More Than Words: Stories of Strength

by Carla Neggers

  “Is he tame?”

  “Sometimes.”

  She turned her attention from the coyote back to him. “Why do I suddenly think you’re not as mean and tough as you want the world to believe?”

  “Think what you want.”

  “I will.” She smiled. “Thank you, Aaron. For the donation and for spending time with me. I look forward to seeing you at the picnic.” She glanced again at Buddy, then left the showroom.

  Aaron and Buddy watched her go. When they were alone, the coyote approached and Aaron rubbed his ears.

  “What do you think?” he asked the silent creature. “Women like that are trouble.”

  Buddy sniffed and Aaron grinned. “You’re right. She sure did smell good.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “He’s totally hot,” Ruby said as she unpacked supplies for the picnic.

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t make him my type.” As Marissa spoke, she was careful to keep her left hand—and her crossed fingers—out of sight. She didn’t want to actually be lying.

  “But he’s wounded,” Ruby said, her expression knowing. “You love that. Lord knows you can’t seem to avoid a broken man. Show you someone normal, successful and interested in settling down, and you run screaming in the opposite direction. But if there’s a battered soul within fifty miles, you’re trembling with desire.”

  Marissa wrinkled her nose. “I do not tremble with desire.”

  “You do something, girlfriend, and it’s not healthy.”

  Marissa knew better than to argue. Her track record with men bordered on pathetic. Unfortunately she was attracted to men with issues—men who tended to move on after solving their issues. Wasn’t that just the way of it?

  “Aaron’s not like that,” she said as she opened packages of paper plates. “He’s very successful and normal.”

  Ruby snorted. “Sure. That’s why he keeps to himself all the time. And what’s up with that wolf of his?”

  “I think Buddy’s a coyote.”

  “Whatever. Can’t the man get a lab or golden retriever like the rest of the world?”

  “He rescued Buddy.”

  “Maybe. All I’m saying is you’ve been acting goofy ever since you met the guy. I can read the signs. You’re already crazy about him, and from what I’ve heard, he’s going to break your heart. Why don’t you try staying safe for once?”

  Good advice, Marissa thought as she watched her friend toss her long braids back over her shoulder and start setting out the wrapped sandwiches.

  “I’m not crazy about him,” Marissa said as she put out containers of fruit salad. “I think he’s interesting.”

  “Uh-huh. You did five minutes on his butt two days ago. Before that it was his face, and then how beautiful his furniture is.”

  Marissa felt the heat of a blush on her cheeks. Had she really been that bad?

  “His furniture is beautiful. You should go to his showroom sometime.”

  “And be a nice juicy replacement for coyote chow? No thanks. Besides, I don’t have a spare twenty thousand for an original Aaron Cross table.”

  Marissa thought about the price tag on the simple chair she’d seen. “Yeah, he does make the big bucks.”

  Ruby grinned. “At least that’s a change. Usually you go for guys who are dead broke. This time you won’t be making his car payments.”

  Marissa put her hands on her hips. “That happened once, and you promised to never mention it again.”

  “You’re right. Sorry. I just want to see you happy. With someone who’ll treat you right.”

  That was exactly what Marissa wanted, too. She tried not to be envious of Ruby’s great husband and her two kids, but sometimes it was tough. Why couldn’t she find the same?

  She had to admit her usually lousy taste in men complicated the issue. She did attract those in need of rescuing. Unfortunately she found it difficult to say no to anyone in need.

  “So when does Mr. Tall, Dark and Weird arrive?” Ruby asked.

  “He’s not weird, and he didn’t say what time he’d be here.”

  “Want to bet he’s not going to show?”

  “He’ll be here,” Marissa said with an assurance she didn’t feel. As much as she wanted to believe Aaron would come, she was starting to have doubts. Somehow he didn’t strike her as the picnic type.

  Aaron sat in his truck a full five minutes after he’d parked. He could see the crowd of people gathered around the wooden table. To the left, kids chased a couple of soccer balls; to the right, someone had started a fire in one of the pits. Altogether too much life for his liking. He was about to put the truck in Reverse when he saw a tall blond woman pick up a toddler, swing the child around and laugh.

  He recognized Marissa even as he refused to acknowledge the ache that seeing her had started. Yeah, she was attractive and he liked her smile, and maybe he appreciated that she still saw the best in people when he’d long since given up hope. But that didn’t mean he wanted anything to do with her. Or her causes.

  Still, he found himself opening the door and stepping out into the sunny April afternoon. Spring had arrived in Madison and everyone seemed to appreciate the fact. Sounds carried to him—the laughter and shrieks of children, the conversation of adults. In the distance, a couple of dogs barked. Still, for him, the world narrowed as Marissa glanced up. She held the child, but her attention was on him. Their gazes locked in a moment of pure connection.

  The ache intensified. He walked toward her, telling himself he was a fool for bothering. He’d never thought to check for a wedding ring when she’d been in his shop. It figured that the only woman to catch his interest in the past five years might be married.

  “You came,” she said with a smile that lit up her whole face. “Of course, I knew you would, but you hadn’t exactly said so.”

  She was lying, he thought, and doing a piss-poor job of it. “I didn’t know I was coming until I got here,” he told her. He nodded at the kid. “Yours?”

  “What? No. No husband, no kids. This is Tamara, my friend Ruby’s daughter. Tamara, this is Mr. Cross.”

  The toddler buried her face in Marissa’s shoulder.

  “That age,” Marissa said. “She’s shy. Come on. I’ll return this little sweetie to her mom, then introduce you around. Or do you know everyone?”

  Aaron glanced at the crowd. He might have made his home here for the past five years, but he’d never been one to socialize.

  “Can’t say that I do.”

  “You will after today.”

  Marissa was as good as her word. He met everyone associated with the Motheread/Fatheread® program, along with town dignitaries, several local business owners and dozens of program graduates. People were lining up for sandwiches when a teenage girl rushed toward him.

  “You’re Aaron Cross,” she shrieked, clutching a thick magazine to her chest. “Oh, I knew it! My friend Heather called me so I found the magazine with your picture. Can you sign it for me?”

  She thrust out a trendy magazine that had done a spread on his furniture a couple of months ago.

  “I don’t have a pen,” Aaron said, wishing he’d never bothered to show up.

  The girl handed him one as she danced from foot to foot. “I can’t believe you’re really here. Someone said you live in town. Is that true?”

  “I, uh—”

  “Jenny, why don’t you let Mr. Cross get some lunch,” Marissa said. “We don’t want to scare him off, now do we?”

  She gently led the teenager away, then urged Aaron into line for lunch. He glanced longingly toward his truck but knew he needed to wait until he wasn’t the center of attention before bolting.

  Even as he berated himself for showing up in the first place, he made conversation with the people in line. They were friendly enough, and none of them were holding magazines for him to sign. When he’d collected his food, he made his way to a dry spot a few yards from the picnic tables and settled against a tree. Marissa had been called away by one of the org
anizers, which meant if Aaron timed it right, he could be out of here in about fifteen minutes.

  He bit into his sandwich, then reached down for his can of soda.

  “Hi.”

  He turned toward the speaker. “Hi, yourself.”

  A young boy stood next to him. The kid was maybe six or seven, with tousled dark hair and a big red car on the front of his sweatshirt. He held a large picture book on cars in both hands. “Whatcha got there?” Aaron asked when the boy didn’t speak again.

  “Is that your truck?” the boy asked, pointing to Aaron’s large vehicle.

  “Uh-huh. Do you like trucks?”

  The boy nodded. He held up his book. “I like cars, too. They go fast.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  Aaron felt torn. Part of him still wanted to escape to the solitude of his shop, but he wasn’t willing to simply walk away from the kid.

  “Is your mom here?” he asked.

  The boy pointed to a group of adults laughing at one of the tables.

  “I can read,” the boy said. “Want me to read you this story?”

  Aaron felt the weight of the inevitable drop onto his shoulders. He wrapped up his sandwich and moved it to one side before patting the ground next to him.

  “Sure. What’s your name?”

  “Christopher.”

  The boy dropped to his knees and held the book out in front of him. It was already open to the first page.

  “‘Look at the cars,’” he said, reading slowly. “‘Many, many cars. Some are red. Some are green. Some go fast.’” He glanced at Aaron, then pointed to the page. “That’s the red one.”

  “I see that.”

  Aaron gave his truck one last, longing look before turning his attention to the boy. “What happens next?”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Ruby admitted in a low voice.

  Marissa shared her confusion. While she was delighted that Aaron had showed up at the picnic, she’d never expected him to stick around for very long. And if someone had asked her if he liked kids, she would have put her meager savings on a definite no!

  But there he sat, under a tree, surrounded by at least six little kids. They all had new books they’d earned for their excellent reading skills and were taking turns reading aloud to him.

  “The man has the patience of a saint or else he’s touched in the head,” Ruby told her.

  “I don’t think he’s a saint,” Marissa said, watching him laugh with a little girl as she pointed out a picture of a mouse dressed up like a princess. “I guess I should rescue him.”

  “Seems to me he’s big enough to rescue himself.”

  Marissa wasn’t so sure.

  “At least he’s not like the usual guys you get involved with,” Ruby said. “That’s something. I was doubtful, I’ll admit it, but now I give him a big thumbs-up.”

  Marissa shook her head. “We’re not dating.”

  Ruby smiled. “Maybe not, but you will be. Mark my words.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “You didn’t have to stay and help me clean up,” Marissa said as she collected leftover sandwiches and put them into a basket.

  “No problem.”

  Aaron’s low voice rumbled through the late afternoon and made her want to shiver. Not from cold, but from, well, him.

  She knew she shouldn’t keep looking at him, but she couldn’t help darting quick glances every couple of seconds, as if to confirm he was still there, picking up empty soda cans and dropping them into the recycling bins.

  “Besides, I owe you,” he said with a smile. “You saved me.”

  She laughed. “I was afraid those kids were going to wear you out. All that reading.”

  “It wasn’t so bad. Were they all part of the Motheread/Fatheread® program?”

  “Their parents are.”

  “Those kids sure loved their books.”

  “It’s fun to watch them pick out their first book. They treat the decision with such seriousness.” She glanced up again and found him watching her. “What?”

  “Just you.” He jerked his chin toward the basket of leftover food. “Let me guess. You’re taking it to a shelter.”

  “Of course. I couldn’t just throw it out.”

  “Right. And these?” He pointed to the cans.

  “We collect them all month, then take them in to the recycling center and use the money for an emergency fund.”

  “There’s something wrong with you,” he said.

  “Because I care?”

  “Because you care too much.”

  He stood there, lean and tall and ultramasculine. He might not approve of her, but she couldn’t help approving of him. Strength radiated from him. His handsome, chiseled features made her want to trace the lines of his face. He looked like the kind of man who could withstand whatever life had to offer and still come out ahead.

  He bent down to tie off the last of the trash bags, then leaned against a picnic table.

  “Tell me, Marissa Spencer, have you ever done anything wrong in your entire life?” he asked.

  She closed the basket and slipped on her sweater. “Silly question. Of course I have.”

  “Name it.”

  “I got into fights, brought a knife to school and set fire to the girls’ locker room.”

  He frowned. “Not you.”

  “Yes, me.” She slid onto the picnic table and put her feet on the bench seat. “I was nothing but trouble all the way through school.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Amazingly enough, that doesn’t change what happened. Once I spent an entire summer locked up in juvenile detention.”

  She had the satisfaction of seeing the usually emotionless Aaron look shocked.

  “But you’re a goody-goody,” he told her.

  “Not exactly. I’m a person who wants to change the world. There’s a difference.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  Marissa thought about her past. So much had changed for her that those troubled days seemed to belong to another lifetime.

  “I used to frustrate my teachers because they knew I was smart enough to do the work, but I simply wouldn’t bother. One day I’d done something—I can’t remember what—and one of my teachers had had enough. She told me I had a choice. I could be suspended or I could work off my punishment in another way.” She smiled. “There was this cute guy I liked, so I didn’t want to get kicked out of school. I took Plan B.”

  “Which was?”

  “Helping another student with his reading. I had to work with him every day after school. At first it was torture. I couldn’t stand it. But after a while, I really started to like it.” She smiled. “Then his reading improved, and I felt as if I’d just done something amazing. I offered to help someone else, and within a few weeks I realized that I could make a difference in a person’s life. It was a liberating thought and it changed me completely.”

  “In what way?”

  “I’d been bounced around in various foster homes from the time I was twelve. I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do with my life, I just wanted to be on my own. After the reading experience, I decided to go to college, where I majored in library science and sociology. I received my master’s in social work and then settled here.”

  “Where you help everyone and volunteer in your free time.”

  “It’s not like that,” she told him. “I’m not perfect. I’m not a goody-goody, as you claimed. What I learned when I was sixteen was that I can make a difference. I can change someone’s life for the better with only a little effort and time. Why wouldn’t I want to do that? People ask me why I give so much. What I want to ask them is why they aren’t getting involved.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “Some people don’t see the point.”

  Was he speaking about himself? “Maybe they haven’t tried.”

  “Maybe they think no good deed goes unpunished.”

  “Ouch.” She winced. “You don’t actually believe that.
”

  He shrugged. “There are a lot of things in this world we can’t control.”

  “All the more reason to improve what we can.”

  “You’re naive.”

  “You’re a cynic.”

  He surprised her by smiling. “You left out grumpy.”

  She laughed. “Okay, a grumpy cynic. How can someone who doesn’t believe in the world create such beauty? Your furniture gives pleasure to people.”

  “They also pay dearly for the privilege of owning it.”

  “So you’re only in it for the money?”

  “Sure.”

  She studied his dark eyes. “I don’t believe you. I think you create such beautiful things because they matter to you.”

  “Believe what you want—it’s the truth.” His humor faded. “I’m not some project you can take on, Marissa. Don’t try to save me.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  His gaze never left her face. “You’re not a very good liar.”

  She hadn’t actually planned on saving him, but maybe she had considered bringing him out of his self-imposed isolation.

  “You shouldn’t shut yourself away,” she told him. “It’s not healthy.”

  “Neither is running around worrying about everyone else so you don’t have time to worry about yourself. Who looks after you?”

  Interesting question. Even more intriguing, how had he figured her out so quickly?

  “I can take care of myself,” she said firmly.

  “Something you’ve been doing since you were a kid.”

  “Exactly. I’ve had lots of practice and I’m good at it.”

  Pushing away from his table and walking toward hers, he moved closer. With every step he took, her breath hitched a little.

  “Like I said, you’re not a good liar.”

  She stared at him. “I’m telling the truth. I handle things just fine on my own.”

  “Uh-huh.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  He stopped scant inches from her. He was close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his dark gaze. Something flashed in his eyes, but she couldn’t read it—probably because she couldn’t think.