by Curry, Edna
“Do I look like the Tarzan type?” Trace grumbled, trying not to show how pleased he was for the suggestion of a legitimate excuse to go next door.
“That’s the thanks I get,” Jenny grumbled. “And I made fresh cookies for the ungrateful bum, too,” she told Baby.
The cat sat on the kitchen stool licking her chops after obviously enjoying a treat.
“You’re right, I’m a first-class rat,” Trace told Jenny, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks. You’re a doll, as usual.”
“Humph,” Jenny snorted, rubbing her now blushing cheek and watching him disappear upstairs. “I’ll just bet it only takes him ten minutes to change clothes and be across that lawn, Baby!”
Baby blinked at her knowingly as if to say, “I know. After all, wasn’t I the one who got them together in the first place? Where do you get off taking all the credit for playing cupid?”
Chapter 6
Actually, it was only about five minutes later when Trace rang Lisa’s doorbell.
When she answered, he thought he’d never seen a more welcome sight than her pleased smile.
“Trace!” she said, opening the door wide.
A black smudge streaked across her left cheek, and a green flowered kerchief covered her dark curls, but her eyes sparkled with happiness. Obviously, the depression she’d shown the last time he’d seen her had lifted.
He stepped inside and resisted the urge to take her into his arms. He wanted to grab her and kiss her silly, but he wasn’t giving her a reason to send him away again. Instead he tried to keep his voice nonchalant. “Jenny said your furniture arrived today. I thought you could use some help.”
“You don’t have to do that, Trace.” She closed the door behind him.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to, Lisa.” He surveyed the crowded room, wondering why her grown children hadn’t helped her move. Wasn’t that what families usually did? He bit his tongue to keep from asking her such a personal question, and instead added, “It looks like I was right about your needing help.”
“The men with the moving van were very nice. They put each piece of furniture in the room I told them to.”
Trace raised an eyebrow at that. “You want all this in here?”
“Well, no. I mean, yes, for now. I guess I brought more than I should have, and of course, I’ll have to get rid of some of Gram’s stuff…” She shrugged helplessly.
“Just tell me what you want done,” Trace said firmly.
“Well, I’ve decided to use the master bedroom downstairs for my office, because it’s large and has a nice view of the garden. But first I have to take out Gram’s bedroom furniture. That’s going to Goodwill. I’ve been trying to take the bed frame apart, but I can’t find a hammer.”
Trace nodded. “I get the picture. I’ll go get my toolbox and be right back.”
“Thanks. That’ll be nice.” Her voice was vibrant with relief.
In a few minutes he was back. The large, clumsy mattress and box spring which Lisa had struggled to prop up against the wall were no problem for Trace. “Just guide me through the door, so I don’t scratch your woodwork,” he said and made quick work of them.
Lisa couldn’t resist watching the flex of his well-developed muscles bulging just below the short sleeves of his blue T-shirt. The sight made her wonder what it would be like to be spread out on the huge mattress with him instead of helping him lug it about. She pushed away the erotic thought.
He was a man of contrasts, she mused. The night they’d gone out for dinner, he’d looked so sophisticated, and now anyone would take him for a handsome laborer in his tee shirt and well-worn blue jeans.
He set the mattress down, leaning it against the wall near the front door as she had asked. He smiled when he caught her watching him. Their eyes held for a long intense moment, before she blushed and looked away. Honestly, she was reacting like a teenager.
She turned back to the bedroom and plugged in the vacuum cleaner. “The carpet in this room is still in good condition,” she said briskly, trying to put things between them back on a businesslike basis. “Though I think it’s the only one in the house that won’t have to be replaced.”
As she snapped the power button she thought he looked at her strangely, but the roar of the noisy machine kept him from answering. What had she said that he thought strange?
Two hours later, all her office furniture was in place. Even the boxes of stuff that belonged in the room were sitting along one wall, waiting for her to unpack them at her leisure.
They stopped to survey their accomplishment. “It’s looking great,” Lisa said, tossing him a pleased smile. “It’ll do until I can do the painting and stuff after the weather warms up a bit. I’ll wash the windows and buy new curtains for now. Gram’s Priscilla curtains were so fragile that they crumbled when I took them down.”
“You’re really going to redecorate a lot?”
She sighed. “I think I’ll need to. Gram and Gramps didn’t do any in their later years. Things are pretty much as they were then.”
Trace frowned. “But, won’t it cost a lot?”
“What doesn’t, nowadays? I can do some of it myself, of course. Are you hungry?”
“I’m starved,” Trace agreed.
“Me, too,” Lisa said. “I should be able to scare up a sandwich and soup or something.”
“How about a hamburger, fries and a big chocolate malt at the burger place instead? I’ve worked up a man-sized appetite.”
“Lead the way. Oops, I think we’d better wash up a bit, first.” She laughed and reached up to brush a cobweb out of his blond hair.
“You’re not so clean either,” he said, tipping up her chin and wiping a black smudge from her chin. She swallowed at the shimmer of desire the contact sent through her veins.
She led the way to the bathroom and stood watching him as he soaped his hands and splashed water on his face, then rubbed himself dry. Then she washed up while he stood behind her, brushing his hair. She met his gaze in the mirror as she dried her hands on the white terrycloth towel. They were only washing hands and faces, yet there was something so intimate about sharing a bathroom.
“Remember the time you cut your foot by the swings out back?” he asked. “I brought you in here to this very room to clean it up and put on a bandage.”
She nodded. “I stepped on something, a broken pop bottle, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Your grandmother wasn’t home, and you were more worried about getting blood all over the bathroom than your foot.”
She laughed. That had been their last summer together. He’d been helpful back then, too, just like today. But he’d gone off and left her then. It still hurt. She knew his folks had pushed him to go out east to college, not to stay here. But he’d agreed without much of an argument. He’d always had his sights on success. And of course, their great football program had been an incentive, too. Why had he come back here to teach? Why not some power job at a more prestigious college?
Later, laughing as she watched him pop the last French fry into his mouth, she said, “I guess you were hungry. I thought I was the only grown-up left who loved junk food.”
“Wherever did you get that idea? I know lots of them,” Trace said.
“Really? Then how do they keep slim? Everyone I know seems to be dieting on lettuce and raw carrots.”
He shrugged. “Exercise. We swim, ski, or run; whatever each person likes to do.”
“I love to swim. Where do you go at this time of year?”
“There’s a pool at the college, and another at the Y. Some private ones too, of course, if you know a rich friend.”
“I’m afraid I don’t. Where’s the Y?”
Trace pulled a clean napkin out of the metal holder, and drew a map. “Better yet, why don’t I just take you some night?”
“Okay, but I think moving boxes around is going to be enough exercise for a few days. I’m stiff already.”
“Swimming will use different
muscles and ease the strain.”
Lisa looked doubtful. “I’ll think about it. Right now, I’m dead on my feet.”
He reached out and took her hand, turning her wrist up and pretending to take her pulse. “Not true. Your heart’s still beating,” he announced with a straight face.
She burst out laughing. “That’s my Trace. Always the nut. Come on, it’s bedtime.”
“Ooh, now that’s a good idea,” he teased.
Lisa shook her head, exasperated. “Honestly, Trace, how do you get away with pretending to be a proper professor?”
Trace looked hurt. “I can act as prim and proper as anyone. Didn’t I tell you I took acting lessons in college?”
“Acting is right. But I know the real you.”
“And you love it. Admit it, now.” He leaned forward and kissed her quickly on the lips.
“Trace! We’re in public,” she protested, pulling back and standing up. She began stuffing their used napkins into their paper cups, and put the Styrofoam containers and plastic forks onto their tray.
He grinned. “Okay. I’ll wait until we get home.”
Trace took the tray from her, carrying it to and dumping it in the trash bin. He slid the brown plastic tray onto the top with a loud, slapping sound, then curled his arm around her as they walked out into the cool, starlit night.
At her door, he kept his word. Under the influence of his kisses, Lisa forgot all about being tired. Instead, her tired muscles felt like quivering guitar strings on which his lips were playing a tune.
Desire sizzled inside her. She returned his kisses with an abandon she hadn’t felt in a long time. Her resolve to keep her independence evaporated in the spring night air.
A dog yapped sharply nearby. The sound reminded her they were outdoors in plain sight of anyone who might drive by. She was about to suggest he come in for coffee and lots more when a feminine voice called out, “Dad! Dad?”
Trace pulled back and dropped his arms. “Damn. Renee!” He raised his voice and called, “Be right in, Renee.”
“Your daughter?”
“Yes. She must have come home for a few things before heading off to Paris with her mother. Do you want to come over and meet her?”
Lisa shuddered. She suddenly felt very tired, and for the first time noticed the night air was cold and damp. Dealing with another family relationship hardly seemed appealing. “Not tonight, Trace, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” He gave her a last quick kiss, but the interruption had spoiled the mood and the fire was missing.
She went inside without turning on the light. She stepped to the window and watched him stride across the lawn to his house, where his daughter stood waiting in the doorway. From this distance, Lisa could only tell that Renee was tall and slim, with long, straight, blonde hair. As she watched, Trace slid an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek, and then they disappeared inside.
Whatever she had been thinking, Lisa wondered. Hadn’t she just gotten out of the complicated situation with her own children? Hadn’t she vowed to stay free, to straighten out her life? She certainly didn’t need to get involved with someone who had a daughter and an ex-wife.
Besides, she was probably only responding to Trace because of her old, unsatisfied crush on him. Their relationship had been left hanging and unfinished when he went off to college. Which was the problem.
But she was a mature woman, now. She didn’t need a man to make her happy. Exhausted, she went to bed and slept. But twice she woke up, after dreaming of being in Trace’s arms.
***
The next day she worked steadily. By late afternoon she had unpacked all the boxes and pretty well straightened out her office, her bedroom and the kitchen.
The family room was still a disaster. She piled the castoffs by the front door, confident she would have her house in order by the end of the week. The Goodwill people had promised a truck would stop at her house to pick up her donations then.
Remembering she needed her brother’s consent to give away some of their grandparent’s old furniture, since half of it belonged to him, she sat down with a cup of hot tea and called Sam.
He answered on the second ring. “Sitting right there at your desk, as usual, weren’t you?” she said, greeting him. “Don’t you ever take Lucy out for the evening or something?”
“Hi to you, too, Sis. No, I never go out if I can help it. A new baby does that to a man. Don’t get much sleep now. Besides, you know I’d rather stay home and play with my boys. What’s up?”
Sam’s voice sounded happy and contented. She suddenly envied him. She’d enjoyed her children very much too, when they were young and gave her so much less trouble. Earaches and chicken pox had been so much easier to deal with than their immaturity as grown-ups.
“They hooked up my phone,” Lisa said, giving him her new number. “It’s an unlisted number, though,” she cautioned.
“I get the message. You don’t want me to give it to your kids,” he guessed.
“You got it. “ She laughed, and explained about the furniture.
“Do whatever you want with it, Lisa. I’ve already taken the stuff I wanted to keep.”
“I want to paint and replace the carpet and drapes in a couple of rooms, too. I’ll pay for them.”
“Fine with me. By the way, Bob has called three times, wanting to know if I knew where his mother was.”
“What’s the matter?” Lisa asked, her stomach tightening. “Is anything wrong?”
“No, I’m sure they’re both fine, Lisa,” Sam assured her. “I think Bob’s just furious that he has to do his own housework, and pay his own living expenses.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“He says you ran away from home and abandoned your children.”
“Abandoned my children? But…” She looked up to see Trace standing in the doorway and let out a sharp gasp of dismay. How much had he heard? What would he think of her relationship to her children? He was obviously close to his own daughter, and he would never understand her need to get away from Bob and Jodi.
Sam was asking, “Lisa, what’s wrong?”
“Uh, nothing. Look, I have to go, now. A neighbor just dropped in.”
“Oh, I get it. You can’t talk now, eh? Sure thing, Sis. Call me later then.”
Trace watched Lisa hang up the phone and turn to face him, an embarrassed flush spreading across the contours of her face. He had walked in when she didn’t answer his knock, still basking in the heady memory of last night’s hot kisses so rudely interrupted by his daughter’s call. He had been hoping to take up where they’d left off.
Now he’s overheard this. Something about abandoning her children. What did it mean? What had she told him about her children? He frowned, trying to remember. She had a son and daughter, grown up and with good jobs. What else? Very little, actually. They’d only talked about his family. Did she have other children who were still young, then? Who had she left them with, and why? What kind of mother would leave her children?
The attraction he’d felt for her suddenly seemed to fade, as his feelings against such an act repelled him.
Why would she leave them? What was she running from?
“You might knock,” Lisa said irritably, her face a rosy hue.
He raised his eyebrows at her unfriendly tone. “I did knock, but you didn’t answer. Your door was wide open with only the screen door closed, so I walked in.”
“Oh, of course.” Her lips curved into a smile, but a red stain of embarrassment still colored her cheeks. “It was so warm, I was airing out the house a bit.”
“I thought you might want some more help.”
“Thanks. I was just taking a break. Would you like some tea?”
How could she just pretend nothing was wrong? What was really going on here? Lisa no longer seemed to be just the grown-up version of the girl next door, but a woman full of dark secrets and problems of which he knew nothing. Would she allow him to help? Did he even want to get inv
olved?
“No thanks, Jenny just served me coffee and rolls while asking me a million questions about you.”
Lisa grimaced.
“Don’t worry,” Trace said, tossing her a wry smile. “I only told her how wonderful you are, not the rest.” What ‘rest’ is there to tell, Lisa? He watched her face, trying to read her thoughts.
But Lisa wasn’t divulging anything. He could see she was going to play the ‘everything’s fine’ game with him, smiling sweetly as though nothing at all was wrong.
“That’s good,” she said. “Is Renee still there?”
At the mention of his daughter’s visit a dark surge of unhappiness roiled his gut. Trace sighed and glanced away. “No,” he said shortly. “Jenny said she left about noon. It was more of a ‘pick up my stuff’ stop, than a real visit.”
“I see.”
“How about yours?” Trace dared to ask.
“Mine?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Your children. What did you say their names were?”
“Bob and Jodi.”
“Oh, yes. They’re grown up, you said? Will they be coming to visit soon?”
“No, I don’t think so.” She turned away to survey the room, and added, “Not right away, anyway. They’re very busy with their jobs and friends.”
Too busy to help their own mother with the big job of moving? How odd. Lisa was obviously not going to explain anything to him right now. Maybe she would, after she trusted him more. Memories of their past differences hung between them. Could they ever push them aside to enjoy the present? He didn’t know. He’d just have to bide his time and hope so.
“It looks like you got a lot done already today. What do you want moved where?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves.
“I’m trying to decide what furniture will fit in here,” she said, waving a hand around the family room. “All the stuff by the front door will be hauled away. Goodwill is sending a truck for it tomorrow. But there’s still too much in the living room.” She led the way and they stood in the doorway, almost touching, while she tried to keep her mind on the subject at hand, instead of on his nearness.
