Garden of Secrets

by Barbara Freethy

  “Did you happen to notice the redhaired kid in the Bible group?” Andrew asked.

  “No, why?”

  “He’s Randy Mitchelson’s kid. Remember him?”

  “The funniest guy in our class? Sure.”

  “He married Melanie Robinson right after high school. They divorced last year, and Billy is having a tough time.”

  “I’m sorry they didn’t make it.” She rested her arms on the table. “You must hear a lot of people’s secrets.”

  “A fair amount. You, too, right?”

  “Yes, and some I’d rather not know, but it’s the job.”

  He nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Other people’s secrets can weigh you down if you let them.”

  Something in his words gave her pause. “Is something weighing you down, Andrew?”

  “Not anything I can talk about,” he said slowly. “There’s a fine line between keeping a confidence and saving someone from trouble. And I don’t always know when it’s appropriate to cross the line.”

  “I think if anyone is in danger, then you have to cross the line. If not, you have to stay silent.” The waitress set their pizza down in front of them. “This looks good.” Charlotte grabbed a piece and picked off some of the black olives, catching Andrew’s smile. “What?”

  “We didn’t have to order olives. I forgot you didn’t like them.”

  “And I remembered how much you do.”

  “So you haven’t forgotten everything?”

  “Just eat,” she ordered.

  They avoided personal subjects, talking about the church fund-raiser, the new Thai restaurant in town, the condos being constructed on the northernmost beach. Being with Andrew was easy and comfortable.

  “I’m stuffed,” Andrew finally said, sitting back in the booth. “I shouldn’t have had that last piece.”

  “Better you than me.” She wiped her hands and mouth on a napkin.

  “I’ll have to join you on one of your runs.”

  “You hate to jog. If there’s not a ball to chase, you’re not interested, remember?”

  He grinned. “Good point. Maybe I’ll find a pickup basketball game at the gym tomorrow. Then I can run and score points.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “What is it with men and always needing to keep score? Some things you just do for the pleasure of doing them—like running.”

  “I can think of other things I’d rather do for pleasure.” He leaned across the table and stole a quick kiss. “Like that.”

  She felt surprised and a little guilty. She didn’t want to make more of it than it was, but inside she was reeling.

  What was she doing? She couldn’t juggle two men. It wasn’t in her. She’d been foolish to think she could.

  “Charlotte, you okay?” Andrew asked, concern in his eyes.

  “I’m fine.” She glanced down at her watch. “I should go. I have to get to work early tomorrow.”

  “I blew it.”

  “You didn’t blow it. I just realized what time it was.” She grabbed her bag and slid out of the booth while Andrew tossed the tip onto the table.

  As they walked out of the restaurant and down the street, the silence between them was no longer comfortable. Andrew pressed the button for the light, then said abruptly. “You didn’t like me kissing you. Eveything was fine until then. But I don’t get it. We were always good at kissing.”

  “The kiss was good. I didn’t mind.”

  He dug his hands into his pockets as he gazed at her. “Didn’t mind—wow, that’s quite a declaration. Tell me the truth, Charlotte. You’re not taking me back, are you?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “I care for you, Andrew. But I’m interested in someone else.”

  His jaw tightened. “Do you really want to be with someone who’s just getting out of a long relationship? Who failed at his first marriage? Don’t you want to be special?”

  His words hurt because they mirrored her own doubts. “Joe is a good man,” she protested.

  “He’s cocky and controlling and moody.”

  “He’s not a big fan of yours, either,” she returned.

  Andrew’s gaze turned flinty. “I could make you happy, Charlotte. And unlike Silveira, you’re the first and only girl I’ve ever loved.”

  “Is that really true?”

  “Do you think I would lie to you?” he asked in amazement.

  “A lot of years have passed. I’m sure there were other women in your life.”

  “And other men in yours. I understand that. But I knew what I lost with you, the second I lost it. And I’ve wanted to get it back ever since.”

  “You didn’t try to get it back. You went to college, and I never heard from you.”

  “I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me. And those were bad years for me—I barely remember some of them. But this isn’t about the past; it’s about now. We get along. We’re good together.”

  “As friends, yes. I’ve been trying to think of our relationship as more, but I can’t, Andrew. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying deliberately to string you along. I wanted to take my time and see what happened.” She started to cross the street, but he caught her by the arm.

  “Then keep taking your time, Charlotte. You don’t have to decide this now.”

  “I can’t pretend that I’m not attracted to Joe.”

  “That’s not a crime. Have you slept with him?”

  “That’s not your business.” She slipped out of his grip. “Andrew, part of me will always love you. But to be honest, I think I mostly miss the girl I was with you. The one who hadn’t been hurt, who wasn’t scared of being in love, the one who thought dreams could really come true. I thought if I got you back, maybe I’d feel that way again.”

  “But I’m the one who took away your dreams,” he said heavily.

  “I know why you cheated. I told you I loved you, and you didn’t feel the same.”

  “I was afraid you’d want more than I could give. I was a coward.”

  “And I became one after that. I’ve never told another man I loved him. I’ve never let anyone get close enough.”

  “Because you thought they would run, like I did? I had no idea I messed you up like that.”

  “It wasn’t all you. It was also losing the baby. It was my mother’s betrayal, the secret she made me carry. It was the other guy I was with, the fact that I’d used sex as revenge and maybe made a baby out of it. I screwed up, and I’ve spent a lot of years with regrets. But no more. Our past is a piece of who we are, but it’s not the whole story. We had our time, Andrew. It’s over.”

  “There’s always a second chance.”

  “Not always,” she said with a definitive shake of her head. “Sometimes you don’t get a do-over. You just have to live with it.”

  As the light turned green, she started across the street, her vision blurred by tears. She felt ruthless and a little cruel but also free for the first time in a very long time.

  Caught up in thought, she didn’t see the car speeding around the corner until the headlights blinded her. She froze, not sure which way to go. Then someone grabbed her and shoved her across the street. She landed on her knees, the weight of a male body pressing her into the ground.

  For several seconds, she didn’t move, her heart pounding, her breath coming hard and fast. In the distance, she heard people talking; someone was calling 911.

  “Are you all right?” Andrew asked.

  She stared at him in a daze, seeing blood on his forehead. “You’re bleeding.”

  He put a hand to his head. “Just a scratch.”

  He got to his feet and extended a hand. She stood up, her legs shaky, as adrenaline raced through her body, making her feel light-headed and sweaty. She clung to his hand for a moment to get her balance. She heard people asking if they were all right and Andrew replying that everything was fine.

  There was chatter about the car that had run the light. No one knew what color it was, just that it was dark. All she could think
about was how close she’d come to being run over.

  “Charlotte?” Andrew squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to his worried face. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? You’re not talking, and that’s not like you.”

  “I just can’t believe what almost happened. No one drives that fast around here.”

  “Maybe they were drunk.”

  A moment later, a police car pulled up next to them, and Charlotte was surprised to see Colin and Joe get out of the car. Joe didn’t answer routine traffic calls.

  “What’s going on?” Joe’s gaze zoomed in on their joined hands.

  She would have pulled away from Andrew, but he was holding on tight.

  “A car ran the light and almost hit Charlotte,” Andrew said shortly.

  “Andrew pushed me out of the way. He saved my life, and he’s the one who’s bleeding. I’m fine.”

  “Do you need to go to the hospital?” Colin asked Andrew.

  “No, it’s nothing,” Andrew said.

  “You might want to get checked out,” Colin said. “Head injuries can be tricky.”

  “It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

  “If you’re sure. I’ll see what information our witnesses have.” Colin moved toward the group gathered behind them.

  “Did either of you notice any details about the car or the driver?” Joe asked.

  “All I saw was headlights,” Charlotte answered, pulling her hand out of Andrew’s grip. Both men seemed very aware of her action, and the tension between them was palpable. “Andrew was behind me. Maybe he got a better look.”

  “It looked like a compact car, dark green maybe,” Andrew said. “It came around the corner really fast. Charlotte was ahead of me. I shoved her out of the way, and the next thing I knew, my head was hitting the pavement. I didn’t see where the car went after that. I hope someone else did.”

  “Where were you coming from?”

  “We just finished dinner at Rusty’s,” Andrew replied.

  Charlotte shivered, chilled by the cool night and the near miss.

  “You’re cold. Why don’t you get into my car?” Andrew suggested.

  “You don’t have your car, Charlotte?” Joe asked.

  Every question seemed to carry a silent accusation, as if she’d been caught cheating on him. But he’d called off their plans. She had every right to go out to dinner with whomever she chose. If he was angry about it, that was his problem.

  “It’s at Andrew’s house,” she said. “He drove us here.”

  He nodded, his lips drawing into a tight, hard line. “Then by all means, get into his car.”

  “Why are you here, Joe?” she couldn’t help asking. “You don’t usually go out on these calls.”

  “The woman who called dispatch said it was you and the reverend. I wanted to make sure you were all right. Colin was on his way out, so I jumped in the car.”

  “Can we go?” Andrew asked.

  “Yeah, sure. We’ll let you know if we come up with anything.”

  “Great,” Charlotte said, glad to get away. Turning on her heel, she walked down the street, Andrew following close behind.

  He opened the car door for her and then slid behind the wheel. “He’s pissed that you were with me.”

  “He doesn’t have any right to be,” she snapped.

  They drove in silence. When they arrived at Andrew’s house, he asked if she wanted to come in.

  “No, I’m going home,” she said, getting out of the car. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  He followed her to her car. “Charlotte, wait.”

  She sighed. “What, Andrew?”

  “If you change your mind about Silveira, you know where to find me.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “You still know where to find me,” he said. “Friends forever, Charlie. I’d like a lot more, but I won’t give that up.”

  FIFTEEN

  Joe couldn’t believe that Charlotte had gone out to dinner with Andrew. And she’d driven to his house, which implied that she’d initiated the night out. Had she gone after Andrew the second he’d called off their plans? Shit!

  He had no right to be angry; he was the one who’d bailed on her. But dammit, did she have to run straight into the arms of her old boyfriend?

  Now Andrew had quite literally saved her life. He hadn’t missed the way she’d clung to Andrew’s hand. It had taken her a long time to let go.

  And what were they doing now? He envisioned them together in Charlotte’s old house, reliving the past, maybe deciding to start things up again—if they weren’t already started. He’d been feeling confident that Charlotte was over Andrew, but he wasn’t so sure now.

  “I’ve got nothing,” Colin told him, returning to his side. “No one got the license plate. Although Mrs. Kierney thinks it started with a J.”

  “That’s not enough. Are we living in a town where everyone commits the perfect crime?” Joe fumed. “Someone saw something. Canvass the businesses on this block and around the corner.”

  Colin gave him a speculative gaze. “Because Charlotte almost got hurt or because you’re concerned that this was more than just a red-light runner?”

  He didn’t want to believe that someone had gone after Charlotte on purpose, but he couldn’t discount it. “That’s what we need to find out. I’ll take this side of the street, you take the other. I want to see who else was in Rusty’s while they were there.”

  “No problem.” Colin added, “She’s all right, Chief.”

  “I know. The good reverend saved her life. How do you think she’s going to thank him?”

  “So it’s like that,” Colin said.

  He sighed, realizing that he was giving too much away. “It’s tough to compete with first love.”

  “Charlotte may feel the same,” Colin said pointedly. He paused. “Kara tells me I’m very bad at advice, so take this for what it’s worth—but if Charlotte wanted Andrew, she’d already be with him.”

  Joe thought about that as Colin walked away. The only problem was that Charlotte had been with Andrew tonight. Now he had to figure out what to do about it.

  * * *

  After Charlotte arrived home, she talked to Annie for a while, played with the baby while Annie went to make his bottle, checked her e-mail, and flipped through the television channels, but nothing held her attention. She felt restless. Partly from the close call but also because of Joe. He’d looked at her as if she’d betrayed him, and she’d felt a little as if she had—which was ridiculous. They weren’t a couple. They weren’t together.

  She paced around the living room, a reckless idea taking hold in her head. Finally, she gave into it. Telling Annie that she was going out for a while, she grabbed her car keys and headed out the door.

  Joe probably wasn’t at home; he’d obviously been working when the 911 call had come in. But that was two hours ago.

  When she pulled up in front of his house, his truck was in the driveway, and the lights were on. Drawing a deep breath, she walked up to the front door and gave a firm knock.

  He answered a moment later. He’d changed out of his suit into worn jeans and a T-shirt, and the fact that he looked even sexier now just made her more annoyed with him. She brushed past him. “Is Isabella here?”

  “She’s at Nick’s. What do you want?” His voice was no more welcoming than the cold, flinty look in his dark eyes.

  “First of all, you have no right to be angry at me. You broke our date, not me.”

  “Well, you obviously found a substitute. What were you doing with him?”

  “Eating pizza.”

  “Are you two together now?”

  “Andrew isn’t here, is he?”

  Joe’s eyes glittered with a mix of emotions she couldn’t begin to interpret. She was having trouble just thinking, with her heart pounding and her palms sweating and her fingers itching to run along the hard, flat planes of his chest. Fortunately, she was distracted by Rufus, who awoke from a nap to greet her wi
th happy kisses.

  “That’s enough,” Joe scolded the dog.

  Rufus whimpered.

  “You don’t have to yell at the dog.”

  “Do you want me to yell at you?”

  “Maybe you should,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re obviously itching for a fight.”

  Rufus slunk away as Joe moved closer to her.

  “What do you want, Charlotte?” he repeated.

  “Why did you cancel our date?” she countered. “One minute you’re planning to make dinner for me, and then it’s over. What happened?”

  After a momentary hesitation, he said, “The mayor thought I was crossing a line with you. He was worried that our relationship might influence the investigation.”

  “So you were concerned about your job?” she asked, disappointed in his answer.

  “I was worried about your reputation, Charlotte. He accused you of playing me. And he threatened to bring in someone from outside the department if he didn’t feel we could be objective. I don’t want that to happen—not because I’m afraid I’ll lose my job but because I don’t want someone going after you at his order.”

  It made sense, but she didn’t completely buy it. “Are you sure you didn’t use what the mayor said as an excuse? Maybe you had second thoughts about us having dinner together.”

  “Maybe I should have had second thoughts, considering you went running to Andrew two seconds after I canceled our date,” he retorted.

  “I owed him a phone call.”

  “And that turned into dinner together?”

  “Yes, and I didn’t do anything wrong. I have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  “So why do you feel guilty?”

  “Because you’re making me feel that way!” she shouted in frustration.

  “I haven’t said anything.”

  “Exactly. But the way you looked at me tonight—”

  “Andrew was holding your hand,” he bit out.

  “I was almost killed. I was shaky, and Andrew saved my life.”

  “I know. And I should be damn glad he was there. But seeing you two together . . . I didn’t like it.”

  His possessive tone should have made her angrier. Instead, it was making her hot.