Only When I Sleep

by E V Lind

  “On a cold day in Hell,” he replied and tugged her toward the truck.

  Once she was in, he limped around to the driver’s side and climbed into the cab before backing the truck into a nearby driveway and then heading back toward Riverbend. Beth made herself as small as possible against the door of the truck, cowering away from him as he leaned over to press the lock.

  “Don’t want you falling out or anything,” he commented, his tone wry.

  She didn’t say a word in response but he couldn’t mistake the tremors that shuddered through her body. He fiddled with the truck’s heating panel and sent up a silent prayer of thanks when it wheezed into life. A small but sharp pang of remorse pierced him. He’d been rough with her, but he’d had reason. The way she’d left his mom’s was far too secretive for his liking.

  The windows of the truck steamed up with the heat of their wet bodies. He cursed under his breath. He could think of better things to be doing to steam up some windows rather than dragging a reluctant thief back to his mom’s. Maybe now that he was mobile again he could take a weekend out of town and avail himself of some female company. God only knew he needed it if struggling with a scrawny thief could raise a hard on.

  Beth all but tumbled out of the truck when they pulled up outside the Stop A While Café and he hooked her elbow with one hand and escorted her inside. Mary-Ann looked up from where she was working the register, an expression of surprise and concern in her soft brown eyes. After dealing with her customer, she bustled out from around the counter and put a hand out to Beth.

  “Honey, you look terrible. Is everything okay? And look at you, you’re drenched again!”

  Beth didn’t speak. He supposed it was better than an out and out lie. He nudged Beth toward his mother.

  “Tell her what you did.”

  Still Beth remained silent, her eyes downcast and those tremors continually racking her slight frame.

  “Beth, honey? What’s he talking about?”

  “Check the register, Ma.”

  “Ryan! Seriously, what are you suggesting?”

  “Just check it. Tally up the receipts, okay.”

  “But I don’t do that until close of business.”

  “Ma, please.”

  His mom shot him a look of frustration and disbelief but then did as he bid and went behind the register to empty the trays into a canvas bag and print off the duplicate receipts for the day.

  “Come with me,” she said, her tone making it abundantly clear that she was none too impressed to be ordered about by her son as she led them both to the small office at the back of the kitchen.

  The other staff in the kitchen looked up in surprise but held their tongues and one glare from Ryan was all it took to send them back to their respective roles. Inside the office, Mary-Ann shut and locked the door and after dumping the cash bag on the desk she turned and eyeballed her son, her hands firmly on her hips.

  “Do you mind telling me what this is about?”

  “I found her hiding out on the coast road. I believe she’s stolen from you and that she was running away.”

  God, when he said the words, even though he believed them right down the soles of his boots, they sounded pathetically weak. What proof did he have, aside from a bad feeling about Beth whatever-her-last-name-was? Well, they were about to find that proof out.

  “So, you forced her back here? Ryan, what the hell were you thinking?”

  “Just check the money, Ma.”

  He leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. With a long-suffering sigh, his mother separated the bills into their respective denominations and began to count, then counted the coins as well.

  After a few minutes she banded off the wads of bills and put the coins in a bag, added up her receipts and noted her tallies on a sheet of paper.

  “Well?” he demanded, his voice a little rough.

  “Well what?”

  “Is it all there?”

  “Of course, it is.”

  “You’re not lying to me to cover up for her, are you?”

  “Ryan Jonathon Jones, you stop that right now!” Mary-Ann pushed up from her seat, sending the chair spinning back into the wall behind her. “I might have been taken advantage of a time or two in the past but you’ve completely overstepped the mark in this instance. You apologize to this young lady right now.”

  Ryan felt an uncomfortable heat prickle up the back of his neck. He turned to the young woman cowering in the corner.

  “If you didn’t steal the money, why were you running away?”

  “Probably to get away from you, you brute. Heavens, sometimes I wonder how I ever raised a son like you.” Mary-Ann’s exasperation was loud and clear in the tiny office. But then her voice softened. “I know you’re only trying to protect me, son, but I can manage on my own. I’ve had to, remember?”

  Ryan briefly closed his eyes. Yeah, he remembered. His dad had died suddenly of a heart attack during Ryan’s second to last tour and his mom had been coping on her own ever since. He had a lot of making up to do for not being here when she needed him most. For not protecting her from the liars and the thieves who took advantage of her generous nature and stole from her the moment her back was turned. She always said it didn’t matter, but he’d seen her face when she’d been let down by some random person yet again. Each time it happened it took a fragment of her heart and he’d be damned if he’d let that continue. She deserved better than that.

  “It still doesn’t answer my question.” He turned to Beth. “Why were you running away?”

  *

  Beth felt dizzy with a heady combination of both fear and relief. She knew she hadn’t stolen from Mary-Ann. Why would she? She had her own money, such as it was, still hidden in her coat lining, but who knew what she’d be driven to do when that ran out. Would she take a chance and steal from someone else further down the road, someone just as sweet and generous as Mary-Ann? She couldn’t categorically say no.

  The altercation with Ryan had left her shaken and frightened—forcibly made aware of her own frailty and vulnerability. His intention hadn’t been to harm her or, worse, have any sexual interest in her—another shudder ran through her body, this time making her teeth chatter in her head—but she sure as hell wished she’d managed to stay out of his line of sight. He was too big, too strong and way too intimidating. Every cell in her body went on high alert when he was around—it was exhausting. The entire length of the country wouldn’t be enough distance from him.

  “Oh, for goodness sake, you’ve frightened the poor girl into a state of shock.” Mary-Ann came out from behind the desk and guided Beth to sit in a chair in front of her desk. “Ryan, go into the kitchen and get Beth a cup of hot tea, and make it sweet. Quickly, now.”

  He held his ground for a moment, still awaiting his answer from Beth but a speaking look from his mother drove him to unlock the door and go into the kitchen. The second the door was closed behind him, Mary-Ann locked it again.

  “He’s not allowed back in unless you say he can,” she reassured Beth. “Are you okay?”

  Mary-Ann’s undemanding concern was Beth’s undoing. Tears welled in her eyes and began to track uncontrollably down her cheeks.

  “Ah hon. I swear I’m going to flay that boy if he’s hurt you.”

  Strong arms closed around her in a hug and Beth stiffened for a moment, but Mary-Ann wouldn’t let her go and eventually Beth allowed herself to sink into the softness of the other woman’s comforting embrace.

  “I-I just wanted to keep going,” Beth whispered through her tears.

  “What are you hiding from, Beth?”

  Gentle fingers pushed her lank hair away from her face, exposing her damaged cheek.

  “Or should I say, who? Is it the person who did this?”

  She didn’t dare speak. Instead, she tried to pull away, but Mary-Ann wasn’t having any of it.

  “Fine, honey, you keep your secrets. But just know that if, or when, you’re ready to t
alk, I’m here if you need me. Now, you’ll be safe enough if you stop here another night, or even several nights. It’s up to you. I know you probably feel like you need to keep moving, I get that, but trust me. We can keep you safe here. I promise.”

  The older woman’s words were soothing but Beth found them hard to believe. These people didn’t know what Dan was capable of. She did. Just as she knew that once crossed, he’d do whatever it took to set things straight in the twisted and convoluted Stygian maze of his mind.

  There was a loud rap at the door and Beth all but jumped out of her skin. Mary-Ann tsked in exasperation.

  “That boy, sometimes I wonder what happened to the sensitive child I used to know. The Army has a lot to answer for—in more ways than one.”

  She got up and opened the door a crack, putting a hand out for the mug of hot tea she’d instructed Ryan to make. Beth heard his protest as his mother thanked him and went to close the door in his face.

  “No, son. Not now. You can make your apology in a minute but just give us some time alone, okay?”

  The answering rumble was anything but amenable but it seemed Mary-Ann was quite capable of getting her way with her son—no matter how big and strong and bullish he was with everyone else. Beth watched as Mary-Ann came toward her again and brought her the tea. She took a sip. It was hot and sweet and exactly what she needed right now.

  “Now, I’d like you to listen to me for a bit. Just listen. I’m not going to force you to do anything against your will but I really don’t want to see you heading out there without more behind you. By more, I mean support—money, food, clothing. Someone to call if anything goes wrong. I can take care of those things for you, if you’ll let me.”

  Beth didn’t respond when Mary-Ann paused for breath and she felt a pang of guilt when the older woman sighed.

  “I don’t know what you’re running from but I reckon it must be pretty bad. You’re as panicky as a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs and the way you jump at noises leads me to believe that you’ve had it pretty rough, am I right?”

  Beth inclined her head ever so slightly and wondered when Mary-Ann would get on the subject of how she’d received the healing wounds on her face. She was surprised when Mary-Ann said nothing about them but instead reached out to take Beth’s free hand in hers and squeezed it gently.

  “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through or what it must be like to be as afraid as you are, but I do know how to provide for people when they let me. Now, there’s a house on the farm that is unused at the moment. I know Ryan’s concerned it will eventually become a target for squatters or vagrants or even just bored teenagers with nothing better to do than smoke pot and hook up with their girlfriends.

  “Aggie MacDonald, who used to live there, moved out six months ago, after she broke her leg, and she won’t be going back. She’s been admitted to the dementia unit at the local hospital. What with Ryan being away with the Army and all, and me busy with the café, we got a little behind on maintenance on the property so it’s a bit run down and it is old-fashioned inside, but it’s sound and it’s furnished and, like you, it really needs someone.”

  Beth looked up. What was Mary-Ann leading up to? Was she suggesting Beth stay here in Riverbend and live in the empty house?

  “What we need is someone who can sort through what’s inside the place and pack away Aggie’s personal effects. She has no family who can do that for her. Eventually Ryan will put one of his farm staff in the house but there’s some work to be done on the place before he can do that. Plus, I still need a waitress to fill in when Julie leaves at the end of this week.”

  “Are you asking me to do that?” Beth’s voice was broken and rusty and a tremor of fear at the idea of settling and staying in one place so soon made anxiety clutch at her chest.

  “Would you at least consider it? I can take you out to the house tomorrow. We can assess it together and you can make your mind up then.”

  Beth started to shake her head but Mary-Ann squeezed her hand, more firmly this time.

  “I know you don’t know us and I know your experience with old lug head out there hasn’t exactly been ideal, but we look after our own. We can look after you, Beth, if you’ll let us. Surely you can hide here as well as anywhere else? At least think about it overnight and give me your decision in the morning.” Mary-Ann got up from her seat and went to the office door. “Finish your tea, then go on upstairs. I’ll be up in about ten minutes and we can talk some more, okay?”

  Beth found herself nodding in agreement and the moment the door was closed, her mind turned to what Mary-Ann had said. The offer sounded too good to be true and, in Beth’s experience at least, when something sounded too good to be true, it generally was. She got up and paced the small office, holding the mug of tea with both hands and taking the occasional sip. A house to live in and a job. She’d be crazy to turn it down, wouldn’t she? She let one hand drop to her belly, to the secret she held there. Would they be safe here in this sleepy town far from anywhere and anyone who knew her?

  THIRTEEN

  Ryan watched from a seat at the counter of the café as his mother shepherded her little chick upstairs to her apartment. So, Beth hadn’t stolen any money. He still didn’t trust her. He watched the door to the staircase, waiting for one or both of them to show and was just on the verge of heading upstairs himself when his mom came back into the café. She marched straight up to him and sat on an empty stool next to his.

  “What were you thinking?” she demanded.

  He put both hands in the air in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t shoot. I was looking out for you, is all.”

  “You terrified her. She’s only barely stopped shaking now.”

  “It was cold out,” he said flatly, his hand curled around the mug of coffee he’d ordered.

  Man, he’d do anything for a shot of whiskey right now but the way he was feeling he knew that one would lead to two, two would lead to three and it wouldn’t matter how many came after that—he’d never find the oblivion he sought. He lifted the mug to his mouth and took a long swallow of the now cold brew.

  “I think we should let her live in the old MacDonald place.”

  Coffee spurted from his lips—at least what coffee that wasn’t currently locked in his paralyzed throat as he choked on his mother’s words. Mary-Ann thumped him on the back.

  “You’re kidding me,” he eventually wheezed.

  “I kid you not, son. She needs a place to stay. We need someone who can live in and clean up the property.”

  “Not her.”

  Mary-Ann huffed a deep sigh. “What is it about her that scares you, Ryan?”

  “Scares me?” he laughed. It was a cynical sound, distinctly lacking in warmth or humor.

  “Yes, scares you. From the moment we laid eyes on her you’ve been anti. What gives?”

  “I don’t trust her. The last thing we, you,” he corrected himself, “need is someone like that around.”

  “Like what, exactly? Frightened? Vulnerable? Needing help?”

  Shit, he was treading on shaky ground now judging by the tone in his mom’s voice.

  “She’ll bring trouble. The threads of it hang around her like a cloud. Don’t you see them?”

  He knew he’d gone too far the second he saw his mother’s face wreathed by a happy grin. “So, you finally admit you have a talent. Good.”

  “I have instincts, Ma, same as anyone else.”

  “Talent,” she insisted. “And you’re right. There is a darkness knotted around her but maybe we can help her break free of it. Maybe she just needs a second chance. I think we should give it to her, don’t you?”

  A second chance? Hell, what he wouldn’t give for one of those. If he had a second chance, his patrol wouldn’t have ended the way it did. He’d have obeyed his screaming senses instead of allowing himself and his men to be distracted by playing soccer with a bunch of kids on the side of the road—kids who’d been an unwitting decoy for the suicide bomber w
ho’d lain in wait for them. You didn’t get second chances in an environment like that. Some people barely even got first ones, like the new guy—still wet behind the ears—who’d joined their unit only a week before.

  “Ryan?”

  His mother’s hand was warm and comforting on his arm but he struggled to accept her comfort. He didn’t deserve it. Not when he’d let his guys down.

  “Honey, I need a waitress. She’s prepared to do it and we can let her stay in the MacDonald place. Two birds with one stone.”

  “Why did you bother asking me if it was all organized already?”

  “I told her your acceptance of the idea would seal it. If you’re not happy about it, she’s hitting the road.”

  Ryan fought the urge to punch the air and yell—hell, no, I’m not happy, let’s send her on her way! But for some weird reason this was important to his mom. He didn’t understand why she was fighting so hard for this woman. Sure, she’d sheltered wounded chicks before, but only briefly—she’d never encouraged them to stay. Why this one? Why now?

  It would be up to him to keep an eye on her. The MacDonald place formed part of his property. Years ago, his grandfather had given the MacDonald family the right to reside in the old house for life. Rumors had it that he was still hoping Mrs. MacDonald’s older daughter, Lizzie, would return one day. The last of the MacDonalds, Aggie, had been forced to move out six months ago. He still remembered going to the house to check on her when he’d noticed no lights on inside. Finding no sign of her indoors he’d checked outside and eventually located her under the old shed out back, a structure that had collapsed from age and disuse. She’d been there half the day—semi-conscious, bleeding and in pain from a compound fracture. It was a miracle she’d survived at all. The shock had left her more frail and fey than she’d ever been—and that was saying something.

  The property had been vacant for too long and its location, just back from the road, and well out of view of the main house, would make it a prime target for vandalism and vagrants once it became more and more obvious that no one lived there. He’d been meaning to have the place cleaned up and modernized since he got back. His farm manager, Steve, and his wife were expecting a second baby in the New Year and would probably jump at the chance of a place bigger than the two-bedroom cottage they currently used. So, sure, it would be good to have someone living there and doing some of the necessary work—but Beth? She didn’t look as if she had the strength to swat a blowfly let alone do what needed to be done to make the house livable inside. The dust bunnies alone would slay her.