“I think we just passed it.”
She glanced behind her, but didn’t see a sign. “All right, we’ll find it. You and Noah go on in, and we’ll be in when we’re done. We won’t be long.” She gave Sophie’s hand a squeeze. “Will we?”
Sophie shook her head, and they turned back down the hall. By the time they found the restroom, Garrett and Noah had already entered the theater.
It didn’t take Sophie long, and they were out in the hallway again within minutes. “It’s old in here,” Sophie said, sniffing, as they started back down the long hallway.
The building was a bit musty, but Libby didn’t mind. “It’s very old,” she told Sophie. “They used to have fancy plays and operas and all kinds of things here.”
“What’s an opera?”
Libby tried to think of an explanation Sophie might understand. “Have you ever been to a play where people are on a stage, and there’s a story? Kind of like a movie, but with real people.” When Sophie shook her head, Libby tried again. “It’s where people sing a story.”
“Oh.”
Libby was fairly certain Sophie still didn’t have an idea of what an opera was like or even a play. “Maybe someday we can all go to one.”
“I like the zoo,” Sophie offered, as they stopped at a set of huge double doors at the end of the wide hall.
Libby smiled at her as she reached for the door. “Maybe we can do that in the spring.”
Pulling the heavy door open, she held it for Sophie, and then followed her, making sure the door didn’t bang closed. The huge theater was more than half full, but quiet for the number of people in it. She looked around for Garrett and her son, and finally found them hurrying up the side aisle toward her and Sophie.
“What’s going on?” she whispered, when she noticed everyone was watching them.
“Come with us.” Garrett took Sophie’s hand, and led them toward the large stage.
Libby nearly jumped when a microphone screeched feedback, and then the mayor of Desperation spoke. “We’re glad you and your son could join us, Libby.”
She stared at him, unable to speak. Garrett took her hand and helped her climb the steps to the stage and accompanied her across it to where the mayor was standing at the microphone.
She looked at Garrett, who nodded and smiled, then she looked at the mayor. Inside she was quaking, and she prayed her knees would hold her. “Th-thank you,” she finally answered.
“There isn’t a person in or around Desperation who didn’t hear about the fire that destroyed your home and your belongings,” the mayor continued, “and every one of them wanted to help in some way.”
Her mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out as she looked out at what seemed to be a sea of people. “I—I don’t know what to say,” she managed.
The mayor’s deep chuckle rumbled through the theater. “We don’t expect you to say anything, just accept this—” He turned to Mike Stacy, who was walking onto the stage from behind the curtain, with a large piece of cardboard. “Thank you, Mike,” the mayor finished and took the cardboard from him. “Libby, we want you to have this check for five thousand dollars, with more promised in the next few days. Hopefully this will get you back on your feet and able to provide the things you and your son need now and in the near future.”
Libby, unable to speak, felt the wet tears slide down her cheeks as she nodded. Her vision blurred as she glanced at Garrett, whose warm smile bathed her in a feeling she’d forgotten. She suddenly realized that throughout everything she’d been through since she’d moved to Desperation, the one thing she’d tried not to do had happened. She was in love with Garrett Miles. All she knew was that she couldn’t let that happen, but at that moment she didn’t know how to stop it.
Chapter Eight
“We’ll have her back this evening,” Paige promised as she hustled Sophie out the front door.
Garrett followed them and waved goodbye to his daughter from the porch. “Be good for your Aunt Paige, Sophie, and don’t wear out Uncle Tucker,” he called.
With a sigh as they drove away, he went back inside and closed the door. Before he could walk to the other side of the room, the doorbell rang.
“Tell him I’ll be there in a sec,” Noah shouted from the direction of Garrett’s office at the end of the hall. “See ya later, Mom,” he added, passing the door to the room Sophie and Libby shared.
“Mind your manners,” she called after him. “And have a good time.”
Garrett moved back quickly as Noah brushed by him, answering Libby. “I will.”
The boy was out the door in a flash, and Garrett had to silence a laugh. Noah had wanted to go out to the Bent Tree Boys Ranch to visit his friend Kirby MacGregor, but his mother had a protective streak where he was concerned and wasn’t eager to allow the visit.
When Noah had told him in confidence that there were times when a guy needed to spend time with his friends, without his mother, it had been all Garrett could do to keep a straight face. Libby had been hesitant to let Noah spend the day with Kirby, Mac and Nikki MacGregor’s adopted son, until Garrett realized it was because of the boys at the Bent Tree Boys Ranch. He’d reminded her that the boys were under Mac and Nikki’s care. Jules O’Brien had built the ranch for boys who had slipped through the cracks of the justice system and needed someone who believed in them. That’s all it had taken for Libby to give Noah the okay to visit Kirby.
With both children gone for the day, the house seemed strangely quiet. It had only been ten days since he’d convinced Libby to stay at his house after the fire, but in those ten days, the four of them had settled into a comfortable routine.
Or at least he thought they were settled. Sitting in the living room, watching a football game with the sound muted, while he worked, he could hear Libby moving in the bedroom she shared with Sophie. Every now and then, the door would open, and then quietly close with a soft click. It was beginning to get on his nerves, but he kept himself from saying anything.
When he realized he’d read the same paragraph four times and had completely forgotten about the game, he blew out a breath and counted to five. “Libby,” he called, when he reached six, “why don’t you come out here?”
He heard the door open, and then she answered, “I’m busy.”
“Doing what?”
There was a moment of silence, and then the sound of the door closing. Within seconds, it opened again. “I need to get a drink of water. Or something,” she explained as she headed in the direction of the kitchen.
Having had enough of whatever was bothering her, and feeling a little out of kilter himself, he stood and went to the foyer closet and pulled out his tweed jacket and a heavy sweater. “Come on,” he called to her, following her to the kitchen.
He found her at the sink, looking out the window, but she jumped and spun around when he spoke. “What?”
“Let’s take a walk. You’re driving me crazy with whatever is bothering you, and a little exercise wouldn’t hurt either of us.”
“Oh. Well…”
He stepped into the kitchen and held out the sweater. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
She hesitated, then finally sighed and took the sweater, but without looking at him. “Is it cold out?”
“Not very,” he answered, making sure she walked in the direction of the door. “It was warm and sunny earlier, but I think some clouds rolled in, and now it’s a bit overcast.”
He looked down at her as he reached for the door-knob. Her furrowed brow and the gnawing of her lower lip were proof of her hesitancy, but she surprised him and walked outside when he opened the door.
He looked at the gray clouds hanging low in the sky. “Good walking weather.”
“Is it?”
“Better than snow,” he said with a grin.
The hint of a smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “Or hundred degree temps.”
“Or sixty mile an hour winds.”
The rest of her smile was slow
but bright, and she seemed to relax as they stepped off the porch. “I get your point. Are you a walker, then?”
He nodded. “A runner, really. Or was, until we started sharing the child care.” He sneaked a look at her to see what her reaction was and found her expression was hard to read.
“I feel like I should be apologizing,” she said slowly, then glanced up at him. “But it wasn’t my idea to share.”
“Exactly, so no apologies necessary. I can always use my lunch hour if I want to get back to it.”
“Do you?”
“Want to get back to it?” he asked. When she nodded, he didn’t answer immediately. “Until now, I hadn’t really thought about it, but, yeah, I think I might. What about you?”
They’d come to the corner, and she shook her head. “I’ll pass,” she said, as he steered them to the right. “I get enough walking at work.”
They came to the end of another block, this time without speaking. It was one of those times that he didn’t feel words were needed. He had his own thoughts to mull over and assumed she did, too.
“But you know…”
He looked at her. “What?”
She started to go on, then stopped and shook her head, a spot of pink glowing on each cheek. “Nothing.”
“No, what?”
“Nothing, really.”
“You had a thought. Are you afraid to share it?”
She stopped and turned, looking up at him. “Why would I be afraid?”
His heartbeat kicked up a notch as he gazed down at her. “That’s a very good question. Why would you be?”
She didn’t answer and instead turned to continue walking. The silence had been easy between them, but now he felt her drawing away. He’d learned that asking too much would cause her to close some invisible door, and she’d find a way to put distance—physical distance—between them. So instead of saying anything, he led her toward the outskirts of town, to the Commune, where Hettie had told her there might soon be an apartment open that she could rent.
“I’ve never been by here,” Libby said, when he explained where they were. “It’s…”
“Great?”
She turned to him and chuckled. “Well, that’s one word, but not exactly what I was thinking.” When she turned back, he heard her whisper, “Wow.”
“You won’t even have to cook.”
“Really?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.
“Freda does all the cooking.”
“And who is Freda?”
He explained the story he’d been told of how Morgan’s uncle, Ernie Dolan, had met Freda years before during his travels in Sweden, and how she’d longed to come to America. He brought her back to the States, and she settled in New York. Later, when Hettie decided to reinvent her stately family home, she’d given the task of overseeing Shadydrive to Ernie, and he brought Freda to Desperation as the official Commune cook.
“So Sheriff Rule is a native of Desperation?” she asked.
Garrett shook his head. He knew the story of how Morgan had come to town after his partner on the police force in Miami had been killed during a drive-by shooting. “That story is for another time. So what do you think of the place?” he asked, nodding at the three-story mansion.
“It’s beautiful,” she answered, just as the sky opened up and let loose with a drenching rain. Instead of hurrying to the big house in front of them, she turned her face up, the rain pelting her.
He flipped up the collar of his jacket at the sudden wet chill and took her arm. “Let’s get out of this,” he said, intending to take her to a drier spot, wherever that might be.
Instead, she shook her head. “I won’t melt.”
“You’re getting soaked.”
She moved to look at him, a smile lighting her face. “I won’t melt, Garrett,” she said again. “I’m not made of sugar.”
He was certain she’d lost her mind, and he slipped an arm around her waist, intending to lead her to shelter. “You could catch a cold or something. Let’s find a dry spot to wait this out.”
But instead of allowing him to lead her away, she turned to face him. “You aren’t afraid of a little rain, are you?”
“Not in the least, if you aren’t.” Wrapping her in both arms, he spun around in a circle. “Now who’s afraid?” he teased.
She tipped her head back, laughing as they spun, then suddenly she pulled out of his grasp and took off running. “Wait!” he shouted, but she didn’t even slow down. All he could do was wonder what had gotten into her and follow as she picked up speed.
They were only a few blocks from home, when he’d had enough. He’d caught up with her and, reaching out, took her arm and turned her around to face him.
“Talk to me, Libby,” he said, looking into the depths of her amber eyes. “What is it?” he whispered, afraid he would scare her away.
“It’s nothing,” she answered, and tried to break free, but he held her tight.
When he turned her face with one finger so he could look into her eyes again, he saw the sparkle of tears. Cupping her cheek with one hand, he pulled her closer with his other. “Won’t you let me help?”
Her sigh seemed to come from the depths of her, but she didn’t look away. Tears mixed with raindrops as they made a path down her cheek, and then her eyes slowly drifted shut. Without thinking, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. He felt her start to pull away, and then she seemed to fold herself into him.
“YOU BETTER GET OUT OF THOSE wet clothes, and I’ll get a fire started.”
With her teeth chattering from the cold and feeling too stunned to speak, Libby silently passed Garrett and went through the front door he held open. She couldn’t believe she’d let him kiss her. No. It was more than that. She’d participated. She’d kissed him back! What had she been thinking?
Finally in the privacy of the room she shared with Sophie, she stripped out of her wet clothes and pulled one of the extra blankets from the closet, wrapping herself in it. Still shivering and unable to stop, she sat on the edge of the bed and dropped her head to her hands. Nothing made sense.
She had obviously gone insane, she decided. The fire at her duplex had been too much, and she must have reached a breaking point, standing out there in the rain. Yes, she’d admitted to herself that she was in love with Garrett, but she had more common sense than to let herself get swept away. Or she’d thought she did.
She hadn’t had any common sense when she married Eric, but he’d swept her off her feet and treated her like a princess. Her parents had been thrilled when he proposed. After all, the Cabrera family owned the biggest real estate business in Phoenix and, to her family, it was a step up from even their country club world in Tucson. Libby had never wanted for anything as a child, and she certainly wouldn’t as Eric Cabrera’s wife. Everyone was excited and happy.
If only they knew. But they didn’t. She hadn’t told anyone the first time he’d hit her. After that, it became her dark secret. The trips to the hospital, the dislocated jaw, the broken rib, the knife he’d used to slice into her—just enough to make her bleed, he’d said. She’d never even told Suze, who’d been her friend since college. The only person who knew was Noah, and she prayed that he’d been young enough to have forgotten what he’d seen. Eric had been careful, never leaving marks that could be easily noticed, and rarely did he do anything when Noah was present. But she feared there had been a time or maybe two when Noah had seen.
Water dripped from her hair, bringing Libby back to the present. She went for a towel, making certain she was quiet. Returning to the bedroom, she reached to the back of the high shelf in the closet and nearly lost her balance. With her fingertips, she finally found the shoebox that had been hidden in the wheel well of her car and eased it forward, until she could grab it.
Sinking to the floor, she opened the box and pulled out the disposable cell phone. She stared at it, wondering if this would be her undoing. She hadn’t spoken to her parents since she and Noah had left
Phoenix. There was no doubt in her mind that they were worried. She was their baby, younger by nine years than her brother. He had come along fairly late in their parents’ lives, and Libby even later. Her parents deserved to know that she and Noah were all right.
But she had to be careful. She had to make sure the call wouldn’t be traced, in case Eric was having their phone tapped. Pressing the code to hide any information she possibly could, she then punched in the familiar number. After five rings, someone picked up.
“Hello?”
Libby closed her eyes and breathed a silent sigh. Just hearing her mother’s voice helped to calm her. “Mom? It’s me.”
“Lauren? Oh, dear! Is it really you? Honey, come here, it’s our Lauren.”
“I only have a second, Mom. I just want you to know that Noah and I are fine.”
“But where are you? When are you coming home?”
Libby ignored the questions. “You have to promise me something, Mom. You and Daddy both.”
“Promise? Promise what?”
“Just say you’ll promise.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Whatever. Anything.”
In her mind, Libby could see her mother holding the phone, her father nearby and the frantic looks between them. “Promise that you won’t tell anyone—not anyone—that I called.”
“But what about—”
“Not anyone.”
“All right, I promise. We both do. But—”
“Goodbye, Mom. I love you, and Daddy, too. Tell him that.” Slowly, she pushed the button and disconnected the call.
She tried not to think that she might have done the wrong thing. If she could trust them not to contact Eric, she would go home, but she couldn’t. They thought the world of him, and they’d never accept the truth if she told them. It was better this way.
A hot shower followed in the hope it would chase the chill that had settled into her, and the hot spray helped clear her mind, if not warm her soul. After slipping into some soft, comfy sweats, she dried her hair and tried not to think of what she needed to say to Garrett.
She’d known since the apartment fire that she couldn’t stay in Desperation much longer. She might love Garrett, but she was damaged goods, and nothing would come of any kind of relationship with him or with anyone. The outside scars were hidden so others couldn’t see, but it was the inside ones that would eventually betray her. She could never again trust her own judgment. And Eric would never allow another man in her life, of that she was certain. Leaving Desperation was her only option.
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