Practically Married

by Karin Beery

  “You stay right there.” Pearl set the coffeepot on the table and pulled the apron over her head. “Get whatever you want. It’s on the house. Lou! Get this girl some food!” Pearl leaned over, eye to eye with Ashley. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

  Ashley didn’t have a clue where she’d go, and she didn’t have time to ask. Pearl ran down the hall before she could say anything. As soon as the waitress disappeared, a skinny teenage boy set a giant sandwich in front of Ashley. “Are you Lou?”

  “No, that’s my dad. He said to fill you up. Sorry about Tom.”

  “Uh, thanks. I really don’t need all of this food, though.” The kid shrugged, took the coffeepot, and walked back to the kitchen. Tom had joked about the solitude of his hometown and the characters who lived there, but he’d never mentioned how hospitable they were.

  Ashley’s stomach growled. She checked her watch. It had been four hours and eighteen minutes since she found her luggage, rented a car, and finally made her way to Boyne. Maybe she should eat something.

  She made quick work of the sandwich, popping the last bite into her mouth as Pearl emerged from the back of the restaurant. Behind her walked a tall, brooding man. Dark hair stuck out from under his ball cap, and dark whiskers shadowed his face. Like Pearl, he looked at her without smiling. Warning tingles raced over Ashley’s spine. She kept her eyes on the frowning man who slid into the booth across from her.

  Ashley forced a smile. “Can I help you?”

  The man nodded, his brown eyes locked on hers. “Pearl said you’re waiting for Tom.”

  Ashley’s pulse kicked up. “Yes. And you are?”

  “Russ. I’m his business partner.”

  That’s right. Tom’s cousin. “He’s mentioned you. Can you tell me where to find him?”

  Russ looked up at Pearl, then back at Ashley. Suddenly the booth seemed too small, too crowded. The stranger across from her didn’t flinch. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there was an accident. Tom’s dead.”

  *******

  The woman’s hazel eyes blinked twice. She opened her mouth but quickly closed it.

  Russ had never seen her before. Other than the gal who wouldn’t stop calling Tom’s phone, he didn’t know his cousin associated with women outside the family. His death had left plenty of surprises. At least this one was pretty.

  She looked at Pearl. “Could I have a glass of water, please?”

  Finally. Anything but uncomfortable silence. Pearl rushed away while he studied the woman.

  “You’re Tom’s cousin, right?”

  “Yeah. And you are?”

  “A friend of his. He told me about you. You run, er ran, the farm together, right?”

  “Apparently you two talked a lot.” More than he and Tom, obviously. Too bad Tom never mentioned this woman.

  When Pearl returned, the brunette downed the water. She shook her head as she set the glass down, her gaze avoiding Russ’.

  “I’m sorry I had to tell you like this,” he said. “I would have called, but I didn’t know Tom was expecting you. Are you staying long?”

  “I, um …” She scratched her arm, and Russ saw a thin, gold band on her left hand. Oh, Tom. A married woman?

  Russ adjusted his cap as he waited for an answer. When she didn’t explain, he assumed the worst. “It’s not my business. Sorry I asked. The memorial’s in a few days if you want to go.” He slid toward the edge of the booth, ready to be done with the awkward situation his cousin had left behind.

  “Wait, please.” She reached out but stopped an inch before touching him. She finally looked at him. “How did he die?”

  Russ paused, watching her as she studied him. “Hiking accident. He slipped, hit his head.”

  “Did he suffer?”

  “No.” Russ swallowed, pushing down the pain. “The doctor said he probably died instantly.”

  Her eyes glistened as she pulled her arms in to her chest. “Thank you.”

  “I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”

  “Me too.” She offered her hand. “I’m Ashley Johnson, by the way.”

  He accepted her handshake and tried to remember his cousin talking about her. “Ed Russell. Everyone calls me Russ.”

  “I know. Tom mentioned it.”

  “He never mentioned you.”

  Her eyebrows pinched together. “Never?”

  “Not that I recall.” Russ motioned toward her left hand, hoping. “Are you married to someone he knows?”

  “What?” She looked at her hand, the color draining from her cheeks. “A friend gave it to me.” As she twisted the metal band, it caught Russ’ eye. The band spun around again. The engraving. His grandmother had a band with a cross carved into it exactly like that one.

  As the ring went around again, Russ snatched Ashley’s hand, pulling the ring close. “Where did you get this?”

  “I told you.” She pulled her hand back. “A friend gave it to me.”

  “That’s my grandmother’s wedding ring.”

  She hugged her hand against her chest, dropping her gaze to the table.

  What was going on? “How exactly do you know my cousin?”

  Barely green eyes flashed at him before turning back to her lap. “We were engaged.”

  Ashley. The phone calls! “You’re the Ashley who keeps calling Tom’s phone.” Oxygen abandoned his lungs. “You and Tom?”

  “Yes, me and Tom.”

  Someone dropped a tray of dishes, splintering the air.

  “I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

  She stared at him, equal parts innocence and terror flashing in her eyes. “We are—were—engaged.”

  “Wow.” Russ scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to push the information into his brain. “I had no idea.”

  “I noticed.” Ashley sat up straighter. “I suppose finding out like this is a little like showing up in a strange town and finding out your fiancé is dead. I’m sorry I bothered you. If you could point me in the direction of Tom’s house, I’ll leave you alone.”

  “Tom’s house?” Russ lowered his hands enough to see Ashley. “Why do you need to go there?”

  She slid out of the booth. “I’d like some time to process this, and I don’t think Pearl’s Diner is the place to do that.”

  “I agree, but wouldn’t you be more comfortable at your hotel?” But even as Russ asked, the realization crashed into him. “You’re staying at Tom’s house, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” She offered her hand again. “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for telling me what happened, but I think I’d like to be alone for a little while.”

  Russ looked at her hand, level with his nose. He didn’t want it that close to his face when he told her the rest of the story, so he slid out of the booth and stood in front of Ashley, surprised to find her nearly eye-to-eye with him.

  “Don’t thank me yet.” He tugged his hat down low. “Tom and I live together.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Ashley stood in the expansive front yard. The large white farmhouse—complete with a wraparound porch, wooden rocking chairs, and a faded, red barn in the background—overwhelmed her. Devastated her. Excited her. It was exactly as Tom had described it, except he wouldn’t be inside.

  “Are you coming in?” Russ asked from the porch. He hadn’t acknowledged her since telling her to follow him. He’d simply jumped into his truck and waited for her to climb into her rental car. She had no idea how far they’d driven before she finally spotted the driveway, but that was only the beginning. They’d driven at least a mile before reaching the house.

  “Ashley?”

  How could Tom have forgotten to mention his roommate? She cozied up to the side of her car. “This doesn’t feel right.”

  “I know today has been a shock, but I’m inviting you in. I thought you’d like to look around before you go.”

  Go? Go where? To her aunt and uncle’s? Move back to Ohio? A smart woman would sit down with Russ and hash it out immediately, b
ut that was more drama than she cared to face at the moment.

  Ashley stepped away from the safety of her car. She should have been approaching the house with Tom, asking questions about the farm, the house … their wedding. Instead, Russ stood in front of her, his eyes as dark and melancholy as his attitude. When she reached the steps, close enough to notice the scar above his left eye, he turned and led her into the house.

  The front door groaned as Russ entered, his boots thudding on the hardwood floor. Ashley’s feet were glued to the distressed gray boards of the porch as she peeked in at the wide, carpeted staircase. One step and she’d be in the house she had planned to share with Tom.

  Russ cleared his throat.

  “Coming.” Sorrow clutched at her chest as she lifted her foot. “I didn’t think it would be this hard. It’s just that …”

  “Tom should be here.” His eyes softened.

  She recognized that look—pity. Straightening her spine, she hustled past him. “I’m fine.”

  Her shoes clicked as she walked through the foyer and into the bright living room. A faded, paisley rug covered the center of the floor. An antique couch, a mismatched loveseat, and a fat, brown chair sat around it facing the stone fireplace. Family photos covered the sky-blue walls. Dark floor-to-ceiling shelves—overflowing with books—filled a third, partial wall. The smoky aroma from the fireplace filled the room as she walked toward the bookcase.

  Agricultural textbooks. Computer coding for kids. Tom Clancy and Carl Hiaasen novels. Tom had mentioned his library and promised to show her his favorite books. Did Russ know which ones were his favorites?

  She continued to explore, moving past Russ, back through the foyer and into the family room. The biggest, bluest sectional she’d ever seen sat against the far wall, fitted with recliners at each end. A massive flat-screen TV hung above another stone fireplace, but movies and games filled this room’s shelves. Between the fireplace and the sectional sat a dingy brown steamer trunk with cracked leather straps. In the far corner, an unfinished puzzle filled the top of a two-person chrome dinette set. Like the living room, nothing matched. No wonder Tom suggested she bring her favorite furniture. Nothing would clash with his current motif.

  Russ hustled by her, picking up paper plates and plastic cups as he moved through the family room. “I wasn’t expecting company.” A napkin drifted to the floor as he disappeared through a doorway at the end of the room.

  Ashley followed, stepping into the open dining room and kitchen. The granite-topped island separated the stainless-steel, gourmet kitchen from the family-sized dining room with a ten-person, light-wood table and matching hutch.

  No wonder Russ had rushed away. In addition to the disposable dishes on the island, empty foil baking pans covered the table. Grabbing the nearest pans, she stacked them together and filled them with dirty plates. She was on her way to the sink, hoping to find the trash, when Russ returned from a back hallway with an industrial-sized garbage can.

  His eyebrows shot up. “What are you doing?”

  Ashley dumped her haul into the can. “Cleaning up.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I do.” He dropped the container, then sighed. “My family was here a couple of days ago. I would have cleaned if I’d known you were coming.”

  If he’d known she existed.

  “My mom taught me better than to ask company to clean up.”

  “And my mom taught me better than to watch while someone else does all the work. Besides, technically I’m not company. I promise you, I don’t mind.”

  He sighed again, but this time he held out the garbage can. Ashley took her cue and dashed around the room, trying to clean up as much as possible before he changed his mind. After the last fork landed in the trash, Russ retreated again to the hallway.

  When he came back empty-handed, she motioned toward the family room. “Can I see the rest of the house now?”

  “Sure.” Russ pointed as he walked. “Kitchen. Dining room. Family room.” His voice faded as he rounded the corner. Ashley ran after him, catching up as he climbed the staircase. Unlike the wood floors on the main level, the carpeted stairs cushioned each step. The wooden handrails could use a polish, but the intricate swirls and leaf etchings more than made up for it. As they neared the top, she counted three doors to the left, one in front of her, and one to the right. More family pictures hung on the walls, though they were older, with several black-and-white photos in the bunch.

  “There are four bedrooms up here. A couple of bathrooms. Nothing special.”

  To the point. An edge in his voice. She’d used a similar tone after her parents died. When she wanted the conversation to end so she could stop the memories. No one had appreciated it when she took that tone. Now she understood why. When they reached the top landing, she touched his hand. He flinched but didn’t pull away.

  “You’re doing a good job,” she said.

  “With what?”

  “Keeping it together. A dirty dining room is nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s not easy losing a loved one.”

  Russ snorted. “You’re handling it fine.”

  His words hit her like a blast of cold air. “Excuse me? I’m not ‘just fine,’ and I haven’t had the chance to process this yet.” She sucked in a breath, taking advantage of every bit of her height. “Please don’t judge me.” She didn’t need anyone scrutinizing her or her grief again.

  Russ scanned her face. She stared right back. His cheek twitched, and his jaw tightened.

  What was she doing? He’d just lost his cousin. So what if he judged her? That didn’t mean she had to be rude. Ashley forced her shoulders to relax. “I understand that you’re hurt. I don’t mean to make it more difficult.”

  His cheek twitched again, but his expression didn’t crack. Those deep eyes searched hers. He must have found what he was looking for because Russ nodded. “It’s okay.” He pointed to the door on the right. “Grandma and Grandpa’s room. Guest room. Bathroom. My room. And this”—Russ knocked on the nearest door—“this is Tom’s room.”

  Ashley’s nerves hitched. “Can I … can I go in?”

  Without a word, he opened the door. Dark-green walls. Dull, wood floors. Musky, earthy air. Was that Tom’s cologne? Would the smell of his skin have reminded her of walks through the woods?

  Against the far wall sat a dresser. On top of it, leaning against the wall, was a photo of her at a Reds baseball game. She’d emailed it to Tom a few months ago. They’d planned to see a Tigers game together next year. He said he’d buy the tickets, but he also said he couldn’t wait to tell his family about her. A wave of emotion crashed into her, weakening her knees.

  Russ’ strong hand squeezed her elbow. He led her to a rickety chair next to Tom’s bedroom door. “You look a little sick. Are you okay?”

  Ashley pushed back the grief as Russ hovered. She needed space. “Could I have something to drink?” He dashed out of the room.

  The solitude consumed her. She’d never officially met Tom, never touched him, yet the intensity of the loss surprised her. She hadn’t expected the hollowness.

  While she waited for Russ, Ashley familiarized herself with the rest of Tom’s room. A blue, green, and tan star-patterned quilt covered the queen-sized bed. A simple, slatted headboard rested against the wall. Through the open closet door, she spotted several long-sleeved flannel shirts in a rainbow of colors. The midmorning sun shone through a sheer white curtain covering the bottom half of the double hung window. Two books sat beside a clock on the nightstand, but she couldn’t see what they were.

  “Here.” Russ forced a glass of water into her hand, splashing half of the contents onto her legs. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She sipped the water, thankful for the excuse to sit in silence. Russ shifted beside her, then shifted again. When he moved the third time, she pasted a smile on her face, but it faded when she saw that awful, sad look in his eyes. “Really, I’m
fine.” Pushing herself off the chair, she took one more glance around the room. “Can I see the guest room?”

  Stone Face didn’t argue. He led her down the landing and swung open another door. The room was stuffy but cheery. Pink-and-tan plaid wallpaper met brown carpeting. A patchwork, pastel quilt covered the queen bed supported by a white metal footboard and headboard. A faded photo hung on the far wall. Over a distressed wooden dresser hung a rectangular mirror in a gold, leafy frame. Cozy country. Ashley could picture herself in that room.

  Time to rip off the Band-Aid.

  She turned to Russ and flashed what she hoped was her nicest smile. “I’ll take it.”

  “Take what?”

  Slipping off her shoes, she walked across the lush carpet and pushed open the window. Crisp, chilly air bit at her cheeks. “I think I’d like to stay here instead of in Tom’s room.”

  “What?” His voice cracked.

  She steeled herself before facing him. Russ stared at her as if she’d grown a third arm. Time to come clean. “I came here to start a new life. I’m staying.”

  CHAPTER 5

  “What do you mean you’re staying? You can’t live here.” The crazy woman moved around, opening drawers and looking under the bed. Cold air swirled through the room. Would she really move in?

  Ashley pulled on the closet door. “I have to. I sold my house and donated most of my furniture, not to mention I start my new job after the holidays.” She twisted and yanked, but the door stuck.

  Russ had been meaning to fix that handle for years, but they never had enough visitors to justify the time. He crossed the room in three steps and moved Ashley out of his way. With a twist, lift, nudge, and pull, he opened the door. She slipped in front of him and peeked inside.

  Taller than most women he knew, she blocked his view of the closet. As she moved, her hair shifted, sending silky brown strands sliding across her shoulder. Leaning back, she bumped into him. Cinnamon and orange. A scent as unexpected as her presence, both of which were more pleasant than he cared to admit, but that didn’t mean they had to be permanent. “You’re homeless, but you have a job?”