Reclaiming Peace: A Peace Series Novella Page 2

  “And don’t offer to pay me, because, you can’t. You’re always welcome at my place.”

  Dexie swallowed over the lump in her throat, her emotions overwhelming her once again.

  “Thanks, Dray,” she murmured in a hoarse, emotional voice. “Can I at least make you dinner then? Your dad could join us.”

  “Sure, I’ll take you up on dinner, but Dad’s spending the evening with Charlee Phillips.”

  “Charlee? The same Charlee Phillips who was a grade below us in high school?”

  “Yeah, she gives me Tuesday and Friday nights away from taking care of Dad.”

  “That’s nice of her,” Dexie commented as Dray neared the cemetery and stopped behind the only other car in sight. It took her a moment to remember that the Jeep was her rented SUV and that she’d chosen not to give Brent any chance of discovering her actual residence.

  “I need to stop at Taylor’s for groceries…” she started, but stopped when Dray started chuckling. “What?”

  “Mrs. Taylor sold the store to a young couple from Havre. It’s called Brightman’s now. Same ancient building though.” Dray explained.

  “Oh. Well, whatever. I need groceries if I’m going to cook you dinner.”

  “Would you like me to go with you or do you remember how to get to the cabin?”

  “With as many times as we met there to make our plans for the weekends, holidays, and world domination? As long as you haven’t moved it or the road, I think I can handle it.” Dexie smirked.

  “Haven’t changed a thing out there,” Dray smiled. The sorrow in his voice and clouding his eyes tore at her. With a heavy heart, she left the truck and hurried to her rental. She started the SUV and waved to him as he drove past.

  Twenty minutes later, Dexie was looking through the produce at Brightman’s Supermarket. The selection was better than she’d expected it to be and it had thrilled her to see an entire section of nothing but locally grown produce. The store was brighter than she remembered and thankfully few people were in the building at the moment. Shopping as quickly as possible, Dexie prayed that she’d be able to get out of the store without being recognized.

  “Well, bless my soul. If it isn’t Dexie McBride.” An elderly voice with an audible waver reached Dexie as she stood in line waiting to pay. She closed her eyes and sighed as her heart plummeted. She’d almost escaped… almost.

  Searching for the strength to face the woman who’d spoken, she turned slowly, opening her eyes as she did. Dexie blinked and frowned when she had to drop her gaze to nearly her waist before she found the owner of the voice, her old third-grade teacher, Mrs. Gentry.

  Allison Gentry had been old in Dexie’s youth, but now the woman seemed positively ancient. The older woman’s hair was no longer salt and pepper, but was snow-white yet it was still pulled back into a severe bun that was as tight as Dexie remembered it ever being. Mrs. Gentry was now stooped with her advanced age, her back hunched and her hands gnarled as she peered up at Dexie through thick glasses.

  “Hello, Mrs. Gentry,” Dexie murmured politely.

  “It’s good to see you, dear. So sorry about your poor mother.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Where have you been all these years? Your poor mother missed you terribly.”

  “Traveling the world.”

  “Aah, just as you always said you would.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Dexie turned and faced the cashier, who was finally ringing up her groceries. With a shudder of relief, she didn’t recognize the woman behind the counter. Another trip down memory lane with anyone else might send her off the deep end. Dexie paid with the credit card that she’d gotten from BJ Harrington ten years earlier, the need to hide her whereabouts unnecessary since Brent knew she was in Peace. She looked at the credit card in distaste before putting it away, judging it as harshly as she did the two Harrington men who’d made her life miserable for so long.

  “It was nice seeing you, Mrs. Gentry,” Dexie smiled faintly as she collected her bags of groceries.

  “You too, dear,” Mrs. Gentry nodded.

  Dexie turned and left the store, praying that she wouldn’t run into anyone else she knew. Minutes later, she was closing the door of her SUV after stowing her groceries in the back. Relief flooded her when the sound of the door locking reverberated through the small space. Knowing she was so close to Brent was making her edgy to the point of the intense unease she known while in South Africa.

  Turning out of the parking lot, Dexie drove east along Peace’s Main Street, the town built by her great great-grandfather, Leopold McBride, and his best friend, August Harrington. She felt the warp of time as she gazed upon the wooden boardwalk that lined each side of the street and the quaint storefronts. Toppin’s Bar still stood proudly, cowboys milling around the front door, watching the sparse traffic move by. Dexie noticed that the saddle and tack shop was still there, across the street from the diner that BJ Harrington had built for his wife and ultimately lost her to when she died waiting tables during the nightshift when Brent had been thirteen. She turned north onto McBride Lane toward the Palmer homestead as well as the home she’d grown up in.

  Dexie gaped as she passed Peace High School on her right, the barrage of memories that washed over her stealing her breath. Shaking her head, she continued to drive north until she reached the T at Bridle Falls Road and turned left.

  Emotions choked her and her heart faltered as she neared the turn-off on the right that would take her to the sprawling horse ranch that had been her father’s pride. She slowed as she drove past, looking wistfully down the long lane toward the place she’d called home until her mother had married BJ and they’d moved across town to the Harrington’s gaudy mansion. With a sigh, she continued to the turn on the left that would take her to the old Palmer cabin.

  A powerful sense of déjà vu stole Dexie’s breath as she set the parking brake in front of the ancient log cabin that Dray now owned. Memories of late night study sessions, hours of plotting their escape from Peace, and pure, untainted laughter-filled afternoons flooded her mind. These happiest of her memories were accompanied by the memory of sobbing herself to sleep while Dray held her the night her father had died, the hours spent there when she’d needed a haven from the turbulence of home, and the lost moments when she could have told Dray her deepest secret but hadn’t had the courage. He’d been her best friend through every up and down for as long as she could remember and she’d missed him more than she could find words to say. The single fear that repairing the damage to their friendship would be impossible gnawed at her with cold, unforgiving teeth.

  Dexie stared at the log cabin, her mind reeling from the memories bombarding her. Slowly, she entered and was overwhelmed by the staggering sensation that she was stepping back into time.

  To Dexie’s immediate left, a rough-hewn nightstand, stood next to the folded Murphy bed. Across the room, a massive stone fireplace nestled into the far left corner dominated the space and still seemed to be the only source of heat. An antique rocking chair, which had belonged to Dray’s great-grandmother, sat angled toward the fireplace. A wagon-wheel coffee table made from the covered wagon that had brought the Palmer’s to the west rest between the fireplace and the chairs on an ancient rag-rug that Millie Palmer had made long before Dray had been born. A newer loveseat had been added near the fireplace, along with a TV stand and large flat screen television, the only visible signs that the world outside the cabin had progressed into the twenty-first century.

  She frowned in confusion at the door that stood closed along the back wall, not far from the dining area to the far right of the cabin, having no memory of any other doorways other than the one where she was standing. Dexie wandered to her right, running her hand along the thick wood countertops that lined the U-shaped kitchen. The appliances were ancient but clean, remnants of another world that seemed forgotten.

  In spite of its sparse furnishings, worn wood flooring, and rough, unfinished
construction, this cabin felt more warm and welcoming than the place she’d called home for the last ten years. Breathing deeply of the same, comforting scent of aged pine, earth, and fresh air, Dexie smiled wistfully.

  Remembering her groceries in the car, she turned to go outside and stopped short. Tacked to a small corkboard to the left of the door was a note with her name on it. Her smile grew as she reached up and unpinned the paper. That Dray had lingered to write her the note when he’d unlocked the door wrapped her in the warmth of her memories once more. She remembered the day he’d hung the board, his excitement that they could pass messages along had been infectious and they’d used the board throughout their teens. Opening the paper, she read his note.

  “Bustling crowds,” Dexie snickered. There probably hadn’t been a ‘bustling crowd’ in any part of Peace for years with the possible sole exception of Toppin’s Bar. Dexie continued to chuckle under her breath as she unloaded the groceries and her small suitcase then returned to the cabin.

  An hour later, dinner and dessert were cooking in the ancient oven while Dexie was whipping mousse with the fervent hope that Dray still had a weakness for chocolate. She looked up when she heard a car pull up outside. Moving slightly to her right, she shifted the faded red gingham curtains over the farmhouse sink to look out the picture window. Seeing Dray stepping from a battered old truck, a smile played on her lips. He tapped on the door before entering.

  “It smells amazing in here,” Dray grinned as he inhaled deeply after closing the door again.

  “Thanks. Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes.” Dexie smiled. “I muscled my way through the terrible crowds at Tay… Brightman’s… and bought some wine. Are you allowed to drink?”

  “I think I can be persuaded,” Dray smirked. “I take it you found my note?”

  “I did. Thanks for letting me know that you’d added the bathroom. I wasn’t really looking forward to traipsing out back to the outhouse, especially in the dark.” Dexie snickered as she opened the wine and poured it.

  “You’d have had a hard time finding it. I got rid of that nasty thing pretty quick.” Dray took the wine glass she offered. “Thank you.”

  “I ran into Mrs. Gentry at the store.”

  “She’s a tough old bird. Still gives me hell for not knowing the state capital.”

  Dexie burst out laughing as Dray turned a chair from the table and sat, resting his left arm on the scrubbed rough-hewn tabletop. Of course Mrs. Gentry would remember that. They’d been studying Montana state history and geography for more than two months when Dray had missed that one single question on the final test. Dexie placed the mousse in the refrigerator then moved to sit at the table with Dray. She took a sip of her wine as a heavy and uncomfortable silence settled over them.

  “Dray?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why were you at the cemetery today?”

  “A couple reasons, really. I’d heard rumors that you’d been seen in town and knew if you were, that’s where you’d go first. And, it was a year ago today that Mom passed. I was putting roses at her grave.”

  “Oh,” Dexie murmured as the tension dropped again, heavier and more unnerving.

  Dexie felt Dray’s eyes on her as she stared into her glass. She hated the strain and secrets between them… hated that Brent and his father had hammered that wedge between them. If she could be sure that Dray wouldn’t suffer the repercussions, she’d share her misery with him in a heartbeat. But knowing the chokehold Brent and his cohorts had on the town of Peace, she didn’t dare… not without the capability of being able to avert the backlash.

  “Where did you disappear to, Dex?” Dray asked after clearing his throat uncomfortably.

  Dexie’s heart sank as she contemplated her options. The whole truth and nothing but the truth? Not yet… it was too dangerous for Dray. A bold faced lie? The very idea was unconscionable, especially with Dray. Somewhere in the middle? The truth without too many details, not enough to put him in danger?

  “Everywhere and nowhere,” she finally sighed.

  “What does that mean?” he pressed.

  Dexie opened her mouth to answer as the timer on her phone went off, letting her know that dinner was done.

  “Give me a minute,” she pleaded as she stood. After pulling the pans from the oven, Dexie prepared two plates, one with twice the portion of the other. Placing the plate with the greater amount of food in front of Dray, she put the other where she’d been sitting. Picking up her nearly empty wine glass, she drained it. Taking her empty glass and Dray’s, she got a pair of clean wine glasses and a different bottle of wine.

  “Why a different wine?” Dray asked as she poured the wine.

  “Because it goes best with dinner.”

  “Oh.”

  Dexie sat down again, her stomach twisting at the thought of what she knew had to happen next. Without touching her food, Dexie took a drink of her wine for courage and carefully contemplated her words.

  “Now that my minute is more than up…” she started. “I left because I had to. I had to protect Mom. I wallowed in self-pity for a while… until I met Rosie and she showed me a different perspective. Then I traveled. I’ve lived a hundred different lives over the last ten years, even though my heart was still here in Peace.”

  She knew he’d have a million questions and she’d have to give more details, but the longer she could avoid it, the less she felt cornered. The scowl on his face spoke volumes and it was hard to breathe around the ache in her chest. Slowly, Dexie began to eat while she waited for Dray to speak. He ate quietly for a long while and she could tell that he was contemplating her words and marshaling his thoughts and questions. She watched as he paused with his fork in mid-air, blinking as though just realizing something.

  “This is amazing,” Dray finally spoke, his tone incredulous and mildly resentful. “Are you some sort of gourmet?”

  “Yes. The last thing Rosie said to me was to make the most of my passions. I studied at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris.” Dexie replied honestly.

  “Okaaay…”

  Dray continued eating slowly, clearly still mulling over her obtuse explanation.

  “You said a lot of shit, but didn’t say much that made sense,” Dray finally admitted after a long time.

  “I know,” Dexie sighed. “And there are some things that I can’t fully explain, as it is too volatile right now.”

  “Okay,” Dray scowled. “Why did you have to protect your mother?”

  “Brent hates me but he needs me.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Brent wants Peace.”

  “We all want peace to some degree,” Dray scoffed as he finished his dinner. Dexie closed her eyes in misery and shook her head.

  “No, Dray. Not peace as in the sensation or emotional state. Peace. He wants to own this town, lock, stock, and barrel. Like he wants an autonomous dictatorship.” She explained patiently. “He and BJ sort of had it after BJ convinced Mom to marry him, but they both knew it was temporary. They knew Mom wasn’t going to live forever and she wasn’t going to change her will to give them my birthright.”

  Dray contemplated her words for a moment before he nodded slowly.

  “That makes sense. How does that translate into you having to protect your mother and leaving town without a word to anyone?” He allowed.

  “The night I left, Brent tried to solidify the Harrington hold on Peace. I knew rape was on his mind. He practically told me he wanted me pregnant so he could force me to marry him. I’d been refusing his advances for over a year, as you well know.”

  “I do know,” Dray scowled again. The dark fury that lined his features and edged his voice warmed Dexie even as she knew she didn’t deserve his defense.

  “BJ walked in on Brent choking me as he was trying to rip my clothes off. BJ couldn’t have me screaming rape and abuse all over town because Mom would have rallied the town in my defense and left him. When BJ kicked Brent out of the room, I thought
he was going to apologize. Instead, he opened his safe, took a bundle of money out then told me if I ever said a word about what had happened to anyone in town he’d kill my mother. When I started to tell him where to go, he got in my face…”

  Dexie’s voice faded as she remembered the horrifyingly maniacal look that had been in BJ’s eyes. The nightmarish terror that had haunted her for the last ten years washed over her and she struggled to continue.

  “He said he’d kill Mom and make sure that I was convicted for it. BJ handed me the money then pulled a black credit card from his wallet and gave it to me, saying he’d have my name on the account within days. He told me to leave and never come back or he’d kill her. I couldn’t believe it. Not only was he covering for Brent but he was threatening to kill Mom and throwing money at me, telling me to leave and never come back.”

  “You don’t believe that they’d actually have done that, do you?” Dray gaped incredulously.

  “I have no way of knowing now. With Mom’s death and BJ having been gone for two years now, the threat is moot. But at the time, I’d already been traumatized by Brent’s assault and was in shock. When BJ made the threat, I didn’t want to believe he’d do it, but his eyes…” Dexie faltered a second time as the nightmare surged again, more strongly. The cold, furious, maniacal expression in BJ Harrington’s eyes had been so utterly remorseless.

  More than once over the last ten years, she’d wondered how many other women had seen that look… how many others had been victim of Brent’s twisted behavior. It had been the look in both of the Harrington men’s eyes that had terrified her and made her believe that they were completely capable of carrying out their horrifying threats. Dexie struggled to breathe as her body betrayed her, leaving her trembling violently.

  “Jesus, Dex, he really got to you,” Dray’s horrified and shocked voice cut through the barrage of memories holding her captive. She felt him cover her icy hand with his much warmer one and tears filled her eyes.