by Jane Josephs
“Where’s Richie?” he asked, surprised to see that his little brother wasn’t right beside Alison.
“You just missed him. He went to Matt’s,” Ginny said.
Nick shook his head, his temper simmering. Being at Matt’s had caused Richie to miss his curfew repeatedly. Nothing he or Ma did—not grounding him, not giving him extra chores, and certainly not the lectures he had tried—had made him act more responsibly. Not for the first time, Nick questioned why Matt’s house was so appealing. Or did they use his place as a launch pad for other activities?
Ginny interrupted his thoughts. “Can you get out one of our old towels from the closet, please, Nick? Rufus is squeaky clean and smelling great.”
Alison had taken off her jacket and had her hands in the dog’s bath water with Ginny’s. Her eyes were still slightly puffy, but the crying had stopped. Nick breathed a sigh of relief and found the towel. While the women dried the dog, he gathered the tea cups from the table. He purposely kept his glance away from Alison. Her tears made him feel helpless. What could he say? Or do to help ease her sorrow? He wasn’t the cuddly type like Richie. And he certainly wasn’t good with words. But he knew all too well the wrenching grief of losing someone you cared about. Of being denied the chance to say goodbye. Nick turned away, refusing to let the memories in.
Cuddling Rufus in the towel, Alison sat back down at the table. “I bought some scones from the coffee shop for you to try, Ginny. But I left them in the car.”
“I’ll get them,” Nick said. “Did you lock your car?”
“No. Rufus might have sat on the bag, though.” She scrunched up her nose. “Do you think they’re ruined?”
“Not unless the bag broke. In which case, I won’t even bring them in.”
“Thanks, Nick.” She smiled.
With her hair spilling in curls around her shoulders, her pink shirt accentuating her creamy complexion, and Rufus snuggled in her lap, Nick couldn’t breathe for just a moment. Then, with a silent curse, he turned and made his escape to her car. Until he found out what was going on with Alison, Emma—or both of them—and Richie, he had to keep his distance.
~ ~ ~
Wiping her mouth on her napkin, Alison leaned back in her chair and gazed from Ginny to Nick. He had nearly finished his second bowl of Ginny’s chicken corn chowder. “Did you save room for a scone?” Alison asked.
“Sure. Did you?” Nick wiped his mouth and stood to collect the used dishes.
Alison silently groaned. His every move radiated controlled impatience. Since his shower, he had either ignored her or given her pointed looks while she did her best to recover from the morning’s shock. Did he blame her for Eddie’s death? Or think she wasn’t responsible enough to take care of Rufus? Why did he have to be so uncommunicative?
“I can help with these,” Alison said, starting to stand. In her lap, Rufus stirred from his nap and jumped to the floor. “Oh, my gosh, I forgot he was there.”
Ginny laughed. “It looks to me like he may be part Shih Tzu and part terrier. The terriers are great lap dogs. Rufus just found the spot he likes best and made himself at home.”
“I liked it, too.” Lifting Ginny’s bowl in one hand, Alison gathered her own dishes in the other and crossed to the sink where Nick stood running water. She put the dishes on the counter and touched Nick’s back. He started and turned his head to glance at her.
“Thanks for doing dishes,” she said and turned back to Ginny. “Your chowder is amazing. I didn’t realize how hungry I was, so thank you for inviting me to lunch.”
“You’re more than welcome any time. I hope you’re still planning on staying to ride a little. After we try those scones, that is. I don’t have to be at the Shelter until 2:00 so I can watch Rufus while you and Nick take the horses out. I’ll introduce him to my kitten, Kennedy. See how they get along.” She chuckled.
Alison glanced at Nick. He didn’t turn. Did he want to go riding? He’d been sullen at lunch, letting Ginny and her do the talking.
“Well, I don’t want to take up your whole day, but I would love to go riding, if it’s okay with you, Nick?” Maybe if they could have some time alone, she could find out what was eating at him. She looked down at her jeans. “I guess these pants are okay to ride in, aren’t they?”
With the dishes washed and stacked in the rack beside the sink, Nick turned and grabbed a dish towel to wipe his hands. He looked her up and down, his expression grim. “What you’ve got on is fine.” He lifted two apples out of a bowl on the counter. “We should get to it though. I have stuff I should be doing.”
Ginny stood. “Nick!” She crossed to glare up at her son. “If you’re talking about painting the trim on the house, you’re not even done with the scraping. And if it’s waited this long, it can wait another week or two, don’t you think?” She turned to Alison, an apology in her eyes. “We’ll have the scones when you come back, honey. How’s that sound?”
Alison’s smile wavered. Nick’s remarks stung. After last week she thought they were becoming friends. Or at least not enemies any more. What was wrong now? She impulsively hugged Ginny. “Wish me luck.”
Ginny hugged her and stroked her hair. “Just have fun. Rufus will be fine.”
Nick was waiting on the veranda, his back to her. His brash, impatient tone had left her feeling vulnerable and uncertain. Like he wanted to pick a fight instead of go riding. Her emotions already fragile from the morning’s tragedy, Alison walked silently beside him down the path to the barn.
~ ~ ~
Relieved that Alison wasn’t trying to get him to talk, Nick handed her the apple he’d brought for Mae and left her to give one to Sam.
“Don’t I need that lead rope thing?” Alison asked as Nick walked away.
“Just grab Mae by the halter first and then feed her the apple. She’ll come.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her walk away, mentally berating himself for being so surly. But the picture of Alison in Richie’s arms wouldn’t get out of his head. Or the suspicion that there had to be something more to their relationship than that first riding lesson. He huffed out an agitated sigh and walked Sam into the barn. Without bothering to tie him, he went into the tack room, grabbed a couple of bridles and returned in time to see Alison come into the barn with Mae.
He handed her Mae’s bridle. “This is all you’ll need today. We’re riding bareback.”
“What?!” Alison frowned at him. “Why are you doing this? If you don’t want to ride, just say so. I can get out of your way, so you can do your stuff.”
Nick took a deep breath. She looked like she could cry at any minute. And if he made her cry, he’d be in hotter water than he was already. Turning to her, he intentionally tried to soften his tone of voice. “It’s nothing against you or against riding today. It’s just that riding bareback is a good way to work on your posture; for you to get used to using your knees to stay balanced. And to help you stop depending on the saddle horn so much.”
He turned away. “I’ll get a ladder. Just get Mae bridled.” Disappearing in the tack room, he found the ladder. But the voice in his head wouldn’t shut off. He wanted answers— without the embarrassment of having to ask the questions. Why couldn’t he shake off the jealousy gnawing at his gut?
“Here,” he said, placing the ladder next to Mae’s side.
Alison nodded and stepped up onto the ladder. Swinging her leg over Mae’s back, she settled in to the feel of Mae without the support of the saddle, licked her lips, and picked up the reins. Mae started to walk down the corridor. “Whoa, girl.” Alison’s voice caught as she tugged on the reins. Mae took several steps back. “Whoa. Whoa, girl.”
Nick’s voice came from behind her. She looked back. He was already on Sam and moving up beside her.
“Relax,” he ordered. “If you’re too nervous, take ahol
d of her mane. Like this,” he said, grabbing a handful of Sam’s mane. “It doesn’t hurt her. It’s not like a person’s hair.” He dropped Sam’s mane and moved ahead of her into the riding ring.
~ ~ ~
For fifteen minutes, Alison walked Mae behind Nick, her temper growing. He hadn’t spoken, just plodded ahead of her as if she wasn’t even there. Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. She rode Mae up beside him. “What’s going on, Nick? I thought after last week . . . that we . . . well, are you trying to bore me to death walking around this ring? Behind you! Is that your idea of putting me in my place?”
Nick bristled, walking Sam in a circle around her. “What is it you want from me? Learning to ride takes time. You walk before you run.” He pulled Sam to a stop. “I’m not going to rush this thing, and have you fall off on my watch.”
“I’m not asking to run. Not yet, anyway. But last week I got to trot. Now you’ve jerked away the saddle and it feels like I’m starting all over. I wanted to trot, maybe even canter today, but now, I have no saddle. And a control freak for a teacher.”
At Nick’s glare, she reiterated. “Yes, a control freak!”
“I told you what today was about. You’ve got to learn to use your thigh muscles and grip the horse. Learn to balance. Not rely on the stirrups.”
“Do you want to see me fall off? Is that what you want?
“Of course that’s not what I want.”
“Oh sure. Isn’t it? I think that’s just what you want. So you can jump in and be the hero. Make me get back on and try again. Why can’t you be more like Richie? He made everything fun!”
Nick’s eyes flashed daggers. “Oh, yeah? Well, then you can just get Richie to teach you to ride. You two seem to be plenty close anyway. Why not cozy up to a sixteen-year-old boy who’s already half in love with you, and work your magic?”
Alison stiffened. Her heart raced and her stomach cramped. Did he really think so little of her that he thought she would try to seduce Richie? She had never acted inappropriately with him! Richie’s sympathy this morning flashed through her mind. Had Nick interpreted her crying on his brother’s shoulder as anything other than the spontaneous display of grief that it was? The thought made her sick. With a cry she turned Mae toward the barn, urged her through the side entrance and slipped off her back. In a hurry now, she pulled Mae’s bridle off and shooed the horse out into the paddock. When she turned back Nick was standing beside Sam watching her. He said nothing, just stared at her. Ignoring him, she hustled into the tack room, hung up Mae’s bridle and walked back out. Nick hadn’t moved.
He caught her arm as she hurried around him. “Alison, I’m sorry.”
She glanced at his hand then back up to his face. “Take your hand off me.”
He ignored her. “I was out of line.”
“Yes, you were. There’s nothing going on with Richie and me.”
A muscle in his jaw clenched. “I said I’m sorry. I meant it.” Nick let go of her arm and looked away a moment before he looked back at her. “I’ll ask Richie to give you lessons from now on.”
Alison swallowed hard. Just like that, he was dismissing her. Letting his brother take over. Why couldn’t he see how much he was hurting her? Being with Richie wasn’t what she wanted, but what choice did she have? Quit now and she would never see Nick again. He had too much against her. Too much of his own baggage, whatever it was. And by the looks of things he’d never let her in anyway. She sucked in a shaky breath. Her heart in her throat, she stepped away from him, and mouthed, “Okay.” Then she hurried away before he could see her tears.
Chapter 10
Skirting his way around the campfire pit, Nick guided Sam deeper into the woods until he came to a stop next to a box hidden under a camouflaged tarp. He dismounted and pulled the tarp away, opened the lid and took out his arm guard, his recurve bow, and a quiver of arrows. Anger had replaced the sharp thorn of remorse that had pierced him when Alison walked away from him in the barn. He had to be angry. Had to use it to shut out the pain. How else could he go through with talking to Richie?
Nick put on his arm guard and took an arrow out of the quiver. He nocked the arrow, took aim, and released it. Quickly pulling out the next arrow, he repeated the motion several more times, sending arrows flying without waiting to see if he hit the target. He didn’t care. He wanted action; anything to keep him from thinking about what he’d said to Alison.
He emptied his quiver of arrows and dropped the bow to his side. The target was full, most of his arrows close to the bullseye. He strode to the hay bales, pulled out the arrows, and jogged back to his starting line. Setting his feet, he fired another arrow, and another, heedless of anything but the repetitive motions.
Half an hour later, finally feeling his anger draining out of him, he put the equipment away, untied Sam, and led him to the campfire circle. He sat on a log and dropped his head into his hands. The frenzy of exercise had helped, but not enough to completely put his thoughts to rest. What had Alison told Ma when she returned to the house? How could he possibly defend his actions? His temper. Nick sighed. He could hear his mother’s voice. The disappointment, the confusion. She had raised him to treat others as he would want to be treated. What had happened to him? The last few weeks had been a roller coaster of emotions. But one thing was certain, although he didn’t want to admit it. After months of not letting anyone in, he was feeling vulnerable again. Before he could stop them, tears sprang to his eyes. Memories rushed at him. The last night with Carrie before he deployed; the passion of their lovemaking. Her tear-streaked face the next morning when he left her in bed to report to the base. Then her email the first day he finally arrived in Bahrain two weeks later.
Nick crossed to the woodpile, picked up a log, and threw it as hard as he could into the woods. He did the same with another one. And another. But the words Carrie had typed wouldn’t be tossed away. They swam in front of his eyes as if he were just now seeing them. I’m pregnant, she had written, but I can’t go through with it.
Sinking to the ground, Nick drew up his knees to his chest and dropped his forehead on his arms. Nothing he’d said to Carrie had deterred her from her course of action. She’d aborted their baby two weeks later. Nick shuddered. Another woman was not going to hurt him like Carrie had. He’d go to his grave a bachelor before he’d let that happen again.
~ ~ ~
With Rufus on his new leash and her arms full of dog essentials, Alison shoved her security card in her door slot and went into her condo. It was already late afternoon; the shopping having taken her far longer than she expected. Who knew there were so many cute dog toys? At least her new responsibilities had taken her mind off Nick.
Liar.
She put the bags in the kitchen and unhooked Rufus from his leash. Why had she let her temper get away from her with Nick? All he had asked her to do was ride bareback. And then gone silent. Alison sighed, a deep groan of confusion. Why couldn’t Nick admit there was chemistry between them, and give it a chance? At least he had apologized for the remarks about Richie. That counted for something, didn’t it?
Rufus nuzzled her leg. “Just a minute, Rufie.” She found the food Ginny had recommended she buy and poured a small amount in a new dog dish. Next, she filled his new water bowl. Leaving both bowls on the kitchen counter, she rummaged through another bag for the special mat that had designated places for a food bowl and a water bowl.
“Here you go, sweet puppy.” She placed the mat on the floor and brought both bowls to it. Rufus didn’t waste any time. In less than a minute, he finished the food and stared at Alison. “I’m sorry, Rufus. Please don’t look at me like that. Ginny told me that one scoop is all you get for supper.” She shrugged. “Drink your water, then it’s time for a walk.”
But instead of getting his leash, she opened the refrigerator and stared at the half-eaten salad
she’d bought at the deli yesterday. What was Nick having for supper tonight? An ache filled her chest. Remorse swamped her. She needed to apologize to him. Try to explain. But what could she say, really? I can’t stop thinking about you, Nick.
Closing the fridge door, she wandered out to the living room and stared at the view. A few sailboats bobbed on the Bay. Saturday night should be date night. A night for couples to have fun, eat out, go barhopping or dancing, or go to the theater. What would Nick say if she invited him to go with her to the Symphony next week? Alison laughed softly, tears springing to her eyes. Did he like anything besides country music? Did he even like her?
Her phone rang, startling her. Brushing tears off her cheek, she rooted in her purse and pulled it out, surprised to see Richie’s name on the screen.
“Richie! What’s up?”
“I’m downtown in the Gaslamp District. Want to join us?” Background noise at a restaurant made it hard to hear him.
“You’re kidding? What are you doing in town?”
“It’s where it’s happening. Emma’s here, too.”
Alison’s senses went on full alert. What had she done, putting those two together? Neither one of them was twenty-one, and yet it sounded like they were in a bar. This was just what she needed to finish the day—to have to supervise two teenagers. But it was better than having them off alone together. “Where are you? I have to walk Rufus, but that shouldn’t take long. I’ll meet you.” She glanced at her watch. Four-thirty.
Richie’s voice boomed into the phone. “We’re about to walk out . . .” He laughed and lowered his voice. “. . . of a place called Lou and Mickey’s.”
“On 5th Street. I know it. Listen. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Don’t leave that area.”
“K. We’ll tell Matt and Abby to go on without us and wait for you.” Richie hung up.
