by Terri Osburn
“Special books,” she said. “They’re on post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“You brought me PTSD books?” he asked, sounding more annoyed than grateful.
“I thought they might help.”
“Do you think there’s anything about this shit that I don’t know?” Noah shoved the bag at her chest. “I don’t need your damn books.”
Carrie grabbed the tote before it dropped to the ground. “Noah, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Lowering his voice, he growled, “I’m not one of your battered women looking for a way out. My demons live inside my head.” He tapped twice on his temple. “No book is going to change that.”
“But there are ways to cope—”
“There are pills to take that turn you into a zombie. There are group meetings that remind you how pathetic you are. And there are doctors who don’t know what the hell they’re talking about or how to fix anything. Cope?” he snarled. “Try surviving one night with this noise in your head and we’ll talk about coping.”
Noah turned away, kicking up dust in his wake. Carrie stared after him, too stunned to speak, but before he reached his bike, she found her voice.
“Who do you think you are?” she asked, stomping across the gravel. “Do you think you’re the only person living with demons? The only one fighting off memories and anxiety that steals your breath along with any inkling of peace? I live with that every day.”
“Please,” he said, reaching for his helmet. “You don’t have a clue what this is like.”
“Don’t you dare dismiss me, Noah Winchester. Don’t you dare tell me what I do and do not know.”
“Fine,” he said, turning to face her. “What do you know about trauma? What happened to you that makes you think you know anything about what I have?”
Simmering, she met his glare with one of her own. “I spent five years being beaten by my husband. Five years never knowing when the next punch would come. The next kick. The next neck-jerking tug on my hair. I became an expert at covering bruises with makeup so no one would know. I concocted an endless supply of excuses for why he did what he did. Why I deserved to be punished and how he didn’t really mean to hurt me.” Throwing the books at his feet, she said, “That’s how I know about trauma. That’s why I understood when you turned on me the other night. That’s why I applied extra foundation to my neck every day since, to cover the mark you left there.”
“Is that why you cheated on your first husband?” he asked. “Because he beat you?”
Amazed by his endless belief in a man who didn’t deserve it, she said, “No. My first husband never touched me in anger. The man I was stupid enough to leave him for did. Do what you want with the books.”
Holding the tears at bay, she walked away with her head held high. Carrie had never voiced any of the things she’d just said to Noah. Not to Lorelei. Not to anyone. The confession left her hollow, raw, and exposed. Now someone knew her secret. The whole ugly truth. And she felt as if she’d been battered all over again.
Without sparing Noah another glance, she got in her car and left him behind. Less than a mile later, she could no longer see the road. Finding a narrow dirt lane, she pulled off and cried until she couldn’t breathe. The sobs racked her chest and left her lungs aching. By the time she regained control, the pressure and pain behind her eyes were nearly unbearable. Grabbing her phone, she sent Mike a text.
Not feeling good. Girl problems. I’m going home.
The lie would keep him from calling or checking on her. Though, ironically, it wasn’t a lie at all.
Chapter 5
Noah lingered on his porch swing for more than an hour watching Carrie’s trailer. There was no question he’d go over. He should have gone after her when she’d driven away from the camp earlier in the day. Only then he’d been too angry to trust himself. Denial had come first. No way the man he knew would beat his wife. The man he’d called friend—drank with, ran with, laughed with. But then other memories surfaced. Patch’s temper had been on display more than once in their younger days.
He’d kicked a dog for nothing more than stealing a chip from his plate. Thrown a hammer at his sister when she’d pushed him too far. Kyra had moved fast enough to save herself, and Patch had laughed it off, claiming he’d never meant to hit her. The last time Noah had spoken to his friend, Patch had been different. Bitter. Ranting that the world wouldn’t give him a break. Noah related to the sentiment, stuck in a dust bowl on his fourth tour in five years, and every trip around, the world looked worse than before.
But Patch hadn’t been stranded in a war zone. No one owned his ass and told him where to go or what to do. If he’d wanted a different life, all he had to do was wake up and make one. Go to school. Learn a skill. Chase a dream. The possibilities had always been there for the taking. Yet, Noah had commiserated with his friend. Agreed that life owed him something and, dammit, why wasn’t it paying up? After the call, had Patch taken his anger out on Carrie? Had she paid the price instead?
Being seven thousand miles away should have been enough to keep his conscience clean, but the way he’d treated the young widow this week had been inexcusable. Proof that his decision to avoid human contact had been the right one. Noah and his faulty wiring needed to stay as far away from people as possible. Not easy with a coworker living thirty yards away.
As the sun faded behind the trees, a dim light glowed from Carrie’s front window. On Monday, she’d visited him in the barn shortly after sunset and the toddler had been asleep, which meant this was likely Molly’s bedtime. Noah didn’t want to have this conversation where little ears could hear, even if the baby had no idea what they were discussing. Then again, he couldn’t be sure that Carrie would hear him out, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He owed her an apology, and it was time to man up and deliver.
When he reached her front door, Noah faced a dilemma. If the baby was sleeping, would his knock wake her? In an effort to do the right thing, he tapped more than knocked. No noise came from inside. He tapped again, slightly harder. The door opened instantly, but no more than five inches.
“What do you want?” Carrie asked.
“I’d like to talk to you.”
“I don’t feel like talking.”
“A couple minutes. That’s all I need.” A lie, but a harmless one.
Clearing her throat, Carrie stared at him through the narrow opening, her face shrouded in shadow. “Molly is asleep. You’ll have to be quiet.”
Noah nodded. “Not a problem.”
The door swung open, and his hostess waved an arm for him to enter. He took three steps in and stopped at the end of a well-worn sofa. A collection of colorful toys occupied one end of the coffee table, while a black cat occupied the other. The feline blinked green eyes his way, but otherwise paid no mind to the visitor.
“You can sit,” she said, taking a seat on the far end of the couch and pulling a square pillow tight against her chest. In the light of the table lamp, Noah noticed the swollen eyes and red nose.
“You’ve been crying.”
“It happens,” she said, looking away.
Unsure how to proceed, Noah remained standing. He wasn’t the type to rehearse a speech beforehand, but he wished he’d made an exception tonight.
“I shouldn’t have been such a dick,” he started, regretting his choice of words as soon as they’d left his mouth. “Let me try that again.”
“You didn’t know,” she interrupted. “I stuck my nose in your business when I shouldn’t have. Lesson learned for both of us.”
Noah paced the small space between the table and the muted television. “There’s no excuse for how I treated you today.”
Tucking her toes behind the pillow, Carrie said, “Would you be here if I hadn’t told you my dirty little secret?”
“Don’t call it that,” he ordered. “There’s nothing dirty about you.”
She shook her head. “I’m still the woman who cheated on my husband, Noah. Wha
tever Patch did to me doesn’t change that.”
“What Patch did to you changes everything.” He lowered onto the couch, his body perched on the edge as he fought to control his emotions. “Someone should have helped you.”
A brittle laugh escaped her lips. “I should have helped me,” she said. “Lord knows I had plenty of chances. I just never had the guts to get out.”
“You had the guts to stay the other night,” he pointed out. “After I’d hurt you.”
Carrie shrugged. “You were worse off than I was.”
“Don’t do that,” Noah said, turning his body to face her. “I could have hurt you again, but you stayed.”
Their eyes locked, and she sighed. “I’m an expert on rage and anger. You weren’t angry, Noah, you were scared. That’s something else I know a lot about. As strongly as I’ve promised myself to never let another man hurt me, I’ve made another vow. To help people like me. I doubt you appreciate the comparison, but I saw something familiar in the man shivering in the dirt.”
The description set his teeth on edge. Where she saw fear, he saw weakness.
“So that’s what the shelter is about? Saving other women going through the same thing?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “That’s what the shelter is about.”
He couldn’t let go of the idea that no one had stepped up for her. “Did you ever tell anyone what was happening? Ask for help?”
“What difference does it make now? I told you, I should have helped myself.”
“All those years,” he pushed, “and not a single person saw what you were dealing with?”
Carrie raised her hands in frustration. “Yes, people had to know. I covered the bruises with makeup, but not everything can be hidden. Neighbors called the police more than once. They knew what was going on. And the police suspected, but I gave them all the predictable excuses, so there was nothing they could do. Why are you so determined to put this on someone else? No one could have changed things.”
“I could have,” he snapped. “If I’d been here . . .”
“You cannot be serious.” Carrie dropped her feet to the floor and leaned forward. “You were on the other side of the world, and when you weren’t, you didn’t even like me. You wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t told you the truth about Patch. In fact, I bet you didn’t believe me, did you? I bet you thought that your good old friend Patch Farmer wouldn’t hit a woman. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Noah wasn’t proud of his answer. “That isn’t the guy I remember.”
Setting the pillow between them, she said, “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see it coming either. Not until it was too late.” Carrie reached for the remote and turned off the TV. The cat swished its tail but seemed unfazed by the humans arguing in loud whispers. “I didn’t tell you about Patch to make you feel guilty or to earn your pity. Actually, I hadn’t planned on telling you at all. But I do understand what you’re going through. Maybe not to the same extent, but I get it. Those books I gave you are mine. They helped me understand my problem, and I thought they might help you, too.”
He’d nearly dropped the beige tote in the dumpster, but something had stopped him and he’d thrown it in his truck. “I went through them after lunch. I’ve already read a couple of them, but I’m willing to check out the others.”
“Good,” she said, flashing a hint of the smile that turned him inside out. “I’m happy to hear that. And if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me.”
“I’m not much of a talker,” he said, not wanting to give her any ideas about them becoming some kind of therapy mates.
“I never would have guessed.”
The sarcasm was nearly as attractive as the smile. “I didn’t figure you for a smart-ass.”
“Guess I’m full of surprises today.”
That she could make light of something so serious meant she’d come a lot farther than he had. Then again, he’d only learned the truth today. She’d lived with it a lot longer.
Silence fell between them, and Noah recognized a dangerous thought. He could easily talk to her for the rest of the night. Which meant it was time to go.
“I’ll let you get back to your night,” he said, rising to his feet. “And I have some reading to do.”
Carrie followed him to the door. “We’re a couple of wild and crazy kids on a Friday night, huh? Game shows and self-help books.”
To Noah’s surprise, he said, “Are you busy tomorrow?”
Blue eyes went wide. “I have a bridal shower for my friend Lorelei.”
“Right.” Of course she had plans. Normal people had friends, unlike him. “No problem.”
“But I’m free tomorrow night,” she said. “Why?”
His palms began to sweat, and he tucked them under his pits. “I thought I might fire up the grill. Toss on a couple of steaks. You could have one if you wanted.”
Smooth, jackass. Real smooth.
“I like steak.” The smile hit full wattage, shutting down his brain.
“Cool,” he said, nodding. “Come over whenever you want.”
“Molly goes to bed around seven, so how about five thirty? Will that work?”
This meant he’d finally get to meet the tot. With any luck, he wouldn’t scare her. Maybe he should trim the beard, just in case.
“See you then.” Noah rocked on his heels, forgetting for a second that he was supposed to be leaving. Returning to his senses, he reached for the doorknob at the same time she did. His hand closed over hers, the softness contrasting with his callused touch, and he liked the fact that she didn’t pull away.
“Until tomorrow,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.
Lost in her eyes, Noah repeated the words. “Until tomorrow.”
Several seconds passed before she said, “Noah?”
“Yeah?”
“You have to move or we can’t open the door.”
He moved aside, careful not to crush her bare toes with his work boots. “Sorry about that.”
Carrie pulled the door open, and Noah stepped outside.
“Have a good night,” she said.
“You too.” He descended the stairs, turning back one last time before heading for the side gate. She remained in the doorway, a silhouette with the glow of the living room. Though he couldn’t see it, Noah imagined her smiling across the distance.
That had gone better than expected. And it was a good thing she had something to do in the afternoon. He’d need the time to hit town and pick up some steaks.
“You look different,” Lorelei said as she took Molly from Carrie’s grasp. “Mike said you left work early yesterday. I expected a cranky woman today, not one smiling from ear to ear.”
“I’m happy for you,” she answered. “Of course I’m smiling.”
“Uh-uh.” Lorelei drilled through Carrie’s skull with a determined glare. “I know that look, and it has nothing to do with me. Spill, sweet cheeks.”
Carrie should have known that Lorelei’s radar never took a day off. She popped the trunk to retrieve her friend’s present. Though the couple had encouraged donations to the theater, most of the guests were likely to bring a small present along with their contributions. “Noah stopped by last night.”
Blonde hair swung with the head tilt. “Why would a visit from the bogeyman next door put a smile on your face?”
Unsure how to explain, and having no intention of discussing Noah’s private business, she said, “My assumptions about him were wrong.”
“I thought you said he doesn’t like you.”
“I thought he didn’t. Turns out we were both wrong about a few things.” With the diaper bag on her shoulder and Lorelei’s present in hand, Carrie dragged the collapsed walker out of the trunk and said, “Can you close that, please?” She didn’t wait for Lorelei to agree, but spun on her heel and headed for the theater doors.
“Wait just a minute,” Lorelei barked, slamming the trunk. “You can’t stop there.” She caught up, heftin
g Molly higher on her hip. “What happened last night?”
“We talked.” Carrie stopped at the door, waiting for Lorelei to open it.
“Talked about what?” she asked, allowing Carrie to step through first.
Eyes adjusting to the dim theater lobby, she looked around for the gift table. “Where should I put this?” she asked, aware that evading the questions was driving Lorelei mad.
“Snow set up a table by the stairs.” Spotting the silver tablecloth, Carrie marched that way. “You’re doing this on purpose,” Lorelei said, following behind her.
“Maybe.” The table was empty but for one pretty blue box, which she assumed came from Snow. Carrie set her glittery bag next to the box and slid the diaper bag out of sight. “I’ll help Snow while you chase Molly around in her walker. She’s gotten fast, so be ready to run.”
“You aren’t going to tell me,” Lorelei said. “I can’t believe you aren’t going to tell me.”
“She isn’t going to tell you what?” Snow asked, joining them with rolls of blue and silver crepe paper in hand. “Lorelei, did you see where I put those extra rolls of tape?”
“Noah stopped by to see Carrie last night, and now she’s smiling like a woman with a secret. And she won’t tell me why.”
Snow wiggled her brows. “Good for you, girlfriend. On the man and on driving this one nuts by keeping mum.”
“This is my day,” Lorelei said, on the cusp of stomping her foot. “You aren’t supposed to harass me today.”
“Was that in a memo somewhere?” Snow asked, a conspiratorial grin on her face. “Did you get that message, Carrie?”
With a flick of her wrist, Carrie expanded the walker. “News to me.” Reaching for her daughter, she said, “Time to set you free, munchkin.”
As Carrie wrestled Molly’s chubby little legs through the seat holes, the theater doors flew open. “Where’s my sweet-faced cherub?” Rosie Pratchett exclaimed, barreling across the lobby in her larger-than-life way. “Granny hasn’t seen you all week.”
Once upon a time, Rosie had been a regular babysitter for Molly. Two months ago, Carrie had enrolled her daughter in the Little Lambs day care attached to the Methodist church, and the Pratchett matriarch had yet to forgive her for it.