She pushed the button on the coffee machine she had previously set up and brought the apple pie to the table. Grant watched as she traveled back and forth. She was wearing a loose-fitting chamois shirt to accommodate her growing roundness, and he wondered what the bulge looked like without clothes and whether it was soft or hard. And he wondered whether his relationship with Cassie would ever get to the stage where he might find out.
She sat at the table across from him and cut the pie while he poured coffee from the glass carafe.
“So, what did you think of that game?” he asked as he took his plate from her hand.
“It was fun. Did you ever play hockey?”
“Not on a team. We used to hit a puck around on Baxter Pond, but I was never any good.”
“Did you ever play anything on a team?”
“I wrestled as part of a team, but of course, each guy wrestles alone. This is delicious.”
“Thank you.”
“You played field hockey, didn’t you?” he asked.
Cassie’s face lit up in a smile. “Yes, I did. How did you know that?”
“I remember. I was only two years ahead of you in school.”
“But I didn’t think you even knew I was alive.”
Grant smiled at her innocence. “Of course, I did.”
“But you were always with Corey Dayton, and I didn’t think you ever saw anyone else.”
“Ever ‘saw’ anyone else? I didn’t take out anyone else, but I still saw who was around. I always thought you were attractive. I think you’re even more so now.”
Color rose in Cassie’s cheeks, and she looked momentarily flustered. “Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.”
They both laughed, then turned their attention to their plates. Grant refilled the coffee cups, and they sat in awkward silence for a few minutes.
“Can I ask you something personal?” Cassie finally said.
“If I can ask you something afterwards.”
“Did it break your heart when Corey married Allen Sloan?”
Grant blinked at the directness of her question. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you fight for her?”
“That’s two questions. My turn. What’s going on with you and Sonny?”
“Nothing. Literally. We’re no longer even friends.”
“Because of the baby?”
“That’s two questions.”
Grant smiled.
“The baby is part of it,” she said. “but I also came to see that Sonny only wanted to take but never to give. He won’t help me when I need him most.”
“Don’t you think that’s expecting a lot when the baby isn’t his?”
“His family problems aren’t mine, but I took them on whenever he needed someone to talk to.”
“But a baby is a different thing. Your girl having sex with another man is hard to accept.”
Cassie tilted her head as she studied his face. “Are we talking about me now or about you?”
Grant looked away from her steady gaze.
“You know,” Cassie said slowly, “I’ve often wondered why they never had another one. Corey doesn’t work, and she seems happy being a mom. I always thought she’d have more, but that little girl must be seven years old by now.”
Grant was about to ask if they could change the subject, when the significance of her words suddenly hit home. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt the blood drain from his face. He had never thought about it, but Cassie was right. Why hadn’t Corey and Allen had more children? She had always hated growing up as the only child at home and had told Grant more than once that she would never do that to a child of her own. What was the likelihood that a fertile young couple would become unable to conceive later?
“Grant, are you okay?”
Grant nodded, but he couldn’t meet her eyes.
“Oh, Grant, I didn’t mean to … I was just making conversation.” Cassie was leaning toward him, looking up into his face. She moved from her chair to embrace him as he sat stunned and unresponsive. Allan Sloan was sterile. Corey’s baby was his all along. That beautiful little girl who loved Allen Sloan as her daddy was most likely his.
Cassie hugged his neck, then straightened to a standing position, her eyes on his. “Grant, I am so sorry.”
Grant rose to stand beside her. “Hey,” he said, forcing a smile, “you must be tired. I should probably get going.”
But Cassie did not move away. Instead, she put her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, pressing her cheek to his. Her stomach felt rigid against him, an unmistakable contrast to the softness of her breasts. This was the way Corey would have felt if he had been with her then. But he wasn’t. He had turned her away because he was a fool. Because she had gone to bed with another man, and his ego couldn’t take it.
“Don’t go, Grant,” Cassie was saying, her breath warm in his ear. “I’m so sorry I said anything. I never thought what it might mean to you.” She kissed his cheek above his beard, then kissed him on the mouth. Her lips were full and firm and her kiss held more feeling for him than anything he had experienced in years. But the cold shock of revelation had taken control of his emotions. And this relationship with Cassie was too new. He wasn’t ready to spend the night.
“I can’t, Cassie.”
“Yes, you can. Please stay with me. I need you, Grant. And I think you need me.”
Grant held her out at arm’s length and looked into her eyes. “No, I need to go. You’d regret it tomorrow. I know you would.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” she said, her eyes flashing angrily.
Grant released her, shaking his head as he went for his coat on the back of the chair. “I don’t think we should, Cassie. Not now. Not yet. I … I don’t think it’s a good idea. And, believe me, it’s not that there’s anything wrong with you.”
“I know,” she said bitterly. “It’s not me, it’s you. Go home, Grant. I’ll see you around.”
Grant and Larry did not show up to work in the woods on Sunday morning. The day was bitterly cold, but Cassie doubted that was what kept them away from the Dayton farm. By noon, she considered going to her dad’s house for the day, but the reality was, she was feeling depressed and anti-social and didn’t have an interest in keeping up the social interaction a visit with her family would entail. She had not slept well the night before, reliving in her mind her evening with Grant and its disappointing, abrupt end. Had she really introduced an idea he hadn’t considered before? How could he have never questioned why Corey and Allen had never conceived another child?
Now the sleepless night, coupled with depression and the stresses of pregnancy, prompted her to lie down on the couch. She slept all afternoon, wrapped in a cocoon of soothing warmth provided by an afghan her mother had made years before. She was still asleep when the sound of a car in the driveway jolted her awake.
She awoke in a darkened room. The January days were short, and she had not put on any lights before falling asleep. Now she sat in the dark and listened for the approach of someone she wasn’t expecting. Could it be Grant? What if it was Sonny? Or … someone else? Should she put on a light or remain in the dark, not giving away her presence in the house?
The latch on the garage doors banged. The only one who would enter through the garage was Shane, but Shane wasn’t due home until late. Cassie pushed herself from the couch and walked into the kitchen to make sure the door to the ell was locked. Shane would have a key. Then she went to the window to look up the length of the drive. The garage itself was out of her line of sight, but a trail of exhaust was barely visible where the garage doors would be. Would someone else go to the trouble of pulling into the garage? It must be Shane. But why was he home so early when he had planned to see Shelby today? A new fear squeezed her heart. Had something happened to Shelby?
The garage doors closed and someone was walking up the ramp. Cassie moved away from the window and crossed to the far end of the kitchen where she could duck into Shelby�
��s bedroom if necessary. A key was inserted in the lock and the tumblers moved. Cassie breathed a sigh of relief and started toward the door.
He came in bundled against the cold, wearing a tan parka she had not seen before. The hood was up, concealing his face, but there was no doubt the tall, slender frame was Shane’s. He hurried across the end of the kitchen and disappeared into the living room. He was on the steps hurrying upstairs before she could even let him know she was there.
Cassie walked across the kitchen and through the music room to the parlor. Standing at the foot of the stairs, she could see his bedroom door was closed. His strange behavior rekindled her fear for Shelby, and she knew she could not wait for him to resurface. She took the stairs slowly, hoping he would come out, but when she had reached the top, his door was still closed.
“Shane?”
There was a long silence, then a soft “What?”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“ I just need to be alone.” His voice sounded strange, his words impeded.
“Is Shelby okay?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see her?”
“Yes.”
Cassie stood outside his door feeling helpless. Why did he need to be alone? Had Shelby given him some terrible news?
“Can I do anything for you?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Shane, you’re scaring me.”
His voice moved closer to the door. “It doesn’t affect you. It doesn’t affect Shelby. Now leave me alone.”
There was no mistaking the anger in his voice. Cassie backed away from the door and went downstairs, confused and hurt. She made a fresh pot of coffee, then took a package of ground beef out of the refrigerator. A sense of doom hung over her as she moved mechanically through the motions of making a meat loaf. What was going on? What was wrong with all these men? She wished Shelby were here now. She needed the support of another woman.
The clock in the living room struck six, and still there was no sign of Shane. Cassie sat at the kitchen table, her heart in her throat. Did she dare go up there again? She supposed he had a right to privacy, but she was just plain scared. She rose from the table and went up the stairs once more. Through Shane’s closed door she could hear the slow, rhythmic sounds of someone asleep. With a trembling hand she slowly tried the brass knob. The door was not locked, and she pushed it open ever so slightly.
Shane did not stir. Her heart was pounding so wildly now, she thought she was going to faint. A little farther in and she could see him, lying fully clothed on his bed. His face was turned toward the door, and what Cassie saw in the minimal light froze her in mid-motion. She closed her eyes as she fought to calm herself, then backed out of the room and tried to close the door. But her arms were shaking so badly, she feared she would bang the door against the frame, so she left it slightly ajar and crossed the hall to her own room. Her legs were shaking as well, and she collapsed onto her bed, drawing her legs up to her belly and hugging herself to stop the shaking.
What had happened to him? His face looked like it had been severely beaten; his eyes were puffed so badly, she didn’t know how he had seen to drive. His cheeks were swollen and split as were his lips, and there was blood in his pale eyebrows. If his nose wasn’t broken or teeth lost, it would be a miracle. What had happened to him?
Her initial shaking began to subside, but she still felt weak and incredibly scared. She had taken care of Dawson after he’d been in fights, but he had never looked that bad. Shane looked like the victim of more than one attacker, like he had not had a chance to defend himself. She knew she had a lot to learn about city life, but there was no good reason to beat someone so terribly just to get his money.
She sat up, and her head was spinning. Had he been to a doctor? Was he injured all over? What kind of care would he need? What could she do for him? What would he let her do for him? How did he think he could keep her from finding out? And if he didn’t want her to know, why hadn’t he stayed in Boston? But why wouldn’t he want her to know?
She rose shakily to her feet and went to his door again. This time she pushed it open all the way. “Shane?”
He moved slowly ,like someone in extreme pain, and when he turned his face away from her she saw a stream of tears running from his swollen eye.
Cassie hurried to the bed and knelt beside it. She did not touch him for fear she would hurt him more, but brought her face close to his. “Shane, what can I do for you?”
He slowly shook his head.
“Have you seen a doctor?”
He shook his head once more.
“Do you want to go to the hospital?”
He shook his head, and the flow of tears increased.
“Oh, Shane, what if you’re hurt inside? I can’t take care of you here.”
His hand moved from his side and came up to brush against her face. Cassie grasped it and held it tight. “Can I at least call the Fast Squad? They’ll know if you need to go to the hospital.”
Shane shook his head, but Cassie had already made up her mind. She laid his hand back down on the bed and ran downstairs to the phone.
Grant was eating dinner with his parents and sister when his pager went off.
“Attention, Chatham Fast Squad. Report to the old Dayton farm in Chatham Ridge for an unknown medical emergency. An ambulance has not been requested. That’s the old Dayton farm in Chatham Ridge for an unknown medical emergency. An ambulance …”
Grant was on his feet and out the door before his napkin hit the floor. His parents’ drive was a blur of flashing red on snow as the truck barreled down the hill and out onto the state highway heading south. The snow that had threatened all day was falling rapidly now, and he put the truck into four-wheel drive as he headed toward Chatham Ridge. A dozen terrible possibilities ran through his mind, and he chastised himself now for leaving her alone in that place. The oncoming snow, reflected in his headlights, formed a streaming tunnel that obscured his vision, but he held the road by memory, leaving it to his red light to scare obstructions from his path. John Millstone signed on with the Rescue Unit from the fire station as Grant headed into the last mile before the long driveway.
The driveway itself seemed interminable. When he finally reached the top, he pulled up to the closed garage doors, leaving room for the Rescue truck, then jumped from his truck and ran to the front door. To his relief, Cassie was standing there, pale and shaken but intact. She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, leaving the front door open as she hurried him toward the stairs. Her eyes were wide and frightened.
“Something terrible has happened to Shane!” she cried. “He was beat up or something! I don’t know how he drove home!”
They ran up the stairs together and into the room on the left. Grant switched on the overhead light and looked at the man on the bed. If it wasn’t for his blond afro, he never would have known it was his friend.
John Millstone arrived a few minutes later, followed by two other male members of the squad. John took Shane’s blood pressure and pulse, then gently felt his ribs. Cassie stood in the doorway, tears streaming down her face, and would not leave the room until John told her he needed to check Shane all over. He made eye contact with Grant, who stepped forward and put his arm around her shoulders, leading her out into the hall as John closed the door behind them. Cassie rested her head against his shoulder and cried as he asked her what she knew.
“Does he always go to Boston on weekends or does he go to other places, too?”
Cassie shook her head. “Sometimes he goes to Portland. Sometimes New York.”
“Do you know why?”
“He’s a musician. He plays in clubs on weekends.”
“What does he play?”
“Guitar mostly. He sings. Writes his own songs. He sits around in the evenings and practices sometimes. Sometimes he puts his own songs on tape in the little music room.” Cassie looked up at Grant with puffy, r
eddened eyes. “What do you think happened to him, Grant?”
“He got jumped.”
“But why beat him up? What’s wrong with people?”
She started to cry again, and Grant pulled her to his chest. He rested his cheek on hers and stared at the closed bedroom door. It was starting to make sense now, the living arrangements and all.
Lonely Souls Page 12