Spring Rain Read online

  He hadn’t counted on the tide coming in so fast or being so mean. Not that he trusted the ocean to cooperate, but he hadn’t expected it to try and eat the kid. He didn’t want the kid to drown. He didn’t even want the dog to drown. When he stole it from its chain in the backyard, the little pooch kissed him all over his face like he was its best friend or something. He grinned at the memory and touched his cheek where he’d been kissed.

  He’d always wanted a little dog just like Terror when he was a kid, but he never asked because he knew they’d say no. They always said no. They never gave him anything he wanted, and they gave Stanley everything. All Stanley had to do was look at something and it was his. Stinkin’ Stanley. It was probably good he didn’t have a dog back then because Stanley would have killed it. But he liked little dogs a real lot, and he really liked this one.

  So he didn’t want to hurt the dog any more than he wanted to hurt the kid. They were just supposed to get wet and scare Leigh-Leigh so she’d give up the treasure real easy.

  He shivered even though he was toasty in his black jacket and cap. It was inside he was cold. It was like he was almost a murderer. It was like he was almost as bad as Stanley! It was enough to make him puke.

  But he wasn’t like Stanley. He wasn’t! He didn’t mean for the kid to be in so much danger. Stanley always meant every nasty thing he did.

  He’d tried to make it as easy for the kid and the pooch as he could. He’d tied the dog with a knot that was easy to undo, the knot his mother used to tie him up with when he was real little. He didn’t know where she’d learned it.

  Once, twice she wrapped the rope around his middle. Then she made him sit on the ground and wrapped it twice around both him and the tree by the garage. Then loop, loop, loop. Almost like magic the knot appeared.

  “Stop your whining, you little creep. I’m tying you up for your own good. You’ll wander off while I’m busy if I don’t. Stanley’ll let you loose when he comes home from school.”

  Then she’d go in the house with her latest boyfriend, and he’d wait terrified, certain Stanley would hang him. For some reason he never did. Stanley liked to use his hands, not the rope.

  One day as he sat tied to the tree, he’d gotten hold of the end of the rope. She never tied his hands tight or anything. She wasn’t that mean. He just reached his hand out and picked the end up. He was just playing with it when the knot started coming undone. Just like that. He pulled harder, and the next thing he knew, he was free. He crawled behind the garage and hid until dinnertime. Then he put the rope back in the garage. Nobody knew he could get free, and he never told. It was his secret, his way to beat Ma.

  But he never forgot that knot. After all, he seen her tie it—loop, loop, loop—enough times. He used it for Billy because he was not like Stanley. He wasn’t even like Johnny, the slime. He was a nice man.

  He stared across the inlet at the lights of Atlantic City. They were so bright and beautiful. He wanted to go over there so much he could taste it. He couldn’t wait to have the treasure.

  Nineteen

  LEIGH WALKED OUT of the apartment slowly. The sun was bright today, the wind brisk but warm. A perfect shore spring day. A perfect vacation Monday.

  She stopped just outside her door and looked toward the beach. In the light of such a glorious day, it was hard to believe last night’s horror actually happened. She shuddered as she thought of Billy out on that jetty in the dark with the tide advancing, and fear sank its talons into the soft tissue of her heart and drew new blood. She knew she’d have nightmares for years.

  And it wasn’t over. He was still out there, whoever he was, demanding the treasure.

  Her eyes closed. Oh, God, the fear is still here. You’ve got to help me deal with it. I’m terrified something will happen to Billy that I can’t fix, that he’ll be badly hurt or killed. He came so close last night. Help me to trust You! And please, help me figure out what the treasure is!

  She opened her eyes just as Clay opened the back door to put Terror on his chain.

  Clay saw her, smiled, and waved as Terror barked a happy greeting. She nodded, solemn as she watched him. What would she have done without him last night? He had been wonderful, going after Billy without a second thought. With his greater height and strength he had moved over the jetty so quickly and easily. And he had handled Billy so well.

  “You’ll be okay in no time, pal,” he’d said as they reached the apartment door. He gave the boy a hug and set him down. “A warm bath and some hot tea and under the covers with you. You’ll be warm before you know it.”

  Billy nodded and started for the steps, though without his usual panache. He was so weary he could barely move. He stopped and turned. “Thanks, Clay. I may have saved Terror, but you saved me.”

  Leigh nodded. “You did.” Her voice cracked with gratitude and emotional exhaustion. “How do we ever thank you?”

  “You don’t.” He smiled and touched her cheek with a knuckle. “I’m just glad I’m here.”

  He’d shivered then as a gust of wind rushed across the yard. “I’ve got to go follow the same advice I gave Bill.” But first he looked at her, concerned. “Will you be all right?”

  It was the second night in a row he’d asked her that question. “I’ll be fine. Now.” She went up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks again.” And she rushed upstairs, amazed at her temerity.

  Now in the bright light of a new day she shivered at the memory, at the memories.

  She walked to the beginning of the path through the dunes and sank to the bench Julia had put there to sit on when you dumped sand from your shoes. Mama, majestic in her dismissal of the barking, tethered Terror, walked over and hopped up beside her, curling into a ball in the warm sun. Absently petting the huge cat, Leigh stared at the sliver of beach and sea visible through the dunes.

  He’s nice.

  She tried to ignore that thought, but it kept percolating to the top of her brain no matter how hard she tried to squash it.

  He’s very nice.

  Nice is what you say when you can’t think of anything else to say. It means nothing. Blah, bland. Nothing.

  Nice is when you’re kind and concerned and helpful and considerate and put yourself in danger to help another.

  Yeah, well, he just happened to be here for a change. She had to fight against the feel-good emotions. She had to. So he helped. Big deal.

  He’s helped several times, hasn’t he? He’s nice.

  What was he supposed to do? Let his dog drown?

  It wasn’t his dog he wanted to save, and you know it. It was your son. His son, only he doesn’t know it, does he, Leigh?

  She saw Clay last night, Billy clasped in his arms as he carried the boy home. The image of Billy’s head resting on Clay’s shoulder while his skinny legs in their wet jeans wrapped about Clay’s waist made her vision blur. They looked so right together, the father and son, that it scared her.

  It’s my call. It’s my right to keep my secret.

  Is it?

  She slammed her eyes closed again, as if that would stop the mental debate. No such luck.

  What’s wrong with admitting he’s nice?

  What’s wrong? Are you crazy? I haven’t the emotional stamina to open that Pandora’s box.

  You’re afraid.

  You’re darn tooting I am. He can’t be nice! He can’t!

  And in a flash she realized why. If Clay were nice, genuinely nice, then she couldn’t continue to blame him for The Incident. She couldn’t make him out to be the villain of the piece. She couldn’t keep the cloak of righteous indignation wrapped protectively about herself. She’d have to admit to equal responsibility, and not just intellectually. She’d have to admit it emotionally.

  And she was liable. She had let him into her house that long-ago night. She’d never said a negative word. If she were to be totally truthful, she’d been more than a little encouraging. A separate but equal responsibility.

  She pul
led her legs up onto the bench, wrapping her hands around her shins. She rested her chin on her knees and sighed.

  Okay, Lord, what are You telling me?

  She stared down the path through the tunnel of dunes. Of the great expanse of sand and sea, she saw only a sliver, a slim beige band of beach, and a gently rocking ribbon of gray-green saltwater.

  Epiphany.

  A narrow view of Clay, huh?

  That was it, she knew. She had been suffering from an acute case of tunnel vision, looking at Clay for years from a deliberately narrow perspective. He had taken advantage of her loneliness. He hadn’t come back to her. Period. He was therefore unworthy. Wholly accountable. To blame.

  While those basic facts were true—he had taken advantage; he hadn’t come back—she had to admit her conclusions were not. There was a lot more to Clay, and well she knew it if she was willing to be honest. He was nice. That quality had attracted her to him way back then. It was one of the reasons she had had such a crush on him. He was also intelligent, kind, and handsome, a natural leader. And he cared deeply about things.

  He had such difficulty dealing with Ted because he cared inordinately about both Ted and what was right. She understood that with a clarity that made her wonder why she hadn’t seen it sooner. When he couldn’t reconcile Ted and truth to his satisfaction, he was deeply torn. Since truth was invisible, he took out his frustration on the all-too-visible Ted.

  He also cared deeply for Julia. Even though he didn’t come home as much as his mother would have liked, and Leigh now suspected that was as much because of her as because of Ted, she knew he wrote, called, and e-mailed Julia regularly. He was a loving and concerned son.

  And on top of it all, Clay was a godly man, a man of integrity. One sin, one fall from grace, no matter how major, didn’t negate years and years of living for the Lord. Granted it put a big dent in things, but it didn’t change the basic truth that Clay loved and followed Jesus with an intensity and devotion she had to admire.

  She lowered her forehead to her knees and felt like weeping.

  Clay was nice. Very nice. More than nice. And if she had the courage to be totally honest with herself, she still cared for him. Maybe she even loved him. No wonder Eric didn’t interest her, or Hank or Mike Henderson or any of the others she had dated through the years.

  She shook her head. No wonder she was scared.

  Not that she feared they’d jump into bed again. They were both older, both in better control of themselves, both regretful about the other time, both committed to following Christian principles. It was for her heart she feared. He could break it today as badly, maybe worse than he had before.

  Oh, Lord, what do I do now?

  “Mom?”

  Leigh started and looked up at Billy’s hesitant voice. “Hey, guy. I thought you were still asleep.”

  “Are you all right?” He stood midway between her and the apartment door, frowning in worry. Terror was calling a happy greeting, but Billy ignored him. Mama, of course, ignored them all as she slept on.

  “I’m fine, baby. Just thinking.” She held out her hand to him.

  He walked to her and let her take his hand. She delighted in the feel of his small palm in hers for the ten seconds he let her hold it. Then he smiled weakly as he looked toward the main house and began tugging. Clearly he was worried about someone seeing him holding hands with his mom. Leigh smiled to herself and released him.

  He promptly folded his arms, putting his hands safely out of her reach. “Do you know we only have raisin bran?” It was an accusation, however mildly stated.

  She nodded. “It’s good for you.”

  His look of disdain made her smile. “I’ll just go to Mike’s and get some decent cereal.” He didn’t even pause his customary ten seconds before beginning to trot across the yard.

  “No, Billy!”

  He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Bill, Mom. It’s Bill! And why not?”

  “You’re not going to Mike’s this morning.” She ignored his frown. “We’re going out to Pop-pop’s.”

  “What in the world are we going there for?”

  Leigh couldn’t say, “To try to find the treasure so that your life will be safe.” She didn’t want him to know about the threat. “Because.”

  Bill blinked. “What?”

  Leigh got up off the bench and strode to the main house. “You heard me. We’re going to Pop-pop’s.”

  By this time Terror was jumping against the end of his rope with such desperation for Bill’s attention that he was gagging himself. Bill knelt, still frowning, and absentmindedly rubbed the dog behind his ears. Terror leaned against him in ecstasy.

  Leigh marched into the kitchen just as Clay and Julia were finishing breakfast. Bill, scowling fiercely, was right behind her, an unchained Terror on his heels.

  “She won’t let me go to Mike’s.”

  “I’m sure she’s got a good reason,” Clay said peaceably.

  “Yeah. Because.”

  “Ah,” Julia said. “I used that one every so often myself.”

  “Thank you,” Leigh said, feeling vindicated. She poured a cup of coffee and took a sip. Mmm. Hazelnut this morning.

  Bill still looked mutinous but knew he was beaten, at least for the moment. “What good have you got to eat?” he demanded. “All we’ve got is raisin bran.”

  “Homemade raisin toast,” Clay said. “Mom made the bread this morning for an early birthday present because she remembers it’s Ted’s and my favorite.” He smiled at Julia who smiled thinly back.

  Leigh looked at Julia closely as the older woman got up and poured herself another cup of coffee. She was wearing jeans and a yellow, long sleeved T-shirt and looked like sunshine. Still she didn’t seem her usual cheerful self.

  “More raisins,” groused Bill. He wandered to the counter and picked up the sharp bread knife.

  “Sure you don’t plan to run me through with that?” Leigh asked with a wry smile.

  Snorting, Bill sawed two thick slices of bread from the loaf and stuck them in the toaster.

  Leigh made herself look at Clay. He smiled warmly, and she looked self-consciously away.

  Act naturally!

  But it was easier when he was the bad guy.

  “Have a good night’s sleep?” Julia said. It was obvious Clay had told her nothing about last night’s adventure. Leigh didn’t want to deal with it at the moment either.

  Bill slathered butter on his toast and announced, “I’m going up to eat this with Uncle Ted. He’ll let me go to Mike’s.”

  “Too bad he’s not in charge,” Leigh said. “Pop-pop’s. In ten minutes.”

  The buzzer sounded on the dryer, and Julia stood. “Be right back. I’ve got to get that dress out and on a hanger before it becomes a mass of wrinkles.”

  “A dress?” Leigh asked her, quirking her eyebrows. “For a stay-at-home Monday? Where is David taking you tonight?”

  Julia didn’t answer, but she turned a delightful pink. She left the room smiling.

  Leigh looked at Clay. “Stop scowling.”

  “I’m not scowling.”

  Leigh snorted.

  “I’m concerned,” he defended. “Any son worthy of the name would be.”

  Leigh waved a hand at him in disgust. “David’s a wonderful man, and he makes your mother happy.”

  “He’s not Dad.”

  Leigh heard the hurt and loss under the words. “Of course he’s not,” she said softly. “Will’s with the Lord.” She reached out with her coffee-moistened spoon and tapped him on the back of his hand. “Just remember this when you’re feeling wary and protective. Your mother’s been lonely for three long years, Clay. She deserves some happiness.”

  He looked out the window, saying nothing but obviously struggling. She knew he knew she was right. She also knew he’d come around eventually. After all, he was nice.

  “Why are you going to your father’s?” he asked, still looking outside.

  Lei
gh was quiet for a minute. Then, “There was a message on the answering machine when we came in last night.”

  Clay spun to her and studied her face. “What did it say?”

  “That last night was to confirm the warning that he meant business. He wants the treasure.”

  “So you’re going to go get it? Just like that? You’re going to give it to him?”

  She laughed a bit wildly. “I couldn’t get it if I wanted to. I have no idea what it is, or if it actually exists!”

  “No idea?”

  “None.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “None.”

  “So you’re going on a treasure hunt that probably has no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”

  She nodded. “That about sums it up.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  If the truth were told, she knew that was why she had come into the kitchen this morning. Going home always gave her the willies, and his solid presence would help dispel them. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

  He just looked at her.

  “You don’t. We can manage.”

  “Do you really think I’d let you go out there all alone after what’s happened? What if he came? What if something happened to you? Or Bill? No, I’m coming.”

  She nodded, relieved that he’d ignored her protest. “Thank you.”

  “Did you call the police about last night?”

  She nodded. “I talked to Greg.”

  “And?”

  “He says they’ll look into it. They’re going to come out and see if the rope is still wedged in the jetty. Bill wanted to go get it this morning, but I wouldn’t let him. ‘You don’t want to disturb the scene of a crime,’ I told him. He didn’t like it, but I think he bought it.”

  “He ought to. You’re right. It is the scene of a crime.”

  She smiled slightly. “I think they plan to talk to the prison officials where Johnny was to see if they had any thoughts about someone recently released or something.”

  “Sounds like a good step to me.”