The Widow of Conard County

by Rachel Lee

  “But I remember,” he said tautly. “I remember how I used to be. That’s part of what’s so frustrating, being able to remember what I used to be able to do, and not being able to do it now.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “I know. Lots of people have to face that, and it stinks. I had a student in one of my classes who was paralyzed in a fall. When he came back to school, he was angry as hell. I couldn’t blame him for that at all. Real people aren’t Tiny Tims.”

  He furrowed his brow. “You mean from A Christmas Carol?”

  “Yeah, that kid. Anyway, real people have to get over a whole bunch of stuff when something bad like this happens. Anger is part of it.”

  “It’s grief, they told me.”

  “It probably is, but it’s probably a whole lot more, too.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t, either,” she admitted. “I’m not an expert. Look at me. I’ve had almost a year and a half to get used to losing Chet, and I’m still coming out of some kind of fog. I was even having a temper tantrum out there earlier tonight. I’ve never done that before.”

  “You’ve never had a tantrum?”

  “Not that kind, not since I was little. But there I was, beating my fists on the ground.” One corner of her mouth lifted. “It helped. So if you feel a need...”

  “I’ll try to beat on the ground, not the walls.” He shifted, then drank some cocoa.

  She waited, giving them both some space. All in all it had been a pretty intense evening. She visited places she hadn’t even imagined existed inside of her. Feeling cheated, not just by Chet’s death, but by their whole marriage. Such a thought had never crossed her mind before.

  He spoke. “There’s a kind of unspoken practice in combat. After you’ve lost a couple of buddies, you decide not to make any new ones. Not really. You develop a shell and don’t let the new guys get close.”

  She nodded.

  “You were doing that, weren’t you?”

  “I guess so. Exactly that.”

  “Well, I have been, too. I let you get close. I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

  Then he rose and walked out the back door.

  Here we go again, Sharon thought. She stared down into her mug. He had even more reason than she to keep that carapace over his heart. His losses were a whole lot bigger.

  After all, he’d lost Chet, too, and they’d been buddies for over twelve years. Even she couldn’t claim that. Had he grieved? Of course he had. He probably still did.

  Then there were his cognitive deficits, truly hard to deal with, something that could jump up and bite him at any time. He had a plate far fuller than her own.

  From what he had said, she gathered that their sex earlier had wakened longings in him, too, longings for the kind of life he’d once imagined would be his, but now felt he was denied forever.

  That was even worse than what she was feeling. She had to deal with the past while having the future wide-open to her. He felt his future was narrowed, possibly completely, because nobody would want to put up with him.

  She considered those outbursts, although she hadn’t seen one, only seen the effects when he strode away, and wondered if he could even hold a real job if he needed to walk away when the pressure got to be too much. Maybe not.

  Although he was doing just fine here. As far as she was concerned, he could stay forever if he wanted.

  Then a shock ripped through her. He was going to leave. Soon. He’d just said he shouldn’t have let her get so close.

  Oh, God! All of a sudden she wondered if she could bear that.

  She jumped up and ran to the door, stepping out onto the small back porch. Even with the brilliance of the frosty moonlight, she couldn’t see him anywhere. No sign of a shadow striding across open fields. The barn, perhaps?

  But just as she started to take a step, she stopped herself. He needed space. She couldn’t deprive him of that.

  But, God, he’d better come back, because she didn’t know how she would handle it if he didn’t.

  She was in deep trouble, she realized. Returning inside, she sat at the table and waited. It was going to be a hell of a long night.

  Chapter Ten

  Summer dawns came early in these parts. The eastern sky had turned fiery red by the time Liam returned to the house. Sharon had sagged over her mug, having switched to coffee from hot chocolate hours ago. She turned as he entered the door, her face haggard, her eyes rimmed purple with fatigue.

  “You didn’t stay up all night?” He sounded shocked.

  “I was worried,” she admitted.

  “I’ve been in far more dangerous places than your grazing land.”

  She didn’t even smile. “I’m sure.”

  “You need to sleep.”

  “I will. Later.”

  So he grabbed a coffee and sat at the table with her. “When’s that paint coming for the barn?”

  “Maybe today. Impatient?”

  “I need the hard work.”

  She nodded, then looked down at the table again.

  “Does that red sky mean rain today?”

  She shrugged. “Probably not. That old sailor’s saw doesn’t work well here. Unless we’re overcast.”

  “Didn’t see any.”

  She didn’t say any more. The questions foremost on her mind had to do with what he had been thinking about while he strode through the night. She knew what she’d been thinking about, and a lot of it was scary.

  “You weren’t really worried about me.”

  At his statement she looked at him, feeling a tired irritation. “Oh, really? I stay up all night when I’m feeling great?”

  “Then why don’t you talk to me about it?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what set you running off into the night? What worries you?”

  They exchanged stares, then the quiet extended, an enveloping blanket of tension. Finally, Sharon could take it no more. “You’re such a damn sphinx. You talk about some things, but not really about how you’re feeling about anything. It’s like you analyze yourself internally and leave me wondering all the time. Whatever leashes they told you to put on yourself have turned into a cage, Liam.”

  “Maybe for good reason.”

  “Maybe. How would I know? All I know for the most part is what I see of you. Not what you think about anything. Not what you feel about anything.”

  “Why do you need to know all that stuff?”

  She bit her lip, feeling again the ache he aroused in her all too easily, the yearning for things she didn’t dare name. It wasn’t just sex anymore, and that scared her. “Because I care,” she admitted quietly.

  He swore. “Is that wise? Well, hell, I care about you, too, but I still have to ask if that’s wise. I can guarantee there’s no future I can offer you.”

  “Why? Because you’re broken?”

  “Because I haven’t even figured out who I am yet. The new and not-so-improved version of me, anyway.”

  “I think you have the same values you used to.”

  “God, I hope so. But in the past I never would have just blurted out that I wanted in a woman.”

  “What’s so bad about that?” she demanded. “Is it better to conceal it in subterfuge?”

  “Subterfuge?”

  “Yeah, dinners out, long walks holding hands, flowers and candy. Isn’t that where it always starts? Why not just be honest?”

  “Because that’s not the kind of thing a guy is supposed to say. Not out of the blue like that. If that doesn’t give you an indication of what’s wrong with me...”

  “I’m tired of hearing what’s wrong with you. How about what’s right with you?”

  He looked flummoxed.

  “See?” she said. “They fill
ed your head with all these warnings about everything that’s wrong with Liam. Well, I don’t see a whole lot that’s wrong with you. Yeah, you’re moody. So? You can’t read much. So? You can sure paint a barn. You can even straighten one up. I bet if I got a damn goat you’d learn every bit as fast as me how to take care of it.”

  “If I didn’t forget.”

  “I might forget a few things until they become habit.”

  He just stared at her with something like amazement. “You haven’t seen it all.”

  “I haven’t seen you smash anything. I’ve sure watched you stomp off by yourself often enough. What else?”

  “I have freaking nightmares. Sometimes I don’t exactly remember where I’m at.”

  “Flashbacks?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes I just can’t remember where I am in time or space. That’s real useful. It’s part of the reason I need to stay busy. If I’ve got something in my hand, if I’m talking to myself, I’ve got an anchor. That would make anyone crazy to put up with for long.”

  “It’s not bothering me.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “What I’ve said before. Start thinking of the good things about who you are now. For heaven’s sake, you hiked across the country to deliver a letter, and now you’re helping me out with things I could never have done otherwise.”

  “Even when you have to help me?”

  “The odd thing is, I don’t mind. It makes me feel useful, too. I’m not just standing around watching some man fix my property. I’m helping, too.”

  He stared at her. Evidently he wasn’t buying that it was that simple. “And what about you?” he asked.

  “What about me?”

  “What are you looking for? Just getting the place fixed up?”

  That hurt. It hurt so much that she had to look away and swallow a few times. That wasn’t it at all, but she couldn’t explain the reasons she wanted Liam to stay because she didn’t fully know why herself. Had she just been lonely too long? Or was it something more? She feared the latter. That way lay the worst pain of all.

  “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I just know I like you being here.”

  “That’s what worries me,” he said quietly. “That we’ll get to like this setup for all the wrong reasons.”

  She couldn’t deny it concerned her, too. But she’d been thinking long and hard during the night as she waited for him to return. “Maybe we should just stop worrying long-term and just take everything a day at a time. Unless you’re in a rush to get away.”

  “Getting away from you is the last thing I want right now,” he said frankly.

  “Good. Then stick around. I’m going to nap on the couch until Ed arrives with the paint. He’s bringing the sprayer if you want to save some labor.”

  He shook his head. “Like I said, I’d rather do it the hard way. I’m missing the gym.”

  “Okay.” Smiling faintly, she rose, but as she started to pass him, he caught her hand. Then, astonishing her, he raised it and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “You’re a special lady,” he said huskily.

  After the miserable night, her heart felt incredibly light as she headed for the sofa.

  * * *

  He needed sleep as much as Sharon did, but he was still too wound up. Liam sat at the table, not yet worn out enough from his long walk, hoping the paint would arrive so he would get started on the barn.

  He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to ease the tension that crackled along his nerves. What the hell was he getting into here? Could he even judge?

  Sharon was right about one thing: he’d been cut loose after a whole heap of warnings about his new limitations, followed by a cheery, “But you should improve with time. You’ve improved a lot already.”

  What did that mean? How long would it take? How would he know when he was improving? And whatever improvements might be happening, he still had the temper and frustration to deal with. The nightmares. The losing himself in time, the forgetting what he was doing unless he talked himself through it or had some physical reminder to pull him back.

  Why would anyone want to deal with all that? But Sharon didn’t mind, and that suddenly seemed like absolutely the scariest thing of all.

  Someone who didn’t mind his outbursts, his explosive moods that he could handle only by walking them off. Sometimes the rest of it didn’t seem so bad, not even the nightmares, or the occasional flashback. What drove him nuts was being unable to follow a line start to finish without losing track of where he was without some reminder.

  That drove him crazy.

  Sharon was beginning to drive him crazy, too. The thing was, with her it wasn’t a bad crazy. It was a good crazy, and that really worried him.

  Brain damage or not, he hadn’t completely forgotten how to gauge other people, how to be concerned about them, too. She was getting attached. So was he. And that could turn out to be so bad if it was for the wrong reasons on either side.

  He’d found a haven here. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing if he clung to it simply because he could handle things better here. Low pressure, a nice lady to whom he was attracted... Yeah, that could be a bad thing. Because that was not a good reason to trash someone else by grabbing for a lifeline that might only be temporary.

  How could he tell what he was reaching for here? He didn’t know. And the last thing on earth he wanted was to bring more grief to Chet’s widow.

  But he wanted her. The more he was with her, the deeper the craving seemed to grow. He sure hadn’t felt that for any of the women at the rehab place, and there’d been plenty of pretty ones. No, he wanted Sharon, and he was beginning to think that walking away would rip him up good.

  But thinking about himself was selfish. He needed to think about her.

  Unfortunately, thinking about her only brought him around full circle. He liked her, yes. He wanted her, yes. But that wasn’t enough, especially when he looked down the tunnel of his future and couldn’t figure out what should be there. He owed any woman more than that, more than a half-reborn man.

  But maybe he was making a mountain out of a molehill. He didn’t know what Sharon was feeling or wanting. Hell, she was probably as wary as he was.

  That made him feel a little better, but he made up his mind to one thing: he was going to have to leave as soon as he was through painting the barn. They both needed time and space from a situation that was getting too cozy too easily.

  Yeah, he’d finish the barn and resume his trek to nowhere. Maybe when he’d been gone a month or so, they’d have clearer heads. Maybe he’d discover, like she said, that he wasn’t as badly messed up as he thought.

  But dang, he’d have liked to help her with those goats. He’d have liked to help her build that dream she and Chet had shared.

  He’d have liked a lot of things. Life wasn’t often kind enough to listen.

  * * *

  Sharon woke to a gentle voice calling her, and when she opened drowsy eyes, she saw Liam bent over her. Her heart leapt at the sight, and she drank in the lines of his face, the strength of his build, and realized she would have preferred to be wakened by his touches, by his lovemaking.

  The sleepy wish lasted only a second or two before shock zapped through her and she sat bolt upright. They were dangerous feelings for a man she believed had every intention of moving on. Hadn’t he told her he couldn’t offer her a future?

  She’d be a fool not to listen.

  “Ed’s here,” he said.

  “Thanks.” She popped up off the couch feeling royally grungy, and that didn’t even include the sharp sand in her eyes. It’d been a long night, caused by her own foolishness, she thought wearily. She needn’t have sat up waiting for Liam. He could take care of himself, she was sure.

  But in her heart of hearts she knew
that wasn’t why she’d stayed up. She’d feared he wouldn’t come back. Great. Super. She felt as if her emotions had taken a roller-coaster ride without her permission.

  Liam stepped back, giving her plenty of space to rise. So the guy who had kissed her hand a couple of hours ago was now afraid to brush against her. Great. Just great.

  Irritable, yet feeling a horrible sense of impending loss, she went outside to greet Ed. He looked chipper and alert, which only made her feel grumpier. She could feel Liam standing on the porch as she went down to greet Ed, have him put the paint in the barn and sign the slip for it.

  “So how’s your friend working out?” Ed asked.

  “Great,” she said. “Don’t leave the sprayer, though.”

  “C’mon, it’ll make the job easier. I can’t believe he painted that whole damn building by hand.”

  “I like the work.”

  The unexpectedness of Liam’s voice so nearby almost made Sharon jump. She had thought he was still back on the porch.

  “Suit yourself,” Ed said with a shrug. “Anything else?”

  “Not for now,” answered Sharon with faked cheer. “I know where to find you if we need more supplies.”

  “That you do. Three days before the next delivery?”

  “Thanks.”

  He waved as he drove away, leaving her and Liam standing in the yard before the barn where the cans of paint sat in a neat row.

  “I’ll start now,” Liam said.

  “Like hell you will. You haven’t had any more sleep than I have and if you take a fall, I’ll have to call the air rescue. We need sleep and something to eat.”

  Without looking at him, she marched toward the house. A few seconds later she sensed him following her.

  Whatever resolutions they’d both been making died as she climbed the steps. Weary as she was, she stumbled. He caught her.

  Everything went out of control in an instant. His arms around her felt so damn good, and the desire she felt for him surged like a forceful fountain. God, she wanted this man. Wanted him. Reason couldn’t beat that down.