by Rachel Lee
She spoke after a couple of minute. “Meeting Julie and Ashley today—like I said, I barely remember them. It was such a long time ago, and I was so young. But...what if I’d stayed here? Grown up with them? They’re obviously so comfortable together, and they seem to still be friends. Would I have been like that? On the inside rather than always on the outside?”
Oh, man. “You’re talking to a building contractor here,” he reminded her. “Good with the hands, but not so much with the brains.”
“Oh, cut it out,” she said almost irritably. “Admittedly, I haven’t known you long, but you don’t strike me as stupid. Not even a little.”
“Well, then, you’re walking into territory I’m not competent to deal with.”
Her mouth curved in one corner. “You think I need therapy?”
“Not for me to say. Just thinking that you’re talking about something I can understand, but I don’t have any way of responding that might be useful.”
“But you understand?”
She looked almost eager, he realized. She needed something, and he just wished he knew what it was and how to provide it. Seven-year-olds were easy for the most part. Adults not so much. “I miss my wife,” he said. “I’m not looking for a replacement. In fact, that would be impossible. And I guess I’ve kinda been avoiding getting involved again. Maybe I’m afraid because losing Claire was so painful.”
She nodded. “I can understand that. I don’t blame you for being afraid, either. I’m just wondering if I’m experiencing the same thing in a different way. So many losses over the years until finally I gave up. But maybe not. Maybe this is who I would have been if I’d always lived here and grown up with my friends.”
He couldn’t answer that, obviously, and she didn’t seem to expect him to. She might be right, though. Examining the detritus his loss had left in its wake, he could only wonder about experiencing the same thing repeatedly. He’d probably become some kind of hermit. Well, except for Matthew. Matthew had kept him going through the darkest days. From what she’d so far said, Vanessa had nothing. Both her parents had evidently failed her, leaving her insecure and lost as a child.
She’d been avoiding looking at him directly, except for brief glances, as if she was afraid of even that much connection. But then, surprising him, her gaze fixed on his. In her mossy-green eyes, he read hunger. But hunger for what? The kind of connection she’d evidently been missing her whole life? Or something else? Passion? He sure felt a strong need for sex with her himself, but he was old enough to know such things passed and could easily make a mess. He was sure she didn’t want that. No more messes, no more losses. After all, he was avoiding that himself.
But something about Vanessa was special. He just wished he could put his finger on what drew him, apart from her beauty. Her loneliness? That wasn’t a great place to start. Two lonely souls wouldn’t necessarily be good for each other.
Why was he even thinking like this, anyway? She’d be going home soon enough. Did he want another hole in his life? Absolutely not.
He heard someone knocking on the door. A glance at the clock told him it was only a few minutes past nine. Late for a neighborly call, maybe, but not too late. Or it could be one of his customers. Occasionally one would get a bug about something in the evening after looking over progress on the job or thinking over a proposal for work and call or drop by. Although in this weather, dropping by seemed like the least preferable choice.
He rose, excusing himself, and went to find out who was there. A young man he knew mostly by sight was standing there. Larry Crowley, he believed.
“Hey, Tim,” the young man said. “I heard Vanessa Welling is here. We were in school together when we were kids. I spent some time at her dad’s ranch. Is she around?”
Tim eyed him, seeing a pleasant-looking young man with a smile. Average height and build. “Kinda late for a social call,” he remarked. Not that he had any right to prevent Vanessa from seeing anyone.
“Yeah, sorry. You probably don’t know because I’m not around town a lot, but I’m a long-haul trucker. Gotta leave again at dawn.”
Instead of letting the frigid night swallow all the heat from his house, Tim invited Larry inside. “I’ll see if she has a minute,” he said, leaving Larry in the small foyer.
“Thanks. If not, just tell her I said hi.”
“Okay.” He walked back to the kitchen. Vanessa was sitting upright in her chair. She must have been listening.
“Larry Crowley, old friend?” he questioned. “Just wants to say hi before he leaves again.”
She blinked, evincing surprise. “Larry?”
He watched her search her memory, then she nodded. “Amazing. Julie and Ashley surprised me, but someone else? I do vaguely remember him, though. He liked playing with cars in the dirt.”
Tim could have laughed. That sounded like a kid. “Did you play with him?”
“Sometimes.” She rose, put on a smile and walked out to the foyer.
He hesitated near the kitchen door, letting her have her moment with an old friend. Listening. Why he felt edgy he couldn’t have said.
“Larry,” she said. “It’s been ages.”
“Yeah. You’re looking good.”
“So are you.”
Tim relaxed. Then the bomb dropped.
* * *
Vanessa had only the vaguest memory of Larry Crowley, a very young boy covered in dust with a passion for tiny metal cars. She had one or two images of him at her parents’ ranch, but none of him from school. Maybe one at Bob’s house? She wasn’t sure.
Now she faced a thin man of about her age, with shaggy dark hair and eyes that held no warmth. Just as uneasiness began to prickle along her nerves, he spoke.
“My dad’s dead.”
“I’m sorry,” she answered, taken aback. “Mine, too.”
“Yeah, I heard. He helped Higgins steal my dad’s retirement. Nothing left. Your whole family stinks!”
She took a step back, startled and suddenly afraid. Her dad’s constant warnings about judgment came back to her, and she couldn’t help retorting, “We lost everything, too, Larry. Everything.”
“My dad always said your dad was the reason—”
Suddenly Tim was there, inserting himself between the two of them. “I think you ought to go, Larry.”
“But her father—”
“She wasn’t responsible for any of that. She was a kid, just seven. How old were you? Could you have stopped your dad from doing anything? Yelling at Vanessa won’t do any good, but it’ll sure as hell make me madder than a wet hornet. Now leave!”
Larry was clenching and unclenching his fists. He glared at Vanessa and Tim before turning and storming out.
As if from a great distance, Vanessa watched Tim close and lock the door. Tremors had begun to run through her, and her face felt like a frozen mask.
Her dad had warned her. For years he’d claimed this town would sit in judgment. She’d dropped her guard because of Julie and Ashley. Way too easily.
Slowly her hands came up, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ve got to leave in the morning,” she said shakily. “Do whatever the house needs. Drop a bomb on it. I don’t care.”
The urge to flee to privacy overwhelmed her, and she turned to go to the bedroom. Before she took a step, strong arms wrapped around her from behind and held her tightly.
“Easy,” Tim murmured. “Easy. Just one jerk—”
“Saying what everyone thinks!”
“Saying what he thinks,” Tim corrected firmly. “Sounds like his life was poisoned the same way yours was, by an angry father. That doesn’t mean either man was right.”
“I don’t want to stay in this town,” she argued, gradually regaining her strength. “I don’t need any more of that.”
H
e turned her, making her face him, enclosing her once more in his embrace. “It’ll be okay. First of all, I’m damn near positive that you won’t meet another soul like Larry. But even if you do, I’ll be there. I promise. I’m not going to stand for that crap from anyone. How idiotic can you get? Like a seven-year-old girl could have anything to do with what happened? Most people have more brains than that.”
“But I’m the only one they have left to yell at.”
“Larry’s a jackass. You’re not responsible, and yelling at you for something other people did is downright stupid and cruel. It’s a good thing he’s on his way out of town in the morning, or I’d hunt him up and tell him a thing or two.”
Surprise began to trickle through Vanessa as she listened to Tim. He was indignant for her. Angry on her behalf. Ready to protect her against the things she feared. And angry at Larry, while all she felt was awful pain. Shouldn’t she be angry, too?
The feeling of being protected, however, warmed her somewhere deep inside. She’d never felt that way before, and however temporary it was, it came like a revelation. Someone could actually be concerned enough to take care of her.
“You’re kind,” she murmured, letting her head come to rest on his shoulder, letting tension seep out of her.
“I’m mad,” he said. “There was no call for that. None at all. No one he should be angry with is in this house. Damn him.”
“His father...”
“To hell with his father. To hell with yours, too, for that matter. Two grown men made big mistakes, and they’re going to dump it on your head? I am completely out of patience.”
A shiver passed through her, but this one wasn’t uncomfortable. She leaned into the man, grateful for his strength. She had always thought herself strong, but she was beginning to see it differently. Not strong, but hiding. Now she’d been forced out of hiding, and she couldn’t handle Larry’s anger. Some strength.
Matt’s voice came from upstairs. “Daddy?”
“What are you doing up?”
“I heard a man. Is Vannie okay?”
“She will be. Don’t worry, son. You can give her a hug in the morning, if you want.”
“Okay.”
She faintly heard the sound of bare feet in the upstairs hall. “He’s a good kid,” she said, her voice thick. Only then did she feel that her eyes were burning with unshed tears. Tears for what? Was she having a breakdown of some kind? Maybe coming back here had been the worst thing she could possibly have done.
But with Tim’s arms around her, she couldn’t quite believe that.
“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s go sit in the living room. Maybe have a cookie, or I can reheat your cocoa. You must have had an adrenaline rush, and that burns calories fast.”
Was that why she had started shaking? Maybe. She really didn’t know. The attack had been unexpected, coming out of nowhere, it seemed, despite all her father’s warnings. A man calling himself an old friend had suddenly turned into a threat.
“He wasn’t a threat,” she said slowly, mostly to herself, as Tim kept his arm around her shoulder and walked her into the living room.
“A threat to your peace of mind. I don’t believe he’d have gotten violent.”
“I don’t think so.” Not now. But had she? For a few moments there, she’d felt real fear. A gut certainty that Larry wanted to hit her. Probably a misreading of his body language, because he had certainly been angry. “He must be really seething that he didn’t get to have his say.”
Tim let go of her and motioned her to sit on the sofa. “Too bad. You will never be the person he needs to say it to. Now, do you want fresh cocoa or some cookies?”
Her stomach had knotted. Putting something in it had become necessary. “Milk and cookies?” she suggested. A childhood treat that had suddenly arisen in her mind, promising comfort. A different kind of comfort from what she had felt in Tim’s arms. How could a man’s hug have reached her so deeply, bringing warmth to the corners of her soul?
“Coming up.”
Her thoughts drifted upward to Matthew, and she hoped he hadn’t heard any of that ugly confrontation. He’d obviously been worried, and that troubled her. Maybe she should move into the Higgins house until she could leave. She didn’t want Matthew exposed to that kind of ugliness, not even briefly. He was such a bright and happy little guy. She hoped that never changed, although given the way life operated, it probably would, but she didn’t want it to be soon, or because of her.
Tim returned with a tray bearing a plate of cookies, two glasses of milk and some paper napkins. “Dig in,” he said cheerfully. “Dip if you like. Isn’t that half the fun of cookies and milk?”
“Clearly you have a child.”
He laughed. “Seems like. I’d quit dipping years ago because of drippy mess I always made, then he taught me that it didn’t matter because it was so enjoyable. Makes me feel like a kid again, and you know, the mess isn’t that hard to clean up.”
She smiled and reached for a chocolate cookie and the glass of milk. Then, almost daringly, she dipped the cookie and quickly ate the soaked part.
“Yum,” he said, then dipped a cookie for himself. “So, are you unwinding from our visitor?”
“Yeah, but I feel awful because Matthew might have heard some of that.”
“I doubt it. He came because he heard something, but I’m pretty sure it was seeing me hugging you that made him wonder if something was wrong. If he did happen to hear anything Larry said, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
She swallowed another bite of cookie, washing it down with more milk. The whole thing with the cookies and milk was soothing. Tim made quick work of his cookie and set his glass on the coffee table.
“You and Matthew have a wonderful relationship.”
“I’m lucky.”
“No, I think you’re good. A good father.”
He turned his head toward her as he rested his arm along the back of the couch, and she was astonished to read something like sorrow on his face. “I’m sorry you missed that.”
“Not in my early years,” she said truthfully. “I don’t have a lot of very clear memories from before, but I do remember feeling loved and secure. Bob Higgins blew that all up, so I can understand where Larry’s coming from.”
“That doesn’t give him the right to dump it on you.” Having said that as if it were indisputable, he fell silent, drumming his fingers on the back of the couch. “You’re thinking about moving into the Higgins house, aren’t you?”
His accuracy astonished her. She hadn’t said a word about it. “What, do you read minds?”
“Faces, maybe.” He looked at her. “Why? You’d be miserable and uncomfortable.”
“Because I don’t want Matthew to see anything like what just happened. I’d like to preserve his innocence as long as possible.”
He smiled faintly. “Very kind of you. But innocence only lasts so long, and sometimes even at seven you have to deal with the way things are. You certainly ought to know that. Matthew’s had his share of playground dustups and broken friendships. The innocence is bound to get chipped away. We just hope it’s not in some awful, shattering way. But eventually it will be. That’s life.”
“But...”
He silenced her with a shake of his head. “I doubt he would have even understood what Larry was saying, beyond that he was angry with you. Matthew is perfectly able to understand people getting angry. He’s even been known to do it himself sometimes.”
His words seemed to release a pressure valve inside her, and she relaxed with a quiet laugh. “Point made.”
“Yeah, he can become a little tempest sometimes. Not often. I’m blessed with a son who is usually happy. But once in a while, not so much. We’ve butted heads a few times.”
“I find that hard to imagine.”
“He has a mind of his own.” Tim shrugged. “I don’t want to stifle it, but occasionally I have to object. Depending on how determined he is, it can become quite something.”
She could almost imagine Matthew standing stiffly, his face screwed up with anger, probably looking more adorable than frightening. “I feel sorry for Larry.”
“Really?”
“He grew up with the same kind of stuff I did. I can imagine the bitterness his father must have felt and expressed countless times. Heck, I don’t have to imagine it. I lived it. It has an effect.”
“Of course. But do you go around taking it out on other people?”
“Maybe only because I don’t have someone to take it out on. Bob was in prison. Now he’s dead. Maybe I would have wanted to do exactly what Larry did.”
He drummed his fingers again briefly. “I don’t read you that way, but I could be wrong. I don’t know you very well yet. Still, I don’t see it. Larry’s anger is misdirected. What have you done with yours?”
She put down her glass then leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. “I think I buried it. I know as I got older I grew really angry with Bob, and with my dad, too, but for different reasons. I was mad because Bob hurt my parents, of course. But I was mad at my dad for his drinking and losing every job he had, which upset my mother until she looked ninety when she wasn’t yet forty. I think Dad did that to her more than the loss of the ranch.”
His fingers moved from the back of the sofa to rest on her shoulder, stroking gently. Pleasant shivers ran through her even as she thought about a past that was ugly and had sometimes been nearly unbearable. God, his touch was magical, tugging her out of the ditch of memory.
“And you?” he asked yet again. “I’m not asking about your parents. I’m asking how you dealt with all of it.”
“I survived,” she said flatly. “That’s all I could do. I survived. I pulled inside myself until nothing could touch me anymore.”
In that instant she realized a home truth about herself. She’d almost entirely squelched her emotional life to protect herself. She was barely more than half a person.