by Syndi Powell
He kept her hand on her elbow, and they trudged through the snow to where Beckett had parked the truck. He pressed the automatic button to unlock the doors and had Phoebe get in the truck cab before lifting Andie in his arms. She turned to him, those big brown eyes watching him. He could easily kiss her like this. However, he carefully placed her in the passenger seat and let the moment pass.
Once they were driving back to the inn, Andie yawned widely. “I’m so tired. And yet, I feel like eating breakfast. You?”
He glanced at her. “We could stop at that diner again.” He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “It’s after seven, so they should be open.”
“I know that breakfast is part of the package deal at the inn, but I’d like to stop there, if you don’t mind.” She turned and looked at him, her eyes soft and heavy. “Although maybe you’re tired and would rather get some sleep first.”
His eyes burned with the need for sleep, but he couldn’t risk that again until they returned home. “No, we’ll stop for breakfast now.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded at her, and she settled back into the seat, her good hand scratching Phoebe’s neck. The dog looked up at him as if she could get used to this. He wanted to warn her that they’d both be better off without Andie.
The diner’s open sign was lit as Beckett entered Lake Mildred’s Main Street, so he pulled into the slowly filling parking lot. When they entered the diner, they found a different hostess than the owner’s wife who had greeted them the day before. This young girl led them to an empty table and laid two menus in front of them. Phoebe found a spot under the table and he and Andie looked through their menus. The hostess arrived with a full carafe of coffee, so Beckett turned two mugs over for her, which she filled.
Once they had ordered, Andie sighed as she glanced outside. “I don’t think the snow has stopped since yesterday afternoon.”
“It hasn’t.” He blew on his coffee and took a sip, knowing what direction the conversation was about to take. “You’re thinking we’re stuck here for another night.”
She rested her chin on her good hand. “Don’t you agree?”
“A lot can happen in a few hours. They might clear the highway by this afternoon.” The thought of being stuck another night with Andie made his heart falter. He didn’t know if he could do it. Distance was what he wanted. Distance before he got too attached to Andie and how she looked at him as if he was some kind of a hero. “We should be okay.”
She nodded, but looked as if she hoped he was wrong.
* * *
ANDIE STARED OUT the window as the trees passed by in a blur. Beckett had been right. The roads had been cleared enough for them to return home without having to stay another night. She’d tried to delay their departure, reminding him that they both hadn’t had much sleep the night before. And his had been restless because of his nightmare. Still, they’d returned to the inn and left their keys, getting on the highway after picking up the panes of glass they’d bought from the store. Those glass panels were the whole reason they’d made the road trip, but Andie felt like it had been days since they’d been in the store rather than less than twenty-four hours. So much had changed in that single day.
She glanced at her broken wrist. It still ached though the pain was tolerable without having to take any of the medication the doctor had prescribed. Broken bones aside, the tension between her and Beckett had also changed. Morphed into something akin to attraction. Affection even. She didn’t want their time to end, and yet here she sat in the truck heading back to a life that didn’t have him in it daily. And she really hoped she could have that once they got home.
She looked over at Beckett, who stared blearily out the windshield at the road ahead of them. He seemed as if he could use some rest. Or, at least, a pick-me-up. Noticing a sign for a coffeehouse ahead, she asked, “Could we make a quick stop? I know I could use some caffeine. And you definitely look like you could use some.”
He didn’t say a word, but slowed the truck and took the next exit. He pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop. “I think I’ll stay in the truck.”
“You don’t want to come in?”
He shook his head. “I want to go home.”
Disappointment flooded her. She’d wished that he would want to keep their time together going along. To maybe explore what it was they were feeling. Obviously, she was the only one who thought the looks and almost kisses had meant more.
She opened the passenger side door and stepped down, taking her purse with her inside the coffee shop. She ordered them coffees, his black and hers with all the sugar and creams they could put in before it became something other than coffee. Thank goodness the cookies from the Sweetheart bakery were still in the backseat to give them the sugar needed to stay awake for the rest of their trip home.
When she got back to the truck, she found Beckett returning from a walk with Phoebe. He pressed the button to unlock the doors, then took the tray of coffees from her. “You didn’t need to get me anything.”
“I know, but I wanted to. It’s my way of saying thank you for all you’ve done for me this weekend.”
He gave a noise as if he didn’t believe her. “Are you thanking me for the part where I got us stranded up north? Or how you had to break into my room to wake me up and hurt your wrist in the process?”
She stared at him, amazed that he had that kind of ego. “You’re taking the blame for not only my wrist but the weather, as well?”
“It was stupid of me not to have kept an eye on the weather while we were shopping for glass.”
“I could have checked as well, but the report I saw said the storm would pass south of us. We were heading north, so I thought we were safe.”
He shook his head as if she didn’t understand the importance of what he was saying. “I’m the driver. I should have known. Should have prepared for the possibility.”
“Do you have a direct line to the weather gods for such updates? It must be nice. But we mere mortals don’t.”
He made a noise and glanced away from her. “Don’t try to downplay what happened.”
“Then don’t you try to take the blame either.”
He turned back to her, his ice-blue eyes warming into a hot flame of anger. “You got hurt.”
She cradled the cast with her other hand. “Because of my own clumsy mistakes, not yours.”
“You broke it when you were trying to help me.”
“I could have gone to get a spare key, but instead I thought I was strong enough to break down the door by myself.” She thought about her words. “I was pretty strong, wasn’t I?”
“Don’t try to belittle what happened.”
“Then don’t blow it out of proportion.”
He stayed silent for a moment, turned and got into the truck, taking Phoebe with him on the driver’s side. Well, then. Nice conversation. She opened the passenger side door and used her good hand to pull herself into the cab.
They drove for a while, but she couldn’t let this go. “Your huge ego can’t handle it when life doesn’t go the way you planned, can it?”
“Are you psychoanalyzing me now?”
She turned in the seat to face him. “Why are you pushing me away?”
“I’m not.”
All evidence to the contrary. “The closer we get to home, the quieter you get. What are you so afraid of?”
He kept his gaze out the front windshield. “Drop it, Andie.”
“No. I need to know that when we get back home, you’re not going to pretend that nothing changed this weekend. Because we both know it did. And that’s what’s scaring you. Not that I got hurt, but that you let me get close.”
“Please stop.”
She wanted him to understand that things like what happened this weekend weren’t normal for her. She rarely got caught up in her emotions, but s
he’d done just that. “I think something special could happen between us, but not if you’re going to shut me out before anything has started.”
“Nothing can happen.”
“Why not?”
“It just can’t.”
He looked over at her, his eyes stricken with fear and something else she couldn’t identify. Grief maybe, which didn’t make sense. She was still here. And she would be here for him, if he’d let her. Didn’t he realize that?
The truck swerved on a patch of ice, and Beckett returned his attention to the road. Because of their safety, Andie let the conversation drop. She didn’t need to upset Beckett and have them end up in a ditch.
The rest of the drive was spent in uncomfortable silence. When they finally reached her apartment complex, Beckett parked the truck and walked around to help her down, retrieved her cooler and tote bag from behind the seat. In silence, he followed her to her front door and waited as she found her key. Once inside her condo, he placed her possessions on the kitchen counter and turned to leave. “Beckett,” she called after him.
He stopped in the doorway, but didn’t face her. “I don’t do relationships, Andie. Not anymore. And you deserve someone who does.”
Then he walked out, shutting the door behind him. Andie stood in her living room, feeling as if he might as well have shut the door on any future they might have had.
CHAPTER NINE
BECKETT PULLED UP in front of the Thorpes’ home and idled the engine for a moment before shutting off the truck. He’d hated to leave Andie that way. Hadn’t wanted to say what he did, but she had to know that they had no future despite what she might have thought. It wouldn’t be fair to her to give her false hope.
Russ met him at the front door before he had a chance to knock on it. “I was expecting you last night, son.”
“We got snowed in.”
The older man nodded and opened the door wider for Beckett to step inside. “I saw the weather reports and figured that’s what had happened.” He rubbed his hands together. “So what did you find?”
Beckett grinned at the older man’s enthusiasm. “It’s in the back of my truck. Care to help me bring it all in?”
“Nothing I’d like better.”
Between the two men, it took two trips for them to transfer the carefully wrapped panels of glass and lay them on the worktable in the basement. Russ started to peel back the Bubble Wrap of one package and gave a whistle. “You gotta love catspaw glass. This will be perfect for the waves.”
“That’s what we thought.”
Russ unwrapped the other pieces, commenting on each. “You have a good eye for glass.”
“It was all Andie. She knows more about this kind of stuff than I do.”
“Speaking of Andie, why didn’t she come with you?” When Beckett didn’t say anything, Russ asked, “Did something happen between you two?”
Beckett tried to find the right words, but he wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it. His relationship with Andie had shifted in the couple days they’d had together. It had been like stepping into a different reality up north, but now that they’d returned home, they had to face the truth. While Beckett was attracted to her, he couldn’t pursue a relationship with her. He wouldn’t. He settled on telling Russ a partial truth. “She broke her wrist, and it’s in a cast.”
Russ frowned as he stowed the glass on the shelves along with the pieces of the window. “How did she do that? Slip on the ice?”
If only that had been the case. “She broke the door down to my room and fell on her wrist.”
“Poor girl.” Russ paused, but made a face as if he didn’t understand. “Why did she have to break into your room? Did you get locked out?”
“I was having a nightmare.”
Russ nodded, but didn’t say anything more. The two men instead discussed the plans for the week. Without Andie’s help, it would be up to Beckett to work on the window under Russ’s tutelage. It would slow down their progress, but it couldn’t be helped. Once they agreed to meet Tuesday night, Beckett sighed. “Guess I’ll be going, then.”
“You have a minute? There’s something else I’d like to talk to you about.”
Beckett wanted to groan. Didn’t anyone understand that he wasn’t much for talking? That he much preferred to keep to himself. Talking didn’t resolve much in his opinion. It only stirred up messy feelings. But he gave a nod. “What about?”
Russ pulled a picture from a shelf behind the worktable and handed it to him. Beckett could pick out a younger version of the man who stood next to him. “Did I tell you that I was a POW?” Russ didn’t give Beckett a chance to answer, but kept talking. “By the time we were liberated, I weighed a mere ninety-five pounds.” Russ placed a hand on his hefty midsection. “I know it’s hard to imagine that now, but I was a bag of bones then.”
“How did you survive that?”
“How did you survive what you did? You do what you have to do to get the chance to go home.” Russ put a hand on Beckett’s shoulder. “But just because we came home doesn’t mean that what happened over there didn’t follow us back.”
“You had nightmares?”
Russ’s serious expression relaxed. “Still do, but thankfully they are rare. The only thing that got rid of mine was time passing. I tried avoiding talking about it. Didn’t work. I tried talking about it. It helped some but not enough.” He shook his head. “I even tried drinking the memories away, but that failed. Even worse than anything else.”
“For me, drinking usually brings up the memories.” Beckett ran a hand through his short bristly hair. “Nothing helps.”
Phoebe whined from the corner where she’d been resting on an old armchair and came to stand by him, staring up at him. Beckett gave a shrug. “I thought getting a therapy dog would stop the dreams, but nothing does. I keep telling my therapist that I can’t keep living like this. I can’t be afraid to fall asleep every night.”
Russ removed his hand from Beckett’s shoulder. “I understand, son, but hear me when I say that time will heal what’s broken. It’s not a quick fix by any means, but don’t despair because it hasn’t happened yet.”
The thought of facing many years of feeling as he did made him understand why he’d lost more of his fellow soldiers after coming home than he had while fighting overseas. “My best friend, Ruggirello...” His voice broke, and he paused before continuing, “He killed himself because he couldn’t live with the pain and the memories anymore.” He cleared his throat even as his eyes burned, so he closed them. “He left a wife and two kids. And I can’t stop thinking I could have stopped him. I should’ve known. I should’ve heard it in his voice.” He opened his eyes and looked at Russ. “I should have stopped him.”
“Did he tell you that he was thinking of suicide?”
Beckett shook his head. He’d gone over his last conversation with Ruggirello, trying to find clues of what his friend had been thinking. But not knowing didn’t exonerate him from fault. “I was his best friend. How could I have not known?”
“Was he able to read your mind? Did he know what you were thinking every minute of every day?”
That was ridiculous. No one knew what Beckett was thinking all the time. Most of the time, he didn’t know himself. “No, he couldn’t know.” Russ didn’t say a word but held his hands palms up. Beckett shook his head. “That’s not a good enough answer. He’s dead, and I didn’t see it coming. I should have.”
“Why you? Why not his wife? His doctor?”
He couldn’t accept that. Buddies told each other everything. Ruggirello could have told him that his situation was getting desperate. He could have told him, and Beckett would have found a way to help his friend. But he had to live every day with the knowledge that he had done nothing. “You just don’t get it, Russ.”
“So explain it to me.”
Russ couldn�
��t understand. Not that Beckett did, but he had a better insight into his relationship with Ruggirello. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can. Just tell me what keeps your nightmares coming back.” Russ took a step closer to Beckett. “What do you dream about?”
Beckett shook his head even more. He couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t say it. Russ took another step toward him. “What do you see before you wake up?”
“He saved my life, but I couldn’t save his!”
The words hung in the air. Beckett had said them aloud, and there was no way to take them back now. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Saying them had released the tightness in his chest. Had loosened the vise that squeezed his neck. He took a deep breath. “Why couldn’t I save him?”
Beckett crouched, dropping to his knees and burying his face into Phoebe’s fur. Russ put his hand on his shoulder. “Unfortunately, we can’t save everyone. Some don’t want to be.”
Had Ruggirello given up to the point where he hadn’t wanted to be saved? Is that why he hadn’t said a word? “He had so much to live for.”
“And so do you, son. Don’t you forget that.” Russ paused again. “I know you don’t like talking, but there’s a group of us veterans that meet once a month at someone’s house. We take turns hosting, and my turn is in a couple of weeks. Would you like to join us?”
More talking about things he couldn’t change? Or hearing memories of war that others shared? “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Because you’re assuming we’ll make you talk about what happened over there? First of all, no one talks that doesn’t want to. Period. Second of all, we don’t discuss what happened during our service. Most of the time, we just eat and talk about nothing important. It actually helps.”
Beckett looked up at Russ. “I don’t do well with groups of people.”
“Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”
* * *
CASSIE STOPPED BY Andie’s apartment, bringing John with her as well as a caramel apple pie that John’s mother had baked. “You missed Sunday dinner, but there’s no reason to miss out on dessert,” Cassie said as she breezed through the door.
