by Lynn Kellan
The moment was bittersweet. She was beginning to realize she’d loved Mark for what he used to be. Hale, on the other hand, was a man she could love as he was.
Her cell phone rang, prompting Cocoa to scramble upright to nuzzle Hale’s arm. He cast a questioning glance over his shoulder at Danielle, who handed him a pillow as she got up to answer the call.
Even though he couldn’t hear her, she carried her phone to the office. When she finished the conversation, she walked back into the living room and smiled.
Hale had fallen asleep on the couch before the last orange strands of sunset disappeared from the sky.
In April, he’d insisted that falling asleep on the couch wasn’t good for his back. Now that they were right in the middle of growing season, the poor man couldn’t seem to avoid dozing on the soft cushions after putting in a full day of hard labor.
Fatigue was beginning to catch up with her, so she went upstairs to read in bed for a while before turning off the light.
Shortly after ten o’clock, Hale entered the bedroom with his dog. Cocoa trotted over to sniff Danielle’s ear.
“That tickles.” Danielle giggled, scooting under the covers to evade the curious nose.
A loud zip preceded the sound of denim dropping to the floor. “You awake, Dani?”
She poked her head out of the covers to nod.
Taking advantage of her sudden reappearance, Cocoa’s prickly muzzle snuffled her neck. Danielle yelped and tried to fend off the friendly attack.
The sheet flipped back and a solid chest bumped against her shoulder as Hale reached across Danielle to give the dog a conciliatory scratch.
“I know my wife smells good, but you can’t have her.” He pointed to the corner of the room. “Go to bed, Cocoa.”
With a slow shuffle, the dog went to her cushion.
“Now I’ve got you to myself.” Hale looped an arm over Danielle’s waist, lying beside her so his torso snuggled against her slender back. Since last week’s thunderstorm, he held her this way every time he came to bed.
Danielle curled her fingers along the thick contour of his bicep. Deep inside her ribcage, happiness grew, crowding out the hopelessness that had crippled her for so long.
“My favorite time of day,” he mumbled into her hair. “Just you and me.”
Surprised by his tender admission, she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. A moment later, he twitched. The man was out cold.
Sleep should have come quickly now that Hale was beside her, but Danielle couldn’t stop thinking about the phone call she’d taken an hour earlier. Her colleague wanted to tell her about a lucrative teaching position available at Virginia Tech. The search committee was looking for a professor to start teaching the fall term. The job was one she should endeavor to obtain.
Instead of feeling excited, sadness cramped her insides. She hated to leave the one man who made her hurt fade away, but staying on the farm wasn’t an option. Too many secrets were hidden beneath the rolling fields, buried by every Cooper man she’d known.
The past few months with Hale proved he was no different. Even though his family was gone, he still wouldn’t talk about the fiery night that sent him into exile.
Perhaps that made him the most dangerous Cooper of all.
Chapter Seven
The barn’s second story floor shook beneath Hale’s feet. Concerned the boys were fooling around after he told them to stay put, he paused to look over his shoulder.
Luke and Drew were sitting beside Cocoa, playing with the toy cars he bought them yesterday.
Assured they weren’t going to dart in front of him, he threw a bale of hay into the corner to start a new row. When he picked up another bale, he saw Danielle striding across the loft. He experienced a jolt of surprise at the frown on her pretty face.
“Lucas and Andrew, I thought you were gathering eggs from the chickens.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?”
When she spoke, her words were sharp enough to cut bailing wire. Hale watched the exchange between mother and sons but stayed quiet.
“We put the eggs in the refrigerator and then followed Hale here,” Luke explained, wiping his nose. “He said we could stay if we didn’t get in the way.”
“You’re not permitted in this part of the barn.” She tightened her ponytail with a yank. “Go downstairs. I’ll be there in a minute.”
The boys scrambled to do her bidding, their feet clunking on the wooden ladder.
She propped her hands on her hips and addressed Hale. “The boys aren’t allowed to be here. Didn’t they tell you?”
“They did, but I told them the hay mow was safe now. I fixed everything.” He jabbed a thumb to the sturdy new planks in the floor, not liking the veiled accusation in her voice. Didn’t he have a say in upbringing the boys now that they were a family? “I put in a new support beam, too.”
She glanced up at the pinpricks of light beaming through the ceiling. “The roof has leaked for years, so there must be other parts of this floor that are rotten. Who knows when those boards will give way?”
“I checked every inch of this place. Everything is fine.” He peeled off his work gloves and slapped them against his thigh, the angry smack echoing into the rafters. “The roof won’t be a problem after tomorrow. I asked Ben Murphy to help me patch the holes.”
She frowned at the fresh wood beneath her feet as though the sturdy boards were flimsy as wet paper. “I don’t want my boys here.”
“They need to learn how to work in the barn, Dani.”
She shook her head. “I won’t let them set foot into this place until I’m sure there aren’t any rotten floorboards.”
A surge of compassion softened his frustration. He’d been so consumed with trying to get Danielle to trust him, he hadn’t pressed her to discuss the events which put her in this precarious position. “This place must haunt you, especially since you were the one who found Mark after he fell.”
She glanced away, her beautiful mouth tightening into a pinched line.
Hale had grown accustomed to that reaction. Whenever Mark’s name came up, she closed down.
“Every time I ask about him, I don’t get an answer.” He tossed his gloves on top of a nearby bale. A puff of dust mushroomed into the air. “Why won’t you talk to me about Mark? Is it because I left? Do you think I don’t deserve to know?”
“No, that’s not right.” She placed a foot on the new flooring, shifting her weight on the plank with a tentative bounce. The end of her ponytail fell in soft, golden waves across her shoulder. “I’m not sure you’d want to know what happened to your brother. He changed a lot after you left.”
“Tell me how.”
She slid her hands into the front pockets of her cut-off jeans, staring at the floor.
Her wide-eyed gaze focused on the wooden planks as though they would shatter and send her flying. Hale wanted to pull her from that spot just so the heartrending intensity on her face would disappear.
“He didn’t take good care of himself.” She shrugged. “Almost like he didn’t care anymore.”
Hale glanced at her tank top, noticing a smear of dirt under the curve of her right breast. From the looks of it, she’d been weeding the vegetable garden again. A faint sunburn topped her bare shoulders and a dandelion leaf stuck to one of the white threads hanging from the hem of her shorts.
Feeling a burst of longing, he wondered how the hell Mark could stop caring when he had Danielle and the boys to love. “Mark looks heavy in the picture on the fireplace mantel. Must’ve gained fifty pounds since I saw him.”
Biting her lip, she nodded. “We took that photo six months before he died. He couldn’t walk down to the barn without breaking into a sweat. I was convinced he had high blood pressure, but he wouldn’t see the doctor.”
“Mark was stubborn.” Hale adjusted the volume of his hearing aid so he wouldn’t miss a word of what she said.
“When he fell through the floor, he broke his leg. T
he injury was awful.” The column of her neck convulsed with a deep swallow. “The bone protruded through his thigh. I’ve never seen anything so bad. The EMTs did everything they could for him, but he ended up having a heart attack on the way to the hospital. The doctor said the stress of the fall made Mark’s blood pressure spike.”
She’d told him this via text, but seeing the pain crease her face made Hale’s insides warp with anguish for her and his brother. “He was too young to die.”
Her gaze swept the hayloft, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “I don’t trust this barn. It ruined Mark, and he knew this place inside and out. Please respect my wishes. Keep Luke and Drew out of here.”
That was one promise he couldn’t make. “This barn is a crucial part of the farm. We need to make sure our boys aren’t afraid of being here.”
His gut tightened when her eyes narrowed.
“They’re my boys.” She balled her hands into fists, visibly shaking. “I’ve been by their side for five years. You’ve been here two months. I know what’s right for them, not you.”
“How can you say that?” He tried to tamp down a swell of anger, but failed. His arm made a wide arc in the air. “I’d never put them in danger. This place is safe now.”
“That’s what Mark thought.” She glared at the floor.
Her eyes glittered with such ferocity, he wondered why her gaze didn’t drill a hole into the wood. Long-simmering resentment burst out of Hale in a rough snarl. “I wouldn’t put much faith in Mark’s judgment.”
“He couldn’t predict what part of the floor would collapse, and neither can you. Spare me any empty reassurances, because nobody knows what’s going to break next in this dilapidated barn. Don’t presume my boys will be safe just because you’re watching them.”
“So you’d trust the boys to Mark’s care, but not mine?” The notion made his stomach twist in pain. Spurred by the sudden need to show her what he’d accomplished in the past eight weeks, he strode to the open window on the far side of the room and swept his hand to the large garbage bin below. “You should see this.”
Danielle approached and peered over the sill. Sunlight glinted off the empty liquor bottles scattered among the rest of the garbage. She let out a gasp and covered her mouth.
“That’s the second steel bin I rented. At last count, I’ve thrown away three hundred whiskey bottles. Mark hid them all over the place. I even found a few beneath the tractor’s hood. They’re everywhere, Danielle.” He thrust his index finger toward the indisputable evidence of Mark’s rampant alcoholism and bellowed, “How can you trust a drunk with your kids, but not me?”
A soft, keening noise came from the back of her throat and Danielle turned to walk away.
Frustrated by her refusal to answer his question, Hale grabbed her elbow and twisted her around.
She flinched, raising her arms to ward off a blow.
Hale’s body went numb with shock. “Tell me he didn’t hit you.”
When he spotted the tremor in her delicate hands as she lowered her arms, his insides warped. The sun-kissed pink across her cheekbones had gone stark white with fear. He watched in wooden horror as she blinked, but the flutter of her pale eyelids did nothing to erase the panic in her green eyes. She looked as vulnerable as a small animal.
The floorboards vibrated beneath his boots, signaling someone’s approach. Hale turned his head and saw Drew striding toward them.
When their gazes met, Drew’s brow knitted into a tight frown.
Hale recognized the apprehension beneath the boy’s drawn expression. A lifetime ago, Hale felt the same alarm when his own parents argued.
Drew shot an agitated glance at him, full of distrust. Something ripped inside of Hale. Now everything made sense. No wonder Danielle braced every time he touched her. Mark had betrayed her in every possible way.
Grief stricken, Hale took a step backwards so Drew could get to his mother’s side.
“Mom? Do you want me to be with you?”
“Yes, I was just about to head to the house. Want to come?” She took Drew’s hand and allowed him to lead her out of the loft.
They walked away, and Hale willed her to look back. If she’d meet his tortured gaze, he might have reason to hope he hadn’t ruined everything.
As she climbed below, she kept her green eyes pinned on the ladder.
Cursing himself for frightening them, Hale stood by the window to watch Danielle and the boys walk along the gravel path leading to the house. He felt like a fool. Ever since he married Danielle in exchange for the farm, he’d been haunted by her admission that she hated needing him to rescue her.
Now that he uncovered the depth of what she endured in his absence, he finally understood she had every reason to despise him. His rescue came far too late.
He’d left her with a monster.
****
After the boys went to sleep, Danielle lay on her bed. A robin’s throaty birdsong drifted in through the open window, filling the desolate void inside the house. She tried to listen to the melody but found herself straining to hear Cocoa’s prancing paws or the heavy thump of Hale’s work boots.
Right after their argument, the pair got into his truck and drove away. The three hours they’d been gone felt like three long, lonely years.
She pulled the elastic band from her ponytail, letting her hair drop in a loose mass around her face. Fumbling under the covers for Hale’s pillow, she tucked it under her head, comforted by the faint scent of his skin imprinted on the pillowcase. Now that she was alone, she let guilt bubble up out of the controlled façade she’d worn in front of the boys.
The echo of Hale’s angry voice rattled inside her brain, fragmenting into a thousand thorns pricking at her conscience.
How can you trust a drunk with your kids, but not me?
When she chastised him for not considering the welfare of her sons, she’d accused Hale of a crime he hadn’t committed. Just like his father did when he threw Hale off the farm after the fire.
Tossing out her baseless accusation was a terrible thing to do. She felt as hollow as a dried out, useless gourd.
She ran her thumb along the back of her wedding band. Hale had kept every promise he ever made. Deep inside, she knew he would return. Clinging to that hope, she closed her eyes and waited.
When she opened her eyes again, the sherbet glow of sunset disappeared and the silver haze of moonlight filled the room. Something solid pressed against her leg. She reached down, feeling a deep twist of relief when her fingertips grazed the worn denim stretched across a man’s lean hip.
Hale sat beside her on the bed.
She scrambled upright to throw her arms around his neck, letting out a sob of relief when the hard plastic of his hearing aid pinched her cheek.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her fingers scraped across the solid breadth of his back as she grabbed two fistfuls of his t-shirt. “I shouldn’t have said those awful things. You were right. Now that you’ve fixed the floor, the barn should be fine. I trust you with the boys. You are so good with them. I had no business suggesting you can’t watch out for them. Nothing could be farther from the truth.”
Hale pulled Danielle into his lap and hugged her tight. “I never should have yelled.”
“After what I said, you had good reason.”
“You said those things because you were scared. Like an idiot, I lost my temper. I frightened you and Drew. There’s no excuse for that.” He sighed. “Can you forgive me?”
“I already have.” Cold fear dripped into her stomach. “Will you be able to forgive me?”
His voice dropped to a husky murmur. “I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Keep being my friend.” Tightening her arms around him, she rested her chin on his shoulder. Sweet hay and fresh air scented his clothes. She couldn’t get enough of how good he smelled. “I knew you’d come back. Still, a part of me was afraid you wouldn’t.”
“Took a long drive. Needed to think after I saw y
ou flinch in the barn. The look on your face tore me apart. Hell, sweetheart, I had no idea Mark mistreated you.” Hale pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Tell me the truth. How often did my brother hit you?”
Danielle’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to talk about Mark’s violent outbursts. For the longest time, the only way she could move forward was to pretend everything was fine. That masquerade would have to stop now. The raw determination on Hale’s face indicated he’d keep pressing until she told him the truth.
“He hit me twice last year. Both times he was drunk.” Resolved not to keep Hale in the dark any longer, she pulled the hair out of her face and met his concerned gaze. The torment in his sky blue eyes made a watery sheen of tears blur her vision, but she had promised herself to stop crying over the terrible way Mark treated her. “He only hit me when he was drunker than normal. The whiskey changed him into a different person. He never would have raised a hand to me if he was sober.”
“He never should’ve hit you, no matter what.” Hale touched the hearing aid hanging on his left ear. “Did he hit the boys, too?”
“No. Just me.” Shame trickled under her skin. Danielle shivered and leaned into his broad chest. Heat radiated through his t-shirt, permeating her tank top to warm her breasts. “Something was eating at Mark. At times, he would stare out into space with this guilty look on his face. No matter how often I asked, he never talked about what plagued him. After a while, I accepted the fact he wasn’t going to tell me. You should know, your family didn’t talk about what bothered them.”
Hale responded by rubbing her back like he had the day they got married.
Comforted by the soothing caress, she felt compelled to tell Hale how his departure affected the family. “Your father and your brother never spoke your name, but I could tell your absence hung over them. That’s why I wanted Luke’s middle name to be yours. I was tired of all the silence.”
He leaned his temple against hers. “Nothing you did would make my family talk.”
“I know that now, but Mark seemed open about everything when I first came here. You and your father didn’t say much. I had no idea how either of you felt about me, but Mark let me know he liked me. After you left, he closed up. The longer you were gone, the quieter he got.” She took a restorative breath and braced herself for the rest of the story. “He started drinking after we got married. I think the alcohol dimmed whatever memories he was trying to shake. When he started spending too much time at the Freeburg Bar, I asked him to stop. He managed to scale back, but he resumed drinking after your father died.”