She tapped the screen and brought the smartphone to life. “Is it safe to use?”
“It is. Just like the credit cards, I’m the primary on the account.”
The familiar icons appeared on the screen. Something that had once seemed so mundane now felt extraordinary. “How will I ever repay you, Rosemary?”
“By staying safe. By building a life.” Her godmother’s gaze went to her stomach. “By caring for your child.”
Lindsey hadn’t realized her hand had been resting on her belly, rubbing slow, rhythmic circles over the slight bump. She was almost seventeen weeks along, she but was still able to hide the pregnancy with loose clothing.
“You look tired, honey,” Rosemary said.
She was tired. Three months living in hiding, going from hotels to shelters was exhausting. She had made the last final push to Langley Park, and it was as if her body knew she could rest. She could close her eyes in a place that was all her own. Lindsey looked around the kitchen. The shock of seeing Nick had kept her from even acknowledging the beauty of her new home.
“The house is perfect,” she said, taking in the cozy kitchen. “I haven’t even looked around yet.”
Her godmother collected their empty mugs and set them in the sink. “I’ll go, but I’ll come to check on you later. Take some time and explore the house. Langley Park is your home now.”
Lindsey walked Rosemary onto the front porch. She scanned the street. There was no sign of Nick, but this didn’t make her feel better. She shrugged off the thought. The last thing she needed was another man complicating her life.
“Call if you need anything, dear. All my contact information is on the phone. Do you remember the town much? It’s changed a bit since you were last here—more shops, more families, but, all in all, still very much like how it was when you stayed with me all those years ago.”
Lindsey nodded. She actually remembered quite a bit about the layout of the town. “Is the hardware store still next to that organic grocer? I wanted to get some more locks installed. I thought I could start there.”
“It is,” Rosemary said with the hint of a smile. “There’s also a very nice camera shop in the town center. Were you able to bring any of your equipment with you?”
“I have my dad’s old Nikon. That’s all. It’s a dinosaur with no digital capabilities. I can’t use it for work.”
Rosemary squeezed her hand. “Then you’ve got some shopping to do once you get settled in, don’t you?”
Lindsey waved goodbye to her godmother, then closed and locked the door. There was so much to do. She rubbed her eyes. The last twenty-four hours hit her like a ton of bricks. She needed to rest. Step by step, she ascended the staircase and found the master bedroom. Exploring would have to wait. She sank onto the bed, hugged a pillow to her chest, and closed her eyes.
“I saw you looking at him, you dirty whore. You know how much I love you. Why, Lindsey? Why would you embarrass me like that?”
“I don’t know what or who you’re talking about.”
Brett circled her like an animal. His whiskey-colored eyes matched the liquor in his glass.
“You want to play this game again, do you?” he asked.
She was about to draw a breath, but Brett’s hand stopped the air from entering her lungs. He pressed her body against the wall and squeezed her throat.
“You belong to me,” he whispered.
Lindsey shot up, gasping for air and scanned the room wildly. Where the hell was she? She sprang off the bed and ran into the hall. The clouds had moved in and the house, once bathed in bright sunlight, looked different in the dim glow of later afternoon.
Langley Park.
Her new home.
Her hands flew to her neck, and she swallowed, testing for pain. A terrible side effect of having your abuser also be a physician meant he knew just how brutal he could be without leaving a mark. But her throat didn’t hurt. She took three deep breaths and filled her lungs with even gulps of air. It was just a dream. Brett wasn’t here.
Lindsey paced from room to room on the second floor. In addition to the master bedroom with a connecting bath, there were three other bedrooms and a full bathroom situated at the top of the stairs. Two of the rooms were empty, while the one adjacent to the master in the back of the house sat with only a single rocking chair in the far corner of the room. Rosemary must have left this for her. Lindsey ran her hand along the back of the chair and rocked it gently.
She went downstairs and walked a few laps around the Foursquare. The home must have been recently renovated. The smell of fresh paint still lingered, and the appliances in the kitchen gleamed silver and unblemished. There was a back door that led out of the kitchen and into a tidy yard with a freestanding garage in the far corner of the property.
There was no deadbolt on the back door. She jiggled the handle. While it felt secure, she wasn’t taking any chances. The digital clock on the microwave read half past three. She had barely slept an hour since Rosemary left, and the hardware store should still be open. She’d never installed a lock, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t learn. Lindsey took the credit cards and checkbook and put them into her purse.
It was chilly outside but not cold. The fresh air felt good. She had spent much of the last three months cooped up inside hotel rooms or tucked away in women’s shelters. She’d escaped from Brett’s home, but the prison he had created in her mind reached far beyond his physical grasp.
But not in Langley Park.
She had never mentioned this place to him—not even in the beginning when he’d made her think she was the center of his universe. She’d locked her memories of this place away. As much as Nick had hurt her, she’d never let him go. She took in another breath. Could she handle running into him at the market? Casually passing him in the town square? Then another thought hit her like a punch to the gut.
Was he married?
Did he have a family?
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered as she headed north on Foxglove Lane toward the town center. She could have started over anywhere, but she would be doing it all alone. If she wasn’t pregnant, she could have lived rough. She had done it not so long ago when she’d photographed native cultures in Peru. But now she was pregnant, and she needed stability. She needed a home. Even if Nick did reside in Langley Park with a perfect wife and 2.5 children, she would learn to live with it. There wasn’t any other choice.
She found Pete’s Organic Grocer on the corner of Langley Park Boulevard and Mulberry Drive. She headed north on Mulberry and found the tidy little hardware store in a small freestanding brick building next door. She’d only passed by it a few times when she was last here, but it looked almost exactly as she had remembered it.
She opened the door and entered the cozy shop. It was packed with gardening tools, hammers, nails, bolts, and screws separated into what seemed like hundreds of tiny containers along the side wall. There were a few aisles further back, bursting with cans of paint, brushes, and rollers. Buckets and corded rope hung from hooks in the ceiling. The place looked more like a mad scientist’s workshop than an actual hardware store, but there was something oddly comforting in the disorganization.
A gentleman with rosy cheeks and a bushy, white beard sat, eyes closed, with his chin propped in his hand. This man would make the perfect Santa Claus. She tried to close the door quietly, but a high-pitched squeak from the door’s old hinges sent the man scrambling to his feet.
“Damn door,” he murmured, bending his neck from side to side. He looked her over, and the cranky expression disappeared. “Mouse traps?” he said like it was entirely reasonable to guess what customers needed without even asking. He straightened but didn’t come out from behind the counter.
“No, I’m looking for door locks, maybe even the kind they have in hotels.”
He stroked his beard. “Ah, you want a swing bar lock. Check the first aisle.”
Lindsey stepped around a wagon piled high with plungers and found seve
ral shelves crammed with all types of door locks. She picked up one of the swing bar locks.
“You don’t want one of those.”
She whipped her head around and was eye to eye with whiskey-colored eyes. She dropped the piece of metal, and it clanged against the linoleum. She took a step back, but there was nowhere to run. The man with the whiskey eyes bent down to pick up the lock.
Lindsey let out a breath. It wasn’t Brett.
The man smiled nervously. He was older than she was. Maybe mid-forties or closer to fifty. He had dark hair like Brett’s, but his was disheveled and long around the ears. It looked like it had been a while since he’d had it professionally cut.
He handed her back the swing bar lock. “Those are really easy to jimmy open. You just open the door a crack, slide your finger in, and push the swing bar back. If you want something you know will keep you safe, you would want to go with a Grade One lock like this one.” He pointed to a doorknob with a deadbolt and two keys included in the packaging.
“Why this one?”
The man wouldn’t meet her gaze. He seemed as skittish as she was.
“It’s a double cylinder deadbolt. To open it, you need two keys, one on the inside and one on the outside. Some people don’t like them, especially if they have young kids. The kids will take the interior key and hide it somewhere. It drives their parents nuts.”
“How do you know so much about locks? Are you a locksmith?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have any formal training. I’ve worked a lot of construction jobs and picked up some skills along the way. I didn’t always make the best choices when I was younger. I’m just trying to make an honest living these days and trying to do what I can for my daughter.”
“Do you and your daughter live in Langley Park?”
“No, she’s in Nebraska with her mother. I send money when I can. I rent a room near Westport.”
“Are you working a job in Langley Park? Is that why you’re in town?” Lindsey asked.
“Not today. I come here because I don’t think the old man who owns this shop has increased his prices since 1985. I can get anything I need for a job real cheap.”
Lindsey peered around the corner to see the old man at the counter had fallen back asleep, chin resting back in his palm. She chuckled and set the swing bar lock back on the shelf. “What would you recommend—I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.”
“Terrance, but everyone calls me Terry.”
“I’m Lindsey. What would you recommend, Terry?”
He scanned the lock display. “If the double cylinder seems like too much, I’d go with this Baldwin single cylinder deadbolt.” He pointed to another lock on the shelf. “It’s a Grade 2, but it’s still better quality than what residential homes require. I’ve installed several and haven’t had any complaints.”
“What would you use for your little girl?” Lindsey asked.
“The Baldwin,” he said without hesitation.
Lindsey took two off the shelf. “Thank you, Terry.”
He nodded and moved on to a collection of tape measures.
She managed to rouse the old man and pay for the locks just as Terry walked out the door. She called after him and met him out on the sidewalk. “Could I hire you, Terry? I just moved into a house in the neighborhood, and I’m looking to add some locks and window coverings. Is that something you could help me with?”
He gave her a shy smile. “Sure thing, miss.”
“Do you have a card, or maybe I could get your number?”
Terry pulled a worn slip of paper and pencil from his coveralls and wrote using the palm of his hand. “I’m between jobs. I can start any time, miss.”
“Start what?” came a deep voice.
10
Nick held a canvas bag with Pete’s Organic Market printed across the side. A loaf of French bread poked out as he shifted the groceries from arm to arm. Lindsey met his gaze, flicked her eyes away, but then thought better of it. If this was going to be her home, she had to make peace with the fact that Nick Kincade lived here, too. She lifted her chin and met his eye.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with you, Nick,” she said, taking the slip of paper from Terry.
Coming face to face with Nick this morning had been a shock. After what seemed like a lifetime of enduring Brett’s control and abuse, running into Nick was the final blow.
That’s why she had fallen apart.
But that couldn’t happen again.
She turned to Terry. “Thanks for your help with the locks. I’ll be in touch.”
Terry’s glance swung between herself and Nick. He gave her a quick nod then headed down the street.
“If you need something done inside your house, I can help you,” Nick said. He had taken a step back, adding to the distance between them.
“I can take care of myself,” she said with a tight smile.
“Fair enough.”
She started off toward Foxglove Lane. Nick’s steady footfalls trailed behind. It should’ve bothered her, having him so close. It should’ve been unnerving, but it wasn’t. For nearly the entire summer she had worked at the camp, Nick was with her, silent and sulking most of the time, but he was there—a presence, an energy, a kindred spirit realized too late.
She retraced her steps home. Nick was still there. Anger coursed through her veins. Was he going to follow her back to her house? Bang on the door and demand she talk to him again?
She stopped and waited for him to catch up. “Why are you here, Nick? Why are you living in Langley Park?”
He took a step closer. “I could ask the same of you? What are you doing here, Lindsey Davies? You’ve got a different last name, but no wedding ring. No moving truck. Not even one stick of furniture. Then you go and lock yourself inside the house. I saw you. You were terrified.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You don’t get to ask anything of me!”
She was not going to cry. Her father, Brett, Nick. She was done crying over men.
Lindsey continued down the street.
“I just want to know what happened to you!” he called out.
She spun around and faced him. She bit her lip to stop it from trembling. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, Nick’s blue eyes were the same eyes she had fallen in love with as a teenager. He was everywhere after their summer ended. The bright blue of a cloudless sky. The muted blue pattern on her mother’s favorite mug. The blue trim on a house she would pass on the way to her new high school. He was everywhere, and he was nowhere.
She took in a sharp breath. In her darkest moments, when she was huddled on the floor with the steel toe of Brett’s boot pressing down on her throat as she gasped for air, before it would all go black, it would go blue. For that fleeting fraction of a second, she’d be back at Camp Clem, and Nick would be there, smiling with the sun glowing at his back, blond hair like a halo, wild curls falling to brush past those blue eyes.
Nick flinched when she met his eye as if her expression alone had cut him to his core, but he held her gaze.
The front door of the house next door to hers opened and closed, and a woman’s melodic voice called out, “Did they have fresh French bread, Nick? I could eat the whole loaf.”
It was her neighbor—the woman with the red hair.
“Hey!” she said, standing on the top porch step. “Why don’t you two come over. Michael and I are going to sit out on the front porch and have something to eat.”
One of the men she’d met earlier, presumably, Michael, joined the woman on the porch. “Come on over. If Em eats all this by herself, we’re going to need a forklift to get her inside.”
Lindsey’s gaze flicked to Nick. “I better not.”
“Five minutes,” Em said, smiling. “It’s such a nice night. I’m also pregnant, so the world basically has to do as I command.”
Lindsey stared up at the woman. She didn’t look pregnant, but she was wearing a hoodie at least three or four size
s too big.
“Okay,” Lindsey said, the words surprising her almost as much as they looked to have surprised Nick. His mouth had fallen open, but he recovered quickly and followed her to sit at a cozy table on Em and Michael’s porch.
Em took the grocery bag from Nick. “I know it hasn’t even been a day, but are you getting settled in? Mrs. G didn’t tell us much about you.”
Michael set out a plate with hummus, vegetables, olives, dark chocolate chips, potato chips, and crackers. Lindsey hadn’t eaten since she’d grabbed a banana for breakfast hours ago, and the hunger that had been quickly forgotten in the excitement of the day, now made itself known. Her stomach growled and gurgled. A loud, visceral sound that echoed through her body.
Lindsey pressed a hand to her belly. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t give it a second thought,” Michael said, arranging the food. “You’ll be able to hear Em’s stomach rumbling all the way over at your house.”
Em threw Michael a playful glare, but he smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then headed back into the house.
Em spooned hummus onto a small plate. “Pay no attention to Michael. Having some more estrogen around here will be good. With Nick moving into our carriage house, I was going to be outnumbered. Thank goodness you got here when you did.”
Lindsey’s breath hitched. She stared at Nick. “Where are you living?”
Before Nick could answer, Em swallowed and pointed toward the house. “Our carriage house. There’s a studio apartment on the second floor. We’ve decided to take pity on him and take him in. He’s been staying with Michael’s cousin, Sam. You met him this morning. Big guy. Red hair.”
“You’re going to be living next door?”
Nick gave a slight nod. “I’d like to stay in Langley Park. I’m just waiting until I find a place that will work for me. Houses in the neighborhood don’t come onto the market too often, and when they do, they sell pretty fast.”
“Oh,” was all Lindsey could manage. She was going to have to make peace with Nick living in this town. But the idea that he was going to be a stone’s throw away in the carriage house next door left her speechless.
The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5) Page 60