Ever Since Eve (The Keeping Secrets Series, Book 1)

by Pamela Browning

  It was pathetic, seeing this strong man, to whom everything had apparently come easily, in pain over this. She wanted him to be the way he had been before Kelly's death, neat, methodical and organized, not sad and disheveled and drunk. In a burst of suffering, she realized that she had not only lost Kelly. She had lost Derek, the real Derek, the one who had joked with her and laughed with her and been her friend, too.

  Cautiously, she tiptoed out into the night, expecting Derek to be on the terrace. But he wasn't there.

  She peered into the gloom. It was a dark night, and there was no moon. Finally, she saw his white shirt—at least she thought that's what it was—in the rose garden. Her heart beating rapidly, she descended the brick stairs and walked briskly toward the roses, where their sweet and heavy fragrance made her stomach lurch. Lately her morning sickness had threatened to become morning, afternoon, and evening sickness. Any strong odor seemed to bring on nausea, and Eve had no earthly idea what to do about it.

  "Derek?" she said softly.

  "Leave me alone," he said gruffly, and she could tell from the roughness of his voice that he was either in tears or perilously near them.

  "No," she said, her stomach churning so that she could barely speak. She tried to ignore the roses' cloying fragrance. "Leaving you alone would be the worst thing I could do," she said. "You don't have to lock your grief inside. It helps to talk about it."

  "How the hell would you know?" he said, his back toward her. He was tall, much taller than she. His white long-sleeved shirt, one of which he wore to work every day despite the summer heat, displayed his shoulders to advantage.

  "I know about losing a loved one," she replied evenly, although her stomach was still roiling. "My mother died when I was eleven."

  Silence. Then Derek said in a quieter tone, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

  "It—it was a long time ago," she said.

  "When does it stop hurting?" Derek's voice was no more than a whisper.

  "I'm not sure it ever does. You go along day by day learning to live with it, and after a while you're able to think about other things. Time is a healer. It's a trite thing to say but true."

  He turned to gaze down at her eyes, the whites of which seemed luminescent in the darkness. Her skin glowed with a dewy freshness, and her cheeks were more rounded than they had been when she first moved in with them. Suddenly his senses were filled with her and the way she looked as she returned his gaze with so much empathy. But no, he shouldn't be leaning toward her this way, closing the distance between them, wanting to touch her, wanting her to hold him in her arms and soothe away the pain. He shouldn't, and he wouldn't.

  Stiffly he said, "Perhaps it is as you say. At any rate, I'm not going to change my mind about the baby."

  "But—"

  "Please don't argue. I've opened an account at the bank for you. I've deposited five thousand dollars. That's in addition to the twenty thousand I was going to pay you after the baby was born. I'll pay you the twenty thousand when you've shown me evidence that you've had the abortion." He thrust something into her hands. Incredulously, she looked down and saw that it was a passbook.

  Derek's words gouged Eve's very soul. What kind of woman did he think she was, to accept payment for the killing of his and Kelly's child? What kind of man was he? Had he ever really been the loving, thoughtful man she had observed with Kelly? Thoughts swam through her mind, swelling and ebbing, churning, churning the way her stomach churned....

  With great economy of movement, Eve leaned over and threw up beneath a perfectly shaped rose bush.

  "Oh, Eve," Derek was saying in horror, and she closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him. His voice descended upon her as from a great distance. "Eve, you poor thing. Eve?" He sounded stone-cold sober now.

  His arms folded around her, and she wanted to die of embarrassment, to sink into the soft mulch at their feet and never see him again. She retched once more, but this time Derek was holding her head; tears streamed down her face, and Derek was wiping them away with his handkerchief.

  "Eve, can you stand up?"

  Her head spun dizzily, crazily, on a rose-scented merry-go-round. Only there was nothing merry about it. "No," she managed to say finally, "no." And then Derek was brushing the hair away from her forehead, was gently rubbing the back of her neck, and she realized that they were sitting on the hard ground. Derek was sitting on the ground with utter disregard for his clothes, and she was cradled against his chest.

  "Should I call a doctor?" The worry in his voice surprised her. She wouldn't have thought he could surmount his pain to care about her, especially when they had just participated in such an unnerving discussion.

  "No, please," she said. "Any strong odor seems to set me off, and when I smelled the roses..." Merely thinking about it initiated a new wave of nausea, and she struggled for control.

  "Have you been vomiting every day?" When she looked at him, she knew his concern was real.

  She nodded. "It will pass soon," she said, not too confidently.

  Eve was aware of the crickets in the shrubbery, creaking out their raucous song. She suddenly felt the smooth, fine cotton of Derek's shirt against her cheek and became aware of the warmth of his body close to hers. She struggled to sit up straight.

  One lock of Derek's usually perfect hair fell over his forehead. "You won't have to go through this much longer," he said, and if his words were meant to be soothing, they were not. His meaning was unmistakable.

  Stunned that he would say this to her when he knew how she felt about the abortion, Eve pushed him away. Shakily she rose to her feet, brushing Derek's hand away when he tried to help her.

  "An upset stomach is a small price to pay for a baby," she said with dignity, and she turned and walked swiftly away. Quick tears stung the inside of her nose, and Eve knew she was dangerously close to breaking down in front of him. But that, after her embarrassment in the rose garden, she was determined not to do so.

  "Eve," she heard him call, his voice urgent, but she paid no attention. She had meant to change his mind tonight, but she had failed utterly.

  Late that night, when she was in bed and her light was out, she heard Derek's heavy footsteps in the hall. They paused outside her door, and she tensed, holding her breath, waiting for him to knock. But he didn't, and shortly thereafter she heard the door to his room close gently.

  The next morning she found the bank passbook on the floor. When she'd heard him pause outside her door, he'd been pushing it underneath. Folded inside was a note.

  "Eve," it said, "take the money. I'll be out of the country for the rest of the week on business. It would be best if it were over with when I return." He had signed it simply "D."

  "'It would be best if it were over with when I return,'" Eve repeated out loud to herself. How unfeeling, how uncaring!

  Angry now, she ripped the curt note into pieces and tossed them in the wastebasket. Maybe it was good that Derek didn't want the baby. Would she really want this child to have a father who was so unmoved, so emotionally detached, that he could write such a note?

  Trembling, she sank down on the bed and buried her face in her hands. Derek Lang could keep his five thousand dollars, the bonus he was paying for her to commit murder. She wouldn't touch it. She had told Derek she was prepared to raise the child herself. In spite of everything, she still felt that way. She certainly didn't know how she would support a child. But if she had to, she would.

  In the meantime, she required a place for Al to live. For herself and Al, she corrected herself. It was clear that she could no longer stay here. This house was no longer a safe haven.

  She squared her shoulders and steeled herself to make the best of these changed circumstances. She went downstairs, found the newspaper where Derek had left it so precisely folded and flipped through the For Rent ads. Before long she had carefully weeded out the ones that were clearly unsuitable, which left her with a list of possibilities. After telephoning most of them, she gave up in disc
ouragement. Everything was so expensive!

  Landlords wanted the first and last month's rent plus a security deposit. "I'd like to see the house," she said more than once, "but we can't afford it."

  Thoroughly disheartened, Eve decided on the spur of the moment to ride over to Wrayville to visit Al. She called a goodbye to Aunt May, who was murmuring things to herself as she puttered around the daylilies on the terrace, and she told Louise not to expect her back in time for dinner.

  Before long, she was in her Beetle heading out of the city. The day was bright and hot, and as red clay road banks skimmed past, Eve's spirits lifted for the first time since Kelly's accident. Derek was being unreasonable, and his position on the abortion was unconscionable, but the baby was safe, and the silver lining in this dark cloud was that she and Al would be together again when she finally found a house for them.

  When she pulled her car beneath the chinaberry tree, she was surprised to see Nell on Al's front porch.

  "Eve, I'm so glad to see you," Nell confided, sliding an arm around the younger woman's waist. "Did your boss let you off work today?"

  "I'm glad to see you, too," Eve replied, ignoring the question. "How's Al?"

  "Oh, Eve, not good. Doug Ender stopped by, I understand, and they enjoyed a nice chat about Doug's oral history project. Afterward Al had a real bad spell. In fact, I thought that was why you came home. Didn't Al call you? No? Well, I came over to stay with him after I stopped by. He's upset about moving, you know." The little woman, so robust and full of energy, peered up at Eve through silver-rimmed glasses.

  Eve concealed her alarm. "Is he all right now?"

  "He's asleep, and a good thing, too."

  "I'll look in on him."

  "Eve, have you found a place for Al to live? I already have one boarder, you know. Al could stay with me if he likes."

  "That's kind of you, but Al and I want to be together if possible. I've been looking." Today she longed to pour out her story to Nell, who had been wonderful to her ever since her mother died. But she knew that her neighbor would be shocked if she knew that Eve carried another couple's child, and she thought Nell might even tell her father.

  "Can you stay with Al for a bit longer? Eve asked after she checked on her father and found him napping peacefully. "I''d like to walk over to Doug's office.

  "I'll be here," Nell assured her.

  Eve's nostrils twitched at the customary cooking odors emanating from the Quicks' house across the street. No longer did such aromas stimulate Eve's appetite. She stepped up her speed until she was well past.

  Doug's law office was located in a small brick building at the bottom of the hill.

  "Eve," Doug said, looking uncommonly pleased to see her. He hurried around his desk to clasp her hands in his. "Something's wrong," he guessed, pulling up a chair beside her. Then, with alarm, he said, "You're not sick, I hope?"

  She lifted her eyes to his. She could talk to Doug; she could trust him. She'd known him all her life.

  "I'm not sick, Doug," she told him. "Just pregnant."

  His face reflected shock and surprise.

  Quickly Eve poured out her story. Doug listened incredulously, then intently.

  "Can Derek make me have the abortion, Doug?"

  "Eve, I—" He stopped, then stood up and paced around the room, thinking. He shook his head and smiled at her, but his hazel eyes were troubled.

  "This situation is outside my area of expertise. But it's your body, and since there are no provisions in the contract you signed, I don't think Lang has a leg to stand on."

  Relief flooded her. "Thank God," she whispered.

  "Eve, if I can help you..." Doug began.

  "I'll be all right," she told him. "The best way you can help is by doing as much as you can for Al. Nell told me you stopped by to see him."

  "We talked about his contribution to the oral history project. He seems eager to participate."

  "At least that gives him something to look forward to."

  She rose to go, and Doug walked her to the door of his office. He took her hand. "Eve, promise you'll keep in touch." His eyes were concerned, and she hugged him before walking blindly through the tiny waiting room and outside. She kept her head down as she hurried the short distance back to the house. It had been hard to tell Doug what she'd been through, but she felt better for it. And she knew she could trust him not to discuss her situation with anyone else.

  She visited with Al for a short while after he woke up. When she was ready to leave, he said, "It's nice that you have a good job now, Evie. We don't have to worry about money so much."

  "I love you, Al," she said, bending over to kiss his cheek and hoping he could not read the despairing expression on her face.

  "I love you, too, Eve," Al told her.

  After a quick farewell to Nell, she fled, trying to organize her thoughts.

  Riding along the country highway toward Charlotte, Eve thought, I've got to get a job. If she had a job, she'd know how much rent she could afford. It was pointless to continue searching for a place to live if she didn't know how much money she'd be making. At the moment, everything seemed to be caving in on her at once. Al's obvious ill health made her ache inside, and then there was Derek and the baby and even Aunt May to worry about.

  Suddenly she realized that it was past one in the afternoon, and she hadn't eaten lunch.

  I promised Derek I wouldn't skip meals, she told herself. Then she realized that Derek couldn't care less. It wasn't Derek to whom she had to keep promises now; it was the baby. This was no time to fall back into her haphazard eating habits.

  She knew of a small restaurant at Dugan's Crossroads up ahead and slowed in front of the neat clapboard house adjoining the restaurant's parking lot. The lot was filled, but she finally found a place to park beneath a rusted Coca-Cola sign featuring a woman wearing 1950s makeup.

  What is going on in here? she wondered when she stepped inside. The place was packed. It was a small restaurant, once a country store, and every booth was filled. The patrons were mostly men in work clothes. She worked her way to the counter and edged onto a just-vacated stool.

  It was a good ten minutes before a harried fellow wearing an apron appeared in front of her.

  "Take your order?" he asked, whipping out an order pad.

  "I'd like a hamburger and a glass of milk," she told him, and he disappeared into the kitchen where she could observe him through the pass-through. He seemed to have more arms than an octopus as he slapped a circle of hamburger on the grill, mixed a new batch of coleslaw and shot whipped cream onto a hot-fudge sundae.

  Didn't he have servers to help? Apparently not, because not only was the guy doing all the cooking, but he waited tables, too.

  Her hamburger was delicious, and she wolfed it down. She wanted a glass of water, though, and when she tried to catch the eye of the restaurant's jack-of-all-tasks, she failed. Well, she could get it herself. This was hardly the kind of place where it was necessary to stand on ceremony. The glasses and water were on the other side of the counter. She got up and poured water into her glass, only to be confronted by the fellow, whose shirt was embroidered with the name Lenny.

  "Gee, thanks," he said, breaking into a broad grin. "Mind getting some for those fellows next to you at the counter? Say, you want a job for the next two hours? I'm swamped. Pay's good, plus you get tips."

  "But—" she started to say, and then stopped. Nell Baker always said that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and this would be a way to pick up some extra cash. "I've never waitressed," she said uneasily.

  "Come on, it's no big deal. Here," he said, thrusting the order pad into her hand. "Got to get the orders of those people who just came in. Sure, go on!" With a challenging grin, he bustled away.

  Instead of being annoyed, Eve found herself amused. Well, it was a job, if only for the next few hours, and at this point she wouldn't turn down anything that would bring in money. So she obediently wrote down orders, carted food to
tables, and cleaned them with a Clorox-soaked towel after the customers left. It was four o'clock before the restaurant cleared out enough for her to talk with Lenny.

  "Say, you're good," he told her admiringly. "Thought you said you never waitressed before." He was the possessor of a jaunty smile and a mobile mouth; it would be hard not to like him.

  "I haven't," she said. Coins weighted her skirt pocket. She'd made out pretty well in tips.

  "Want a job? Permanent. I need someone. Got this construction job about a half-mile up the road. Big new hot-water-heater plant. Got workers coming in for breakfast, break, lunch, another break; then the shift's over at three, and they come in for a snack. I've never been so busy in my life, and my last waitress quit yesterday to run off to California with her boyfriend."

  "Well," said Eve, her mind racing. "This location is awfully far from the city. My father and I are moving from Wrayville to Charlotte, and I am looking for a job. But to drive all the way here every day to work—I don't know."

  "What kind of job are you looking for?"

  "I used to be in public relations. I wasn't counting on being a waitress."

  "Public relations? This job'll teach you to really relate to the public!" Lenny's grin faded; then he shrugged. "You find a place to live in Charlotte yet?"

  "No, I—"

  "Look, you want to work here, you can stay in the house next door. It's my house, two bedrooms, but with a wife and four kids it got too small. Inherited it from my folks; this restaurant used to be my dad's store. Built it up myself, doing real good. Anyway, the house is vacant. You want to live there, we can work out something on the rent and your salary."

  "You'd let us live in your house?" Eve was stunned at the offer.

  "Sure. Better for people to live in it. Keeps vandals away, and you'd be close to your job."

  She'd like that. She'd be able to keep an eye on Al. He'd enjoy coming to the restaurant and chatting with the construction workers. He wouldn't be lonely.

  She didn't have to think twice. Lenny's offer was a solution to two immediate problems.

  "It's a deal," she heard herself say, and she and Lenny shook on it.