“How can I hold on to something I can’t see?”
“You do it in your heart.” Ben pressed a fist to the center of his chest. “Make a special place there, just for your dad, and put all your good memories of him in there so you’ll have them with you always. When you feel lonesome for him, you can reach inside for a nice memory, and he’ll be with you again.”
Chloe hugged her waist. Tears had filled her eyes, and they burned like acid. For so long, she’d been focused so completely on the ugliness that she’d mostly forgotten the beautiful things about Roger—his essence. Ben was absolutely right. She needed to forget the bad stuff and hold tight to all the beautiful memories, not just for herself but also for her son.
She took a deep breath and turned her face to the pine-scented breeze. It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her heart. He’s dead. For all intents and purposes, Roger was dead. All this time, she’d been unable to grieve or say good-bye because he still walked and talked and breathed. But the man he’d become wasn’t her husband. Her husband had died that awful afternoon on the Puget Sound as surely as if his heart had stopped beating.
On the way home a few minutes later, Jeremy turned on his seat to stare wide-eyed at Chloe. “Mommy, why didn’t you ever tell me that Daddy died?”
Chloe rolled the car to a stop under the log archway that marked the end of Ben’s driveway. “Because, sweetie, he didn’t die the same way most people do, and I didn’t have Ben’s grandfather to help me understand in a way I could explain to you. It’s complicated with your daddy. Like Ben said, the part of his brain that made him your daddy is dead. But his shell is still alive.”
Jeremy turned to look sadly out the windshield. “The shell isn’t my dad, though.”
“No. The shell is nothing like your daddy. He loved you so much, Jeremy. He never would have hit you with the Frisbee or grabbed you by the throat for spilling your milk.”
“So my real dad is in heaven.”
Again, Chloe fell back on what Ben had said. She was too confused and upset to think clearly herself. “Yes, I’d say so. All the good parts of him have left. And he was so good, I have to believe those parts of him went to heaven.”
The child let his head fall back against the seat. “I’m glad he’s not lost, Mommy. In heaven, he won’t feel lonesome for us, will he?”
“No,” Chloe assured him. “In heaven, everyone is completely happy. That’s why it’s called heaven, because it’s perfect there.”
“Do you ’member the train he got me? It wasn’t my birthday or nothing. He bought it for me, just because.”
Chloe was startled by the sudden change of subject. “It’s been forever since I thought of that. He came home, carrying a great big box, and the two of you spent hours putting it all together.”
“After we got it running, you and me and him had a picnic on the floor.” Jeremy stared past her at nothing, his small face glowing. “Daddy put raisins on top of the cars. We played a game, trying to grab raisins as the train went past.”
Chloe’s heart hurt at the memory. Roger’s deep guffaws. The easy affection he’d shown his son. That was the man she’d married, the man she’d promised to love in sickness and in health. How had she reached this dismal point where a stranger had to remind her of that and put everything into its proper perspective?
The remainder of the way home, Jeremy talked about his train. Once, when Chloe glanced over at him, she saw him pressing his small fist to the center of his chest. Ben had given her son a precious gift, simply by showing him the chrysalis of a butterfly.
“I still got my train,” Jeremy informed her when she parked in front of the house. “It’s in my closet in that same big box. I haven’t looked at it for a long, long time ’cause it made me feel bad inside.”
Chloe killed the car engine. As silence settled, she turned to study her son. Jeremy probably couldn’t remember many of the wonderful things his father had done. For so long now, Chloe had been unable to speak of Roger. Now she was starting to realize that she’d been doing her son a terrible injustice.
“Your dad was the best,” she said, her voice taut with emotion. “Do you remember when your gerbils got loose?”
Jeremy shook his head.
“We couldn’t catch them, so he set out food so they wouldn’t starve. For months, they ran loose in the house. And then—” Chloe laughed at the memory, and it felt absolutely wonderful “—then they had babies! I’ll never forget how your father looked, crawling around the house on his hands and knees, peeking under the furniture. Every once in a while, he’d yell, ‘God, Chloe, they’re everywhere!’ We didn’t know what to do. The neighbor said to put out rat poison, but they’d been your pets, and your dad refused to kill them.”
“What did he do?”
“One afternoon, he came home from work with this thing called a live trap. He eventually captured all the gerbils without hurting any of them. We had so many that he gave most of them away to other kids on our block.”
“Ben says traps are cruel. I’m glad my dad didn’t get one that would hurt my gerbils.” Jeremy smiled. “My dad was nice. Wasn’t he, Mom?”
“Yes, Jeremy, he was.” Chloe reached a decision. “You know what? It’s my night off. Why don’t we dig that box out of your closet and put your train together? Would that be fun?”
“Can we grab raisins when we get it running?”
“I may be low on raisins, but we’ll come up with something.” She drew her keys from the ignition. “And I’ll tell you bunches and bunches of stories about your dad.”
Chapter Thirteen
The following morning after returning from her eight o’clock rounds at Cinnamon Ridge, Chloe was sitting at the table, enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee, when the phone rang. Jeremy raced in from the adjoining living room to answer the call. Then, stretching the cord as far as it would reach, he brought the phone to Chloe. “Sue,” he whispered.
Grasping the receiver, Chloe said, “Hey, girl, what’s up?”
“Steven, stop that! Sorry. He brought his squirt gun in the house. Steven!”
Chloe held the phone away from her ear.
“Kids!” Sue complained. “I just washed that window, and I only do it about once a year. Now it’ll have spots all over it until next June. Toby! Do not throw that water. If you guys want to have a water fight, take it outside!”
“It sounds like you have your hands full.”
“I always have my hands full, and I swear, they time the worst of it for when I’m on the phone. I don’t know how Jerry manages. He says they’re good as gold on his shift. Are you sure you want to keep them while we go out to celebrate his raise?”
Chloe had forgotten about making the offer. “I’m positive. Name the time.”
“We were thinking tomorrow night.”
Chloe winced. “Oh, Sue, I can’t. I’m so sorry. I’ve got a dinner date. I can do it next Friday, though.”
“That works. We’ve waited this long without dying. Another week will seem like a nanosecond. A dinner date, huh? With a guy?”
“Yes, but not like that. It’s just Bobby Lee. A friendly thing.”
“Oh, yeah? Hmm.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing,” Sue assured her. “It just doesn’t sound like Bobby Lee.”
“He understands that I’m not interested in anything romantic. He and I got off on the wrong foot. He wants to have dinner and chitchat to clear the air. Afterwards, we’ll call it an evening.” Chloe related how the deputy had replaced her Japanese lantern. “I couldn’t say no after he did something so thoughtful.”
“That really was nice of him,” Sue agreed. “And, hey, what can happen at the Desert Inn? The restaurant section’s pretty tame. On Friday nights, they have a band in the lounge, but even that’s low-key, no rowdies or anything.”
Chloe glanced at her watch. Swing shift was the pits. She had to go shopping before she left for work, and there were a dozen other things
she needed to do as well. She never had any real downtime, going in at three.
She took another sip of coffee and settled back to listen while Sue screamed at her kids. When the brunette came back on, she said, “I’ve got to go. Tiana just melted Barbie’s hair with my curling iron.”
“Uh-oh.”
Chloe could hear the child crying in the background. Sue made clucking noises. “She’s fine, Tiana. Mommy will fix her.” To Chloe, Sue added, “Barbie goes butch. My curling iron will never be the same.”
Chloe was still grinning when she hung up the phone.
When Chloe arrived at work that afternoon, she found a single red rose lying on her desk blotter. She raised her eyebrows at Sue. The plump brunette lifted her hands and shrugged. “Not I. I’ve been dying to read the note, but I slapped my hand and stayed away.”
Bemused, Chloe slipped the card from the folds of flocked cellophane. She stared at the local florist shop logo on the front of the envelope.
“God, would you just open it?”
Chloe laughed. “But it’s so much fun torturing you.”
“Read it aloud or die.”
Grinning, Chloe opened the card. Inside, a masculine, uneven scrawl read, “I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow night. Love, Bobby Lee.”
Chloe’s smile blinked out.
“What?” Sue cried. “Who’s it from?
“Bobby Lee. It says he’s looking forward to dinner tomorrow night.”
“Smooth move.”
Chloe tossed the card in the trash. “I guess that’s what worries me. If he were having dinner with, say, Frank Bower, he wouldn’t leave a rose lying on his desk. He’d just say in passing, ‘Hey, man, we still on for tomorrow night?” ’ She looked at Sue over the top of the rose as she sniffed its delicate petals. “He signed the card, ‘Love, Bobby Lee.” ’
Sue pursed her lips. “Uh-oh.”
“Yeah.” Chloe sighed and laid the flower down. “You think he’s blowing smoke about not being interested in anything romantic?”
Sue steepled her fingers. “He wouldn’t be the first guy to try sneaking in a side door.”
Chloe leaned her hips against her desk. “Maybe I should cancel.”
Sue thought about it. “Lots of people sign cards using the word love. They don’t mean anything by it.” She shrugged. “And, like it or not, you aren’t exactly Frank. Guys treat women differently than they do other men. I’d go on the date. If he gives you any bad vibes, you know he’s not being up-front about his intentions, and you can be otherwise engaged when he asks again.”
Chloe nodded. “You’re right. I’m overreacting, aren’t I?”
Sue held up her hands. “I’m just saying that canceling the date might be too extreme. He’s a nice guy. A lousy lover, but that’s a story for another day.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Heavens, no. Just an opinion I’ve formed, observing him in action over the years. You know that saying, ‘Love ’em and leave ’em?’ Bobby Lee invented it. Once he gains the inner sanctum, he loses interest and moves on to the next challenge.”
Chloe stowed her purse in the cubbyhole. “Well, I’m not going to sleep with him so that he’ll lose interest.”
Sue chuckled. “Would I suggest that?” She gave Chloe a sidelong look. “Although it might be stimulating. He’s pretty cute.”
“Not my type.”
“Who is?”
“No one.”
“And why is that?” Sue asked. “You’re a pretty lady. I’d kill for that figure. After so many kids, I look like the Goodyear blimp. Life can’t stop just because you’re divorced.”
“I just don’t feel like dating yet, is all.”
“My point exactly. You’re, like, way too uptight. A sweaty romp with Bobby Lee might be a nice diversion.”
Chloe laughed and shook her head. “Aerobics are more my speed. Maybe I’ll take up jogging.”
Sue groaned. “You are so boring.”
Chloe put the blue dress back on the hanger. Too clingy. She plucked a taupe suit from the rod. Nope, too dressy. She sighed, planted her hands on her hips, and glared at her wardrobe. She didn’t want to look too casual, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to wear a dress, either. A woman’s choice in clothing made a statement. The message she wanted to send was, “Friends, only.”
Half her closet had been emptied onto the bed before she finally settled on gray linen slacks and a matching summer blazer over an ecru silk blouse. For accessories, she chose a simple gold chain and tiny diamond earrings. Done. She looked nice enough to go out to dinner with a coworker, and that was exactly the note she wanted to strike.
A half hour later, Bobby Lee knocked at the door. In civilian clothes, he looked so different she almost didn’t recognize him. He wore chinos and a blue pinstripe that complemented his dark complexion and brought out the color of his eyes. In his hands, he held a drum of Lincoln Logs.
“For Jeremy,” he said, thrusting them at her.
Chloe accepted the gift. “Oh, Bobby Lee, you really shouldn’t have. Jeremy, come see what Mr. Schuck brought for you!”
Jeremy, always timid around strange men, approached hesitantly, but the wariness in his eyes was replaced by a glow of excitement when he saw the drum. “Wow!” He grabbed the container, dashed back to the living room, and dumped the contents on the rug. “Thanks, Deputy Schuck! I’ve been wanting some of these for forever.”
“Hi-yee, Bobby Lee!” Tracy called from the kitchen.
“Hi, there, Trace.” Bobby Lee shoved his hands in his pockets. Arching a black eyebrow at Chloe, he said, “You ready?”
Chloe was as ready as she’d ever be. She kissed Jeremy good-bye, reminded Tracy that she would be dining at the Desert Inn, and joined Bobby Lee on the porch. Keeping his hands in his pockets, he preceded her down the rickety steps.
“Thanks again for the logs,” Chloe said. “He loves them.”
“Hey, there’s a method to my madness.” He fell into step with her en route to the Bronco. “I figured you’d enjoy yourself more if you knew he was having fun, too.”
He opened the passenger door. As Chloe climbed into the vehicle, she was grateful she’d chosen to wear slacks. From ground to running board was a high step, which she couldn’t have executed with any grace or modesty in a dress. The inside of the Bronco was tidy and smelled of new vinyl and leather. While Bobby Lee circled to the driver’s side, she fastened her seat belt.
Here goes nothing, she thought as he started the engine.
An hour and a half later, Chloe was laughing at herself for having been so nervous. Bobby Lee was an engaging companion, talking almost nonstop over the meal about his experiences as a deputy. When Chloe wasn’t chuckling over an absurdity, she was asking questions, sincerely interested in his answers.
“So teen drug use is on the decline in Paulina County?”
He topped off their glasses with merlot. “Yes. Stricter enforcement, along with the support of school administrators, has had an impact. Two years ago, I busted thirty percent more teenagers for possession.”
Chloe took a sip of wine. One glass was usually her limit, but he had been keeping her goblet full, and she’d lost track. She felt relaxed and pleasantly tipsy.
Their waiter approached the table. “Dessert?”
Chloe held up a hand. “That steak was huge. None for me, thank you.”
“I’ll pass, too,” Bobby Lee replied.
The young man discreetly laid a black leather folder at the edge of the table. “When you’re ready, sir.”
Chloe got her purse. Bobby Lee narrowed an eye. “Don’t insult me.”
“Friends, remember? You shouldn’t have to pick up the entire tab.”
He spread a large hand over the book. “This is on me. Please.”
Chloe could see he was determined. She put her purse back on the floor. “Thank you, Bobby Lee.”
He lifted a hip to get his wallet. The credit card he drew from inside gleamed
gold in the candlelight. While they waited for the waiter to process the ticket, they sipped their wine in companionable silence.
Moments later when they rose to leave, Bobby Lee gently grasped her arm. “How about an hour in the lounge? It’s only eight, and the Rounders are playing. Great country-western band.”
Chloe drew back her sleeve to check her watch.
“What? You think I can’t tell time?” He steered her toward the swinging doors. “It’s against my religion to end an evening before nine.”
It was still early, Chloe decided. And she enjoyed country-western music. “Okay, but at nine sharp, home we go. Right? You did promise I’d be back in time to tuck Jeremy in.”
“And I never break a promise.”
It took Chloe’s eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dimmer lighting inside the lounge. By the time she could see clearly, they were seated at a small table, tucked away in a back corner. Bobby Lee signaled the waitress, ordering a glass of merlot for Chloe, and a Jack and Seven for himself. It worried Chloe that he was still drinking when he knew he had to drive.
“I really shouldn’t,” Chloe protested. “I don’t usually drink so much.”
“You’re fine,” he assured her.
The band started a new song. The music throbbed from speakers around the lounge. Leaning close so Bobby Lee could hear, Chloe said, “They’re good!”
He nodded, tapping his hands on the table in time to the beat. Several couples converged on the dance floor. Before Chloe could guess his intention, Bobby Lee pulled her up from her chair.
“Oh, I—”
Ignoring her protests, he drew her to the dance floor. Turning, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against him so his thigh pressed against her pelvis. The next thing she knew, he was doing a swing version of the two-step. To save her feet, Chloe followed his lead, wondering if he realized where his leg was rubbing.
She started to sweat, not from exertion but from nerves. The lock of his hard arm around her brought back memories she preferred to forget. When the number ended, the band started another, and Bobby Lee continued dancing. Chloe felt trapped, and she heartily wished now that she’d said no to an hour in the lounge.
Only by Your Touch Page 18