“If I have to call the sheriff, I will certainly do it.”
“No!”
At the sound of Susan’s voice, Betsy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. For the first time, Tag really saw her: the iron-gray hair that had no life, the shoulders that showed no sign of yielding, the grim lines etched at the sides of her mouth and between her eyebrows, all testimony to the attitude she’d brought to life. Then he had a vision of himself, equally bitter, equally determined not to give life a chance these past twenty years. Betsy Foster became a vision of what Susan’s return to his life had saved him from.
“Stop it, Mother. Right now!”
Everyone looked at Susan, who stood on her own two feet, bracing herself on her wheelchair and looking as determined as she had looked back in the days when she was willing to take on anyone—especially her mother.
Tag’s heart twisted in his chest. He took a step in Betsy’s direction, stood so close the box he held almost touched her chest. “If I have to, I’ll take Susan with me.”
She studied him for a long minute, then swept past him, pausing only to say under her breath, “This isn’t over.”
But Tag knew it was, and he turned his attention to the two people he loved most in the world—the people who, amazingly, still seemed to love him.
“Come on, you two. This rehab’s about to go high-tech.”
Within half an hour, while Susan watched and Sam proved himself more at home on the information highway than his uncle, a computer whirred to life on the table in Susan’s room. Tag was glad Sam knew what he was doing. Disconnecting the computer in his office at the store hadn’t been too tough; reassembly might have been more than his experience in motorcycle maintenance had prepared him for.
“But what am I going to do with a computer?” Susan asked.
“Ah!” Tag dug a shopping bag out of the box. “I’m glad you asked that.”
Once again, Sam saved the day. Soon, software installed, the computer screen filled with a series of icons lined up across from a series of words. Tag saw from the pleased and grateful look on his nephew’s face that Sam knew exactly what the software was for. Susan, however, inched forward in her chair and stared, confused, at the screen.
“That’s a dog,” she said. “Like Butch. And look!”
She pointed at the screen and looked over her shoulder at Tag. “It says ‘dog.’ Right there.”
Without waiting, she keyed in the word from the list beside the icon. Both she and Sam started when the computer announced, amid the chime of bells, “Good job!”
Susan laughed, and Tag couldn’t decide what to do with his pleasure. His heart told him it was okay to feel a little misty, but he didn’t think he was ready to go that far yet.
“Tag, where did you get this?” Susan exclaimed, already eagerly keying in a word beside the next icon on the screen.
“In Birmingham. It’s to help people learn to read and write again after injuries like yours.” He squatted beside her, couldn’t help but join her when she once again laughed at the positive feedback from the computer. “I thought you and I might make more progress this way than you and Betsy were making.”
He and Sam exchanged a glance. Tag had been furious to realize that Susan had actually lost ground with her reading and writing while working with her mother. He was determined that situation wouldn’t continue. He’d bought the most basic of reading and writing programs, as well as some intermediate programs. She would be needing them soon if he had anything to do with it—and if her immediate enthusiasm for the new computer was any indication.
“Oh, Tag, I love it. Now reading can be fun, just like sewing with Addy is fun.” She turned to Sam with the impish smile Tag had only seen in his hungry, tortured memories for twenty-five years. “If we had a computer to take Sam’s place, maybe that would be fun, too.”
Sam laughed. “No way. I’m here to make you miserable and nobody’s horning in on that.”
How long they stayed hunched over the computer, laughing over Susan’s exploration of the lessons at her fingertips, Tag wasn’t sure. Even young Cody joined them. Tag boosted him into Susan’s lap and the game continued.
They were all surprised to hear Malorie’s soft voice from the doorway. “I see there’s a party and I wasn’t invited.”
She sounded strained to Tag, and he looked up to study her. Her face confirmed what he’d heard in her voice. Although she was clearly striving to look and sound normal, her face was paler than usual, and there was no sparkle in her eyes.
He also noticed the mix of emotions on her face. Sympathy and concern as her glance strayed from her mother to her boss and back again. A sad, hurt look at little Cody, who pounded happily on the keyboard. Then she glanced at Sam and immediately looked away. But Tag didn’t miss the flicker of feelings she exhibited. She had the wary, excited, secretive look of a young woman in the agonies of falling in love, and battling it every step of the way.
A quick look at Sam told Tag his nephew was in the same boat. Except he wasn’t fighting the current at all.
Sam took Malorie by the hand and drew her into the room. “Take a look. My uncle’s embarking on a new career. What do you think of Tag as a teacher?”
“Wait a minute,” Malorie said. “That’s my computer. What about inventory? Orders? Billing?”
Tag shrugged. “Emergency conscription?”
Amid Malorie’s playful complaints about the downward spiral of efficiency at the store, they explained the new software and Susan demonstrated her efficiency. Even Cody took a hand at mimicking her and thrilled himself and everyone else when the computer declared, “Good job!”
Worried that Susan might be tired, Tag suggested that they quit for the day. But Susan wasn’t ready to stop. Then Tag noticed she was leaving her left hand in her lap, keying in her responses one-handed. He realized that her speech had also grown slower, a little less distinct, in the past half hour. He questioned Sam with his eyes; his nephew nodded almost imperceptibly.
Tag knelt beside her. “Let’s not wear out the computer on its first afternoon, how about?”
Susan looked at him, unable to hide her weariness despite her enthusiasm. “Do we have to stop?”
“I’ll be back in the morning,” he promised. “We’ll spend as long as you like. I’ve got enough software here to have you writing War and Peace.“
At her quizzical expression, he amended, “A real big book.”
She laughed softly. “Okay. But don’t leave yet. Let’s sit on the porch first. It’s...we don’t have to go to supper yet, do we, Mal?”
Malorie leaned over to kiss her mother’s cheek, then lifted Cody out of Susan’s lap. “You guys sit and visit. I’ll take Cody for a walk. I think he needs a little time to calm down from all this excitement.”
“I’ll come with you,” Sam volunteered.
Tag watched the silent interplay between the two, looked down to see if Susan noticed as well. She did. The struggle between the young people was hard to miss. Malorie was trying to escape, Sam determined to pursue. Malorie relented.
As the young people left, Tag was grateful that things would be simpler for him and Susan. They both knew what they wanted. They had both been without it too long to be indecisive now, he told himself as he pushed her onto the side porch and sat in the wicker rocker facing her.
“They like each other,” he said.
“She’s stubborn,” Susan said. “Something’s holding her back.”
“What?”
He saw her hesitation. “I don’t know. I keep thinking I should. But...” She tapped the side of her head. “If the reason’s up here, it’s still hiding.”
She let her hand drop and closed her eyes. Her shoulders sagged. “I wanted to work as hard as you did. That’s what I told Sam when he got here today.”
Tag thought back to his first weeks in therapy, when he believed he had to recover quickly so he could go in search of Susan. He remembered what a setback he had suffered when his
old man told him she was married. He’d almost quit right then. “It’s easier when you have something to work toward. Something worth fighting for.”
“I do,” she said, her voice tired but determined. “I have to get away from Mother.”
Tag leaned forward, took her hand in his. She gripped it weakly, but he knew the effort it took. “I’ll take you away, Susan. Come with me and—”
She was already shaking her head. “When I’m back to normal. Then I’ll come with you.”
Uneasiness flirted with the euphoria he’d felt all day. All that Sam had told him about her injuries whirled in his busy mind. “Susan, you don’t have to be perfect for us to be together.”
She opened her eyes. “Oh, yes, I do. And I will be. I’m going to work so hard I’ll be all well in no time at all.”
Tag didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t discourage her. All he knew was that he didn’t intend to wait another twenty-five years for Susan to figure out that she might never recover completely.
* * *
CODY SCRAMBLED ALONG the edge of Willow Creek, stumbling over his puppy and squealing in delight as his chubby fists splashed in the water.
“Be careful,” Malorie called out from farther up the bank, where she stood with Sam. “Maybe I should get him before he scrapes his knee or something.”
“He’ll be fine,” Sam said, taking her hand to restrain her. “Kids are supposed to scrape their knees. That’s how they learn to slow down and watch where they’re going.”
Malorie looked up at him, knowing he couldn’t understand her fears, but irrationally expecting him to do so, anyway. “I thought that’s what mothers were for.”
“And big sisters?”
She looked away. “Yes. And big sisters.”
She walked off and sat on a big, flat rock, keeping a careful eye on Cody. All these changes were hard for her to handle. Her emotions were upside down, and Sam’s presence didn’t help a bit. As if doing his best to be contrary, Sam dropped to the ground at her feet, propping his elbow on the corner of the boulder.
“Susan was different today.”
Malorie nodded but said nothing.
“What happened? Do you know?”
Darting an uncertain look at him, she clasped her hands on her knees. He was so close, too close. What would she do, she wondered, if he kissed her?
Run.
She tried to steer her thoughts back to the things that were really disturbing her. Sam was a distraction, that was all. “She and Grandmother had a big fight.”
“Mrs. Foster seems to fight with a lot of people.”
Malorie shook her head. “I’ve never seen Mother argue with her. It was scary.”
“I suppose Tag has something to do with all this.”
She wondered how much he knew and toyed with the idea of sharing her secret with him. The idea gave her a lift. “You wouldn’t believe what Rose McKenzie told me this morning.”
“I might.”
She looked at him, saw the amusement in his eyes. “You knew? And didn’t tell me?”
“We both knew they were friends,” he pointed out. “I just didn’t know how friendly until Tag told me the other night.”
Malorie sighed. “Do you think they’ll fall in love again?”
“I’m not sure they’ve ever been out of love.”
Hurt flickered through her heart. If that were true, what did it say about her parents’ relationship all those years? Wasn’t it bad enough that her whole future was in question? Did she have to lose everything she’d ever believed about the past, too?
Sam put a hand on her wrist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I meant, I’m not sure Tag’s ever been out of love with Susan.”
His hand on her wrist felt so comforting. Too comforting. She pulled away. “I never thought my parents were unhappy, but—Cody! Be careful!”
She had glanced up just in time to see him lunge into the water and sprawl, facefirst, in the shallow creek. Malorie’s heart gave a fearful leap, but when Cody looked up, he was grinning gleefully.
“Fwogs, sissy! See the fwogs!”
Sam laughed. “Bring one up here for sissy to see, Cody.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Malorie said, peeved that she seemed to be the only one who saw the darkness waiting to ruin their lives.
“Why not? Maybe he needs a break from Betsy’s brand of vigilance.” Sam touched her again, tracing the pale veins on the back of one hand. It felt just as it had before, soft and warm and comforting. She wanted to shrug off the touch, but found herself frozen. “Maybe he isn’t the only one.”
“Don’t touch me like that.” She heard the quaver in her voice and hoped it didn’t rob her words of all conviction.
He kept touching her, tracing her fingers until he gave her goose bumps. She should have run when she first thought of it, because it was too late now.
“Are you cold?” His voice was teasing.
“No, I—I mean, yes. I am. We should go back.”
He put one hand on the back of her neck. He was almost close enough to kiss her, and she was still paralyzed by feelings she was too confused and fearful to name. “You can’t keep running away, Malorie.”
“I don’t want this,” she whispered.
“Yes, you do.” He clasped her head in his hand, letting his fingers tangle in the soft waves of her hair. “You can’t run away forever.”
“I’m not running away,” she said. But I should be.
“Then kiss me.”
“I don’t want to kiss you.” Liar.
He laughed softly, and she knew he, too, could see straight through her to the truth. And that, after all, was the danger, wasn’t it? That he would get to know her too well, see too clearly all the things she had to keep hidden?
Then he dropped his hand. She faced him uncertainly. What would a normal person do now? she wondered.
“It was good to see the change in your mother today,” he said, his voice still intimate. “It’s clear she’s decided she isn’t going to let her injuries rule the rest of her life. She’d going to grab hold and take what she wants. You should look for a little of your mother’s courage, Malorie.”
The words hurt. There was too much truth in them. But for the life of her, Malorie didn’t know what to do about it, didn’t know how to steer away from this course of fear and deception.
Before she could reply, Cody dashed up and dropped something into her lap.
“Sissy, a fwog! Can I keep the fwog?”
Malorie couldn’t even look down at the rambunctious little boy and his prize. Her eyes were still on Sam.
Sam’s smile was no longer teasing when he said, “Even Cody is braver than you.”
And now that she was pushed to the wall, no one knew that better than Malorie.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BETSY FOSTER TESTED her daughter’s determination daily for the rest of the week.
“Why is she doing this to me?” Susan asked Tag as he installed a new cord for the computer. The original had turned up missing after Betsy’s intensive cleaning of Susan’s room.
Tag pushed the Power button and shook his head. “All I know is, sometimes I tried punishing the people I blamed for making me miserable. I think I’ve finally figured out the one I was punishing most was myself.”
The computer whirred to life. Susan closed her eyes and squinted, focusing her thoughts on what Tag had said, trying to reason out what he meant. “Does that mean she’s unhappier than we are?”
Tag leaned closer and kissed her tightly shut eyelids. They fluttered open and Susan looked into his gently smiling face.
“Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”
Susan tried to reconcile that thought with her ever-worsening opinion of her mother. She tried to feel grateful that her mother was willing to take care of her while she recovered. But it was so hard to feel anything but impatient to get out of here, to get well enough to begin her own life again.
Sometimes, th
at day seemed so far away.
Glancing down at her hands, Susan said, “Do I sound...dumb sometimes?”
Tag lifted her chin. “No, you don’t sound dumb. You’d sound dumb if you pretended to understand everything everybody said. Or if you didn’t care enough to try and figure things out.” He leaned closer yet and whispered, “Or if you acted like you thought for one single moment that anything you could do would keep me away from the woman I love.”
Susan laughed softly. “Like Mother.”
He nodded and kissed her again, this time softly on the lips. “Exactly. Now, are you ready for Advanced Kitchen Vocabulary?”
Shaking off the way his touch tingled through her, Susan sat up straight in her chair and faced the computer. “Ready.”
Concentrating on the daily lessons was extra hard with Tag so close. Sometimes Susan had to use every bit of her concentration to pay attention to the words spelled out on the computer screen, because Tag’s nearness distracted her so. They hadn’t made love again since that first night. Tag hadn’t even brought it up, although he told her with a million little looks and touches that it wasn’t for lack of wanting to. And all those little messages kept Susan atingle. When he was with her, she wanted Tag to touch her again far more than she wanted to match the icon of the stove with the squiggles that spelled out the word.
And at night, when she was alone, she longed for him. Longed for his hands, stroking her body in a way that made her feel far more than whole. She came alive to his touch; she felt young and beautiful and perfect again. She longed to feel him moving inside her, longed for the heart-stopping shudder of his body as he climaxed. Longed to rest her head on his shoulder and fall asleep to the rhythm of his breathing.
“Do you still want me?” Even she hadn’t expected the question. She wished she hadn’t asked and wondered why, this particular time, it had been so easy for her brain to find words for the feelings inside her. She squinted at the screen and tried to pretend she hadn’t said a word.
“Look at me, Susan.”
She shook her head. “No. That was a silly question. I want to learn some more now.”
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