Carney laughed out loud. Out loud! Pru almost dropped her scissors.
“Well, next time I need my blood drawn, I’m bringing your dad in with me. The kid was having a worse time than I was, though. By the third jab, he was sweating like a race horse. I think he was more ready to cry than I was.”
“Really? I wouldn’t think a few pokes would be a problem for you, not with all those tattoos.” Willow waved the mirror in his direction, her smile teasing. “Isn’t that what it’s like to get one of those things? And you’re covered in them!” As Pru worked quietly and watched her gorgeous neighbor interact with her boyfriend, a sinking feeling began to settle in the pit of her stomach.
“I got these when I was a lot younger, Willow,” Carney tapped one forearm. “Pain doesn’t register for a twenty-five-year-old the way it does for a fifty-five-year-old, isn’t that right, Pru?”
Prudence’s mouth fell open at his insensitive remark. Why would he highlight the difference in age between her and Willow? “I wouldn’t know, Dear. I’m still enjoying my thirties,” she retorted, trying to keep her voice light and airy.
Willow laughed out loud, a guffaw that filled the room and brought out another grin on Carney’s face. “Oh Pru,” she exclaimed. “That’s why I feel so comfortable around you. You’re so confident, so sure of yourself. I wish I was like you.”
“Like me? An old maid?”
“If you’re an old maid, I’m Rumpelstiltskin,” Willow chortled.
“Well, you have the right color hair,” Carney quipped. “But I don’t suppose you’re the type to steal people’s children from them.”
Willow’s expression sobered instantly, but she replied without hesitation. “No, that I wouldn’t do. Not to anyone. Not for anything.”
Pru rolled her eyes at Carney, knowing Willow couldn’t see her. Carney did, though. His shoulders went up as if to ask, “What did I do?” It was time for Pru to intervene and rescue them all.
“So the reason I made Willow stick around wasn’t so she could witness you flexing and pointing out how old I am. We have a favor.” Pru kept snipping; the girl had so much hair!
“What’s up?” Carney got up to refill his coffee, and loaded up another scone with elderberry jam. Pru stayed silent, waiting for Willow to explain.
“Well, it’s a long story. I don’t quite know where to begin.” She paused, peering down at her reflection in the mirror in her hand. “I’m married, I guess.”
“You guess?” Carney paused mid-bite.
“No, I don’t guess. I know I am. But I don’t want him here. I moved here because we’re separated. But now he’s here. At my invitation.” She glanced out the bay window, and Carney followed her gaze with his own. Then he turned to look up at Pru for clarification. She laughed at the confusion in his eyes.
“Look, Carney. The guy is over at Al’s right now. Willow just needs to get home without being seen by him. She doesn’t want any trouble, but if she heads out the front door alone, he might try to catch up with her. We need you to walk her home—you’re intimidating until you start talking, but he probably won’t brave getting that far.” Pru threaded her fingers through Willow’s hair, and shook out the ends, crescents of cut curls falling to the floor around her. “All done.”
“So what do you want me to do if he doesn’t think I’m as scary as you do?” Carney didn’t look very pleased with the mission at hand. “Shall I put him in a headlock? What’s he doing over at Al’s, anyway?”
Willow stood up after Pru slipped the cape from around her shoulders. She pursed her lips, clearly hesitant to explain. “He’s an attorney. He’s helping Al deal with some legal issues.”
“You want me to rough up a lawyer?” Carney looked appalled. He stood up and went to the window to stare at the trailer across the way. “Is that his fancy car out there?”
“Yes. That’s his fancy car,” Willow acknowledged.
“Wait.” Pru paused, dustpan in hand. “Didn’t he drive a big truck before? Isn’t that what Eddie warned us to watch for?” She made quick work of the snipped hair on the floor; even her broom had a leopard and hibiscus patterned handle.
“Yes. He used to have a truck. He sold it because I told him to.”
Carney turned around so that his back was to the window and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Are you telling me this guy is the stalker? The Shadowman?” His eyes narrowed at Willow. “Little lady, I’m all for helping a dame in distress, but I think I need a little more info before you loop me into whatever it is you got going on here.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he continued. “You don’t need to give me your life story, but I gotta have something to chew on.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 5
Pru watched Willow in silence, holding her breath, waiting. Carney had asked the questions she hadn’t dared put to words—would the girl open up?
“You’re right,” Willow finally said, her words soft, but not timid. “You’re right. I shouldn’t involve any of you in this stuff. This is between me and Christian, and ultimately what God wants for us. You’re right,” she said again. “I’m not being fair, asking people to step in and be a buffer for me. I’m so sorry.” She reached for her purse again. “What do I owe you for the trim, Pru?”
Pru snorted. “I don’t want your money, Willow. I want your trust. Your friendship.” She crossed over to stand in front of Willow. “I’ve wanted to be your friend since I first saw you twirling your way to the mailbox. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to offer, honey, but from what I can see, you need a friend, maybe even worse than I do.” She reached out and patted Willow’s cheek.
“Thank you, Pru. You don’t know how much that means to me.” Willow smiled softly, sadly. “I just…can’t. I can’t talk about all this. I’m sorry.” She slipped the wide strap of her bag over her shoulder and pointed at the platter that still held a few scones. “The jam is yours, and the rest of those scones. I’m so glad you liked them.”
Carney moved quickly for a big man; he crossed the room and stepped between Willow and the front door. “I can’t let you go like this. Is the guy dangerous?”
Willow laughed out loud, but this time, the sound was harsh, like dead reeds rattling along a dry creek bed. “He’s only dangerous to me, Carney.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” Carney didn’t budge, his large body effectively blocking her exit. Pru came over to stand beside him.
“Willow, please. Let us help you.”
Willow studied them both in silence, pressing her full lips together as though trying to keep the words from slipping out. Finally, she nodded, ever so slightly. “I promised Christian I’d not talk about our trouble without him being here to defend himself. But I can tell you this.” She turned and made her way to the window that faced Al’s place, lifting a hand to press it to the pane. Pru brought her fingertips to her lips at the expression on Willow’s face.
“I can’t be with him. I love him, I love him, I—” Her voice caught and she finished in a broken sob as the man in question stepped onto the front porch of Al’s trailer, still talking to the Al who came out behind him. The older man was nodding solemnly, but he wore a slight smile.
“I love him. But I can’t be with him,” she whimpered. “It hurts too much.”
At that moment, Christian turned, and like a magnet, his eyes were drawn to the window that framed Willow.
“Oh my,” Pru murmured sympathetically, the longing in the young man’s eyes a tangible force, even from that far away. He took two halting steps across the porch, then stopped, his gaze never faltering. Behind the younger man, Al stared down at his shoes; Pru was pretty sure the look in Christian’s eyes was mirrored in Willow’s, and if she knew Al at all, the man wouldn’t be comfortable with that kind of raw emotion.
Pru grabbed Carney’s hand and pulled him across the room to where Willow stood, her hand still on the window, as though glued to that spot. Tears rolled unhindered, one by one, from the corn
ers of her unblinking eyes. Pru didn’t care anymore about knowing all the answers; it was devastatingly clear that Willow’s pain was real, that Christian’s was, too, and neither one of them knew how to build a bridge over the chasm of suffering between them.
Carney reached up and laid an arm across Willow’s shoulders, tucking her into his side, and Pru, on her other side, slipped an arm around the girl’s waist. Pru watched Christian’s expression shift, his eyes take in the scene, first glancing at her, then over at Carney, then back to Willow. Carney stared hard at the man, but his face was an expressionless mask; Pru wondered what he was thinking at that moment, what he was communicating to Christian, man to man. Then together, they drew Willow away from the window.
“I need to go home,” she whispered, her husky voice breaking Pru’s heart. “I’d appreciate it so much if you’d walk with me, but I understand if you can’t.”
Then it hit her; Willow needed them, their friendship, and the best way they could give it to her was by giving her their trust. It was exactly what Pru had asked of Willow, and the girl had been as honest as she could be with them, while still staying true to her promise to the man she loved. I love him. It hurts too much.
Carney was clearly feeling the same way. He gave the girl’s shoulders a quick squeeze, then stood with his back to the door again. “We’ll walk you home, Willow. It will be a clear show of force, letting him know you’re not alone; that you’re being looked out for. But I need to say something before we do.”
Pru looked up at him, her arm still around Willow’s waist, curious at what Carney felt compelled to say. In fact, he’d been remarkably effusive, at least for him, in Willow Goodhope’s company.
“I’m a man.” He paused long enough that Pru snickered.
“I think we know that, Carney.”
Willow hiccupped.
“I’m a man,” he began again, and Pru thought he might be blushing. “I’m not all emotional and stuff, not like you women.” She rolled her eyes. She’d known him to shed a tear or two during certain movies, especially those starring loyal, but doomed animals.
“But I saw that man’s face.” He shook his head and glanced toward the window over the women’s heads. Pru peered over her shoulder, too, and watched Christian reach out to shake Al’s hand before making his way down the steps toward his car.
“That’s not the face of a man who wants to hurt you.”
Willow nodded. “I know.”
“You two can’t go on like this.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to have to talk to him.”
“I know.”
“How long has it been since the two of you sat down together?” Pru interjected.
Willow didn’t look at her. “Since Christmas. It was the worst Christmas of my life. I moved out the first week of January, but we weren’t really talking by then.” She sounded like a lost little girl.
“Oh, honey.” Pru put her other arm around Willow and hugged her hard. She’d never forget her own worst Christmas—the Christmas her Popsy didn’t come home from the railroad. When she stepped back, Carney spoke again.
“I think it’s time, Willow. I think it’s time to talk to him; to put you both out of your misery. I want you to promise me—us—that you’ll talk to him. Soon.”
“I know.” Willow nodded slowly. “I will.”
“When?” Carney was going to be stubborn, Pru realized, recognizing the way he was digging in his heels over this situation; stepping out of his comfort zone to make the world—Willow’s world—a better place, to right the wrongs that he could.
And in that moment, something settled into place in Pru’s heart, too, like the chambers in a combination lock lining up to let the door fly open. This strong, usually silent man was as steady as the sun, as solid as the earth, as anchored as the Rock of Gibraltar. He’d never asked her to change, he’d never expected more of her than she’d offered. In fact, even though he used few words to express it, he always made a point to appreciate what she did for him, to acknowledge her efforts, and to make her feel special in little ways.
Maybe that’s why his tension on the phone this morning had bothered her so much. He was quiet, but not rude. A man of few words, but the words he used were important.
Pru watched him with her new awareness, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Carney. Why had she ever doubted his commitment to her?
Willow finally spoke. “I asked Christian to give me until the holidays. I know I can’t face another Christmas with things up in the air like they are now, but I’m not yet ready to face him. I don’t have answers for him yet. At least not answers he’s willing to accept.”
“If your answer is ‘no’ then he should accept that.” Carney couldn’t tolerate a man who didn’t understand the word ‘no.’
“It’s not that kind of situation, Carney. He wants to talk now, and I’m not ready. That’s what I mean when I say ‘no.’ He’s not the kind of guy to force himself on me, but he doesn’t like that I’ve forced him to step back, either.”
“Well, that makes me feel a little better, but he still needs to respect your wishes and give you the time and space you need.”
Pru nodded in agreement, imagining how Carney would respond if she asked him to leave her alone for a year. She didn’t think he’d be too happy either.
The walk across the bridge was a little unsettling. Christian sat in his car watching them as they passed by. Carney moved from beside Willow to walk behind her and Pru, all but blocking the man’s view of his wife. Pru shot an appreciative glance over her shoulder at Carney—he winked at her and reached up to brush her shoulder with the tips of his fingers.
By the time they said goodbye to Willow and returned across the little stream, the silver car was gone. Pru breathed a sigh of relief and leaned into Carney’s side. “Thank you for being you,” she murmured.
His arm draped around her in an uncharacteristic show of affection, he tugged her in closer and kissed the top of her head. “I hope I don’t ever do something so terrible that you send me packing for a year. Being away from you for two weeks is bad enough.”
“Oh Carney. I missed you so much.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 6
They walked the rest of the way in silence, but once inside, Carney pulled away and dropped into one corner of the loveseat, his expression contemplative, his gaze on Al’s trailer outside the window. Pru puttered around the room, placing the rest of the scones in a plastic bag, the empty coffee cups in the sink, waiting for him to say whatever was on his mind. If Carney had taught her nothing else, it was patience.
Finally, he turned to her, a slight scowl on his face. “Would you come sit for a minute, please. We need to talk.”
“Uh oh,” Pru laughed, but she couldn’t remember any other time that Carney had used those words. She was always the one demanding that they talk. Her heart beat a little faster, and she took a few slow, steadying breaths as she dried her hands on the dish towel hanging from the oven door.
By the time she settled into the couch beside Carney, her cheeks were flushed, and she felt uncomfortably close to tears. Surely he wasn’t going to break up with her, not after the sweet things he’d said on the way back from Willow’s.
Carney leaned forward, his forearms on his knees, working a beaded coaster from the set on the coffee table with his thick fingers. Pru brushed at an imaginary fuzz on her black pants.
“Pru, I need to tell you something.” He paused just long enough to make her even more nervous.
“I actually went to get my medical card renewed last month. I knew it was coming up due so I took care of it one day while you were visiting Mumsy in the hospital. But the doctor wouldn’t clear me; he was concerned about my blood pressure and the way my heart sounded. I’ve always had a slight heart murmur, ever since I was little, so I was more irritated than worried. When I tried to explain that to him, though, he asked me about other symptoms. I got to thinking tha
t things have been changing. My feet and ankles have started to swell, especially on my long hauls, and I’m more tired than usual. After hearing that, he insisted I get in right away for further testing, but I had the delivery run to make. I promised I’d go in as soon as I got back, though. That’s what I was doing today.” Pru sat stunned, swallowing hard, trying to find her voice. While she’d been keeping Mumsy company in the hospital, Carney had been dealing with the weight of all this on his own. Why didn’t he tell her?
“They did an ultrasound of my heart this morning, then a chest x-ray, and finally, they took a ridiculous amount of blood for more testing.” Carney took a deep breath, and absentmindedly put his hand to his chest. “Basically, my Mitral valve, one of the little gates inside my heart that’s supposed to let blood through only one way, isn’t closing all the way, and the blood is flowing backward, not just forward, making my heart work extra hard to get good blood to my whole body. Which is probably why I’ve been feeling so tired lately; not just because I’m getting old.”
“What are you saying, Carney? Don’t joke with me. Is this serious?” She struggled to take it all in, to understand what was going on. “Are you…are you going to have a heart attack?”
“The thing is, Pru,” he reached over and laid a beefy hand on hers where they were folded tightly in her lap, but he didn’t really answer her question. “My dad had the same problem. I didn’t know that until I talked to my sister last week—I thought he just had a fluke heart attack. But Judy told me he had Mitral valve trouble, too, and the reason she knew that was because her doctor was worried about Judy’s during her pregnancies. Hers cleared up though, after both kids. Anyway, they didn’t catch Dad’s in time, and when his heart gave out on him, it was because it had just worked itself too hard.” He turned toward her, shifting in his seat until his knee was pressing uncomfortably into her thigh. “The doctor says it’s most likely the same thing, that it’s often genetic, but he thinks we caught it early enough to be able to keep me from going the way Dad did.”
Elderberry Croft: Volume 3 Page 10