Carnal Innocence

questions. She dragged Tucker in by the arm, then planted herself in the doorway.
    “Get off my porch.”
    “Ms. Waverly, how does it feel to find yourself living a real life murder mystery?”
    “Ms. Waverly, is it true you came to Mississippi to mend a broken heart?”
    “Did you really collapse in—”
    “Is it true you killed—”
    “Were you acquainted with—”
    “Get off my porch!” she bellowed. “And get off my land while you’re at it. You’re trespassing, the lot of you, and we have laws down here. And if one of you so much as sets a toe over my boundary line without invitation, I’ll shoot if off.” She slammed the door, threw the bolt, and started to turn when Tucker scooped her up in a quick circle.
    “Honey, you sounded just like my mama did when she got her dander up.” He kissed her before setting her on her feet. “You’re losing the Yankee in your speech, too. Pretty soon you’ll be saying ‘Y’all’ and ‘fix’n to’ just like a native.”
    She laughed, but shook her head. “I will not.” She touched a hand to his cheek. He hadn’t shaved, but most of the fatigue had drained out of his eyes. “You look better than you did this morning.”
    “That’s not saying much, seeing as I looked like death warmed over this morning. Felt like it, too.”
    “You didn’t sleep.”
    “I caught an hour in the hammock this afternoon. Felt like old times.” He drew her close again, but this time when he kissed her it was slow and easy. “So does that. I sure wish you’d lowered your standards of respectabilityand shared my bed last night. I still wouldn’t have slept, but I’d’ve felt better about being awake.”
    “It didn’t seem right, with the house full of your family, and—”
    “And the police poking ’round the pond half the night,” he finished. Turning away, he walked into the parlor and glanced out of the window. “Do something for me, Caro.”
    “I’ll try.”
    “Go up and pack what you need, and come back to Sweetwater with me.”
    “Tucker, I told you—” “You stayed last night.”
    “You needed me to.”
    “I still need you.” When she said nothing, he spun around. “This isn’t the time for poetry and romance. And I’m not asking because I want you in bed with me. I’d stay here with you if that was all.”
    “Stay anyway.”
    “I can’t. Don’t ask me to choose between you and my family, Caroline, because I can’t.”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “If I go home without you, I’ll be eaten up with worry over you. If I stay, it’ll be the same for Josie and Della and the rest.” He pulled her back to him, held her close. Then, restless, he yanked away to pace the room. “He’s still out there somewhere, Caroline. And he was at Sweetwater.”
    “I understand that, Tucker. I know he left the body there.”
    “He killed her there.” Eyes filled with turmoil, he turned back. “He killed her there, in sight of my house, by the trees where I fished with Cy only days ago. A tree my mother planted. Burke told me enough, maybe too much. I’m going to tell you. I don’t want to, but I’m going to so you understand that I’ve got to go back there, and I’m not going without you.”
    He took a long, measuring breath. “He staked her out on the ground under the tree. They found the holes where he’d staked her hands and feet. And the blood the rain didn’t wash away. I saw what he did to her. I’m notlikely to forget what she looked like when I helped pull her out of the water. I’m not likely to forget it was done where my mother planted a willow tree, where I used to play with my brother and sister, across the water from where I kissed you the first time. I’m not likely to forget any of that. He’s not going to touch anything else that’s important to me. Now I’m asking you to get what you need and come with me.”
    She stepped forward to take the hands he’d balled into fists. “I don’t need much.”

c·h·a·p·t·e·r 25
    C aroline was used to restless nights. Over the past few years she’d developed a grudging envy for people who could climb into bed, close their eyes, and slip effortlessly into sleep. Since settling in Innocence, she’d come close to joining the ranks of those privileged dreamers. Now it seemed she was back at square one, facing long, dark hours in the frustrating pursuit of sleep.
    The tricks of the insomniac were routine to her. Hot baths, warm brandy, dull books. The first two