“Erin never found out, and it didn’t hurt anyone.” His voice dropped. “You look like you could use a good time.”
If he thought for one second that what they’d done hadn’t been wrong, there was no point in her arguing. Just like there was no point in her trying to explain to him that she’d been young and stupid and infatuated and had stars in her eyes about the older, handsome man that’d been interested in her.
She’d been dumb as dirt. Hopefully she’d gotten smarter. If she had she needed to show it.
“I have six kids. I can’t even believe you’re hitting on me.”
“You don’t look like you’ve had six kids. You look good.” His hand settled on her arm.
She wasn’t under any illusions that she was anything special to him. He was a ladies’ man and a player, and she was one of the few women under sixty at the service.
She didn’t want to make a scene in getting away from him, but his hand tightened on her arm.
Heat at her back made her want to turn, but then Abner’s voice came from above her shoulder and she didn’t have to.
“I’m thinking the lady wants to leave.”
She didn’t turn to see what expression Abner had on his face as he looked at his half-brother, but it must have been something intense, because Jason’s jaw hung open and his hand dropped from her arm.
She’d have to remember to thank Abner later. So much to thank him for.
“I need to put my children to bed.” This time, she pushed through, and he stepped back, giving her space. Man, she hoped she could come up with a place to live.
Chapter 11
Abner had stayed after the dinner with Andrew and Derrick and helped the church ladies clean up and move the tables and chairs back. For the most part, Luna had been content to ride on his shoulders.
He couldn’t help walking over when he’d seen Cora talking to Jason again. She seemed to be handling herself okay, and he’d already pushed in more than she probably wanted when he sat beside her before the service. But she seemed relieved and grateful and he was glad he had.
Maybe he should be thinking more about his mother and his grandmother, but neither one had been a big influence in his life, and he wasn’t going to fake feelings he didn’t feel. He’d do his duty. Appreciate the small part they played. But any intense sadness, or, God forbid, tears, would be contrived.
It was warm for November, probably in the sixties, if he had to guess, and he enjoyed the deep blue sky and calm breeze as he walked back from the church with Luna still on his shoulders and Andrew and Derrick kicking stones along the road.
Doug had told him that his mom was leaving tonight. He supposed he should consider doing the same. Except, as much as the open sky and flat prairie of North Dakota was calling him, he didn’t want to leave...Cora.
But he’d done it once before. He could do it again.
Except he really did want to talk to her. He kept getting the feeling he’d been wrong all those years ago. About something. He’d missed something. He needed to find out what it was.
“We’re gonna play on the swing set,” Andrew yelled and ran around the side of the house.
It reminded Abner of Cora sitting on the swing late last night. He wished now he’d gone to her and actually tried to have an adult conversation.
Not liking her was safer. Blaming her took his attention off his own faults. Wanting her was a given, but something he felt he needed to fight.
He lifted Luna off his shoulders and dropped her into the crook of his arm where she snuggled, sleepy. He admired the heart-shaped face that was all Cora’s before he opened the front door and stepped in.
His mother sat on the steps, still wearing the outfit she’d worn at the funeral, a can of beer in her hand.
Cora, in worn jeans with holes in both knees and a loose long-sleeved tee, her hair in a long braid hanging over her shoulder, was coming down the stairs with a suitcase in one hand and a large black trash bag in the other. It bulged, looking heavy.
“I’d get that for you.” Irritation laced his voice. Why was she trying to do this all herself? She knew by now he’d help.
“I know.” She barely looked up, concentrating on slipping around his mother, who didn’t seem like she was even considering moving. “But I can get it myself.”
Luna was too big to be held like a baby, but he tucked her tight against him and reached his hand out, sliding it onto the suitcase handle beside hers. “Let go. I’ve got it.”
He didn’t look at her, staring instead at the differences in their fingers. Hers tapered and white, his rough and brown.
“I said I could do it myself.” She hadn’t raised her voice, but there was an edge that hadn’t been there before.
He should let it go, he knew he should, but that stubborn determination that he’d never quite beat into submission reared its head.
“And I said, let go.”
“You know, son. Cora’s a nice girl. But she’s got six kids, and that’s not going to be a walk in the park for any man. You oughta find someone a little easier.” His mother didn’t turn her head, nor did she slide out of the way so Cora could get through.
She took a long drink of her beer, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and dropping her arm back into her lap.
Cora’s body seemed to shrink, and she pulled both lips between her teeth. But her back straightened, and her eyes narrowed.
She didn’t look at him, but he stared straight into her eyes, remembering the cliff edge of the night before and the feeling of standing next to the abyss. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m not looking for a walk in the park.”
Cora swallowed, loud in the silence that followed his words. Her eyes remained cast down, but her fingers slid off the suitcase handle.
Abner lifted it up and over his mother’s head, setting it down at the foot of the stairs. Luna shifted in his arms, and Cora’s eyes went to her daughter. Maybe her face softened a little.
“Hand me the bag,” he commanded. Maybe he didn’t have the right to tell her what to do, but he’d never be the kind of guy who sat around and waited for someone else to take charge.
Cora gave his mother a dubious glance before taking both hands and lifting the bag.
“Duck,” he said to his mother.
To his surprise, she actually listened, and he was able to grab the bag, which seemed to be full of clothes, and sail it over her head.
“You have more stuff to bring down?”
Cora nodded. “A few boxes and another suitcase.”
“Here.” He nodded at Luna, snuggled against him, and lifted his arm a little. “You take her. I’ll carry everything.”
She hesitated, biting her lip.
“Come on. Let me get it.” His tone was more commanding than he intended. But, seriously, did she expect him to watch while she lugged the stuff downstairs?
“Maybe I like the way you look holding her.” Cora tilted her head and lifted a brow as though daring him to call her out on what had to be the first somewhat flirty thing she’d said to him since he came.
He ground his teeth together so his jaw didn’t drop to the ground as his stomach whirled like a tornado and heat spread through his chest.
He could no more stop his next words than he could stop breathing. “I don’t look near as good as you do.”
Cora’s eyes widened, and he realized he’d helped with her kids a lot, but he’d not complimented her at all. Her reaction made him think that she’d appreciate a few kind words from him.
“You’ll look better if you flex your muscles while you’re carrying my stuff down.” His mother took another swig of her beer. “You two are so cute. Don’t even like each other most of the day. Then whew.” She fanned herself. “Hot as heck.”
One side of Abner’s lip curled up. She was right, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. He met Cora’s gaze. Her cheeks were red.
“Hot?” He didn’t allow his half-grin to become a smirk as he lifted a brow at
Cora.
Her eyes danced as she replied, “As heck.”
He grunted. That was the Cora he remembered. Funny and cute. Sassy.
She held her arms out, and he carefully set Luna in them. Luna scrunched her face up like she maybe didn’t want to leave him, but then she snuggled down in her mother’s arms.
“You’re an amazing mother,” he murmured.
When Cora looked up, he realized he’d been standing there looking at her for enough seconds to make it obvious he was staring. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and took a deep breath through his nose. He wanted to hold onto the moment when there was something shimmering between them that wasn’t animosity and felt like it could be the start of something rekindled.
But the lucid part of his brain was telling him that was a really bad idea.
Maybe Cora saw the shift in him, or maybe she realized the same thing he did, but her eyes dropped.
“You’d make a really good father,” she said.
Hardly flirting words. But maybe, at their age and position in life, a compliment on parenthood meant a lot more than a compliment on something as transient as looks or clothes.
She cradled her babe and moved away. His hand itched to bring her back.
He fisted it and turned, taking the stairs two at a time.
By the time he made it back down the stairs, he was all business. “Mom, what about the pots and pans in the kitchen, the furniture, the—”
His mom waved her hand. “The truck’s coming after Thanksgiving. They’ll get it. I’m leaving the dishes. Don’t need ’em. Taking the TV and the couch, my bed.”
“Okay.” Abner wanted to look at Cora, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. She was losing almost everything.
He’d just had the worst feeling that maybe she’d been nice to him because she wanted to use him. Again.
AUNT SANDY LEFT WITH little fanfare.
Abner hadn’t seemed to care. Cora supposed he felt about the same toward his mother as she did toward hers. She’d never earned the right to be her mom.
Cora wanted to be something different, better, for her own children.
After she had the kids in bed, she looked for places for rent in the area. The project she’d turned in had been approved, and the money had hit her account, but even if she could get another project done before the end of the month, it wasn’t going to give her enough money to do first and last month’s rent plus a security deposit on anything bigger than a two-bedroom apartment in Huntingdon, fifty miles away.
Her kids would have to change schools. It would be in the seedy part of town. She wouldn’t know anyone.
Depressed, she bid on three more projects, thinking it’d be really funny if she got them all and couldn’t do them but desperate to cast a wide net and at least get work, closed her laptop, and slipped out of bed.
Her clock said one a.m.
Abner was surely sleeping. She didn’t know, since she’d walked up with her kids after supper and never walked back down. He’d said he wanted to talk to her. Honestly, she wished he’d just go. He didn’t like her, and her attraction to him was exciting, but also annoying. Seeing how good he was with her children and having him help her just made her long for things she was never going to have because of the choices she’d made.
She didn’t have time to deal with a man, and she’d sworn off boyfriends anyway.
Children first.
Grabbing a beanie hat and a hooded sweatshirt and still wearing her jeans and long tee from earlier, she slipped out the front door, not wanting to risk waking Abner up but needing to get some air.
She had no idea what she was going to do, and it was impossible to ignore the ball of fire in her stomach that felt very much like consuming fear.
Slipping around back, she sat in the kids’ swing. There was something about that rocking motion that always seemed to soothe her, and feeling the cool night air, with the darkness hiding most of the daytime distractions, she felt closer to the Lord.
But her heart was too heavy to form words, and how could she ask for His help, anyway? It was her own choices that had gotten her to the mess she was in.
She’d swung back and forth about three times when a shadow by the pole moved.
She gasped.
“Didn’t think you were coming out.” Abner’s voice was deep and low.
Her heart stumbled. “You’ve been waiting?”
“Said I wanted to talk.”
Her hands tightened on the swing chain. She’d wanted to come out and let her guard down for a bit, but instead she needed to marshal her defenses.
“What?” he asked.
She hadn’t said anything and didn’t know what he was asking.
“Why did it look like you turned into a rag doll there for a minute?” He paused. “Hate the idea of talking to me that much?”
She didn’t want to lie. She’d told a big one once, but among her sins, lying wasn’t something she usually struggled with. “It’s not on my Christmas wish list.”
“Oh?” The moon came out from behind low, flat clouds. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What is on your wish list?”
Snapping out that it wasn’t any of his business was what she wanted to do, to protect herself from the sweet longing he stirred in her, but she was too worn out to fight. She didn’t want to anyway. Not with Abner.
“Obviously I need a place to live. But Christmas is too late. That’s the Thanksgiving list.”
“Neat. We get to make lists for Thanksgiving now, too?”
Something told her it’d been just as long since he’d gotten a Christmas gift as it had been for her. He hadn’t had the stress of doing Christmas with small children.
Different choices.
She had to own hers.
“Sure. Why not?” Thanksgiving lists would be just as effective for her as Christmas lists.
“What else?” He hadn’t moved, and she wished he’d look somewhere other than her. The moonlight didn’t allow her to hide.
“I’d like steady work.”
“Who would watch your kids?”
“I do graphic design online.”
“That’s what you were doing tonight?”
“No. I bid on a few jobs and looked for a place to live.”
“Find anything?”
“Not yet. Not around here.” She didn’t want him to feel bad for her and decide he needed to fix it somehow. “I have someone who’s offered me a place to stay. I just haven’t been able to get a hold of him yet.”
He stiffened, and the relaxed air was gone. “Him?”
“A friend.”
“The father of any of your kids?”
“No.”
“A new dad.”
She stood abruptly. It felt like he was judging her. And although she deserved it to some extent, she’d made changes and was trying to stick to them.
“Good night.” She twisted and started walking away.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately.
Her feet stopped. She wanted to keep walking. Needed to. This was always her problem. A sweet-talking man came along, and she gave in and did whatever he wanted. She couldn’t do that anymore. Wouldn’t do it. Maybe Abner was different. Her heart said he was. But she couldn’t trust her heart. It’d been wrong so many times.
She didn’t move.
“That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about. And, you’re right. You don’t have to stay here and take it. It was rude of me.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sensitive. I’m trying to change and I want to look forward, not back.” She didn’t turn around, but she was even less inclined to go. She wanted to believe him.
“I got the feeling there were things I didn’t know or didn’t understand from years ago. I was hoping you would help me.”
“It’s too late now, and it doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
“What do you want to know?” She wanted him to know everything. But she didn’t tru
st him enough, didn’t feel secure enough, knew he already didn’t like her...there wasn’t enough of a bond between them for her to spill her deepest secrets. She didn’t know what he would do with them. The possibility that he would judge her and leave was sharply clear.
“Andrew is the child you told everyone was mine.”
“Yes.”
“Jason is his father.”
“Yes.”
He shifted, like he was uncomfortable. There was no way he could be more uncomfortable than her.
The fence wasn’t much, especially around the side of the lot, but it was at least something to grab a hold of. She turned and walked through the spongy grass, putting a hand on a rickety picket.
She hadn’t heard him follow her, but suddenly, he was there, in front of her, his hand on the picket next to hers and his eyes searching down into her soul.
“We were together, and you were with Jason?” The question was ragged. The pain was real, and it surprised her. So much time had passed, and it still hurt. She’d been the one falling for Abner. She hadn’t believed he’d cared that much about her.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“You were pregnant with his kid.” The picket snapped under his fingers. “How could it not be like that?”
She set her jaw and crossed her arms. “You’re not listening. You’ve already judged me.”
He let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair and turning away from her. “Tell me what it was then, Cora. Make me see.”
Her throat closed, and she fought back the urge to cry. She didn’t have an excuse. She’d been young and stupid, but putting those words out on the air, exposing them to his ridicule and judgment, felt too raw and too hard.
He turned and took both her upper arms in his hands, not gripping hard but a firm grasp. “I’d fallen for you. I’d have done anything for you. But you were sleeping with another man and using me to get to my cousin, then you lied about me on top of it all. How much can a man take?”
He held her arms with all the suppressed energy of tectonic plates with a fraction of an inch left to shift before an earthquake exploded out of the ground.
He looked at the sky, like he wished he hadn’t said anything, dropped his hands, and turned.
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