Texas...Now and Forever. Merline Lovelace

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СКАЧАТЬ Mission Creek Clarion sent to a fake name at a post office box. I didn’t want you to see the headlines and have a spasm.”

      “I’m pretty close to a spasm now!”

      “Look, if it’ll make you feel any better, go down to a newspaper kiosk tomorrow morning and buy a paper from Berlin or Hong Kong or anyplace but London. Take a picture of yourself holding up the paper and overnight it to me along with those before-and-after photos the plastic surgeon took of you. If worse comes to worst, I’ll produce proof that you’re still alive. I won’t tell anyone where you are, though. You’ll still be safe.”

      “I will, but will you? If Frank finds out you helped me escape, he’ll kill you.”

      The judge huffed. “I’m an ornery Texan, missy, and tough as shoe leather. What’s more, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve Frank Del Brio never thought of. You just send those pictures and don’t worry about Luke and the boys.”

      The sensational trial dragged on for months.

      Haley followed its progress in the Mission Creek Clarion. The local paper remained sympathetic to the war heroes, but the Corpus Christi and Dallas dailies played up every scandal from the defendants’ past.

      Old feuds were resurrected, including the longstanding battle between Flynt Carson’s great-grandfather and his former ranching partner, J. P. Wainwright. Tyler Murdoch’s youthful brushes with the law after his mother abandoned him made for juicy copy. Spence Harrison’s pre-law degree came into play as he assisted Carl Bridges in his own defense.

      The tabloids may have had a field day with Flynt and Tyler and Spence, but they went for Luke’s jugular. They seemed determined to paint him as rich and shamelessly indulged by the absentee uncle who’d acted as his guardian. Several papers ran disgusting, tell-all interviews with women Luke dated both before and after he’d joined the marines. Instead of a healthy young bachelor with normal appetites, he came across as an oversexed playboy who’d plied his best friend’s sister with beer and coaxed her out on the lake so he and his buddies could take turns with her.

      Despite the sensationalism, or maybe because of it, Judge Bridges made good on his promise to Haley. He got the four men acquitted.

      The trial left its mark on all four defendants, though. They soon separated from the marines. Flynt took over management of the vast Carson ranching interests. Infuriated by the spurious charges brought against him, Spence went on to law school, spent his time in the trenches as a prosecutor, then campaigned for and won the D.A.’s job. Tyler disappeared into some shadowy, quasi-military organization. And Luke seemed determined to live up to the reputation as a playboy he’d gained during the trial.

      Haley’s heart pinched every time she read another story about the jet-setting millionaire. Invariably, he was photographed with some toothpick-thin supermodel or overendowed starlet hanging all over him. Once, she read that he was in London, attending the opening of a new musical he’d backed. She’d been tempted, so very tempted, to pay the outrageous sum the scalpers were asking for the sold-out performance to search the audience for a glimpse of Luke. But she didn’t. She’d wreaked enough havoc on his life. She refused to take even the remotest chance that she might cause more.

      That fierce resolve kept her in London for almost a decade.

      Waves of homesickness attacked often during those years, especially at night. Determined to immerse herself in her new identity, Haley refused to give in to the despair that seeped into her heart whenever she thought of her family and friends.

      Gradually the cosmopolitan city took her to its generous bosom. She grew to love the pigeons and the parks and the bright lights of Piccadilly Circus. She even acclimated to the cold, foggy winters. Slowly she began to feel safe in her new identity. Carefully she built a small, intimate circle of friends.

      She’d just returned from dinner with those friends when another call from Carl Bridges plunged her back into danger…and into Luke Callaghan’s arms.

      The call came on a muggy July evening. The phone was jangling in that distinctive European way when Haley unlocked the front door.

      “Your mother’s been beaten,” the judge informed her with the closest thing to panic she’d ever heard from him. “Brutally beaten. The doctors…”

      His voice wavered, cracked.

      “The doctors aren’t sure she’s going to make it.”

      Haley caught a flight home that same night.

      Four

      The desperate need to reach her mother’s bedside dominated Haley’s every thought during the long flight from London to JFK, then on to Dallas and, finally, Corpus Christi. Exhausted but coiled tight as new barbed wire, she stepped off the jet to the rippling palms and ninety-nine percent humidity of the Texas Gulf. Too tense to even notice the sweltering heat, she rushed through the airport to the rental car desk.

      Years of living under an assumed identity had honed her self-preservation instinct to a fine edge. Her altered features should give her anonymity, but just to be sure, she made a brief stop at a costume shop before leaving Corpus Christi. Improvising hastily, she explained that she’d been invited to a party that night, thrown by officers from the nearby naval air station. She left the shop with a nun’s habit and wimple tucked under her arm. The convent of the Sisters of Good Hope was located just a few miles north of Mission Creek. Since the sisters made frequent visits to area hospitals, Haley would hide under their mantle until she determined just what the heck had happened to her mother.

      The moist air of the coast followed her out of the city as she headed west on Highway 44. Soon the marshy flatlands of the coastal plains gave way to rolling hills cut by dry arroyos and dotted with mesquite, cacti and creosote. With the wind whipping her hair, Haley breathed in the hot, dusty air for almost an hour. At Freer, she turned left onto Highway 16 and headed home.

      Home.

      Her chest squeezed tighter with each familiar landmark. As much as she’d grown to love London’s lights and glitter and sophisticated aura, Texas was home. In her heart, it would always be home.

      She pulled off the road some miles north of Mission Creek to exchange her slacks and sleeveless turquoise silk sweater for the dove-gray habit. The long-sleeved dress raised an immediate sweat in the hundred-degree heat. Haley had to struggle with the wimple and short, shoulder-length veil, but finally got them right. The little makeup she’d had on when she’d answered Carl’s call had long since worn off. Inability to sleep during the long flight had added a hint of grayness to her olive-hued skin. Satisfied that she more than looked the part, Haley slid back into the rental car and turned the air-conditioning up full-blast.

      She kept her head averted when she passed Lake Maria. The memory of that awful night almost a decade ago still seared her soul. Mission Creek’s historic downtown called her hungry gaze, however. The old granite courthouse looked exactly the same. So did the bank, founded in 1869 and still serving the local community. She flicked quick glances at Jocelyne’s fancy French restaurant and the Tex-Mex favorite, Coyote Harry’s. Her taste buds tingled at the remembered fire of Harry’s Sunday special—huevos rancheros topped with mounds of French fries, all drenched in his award-winning chili. As hungry as she was, she had no thought of stopping. Her one goal, her one driving need, was to get to the Mission Creek hospital.

      Luckily she arrived post-afternoon visiting hours and pre-supper. The staff was busy getting ready to feed the patients, СКАЧАТЬ