by Anna Adams
“Aidan?”
He looked up, his head as heavy as a wrecking ball. He shouldn’t like the sound of Beth’s voice so much. He hardly knew her, but he’d lost a woman who could fight no longer, and he couldn’t help being drawn to Beth’s inability to back down from a fight.
“Huh?” he said.
She glanced at the people around them. “Are you—” She stopped as she looked into Eli’s curious eyes, but she kept on, lowering her voice. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” He might have preferred she pretend nothing was wrong with him, but mattering to someone was good—even in a room full of strangers.
In the corner, an older man concentrated on his silent parrot in a cage on his lap. A woman who looked pretty pissed because their dog had gone before her solid, superior cat, sniffed.
“Fine,” Aidan said again.
Beth hugged her son. Eli endured her affection, but then shrugged out of her reach, sliding to the farthest edge of his steel-and-orange-vinyl chair.
Aidan read the boy’s mind. Keep your hands off me, but please make this stop hurting. Again, he made Aidan think of Madeline. She’d needed more affection than he could give unless he held her twenty-four hours a day. And even then…
Eli was desperate and blank all at the same time, need and aloofness that looked too familiar. He shifted his feet.
What was he thinking, really?
That Eli might be in trouble, the way Madeline had been? No one had to warn Aidan he was carrying a masochistic load of guilt, that he might be seeing phantoms. But what if he wasn’t wrong?
This family was raw. He couldn’t step aside when he saw someone else in trouble. He’d never intruded on anyone’s privacy. Too busy. Too smart. Far too comfortable with his own life.
Until Madeline had chosen to die.
He looked at Beth, needing to say her son reminded him of his wife. She walked to the plate-glass windows. A couple of cars whispered past, filled with people caught up in their own errands or pleasure, oblivious to life going on around them.
He loved the idea of oblivion now that he couldn’t get any.
Beth took a few circuits around the brick-lined waiting room, and then she sat, far from him and Eli. The lady’s cat, two seats away from Beth’s new spot, stared at her a second, but then turned, wobbling as it balanced its bulk on four tiny-in-comparison paws, to face the other direction.
Eli paced next, his sneakers squeaking on hard linoleum. He collapsed beside his mother. The cat tightened all its muscles.
“It’s my fault, Mom.”
“What?”
“Everything.” Like her, he ignored the people glancing his way or looking studiously everywhere else.
Beth had eyes only for him. “Lucy’s all right.”
As she tried to put her arm around him, he pushed away. “Mom.” He put “I’m not a baby” into her name. “I shouldn’t have left her outside.”
Beth leaned into him. “Lucy got hurt in her own fenced yard. She might not have been safe at our place. She might not have been safe inside if someone had shot toward the house.”
“Nobody did.” He lifted his hand and angled his thumb toward his mouth and bit down.
The world pitched. Madeline had done the same thing, how many times a day? She’d chewed the skin on the sides of her thumb until it bled. Then she’d start on the other thumb. Aidan’s stomach muscles clenched.
“Eli.” A force beyond his control dragged the kid’s name out of him.
Eli and Beth started and stared as one. This was not the time. Everyone else in the waiting room eyed him.
He looked at Beth’s soft face, her lovely half smile that invited him to say what was troubling him.
What jerk would have ever left a woman who could be scared half out of her wits for her child and their dog and yet spare warmth for a stranger who’d just yelled at her son in a vet’s waiting room?
He licked dry lips. “Lucy was running in the woods. You had nothing to do with her getting hurt.”
Beth’s eyes softened even more in a silent thank-you. Eli frowned, and then went on as if Aidan hadn’t spoken.
“You know those kids around Uncle Van’s house, Mom. They don’t have a curfew. They drive their ATVs all over the place. Do you know how many beer cans I’ve found in the woods? They drink ’em and then they shoot at the cans. They ran out of beer so they shot Lucy.”
“No.” Beth threw Aidan a distraught look. “Lucy’d hate it if you dragged her into the house every time you came in.”
“She’ll hate bleeding to death, too. And what about brain damage?”
“She won’t have that.” Aidan sat on Eli’s other side. “And she won’t bleed to death. The doctor said a couple of butterflies would fix her up.”
Beth looked as miserable as Eli. “Sweetie, let’s stick to troubles that make sense. We’ll post more signs around Uncle Van’s property, but you can’t control his neighbors. I’m sorry we had to move across town and you’re missing your own friends. I’d be glad to pick them up if you ask them to visit.”
“The guys who live where Uncle Van does are snobs. They think they have the right to do anything. It doesn’t matter if they kill someone’s dog.”
“Call your old friends.” A hint of tears choked her voice. “It can’t be that bad. We’ve been there two months, and no one’s blasted anybody before.”
“You don’t get it.”
“I do,” she said, but her son shook his head, and Beth’s bigger concern seemed to be calming him down.
“I’m glad you never let me have a gun after all,” Eli said.
Beth glanced self-consciously at Aidan. “Fire-arms have been a bone of contention.” She patted Eli’s knee, but then linked her hands in her lap. “I was trying to keep you from getting hurt like Lucy.”
“It’s worse to be the one who didn’t get shot.”
Aidan stretched his nerveless legs in front of him and hoped the kid would never have any idea how true that was.
“Tell me about it,” Beth said.
Eli crossed the room again.
“I don’t know what I’m saying wrong.”
Aidan held still in case she was talking to herself. He fought an urge to push her hair behind her ear so he could see her averted face.
“That lodge,” he said. “Did your husband die in the fire?”
“No.” Her glance at Eli was a warning.
“You lost everything?” Had the boy started the fire? Was there something about her ex-husband that shamed her? She looked at Eli, and he stared back. Neither said anything that explained the pointed silence.
“We’re starting over literally from scratch,” Beth said. Her eyes skated over her son. “But I’m grateful it was just stuff and not people.”
Aidan waited. Then, “When will you be up and running?”
“We’re having some prob—as soon as I can.”
He cracked his knuckles, a nervous habit he’d conquered in sixth grade. “They’ll bring Lucy back any second.”
“That would help.” Beth turned toward the treatment rooms, and her elusive scent floated toward him. She made him uncomfortably aware—starting the moment she’d burst out of her brother’s hedge.
He’d climbed into her car this afternoon as if he were the only man on earth who could carry an injured animal. He wanted to be with her, in case he could help. That was what he told himself as he found he couldn’t look away.
Even the shape of her lips intrigued him. Part wary smile, part frown. The curve of her throat, marred only by a thudding pulse made him want her and want to protect her all at the same time. He never went for a woman on an attraction-at-first-sight basis.
“Good God,” he said under his breath, facing what he’d avoided with all his so-called will. Guilt had nearly killed him, but he wanted Beth because life ran strong and dauntless in her desirable body. Just what he needed.
“Lucy!”
Eli’s happy shout startled everyone. The
vet led her out by her leash. Underneath a couple of butterfly bandages, someone had shaved the short black fur on her forehead.
Eli slid into Lucy on his knees. She grumbled, but let him nuzzle her head with his. Beth was already beside her son, and they didn’t need Aidan.
“Look, Mom. She is all right.” Eli quizzed the vet with a parental glance. “She is, isn’t she?”
“Fine.” The doctor ruffled Eli’s hair. “I’ll ask Chief Berger to send a few patrols by your uncle’s house. Maybe put a little fear into anyone who might be shooting in the woods. Since so many animals started turning up hurt, even using a pellet gun is illegal within city limits.”
“Thanks.” Beth found Aidan with grateful eyes. “And thank you. For bringing her to us and for coming along.”
He laughed, stroking Lucy’s fur. “You make me feel like a superhero.” Able to stop terrible tragedy by running a dog up a gravel driveway.
“Do you mind seeing Mr. Jingles now, Dr. Patrick?” The lady with the cat marched through Lucy’s admiring throng. “He’s suffering an excess of hairballs, and you need to tell me why.”
She double-timed the doctor back into his examining area. Eli stared after them. “That Mr. Jingles comes by his snotty attitude fair and square.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“ELI, DO YOU NEED to talk about anything?” That afternoon, Beth filled her pockets with dog treats and bearded her son in his den. She knelt beside the bed he’d made for Lucy in a corner of his room. Lucy had run for the door the second Beth opened it, but she returned, deeply interested in the dog biscuits Beth set down.
“Mom, you’re driving me crazy. What are you, a cop?”
“If you thought something was wrong with Lucy, wouldn’t you be like that lady with Mr. Jingles? You’d expect Dr. Patrick to fix things. Right away—not when he got around to it.”
“I didn’t give birth to Lucy.”
He’d recovered his adolescent aloofness. She cursed herself for not striking while he was susceptible. “Is it school? Is someone harassing you?”
“Only in my own bedroom. Go away. I want Lucy to take a nap.”
Reluctant to leave, she backed toward the door. At least he was his old self. Nothing bad could happen for a while. “I’ll be downstairs, but I have to say one thing. You can talk to me.”
His face said it all. Get out.
Lucy, crunching the last of her biscuits, gathered her feet beneath her and followed Beth.
“See?” Eli said. “Now she wants more to eat.”
“I think that means she feels better.” Beth scratched Lucy’s back and hurried down the stairs. Eli followed.
Lucy nosed around the kitchen for more biscuits. Eli tried to tempt her with a half-gnawed bone and her squeaky football.
This was more like it.
Unable to resist smiling, Beth found she was like her son. She wanted her wounded loved ones around her. With everyone almost in place, she took her papers out of the desk drawer to peruse her finances again.
“Come on, Lucy.” Eli grabbed a couple of biscuits and she crowded him out the porch door. “Here comes Uncle Van, Mom.”
He disappeared before Beth could ask where he was going.
Her brother came in, looking back at Eli. “Where have you all been? Where’s he going in such a hurry? Did he put something on Lucy’s head?”
“He’s sick of me questioning him.”
“So give him a break.” He grabbed water from the fridge. Sweat from running ringed his T-shirt and his forehead. “Where’ve you been?”
“Someone shot Lucy with a pellet gun. She has two bandages on her head.” He hurried back to the door. “You saw she’s all right.” She looked down at her papers. “Aidan found her in the woods and brought her up. We all took her to Dr. Patrick’s office.”
“You sure she’s all right? What do you mean Aidan went with you?” He turned, the water halfway to his mouth. “What the hell goes on here the second I turn my back?”
“I guess Aidan likes dogs.”
“I’ve never heard that about him.”
Beth flipped a page over. What Aidan liked didn’t matter. She had a son to care for. Full-time.
“You sure Lucy’s okay?”
“Check her out yourself.”
He shrugged, set his bottle on the counter and left. In a few minutes, he came back. “Has Eli been hanging around at the cottage?”
“Why?”
“He sang Aidan’s praises. I thought he must know him better than a doggie handshake and an emergency trip to the vet.”
She sat back. “He didn’t say anything to me. I don’t want him getting attached to Aidan.”
“I don’t want either of you hurt.”
She smiled. “Cut it out, big brother. I know he’s only here for a temporary retreat.”
“Good.” Van finished off his water. “Not going to the lodge after all?”
“No.” She set aside a spreadsheet and rested her chin on one hand. “Eli is so upset I don’t want to leave.”
“I can look after him.” His eyes veered toward the big, old-fashioned clock hanging above the fridge. “I have a few hours before I need to leave.”
“Thanks, but I’m staying.” She continued, unseeing, to the next spreadsheet. “He won’t talk and I wish I could ground him until he comes clean. Maybe I’m hypersensitive because of Lucy.” She shuffled her papers in disgust. “It’s not as if this stuff’s going to change.”
“Keep at it, Beth. You’ll make things happen.”
She stacked her papers, comforted by his faith. Only for a second did she fear it might be misplaced.
“I’m going to shower, and then I have some work, too.” He ran up the stairs.
The rest of the day slipped by. Beth tried to pick up the house, but kept straying back to her paperwork. No brilliant idea came to save her or change the bottom line.
Eventually, she set a bowl of water and another couple of biscuits beside Lucy’s makeshift bed in Eli’s room to help him convince Lucy to sleep with him. The dog usually kept a prone vigil at the front door—where intruders would fall over her.
Beth considered running down to the grocery store for the makings of a cobbler for tomorrow night’s dinner—and chicken tenders. Eli loved them.
In the yard, the orange of afternoon seeped into the sky. She searched for her son. “Eli?”
His head popped out of the tall grass where the manicured part of Van’s lawn drifted back to nature.
“I’m going to the store. Want to come?”
“No.” He dropped again.
“Okay, but go in soon if the grass gets wet.”
Beth breathed deep of the fresh air. Such a hard day, but they were all okay now.
HAVING WRESTLED with the new laptop to no avail, Aidan paced through the woods again as afternoon fell to evening. He made no effort to be quiet, bending the branches out of his way, kicking through the pea gravel on the path. Still, Eli’s voice stopped him unexpectedly.
At first he didn’t understand what he was hearing.
“I wouldn’t want to live if something happened to you, Lucy. You’re the only one who knows.”
Aidan eased closer, making no sound. Eli and his dog lay with their heads touching on the mossy ground beneath the green canopy of trees. Lucy shook her head and her ears flopped, a reassuring doggy sound. Eli must have thought so, too. He rolled over, and pine needles clung to his back. He patted the dog’s neck.
“When it’s too hard to live, a lot of people decide they don’t have to. I’m tired and I’m no good. I almost let you die.”
Aidan splayed his hand across his stomach, almost sick on the spot. Madeline’s last, scrawled words screamed at him. I want to die. You don’t want me, and I need you so much I can’t breathe.
Shaking like the half a man he’d been for her, he backed away from Eli Tully. He had to find Beth.
What he’d heard meant getting involved, and that kind of pain was too familiar. He should h
ave been nosy and intrusive and demanded Madeline get the kind of help that would have saved her life.
A man didn’t make that mistake twice.
BETH HAD FOUND all of Eli’s favorites. Chicken strips, corn on the cob, sweet potatoes to make the soufflé he loved and all the ingredients for his favorite apple cobbler. Not exactly a gourmet combination, but perfect in her son’s eyes.
If she’d known how to whistle, she would have given forth with the “1812 Overture” as she dragged the groceries out of her trunk. She hummed instead.
“Beth, I have to talk to you.”
She banged her head into the trunk lid. “Aidan— I didn’t know you were there.”
“Now.”
His pale face scared her. “Are you in trouble?”
“Can we go inside?” He reached for her bags, but she drew back.
“You can’t carry this. I’ll call the doctor.”
“Listen to me.”
“Where do you hurt?”
“It’s Eli.”
His tone, totally disengaged, cut straight through her. The bags slipped out of her hands.
Aidan picked up her stuff with robotic determination. “Don’t let him see you like this. You have to get him help before he knows you know.”
“What’s wrong? Stop fooling with those things and tell me where my son is.”
As if she were standing outside herself, she wondered at her shrill tone. Aidan kept scooping up the groceries she’d dropped, and then he coaxed her up the porch steps.
He set the groceries on a table in the hall, not noticing when a can of dog food rolled across the cherry surface. He chose an open door and pulled her through, shutting it behind them.
“He’s not hurt right now,” Aidan said. He let her go and she tried to push past him. His face darkened. “Not physically.”
Aidan took her elbows and eased her into a chair. They were in the living room.
She stared at him, half her mind on murder. If she could only get all her body parts working at once. “Where’s Eli?”
“I have to tell you some things.”
“You look terrible. Something’s wrong with you.” Something besides a cruel streak.