He sighed and shook his head, and then fixed her with a gaze. “Hey, uh, if it happens again, please don’t call out to the intruder next time.”
She nodded regretfully. “I know. I wasn’t thinking. If I had just called the police, they probably would have been able to catch him in the act.” She gave an embarrassed smile. “I’m really sorry.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said with a vigorous and dismissive shake of his head. “What I meant to say is, what if the guy had turned on you? You just never know what kind of mindset these criminals have. If he was hopped up on drugs, or scared, or whatever, he could have come after you and no one would have been the wiser.” He gave a shudder. “He could have pulled you into your house and…” He left the words hanging in the air, as if he couldn’t give voice to them.
Marcia watched his face, her eyes meeting his. His concern for her felt genuine, and … unexpected. She wasn’t used to it. And why was that? she wondered.
She knew the answer. Jay had never treated her with that kind of care. If they had been home together and heard an intruder, he would have sent her out to investigate, while he took refuge under the covers. Perhaps that was an exaggeration, she mused, but she knew better. He had never, ever put her needs before his own.
Had he ever really loved her?
Suddenly, she turned away from Ethan, desperately hoping he wouldn’t see the tears pooling in her eyes. “Well, I should go,” she said too brightly, and hurried to the door.
To her surprise, he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. “Hey,” he said softly, the deep timbre of his voice filling the small space around him, “are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said, still unwilling to look at him. “I’ll see you … tomorrow, I guess.”
She tried to leave, but he turned her around. He immediately saw her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. He didn’t speak, but only stared at her. When a single tear dropped onto her cheek, he wiped it away with a gentle hand. “What’s this?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, attempting to smile. “I’m fine. You should get back to sleep. Again, I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
He didn’t release her, but continued to watch her through heavily lidded eyes. When he suddenly pulled her into an embrace, she gasped. She hadn’t expected it. Never, in a million years, had she expected to have his arms around her.
Chapter Seven
“I really should go,” Marcia said, pulling away from Ethan’s embrace.
He didn’t immediately speak, but watched her with sympathetic eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk?”
She nodded her head. “Yes, I’m okay. Really.”
“I have a couple shoulders if you need one,” he offered, spreading his hands expansively.
“Thanks, but no. I’ve taken enough of your time.”
“Well, okay,” he said finally, still watching her with concern.
She turned toward the door but froze when she heard a loud bang from above. She turned back and caught Ethan’s gaze.
“What the heck was that?” he muttered.
She shook her head. “That didn’t sound good.”
He gave a lopsided, but fearful grin. “Did the roof just cave in?”
Marcia glanced upward, wincing, as if she expected the roof to fall on her head. Thankfully, no debris came raining down on them.
“I’d better check it out,” he muttered. He paused, as if expecting her to turn back to the door and walk out of it. She didn’t, but started up the stairs instead.
“Where are you going?” he asked with surprise, bringing her to a stop with a hand on her elbow.
“I can’t let you go up there alone,” she whispered, looking up to the landing at the top of the stairs.
“I can’t let you go up there at all,” he told her, aghast.
“Why?” she inquired with interest.
“You could get hurt.”
“And so could you.”
“Yeah, well, this is my house, so if someone has to get hurt, it had better be me.”
“I’m not letting you go up there alone,” she declared firmly. “We’ll go together.”
Ethan paused. “You don’t think the would-be burglar has a friend, do you?”
Marcia’s eyes widened. “Should we call the police?”
He considered the question, but shook his head. “No, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for that sonic boom.”
She chuckled uncertainly. “Let’s hope so.” She started up the stairs again, but Ethan pulled her to a stop again.
“Would you let me go first? Please.”
“Okay, but don’t trip over your—” Her eyes did a pass over his body, currently still draped with the drop cloth. “—Toga,” she finished with a subdued laugh.
He colored with embarrassment. “Hey, it turns out I didn’t have any clean pajamas. I mean, well, I don’t actually wear pajamas when I sleep, but…”
“No explanation necessary,” she assured him, waving him quiet.
Together they crept up the stairs, Ethan holding her arm, lest she fall off the banister-less stairway. At the landing, he paused, glancing around. Suddenly, another loud boom emanated from above, causing both of them to jump.
“It’s in the attic,” he whispered. “I’m going to grab a flashlight.”
Marcia followed him into what was apparently serving as his bedroom. It was dark, but her eyes adjusted soon enough. She saw the room was stark, with its air mattress and haphazard arrangement of clothing strewn on the floor. She saw the phone and answering machine near the mattress, as well as a large, open suitcase. Glancing across the room, she noticed the window was absent any covering, and she realized that Ethan might be unwittingly giving the woman across the street a show each evening.
“Ethan,” she whispered, deciding to warn him about the nosy neighbor, “you probably should put something over that window because...”
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, as he searched for his flashlight. Hadn’t he left it beside the mattress?
“No, I mean, you really might want to cover up that window.”
“I’ll get around to it,” he murmured. “Where did I put that flashlight?”
“Ethan! Listen to me!” she hissed in a loud whisper, “Mrs. Jamison across the street is retired. She’s lonely, bored, and has the whole neighborhood on speed dial. If you think you’re going to make this neighborhood a permanent home some day, it would behoove you to invest in some curtains!”
He turned toward her then. “Huh?”
She took her voice down a notch, remembering the noises from above. She didn’t want to alert whomever or whatever was up there that they were in the house. As nervous as she remained about the attic noises, however, she had other fish to fry right now.
She tiptoed across the room and to the open window. Her eyes lit on the upper level of the house across the way, specifically to the bedroom she knew belonged to her elderly neighbor. Sure enough, she could just make out the silhouette of the woman standing behind a curtain panel.
“Ah, shoot!” she muttered, and then screamed when Ethan flipped the switch, flooding the room with light. He had just given the nosy neighbor a clear view of her in the window. She darted out of sight but was confident she’d already been spotted. “Ethan! Turn it off!”
“What happened?” he said with a distracted shrug. “Heck, where is that flashlight? I need the light to find the darn flashlight,” he muttered ruefully.
“Turn … off … the … light!” she insisted in a loud whisper.
“Why?”
“Because Mrs. Jamison just saw me!”
“What?” he muttered, shaking his head and glancing around the room, still searching for the elusive flashlight. He crossed the room to stand beside her, his body now framed in the open window, and backlit by the bare light bulb above him. He spun around, frustrated.
To Marcia’s horror, his makeshift toga fell off, as he did a visual search for tha
t flashlight. Since the bottom of the window hit him about waist level, he probably looked as if he were naked to anyone on the outside looking in, namely Mrs. Jamison.
Marcia studied him briefly, in relation to the window. She nearly groaned. She’d been right. Someone looking in from the outside wouldn’t be able to see he was wearing boxers.
She continued studying him, and acknowledged that he had a great build. His shoulders were broad and his arms well-muscled. He did have a farmer’s tan, and she briefly wondered why, but dismissed the thought as her eyes lit on his chest—well-defined, and then dropped to his lower abdomen—featuring a six pack. He had a fine dusting a hair on his chest, and she resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. It took force of will to keep her hand back. What the heck was she thinking? Focus! she chided herself. Focus! Good grief, focus already!
Clarity came when she risked a peek out the window and spotted Mrs. Jamison boldly standing in her own window, with the drapes open. What was she doing? she wondered. Lord, did the woman have a pair of binoculars? Heaven help them, she did!
“Ethan!” she gasped, and shoved him away from the window. He gave her a perplexed glance, but then spotted the flashlight, jutting out from beneath a pillow he had tossed off the mattress. “There it is,” he said with relief, striding away to pick it up.
Marcia hurried to turn off the light. She couldn’t bear to think that her neighbor had just seen, first her, and then Ethan, in the open window. She was modestly clad in a bulky robe, but Ethan…
“Let’s go,” he whispered, taking her hand and causing her to startle. “It’s okay,” he soothed absently, mistaking her jumpiness for fear of whatever had made the noise. “I’m sure everything is okay.”
“That’s what you think,” she muttered, wondering about the potential ramifications of their peep show.
He continued holding her hand as he led her to the end of the hall to where the attic entrance could be accessed by a pull-down ladder.
Marcia wondered, had a single word she’d uttered to him about their nosy neighbor gotten through to him? She didn’t think so. He was simply too focused on the flashlight, and now on the noise.
Well, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t warned him, she thought in a pique of temper. She had definitely tried to warn him.
***
“I don’t see a thing,” Ethan muttered. He and Marcia were standing in the attic, just to the side of the entrance. “Be careful of the hole in the floor,” he cautioned. “Don’t fall through it.”
She nodded and took a step away from the attic access in the floor. He did the same and panned the room with the flashlight.
“Do you see anything now?” Marcia asked in a nervous whisper.
He shook his head, but then said crisply, “Yes, I do.” He strode away and came to a stop beside something large on the floor.
“What is it?” she asked, coming up behind him.
“It’s an old picture,” he said, bending to heft it up and set it on the side of the frame. He realized immediately it was heavy and probably over six feet tall and nearly as wide.
“It’s huge,” Marcia commented, meeting his gaze. “You’re certain it made the noise? Did it fall then?”
He nodded and aimed the flashlight toward the wall. Using it to clear away cobwebs, he pointed out several substantial nails in the wall. “The picture was hung there,” he told her. He bent to study the back of it, noting the wire hanger that had been stretched across the back had broken. He pointed it out to her. “You can see where the wire broke.”
“Oh, I see, but…” She glanced around. “We heard two loud bangs.”
He nodded, turning to study the musty space. “I wonder…” he mused, as he studied the picture again. “I think the picture probably dropped onto the edge of the frame, making the first sound, but then fell over later, hitting the floor with a smack.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” she said, but glanced around. She abruptly frowned. “But what made it fall the second time? The nose came several minutes after the first?”
He stroked his jaw thoughtfully and walked a few feet away. He panned the light over the floor and then laughed without humor. “We have company,” he said.
Marcia gasped, taking a step closer to him. “We do?”
He directed her to the far corner of the attic, where several wooden boxes were stacked. “Look, do you see them?”
“What?” she asked, shaking her head. She finally gave a shaky laugh. “I see a couple pairs of red eyes.”
“Yep,” he said with a sigh. “And I can’t … quite make out what they belong to?”
“Possums or raccoons?” she asked.
“Either way, we’re going to back out of here, and I’ll come back tomorrow with traps,” he said. “I’m not about to get into a tussle with either animal. I have to consider your safety too.”
He took her hand and led her to the ladder leading down. He helped her get her footing on the first rung, and then stood by, watchful, as she carefully climbed down. He followed, and then gave the ladder a tug and it folded, rising up to lay flush behind the pull-down door in the ceiling.
“Well, at least it wasn’t a human intruder,” he declared with some relief.
“And it wasn’t the roof caving in.”
The two stood awkwardly in the hallway, and Ethan suddenly remembered he was wearing the boxer shorts. “I’ll be … right back.”
He strode into his bedroom, grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor, and was fastening them as he approached her. He’d draped a t-shirt over his shoulder and pulled it over his head and arms in an easy motion. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have to,” she told him.
“Oh, yes I do,” he told her in a voice that defied argument.
She shrugged. “Okay.”
Back at her own front door, she found her house key in the large pocket that spanned the front of her robe. “Thanks for walking me back,” she said, smiling. “I’ll see you later.”
He nodded as she turned to enter the house. “Hey,” he called softly, “are you sure you don’t want to talk? I’m here if you need me.”
She turned back. “I’m fine,” she said, attempting a smile. She couldn’t quite pull it off. Here was a virtual stranger, willing to listen to her after sensing she was hurting, yet—her own husband had never shown her the same consideration.
Yet another epiphany.
“Thanks, Ethan,” she said softly.
***
Marcia collapsed back in her bed, patting the spaces on either side of her. The dogs obediently trotted up the doggie stairs she had recently purchased, that gave them easy access to the too-high bed. They settled in beside her, Allie yawning and Tootsie burrowing into the blankets.
Still feeling wide awake, Marcia stared at the ceiling. The night had been rife with suspense. Would she be able to fall back to sleep?
When the dogs had awakened her, and she had decided to investigate, she had been terrified to see the man breaking into Ethan’s house. It hadn’t even occurred to her to call the police first, from the safety of her place, rather than to call out to the thief and then call for reinforcements. What had she been thinking?
As Ethan pointed out, she could have been hurt. She sighed. What was the old adage? Fools rush in. Well, she had been a fool, but apparently there was something in her makeup that had prompted her to, well, rush in.
She had always been a can-do person, and since she’d had a husband who always allowed her to do, it simply didn’t occur to her to turn to someone else, even if that someone else was actually several someones, in the form of the local law.
Marcia rose slightly in the bed and punched her pillow. She fell back against it, staring at the ceiling. Moonlight slanted across the room, brightening it considerably, and making it hard for her to sleep. She’d always preferred a dark room for sleeping. She sighed again and shot a frustrated glance at her slightly parted curtains. That little gap in the window covering
s allowed so much light in.
But at least she had window coverings!
What was Ethan thinking, sleeping in that front bedroom with no curtains to shield him from probing eyes?
***
Ethan stood at the window in his bedroom, looking out over the neighborhood. As his eyes did a pass over the homes across the street, alert for any sign of would-be burglars, they lit on the upper window of the house directly across from him. He blinked. Had he just spotted someone standing in the window?
He glanced at the alarm clock beside his mattress. It was after three. Who would be up at this hour? He rubbed his eyes, and then looked closely at that window again. Nothing there now. He must have been seeing things.
He turned and dropped onto the mattress, wondering, would he be able to fall asleep? Was Marcia asleep next door?
He was thankful to her that she’d seen the guy trying to break in, and had stopped him before he’d gained entrance, but he grimaced when he thought about her shouting at the crook, exposing herself to possible harm—rather than returning to her house and calling the police from the safety of her home.
What had prompted her to take a risk like that? Maybe it was just her nature, he reasoned. He doubted she viewed any problem as too big. He’d seen evidence of that. Heck, the woman had taken her own house down to the studs. He didn’t know all that many men who could, or would, do that. Frankly, he had nothing but respect for her and her determination to learn everything she could about home repair, so she could handle things on her own, without having to turn to others.
But … why would she be so resistant to turning to others for help? Heck, he might not always like to admit it when he needed help, but when he did, he readily sought it out. He had pride, of course, but he’d been known to swallow it on more than a few occasions.
Suddenly, he remembered how she had welled up in the living room, when he had told her she should have called the police, rather than confronted the bad guy on her own. Why had that remark touched her in such an emotional way? He suspected, the reasons behind it couldn’t be good.
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