He put one hand on her shoulder. The heavy weight was warm and comforting, but also…exciting.
“Sometimes it’s best to leave things as they are,” he said, right before he lowered his head and kissed her.
Marissa had less than a second to brace herself for the impact of his mouth on hers. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t the light, tender brush of firm lips against her own.
He didn’t claim her or push her, instead he gently kissed her, as if she were special and easily frightened. The hand on her shoulder moved to the back of her neck, where he rubbed her skin. His other hand cupped her chin.
Heat rushed through her, dousing her in need. Her stomach constricted, her chest got tight, and suddenly it was difficult to catch her breath.
When he stepped away, she had a feeling she looked as stunned as she felt.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
He raised one eyebrow. “Hell if I know.”
Aaron helped Marissa load her car with the leftover food and bagged aluminum cans. He waited until she was safely out of the parking lot before making his way home.
The sun had set by the time he pulled into the long road that led to his driveway. The automatic outside lights had already clicked on. After he parked he went into the house, but didn’t bother turning on lamps. For some reason he wanted to stay in the darkness. As if hiding would help.
None of this should have happened, he thought as he set out food for Buddy, then grabbed a beer and walked into the family room. He sat in his favorite chair and stared out through the curtainless windows into the night. Not the day spent at the picnic or the kiss. He’d been telling Marissa the truth when he said he didn’t know why he’d done it.
She wasn’t what he’d expected, he admitted to himself. He would have guessed she’d been raised with money and a guilty conscience. Instead she’d learned her lessons the hard way. Her intelligence and humor appealed to him, and Lord knows, she was plenty easy on the eyes.
But not for him.
Darkness invaded his house. Even so, he turned his head toward the chest that sat tucked in the corner. He knew what lay inside. Talismans and memories. He’d been through the contents so many times, he knew them by heart.
Thinking about what had been, what he had lost, made him ache. If only…
Aaron drank down his beer, then set the bottle on a table. He closed his eyes and waited for the ghosts.
They came sometime before dawn. He’d retreated to bed around midnight and had tossed and turned for an hour. But now he slept, trapped by exhaustion. At first everything in the dream was fine. He saw Jilly as she’d looked when they’d first met. So young, he thought—had she really been that young? Barely eighteen and laughing. Always laughing. He saw her father’s stern face—the old man had never approved of Aaron. No daughter of a colonel should be dating an enlisted man, even a Marine. But Jilly had stood firm against her father. She’d proclaimed her love for Aaron for all the world to hear. And the colonel had given in.
Next, he saw the wedding. The men in uniform, the toasts, the cake. He heard bits of conversation, the recitation of the vows and Jilly’s laughter. Always her laughter.
Time moved forward again, to her knowing smile as she handed him the small, flat package containing a baby blanket. Deep in his sleep, he smiled as the feeling of elation rushed back to him.
He saw the ultrasound and the promise of their son. And then the orders came that sent him far away.
He’d been home for the happy birth, but had left again only a few weeks later.
The dream turned, shifted, got dark and cold. Pain swept through Aaron, immobilizing him. He knew what was coming, reached out to stop it, but he couldn’t. Not then and certainly not now.
A rainy street. That dangerous time between day and night. Shadows. Too many shadows. He might have been half a world away, but he saw it as if he rode in the car with them. Jilly and little Matt. She was singing. He shouldn’t have known that, but he felt it deep in his gut. She’d been singing as the drunk swerved through the stop sign and plowed into her small car.
Then the singing stopped.
Aaron came awake in a single breath. Sweat drenched his body and made him shiver, but he didn’t reach for the covers. He heard the light clicking of Buddy walking toward him. Something had alerted the coyote. Had he cried out, or did Buddy simply sense his pain?
The ghosts turned to mist and faded. He watched them go, knowing he couldn’t make them stay. When they were gone, it was as if he’d lost Jilly and Matt all over again.
Aaron didn’t bother trying to go back to sleep. By five-thirty he was in his workshop. Buddy lay curled up on his bed in the corner, although he kept a watchful eye on Aaron.
“I’m all right,” he told the coyote as he sipped coffee. “As all right as I’m going to get.”
It had been six years since the car accident that had killed his wife and son. He’d left the Marines and had wandered around the country, looking for something he could never find. Eventually he’d settled here and started making furniture.
At first the ghosts had come every night. Eventually they’d haunted him weekly, then monthly. Now they rarely came. But he’d known they would be there last night.
What had called them? His time with those children? Or Marissa?
Did it matter? In the end, he only had to remember not to get involved. Caring, wanting, needing—they all led to pain. When he’d lost his family, he’d vowed never to love again. Keeping that promise had been a whole lot easier than he’d figured it would be.
CHAPTER FOUR
Marissa stopped the car in front of the woodshop and drew in a deep breath. She couldn’t seem to make the nerves in her stomach stop dancing. The weird tingling sensation that filled her whenever she thought about Aaron had only intensified since she’d driven onto his property. Telling herself she was here for a really good reason and not just because he’d kissed her didn’t help.
“It didn’t mean anything,” she muttered under her breath. “It was just one of those things.” Except she didn’t know which thing.
“Did you say something, Marissa?” Tim Evans asked from the back seat.
“No. Just mumbling things. Old people do that from time to time.”
Tom, Tim’s twin brother, turned in his seat and patted her arm. “You’re getting senile, aren’t you? Should we be thinking about medication?”
“Very funny,” she said with a grin. “Okay, you guys give me a second. I’m going to go talk to Mr. Cross.”
Tim, the serious one of the two, met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “You didn’t tell him we were coming, did you.”
“Nope. But Mr. Cross loves surprises.”
As she spoke, she carefully crossed her fingers, then she opened her door and stepped out into the warm Saturday morning.
The air smelled fresh and clean from the rain two days ago. Spring was showing off with new leaves and plenty of late daffodils and tulips. Marissa paused to admire the beauty of the rural setting, ignoring the voice in her head reminding her that putting off the inevitable wouldn’t make it go away.
“Maybe Aaron really does like surprises,” she whispered to herself as she made her way to his workshop and pushed open the door. And maybe next week Buddy would take to flying across the night sky.
“Hi,” she yelled as she stepped inside the noisy room. “It’s Marissa. Anybody home?”
She hadn’t seen him since the picnic the previous weekend, and though she’d been thinking about him almost constantly, there was no excuse for the sudden thrill that shot through her at the sight of him now.
Aaron stood behind some woodworking tool that was nearly as tall as he. He wore goggles and something over his ears. Wood chips covered him, but somehow they only added to his charm.
He moved the equipment with a confidence that came from familiarity. A half-finished chair sat on the table next to him. From where she stood, she saw an open door leading to th
e woods behind the property. Buddy was lying in a patch of sun, watching her anxiously.
Aaron obviously hadn’t heard her enter. He continued to work for several seconds before he looked up and she waved. When he clicked off the machine, a rush of silence filled the room.
“Hi,” she said, hoping she sounded more cheerful than anxious. “How’s it going? Did you have a good week? Isn’t the weather great?”
He pulled off his goggles and brushed back his dark hair. His gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You’re nervous. You’ve done something. What is it?”
“Me? No.” She went for a smile, then sighed. “Okay. So, maybe. See, I brought Tim and Tom Evans with me. I thought they could spend the afternoon out here and you could show them what you do.”
“No.” He slid on his goggles and reached for the switch on the machine.
“Aaron, please.”
He glared at her. “Marissa, you don’t have the right to invade my life.”
“I know. It’s just…”
“I’m not interested in saving the world. That’s your job.”
They’d talked about that before. Was that why he hadn’t called her to get together again? But he’d kissed her. Hadn’t that meant anything? She nearly stomped her foot on the cement floor. Questions like that had haunted her for the past week. She should just come out and ask what had happened, except that would require a level of maturity she’d yet to master.
She drew courage from the fact that he hadn’t restarted the machine.
“Their mother has cancer,” she said quietly. “She’s dying. It’s just a matter of a couple of weeks or maybe even days. They’re only fifteen, scared, and their dad is a wreck. Both sets of grandparents are hovering. I had to get them out of the house, but then I didn’t know what to do with them. They need a distraction. Something physical.”
Aaron silently ran through every swearword he knew.
“You don’t play fair, do you?” he asked.
“This isn’t a game. Not to them.”
At the picnic she’d worn jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that had hugged her curves in a way designed to make a man go slowly mad. Today she’d dressed in another long skirt, with boots and a loose blouse. He’d spent the better part of a week doing his best not to think about her, which was pretty much the same as thinking about her all the time.
“Why me?” he asked.
“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
He knew what she wanted—to drag him into her “heal the world, one good deed at a time” philosophy. She wanted him to be a true believer, like her.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t need her or anyone else to get by.
The door to the shop opened slowly and two boys walked in.
“Marissa, is everything okay?” one of them asked.
They looked enough alike to be able to get away with murder, he thought. Young. All arms and legs, awkward, lanky. Scared.
Instead of answering the question, she looked at him. He felt her silent pleading. He should be furious with her for putting him on the spot like this, and he would be. Later.
“I’m Aaron Cross,” he said as he tossed the goggles onto the table and walked toward the boys.
One of the twins moved toward him. “Hi. I’m Tom. That’s Tim.” Tom looked around. “You really make all your furniture here?”
“Every stick of it.”
“That’s so cool. What’s that?” He pointed at a lathe. “What does it do?”
“Come on. I’ll give you the grand tour.” He turned to Tim. “Interested?” he asked.
The quieter twin nodded and moved closer. “Yes, Mr. Cross. Thanks for letting us stop by.”
“Aaron,” he said. “I’m not old enough to be Mr. Cross, yet.”
Tom smiled. Tim still looked out of place. Aaron frowned as he realized the boys were identical, yet he knew exactly who was who. What was up with that?
“So what time should I come back?” Marissa asked. “I said I’d take the boys home around four, but I can come sooner and we can go to the mall or something.”
Aaron glanced at the clock. It was barely after ten.
“Three-thirty is fine.”
Marissa’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He glanced at the boys. “You two up for sandwiches for lunch? That’s about all I have around here.”
The twins glanced at each other and smiled. “That sounds good,” Tom said. Tim nodded.
Marissa beamed. “Great. I’ll see you guys later.”
“You can’t just show up like that,” Aaron said two days later when Marissa dropped by with some banana bread as a thank-you for what he’d done for the twins.
“I know.” She sat curled up in a corner chair in his workshop while he paced and looked fierce.
“It’s not right. It’s not fair to me or them.”
“I’ll agree that it’s not fair to you,” she said, hoping he wasn’t as annoyed as he seemed. “But the boys were transformed. They talked about their day with you the whole way home. Besides, it can’t have been that bad. You invited them back.”
He turned to glare at her. “They’re making some shelves for their room and they’re not done. What was I supposed to do? Leave the project unfinished?”
“Of course not. That would have been horrible.”
His gaze narrowed. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Me? Never. I’m simply pointing out that you had a good time, too.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “That doesn’t give you the right to do things like that.”
She knew he had a point. “I’m sorry. It was sort of an emergency.”
“You’re the kind of person who always has emergencies. Don’t involve me in the next one.”
“Okay. I promise.”
“Do you mean that?”
She nodded, careful to keep her crossed fingers out of sight.
“You look really cute when you’re mad,” she said.
“Marissa!”
Her name came out as a growl. The low, forceful sound made her all quivery inside. She wondered if he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted him to.
“Do we have an understanding?” he asked.
“Sure. There’s a spaghetti dinner at the Methodist church tonight. Usually those things are a bust because it’s only five dollars and how good could the food be? But this is different. I know the lady who makes the sauce, and I have to tell you, it’s fabulous. Plus there’s garlic bread, and the money raised is for the new roof. Want to go?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Suddenly she felt small and foolish. As if he really meant what he said. “Okay.” She stood. “I need to get back to work. Thanks again for helping with Tim and Tom. You were terrific. I’ll try not to bother you again.”
She crossed to the door. Behind her, Aaron sighed.
“What time?”
She spun back to face him. “For dinner?”
He sighed again. “Yeah. What time should I pick you up?”
Her heart did a little happy dance and her insides did a shimmy. “Six-thirty.”
Aaron was willing to accept the twins hanging around all the time, and the spaghetti dinner at the church, and the newspaper interview about his work in support of the auction. He didn’t mind that he was asked to clean out his closets for the women’s shelter rummage sale or the sixteen boxes of cookies he bought from the marching band kids who “just happened to stop by” with Marissa one afternoon. But when the vice principal of the local middle school wanted him to come in and talk on career day, he knew things had gone too far. Despite her promise to the contrary, Marissa was taking over his life and she had to be stopped.
He drove out one evening, intending to catch her before she started her Tuesday night Motheread/Fatheread® class.
“The woman is nuts,” he muttered as he drove through the quie
t streets toward the library. “Certifiably insane.”
He could understand her need to change the world. Fine. That was her decision. He didn’t want any part of it.
He was going to tell her that, along with a few other choice things. He had a mental list.
The library parking lot was nearly full. He found a spot near the back and headed inside toward the classrooms.
When he reached Marissa’s, he stopped just outside the open door. The room was already filled with her students. He checked his watch and realized there were still fifteen minutes until the class officially began, but apparently these students didn’t want to be late.
Nor did they stay in their seats. He glanced inside and saw several crowding around her desk. One middle-aged woman held up a single sheet of paper.
“From my Joe’s teacher,” she said proudly. “He is doing so good in his English class. She says it right here.” The woman pointed to the paper. “I can read it, Miss Marissa. I can read it!”
Aaron knew there was a time to stand strong and a time for a strategic retreat. No way could he win tonight. Not here. Not like this. But soon he would find a way to get through to her and get her out of his life.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Safety first,” Aaron said. “No goggles, no class.”
The half dozen teenagers crowded around his largest worktable nodded vigorously.
“Okay. See you next week,” he told them.
“Thanks, Aaron,” Tom Evans said as he and his brother headed for the exit. Two girls trailed after them, with the last couple of guys bringing up the rear.
Aaron waved, then dropped his own goggles to the bench and shook his head. How had this happened? He’d gone from helping grieving twins build a shelf to teaching an entire class. It was Marissa, he thought grimly. Somehow she’d sucked him into her world when he’d been so determined to stay out of it.
“You’re looking serious about something,” she said, stepping into the workshop.
Her unexpected appearance surprised him. Had he conjured her just by thinking about her? He wouldn’t put it past her to figure out how to crawl into his brain.
More Than Words: Stories of Strength Page 9