Honeysuckle Summer (The Sweet Magnolias #7)(97)

“Well, I’m going to,” Sarah insisted stubbornly. “And I don’t care how much pressure it puts on you, I’m telling you here and now that I’m counting on you to be there.”

“Oh, sweetie, please don’t do that,” Raylene begged.

“The wedding’s not until November, Thanksgiving weekend, in fact. I figured that would be appropriate because we all have so much to be thankful for this year.”

Despite the pressure, Raylene couldn’t help being honored that Sarah was so determined that she be a part of her wedding. It was one more reason for her not to allow Paul’s release from prison to cause another setback. She had to push through her fears and continue to make progress.

“Look, I’ve got to run,” Sarah said, still bubbling with excitement. “I’ll have more details on the wedding later, but I wanted you to be the first to know about it, besides Travis, of course. He’s over at the station right now grumbling that if he’d known I was going to insist on him wearing a tuxedo, he wouldn’t have pushed so hard to set the date the minute I heard from my mom. I left him with an entire folder of tuxedo styles I’d ripped out of magazines. I need to get back before he calls the whole thing off.”

“He’ll never do that,” Raylene said with certainty. “He’s crazy in love with you, and he’s been patient for a very long time.”

“Yeah, that’s what he says,” Sarah said happily. “Love you. Talk to you later.”

And then, like a tornado blowing through and leaving everything topsy-turvy, she was gone. And Raylene was left to think about all the ways her life was about to change…if only she were brave enough to step outside these four walls.



As September turned into October, Carter had to admit he was starting to freak a little that Paul Hammond hadn’t made his move. He’d been so sure it would be swift. Instead, maybe Hammond was relishing the torture Raylene must be feeling as the waiting dragged on.

The work on Raylene’s street had mostly been completed. Tom couldn’t justify having crews out there much longer, so the surveillance would be left to him and their friends, since hiring full-time protection was out of the question.

Worse, Carter knew that the longer Paul did nothing, the greater the chance that they’d all be lulled into a false sense of complacency. That’s when things could go very, very wrong.

Tired of being in limbo and desperate to get things back to normal, he opted for taking a drive to Charleston. He had no idea where to start looking for the man. He doubted he’d be anywhere near the hospital where he’d lost his privileges to practice. The house he and Raylene had shared had been sold. A parole officer would probably know where to find him, but he might also try to talk Carter out of seeing him.

The only other option he could think of was checking with the man’s parents. From what he’d gathered, the scandal had caused the Hammonds huge embarrassment, but they’d defiantly maintained that Raylene was unstable, that she’d imagined everything that had happened. They hadn’t been able to explain away the baby she’d miscarried, so they simply didn’t mention it. In every conversation, according to Carter’s sources and newspaper reports, they proclaimed their son’s innocence and extolled him.

Carter found them at home in an imposing house in the historic district. When he told Grant Hammond who he was, the older man almost slammed the door on him until he said he was there on official police business. Good breeding and respect for the law had him hesitating then, but his expression was no more welcoming.

“I need to see your son,” Carter told him. “Is he here?”

“If you’re on official police business, wouldn’t you know that he’s not living here?” Hammond asked.

“I didn’t ask if he was living here,” Carter reminded him, thankful he’d left himself the loophole. “I asked if he was here now.”

“No,” his father said flatly. “And I have no idea where he might be, if that was going to be your next question.” He frowned at Carter. “And if you’re here on behalf of that sniveling ex-wife of his, you can tell her that she’d better stay far away from my son and keep her lies to herself. She’s no longer welcome in this town.”

Carter was impressed by the parental blindness to the son’s flaws. He knew he should let it go, but he couldn’t resist asking, “Do you think your son would have cut a deal and spent one minute behind bars if he’d been innocent?”

The older man’s bravado crumbled just a bit at the reasonable question. “Just tell her to stay away from us,” he repeated.

“Tell your son he needs to do the same. Remind him there’s a restraining order that will put him right back in prison if he violates it.”

Hammond seemed startled by that. “I’m sure he never wants to set eyes on her again,” he said, but he looked as though his confidence had been shaken.

Carter left then, not knowing if his warning would make things better…or worse.





22




In mid-October, three weeks after Paul’s release from prison, Raylene was slowly starting to feel more secure. The hang-ups had stopped after the first week. There had been absolutely no attempt to make contact, no overt or even subtle threats. Perhaps Paul had learned his lesson, after all, and would stay out of her life. Certainly if he ever expected to reclaim some semblance of a normal life for himself, that’s what he needed to do. Perhaps he’d realized that.