Huckleberry Lake

by Catherine Anderson

  His laser-blue eyes gleamed with determination. “So you’re canceling your only insurance as a passenger? It didn’t work out very well for you when you canceled your policy for roadside assistance. Look what happened to your Honda.”

  She couldn’t help herself and giggled. “You happened to my Honda.”

  “Yeah, well? I’m driving. Don’t give me an opportunity to happen to you.”

  It wasn’t really that funny, but the next thing Erin knew, they were both laughing like fools, and she discovered that she loved the sounds of Wyatt’s mirth. They were unpracticed and from the gut. It was as sexy as a man’s laugh could get.

  When the hilarity finally subsided, Wyatt sighed as if he were exhausted. “Oh, man. I haven’t laughed like that in years. Maybe never.”

  “Why on earth not?”

  “Because there’s no language program that critiques the sound of laughter, and I know us deaf folks can have some really weird laughs.” He glanced over at her. “Back to your own side, Erin. You promised not to hit on me.”

  “I wasn’t hitting on you!” she protested.

  “Tell that to my body. It doesn’t register the difference between a friendly leg rub and a flirtatious one.”

  “Oh.” Erin felt as if he’d just doused her with cold water. Her leg had been touching his. “Sorry.” She slid back over to the passenger side. “I didn’t think of that.”

  As he pulled back out onto the road, she considered the implications of what he’d just said. The dash of coldness suddenly turned tingly and warm, spreading over her body from head to toe. He’d told her earlier today that he found her very attractive, but she hadn’t believed him. Guys said stuff like that to reassure a woman even when they didn’t mean it. But Wyatt’s reaction to leg rubbing? That had to be totally genuine. And he’d told her more than he probably knew by revealing his physical reaction to her. Even better, he’d warned her to keep her distance. It told her that he really was hot for her in a way that words could never convey.

  When he pulled the truck into her driveway, the headlights cut through the deepening darkness to illuminate her front porch with a quick sweep of the high beams. She’d left a huge mess in front of the door, and now it was too late to clean it up. Like Wyatt, she had to get squared away for work tomorrow.

  Leaning forward so the dash lights illuminated her, she signed to him with her hands. “This has been the nicest evening I’ve had in a long time. Thank you so much for inviting me.”

  He smiled, a slow transformation of his face that deepened the crow’s-feet at the corners of his compelling eyes and elongated the creases in his lean cheeks. “It was my pleasure. I had a really great time.”

  Erin started to open her door and stopped mid-motion when she saw him unfastening his safety restraint. “What are you doing? I don’t need you to escort me to the door, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “What you need me to do and what my father taught me to do may be two entirely different things, and if we’re going to be friends, you need to stop hassling me about it.”

  “Do you make a habit of walking all your friends to their doors?”

  “As much as this may shock your feminist sensibilities, Erin, I escort all lady friends to their doors. I realize you have two good legs. All right? That you don’t really need me to play watchdog as you walk up your own driveway. But my dad wired me to be a gentleman in certain situations, and taking a woman out to dinner is one of them.” He paused as if to give her a moment to assimilate that. “How is this friendship idea going to work if you get all sensitive over stupid things like me pushing your chair forward when you take a seat? Or when I open a door for you? Can’t you think of it as practice for when the right guy comes along and starts treating you like a lady?”

  Erin was more than willing to practice polite behavior, but she wouldn’t be doing it in hope that the right man would eventually enter her life. She had a feeling he’d already arrived. But for reasons beyond her, Wyatt didn’t see how perfect they were for each other.

  “Okay, fine. Walk me to the door. I’m good with it.”

  He piled out on his side as she exited on hers. As he came around the front bumper to meet her, he said, “For the sake of proper practice sessions, a lady waits for a gentleman to open the car door for her and help her get out of the vehicle.”

  Light from the cab still illuminated the area where she stood. Erin grinned as he cupped her elbow in one big hand. Then the dome light blinked out. “I’ll remember that, but please bear in mind that I’m a work in progress and didn’t receive the same instruction as most girls when I was growing up.”

  No response. She peered up at him through the darkness and realized he couldn’t see her lips clearly. Using ASL to communicate with him wouldn’t work, either. For Wyatt, all conversation had to occur when he had a good visual of the person talking to him.

  When they reached her porch, he stood off to one side so she could unlock the door. As it swung open under the press of her hand, she turned to smile up at him. Moonlight illuminated them, but it wasn’t a strong enough light for him to read her lips. For a long moment, he just gazed down at her. Her experience with dating was minimal. She’d hooked up with two guys in brief but exclusive relationships, so she had stopped playing the dating game for long periods of time. But she did know how the goodnight kiss was supposed to go. Every girl who’d ever been walked to her door by a boy never forgot that part.

  Only Wyatt just studied her. And then he asked, “Would you like me to go in with you to make sure there hasn’t been a break-in?”

  She reached around the door frame to flip on her living room lights so he could see her face. “That’s thoughtful of you, but I think I’ll be fine.”

  He touched the brim of his hat in that timeless way of all cowboys. “Goodnight, then. I hope you have a great rest of your evening.”

  She turned to watch him descend the steps in one long-legged leap. He was surefooted, even in the dark. She also noticed for the first time all evening that he wasn’t wearing a jacket to ward off the chill of the night air. A sad feeling moved through her chest. It truly had been a fabulous evening, but he’d said nothing about them doing it again.

  Chapter Five

  As Wyatt drove away from Erin’s cottage, he felt oddly empty. Or maybe hollow described it better. He’d had such a good time with her tonight, and he truly wished they could be friends. On the surface, it had gone so well, and when he’d been with her, he’d had fun. He didn’t normally have much fun. He focused on his responsibilities at the ranch, tried to set a good example for Kennedy, practiced his word pronunciation every evening, and did his best to get a good night’s rest when each day drew to a close. When he went into town, he shopped for groceries, bought himself small bags of specialty coffees, picked up parts to repair whatever needed fixing, and ran errands. He never went anywhere specifically to enjoy himself. On the rare occasions that he stopped someplace to eat, he did so because he was hungry, and he hurried through the meal because he always felt pressed for time. He also avoided conversations with the locals, not because they weren’t nice, friendly people, but because he always got himself into what he’d come to think of as lip-reading events. Out and about in town, he rarely had an opportunity to talk with only one person. Someone else always wanted to put in his two cents’ worth, and Wyatt ended up trying to read too many pairs of lips at once. On top of that, his brain was forced into high gear, trying to supply him with the words he needed to say. Afterward, he always felt exhausted and frustrated. So he had backed away from all of it and worked harder to accept himself for who and what he was, a nice enough guy who liked people but couldn’t communicate well with them. And in the process of reaching that point of acceptance, he’d also had to embrace his disability and be glad of it.

  With Erin this evening, he hadn’t struggled in order to communicate with people, though,
and that was a first for him. Recalling their meal together, he belatedly realized that she’d made a point of keeping her face visible to him as she’d conversed with Ben. That had allowed him a clear view of her lips whenever she spoke, so even when he couldn’t see Ben’s, he’d been able to get the general gist of what he’d said by reading her responses. Wow. It had been wonderful not to get that awful feeling of frustration and inadequacy that always flooded through him when more than one person was talking and he couldn’t keep up.

  And Erin had made that happen.

  It boggled his mind. Not even Kennedy completely understood Wyatt’s reasons for avoiding group interactions. Yet somehow, Erin not only understood, but she had made sure it wouldn’t be unpleasant for him by striving to keep him in the loop. She’d told him that she had worked with deaf kids and had yearned to make a career of it before her father redirected her footsteps toward law enforcement. Apparently she had retained a lot of knowledge about hearing-impaired individuals. It wasn’t only that Erin knew a lot about deafness. She actually understood the obstacles that a non-hearing person faced, she truly cared, and in a natural, low-key way that hadn’t embarrassed him, she’d made sure he wasn’t left out of the chitchat that transpired between her and Ben. Nobody had ever done that for him, not even his parents or Kennedy. Wyatt knew they loved him. He knew they had all three gone out of their way to accommodate his differences. But they just didn’t get it, not in the same way Erin did.

  Damn. She was the perfect friend for him. With her riding shotgun, he could even try to have a social life, which had always been so laborious for him that he’d given up on it. For years, he’d stripped all the social activities from his routine. No church events. No going to a night spot to hang out. He even avoided simple things like sidewalk markets, school festivals, and town hall meetings. Everywhere he went, people wanted to talk to him. He appreciated that and knew they accepted him as a member of their community, but they were pretty much clueless about how to talk with him. For him, going to a farmers market was like trying to shop where nobody spoke English. If he asked a question, people often turned their heads as they answered it. He didn’t get angry about that, but it sure did thwart his efforts to be part of this town.

  As his friend, Erin could open doors for him into the heart of Mystic Creek. Only how could he ever make a mere friendship with her work? Being around her made him want so many things, foremost in his mind right now a goodnight kiss. And more. If he were smart, he’d run like hell. Only he had all these feelings he didn’t know what to do with. Tonight, she’d shown him how good life could be if he had the right person at his side, and he wouldn’t be human if he didn’t want more of that. He’d also seen the expressions on her face as she talked about her youth and her father and the mother who never intervened to make her childhood more tolerable. She truly did need a friend, and so did he. Only not just any old person would do for him. He needed someone just like Erin, a person who really understood what it was like to be deaf.

  Troubled by his thoughts and overwhelming physical desires, he pulled off to park in the town center and strode across the one-lane circle to the artsy water feature. He stood with his knees pressed against the rough edge of the fountain bench and stared into the swirling water. A light mist touched his face. The bottom of the manmade pond was swimming-pool blue and carpeted with coins. Copper pennies shimmered among metallic nickels, dimes, and quarters. He even saw a few silver dollars, which led him to wonder who had been foolish enough to throw away good money to make a wish that would never come true. Someone like him, he guessed. Somebody who had wanted to move forward with his life and didn’t know how. Someone who had not only come to accept his circumstances but had learned to feel happy about them, only to find himself suddenly feeling dissatisfied and yearning for things he might never be able to have.

  Wishing for things was dangerous for Wyatt. He knew that. He couldn’t spend his entire life railing at fate because he’d been born deaf. He couldn’t let his heart be crowded with negative emotions simply because he’d been dealt a rotten hand of cards. Until tonight, he’d been pretty happy with the way things were. He’d learned to be thankful for his hearing loss. He’d stopped chasing after false hopes that the latest breakthroughs in ear surgery would cure his deafness. He’d also learned to count all the ways that his disability had made him a better person. More caring and compassionate. More thoughtful. More focused on what really mattered. And at the top of the list, more grateful for all his blessings: his parents and their gift to him of unflagging support; Kennedy, who’d stepped beyond merely being his brother to being his friend; Slade, who’d given him a job and then promoted him to the highest-paid position on the ranch. His life had been filled with gifts, beautiful gifts, and now he found himself wanting more. What did that make him? An ungrateful shithead? His future had been written in stone when he’d still been in his mother’s womb. His auditory nerves had been affected by congenital rubella syndrome, and to date, nothing much could be done to correct that. Maybe someday scientists would be able to grow new auditory nerves for people in test tubes and implant them, but Wyatt wasn’t going to hold his breath. He had to be content right where he was. It was the only way he could be happy and remain balanced.

  He fished in his front pocket for his change. All of it. He’d stopped here with some foolish notion of tossing coins and wishing for things he could never have. But he wouldn’t follow through on that impulse. Erin was a beautiful woman, both inside and out, but he didn’t need or want her in his life. Some people went into relationships with a lot of heavy baggage, but he would go into a relationship with the propensity to do harm. He had allowed that propensity to manifest itself into a harsh experience for one woman. He couldn’t let that happen again.

  So he wouldn’t wish for things he couldn’t and shouldn’t have. Instead he would throw all his change into the water at once and wish that he could return to being satisfied with his life the way it was.

  * * *

  * * *

  The following afternoon, Julie closed her shop and locked the front door at five o’clock. Normally she had cleaning and shelf restocking to do after she counted out her register, but business had been slow that day, allowing her time to do all the after-closing chores between customers. As she strolled through the Mystic Creek Menagerie, an ancient, round building that had once been home to a sawmill, she waved hello to Tony Chavez, who owned and operated Dizzy’s Roundtable, a restaurant that featured a round, revolving platform for unique formal dining. Luckily for Julie, Tony was open for only lunch and dinner, which enabled her to compete with him for customers. His prices were higher, and the food he offered was fancier. Julie had found her own niche with her talents as a barista and baker.

  “Hello, Julie!” he called.

  She stopped to smile at him. “I love what you do with your table settings.”

  “Thank you. I like what you do with your window displays. Even when shoppers aren’t hungry, they stop to look, and they usually end up going inside to grab coffee and a cinnamon roll.”

  “I cheat by piping the aroma of fresh-baked goods into the concourse where everybody smells them. It gets their mouths to watering, and then they can’t resist.”

  He laughed and winked at her. “Smart thinking. Maybe I’ll try that.”

  “Oh, no. I patented the idea.”

  Julie waved as she walked away. She and Tony got along well, but she was careful not to get too chummy. When it came to neighbors, whether residential or business, she believed in the old saying, “Familiarity breeds contempt.”

  As she pushed out the double front doors to the sidewalk, she checked her watch and was pleased to see that it was only a few minutes after five, which gave her plenty of time to walk to Blackie’s Pawnshop, located just beyond the town center on West Main. She’d been wanting to drop in for ages, but she hadn’t wanted to practically run to get there before Blackie closed u
p for the day. This afternoon, everything had fallen into place for her to finally walk over at a leisurely pace. She knew Blackie called it a day at six o’clock sharp. He’d told her once that he kept his doors open an hour later than the bank for people who worked a nine-to-five. That gave them time to drop in and hock their rainy-day treasures or redeem something.

  It was a lovely afternoon, still sunny and warm despite the breeze blowing along the street. Julie loved the smells that teased her nostrils. The aroma of freshly baked bread drifted across the street from the Jake ’n’ Bake. Tantalizing scents wafted from Chopstick Suey, a Chinese restaurant owned by Hunter Chase. She even caught a whiff of permanent wave solution from the Silver Beach Salon, operated by Crystal Malloy Richards. But mostly what captivated Julie were the myriad perfumes of flowers that grew in window boxes along each side of the thoroughfare. Now that May had a firm foothold and the weather was warmer, the display of color was also a pleasure point, the pinks of petunias vying for center stage against yellow daffodils, heather, and daisies. Seeing the blossoms made Julie yearn to hurry home to her own gardens.

  But that wasn’t on her agenda for today. She needed to close a sad chapter of her life at Blackie’s Pawnshop. A foolish part of her hoped against hope that she would get a happy ending, but her pragmatic side scoffed at her for even entertaining the notion. It had been two years since she’d hocked her deceased grandmother’s engagement ring, and it was too beautiful a piece to have escaped the notice of bargain shoppers who drove from town to town to find great deals in pawnshops.

  She almost stopped at the fountain to toss in a coin for good luck. But then she smiled at her own silliness and sprinted over the crosswalk onto the corner of West Main where Blackie’s shop was first in line on the north side. Like all the businesses along Main, Blackie’s had a quaint, two-level storefront, sporting sandblasted brick, arched windows, and a lunette above the wooden door. She stood outside for a moment, lecturing herself. You know he doesn’t still have that ring. Why are you letting yourself hope for something you know isn’t possible?