Free The Loner by Joan Johnston Page A

my things,” Summer said.
    “You can pack a bag of clothes after we’re married,” Billy said. “There’s no room for anything else at my place.”
    Summer thought of her canopied bed and her mirrored dresser and the dozens of pairs of shoes in her closet. Then she thought of Billy’s tiny jail cell of a room, with its sagging iron-railed bed and narrow chest of drawers.
    She swallowed past the knot of apprehension in her throat. She wanted to ask where she and Billy were going to sleep, but she already knew the answer. Her life of luxury was over.
    At least for the next two years.
    She tried to imagine the shock on her mother’s ageless, unlined face, the outrage in her father’s cold gray eyes. Better not to confront them. Better to let them find out however they would.
    Billy handed her into the passenger seat of her pickup,then stopped and stared deep into her eyes. “You know what people say about me, Summer. You know who I am and always will be in this town. You sure you want to marry me?”
    Summer’s voice came out in a rasping whisper. “Yes, Billy. I do.”

Chapter 5
    L AUREN C REED FELT HER STOMACH LURCH AT the sound of someone knocking on her back door at five in the morning—a bare minute after she’d turned on the kitchen light. She set down the coffeepot and stared into the darkness beyond the screen door trying to discern who was there. She was expecting her elder son Sam, who lived in the foreman’s house, to arrive any minute to share breakfast and discuss the division of labor for the day. But Sam wouldn’t have knocked.
    Something’s happened to Luke
.
    Her heart had been lodged in her throat ever since her restless and rebellious twenty-year-old son had headed to some godforsaken African nation with his National Guard unit five months ago. She lived in daily dread of hearing that Luke had been injured or killed by some machete—or machine-gun—wielding native.
    Ren couldn’t seem to make her feet move toward the door. She opened her mouth to urge her visitor to come in, but no sound came out. She tensed as someone shoved the screen door open with a groan of springs and stepped inside.
    “Oh, it’s you.” She tried to hold back the sob of relief in her chest, but to her chagrin, it escaped.
    “My God, Ren. What’s wrong?”
    She wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but a moment later she was being held tight in Jackson Blackthorne’s arms. She let out another sob and wrapped her arms around his waist, amazed that he was here holding her, when she hadn’t allowed herself more than a glimpse of his beloved face for the past two years.
    “I’ve been sitting in my truck, waiting for the light to go on,” he said in a gruff voice.
    “You should have called. I would have let you in.”
    “I was going to do that, but then I figured it was crazy to wake you up in the middle of the night. I’ve waited my whole life for you, Ren, but I swear the past two hours have seemed like an eternity.”
    He rocked her in his arms, his face buried in her shoulder-length hair.
    She didn’t want to let him go. It felt too good to be held in his arms. But Sam would be arriving any minute, and she didn’t dare let him find Jackson here. Sam had warned her what would happen if she ever tried to have a relationship with his father’s worst enemy.
    Ren leaned back to tell Blackjack he had to leave, that they would have to meet somewhere else later to talk, but frowned as she took a good look at him. His body had felt strong and solid, but his eyes looked haunted and his features looked haggard. He would be fifty-seven next month, with a bad heart that had been corrected with bypass surgery four years ago. Was he ill? Was that why he’d come?
    “Are you all right?” she asked, reaching up to touch his cheek with her fingertips.
    He grasped her hand and turned it to kiss her palm. “I’m free, Ren. Free of Eve at last.”
    She felt her heart leap at his words. She searched his face for the