Anne Stuart's Out-of-Print Gems by Anne Stuart Page B

father off the hook and set her free, her obvious reaction would be overjoyed relief. But it would be tinged with regret. Perhaps even disappointment. She had wanted to go to Europe for adventure. Whatever happened when she finally got there would probably appear tame after what she’d been through in the past week or so.
    She opened her eyes and sat forward. A man was kneeling in the dirt on the far side of the gazebo, digging at the roots of one of the rose bushes, concentrating on his work. His hands were old and gnarled, stained with liver spots, and the white hair beneath his old cap was wispy. He must have felt her gaze on him for he looked up, and once more Meg looked into what must be the kindest, gentlest eyes she’d ever seen. Here was a man who was truly ageless—he looked at least ninety—and yet he was clearly spry and active if he kept this garden looking as it did. And she knew without a doubt that he did.
    â€œI thought you might be asleep,” he said, sitting back on his heels and brushing the dirt from his hands.
    â€œI came looking for you.”
    He nodded. “I thought you might. Did you ask them about me?”
    â€œNo one will admit you exist.”
    His smile was peculiarly sweet. “I’m not surprised. Maybe I don’t. Do you like my garden?”
    â€œIt’s very beautiful.”
    â€œIt’s even prettier when the roses start blooming. By the middle of May, the place is a riot of color and scent. A perfect place for a wedding.”
    Meg was startled. “Is anyone getting married?”
    â€œNot here,” he said sadly. “The only one would be Ethan, and he never comes out into the daylight.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œAsk Ethan.”
    â€œI’m asking you,” she said stubbornly.
    â€œAsk me something I can answer. You sent that crazy minister away, didn’t you?”
    Did everyone around here see everything? “‘Crazy’ is the word. I got the impression he’d dunk me in a vat of boiling water to cleanse the devil from me.”
    â€œI hadn’t realized Ethan had gotten that far.”
    She sucked in her breath. It was one thing hearing Ethan referred to as evil by a crazed fanatic, another by this gentle old man. “You think he’s the devil?”
    He shook his head. “I know just who and what he is. If anyone’s the devil around here, in my opinion it’s Pastor Lincoln and his crazy followers. They run around saying everything’s unclean and make life a living hell for the few people who don’t believe exactly as they do. People like Burt and Ruth Wilkins. It doesn’t help that Ethan does everything he can to goad them. If he’d leave them be, then they might let him alone, too.”
    â€œDo you really believe that?”
    â€œNo. Lincoln and his crew won’t rest easy until they’ve destroyed Ethan. They’re so convinced he’s the epitome of evil that they can’t use their limited brain power to think about anything else. Including how to get out of the mess their town has gotten into over the last century.”
    â€œIt’s a little hard to right the wrongs of a century, isn’t it?” Meg observed.
    â€œIt depends whether they want to or not. The town of Oak Grove is doomed, evil. The best thing that could happen would be if one of those tornadoes came right through here and flattened everything.”
    Meg moved from the bench to the gazebo steps. The sunlight had faded into a misty afternoon fog, and the old man seemed faded, indistinct. “Isn’t that a little extreme? What’s wrong with the town? Just isolation?”
    â€œThey’ve chosen that isolation. It started around the turn of the century. It was a bad time for the people around here. Drought, year after year, wiped out their crops. Then came the windstorms, wiping out half the families. The only ones who survived were the ones who were too mean