Harlequin Superromance November 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2

by Mary Brady

  Nadine turned away, fast, but not before Lyddie caught the glimpse of guilt on her face.

  And Lyddie got a clue.

  “Oh. Maybe the real question isn’t why me. Maybe I should be asking why now.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to.” Lyddie glanced at the clock. Just a few minutes until three. She had a little over an hour before she had to get Tish from day camp.

  “Any chance you could close up, Nadine? I have a hot date with some high school yearbooks.”

  “Lyddie, don’t—”

  “If you can’t do it, no problem. I’ll come in early tomorrow and get things set.”

  “Lydia—”

  She stopped in her flight toward the door. “Nadine. Were Steve and J.T. in the same year in high school?”

  “I told you—”

  “Yes, you did. You warned me. But I’m a big girl, Nadine, and someone I care about has spent too damned long being this town’s scapegoat. I’m not going to rock any boats, but I want to know the truth.”

  Nadine shook her head. “Lyddie—”

  “You know I’m going to figure this out. You can tell me what I want to know, or you can make me go home, drag out the yearbooks, get pissed off when I see the answer and probably be late getting Tish. So why don’t you give me a hand and—”

  “Steve and J.T. weren’t in the same year. Steve was a year ahead.”

  “Oh.” She felt oddly deflated. It had made so much sense...Steve and J.T. partying together after they graduated, the fire, Steve worrying that J.T. would spill his guts to her... Okay. So they didn’t graduate together. Then why the big—

  And then a hundred bits and pieces fell together.

  “If Steve was a year ahead of J.T., then he was in Glenn’s year. Which means the fire was the year after they graduated. Except...” Her mouth was suddenly so dry that she could scarcely form the words. “Except Ontario used to have grade thirteen. And J.T. told me he didn’t make it that far, that he left after grade twelve. So the graduation was—help me, Nadine. We didn’t have this in Winnipeg. Did they do one ceremony, or two?”

  “Things changed over the years, but back then, they all walked after grade twelve. If they stayed on for the extra year, they could walk again.”

  “So even though they were a year apart, Steve and J.T. graduated at the same time.”

  Nadine nodded. Lyddie reached for the sink to steady herself.

  “Which means Glenn did, too.”

  Nadine’s eyes closed. And all Lyddie could hear was outtakes from conversations. Not the words, but the pauses.

  J.T. refusing to name anyone who had been in the village with him that night.

  The way Glenn had never mentioned the fire, even when she’d asked him about it.

  J.T. telling her that most of the people who had been with him either lived in town still or had family there.

  Ruth’s continued insistence that J.T. could talk anyone into anything and make them think it was their own idea.

  Oh, dear God.

  “Glenn was there.”

  Lyddie waited for Nadine to shake her head, to wave away the suggestion, to tell Lyddie she was being a damned fool. But all she did was say, very quietly, “I wasn’t there, Lyddie. I don’t know.”

  But Lyddie did. She knew exactly what had happened.

  She had opened herself to J.T. Told him everything, about Glenn, about herself. Trusted him with the ugly parts of her that didn’t want to be on a pedestal, that didn’t want Glenn to be turned into something he wasn’t. She had told him all of that—

  And he lied to her.

  He had listened to her and kept his secret and patted her on the head and said nothing. Nothing. He kept it all from her because Glenn was a hero and she was the brave little widow who had to be shielded from the truth.

  He had been no different from the rest of them after all.

  * * *

  J.T. HALF WALKED, half jogged toward River Joe’s, his heart slamming, but not from exertion. The words of Lyddie’s text pounded through his brain in time with his feet.

  I need to talk to you NOW.

  His fast reply that he was on his way was met only with a terse Fine.

  Something was up. Jillian? She’d been riding his ass all week with calls and emails about how he owed the town the chance to bring in more opportunity. She might have pushed Lyddie to her breaking point, but somehow, he doubted it.

  He reached the coffee shop and yanked open the door, thankful that it wasn’t locked despite the Closed sign.

  “Lyd? Lyd, I’m here. What’s wrong?”

  “Over here.”

  Her voice came from the love seat by the fireplace, hidden in shadows that his eyes couldn’t pierce immediately on entering from the bright sunshine. Though when he drew closer, the carefully blank expression on her face scared him more than he would have thought possible.

  “What is it? Sara? Ben?”

  He reached for her hands. She looked up at him but kept her hands tightly knotted on her lap.

  Oh, shit.

  “The children are fine. Thank you for asking. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

  “Okay. Then what the hell—”

  “Glenn was at the party that night.”

  If he’d walked into a fist in a dark alley, he still wouldn’t have been as stunned as he was by her words.

  “Lyd...babe, listen...”

  “No, J.T. You listen.” Her voice trembled but she shook her head, pinched her lips together and carried on, low and terrifying. “I trusted you. I told you more about myself than anyone else in this town would ever believe. I laid it all out for you, and in return, you deliberately concealed information from me that I had every right to know.”

  He wasn’t going to deny anything. What was the point? Everything she’d said was true.

  But maybe, if he could make her understand why...

  He dropped into the chair across from her, careful to sit far enough back that his knees didn’t brush hers. “Okay. Yes. Glenn was there.”

  She inhaled, short and sharp. “Why?” The word was a broken whisper, but she carried on. “After everything I told you, everything you knew I wanted...why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Oh, I just bet it is.” She leaned forward, eyes glittering. “Tell me anyway.”

  “I... God...” His tongue was too thick to form the words. “There were lots of reasons, okay? Different ones at different times. At first, I didn’t see any need. He’s not here to defend himself, nothing could be changed, so what was the point? And, yes, at that point, I was buying in to the widow thing. Because no matter what happened when we were kids, Glenn did deserve to be remembered. I didn’t know you the way I do now, and I thought, hell, you’d lost enough. What would be the point in taking away what little comfort you might have?”

  She sat silent for a minute and nodded. “I’ll give you that. But after? After I told you how I felt about the way he was being idolized, about the way people treated me? Why didn’t you speak up then?”

  “Lyddie, there’s a hell of a difference between telling stories about church group pranks and telling the truth about something that nearly killed this town.”

  “You didn’t think I could handle it.”

  “It wasn’t—”

  “It wasn’t like that? Fine. Maybe you weren’t being noble and protecting me. Maybe you were only thinking of all those other folks. But damn, J.T. I trusted you with all of me, with my secrets and my body, with my child, and you still couldn’t trust me with the truth?”

  “It had nothing to do with trust.”

  “Then what was it? What was so damned important that�
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  “I fell in love with you, okay?”

  The sudden whiteness in her face was his second sucker punch to the gut. She’d had no idea.

  She spoke very quietly. “That’s not possible.”

  “The hell it isn’t.” Damn it, if he was going to lose her anyway, he was going to make sure she knew the truth this time. “I couldn’t say anything about Glenn because I didn’t want you to think I was trying to—to drag him down, to make him look bad so I would look better. I wanted to do the right thing by him. Because I love you.”

  “You can’t. I don’t... No.”

  For a moment he thought she was trying to disappear into the chair. But no sooner had he thought that than she burst forward, out of his reach.

  “No. This wasn’t supposed to be about emotions. All I wanted was something for me, something to make me feel... My God, J.T., you’re going back to Tucson next week. You can’t possibly—”

  “I have to go back. Yes. But I— Look, things are complicated that way. I have a contract, and my mother—” Just in time, he stopped himself before blurting out Iris’s secret. “We’ve been talking. Dragging her down to Arizona, away from everyone she loves, that wouldn’t be good. We thought, maybe, I could move to Ottawa, get her a place there so she could still be close to here, and then you and I would have more time to— Listen to me, Lyddie. I was going to tell you this tomorrow, when we went to Brockville and I could do it right. God, Lyddie. I never meant to hurt you. I Iove you.”

  She flinched. He realized she had done the same thing every time he mentioned love.

  “Were you ever going to tell me the truth about Glenn?”

  Ah, God. “Not if I could help it. No.”

  “Because it was more important to make sure I looked good in your eyes than to give me the information that could have made a difference to me.”

  “What would have changed? You’re the one who knew him as he really was. You’re the one who was so determined to hold up his warts. Would you have thought any better or worse of him if you knew this?”

  “No.” Her voice seemed far away. So sad. “It wouldn’t have changed what I thought about him. But it would have made a difference in what I’m thinking about you.”

  “Lyddie, no. Please. You can’t let this change things, not when I—”

  “Stop!”

  It was one of the worst sounds of his life—angry and heartbroken, choking and pleading, all at the same time.

  “You are not in love with me. I refuse to believe that.”

  “You can’t tell me what I feel.”

  “Oh, yes I can!” She swung her arms violently as if trying to push away his words. “You don’t love me. You’re just grateful because I treated you better than everyone else did. Or, you know, brain-dead from two weeks of sex. But you are not in love with me. You are not moving to Ottawa, not for me. There is no future for us. No seeing what happens. Nothing.”

  He wanted to tell her she was wrong, so wrong, but his muscles wouldn’t work and there was no air in his lungs to push out any sound.

  “I told you when I came to you with this—this deal or proposition, or whatever it was. Two weeks, that was it. No strings. You’re not changing the rules now.”

  “Why not? There’s no planes to Tucson? No chance you’ll ever change your mind about staying here? No way you could even think of falling in—”

  “No!”

  The single word hung in the air, slicing between them. He stared at her, willing her to take it back.

  “I’m not in this for a relationship. I’m not looking for anything emotional. Don’t you get it?” She spread her arms wide. “This is all I can give you. This body. That’s all I offered and all I wanted. You knew that. You agreed. You promised.”

  “Lyddie—”

  “No! Damn it, J.T., I didn’t want anything honorable or important or permanent. Why the hell do you think I chose you?”

  Something shifted deep inside him. “What does that mean?”

  She turned away from him. From the way she gasped for breath he knew she was either crying or trying to hold it back. He was torn between the deep need to help her and the deeper, gut-twisting need to know exactly what was behind her words.

  “Don’t do this, Lydia. Don’t pretend you didn’t say anything. Tell me what you meant.”

  She pressed her fingers to her forehead. Hard. Like she was trying to push something so far back in her mind she would never have to think of it again.

  He grabbed her hands and held them apart so she couldn’t push away the truth any longer. Toe-to-toe, face-to-face, he looked into the eyes that he’d thought could see beyond the surface and said, once more, “What did you mean?”

  “Exactly what I said.”

  “You said you chose me because I wasn’t permanent. Or important. Or honorable.”

  He felt every part of her tense. She seemed on the verge of denial, and God, how he needed her to say it. Her lips parted and with every fiber of his being he willed her to say she knew him better than that. He’d laid himself bare to her. She had to understand.

  Then the tension faded as suddenly as it had appeared. Just like that, he knew he’d been wrong.

  Dead wrong.

  Heartbreakingly wrong.

  He dropped her hands, let them slap to her sides as he stepped back.

  “You know,” he said softly, “it’s almost funny. You asked me to sleep with you so you wouldn’t see yourself the way everyone else does. But you have no idea that you pigeonholed me the exact same way.”

  The sudden paleness in her face told him that he’d hit the mark.

  And he’d never in his life been so sorry to be so right.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  SHE WASN’T GOING TO CRY.

  Lyddie repeated the command to herself as J.T. slammed the door behind him, even though the crack of the wood made her wince.

  She wasn’t going to cry. Even though his last words about pigeonholing him had cut right through her and made her long to grab him, to say she hadn’t meant it, that she knew he was more than what everyone else saw. She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t encourage him, couldn’t do anything to make him think they had any kind of future. Because that just wasn’t possible.

  She held back the tears while she locked up the shop, bit on her lip to keep from losing control while she drove to day camp. She gathered up Tish and hugged her tight and even cracked a joke for her and her friend Millie. She loaded Tish into the van and listened to her chatter all the way home and never let so much as a tear escape.

  She had done the right thing. Maybe she hadn’t needed to be as...forceful as she had been, but she couldn’t let him think for a minute that there was a chance of them ever... It hadn’t come out right, and she’d been so wrong, but then, so had he. He should never have lied to her. Should never, ever have let himself think he loved her.

  She followed Tish into the house and told herself it was better this way. If they had gone away together as planned, that would only have given him false hope. He might have thought that she cared more than she did. Because of course she cared. Of course he meant something to her. But not love. Anything but that.

  She walked into the kitchen where Ruth sat calmly slicing tomatoes and was flooded with such a burst of rage that she thought she might pass out.

  Ruth knew about Glenn. Lyddie had no doubts about that. Ruth would have known that Glenn went out that night. She would have seen him over the next few days, when he was undoubtedly jumpy and guilty and just as screwed up as any kid had ever been, and she would have heard the rumors. Even if she hadn’t known for sure—even if Ruth had been too afraid to come out and ask Glenn if he’d been part of the fire—she would have suspected. And in her heart, she probably knew.

  She knew all th
at, and yet she’d been willing to lay it all on J.T. Even now. Because it was easy. Because it meant that her life as the heroic widow would go on, untarnished.

  Lyddie dropped Tish’s backpack onto the hard wooden chair and had a moment of satisfaction when Ruth jumped in her seat.

  “Lydia!” Knocked out of her rhythm, Ruth raised a hand to her heart. “Heavens, you startled me. Is everything all right?”

  No. No, nothing was right, and J.T. was hurt, and Lyddie shouldn’t care about him because he had lied to her, but Ruth had lied, too, and nothing made any sense anymore.

  She couldn’t say anything. She gripped the back of the chair and tried to take deep breaths, but all she could see was J.T.’s face when she said she’d chosen him because she didn’t want anyone honorable. All she could hear was J.T. telling her that he loved her.

  He loved her. But he’d lied to her about the one thing he knew would hurt her most. Because he loved her.... But it made no sense.

  “Lydia?” Ruth set the knife on the table and hurried forward. “Lydia, child, what’s wrong? Are you sick? You look pale. What’s happened, Lydia? Talk to me!”

  It wasn’t the words that got to her. It was the panic beneath them that shook Lyddie out of her anger and confusion. She tightened her hold on the chair and looked at Ruth and opened her mouth—

  And stopped.

  Ruth stood before her with her hands over her mouth, staring, frozen and frightened. Just the way she had looked at Roy Delaney four years ago when he brought them the news about Glenn and Buddy.

  In that moment, Lyddie knew she couldn’t say anything. Never. She might be trying to move on but Ruth couldn’t. Wouldn’t. No matter what Glenn had done in the past, Ruth had lost her only child that day. If seeing him turned into a saint gave her some small comfort, Lyddie might not agree with it, but she damned well wouldn’t take that away from her. She, too, would keep silent.

  Just like J.T.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, and then she was in Ruth’s arms, crying on Ruth’s shoulder, assuring Ruth that she was fine, the kids were fine, there was no need to be afraid. But she couldn’t stop crying.