Harvest Moon

by Sharon Struth

  Trent started toward the kitchen, yet couldn’t let go of the reaction to whatever she’d been reading. He walked back over and sat in front of the monitor. A small icon on the bottom of the screen would give him an answer to whatever left her so tense. The closer they got, the more desperately he wanted to get her past this difficult time. Yet, did it justify taking a peek at whatever she’d just seen that upset her so?

  His hand slipped on the mouse. Trent stood at a crossroads, but without much time until she came out, he quickly clicked on the icon and the full screen came into view. A photograph of a couple stared back, a profile picture from PartyTime.com, an Internet based invitation service. The entry she’d been reading showed a response from Carin and Gary Tishman.

  Good news! We will definitely make it to the party. Gary is skipping his work event. Can’t wait to catch up with everyone. Twenty years is way too long! My new husband is dying to meet you.

  Had this response to the party upset her? But why? Another tab was left opened on the screen, making him question the source of her sadness. God, she was still so guarded! In spite of the openness they’d shared lately. Yet something had definitely flipped a switch on her relaxed mood. One he’d seen only a few hours ago, when she woke him from a sound sleep, snuggled close, and her soft caress awakened his need.

  He paused as the lines of violating another’s privacy again blurred with his concern for Veronica’s happiness. Despite the tingle of guilt in his chest, he peeked. An unfinished e-mail to Ry at Eclectic Expressions sat opened before him. Coming face-to-face with an e-mail about to be sent to his alter ego carried a surreal quality, as if he’d stepped through the looking glass. Remorse at the invasion of privacy rested a heavy hand on his chest, but curiosity propelled him further.

  To: Ry@eclecticexpressions.com

  From Musetta@yahoo.com

  Subject: Confession really is good for the soul.

  I think I’ve made about ten steps forward this weekend. Believe it or not, I shared the details about my rape with someone. As the cliché goes, confession is good for the soul. Your encouragement led me all the way. Thank you!

  On a sour note, the man I wrote you about last time WILL definitely be at the party with my old friend. It seems my destiny is to face that bastard. I believe my old college friend has shown him my photo, and knowing he’s seen it makes me so uneasy. Let’s hope he’s a more honorable man now.

  Your advice to tell my date is good, but this is my battle and I cannot, in good conscience, drag him in or have anybody else fight for me. For me to move forward, I need to face the man who hurt me.

  Trent went back to the photo on the first screen. This had to be her attacker. He memorized the man’s face. No wonder she’d been so tense just now.

  The details of the rape had hit Trent hard, but now the assaulter had a face. And so did the victim. A pain pierced Trent’s heart, for the woman who’d made his heart thump with beats of love last night.

  Anger roiled in his veins, like rapids after a heavy rain. The sensation pooled in his hands, and he clenched his fists. Every ounce of self-control might not stop him from beating the crap out of this guy at the party.

  The bathroom door opened. He quickly closed the e-mail, but he didn’t have time to close the invitation.

  “Hey.” Veronica stood at the hallway entrance to the living room, her head tipped and mouth turned into a frown. “What are you doing?”

  “I figured I’d check my e-mail, but it can wait.” He motioned to the computer. “Want me to turn this off?”

  She walked over and stood at his side, glanced at the screen and the open invitation. “No. That’s the party we’re going to on Friday.”

  “Oh? These are old friends?”

  She nodded, pondering the monitor with a noncommittal expression.

  “I’m glad you asked me to go.” He took her hand and coaxed her closer to the chair.

  “My college friends are a fun bunch.” Her warm hand rested on his shoulder, ran appreciatively along his biceps. We all got our MLS the same year.”

  “I didn’t realize you had your masters.”

  “I do. Library Science. There’s no such thing as the little-old-lady-librarian anymore. You need a degree.”

  “I’ve never dated a librarian before.”

  She snorted a short laugh. “After seeing your last girlfriend, I’m not shocked.”

  He stood and wove his fingers through the silky curls resting on her nape. “Coffee or bed?”

  This time Veronica offered a more relaxed smile. “Bed, of course. Hey, you weren’t reading my e-mail, were you?”

  Trent’s heartbeat picked up. Avoiding a truth was bad, lying far worse, and yet, her silence meant she wasn’t ready to share these details. “Why?” He nuzzled her neck near her ear, and teasingly asked, “Are you hiding another lover from me?”

  She laughed and tossed her arms around him, her body relaxing in his hold. Then she kissed him without answering the question, whisking away the guilt of unspoken truths.

  Chapter 22

  Trent arrived at the municipal building and parked. For the past few days, he’d tried to gather the courage to cross this item off his to-do list, but each time he got close, his resolution scattered like an opened bag of marbles. A week had passed since his outburst at Polanski’s with Buzz. High time Trent faced the backlash, if only for his own peace of mind in trying to make this town his new home.

  His phone pinged, a text from Veronica wishing him good luck. He sent her a winking emoticon back and stepped out of the car.

  Inside the first selectman’s office suite, Wanda typed at her computer, but paused and smiled when he walked in. “Well if it isn’t my favorite self-defense instructor. What can I do for you today?”

  He relaxed a little. “Is Buzz here? I just need a minute of his time.”

  “Hold on.” She stood and stuck her head through the half-closed door leading to Buzz’s office, disappearing inside a second later. Low voices murmured and she finally came out.

  “Head on in,” she said, flipping a hand toward the office door. “But he’s only got a few minutes before a meeting.”

  Trent took a deep breath and entered.

  Buzz sat behind his large desk, scribbling on his calendar, and didn’t acknowledge Trent for several seconds. He finally glanced from the calendar. “What do you want?”

  “Thanks for seeing me. A couple things. First, I’m here to apologize.”

  Buzz studied Trent’s face. “Go on.”

  Trent shifted and worked hard to keep his temper in check. “That day at Polanski’s I wasn’t myself. Sometimes my anger gets away from me. Please know I’m sorry.”

  Buzz made a gruff little noise, one Trent assumed was a sign of acknowledgment. “Fine. What else did you want?”

  “It’s about Marion.”

  Buzz’s eye twitched.

  Trent moved forward and took the seat in front of the desk. “I’d never do anything to hurt her. She’s such a great woman.”

  “Damn straight.” Buzz puffed out his chest.

  “I didn’t move here to change anything about your life with Marion, but I imagine me being here now is, well…unsettling, awkward.”

  Buzz’s lips pursed.

  “All I want is to get to know my mother. Can we call it a truce?”

  Buzz shifted in his seat before looking Trent square in the eye. “Listen, I can see you’re not a bad guy. But your father, now he’s another story. I guess I’ve been afraid you being around will remind Marion of what she had with Frank.” He leaned forward. “I’m not a stupid man. I know how Marion felt about your father. Jesus, I’m damn lucky a woman like her is with me, but if Frank Jamieson snapped his fingers, she’d—” He clamped his lips shut, as if he’d already said too much.

  “I can’t control any of that. But I can see how Marion feels about you, and my father. Listen, he doesn’t want my mother to know what went on be
tween him and Marion years ago. So maybe we all need to forget it, too.” Trent extended a hand across the desk. “How about we try to be friends?”

  Buzz blinked, stared at Trent for a long moment before he reached out and shook Trent’s hand.

  Trent relaxed, the weight of his past a slightly lighter load to carry, and the reason it mattered in the first place suddenly crystal clear. Maybe his own father had ignored him growing up, but the need to have his birth mother’s husband see some good in him meant more than it should.

  * * * *

  “Want to stay for dinner?” Emily glanced over her shoulder while she stirred a large pot of sauce.

  “No thanks, I have chorus tonight. I came to give you these.” She extended a bouquet of flowers toward her sister.

  Emily stopped stirring and took them. “That’s nice, but why?”

  “For watching Boomer the other night. He loves his Aunt Emily.”

  “Boomer and I aren’t related. I love him, but not related.” She studied Veronica from top to toe. “If you don’t mind me saying so, Sis, you look different. Like you’ve had a good roll in the hay.”

  Veronica’s cheeks warmed, but she smiled. “There’s no way you can tell that from my appearance.”

  “Okay, so I can’t. I stopped by your friend Sophie’s farm for some eggs this afternoon. Jay helped me and mentioned how you and Trent went out Friday and Saturday and seemed to be hitting it off, since he didn’t come home either night.”

  “Guess if Jay’s talking about it, the whole town knows.” She reached below the sink, where her sister kept the vases, and removed one. “Well, I don’t care. I’m happy. Happier than I’ve felt in years.”

  “Then I’m glad.” Emily’s smile slipped. “Hey, I’m glad you finally told me what happened to you back in college. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to share.”

  “No. But it’s good I faced it. Thanks for not telling me I was stupid to let him into my apartment. I’ve always worried that would be the first thing others said.”

  “How could you have known? Have you seen him since then?”

  “No. Luckily, I haven’t.” Emily’s curiosity opened a door. Rather than ignore it, as she often did, Veronica stepped through. “But you know Gail’s annual party each summer?”

  Her sister nodded.

  “It’s in two days. One of our old friends from school—Carin—who we haven’t seen since college, will be coming to the party this year. She’s remarried now. Guess who she married?”

  Emily touched Veronica’s arm. “Not…”

  Veronica’s pulse throbbed. “Yes. She married the man who raped me.”

  Emily dropped her hand. “Geesh, talk about small worlds. Wait… So he’ll be at the party?”

  Veronica nodded.

  Emily’s eyes opened wide. “You can’t go.”

  “I said yes before I knew.”

  “So. People cancel.”

  “A year ago, I would’ve. Now, for some reason, I feel a need to face him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Her sister dumped the flowers on the counter and turned toward the vase, as if the conversation were over.

  Veronica moved to her sister’s side, placed a hand over hers to stop her from picking the flowers up. “You know when I took Cassidy hiking on Sunday?” Her sister nodded. “She told me the boy who’d been bothering her was at the beach on Saturday and followed her to the ice cream truck. He tried to touch her again.”

  “What? She didn’t tell me.”

  Veronica sighed. “Listen, please don’t say I told you. My point is, Cassidy’s brave. This time, she told him off, said he’d better not touch her again or she’d report him.” Veronica stared without flinching at her sister’s skeptical face. “I want to be brave, like Cassidy. Besides, I won’t be alone at the party. Trent’s going with me.”

  “Does he know this creep will be there?”

  “He knows about the rape.”

  “But he doesn’t know who, right?”

  “I can’t tell him. This is my fight. I don’t want him in the middle.”

  “He should know what he’s walking into.”

  Veronica considered it for a moment. Her only goal was to face her own demons in a showdown; even if that showdown meant staring Gary in the face and letting him know she wasn’t afraid to be in the same room with him. Trent’s knowing about Gary would complicate things, his expectations toward resolution perhaps higher than hers.

  “No. I need Trent at my side so I don’t feel so alone, but nothing else.”

  Emily frowned, shook her head. “I wish you’d told me this years ago. I would’ve supported you.”

  “Em. It wasn’t personal. I didn’t tell anybody.” Veronica studied every inch of her sister’s concerned expression. “Please don’t tell anyone, especially Mom. When she returns, I promise to talk to her, too.”

  Emily blinked a few times. “Sure. I understand.” She unwrapped the plastic wrap around the flowers. “What if this guy talks to you? Won’t you be scared?”

  “Terrified.” The truth ransacked Veronica. “All I want to do is face him, maybe even find the courage to tell that bastard what I should have said years ago.”

  “Which is…?”

  She stared at her sister. “When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.”

  * * * *

  Veronica sat with her feet curled to her side, and Boomer hogging the rest of the sofa. A sitcom played on the television. As she laughed at a line, it hit her how the talk with Emily tonight had really helped lighten her mood. Secrets—Cassidy’s and her own—carried a hidden kind of stress she’d noticed whenever she was with her sister lately. Thank God it was now in the open.

  Veronica’s cell phone rang. She reached to the end table to pick up the phone and was relieved to see Trent’s name flash across the display. She answered.

  “Hey, beautiful. How was chorus?”

  “Boring. I kept thinking about you.”

  “Really? That’s sweet.” She could almost hear his smile. “Wish I didn’t have until Friday to see you.”

  “Your side of the bed is free right now.”

  He groaned. “Aw, you’re killing me. I’d be there in three seconds, but I have to be up at five-thirty and on the road with Jay at six. How about a late lunch tomorrow? Can you sneak away from the library to my cottage around one? I’ll make a farm fresh lunch treat.”

  “And get to sample your culinary skills? Of course I’ll come.”

  “Great. I called to ask about the party on Friday. What’s the time and dress code?”

  “Let’s leave around six-thirty. The attire is dressy casual. Sports jacket, no tie. Or something along those lines.” The phone line clicked.

  “I’ve got another call,” Trent said. “It’s my mom. She’s working on my dad to come hear my band play next weekend at the opening. I swear, I don’t think he’s heard me play once.”

  “Go take the call. Hope it’s a yes.”

  “Me, too. I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”

  She hung up, still smiling and lingering in the afterglow of another conversation with this man who’d moved her to a better place in her life. Ry had started the movement, a very slow trust earned through a safe veil, but it was a relief to finally be able to hand the trust to someone real. In fact…

  The two really did have a lot in common.

  Both men were musical. Both had a troubled past. Both did karate and were teachers of self-defense. It seemed as if a half-assembled puzzle lay before Veronica.

  Alone, these traits could apply to anybody. But from the à la carte menu of “men” choices, what were the chances she’d stumble upon two who were identical?

  She sorted through the facts again. Could Ry be…?

  Impossible! Either she or Trent would’ve surely figured it out by now. She shut off the television and went to her room, putting on her bedtime T-shirt and shorts.

  She returned
to the living room, took her laptop from the coffee table, and sat on the sofa. Resting the computer on her knees, she clicked the keyboard until she got to the e-mail folder where Ry’s correspondence was stored. After scanning through several, she found one she’d written about meeting a man while kayaking, sent the same day they’d run into each other.

  If Ry were Trent, he’d have certainly pieced it together from that e-mail! Trent had been so honest with her and worked hard to earn her trust. He wouldn’t hide this.

  Or would he?

  Everything she’d ever confessed in her e-mails to Ry unfolded before her. If Trent had figured out the two relationships, telling Veronica the truth also meant telling her he knew her secrets…before she’d been ready to hand them over to him. Even a reasonable man might not confess, however…

  Veronica considered the odds they were one and the same. Fate, and a little help from Google, had handed her Ry. A man who shared her same interests, was easy to talk to, and who offered a safe place to confess her fears. Fate, and a job offer from Duncan, had also handed her Trent, so similar and yet…real…touchable.

  Both men were her guiding light, supporting her, forcing her to grow and return to something resembling the woman who used to live inside her soul. A mature woman, who embraced all life had to offer. For that, she loved them both.

  But given the odds, given the random circumstances in how she’d stumbled upon Ry, there was no way they were the same person.

  She pushed the laptop onto the sofa, went to her desk, and lifted a neat pile. Halfway down the stack, she found the pad containing the lyrics she’d started for Ry, inspired by the day she met Trent while kayaking.

  She shut off the living room lights, returned to her bedroom, and crawled under the covers, rereading the rough draft.

  Deep emotion seeped into the crevices of her heart, not only for Trent, but for Ry. The song’s lyrics took shape, all driven by love she held for them both.

  Chapter 23

  Steven Tyler’s shrieking vocals vibrated off the tasting room’s high ceilings. From Trent’s desk in the loft area, he enjoyed the Aerosmith number, thankful for the freedom of working at a place where rock music could blare and nobody complained.