by Dawn Atkins
“Safe and dry. How about yours?”
“I had it in the truck, so it’s okay.” He hung his head, evidently feeling guilty about his attempt to run away.
“Can we help you?” Christine asked.
“Want me to carry out more stuff?” David asked.
“I’ve got it, David. Go ahead and start on your room.”
David nodded glumly, then turned for next door.
Christine followed Marcus into his room. “We’ll pay for everything you lost. I feel so bad we did this to you.”
He shook his head. “The computer’s outdated. Nothing else is worth replacing. I brought very little here.”
“I have to do something, Marcus.”
“It’s all right. I have what I need and a place to stay. No real harm done.” He wanted to take her into his arms to reassure her, except David was nearby.
“Mitch and Louis have worked construction, so they’re going to give me an estimate on supplies. If we do all the labor, with their help, it shouldn’t be too expensive.” She bit her lip.
He wished he could slow the churn of her worries. Hell, he wanted to hold her again. So much for taking time to think about it. Just seeing her made him want to make love with her. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep?”
“Not much. You?” Their voices held the tenderness that came from physical intimacy and closeness.
“Not bad. How did your talk with David go?”
“Surprisingly well,” she said, brightening a little. “He’s agreed to work on the repairs and to try harder. Perhaps I’m being excessively optimistic again, but he seems motivated this time.”
“That would be a reasonable reaction.”
“Actually, Marcus, I have another favor to ask you. I know that sounds outrageous after what we did to you—but…well, it’s important.” She searched his face, her eyes hopeful and anxious.
“Yes?”
“I asked David if he would talk with you about his problems. Not like a session or anything. I know you don’t want that. But more direct and specific than before. And he’ll take your advice, he says. Is that okay with you?”
She wanted him to go deeper with David, uncomfortably close to therapy. Feeling as he did about the boy, Marcus no longer had a shred of professional neutrality. “You might be happier with a formal therapeutic relationship. Now that David’s willing to work on his issues, the therapist could create a full treatment plan and truly—”
“But he trusts you, Marcus. And we’ll be leaving soon. Starting new with a therapist doesn’t seem smart.”
Would he truly be able to help David or would his feelings blind him to the boy’s needs? He was now far too enmeshed in both their lives. If he wanted to back away, this was the time.
“Mom! Help!”
David’s shout brought them both running next door, where a set of bookshelves had toppled onto his back and shoulders. He was struggling to hold them up. Marcus and Christine lifted the shelves away.
David stood, looking shaken and pale.
“Are you hurt?” Christine asked, a black streak on her cheek from grappling with the charred shelves.
“No,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. In his other hand he held a photo in a blackened frame, the glass cracked. David and a girl. Brigitte, no doubt.
“Let me see,” Christine said, checking his skull through his hair.
David pulled away. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Just quit.”
Watching the two of them, Marcus’s heart went tight. They looked like war refugees, lost and shaken and scared. He would do whatever he could to help them, no questions asked. “Your mother tells me you’d like to talk with me,” he said.
David’s gaze shot to his. “Yeah, I guess. If you want.”
“This has to be something you want. For yourself. Not to appease your mother or out of guilt.”
David considered that for a moment. “I want to be…a better person. So, yeah, I want that.”
Christine heaved a relieved breath.
“Then we’ll start tomorrow,” he said, hoping to hell he was doing the right thing. He’d sworn to do no harm. Could he do some good? He wanted to very much. More than he’d wanted anything in a long time.
AFTER CHRISTINE HELPED David salvage what he could from his room, she got the repair estimate and headed over to talk to Bogie about it. He might have tips for how best to approach Aurora.
Her vision was blurry from exhaustion and she had that hungover feeling of not having slept. Everything threatened and loomed and ordinary tasks felt monumental, but stepping into the moist, loamy air of the greenhouse, and seeing all that life, she felt much better.
Bogie stopped his soft whistling and smiled. “Hey, girl. You doing okay after last night?”
“I’m fine. It’s the house I’m worried about. We made quite a mess of it.”
“It’s nothing we can’t handle. No worries about that.”
She smiled. Bogie did make her feel better, even if he was completely wrong. “I want to get it fixed up. And I talked to the guys who know construction—Mitch and Louis?—and they said it won’t be too difficult.” About three grand in lumber, wiring, insulation, wallboard, plaster and paint. “I’d like to get started right away while they’re still here. I figure we can let some chores slide a bit, borrow people for the labor. If we have to, we can hire extra help, too.”
“What does Aurora say about that?” he asked, rearranging some seedlings in small clay pots on the slats of wood.
“That’s where I hope you can help. We kind of argued about it already.”
“Aurora can get scratchy about changes. Why don’t you take a look at those anemones you planted.” He pointed down the row. She walked over and saw slivers of green poking up in every square. “They’re coming up!” She felt ridiculously proud, though she knew it was just nature doing its thing. Trees sprouted from sidewalks, for God’s sake. She’d merely picked the place and offered soil and water. Still, it seemed so brave of the seed to send up a shoot, come what may. “That is so cool.”
“Make sure the soil’s damp, not soggy now.” These minor miracles were everyday events for Bogie in his greenhouse.
She checked. “It feels right.”
“When the leaves touch, we’ll thin them out. These lilies are ready to go into bigger containers. How about we repot them? Grab me three of the mediums.” He gestured to the stacks of graduated containers.
She brought them over. “So what about Aurora? How do I approach her? Or should we buy the supplies and go for it?”
Bogie didn’t answer, just gently shook the lily out of its clay pot. “See how the roots are twisted and crammed together? It’s maxed itself out.”
“Yeah, I see that.” She forced herself to calm down and focus on what he was showing her.
“Always use the very next size up. Not too big or the plant exhausts itself absorbing food and water.” Bogie braced the plant in one of the pots she’d brought, then nodded for her to pour in his special formulation of loam, peat and sharp sand.
They repotted the rest together, working in peaceful silence. “Did I do this one okay?” she asked him.
Bogie nodded. “You did it just right.”
“You always were a good teacher.” She remembered he’d been so patient with her and the other kids, tolerant of silliness and mischief. He’d taught her to pick strawberries without bruising them and to set the irrigation tubes in the big fields.
“I just show what I know.” He shrugged, finishing the last lily. “Aurora won’t let you spend your savings on this, you know that. She’s got plenty of cash.”
“But it’s our responsibility, Bogie. We—” She stopped. “What do you mean, plenty of cash? We’re bringing in more from the clay works, but I don’t see that as plenty.”
“From her parents. When her mother passed, an attorney tracked Aurora down with quite a pile of dough. She didn’t want to take it, but I said we might need it for emergencies. I was right, w
hat with her heart surgery and all. But there’s thousands left.”
“Thousands? Why hasn’t she spent any of it on the commune? I mean, at least paint the house. Fix the plumbing, the wiring, put in some landscaping. Harmony House could be so much more appealing. You said you wanted more residents, right?”
Bogie stopped working and looked at her closely. “Is that what you want, Crystal? To fix up the place?”
“Me? I don’t know. I’d love to improve things. Who wouldn’t?” She remembered joking with Marcus about what fixes she’d need to stay here. Then she realized what Bogie might be asking. “Wait. It’s not my soul’s work or anything, if that’s what you mean, but it would be fun for sure.”
She’d love to give Harmony House a fresh face. Abruptly, she remembered Winston talking about “experience” vacations. Harmony House would be perfect for that—experience life in the oldest continuously inhabited commune in the west. Travelers would eat that up. Especially a new and improved commune. One with clean towels and hot showers.
Her advertiser’s brain was spinning with plans. They would place ads in travel venues, pitch themselves to travel agencies and travel writers…. This could be great.
Then reality set in. “Aurora would never go for it,” Christine said. “She had a conniption over buying a computer, which, by the way, she never leaves alone now.”
“Your mother listens when you say something she believes in her heart, but won’t let into her head.” He deftly pushed some seeds into a flat of potting soil. “How do you think I talked her into keeping the money in the first place?”
Hmm. So Bogie knew how to work around Aurora after all.
“Of course, doing all that construction and painting and landscaping will take more time,” he said, shooting her a wily look. “That might appeal to your mother.”
Uh-oh. More time would not work. David had school and she had her job…. But if they started immediately, it should be easy to make her mid-August departure time.
“If this is right, you’ll find a way.” He looked her straight in the eye, no humble ducking or shuffling at all. Bogie had surprised her. Maybe her mother would, too.
THAT EVENING AFTER SUPPER, Marcus handed Christine another stack of plates to rinse, but she didn’t seem to notice. She’d been talking to him nonstop about her plans to fix up Harmony House and how she would convince Aurora to go along with them.
Only a day after the fire, she’d charged past her despair straight into ways to make things not only right, but better. She amazed him with her energy and optimism. She wore him out, too.
And turned him on. Right now, watching her lips and flashing eyes, the sway of her hips, the swell of her breasts, he wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her to silence. He couldn’t wait to take her to bed again.
“What?” she demanded. “You think I’m crazy to ask Aurora?” She’d misread him entirely.
“Not even close.” He leaned in. “I’m thinking about getting you naked.”
“Oh…Marcus…” She closed her eyes, clearly feeling the same bone-melting lust he did. But when she opened them again, she wore an entirely different expression. Sorrowful, but resigned. “I think it’s better if we stop,” she said.
“You do?” He was startled. She’d seemed pretty eager to keep going at the time. His heart sank.
“Not that I don’t want more. I do. Lots more. But since you’ll be spending more time with David, I’m afraid to risk it. I lost my focus, I think. Plus, there’s so much to do now because of the fire.”
“I can understand that,” he said, swallowing hard.
“It was lovely, escaping for a while. I’ll never forget it, but I think we should leave well enough alone. I mean, why risk complicating things or possibly hurting each other or—”
“You don’t need to convince me, Christine.”
“I guess I’m convincing myself.” She put a hand on his arm and looked up at him. “I want you almost more than I can stand.”
Heat shot through him, nearly buckling him with desire, but he held himself in check. “That seems the wisest approach,” he said, managing to look sober and serious. “Better for everyone.”
“I’m glad you agree.” Did she look a little hurt? That made no sense.
They were both right. It was sensible, sound and smart to quit. But Marcus felt hollowed out, let down, hurt.
What the hell was wrong with him? Sex was great, but hardly life-altering. He and Christine had had one frantic encounter that was more of a collision than an act of love. How could ending it cause him so much pain? Perhaps waking from his numb fog wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
WATCHING MARCUS CROSS the courtyard away from her, Christine wanted to chase after him and take it all back. Which was ridiculous, since Marcus had been so quick to quit on them. The wisest approach… Better for everyone.
If she did chase him, he’d raise an eyebrow. Get hold of yourself, Christine. This reckless behavior does not become you.
It kind of hurt her feelings, really, that he could brush her off like so much lint off a jacket.
She kept thinking about it, reliving it. Marcus’s mouth on hers, his knowing hands, the way he’d whispered her name, how safe she’d felt in his arms. Every time she looked at him, her knees turned to water.
Never mind. She had vital work to do at the moment: convince Aurora to spend her inheritance fixing up the commune. She braced her back against the kitchen wall and took several deep breaths, readying herself to enter the dragon’s lair…well, go out onto the porch and face her mother.
Aurora was in her usual spot—the rocking chair near the hammock. “Nice night,” Christine said, sitting in the hammock.
“I can still smell smoke from the fire,” she said, crinkling her nose, then glancing at Christine.
“Not for long, I hope.” She took a deep breath. Here we go. “Especially if we get started on the repairs right away, while Mitch and Louis are here to save us labor costs.”
“There’s no rush, Crystal.”
“But I think that if we get on this, we could make some improvements to the place. Simple things—paint, landscaping, electrical, plumbing, like that. While I’m here to supervise.”
“Harmony House is fine. Are you never happy with anything?”
The words felt like a slap, but Christine made herself smile. “Maybe not. And, actually, Bogie has been asking me about what will make me happy here. He wants me to figure out my ‘soul’s work.’”
She was surprised when her mother’s face softened. “That man has always been a pest about that. When he let me move into the place he was renting—it was after the miscarriage—anyway, there were a bunch of people living there, mattresses all over the place, and he was always after us: Are you happy? What do you need to be happy? What speaks to your soul? Lord God above.”
Her mother usually only talked about her past to illustrate some point in one of her lectures, so Christine didn’t know many details beyond the fact that after her parents refused to let their pregnant daughter back home, Aurora had stayed with friends, slept in cars, sometimes worse. Three months in, she’d lost the baby. Not long after that, Bogie had invited her to become one of his shifting set of housemates. “So were you? Happy, I mean?” Christine asked.
“I was sixteen. All I knew was I was free. Happy takes time. I had to learn that.”
“What about now? Are you happy now?” That was a nosy question for her very private mother, but she wanted to know.
“I’m still learning.” She turned to look straight at Christine, both feet planted on the porch boards. “I promise you that slapping a coat of paint on Harmony House and planting some hedges will not make you happy, Crystal.”
“What if it’s my soul’s work?” she said, half-joking. “Isn’t that worth a try?”
Her mother began rocking again, silent for a while. “You don’t have the kind of money to pay for all that.”
Christine decided to say it straight out
. “Maybe not. But you do. Bogie told me about the inheritance.”
“He what? That was not his right!” she snapped. “Dammit!”
“He wanted to help me. He likes my idea.” She realized her heart was racing. More and more she wanted to do this. It felt like fixing her past, smoothing out the rough spots, making Harmony House neater, cleaner, organized and steady—a place Christine might not have minded living in as a child.
“You can approve every nail, paint color, tree or bush if you want. And I will see it through to the end, until you’re satisfied, no matter how long it takes.” That was a gamble, of course, and she crossed her fingers that she wouldn’t be pushed beyond her planned departure date.
There was a long silence while Aurora thought this over. Christine focused on the crickets and toads singing happily, and on the soft air on her skin, the sway and creak of the hammock.
Finally, Aurora spoke, her voice soft. “My parents were spiteful people. Cold and hard and mean. They didn’t love me or understand me or even try. I never forgave them. Not that they asked me to. They didn’t care enough.” She gave a half smile.
“I didn’t want one dime of their money. Not one dime. Bogie hammered me about it and I finally gave in. The medical bills ate up some, but there’s a lot more hanging over my head.”
Her eyes took on a faraway look, almost sad, then she came back to Christine. “Hell, what you’re planning is as good as throwing that cash down a hole anyway, which suits me just fine.”
“So you’re saying yes?” Christine’s heart lifted.
“But you run it all past me and you’ll stay until I’m ready to boot you out. I’m holding you to that.” She glared at Christine, as if reading her own doubts.
“Absolutely,” she said, hoping for the best. She couldn’t wait to tell David they were getting DSL.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT HAD BEEN A HOT AND sunny day, but David felt ice cold under gray clouds. Brigitte had broken up with him. Four days after she’d blown off her visit and he’d nearly burned down Harmony House because of her, she’d cut him free like an annoying string dangling from her sweater.