Emily McKay - Always On Her Mind

Including Malcolm.

She glanced at her slim silver watch. “He showed up at school less than an hour ago. You must have rushed right over.”

“As I said, small town.”

There weren’t many secrets around Azalea, Mississippi, which made it all the more miraculous that she’d managed to have a baby and give her up for adoption without the entire town knowing all the details. Malcolm had been sent off to a military reform school in North Carolina, and she’d been sent to Switzerland on an “exchange” program, actually a chalet where she’d been homeschooled until she delivered.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and sat on the arm of the sofa. “What did the doctor say about your shortness of breath lately?”

“I’m here, aren’t I? Doc Graham wouldn’t have let me leave unless she thought I was okay, so all’s fine.” He nudged his round steel glasses in place, ink stains on his fingers from making notes. Her dad didn’t trust computers and backed everything up the old-fashioned way—on paper. “I’m more worried about you and your concerns that someone might be targeting you.”

Her concerns? Did he doubt her, too? “How bad is the Martin case?”

“You know I can’t talk about that.”

“But it’s an important one.”

“Every judge dreams of leaving the bench with a landmark case, especially just before he retires.” He patted the top of her hand. “Now, quit trying to distract me. Why did Malcolm Douglas show up here?”

“He heard about the current case on your docket, and somehow word got out about my reporting the threats to the police, which I find strange since no one here takes them seriously.” Would they finally listen to her after today’s incident?

“And Malcolm Douglas—international music star—came running after not seeing you for eighteen years?” Concern moved through his chocolate-brown eyes.

“Seems crazy, I know.” She toed a footstool made of an old leather drum. “Honestly, though, I think it had more to do with the timing.”

“Timing of what?”

That he even had to ask hurt her heart. “Dad, it’s her seventeenth birthday.”

“You still think about her?”

“Of course I do.”

“But you don’t talk about her.”

She’d done nothing but talk about her baby in therapy—cry and talk more, until finally she’d reached a point where she could move forward with her life. “What’s the point? Listen, Dad, I’m fine. Really. I have end-of-the-year grades to tabulate and submit.”

Her dad thumped his knees. “You should move home.”

“This is my home now,” she reminded him gently. “I consented to letting you pay for a better security system. It’s the same one at your house, as you clearly know since you chose the pass code. Now, please, go home and rest.”

She worried about him, about the pale tinge to his dusky complexion, the tired stoop to his shoulders. His job would be easier if she wasn’t around since he wouldn’t have to stress about her. Not taking Malcolm up on his offer suddenly felt very selfish. “Dad, I’m thinking about taking a vacation, just getting away once school ends.”

“If you come to the house, you’ll be waited on hand and foot.” He continued to offer, and she continued to say no, a pact she’d made with herself the day she’d graduated from college at twenty-four. It had taken her an extra two years, but she’d gotten there, by God.

“I have something to tell you, and I don’t want you to misunderstand or be upset.”

“Well, you’d better spit it out, because just saying that jacked my blood pressure a few points.”

She drew in a deep breath of fortifying air before saying quickly, “Malcolm thinks I should go on tour with him.”

His gray eyebrows shot upward, and he pulled off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief. “Did he offer because of the reports made to the police?”

She weighed whether or not to tell him about the incident with the rose, but then given how fast he’d heard about Malcolm’s arrival, he would hear about the little “gift” in her car soon enough. “There was another threat today.”

He stopped cleaning his glasses abruptly, then slid them slowly on again. “What happened?”

“A cheesy black rose left in my car.” As well as the florist coupon in some kind of mocking salute. She tried to downplay the whole thing for her father, but her voice shook and she probably wasn’t fooling him in the least. Still, she plowed ahead, trying her best to put his mind at ease. “Next thing you know, they’ll be leaving a dead horse somewhere like a parody of The Godfather .”

“This isn’t funny. You have to move back home.”

Seeing the vein at his temple throb made her realize all the more how her being around right now made things more difficult for him. “Malcolm offered the protection of his own security people. I guess crazed stalker fans rank up there with hired hit men.”

“That’s not funny, either.”

“I know.” And it wasn’t. “I’m concerned he has a point. I make you vulnerable, and I placed my students at risk by waiting this long. If I go on his European tour, it will solve a lot of problems.”

She didn’t want her father to worry, but she had to admit there was something more to this decision than just her father. Malcolm had presented more than an offer of protection. He’d presented the chance to put their past to rest. Because he was right. The fact that she’d turned him down so promptly hinted at unresolved issues.

But could they really spend the whole tour together? A tour that lasted four weeks? She knew because, damn it, she periodically did internet searches on his life, wondering if maybe he would play at a local arena. He never did.

“That’s the only reason you’ve made this decision?”

She hadn’t decided yet. Or had she? “Are you asking me if I still have feelings for him?”

“Do you?” he asked and strangely didn’t sound upset.

God, as if she wasn’t already confused enough.

“I haven’t spoken to him in years.” Malcolm hadn’t spoken to her, either, not since after the baby was born, and yes, that stung. “Aren’t you going to push me again to come to your house?”

“Actually, no. Go to Europe.” He studied her with those wise judge eyes. “Close that chapter on your life so you can quit living in limbo. I would like to see you settled before I die.”

“I am settled,” she said and then as an afterthought rushed to add, “and happy.”

Sighing, her father stood, kissed her on top of the head. “You’ll make the right decision.”

“Dad—”

“Good night, Celia.” He patted her arm as he walked past, snagging his suit jacket from the iron coatrack. “Set the alarm after I leave.”

She followed him, stunned, certain she couldn’t have heard what she thought she’d heard. Had her father really encouraged her to just pick up and travel around Europe with the former love of her life? A man reputed to have broken hearts around the globe?

Except, strangely, going to Europe with Malcolm was beginning to make sense. Going with him would solve her problems here, keeping her life ordered and safe. It was also her last chance to be with Malcolm, and the wild child she’d once been shouted for her go for it.

The newer, more logical side of her even answered that leaving with him would be the lesser of two evils.

Celia locked the door behind her father and keyed in the security code.

A noise from the hall made her jolt.

Her stomach gripped tight with fear and she spun around fast, grabbing a guitar propped against a chair and lifting it like a baseball bat. She reached for the alarm just as a large shape stepped out of her bedroom.