Although they’d occasionally talked, she knew next to nothing about him. He’d revealed little of his past, little about himself. He was always courteous and polite. He’d never even touched her and yet she felt his touch every time he looked at her.
“What can I get you, sweetie?” the barmaid asked, strolling up to the booth with a tray in one hand.
“I’d like a beer,” Carolyn said, needing fortification. “Whatever you have on draft.” A cold beer would taste good after a long, hot day. On an empty stomach the alcohol would likely affect her more quickly, in which case she could order something to eat before she went home.
The woman returned with a frosty mug. The foam spilled over the sides of the thick glass as she thumped it down on the lacquered wood table. Carolyn took a long swallow. It went down just as smoothly as she’d hoped.
When she’d finished half her beer, she began to feel relaxed. With open curiosity she studied Dave, who didn’t seem embarrassed by her interest. He met her gaze and slowly smiled. Her heart smiled back and her lips followed before she grew flustered and looked away.
After a few minutes, Dave stood up and seemed to be walking straight toward her. When he walked past her booth and over to the jukebox, she started to breathe normally again. The first tune, the same Reba ballad that had been playing when she arrived, echoed through the room. Then he went back to his table, pausing in front of her booth for just an instant. Just long enough to let her know he’d wanted to ask her to dance, but changed his mind. The very way she’d changed hers…
By the third number, a slow love song, Carolyn was ready to leave. She’d made a mistake in coming here. All she’d done was embarrass herself.
At that moment, Dave rose from his chair, his eyes holding hers. With her pulse nearly going crazy, she watched as he came toward her.
Had her life depended on it, she couldn’t have looked away. Everything and everyone else in the tavern became a blur.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked in a low voice, offering his hand.
There wasn’t anyone else on the dance floor; the drunken lovers had apparently gone home. She nodded and stepped out of the booth. When she placed her hand in his, Dave smiled down at her. The warm sensation of his touch rocked her, but she tried not to let it show.
Without another word, he led her to the other side of the room. When his arms circled her waist and he brought her close, Carolyn slid her hands up his chest and left them there.
The music played, but they barely moved as they continued to gaze at each other. Carolyn felt the strong, steady beat of his heart.
The electricity between them was volatile, threatening to burst into flames with the slightest provocation. Carolyn felt it with every breath she drew. The desire to slip her arms around his neck and urge his mouth to hers nearly overwhelmed her. She wanted him so badly that she closed her eyes, certain he’d see what she was feeling—certain she’d act on it if he did.
The music stopped and a full minute passed before Dave let her go. When his arms fell away, she released the pent-up tension in a long, deep sigh.
“Thank you,” he said.
All she could do was nod.
Together they returned to the booth. He waited until she was seated, then went over to the bar, paid his tab and walked out the door.
Carolyn retrieved her purse and slapped twenty dollars on the table. Unwilling to wait for her change, she hurried after him.
At first she didn’t see Dave. The sun had set and the last light was disappearing at the edge of the sky. Then she found him, standing next to his pickup, the door already open.
“Dave,” she called out, moving toward him. She didn’t know what she intended to say, but she knew she couldn’t just let him leave.
He didn’t answer, but waited for her to join him.
Carolyn approached him, more confused and uncertain with every step. As she came closer, she stared up at him, lost in her feelings.
All she really had to do was look in his eyes and see the tenderness there, the longing. No man had ever looked at her like that. Not even her husband.
Without a word, Dave lifted his hand and held it to the side of her face. His skin was callused and rough against hers. Carolyn closed her eyes and leaned into his palm, moving gently against it. Had she been a kitten, she would have purred with the sheer pleasure of his touch.
“You did the right thing,” he murmured. It seemed to take great effort for him to speak.
“I did?” she asked, not fully understanding what he meant.
“I’m a drifter… I never stay in any town for long. You wanted me to work on your garden, but it was more than that and we both knew it.”
She blushed and lowered her gaze.
“You also know it isn’t a good idea for us to get involved.”
“I don’t feel that way anymore,” she whispered.
He gave a deep, shuddery sigh. “I thought it was for the best—us not seeing each other, I mean.”
“Is it?” she asked boldly. “Is that what you want—to walk away from this…feeling?”
He didn’t answer her for a long time. “You tempt me, Carolyn, more than you know, but I can’t… It wouldn’t be right.”
“Why not?”
He hesitated. “I get restless. I always do. After a while, I move on. It’s just the way I am.” His eyes pleaded for understanding. “I don’t want to hurt you and I know I would.”
“Isn’t that a decision I should make?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“Are you afraid?” she asked him.
He glanced away and nodded. “I’ll break your heart.”
“At least I’ll know I have one.” Carolyn hadn’t realized it was in her to be so honest or so daring.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said again.
“I’ll risk it,” she whispered.
When he didn’t respond, Carolyn decided she might as well own up to the truth. “The only reason I came to the bar tonight was because I saw you were here.”
He sighed as if that was what he’d suspected. “The only reason I came was because I thought you might stop by.”
Carolyn smiled; she couldn’t help it.
“You shouldn’t be seen with me. I’m a yard man, and you’re—”
“I know who I am.” She loved the way he cared about her, wanted to protect her. But appearances no longer mattered and the opinions of others had become irrelevant.
His thumb grazed her lips, and his smile was sad and brief.
That was when she knew that whatever was happening between them should be explored. Susannah was right—it was time Carolyn took a chance. An attraction this strong was a gift to be treasured, a joy to be savored.
“Thank you for the dance,” he said. He kissed her ever so gently, his mouth barely touching hers.
He started to climb into his truck, but Carolyn stopped him. “Come to my house Friday night after work.”
He seemed about to refuse, but then he smiled. Nodded.
Carolyn stepped back, watching as he drove off. What had she done?
CHAPTER 23
After learning Patricia Carney’s married name from Sandy, Susannah picked up the telephone directory, which still lay on the kitchen table, and looked up Doug’s old girlfriend. She lived in Kettle Falls with her husband and family. Patricia Carney, now Anderson, remembered Susannah and invited her over. Welcoming the distraction and hoping for some clues, Susannah agreed to meet her.
Patricia didn’t resemble the girl Susannah recalled. She’d gained quite a lot of weight, and her lovely chestnut hair had turned a salt-and-pepper gray. With many exclamations of pleasure, Patricia led Susannah to the back patio of her cozy rambler.
“I can’t tell you how surprised I was to hear from you,” Patricia said as she pulled out a chair for Susannah. The pinewood table was covered with a red checkered cloth. Two glasses and a tall pitcher of lemonade sat on a tray, waiting to be poured. There was als
o a plate of still-warm oatmeal cookies. The patio was surrounded by lush greenery, including dogwood and lilac bushes, and an array of blooming lilies, peonies and roses. A large vegetable garden took up a good part of the backyard.
What Susannah had learned from their brief telephone conversation was that Patricia was a retired nurse and her husband still worked as a U.S. Forest Ranger.
“You have quite a green thumb,” Susannah commented, glancing around. The profusion of fresh flowers made her heart quicken. Whoever was visiting Doug’s grave had access to flowers, too.
Susannah was chagrined that she hadn’t immediately thought of Patricia. She and Doug had been a couple from the time Patricia was a sophomore. Two years older, Doug had graduated and was working in town as a carpenter for a local builder. The war in Vietnam was in full swing then, and if Doug hadn’t died in the car accident, it was likely he would’ve been drafted. Susannah remembered conversations between Doug and their father about the war. Her brother, who hadn’t been academically inclined, had refused to apply for college, much to their father’s disappointment. He’d wanted to enlist but Dad had been against it, insisting that Doug wait until he was drafted. The irony was that if Doug had gone into the service, he might be alive today.
“Actually, Tom’s the one with the green thumb in the family,” Patricia explained, breaking into Susannah’s thoughts. She sat next to her and poured them each a glass of lemonade. Handing Susannah hers, she said, “I heard about your father. I’m sorry.”
Susannah lowered her eyes and nodded. “It was very sudden.”
“How’s your mother doing?”
“About as well as can be expected. I just moved her into assisted living—she’s having a bit of a problem adjusting. But I’m sure that eventually she will.”
“Help yourself.” Patricia leaned forward, pointing to the plate of cookies; Susannah smiled but shook her head.
“I take it this visit is more than for old times’ sake?” Patricia asked.
Susannah appreciated not having to make small talk before she ventured onto the subject of her brother. “As I recall, you and Doug were dating at the time of my brother’s death.”
A sad, faraway look came over Patricia’s face. “Your brother was my first love,” she said softly. “It broke my heart when he was killed.”
“I was out at Doug’s grave recently.” Susannah set her lemonade down on the pinewood table and studied Patricia. “There were fresh flowers on his grave.” She eyed the flower garden, paying particular attention to the roses and peonies. “Would you know anything about that?”
“No,” Patricia told her. “The only time I go to Calvary Cemetery is on Memorial Day. Tom and I put flowers on our parents’ graves.”
“So you weren’t the one who put flowers on my brother’s grave?”
Patricia shook her head. “Other than the day of his funeral, I’ve never visited Doug’s grave.”
This was discouraging news. Susannah had assumed it must be Patricia, who had once loved her brother. If so, it might explain who’d broken into the house, as well. “I thought for sure it was you.”
Patricia shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t help you. Make no mistake, I loved Doug, but that was many years ago.” She stared into the distance, as if caught up in her memories. “Life goes on. I married Tom after I graduated from nursing school. Doug was dead, but I wasn’t.”
“I know.” The tragedy had touched so many lives. In her heart Susannah believed Doug and Patricia would’ve been happy together. “I’m grateful you weren’t with him that night,” she murmured.
“Me, too,” she said, sighing. “Actually, I might’ve been, but he called and broke our date at the last minute. I was plenty peeved with him at the time because I’d come home especially to be with him.”
“Home?”
“I was at nursing school in Spokane by then.”
“Oh, right.” Susannah nodded.
“Doug and I were supposed to get together—it’d been planned for weeks—and then at the last possible second, he called and cancelled. Later, when I learned he’d been killed, I was devastated. Devastated,” she said again. “And I felt so bad for arguing with him.”
“I can imagine.” As long as she lived, Susannah would never forget the phone call telling her that her brother was dead. Her father had tried to calm her. That day had been the most horrible of her life; being so far from home had made it even worse. Her parents had never understood how desperately she’d wanted to come home. Her father hadn’t allowed it. In a few months, she’d be finished with her studies, he’d said, and it was too impractical and expensive for her to fly home twice in that short period. No matter how many years passed, Susannah could never forgive her father for being so heartless.
“My mother kept saying I could’ve been killed that night, too,” Patricia continued, “and she was right. If Doug hadn’t called, I would’ve been with him.”
“Life takes some odd twists and turns, doesn’t it?” Susannah murmured, sipping her lemonade.
Patricia nodded, then grew still for a moment. “Afterward, I thought I’d die, too. I’d never suffered that kind of loss and I wasn’t sure I could go on. I’d always assumed Doug and I would get married.”
“I always thought you would, too.”
She hesitated, and Susannah had the distinct impression that there was something the other woman wasn’t telling her. She waited, hoping Patricia would reveal whatever it was.
“I was planning to talk to Doug that weekend,” Patricia finally said.
“You were?” she asked softly, encouraging the other woman. “What about?”
“Well, when I first left for nursing school, Doug called me every night and drove up to see me at least twice a week. After a while, he started phoning every other night, and then just once the week before he died. I asked my friends who were still in Colville, and they assured me he wasn’t cheating on me. According to them, he wasn’t seeing anyone else. I didn’t understand what was happening between us. Something was. I could feel it. Unfortunately, I never found out what. And I still wonder….”
Susannah wondered, too.
“All I know is that after I went to Spokane, nothing was quite the same.”
“In what way?”
“I think there was someone else,” she said softly. “I was young and foolish, and I realize I’d romanticized the relationship, but that’s the truth. If he was seeing another woman, then my guess is she’s the person who’s leaving flowers on your brother’s grave.” She sipped her lemonade and added, “Because it isn’t me, Susannah. It simply isn’t me.”
Okay, so her brother might’ve been involved with someone else, although to Susannah it didn’t seem likely that Doug would deceive Patricia that way. Granted, she’d idolized her older brother, she’d always turned to him for advice and had considered their relationship special. She’d counted on him. In fact, before she left for France, he’d promised to do what he could to help her work out the situation with Jake.
“I have another question for you,” she began, “and I hope you don’t mind my asking.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Did my brother ever say anything about my father?”
Patricia blinked as though the question took her by surprise. “Like what?”
“Well,” she said, then exhaled slowly. “Did he ever say anything that might lead you to believe my dad wasn’t the upstanding citizen everyone thought he was?”
“Never.” Patricia sounded shocked. “Your father was a judge.”
“He wasn’t perfect. He had flaws like everyone else.” Because she felt she needed to explain further, she said, “I’m going through my father’s things, and I’m learning a lot about my family—stuff I never knew. If you remember anything, it might help me connect all the pieces.” Of one thing she was certain; her brother would never have condoned paying off Jake’s family. He would’ve been as outraged as she was.
Patricia’s face went blank
and she slowly shook her head. “Your brother never said a word to me about your father.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. She’d hoped Patricia would have some answers to give her.
She finished her lemonade and set the glass down. “I’d better go and do some packing,” she said, getting to her feet. “Thank you so much for seeing me.”
Patricia stood, too. “I was happy to do it.”
She walked Susannah to her car. “Listen,” she said. “If you do find out who left those flowers at Doug’s grave, would you mind letting me know? I’d be curious to learn who it was.”
“I’ll do that,” Susannah promised and shut the door.
On the drive back to the house, she decided to stop at Safeway, since she needed a few groceries and didn’t want to make a special trip later.
Walking into the store she felt someone staring at her and turned to find Sharon Nance, Troy’s mother and her former classmate, a few feet behind her. The woman looked at least sixty. There was a hardness about her, evident in the wrinkled overtanned skin and heavily made-up eyes. She wore a short jean skirt that rode halfway up her thighs and a thin, purple sweater with lots of gold chains around her neck. She was smoking a cigarette.
“Hello, Sharon,” Susannah said cordially.
“Well, if it isn’t Susannah Leary.” Sharon tossed her cigarette on the asphalt and crushed it with the toe of her flip-flops.
“It’s Nelson now.”
“Oh, right,” she said in a bored tone.
“Your son and my daughter seem to have hit if off,” Susannah said, not letting on how much she disapproved of the relationship.
Sharon’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that right?”
Apparently Sharon didn’t know, and Susannah was sorry she’d said anything. She nodded and as they neared the front of the store, she reached for a grocery cart.
“What are you doing in town?” Sharon asked, taking the next cart.
Rather than going into a long explanation, Susannah merely said she’d come back to move her mother.
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