Best Kept Secrets

"Why?"

 

Junior signaled for the waitress to refill his coffee cup.

 

Then, cradling it between his hands, he stared into its dark

 

depths. "He never forgave her."

 

"For Al Gaither?"

 

"For you."

 

Stricken, Alex raised her hand to cover her mouth. The

 

guilt she had borne all her life pressed in on her like a vise.

 

Junior, sensing her anxiety, rushed to say, "It wasn't because

 

she'd conceived you. He couldn't forgive that abortion

 

business."

 

"I don't understand."

 

"See, Alex, Reede's a survivor. Hell, if anybody was ever

 

destined to turn out rotten, it was Reede. He didn't have a

 

snowball's chance in hell of making anything out of himself.

 

Social workers, if Purcell had had any, would have pointed

 

at him and said, 'There goes a wasted life in the making.

 

He'll go bad. Watch and see.' But no, not Reede. He thrives

 

on adversity. He's a scrapper. He's strong. He gets knocked

 

down and comes up fighting.

 

"Now me," he said with a scoffing laugh, "I can overlook

 

other people's weaknesses because I've got so many of my

 

own. I could understand the panic and fear Celina must have

 

felt. She took desperate measures because she was afraid to

 

stick it out.

 

' 'Reede can't understand taking the path of least resistance.

 

He couldn't tolerate that weakness in her. He expects so

 

goddamn much out of himself, he imposes the same standards

 

on everybody else. Those standards are virtually impossible

 

to live up to. That's why he's constantly disappointed in

 

people. He sets himself up to be."

 

"He's a cynic."

 

"I can see where you'd think that, but don't let that tough

 

pose fool you. When people let him down, as they invariably

 

do because they're human, it hurts him. When he's hurt, he

 

turns mean."

 

"Was he mean to my mother?"

 

 

 

"No, never. Their relationship being what it was, she had

 

the power to hurt and disappoint him more than anybody

 

could. But he couldn't turn mean toward Celina because he

 

loved her so much." He looked at Alex levelly. "He just

 

couldn't forgive her."

 

"That's why he stepped aside and gave you the advantage."

 

"Which I unabashedly took," he said with a short laugh.

 

"I'm not as hard to please as Reede. I don't demand perfection

 

in myself or anybody else. Yes, Alex, in spite of her

 

mistakes, I loved your mother and wanted her to be my wife

 

on any terms."

 

"Why didn't she marry you, Junior?" Alex asked, genuinely

 

perplexed. "She loved you. I know she did."

 

"I know she did, too. And I'm damned good-looking."

 

He winked and Alex smiled.' 'Few would believe this because

 

of the way I live now, but I would have been faithful to

 

Celina and made you an excellent daddy, Alex. I wanted to

 

try, anyway." He clasped his hands together on the table.

 

"But Celina said no, no matter how many times I asked her.''

 

"And you went on asking her, right up until the night she

 

died."

 

His eyes snapped up to hers. "Yes. I invited her out to

 

the ranch that night to propose."

 

"Did you?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And?"

 

"Same as always. She turned me down."

 

"Do you know why?"

 

"Yes." He shifted uncomfortably in the booth. "She still

 

loved Reede. Always and forever, it was Reede she wanted."

 

Alex looked away because she knew it was a painful admission

 

for him to make. "Junior, where were you that

 

night?"

 

"At the ranch."

 

"I mean after that, after you took Celina home."

 

"I didn't take her home. I presumed Dad would."

 

"Angus?"

 

 

 

"I was upset because she had refused me again. See, I'd

 

told my parents to get used to the idea of having a daughter-in-law

 

and a grandchild in the house soon." He spread his

 

hands in a helpless gesture. "I got mad and stormed out--

 

just flew the coop and left Celina there."

 

"Where did you go?"

 

"I hit all the places that would sell liquor to minors. I got

 

drunk."

 

"Alone?"

 

"Alone."

 

"No alibi?"

 

"Junior doesn't need an alibi. He didn't kill your mother."

 

They had been so immersed in the conversation that neither

 

had noticed Stacey Wallace's approach. When they looked

 

up, she was standing at the edge of the table. Her stare was

 

even more hostile than it had been at their first meeting.

 

"Good morning, Stacey," Junior said uncomfortably. He

 

seemed less than pleased by her sudden appearance. "Sit

 

down and have a cup of coffee with us." He moved over to

 

make room for her on his side of the booth.

 

"No, thank you." Glaring down at Alex, she said, "Stop

 

bothering Junior with your endless questions."

 

"Hey, Stacey, I'm not bothered,'' he said, trying to smooth

 

over the situation.

 

"Why don't you just give it up?"

 

"I can't."

 

"Well, you should. It would be best for everybody."

 

"Especially the murderer," Alex said quietly.

 

Stacey's thin, straight body quivered like a bowstring just

 

plucked. "Get out of our lives. You're a self-serving, vindictive

 

bitch, who--"

 

"Not here, Stacey." Junior, intervening quickly, scooted

 

out of the booth and took her arm. "I'll walk you to your

 

car. What are you doing out this morning? Oh, your bridge

 

group is having breakfast," he said, noting the table of

 

women watching curiously. "How nice." He gave them a

 

jaunty little wave.

 

Alex, as aware as Junior of all the prying eyes, slipped a

 

 

 

five-dollar bill beneath her saucer and left the coffee shop

 

only a few moments behind Junior and Stacey.

 

She gave Stacey's car wide berth, but watched from the

 

corner of her eye as Junior pulled Stacey into an embrace

 

and rubbed her back consolingly. He gave her a soft kiss on

 

the lips. She clung to him, appealing to him about something

 

that had caused her consternation. His answer seemed to

 

soothe her. She went limp against his chest.

 

Junior worked himself out of her clutches, but in such a

 

charming way that Stacey was smiling when he tucked her

 

into the driver's seat of her car and waved her off.

 

Alex was already inside her room when he tapped on the

 

door and said, "It's me."

 

She opened the door. "What was that all about?"

 

"She thought I'd spent the night with you, since we were

 

having breakfast together in the coffee shop."

 

"Lord," Alex whispered. "People in this town certainly

 

have fertile minds. You'd better leave before anybody else

 

gets that impression."

 

"What do you care? I don't."

 

"Well, I do."

 

Uneasily, Alex glanced toward the unmade bed. On any

 

other morning the housekeeper was knocking while she was

 

still in the shower. This morning, of all mornings, she was

 

running late. Alex was afraid that the bed would give away

 

her secret. The room was redolent of Reede. His essence

 

lingered on each surface like a fine coating of dust. She was

 

afraid Junior would sense that.

 

Gently, he removed her sunglasses and traced the lavender

 

half-moons beneath her eyes. "Bad night?"

 

That's an understatement, she thought. "You might as

 

well hear it from me. I'm sure it will get around. Late yesterday

 

afternoon I went to Nora Gail's place."

 

His lips parted with surprise. "Son of a bitch."

 

"I needed to talk to her. It seems she's Reede's alibi for

 

the night Celina was killed. Anyway, while I was there, a

 

man got shot. There was blood, an arrest."

 

 

 

Junior laughed with incredulity. "You're kiddin' me."

 

"I wish I were,'' she said grimly.' 'Here I am, representing

 

the D.A.'s office, and I get involved in a Shootout between

 

two cowboys in a whorehouse."

 

Suddenly it all collapsed on her. Instead of crying, she

 

began to laugh. Once she started, she couldn't stop. She

 

laughed until her sides ached and tears were rolling down her

 

cheeks. "Oh, God, can you believe it? If Greg Harper ever

 

hears about this, he--"

 

"Pat Chastain won't tell him. He has a girl out at--"

 

"I know," she said, "Reede told me. He responded to the

 

call and hustled me out. He didn't seem to think there would

 

be any repercussions." She shrugged in an offhanded manner

 

that she hoped didn't look as phony as it felt.

 

"It's good to hear you laughing for a change," Junior

 

commented, smiling down at her. "I'd like to stick around

 

and cheer you up even more." He placed his hands on her

 

derriere and began to move them up and down. Alex pushed

 

him away.

 

"If you wanted to cheer someone up, you should have

 

gone with Stacey. She looked like she could use it."

 

He glanced away guiltily. "It doesn't take much to make

 

her happy."

 

"Because she still loves you."

 

"I don't deserve her."

 

"That doesn't matter to her. She'll forgive you anything

 

She already has."

 

"Of murder, you mean?"

 

"No. Of loving someone else--Celina."

 

"Not this time, Alex," he whispered and dipped his head

 

to kiss her.

 

She dodged his well-aimed lips. "No, Junior."

 

"Why not?"

 

"You know why."

 

"Am I still only a pal?"

 

"A friend."

 

"Why just a friend?"