“That was kind.”
Pippa took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. She’d thought it would feel odd to share details of her life with Mark. But it didn’t. It felt right. She knew instinctively that her husband would have hung out with Clay, would have considered him a friend. The tension that had gripped her shoulders when Clay asked about Mark melted away peacefully.
“Mark was in logistics. It was his job to schedule supply shipments between camps. One of the officers under his command had a family emergency and Mark had to clear him for leave. That left the transport team short-handed when they needed to move vital medical equipment. So he hopped on board the convoy to meet the minimum number of support staff necessary to deploy. On the mountain road, the first vehicle ran over an IED. Mark was in the second. Snipers made it difficult to evacuate everyone and take cover. They didn’t make it until the reinforcements arrived.”
“I’m sorry.”
Tears sprang up at the gentle sincerity in Clay’s voice. She brushed her eyes with the back of her hand and settled against the cushions. “Thank you.”
“Pippa, it’s never easy to lose a loved one. But in these circumstances, when good, honorable people give their lives in support of a cause, whether they believe in it, or it was just a job, the sacrifice seems greater. Humans can be an ungrateful race. It’s not any comfort, but I’d thank Mark for his service. And Roberto. I wish I’d had the privilege of knowing them.”
“They would have been proud to call you friend.”
“I’m going with you. To the funeral. Just let me know the details as soon as you get them.”
“I’d like that.” She paused, his even breathing over the phone lulling her to a calmer place. She snuggled into the comfortable cushions, drawing a blanket higher on her shoulders. “I wish you were here now.”
“Yeah, me too,” he responded simply.
“It’s selfish, I know. But that’s how I feel. You’ve been a rock for me tonight. I appreciate it.” She yawned and closed her eyes drowsily. “You’re okay, Clay Mathers. I think I’d like to keep you.”
“Ya know what, spitfire? I think I’d like that too.”
* * * *
He had followed them from her parents’ house when Crane picked her up and drove across town. Dewey knew what it was all about as soon as the pair walked to the front door and the bitch who’d answered started screaming. Another soldier dead as a result of the illegal war the country had been involved in for way too long. Another opportunity for Liberty Battalion to stage a protest. Hot damn, skippy! He rubbed his hands together gleefully, like a little kid on Christmas morning. It would be a doozy of a show, complete with fireworks. Damn shame he’d miss it. Him and Pippa Sanders. She held the key to his plan and he wasn’t missing his opportunity.
Time to break the kid out of Woodward.
He’d had a close call when she’d locked the front door and leaned against the glass panel next to it. He’d frozen in place under the tall evergreen growing in the Elenis’ front yard. Standing rigidly, he was certain she didn’t see him, but he couldn’t take any chances.
Too bad she’d closed the drapes. He’d been forced to leave the shadowy gloom and sneak onto the front porch to peer through a crack in the fabric. He’d watched her carry on a phone conversation with someone from the other side of the plate glass window. Given the lateness of the hour, he could guess who was on the other end of the line. Clay Fucking Mathers. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t forget his personal vendetta against the son of a bitch who’d ended his military career. The man he blamed for all the trouble his kid was in now. It was Clay’s fault that Dewey beat the tar out of his wife, that his snot-nosed little brat seemed to always be there to witness. Every problem Dewey had could be laid directly at Clay’s door.
Every fucking one of them.
Blood would be spilled at the next protest. And if some of it happened to be Clay’s, so much the better.
He hoped he’d be the one to start the flow.
19
Pippa threw herself into work to avoid thinking too much about Sarah, Roberto and Mark. But mostly it helped to keep her thoughts away from her growing feelings for Clay. She ran between her Elder Pointe clients and the boys at Woodward all week, leaving very little time for thoughts. She’d even taken to recording voice notes on her phone between the two places, filling the quiet time during the ride.
Sarah had pulled Pip into the privacy of the bedroom last night and asked how to get past the physical grief tearing her in two. Was there a good answer for Sarah’s question? Pippa understood all too well the searing pain that made catching a breath impossible and stabbed daggers into the heart. She knew how a body encased in the agonizing ice of sorrow continued to function, but just barely. Physical sensations of grief and loss became part of life when a wife lost a husband.
Refusing to spout platitudes about time healing and memories warming the cold spot in the soul, she’d opted for truth as she’d held her friend in her arms. The pain would always be there. It wouldn’t go away, ever. But other memories would be made, other adventures experienced. And those things would crowd the pain into a small, nearly escape-proof box. She’d told Sarah to expect her grief to function like a Jack-in-the-Box. Daily or weekly, maybe years down the road, the spring would wind tightly enough to force the pain out, startling in its intensity. It had been weeks since the puppet last jumped out for her.
Since she’d met Clay.
He’d been a strong timber in her support network over the past week. A gorgeous bouquet of fall flowers had been waiting on her doorstep when she returned from spending the first night with the new widow. He’d followed up with text messages each morning. Every evening, after the kids went to bed, he called. Letting her know he was there, if she needed to talk. Or wanted to. He’d dropped by on Saturday and “borrowed” her children to feed his chickens, giving her a break to get caught up on domestic chores. The kids had come home from the outing with rosy cheeks and souvenir feathers, plus six fresh eggs. Clay had escorted them to the door with a pizza box and six-pack of beer in his hands. After helping her put them to bed, he walked her to the sofa downstairs and held her in his arms, kissing her to delirium but resisting her attempts to take off his clothes.
He’d insisted he’d wait for a better time for both of them, but she despaired that the timing would never be right. Their affair had never been meant to be more than physical, because the end had been written before the beginning. Then there was the tiny detail that he was her client’s son. A yawning ache bloomed in her soul each time the ethics genie niggled at her mind.
An affair she had to hide from her children and colleagues, something she considered professionally wrong, shouldn’t feel so…perfect.
Reverend Crane had called this morning. She’d shed more tears with the news that Roberto’s body would be arriving at Logan on Thursday. She’d agreed to ride along with him, Sarah, and Roberto’s elderly parents, to bring him home to Granite Pointe for the final time. She’d spoken to Sarah at least three times a day, and had stopped to check on her daily since she’d joined the Reverend in delivering the devastating news. It was probably overkill, but Sarah’s family wouldn’t arrive from Ohio until later this evening and Pippa didn’t mind filling the void. Roberto’s mom and dad had arrived the day after they received the news, and moved in with their son’s widow. It pleased Pippa that they loved each other, and could get along. Other military wives were not as lucky.
This morning, while she tidied up after she’d finished working with her last client at Elder Pointe, Billy, the orderly, had wheeled Seeley into the therapy room.
“This is a surprise,” she said, greeting Clay’s mother with a smile. “I didn’t expect to see you until later this week.”
“Need to talk about C-Cl-Clay.” Seeley’s speech was less halting than it had been a week ago. The woman healed at a miraculous rate. “C-can you sit?”
The corners of Pippa’s lips tugged downward, bleak
realization that Clay would leave sooner than anticipated gnawing at the edge of her soul. “Sure.” She nodded to Billy. “I’ll take her to the cafeteria when we’re done, okay?” When Billy left, she pushed Seeley’s chair toward the sunny window facing the harbor and set the brakes before pulling a chair over to join her.
Seeley leaned forward and laid a slightly clenched fist on top of Pippa’s knee. “C-Clay told me ’bout your friend. I’m sorry. B-brings b-b-back sad memories, I’m sure.”
“Yes, it does.” Melancholy tinged her tone.
“Cl-Clay is going to the funeral with you.”
“He’s been wonderful. I’m grateful to him for the support.”
“He l-likes you, I c-can tell. Go for it, I say.” Apparently, Clay had told his mother about more than Roberto. Anger flared, but was instantly replaced by the uncomfortable heat blooming across her cheeks. Seeley laughed. “He said y-you’d be emb-barrassed. Don’t. B-both c-consenting adults.”
“Seeley, it isn’t that easy.” She lowered her voice before continuing. “Ethically, an affair with your son crossed a line. Even with your blessing, there are other issues.”
“W-what?” Chagrin charged across the older woman’s features.
“He isn’t planning to stay in Granite Pointe.”
Seeley squinted, and her brow lowered crookedly in confusion.
“I thought I could do this. Just have some fun, you know. But, I’m afraid I’m getting too attached. If I get any more involved with Clay, I’ll end up hurt. I don’t think I can bear that.”
“He’ll stay,” Seeley insisted.
“He won’t. He has an exciting lifestyle, living on a boat, traveling at will, whenever and wherever the whim takes him. Why would he want to be tied down to one small town, saddled with a woman with two small children?”
“Why wouldn’t h-he? He l-loves your kids. I do too.”
“He’d be a fool to trade his life for us.”
“His decision.” Seeley’s tone sounded belligerent. “C-Clay was an only c-child. Always asked for b-brothers and sisters. I had t-trouble getting p-pr-pregnant after C-Clay, and his f-father died early. B-by the time I r-remarried, I was t-too old. H-he loved my second h-husband like a f-father but he died t-too soon. C-Clay was visiting his g-grave when h-he m-m-met you. F-family is important to him. Your kids, and maybe some of his own.”
“Whoa, Seeley. Aren’t you jumping the gun a bit?”
A crooked, knowing smile had lit Seeley’s face. “D-don’t think so. Give him a c-ch-chance.”
Now, the Jeep bounced down the rutted driveway as the sun reached its high point for the day. She hadn’t planned this trip. Her vehicle seemed to be on autopilot and had been programmed with the Sleepy T Farm’s location. Not sure how she would get through what she needed to do, she parked and shut down the engine.
Her conversation with Seeley still rattled her as she sat frozen in the car in front of the farmhouse. She had a rare afternoon free and the kids had a play-date with classmates after school. She was free until dinnertime. A soft breeze blew through her open windows and familiar Beatles music wafted from house. Clay sang along to Rocky Raccoon. His rich baritone voice wove around her spine and tugged, spearing chills through her, and tingly heat to the hidden spot between her legs.
It had to be an omen. The Beatles had been Mark’s all-time favorite group. Even though she’d have preferred a jazz band for their wedding reception, she’d agreed to a Beatles tribute band to make him happy. Their album and CD collection was vast, and Mason and Mia had sung along with the songs as soon as they could, almost before they spoke.
She’d come here today to end things with him before her growing feelings for him could guarantee grief, although, in fact, that horse might have already left the barn. In spite of Seeley’s assurance that he’d stay, she didn’t think she was brave enough to chance the damage she knew Clay’s leaving would cause to her heart. Her feelings for him were too strong, too intense.
Heart thudding heavily under her ribs, she realized she’d fallen partly in love with him already. She couldn’t bear to love another man and have him leave, the way Mark had. The way Roberto had left Sarah. Seeley had lost two men she loved. Pippa shook her head sorrowfully. How do you survive it a second time? And Clay would leave, despite what Seeley thought. She wasn’t even sure she could remain friends with him without further risk to her heart.
But the Beatles.
Her breath stuttered and she rested her head against the steering wheel. Could Mark be sending her a message? Maybe it was past time to move on. Six years had been too long to grieve, to live in the past at the expense of the future. The chasm between now and when the twins turned eighteen stretched toward infinity. Emotions she normally kept under tight wraps had surfaced vengefully in the short time she’d known Clay.
The screen door screeched and she lifted her head to watch the man who’d just moved out to the porch. Booted feet braced apart, arms crossed over his broad chest, Clay waited on the top step. His hair, pulled back in a short ponytail, glinted in the autumn sunshine.
The only thing she knew for certain now was just how unsure she was that ending things with him would be the right thing to do.
Exhaling sharply, she pushed the car door open, grabbed her purse and walked resolutely, one foot firmly following the other, closing the distance to the steps.
20
Clay hadn’t heard her drive up, so he’d been surprised when he’d glanced out the window and seen Pippa’s car parked in front of his house. Good thing he’d noticed; otherwise he might have embarrassed himself on the high notes coming up in the Beatles tune he’d been belting out. He’d put his coffee cup on his desk, turned down the volume, and walked out to the porch to wait for her to get out of the car.
He didn’t have to be a military strategist to know that something had made her unhappy. The sadness and resignation on her face when she walked toward the house stood out as a huge clue. Concern welled up in his throat, choking him with shocking intensity.
“Are you okay? Did something happen?” He walked down the steps toward her, stopping when she put a hand on his chest, slowing his descent.
She dropped her hand and laughed. “I don’t know. I thought I knew what I was supposed to do. I rehearsed it in my head on the way over here.” Her eyes skittered away from his and she lowered her chin to her chest. “I thought I knew what I wanted.”
“What’s this about, spitfire?”
“Me. You. Your mom, us. Take your pick.”
Her skin felt like satin when he reached forward and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. The second he saw regret in her eyes, understanding dawned. “Ah, you saw Mom today. She told me she planned to talk to you.” At her skeptical look, he continued, “I asked her not to. But she’s a sharp, stubborn old bird. She has a way of wheedling secrets out of you and using them to her benefit.”
“I noticed.”
“Here’s the thing, Pippa. She didn’t tell you anything I wouldn’t say to you myself. When I’m with you, I feel something I’ve never felt before. This thing between us is more than purely physical. There’s an undeniable current running between us. Electric most of the time, warm all of the time.” He sat on the steps and pulled her down next to him, wrapped his arms around her. He rested his chin on top of her head. “I want to explore it further, if you do.”
Pippa sat quietly, absorbing what he’d offered. “You’ll leave.” Her voice hitched. “When Seeley is better, you’ll go back Washington to work.”
That’s what it came down to. Whether he’d stay or go. He closed his eyes and pulled her closer.
His plan had been to stay in Granite Pointe long enough to help his mother through the holiday season. To fill in while she recovered from the stroke. That meant staying through the end of the year before heading back to his real life.
This affair with Pippa had started as simple lust. In a calculated, strategic effort, he’d turned this woman into a fuck bu
ddy. He flinched as the thought flailed at his conscience. That’s all their affair was supposed to be. Just two consenting adults enjoying each other’s bodies, sharing laughs, sneaking time together when the kids weren’t looking. He hadn’t planned on getting attached to this fascinating woman or her two adorable kids.
Shit! When had it evolved to more? A kaleidoscope of memories mingled colorfully behind his eyelids. Of Pippa moving wildly in his arms in her moonlit backyard, singing onstage at Red’s bar. Mason chasing kittens and chickens at the farm and Mia putting her small hand into his at the Farmer’s Market. Reading bedtime stories and helping Pip tuck her children in for the night.
Each moment was a hook in his heart and tugging memories set it deeper, more firmly, like a fish on a line.
There wasn’t any reason he had to leave, and plenty of excuses to plan to stay.
“Spitfire, I can work from anywhere. I can tele-conference when the Army needs me. And if I have to be there, it’s only a eight-hour drive. Piece of cake. I don’t have to be on the houseboat to write. In fact, I’ve done more writing here in six weeks than I did in the last three months. It’s good here.”
Well, hell, he’d just offered to stay. And it hadn’t scared the shit out of him. A smile flirted with the corners of his mouth while his heart warmed to the idea.
Hell yeah, he could stay.
She pulled away to stare at him, the impact of what he’d said glimmering in her eyes.
Glancing at her lips, he didn’t bother to resist the tempation to lean in and press a light kiss to them. “I can’t offer any guarantees. No one could, unless they can predict the future. But I’m asking you, spitfire, please don’t end us.”
Shifting, she laid a hand on his face. The stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave this morning rasped as she stroked warm fingers along his jaw. She urged his lips toward her impossibly soft mouth.
Hearts in Harmony Page 17