“Can I come in?” Warner asked and she snapped up her head. He’d parked in front of her house and she hadn’t even noticed.
The lights were on upstairs which meant Christian was home. She’d be okay, but when she turned her head and saw Warner looking at her the tears started again.
“Are you sure you want to come in and sit with an emotional baby?”
“Baby? Something set you off like this and you think I think you’re a baby? Something tells me I’m a much bigger baby than you are.”
That made her chuckle. “I think I would like you to come in.”
Warner gave her a nod and jumped out of the truck. Clara wiped away her newly fallen tears and opened her truck door. Warner was right there with his hand out to help her down.
She easily slid into his arms as she climbed out of the truck.
He held her and she cried again. This was stupid, she thought. These emotions hadn’t surfaced in years.
Warner didn’t say a word. He held her tightly, right there on the sidewalk until she could compose herself.
“You ready to go inside?”
Clara nodded and hand in hand they started up the front steps. The moment she was in the house Christian, sounding like a team of horses, ran down the stairs and stopped abruptly when he saw Warner.
“Hey,” he said, as if to cover up the grin still plastered on his face.
Clara felt a smile form as she batted back the last of her tears. He’d been coming down for gossip and hadn’t expected her to have brought Warner into the house.
When Christian looked at her his smiled faded and he moved to her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She felt Warner step back as Christian moved in.
“I just had a startle at the theater. John turned off the lights while we were practicing on stage…” another sob broke free.
Warner let go of her hand as Christian pulled her to him. “It’s over, sweetheart. Long, long, over.”
“I know. This is stupid.”
Christian smoothed his hand over her hair as she rested her cheek against his chest.
“It’s not stupid. That was a part of you and you have every right to be frightened. And all of this is fresh in your head because of Darcy being around and its okay.”
“This isn’t Darcy’s fault,” she argued.
“No, but it’s in our heads.” He gave her a squeeze. “Listen, go up and take a hot shower. I’ll make you some tea and a sandwich.” He pushed her back so he could look at her. “It was over that night. He’ll never hurt another Keller, ever.”
She gave him a nod.
“I’ll let you be. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Warner stood, now closer to the door.
Clara turned. “You don’t have to go. Please stay.” She reached her hand to him and he grasped it.
“Are you sure? You seem to be in very good hands.”
Clara moved from her brother to this man who in less than a week had become more important to her than anyone else. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head to his chest. “Stay. I’ll be back down soon.” She kissed him on the cheek and headed upstairs.
Warner watched her disappear and then focused on her brother, whose eyes were focused on him.
“Sounds like she had quite a night,” Christian said still keeping a steady eye on Warner.
“She’s pretty frightened.”
“And John just turned off the lights and she got like this?”
Warner nodded. “That’s about it. I don’t know what set her into this, but that triggered it.”
Christian took a step closer to him. “You don’t know why she’s like this and yet you’re this calm around her?”
“Hey, man. She needed a shoulder to cry on, a set of arms to hold her. She’ll tell me in her own time.”
Christian took a step back and the corner of his mouth curled up. “You’re one of those very patient men aren’t you?”
“I don’t know about that. I just know this isn’t any of my business.”
“C’mon,” he started for the kitchen. “I’m going to make it your business.”
Warner followed reluctantly. Finding out about someone’s demons was a big step to take. But Clara knew he had this stupid connection to Patricia Little and she was still sticking her neck out for him.
“Have a seat. Can I offer you anything?” Christian pulled a mug from the cupboard.
“I’m fine,” Warner said as he sat down at the kitchen table.
“Crap, I can’t remember which one of these is supposed to make her calm.” Christian pulled down the two boxes of tea he’d been staring at in the cupboard.
Warner wrenched his neck to see what he had in his hand. “The black tea will keep her awake. The green tea is supposed to be more soothing.”
Christian turned his head and lifted a brow. “You know this?”
“One of my many many jobs was as an assistant to this antique dealer. She was a tea freak. You have only so many cups of tea thrown at you before you get it right.”
“If she’s throwing hot tea at you I hope you didn’t work for her for long.”
“You do what you have to do to pay rent and eat.”
Christian nodded and pulled a green tea packet out of the box. He then filled the tea pot with water and set it on the stove before pulling out a chair and sitting across from Warner.
“Just so you know, my sister doesn’t spook at just anything. It’s not like she’s afraid of the dark—usually.”
Warner nodded. “She doesn’t come across as a woman who lets things bother her.”
“My aunt was involved with this man once. We didn’t even know him. We were really little and they lived in Hawaii.” Christian drummed his fingers on the table. “They were engaged, having a baby, starting a new life.”
Warner watched him and the lines around his lips began to deepen.
“He decided to marry someone else, for wealth. As if the S.O.B. wasn’t wealthy enough.” He shook his head. “Anyway, he decided the best thing to do would be to kill my aunt and the baby.”
Warner felt the blood drain from his head. “Are you kidding me?”
Christian shook his head. “He beat her and left her to die, still pregnant.” He sucked in a breath. “Well, they both survived. My aunt gave up the baby for adoption so that he couldn’t get to her and she went on to marry and have two great sons.”
“They caught this guy? Locked him up?”
“No.” Christian closed his eyes for a moment. “The bastard left the country with his new wife.”
“Coward.”
Christian chuckled. “He surfaced a few years later and then again when Clara was about thirteen.”
Warner felt his heart rate kick up. This was where it became real to him. This bastard had something to do with Clara and already he could feel every muscle in his body tense.
“Why would he come back?”
Christian sat back in his chair. “He was now in the knowledge that the baby my aunt was carrying had survived. I think it was all a power trip, because he didn’t want that baby. But his wife divorced him, left him broke. He was seeking revenge.”
“He came after her?”
“He came after the whole family.” Christian leaned in and rested his arms on the table. “My other aunt was remodeling the theater with John. Their first production was going to be Annie and Clara was going to have the lead. They were told to meet there, but he was there.”
Christian’s eyes had glazed over and Warner realized he dug his own fingertips into his thigh waiting for Clara’s part in this story.
Christian blew out a breath. “He turned off the lights. Grabbed Clara and locked her in the props closet.”
Warner felt the heat rise under his skin.
Christian drummed his fingers again. “Then he set fire to the building.”
“Oh, God!” Warner wanted to find this man and kill him himself. Who did that to a young girl?
“My aunts got her out of
the closet. She inhaled a lot of smoke though.” He ran his fingers through his hair and went back to tapping them on the table. “They were able to get through the theater and out to the lobby before he grabbed them again. But somehow Regan got the gun out of Arianna’s purse and she shot him.” A smile crept across Christian’s lips. A smile of pride. “They got out, he died in the fire.”
“No wonder she freaked out. That is horrible.”
“She went through a few years of counseling over it. Dad being in education knew she had to. He saw too many kids messed up by events in their lives. It’s never been an issue to her. She knew the man wasn’t after her. Clara just got in the way. But she still had nightmares.”
“You said something about this all coming back because of Darcy. Ed’s Darcy?”
Christian smiled and scratched the growth on his chin. “Darcy is the baby.”
“The baby your aunt gave up for adoption?”
“Yep. Funny how things happen, huh?”
Warner gave some thought to the Keller family story. “And since your dad and your aunts are all adopted then Darcy and Ed aren’t related at all.”
“That’s how it goes.”
Warner let out a little laugh as the whistle on the tea pot sounded.
Christian stood and poured the water into the mug. “Clara was fine until Darcy came into the picture and the story was brought up again. She doesn’t blame Darcy, it just surfaced memories.”
“I understand that.” Warner couldn’t hear an old OX song without thinking of the moment he found his father dead. He shook off the thought. “She’s a strong woman. I don’t suppose there is anything that could take her down.”
“You two gossiping like little girls makes me wonder about how strong you big men are though.” They both looked up to see Clara standing in the doorway.
Her hair was wet, and much darker than normal. She wore a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. She obviously had skipped the bra and that had Warner looking away and down at the table.
Clara sat down at the table and Christian pushed the mug toward her.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Christian walked around her and gave her a kiss on the head. “I’m going to head upstairs. Tori is supposed to Skype.”
“Where is she?”
“L.A.” He stood up straight and held his hand out to Warner who shook it. “Thanks for taking care of my girl.”
He looked at Clara who smiled. “My pleasure.”
Christian headed upstairs leaving Warner and Clara in awkward silence.
“I assume you know why I’m a chicken in the dark.”
He reached for her hand. “I don’t think that way. You have every right to have been frightened.”
“It was a long time ago. It upsets me more when I get upset over it.”
He understood that emotion. “It looks to me that everyone takes good care of you though when you need it.”
She smiled. “Yeah. The Kellers work that way.”
“I’ve already seen it quite a bit in less than a week.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “It’ll never go away. You just learn to deal with the situation that frightened you.”
Clara narrowed her eyes. “You’re talking about your dad, aren’t you?”
“I found him.”
“Warner…”
He sat back and shrugged. “He ran the car in the garage. I sometimes wonder if he meant to take me with him in his forever journey.”
“Why?”
“Because I was home asleep in my bed.”
Clara covered her mouth. “That’s horrible.”
“It is what it is. And if I never get a record deal or sell one song, I’ll know I’m a survivor. So are you.”
“I guess us kind should stick together, huh?” She moved in closer to him.
Warner rested his forehead against hers. “You’re willing to risk it all over some slob like me?”
“You may not have been raised a Keller, but something tells me you have the same kind of fight in your blood.”
He grinned. “I like that.”
“Stay with me, Warner. Just hold me all night.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Let’s both sleep our demons away wrapped in each other’s arms. Nothing more—just comfort.”
He knew he shouldn’t accept the invitation, but he couldn’t help it. This had gone far beyond needing her voice. He needed her.
Chapter Six
The private world beyond Clara’s door told Warner exactly who she really was and it brought a grin to his lips.
Her bed was unmade. The girly rose covered comforter was bunched up at the bottom of the bed as though she had been too hot to sleep with it. There were miscellaneous clothes strung over the back of a chair in the corner of the room and a pile of shoes making their exit from the closet by way of potential avalanche.
A guitar sat in the corner as well as a keyboard. Sheets of music lay on the floor next to them in a pile.
Clara was carefree and this proved it to him. Nothing was too important and Warner liked that. Living with his grandmother that hadn’t been the case; a perfectly organized and tidy house was more important than anything, including the happiness of her grandson.
But Warner knew a creative mind. He had one too and his apartment didn’t look much different. Though, had he brought her to his house, he’d have been running amuck trying to pick up everything. Clara embraced her individuality, he decided, because she didn’t seem to worry what he might think. And he thought the mess was lovely.
Clara turned to him and smiled. “You’re eyeballing my mess.”
“I am not.”
“Yes you are. You think I’m a pig. My mother always warned me that someday…”
“I didn’t take you to my house, did I?” He laughed. “Your room looks fine.”
“I have too much to do to worry about duvets and pillow shams.”
“Do whats?”
Now she laughed. “Nothing.” She moved in closer to him. “I know this seems silly. And I’d understand if you’d want to go.”
“Why would I want to go?”
“Because I don’t have sex with men I only met.”
Warner took a step back to distance himself from her. “You said sleep over and that was all. Clara, I’m not the kind of man…”
She moved into him again. “I know you’re not. That’s why I asked you to stay.” She rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips.
Being trusted wasn’t something he dealt with a lot. He usually hid from any reason to be trusted. There was always the chance he’d let someone down.
Clara picked up an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts off the pile on the chair. “I’m going to go change. I could find something for you to sleep in if you’d like. Christian should have…”
“No,” he interrupted thinking that borrowing her brother’s pajama bottoms was certainly crossing the line. “The boxers I have on are new, no holes.” He laughed. “If you’re comfortable that will work for me.”
Clara grinned and her cheeks flushed pink. She nodded and headed to the bathroom with her pajamas.
When the door had closed he went about getting undressed. Maybe if he were in bed, covered up, it would ease her.
He toed off his boots and pulled off his socks, stuffing them into the boots. He shimmied out of his jeans and pulled off his T-shirt then folded them nicely and set them on the floor in a tidy pile.
Warner quickly fixed the sheets on the bed and climbed in as the bathroom door opened.
As awkward as she looked trying to be normal, he knew Clara Keller wasn’t used to bringing men home.
She turned off the light and climbed into the bed next to him. She turned to face him. “Thank you for staying with me. John turning off the lights shouldn’t have set me off like that.”
Warner caressed her face. “You went though some serious trauma. I don’t blame you for freaking out. I don’t think you ever get over that mo
ment when your life flashes before your eyes.”
Clara smiled and rested her head against his chest. “You’re right. You never do.”
He pulled her closer to him. She rested her head against his chest and he held her. A week ago he didn’t know what he was doing with his life. Now he wondered if music was his calling at all? Or had it just been the force that brought him to Clara Keller? He kissed the top of her head.
This was what he wanted more than to hear his song on the radio. How could his dreams have changed so quickly?
The next morning Warner drove Clara back to the theater and went on his way home. He had the urge to clean house because after holding Clara all night in his arms, he wanted to make that a normal occurrence.
As Warner pulled up in front of the small building which looked like a house with four small apartments, he saw a black BMW pull away. He parked in the spot the car had occupied, turned off the overworked engine, and climbed out of the truck.
Warner rubbed his eyes under his sunglasses. He was tired. He shouldn’t be, he’d gotten a full night’s sleep for the first time in weeks. At least his current unemployment offered him time for a nap.
He climbed the steps to the second level of the quad-plex and walked to the dull red door with the number two nailed to it. A bright yellow piece of paper hung there adhered with a piece of tape.
Warner thumbed through his keys until he found the right one. He jiggled it in the lock and finally pushed open the door. As he walked through he tore off the paper and carried it inside.
For a moment he stood there and then kicked the door shut behind him. What a horrible little hell he’d created for himself in that little apartment.
Pizza boxes and two liter bottles littered the table where he wrote music. His keyboard had no less than three stale mugs of coffee balanced on it. As if he could afford for one of those to spill—he’d paid an outrageous fortune for that damn thing. And did he have a cat? No, but it smelled like he did.
Love Songs Page 6