by Julie Caille
“Gosh, I’m sorry. Is his family with him?”
“His wife’s here. His son and daughter-in-law are on their way.” Luke paused. “Look, I need to ask a favor. I rode with Joey in the ambulance, so now I’m stuck here at the hospital. Any chance you could come get me? I’d ask Woody,” he hastened to add as though fearing her refusal, “but he’s alone in the store. One of the guys called in sick and the other two are out on service calls and—”
“Of course I’ll come,” she interrupted. She tore a sheet of paper from a small pad on the counter and jotted down the directions he gave. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Minutes later, she tossed her purse onto the seat and climbed into the Silverado, her eyes on the gearshift. Luke’s lessons stood out sharply in her memory when she touched it, and she could feel his hand over hers as though it were yesterday.
Five simple steps, just like he had taught her. Let up on the gas, push down on the clutch, shift gears, let up on the clutch, give it gas. Easy as pie. Except she suddenly wasn’t sure about the gear pattern.
“Just use the Force,” she muttered as she turned the key. Luckily the Force cooperated, and by the time she hit the main road, she was driving like a pro. Pleased with herself, she hummed the Star Wars theme beneath her breath, watching for the street signs and landmarks Luke had mentioned. When she pulled up in front of Houston Northwest Medical Center, Luke was waiting near the front entrance.
“Thanks for coming,” he said, sliding into the passenger seat. “Any trouble finding the place?”
“Nope. Your directions were great. I assume you want to go back to work?”
“I have to.” He buckled his seat belt and sat back. “Any trouble shifting?”
“Not after I figured out where reverse was,” she said lightly. “I hope you have insurance on your garage.”
A full three seconds passed before he turned his head. “You’re kidding, right?”
She smiled and accelerated, then shifted smoothly into second. “Yes, I’m kidding, but I’d rather drive an automatic. Any update on Joey?”
“His son got here just before you did. Other than that, nothing.”
Something in his voice made her throw him another quick glance. “You look exhausted.”
“I am.” The brevity of his answer told her he didn’t want to talk, so she said nothing more for several minutes.
“Make sure I don’t miss the turn,” she remarked, scanning the signs. “I have a feeling we’re almost there.”
“It’s right after the next light. On the left.”
A few seconds later, she pulled up outside Luke’s store. “Do you need anything else?”
Luke hesitated, his hand on the door handle. For a long moment, he said nothing, then he turned and looked her in the eye. “I might need another favor. I’m not sure yet.”
“What is it?” she asked curiously. Her instinct told her something was troubling him, something other than Joey’s illness.
“Never mind for now.” He opened the door and got out. “Don’t forget to pick up Ronnie,” he added.
* * *
That night Luke paced back and forth in his room, anxiety eating like acid at the lining of his gut. Murphy’s Law had never been more dependable than it had of late. Everything that could go wrong, did. Inevitably. Joey’s illness was proof of that.
Luke walked to the window and stared out, but instead of moonlit grass and trees, numbers and dollar signs flashed in his head. Receipts, invoices, unfinished business—everything was piling higher and higher, burying him, suffocating him with worry and frustration.
God knows he’d tried to do something about it. He’d spent the afternoon holed up in the back office, attempting to figure out what Joey had been doing for the past few months. Attempting to sort and calculate and enter figures into the computer’s spreadsheet. But the numbers had jumped around, reversed themselves, played hopscotch in his head until he’d literally yanked at his hair. The harder he’d concentrated, the more the numbers had danced. Just like always.
He needed help.
The admission drove a gigantic fist of tension through his chest. Asking for help meant explanations, and explanations meant exposure. And exposure meant humiliation and shame. He had learned that lesson at a young age and he had never forgotten it.
Turning on his heel, Luke gazed around the room as though it held the solutions to his problems. His eyes settled on Christina’s photograph, lingering on the warmth of her smile. Her eyes seemed to be encouraging him, urging him to take this thing one step at a time. And the obvious next step was to swallow his pride and ask for help.
He found Alicia curled on the sofa in the living room, her feet tucked under her and an open book in her lap. But she wasn’t reading. Her delicately arched brows were drawn into a frown, and she was staring at the carpet.
His heart hammering, he strolled to the sofa and lowered his long body onto the cushions. She shifted as though to make room for him, an unnecessary action considering that more than two feet of space separated them. Her movement drew his gaze to her bare legs, and his throat closed. At that moment, he would have sold his soul for the right to touch them.
“You look worried,” she commented. “Is it Joey?”
He propped a foot against the edge of the coffee table. “Sort of,” he said evasively. Then, to procrastinate, he added, “Ronnie’s finally asleep.”
“I wish he had told us more about his day at school,” she replied. “He was so quiet all evening.” She was silent for a moment. “But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”
He clenched and unclenched his left hand. God, it was difficult to tell her. Sharing had always been hard for him, uncloaking his weaknesses even harder. What made it even worse was that he wanted her to see him as a success.
“As a matter of fact,” he said, forcing out the words, “I’ve got a problem.” He stopped, feeling as though he were about to dive naked into an icy pool.
“What kind of problem?” She leaned toward him.
He evaded her gaze, staring instead at the clutter on the coffee table. He was acutely aware of her nearness. “It started when Joey had his first heart attack,” he said in a toneless voice. “Before, I could count on him to handle his end of the business. The bookkeeping, the records, the bills.” He pulled in a breath. “He was different when he came back. He started reading paperbacks all day—mystery novels, thrillers, those Stephen King horror things. I don’t think Joey ever read fiction in his life until his stay in the hospital. Since then, it’s become like some kind of addiction.”
She drew up her legs and sat cross-legged, her gaze fixed on his face. “Have you said anything to him?”
“No. I figured the poor guy deserved a break. And I thought extra pressure might make him sick again. I thought he’d get his act together before the business suffered.”
“And he didn’t,” she stated after a short silence.
“No.” Luke found he still couldn’t look at her, and he hadn’t even gotten to the hard part yet. “The records are a mess. Joey hasn’t reconciled the books in the past two months, and some of the stuff before that looks screwed up. Today I learned that one of our suppliers has been refusing to fill our orders because our payments have been late. We’re behind with the rent and utilities.” Filled with nervous anxiety, he surged restlessly to his feet and began to pace. “I got a call this afternoon from the bank. Our last loan payment never got paid. The woman threatened to call in the loan if it wasn’t paid by tomorrow. To top that off, it looks like I’ll soon have the IRS on my back because Joey did a number there, too.” He risked a glance at Alicia. “About the only thing he’s kept up on is the employee paychecks.”
“I don’t understand, Luke. Why have you been leaving all this up to Joey? It’s your business, too.”
He forced himself to turn and face her, studying her upturned face with a sick feeling. He couldn’t tell her the truth. Lord, it was bad enough to tell her
this much, to watch her good opinion of him go flying out the window. Not, he reminded himself, that she’d had such a hot opinion of him to start with, but this clinched it.
“Because that was the deal,” he said flatly. “I’m a repairman, Alicia, not an accountant. Joey was the one with the business background. We agreed from the beginning that he’d take care of all that. And don’t forget we’ve been in business for ten years and it’s worked fine so far.”
“Pretty trusting,” she remarked. “How do you know he hasn’t cheated you?”
“He hasn’t,” Luke said, irrationally annoyed. “Joey’s honest, I’d stake my life on it. Trust isn’t the issue here, Alicia.”
“Isn’t it?” she countered. “You’re asking me to help you, and you won’t give me the whole story.”
“How do you know I’m asking for help?”
Her blue eyes challenged him, then she shrugged. “Why else would you tell me? I figured you knew I kept the books for my husband.”
“No, I didn’t. But I remembered you were planning to take some business courses in college. Sounds like you did.” He thought of Alicia’s ex, and felt a surge of contempt for a man he had never met—not because Kenny Farrell had let his wife keep his books but because Farrell obviously hadn’t had the wit to appreciate and cherish the intelligent and beautiful woman who had been his wife. Instead, the bastard had cheated on her, caused her pain.
“I minored in accounting,” she informed him.
Luke shoved his hands into his pockets. “Think you could help me out for a few days? I’m willing to pay you. You can name your price.” He sensed her puzzlement, her inability to comprehend why he would make such an offer.
“You don’t have to pay me,” she said. “If I help you, I’ll do it as a favor.”
“If?”
She smiled at him. “I still haven’t heard the magic word.”
For the first time in years, Luke felt himself flush, but a smile jerked at the corners of his mouth. “Please,” he said quietly.
“All right.” Her expression sobered. “But what are you going to do after that? What if Joey is too sick to come back?”
“He’ll come back.”
“You don’t know that.” She uncurled her legs and touched his hand. “Luke, you’re going to have to learn how to do these things yourself. I’ll teach you—”
“I know how to do them,” he cut in. “I understand about credits and debits. That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is the problem?” she asked.
“The problem is...” The problem is that I’m severely dyslexic. My brain doesn’t process information the way a normal person’s does. I can’t tell a B from a D. I can’t tell if a word is misspelled. I can barely write a check without making a mistake. And I live in dread of making a fool of myself. Of being told I’m stupid, slow, retarded. But he couldn’t say those words. They stuck in his throat, choking him with their taste. “The problem,” he began again, “is that I’m swamped with repair jobs. I got a few days behind when...because of Ronnie and what happened. The telephone’s been ringing off the hook with customer complaints.”
“I see.” She chewed on her lip. “Well, I’ll be glad to do what I can. When would you like me to start?”
“Right away,” he said in relief. “Tomorrow morning.”
She bent her head for a moment, then lifted her chin. Her eyes met his. “I’ll do it. I’ll straighten out your mess for you, Luke. But I’ve changed my mind about one thing. My services do come with a price.”
He stiffened, wondering if she meant to use Ronnie as a bargaining chip. Instead, she surprised him with a smile—a sweet, mischievous smile that reeled him in hook, line and sinker.
“I expect you to buy me the largest, gooiest, yummiest chocolate ice-cream sundae in the state of Texas. I haven’t had one in years and I want the works—hot fudge sauce, whipped cream, chopped pecans, a cherry on top. No stinting allowed.”
He studied her face, noting the changes, the new maturity, the laugh lines, the tiny scar near the corner of her left eyebrow. “You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said with a grin.
And if his voice held a trace of bemusement, it was because she had managed to turn him inside out again. Without even trying, she’d taken his feelings, dusted them off and carried them into the sunshine. And there they lay, exposed, ready and eager to cause him more anguish and heartbreak.
Thank you very much, Alicia Brant.
Chapter Six
“I expect you have things you want to do with the rest of your day.” Alicia forced a bright note into her voice. “I mean, it’s Saturday and you’ve already put in eight hours at the store.”
She dipped a spoon into the rich topping on her chocolate sundae and glanced around the sunny ice-cream parlor. The scorching weather had brought families and teenagers to Craig’s Creamery in droves. Voices floated around them, echoing off the pale walls.
“I’m doing something I want to do,” Luke responded.
Awareness shimmered through her as their gazes met across the tiny table. He still looked tired, but the five days she’d spent at the store, untangling Joey’s mess, had chased away the worst of the shadows beneath those deep-set eyes.
“I mean other things.” She made a vague gesture with her spoon.
“Like what?” Brows lifted, he removed the cherry from the top of his sundae and held it out. Alicia accepted it without comment. During the past week, she’d grown accustomed to the fact that, far from forgetting her likes and dislikes, her former fiancé remembered a host of details about her. Obviously her passion for maraschino cherries numbered as one of them.
“Like, see your friends,” she answered. “Get back to the life you had before...everything happened.” She put the cherry in her mouth, self-consciously noting how he followed the action, how his gaze stayed on her lips as she savored the delicious, sweet taste.
“You trying to get rid of me?” He leaned forward, his bare forearms resting on the table, his broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his red T-shirt.
She swallowed. “No, I’m trying to be nice to you. Don’t forget I’ve seen how hard you work. I just thought you might like to—” To be with Christina. “To have an evening off,” she finished lamely. She tasted her ice cream and added, “I’ll be glad to stay with Ronnie if you want to go out.”
Luke scraped a hand over his chin, then shoved some ice cream into his mouth. Alicia’s stomach knotted as she waited for his reply.
All week they’d striven to keep their conversation impersonal. Her days at the store had been spent poring over numbers and making phone calls, while Luke did repairs and visited Joey at the hospital. Evenings revolved around Ronnie. Typically, Luke would take Daffy for a walk after Ronnie went to bed, then return and watch television. Alicia preferred to read in the evening, but something about being in Luke’s home made it difficult for her to concentrate. At the store, she could close the inner office door and shut him out, but it wasn’t that simple when they’d shared an evening like a married couple. It was too domestic, too intimate.
“Okay.” The sharp word cut across her thoughts. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should get out.”
“You deserve some relaxation time,” she agreed, though a disorienting spurt of disappointment shot through her. Had she wanted him to refuse? To insist they spend the evening together?
“But so do you,” he went on, his mouth twisting. “So how about we take Ronnie to the zoo tomorrow?”
“Sounds like fun,” she said, greeting the suggestion with relief. Anything to postpone spending a whole day together at his house, trying to behave as though she felt comfortable when she didn’t. Sooner or later it would have to happen, but by then maybe she’d be ready for it.
“I’m glad you didn’t keep his name,” Luke said suddenly.
“What?” Alicia’s shoulders stiffened.
“Farrell’s name. I’m glad you went back to Brant.”
Severa
l seconds passed before she summoned a response. “My parents wouldn’t agree with you. They blamed me for the breakup.”
He frowned. “Why would they do that? He cheated on you, not the other way around.”
She picked up a napkin and dabbed at a blob of melted ice cream on the white metal table. “I suppose,” she said, her lashes lowered, “because they didn’t know all the sordid details. I didn’t allow them to find out.”
“Yeah, well, even so. They should have supported you, not blamed you.”
A trace of bitterness compressed her mouth. The mere idea ought to have been amusing, but it wasn’t. She sighed and said, “My mother thought I should have handled the situation better. Kenny was an awfully charming man. She and Daddy both thought he was the perfect son-in-law.”
“So they excused what he did?” Luke asked curtly.
“Not exactly.” She shook her head, more to clear it of wayward thoughts than to negate his assumption. “But they thought I must have neglected him. Mother still thinks I threw away something wonderful. She says I should have tried harder.” Alicia picked up the cherry stem and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. “Kenny knew how to push Mother’s buttons,” she added wryly. “He’d compliment her on her cooking, her hair, her intellect. And he’d listen to Daddy talk about the physics textbook he’s co-authoring. Sometimes he’d take them out to expensive restaurants or dinner theaters. They loved that.”
“Lousy bastard,” Luke muttered.
“True, but not for any of those reasons. He really was a very good son-in-law. He was just a bad husband.”
“He didn’t hit you, did he?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?” Luke’s eyes bored into hers.
“He never hit me, Luke. He was just a very cold man beneath his warm exterior.” She shifted in her chair. “He couldn’t talk about his feelings, and he didn’t want to hear about mine. He couldn’t share. But he had the ability to make people laugh and feel happy and...that’s what my parents saw.”