by Anna Adams
“It’s not your problem.”
“If it’s yours, it’s mine.” Instead of welcoming her new commitment, he just stared at her. “Maybe I’m vain, but I thought you’d be happy I want to start over.”
“You don’t know what it was like to live in this town, with my mother and father. I don’t want you to know.”
The hints lay in his room. Surrounded by the things Josh had owned at fourteen, she often sensed his pain. He’d never changed anything because he’d never allowed himself to care as much again.
Maybe not even for her. And then their child had died. “Do you blame me for losing our baby?” Looking at him was hard, but she found his tired gaze, fixed on her.
“I’ve told you I don’t.” He took her in his arms. His breath rushed across her face. “None of this is your fault.”
“I know, but I was his mother. I can’t help feeling as if I should have found a way to save him. What made you start distancing yourself before I was pregnant?”
“What?” He tensed.
“Days would pass and we didn’t even talk to each other.”
“You were in bed by the time I came home from work.” He shook his head. “Let’s not start that again. We’ve talked it to death.”
“Why did you come back to Maine?”
“For you,” he said. “I didn’t know it wouldn’t be enough.”
“I’d move anywhere else. Choose a city with a lower crime rate, a place like this. Give me a chance to protect my children.”
“What?”
“The buildings aren’t as tall here. Maybe crazy women can’t hide behind them.”
Saying exactly what she wanted took all her courage. She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on Josh’s heat in the cool early evening, his heart beating against her ear, his scent spicing each breath she took.
“I won’t ever live here,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you, but I won’t lie to you either.”
“I don’t let myself get attached to this place. I love the headland, but it reminds you of bad times. Let’s sell it and build a house in a smaller town than Hartford.”
He pulled away from her. “My grandfather gave me that lot.”
“Why don’t you resent him?”
“Stop psychoanalyzing me, Lydia. You’re an architect, not Sigmund-damn-Freud.”
He never swore around her. It was a time-honored Quincy tradition—a practice in control in a home built on disorder.
“He should have stopped your parents before they became—”
“Drunks,” he said. “He threw out the bottles they hid in the house and in the barn. He took me out as often as he could find an excuse to. We walked in town or worked in his garden, but he died before Clara was born.”
“He should have talked to the authorities.”
“How could he betray his own son?”
“Wouldn’t you, in the same situation?”
His eyes turned cold and flat—and scared her. They should visit a Sigmund-damn-Freud, someone who didn’t care if Josh hated him.
“Yes.” He stepped away, staring at Clara’s flowers. “But Clara is what bothers me about those years. I’m the one who took care of her, and I’m the one who found her. She needed me. Now my clients need me because I’m not there out of pity—or because I can’t get a better job. I try to believe in them.”
“I need you,” she said. “I’m not a woman who begs or threatens. You know me. You can believe I’m trying hard to save our marriage. I need you more than anyone else does.”
She left before he could tell her it didn’t matter. He didn’t come after her. His lack of action screamed louder than words.
JOSH WATCHED the top of her head as she strode to the car. What was he doing?
He knelt on the wet ground and touched his sister’s name, already beginning to weather. He’d been a much better brother to her than he was a husband to Lydia.
Following his wife’s lead, he also said a silent word for his son. Standing, he hurried to the car, but once he got there, he hesitated again. A man didn’t make a promise under duress that he might renege on when he realized what it cost.
“We have to see the police.”
“Okay.” Lydia looked out the window.
“You need a decision this second?”
“I need to know what you think.”
He laughed and she turned, looking stunned.
“This is funny to you?”
“I was thinking of all those jokes about women asking men what they’re thinking.” He faced her. “All I can think is that I don’t want to lose you, and I need time.”
“How much time?”
He started the car. “You’re asking me to change jobs and move. Can’t you—”
“If you asked me, I’d say yes.”
“It’s not the same. What if I asked you to stay? What if I said I have to stay in Hartford whether you do or not?”
She dared him with her eyes. “That would be an answer.”
“Not the one either of us wants.”
He drove to the police station. In front of the square, brick building he reached for her hand. She seemed not to notice.
Inside, they met a woman in a dark-green dress. Kline couldn’t afford to use a trained police officer as a dispatcher.
“I’m looking for Simon Chambers,” Josh said.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but my wife needs to report an incident she saw this afternoon. Attempted vandalism at the high school.”
“Let me get him.”
In a second, a tall, blond man walked out of an inner office. Straightening his navy tie, he held out his hand. “Good to see you, Josh. You missed the class reunion last summer.”
Josh had spent most of the past fourteen years trying to forget his life in this town, including high school. Right now, he couldn’t care less about anything that happened in Kline, Maine.
He smiled in case Simon required the niceties. He’d always put on an act for the people in this town.
“This is my wife, Lydia. Lydia, Simon Chambers.”
Simon shook hands with Lydia and then turned to the other woman. “You remember Betty Gaines, Josh? She was a year behind us.”
“Hi, Betty.”
She grinned. “You don’t remember me. I had such a crush on you the summer after sixth grade, and then you went away.”
She and Simon exchanged a glance. Simon quickly picked up the uncomfortable slack. “Come into my office. Tell me what you saw, Lydia.”
She explained. In the meantime, Betty brought them coffee and a couple of Grandma Trudy’s cookies.
“You must love these, Josh.”
“I haven’t had them in a while.” Curious, he unwrapped one and took a bite. Familiar, sweet goodness took him back in time. His mother worked magic with cookie dough. Damn her.
“I probably should have called right away,” Lydia was saying, “but I didn’t want to cause trouble—”
“You say these boys were both tall and dark-haired. Did they look alike?”
“Alike?” Lydia said, turning to Josh for an explanation.
A little indigestion crawled up his chest. “That’s what my mother didn’t want to say.”
“What are you two talking about?”
“Geraldine Dawson’s grandsons?” Josh asked.
Simon nodded. “Geraldine taught us in school, Lydia. The boys’ parents left town. She’s been trying to raise them, but they’re giving her trouble. They’re tall and dark-haired.”
“I wouldn’t know them if you showed me a photo,” Lydia said. Her desperate glance brought Josh to her defense.
“She told you what she saw. She has nothing more to say.”
“We’re not in court, Josh.”
“Good, because my wife obviously can’t identify these boys for you. Maybe you should put an extra patrol on the school.”
“What if I bring the boys by, Lydia?”
“No.” She looked appa
lled, but Josh saw kindness in her eyes. “I didn’t see them well enough. Even if I thought they looked familiar, I wouldn’t feel right saying so. Add that extra patrol.”
Josh stood and this time she put her hand in his. In moments, despite Simon’s irritation, they hit the sidewalk. Lydia wrapped her hand around Josh’s arm.
“Thanks. I didn’t want to get those kids picked up.”
“If they try again, he’ll arrest them.”
“If it was them, but—”
“And they scared you. Aren’t you behaving the way you say I would?”
“They’re kids. Something’s clearly wrong in their lives. It’s not as though they killed anyone.” Unlike Vivian Durance’s husband.
Josh let her go.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AFTER DINNER that night, his mother spread early sketches of the Grandma Trudy wrapper over the living room coffee table. His dad, leaning over her shoulder, pointed at a pseudo-terrifying harridan. “I figured the kids would love this, but the parents would suspect the cookies might be poisonous.”
“She is scary.” Lydia smiled at his parents, pretending Josh didn’t take up space in the room.
His mother laughed self-consciously. “I tried her because we started last Halloween.”
“But I thought your mom might make this an ongoing thing, Josh.” His dad waved his mug—as he used to wave a half-empty bottle. “Now that people know your product, Ev, maybe we could use that label to promote the Halloween cookie next year.”
Lydia bent closer to the drawings. His parents had to realize she was ignoring him. Josh went to the fireplace, grabbed another log out of the wood box and then stoked the fire. He shouldn’t have brought up his job earlier. He wasn’t trying to prove staying in Hartford was right.
“I thought the business belonged to you, Mom.” He glanced at his dad, spoiling for a fight.
“Your father gives good advice, and we like to do things together.”
He and Lydia looked at each other. What had they done together in the past year and a half? She didn’t know about his cases. He usually knew where she was working, but not what her role was on a project. A man and wife should know more about each other.
Lydia curved her mouth in a half smile that hurt him with its insecurity. How could she doubt he needed her? Her uncertainty made him angry.
“You’d tell me if I was too pushy, Ev?” Bart asked.
Laughing, his mom nudged his dad with her elbow. “Like you’d pay attention.”
Josh stared at the fire, an outsider in his childhood home. His mother and father were the “normal” ones, negotiating a happy marriage. Lydia had all but begged him to meet her halfway, but her idea of halfway and his didn’t mesh.
He moved toward her, trying to think of something that would make them talk again. His parents wrapped their arms around each other’s waists. Their honest affection stopped him.
How could he show Lydia he still wanted to try without compromising everything he believed in? She wouldn’t forgive a lie.
“Mother?” She wanted to use him. He’d use her, too. “I’ll help you find a building.”
His mother, his father and Lydia all turned with shock that felt exaggerated. Lydia saw him as an unforgiving man. Did his parents view him the same way? He couldn’t find a solid spot on this uneven ground. Whether he wanted to get along with his parents or not, Lydia’s ultimatum left him little wiggle room.
He turned to business. His career had kept him sane. There, he always knew what to do next. “Why don’t you show me your prospects, Mom?”
“Yeah?” She gave a croak of surprise. “Yes,” she said in a stronger tone and went back to the desk from which she’d taken the sketches. She drew out several sheets of paper, all well-thumbed.
Returning to the coffee table, she spread out details for several properties. Josh sensed Lydia watching him, but he couldn’t look at her. Her response meant too much.
No doubt she’d mention whether helping his mother wasn’t enough of a new start.
He started reading the first listing. The words scrambled. He started over. “Barker’s Café? When did it close?” On the picture, the windows looked dusty. A faded square remained where the café’s name had once hung. The property didn’t look tempting.
“Ned Barker left town about a year ago,” Bart said.
“Poor Marcy. She came home from work one day last spring and he’d just packed everything and gone.” Evelyn expanded on her husband’s information, and they nodded in unison. “Marcy’s gone to live with their daughter in Phoenix. She’ll be warm, if lonely.”
“Ned had cabin fever every year,” Bart said.
Josh tried not to laugh at the words coming from his father’s mouth.
His skepticism annoyed his mother. “You wouldn’t think it was funny if you tracked the number of suicides and divorces—even domestic abuse. The longer the winter, the worse the statistics,” Evelyn said.
“Are you serious?” Even Lydia, who thought his parents now walked on water, was appalled.
Anything that discouraged her from moving up here worked for him.
“Sounds inviting, doesn’t it?” He moved the Barker pictures and picked up a photo and details for a new building on the same street as the town library.
“I might doubt it, too, if I hadn’t lived here all my life. The truth is often all too strange.” His mother took Lydia’s arm.
“Has anyone compared statistics to cities in warmer places?”
Josh did laugh at last. “Lydia’s a scientist at heart.” Were they seriously going to discuss cabin fever? With a shock, he realized it was conversation—as any family would make it.
His wife’s smile made him wish he could forget fears that were too humiliating to admit. He waved the information for the new building. “How about this one, Mom? The price compares since you don’t get the history of Barker’s place. Plus, you won’t have the upkeep for a hundred-year-old building.”
“But we’re used to maintaining an old place,” Bart said. “Barker’s is in a more central location, and she’d inherit their goodwill.”
“The newer structure is closer to the docks.”
“The working docks, but Barker’s is across the street from the boardwalk.” Evelyn put the sheet for the café on top. “We’d be closer to the tourists, but the locals are also used to making the trip. I have to give myself the best opportunity.”
“Let’s consider the rest of these.” He shuffled through the sheets, but his mother sniffed. A sound that meant she’d closed the subject.
“I put those two on top because they’re the only ones I’m really considering. I like this new building because it’s clean and big and has great parking, but I’m leaning toward Barker’s.”
“Let’s make appointments to view them,” Lydia suggested. “If there are no problems with this café, and it’s the one your mom wants, it sounds like a great option.”
“Call tomorrow,” Josh said to his mother. “I promised Dad I’d help with the boat again, but we could see them when I get back.”
“You’re working on a Sunday, Bart?” His mom didn’t like that.
“The catch is too good right now, Evelyn. Let it go.”
“I’ll go with Evelyn tomorrow.” Lydia leaned forward. Work distracted her, too. “I can tell her if the structure needs repair.”
“Are you ready to take on a day like this?” She was the one his mother should consult. But up here, for this visit, he thought of her as his wife, who needed to recuperate.
“After today? I’m fine.”
He might have argued, but anticipation flushed her cheeks. Sitting back, she folded her hands across her stomach, just happy. No regrets.
“What exactly did you do today?” Bart asked.
Lydia opened her mouth, but then glanced at Josh.
“She cleaned up Clara’s grave and took some flowers over. It looks nice.” Silence filled the room. “And then she saw two boys trying to brea
k into the school. I’m afraid it might have been Mrs. Dawson’s grandsons.”
“The twins?” Evelyn grabbed the table. “How did you know it was them, Lydia?”
“I didn’t. Josh’s policeman friend suggested they were the boys I saw.”
“Simon. You remember him, Dad?”
“Sure. He’s been a good chief of police. What did you see?”
“Two kids beating on the school doors with a bat. I couldn’t say who they were. They were too far away and they ran when I yelled.”
“I should call Geraldine.” His mother hurried to the hall, her finger on her lips. She paused. “I’ll ask her if she minds working on a Sunday and then I’ll see what the boys were up to today.”
“Mom, I told you—Lydia didn’t accuse them. She couldn’t really describe them well.”
“They’ve been in some trouble. I didn’t want to mention it this morning, because it’s Geraldine’s business, but I’m worried about her. A woman her age, bringing up troubled young men and starting a new career.” His mother kept talking as she went down the hall.
Josh thought of their son with an ache he hid from Lydia. He stacked his mother’s pages. “I won’t try to persuade you not to go with Mom tomorrow, Lydia,” he said, “if you’ll come to bed now without a fight.”
“I keep going back to bed.” But she didn’t quarrel. “’Night, Bart.” She kissed his dad. “See you in the morning.”
“You’d better not. Stay in bed till you wake up on your own.” He faced Josh with an old-fashioned father-to-son warning. “You keep quiet when you get up.”
“Okay.” He looked at Lydia and held his tongue instead of protesting his father’s belated protectiveness.
She glanced at him as he eased her toward the hall and then followed her up the stairs.
Halfway up, she leaned back, resting her head against his shoulder for a second. “I know that wasn’t just for me, but thanks.”
The top of her head was about level with his chin. “It was mostly for you.”
On the landing, she looked back, endearingly self-satisfied. “You made them happy, and I’d like to think I matter that much to you.”