by Kay Stockham
“Something wrong?”
Turning, she spotted Beau sitting propped against a nearby tree surrounded by fallen leaves. He didn’t look good. “Are you sick?”
“Headache.” A sad attempt at a smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I get a migraine every time I remember something.”
“Oh.”
He closed his eyes with a grimacing nod. “What’s wrong? One of the guys give you a hard time about something?”
“No. I—I came to say…thank you. For your help with the mulch.”
“No problem.”
“Eli’s at the shop with Amy and I know I probably could delegate more to him, but with it being the last touch I wanted to make sure it was done right.” She swallowed. “Anyway, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Is there—Is there anything I can do for you? To return the favor? Get you some water?”
Beau’s eyes were pain-filled slits. “Would you mind? It came on fast.”
“No, I don’t. I—I’ll get some.” She turned to go, but stopped when he said her name.
“The cooler’s in the garage and there are pills in my lunch bucket beside it. It’s red and has my name on it. Would you get them, too?”
“Sure. I’ll be right back.” Ignoring the curious looks she received when she returned to the garage, she found the pills and water and carried them back to Beau. She dropped to her knees beside him, reading the directions and shaking one of the tiny pills into her hand. “Here.” He took the medicine without comment. “I’ll leave the water for you and—”
“Don’t go.” Beau lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles against her knee lazily.
Shredded denim separated their skin, but his touch ripped through her like a lightning strike. She swallowed, too aware of the sensation. Of all the men in the world, why did it have to be Beau?
“Stay for a minute. Talk to me.”
“Shouldn’t you be quiet and sleep? Would my sunglasses help?”
“I can’t sleep with sledgehammers banging on my brain.” He grimaced. “But if you don’t mind losing the glasses for a while, I’ll take them.”
“N-no, not at all.” She leaned over him, slipping the plastic frames atop his ears. “Better?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Biting her lip, she made herself comfortable beside him, the leaves crackling beneath her weight, the ones remaining on the tree rustling in the breeze. “What do you, um, want to talk about?”
“Anything.” He smiled. “What’s Angel been up to? She on the air today?”
Marley ignored the spike of jealousy she felt that Beau would ask about Angel, but then called herself an idiot. Everyone in town was talking about whether or not Delilah Kane would set the airwaves on fire with her sexy night show. And she couldn’t help but wonder what her parents thought of Clay’s relationship with her. Whatever keeps their attention off you. “She’s with Clay today. They’re coming to terms with some things.”
“He doesn’t stand a chance, does he?”
A laugh caught in her throat. “Not much of one, no. She’s had a thing for him for as long as I can remember. It’s one of those love-hate things, though.”
Beau shifted on the ground uncomfortably, his brows pulled low as he rubbed his head. “People change. Maybe they couldn’t work it out before, but they can now.”
Was he talking about Clay and Angel—or the two of them? “Why don’t you lie down? You’d be more comfortable.”
Beau rolled sideways, toward her, stretching out on the leaves. He pillowed his head on his arm with a sigh. Looking down at him, Marley liked being able to observe him unaware. Liked seeing him up close and vulnerable. It was often said that things came full circle but…how many times had she wished Beau would come back to her, begging for her? Hurting the way she’d hurt? Now as she took in the red scar on his forehead, she wished him no pain. She searched for it, but despite her earlier beliefs to the contrary, the anger that had been there five long years was gone.
“You said the headache was because you remembered something. What was it?” Unbidden, she brushed her fingertips over his forehead, removing a bit of leaf from his skin. She hesitated, then slid her fingers to his temple and rubbed gently, hearing Beau’s deep sigh of relief and liking that she could help. All the while telling herself she’d do the same to anyone in such pain. That it was Beau meant nothing.
“A blond woman.”
Her jealousy returned. Marley shook her head. She was not jealous. To be jealous in regard to a man like Beau would leave a woman perpetually upset. And indicate feelings for him that didn’t exist. “Oh?”
“It’s bothered me for a while. I kept picturing some guy tickling her, but I couldn’t remember anything else. It was the same scene, over and over again.”
“But you remembered more this time?”
“Yeah. It was Joe.” A rough sound left him. “I don’t know who he is, but his name is Joe and it was definitely him.” He shifted as though agitated. “I asked Pop, but if he recognizes the name, he won’t tell me. The shrink keeps hinting around that I lost a buddy overseas in the explosion that caused this, but he won’t tell me who. He says when the time is right I’ll remember. He wants me to schedule more sessions, but I’ve already had to reschedule a couple to help Pop get things done here.”
And help her.
Beau opened his eyes and stared up at her, squinting behind the sunglasses, his knuckles rubbing over her knee once more but in a distracted manner. “Everything is happening too slow.”
“It’ll come.”
“One of these days I’m going to remember us, Marley.” It wasn’t a comment but a promise.
“I know.”
He frowned. “Saying I’m sorry doesn’t change it, but…I’d give anything not to have hurt you or your family.”
She saw the truth written in every line of his face, in his eyes, the set of his mouth, the way his body was tensed and waiting for her response. His words weren’t part of a game. If only her father and Clay could see his expression, maybe they could lose their anger. “I know. I’m sorry, too.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He blinked drowsily. “I know it’s too late for me to make things up with your family, but that talk we had about clean slates? Marley…it’s almost Christmas and I’d really like to have that. Can we start over?”
Forgiveness. It seemed like everyone in the world wanted forgiveness for something. Clay and Angel. She wanted it from her parents. So much could be saved if people just let go of the pain they carried over things that didn’t really matter.
But still she didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not when she had such an explosive situation to handle with her parents. She’d avoided facing them and used work as her excuses, but she couldn’t put it off any longer. Every day that passed allowed her mother to get worse. To fall deeper under the medications’ spell. She had to do something. Take a stand even though the last thing she wanted was to hurt them again.
While she waged an inner battle of what to say and how, Beau’s breathing turned heavy. His body relaxed in slow degrees and eventually his features began to smooth as the headache eased. Marley sat there a long time, watching over him, remembering things best left in the past. When it came down to it, she knew after his words and actions, she could easily let the past go and move on if the others would do the same. But they wouldn’t, she knew it, and because of that she had to keep Beau at a distance.
Marley remained at his side a few more moments, enjoying the peacefulness until she forced herself to get up and walk back across the street to clean up her tools. She’d chosen Beau over her family once, she wouldn’t do it again.
Minutes later, Barry Buchanan returned in the big red work truck and she paused, watching as he spotted Beau beneath the tree and went to check on him after speaking with one of his men. As though feeling her scrutiny, the older man turned and stared at her.
“Not good,” she murmured under her breath,
pinning a smile to her lips when he headed her way. “Hello, Mr. Buchanan.”
“Miss Pierce. The men told me what you did. Thank you for getting Beau his medicine.”
“It wasn’t a problem, he’s different now than he used to be.” She said it as if it was to excuse what she’d done and clamped her lips shut, unable to believe she’d just blurted that out.
Beau’s father stared at her a long moment, his expression troubled. “That he is.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze flicking over the finished landscaping as though he were uncomfortable. And you wonder why? “Did you need to speak to me about something else?”
“There’s no good way of saying this.”
“I’ve discovered quick is usually better.”
“Then here it is—I’d appreciate it if you stayed away from Beau. The headaches are worse when you’re around.”
She stiffened. Asking her to stay away was one thing, but to blame her for the headaches? “He had the headache before I talked to him, Mr. Buchanan.”
“Maybe, but—Ms. Pierce, he told me about the baby.” The man’s head lowered, his gaze studying the ground at their feet. “I’m sorry about what happened, how it happened. You have no idea how much. But the shrink says it’s best if Beau receives the information from him in a monitored setting, and I can’t trust that you have Beau’s best interests in mind after what happened between you. Telling him about the baby like that could’ve done major damage to him, physically, as well as emotionally.”
Mr. Buchanan’s words were laced with worry. “I see.”
“Then you’ll keep your distance?”
“We work on the same job site. Beau typically comes to see me, not the other way around.” Except for earlier when she’d gone to see him.
To say thanks, her mind added.
But was that all? What about the day after he and Clay had fought at her apartment?
She’d checked on him. That’s all. Marley swallowed, unable to lie to herself. She was drawn to him. Always had been. But now it was worse than ever, and she knew why.
“I’ll talk to him about that. But if you do your part and tell him to steer clear—”
“I have.”
“You need to be firm about it.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m not sending him mixed signals.”
Liar. Marley rubbed her forehead to ease the stress. Maybe she was. But if she did, it was because she was confused herself. She wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. Her family was so anti-Beau that if she so much as mentioned him they went off on a rant. No way could she be thinking of resuming any sort of relationship with him, friendship included. That would be pure insanity.
“I—I didn’t mean to imply that.” Beau’s father flushed a ruddy red. “Just that he’ll stay away if you’re firm about him keeping his distance.”
Marley stared at Beau’s father and thought of her own. What else could she do but what was best for everyone involved? “If he approaches me again, I’ll—I’ll make sure I’m clear.” Beau’s father obviously saw her as a problem. The teenage pregnancy, Beau’s amnesia. His son needed time to heal, not some woman from his past causing a setback.
“Thank you. Have a good day.”
Marley watched as Beau’s father walked back across the street, her gaze darting between the father and son. Have a good day?
She snorted. Her father, Clay, now Beau and his father. Men were so overrated. Give her some dirt, plants and a shovel any day.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MARLEY SPENT the rest of Friday and all weekend setting up her display for the start of the Winter Festival. The winners wouldn’t be announced until December 20, and despite the problems in her life, she focused on the positive. She knew plants. She’d worked on her design titled A Christmas To Remember since the end of the competition last year and this was her year.
The entry fee was worth all the fuss. A local advertising company sponsored the event along with their clients, and the grand prize was a Web-site design and a year’s free maintenance, twelve months of specially designed ads in the Sentinel and a boatload of exposure by local television and newspapers she couldn’t otherwise get or afford. Add to it the new contacts she made just by setting up the display, and she’d learned to look forward to the Festival because it was the perfect way to end the year and plan for spring.
Best of all, by working here she’d managed to avoid Beau at the construction site, her parents and Clay and Angel making goo-goo eyes at each other. Clay really was making strides toward being the man Angel needed, and she hated feeling jealous of their happiness. Would she ever find that herself?
Her thoughts drifted to Beau. Due to sporadic rain Monday and Tuesday, she hadn’t been back to the development. She’d spent those days unpacking the last of the Christmas-themed products, erecting a barrier in front of her office using Alpine trees lit with white lights, working on shorter, easy-fix jobs for her other clients, and generally keeping herself busy so she wouldn’t think of Beau and his father’s request.
The bell on the door jingled. Marley turned expecting Amy and her smile froze when she saw Beau’s broad-shouldered frame stepping inside. Without a word, he moved deeper into the building with barely a discernible limp and more warmth in his beautiful blue eyes than her own family held for her these days. “What are you doing here?”
Her tone stopped his approach. “I…brought you these.” He held up the sunglasses she’d loaned him. “And I thought I’d drop by to let you know the crews have moved on to the third house. The land’s clear and ready to start planting. I know you’re eager to get it finished.” He indicated the sunny, cloud-spotted sky outside the door. “It shouldn’t take more than a day for the soil to dry up.”
She’d driven by the construction site late last night and the ground had been littered with trash left behind from the Sheetrock hangers. Had he picked it up?
You know he did.
Wet from the rain, it wouldn’t have been easy. The gesture caused her heart to give an extrahard thump in her chest, but instead of making her feel good, pain overshadowed the joy. Pain so deep, so intimate, she knew she was on the verge of making another huge mistake if she didn’t establish some distance and fast.
“Thank you, but…” Feeling herself weaken, Marley stepped behind a chest-high shelf and gripped the edge. “You have to stop this, Beau. You have to—to not do what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“I know you cleaned up. I was there, I saw the mess.”
His face darkened. Blushing? Beau? “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal! And I want you to stop. Do you hear me? Leave me alone. You do your job and I’ll do mine, okay? If we keep it that way, our paths won’t cross.”
Beau lifted his hand and rubbed his fingers over his bristly jaw, the smile he’d worn coming into the garden center long gone. His blue eyes, such beautiful blue eyes, stared into hers. “What happened?”
She swallowed. “I just think it’s time we stop pretending that everything is fine.”
“I thought since our talk under the tree that we’d moved on.”
She bit her inner lip. “Beau—”
The bell jingled again and Marley nearly swallowed her tongue when her mother’s friend, Roberta, entered. Of all the worst possible—
“Hello, dear! My, how this place has changed since I was here last! Oh! Sorry, I thought you were alone.”
“No problem, Mrs. Forbes. Did you need something?”
Unlike Marley who was trying her best to ignore Beau’s presence, Roberta couldn’t take her eyes off him. “I don’t believe I know you. I’m Roberta Forbes.” She held out her hand.
Beau’s big palm swallowed hers. “I’m—”
“Part of the construction crew at the new South Ridge Estates,” Marley interjected quickly, earning a frowning glance from Beau. “He stopped by to give me a message, but he has to go. Please,” she murmured, her gaze meeting Beau’s quickly
before she looked away, “let the site manager know I’ll be there tomorrow to get started on the second house.”
Beau hesitated, the few seconds seeming like hours. “Right.”
A scowl marred his face, his eyes revealing all the emotions Marley didn’t want to acknowledge. Hurt, pain, disappointment. She felt them, too, but she was only doing what was best to keep from causing more hurt. Why couldn’t he see that? Do the same?
He stared at her, his gaze a physical caress. The act too long and too intimate if the expression on Mrs. Forbes’s face was anything to go by. How was she going to get out of this?
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Forbes. Marley.” Beau moved to the door, discreetly setting her sunglasses on a nearby shelf on the way out. The cheery, jingling bell grated on her last nerve.
“Oh, my. I haven’t spoken with your mother since she canceled our lunch date, but he—”
“Did you need something?”
The woman didn’t falter. Nearing seventy, she wore her nosy personality on her smiling face as visibly as her Christmas attire. “Now, don’t be embarrassed, dear.”
“Why w-would I be? He’s just someone from the job site.”
Roberta seemed genuinely disappointed by the news. “Oh.”
A cloud of perfume preceded Mrs. Forbes as she moved to the end of the shelving unit where Marley stood. Dressed in a bright red jumper and green shirt with dangling, red-nosed reindeer earrings, her mother’s friend could’ve easily passed for Mrs. Claus.
“You know, dear, it’s not my place to speak to you about these things, but I diapered you when you were born and I’ve known you your whole life. I feel bad for not spending more time with Donna, but she’s so distant and I wondered if she’s that way with you, as well?”
Taken aback by the woman’s bluntness, she hesitated. “S-sometimes, yes.”
Mrs. Forbes made a tsking sound. “I thought as much. Such a waste. So much time gone and nothing to show for it. She’s your mother, of course, but we were all surprised by your behavior and pregnancy.”
“Mrs. Forbes—”