“We need to talk.”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes but nodded. “I know.”
“Wait here.” He glanced around for a spot of shade, but the glare of direct sunlight had turned the whole south side of the barn into a convection oven. Funny, he thought, I didn’t notice that a minute ago. “No. It’s hotter than hell here. Come to my office.”
He stooped to pick up his shirt then took her hand, which felt as small and compliant as Heather’s, and led her into the barn. The interior passage was shadowy, but Tom could have found his way blindfolded.
He opened the door, letting her go in first. The small room was crowded to the point of claustrophobia. Two five-foot file cabinets in one corner, a fax machine under the window, his grandfather’s old oak desk heaped with papers, and in the far corner a stack of unopened boxes—his new computer.
“This used to be the tack room.” Tom sniffed. “Still smells like one, but what do you expect? This is a ranch.”
She stood unmoving. His heart sped up. This wasn’t going to be easy. He tried to inject a bit of levity. “Maybe I could hire your mother to decorate it.”
He gave her credit for trying, but the wished-for smile dissolved before it registered on her lips.
“Is it cool enough in here?” he asked, slipping his arms into his shirt. A tiny air conditioner hummed in the lower half of the window. “Why don’t you turn it up?”
Robotlike, she took a step in that direction, but stopped in front of the fax machine.
“You got a fax,” she said, not turning around. “It’s from Daniel. I recognize the letterhead.”
He walked to his desk and eyed the sheet of paper. “What’s it about?” he asked before he picked it up.
“A formality. Informing you that you’ve been assigned a new caseworker.”
He snatched it out of the tray. “Why? What’s wrong with my old one?”
She turned to face him. “She’s either promoted or fired. She’s not sure which, and frankly, she doesn’t care.”
Tom hated this lethargy. It was such a far cry from the passion he’d witnessed just minutes before. He reached out and took her hand. “Come and sit down. Do you want a soda or anything?”
She shook her head.
They sat side-by-side, hunched forward, hands resting on their knees.
Tom wasn’t sure how to begin.
“I’m sorry,” Abby started.
He put a finger to her lips and shook his head. Water drops sprinkled his arm. He finger-combed his wet hair with an impatient swipe.
“Abby, what happened outside was…great. Incredible.” He grimaced, wishing he were a cowboy poet instead of just a cowboy. “I’m pretty sure it would have been the best sex of my life. But I want more than that.”
She looked sideways. Finally, a spark of curiosity kindled in her eyes.
“Abby, I love you.”
Her eyes opened wider.
He didn’t wait to see if she’d tell him she loved him back. He knew she cared; he was pretty sure she loved him, or at least loved his daughters and liked him a lot. He could work with that, but first they had to get past the obstacles she kept erecting to keep him at a distance.
“Abby, I need to know why you always kiss and run.”
Her mouth opened and closed like a guppy.
“Whenever something starts happening between us, you head for the hills. I don’t know what the problem is, but I know it’s not because of your job.”
“True.” She took a deep breath then went on in a rush, “I knew about Daniel’s decision before I came out here today, but it wouldn’t have mattered. I’d already made up my mind that you and I…that we…it was going to happen.” She made a futile attempt at a smile. “I just didn’t think it would happen like that.” Her cheeks blossomed with color.
He loved her blush and had to make a fist to keep from touching her.
“I feel like I got sideswiped by a truck.” She pretended to peek over her shoulder. “Are there skid marks?”
He waited, letting her lead the way. After yesterday’s session, Tom asked Donna about his daughters’ progress and asked whether or not it would be wise to date Abby. Donna, in her mystic, patient-client tone, told him, “Abby has ghosts. We all do. You show her yours, and maybe she’ll show you hers.”
Not totally convinced psychology wasn’t just a bunch of hooey, he was willing to give it a try. “Is it because of the girls and Lesley? That ‘year-of-grieving’ thing you told me about?”
Her left eyebrow rose. “The four seasons of grief?”
“Right. I asked Donna about that, and she said the girls will always miss Les and in some ways they’ll always grieve for her, but they’ve come a long way toward getting past the worst of it. Heather only has nightmares once or twice a week now. But if you think they need a year, then we’ll wait. I don’t need a year, Abby. I did my grieving a long time ago.” His jaw tightened, and he made himself flex his fingers to relax. He didn’t like talking about that time in his life. “I took it pretty hard when Lesley left me. Drank too much. It was ugly.” He shook his head. “Got even worse when I found out she was pregnant with Heather. I parked my truck with a camper shell on the back in front of her apartment building. Les told the manager I was a stalker. He called the police.
“I came home to lick my wounds, but I still thought—hoped—she’d come back to me. I don’t suppose I really gave up hoping till she married Val. But that was four years ago.”
He looked at her. Sympathy and understanding showed in her expressive eyes. She always had empathy for others but so little for herself.
“Tell me about Billy,” he said gently
She sat back as though he’d slapped her. “Did Donna tell you…?”
“No. She said that’s up to you.”
BILLY.
Abby took a deep breath. “I fell in love with him when I was seventeen—without really knowing him. I loved an image, a product of his mother’s hopes and my imagination.”
Abby told him about the report she did for school, the story of a heroic soldier who lost his leg in the war. She told him about meeting Billy years later at his mother’s funeral, his tragic aura, a lost soul in need of succor. “I thought I could heal him. I thought my love could make him whole.”
Tom settled back, positioning himself with enough room to watch her face. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. Her humiliation over throwing herself at him was bad enough, but dredging up these old memories was worse.
“I more or less threw myself at him, but Billy was looking for something, too. Maybe he thought I was the answer. He invited me to move in with him but refused to make love with me until he was tested for AIDS because he’d been with a lot of women in Hawaii.” Abby sighed. “I found that incredibly noble.” Saying the words made her throat constrict. She’d kept these memories locked away for a reason—they hurt.
“When my folks found out about us, there was a big uproar because of the difference in our ages, but I ignored it.” Abby had expected her parents to be upset, but it crushed her that her brothers couldn’t support her choice. The worst part was learning they were right.
“Billy tried. It wasn’t all his fault, but I built that pedestal awfully high. Gradually he fell back into his old habits, blocking his pain with drugs and alcohol.”
Tom took her hand. The room was far from chilly, but her extremities were frigid.
“I switched my major from prelaw to psychology. I thought I could cure him. Unfortunately, I couldn’t even help myself or…” She pinched off the thought. She couldn’t open that door. Not yet.
“Donna and I’ve talked a lot about this. She thinks Billy was suffering from clinical depression, but it could have been manic depression because sometimes he’d stay up for four or five days at a time.” Abby sighed. “Of course, that could have been from the drugs. I was so damn naive, but I learned a lot in a hurry. One thing I learned is, you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”
She rubbed her neck. Tom brushed her fingers away and gently prodded the tense muscle. She closed her eyes. “One day I came home from school and found him passed out. The place was a mess. I hadn’t been feeling too great myself, and I said some things I shouldn’t have said.”
Her heart raced, remembering the look on Billy’s face. “‘So much for hero worship,’ he said. Then he told me what really happened in Nam. How he lost his leg. Not because of bravery but because of a drunken mistake.
“I felt so sorry for him. But when I tried to comfort him, he freaked out. He—” She flashed back to that moment when her world went haywire. Billy lashing out. Those powerful arms that could be so tender and loving, suddenly turning to weapons, squeezing her, punching her. Abby didn’t know if it was memory or imagination, but she swore she could tell the exact blow that ended their child’s life, even though she hadn’t known she was pregnant at the time.
She didn’t realize she was shaking until Tom put his arms around her.
“It’s all in the past, Abby,” he told her softly.
She relaxed her fingers and made herself breathe. “I…I left and didn’t come back for three days. Maybe he thought I wasn’t coming back. I’ll never know. He didn’t leave a note.”
Tom made a harsh sound; Abby couldn’t look at him. “Death by hot tub,” she said, trying to be flip. “The coroner ruled it an accidental overdose of drugs and alcohol combined with the hot water.”
Tom squeezed her shoulders supportively.
“In his will, he left me the house. My dad and brothers cleaned it out, sold the hot tub and gave Billy’s stuff to some veterans’ group. They found me an apartment close to school and listed the house with a rental agency.”
She smiled, picturing a happier memory. “Four years later, Donna and I went to the house together. It wasn’t so bad. There were crayon marks on the wall. The ghosts were gone.”
He stroked the side of her face with the back of his finger. “Are they?”
She nodded, wishing it were that simple.
“I love you, Abby. I know the timing stinks, but there’s not much I can do about that. We have a shot at something good, if you’re ready to try.”
He waited, ever so patiently. Kindness and love warmed his blue eyes to the color of a robin’s egg. His love was that fragile, too. She could hurt him. Badly.
“I love you, too. I think.”
His forehead knotted, creating deep furrows. “You’re not sure.”
“I’m not exactly an expert. This isn’t anything like what I felt for Billy.”
“Thank God.” He frowned. “And Landon?”
“That wasn’t love. We were just good friends who slept together.”
He made a primitive growling sound.
She grimaced. “I’m sorry. But it happened.”
“I know. I had a couple of flings after Lesley.” He moved closer. “I’m not an expert on love, Abby, but I know how I feel about you. I want to make love with you. I want to wake up in the morning and see your face on the pillow beside me. I want the rocker next to yours in the old folks’ home.”
She closed her eyes, hating herself for what was coming, powerless to change it. Why do we have to make life so complicated? Why do we have to get hung up on lifelong commitments and families?
When she opened them, she found him sitting back, a wounded look on his face. “You’re not going to marry me, are you?” he asked. “You’ll have sex with me. You’d have done that in the hayloft if I’d pointed the way, but you won’t marry me.”
His insight frightened her more than she wanted to admit. “I…I can’t marry you.”
“Why not?”
Abby knew she’d had her chance to be a mother, and she’d failed to protect her child. How could she trust herself to be responsible for the lives of Heather and Angel—the only two children Tom would ever have if he married her since she was no longer able to conceive? “The girls.”
His mouth dropped open and his eyes filled with hurt and confusion. “You love the girls, and they love you.”
It took every ounce of strength she possessed to stand up. She put her hand on his shoulder—felt him flinch as though struck. “I know. That’s why I can’t marry you. Trust me, Tom. I’m not the person you want to be their mother. I wish I were, but I’m not.”
She was one heartbeat away from tears. “This isn’t easy for me, Tom, and it may not make sense, but I know my limitations. I suck at relationships. I loved Billy, but, basically, when it comes right down to it, I killed him.”
“Abby,” he cried, “that’s not true.”
She put her finger to his lips, touched by his impassioned support.
She moved away, putting some distance between them. “I thought I could do this, Tom—get involved with you without really getting involved, but I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to you or the girls.
“It may look cowardly but I’m trying to do the brave thing. The right thing for you and your family. I never meant for it to come to this. I’m sorry.”
“What did you think would happen between us, Abby?” His voice was keen with hurt and disappointment.
She closed her eyes. “Sex. Friendship. I don’t know. Maybe if we could take it slow, I could—”
When she looked at him she saw the truth, a truth she’d always known. Tom was an all-or-nothing kind of guy. He loved with all his heart and expected the same from the person he loved. Abby wanted to be that person, but it wasn’t possible. She wasn’t whole; a part of her was missing.
“I’m sorry, Tom,” she said, not daring to look at him one last time. She left the office and hurried through the barn.
THE SUN AND HEAT stopped her halfway to the house; a pain in her gut doubled her over. Deep breaths helped, just as Donna taught her so many years before. By the time she got to the porch, her hands had almost quit shaking. She knocked politely and called out in a voice that almost sounded normal.
“We’re not done yet,” Angel said, opening the door for her. “But it looks great. Come see.”
Abby did her best to act enthused—the job was spectacular. The border—a looping trail of hyacinth and delicate ivy—encircled the room. The west wall and desk area was papered with a complementary print. Lacy curtains created a Victorian flavor. Her mother’s expert touches were subtle but dramatic.
“Mom, I’m not feeling well,” Abby said lamely. “The heat’s done a number on me.”
Her mother eyed her shrewdly. The girls looked at her with concern.
“You look pale. Why don’t you go home, dear? Lie down. I’m sure Mr. Butler will give me a ride when I’m done here.”
As much as she hated to burden Tom with her mother, Abby welcomed the chance to be alone to come to grips with her decision. Her loss. Even if it was the right thing to do, it hurt like hell.
“Bye, baby love,” Abby said, giving Heather a squeeze. “Be good.”
Heather’s bottom lip popped out, perhaps she was sensing Abby’s tribulation.
Angel followed Abby to the car. “What’s going on? Did you and Dad have a fight?”
Her intuitiveness unnerved Abby. She went for a half-truth. “I got fired from your case today. Your dad has the fax in his office.”
“So?” Angel asked, hands on hips. “You don’t come here to be with us because it’s your job. Do you?”
A quick hurt now would save a bigger hurt later, but Abby couldn’t bring herself to lie. “Of course not, but it gave me a good excuse to be here. Now I won’t have one because they gave your case to one of the new field officers, whom I will be training. Which is why I won’t have a lot of time to socialize.”
Angel frowned, a dark scowl Abby hadn’t seen for a while. “But I’ll still take you guys shopping for school clothes if you want me to,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “Remember? The Modesto Mall. The Friday after horse camp.”
“What about Dad?” Angel asked. “When we were driving back from Riverside, we talked about you
and him maybe getting together.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. He asked me how I’d feel about you two going out.”
Abby’s hand tightened on the Honda’s door handle. The heat seared her palm, but it was so much less painful than the hurt in her chest, she ignored it. “What did you say?” Abby asked in a small voice.
Angel shrugged, her long air bouncing as a single sheath. “I told him to go for it.” She gave Abby a serious look. “Mom always hoped he’d remarry. She said he was the kind of man who needed a family.”
Abby flinched, holding back her tears by sheer will-power alone. “I agree. But—” She couldn’t say more.
Angel’s face screwed up in confusion. “You turned him down?”
Abby opened the car door, turning her back to Angel. “It’s not the right time for either of us, Angel. Your dad’s busy with the ranch and you guys, and I’m going back to college—”
“That’s bogus,” Angel interrupted. Her eyes got all squinty like Tom’s. “Totally fucking bogus and you know it! Adults make me sick.” She turned around and stalked to the house. The screen door slammed behind her. Its reverberation hummed in Abby’s chest all the way home.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE HUM OF ENERGY in the VOCAP office drowned out the therapeutic sound of Abby’s tiny waterfall. Marta, the most recent hire, was a large, bilingual woman whose voice penetrated the walls like gamma rays. She’d spent twelve years in the Sacramento City Attorney’s Office before going back to school to get her degree in counseling. What she lacked in experience, she made up for in opinions.
Abby told herself the new energy was a good thing, but one part of her longed for the low-key craziness of years past.
Kicking off her open-toe pumps, Abby pulled out her bottom drawer and withdrew a pair of sneakers. She’d arranged for Friday afternoon off so she could take Angel and Heather shopping. A staff meeting that morning with Daniel and the others had required her presence in business dress—silk, lime-colored walking shorts with tangerine shell and matching jacket that she hoped lent her an air of confidence, but she wasn’t about to crucify her calves for fashion.
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