A Place to Belong

Jace wanted to believe him but the words reeked of insincerity. That had been the way of the man Jace remembered. A consummate liar, he said what people wanted to hear until he got what he wanted. Then he’d laugh like a hyena behind their backs and call them fools.

Jace didn’t want to join the crowd of fools.

“So how about a few beers between a couple of former old sinners?” Donny asked, shooting Jace a crooked grin. “Jesus drank wine, you know.”

“Jesus could handle it. I can’t.”

“Aw, come on now, pal. You weren’t an alkie.”

“Don’t want to be either. Look, Donny, let’s get real here. I haven’t seen you in nearly fifteen years. What are you not telling me?”

Donny prowled around the living room, glanced out windows, ran his hands over the backs of chairs, his eyes shifting from side to side as if looking for a place to land. His fidgety behavior elevated Jace’s suspicions.

“All right, Jacey boy, here’s the straight of it. Looks like you’ve made a good life in this burg. I figured I’d come down and see what you had working.”

Jace snorted. “Me. That’s what I have working. Dawn to dark, six days a week in the busy season. I restore historic buildings.”

Donny stopped prowling. His shifty gaze focused on Jace. “For real? You’re a builder? No side businesses?”

“None.”

The admission must have caught him off guard. Donny grew quiet for a few seconds before the toothy grin stretched wide.

“Okay, I get it now. Ha-ha. I’ve gone straight, too. Living for Jesus, doing right.” With a light laugh, he tapped his chest. “What could be more perfect? You’re a builder and I’m in real estate investments. No one knows what we’ve been through but us. We can help each other, Jacey old pal.”

Jace was listening, wanting to believe Donny had changed, but wary. Donny said all the right things, but the tone wasn’t quite sincere. He couldn’t escape the nagging feeling that Donny was trying to con him. He felt a little ashamed about that, considering they shared a similar past.

“Are you clean?”

Donny fell back, mouth lax, expression hurt. He shoved at his sleeves. “Want to check? Want to see my arms?”

The needle had never been Donny’s drug of choice but Jace didn’t say so. Instead, he shook his head, the sense of shame deepening. Why couldn’t he trust that Donny had changed his destructive ways? Jace had. Why was he so reluctant to believe that someone else could do the same? “Forget it.”

“Hey, no problemo. I was a bad apple. Like you. Two peas in a pod, so to speak. But we’ve changed, buddy boy. We’ve changed.”

Lord, he hoped so for both their sakes. On the rough streets where he’d grown up boys as young as ten were already using. If not for a good mother who’d begged him to be careful, he’d probably have been a junkie. He’d been bad enough as it was. And Donny knew it.

“I have a sweet deal going in a retirement community in Florida,” Donny was saying. “I stand to make money—big money, Jacey boy—and I’m willing to cut you in.” He gazed around for effect. “From the looks of this empty place, you could use the extra dough.”

Jace’s mouth twisted. Donny was still all about working a deal. “Who couldn’t?”

“You’re interested then? Good.”

He didn’t say that, but he figured to let Donny talk. Maybe he’d find out what was really going down.

Donny started to prowl again, as restless as a flea. He sniffed, swiped at his nose. “Here’s the deal. I sunk everything I had into a couple of investment properties. Then I sold one of them faster than I expected and all my money is still tied up in the other properties. Escrow accounts and all that Housing and Urban Development red tape.”

Jace tensed. Now they were getting down to the real reasons for Donny’s sudden reappearance in his life. “You came to me for money.”

“Buddy, pal, compadre. Listen. You are not hearing me.” Donny’s voice took on a placating tone as if he was talking to a whiny child. “I came to you because I figured who better to share the wealth? You know me. I know you. We can trust each other.”

Like a mouse trusts a tomcat.

“I’m just a little short on cash flow at the present, but the assets are there. I swear to you. On my brand-new Bible.” He held up his right hand as though to impress Jace with his sincerity. Jace was not impressed. “As soon as the property closes, I’ll be able to pay you back with interest. It’s a win-win situation, done all the time in my business.”

“Why didn’t you go to one of your business associates or to your banker?” Jace crossed his arms again and shook his head. “If you want help ask for it, but give me the facts, not a con.”

Donny turned his back and paced some more. Jace could practically see the wheels turning inside his head.

“You should get a couch. One of those long recliner things with the built in tables and cup holders. And a big screen.” He stopped, spun. “How do you live in this place without a big screen?” When Jace simply stared at him, he said,” This is no con. I swear on my mother.”

First the Bible and now his mother. Too much swearing to be true. “I’d like to believe you, but I don’t.”

Donny stopped his prowling and shoved both hands in his pockets. His shoulders slumped. “All right, look. Here’s the real skinny. The economy is killing the real estate business. I’ve been straight as an arrow for the last ten years, working day and night like you said. Honest. Clean as a new shirt. I swear it. Then the market goes south and I’m struggling. I don’t want to go back to that life, Jacey boy. You got to help me out.”

Jace suffered a tug of sympathy. He knew the fear of going back, because he lived with it daily. “I’m not rich.”

Most of his assets were tied up in this house and the twenty surrounding acres.

“Seeing you on television was like a sign. I’m thinking, go see Jace. He owes you one.” Donny stretched out his hands. “I was hoping you would invest in this deal. Just a little to get me going again. After everything that happened, it’s the least you can do. I saved your hide, Jacey boy. You’d have died right there if not for me. Torres had you down with no help in sight. No help but me. He was carving you up like a Christmas turkey.”

Jace shuddered at the vision of himself on the cold, wet concrete, someone standing on his bleeding hands and Torres with the homemade knife. The scars on his body throbbed.

“One more minute and he’d have cut your liver out and left you to bleed to death. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Jace dragged a hand over his face. It did count for something. “Tell me again where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing.”

He listened attentively while Donny related his business dealings and his lifestyle among prosperous, law-abiding citizens. Jace wanted to believe he was telling the truth and yet Donny’s story seemed inflated to impress.

“You got a second chance at the good life, Jace. Don’t I deserve one, too?”

What could he say to that? Donny was right. God had blessed him with a second chance and the Lord was no respecter of persons.

“Come on, have a heart. Spot me a few lousy bucks until business picks up.”

Jace gnawed the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t about to hand any sizable cash to a man he hadn’t seen in years.

His conscience pricked. That stranger had saved his life.

“I can loan you a little. Maybe a couple of hundred.”

Donny’s mouth twisted. “Get real. A couple hundred won’t get me to Tulsa.”

Jace shifted against the rough lacquered brick, felt the hard pressure against his scarred back and remembered what Donny Babcock had done for him. “What do you want, Donny?”

“Well, let’s see now.” Donny roamed the living room again, looked out the undraped bay window. “I could use a place to stay. A few bucks. Just until this deal goes through. Then I’ll be out of your hair. I swear it.”

Realization slowly seeped through. Donny was down on his luck and searching for a soft place to land. There was probably no land deal, no money in escrow.

“You’re broke.”

Donny held up an index finger. A diamond winked from his pinky. “Temporarily short of cash. Emphasis on temporary. I got that deal working.”

Jace no more believed him than he could read minds. He blew out a tight breath. He might be a fool, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Gary Henderson. What if Gary had turned his back on Jace? Where would he be today?

This one’s for you, Gary.

“You can bunk here for a few days.”

“I knew I could count on you. Tell you what, old buddy, when I get this deal cooking—”

Jace held up a hand to stop the words. “Listen, Donny, and listen good. No cons. I’m respected in this town. I have a business, friends, a church family. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep a low profile while you’re here.”

Donny went still. Sly awareness crept across his bony face. “I think I’m getting the picture. They don’t know about your little trip up the river, do they?”

Jace shoved his hands in his pockets. “No.”

“And you want to keep it that way.”

Jace’s heart bumped. Not even a town as generous and welcoming as Redemption would do business with him if they knew. “Redemption’s a good town. Good people. Don’t mess with them. Don’t mess with me.”

“Well now, the way I see it is this. I got no reason to tell the good folks of Redemption Jace Carter’s ugly little secret. No reason at all. You help me out, and I’ll return the favor. Get my drift?”

Jace stared into Donny’s glittery eyes and felt the earth shift off-kilter. The promise sounded eerily like a threat.

With a heavy heart, he knew he had no choice but to believe Donny Babcock was all he claimed to be. He only hoped that trust didn’t cost him everything.

Chapter Four

Two weeks later, Jace listened to the chat and clatter inside the Sugar Shack Bakery while he ate his usual breakfast. He was a regular, preferring Miriam Martinelli’s cooking to his own. Other businessmen started their day here as well and he’d learned about more than one restoration job over a plate of bacon and eggs.

This morning he would have liked to sit alone and worry to himself, but the local gathering place was jammed as usual and folks sat wherever they could find a seat.

“Met that friend of yours yesterday, Jace.”

The speaker was Tooney Deer, the local mechanic who owned Tooney’s Tune-Up. The Native American’s chair was crammed between GI Jack and Popbottle Jones. Jace and Sloan Hawkins finished out the group of five seated elbow to elbow at a table intended for four. Thick white platters of pancakes, eggs, and meat along with matching cups of steaming coffee crowded the space even more.

Jace stopped chewing. “Donny Babcock?”

Since his arrival, Donny was slippery as a snake. Jace wasn’t surprised that he was getting around town. Concerned, but not surprised. He wished every thought about Donny wasn’t negative but the man he recalled wasn’t worth anyone’s confidence. Even though he’d saved Jace from certain death that one time, Donny had double-crossed him a few times, too. And the old Donny Babcock would lie when the truth was easier. The new Donny didn’t seem much different.

Jace had offered him a job, primarily to keep an eye on him, but Donny found other things to do. Real labor was never his favorite activity. Like this morning when Jace left the house at six, Donny grumbled something about having business calls to make. Jace was tempted to hang around and see what kind of calls Donny was making, but he had customers waiting.

“Said he’s staying at your place for a few days to help you out.”

That was Donny. Twist the story to suit his purposes.

“He’s here for a few days.” He hoped the stay was brief. Since Donny’s arrival, he felt as if was holding his breath all the time, looking over his shoulder, waiting for the ax to fall.

“He says the two of you go way back.”

“Yeah.” To avoid further conversation, Jace bit off a chunk of buttery toast. The last thing he wanted was questions about how and where and when he’d known Donny Babcock. Small town folks with conservative values didn’t tolerate criminals.

Just last year the local chief of police had been indicted for murder and sent to prison.

“Nice enough fellar, I guess. Kind of jumpy.”

Jace thought the same thing but he’d been alert to any evidence of drugs in the house and hadn’t found any.

“Well, lookee here who’s coming in the door, looking like Mary Sunshine.” GI pointed one of Miriam’s fat buttered biscuits toward the bakery’s glass door.

Kitty Wainright sailed into the bakery, a soft floral skirt swirling around her legs. Jace’s chest clenched. The air in the room seemed to grow lighter, warmer.

Kitty’s pale hair fell long and loose this morning with soft bangs framing her small face. If she ever wore makeup, he couldn’t tell, but with wide blue eyes and skin like a pearl, she needed no enhancement.

“Mighty handsome woman,” GI muttered in Jace’s direction before booming, “Howdy, Miss Kitty.”

Kitty spun, a ready smile blooming. She raised a hand in greeting. “Good morning.”

GI Jack cut his eyes at Jace. “Mmm-hmm. Mighty handsome single woman.”

Jace shoved in a forkful of scrambled egg and pretended his pulse hadn’t kicked into third gear.

“Here’s a spot for you, Miss Kitty.”

After pocketing two fluffy biscuits and a square pack of jelly, GI Jack pushed back from the table.

“I don’t really have time to sit.” But she began winding her way through the chairs and tables in their direction.

“Might as well. I’m leaving, too.” Tooney took a final slurp of coffee and stood. “That’s Pastor Parker bringing in his car right now. Brake job.”

Popbottle Jones rose as well, dignity in the old professor’s movements. From beneath the table, he retrieved a large canvas bag, the collection sack for his recycling business. “Time and tide waits for no man.”

“Yep. Time and tide.” GI’s head bobbed. “The trash man, too.”

The pair of unlikely friends never missed a Dumpster if they could get there before the garbage truck.

Popbottle placed some neatly folded dollar bills beneath his plate and hoisted the canvas bag to his shoulder. The Dumpster divers looked like bums, but Popbottle Jones and GI Jack never failed to tip. “You gents have a blessed day.”

In seconds, three men had departed, leaving Jace and Sloan alone at the table. Jace looked at Sloan with chagrin. “What was that all about?”

Sloan grinned. “I think you know.”

At that moment Kitty arrived, bringing with her the scent of fresh air and sunshine. Jace’s belly knotted in a mix of pleasure and despair. If his friends were matchmaking, they were wasting their time.

Sloan pushed aside a pile of plates to make room for the newcomer. As Kitty settled with feminine grace, Sassy Carlson sailed by, snatched up the plates and swiped a cloth across the tabletop.

“Anything for you, Kitty?” the waitress asked.

“Two dozen doughnuts to go, please. Mixed. When you get a minute.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll be here all day.” Sassy’s jaunty grin matched her bobbing brown ponytail. “Want some coffee while you wait?”

“Oh, might as well. And one of those decadent sticky rolls that are so bad for me.”

“Got it.” The waitress sashayed away, dodging chairs, checking tables, and offering comments as she went.

“You’re out and about early this morning, Kitty.” Sloan casually stirred his coffee.

“The Land Run committee meeting.” Clutching a small, flat handbag, Kitty propped her arms on the tabletop. The tiny purse chain clinked against worn Formica. “I’m picking up the doughnuts.”

The Land Run Committee was made up of business people and interested citizens who put together all the details of the two-day historical celebration. Jace had never joined the official committee but he helped out where he could.

“Annie and I will be there,” Sloan said. “Have you talked to Margo this week?”

Local businesswoman Margo Starks chaired the Land Run Committee along with the mayor. Jace found the woman intimidating but she got the job done.

“Not since the last meeting. Why?”

“She told Annie the vendor list is filling up. The Old West Gunfighters and the trick rider group confirmed.”

“Oh, good. Both of those are highlights.”

“And…” Sloan paused for effect. “Both groups asked about staying at your motel again.”

Kitty clapped her hands. “You’re just full of good news this morning, Sloan Hawkins.”

“Which means I need to get to those repairs sooner rather than later,” Jace said. Kitty needed the extra income that came with the Land Run Celebration but that required all the motel units be in top shape. Which they were not.

Kitty’s blue gaze turned on him. “Will you have time?”

“Sure.” He’d make time. She was a hero’s widow.

His conscience tweaked just the slightest. Dave Wainright wasn’t the only reason he found time for the Widow Wainright.

“Will your friend be helping you? He told me about that place in Florida the two of you renovated.”

Jace hoped his face didn’t register the shock. He’d never been to Florida in his life and to his knowledge Donny knew nothing about building, particularly the special kind of restoration Jace did.

“I can’t speak for Donny, but the work will get done in time. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. If you tell me you’ll do something, you always do.” She turned her smile on Sloan. “Redemption’s blessed to have someone like Jace.”

Sloan cast an amused glance at Jace. “Can’t argue that. His expert eye saved me a bundle on Aunt Lydia’s chimney. I was going to tear the thing down.”

“It’s not about the money,” Jace said.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s the history.” Sloan sipped at his coffee, then grinned from Jace to Kitty. “Get him talking about restoration and he’s a chatterbox.”

Jace grinned sheepishly. Sloan was right. He felt good about making old things new again, and he believed the most dilapidated building could be rehabilitated into something beautiful.

“Why tear down something that’s impossible to get back? All that history and character gone forever.”

“Which is why Kitty’s right. Redemption needs you, my friend.”

“I hope you’ll still say that after you get my bill.”

They all laughed, but Jace reached for his napkin, more for something to do than out of need. Compliments made him nervous. What if he couldn’t live up to them? Especially now that Donny was in town.

Kitty leaned forward and, above the smells of coffee and bacon, Jace caught the soft scent of roses. “Which reminds me, I almost forgot to tell you. The closet door in Unit 4 won’t close. I know you’re busy, but when you get time—”

“I’ll run by this afternoon.”

Sloan made a funny noise. “Listen, kids,” he said. “I’d love to stay—but duty calls. Duty and a gorgeous blonde. Annie and the kids are expecting fresh raisin bread with their breakfasts and I see Hank putting loaves in the case now.”

Kitty glanced at the clock above the cash register. “You’d better hurry if you plan to make the Land Run meeting.”

“Right.” Sloan pushed back and rose, directing his parting remarks to Jace. “Let me know what you think about the attic repair.”

Jace nodded. “Call you tonight.”

And he was left alone with Kitty.

Jace was on the premises. Again.

Pleasure curled in Kitty’s chest. Even from her position in the attic of the laundry room, she could hear his quiet voice talking to someone. He had such a nice voice. Soothing. Kind. She liked to hear Jace talk.

Like yesterday in the Sugar Shack, she’d practically had to pry words from him until she’d asked about the renovations on the old bank and he’d opened up. She’d sat back, nibbled the gooey cinnamon roll and listened to that soothing voice.

Now she could hear it again, somewhere outside the motel units.

She stuck her head through the open hole leading down onto the washer. “Jace!”

The rumbling voices stopped. “Kitty? Where are you?”

“Laundry room.”

In seconds, the door opened and sunlight spilled over the washing machine like melting butter. Spring was fully upon them and Kitty reveled in the new awakenings of life. However, spring also meant birds trapped in the attic and she was determined to discourage their nests early on.

“What are you doing up there?” Jace’s head was tilted back. He wore an amused expression above his usual neatly pressed jeans and shirt. In one work-gloved hand, he carried a leather tool belt.

Next to him was his friend, Donny Babcock. She’d only met Donny a few times since he’d sat in her office and told her far more about his life than she wanted to know. He was nice enough, she supposed. A little pushy maybe but if Jace liked him, he must be okay.

“Birds.” She slapped a hand at a cobweb stuck to her hair. “Phew. I’ll need to go through the washer myself when I finish this job.”

“Want me to have a look?”

“No, that’s all right. I can do it, although I feel bad about destroying all the hard work some poor little pair of birds has done to build a nest. Do you have any extra boards on you? Maybe if I find their entrance points and cover them, the birds can’t get in here in the first place.”

“Let me come up and have a look.” He turned to Donny. “You can unload the materials over at Unit 7 while I take care of this.”

Donny didn’t look too happy about the assignment but he flashed a toothy grimace at Kitty and left.

“Come up and I’ll show you.”

“How did you get up there?”

“The washer.”

Jace looked dubious. “No ladder?”

All the blood was starting to run to her head. She must look like a beet by now. A beet with stringy blond hair loaded with cobwebs and insulation.

“Oh, come on, scaredy cat. You can do it.”

His mouth curved. “Catch me if I fall?”

Impossible, considering she was above and he was below so she laughed. “Absolutely.”

After pocketing his gloves, he handed up his tool belt and stepped upon the washer. When he stood, Kitty’s hair grazed his face. He blew it out of the way. And just that simple little connection made her pulse jump. She retreated from the opening.

His hands appeared first, strong and capable. Then as if he was chinning himself in a gym, he pulled his upper body through the opening.

Kitty’s pulse fluttered again. For a trim guy, Jace Carter was incredibly strong.

Dust flew around him as he stood. Balancing with booted feet on separate rafters, he placed a fist on either hip. “A ladder would have been easier.”

Kitty tossed her hair, laughing at him. “A challenge is good for you.”

“I’ll remember you said that when we’re both in traction.”

Kitty laughed again. She felt almost giddy today. It must be spring and the excitement of the coming Land Run Celebration. She glanced at Jace standing there, stance wide, as he stared around at the attic interior. Kitty knew what attraction felt like, though she’d long repressed the emotion out of dedication to Dave. But Annie’s comments had her noticing Jace Carter. If she was attracted to him, she didn’t want to be, though she had to admit the zip in her blood felt good.

“The birds must be getting in through that vent under the eave,” she said, pointing.

“They probably ripped through the screen.”

“Can a little bitty bird do that?”

“Sure. Shelter is a powerful incentive.”

To prove the fact, wings fluttered around the gap leading to the outside but the bird quickly flew away when Kitty moved in that direction. She picked her way toward the wall, taking care not to step off the rafters. A step down would put her in contact with the ceiling of the laundry room. She doubted the Sheetrock would hold her weight.

“Wouldn’t hurt to put a floor up here.” Jace stepped gingerly, too, his contractor’s eyes studying the wiring as he moved.