by Rebeca Seitz
Kendra and Joy nodded, and Meg picked up her scissors. “All right, T,” Meg said. “Then let’s get to scrapping. We’ve got about three hours of buckeyes left.”
Each woman went back to her layouts, and Tandy switched to autopilot. As she cropped photos, she wondered if the sisters could really hold true to their promise of no Clay talk the entire time she was in Stars Hill. And why was she sad they wouldn’t be talking about him anymore?
She placed pictures of the ocean on her layout. Short waves, their edges a frothy white, were laying on the shoreline, frozen forever in time. Tangled seaweed formed a jagged border between the beach and ocean, the only reminder of a storm that had moved through the night before. All else was calm, the water now so clear she could see bits of shell beneath if she held the picture to the light. A light-blue sky refused even the faintest wisp of cloud.
Tandy set the picture down and wondered at her uneasy feeling in the face of such a serene picture. When realization struck, she sat back on her stool and stared. For the first time in three years, she noticed what was missing in her prints.
People.
Seven
Later that night, her stomach full of peanut butter and chocolate buckeyes, Tandy lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. If she stayed until the Iris Festival, chances were pretty high she’d run into Clay. Two weeks was a long time in Stars Hill. What should she say? Would it be presumptive to tell him she wasn’t interested?
Was he?
She jumped as something hit her window. Cooper raised his head and growled low in his throat. If Cooper was growling, then that wasn’t her imagination. But hawks and burglaries didn’t happen in Stars Hill.
Several somethings hit her window, sounding like small rocks or pellets. Cooper jumped down off his chair and went to the window. He stretched his big barrel body up onto the wall and whined at the window sill.
A memory of Clay outside that same window eleven years ago made Tandy bolt upright. Surely not.
She threw off the covers and slid her legs off the bed. Tiptoeing to the window, she peeked out into the side yard.
There, illuminated beneath the soft yellow light from the barn, stood Clay Kelner.
Tandy’s heart skipped a beat.
The window creaked as she raised it, and Tandy glanced back to her closed bedroom door. Daddy would have a fit if he saw Clay out in the yard. Cooper let out a short bark.
“Shh, buddy. It’s okay.” I think. Clay Kelner was standing outside her window throwing rocks to wake her up. Well, she’d been awake anyway, but he didn’t know that. She stuck her head out the window.
“What are you doing?” She hissed the words, holding a finger up to her lips, then pointing down to the back corner of the house. Daddy’s window.
Clay motioned for her to come down. She shook her head. He motioned again. She shook her head again. He put his hands on his hips, which should have been a womanly gesture but on him seemed threatening. He held up one finger. What did that mean? Wait a second? One more try? What?
He made the motion again for her to come down. Again, she shook her head no. Clay threw up his hands in a gesture that clearly meant, Well, I tried. Tandy began to breathe easier. His staying power must have waned over the years.
Her eyebrows knit, though, as Clay strode over to stand in front of Daddy’s window. He held up one finger again and understanding dawned. She had one more try or he would wake Daddy up.
She held up her palm, hoping he knew that meant hold on, and shut the window. Shoving her feet into house slippers, she snatched a sweatshirt from the corner of the bed to ward off the April night air. She paused in the hallway, biting her lip and trying to remember which of the stairs creaked. Her sleep-deprived brain wasn’t awake enough to help.
The banister was cool and smooth under a hand Tandy realized was shaking. Clay Kelner. After all these years. She tested each step, careful to stay on the far side to prevent creaks. Cooper’s nails clicking on the hardwood were the only sound to betray her stealthy approach to the front door. With a hope that Daddy’s hearing was not as good as it used to be, she turned the knob and slipped out.
Clay, hands tucked in the pockets of faded jeans, stood waiting at the bottom of the porch steps. She tiptoed down—skipping the creak out of habit—and stood in front of him. Heat and memories thickened the air between them. The moonlight caught his eyes as he looked at her for a long second. Her feet squeaked on dew-heavy grass as she turned and headed for the barn. No sense talking in the front yard and waking Daddy up. Clay followed her, his steps heavy and sure in the silence.
As soon as they got to the barn, though, he cupped her elbow and turned her around.
“What are you doing here?” she said.
“I needed to talk to you.” His deep voice brought back memories best left buried.
“In the middle of the night? What time is it?” She stuffed a lock of hair behind her ear.
“It’s about two in the morning. And, if you’ll recall, I tried to talk to you in broad daylight, but you ran off.”
“I didn’t run off. I needed to get home.” She crossed her arms over her chest, not caring if he interpreted it as a defensive move. Cooper sat rigid at her feet, staring a hole through the one making his momma tense.
“You were running, and we both know it. It hasn’t been so long that I’ve forgotten you’re a runner.”
Twice in two days she’d been called that, and the knowledge that people had labeled her as such weighed heavy enough to make her hang her head. Couldn’t they call her a fighter instead, like Kendra? A survivor, like Joy? Why a runner? Cowards ran.
“What do you want, Clay?” The defeat in her voice made Cooper whine, and she crouched down beside him to give a reassuring pat.
Silence stretched, causing her to look up.
Big mistake.
Time really had been good to Clay Kelner, she noticed now. His eyes, formerly wild with a desperate longing for adventure and excitement, had allowed kindness to replace impetuousness. A small gleam let her know that his fun-loving side was still there, but it looked like life had tempered the immaturity right out of him. Laugh lines cut deep into the tan skin beside either eye, and Tandy was surprised to find herself warmed by the thought that he had been happy.
And jealous of whoever had caused it.
She stood up and walked over to the old AM/FM radio in the far corner of the barn. She sent up a silent prayer that Meg’s belief in the calming power of music would hold true. Turning the dial, she searched through static until WSIX out of Nashville came through.
Clay’s presence behind her was almost overwhelming. Her past, right there within arm’s reach. A past that had both healed and hurt. A past that, if she was smart, would stay just that.
“Tandy, what happened in Orlando?” His voice rolled over her shoulder. It had coaxed so many secrets from her in high school. The truth of her birth mother, her fear of never fulfilling Momma’s dreams, of being scared to leave the safety of Stars Hill, of hating the uncertainty of emotion, of needing to have some sense of control over her own life. He’d heard it all.
And none of it had kept him here.
She straightened her spine and turned, glaring at him. “Nothing happened. I just hadn’t been home in a long while and thought it was time for a visit.”
“So it’s going to be like that between us now? I get the Stars Hill party line?”
“I don’t recall you valuing anything else.” Her gaze broke and wandered around the barn. Steady.
“What does that mean?”
“Whatever you want it to mean, I guess.”
“Tandy, come on.” He reached out and touched her arm. She stepped back, bumping into the table on which the radio sat. Keith Urban’s gravelly voice crooned, “Tonight I wanna cry …”
It only leads to more tears, Keith. Better to move on.
“Tell me what happened, Taz.” His pet name for her, what he’d called her since the day he learned her initials— TAS. Tandy Ann Sincl
air. He’d decided her whirlwind nature was perfectly suited to the cartoon character. Back then it made her feel accepted. Loved for who she was. Now it only reminded her of the frivolity and uselessness of love. Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head.
“It really wasn’t anything, Clay. Just gave me a good reason to come see Daddy and the sisters.”
He studied her as Keith sang on, “I’ve never been the kind to ever let my feelings show. I thought that being strong meant never losing my self control …”
Why had she turned the radio on? Oh yeah, Meg.
“Okay, Tandy.” He backed away a few steps and held up his hands. “You don’t have to tell me. But you know me well enough to know I’m going to find out anyway. Either you can spin it to me now or I can listen to the Stars Hill version. Your choice.”
That was a choice? Stars Hill could make a fender bender into a twelve-car pileup overnight. They had the sisters advising her to marry Clay, for Pete’s sake.
“That’s not fair.”
He grinned, and she saw the face she’d held so many times. The one she’d let slip past her hands and into her heart.
“Fair, no. Effective? Yes.”
She blew out her breath and tucked more curls behind her ears. “I had an incident with a client. A big client.”
“Big enough for me to know him?”
“Big enough for my boss to know him.”
“Ah. Go on.”
She shrugged. “He talked to my boss. My boss talked to me. Here I am.”
“You were fired?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I can’t believe you’d think I got fired! What is it with people?”
“Okay, you didn’t get fired. Then why are you here?”
“Just taking a little time off to let things blow over.”
“What was the incident?”
“Just a misunderstanding, really.”
“You were forced to take leave over a misunderstanding? Sounds like Orlando’s a tough city.”
“It can be.”
“So what’d he misunderstand?”
“How do you know it was a he?”
“Because I know you, Tandy. Women you can handle. Men? Well, sometimes.”
“You know me from a decade ago, Clay.” And it almost killed me when it ended then. Please don’t try to know me now.
He shrugged. “Fair enough. Tell me what she misunderstood.”
“It was a he.”
He threw back his head and laughed.
“Shh! You’re going to wake up Daddy!”
“Oh, please. Your daddy couldn’t hear a cat yowling in heat from out here. Don’t try to change the subject. What did he misunderstand?”
“The motivations of his attorney.”
“Are you going to make me pull this out of you? Because I should warn you, I had a nap between the diner and here.” He sat down on a bale of hay at his feet, and Cooper, the traitor, padded over to him. Clay scratched Coop’s ears and looked up at her. “I’m good for at least a few hours, but I was hoping you wouldn’t make me work this hard to get a feeling out of you.”
Clay had always been tenacious when he wanted something. Too bad she hadn’t fallen into that category. She hopped up onto the table by the radio where Big and Rich were kicking into a guitar solo.
“He was guilty, but he wanted to testify.”
“And you wouldn’t let him.”
“Of course not.”
“And that got you put on leave?”
“It may have had something to do with how I found out he was guilty.”
“Finally, we’re getting to it. How’d you find out?”
“He told me.”
“Just out of the blue he says, ‘Hey, Ms. Sinclair. I may have forgotten to mention that I’m guilty. Just thought you should know’?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then quit making me play twenty questions and tell me what happened. It must have had some effect to make you this hesitant to tell me.”
She met his eyes and saw caring, acceptance. Oh, what was the use? Two weeks would be over before she could blink.
“We were at lunch.”
“You were dating a client?”
The jealousy in his voice gave her pause. Did he care if she had been?
“Does it matter?”
“Maybe.”
“Then, no. Not really.”
“Not really?”
“It was just lunch.”
“Just lunch for you or just lunch for him?”
“Both, I’d guess. A break in the workday.”
“A break.”
“Why are you repeating everything I’m saying?”
“Because you keep giving me more when I do. So, a break?”
She raked her hands through her hair. This was getting out of hand. “Yes. A break for lunch with a client because I hadn’t brought anything to eat at my desk that day. Do you want to know what happened or not? Because, unlike some people, I didn’t get a nap today.”
Cooper woofed at her.
“Why do you eat lunch at your desk?”
“What?”
“You said you did this because you hadn’t brought anything to eat that day. Do you eat lunch at your desk every day?”
Tandy paused, thinking. “Yeah, I guess I do. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You don’t go out with friends? Ever?”
“I have a few times. There’s this woman, Anna, in the office who’s very nice.” She smiled at the thought of sweet Anna, who no doubt had a blooming African violet on her desk by this time. “I’d rather eat fast and get back to work. I don’t have time to replay everyone’s conquests from the night before and decide why he hasn’t called yet.”
“Ah, I get it. No attachments.”
“No mess.”
“Okay, okay.” Clay leaned back on his elbows in the hay. “You’re at lunch with a client for convenience sake and …”
The image of Anna vanished from her mind, replaced by the hump-backed man in an overcoat. “And there was a man across the street.”
“Your boyfriend?”
She glared at him. “No.”
“Sorry. Of course not. Go ahead.”
“He was, um …” She searched for a way to describe the scene without degrading the homeless man any further. “He was …” Her eyes trailed up to the ceiling, grasping for a phrase. “Well, it was like …”
“Was he homeless, Tandy?” Compassion soaked his words, and she looked across the hay-strewn floor at him.
“How did you know that?”
“The look on your face. It’s the same one you got when we found that baby kitten abandoned by its mother and my dad said it would never live.”
“He had no right to be so cold. And I’ll remind you that kitten made a great recovery.”
“Yes, he did. And he’s been increasing the cat population of Stars Hill ever since.” Clay sat up and leaned toward her. “My point is that you let your feelings out when it benefits something in need. I’m guessing your jerk of a non-date made some comment about this man.”
“Yes.” She was only halfway surprised with this guess.
“To which you replied.”
“How could I not? That man did nothing to deserve scorn or ridicule. He was just trying to find some dinner. Not bothering anybody. How could I, how could anyone, say awful things about a man in that condition?”
“Being you, you couldn’t. Which, of course, means you’re now in Stars Hill having been put on leave.”
She blew out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Yes.”
He stood up and came to stand in front of her. She stared down at his dusty brown boots, feeling his nearness, yet longing to lean into the safe, warm circle that was him.
“Taz.”
Her head came up and the understanding in his gaze was so much like the old days yet so much deeper that she could do nothing but look.
“I’m glad you’re home.” He put h
is arms around her. She let herself lean into him, knowing it was weak of her. She had the ability to stand on her own two feet now, to fight it out in the world, to chase after an identity and mission without needing to depend on others.
But, for just a second, she promised herself, she’d stop and enjoy the guilty indulgence of leaning into him. Of forgetting that he’d hurt her. That he’d left her for his own dreams. That, when the rubber met the road, he’d run after his mission and she’d chased hers. For a long minute on this cool southern night, Tandy wanted to be held. To have no purpose. No fight. Just this feeling.
In the morning, she thought, as the warmth of his skin touched her cheek through the cotton of his shirt, she could stand and fight again. Even pretend this moment hadn’t happened. Maybe even avoid him for the next two weeks. Go back to doing what she was supposed to do, fully armored in self-reliance.
His big hand covered nearly the entire top of her head as he ran it down her fire-colored curls, over and over. The thump of his heart beat a steady rhythm beneath her ear, telling a story—false, she knew—of a dependable, consistent man. That wasn’t Clay.
At least, not the Clay she knew. He was a rabble-rouser. A man dedicated to squeezing as much life from this world as humanly possible. Focused on sacrificing himself for a greater good, even if the sacrifice meant hurting the ones he professed to love.
The memory of his rough words, spoken by the same voice that now murmured assurances and compassion to her, made her push back abruptly from the drug of him.
Instant cold invaded without his arms around her. She risked a look at him.
“I need to get to bed.”
He grinned and her cheeks flamed.
“Alone, of course. I meant it’s late and I should get back inside.”
He ran his hands down her arms, cupping her elbows and looking her in the eye. “I know what you meant, Taz. You haven’t talked to me in a decade, either, remember. I may be just a little different from the man I was before.”
Believing that would get her a one-way ticket back to Stars Hill and off the train of her life’s goals.
“Good for you, if that’s true.” She hopped down off the table and sidled around him. “Come on, Coop.” Slapping her leg to get the dog’s attention, Tandy turned and walked from the barn.