"Same time?" she asked, her heart beating wildly.
With a nod, he said, "I'll bring the food," and, as soon as she'd grabbed her picnic basket out of the back, he drove away.
"Dale's furious," Clay's mother said over the phone, her voice a harsh whisper, which indicated she was calling from work.
Clay was squatting near a broken water pipe out on the south forty. When he heard this, he put the lid on the special cement he'd been using, and stood. "About what?" he said, but he didn't need to ask. Dale had obviously found out that he'd been with Allie last night. If Clay were Dale, he'd be furious, too. He wouldn't want his daughter dating someone in Clay's position.
But Chief McCormick had at least one reason to be grateful, Clay thought. A lot more could've happened at the cabin than did. Clay had never exercised so much self-control when he held a woman that close. He'd never had to. The girls he dated started climbing all over him almost at hello. Yet last night, he'd shared a bed with Allie, felt her pliant body curl into his, breathed in the scent of her clean hair and soft skin--and hadn't so much as brushed his lips across her neck.
Knowing she was too good for him, but having her completely available to him, was one of the most bittersweet experiences of his life.
And, like the stupid glutton for punishment he was, he'd asked for more of the same kind of torture next weekend.
"You know what," his mother said.
"Do I need to remind you that seeing Allie was your idea?" Clay pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped the dust from his face.
"I've changed my mind. I--I didn't know how much it'd upset--" her voice dropped again
"--you-know-who."
"Your lover. Who's married." Clay laughed without humor. "Doesn't it bother you that he can sleep with you while demanding that your unmarried son stay away from his unmarried daughter?"
"It bothers me," she admitted. "But it's not that he doesn't like you."
"Right," he said, but she ignored the sarcastic interruption.
"It's that he's extra protective of Allie. She's his baby. He doesn't want to see her hurt again."
"She's only a year younger than I am. Why's he treating her like a kid?"
"I just told you. He doesn't want her to get hurt again. She has a child now, Clay. She needs to find a good father for Whitney."
Clay winced. "And that excludes me?"
"It's not as if you've had many long-term relationships," she said. "What woman have you dated more than a handful of times?"
"What woman that I've dated would you want me to marry?" he countered.
"None of them. You tend to like a woman who has a bust measurement larger than her IQ.
But Allie's different."
He chose the women he chose on purpose. So there was no danger of wanting more than he could have. So he wasn't callously breaking the heart of one innocent woman after another while trying to fulfill his own needs. But he wasn't about to explain that to Irene. "I don't like what's happening to you," he said instead.
"I don't know what you mean."
"You're not yourself. This relationship is clouding your judgment, making you do things you ordinarily wouldn't."
"That's not true."
"Yes, it is. And besides that, it's dangerous."
"For who?"
"For all of us, but especially Grace. She has the most to lose."
Irene made no response.
"Are you even listening?" he asked.
"Grace isn't the only one who wants to be loved, Clay."
He knew that from personal experience. But he still had to protect his sister. And standing by while his mother had an affair with the chief of police wasn't the way to do it. "Find someone else," he said. "Someone who's free to love you back."
"Stop it," she said. "I don't want to hear any more."
"Listen to me!"
"No, I won't! What's wrong, Clay? Why do you hate it so much that I'm finally happy?" she asked. "Just because you're determined to be miserable for the rest of your life, you want me to be miserable, too? Is that it?"
Clay's chest grew tight. "Is that what you think?"
"Yes!" she said and hung up.
But she called right back, and this time she was crying. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair and I know it. It's just...I love him so much, and he says he loves me, but I can't ever really have him, can I? There's no way to make it work."
"No," he admitted.
She sniffed and gulped for air. "So what do I do?"
"The only thing you can do, Mom. Cut it off as soon as possible and then do your best to survive the bleeding."
Allie was supposed to be sleeping while Whitney was in school, but instead she was staring at her picture of Clay. Madeline had left her several messages. Clay's stepsister wanted to talk about the case, present some ideas and leads she thought Allie should follow up on. But Allie didn't particularly want to talk to her. She was losing enthusiasm for the case and knew she'd have trouble hiding it. For the first time in her life, she honestly believed there might be some truth to that old cliche about letting sleeping dogs lie.
Not returning Maddy's call wouldn't help, though. Her cell phone rang again, and caller ID
indicated Clay's stepsister's name. Knowing Madeline would only keep calling if she didn't pick up, Allie hit the Talk button. "Hello?"
"How's it going?"
"Good, you?"
"I'm great."
She didn't sound so great. She sounded as if she was forcing herself to be cheerful when she was really just eager--eager for answers Allie didn't have.
"You finished going through the files yet?"
"Almost."
"Anything stand out?"
Nothing Madeline would want to hear. But to fill the silence, and pretend she was still moving forward, she mentioned that she'd questioned Jed.
"Did he say anything new?"
"Not really."
Allie could feel the other woman's disappointment, which made her want to ask her next question very carefully. She had no idea whether the torn program at Jed's house meant anything.
He was odd enough that he might've kept it simply because Eliza had given him a kind word now and then. And Maddy's mother had to be a painful subject for her. "Do you know if your mother and Jed were ever friends?" she asked, putting a little lift in her voice to make the question sound as casual as possible.
" Friends? I don't think I'd say that. But I was only ten when...when she died, so maybe they knew each other better than I realized."