by Kay Stockham
SHELBY SAT in her darkened living room when she heard the squeal of tires and a low thump. She set the cup of tea aside and got up to look out the window, barely catching sight of the vehicle crawling along before it took off with a rev of the motor. What had they hit? The steady rain obscured any sign of movement by the road.
It wasn’t the first time an animal had been injured in or near her yard. With all the deer, rabbits, raccoons and forest creatures, it was inevitable that something was hurt or killed. It was probably one of them. Which meant another burial. She couldn’t stand to see them lying there day after day.
Better hope it’s not Biggun.
Her stomach clenched. What if it was? She hadn’t seen him this evening when she’d filled his food bowl. He could have been on his way home. Was that the thump she’d heard?
Shelby searched for the flashlight. If nothing else it would distract her from thinking about what her father said regarding Luke. What if he took the job and went back to California? It’s what you wanted.
But was it? Really? Her father’s words had hit home. She’d always known that despite their differences, her parents loved each other. Maybe with Bennington gone, they’d make it this time. Who knew? They hadn’t dated or married anyone else in all the years they were apart. Deep down, she knew they loved each other, screwups and all.
Shelby grabbed a jacket off the hook by the door, hurrying out into the rain. She dodged mud puddles as she walked around the side of the house and down the driveway. “Biggun?” She whistled softly. But the only sound she heard was the rain on her roofs and the creek rushing down the mountain.
Then she saw it. Shelby’s breath froze in her lungs when she saw the fawn lying beside the ditch where she’d wrecked. The force of the impact had knocked the baby deer clear across the divide and into her yard. It wasn’t moving.
Chest hurting, she knelt beside it and put her hand on its tiny form. Dead. Shelby gulped in air, unable to get enough. Anyone who lived in the country knew this was a fact of life. It happened all the time. But the little fawn…it was so tiny. Still spotted and soft and small. Rain swept into Shelby’s eyes and stung and even though she told herself to wait, to let her father bury the deer tomorrow morning, she couldn’t leave it there. It wasn’t more than a week old, maybe not even a few days old. She could carry it.
Shelby ignored the sickening twist of her stomach and lifted the baby deer in her arms. It was all legs, no weight, and she sludged through the mud of her yard, down to the shed in back. The coons and rabbits and feral cats were buried in the field away from the house. But the big pine tree in back of the shed already shaded Rascal, her longtime pet feline who’d had to be put down not long after she’d moved in, and it could shade one tiny deer.
Shelby picked a spot, retrieved the shovel and set to work. The rain-softened ground made it easy. The fawn was so small it didn’t need a big grave, but before she had a hole dug, her back ached, she felt blisters on her hands and every inhalation was a struggle.
She finally tossed the shovel aside and placed the fawn into the grave, her chest so tight and full she could only take shallow breaths. “There you go. Nice and snug.” Thunder rolled in the distance and the wind and rain picked up, cold where it hit her cheeks. Shelby ran her hand over the rain-slicked fur of the animal’s neck, then set to work with the shovel again, every movement quicker than the last because she couldn’t stand the sight of it, half-covered in mud.
Deer were considered stupid animals but would the mother miss it? Feel its loss? She hadn’t felt the baby move but—
Shelby shut down her thoughts but it was too late. The pain came, fast, stabbing, stealing what was left of her breath. When the last shovel of dirt was in place, she turned to go back to the house and the soothing tea she’d left behind, but along the way the light from her flashlight caught a gleam of red.
Nick had towed her car up the driveway to the house so that he could rush to the hospital. He’d put it behind the shed where it still sat. Luke had just recently told her that Nick would be by to get the vehicle and take it for scrap parts but right now, the bright red Beemer mocked her, visible from beneath the tarp.
Shelby stared, uncaring that the rain beat down and soaked her hair and coat, ignoring the thunder blooming louder, closer. Wind tore through the trees around her, but the storm was nothing compared to the one that raged within her. How could this happen? Why?
Unbidden, her shaky legs carried her toward the carport where she pulled the canvas off the hood, off the car entirely. Fifteen years old, the impact had totaled the vehicle. But as she stared at that bright red paint, a different kind of red appeared in her mind. Red on white linen, on white leather seats.
She didn’t remember dropping the flashlight or lifting the shovel, but as another big boom exploded overhead and the skies opened up, she hit the car as hard as she could. Her hands went numb when the handle vibrated from the blow but she did it again. And again. Again.
What did it matter? The car was ruined. A gift from the man who’d never wanted her enough to claim her. Zacharias Bennington’s dirty little secret. Now he was dead. But what happened to men who never cared about their children?
What happened to women who said they didn’t want them?
She moaned, the sound raw. She’d said that. She’d actually said that about her baby. Her baby.
Shelby staggered and stared over to where the fawn lay in the too-small grave. Images flashed through her head. That night in June, her wedding day, the trip to California. The bright spot of red.
The baby was gone. Luke was gone. Gone, because she hadn’t wanted it. Gone, because she’d pushed Luke away and because she was too afraid to hope and dream and trust. She stared at the car, at her ruined dreams, her father’s words echoing in her head. “What did I do?” Her chest squeezed tighter, harder. “What did I say?”
She closed her eyes, the pain too much, ripping her apart, shattering her from the inside. “Oh, God, why. Why?” She choked on the rain, the words, anger surging through her so strong, so swift, she lifted the shovel over her head again and hit the car with every ounce of strength she possessed. The side mirror cracked on the first blow, broke on the second. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t! I want my baby. I want my baby!Please, give it back. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry! Please, please, give it back!”
The mirror fell to the side of the car and hung there—like the limp head of the baby deer. Sliding in the mud, she struggled to plant her feet and lift the shovel again, her arms shaking. “I want my promises. I want all of them! I want my baby, and I want L-Luke. I want our marriage!” She hit the door, wishing and praying and hoping for the impossible. “I want my husband,” she sobbed. “Please, God, I want my promise back. I want them back, please, please, please give them back!”
Strong arms surrounded her and tried to pull the shovel from her numb hands. Shelby screamed and fought for control. “No!”
“Shelby, stop!” Her father’s voice was choked and hoarse. “Honey, please, let go. It’s all right. Shelby-girl, it’s all right. It’s going to be all right.”
Her father’s crooning voice released the remaining flood inside her. She turned in his arms, pressed her face against his chest and sobbed. “Dad. Dad, help me. I screwed up. I screwed up so bad.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got you now. Shh…”
“Why did I do it? Why did I say those things?” She gripped her father’s shirt until her fingers hurt. “I don’t want him to go. I don’t want Luke to leave.” She sobbed the words, huddled in her father’s arms.
Another arm surrounded her, and Shelby smelled her mother’s perfume.
“Oh, baby. If you don’t want Luke to leave, tell him. It’s not too late for you to tell Luke how you feel.”
Shelby choked on a laugh when she lifted her head and saw her mother standing in the mud in three-inch heels and her hair plastered to her face despite the umbrella Pat tried to hold over all three of them. Her family, there w
hen she’d needed them most. “But…I don’t know where he is.”
Her dad kissed the top of her head. “You don’t, but I do.”
PEOPLE STARED as Shelby walked through the Old Coyote, but she didn’t care. She’d seen Luke’s dark head the moment she’d stepped through the door, her parents at her back. Finally she made it to the table where Luke sat and he glanced up, his eyes widening when he saw the state she was in, soaking wet, covered in mud and a smudge of the baby deer’s blood on her coat. She didn’t care. Some things were more important.
“Shelby? What happened?”
“Luke, is there a problem?” the man with him asked.
“I changed my mind.” Her words came out choked and thick and tears immediately filled her eyes. Now that she’d started crying it appeared she couldn’t stop the flood. Some might think she was having a breakdown but she knew she was simply discovering twenty-eight years of pent-up emotion, locked away inside of her.
Luke stiffened at the sight, stood, but for once in her life Shelby didn’t try to hide what she felt. They were tears for him, for them. Because she cared. Because she—
“About what?”
“My promise.” The words emerged raspy and low, and Luke had to bend closer to hear her. “I want it,” she continued. “You gave it to me and you have to keep it. You have to because I trust you and I—I—” She gulped. “I don’t want you to go.”
Luke’s blue gaze sharpened and burned. “Why don’t you want me to go?”
Because she loved him. Because she didn’t want to spend her life wishing she’d been brave enough to fight for what she wanted. Because he was sweet and sexy and tender and knew exactly how to push her buttons and drive her nuts, and because she needed him to keep her grounded. But how could she say all that?
“Because…I love you,” she said simply. “I couldn’t say it before because I thought I didn’t believe in it or want it but I do. I want you, I need you. Please don’t go.” She used her dirty sleeve to wipe her face, but more tears trickled down her cheeks as she waited for him to respond.
Shelby heard murmurs behind her, felt the heat of bodies crowding close behind her in an attempt to hear her words, but she kept her gaze on Luke, waiting for his reaction. Was she too late?
His expression dark, tense, Luke stepped closer. Without a word, he cradled her face in his hands and lowered his head, kissing her until her body warmed from the inside out and her toes curled in her soggy shoes. The crowd erupted around them, catcalls and whistles, applause. But then everything faded when the kiss went on and she didn’t care what they thought, didn’t care that she’d made a scene. By the time Luke let her come up for air, all she could do was hold on to him.
“I love you,” he murmured against her lips.
She whispered the words right back, happier than she’d ever been in her life. “You’ll say no?”
“Shelby, I already took the job.”
Then, just like that, her smile fell. “What?”
“Luke,” Nick said from somewhere behind her, “so help me I’m going to—”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Shelby blinked up at him, confused. “But—”
“You just said you took the job,” Nick reminded him grumpily.
“I did.” Luke turned her so that she saw the man he’d been sitting with when she’d arrived. “Sweetheart, this is my boss, Jimmy James. He has family in Nashville and since we both have ties here, I added a few conditions of my own to the offer. The first of which was that I get to stay in Tennessee.” His gaze returned to hers, warm with love.
“You’re staying? Here?”
“I couldn’t stand the thought of giving up on us.”
Her father, mother and Nick spoke at once, asking Luke questions. Shelby buried her head against her husband’s chest and fingered the buttons of his shirt, doing her best to ignore the stares boring into her back due to the spectacle she’d made of herself. Turned out, she was her mother’s daughter after all. Not that she’d ever admit that.
“Shelby? What were you doing before you came here?” Luke asked softly.
Her laugh was more of a groan. “Beating up my car.” She smiled at his perplexed frown. “It’s a long story.”
“Must be a good one.”
“Why do you think that?”
Luke kissed her again. “Because your hives are gone.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3026-6
HER BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER
Copyright © 2009 by Dorma Kay Stockham.
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