by Dara Girard
* * *
Drat. Daniella pounded her steering wheel. She hadn’t expected this. Why would there be a fence in the middle of a driveway? It wasn’t as if it was a working farm or a ranch, from what she could see. What was he keeping out or in? She instinctively knew that the only way to get past was to leave her car and either climb over the fence or go through it. She was small enough to go through it so she left her car and lifted one leg between the bars and began to shimmy through.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Daniella froze then looked up and saw The Renegade. His name still suited him. His eyes were still hard. His jaw harsh. The sun behind him seemed to make him appear larger than she’d remembered, then she recalled the picture his mother had shown her with his first pet Bobo, and giving his sister a piggyback ride. Soon, she also noticed how the sunlight softened the rough angles of his face. She remembered the concern in his voice when she’d been hurt, his tender touch, the soft feel of his lips. No matter how ferocious he tried to be she didn’t fear him. She flashed a shy smile. “I’m coming to see you.”
“Why?” There was no welcome in his voice.
“I have a few questions.”
“You drove all the way out here to ask me a few questions?”
“Just give me a minute…” She shimmed through the wooden slats, falling on the other side of the fence with a thud. She looked up but Trenton didn’t offer her a hand. She sighed and stood, dusting herself off. He was a hero, not a gentleman. The fact that anyone thought she had designs on him as a love interest amazed her. No accounting for taste. He was not relationship material. He was good for a brief love affair and nothing more—he had heartbreaker written all over him. Besides, no matter how good a lover he was she didn’t need that right now. She had to focus on her career and proving Pascal wrong. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—be distracted again. Trenton was only a great story, that’s all.
He rested against the fence. “What’s your question?”
“Questions,” she emphasized. “And why don’t we go inside and—” She stopped when he shook his head.
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t a friendly expression. “That’s not going to happen.”
“What?”
“I’m not letting you inside my house so that you can snoop around and try to uncover dirt about my life.”
“I’m not a reporter.”
“But you are a writer. I saw your notes on the plane.”
“Yes, but—”
“I don’t have anything to say to you or anyone.”
“And I understand that but—”
He pushed himself from the fence and gestured to her car. “Good, then I’ll see you on your way.”
“Let me just…” She paused then shoved him to the side and ran.
Trenton watched, stunned, as she darted past him. Was she a crazy woman? He hadn’t noticed this strange behavior when they were together during the four days they had been stranded. She was probably good at hiding her mental issues. Maybe she’d try to tie herself to his porch until he answered her questions or break into his house. He ran after her then immediately saw why she had taken off. Layla was having a seizure. Daniella fell on her knees and immediately touched the dog gently, smoothing its fur and tenderly soothing the animal until the shaking subsided.
He watched in amazement as she lifted Layla up and stumbled back under the weight of the animal. Trenton hid a smile. “Give her to me.”
“I’m fine. Open the door.”
He did. Daniella started to follow, but he blocked the entrance. “I said I’m not letting you in my house and I mean it.” He took Layla from her.
“But what’s wrong with her?”
Her concern was real and he felt it more than he wanted to. “Goodbye, Ginger,” he said then kicked the door shut with his foot.
It was a few moments before he heard her footsteps leave and then he watched her drive away. He was a little sorry to see her go. She had been a nuisance but had broken up his usually boring day and taken his mind off of what his real trouble was. He looked down at Layla, who had quickly recovered from her episode. “She’s not coming back so don’t look so hopeful. I know you like her, but you like almost anyone.” He patted Layla on the head, remembering Daniella’s tender touch and the true concern he’d heard in her voice. She was just a busybody, nothing else, and those kisses in the woods were just that—nothing. Over. In the past. Even though when he licked his lips he could still remember the taste of her and how good she’d felt against him. He shook his head. He had enough complications in his life at present; he didn’t need to invite trouble.
“I’m glad she’s gone,” he said to Layla wondering if he was trying to convince himself or if he meant it. It was stupid hero worship that would take its course and disappear. What would happen when all that was stripped away and she was just left with the man? He was glad that she hadn’t said anything about the copilot and they’d come up with a credible story that had kept the reporters happy and allowed Herman to keep his job. At least for the first time in a long time he’d been part of a happy ending. He’d stopped believing in them.
* * *
Daniella remembered the sight of the closed door as she finished her lunch at the diner, which consisted of a grilled salmon burger and chips. Her first attempt hadn’t gone well, but she wouldn’t give up.
“Told you it wouldn’t work,” Vera said as Daniella drank her grape juice. “I can tell by your face that you didn’t get anywhere with him.”
Daniella merely smiled.
Vera took a seat inside the booth. “Why don’t you leave the poor man alone?”
Daniella calmly sipped her drink. Women like Vera didn’t frighten her. With a sister like Mariella all women paled in comparison.
A woman in a diner uniform came over and said, “Uncle Lincoln has a question for you.”
Vera sighed then looked at Daniella. “Do the right thing and just forget about him,” she said then left.
“Sorry about her,” the other woman said removing Daniella’s empty plate. Her badge had the name Emma, although the name didn’t seem to suit her. Perhaps because of the book by the same name Emma implied grace, sophistication and elegance. This Emma showed no sign of those features. She was plain-faced, but had good bone structure she hadn’t highlighted. She clattered the cutlery and dishes together which grated on Daniella’s ears, but she seemed friendly so Daniella didn’t mind. “That’s okay. I understand people looking out for each other.”
“No, Mom is just nosy.”
Vera was her mother? Daniella felt sorry for her, but knew that she could be useful. Vera may want her gone, but Emma seemed friendlier and more open. Daniella offered her a reassuring smile. “I don’t mind. My mother passed away.”
“I’m sorry. You can have mine if you want. She thinks of herself as the mother of everyone sometimes. Richard’s been through a lot and we like to look out for him.”
“That’s admirable. What do you know about him?”
“That he likes to keep to himself. None of us really know what he’s about or much about him. He just showed up one day.”
“No wife or kids?”
“Not that we know of.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you and he ever gone out?” She doubted it, but asked anyway.
Emma colored and shook her head. “Me and Richard? No…no…never. We’re just friends. If you knew him you’d know I wasn’t his type.”
“He doesn’t seem to be the kind of man to have a particular type.”
“He does. Mom saw a picture of a woman in his house once, very stylish. But he’s packed it away because she hasn’t seen it since.”
“Obviously he’d gotten over th
at. A man’s type can change.”
Emma shook her head again. “I’m not interested anyway.”
Daniella wasn’t sure she believed her. Emma looked ripe for romance and likely craved the attention of men. Why she would set her hopes on Richard, Daniella could only guess. He wasn’t the romantic type. Although he did have his moments. She thought of him teasing her about her lover, calling her Ginger. Yes, he had another side, but still remained guarded. Emma had likely been very sheltered and didn’t know she had other choices.
“Sure, I understand. But you do like men, right?”
“Yes.” Emma ducked her head like an embarrassed ostrich. “But they rarely notice me.”
Daniella could see why. She wasn’t much older than Emma, but looked decades so. “It’s because you don’t give them anything to notice.”
Vera’s voice cut through the diner chatter. “Emma, stop yakking and get back to work.”
The young woman turned, looking guilty. “In a minute, Mom.” She looked at Daniella with hope in her eyes. “What did you say?”
“Nothing really,” she said with regret. She didn’t want to hurt Emma’s feelings, but she seemed eager to talk and share. She was a woman in need of a friend. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way.”
“I know I’m not fashionable.”
Not even close. “You have a nice face that you hide and your clothes…” She let her words die away as a thought came to her. Perhaps if she did Emma a favor she could help her with Richard. “I’ve just had an idea. When do you get off work?”
“Um…eight.”
“Emma!” Vera said.
“Okay.” Daniella quickly took out a card and scribbled down her room number. “Come by the bed-and-breakfast after you’re done and we’ll talk.”
“About what?”
“Your makeover.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “You’d give me a makeover? But you don’t even know me.”
Vera’s voice grew louder. “Emma!”
“You’d better go before you get in trouble.”
“I’m always in trouble with her. I’m her big disappointment.”
Vera came up to the table. “Emma, when I call you I expect you to answer.”
“It’s my fault,” Daniella said without apology. “I didn’t mean to keep her, but we were having a fascinating conversation.”
Vera looked unconvinced. “Sure you were,” she said but she didn’t argue as she pushed her daughter ahead of herself, nudging her forward to clear another table.
That night Daniella sat in her room and waited, not sure that Emma would have the boldness to come. She glanced at her watch. It read 9:15 p.m. Fine, Emma likely wouldn’t show. Even if she couldn’t give her any information about Trenton, she would have liked to help her. She really seemed in need of a friend and needed a new look desperately. Before going back to her room at the bed-and-breakfast, Daniella had gone to the local drug store to pick up some cosmetic supplies. She’d give them to her anyway. Emma was too old to be that bullied by her mother. Daniella was flipping through the four channels the room offered when there was a light knock on the door.
Daniella answered and Emma rushed in. “Sorry I’m late.”
“That’s okay. I’m glad you came.” The girl looked like a wilted weed. She reminded Daniella a little of her older sister Isabella before she fell in love with her husband, Alex. “Let’s get started.”
“I don’t know much about makeup. Mother says my coloring’s all wrong.”
“Your coloring is just fine.”
Daniella immediately went to work. Having a sister as a fashion model had given her a great advantage. She knew how to use minimal makeup to totally complement, not mask, a person’s face, and how to emphasize anyone’s best features. Emma’s eyes and mouth were definitely made for color. Her eyes, while they appeared dull, were a beautiful toffee color with yellow highlights. Putting dark purple liner on both her lower and upper lids gave them an sultry look. She used a small amount of dark brown foundation to emphasize and outline her cheekbones, which combined well with her rustic medium-brown skin color.
Next she applied lipstick, resulting in a pair of delicious, kissable lips. Daniella used a basic foundation that matched Emma’s skin tone perfectly. The entire procedure took less than fifteen minutes. Her hair, however, proved to be somewhat of a problem. It was limp and unconditioned and was in desperate need of a cut. Daniella decided against washing Emma’s hair, especially since it was getting rather late in the evening. Instead, she grabbed a pair of shears and removed all the split ends. She applied a leave-in conditioner and a light moisturizer that added sheen and volume. Then she took her handy shears and began trimming away until she had taken Emma’s shoulder length hair and given her a layered medium-length style. The result was stunning.
“You know there’s another way to reach Richard’s house,” Emma said. Daniella had mentioned the earlier incident of getting stuck in Richard’s driveway while she painted Emma’s nails a bright purple. Emma’s choice, not Daniella’s.
“There is?”
“Yes, the back way. When we’re done I’ll give you directions.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.” Daniella finished the manicure then took Emma into the bathroom to look at herself in a full-length mirror. “Now what do you think?”
Emma stared in amazement. “It doesn’t even look like me.”
“But it is you. You have excellent skin. I only added a little color to your cheeks and eyes. That’s something you can do. I’m going to wipe this all off and I’ll show you how to do this. It doesn’t take long.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She winked. “I bet the men will start looking now.”
“How did you learn how to do this?”
“I have three sisters. Believe me, I had plenty of practice. And one of my sisters was a professional model.”
“You’ve lived such a glamorous life.”
Daniella laughed. “Not quite.”
“I bet it’s better than mine.”
“You want to leave?”
“Sometimes. But then there’s my mom. I’m all she has and I wouldn’t want to leave her alone. Do you know what I’d really love?”
“What?”
“To become a grief counselor. I also study the healing effects of teas and give them to customers sometimes if I think they need it. I’ve lost so many people in my life and I like helping others. I think I know how to do it.”
“Then start.”
She ducked her head. “But I don’t have the education or…”
“You can volunteer. You could start a small group with a few people or offer to listen to individuals one-on-one and provide them with an opportunity to share their feelings with you. Think about it.”
“You make anything sound possible.”
“Because it is.”
“I believe you.”
Once Emma was gone, Daniella planned her strategy for the next day. Anything was possible, which meant she could get close to Trenton if she tried hard enough. She didn’t know why he was so adamant about being left alone and why had he isolated himself from his wonderful parents. She still didn’t see them in him. He didn’t have his father’s build or his mother’s eyes, but she couldn’t deny the pictures. Wow, how things had changed from the picture taken of that young man standing in front of the plane to the man now living in the mountains. Daniella knew she’d have to play hardball if she wanted to get what she wanted. And she was ready to play.
* * *
Bonita Zarro had grown tired of living a lie. Her life had never been easy. She didn’t know who her real parents were and as a child had been bounced from relative to relative until she ran away at fourteen. Thankfully, instead of ending up on the streets and hav
ing to sell her body, Bonita ended up in a youth program for underage runaways. She always thought a place called “home” was only a myth. People couldn’t be trusted, they would only hurt you. She stayed away from drugs, but developed a drinking habit at age twenty that got her a few DUIs and a couple nights in jail. Bonita fell in love with a man who was no good and ended up having a son who was no better. By forty she was barely scraping by until one night after a party and a heavy night of drinking, she was walking in the middle of a street and got hit by a car. She sobered up that night and while she lay in the hospital bed she made a deal with God that if He let her live she’d turn her life around.
Bonita survived until morning and started to attend AA meetings. She left her sixth lover and became a janitor cleaning Dr. Brooks’s medical practice. She liked the job, but regretted mentioning to her son that medicines were kept in the office. She should have known he would have seen it as an opportunity for no good. When Dr. Brooks discovered who had broken into his office, he didn’t report the theft to the police or have her son charged. But it wasn’t long before she realized there was a price to pay. She had to keep her mouth shut. Dr. Brooks helped her select a new name and identity. He created a new résumé and got her the position as a live-in housekeeper at the Sheppards’ house. Bonita learned quickly what her primary duty was. At first she didn’t care, thinking only about the money Dr. Brooks was giving her and how little she had to do. Under his direction, she had to make sure that specific calls didn’t go through, and that certain messages got erased. But as time went on Bonita began to care for the Sheppards and their son.
Last night she’d heard Mrs. Sheppard crying again. She’d cried that way before, too, when that Daniella girl had come to talk to them, but she’d sounded hopeful and Bonita regretted making the call to Brooks. She wanted to see their suffering end. She knew she had a no good lout of a son, but they didn’t. Their Trenton was a good man. She thought men like him only existed in books, but he was the real thing. She had been sorry to see his marriage collapse and the legal trouble he’d endured. She knew he hadn’t been a user. She’d grown up around junkies and could spot them anywhere from street corners to Wall Street. It was like a sixth sense to her and she knew Trenton Sheppard didn’t have an addiction. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do when the lab work came back positive, convicting him. Besides, no one knew of her involvement, and her ability to sense his innocence wouldn’t have mattered.
