Wren couldn’t help laughing. “It is sort of frozen in time. I wondered why he hasn’t made the house more his.”
“Alec’s not so good at letting people go,” his sister said, somewhat cryptically.
Wren was horribly tempted to ask about Alec’s marriage and the two daughters who apparently didn’t visit, but she knew she shouldn’t. It wasn’t any of her business.
It was probably just as well that Abby stirred then. Sally said with delight, “Oh, your cutie’s waking up. Can I have a quick cuddle? Evan’s about to turn two and ever since he learned to walk he’s go, go, go. I miss having a baby.”
She did hold Abby gently and tell her how pretty she was while insisting Wren go through the baby paraphernalia she’d brought. Wren was especially delighted with the denim sling designed for the mother to carry her baby close to her body while having her arms free, and the bright-colored mobile that would clip onto the hood of the bassinet.
As the nurse at the hospital had, Sally cut Wren’s stuttered protests and thanks short. “I don’t need any of it. I’ll give it away to somebody, and it might as well be you. Alec said you had some clothes for her, but let me know if you need more.”
Wren felt absurdly weepy by the time Sally made her excuses and left. Everybody was being so nice. Was it because this was a small town?
Between nursing and changing Abby’s diaper and cuddling and talking to her, it was close to an hour before Wren was able to get back to her baking. She barely got the cinnamon rolls out of the oven before it was time to put the meat loaf in.
Alec looked tired when he came in the door, although Wren, who had come out of the kitchen at the sound of the key in the lock, saw him relax subtly at the sight of her. Or maybe it was at the smell of dinner cooking.
He inhaled. “I could get used to this.” Following her into the kitchen, he glanced at Abby, who was sleeping in the bassinet, but his gaze barely touched her before zeroing in on the sink, where the cups sat unwashed. “Sally stopped by,” he said with seeming resignation.
“Yes, and she brought lots of nice things for Abby. Not just the bassinet. I tried to tell her she didn’t have to, but she wouldn’t listen.”
He snorted. “She’s a busybody. The bassinet was her ticket in the door.”
“She’s your sister!”
He only grinned. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”
Over dinner, Wren asked if he thought most people would rebuild.
She could see the worry on his face. “I don’t know. No. Not everyone. There’ll be some FEMA trailers for people to stay in for the immediate future, but… Hell. Some of the older folks are giving up. They lost too much. And what are people supposed to do who didn’t carry flood insurance?”
“Won’t the government offer low interest loans?” she asked tentatively.
“Sure.” He sighed. “But what if you’re already got a mortgage? Can you afford another loan? Most of the jobs here don’t pay that well. I had to take a hell of a cut when I moved.”
“Why did you? Because your sister’s here?” She almost held her breath, waiting to see if he would answer.
For the longest time, he didn’t. He took a bite of meat loaf and chased it with a swallow of orange juice. Finally, when she was about to give up and fill the silence with chatter to show she didn’t care if he didn’t want to share anything about himself, he said, “No. Mom was still alive. I moved in to help take care of her.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
He looked at the bite of baked potato on his fork as if he didn’t know what it was. “She had breast cancer. By the time they found it, it was too late.”
“Oh, no.” Wren touched his arm, then quickly drew her hand back. “No wonder…”
His eyes met hers. “No wonder?”
“Well…that you don’t seem very happy in this house.”
His mouth twisted. “That obvious, huh?”
She managed a smile, if a shaky one. “It sort of looks like you’re camping out here.”
“Yeah.” He took the morsel from his fork, chewed and swallowed. “It doesn’t feel like anyplace I’d live. Mom hadn’t changed much in the house—I guess you can tell that.”
“Yes.”
“Funny, too, because she’d been living here for—” he calculated “—most of ten years. Sally was still in high school when they came to live with Aunt Pearl. Her health was going downhill, and she needed someone. Mom was the closest to her of the nieces and nephews.”
“I saw the picture on the mantel. Is that Pearl and her sister and your grandfather?” She waited anxiously to see whether he’d be annoyed at her interest. But they had to talk about something, didn’t they?
He didn’t seem to mind. “The one in the middle? Yeah. I never knew my grandfather. He was a policeman killed in the line of duty. My grandmother talked about him a lot. She never remarried. I suppose it was her stories that got me interested.”
“Edwina was prettier than Pearl, wasn’t she?”
“You noticed? Grandad was prettier than Pearl.”
Wren giggled.
“She was a feisty old lady, though. We used to stay with her when I was a kid. Scared the daylights out of me. I was afraid if I so much as twitched I’d break something.” He was smiling, remembering. “I’d sit in that parlor with my elbows squeezed to my sides so I didn’t bump some ugly porcelain thing off a table, and then I’d start to drum my heels and Aunt Pearl would say, ‘Doesn’t that boy ever stay still?’”
The laughter felt good. So did having him open up this way, even if it wasn’t about the hurtful parts of his life.
But then she noticed how far away his gaze seemed and that his mood visibly changed. “If Mom had stayed in St. Louis, she might have gotten better medical care.”
“You blame doctors here?”
“It’s somebody’s fault she didn’t get regular checkups.” His voice held dark, deep, long-held anger. “Maybe if I’d been here sooner…”
“Your sister was here.”
His gaze, bright and fierce, pinned hers. “She was busy raising her own family.”
Weren’t you? Wren wanted to say, but didn’t dare. Because…where was his family? Why didn’t he talk about his daughters?
Horror touched her. Oh, dear God. Had they died? Was that why he carried such sadness? Why they didn’t visit and he couldn’t stand to talk about them?
No, no. It couldn’t be. That would be too awful. She couldn’t bear to think of Alec having to survive anything like that. He’d taken his mother’s death hard enough.
“Was it slow?” she heard herself ask. “Your mother, I mean?”
His eyes focused again. “She wasn’t too bad until the last six weeks or so. That was hard.” He shook himself. “We shouldn’t be talking about things like that. Your dinner’s too good to spoil.”
Understanding that he’d told her all he wanted to, Wren said, “I made cinnamon rolls for dessert. I hope you like them.”
“That’s what I smelled.” His smile was warm and barely shadowed at all. “Man, you’re spoiling me.”
“I’d go crazy with boredom if I couldn’t find something to do.” Although, it wasn’t just boredom she was combating, was it? He’d told her he didn’t expect payback, but she had to offer what she could. James had stolen enough of her pride; now she had to cling to what she had left.
“You’re a reader, aren’t you?” Alec asked. “I usually have some books out from the library, but I guess I don’t have much right now.”
He’d already said that the library was closed, but he promised to pick up some paperbacks and magazines for her tomorrow at the grocery store. He apologized for whatever selection he made, but said he wanted to keep her out of sight for now.
“Oh, by the way…” He’d set a bag on the table earlier, but now he grabbed it and held it out to her. “For you.”
She peeked inside and was astonished to find a package of cotton bikini underwear and a simple white bra.
She was blushing. She knew she was. This wasn’t the world’s sexiest lingerie, but every time she put it on she’d remember Alec had picked it out. “Um… How did you know what size to buy?”
He cleared his throat. “I looked when your bra was hanging in the bathroom to dry. The underwear…” He shrugged. “I guessed. I, uh, saw some bras designed for nursing, but I couldn’t find one in your size. I’m sorry.”
“The bra is front-closing. It’ll be perfect.” Her smile wobbled. “Thank you. This is really great.”
Abby woke and Wren took her upstairs to nurse, seizing the chance to stow her stash of new underwear in her bedroom. She felt self-conscious nursing in front of Alec. He had offered to carry the bassinet up, but she refused.
“I think I’d rather keep it down here so she’s close during the day. I don’t want to have to haul it around the house.”
“Up to you.”
He must have turned on the TV, because she heard the local news start up as she climbed the stairs. He was probably breathing a sigh of relief at having a few minutes to himself.
When Wren came down again, it was to find him still sitting at the table, the television off. She paused, unnoticed, in the doorway, wondering what he was thinking about and whether she should steal upstairs and leave him alone. All he was doing was sitting there, staring in front of him at something she couldn’t see. While she watched, he made a rough sound and scrubbed a hand over his face.
That decided her, and she strolled into the kitchen as if she hadn’t been hovering. “Headache?”
“What?” He immediately controlled his expression. “No. I thought I might have a cup of coffee and another one of your cinnamon rolls.”
He insisted on getting his own, especially once she admitted that she didn’t want any.
“I thought too much caffeine might not be good for Abby.”
Alec nodded in that way he had of acknowledging whatever she’d said without expressing an opinion. It occurred to her that he never responded by saying, Good idea to be careful. Carlene had a dinner that was too spicy, and… Not when the subject was Abby.
“I, um, need to call my mom. But I was thinking.” She paused. “I know you haven’t done anything to the house, but… Well, is that because it upsets you to get rid of things, or have you just not gotten around to it?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. Was she getting too personal for him? But he said, “Strictly inertia. Why?”
She didn’t totally believe him, but she wasn’t suggesting a major remodeling project and he was the one to suggest she raid his mother’s clothes. So she forged on.
“Unless you want to keep your mom’s and your aunt Pearl’s clothes and shoes and stuff, there must be an awful lot of people in the same boat as me. I mean, having nothing. And somebody could use those clothes.”
“You’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it. I guess I’ve avoided going through Mom’s stuff, but not because I wanted to keep her tennis shoes or her favorite sweatshirt. Of course I should take it all to one of the shelters.”
“If you’d like, I could pack everything tomorrow,” Wren offered, even though she was quailing in fear he’d think she was overstepping some invisible bounds. “Unless you think there might be something you’d want to keep.”
Alec shook his head decisively. “No.” He hesitated. “Wren, you just had a baby. You shouldn’t be working.”
“It’s not work to fold clothes. I can mostly sit while I’m doing it.”
He was still hesitating. She didn’t move.
Then he let out a long breath. “Would you really do that?”
“I’d like to help. And I need to keep busy.”
“Then thank you.” His smile was warm. “I don’t have any boxes around, but you can use garbage bags.”
She nodded, thinking that if she’d been a puppy her tail would be whipping and she’d be piddling on the floor in relief and pleasure because he wanted her help, because he was smiling at her. And that made her mad at herself.
Mad at him, too, but none of this was his fault.
He was watching her, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Are you nervous about calling your mother?”
Oh, boy. She was all over the map emotionally. Letting go of one worry, Wren embraced another. She wrinkled her nose. “Dragging my feet. I feel like a kid going home to confess she threw a rock that shattered the neighbor’s front window.”
He had the world’s best laugh. It made her tingle in places that she shouldn’t, considering he didn’t feel that way about her. And considering one of these days soon, she’d be leaving Saddler’s Mill, and she’d never see Alec Harper again.
It was like teetering on the edge of an abyss. And knowing you were going into it.
The anxiety was enough to bring her to her feet. “I’m going to get it over with right now.” She grabbed the phone without looking at him, but she could feel his gaze. Intense, caring, kind. That made her heart hurt.
Alec stood. “I need a shower. Unless you think it’ll wake Abby?”
“Nothing wakes Abby except the growling of her own stomach.”
With another of those laughs, he left the kitchen. She stood there, gripping the phone so hard she was surprised the plastic didn’t crack.
Why had she been so stupid, getting involved with a man like James? Why hadn’t she waited for someone like Alec?
Now, that really is stupid, a voice in her head said. He wouldn’t have looked at you twice. This…this togetherness was all pretense. She couldn’t forget that.
Wren suspected her mother had been surprised James was interested in her. Maybe that was one of the reasons she’d wasted so much time telling herself she was lucky, when she should have been heeding the huge, neon warning signs flashing in front of her eyes.
With a sigh, she sank onto one of the chairs and made herself dial.
Her mother answered right away.
“Hi, Mom. It’s me.”
“Wren, for heaven’s sake. James called looking for you.”
“That’s because I left him, and I don’t want him to find me.”
“What?”
Wren told her…not everything, but near enough. Not about the ongoing humiliations and cruelty to which James had subjected her, but about the time he beat her until she was curled in a fetal position on the floor. About how he tried to kick her stomach.
“You never even told me you were pregnant.”
“I should have. But things weren’t very good with James and I hadn’t decided what to do and…I guess I wanted to decide first.”
“I have a granddaughter?”
“Yes. Abigail Alexa. She looks like me, not James.” Wren heard the defiance in her voice. No, she’s not rosy pink with pretty blond hair, but I don’t care.
“He has some rights as a parent.”
“He didn’t want her. He wanted me to get an abortion.”
“That might have been more sensible, under the circumstances.” Her mother voiced the unforgivable.
Wren stiffened. “I wanted her. And I love her.”
“Well…” There was an excrutiatingly long pause. “What’s done is done.” She took an audible breath. “So you’re stranded in Arkansas, of all places?”
“I was looking for Molly,” Wren explained again. “My college roommate, remember?”
“I thought I raised you to have more sense than to go off without even finding out whether she still lived there.”
She should have had more sense, but Wren wouldn’t have admitted it out loud under torture.
“I’m assuming you need money,” Mom said briskly. “Of course I’ll send you some. Are you desperate enough that I need to find out where to wire it? Or will the mail do?”
She wanted so much to say, I don’t need your money. But she did, of course. Alec was already doing enough. So much for clinging to pride. Closing her eyes, she mumbled, “The mail will be fine. Thank you, Mom.”
“Will a
thousand do for now?”
A thousand dollars. Enough for Wren to buy an airline ticket if she needed to and still have enough left to get by for a while.
Wren would have traded it in a heartbeat for her mother to say, Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I love you. But that wasn’t Mom, and it never would be. Wren had given up hoping.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll pay you back when I can.”
“Don’t be silly. You know I can afford to help.” That was closer to I love you, enough to bring a lump to Wren’s throat.
“Mom… Please don’t tell James where I am if he calls again. I’m scared of him. Please.”
“All right,” her mother said after a moment. “The decision is certainly yours.”
Mom had raised her to be independent, to make her own decisions, which was something.
No, it was a whole lot. Just…not enough.
“He hasn’t phoned again,” Mom said.
“Do you remember when he called?”
“It’s been a week. When did you leave him?”
They decided he’d contacted her the same evening Wren left. She would have been at the cheap motel by the airport in St. Louis by then. She passed along Alec’s address then asked about her mother’s work. Finally, she thanked her again and hung up the phone. Her mind immediately turned to what her mother had said, and, maybe even more importantly, her own reactions.
She felt light-headed. That’s why I stayed with him. The realization had the force of an epiphany. Not because I was too dumb to notice what was happening, but because I didn’t believe in myself enough to know I deserved better.
“You okay?”
With a start, she swung to see that Alec had entered without her noticing. He was so big and strong, she wanted desperately to lean against him and hang on.
But, of course, she was already doing too much leaning.
“Fine,” she said brightly, without meaning it. “Mom’s sending some money.”
“Did she want you to come home?”
All That Remains Page 12
