K-I-S-S-I-N-G

by Dana Pratola

  Great. Cal still wasn’t sure if he wanted to meet the woman, and now he had an appointment with her.

  “I assumed you like to sleep in on Sunday.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Cal said.

  “I’ll bring her around to the house and the two of you can chat,” Finn said, walking with him through the outer office and to the front door.

  Cal had the distinct impression he was being asked to leave. He slanted a sideways look at Finn. It wasn’t like the old man to be so inhospitable, but he was grieving, too, so anything could be expected. They shook hands and parted.

  CHAPTER 2

  Winsome hissed in a breath as she shimmied her body to the left, put her right foot out of the car, and reached for Finn’s hand. He was too frail to be any real use hauling her to her feet, but he managed to stabilize her enough that she could angle her arm sling past the door, and push her way out and onto the gravel driveway. The pain in her arm and body was easing up a bit since she’d given in and taken the meds, but her face still throbbed. She kept her head lowered, even though she knew it was useless. There was no way to hide the swelling and dark purple bruises around her eyes and along her jaw. And her nose…. She let out a defeated little puff. It was all she could manage right now.

  She’d love to postpone this meeting with Ruth’s great-nephew, Caleb, but this had to be settled now. He had to know how truly sorry she was at Ruth’s passing, and to know that had she been able, and not laying on a hospital gurney, she would have been at the funeral. And she wanted to put his mind at ease and let him know she had no intention of accepting Ruth’s ridiculously generous offer.

  The old wood screen door at the side of the house slammed, and a man marched across the gravel with long, determined strides. He was tall and well-built, and kept his head up as he plowed full on toward her, like a whirlwind through a cornfield. Or like a wolf catching the scent of prey on the wind.

  Powerful strides. Angry strides. She wondered if maybe it wouldn’t be better to settle things tomorrow. Ruth had told her about his “prickly personality.” His aunt could call it prickly if she wanted, but to Winsome, he looked pissed.

  “Good morning, Cal,” Finn called out, though his thin voice didn’t carry very far on the opposing breeze.

  Caleb—Cal—pinned her with his eyes, and stopped suddenly. Winsome’s breath caught in her lungs and a sharp stab of pain shot through her left side, like she’d been physically struck, only this time from the inside out. Cal took a few slower, measured steps, coming to stand a couple feet from her.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  Not the first words of introduction she had anticipated, then what could she expect, looking this way? When she felt her nerve shrinking back inside herself, she took in a short, painful breath and stood as tall as the pain would allow.

  “I—I….”

  “Cal, take it easy,” Finn said, using his gentle, let’s be reasonable voice.

  “What happened to her?” Cal asked Finn.

  She had tried, once, to use her words and failed. Tears sprang, unbidden, to her eyes and she immediately clamped her mouth shut.

  “Hey, hey,” Cal said, reaching a hand out to touch her arm.

  Winsome shied away, instantly feeling like a fool. He wasn’t Dante, he wasn’t trying to hurt her. Cal snapped his hand back, taking a hasty step away. Winsome looked up at him, withering inside when she saw the confusion, anger, and horror in his cool, blue-gray eyes. Fortunately, there was no pity. Yet. Everyone that knew her more than a day came to pity her.

  She tried to shield her humiliation with a smirk, and forced words between her lips. “Hi, Cal. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but clearly it’s not, so I’ll just say what I came to say.”

  Cal eased an open palm out between them, keeping it low, she guessed, so as not to spook her.

  “Whoa, don’t put words in my mouth,” he said.

  “Easy now, Cal,” Finn interjected.

  “I didn’t say it’s not nice to meet her,” Cal snapped at him, then looked at her. “I didn’t say that.”

  “I don’t think—” Finn began.

  “What happened to you?” he asked her directly, catching her off guard.

  Because he expected a direct answer, she squared her shoulders and gave him one. “My ex-boyfriend tried to kill me.”

  Those words came right out, dry eyed. That didn’t mean she didn’t feel the tears creeping up on her. She swallowed and shifted her feet, waiting for his obligatory sympathetic response.

  “What the hell? This is just too much.”

  That was one she hadn’t heard before.

  Cal raked a hand through his short, brown hair and turned in a complete circle. “Why didn’t my aunt tell me about her?” he demanded of Finn.

  The old man angled his thin body so that the three of them standing there looked like an odd triangle. “I think she wanted to protect the young lady’s privacy,” he said, his voice quavering.

  “Bullshit.”

  Winsome’s low gasp caught in her throat, producing a gagging sound, and serving to turn his hostile expression back to her.

  “Look, Miss Woodhead, or Moonbeam, or whatever, I don’t mean to be a jerk—”

  “Yes you do.”

  “Cal.” Finn tried to interrupt.

  Cal put his hand up and focused on Winsome. “She wants to talk, let her talk.”

  “As you can see, I have plenty of experience identifying jerks,” she said, elevating her slung arm.

  To her grand surprise, she watched as her words struck home. Cal’s expression softened and the rage induced tension seeped slowly from his body. He gave her a short nod and dug his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She was too stunned to do anything other than stare. She believed he honestly was sorry. Of course, she’d believed that a few times too often, hadn’t she?

  Finn took the cessation of hostilities as an opportunity to mediate, and placed a hand on Cal’s back. “Why don’t we go into the house and have a nice chat?” he asked.

  Cal shrugged and started to turn toward the house. Winsome stayed put. A chat wasn’t going to change the situation, so there was no point to it.

  “Um…I’d rather just say what I came here to say.” Winsome looked back and forth between the men, finally settling on Cal. It was too bad she wasn’t in a better state of mind, or better condition to take in all the details of this man. He was extremely handsome, even grim-faced as he was now.

  “First, I’m sorry for your loss. Ruth was a sweet woman. The kindest woman I’ve ever met, and I want you to know I mean that with all my heart.” Tears threatened again, and she staunchly refused to let them come. He had no reaction. None whatsoever. “And what she offered me is more than I ever dreamed, but I can’t accept. I just wanted to tell you that. And that I would have been at the funeral if I hadn’t been...prevented.”

  Still nothing. Not a sound, not a twitch. He just stared at her, unblinking, until finally, she glanced at Finn and shrugged.

  “Okay, then. I guess we’re done,” she said.

  Finn shot Cal a disapproving glare and took Winsome by the good arm to steer her back into the car.

  “Wait,” Cal said.

  She could tell from his expression that he hadn’t thought of anything to say beyond that. Still, jerk that he was, she decided to let him off the hook.

  “It’s okay, don’t feel like you have to say anything. Really. I appreciate everything your aunt did for me—it was so much more than I deserve, and her friendship was more than I’ll ever expect to find again. I just didn’t want to leave you thinking I’m some moocher, who latched onto her. She told me how you worried about that.”

  “I, uh….”

  He made a vague gesture toward the house, maybe an unspoken invitation, but she turned her head away, not looking back when Finn opened the door so that she could ease her way inside. She heard him approach the car, b
efore Finn closed the door soundly.

  ****

  He didn’t know what that girl had hoped to accomplish with a face-to-face meeting. She could have told him over the phone that she was refusing his aunt’s offer. Or just as easily have told Finn to pass the information on. Maybe she wanted him to see how brutalized she was and to feel so sorry for her that he’d accept his aunt’s wild proposal without question. But he hadn’t fallen for the scam. He didn’t want her here, she wasn’t coming here, he should be happy. So, why did he feel like such a horse’s ass?

  Because there was no excuse for his terrible treatment of her. It was evident she had been beaten. Horribly, infuriatingly evident, and he’d treated her abominably on top of it. What the hell was wrong with him? Stretched across the length of the couch, he crossed his ankles over the arm and linked his fingers on his abdomen. How on earth could a man hit a woman? For any reason? God knew, Dee had pushed him to the limits and beyond, and he’d never even shoved or shaken her. He’d wanted to, sure, but it wasn’t in him to do something like that. It was, however, in him to perform those same acts on Winsome’s ex. He wished he knew where to find the guy.

  Cal hated himself for thinking it, but he couldn’t help wondering how many times she’d put up with that abuse before she’d gotten out. How often? And how bad? He’d probably never forget the sight of her, with bruises almost as dark as her eyes, making her look like some ghastly specter from a horror movie. Even without the discoloring of her skin, her eyes were every bit as haunting. They’d seen too much, endured far more than a woman should have to.

  He felt even worse now, knowing that was why she hadn’t come to the funeral. At the time they were lowering his aunt’s body into the ground, hers was probably being patched up. A broken arm, nose, and by the looks of her halting steps, she had at least one cracked rib. There was no way Cal could let that go. He had to find out who the animal was that had done that to her.

  Some form of redemption for not being able to prevent other circumstances in his past? For being so callous to her when she had come to him to express her condolences? Or for looking on silently as her shoulders bobbed up and down with the force of her sobbing, as Finn’s car pulled down the driveway?

  He couldn’t get the image out of his head. For all he knew, she was headed right back to her abuser. She’d said ex, but as he’d learned from his sister, Tiffany, that didn’t mean much when it came to toxic relationships, and with a man who obviously had no boundaries. She could still be in danger.

  Not your business.

  The words sat like acid on his brain. He’d like to tell himself that a beating that severe must surely have ended with the animal being locked behind bars, but what if he’d fled? Or she’d lied to the cops about who’d done it? Though she’d admitted it to him.

  Not your business.

  That’s what neighbors at his sister’s building complex had told themselves over and over.

  Not your business.

  And now Tiffany was dead.

  How could Aunt Ruth set him up this way? Sending a battered woman to nestle under his wing, after what had happened to Tiffany? That was in his best interest? No, it was her manipulation, knowing how his mind worked, how his heart went out to some people. She’d known he would feel terrible for the girl and do something about helping her.

  His pressure must be through the roof by now. His stomach was in a knot the size of a basketball, and his jaw ached from clenching it. And he could almost hear Aunt Ruth’s giggle of victory as he pushed off the couch and dialed Finn’s number.

  CHAPTER 3

  Cal told Finn to bring Winsome back to his aunt’s house today after work for a talk, and that if he was in the shower when they arrived, to make themselves comfortable. Being that she was familiar with the place, he thought it would feel less intimidating than his apartment. Besides, he couldn’t risk Dee running into her. She was suspicious of everyone, and while not particularly jealous of other women, if she found out about Aunt Ruth’s proposed plan to have Winsome living on the property he regularly frequented, she wouldn’t hesitate to let the girl know her thoughts on the matter. A confrontation was the last thing Winsome needed.

  When he stepped out of the shower, he heard them downstairs talking in low voices, but was in no rush to get down there and take his licks. He took his time drying off and pulling on fresh clothes, not bothering to put on socks or shoes. He felt somehow vulnerable in bare feet, and that was fitting since he’d been such a jackass.

  He’d known it yesterday, and all day today his behavior had come back to beat him over the head. Not just with Winsome, but with Finn. He was a very old, very dear family friend, who had only ever looked out for his aunt and him, and Cal had dismissed him like an annoyance. He shared a sigh with his reflection in the dresser mirror in his old room, and headed downstairs.

  The staircase emptied into a hallway just outside the parlor. Neither of them saw or heard him coming down, so he hung back behind an artificial potted plant and watched and listened for a few moments. He’d hoped there might be some improvement, but Winsome looked every bit as battered today. In fact, it looked as if her bruises had spread, if that was possible. He saw her wince more than once as she reached for her bottle of water, sipped, and replaced it on the coffee table.

  “No, it’s okay,” she was telling Finn, in that soft tone Cal now realized was her own, not an effect of being timid. “The shelter can keep me a couple weeks and then I’ll go from there. I’m a fighter.”

  Shelter? Crap. Did it get any worse for this poor girl?

  When he decided he’d skulked long enough, Cal made sure to announce his presence with a deliberate step on the squeaky bottom stair, before walking into the room. Finn looked up from the couch. Winsome didn’t.

  He walked to Finn, took the old man’s hand and gave it a couple firm, but careful pumps. “Finn, let me apologize before we say anything else.”

  Finn smiled, revealing yellowed dentures and a glint in his rheumy blue eyes. “No need, Cal, no need. I understand.”

  “No, there’s no excuse. I was a complete jerk-off.”

  Finn tipped his head to the right, Cal assumed in mild agreement, but when Finn’s eyes darted to their female guest, he understood.

  “Excuse my language,” Cal told Winsome.

  Sheesh, up close she really was a wreck. He wondered if her nose ordinarily looked much different from the slightly crooked one she had now. He tried to keep the worry from his face as he held his hand out to her. She took it, sliding her small palm over his, allowing his fingers to capture hers. When he released it, she folded it in her lap beside the other, suspended in the cast and sling in front of her.

  “Finn, I’d like to talk to Winsome alone, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, not at all,” Finn said.

  She looked slightly alarmed, but Finn gave her knee a pat and began the effort of getting to his feet with Cal’s aid.

  “I’ll be in the library. I’ve been anxious to get back to the book I left off reading.”

  Finn left the room and headed down the hall to the library that Aunt Ruth had relocated from the second floor. She had done the same with her bedroom, for easier access since climbing the stairs had become more difficult.

  When they were alone, Cal gestured to the couch. “May I?”

  In reply, she tried to slide to the left, giving him more space, and sucked in a pained breath.

  “Shit, I’m sorry.”

  And again, for the language. He couldn’t make it worse, though, could he? He sat as far from her as he could, so the depression of the cushions didn’t disturb her posture any.

  “I want to apologize. I was a monster yesterday. I didn’t want that to be your first impression of me, and then when I saw you…. It’s no excuse, I know. I was still raw and….”

  He couldn’t go there. He wouldn’t explain that he was raw from Tiffany’s death more so than his aunt’s, and that the sight of her wounds made him so pissed
off that he’d inadvertently taken it out on her. To tell her that would be damning himself. Wasn’t that exactly what her ex did?

  He raised his hands and let them drop. “You know what? I have nothing to say in my defense. I’m ashamed of my behavior and I had no right to treat you that way.”

  His heart did an uncomfortable flip when she blinked weary eyes at him. Yesterday, he hadn’t noticed how long her lashes were. Even now, their coal-colored length was being swallowed in the darkness of the bruises. But deep in her eyes, something shone out at him. A spark that had died out in Tiffany’s eyes long before the rest of her followed. This girl had been through a lot, but her spirit was still in there.

  She gave her head a little shake then. “You don’t have to apologize, Caleb.”

  “You can call me Cal, if you want.”

  “I like Caleb,” she said, quickly, then closed her mouth.

  All right, so he’d apologized. Now what? There was so much he wanted to know, and didn’t dare ask. Several things he had to say, but didn’t want to. No matter his feelings for her plight, he still didn’t want her here.

  Something uncomfortable stretched inside him. He was being an ass again.

  “Can I say something?” Winsome asked, turning her free palm upward.

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t know how much your great aunt told you about me, but I can take care of myself.”

  “Actually, she didn’t tell me anything. The first I heard of you was in the letter she left me with the will, two days ago.”

  “What?”

  Winsome’s eyes grew wide. He was willing to bet they were magnificent when they weren’t shadowed by bruising and bad memories.

  She heaved a huge sigh. “Well, no wonder you were so upset yesterday. I must look like the interloper taking advantage of a sweet old lady. A vulture swooping in.”

  He started to deny it, but yeah, she was dead on.

  “But, I had no idea what she was up to until she told me a couple weeks ago, and I told her I didn’t want the property or the treehouse or anything else from her. What she’d already done was so much more…. She let me stay with her a few times when…after….”