by E V Lind
She and Mary-Ann had sorted through the bag of Mary-Ann’s daughter’s old clothes yesterday, although old was a bit of a misnomer—and Beth even doubted that all of them were hand-me-downs. Many of the items still had holes evident on the labels, where the swing tags had been punched through. Mary-Ann had merely smiled and changed the subject when Beth had commented on the fact.
Beth felt another tinge of sadness when she thought about the young woman whose clothes they’d taken from the drawers yesterday. Where had she gone? And had her family been waiting for her to return? Beth shivered. Sometimes it felt as if the whole house was waiting for something—or someone. A tremor ran through her again, a whisper of a thought brushed her mind, leaving her unsettled. Maybe it was because the house had been left vacant these past few months.
She shoved her fanciful notions to the back of her mind with a stern reminder that she had to learn to ignore whatever had left the lingering sadness hovering in the air. She had enough on her plate and she had to remember this, like everything about her existence, was only temporary. She couldn’t get too comfortable or complacent about any of it. She wasn’t an idiot. While she might be moderately safe here, it wouldn’t pay to get too comfortable. She needed to be ready to go at a second’s notice.
The kitten sat patiently in the doorway to her bedroom and it sprang to its feet to precede her down the stairs. At the bottom, it arched its back and gave its customary hiss and spit toward the downstairs bedroom before trotting, tail in the air, toward the kitchen. Beth shook her head and smiled as she passed the room. Clearly the kitten didn’t like something in there but what on earth ruffled its fur so much? The room itself was fairly innocuous, even though it certainly was colder than the rest of the house. She didn’t look forward to when she had to empty it out but she knew she’d have to get to it eventually.
After showering and dressing she lit the fire in the old range then filled the kitten’s bowls with dry food and fresh water. She took comfort in doing the mundane morning things like making her breakfast. Toast made, she filled a glass of water from the faucet and sat down at the kitchen table. This room was the most lived in of the lot of them, she decided. Maybe it was why she felt comfortable here while the rest of the house gave her the sense she was being watched—and found wanting.
Chiding herself for being fanciful, Beth finished her breakfast. The kitten meowed at the back door to be let outside. Beth wiggled the chair out from under the handle and unlocked the door for the animal which sprang happily out toward the overgrown gardens. The shadows they cast made her feel uncomfortable, even in broad daylight, and they provided too many places for someone to hide. Ryan had mentioned he’d attend to them, she reminded herself. It couldn’t be soon enough for her. Next time, if there was a next time, she wanted to be able to see what was coming. To prepare, to arm herself—to fight to the death, if necessary.
After securing the door and tidying up after herself, Beth went upstairs with a bucket of water and some cleaning solution and a handful of rags. She eyed the cleaning solution and wondered if that might have been responsible for the reaction to her hands this morning. Strange thing though, her skin, which had been red and sore and looked as if it was on the verge of blistering, was now normal and smooth again.
Had she imagined it? Beth shook her head again, no, the pain had been real, very real. But whatever had caused it was gone now. Hopefully, it’d stay that way.
Beth’s stomach was growling for lunch when she finished in Aggie’s bedroom. With the window thrown wide open the room had been thoroughly aired and she’d dusted and polished every surface and mopped the wooden floor. After beating the old carpet outside until it was clear of most of the accumulated years’ worth of dust it had carried, she took it upstairs and was on the verge of laying it back down next to the bed that sat under the sloping roof when she felt an unevenness in the floor. Strange, she hadn’t noticed it when she’d mopped. She bent down and saw one floor board was sitting a little proud. Maybe it just needed a nail, she thought, pressing down on the board only to see it spring back up again.
She rocked back on her heels, wondering what to do about it when her attention was caught by the sound of a car coming up the driveway. Not one car, but two, she realized as she straightened and looked out the window. She watched as Ryan got out from a small and battered looking hatchback. It looked like it had probably been red at one time but was now more of a faded pinkish shade. Beth stiffened as Ryan looked up and his gaze unerringly found her framed in the window. He gave her a wave and started toward the front door.
Beth went downstairs to greet him. The moment she had the door open he held out a set of car keys.
“For you,” he said dropping them into her hand.
Beth’s fingers closed automatically over them and she looked up at him in confusion.
“What?”
“The car. Mom said you’re to have it. Don’t bother arguing. She won’t listen.”
Ryan spoke with the tone of a man who’d tried many times and had failed equally as often.
“But—”
“What’s wrong? You can drive, can’t you?”
“Y-yes, but I can’t accept this.”
He shrugged his big shoulders. “It’s a loan. What’s the problem? Everything’s taken care of including insurance. Plus, it has a full tank of gas and new tires. Mom wants you to have reliable transportation to get to and from work.”
Beth stepped out onto the front porch and eyed the car dubiously. “She does?”
“Yeah,” Ryan said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “It might not look like much but Mom loved it to bits. She only let it go when Dad bought her the car she has now.”
“And you trust me with it?”
That stopped him in his tracks. She could feel the irritation coming off him in waves.
“What I think doesn’t matter,” he said bluntly.
Well, if that didn’t put her in her place, nothing would. So what, she thought defiantly. He didn’t trust her. Big deal. She didn’t trust him entirely, either. Beth forced herself to summon some gratitude.
“Thank you, I’ll take good care of it.”
Ryan inclined his head. “When you need gas, get it at the station in town. The farm has an account there and the car is registered on the account. Oh, and Mom’s cooking a roast up at the big house for dinner tonight. She wants you to be there.”
“Oh, thank you. But I don’t want to be any bother.”
“Only bother will be if I have to come and fetch you myself.”
Beth felt her hackles rise just a little. “Well, with an invitation like that, how can I refuse?”
“Six thirty. First driveway on your left when you turn left out of here,” he said by way of directions then clattered unevenly down the front steps, obviously eager to get away.
She watched as he strode toward the other vehicle, a well-used pick up. His limp wasn’t as bad today, she thought as he swung up into the passenger seat and said something to the driver. Beth raised her hand in a brief wave but neither man acknowledged her. She walked over to the battered little Toyota and opened the door so she could sit inside. The kitten appeared from nowhere and jumped up alongside her, sniffing the car’s interior with great interest. The upholstery was a bit worn in places, the carpet on the floor equally so, but overall it was tidy inside. She shooed the kitten out and got out and locked the little car up with a small smile on her face. It was ridiculous how pleased this gesture of Mary-Ann’s made her. Did the woman’s generosity know no bounds? It seemed not. As unaccustomed as Beth was to being on the receiving end of such a gift, she couldn’t deny it made her feel good inside.
As if someone genuinely cared for her. Without conditions or threats or violence. It was though Mary-Ann’s very obvious mother’s love for her son was shared with everyone. Even Beth. Beth wrapped her arms about her. She’d missed being mothered so very much.
*
Ryan looked up as the dogs w
ent crazy outside, alerting him to the arrival of a car.
“Is that Beth?” Mary-Ann said, running out from the kitchen wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Expecting anyone else?” he replied, cocking an eyebrow.
His mom threw the dish towel square at his face and he snatched it from the air a second before it made contact.
“I don’t know where I got you from, sometimes,” she muttered. “Go on, let her in. And you’d better call those dogs off. You don’t want her to be frightened by them.”
An accompanying glare from his mom made him straighten up from the couch he’d sprawled on to watch the game and head for the front door. The sight that greeted him wasn’t what he’d anticipated. Beth wasn’t cowering inside the car, nor had she backed up and driven off—which was his preferred option.
If she was out of sight at least he could pretend she was out of mind, too. But, no, instead she was out of the vehicle and surrounded by the dogs. Each one of them vying for her notice and milling about her legs as she showered attention on each of them individually. Traitors, he thought uncharitably as he gave a sharp whistle which brought all their heads up, including Beth’s. A gesture from him and the dogs, albeit reluctantly, headed around to the back of the property.
“You didn’t need to send them away,” Beth said, walking slowly toward the front veranda.
“They’re working dogs, not play things,” he answered sharply.
Beth gave him a sour look. “And do you beat them every night before bed, too?”
He felt the bubble of humor in his chest a moment before it escaped in a rusty laugh. “No, I don’t as it happens. Come in. Ma’s expecting you.”
Beth came up onto the porch next to him. “Is it your mother’s goal in life to nurture and feed everyone she meets?”
“You’ve seen the café. What do you think?”
He saw the tiny pull of a smile on her lips before it was gone again and all of a sudden, he wished he could see her smile. Genuinely smile. Wow, where the hell had that come from, he thought as he gestured for her to enter the house and he followed her down the spacious central hallway. He had no interest in her whatsoever, aside from ensuring she didn’t rob his mother blind. And he had to admit, despite his suspicions, she seemed to be decent enough.
“Big place,” Beth commented as she hovered outside the formal lounge. “You live here alone?”
“Yeah, it’s been in the family since it was built in the 1920s, handed down from father to son,” he answered. “Come on through to the back. Ma’s in the kitchen. If we don’t join her soon she’ll think we’re getting along or something stupid like that.”
“Getting along? Us?” Beth snorted.
Ryan gave her a sympathetic grin. “She’s always got ideas about matchmaking. Thinks everyone deserves to be as happy as she and my dad were. I thought I should warn you in advance.”
To his surprise, Beth physically recoiled at his words. “M-matchmaking? You?” Then even more incredulously, “Me?”
Ryan fought back the bite of chagrin that hit him at her words. “Hey, no worries on my part. It’s an impossible idea.” Shit. Like that wasn’t offensive? “I mean—”
“No, I’m sorry,” Beth hastened to placate him. “I didn’t mean it that way. Well...not entirely. I’m not interested, by the way.”
“Likewise.”
Good. At least they were on the same page on something. He shot her a glance and she ducked her head, her hand automatically going to the scars on her cheek. He realized he barely noticed them anymore when he looked at her. Not that he looked at her often or anything, he tried to rationalize with himself. But there was something broken about her that kept calling to him to fix it—something he couldn’t put his finger on, or even fucking explain. Damn, the idea on its own was ridiculous. But maybe that had been part of the reason he’d been so suspicious of her right from the start. Maybe it hadn’t been his mother’s goodwill he’d been afraid of her abusing. Maybe it had been his own.
Ryan shoved that thought away as hard and as fast as it came to him. He totally wasn’t going there. Not ever again. The last broken, fragile woman he’d crossed paths with had led to the decimation of his team. It had taught him a painful lesson. Some people didn’t want to be rescued.
“Whatever, it’s not happening, right?” he said more abruptly than he intended.
“Of course not.”
“Good.” He huffed out a breath. It was good, wasn’t it? He slammed the door on that thought before it could lead him into more trouble. “Follow me.”
He felt her behind him as they walked the rest of the way down the hall. Always there was that sense that she was on alert for something—some unseen threat—that might see her turn tail and run. He was all too well aware of her proximity, but the fact that she kept herself very deliberately just out of arms’ reach also told its own story—and despite himself, he itched to know what that story was.
Man, he had so many questions. More than he ought to, he thought as he reminded himself that he really, really, didn’t want to know the answers. That would mean getting involved and he wasn’t doing that.
Ryan pushed open the kitchen door and the scent of slow roasting pork that had been filling his house for the past couple of hours became nearly overwhelming. With the scent he had a flashback—of him and a group of his men seated around a campfire, a scrawny excuse for a butchered wild piglet on a spit over the flames. They’d been laughing, having a great old time. Until the next day when they’d been blown to smithereens around him.
“Son?”
His mother’s voice brought him back to the present and he realized she must have been talking to him.
“Yeah, sorry. Just had a moment.”
The look of compassion in her eyes caused a flash of anger to rise inside him. Anger that she should have to worry about him still. Anger that he couldn’t always control where his mind led his thoughts. He clenched his jaw so hard that he thought his teeth might break and turned away before she could see the result of the telltale burning at the back of his eyes.
“I was wondering if you’d opened the red wine I brought over to go with the meat tonight.”
“No, I haven’t. I’ll do it now.”
Grabbing hold of the excuse to leave the two women alone, Ryan stepped through to the main dining room where his mom had broken out the best of the family china and set the table with candles and her favorite crystal. He reached for the bottle of red wine and gave the label a cursory glance before removing the top and pouring off a little into a glass. He shuddered as the ruby liquid splashed up the sides of the glass—too much like drops of blood, he thought as he set the bottle back down on the table with a snap. He’d stick to beer.
Behind him he could hear his mother prattling away to Beth and, very occasionally, Beth’s quieter responses. Their dinner guest brought new meaning to the word quiet. She never offered anything up, but answered—as briefly as possible—when spoken to. It made her both an enigma and completely different to every woman he’d ever met or known.
She also didn’t eat much, he noticed, as they sat at the table later after he’d carved the roast his mother had so lovingly prepared. And her movements were almost furtive. As if she was afraid that at any moment a hand would come down from nowhere and take away what she had.
“Got a name for the little shit yet?” he asked during a lull in his mother’s conversation.
“Ryan!” Mary-Ann admonished.
Beth’s lips quirked upward. “It’s okay, Mary-Ann—the kitten lives up to it, especially when she goes past the downstairs bedroom. For some reason that room always gets her hackles up.”
Ryan exchanged a look with his mom and she gave him a small nod. So, Beth had felt it too—the skin crawling chill that always emanated from that room.
Beth continued, oblivious. “But, no, I’m beginning to think I have a snowball’s chance in Hell of thinking of anything imaginative for her.” She paused with her for
k midway to her mouth. “That’s it. Snowball!”
“Snowball?” Ryan repeated doubtfully. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the cat is black.”
A wide grin spread across Beth’s face. One that made something tug real hard deep in his chest. Was this what she’d been like before whoever had damaged her had come into her life? Quirky humor, ready to laugh?
“That’s exactly why it’s perfect.” The smile was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. But her voice sounded unsure in the next breath. “But if you don’t think—”
“It’s perfect. I love it,” interrupted Mary-Ann. “Isn’t it, Ryan?”
His mother directed a stern stare his way.
He shrugged. “It’s your cat.”
“And, do you think you’ll be ready to start work with me tomorrow?” Mary-Ann asked, smoothly changing the subject.
“Yes, and thank you so much for the car, too. I hope I don’t do anything to damage it.”
There it was again. That tentativeness. The fear that she’d put a foot out of step, that she’d earn someone’s censure. Who was it who had made her like this? And why the hell did he want to know? Ryan’s grip tightened on his knife and fork.
“Oh, that old jalopy. Don’t you worry. A few more dents and scratches will only add character. Isn’t that right, Ryan?”
He grunted in return and forced his attention back to the meal. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to be involved. Yet no matter how many times he told himself this, he still couldn’t dislodge that sense that somehow Beth needed him, whether he wanted her to, or not.
TWENTY
Riverbend, OR, November 1941
Dear Diary,
We had dinner up at the big house last night. Jonathon picked us up in his new Ford truck. His parents gave it to him on his graduation and it looks so fine. Aggie sat between us, proud as punch to be going out for dinner. She chattered non-stop and Jonathon was so patient with her. More patient than I. I wanted nothing more than to give Aggie a pinch and allow a little of Jonathon's attention to come my way but I needn't have worried. He was the consummate gentleman when we reached the house and helped me down from the truck. I don't know if it was by accident or by design that when he lifted me down that our bodies touched, all I know is that the instant they did my heart galloped in my chest and I got all dizzy and breathless.