by Mary Leo
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said after reluctantly ending the kiss, holding her tight in his arms. “It was all me. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve been an arrogant idiot. I’m sorry I made love to you like an angry bull. Sorry if I hurt you in any way, and sorry I didn’t tell you all of this sooner.”
He reached back and slammed the door shut against the pouring rain, then cradled her once again in his arms.
“You don’t understand,” she said in between kisses. “I’m sorry for not being more understanding of your loss. Of your grief. I never understood grief . . . not really. My dad sheltered me from all of that. But now I know what it feels like to lose someone you truly love.”
Reese noticed the open box on her bed and the assortment of pictures spread out over the blankets, along with the open bottle of brandy on the nightstand.
“Why don’t we get out of these wet clothes so you can tell me what this is all about?”
“Okay,” she said, then unbuttoned her top revealing her soft, luscious breasts. He could hardly steel himself from reaching out to cup her perfect breasts in his hands.
“Unless you want me to make love to you right here on the floor, you’ll change somewhere else.”
“Why? Don’t you want to make love to me?”
“More than you can imagine, but I don’t think it would be a wise choice for either of us. Not before we’ve talked over what’s going on between us.”
She took a step back and stared at him for a moment, tilting her head to the side like the family dogs did when they were trying to understand a command. He couldn’t help but smile.
“What about you? You’re soaked as well.”
He spotted a large white terry robe on a chair. “I’ll take the robe.”
She nodded, walked away from him, dropping her pj’s as she went, then grabbing dry clothes from a drawer she slid open. He turned away, trying not to focus on the vision of her . . . naked . . . as she headed for the bathroom, his arousal for her pressing up against his jeans, intensifying his desire. It would be so easy . . .
“You’re absolutely right,” she told him and slipped a leopard print nightgown over her head. Then she disappeared inside the bathroom, giving him enough time to relax and toss on the robe. Then he draped their wet clothes over the black metal screen in front of the large hearth. Once he finished that task, he went over and sat cross-legged on the bed, staring down at childhood photos of Avery and what had to be her beautiful mom . . . a mom who looked very much like Avery now . . . a woman he felt certain he’d met.
IT WAS PROBABLY a good thing Reese had taken the high road . . . although part of her wished he’d taken the low road . . . the really low road and they’d made love right there in the open doorway with the rain pelting their naked bodies.
The vision gave Avery a quiver as she washed her face with cold water, trying to clean up. She glanced in the mirror and cringed. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was bright red from crying. Her wet hair stuck to her head, and the nightgown she’d pulled from the drawer was about as flattering as a rice sack. Fine for when she slept alone, but not so fine when she was entertaining the one man she truly cared about, Reese Cooper.
She ran a comb through her hair, then pulled out a hair dryer. A few minutes later her hair was decent enough to pull back with a clip, and her face had started to return to normal, at least somewhat normal. Her eyes were still puffy.
Nevertheless, when she finally left the bathroom, she had recovered, slightly . . . still light-headed and unsteady on her feet, but she’d regrouped.
“Is this better?” Avery asked as she joined Reese on the bed, spreading out across from him, her head resting on her hand. He looked a little silly sitting there in her white terry robe, that fine chest peeking out between the front fold, the belt cinched tight around his waist in some vain attempt at some kind of misplaced modesty. She wanted to tear it off of him but instead she would have to pretend that it didn’t matter they were lying on her bed, essentially naked.
“Much,” he told her, grinning. She liked when he smiled. His entire face lit up. “Where did you get all this? Did you bring these from home?”
“No. Kaya gave them to me. They were stored in Chuck’s attic.”
“What? How did Chuck get all these pictures of your mom?”
“I don’t really know, but it gets worse. I found this on the floor inside Chuck’s office.” She handed him the picture. “It’s my mom, but it doesn’t make any sense or maybe I just don’t want it to. The date stamped on the side of the picture is two years after she died. There has to be some kind of mistake. It can’t be right . . . can it?”
Reese’s face went serious. “This looks like a picture taken for an institution of some kind. Not a prison, exactly, but maybe a detention center or a specialized hospital. Your mom looks as if she’s experiencing some deep shit in this picture.” He studied the date printed on the side. “This looks real. Did you ask Chuck about it?”
Avery still wasn’t ready to confront Chuck. Maybe she wasn’t ready to hear his answer. “Not yet. He doesn’t know I have it.”
She could feel her throat tighten at the thought of her sweet mom in any kind of institution. Reese had to be wrong. He just had to be.
“Why not? You should have confronted him immediately.”
“I . . . I don’t think I’m ready to hear what he has to say about it.”
Reese gazed down at the picture again. “But this picture changes everything. The date, the way your mom looks, something’s wrong. They told you one thing and this picture is saying something completely different. Do you remember your mom ever looking like this?”
“Never. Mom was always meticulous about her appearance. For one thing, I don’t remember ever seeing my mom’s hair up in a ponytail. Everything about that picture is wrong. It’s not the mom I knew.”
“And the rest of these pictures? Anything off or strange with any of them?”
Avery leaned back on the headboard, and stretched her legs out in front of Reese, crossing them at her ankles. The bright pink nail polish she’d applied last week was already chipping on some of her toes. She suddenly remembered that her mom had liked to polish her own toenails that exact same shade of pink. Was that why Avery had been so attracted to the color? The thought intrigued her.
“I don’t think so. They all seem fine.”
“And Kaya gave them to you.”
She thought back to their conversation earlier in the kitchen. “I know, none of it makes any sense. My dad boxed these up. I remember him filling this exact box. So how did Chuck end up with it?”
“Maybe your dad gave the box to Chuck for safekeeping?” Reese gazed down at the pictures, shuffling through them, stopping occasionally when one of them caught his eye.
“And neither of them ever told me? All these years . . . I assumed they’d been destroyed. Why do you think they kept these from me? It seems cruel and heartless.”
The thought that Chuck knew all these pictures were in a box in his attic and he never bothered to tell her, broke her heart. Not only had her dad kept the pictures from her, but Chuck had as well. She didn’t want to accept it. Couldn’t accept it or she’d have to believe Chuck was as ruthless as Reese made him out to be.
That didn’t seem possible. It was not the Chuck Starr she knew and loved.
But the more she stared at her mom’s pictures, the more she wondered just what the hell was going on.
“You’re asking me about family secrets? Me, the guy who just learned his bio dad is Chuck Starr?”
He had a point. “Do you think it’s all somehow related?”
His forehead furrowed. “Don’t use that word around me.”
“What word?”
“Related.”
She thought of all the possibilities, cringed and agreed never to use it again. “Forget I mentioned it.”
“It’s forgotten.” He held up a picture of her mom on horseback looking fabulous in her wester
n wear and hat. “I think I met your mom. She looks very familiar to me.”
His words seared through her. Even Reese remembered her mom . . . but how could that be?
She slid off the bed and grabbed a bottle of water from the stash she kept on the writing desk in the corner. She uncapped it and drank down half the bottle, handing the remainder to Reese. He downed the rest as she said, “That seems very unlikely. She only visited for a few weeks the summer I turned ten, the summer she died.”
Reese continued to pour through the photos. “Do you have a picture of her from that summer?”
Avery sat up, trying her best to sober up, but not really wanting to. Wanting instead to pour another brandy, and after that another until she once again obliterated her mother’s memory.
Tears flooded her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Reese asked, reaching out to her, running his hand down her leg.
“I don’t want to talk about my mother anymore.”
“Okay,” he said. “Whatever you want is fine.”
She reached over and gathered all the pictures into a pile, then began tossing them back into the box until she spotted one she couldn’t pass over. Her dad had taken the picture in front of the Olympic Theater right before she and her mom went inside. She remembered. Her mom wore a beautiful dark blue dress with tiny embroidered light blue roses encircling the hem, matching heels, and she carried the handbag Avery had given her, the handbag she’d found inside the box.
The sapphire engagement ring prominent on her mom’s finger.
Avery wore a mauve-colored dress with a full mesh skirt with a few sparkly beads that caught the light. It was Avery’s favorite dress, a dress she only wore for special occasions, like her birthday.
“This is a picture of my mom from that last summer.” Avery handed Reese the picture as memories rushed past her like a speeding train, stopping only long enough to get a glimpse of that day, those last moments.
If she had only known what that summer would bring, she would have done everything differently. She would have said more, hugged her mom more, and told her how much she loved her.
Instead, she didn’t even remember holding her mom’s hand like in the picture.
“She’d taken me to the theater for my birthday,” Avery began as memories flooded her thoughts with images she hadn’t wanted to dwell on ever since that day. “Just the two of us. We were going to see one of the Star Wars movies. I forget which one, but right after we found our seats, she left me to go back out for popcorn. We always shared a great big tubful. But . . . she never came back. I remember not watching the movie, but instead I kept looking around for my mom, thinking she’d forgotten where we were sitting. She would do that sometimes, but not this time. She never came back.”
“I don’t understand? What happen to her? Was there an accident? Had she been ill? Why didn’t she return?”
“That’s the thing about that day. I remember I was so scared that I didn’t know what to do. Sometime near the end of the movie, I had to pee so badly that I thought I might wet myself. I didn’t want to leave my seat because I thought if I did, and she came back looking for me, she wouldn’t be able to find me and she’d be mad that I went to the bathroom without her. She always had to know exactly where I was going.”
“Where did she go?”
She could hear the genuine concern in Reese’s voice, which only added to her own anxiety over the vivid memory.
“I don’t know. When the movie was over, I stayed right in my seat until my dad came and found me. By then I hadn’t been able to hold my pee anymore and I went all over myself. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t stop crying. My dad comforted me, and I remember that he spoke to someone who worked at the theater about it, but my pretty dress was ruined.”
The humiliation still stung as Avery recounted the story. It felt as though it had happened only last week, instead of almost two decades ago.
“Did you ever find out exactly what happened to your mom?”
Avery shook her head unable to speak any longer. She didn’t understand why she’d never asked any questions. Why she never perused the details of her mom’s death. What kind of a daughter didn’t ask questions? Now, as she trembled with despair, she realized she’d been pushing her curiosity aside for most of her life.
Then she flashed on her client’s husband . . . the man who had duped her with his charm and managed to compromise the case and put her very career in jeopardy. The realization struck her in a cruel blow, how she’d been taught early on not to delve too deep.
Not to question.
Not to doubt.
Her dad, and even Chuck, had taught her well.
What a fool she’d been, and how naïve and childlike she’d remained.
Emotion gripped her throat as deep sobs racked her body. A heavy sorrow consumed her as Reese drew her into his strong arms, holding her tight against his body.
At once she felt loved, an emotion she hadn’t truly felt since that day at the theater. Before her mom had left her there, she’d told Avery how much she’d loved her . . . to the moon and back . . . then she’d pulled her in close enough so that Avery caught the scent of her perfume on her mother’s warm skin.
“Don’t go, Mama.” Avery had begged her. “Don’t leave me here. Let me come with you.”
“I’ll only be a minute, my darling. You stay here and save our seats.”
Avery recalled how she’d pleaded with her mom once more to not to leave her, but her mom had insisted that Avery stay behind, something that Avery had learned not to do. Her mom tended to get lost easily, and Avery had to show her the way back on more than one occasion. Still, her mom refused to consider Avery’s pleas and instead she kissed the top of Avery’s head and walked off to buy popcorn and drinks.
That was the last time Avery ever saw her mom.
THIRTEEN
Avery awoke the next morning, alone, covered with blankets, and still wearing her unflattering nightgown. Reese had once again disappeared, but this time she understood his hasty departure. She’d been a complete blithering idiot last night, and he would have been foolish to have stayed.
She slid out of bed, still bleary-eyed, and when she spotted the box of pictures on the floor, a whole new wave of grief swept over her. This time, however, she chose to wash it away with a hot shower. Wallowing in sadness wasn’t something she enjoyed doing, so instead she decided on a quick breakfast, and a long ride to quell any lingering blues. It was time for a complete mental makeover. Her days of accepting the status quo were over . . . she knew that now.
Life moved on, she told herself once she’d showered, dressed and applied a minimal amount of makeup. You either moved on with it or stayed behind in the quagmire of naiveté and despair. It was time she toughened up and took the blinders off. Her parents had taught her to move on, to look forward and to look back only when you were forced to. Last night she’d been forced to look back, but with razor-sharp clarity this time. The sun was shining on a new day . . . a new beginning, and she had every intention of holding on tight.
Maybe her dad had done everything to protect her, but in doing that, he had also covered up the truth. Well, not anymore. She intended to find out all the details of her mother’s disappearance. She decided that more aptly fit her needs this morning. Death was a term her dad had used, but Avery had no proof her mom had died. Hell, she’d never even seen an obituary. Her dad had forced her into moving forward, and now that Kaya had ignited a desire to know more details about her mom, moving backwards seemed like the only possible way to learn the truth.
On her way out of her bedroom, she shoved the box of pictures into the closet and shut the door. From now on, those pictures were hers, and she’d be damned if anyone would ever take them away again.
She’d kept the picture with the date stamp out, and shoved it into her pocket. At some point she would confront Chuck about it. She wanted to know all the facts, no matter where those facts led.
That o
ne picture stuck with her like a punch in her gut. She couldn’t shake it. A big part of her still didn’t want to confront Chuck about it, but the lawyer in her needed all the facts so she could move on with her life. If he and her dad weren’t willing to give them to her willingly, she’d have to use legal means. But one way or another, she would know exactly what happened to her mom.
The burning question at the moment was why? Why had everything that concerned her mom been turned into such a secret?
As she walked closer to the kitchen, she could hear voices, male voices, and assumed Chuck had come in to grab a cup of coffee along with some of Kaya’s fabulous muffins with his ranch foremen, something he occasionally did, as they discussed the day.
But when she turned the corner, and entered the bright kitchen, she immediately came face to face with Reese Cooper.
“Mornin’,” Reese said with a lilt to his deep, velvety smooth voice. He sat on a bar stool in Chuck’s kitchen, holding onto a black mug that sported the Circle Starr brand. Chuck was busy filling his own mug with coffee from the glass decanter on the counter.
The tranquil scene was so shocking to Avery, she missed her footing and stumbled, catching herself with her next step.
“You okay?” Reese asked, jumping up to help her.
“Fine,” she told him. “Not used to these new boots yet.” Of course that was an out and out lie, but she didn’t want to say anything to muck up the balance of things. Instead, she wanted to get out of there and let the two men get to know each other.
“Can I get Kaya to make you one of her delicious omelets?” Chuck asked acting as though everything was normal. As if he and Reese always had coffee together in the morning, in his house, in his kitchen.
“I . . . um . . . what?” Avery could barely think, let alone answer a question.
“How ‘bout if I just pour you some coffee?” Chuck asked, looking very much like a Cheshire cat.
“Maybe you should sit down. You look a little pale,” Reese said as he walked over to her.