Doubting Thomas (Tarnished Saints Series) (4 page)

She started down the Ainsley’s half-mile country road driveway, careful not to go anywhere near the road she’d taken by accident last night. She didn’t need anyone shooting guns at her, and she certainly didn’t need Thomas Taylor mad at her before she’d had a chance to approach him.

A channel of water ran from the lake alongside the Ainsley’s property, under a gravel road, and emptied into a small pond on the other side. She figured it must be the blue-gill pond that Clarence had mentioned. The grass around the pond was mowed and the trees trimmed, and the whole thing looked more like a park setting than that of the wilderness. Still, she beheld the beauty of the natural setting, admiring the water reflecting the blue skies above. A Canadian Honker scolded her when she got too close, and it swam out to the center of the pond, gliding toward a small island covered with tall trees. The goose obviously had a nest on that island, and her scolds were only to protect her babies.

She felt the same way. She wanted to protect Gabby, and after that gunshot, she was starting to doubt she did the right thing by bringing her with. The sooner she got this call over with, the better. By the sound of it, the sooner they hauled Thomas Taylor away and found a good home for his children, the sooner this lake would be safe again. She toyed with the idea of calling in for another social worker to back her up, but decided against it. After ten years in this business, she knew people tended to exaggerate. She’d better investigate further first.

After awhile, her curiosity got the best of her. She veered off the path, bravely taking the one less traveled. She found herself jogging down the road she’d taken last night. Thomas Taylor’s road. She didn’t know where the Taylor’s house was, but she knew if she stayed on his land he would find her sooner or later.

She made it nearly to the mailboxes at the end of the half-mile road before she had to stop and catch her breath. She was regretting eating that breakfast now. Hands on her knees and head down, her breathing slowed and a chill swept up her spine. She had the feeling someone was watching her. She jumped up and turned around, only to see a flash of dark clothing disappear behind the trees.

“Hello?” she called. “Is someone there?”

“That’s just Zeke, hiding again,” came a voice from behind her. She jumped again, and turned around to see a boy she guessed to be about nine or ten years of age standing on the side of the road. She recognized him as the boy who’d thrown a rock at her last night. This time he wasn’t wearing the coonskin cap.

“You!” she spat. “I recognize you. You almost hurt me with that rock last night.”

“I didn’t do any such thing.”

“You don’t have to lie about it. Lying is not good.”

The boy’s eyes opened wide in fear. “I didn’t throw no rocks at you.”

“Any,” she corrected him. “And you know you did it.”

“What’s the matter, Josh?”

Angel looked up to see a man walking out of the woods toward her. The same man she’d seen last night in her headlights, but thankfully this time without the gun.

“Is this woman bothering you?” he asked the boy.

The boy stayed quiet.

“Are you Thomas Taylor?” Angel asked, knowing darn well he was but trying to find a way to introduce herself.

“Who’s askin’?”

“My name is Angeline DeMitri.” She held out her hand, but when he just stared at it without returning the greeting, she pulled it back slowly. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“How’d you know my name?” he asked in a suspicious tone. “Are you one of those tourists here to cause trouble for the summer?”

She was appalled at the way he assumed every visitor wanted to cause trouble, when he in fact looked like more trouble than anyone she’d ever met.

“I’m vacationing at Thunder Lake for awhile, Mr. Taylor. I’m staying at the Ainsley’s Bed and Breakfast.” He just grunted, so she continued talking. “And it seems to me your son - I’m guessing he’s your son, is the one causing trouble. Last night he threw a rock at me. I could have been hurt.”

“Is this true, son?” The man’s voice was low and concerned. His dark eyes narrowed and the boy squirmed. As he turned toward the boy, she perused the way Thomas’s snug jeans hugged his lean waist, and the way his t-shirt clung to his sturdy chest.

“I didn’t do it, Pa. I swear!”

He turned back to Angel. “My son didn’t do it.”

“I saw him do it!”

“If he says he didn’t do it, then he didn’t. My children don’t lie.”

“Every child lies once in awhile,” she told him, trying to give the boy a way out and admit he was wrong.

“Not mine,” he said. “And if you’re so fast to complain about being hurt, I must mention that I saw you stop your van not four feet from my youngest son last night.”

Angel suddenly felt horrible. Here she was complaining about a rock when her own actions were worse, even if they weren’t intentional.

“Well, he was standing in the middle of a dark road.”

“I warn you, Ms. DeMitri, stay off my land. C’mon, Josh.” He motioned to the boy and they took off into the woods.

“Wait! I want to talk to you.”

“Save your breath,” she heard him call. “I don’t talk to outsiders.”

She shook her head and watched them disappear into the brush. She hadn’t handled this well at all. She had meant to apologize for almost hitting his son with her car last night, but for some reason she’d started defending herself instead. Probably not unlike the way his son was thinking.

But there was a problem here. The boy had lied. She couldn’t mistake that little face and scraggly brown hair. He’d been the boy who threw the rock, but his father defended him. And then Mr. Taylor had warned her to stay off his land. Not a good start to her report. Not a good start at all.

She turned around to go back to the Bed and Breakfast. She’d just have to try to talk to Thomas Taylor again later.

Thomas watched Angeline DeMitri jog back down his road, thinking she looked ridiculous in her designer slacks and silk blouse out here in the woods. At least she’d had the sense to wear running shoes.

“Go on back to the house, Josh. I’ll be along soon.”

“Yes, Pa.”

He followed her, having the feeling she was another one of those nosey reporters. He walked silently through the woods, even though he was wearing his work boots. Still, it didn’t matter if he did make noise, she didn’t seem to notice. She was definitely from the city.

Sure enough, just as he suspected, she meant to snoop. She veered off into his woods instead of heeding his warning. She’d made so much noise stomping through the underbrush that it almost brought a grin to his face. If she thought she was pulling something over on him, she was sadly mistaken.

He followed her to the swamp, one of his favorite places. He felt it his private place to sit and think, and almost regretted she’d stumbled upon it. She looked at it aimlessly, not even noticing the tree house up above her that he’d built for the boys. If she was a deer in hunting season, she’d already be dead.

She turned and looked around the forest, and he knew she was lost. She looked worried, brushing her blond locks from her eyes and finally pausing for a moment to tie her shoe. She lifted her foot atop a rotten log and bent over. Her dress pants rounded her cheeks and gave him a good view of her figure. Then she stood up and fussed with her hair. The day was getting muggy already and she removed her silk shirt and tied it around her waist, exposing the jogging bra underneath. The moisture made it stick to her chest, showing off her nicely rounded swells beneath.

She pulled her long hair back tightly, fastening it with a tie of some sort she’d taken from her pocket. Her top pulled taut against her breasts and his gaze fastened on her nipples slightly outlined beneath. Thomas cursed under his breath at the way his lower body stiffened just by looking at her. It had been two years since he’d lain with a woman.

After he’d found out Fawn was cheating on him, he’d stopped having intercourse with her. He had doubts about Elijah being his son, but he knew for certain the baby who died in Fawn’s womb was not his. Fawn liked to sidle up with the truckers passing through, stopping at Burley’s strip joint every so often. He should have divorced her the first time Burley came to his door looking for her. Instead, he’d laid the man out with a few good punches, and warned him to never return or say a word about his wife’s infidelity to anyone.

Yes, he should have divorced Fawn right then and there, but he didn’t. For the sake of his youngest son, he’d stayed married. She was the mother of little Eli and would have probably taken the boy away from him. So instead, he’d pretended he didn’t notice her putting on her makeup and sexy clothing to go grocery shopping. Instead, he’d bitten his tongue and buried himself in his work, keeping to himself, trying to protect his own image. Trying to protect Eli from growing up in a house of ill repute.

Sweet Water was a gossipy town, and he had no doubt everyone already knew more of Fawn’s escapades than he did. But hell if he had decided to divorce her. It would have only given them one more thing to talk about.

He looked away from Angeline, not wanting to think about women. It would only get him in trouble. That’s when he heard the soft crunching of the underbrush behind him. He turned to see the two wild, stray dogs that had maimed the deer, coming quickly through the forest. They were headed right toward Angeline.

“Look out!” he shouted.

She whirled around at the sound of his voice. Her green eyes widened when she saw him, then widened further when she spotted the dogs.

“Don’t run,” he said, but she didn’t listen. Branches tore at her hair, and thorns from wild roses caught on her slacks as she hurried in the opposite direction. She screamed when the two large dogs followed.

“Fast! This way,” he instructed.

He rushed forward and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her toward the tree house. Even if she stopped running now, it was too late. The dogs had sensed her fear and he wasn’t sure what they’d do if they reached her. They made it to the tree, and he wrapped his hands around her small waist and hoisted her up in the air. “Climb the ladder,” he told her. She clumsily tried to do just that. He stepped in front of the dogs, wishing to God he had his gun right now to scare them.

“Go away!” he shouted to the animals, and stood his ground, protecting the woman.

Angel watched in horror from the tree house as Thomas Taylor risked his life to save her. The dogs were barking and growling, hair standing up on their necks. If she wasn’t mistaken, foam dripped from their mouths too. The things could be rabid, yet Thomas stood there, weaponless, not even picking up a stick or a stone to defend himself.

The dogs encircled him, but he didn’t move. He didn’t take his eyes off them for a second. She wanted to call out to him, but didn’t. If she was to distract him now, it could be deadly. Instead, she closed her eyes and prayed.

The animals went suddenly silent. She opened her eyes and looked past the branches of the tree. They were gone. So was Thomas. She looked out over the far edge of the tree house, and when she’d turned back he was standing next to her, his large body slightly bent under the low roof.

“That wasn’t a smart thing to do, running from those dogs,” he growled. “Never show fear.”

Angel’s heart pumped furiously inside her chest. She shouldn’t show fear toward him either. She struggled to regain her breath to answer.

“Easy for you to say. You should have used that gun of yours to shoot them. Those dogs are dangerous and should be removed.”

“Some people say the same about me, Ms. DeMitri. Guns aren’t the answer. Those dogs don’t deserve to die any more than you do.”

“Is that why you didn’t hit them with a rock or a branch?”

He looked at her through squinted, perusing dark eyes, and she suddenly felt cramped in the small tree house cabin. His large body filled most of it. His presence was powerful and domineering.

“Hunting season for dogs isn’t until next month.” He sounded so serious that for a moment she almost believed him.

“Mr. Taylor, I’m sorry we got off to such a bad start. I’d like to start over if we can.”

“Wouldn’t we all?” he mumbled, and she had a feeling his words weren’t talking about their meeting, but another part of his life.

“I apologize for using your road last night. I was lost. And I really want to apologize for almost hitting your son.”

He didn’t say anything, so she continued.

“It was dark, and he was in the middle of the road. I didn’t expect to see a seven-year-old in the middle of the road at midnight and - ”

“Six.”

She stopped and looked up at him quizzically. “Pardon me?”

“Elijah’s six, not seven.”

“I see.”

He’d gone to extremes to correct her, but never even acknowledged her apology. Before she could continue, he was heading down the wooden ladder nailed to the tree. She scrambled after him.

“I’d like to make it up to you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“No, really, I insist.” In her hurry, her foot slipped on a rung. He was there to steady her and help her to the ground. His hands lingered on her waist. Or was it only her imagination? Her eyes traveled up his arms and settled on the Celtic cross on a chain around his neck. She hadn’t even noticed it before. Her eyes met his, and in their dark depths she could see hope, fear, determination and care. Also, something else she couldn’t quite decipher.