by Cheryl Wyatt
In a flash, the kitchen seemed too small and private and too dark. Much as Manny wanted to hold on to Celia for all she was worth, he couldn’t or he’d end up kissing her again. He gave her shoulders one quick squeeze and set her away. “Let’s talk over cocoa. I need to keep an eye on the weather.” And a short leash on my self-control.
Sincerity glistened in her eyes as she stepped to the counter. “Thank you, Manny.”
He let her pass with cocoa. “For what?”
“For letting me in. Making me feel better.” She set the cups on two coasters and plopped down on the couch.
Pondering her words, he sat beside her, leaving a fair amount of space between them. He sensed her “let me in” phrasing meant more metaphorically than just him opening the literal door to her this evening. Manny sipped cocoa, wishing he had some marshmallows to melt in it. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She sighed and buried her face in her hands. Thick, black curls spilled over and through her slender fingers. It took every ounce of willpower not to brush even a fingertip over the silky mass to see if it felt as soft as it looked.
Wild and untamed hair compared to today’s trendy styles, yet it suited Celia and fit her personality. From her Southwestern house decor to pointy-toed shoes to her red-tapered nails to her suitcase of a purse to dense, dark hair and classy clothes, everything was distinctly Celia.
After a moment when she didn’t look up, he bent forward to peer at her. As if sensing his close proximity, she turned her head sideways. He noticed right away her moist palms and eyes smudged with makeup that hadn’t held up under tears.
The Latina fireball who prided herself in never crying, especially in front of people, sat here bawling her makeup off.
Manny set his cocoa down.
This was serious.
“Hey, it can’t be that bad.” He took a chance and reached for her hand, surprised when she let him.
“I—He. Oh, boy.” She blew out a breath, lifting curls off that spot where the cute freckle resided. “I don’t even have guts to tell you this.”
Manny chuckled at how her hand swung his all over the place. He doubted she could talk without moving them.
Her face went back in her hand and his, since their fingers remained entwined. “I may have royally messed up. He insisted he needed to go check on a friend, but he refused to tell me who the friend is. I’m having a hard time trusting him. He says I can’t see that he’s trying. The pipe I found in the closet?”
“Yes.”
“Javier swears it’s not his.”
Ouch. Pings of guilt hit Manny because he already knew that. Javier had confided much about Enrique. How Javier kept it so Enrique couldn’t smoke it. Also as incentive to never do drugs. A visual reminder to pray for the son not to turn out like the father. Celia still didn’t know the short kid from the restaurant and Joseph’s murderer’s son were one in the same.
Manny fought a guilty fidget but remained in listen mode so she’d continue. While she sipped cocoa, Manny recalled things Javier had confided. Such as that his classmates had pointed Enrique out. Javier had seen how the other kids treated him and had felt sorry for him. But Enrique, knowing who Javier was, had avoided him. So Javier had applied at the restaurant, knowing Enrique worked there then befriended him. Javier had realized that the kid had lost his father the day of the murder, too. Not to death, but to prison bars.
“I let him go to the friend, and he hasn’t returned when he said he would,” Celia finally said. “What if I trusted him and something happened? Or what if he pulled a fast one on me?”
Manny didn’t think so, but how to convince Celia of it. No wonder Enrique had looked like a crab ready to molt when he’d had to bus the table next to Celia. How much could Manny tell her without breaking Javier’s confidentiality?
“Celia, I spoke with Javier about the pipe. I don’t honestly think he’s drugging.”
“But he was smoking outside the restaurant.”
“He was.” Javier had said for a few weeks he’d tried to drug his grief into oblivion. Then he’d discovered Enrique was way worse off than he, and had also started drugging to cope with the pain and shame his father’s crime brought on the family. Enrique and his mother felt shunned by the entire town. Seeing the effect it had on Enrique had repelled Javier from drugs. Not to mention Javier had promised his dad before he died to avoid them.
“I don’t know where things went wrong. I tried really hard not to harp or interrupt, to listen more than talk.”
Manny snickered.
She gave his arm a playful smack. “I know. Hard to believe possible.”
Manny took her hand, brought it to his mouth, placing a tender kiss there. Hopefully it sent a message that he cared for her. “I can be trusted.”
“I know.” The words floated out.
He took her other hand and squeezed both in his. “You need to get Javier into a good church.”
With widening eyes, she stared at their hands, then into Manny’s face. “I know.” Fear accosted her features.
“Let me help you?” he whispered against her hands before relinquishing them.
“How?” Celia tucked one hand into her other, clutching as though fighting off the urge to reach out and nab his hand back.
“Please trust me, Celia. Don’t try to do this alone.”
Maybe this was God’s answer to him. Maybe God placed Javier in Manny’s path to prove He wasn’t mad about Seth. Maybe God did trust Manny, after all. He hoped more than anything that could be true. And that this could be another family in the works.
“I know you mow lawns at the cemetery at night. That’s when Javier seems to get into the most trouble.”
Her mouth gaped. “How do you know that’s where I go?”
“Because I stooped to snooping.” Heat rushed his neck.
She stood. “You followed me?”
He stared up at her. “Once. And only to formulate a plan to help you. I needed to be sure it was a job you could live without. If you were taking care of elderly parents, I couldn’t exactly propose a job change.”
She sat. “I don’t talk to my parents.”
“That’s a shame.”
“No. It’s not. They’re not healthy. I had a very dysfunctional childhood.”
“Javier told me quite a bit. That why you won’t go to church?”
“Yeah. I have a hard time trusting.”
He shot her a wry grin. “I noticed.”
She shook her head at him. “I can’t believe you followed me. I could have you arrested for stalking, you know.”
He laughed. “I almost was.”
Her eyes widened. “No.”
“Yes. Half the police force closed in on me.” He chuckled. “They watch out for you. More than you realize. I think this is the most patrolled street in Refuge.”
“I know. They loved Joseph.” She sipped her cocoa. “What did you have in mind to help?”
He drained his cup of the last drop, then licked cocoa foam from his lip. “I’ve been thinking. I’ll let you know when I fully develop the idea. But it has to do with sending care packages to soldiers. You and Amber do so well with that. I’m really impressed with the gift packets to the teen shelter. I thought maybe you could set up a huge home base and do it for mass amounts of deployed soldiers everywhere.”
“Sounds interesting. I’ll research it.”
“I spoke to my C.O., Aaron Petrowski. He said Refuge Air Force Base would possibly pay you to develop and oversee a program like that.”
“And it’s something I could do from home after school?”
Manny nodded. “You could delegate a lot of the footwork to volunteers. Pray about it.”
“I will.”
“Joel is hiring two more employees at the DZ, so that’s an option for Javier, unless you want him back at the restaurant.”
“What’s the dizzy exactly? I always hear you guys say it.”
“Dee Zee. Short for drop zone. It’s a t
erm for a skydiving facility. More specifically the rural area where parachutes are supposed to land, but is often used in context with the entire facility.”
She laughed. Then again.
He wondered what tickled her funny bone.
Her eyes projected humor. “Where parachutes are supposed to land?”
His facial skin heated. “Yeah. I know. The only grove of trees for miles…and I found it. Back to Javier.”
Her hands wrung together. “What if he won’t agree to this?”
“Celia, I know it’s hard, but please try to trust me.”
She leaned back. “Why do you think I’m here?”
Chapter Eighteen
Manny set a second cup of steaming cocoa near Celia, then relaxed next to her on the navy-blue couch.
“Thanks.” Celia rested her head back.
“How long since you heard from him?”
“About three this afternoon. He was supposed to be back in an hour.”
Manny tilted her wrist to eye her watch. Just before seven.
“He didn’t come home for supper at five. He has no cash because he paid me all of it for the damages on your scooter. He never skips food.”
“Any recent arguments?”
“Not really. He’d been spending too much time on the computer. So I called him a cyber-spud, but he laughed about it. Didn’t seem mad. Just secretive. I jokingly drilled him about his Internet sites but he ignored me. Usual stuff.”
Manny nodded.
“After he left, I looked at the page he was viewing and felt horrible. He was ordering my Christmas present online, though I don’t know where he’d get the money.”
“Oh, man, Celia. I told him I’d take him to buy your present, but he said he could only find it online since it was from a mail-order beauty-supply store. I told him to let me know how much and I’d let him work it off.”
She put her face in her hands and groaned.
Manny tilted her chin up. “Want me to go help look for him?”
She chewed her lip. “If he’s not home by nine, which is his curfew on school nights. Maybe he forgot he told me he’d be home in an hour. I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
Celia planned to stay here until nine? With the two of them alone in a dimly lit house and a cozy fireplace crackling? And wearing that perfume he liked?
This was going to pop-quiz his self-control.
Especially when Celia set her cocoa down and snuggled beside him. “Got any movies to pass time?”
Tons. “No. They’re all boring and drab.” He scooted away from her. She retrieved the basket of DVDs from the coffee table cubbyhole and plucked one out. “This sounds good.”
At least they were all rated PG.
Twenty minutes later Celia relaxed against him and her breathing pattern changed. No doubt she’d fallen asleep. Firelight flickering off her caramel skin mesmerized him. Burnt golden-brown embers visible through orange flames made her eyelids glow. The red flames matched her lips, which he really ought not to stare at.
Maybe he’d just see if her eyelashes were real. He leaned in, trying to detect a glue line. He moved closer, maybe an inch or so. Her breath floated across his face. He held his, looking for any sign of natural lashes beneath fake ones, then decided they must be real. He really couldn’t be sure. He wondered if she’d feel it if he gave them one little tug. He reached his hand forth then withdrew it.
He wished she’d wake up. Keep him company. She shifted. He leaned in once more, to see her lashes. Who knew why he was so obsessed about it? He used to steal his sisters’ and glue them on the dog’s hind end. Then draw lips beneath them with a washable marker so the dog’s tail resembled a nose. His sisters had deemed him a canine terrorist, but it hadn’t bothered the dog. Manny and his dad had laughed their heads off.
He leaned a hairbreadth away from Celia, and reached.
Celia awakened with a start and jerked to a sitting position. “Yow!”
Heat crept up his neck.
Yep. Real, all right.
She rubbed her eye. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. I mean, I was just bored and trying to see if they were real.”
“They most certainly are. See?” She batted them at him for good measure.
He stood, reaching for his cane, then ambled to get her cloak.
She stretched. “What time is it?”
Manny rubbed frost off the window to peer outside. “Eight.”
“You let me sleep through the movie?” She took her cloak from him, wrapping it around her shoulders.
Manny kept a safe batch of airspace between them. “I was about to wake you.”
“How, by ripping my eyelids off?”
Heat rushed his neck again. “Only a little tug. We need to look for Javier now. The roads will be too bad to drive on soon.”
Celia buttoned her cloak. “It’s just snow.”
“Ice storm’s coming later, though. You don’t need to drive in that.”
Hood up, she tugged on her gloves.
He pulled on his coat. “While you dozed, I left a message on your home phone for Javier to call my cell if he returned.”
“He won’t know where I am when he gets there.”
“Good. Maybe he needs to understand what he puts you through when he doesn’t call or come home on time.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
He swiveled to face her and reached for both her hands. “Pray with me?”
“That, I can do.” Celia closed her eyes and prayed with Manny for her son. “Thank you,” Celia said.
Manny pulled her close, she thought for a hug, but when he held her, panic surged.
This was a bit too cozy for her comfort. He said he was a hugger, and that would be fine except his hugs affected her more than they should. What if he kissed her again? Like a match tossed carelessly in dry woodland, things could easily blaze out of hand. Scared of her reaction, scared she felt too secure in the haven of his arms, scared she’d want to stay here forever, she put her hands flat to his chest and shoved.
His eyes blinked open then shuttered to unreadable. He scooted away and searched her face.
“I’m not up for affection.” That was a dumb thing to say. “I’m sorry. It’s not you.”
His face yielded to disappointment but he masked it. “No problem. Sorry if I overstepped my bounds. Again.”
Instantly she knew he meant his actions at the reception. Great. She’d gone and offended him again. It wasn’t him she didn’t trust to be alone this time. It was her. She couldn’t act on her attraction to Manny. If she did, she might fall in love. Physical attraction was not enough of a foundation to base a relationship on. Problem was her heart could skid out of control even if she subdued her body.
Manny stood and leaned on the chair arm with both hands. “Let’s look for Javier.”
“What about when the roads get bad?”
“I notified police to keep eyes peeled for him, since they’re out patrolling anyhow.”
“Thank you for sticking close to me and helping.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Cel.”
“Me, neither. I mean, you know what I mean.” Her face heated until relief fluttered down his face. He stood straighter and calm entered his demeanor. “I appreciate this. Maybe it would be wiser for us not to remain in a house alone unless a third party is here anyway so your reputation isn’t compromised with our neighbors.” But his face spoke of needing to be together, though he wanted to do the right thing by her more.
“If you’d feel better about it, we can head out to look for Javier.” Though worry attacked her mind, Celia had an odd sense of peace about Javier’s safety.
After scouring the streets for Javier with no results, they grabbed a cup of coffee from a drive-through, then returned to the house because the roads had turned treacherous.
The police phoned with frequent updates, assuring Celia they were on the lookout for Javier. She wished he’d
at least call.
Once at Celia’s, Manny walked her around front to her door. Like the moths above their heads, circling the faint yellow glow of her porch light, his eyes flitted across her face and came to rest on her mouth. Then as a moth too close to flame, he darted his gaze away.
She wanted to reach for him. Tell him it was okay. She wanted him to kiss her.
But it wasn’t okay.
Manny wasn’t a dude with a desk job.
Then he leaned in, looking very intent on a good-night kiss. Panic spun Celia, nose to her door, fumbling her key in the slot. His warm hand on her shoulder nearly made her drop them. She concentrated to slow her breathing, her pulse.
He’d almost kissed her.
She’d almost let him.
“I’m sorry, Celia. I just thought—”
His words trailed off but not in her mind. He just thought he’d seen permission in her eyes.
He’d thought right. Only he couldn’t know.
She twisted the knob and summoned courage to face him.
He’d stepped back, holding his head at an angle, studying her with eyes that she knew saw right through any facade.
She swallowed. Icicles tinkled in the night wind. The few moths that winter hadn’t chased away flitted around them. The light buzzed softly above. The moon cast shadows across Manny’s face, but lit his eyes. Eyes she knew washed over her in purity. Not a hint of sensuality, just care and deep longing. But for what? Companionship? Connectedness? Comfort?
Love?
Manny shifted, breaking the penitent silence. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me when Javier gets in, no matter how late.” His voice ran as thick as cold honey.
“I will.” Celia shut the door, hating that the honey in her own voice had betrayed her, too.
Her mind turned to wonder where on earth her teenage son was at ten o’clock on a school night.
Chapter Nineteen
“I shoulda been there to protect him,” Manny rasped. His own voice and his heart pounding in his ears woke Manny from the nightmare that held him hostage. Drenched in sweat, he flipped the lever on the recliner and stood. His heart squeezed, hounded by guilt from the dream that always reminded him that he’d killed his own son through neglect.