The Road She Left Behind
Page 25
“What else are we going to do with our money? Take it with us?”
“They aren’t the only ones contributing.” Latrice removed a package of celery from the refrigerator and set it beside the potatoes on the counter. “I did too. So did Nella and Michael.”
“Count me in,” Darcy said. She beamed at Tippi. “A full year’s insurance is a boon for any teenager. As we speak, Samson is outside flirting with the cutest girl. I predict he asks her out by sundown.”
“Gross,” Emerson muttered.
Latrice grinned. “I’ve got my own prediction.”
“What’s that?” Darcy asked.
She handed Darcy a paring knife, then nodded at the potatoes. “That you’ll have these spuds ready for the pot in record time. I’d like to relax soon. Get over here and start peeling.”
Chapter 22
By late afternoon, the block party was in full swing.
Noah’s parents, after hearing about his bullying of Emerson—and their son’s altercation with Darcy and Samson—had banished him to his bedroom. His removal from the party gave Emerson the confidence to join the baseball game with kids of all ages. Adults lingered by the card tables, sipping wine and catching up with neighbors. Younger families helped their children navigate the obstacle course, where every child received a prize at the finish line.
By the picket fence before Latrice’s house, Samson flirted with the girl in the gauzy blouse.
Darcy wandered the crowd alone. It was hard not to feel out of place. Most of Latrice’s neighbors were strangers now. There were as many new faces on the street as people missing—neighbors who had moved away during the years she’d been gone from Ohio. She’d expected Michael to make an appearance. When the sunlight began to slant across the street, she realized the assumption was a foolish one.
Disappointed, she retraced her steps to the buffet table. She mulled over the idea of grabbing a slice of cheesecake while Emerson finished the ball game. She was still deciding when a group of adults, three houses down, drew apart. A familiar-looking woman stepped between them and into the street.
Blunt-cut, sable hair framed the woman’s sultry features. Darcy paused by the buffet tables. She knew her somehow. As Darcy resumed walking, she attempted to dredge up her name.
Then it came to her. Ellen. She’s a CPA.
She specialized in small business accounting and payroll.
Thrilled to have pulled the name from memory, Darcy quickened her pace through the crowd. Ellen Caraway. She’d managed the accounting for Darcy’s late father’s medical practice.
When she was one house away, Darcy waved.
Ellen spotted her. And frowned.
She glanced left then right, seeking an exit. She looked like a cornered animal.
At her reaction, Darcy ground to a halt. Ellen pushed through the wall of people behind her and hurried down the sidewalk.
Blinking, Darcy watched her disappear into the throng. Confused, she tried to work out what she’d done to upset the woman.
I didn’t upset her. Ellen Caraway had seemed . . . frightened.
Like Morgan Harbert, on the day she got a goose egg on her brow when she slammed into her SUV. The day she caught sight of Darcy’s mother in the parking lot. When Rosalind, with uncharacteristic heat, had shouted at her.
An odd coincidence?
A clammy awareness sprouted goose bumps on the back of Darcy’s neck.
No. This is something more.
Dousing the lights in the shop, Michael stifled a yawn. Since daybreak, he’d been assembling the nine-foot-tall pantry for the Tinley job.
Outside, the late-afternoon sun painted the acres in shades of crimson. At his calves, Jasper panted.
“Ready for dinner, boy?”
It promised to be a lonely meal. Nella and Tippi wouldn’t arrive home until after dark. Each year, they refused to leave the block party until they’d helped Latrice put her kitchen back in order. Michael wondered if Darcy would stick around to help. Missing the chance to see her was a loss. After their conversation the other day, she probably needed time to think.
Michael went inside and filled Jasper’s bowl. He watched the mutt chow through the kibble as his thoughts wended back to Darcy. For reasons he couldn’t identify, he was worried about her. Which made no sense. She was at the party, reconnecting with old friends.
The dog trotted off to find a cozy spot to sleep off his food coma. It occurred to Michael that he wasn’t hungry. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
The hunch carried him back outside. Without making a conscious decision, he strode across the lawn. Ahead, the forest seemed aflame as the sun dipped closer to the horizon. He loved this time of year, when the balmy air held nightfall off until well past eight o’clock. Taking the path to the oak tree, he wondered if he shouldn’t have brought dinner along. Eating with the river serenading him in the distance was an enjoyable pastime.
In the fallen leaves near the great oak, he noticed a bright flash of color. A purse. Darcy’s.
“Darcy, are you out here?”
Birds chirped in the leafy canopy above. Peering over the ledge, he wondered if she was down by the river.
The precipice behind the tree was a sheer thirty-foot drop. Five paces to the left of the tree, however, the incline wasn’t as steep. The path wound down in a curving pattern, with saplings sprouting across the rocky ground. Making his way down, Michael reached for one sapling, then the next, to keep his footing steady.
Darcy was sitting on a boulder, staring into the bubbling waters. He called out, and she waved.
When he reached her, she nodded at the section of the river below the oak. “Still the deepest spot?” She scanned the flowing water, her eyes quick and assessing.
“Yeah, it still is. Emerson wants to swim there.”
“Like we did as kids?”
“He’s still working up the courage.”
She pulled her knees up tight to her chest. “Don’t let him swim there after a heavy rain. He’ll be swept downriver.”
“He never goes in unless I’m with him. He’s careful. So far, he’s only gone in up to his knees.”
“I should take him swimming. We could both use the diversion.”
“Let me know when you do. I’ll join you if I can spare the time.”
“That would be nice.” She sighed. “I loved swimming here when we were kids.”
“We never got your sister to go in with us. Elizabeth wanted nothing to do with the river. In retrospect, it’s amazing we ever got her to come down here.”
“Yeah, and only a few times each summer.” Darcy offered a faint smile. “My sister was definitely an ‘indoor girl.’”
Michael surveyed the tightness at the corner of Darcy’s eyes. “You came home early from the block party?” She was upset about something, confirming his hunch.
“Latrice dropped me off. I left Samson with the car. He met a girl, and Emerson is playing baseball.”
“Who’s with your mother?” He knew Darcy wouldn’t leave Rosalind unattended.
“The new health aide my mother hired. Her name is Gwynn. Nice woman.”
“She started today?”
“She did. She’ll begin coming three times a week.”
Darcy returned her attention to the river. Her eyes faraway, she appeared to be sorting something out. She hugged her knees tighter to her chest, as if the thoughts streaming through her mind posed a danger.
At last, she said, “Remember the night we ran into my father at the restaurant?”
It wasn’t something he’d ever forget. “Yeah, I do.”
“Before he walked up to us, a woman left the restaurant. She went out fast. Right as we came in—you bumped into her.”
“I don’t remember bumping into anyone.” He wasn’t sure where she was going with this.
“She was tall. Black hair, athletic build. She wore a slinky dress. Dark green or blue—I can’t recall exactly. Don’t you reme
mber?”
Michael searched his memories. Nothing came to mind. Nothing but the alarm he’d felt when Dr. Jack saw them, and was instantly furious. An instinctive, automatic need to protect Darcy took over. Michael had blocked her father from getting into her face. Darcy had cowered behind his back as the two men exchanged heated words.
Brushing off the memory, he said, “Other than the short argument with your father, I don’t recall anything else.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m sure the woman was Ellen Caraway.”
“The CPA in the Falls?”
“I’ve been mulling this over for an hour. I’m positive.”
She slid off the boulder, agitated. Or angry. Michael tried to decipher which as she tugged off her tennis shoes. She flung them away.
“You know what, Michael? I’m the one who ran away eight years ago, but I’m not the only Goodridge who ran from painful realities. My parents were running all the time. They used their careers as cover, but they spent their lives running—from each other, mostly.”
“Slow down. Ellen Caraway was at the restaurant that night, with your father?”
“Forget it.” She stared at the ground, her shoulders trembling.
He strode forward. “That is what you’re saying.” He brushed his fingers across her arm, waited until she looked up. “If your father was running around with Ellen Caraway, I’m not surprised. It’s just another example of how you and Elizabeth got a raw deal. Honestly? I hardly remember Dr. Jack when we were kids. I sure as hell didn’t like him when you and I were dating. If he was cheating on your mother, I feel bad for her—and it’s taken me a long time to feel anything but contempt for Rosalind.”
“She’s not a bad person. We have our highs and lows. Sometimes we even like each other.”
“I know,” he said, suddenly aware he was cupping her face, his skin warming against hers. She leaned into his palm as he added, “Which brings me to my next point. Focus on what you’re building with your mother—a genuine relationship. Maybe it’ll never be perfect. But you’re making headway. You might even get her to come around and get on the transplant list. Forget about whatever your father did. He’s gone. It doesn’t matter.”
“Michael, you don’t get it. This isn’t just about my father running around with Ellen Caraway. What he did back then, what he did to all of us . . .”
Her voice drifted off. Sorrow rippled across her features. Then anger.
She spun away. “I need to cool off.”
With bafflement, he watched her splash into the river. Blue water rushed past her calves. Then her thighs, as she waded in deeper. His heart clenched as she began swimming toward the deep center of churning water. She was beautiful, gliding through the river, her strokes powerful as she swam harder, working off her fury. He still wasn’t sure what had set her off. Dr. Jack’s apparent infidelities, her mother’s disease—there was too much on her mind. With a start, he wondered if she was in the right frame of mind for a swim in churning waters.
He shouted a warning for her to turn around. She glanced back at him with devilish glee. Then she dunked under the water.
During childhood, her impulsive behavior had frightened him. Daredevil antics that pushed him to take risks. Stupid dares he couldn’t resist. He never failed to follow along, to prove his courage equaled hers. It seemed miraculous that the antics had never led to broken bones or stitches.
He was a man now. His fears were more realistic. Of letting passion draw him into a relationship that wasn’t ready to evolve. Of letting Darcy take the reckless lead, like she’d done so often before.
Mostly, he feared losing his heart before she was ready to offer hers.
Pushing the fear aside, he yanked off his shoes.
She broke the river’s surface like a bullet. Keeping his attention locked on her, he splashed a determined path through the shallows. When the water reached his thighs, he muttered a few choice words. Then he dove in and swam to her.
Laughing, she read the irritation on his face. “You’re sexy when you’re wet,” she teased, swimming a fast circle around him. “Word of advice: don’t follow me in when you’re wearing jeans. You’ll sink.”
“Next time, give me a heads-up. I’ll wear shorts.” He kicked through the swift undercurrents, came closer. “It’ll be dark soon. How long are you staying out here?”
“Until I cool down.”
Her wet blouse was plastered to her skin, her bra visible. “This isn’t just about your father. Is it?” He tried not to stare.
“Not really.” She glided backward, her strokes slowing. She glanced at the sky, burning crimson with the approaching night. “All I have are theories and supposition. I need to think it through.”
“Can’t you think on land?”
“In a minute.” She swam closer. “Michael, why were you so . . . proper? When we were dating?”
“Stupidity?” He didn’t like this side of her, the Darcy that toyed and teased. A defense mechanism.
“We should’ve had sex. It would’ve made me bolder.”
“You don’t need any help in that department.”
“I mean with my father. If I’d already been in deep with you, I wouldn’t have backed down so fast—when he told me to break up. Maybe I would’ve told him to piss off. That my life was my own. That it was none of his business.”
She looked exhausted suddenly, her strokes uneven.
“If I’d stood up to my father, I never would’ve gone out drinking alone. Never would’ve called Elizabeth after having too many drinks, or put my sister in danger.”
Playing a game of “what if” was a futile pastime. He refused to allow her to take it any further.
Taking her hand, he steered her into the shallows. They were wet as seals, but the air was balmy. Giving in to temptation, he thumbed the moist skin of her temples.
When his touch drew her closer, he said, “You have to stop doing this. Rehashing the past. Blaming yourself. Acting as if one different move would’ve changed the entire game. The truth, Darcy? You can’t judge the person you were. Not with the wisdom you now possess. You didn’t have that wisdom back then.”
“I should get a therapist. I went to all this trouble putting a child psychologist on standby for Emerson. Fully covered sessions if he needs them, compliments of my mother’s superb insurance coverage.” She sighed. “I’m the one who needs help. There’s lots of stuff I should work out.”
“No kidding.”
“How much is therapy, anyway? For adults. My coverage is fairly crappy.”
He grunted. “I’ll pay,” he said. “You need a good year of counseling. Or two. If we can’t find a decent therapist to fix the wiring in your head, I’ll hire an electrician.”
The quick retort started her eyes flashing. Then she grinned. She appraised his sopping wet T-shirt and the jeans sticking uncomfortably to his thighs.
“Swimming in jeans is not a good choice. Are you cold?” She pressed her hands to his chest. “Nope. Hot to the touch.”
“And getting hotter by the minute.”
“You’re still too proper.” She noticed his eyes tripping across her breasts. Playfully, she peeled the blouse from her skin, making the fabric opaque. “For the record, I wouldn’t have objected if you’d gone faster back then. Sped up the timeline significantly.”
“Give me a hint, Darcy. Do you want to talk, or make love?” He swiped a strand of hair from her cheek. “Word of warning. Stop looking at me like that, or we’re going for the latter.”
“How am I looking at you?” she asked coyly. He wasn’t fooled. Her breathing was as shallow as the cool water tickling their calves.
“You’re undressing me with your eyes.”
“I am.” The rich, throaty confession prickled heat across his scalp. “I want you, Michael. More than anything. But I need to do what’s best for Emerson.”
“We won’t tell him right away.”
“He’ll sense the change between us.”
His resolve nearly slipped when she brushed her lips against his. “Tell me,” she whispered. “Why were you so proper?”
There was no reason to prevaricate now. Whether they took this further or waited, he’d already decided. He was committed to Darcy in every way that mattered.
“I meant to put a ring on your finger first,” he admitted. “The night of the accident, when you canceled our dinner. I’d bought you an engagement ring. I wanted to make it official before we were intimate.”
The revelation stilled her fingers.
She looked up at him with an exquisite blend of wonder and sorrow. “I would’ve said yes,” she whispered.
Her declaration brought the rest tumbling out. “I’ve loved you my whole life,” he said, steering her arms across his shoulders to bring her fully into his embrace. “You’ve been bound up in my life from the beginning. Sometimes I’m sure we’re opposites, like earth and sky. The rest of the time, I’m not sure where I begin and you end.” His heart thundered as the feverish lights in her eyes leaped higher, a tacit agreement—an understanding. “Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” he added, hungry for the taste of her mouth.
She nodded. “Two people so deeply in love, they’re not complete without the other. I’ll never be whole without you. I never was.” She pressed her forehead against his cheek, adding, “Why did I allow my grief over losing Elizabeth to bury everything I felt for you?”
“It doesn’t matter now. You’re here.” He hesitated. “Promise you’ll never leave me again.”
“I won’t. Not ever.” For proof, she dragged her mouth across his jawbone until they both shivered with delight.
He captured her lips in a hungry kiss. The needy whimper rising in her throat increased the tempo of his mouth on hers. With hasty steps, he led her away from the riverbank, his head spinning, his hands trembling as he molded her closer to the hard contours of his body.
Moss curved against the hillside like an emerald blanket. Drifting down onto it, they never broke off the kiss. They peeled off their wet clothes, laughing against each other’s lips—playful, the way they’d been as children when they’d roughhoused together, too young to understand the significance of an attraction they’d taken for granted. The attraction meant to lead them here.