Carrie Weaver - Secrets In Texas

Angel placed the nightgown on the bed, smoothing the fabric with her fingers. Her tenderness was almost his undoing. She might talk and act tough, but there was a sensitive core she couldn’t quite disguise.

Removing a dress from the suitcase, she tilted her head. “It, um, looks like it should fit. I assume it’s not supposed to be flattering, uh, show off my figure…um, well, you know what I mean?”

A smile tickled his mouth. There was something so charming about her.

“No, the intention is to avoid inciting impure thoughts.”

“It should work then.”

Matthew laughed, enjoying her immensely.

“Damn. I did it again, didn’t I?”

“Did what?”

“Stuck my foot in my mouth. Your mom was probably wearing these same clothes or something similar when your uncle Jonathon had the hots for her.”

“It didn’t occur to me exactly that way, but yes, you’re probably right. But then again, I’m not sure whether he was attracted to my mother because she was beautiful or because my father loved her with his whole heart.” Memories of the bond his parents had shared was one of the few things that had kept him sane in an insane time and place.

“As you said, your mother was the one who got away. But your uncle had something like twelve wives. How could he miss one or two?”

If only she knew. But he hoped like crazy Angel never experienced the depths of his uncle’s possessiveness.

FRESH FROM THE shower, Angel tied the belt of her fluffy, white Venetian-issue robe. She combed tangles from her wet hair as she peeked over Matthew’s shoulder, watching him remove a flat rectangular box from his suitcase.

“A board game?” she asked.

“Scrabble. I’m tired of card games. Old Maid pretty much did me in.” He smiled, tilting his head. “Are you always this curious?”

“After spending two days in a hotel room with me, you need to ask?”

“I haven’t even scratched the surface.” His gaze roved over her robed figure. “But I guess I’ll have to be content with knowing you are very curious. And sleep with a gun under your pillow.”

Her face flamed. “You’re lucky you didn’t get shot.”

He raised his hands. “Now I know not to detour on my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.”

“You were standing there watching me. It was a little creepy.”

“Creepy is a matter of perception. I was just getting my bearings in a strange location.”

“Yeah, right.”

His lips twitched. “It was worth a try, huh? I assure you I’m no Peeping Tom. But I couldn’t pass up the chance to study you. You put up a lot of barriers.”

“And they’re there for my protection.”

“I’m sure it’s necessary in your line of work.”

Angel glanced away so he wouldn’t see the uncertainty in her eyes. “Yeah, in my work.”

“What about when you get to know someone? Do you relax then?”

“It takes a long, long time for me to trust.”

“Why’s that?” His voice was low.

“It would mean I trusted you if I told you the story. And I definitely don’t.”

“Fair enough. So what have you learned about me?”

“Who says I’m interested in finding out about you?” No way was she going to admit studying him, even if it was true. Over the past two days she’d learned Matthew meant what he said and didn’t hedge the truth.

“It would be only prudent for someone in your situation. I think you doth protest too much.”

“Now I know you misquoteth Shakespeare. Which should really shock me, except I guess the Book of Mormon and Shakespeare aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“So you’re starting to see me as a person? Good. I like that.”

“Don’t get any funny ideas.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do I impress you as a laugh-a-minute kind of guy?”

“You’re a lot funnier than you give yourself credit for. As a matter of fact, it’s one of the things that surprised me.”

“Other than my charm and good looks?”

Angel made a noncommittal noise.

“What’s so surprising about my having a sense of humor?”

“Well, I’ve seen photos of the polygamous sects, and life seems pretty serious. You don’t often see someone crack a smile.”

Matthew stiffened. “I haven’t lived at Zion’s Gate since I was fifteen. I’ve lived most of my life outside.”

“Yeah, but it’s still a part of you. In the way you carry yourself, your word choices, the way you see the world.”

“Maybe. But my father had a wonderful sense of humor. Gentle but observant. He could always make my mother laugh.” There was a wistfulness in his voice.

Angel sat on the bed and curled her legs beneath herself, making sure the robe didn’t gap anywhere critical or reveal scars. “I guess I assumed all polygamous leaders would be about power and dominance.”

“My uncle, certainly. He leads by intimidation. My father led by example.”

“Your father and mother were a love match?”

He nodded. “Approved by their parents, of course.”

“It must’ve been hard on your mom, then, sharing your dad with other women.”

He frowned. “She never complained.”

“Would she? Complain about the system in which she’d been raised?” A system in which dissenting opinions were actively discouraged.

“I think she accepted sharing him as best she could. She was his favorite, his legal wife, sealed to him for eternity. Maybe that was enough.”

Angel shook her head. “No way. From what little I’ve read about your mother, she’s a courageous woman. I can’t see her settling for a small portion of the man she loved.”

“She’s a strong woman. You remind me of her in some ways. But she did what was best for the brethren. My father was a wonderful man, but he was still the leader, and my mother respected that.”

“Or else?”

Matthew set his suitcase on the floor. “Or she would have had to leave and never come back.”

“That sounds very final.”

“It was. Always.”

“Except now your uncle has invited you back for a visit.”

“I imagine he has his reasons.”

Angel removed the game board from the box, opening it and placing it on the bed. “How’s your mom feel about you going?”

“She never would have suggested it. But once the government approached me for my cooperation, the idea took hold. I have—or had—two sisters. One died in childbirth.” He hesitated, picking up a tile holder and rotating it in his hands. “My mother’s afraid her cancer is terminal, so she wants to make sure her surviving daughter is happy. And, though she doesn’t belabor the point, I think she’d like to see Rebecca one more time.”

“Of course she wants to see her. Why would that be so hard to admit?”

“Because there’s little chance for it to happen. My mother made her choice when she left Zion’s Gate. My uncle made it very clear she would be severing all ties to her daughters.”

“Why didn’t they go with her, like you did?”

“I was…a liability.” He set out a holder in front of Angel and kept one for himself. “My sisters, on the other hand, were beautiful, like my mother. They begged my mother to stay. You see, there were several elders vying for consent to marry each of them, and their futures were assured. My uncle told my mother she and I could leave but my sisters had to stay. It ensured my mother’s silence about anything the authorities might have found unsavory.”

“Such as?”

“Plural marriages are against the law.”

Angel mixed the tiles and set them out facedown. “But the authorities have looked the other way for years. Probably still will with the threat of another Waco.”