her and Burke. A glimpse of memory, the moments they'd spent close in front of her fireplace. Silent moments. Neither of them had even put into words their obvious feelings for one another. Though from the gossip being spread about them, who would believe that?

Outdoors in the brisk wind, Keely's heart thundered in her ears and she felt a little lightheaded. She'd suspected all along that her father had set her up as principal; it was the only way he could get Grady through high school and back East and out of his hair. But hearing him say it had landed yet another blow to Keely's emotions.

If this isn't any surprise, why am I shaking? I can't take much more. And if her brother continued behaving as he had so far, a miracle might be the only way to get him graduated in the spring.

The thought that her own brother might have set fire to the thrift shop, a charity she'd poured her heart and money into, wrapped around her lungs like a tight band. Could he hate me that much? Or is he just blind to what he might have caused?
I don't want Grady to be guilty.
But I don't want Nick to be responsible either.

Her mind cast around for another likely suspect
.
Walachek? Did he still resent her for interfering with his daughter? Had he resented having to help roof the Family Closet? Was this payback? But Walachek wasn't the only one who had a grudge against the outreach and her.

What if the fire at the Family Closet and the ones at school had been set by different people? Burke had suggested that the thrift store fire might have been the work of a copycat.

Keely's thoughts leaped to another possibility. Veda McCracken had pointed the finger at Grady. Had she tired of just spying on the thrift shop and taken direct action against the Family Closet? Was that so far-fetched? She'd stolen money from the new doctor fund last year. And she let no opportunity pass to make trouble. Was her insistence that Grady had set the fire a cover up to hide the fact that she had set it herself?

Keely opened her SUV door and got in. Resting her forehead on the cold steering wheel, she prayed wordlessly, her wounded spirit moaning.

Burke stood at the end of Main Street. He'd watched Keely flee the cafe and go to her car and sit, head down. Now he saw Turner stalk from the cafe, get in his luxury car and drive away like ripe vengeance were chasing him.
What did you do to upset your daughter now?
All the emotions Burke had been trying to keep undercover boiled up.
I have to do something about this, about Keely, about my feelings for her.

The Saturday before Thanksgiving, Keely and Burke worked together in her family room. She held the metal chalk dispenser against the wall at its midpoint while he drew out the chalk line all the way to the other end of the wall from where she stood.

When Nick, Jayleen, Burke, and Harlan had appeared at her door earlier, she'd tried to talk Burke, all of them, out of spending their day helping her. But Harlan had overruled her. So here she was, working with Burke, her resolve to keep her distance from him melting in the late afternoon sunshine, splashed gold against one wall. But for the first time in weeks, she didn't feel so ...alone.

Burke's presence had ignited a glow inside her. An uneasy one, she tried not to let show. Matters with this man remained tenuous. But when he was with her, she alternately felt shipwrecked and stranded and then safe and protected.

Burke had volunteered to help her with odd jobs around the house, but Keely was still surprised that he had actually shown up. And all the more perplexing, she sensed some change in him.

"Ready?" Burke asked, looking at her down the length of the chalk-coated string, intense concentration on his face.

She took a deep breath. Ready? Ready for what, Burke? She nodded, hoping he hadn't noticed his effect on her.

"Okay." He snapped the string and a dusty line of purple chalk marked the wall with a straight line. "Excellent." He straightened up.

Keely echoed, "Excellent." That's how she was feeling—excellent, but excellent while balancing on the tightrope of her attraction to Burke. Would she fall off and break their peace today?

Jayleen's and Nick's teasing voices floated in through the doorway. Harlan was supervising the teens, who were painting her bathroom.

"They sound like they're having fun," Keely commented, trying to hide the impression that she was on the brink of something, but what?

"What could be more fun than painting?" Burke gave her a crooked grin. "And at your principal's house too?"

Biting her lower lip, she shook her head. Burke was in an unusual mood. His smile came easily and he talked to connect with her, not just to give or ask her for information. Burke, what's happening? Are you trying to wear down my defenses to you? "I hope Jayleen and Nick play it cool."

"Oh?" Burke asked and then his expression sobered.

Could he be so unaware of what she was so aware of flashing back and forth between them? The heightened awareness couldn't be just on her side, could it?

She went on. "Jayleen and Nick need time to mature, put the past behind them. And she still hasn't made a decision about her baby." Keely glanced up and found Burke gazing at her. Her whole being suddenly seemed filled with waiting.

She cleared her throat. "I feel guilty taking one of your few days off. You could have spent more time with your nephew."

"Actually Nick wanted to come today."

"That's a good sign I hope." She studied Burke. She couldn't figure him out. He was a man outside her personal experience. He never called attention to himself. He did things out of honor, not for selfish gain or public credit like her father. Though he spoke little, he meant every word he said. What had caused responsible for the indefinable change she sensed in him today?

Burke shrugged. "Maybe Harlan persuaded Nick to come. I don't know what my nephew's thinking."

She nodded. She couldn't figure Grady out completely either. Why had he decided to be the model student this week? Had he decided he wanted to go to Hawley next year? Questions, questions and no answers.

Suddenly she couldn't stand worrying one more minute. She relaxed her shoulders, forcing out the tension. "I'm not letting Grady spoil today. It will be wonderful to have things more 'finished' looking, especially for the upcoming holidays."