by Kat Martin
Fresh tears welled. “At least you know the truth. Maybe that's one of the reasons I came home. I owed you the truth. I have since the day I left.”
His eyes narrowed. “It doesn't really change anything. You lied to me. You betrayed my trust.”
“I know. At least now, maybe you can start to forgive me.”
A muscle tightened in his jaw.
Syl stood up on wobbly legs and started for the door. She heard Joe's deep voice behind her.
“Imagine where we'd be now, Syl, if you'd told me the truth back then.”
She turned to face him. “It was a hard time, Joe. Who knows where we would be?”
“I know,” he said firmly. “I think you do, too.”
Syl said nothing more. Her lies had destroyed whatever there had once been between them.
There was only mistrust and sadness now. She held back a sob as she hurried out the door.
Joe watched Syl step out onto the porch and then closed the door behind her.
All those years, all the rage he had felt, the betrayal. He'd gotten into a fistfight because some guy down at the bar had said how hot Syl was and asked if Joe had gotten into her pants.
Just the mention of her name had infuriated him and yet he had found himself defending her, throwing a roundhouse punch that had wound up killing a man. Three years in prison had cooled his temper but not the rage he felt inside. Not his fury.
All because the woman he loved hadn't loved him enough to trust him. Instead of accepting his help and support, she had suffered through cancer on her own. She had lied to protect him. Or so she believed. Instead, she had nearly destroyed him. He felt sick to his stomach.
Walking into the kitchen, he turned on the tap, poured himself a glass of water, and then downed it a single, long gulp. His hands were shaking. He wiped the perspiration off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.
She had come back to Dreyerville to tell him the truth.
As he had said, he wished she hadn't come.
It was easier to hang on to his hatred, easier to believe she was nothing at all like the woman he had meant to make his wife. Now, his stomach churned to think of what she had suffered, of all they had lost. And there was this thing going on inside him, feelings for her he couldn't quite make go away. For an instant, when he had seen her on the porch, it wasn't rage he'd felt but a deep, long-buried yearning.
It didn't matter.
Perhaps another man could set the past aside and consider they might still have a future. After the damage she had done and the years he had lost, Joe just wasn't that man.
Sylvia stood at her desk in Dr. Davis's office. She had always wanted to be a nurse and she was a good one. Which was why, for the last six months, she had been thinking of taking the classes necessary to become a physician's assistant. It would take two long years but she had plenty of spare time and she looked forward to the challenge. Two weeks ago, she had registered for night classes at Dreyerville Community College and had started school last night.
With her job and the night classes and seeing old friends, her life should have been full and yet, as each day passed, Syl felt as if something were missing. Maybe it was seeing Joe again, remembering the life they had planned to share, thinking of all she had lost when she had left him.
Maybe it was the way she still felt whenever she thought of him.
Whatever it was, in time, it would pass. She had survived the terrible ordeal of cancer. She could survive a few bittersweet memories.
She looked down at the appointment book lying on top of the desk.
“Who's Dr. Davis got next?” she asked the young blond receptionist.
The girl looked down at the name written next to the one-thirty spot. “Mrs. Sparks.”
Just then, Syl heard the buzzer over the door as it opened and Doris Culver walked in, followed by Lottie Sparks. Syl took in the older woman's slightly stooped posture, the silver hair that was a bit less neatly combed. Each week, the woman looked a little paler, a little more fragile, her eyes a little more distant. There was no cure for Alzheimer's but there were some new drugs being tested that seemed to slow the process a bit. They were called acetylcholinesterase inhibitors. Dr. Davis was considering their use in Lottie Sparks's case but he wasn't sure how much good the drugs would actually do.
Lottie walked up to the desk. “Good morning...”—she read Syl's badge—“Sylvia.” Like many Alzheimer's patients, Lottie was becoming a master of hiding her memory problems. She would wait for clues, something that might help her remember, or simply leave out the mention of a name and keep the conversation friendly but impersonal.
Syl smiled a greeting at Doris, who stood a few feet away, then returned her attention to the patient. “It's nice to see you, Lottie. Dr. Davis is ready for you.” Both of you, Syl mentally corrected. The disease had progressed to the point where Lottie needed someone with her during the appointment. Doris had become that someone.
“If you'll both just follow me ...”
Lottie frowned, obviously confused.
“It's all right, dear,” Doris said gently. “You've got an appointment with Dr. Davis, remember?”
Lottie smiled and nodded. “Oh, that's right, Dr. Davis,” she said but Syl wasn't sure she actually recalled.
Lottie and Doris followed her down the hall into one of the examining rooms. Syl left them and a few minutes later, Dr. Davis joined them in the room.
It was a brief appointment, mostly just a physical checkup. The women reappeared not long after and made their way out of the office. Sylvia thought of Lottie's grandson and wondered how much longer Teddy would be able to stay in the house with her. She wondered if he might have some family somewhere who would volunteer to take care of him but from what Doris had said, she didn't think so.
She wondered if he would wind up in the foster care system and what would become of him once they took him away.
Joe watched young Teddy Sparks push the heavy broom across the floor of the repair shop waiting room. The kid was a damned hard worker. He never complained, never once shirked a job, no matter how dirty it was. Lately, Joe had started to bring him into the shop, let him watch while he changed a tire or replaced a battery, showed him how to use the grease gun which seemed to thrill him no end.
Everything in the shop seemed to interest Teddy. Either engines were in a guy's blood or they weren't and Joe was betting they were in Teddy's. No doubt the kid was already dreaming about the hot car he was going to buy when he was old enough to drive.
“I want a car like your Mustang, Joe,” Teddy said. “It's really great.”
Joe just laughed. He remembered working with his dad in the garage behind their house, remembered how just the smell of grease and rubber made him smile. His dad was dead now, a heart attack at the age of fifty. His mom lived in a condo in L.A., something he never would have imagined. But Joe liked small-town living, liked owning his own business, liked how good he was at fixing cars.
It was fun to share a little of his knowledge with Teddy, a boy who seemed to enjoy it as much as Joe did. Last week, Teddy had started third grade but Joe had offered to let him keep working a couple of hours after school.
The boy was here today, working hard as always, but Joe had noticed the slight frown tucked between his usually warm brown eyes. Joe walked over and caught the handle of the broom.
“Nice job. You're getting real good at this sweeping stuff.”
Teddy grinned. “Does that mean I can use the grease gun again?"
“I think maybe it can be arranged." Joe leaned the broom against the wall. “You look like you were thinking pretty hard on something. You want to tell me what it is?"
Teddy's smile slid away. “I was thinking about my gramma.”
“Yeah? What about her?”
“She keeps forgetting things. Last night, she left the burner on under a pot on the stove. The whole kitchen filled up with smoke.”
Joe was afraid that sooner or later, something l
ike that might happen. He had noticed the older woman's forgetfulness, which seemed to be escalating with every visit.
“You talk to her about it?”
Teddy shook his head, moving thick dark strands of hair around his ears. “I didn't wanna hurt her feelings." He looked up, his features bright once more. “The clock she likes is still in the window at Tremont's. I almost got enough saved to put a down payment on it.”
Joe smiled. “That's great, Teddy.” He knew how much the boy wanted to buy the clock. Last week, Joe had talked to Mr. Tremont and asked him to hold the clock until Teddy could make the down payment. He'd told the man he would personally guarantee the purchase.
“I can't wait to see Gramma's face when I give it to her at Christmas."
“I'm sure she'll love it. It'll mean a lot that you saved your money to buy it for her.”
A noise intruded and Teddy's gaze swung to the door. Joe turned and spotted a dark-haired woman standing in the opening.
“May I help you?” he asked, walking toward her.
“You're Joe Dixon, the owner of the shop?”
“Half owner, yes.”
“I'm Emma Kingsley. I'm raising money for the Dreyerville Women's Shelter. The ladies who run the program suggested I stop by. They said they can always count on you for a donation.”
Joe smiled. “The shelter does important work. I'll be happy to donate. While I write a check, why don't you put one of those collection jars up on the counter? I'll see if I can stir up a little more money from my customers.”
The woman's eyes brightened. “Why, thank you so much, Mr. Dixon.”
Teddy helped Mrs. Kingsley set up the display and Joe returned with a check.
“Your son is a darling boy."
“Teddy's a good kid," Joe said, not bothering to correct her. He handed her the donation, wishing he could afford to give more. But he was sure he could get his customers to come up with a little extra for the pot.
He and Teddy went back to work putting things in order in the shop. As he watched Teddy work, it occurred to him that if he and Syl had gotten married, if their lives had gone the way they had planned, they might have had a son almost Teddy's age.
But Syl had gotten sick and even if she had told him the truth about her illness and they had stayed together, there would have been no children.
At the end of the day, as Teddy climbed onto his bicycle and rode off toward his house, Joe realized how much he wished things could have been different.
6
September crept into October. The huge, sprawling sycamore next to Syl's above-garage apartment turned a brilliant orange-red and began to lose its leaves. The rolling hillsides bloomed with autumn colors. Russet and gold wreathed the lake at the south end of town.
Unable to resist the lure of the crisp fall weather and changing seasons, Syl packed herself a picnic lunch and drove out to the lake on a Saturday afternoon. There was only one other vehicle parked in the narrow dirt lot. She could barely see it through the trees. Syl parked a ways away, took her lunch and her camera, and headed for one of the tables down by the water.
An old wooden dock, slightly tilted to one side but sturdy enough to be used by amateur fishermen, pushed its way out into the lake. Two figures stood on the dock, she saw, a boy and a man, both of them dark-haired.
“Miss Winters!” the boy called out, waving madly. It was Teddy Sparks, she realized, as he handed his pole to the man and raced toward her down the dock.
Her stomach contracted when Joe Dixon stood up from where he'd crouched next to Teddy. She hadn't seen him since that day at his house and she didn't want to see him now.
Teddy slid to a stop in front of her. His arrival steadied her nerves and put an end to the rolling in her stomach.
“Miss Winters! You gotta come! You gotta see what we caught!” He reached out and caught her hand. Syl couldn't help smiling at his excitement. And she couldn't refuse to go with him, even if seeing Joe was the last thing she wanted.
“Hurry up!” He tugged her forward. Her camera dangled from her wrist, along with the bag that held her lunch: a turkey sandwich, an apple, a bag of Fritos, and a Snickers bar for dessert.
The dock moved under her feet as Teddy led her forward, stopping right next to Joe.
“Me and Joe—we caught four fish! Look how big this one is.” Teddy proudly held up one of the fish which was at least eighteen inches long. “Joe says he's gonna fry him for dinner.”
Syl looked up at Joe.
The fake smile he mustered lifted the edges of his mouth. “You always did like to come out to the lake.”
Syl flushed. They used to park at the lake as often as they could. This wasn't the same lake where they had made love but the reference was clear. Syl had never forgotten that night. Apparently, Joe hadn't, either.
For Teddy's sake, she managed a smile. “It was such a nice day, I thought I would treat myself to a picnic.”
Teddy grinned. “We were just gonna eat our lunch, weren't we, Joe? Why don't you come and eat with us?”
Joe's face was a thundercloud. She racked her brain for some excuse not to join them but her mind refused to come up with anything remotely believable.
Teddy dropped the fish into a woven creel sitting at Joe's feet. “Come on, Joe, I'm hungry. I bet Miss Winters is, too.”
She had been hungry when she arrived at the lake. Now she couldn't imagine swallowing a single bite of food.
Joe picked up the creel and slung it over his shoulder. He'd always had wide shoulders, and if anything, they were even more muscular now. He grabbed a pole and handed it to Teddy and picked up his own and the three of them started back down the dock.
There were tables along the edge of the water. One of them had a red-checked plastic cloth draped over it and a brown paper bag sitting on top.
“Joe made roast beef sandwiches,” Teddy said. “They're my favorite.”
Still scowling, Joe reached into the bag and started setting paper plates out on the table. He set one down in front of her, along with a paper napkin for each of them. A cooler rested at the far end of the table.
“We've got Coke,” Joe said. “I know you women usually drink Diet.”
“Regular's fine. It's a picnic. I get to splurge.” Joe put out the food, Syl put out the lunch she had brought and they sat down on benches across from each other. As Teddy kept up a running conversation, eventually the tension in Joe's face began to ease. Teddy smiled up at him, and Joe smiled back. He had always liked children. It was clear he had come to care a great deal for Teddy.
“Can I fish some more?” the boy asked, the first one to clean up his plate.
“Don't go out on the dock. You can fish off the bank at the edge of the water. Just be sure to stay where I can see you.”
Teddy looked wistfully at the dock where they had caught the big fish but didn't complain. He was such a sweet boy. Maybe Joe would be willing to take him if it came to that. The thought abruptly faded. Joe was a convicted felon. There was no way they would let him have the boy.
“So how's work going?” he asked, which returned her attention to Joe. She could feel his gaze on her and ignored a thread of longing.
“I got lucky. I've always liked nursing and Dr. Davis's office is a really good place to work. I'm also taking night classes to get my requirements to become a physician's assistant.”
“Good for you.”
“What about you? Mary says you're buying Mr. Murdock's interest in his auto repair shop.”
He nodded. “Bumper wants to retire. I own half the place already. At night, I'm taking business classes at the college. I plan to open repair shops all over the state.”
“You'll do it. You always did what you set out to.”
His smile turned feral. “You're taking night classes and so am I. Maybe we'll run into each other at school. It'll be just like the old days.”
The words knifed into her heart. “Joe ... I know ... after what I did ... we're never going to b
e friends, but—”
“You're right, Syl.” He straightened on the bench, a move that made him look even taller than he usually did. “The last thing I want is to be your friend.” His eyes ran over her in a way they never had before and a little curl of heat slid into her stomach. “I could never be friends with a woman I'd still like to have in my bed.”
Syl just sat there. Joe had never spoken to her that way, not even when they were engaged to be married. Clearly, he had done it to shock her, to punish her in some way for the pain she had caused him. Instead, when he had assessed her with that hot look in his eyes and a jaw turned to steel, she had never felt so womanly, so seductive. And she had never felt the fierce heat that was burning through her now.
But Joe was no longer the boy he had been back then. At twenty-nine, he was a full-grown male.
With stunning clarity and panic in her heart, Syl realized she was far more attracted to the man he had become than she had ever been to the boy he was before.
Standing at the edge of the lake next to Teddy, Joe watched Syl's little Honda Civic pull out of the parking lot. She had made an excuse to leave just minutes after he had made his off-color remark.
He shouldn't have said what he did. He had never spoken to a woman that way before. But every time he saw her, the past seemed to surface, to rise up with agonizing force. Memories of lazy fall days on campus, the two of them lying beneath an ancient sycamore, Syl's head in his lap as she studied for a test. Thoughts of shared afternoons by the pond.
He remembered the winter they had gone sledding. The snow had been soft and deep, the sun so bright it hurt his eyes. He had pushed the sled off a rise and jumped in behind her. The sled had flown as if it had wings until it hit a rock beneath the snow. He remembered how they had flown into the air and Syl had landed on top of him. He remembered their laughter, the soft kiss that made him want more.
He thought of the brutal days after she had left, the drinking and fighting, the trial and the days he had spent in prison. He thought of the hard, ruthless man he'd become just to survive inside those thick, gray walls.