by Tamie Dearen
With flushed cheeks and a tight jaw, Adam stood abruptly, rocking the table. Ash cried out, her stomach clenched, raising her arms and ducking her head to avoid the fray. She knew what was coming—she’d seen it so many times before. Fists would fly. Blood would flow. Voices would scream. Her body shook with tremors as the tha-thunk of her pulse pounded in her ears.
“Ash? Are you okay? Ash?”
Erin’s voice brought Ash back to reality. She dropped her arms and blinked her eyes open to find her friend’s concerned face inches away. As she surveyed the scene, she realized everyone was staring at her. Frozen and wide eyed, Adam stood beside the table, an empty plate in his hands. No one was fighting. No one was bleeding. No one was yelling. Ash gave serious consideration to crawling under the table.
“I’m... I’m sorry... I just... I feel a little faint. I think I need some fresh air.” She fled from the table, dashing to the front door.
ADAM STOOD DUMBFOUNDED as Ash bolted out the front door. He felt his mother’s searing glare before he looked her direction.
“Good job, Adam.” Her sardonic tone made it clear she was not bestowing a compliment.
“Why are you mad at me? I didn’t do anything except say I preferred her real name. I don’t know why she ran off like that.” Adam sank to the bench, rattling the silverware as he plopped his plate back on the table. Admittedly, he’d purposefully goaded Ash a little bit, but surely not enough to upset her.
“She told me you don’t like her very much.” Erin spoke in a loud whisper, as if Ash might be eavesdropping from the next room. “I tried to explain that you were just being you. I told her how you look stern and grumpy all the time, and it doesn’t mean anything.”
“I don’t look stern and grumpy all the time!”
“Uh... yeah you do.” Tristan shook his head as if he couldn’t believe Adam was denying it.
“For sure.” Elias chuckled.
“I smile plenty.” Adam insisted.
“Like now?” His twin brother Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Seriously, Bro. During the entire meal you looked like you wanted to kill somebody.”
“I was scared to death of you when we first met,” Erin confided. “But now I know you’re all bluster and no bite.”
“Thanks a lot.” Adam gritted his jaw tight until his teeth felt like they might crack.
“The truth is, that woman is... she’s... she’s irritating. She’s moved into Grammy’s house, and she plans to change everything. She has no respect for Grammy’s legacy. She wants to start some kind of fancy big city restaurant and she’s selling all the antiques.”
“Sounds like a great opportunity to get your hands on all those antiques you love so much,” his father said. “You should offer to buy them.”
“I did, but that’s not the point. Why is everyone trying so hard to be nice to her, anyway? Don’t you see? She’s stealing the family’s heritage.”
“She most certainly is not. Ash owns the house now, and it’s hers to do with as she pleases.” Donna furrowed her brows in her disapproving mom frown. “It’s not like that house was the original Scott home. You know it was built in the 1950’s.”
“It’s still a replica of the original,” Adam insisted, nursing his anger. “Like I said before she got here, I think Grammy’s house should have stayed in the family, and that’s all there is to it.”
His parents’ expressions told him he was treading on thin ice, but he couldn’t understand why they weren’t taking his side on this issue.
“Grammy had her reasons for not leaving the house to us, and if it makes you feel any better, your father and I knew all about it.” Donna folded her arms across her chest. “What’s done is done, and the important thing now is to welcome a newcomer to Romance in the same spirit your grandmother would have done. That’s how you should honor Grammy’s legacy.”
Adam took a deep breath and blew it out, deciding to drop the subject for the moment, since he wasn’t making headway.
“I still don’t understand why Ash would react like that and run off like she did. Women are strange, sometimes.” Mark rubbed his neatly trimmed beard, looking toward his wife for an explanation.
“Obviously, she thought the two of you were going to start fighting.” Donna pushed her chair back and stood up, slamming her hands onto her hips.
A brick thudded into Adam’s belly. “You honestly believe Ash thought I was going to hit Dad?”
“I certainly do.” She emphasized her words with a sharp nod. “Mark, didn’t you see how she flinched and held up her arms in defense? We used to see that all the time when we were working overseas at the women’s shelter.”
“You’re right.” Mark squinted, as if trying to bring back an old memory. “It’s been so long, I’d forgotten about that.”
Adam’s anger at Ash melted away, replaced with fury at himself. How could he be so insensitive? So caught up in his own frustrations that he frightened a sweet, innocent women? The thought that someone might have abused her made his hands tighten into fists, and he wanted to thrash the man responsible.
“I’ll go talk to her.” Adam almost fell off the bench in his hurry to get up.
“But she’s already scared of you,” Erin said in a small voice. “Maybe I should go instead.”
“I’m not going to frighten her.” Adam ground out the words. When his sister-in-law cringed, he realized he’d have to be more careful when he spoke to Ash. He forced a smile on his face. “See? I can look pleasant.”
“You look like the big bad wolf before he ate Goldilocks.” His twin brother threw his head back, laughing.
Adam stomped to the front door and snatched his coat off the hook, ignoring the hilarity behind him. As he reached for the knob, he felt a hand on his arm.
“Adam, let me talk to you, first.”
Prepared to defend his right to go after Ash, he turned back toward his mother. But her eyes were filled with tears, so he simply nodded, stepping outside for privacy.
“Adam, you’re the most selfless person I know. But...”
“But?”
“But you’re a bit of a perfectionist. And sometimes, you just think too much—you think yourself right out of the opportunity to have a relationship.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Her eyebrows arched high on her forehead. “When you were a seven-year-old boy in Romania, you convinced yourself that you were the reason no one had adopted the four of you. You were so certain no one could love you—just because of a limp you can barely see—that you told your caretakers to find a home for your three brothers without you. You were going to sacrifice yourself for your brothers.”
He swallowed a thick lump. After all these years, he could still remember feeling responsible for his brothers’ futures.
“I was just a silly kid. Anyway, you and Dad adopted all four of us despite my efforts.”
“Yes, but your brothers accepted our unconditional love easily, while we had to work for years to get you to believe it. You were so certain you didn’t deserve to be loved.”
He put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her into a hug. “I’m sorry, Mom. No parents could have been more patient and loving. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m not asking for an apology, you thick-headed man.” She hugged him back before pushing away. “I think you’re still trying to earn our love. Why else did you become the mayor of Romance before you turned thirty years old? Not that everyone wasn’t thrilled when you volunteered, but we usually get some old retired man to fill the spot. It’s not like you get paid anything for it.”
“You and Dad and Grammy and this whole town accepted me and my brothers as if we’d been born here. I owe it to you and everyone else to pay back that debt.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t owe anyone anything. So stop making every single decision in your life based on whether or not you’re being faithful to Romance, Oregon.”
“But Mom... you love Romance—I know you do.
It’s your heritage, so it’s my heritage too. I just want to make you happy.”
“You know what would make me happy? Really happy?”
He’d thought so, but now he had his doubts. He shook his head.
“For you to be happy—nothing makes a mother happier than to see her children happy.”
“I am happy. Just because I don’t smile as much as Daniel doesn’t mean—”
“I think you might be happy, but you can’t possibly know. For instance... Do you really like antiques? Or did you open an antique shop because your dad likes to restore antiques?”
“I love antiques... and woodworking.” Even as he spoke the words, a niggling doubt entered his mind.
“Adam, I never said anything when you were dating Darla, but... were you actually in love with her?”
“Of course I was. How can you ask that?”
“I’m asking because she asked me.”
“What? She knew I loved her. I told her all the time. I bought a ranch for her. We planned our family together, for heaven’s sake! What did Darla say to you?”
His mother’s lips turned down, and she reached out her hand, as if to soften the blow that was coming. “Only that she thought you were in love with the idea of being married to her instead of being in love with her. You were always talking about having a family with her and how great it would be to raise your kids in Romance.”
“We were getting married. Of course I wanted to have kids with her.” Adam felt like screaming. He’d done everything to please Darla, but nothing seemed to work.
“Yes, but you had a box in your mind, and you wanted to fit her into it—as your wife and the mother of your children.”
“I thought she wanted to be my wife and the mother of my children.” He let out a bitter laugh. “But then I found out she didn’t love me at all.”
“No, Sweetheart, Darla loved you.” She shook her head, her mouth pressed into something between a grimace and a forced smile. “She loved you too much to saddle you with a loveless marriage.”
“I don’t get it, Mom. What are you trying to say?”
“Just that Darla loved you with all her heart and wanted you to love her the same way. But she couldn’t compete with all your lofty life goals. And honestly, Adam, neither can you.”
“You’re not making any sense. What do you expect me to do? Track Darla down in Portland and try again?”
“Adam... Darla’s engaged. She’s getting married in a few weeks.”
“Oh.” He waited to feel the hurt and jealousy that ought to follow her announcement, but nothing came. “I’m happy for her.”
“I am, too. She deserves to love and be loved, and so do you.”
The light dawned. “So you’re telling me I should date Ash? Is that what this is about?”
“Goodness, no! That would be more of the same. More of you trying to do the right thing—the perfect thing. More of you trying to love the right person that you chose by ticking off a list of qualifications. I don’t want you to date Ash—I want you to stop judging her. She can’t live up to your perfectionist standards any more than Darla could. No one could.” She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. “I know the two of you got off on the wrong foot, but I want you to be nice to her. Treat her like family.”
“Like family?”
“Yes, like family.” She paused, chewing on her lower lip. “Something tells me Ash could really use a family right now.”
Chapter Five
HOW ASH WISHED SHE’D left her purse in the car so she could escape without returning inside. What must they think of her, acting so strangely? She certainly couldn’t tell them about her true identity now.
Glad she’d fought her penchant for height-boosting heels, opting for jeans and comfy flats, she scurried down the driveway, anxious to put some distance between her and a humiliating situation. At least it wasn’t dark yet, though heavy clouds hid the setting sun. She decided a short walk down the deserted country lane would give her time to formulate a story. Besides, the air smelled good here compared to New York City, a wonder she hoped never to take for granted.
Perhaps she could use elements of the truth to justify her reaction without lying or revealing the violence in her past. She tried to formulate a reasonable explanation.
What if she claimed she thought she’d seen a wasp? It was a pretty good excuse. But it was also an out-and-out lie. She would never be able to pull it off with a straight face.
Could she blame it on a hot flash? Honestly, she had felt a little warm while sitting at the table, but weren’t hot flashes an old lady thing?
Though threatening dark clouds loomed in the sky, she continued to walk, glancing over her shoulder. As the wind picked up, she shivered, having also left her jacket in the house, but she was more concerned about making a poor impression on her newly-discovered family than a few chill bumps. What could she say when they questioned her?
She could say she’d watched too many R-rated movies. That seemed to be a fairly plausible explanation and could technically be true.
“Hey!” A male voice called out, and she heard the rapid thump of footsteps gaining on her. “Ash! Wait up!”
She recognized Adam’s voice. She thought someone might eventually come after her, but why did it have to be him? Why not Erin? Or even Donna?
“Ash?”
The pounding feet caught up to her, and she saw his big boots fall in step beside her. Actually, with her short legs, she was taking almost two strides to his one.
He leaned forward to look at her face, and she was glad of the cold air to excuse her cheeks, which were most likely glowing red.
“I want to apologize for frightening you.”
It was hard not to forgive him when his expression was so earnest, especially since he hadn’t done anything wrong. How could he have known a simple act like standing up from the table would make her go into panic mode? It wasn’t his fault she had some sort of family life PTSD.
“Oh, you don’t need to apologize at all. It’s just me. You see...” She cleared her throat. “I’ve been watching too many R-rated movies lately. Scary ones.”
“Scary movies?”
“Yep. They make me totally jumpy.”
“Which ones?”
“Huh?”
“I’m wondering which movies you saw.”
“Oh... uhmm...” Her mind went blank. She was pretty certain she’d seen a few R-rated movies in the past six months or so, but she couldn’t think of a single one. How can I change the subject? “I’m so terrible with names... That Derby Pie was awesome, wasn’t it? You’re so lucky to have a mom who can cook like that.”
“Your mom doesn’t cook?”
Oops! Wrong subject. “I don’t know any moms who cook like yours. The whole meal was fantastic. I’m a pretty good judge since I’m a trained chef.”
“So you went to chef school?”
Whew! Finally on safe ground. “I graduated from the New York City Culinary Institute.”
She made the mistake of looking at him. Darn those penetrating eyes of his. They would peer right into her soul if she weren’t careful. His mouth curved in a smile, and she realized he had a nice one, though she hadn’t seen it often. White, even teeth stood out against his tanned skin, with a dusting of five-o’clock shadow. Two deep dimples appeared, and her heart sped up. An involuntary shiver rippled down her spine.
His smile disappeared as his heavy brows folded. “You’re cold.”
It was a statement of fact, not a question, and Adam didn’t seem very pleased about it.
“I’m okay. I don’t mind a little cold air.”
But he was already taking his jacket off and slipping it over her shoulders. It was warm and smelled of him—a mix of soap and after-shave and Adam that made her feel tingly all over. Once again, she reminded herself Adam was off-limits. He was her cousin. That he was unaware of the fact didn’t make it any less true.
“Thanks, but won’t you be cold
now?”
He shrugged, his mouth twisting into a lopsided grin. “Like I said before, comfort is highly overrated.”
“Yeah, but this coat is kind of trendy, isn’t it? Maybe I shouldn’t wear it.”
“It looks good on you.” His eyes swept up and down her body, and she tugged the coat tighter, as if he could see under her bulky layers. Then he glanced up at the stormy sky.
“Let’s go back and get you inside before it starts raining.” His arm went around her shoulder, guiding her steps in a tight 180 degree circle.
Why didn’t his bossiness bother her? She usually flew off the handle if anyone tried to make a decision for her. Nobody told her what to do. Yet for some reason, his actions made her feel safe and cared for—a totally foreign sensation.
They took a few steps before he jerked his arm back, cramming his hand into his pocket. An awkward silence followed. What was he thinking? Why was he suddenly being so nice to her when he’d obviously been angry during dinner? Did he suspect she’d been abused? Did he pity her now? Did he think she was a freak? This hadn’t been her plan when she agreed to come to dinner with her unsuspecting family. She’d wanted to come and learn about them and try to make a good impression. She’d hoped to find a way to fit in, something to contribute. But she had nothing of value to offer this well-adjusted convivial group. Her mere presence at dinner had caused a battle between Adam and his parents, and she felt terrible about it.
A vivid memory flooded her brain, her ten-year-old self watching out the front window of their trailer home when her current dad was due home. She could tell from the way he drove how the evening would progress. If he pulled in and parked in a calm fashion, things were likely to be relatively peaceful. But if he turned in fast, spraying gravel, and slammed the door when he got out, she would run and hide in her closet, trying her best to stay out of sight until the next day when he had slept it off.
Her role in every home was always that of peacemaker. With each new father she worked hard, stayed quiet, and suppressed her thoughts and feelings, in order to keep everyone on an even keel. But invariably, she would slip and say the wrong thing, setting him off like a bomb, especially if he’d had a few beers. Her foster homes had been less physically violent, but she learned to be invisible to avoid constant verbal abuse.