Only by Your Touch

by Catherine Anderson

  “I’m so sorry I kept it from you.”

  She smiled against his shirt. “Wanna make it up to me?”

  “How?”

  “Let me read the synopsis.”

  He laughed and set her away from him. Catching her face between his hands, he searched her eyes, the blue of his delving deep. “You really aren’t mad?”

  “Nope.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, it depends. If you don’t let me read the synopsis, I could work my way up to it.”

  “I think that can be arranged. I’m not very far along with it yet, though. I, um—well, the boy is patterned after Jeremy. With everything so up in the air between us, I’ve been having trouble staying focused. Suddenly, this morning, I woke up burning to get it down.”

  “Patterned after Jeremy? I am burning to read it now.” Chloe retrieved her coffee. “Get to work and finish it. I’ll fix breakfast. Or should I say lunch?”

  “I can stop for now. No hurry.”

  “Oh, yes, there is. I can’t wait to read it. Brett Caldwell. I can’t believe it. Just imagine that.” She started from the room, then braked to a stop. “Where is Jeremy, by the way?”

  He gave her a slow grin. “He’s on the deck, learning how to crochet.”

  While Chloe made preparations for the midday meal, the reality of her discovery started to sink in. Ben was famous, she thought giddily. He was Brett Caldwell, children’s writer extraordinaire. He’d won a Newbery Medal. As she got ready to scramble eggs for sandwiches, she drew a spatula from the drawer and held it up, half expecting it to be gilded with gold.

  Ben joined her in the kitchen a few minutes later. “My concentration’s blown.” He leaned against the counter to study her. “I can’t believe you’re not mad.”

  “Nothing for me to be mad about. I can see the necessity of your using a pen name, and I also understand why you can’t be open with people about your career.” She began slicing onions and broccoli to go in the eggs.

  “Thank you for that. You’re an extraordinary lady.”

  “Trust me, I’m not the extraordinary one. You are.” She got a bowl from the cupboard to whisk the eggs. “How did you first get started? I am curious about that. You’re a vet. How does a vet, with all those years dedicated to the profession, end up telling stories?”

  “When my father died, I came home to care for my mother. Her condition was such that I couldn’t leave her alone while I worked. I thought about starting a practice here, but zoning ordinances prohibit it. So for a while, I cut firewood for a living. I could take my mother into the woods with me.”

  “And you kept the wolf from the door that way.”

  “Occasionally, he scratched to get in. Money was tight. You can’t cut wood here in the winter. The snow’s too deep. And the woods are open only part of the summer. One August afternoon, when the forests were closed to cutters due to extreme fire danger, I got bored and wrote a story about my childhood dog, Bandit.”

  “And Brett Caldwell was born.”

  “So to speak. Later, I submitted the story to a publisher. I never really expected to sell the thing or to become so successful. It just happened.”

  “Bandit.” Chloe sighed. “It’s such a beautiful story. But, then, each and every book you’ve written is beautiful, teaching kids to be kinder, wiser, and more thoughtful about the creatures around them.” For the first time, Chloe really understood what made Caldwell’s stories so incredibly special. Ben had an almost spiritual bond with animals, and that came across in his writing. “Was Bandit autobiographical?”

  “In some ways. I did have a faithful dog named Bandit, the dog did die, and he’s buried under the oak tree out back. There, truth and fiction separate. I wrote the story as I wished it had happened, with Bandit living to a ripe old age and being painlessly put down at the end. Unfortunately, my dog wasn’t that lucky. He wasn’t sick when he died, and his passing wasn’t painless. One afternoon, when my father was upset with me, he got drunk and shot him.”

  Chloe almost dropped an egg. “Oh, Ben.” She stared at him in startled amazement. His eyes had turned frosty with remembered pain, and a haunted look had settled over his dark face. She knew in that moment, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d never shared this with anyone else. The love she felt for him wasn’t one-sided. This man needed her as much as she needed him. “How horrible.”

  He sighed—a weary expulsion of breath that relaxed his shoulders. “I’ve never told anyone about that until now. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump on you.”

  Chloe turned off the gas flame and went over to hug his waist. For several minutes they just stood there, loosely wrapped in each other’s arms. “I’m just sorry your father did such a thing. How awful for you.”

  As she spoke, it sank home to Chloe that once, years ago, this man had been a boy, standing over his beloved dog’s grave, and that there had been no happy ending for him. She yearned to give him one now—a happy ending that would make up for all the sadness in his life.

  “I never got another dog until Diablo. He didn’t come along until twenty years later. Somehow, it just never felt right until then.”

  She had already determined that Ben was a man who felt things deeply. It made perfect sense that he would grieve over a dog for twenty years, especially when she thought of how the real Bandit had died. Ben must have hated his father for what he did. He might still to this day.

  Silence settled between them. Chloe held on to him, never wanting to let go.

  “Now it’s my turn to ask a question,” he said against her hair. “Why didn’t you tell me that Bobby Lee was pestering you? Was it only because I wouldn’t tell you about my job?”

  Chloe closed her eyes. “I wanted to tell you. Yesterday afternoon when we had the fight, I wanted to so badly that I ached.”

  He tensed and drew back to study her face. “And?”

  “I was afraid of what you might do. I didn’t want you to take Bobby Lee on and get in trouble.”

  He relaxed slightly. “I’m not dumb, Chloe.”

  No, she thought, but he was protective. “All’s well that ends well,” she quipped.

  “True,” he agreed. “Let’s just hope it’s over.”

  He burrowed through her curls to kiss her ear, doing fabulous things to her nerve endings. “Scared?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’d be lying to say I’m not.”

  “Me, too,” he whispered. “I’m not sure how to deal with him. He has the power of the law on his side.”

  With that thought to trouble them, they simply stood there, holding on to each other and feeling anxious together.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  A few minutes later, Jeremy dashed in from outside with a misshapen hank of yarn dangling from his hand. “Look, Mom! See what I made?”

  “What” was unidentifiable. Chloe made appropriate sounds of appreciation. “Is it for me?”

  Jeremy frowned. “What do you want it for?”

  There was a question. Thinking quickly, Chloe replied, “Well, because you made it, and I’ve always wanted one.”

  “One what?”

  Again Chloe considered carefully before answering. “One of those things.”

  Jeremy held up the bedraggled mass of variegated worsted. “Really? You mean it’s something? I thought it was only for practice.”

  Uh-oh. Chloe sent Ben an appealing look. He came to the rescue. “You made that, just practicing? Wow. That’s a fine-looking—key chain.”

  Jeremy beamed. “It is?”

  After flashing an apologetic look at Chloe, the child handed the bedraggled mess to Ben. “If you like it that much, you can have it. I’ll go make my mom another one. Pink is her favorite color, but she doesn’t wear it very much ’cause she thinks it clashes with her hair. But she could have a pink key chain.”

  After Jeremy dashed from the house, Ben gave Chloe a long look. “I think I just inherited your favorite thing.”

  She giggled. “At least we’ll have matching key
holders.”

  After lunch, Jeremy returned to the deck to practice his crochet stitches with Nan while Chloe and Ben joined forces to clean up the kitchen. They’d just finished when the phone rang. Chloe watched as Ben picked up the receiver. Her stomach bunched with anxiety when she heard him say, “Hi, Frank. We’ve been hoping you might call.”

  A long silence followed. Judging by the expressions on Ben’s face, the news wasn’t good. A few seconds later, he politely thanked Frank for trying. As he hung up the phone, Chloe said, “So, with no fuss or further ado, Bobby Lee’s going to get away with it?”

  Ben sighed. “He’s covered his ass, nine ways to hell. Frank had a private meeting with the sheriff this morning. Before going in, he went over everything and spoke with the dispatcher. On the surface, it looks as if you and Bobby Lee have a history, and last night was an attempt on your part to cause him grief.”

  “That’s so absurd.” Chloe was so angry she was shaking. “The man is dangerous, Ben. He’s going to hurt somebody. I’d just as soon it not be me or my son.”

  “Me, too.” He gestured helplessly. “Frank says Lang has a lot of other stuff on his mind right now. A local man has gone missing, a young guy about twenty-five named Jimmy Suitor. A month and a half ago, he took off to go camping. I guess he’s an outdoor enthusiast who loves to hike, and every summer, he spends a couple of weeks exploring the surrounding wilderness areas. This year he never came home. Frank says that Suitor’s never been one to hold down a job for long, so at first his mom wasn’t concerned. She just figured he’d decided to stay in the mountains longer than planned. When he was two weeks overdue, she reported him missing.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Chloe said.

  “Right after she filed the report, Frank says they searched hot and heavy—did a sweep of the area where he was supposed to be hiking. No sign of him. That was shortly after you quit your job at the department.”

  “Ah. That explains why I haven’t heard about it until now.”

  “Plus the fact that they didn’t hype it up because of Suitor’s penchant for vanishing. Everybody just figured he was off doing his own thing again. Then yesterday, a hiker came across a ball cap covered with blood.”

  “Oh, no. Was it Jimmy Suitor’s?”

  “His mother says it is. They’ve sent it off for tests. It looks like foul play, and all hell is breaking loose today. Every lunatic for a hundred miles is calling in to say they’ve seen him—or something suspicious. Frank says a case like this brings all the fruitcakes out of the woodwork. Lang is going nuts, and so is everyone else.”

  “And he really can’t afford to put Bobby Lee on suspension right now because he needs all the manpower he can get? Gotcha.”

  “I know it sounds callous. But to them, your run-in with Bobby Lee last night ranks about a two on an importance scale of one to ten.”

  “I see.”

  “Frank has nothing solid to pin on him, Chloe.”

  “I understand,” she said faintly. “Bobby Lee outsmarted me at every turn, and I got off lucky. If he tries again, I may not be so lucky. In that event, then the sheriff will be all over it.”

  Silence. Chloe immediately felt awful. “I’m sorry, Ben. I know this isn’t your fault.”

  She sat on a bar stool and pressed her face to her hands. Bobby Lee was going to get away with it, just as he had predicted. He’d threatened her life and sworn to kill her son. He would have brutally raped her if she hadn’t had a bottle of champagne in the house. And the incident was being swept under the rug.

  Ben came to stand behind her and rub her shoulders. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Sometimes our justice system totally sucks.”

  “I just don’t know what I’m going to do,” she confessed. “As long as he’s loose, I won’t draw an easy breath.”

  “I can tell you what you’re not going to do,” he said softly. “You’re not going home. You and Jeremy are safe here. I’ll feel a lot better if you stay with me on the ridge.”

  “I can’t just move in here, Ben.”

  “Why not?” He leaned around to search her face. “Are you having second thoughts about us?”

  “No. Of course not. It’s just—”

  “Just what? I’ve got plenty of room.”

  “I have a job, and all my work clothes are down there.”

  “You have three days off. We’ll go collect your clothes before you have to go back. As for going to work, for the next couple of weeks, I’ll drive you and pick you up, just to play it safe. Bobby Lee may enter the shop when you’re on shift, but I seriously doubt that he’ll dare to cause any trouble in a public place. He’d much prefer to catch you off alone. I aim to see that doesn’t happen.”

  Chloe was about to respond when the phone rang again. She tensed, believing it might be Frank calling back. Ben stepped over to the desk to pick up. Piecing together his side of the conversation, Chloe decided it wasn’t Bower on the other end of the line. Ben said something about a horse. Then he mentioned 4-H.

  “Actually, that’s never been one of my aspirations, but I appreciate the thought, and I’ll definitely consider it.” He listened for a moment. “Yeah, sure. Day after tomorrow will work. Around one? I’ll see you then.”

  After he hung up, Chloe asked, “Who was that?”

  He sent her a knowing look. “Lucy Gant. Her horse has a bum knee, and it’s become inflamed. She asked if I’d drop by and have a look.” He studied her solemnly. “It seems a certain lady at the Christmas Village has been singing my praises. Lucy stopped in one afternoon last week and got her ear bent. She’s now convinced that the town has given me a bum shake, and she just invited me to be the 4-H vet this year.”

  “Oh, Ben. That’s wonderful.”

  He fiddled with some papers on the desk. Watching him, Chloe noticed his decided lack of enthusiasm and wondered why. It seemed to her that he should be pleased. The people of Jack Pine had been unfair to him, and it was high time public sentiment underwent a change.

  When he glanced back up, he said, “I really appreciate the good word, Chloe. And I’ll honestly consider the 4-H thing. It’s just—” He broke off and smiled. “I guess I don’t have a lot of faith that anything’s really different. Lucy is only one person, a proverbial drop in the bucket. If I take her up on the 4-H thing, it’ll probably cause more upheaval and trouble for her than it’s worth.”

  “We have to start somewhere,” Chloe pointed out.

  He came back around the bar to give her a gentle kiss. “We. I like the sound of that.”

  “Me, too.”

  He cupped her chin in his hand to study her face. “You’re pale, and you have circles under your eyes. Jeremy’s busy outside with Mom, and I need to put in a couple of hours at the keyboard. Why don’t you take advantage of the lull to lie down for a while?”

  “I just got up,” Chloe protested, even though she actually did feel weary. Last night had taken more out of her than she cared to admit. At unexpected moments, she would get flashes of what had happened, and panic would claw at her insides. “If I sleep now, I’ll be awake half the night.”

  A mischievous twinkle entered his eyes. “You may be awake half the night, anyway. Rest while you have the chance.” He kissed her again, this time deeply and in a way that promised more to come. Chloe was dizzy and tingling clear to her toes when he finally came up for air. “Just as I thought. You taste like second helpings.”

  After he left the kitchen, Chloe followed his advice and returned to the room where she’d slept last night. She sank gratefully onto the daybed and closed her eyes, telling herself that she’d lie down for just a while. Within seconds, she was out like a light.

  Chloe awakened to fading sunlight. Feeling heat beside her, she turned and snuggled close, only to wrinkle her nose and crack open one eye when bad breath blasted her in the face. She was peering into a yawning mouth. Long whiskers pricked her cheek.

  “Methuselah?”

  She started awake. The old couga
r, lying on his back with his legs sprawled, arched his spine and wriggled, begging for a belly scratch. With a quick glance around, Chloe oriented herself, recalling that she’d lain down for a nap. She’d clearly been more exhausted than she thought. Judging by the angle of the sun coming in the window, she’d been asleep for several hours.

  Unable to ignore the cougar’s implicit request for petting, she sat cross-legged and spent a moment scratching the huge cat’s belly. “It would seem I’m having a love affair with more than one male in this house,” she said with a smile. “You’re not nearly as sexy as your competition.”

  Methuselah yawned. When Chloe left off petting him, he rolled toward her, planted his remaining front paw on her shoulder, and gave her a goofy, pleading look. “Two more rubs. That’s it,” Chloe said, thinking as she delivered on the promise that this could happen only at Ben Longtree’s house. “I’ve been lazing around in here long enough. It must be almost dinnertime.”

  Chloe stepped into the bathroom to brush her hair and wash the sleep from her eyes before she went to the front part of the house. She found Jeremy sitting on the living room rug, staring raptly at the oak television armoire, which Chloe had never seen open. She stepped into the room, gave the big-screen TV an admiring glance, and then bent to smooth her son’s hair.

  “Scooby Doo? Wow. How do you rate?”

  Jeremy glanced up. “Ben said he had work to do. I wanted to go with him, but he says it’s too far. So he rented me a movie on satellite.”

  “That was sweet of him.”

  “It’s an all-day one. I can watch it again for free!”

  Without taking his eyes off the television, Jeremy fished around in a bowl perched on his lap. Chloe saw that someone had fixed him a healthy array of movie snacks: apple slices, slivers of cheese, chunks of granola, and raisins.