by Helen Conrad
Carly laughed. “Of course they did.” She leaned over and gave Jeremy a quick hug. “And so did the grouchy old bear,” she teased him.
She almost got a smile. His little shoulders stayed stiff with her hug, but at least he didn’t pull away as he had the first day or so she’d been here.
It had been seven days since she’d arrived—seven days full of hard work and learning something new about kids—and herself—every moment. In a funny way she was beginning to feel at home.
“Off to bed with you,” she told Jeremy, giving him a nudge to get him started toward his own room. “Tomorrow we’re going to make the bus without having to run for it.”
“For the first time,” murmured Beth, already half asleep.
“For the first time,” Carly agreed, smiling down at her precious face. “Good night, sweetheart.”
She bent down to kiss Beth’s cheek, and as she rose and turned she realized Joe was in the doorway, watching. She started, as though she’d been doing something wrong. But she hadn’t been, darn it. She was getting sick of the way he kept her off balance all the time.
She straightened, making herself as tall as possible, forcing a calm and cool facade she had to manufacture out of thin air. “Oh look, Beth. Your daddy is here to kiss you good-night.”
She stood back as Joe went to his daughter and gathered her up into his arms, murmuring endearments, cherishing her. Carly watched for a moment, surprising herself when she realized a lump was threatening in her throat. She wasn’t sure if she were yearning for the father’s love she had been without for so many years or touched by the affection Joe didn’t try to hide. Either way, she felt like an interloper, and she left the room quickly, stopping by Jeremy’s room to tuck him in.
“Good night, tiger,” she said. She didn’t dare try to kiss him, but she ruffled the hair on top of his head and smiled down at him.
He looked up but didn’t smile. “Good night,” he said.
She hesitated, watching as he closed his eyes and pulled his teddy bear closer. He was such a beautiful child, but he worked so hard at keeping the world at arm’s length.
She’d talked with the others about him. Phyllis said he was just going through a stage. Millie said he had been traumatized when he lost his mother. Therapy, she suggested. She’d been trying to get Joe to take him to a therapist for months.
“Therapy?” Joe had snorted when she’d raised the idea with him. “Jeremy doesn’t need therapy. He’s no nut case. He’s doing fine.”
That was where Joe was wrong. The boy was not doing fine. Carly wished with all her heart she knew what she could do to change things around for him. Her instincts told her that love would do the trick. But how could it help if he wouldn’t let her close enough to love him?
Joe was coming down the hall toward his son’s room. She turned, blew Jeremy a kiss, and went the other way so as not to have to face Joe again.
Avoiding Joe—that was one of the main things she did all day. And yet, at the same time, she always seemed to be finding excuses to be near him. It was crazy. Insane. She didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand herself. Funny, before she’d run from Mark and come back to California, life had really seemed so simple. She’d come here to give herself time to clear up just a few things, and instead a thousand new dilemmas had developed. Wouldn’t it be great just to go back to simple?
But even more than that, what she wished more than anything else in the world was that she could read the emotions behind those dark eyes of Joe’s. What was he thinking? She had no idea.
She went downstairs to the kitchen and spent some time straightening things, wiping down the counter, and setting out the toaster and frying pan for breakfast. She was getting used to the routine. To her surprise, work like this, and planting flowers in the garden and interacting with the kids, was taking up her days and leaving her hardly any time at all for thinking things through. After seven days, she was already settling in. Who would have believed this city girl would feel so comfortable here?
She heard Joe coming down the stairs but didn’t think twice about it. He usually went into the den and watched the news or read for awhile before going to bed. So she was surprised when he came into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Turning, she gave him an uncertain smile.
“Can I have another piece of that cherry pie?” he asked.
All wariness fell away. “You like the pie?” she asked with ill-concealed delight. It was her first pie-making attempt and she was proud of it. She’d only had to call Millie once for advice on how thin to roll the dough for the crust.
“It’s pretty good,” he allowed, his dark eyes soft and accessible.
This time her smile was genuine. “Okay. For that, you can have all the pie you want.”
She cut him a thick slice and sat down across from him to watch him eat, chattering with more exhilaration than nervousness. He responded in kind. They were feeling free and easy together for a change. She liked that.
He ate a few bites and she watched, content in his pleasure. When he looked up and met her eyes, he smiled.
“You’ve been working real hard, Carly,” he commented. “I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“I’ve been enjoying it,” she told him.
“Really?” He searched her face as though he couldn’t quite see how that could be true.
“Really,” she assured him. “It’s so different from what I’m used to. It’s kind of like a businessman taking a vacation on a dude ranch, don’t you think? Total immersion in a foreign culture.”
He laughed. “Kind of, I guess. So that makes you the greenhorn dude...”
“And you the crusty old cowboy.”
They grinned at one another, and just when Carly was congratulating herself on how nice and friendly they were keeping it, making sure not to let that electric charge develop between them, it happened again, just zinged out of nowhere, and she was shivering inside once more, just as always.
She looked away quickly, so he wouldn’t see. She didn’t think he noticed. He was saying, “Still, don’t work yourself too hard. You ought to take some time off now and then.”
She nodded, tracing her thumbnail along the pattern in the tablecloth. She could keep her equilibrium if she tried hard enough. Just block it out, she told herself. Ignore it, and it will surely go away. She took a deep breath and looked up at him, steeling herself. “I am, actually. In fact, I’m going to need to take some time off tomorrow,” she told him, hoping he didn’t notice that she was looking at his left ear instead of into his eyes.
But he wasn’t noticing things like that. Her words had caught his attention. “Tomorrow?” His fork poised in the air.
“Yes. I want to go into town and talk to some people who might know something about my father.”
He took another bite in silence. She could tell it troubled him. “Why do you want to do that?” he asked at last. “I thought that wasn’t really in your plans.” He frowned, putting down the fork. “I thought you said you’d come here to get your head together so you could go back and marry that guy who loves you.”
She stared at him, surprised by his reaction. Why did he care? After all, she was just going into town to talk to a few people. It was true that when she’d first arrived she’d claimed to have no interest in finding her father. At that time, she’d actually believed it herself. But things had changed. She had changed. She was busy changing every minute. Wasn’t that what life was all about?
“That’s true,” she answered him slowly. “But the more I’ve been thinking about it the more I’ve come to realize that finding out about my father, who he was, why my mother left him, where he’s gone, is all part of what I need to do to put myself together.”
Joe shook his head, avoiding her eyes. She couldn’t see his face fully, but she had the feeling that he was upset.
“That’s hogwash,” he said shortly, wiping his mouth with the napkin. “It’s all old news. Old histor
y has nothing to do with you anymore. Live for today.” He turned and stared at her. “You should go on from here and forget the past. Don’t wallow in that sort of thing. It won’t do you any good.’’
Now he was really beginning to annoy her. This was hardly any of his business in the first place, and she didn’t like being second-guessed this way about her own feelings and her needs. She leaned forward and said her piece with conviction.
“How can I forget the past? How can anyone? The past is part of what you are today. The past is part of what makes your present.”
He leaned closer, too, facing her across the table. “Not if you don’t want it to,” he said, his eyes hard as glass, his voice almost fierce. “It’s up to you.”
She shook her head slowly, staring at him, wondering what he was really talking about, her search for her father or his loss of his wife. Still, she couldn’t back down just because he might be trying to rationalize his own pain into oblivion. She wasn’t him. He might be trying to hide from his past. She knew she’d been hiding much too long. It was time to open the vaults and see what she could find there.
“You can’t wish the past away,” she told him evenly.
His head came up at that, his gaze challenging. “I can.”
Well, maybe he could. But she didn’t think so. Did he really think he was fooling anyone with those smoky dark eyes? Her heart went out to him, but she couldn’t back down. She couldn’t pretend to agree with something so patently incorrect. Still, he wasn’t going to agree with her either. Changing the subject would be better than going on with this. Looking away, she let her gaze travel around the kitchen, trying to think of something that would put them back on that friendly footing they’d started out on.
“You know what I would like to do?” she said as casually as she was able. “Put new wallpaper up in this room.”
“Wallpaper?” He looked startled. He probably thought she was a little loony. But at least he had his mind on something new. “Why?” he asked.
She hesitated. It was all very well to change subjects, but if she really wanted to win on this issue she knew she should have waited for a better time to bring it up. She should have waited until he was in a better mood. But what the heck. She couldn’t walk on eggshells with him all the time. He certainly wasn’t walking on eggshells with her.
“Because the room needs it,” she said firmly. “This old flowered pattern was great about ten years ago, but you need something fresh and a little more colorful to liven up this room.”
He looked from the cupboards to the wall with its copper forms and flowers, looking at a loss about how to understand how she could possibly say such silly things. “No, absolutely not.” He frowned. “This is supposed to be a country kitchen, and that’s what it looks like. Leave the wallpaper alone.”
His wife again? Was this her favorite room, her choice of print? Somehow she didn’t really think that was it. But maybe she was wrong. His face looked hard. She felt suddenly cold. She shouldn’t have said those things. She shouldn’t mess with his past. What did she know about it, after all? What right did she have to bring up things that might hurt him? She really ought to learn to keep her silence.
But what he had just said about the wallpaper sank in. She looked at him from beneath her lashes and shook her head slowly. She knew she ought to keep quiet, but she just couldn’t let him get away with it.
“So you won’t let me change this old wallpaper?” she asked.
He didn’t say anything, but he shook his head.
“What’s the matter?” she said quietly, looking him straight in the eye. “Can’t let go of this old remnant of your past?”
He blinked, then glared at her, but the effect was ruined by the flash of amusement that edged the expression in his eyes. That was one good thing about him. He had a sense of humor. And he knew right away when she had him cornered. Coughing to save a little time, he put on a look of innocence that couldn’t have fooled a kitten. “That’s not it at all.”
“Oh no?” She smiled, feeling smug. “Why else would you be so set in your ways?”
His shoulders went back in astonishment. “Set in my ways? You don’t know me at all. I’m a freethinker. I’m open to change.” He hid an imminent grin in a twist of his wide mouth. “I hired you on, didn’t I?”
She laughed. Their eyes met. She felt something lurch in her chest and the laughter died. It was definitely time for her to go to her room. Rising, she put his half-eaten piece of pie in the fridge and turned toward the door.
“I think I’ll go and-“
Before she had a chance to make a clean getaway, he reached out and caught her, his fingers circling her wrist. “Sit down and talk to me,” he said, his dark eyes unreadable.
She stared down at him. “You still want me to talk to you?”
That was unusual. They had already talked longer than they had any other time for at least three days. She pulled away from his grasp, then sat down rather nervously on the edge of her chair. “What do you want to talk about?”
He leaned forward and his eyes seemed to bore into her. “We have lots of things to talk about. Like for instance ... why is it that you jump like a cat every time I come into the room?”
That almost made her jump again. She could feel herself coloring. He knew what was going on. He felt it, too. Why was he trying to get her to verbalize it? “I—I’m just trying to keep out of your way.”
An expression almost of pain flashed across his face. “Why do you want to stay out of my way? Have I done something mean to you?”
She looked at him hard, trying to ascertain if he were joking or just trying to torture her. Could it be that he really didn’t understand the sexual attraction that flashed between them all the time? Or maybe he knew that but thought she was dealing with it like a wimp.
“No. No, of course not. You haven’t been mean. It isn’t that.” And he knew it.
But his eyes were dark again, unreadable. “Then what?” he asked.
How could he pretend not to know? How could he ignore the spark of electricity that snapped between them every time their eyes met? A nightmare possibility presented itself. Suppose it were all one-sided. Suppose he didn’t feel a thing. She looked at him furtively, searching for an answer.
“And one other thing,” he went on before she could find one. “Why is Trevor calling you all the time?”
She sat up, startled. How did he know that? There had only been two calls from Trevor, both times asking for advice on where he could go and what he could do to look for information about his father. But that was his secret to tell, not hers. And if Joe was so opposed to her looking into her own past, instinct told her he would be even more so about Trevor.
And why was that? Because he was the boy’s father? She shied away from thinking that. She didn’t really believe it, despite all Trevor’s hopes and dreams. She averted her eyes.
“Trevor and I just really hit it off,” she said evasively. “He’s a friend.”
He didn’t come right out and say he didn’t believe her, but his eyes told her as much.
“Trevor is all Millie’s got,” he told her softly. “Just don’t take him away from her.”
She stared at him, completely confused. “How could I possibly do a thing like that?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Things happen. Millie might think you’re turning Trevor against her somehow.”
“But...why would I do that?” Worse yet, why would Millie suspect such a thing? She liked Millie. She certainly didn’t want to hurt her. “Do you really think she might feel that way? I’d better talk to her.”
“Maybe you’d better.” He studied her for a moment. “But my question still stands. What do you and Trevor have between you?”
“Friendship,” she said shortly. And it was true, as far as it went, so she didn’t even have the need to avoid his eyes. “Haven’t you ever had friends?”
“Yes, I’ve had friends,” he said slowly, and
just a trace of the humor he had been hiding for the last few moments was glinting in his eyes. “It’s a lover I’m doing without.”
Her cheeks were reddening again and there was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to yell at him, but she bit her lip and held it back. He felt the electricity all right. So much for his act of innocence. Doing without a lover, indeed.
“Well, you know what they say,” she answered more flippantly than she felt. “Abstinence is good for the soul.”
Now his eyes were sparkling. “Yeah, but it doesn’t do much for the nervous system,” he drawled, causing her to blink rapidly several times.
What was he implying here—that they could get rid of this mutual attraction if they just went to bed together? She looked at him sharply, ready to take umbrage. But he wasn’t leering. He was teasing. Just kidding around. She hoped.
“Of course, it might be abstinence that makes the heart grow fonder,” she improvised as she rose and started for the hall again, carefully skirting the area around his chair. “I get those old sayings mixed up sometimes.”
She glanced back and caught his exaggeratedly pained look.
“No, that can’t be it,” he said. “Isn’t it abstinence that’s the root of all evil?”
“Nope.” She grinned at him from the doorway just before disappearing around it. “Abstinence makes the world go ‘round. And that’s the truth.”
He listened to her go up the stairs, swearing at himself softly and laughing at the same time. What the hell had he said those things to her for? Those thoughts hadn’t even been in his mind when he’d first come into the kitchen. There was something about her that made him say the most absurd things—things he didn’t really think, things he didn’t really mean. Or did he?
“Flowers aren’t really all that different from houseplants,” Carly mused to Millie the next morning as they worked on planting an edge row of some purple pansies Millie had brought over. Millie had been teaching her about gardening all week, taking her to the nursery to pick out flowers, showing her tools and soil amendments. Together they were transforming Joe’s front yard. “And I’ve always had a way with those.”