Because You're Mine Page 9

  “Of course.” Barry took her arm and led her up the steps.

  Alanna suppressed a smile. Barry was pulling out all the stops to win over Ciara. He had to sense her hostility. The rest of the band followed them into the house with Jesse bringing up the rear.

  Alanna stopped just inside the door, blinking at the dark interior. “I’ll open these curtains,” she muttered.

  Jesse shut the door behind them. “Wow, this is really something.” He glanced around at the faded wallpaper and inlaid floors. “I bet this was phenomenal in its heyday.”

  “So Barry says.” She pointed to the hall. “I think they went to the kitchen.” She didn’t want to be alone with him, so she stepped quickly to join her husband and mates.

  They weren’t alone. Grady stood leaning his back against the counter. He had a benne wafer in his hand. “I finished the lawn and thought I’d start clearing out the rubbish in the summer-house you’ll be using for living quarters for the band next.” His gaze went to Ena and stayed there.

  “Where is the building?” Alanna asked.

  “In the trees.” Grady gestured out the back window toward the ramshackle building just barely visible.

  That was the place Barry intended for Ceol to live? “The place is practically falling down. Is it even possible to make it livable?” Alanna tried to keep the horror from her voice. It would take ages to make it ready.

  “It appears worse than it is,” Grady said. “A good cleaning will go a long way. And some minor fix-up.” He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from Ena, who was pretending not to notice.

  Alanna exchanged a glance with Ciara. “We need to be practicing now. What about the ballroom I heard you mention? And the band could stay here in the house. It’s huge and surely has plenty of space for them.”

  “The ballroom needs renovating,” Barry said. “It’s full of junk that I need to go through. And every bedroom that’s been redone is in use. I’m sorry.” His eyes were regretful. “The contractor promised he’d have it all done in two weeks. He has a large crew. It will be fine, you’ll see.”

  “We can’t really afford to keep staying at the hotel,” Ciara said. “It’s breaking the bank, it is. I think none of us would mind roughing it.”

  Alanna hid her surprise. Ciara’s idea of roughing it was a Holiday Inn instead of a Hilton.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Barry said.

  “I could work on the ballroom,” Grady offered. “Get it cleared away.”

  “I’d rather go through it myself.” Barry’s smile faded. “You wouldn’t know what was important family history.”

  Alanna glanced at the two men. Barry’s shoulders were taut while Grady appeared relaxed, though his expression held glee as though he’d been goading Barry. The question was, what was it all about?

  Over tea and bennes, Barry discussed his plans for the band’s space, then said his good-byes to take a conference call in his office upstairs. Alanna saw her group growing restless, and she saw Ciara keep stealing glances out the window. They all wanted to see that studio, and now was as good a time as any. She led her mates and Jesse around the side yard to the carriage house that looked out over waving sea grass and the distant blue of the Atlantic. The fresh tang of salt air sharpened her senses. When she reached the building, she stepped to the door and turned the doorknob, but it was locked. She peered through the dirty windows to a large open room that held stacks of lumber and other building material.

  “It’s not looking like he’s even started it,” Ciara said beside her.

  “Likely more has been done than we can tell,” Alanna said. “None of us knows two shillings about construction, and it’s hard to see.”

  “This place hasn’t been touched in years, maybe decades,” Jesse said. “Look at the dust on the floors. Still thick as hay in a barn.”

  Hadn’t Barry said they’d begun work? Maybe she had misunderstood. Jesse was right—no hammer had touched this place in many a day. Barry had said it would be ready in two weeks, but she saw no way of getting the place ready in time to prepare for the concert.

  If her new husband wasn’t going to make it a priority, she was. “We must find a place to practice—and somewhere for you all to live,” Alanna said.

  Ena glanced back at the mansion. “Have you explored that place? Maybe there’s room in the basement or the ballroom for the drums.”

  “Barry said the ballroom was a mess, but it still might suit. Shall we be checking it out?” Ciara asked.

  “I haven’t had time to explore yet. Some of the rooms might be livable too.” Alanna’s gaze rose to the top dormer windows. “The ballroom is on the third floor. We could go up there and look.”

  “Not sure I want to haul heavy drums up three floors,” Jesse said. “The porch will do for now. Or just the yard.”

  Alanna hated to agree with him, but their options were few. She jerked her head back toward the house. “We’ll be using the porch for now.”

  Jesse nodded and jogged back toward the van. Ena and Fiona followed him. Alanna turned her gaze from his broad back. The sooner he was gone, the happier she’d be.

  “You’re being a burk! You’ll run him off,” Ciara said.

  “I should be so lucky,” Alanna muttered, starting to the house. She despised herself for the way her eyes burned. She had to be strong. He’d already hurt her as much as anyone could. Alanna walked faster.

  Ciara jogged to catch up. “What about the living quarters? Can we peek inside? Maybe just a cleaning will do, like Barry’s brother said.”

  Alanna stopped and Ciara nearly bumped into her. “It looks dreadful from the outside.” She glanced around the expansive garden, searching for the building she’d caught a glimpse of. She spotted the low-slung, ramshackle structure half hidden by tall trees and Spanish moss.

  “That’s it, is it?” Ciara walked through tall weeds toward it.

  Alanna had a sinking feeling that this derelict place was just as bad inside as outside. From here, it appeared as if it were about to fall down. She followed her friend toward the gray, weathered boards of the residence. Cobwebs hung from the porch ceiling. The windows were filthy.

  She wiped her hands on her jeans. “I don’t think anyone has set foot here in years.”

  Ciara stepped onto the porch and rubbed a window with her fingers until it was clear enough to peer through. She stuck her nose to the glass. “This is it.” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “Ick. It would take months to make this livable.”

  Alanna nodded. “The main house is huge. I’ll find rooms for you there.”

  Ciara started back toward the mansion. “I’m thinking Barry won’t want us that close to you, but you can let us know. We need to knock off for now and take Jesse home.”

  Alanna wanted to remind her friend the house now belonged to her as well, but she was too uncertain of her rights in this pseudo-marriage. Barry likely had a good explanation for why there was so little progress, and she’d make sure he was giving it to her when she saw him.

  Twelve

  The next morning Jesse threw back the covers and bounded out of bed. He had a job. Jesse grinned at the thought, even though he knew Alanna distrusted him.

  A haunting tune ran through his head. At first he thought Ceol had played it yesterday, then he realized he didn’t know what it was. He hummed the tune as he yanked on jeans and a T-shirt. Even as the notes echoed in his bedroom, he struggled to remember the words, but nothing came. This amnesia thing was getting old.

  His parents were gone when he got downstairs. Just as well. His mother had already tried to talk him out of his plan for the day, and he didn’t want to endure another argument. He downed a glass of milk, then grabbed the car keys.

  Charleston had turned out for the beautiful spring day. Azaleas and dogwoods burst with color. Narcissus and pansies vied with camellias for attention. Jesse gazed at the spectacle as if he’d never seen it before. Every day was like that—this was the first spring in his memor
y. Somehow he knew the names of the flowers but didn’t know how he knew.

  He checked his GPS again, then drove along the streets toward Anderson Pipe Products. The building should be coming right up. There it was. The sight of the brick building didn’t jog his memory. As far as he was concerned, he’d never been here before. But he was bound to find clues of some kind at his old job. Information about the kind of man he’d been. He had to figure out a way to prove that he was not the kind of person who would try to kill his best friend in a murder-suicide. He couldn’t live with himself if he’d done anything to hurt Liam.

  He parked and walked inside. The receptionist smiled and called him by name. She was an attractive brunette with a flirtatious manner.

  He leaned his forearm on the counter above her. “You heard I was injured?”

  She nodded. “I was sorry to hear it.”

  “How long did I work here? The amnesia hasn’t lifted yet.”

  Her smile flickered. “About three years.”

  “Did you know me well?”

  She looked down at her desk. “We, um, dated a few times.”

  Jesse glanced around the reception room. Pictures from the company’s history lined the walls, but nothing was familiar to him. The furniture was brown leather, like so many other reception areas. Same magazines, same smells.

  He turned his attention back to the pretty receptionist, wondering how to go about asking her what kind of man he was. She’d think he’d lost his mind. And if they’d dated, she might not be honest. He needed to talk to someone who disliked him enough to tell him the truth. “Could I see Rena Mae?”

  The smile vanished from her face. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “I think you’re probably right, but I really have to,” he said gently. “Maybe you could come with me if you think she might be uncomfortable.”

  She bit her lip. “Let me see if she’ll see you.” Her heels clicked on the industrial tile as she hurried out of his sight.

  He exhaled and shoved his hands into his pockets. This wasn’t going to be easy. How did he even start the conversation? He turned to look out on the bustling Charleston street. Taxis honked, and cars flickered by in a kaleidoscope of color. The clatter of the receptionist’s heels caused him to turn back around.

  “She’s agreed to see you as long as you leave the door open.” She bent over as if to offer her cleavage for his perusal. “Our favorite bar is having a special band in tonight. I’m free.” Her long lashes swept over her blue eyes, then came up again.

  “Maybe another time.” He took his hands out of his pockets. “Where is her office?”

  Her smile froze on her face. “Third door on the right.”

  His lungs squeezed as he went down the hall. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her. How could he know she was even telling the truth? His steps slowed as he neared the door, which stood open. He paused in the opening and studied the woman behind the desk. In her late twenties, she was a beautiful brunette with chiseled features and large brown eyes. Her hair brushed the shoulders of her neat navy suit.

  He cleared his throat. “Rena Mae?”

  Her wary gaze flickered over him. “What’s wrong with your voice?”

  “Smoke inhalation from the bomb. Thank you for seeing me.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t trust you, so leave the door open.”

  “Of course.” He stepped inside and stood opposite her desk. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he stuck them in the pockets of his jeans again. “I guess you heard I don’t remember anything.”

  “So the rumors have it.” Her tone implied she didn’t believe it. “A convenient way to get out of your problems. What do you want anyway? If you want your old job back, forget it. You burned your bridges.”

  He winced. “I heard I lost my job because of sexual harassment. What did I do?”

  Her lip curled. “You expect me to believe you’ve actually forgotten? You forget whom you’re talking to here. I know quite well what you’re capable of.”

  “But I don’t,” he said, keeping his voice even. “I’m trying to find out just who Jesse Hawthorne is. What I’ve found out so far shames me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

  “No. But I’d appreciate it if you told me the truth.”

  She stood and walked to the window that looked out on a parking lot. Her gaze stayed on him, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Her movements were jerky, angry. “You were always making sexual innuendoes. At first I ignored them, but they got more blatant. Finally, one night when I was working late, you came through that door, shut it behind you, and grabbed me. If the janitor hadn’t been here, I believe you would have raped me. He heard me scream and came running. I doubt anyone would have believed me without his having seen you on top of me.”

  Jesse felt like he might throw up. He swallowed down bile. He took his hands from his pockets, then put them back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t remember any of this. Maybe this whole memory thing is a way to start over, to become a better man. I don’t want to be the kind of man who would attack a woman, that’s for sure.”

  She turned from the window and studied his face. “The old Jesse never admitted what he’d done. He never said he was sorry.”

  “I am sorry. Very sorry. Are you okay?” The room felt hot, close. The walls closed in on him, and he knew he was going to have to get out of there soon or risk being completely broken.

  She shrugged. “Your actions have made it hard for me to trust anyone, I can tell you that. And I don’t work late anymore.”

  He saw tears shimmering in her eyes and realized how he’d damaged her. “I-I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go. I hope you can forgive me someday.” He bolted for the door and raced down the hall to the front door. Throwing it open, he stepped into the sunlight and inhaled gulps of fresh air. It didn’t help, so he stepped into the grass and vomited the contents of his stomach.

  He loathed Jesse Hawthorne. If he could rip off this face, this personality, and become someone else, he’d do it in a minute. He wished he’d died in that explosion, not Liam. No wonder Alanna hated him. She probably knew the real Jesse. The one who preyed on women.

  He took a couple more deep breaths and his nausea subsided. Once he quit trembling, he walked toward his car. When he reached it he heard the pealing of bells. The beauty of the noise transfixed him. He cocked his head and drank in the musical tones. Where did they come from? His gaze swept the neighborhood and he saw a steeple peeking over the rooftops. The church bells pealed again, and he began to walk toward the beckoning sound.

  He barely noticed the businesses and shops as he walked toward the entrancing bells. A few minutes later he stood outside an old church. The sign said it was St. Michael’s Episcopal Church. He approached the open door and peered inside. A handful of people were gathered for midday prayers. He slipped into a back pew and listened. The minister’s prayer touched something inside of him.

  Jesse wanted to be different from the man he’d been hearing about. When the prayer ended, he slipped out, but he knew he’d return. Walking to his car, he thought back to everything he’d learned about himself. He’d attacked a woman. His depression might have caused him to kill his best friend in an attempt to kill himself. The job at Anderson Pipe Products had been his third one in eight years. Maybe because they found out what kind of man he was? Or maybe he moved on to find new women.

  Though he hadn’t thought himself depressed yesterday, a dark cloud hovered over him by the time he got to his car. Maybe he couldn’t change. Maybe he’d slip back into the old habits as soon as his memory began to come back. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. No, he wouldn’t allow it. This was his new start. He’d become a better man, a man of integrity. No matter what it took or what it cost him.

  The house where he’d been told he grew up loomed in front of him at the end of the cul-de-sac. He hadn’t noticed until now how beautiful
it really was. A two-story brick home on the historical register, it sat along a row of other equally beautiful homes. His mother’s determined gardening showed in the rows of colorful flowers. How much did it cost to live here? He must have grown up with plenty of material comforts. Was that why he’d thought women were his personal playthings? His gut clenched again.

  He entered the house and called out. His parents came from the kitchen. Mom must have called his father home from his investment firm.

  “How did it go?” His father’s tone was jovial.

  Jesse stared at this man who had fathered him but was still a stranger. He said all the right things, did all the loving fatherly things, but Jesse still felt no real connection. Why was that? Was his dad gone a lot when he was growing up? He’d quickly warmed to his mother, but his dad was another story.

  “Got any tea, Mom?” he asked.

  “Made some fresh,” she said. “Mint julep. Your favorite.”

  He followed her to the kitchen with his father trailing behind. His mother poured the tea over ice and handed it to him. “Thanks.” He took a long swallow and bit back a grimace. “I saw Rena Mae. I was really a creep, wasn’t I?”

  His father’s expression darkened. “Typical woman,” he scoffed. “Out for a ring on her finger. You’re lucky she didn’t claim you got her pregnant.” He shot a glance at his wife, who colored and looked away.

  Interesting. Maybe his mom had been pregnant with him when they married. He was an only child too. And obviously spoiled. “I don’t think so. I think I really did what she said. She was clearly traumatized. And there was a witness.”

  His dad’s gray brows drew together. “I hope you didn’t admit to anything!”

  “I apologized, but that doesn’t make up for what I did.” He glanced at them. “I stopped by St. Michael’s today. It’s a beautiful church.” Both his parents stared at him as if he’d suddenly started speaking a foreign language. He’d been about to tell them of his desire to be a better person than the old Jesse Hawthorne, but their expressions of horror made him stumble over the words. “What?”