She was losing the battle for words. Beth concentrated on the sound of the leather saddle and stirrups creaking, the smell of horse and old leather. They were comforting to her.
Was there a reason for that? Some memory attached to those smells?
Or was she just particularly drawn to the scent of old leather?
“I can’t lead you on.” She’d meant to deliver her message with a little more finesse.
“Meaning?”
She glanced over at him. The bright sun shining down gave his hair a blue metallic sheen. His face, eyes focused straight ahead, was stern.
“That night at your house…” Beth looked straight ahead, too. She felt uncomfortable. Wary. And turned on just by the thought of what they’d almost done out by his pool.
She’d been thinking about it ever since. Wanting him.
And wanting to run again, as fast and far away as she could get. Except that no matter where she went, she’d never be able to escape herself. Or the past that imprisoned her.
More and more she wanted to know about her past. Because she was finding it impossible to live with the constant fear, because she couldn’t stand the dishonesty, because she wanted to be armed in every possible way to keep her son safe. And without knowing the enemy, she couldn’t be sure of the risks.
She hated not being completely honest with Greg. Hated that she couldn’t be. There was so little definition in her life that she held tightly to those things she knew to be important to her. Honesty was one of them. And Greg, she was afraid, was another.
So maybe the months in Shelter Valley had helped her heal enough to handle whatever she’d been hiding from.
Yet, if she was ready to handle it, wouldn’t she just remember? From everything she’d read about psychosomatic amnesia, even when brought on by a blow to the head, regaining memory would be the natural course of events once the mind was ready to remember whatever it had blocked.
Should she trust her mind and just wait? Or…
“You’ve admitted you’re attracted to me,” she blurted out into the stillness. She felt as though she were riding next to a cardboard likeness of the man whose presence she’d started to crave.
“I am.”
“And you keep asking me out.”
“Can’t argue with you there.”
“I’m not saying no as much.”
“I’ve noticed.”
This wasn’t going at all the way she’d scripted it in her mind. She was not supposed to be warring with herself at this point. The decision had been made. Beth’s horse snorted, pulling on the reins. She’d been holding them so tightly she almost flew over the mare’s head.
“Under the circumstances, a relationship could develop,” she went on when she’d settled back in her saddle.
“Yeah.”
“Though at the moment, I’m not so sure,” Beth said, grinning at him in spite of the tension stiffening every muscle in her body. “You aren’t being very kind here.”
“I have a feeling I’m not going to like what’s ahead,” he said quietly, seriously. “I’m just waiting to find out.”
His words spurred her on. “I don’t want to presume anything,” she said, “but because I know that, at least on my part, there’s a real danger of wanting more from our relationship than friendship, I have to be honest with you and let you know that it isn’t an option for me. No matter how much I want it.”
She wasn’t going to say any more. She wasn’t. “Which I do,” she said. And then, “But I can’t, Greg.” She drew her horse to a stop and sat there facing him when he did the same. “I mean it.”
His gaze locked with hers for several excruciating seconds. Then he nodded. “I believe you.”
She was relieved and desperately disappointed all at once. The wasted possibilities seemed criminal. Especially in a life that offered no possibility, no love, at all.
“I need to know why.”
The statement was soft, and so honest.
She didn’t look away. He deserved much more than a partial answer to a statement that she should never have had to make. Sitting there, looking at him, she needed so badly to tell him. But there was too much at risk; she couldn’t take a chance on making a mistake. More than anything, she was confused.
His horse lifted his head, then danced around for a couple of seconds before settling back. Beth’s mare, standing placidly in the October sun, ignored him.
“I’m not free,” she finally said.
“Not free how? You aren’t married. You’re a widow.”
Beth shook her head. “Inside me, Greg, I’m not free. I’m trapped and afraid. I can’t trust or find faith. There are so many things I don’t know, so many things, I can’t feel. I’m not whole.”
When those intense green eyes darkened with compassion, Beth was afraid she’d be lost. Addicted to that look, she couldn’t shift her eyes away from him.
“Sometimes, most times, it’s relationships that are the cure for those kinds of wounds.”
Beth shook her head. “Not when I feel like this, like I’m all chained up inside,” she said, wishing he wasn’t a cop. Wishing she knew what had made up her life before Shelter Valley, knew what she was going to be accountable for if they ever found her—or she found herself. “I can’t stand the guilt, Greg. I can’t stand not being fair to you. I can’t let you think we’re building something together when it’s taking everything I’ve got just to hang on to me.”
“Why don’t you let me decide what’s fair?”
“Because you’re too nice for your own good. Someone has to watch out for you.”
“I watch out for an entire county,” he said sardonically. “I think I can manage to take care of myself.”
“I don’t. Not about this.” She took a deep breath before plunging into the most dangerous territory of all. “I care about you. And with that caring, however tenuous it might be, comes responsibility. I can’t let you walk blindly into something that’s bound to hurt you.”
“I’m walking in with my eyes wide open.”
“No, you aren’t. There’s so much you don’t know. So much I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you know?” he asked with a puzzled frown. “It’s your life.”
Beth froze. She tried to find a quick reply that wasn’t false without telling him a truth that was too precarious to divulge.
“I don’t know why I’m handling the…tragedy—my husband’s death—like I am. I understand grief, but this is more than that. I don’t really understand why I’m so afraid. It’s like I don’t even know myself, anymore.”
“So we’ll discover it together.”
Beth shook her head, bending over to pat her mare’s neck. “This is something I have to do alone.”
“I’ll be here to cheer you on.”
God, please don’t be so cruel, Beth pleaded. The things life required of her were already too hard. She turned her mare, intending to go back.
Reaching out, Greg grabbed her mare’s bridle, preventing her from leaving. Pulling her closer.
“There’s risk in every single thing we do, Beth. Pain is inevitable now and then. But if, in the between times, we find love and goodness, they’ll sustain us through the hard times. It’s worth the pain to have you in my life.
“Granted, Shelter Valley has a comparatively low crime rate, but what there is, I deal with. My job doesn’t give me the opportunity to see much of the good stuff, and Lord knows, the last ten years with my father weren’t chock-full of fun….”
“And before that was Shelby’s defection.”
His gaze was compelling. So earnest it would have broken her heart—if she’d still had a heart that was intact and whole and capable of love.
“Katie’s been my only salvation in the past few years,” he said. “When life gets too overwhelming, I go pick her up, spend a couple of hours with her, just soaking up that innocence—and then I return to work.”
Tears filled her eyes. Beth wouldn’t blink, wo
uldn’t let the tears fall. How she wished she had the capacity to give this man the love he deserved. She might not remember much, but her heart was telling her there weren’t too many men like Greg Richards.
“And then I met you,” he said, leaning forward, putting his hand gently behind her neck. Caressing her for a tender moment before he straightened.
Her neck, her entire body, tingled from the too-brief contact.
“When I’m with you the world makes sense,” he told her.
Beth chuckled. But inside she wept. “How can that be, when I don’t even make sense to myself?” she asked.
“Because you make everything fit,” Greg said, resolute. “You bring an inexplicable happiness to my life.”
Her chest was so tight, Beth couldn’t breathe. The desert brown was lost in a red haze.
“But I might not always,” she finally managed to say.
“I’m sure you won’t. That’s human nature. There’s balance in all things—and you know something? We value the good that much more when we’ve experienced its opposite.”
He was right about that.
Could he possibly be right about some of the other things he’d said? Was it okay for her to let this relationship take its natural course?
“You’ve been honest with me,” Greg said. He grabbed her hand, held it beneath his own against his thigh. “You’re struggling. There are no guarantees for the future. You might be gone tomorrow…”
That was true enough.
“But you might not be.”
It was her greatest dream. One she didn’t dare dwell on.
“Chances are just as good that you’ll wake up one day and find yourself healed and ready to marry me.”
The jolt his words caused shot itself all the way from her stomach out to her fingers. Her hand would have fallen off his leg if he hadn’t been holding on so tightly.
“Don’t count on that.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t hope for it, either.”
“You can’t dictate my hopes, Beth.” His words were softly spoken, but assured. “And neither, it seems, can I. Whether you leave town tonight or live here forever, I’m always going to hope that there’ll be a day for us.”
Oh, God, why? I begged you not to do this.
“You aren’t planning to take no for an answer, are you?” she asked, trying again to blink away unshed tears.
“Not today, I’m not.”
Then, she’d just have to try again another day.
And until then, she was going to revel in every bit of the joy being forced upon her.
THE DAY CARE WAS FULL OF ACTIVITY when Beth stopped in later to pick up Ryan.
“He went in the potty today!” Bonnie greeted her at the door.
The news almost made Beth cry again. “You’re sure it wasn’t just an accident?” she asked her friend. Bonnie knew how concerned Beth had been about Ryan’s slow development.
“Positive,” Bonnie said. “He grabbed himself, grabbed my finger and pulled me in the direction of the potty chair.”
Beth’s face almost hurt with the width of her grin. “I was starting to imagine all kinds of things,” she said. “He’s the biggest boy here still in diapers.”
Shrugging, Bonnie walked with Beth through the groups of children playing contentedly—or not, as was the case with an older boy who was being comforted by one of the day care volunteers—toward the circle of two-year-olds. Ryan lingered on the outer edge as a child-care worker led them through a rousing rendition of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.” “Kids all develop at their own pace,” she said. “Where is he on the growth chart for his age?”
“Average.” Beth hated the lie, but she felt so light-headed with relief that she couldn’t come up with anything else. She had no idea where Ry was on the chart. He hadn’t been measured since she’d been here. And even if he had been, she still wouldn’t know. The doctor needed a child’s birth date to refer to those charts.
And Ryan’s mother didn’t know when that was. She didn’t know how old her own son was….
“Hi, Bonnie!”
Startled, Beth turned with her friend as a well-dressed woman approached them. She was tall and slender. Dark-haired. She seemed to emanate an unusual combination of energy and peace, a quality Beth sensed—and responded to—instantly.
“Becca!” Bonnie greeted the older woman like an old and dear friend.
Becca Parsons. If she wasn’t still reeling from the unexpected outcome of her afternoon with Greg and with Ry’s news on top of that, Beth would’ve been intimidated.
“Have you met Beth Allen, Becca?” Bonnie asked, and then, before Becca could reply, she excused herself and went to greet another parent who’d just come in.
“Ryan’s mom?” Becca stepped forward, a welcoming smile on her face as she shook Beth’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m glad to finally have a chance to meet you face-to-face,” she said.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” Beth said, liking the woman immediately, “but it couldn’t be anywhere near as good as what I’ve heard about you.”
“I’ve heard that you’re a single mom who’s recently been widowed and is raising a wonderful little boy while also single-handedly starting up a successful cleaning business. I’m very impressed.” Becca surprised her by reporting all this.
With warmth spreading under her skin, up her body, Beth attempted to reply with some measure of confidence. “Thank you.”
Becca made her sound like a strong, capable woman. Which sure as hell wasn’t the way Beth saw herself.
“Bethany’s decided she’s going to marry Ryan.”
“Until a few weeks ago, she was the only girl he’d play with.”
Becca grinned. She was a beautiful woman whose composure Beth envied.
“Let’s make a promise now,” Becca said, leaning close as she lowered her voice. “If they like each other this much when they hit their teens, we’ll watch them like hawks.”
Becca’s words implied Beth would still be in Shelter Valley then. “Got it,” Beth said happily, deriving pleasure from that hope—or pretense.
“It’s far too early to ask, of course, but Will and I host an annual holiday party up at our place every year. I’d love it if you could come. And bring Ryan. Bethany would have our hides if you came without him.”
It was clear who ruled the roost in the three-year-old’s home. But Beth also knew Bethany to be a very polite and well-behaved little girl.
“I don’t know…” she started to say. A crazed cleaning lady partying with the town’s elite? She didn’t think so.
Maybe in her other life she could’ve held her own there, but…
“You can’t possibly have another engagement planned this far ahead.”
“No.”
“Then, please say you’ll come. We’re planning to invite Sheriff Richards, too. He was several years behind Will and me in school, but we’ve always known his family and we’re so glad he’s back in town.”
“He told me you helped with his campaign,” Beth said, repeating something Greg had told her that Sunday night at her house when they’d sat and talked for so long.
“He was the best man for the job.”
Beth grinned at the other woman’s confident tone. “Because he’s from Shelter Valley?”
Becca grinned back. “That, too. Now back to the party—you have to come! Bonnie tells me you’re an incredible pianist, and we have a piano that spends its life being ignored.”
Kids were playing and singing around them, the noise level was high, but Becca didn’t seem bothered by it. For that matter, neither was Beth.
“I’d like to but—”
“Hey, lady!”
The woman Bonnie had gone to greet was standing behind Becca, holding two sleeping babies, one in each arm. Bonnie had disappeared into another room.
“Phyllis!” Becca said, immediately reaching for one of the two infants. “Let me have her.”
&
nbsp; “Only for a second,” Phyllis said, smiling. “Matt gets impatient if he has to wait too long to see his babies after a long day at school.”
“Give me a break,” Becca sputtered. “Long day! Will says that man’s out of there by three o’clock every day.”
“I know—isn’t it sweet?” Phyllis said. “Did you realize he used to work so late he actually slept there sometimes?” Phyllis glanced at Beth, who would have moved on except for her fascination with those two babies. And for the intensely cheerful redhead who was obviously their mother.
“I’m sorry, we haven’t met,” Phyllis said. “I’m Phyllis Sheffield.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Becca said. She quickly finished the introduction between the two women.
Phyllis offered her one free hand. “Beth Allen. You’ve got the new cleaning business,” she said. “I’ve been anxious to meet you.”
“Good to meet you, too,” Beth said, overwhelmed by the other woman’s friendliness, but entranced just the same. “How old are they?” She nodded toward the babies.
“Four months.”
“Both girls?”
“Nope. One of each. This little fella’s Calvin. And that—” she pointed to the sleeping baby in Becca’s arms “—is Clarissa.”
Though surprised by the depth of her envy as she thought of having not one but two babies to love, Beth smiled. “They must keep you busy.”
“Which is why I’ve been wanting to meet you,” Phyllis said. “My husband and I both teach at Montford, and between our students and these guys, I’m failing miserably at housecleaning.”
“And Phyllis can’t stand to fail at anything,” Becca teased. “Her biggest problem has always been thinking she can do it all.”
Phyllis playfully elbowed Becca in the side. “Shut up,” she said, her voice warm with familiarity and affection. Beth wanted a friend like that.
“And she’s more than just a teacher,” Becca continued, giving her a sly look. “Phyllis is not only the best psychology professor at the university, she’s also Shelter Valley’s resident psychologist.”
The red haze slowly ascended. “You have a practice here in town?” She hadn’t known there was anyone local.
“No.” Phyllis laughed.
“Yes,” Becca said at the same time. “It’s just not official. Ask any of her friends. She’s helped every one of us through pretty serious crises.”
The Sheriff of Shelter Valley Page 12