“You left,” she said in a choked, hush murmur.
“I couldn’t stay.” He glanced away from the curves revealed by the maillot she wore under the terry robe. He needed answers, not the distraction of how badly he wanted to run his hands along the indention of her waist, the flare of her hips. “You think I left because you disagreed with me?”
“Didn’t you?”
He flinched from the heavy sarcasm that coated the question. “No.”
“No,” she echoed. Her strangled sob vibrated with anger. “You tell me why then. Why you left. The real reason, not that song and dance about investigations.”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t a song and dance. There was a job—”
“That meant more than we did.”
“No.” He shivered in the breeze. “Hell, Barb, I always intended to come back home, once you cooled off. The next thing I know, you’re talking divorce. I didn’t expect you to see a damn lawyer like that. What was I supposed to do? You obviously didn’t want me back. I had to have a freakin’ place to live and I couldn’t exactly afford the rent on an apartment, the mortgage on this place and pay child support on an insurance investigator’s salary. That’s why I stayed in sales. I needed the damn commission work and sales bonuses.”
“Who said I wanted you to leave?”
“You helped me pack.” He kept the words level, didn’t let the sarcasm or the pain escape. “You acted like…I felt like it was nothing to you that I was going.”
“How could it be nothing?” Her eyes glittered, tears sparkling on her long lashes. “You were leaving me. I helped you pack because I kept hoping…” She closed her eyes, the tears slipping down her cheeks. “I wanted you to change your mind.”
“Oh, Lord.” He groaned and cupped her face in his hands, thumbs caressing the wetness from her cheeks. The urge to pull her close and wrap himself around her wracked him. “Baby, why didn’t you say anything?”
She grasped his arms, trying to push away. “Would it have done any good?”
“All I wanted to hear was two words.” He slid his hands to her shoulders, pulling her closer. Heat radiated from her body, warming his chilled skin. He lowered his head, his mouth a breath away from hers. “Don’t go.”
Her eyes wide, she looked up at him, her lips parted. She shook her head, tugging away from him. “Stop. You’re not going to stand there and pretend you didn’t want—”
“Look at me.” He reached for her again, but she evaded him. “Tell me the divorce is what you really wanted, that you wanted me gone, and I’ll let this go. That’ll be the end of it.”
Anger sizzled in the glance she shot his way. “This is pointless. I’m going back to bed.”
She walked away.
“I don’t want a divorce,” he called after her, hearing the desperation in his own voice. She froze, halfway across the deck, her body vibrating with visible tension. Del swallowed, a cold fear trembling along his nerves. “I never did.”
While he watched her frozen body, the next seconds seemed more like a lifetime. Finally, she spun to face him, her face pale with fury. “You liar.”
He shook his head and ran a hand along the outside of his thigh. “Why do you think I’m not fighting it?”
She stared at him a long moment before blinking and looking away. “Because you wanted out so badly you didn’t care what the terms were.”
“No.” He stepped forward, reaching a hand in her direction. The tightrope sensation shivered through him again, ten times worse than he’d felt with Blake. “Because I thought you didn’t want me any longer, that you saw me as nothing more than a mistake, the guy who screwed up your entire life. Was I wrong?” Her lashes dipped, hiding her tear-damp eyes from him. Del took another step forward, daring to touch her this time. He cupped her shoulders. “Was I?”
Eyes still closed, she nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice a broken whisper. “You were wrong.”
A groan tore from his throat and he pulled her close, wrapping her in a tight embrace. He pressed his cheek against the softness of her hair, inhaling the sweet essence of her. The strong relief of holding her again overpowered him and a long moment passed before he realized she struggled against his arms. He let her go, her tense expression sending foreboding through him.
“Stop.” Smoothing her hair, she stepped back. She wrapped her robe around her once more. “This doesn’t change anything, don’t you see?”
“What do you mean it doesn’t change anything?” Confused, he stared at her. “We just agreed the divorce isn’t what either of us wants. Everything has changed.”
She was shaking her head, the fingers clutching her robe visibly trembling. “Has it? The last few months…we’ve changed. We’re not the same people we used to be.”
Yeah, he’d changed. He’d realized what living without her was like. He knew what really mattered. “That doesn’t mean—”
“I’ve changed,” she said, as though he hadn’t spoken. She straightened, drawing herself up, but still she held onto the robe like a lifeline. “I’m not the same woman, the same girl, you married. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I like who I’m becoming now.”
Hell, he knew she was different. He could see it, see the strength and the independence, the ways she’d grown. More than anything, he wanted to explore those new layers, to peel them away and find out who this new Barbara was.
She smiled, a sad, soft curve of her lips. “It’s late. I’m going back to bed.”
Turning away, she walked toward the door. Del watched her go, his chest tight. The sensation recalled the day of Will’s funeral. After everything was over, he’d stood in the cemetery, separate from his family, knowing he was alone, adrift. He’d watched his father lead his mother to the car, swallowing the urge to run after them and beg for forgiveness.
He’d regretted it ever since.
He couldn’t let Barbara walk away without giving it one more try. He crossed the deck, flattening his hand on the door as she curled her fingers around the doorknob. “Barb, wait.”
Her head dropped forward, the line of her neck exposed and delicate. “Del, please.”
The warmth of her nearness pulsed in him. He lowered his head, his mouth near her ear. “Just hear me out.”
She shook her head, the silk of her hair brushing his mouth. “There isn’t anything else to say. It’s over.”
“Only if we want it to be. Do you want that, baby? Do you want it to be over?”
Her deep breath brought their bodies closer together, his chest grazing her back. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”
“I do.” Del touched her shoulder, stroked a hand up her neck, her skin warm and smooth against his knuckles. “I want you back.”
Chapter Seven
I want you back.
His words sent a frisson of awareness through Barbara’s body. The sharp aroma of chlorine clung to him, merging with his clean, male scent. His heat warmed her back and she drew in a deep breath, fighting the urge to spin and pull him closer, so close nothing could ever get between them again.
“I mean it, Barb.” He seemed to sigh the words, his breath a caress against her neck. “I want a second chance but it has to be your choice. What you want.”
She wanted him. He barely touched her, his hand on her shoulder, the other on the door in front of her face, but she could feel him, all over. Warmth radiated from him, wrapping around her, tingling through her, making her feel as if she could come apart right here, simply from being close to him. Desire tickled her abdomen, traveled lower and settled into a familiar throb between her legs.
He could assuage that pulsing, fill the emptiness. Sensations and images flashed through her mind, a montage of old memories and new fantasies. All she had to do was reach behind her, lay her hands on his thighs, and she’d set off a chain reaction of passion and desire. Her palms itched.
“Barb?” His nose bumped her ear in a soft caress, whether by accident or design she had no clue. The
cold splash of a droplet on her neck made her jump.
She closed her eyes, dragging in oxygen through her mouth so she wouldn’t smell him. Curling her hands into fists, she forced herself to concentrate on his words.
I want you back. I want a second chance.
Yes. I want that, too. The words trembled on her lips, but she swallowed them. “No. We can’t.”
His fingers tightened on her shoulder and he turned her round. Dipping his head, he stared into her eyes, his expression intent. “Why not?”
“Because.” She wouldn’t reach for him, no matter how badly she wanted to.
“That’s not a reason.”
She stared into dark, devilish eyes, the embodiment of every temptation she’d ever faced. That grin and those eyes were the very reason she’d never been able to tell him no. “We have three reasons sleeping in that house.”
He rested both hands on the door, trapping her between the wood and his body. “Three reasons to try again, you mean.”
“No.” Ignoring the pull of his gaze, she shook her head. “Do you know what it would do to them if we tried and failed? They’d be devastated.”
“Then we’d have to make sure we succeeded.” He shifted an arm, leaned closer, took her breath. His words whispered over her ear, sending shivers out along her nerve endings. “There’s our incentive to try harder and make it work.”
“It’s not a good idea.” She hoped the protest sounded stronger to him than it did to her.
“Barbara. Stop making excuses.” If possible, he leaned in even further, his mouth a heartbeat away from hers. “A chance, that’s all I’m asking for. One chance.”
He was so sincere, so intent, and she wanted to give him that chance with a fervor that frightened her. “We can’t do that to our children, Del. If they saw us together and we couldn’t make it work…”
“We’ll make it work.” He shifted his weight, one of his thighs brushing against hers, making her skin burn. “But they don’t have to know yet. We can keep it between us until we know for sure.”
Temptation hovered before her. All she had to do was reach out for it, but giving in to temptation always carried a price and she wasn’t sure she could afford this price tag. “What if—”
He laid a long finger against her lips, stopping the words. “Do you think I’d do anything to hurt them?” he asked. “To hurt you?”
But he already had. Even though the circumstances hadn’t been what she thought, the knowledge didn’t change the facts. He had left them. Her children had suffered because of his leaving.
Shaking her head, she fumbled for the doorknob. It turned under her trembling fingers, and she backed into the kitchen. “I can’t,” she whispered, avoiding the pull of his dark gaze. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
Still not looking at him, she fled for her room. This time, he let her go.
*
Del pulled into the only empty spot outside the Chandler County courthouse. The sheriff’s department occupied an ancient building behind the white marble courthouse, but it looked better now than it had in ages. Since Stanton Reed’s appointment as sheriff, he and Tick had done more than clean out the corruption in the department. Necessary modernization of the ramshackle jail continued.
The humid heat left a fine layer of perspiration on his skin. Del jogged up the concrete steps and pushed his hair away from his forehead. He really needed to stop by the barbershop while he was downtown. An unwilling smile tugged at his mouth. In the early days of his marriage, when they hadn’t had the extra five bucks for a cut, Barbara had routinely trimmed his hair. The first time he’d felt Blake move within her womb, she’d been leaning over him, trying to trim above his ears, her rounded stomach bumping his arm.
He shrugged off the sweet remembrance, but couldn’t shed the melancholy as easily. All morning, while he’d watched the bustle of her household, the kids yelling and jostling for the bathroom, Barbara making sure things ran smoothly, all of them piling out of the house and into her 4-Runner, her “I can’t” echoed in his head. He’d failed again, and his newborn hope lay like dust and ashes in his mouth.
When he opened the door with its painted six-point star, a soothing wave of cool air washed over him. An odor of scorched coffee and old building mixed with the sharper scents of new paint and fresh wood. The woman typing at the front desk looked up, a wide smile of recognition brightening her thin face.
“Well, my Lord,” she said, rising to come around the desk and engulf him in a strong hug. “Del Calvert, it’s been so long.”
“Hey, Miss Lydia.” Surrounded by the smell of gardenias and Pond’s Cold Cream, Del returned her hug and stepped back to kiss her wrinkled cheek. “How are you? Still teaching Sunday School?”
“I am. You should come Sunday.” She patted his arm. “Oh, it is so good to see you.”
“You, too.” He glanced down the empty hallway. “Is Tick around?”
“In his office.” She smiled and pointed toward a tiny room, door closed, down the hall. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him. He needs to eat and get some rest. Looks like he’s going to blow away.”
“He’s always worked hard, Miss Lydia. You know that.”
Lydia fixed him with a look. “Working hard and working to death are two different things, Delbert. He’s even stopped showing up at church with your mama. Now what does that tell you?”
That something was seriously wrong. “I’ll talk to him.” Lord, that’s all he seemed to be doing lately—talking. To Blake, to Barbara. Maybe he’d have better luck with his brother.
Once more, she patted his arm. “You should come home more often.”
Home. He didn’t have one anymore, not really. Before the depression could get a good hold on him, he slanted a smile at Lydia and circled the desk to knock on Tick’s door.
“It’s open.” Tick looked up as Del stepped into the office. A welcoming grin lit his face. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Del glanced around the small room, dominated by a scarred metal desk. A mounted largemouth bass hung on the wall next to Tick’s FBI award. On the bookshelf, family photos shared space with training manuals.
“Pull up a chair.” Tick laid aside the folder he was perusing. “What brings you by?”
Del shrugged. He wasn’t sure himself why he was here. “Nowhere else to go, I guess. You care if I crash at your place for a few days?”
Tick raised an eyebrow. “Wore out your welcome with Barb?”
“Yeah.” Besides, he couldn’t stand to stay there, surrounded by the ordinary life that wasn’t his any longer. “I’ll be in and out, because of Blake, but it would be best if I sleep somewhere else.”
“Sure.” Tick cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the open folder. “I’ve got plenty of room. Door’s always open.”
Del studied him. He seemed even leaner than the day before, his eyes exhausted in his gaunt face. “Did you eat this morning?”
Tick’s answering grunt was irritable. “Yeah.”
“Coffee and a cigarette don’t count.”
“How about three cups of coffee, a half a doughnut and two cigarettes?”
“Only two?”
“All right. Five.”
“You know how many days each cigarette takes off your life?”
“You sound like an insurance salesman.” A tight grimace quirked at Tick’s mouth. “Believe me, Tori has the whole nagging-me-about-my-smoking job covered. You can lay off.”
“Miss Lydia says you’ve stopped going to church with Mama.”
Tick groaned. “And Mama thinks I should take a vacation. Chuck wants me to have a physical. Even Barb wants to get in on the act, trying to—” He bit the words off, and they stared at each other a moment, the old jealousy stirring under Del’s skin. “Mississippi was bad, all right? I’m trying to deal and I’ll be fine if everyone will just leave me the hell alone for a little while.”
That sounded like Blake. “You know, if you really want to be left alone, I can
stay at Mama’s.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Tick waved in a dismissive gesture. “I’m tired of everyone riding me about how much weight I’ve lost, how worn-out I look. I’m a big boy and I can take care of myself.”
“Fine.” Del nodded and held up his hands. “I promise not to comment on your health while I’m at your place.”
“Thank the Lord for small favors,” Tick muttered.
“But if you need an ear…” Del let the offer trail away.
With an arched brow, Tick rubbed at his mouth. “Sharing confidences has never been our thing, Delbert.”
“Yeah.” Del slumped in the chair and stared over Tick’s shoulder. On the second shelf was a faded snapshot of the four of them—Tick, Del, Will and Chuck—on the beach at Panacea, their father in the background, his expression suffused with paternal pride. “Wonder why that is?”
Tick shrugged. “You know that whole needing an ear thing goes both ways, right?”
Del cut a skeptical look at him. “Right.”
Silence hovered over them for several long moments. Tick cleared this throat. “What happened, Del?”
“You know, I keep asking that question and damned if I can get a straight answer.” At Tick’s steady gaze, he sighed and rubbed at his thigh. “I tried to get her to take me back. She said no.”
“Damn. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. I thought…” Del shook his head. “Doesn’t matter now what I thought.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Hell if I know. I don’t have a clue where to start. There’s…there’s all this stuff I believed about us, you know? And now I don’t know what’s true, what’s not. I’m still trying to figure out where I went wrong with her.”
“Ever think maybe it’s not about you?”
Frowning, Del looked at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tick fiddled with the die cast tractor he used as a paperweight. “You tend to take on blame that’s not yours, Del.”
Annoyance flickered along his nerves. “You’re saying it’s Barb’s fault?”
“I’m not saying it’s anybody’s fault. I’m saying you get lost in the guilt and don’t see the big picture.”
His Ordinary Life Page 9