Here With Me

by Beverly Long

  The message was clear. He wasn’t family. Fine. That’s the way he wanted it. “He’s on his way home. I don’t think he’ll bother Pedro or your family again.”

  She turned on her heel, like she was a queen or something, effectively dismissing him. She spoke quietly to Arturo and Pedro, then she got in her car, and drove away.

  Arturo approached with Pedro trailing behind. “It’s done,” George said. He looked at Pedro, who now stood awkwardly, his hat in his hand, at Arturo’s side. “I don’t think he’ll bother you again.”

  “I am sorry for the trouble I bring to the family,” Pedro said.

  There was that family word again. George stared at him. “I want the truth. Did you know she was married?”

  Pedro shook his head back and forth, violently. “No. On my mother’s grave, I swear to you, I did not know.”

  “If that’s true, she lied to you.”

  “Yes.” Pedro looked miserable.

  Arturo swung his body toward the younger man. “I’ve told him not to have anything else to do with her but he won’t listen.”

  Pedro shrugged. “I love her,” he said simply. “If you want me to go, I’ll leave tonight.”

  George shook his head. “If you’d have known she was married, you’d already be on your way. Now get in your car, go home, get some sleep, and be at work on time tomorrow.”

  Arturo and George watched the young man drive away. Arturo grabbed the horn of his saddle and swung up. “He’s a fool.”

  George didn’t argue. He just nudged his horse in the ribs and they took off for home. Pedro was a fool. But that’s what a woman did to a man. Even now that Melody had told him in no uncertain terms that he was nothing, he hungered for her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  She pretended to be asleep when he came in to the bedroom. She heard him open the bathroom door, heard the sounds of water running, and then he came out and took his place on the floor.

  He could sleep outside with the horses for all she cared.

  Right. Who was she kidding? She wanted him in her bed, inside of her. And then she wanted him to do it again. And then maybe a third time. That might just get her through the night.

  They’d been so close. Then Arturo had knocked on the door and everything had changed. At the rock quarry, George had acted like she was nothing but a bother, a little girl who’d tagged after him.

  She hated—really hated—that feeling. It brought back every feeling of inadequacy she’d had as a child when she’d come to live at her grandmother’s ranch. She’d lain in her bed, her arms clutched around the Raggedy Ann doll, and sworn that she wouldn’t be a burden, that she wouldn’t be any trouble at all. Then nobody would have a reason to want her to go.

  She lay motionless for what seemed like an eternity but what was probably only forty-five minutes or an hour, at most. When she was sure he was asleep, she very quietly pushed back the sheet and blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She walked past him, her feet making no sound on the thick carpet. She put her hand on the door and silently twisted the knob. The door—

  “Are you ill?” he asked.

  Well, yeah, he’d just made her heart thump and grind. That couldn’t be good for her. “No.”

  “Do you need water?”

  “No.”

  He sighed. “Melody, I’m sorry. I was cross earlier and. . .you don’t deserve that.”

  This wasn’t helping her heart. She flipped on the light and they both blinked. He slept with his clothes on. It didn’t matter. She knew now how beautifully made he was, with wide shoulders and sleek muscles. She swallowed hard. “I guess I am a little thirsty,” she said, grasping for something to say.

  “You were right, you know,” he said, ignoring her attempts to change the conversation. “I made decisions tonight that were probably yours to make. I overstepped my bounds and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  She shook her head. “You did exactly what my grandmother would have expected you to do when you’re filling in for Gino. You took care of the situation. You protected her interests. I should have been thanking you, instead I was a. . .bitch about it.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Melody, on your worst day, you couldn’t be that.”

  It wasn’t the slickest compliment she’d ever heard but she thought it might be the nicest. “I can’t sleep,” she said. “I thought I might go down and get a sandwich. Jingle’s hungry.”

  “Jingle?” Now he was frowning. “You’re not really going to name your daughter Jingle, are you?”

  “No. But I don’t have another name picked out yet so I’m sticking with it. Do you—” She stopped. She’d almost asked him if he had any favorite girl names. She didn’t want to make him so uncomfortable that he shut her out. It was nice talking with him, having conversation. She’d been alone for a very long time. “Do you want to join me for a sandwich?” she asked.

  She thought he was going to refuse. But then he nodded. “That would be nice,” he said. He got up and they walked down the hallway in silence. They passed the stairs that led to the third floor. It made her think of Genevieve.

  It must have done the same for George, because he asked, “So, how long does she stay in her room normally?”

  “Not usually more than a couple days. When I was younger, I was worried she would starve but then Grandmother told me that she’s got a small refrigerator and a hot plate in there.”

  They walked down the steps. He put his hand just under her elbow, not touching her, but close enough that he could catch her if she slipped. It made her want to swoon.

  He was just so darn nice.

  And sexy.

  And clearly not interested in taking up where they’d left off. He apologized, she’d accepted, and now they were back acting like business associates.

  Except she didn’t want to go to a meeting with him or trade emails. She wanted to screw him.

  They walked into the kitchen and she opened the refrigerator door. “Looks like there’s leftover roast beef or some sliced turkey or—”she stopped and lifted a lid—“egg salad. What’s your preference?”

  “Turkey is fine,” he said.

  She pulled it out of the refrigerator and started to reach for the bread.

  “Let me,” he said. “You’ve got to be tired. I’ll make the sandwiches.”

  It was so silly and she was sure it was her darn hormones again, but she started to cry.

  He dropped the bread onto the counter. “What? Jesus. Honey, I’m sorry. You can make your own sandwich.”

  She cried harder. And suddenly his arms were around her and her face was pressed next to his chest and he was patting her back like one might do for a small child.

  “Now, now,” he muttered. “It’s going to be fine. Just stop crying.”

  And finally she did. But then she got the hiccups.

  “Hold your breath,” he said. “No, wait. Don’t do that. That might not be good for the baby. Maybe you should sit down,” he said, sounding a little stressed.

  The man could evidently handle tears but hiccups put him over the edge. It made her smile.

  “Can we go outside?” she asked. “You know, get away from the sandwiches.”

  That made him smile. “That’s probably a good idea.” He wrapped one arm around her shoulder and used his free hand to snag a thick blanket from the back of the couch as they walked through the family room. When they got outside, he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and then they sat down on the porch swing. It was a very dark night and the yard light that generally burned bright was out. It seemed like they had slipped into a black hole. She could feel the wood under her legs but she couldn’t even see the swing. She could feel the solid warmth of his big body next to her but she couldn’t see his hand.

  “Better?” he whispered.

  “Yes.” Aware that others in the house could have their windows open, she kept her own voice low, too. “I’m sorry I fell apart in there.”

 
“It’s been a big night, Melody. You’re entitled to a few tears.”

  She was silent for a few minutes, debating her next words. But finally she could only think of one way to say it. “George?”

  “Yes.”

  He sounded peaceful. She had a feeling she was about to rip that away from him. “Before Arturo came to our door earlier, we were sort of involved. What happened to change your mind? I mean, I thought you were. . .uh. . .interested.”

  He didn’t say a word and she wondered if she had shocked him. She felt him shift and then heard a soft sigh. “Melody, I was interested. Very. But then I had a chance to think about what we were doing and I knew it was wrong.”

  She gritted her back teeth. She refused to cry again. “What’s so wrong about it?” she asked, when she felt she had it under control.

  “I told you I was married.”

  “Yes,” she said, trying hard to understand. “I guess I don’t know how long ago you were divorced. I mean, I know it can take time to get over—”

  “I’m not divorced,” he interrupted, his voice hard. “My wife died. She was raped and murdered.”

  A chill spread fast, from her toes to the top of her head, and she clutched the blanket tighter around her. Raped and murdered. Oh, the poor woman. Poor George.

  She felt her stomach churn and she thought she might be sick. “I had no idea,” she said. “Oh, George, I’m sorry. I know that’s inadequate but it’s all I can think of.”

  He was silent. After a moment, he spoke again. “We were married for three short years. Hannah had just found out a few weeks before her death that she was carrying our first child. I came home for a meal and found her dead.”

  She had thought it couldn’t get any worse. “Oh, George,” she said again and felt bad. She should think of something to say, something that would comfort him, but her mind was blank.

  “I loved her, Melody, and losing her almost killed me. I don’t intend to ever love another woman and I couldn’t take you to my bed under false pretences.”

  She was definitely going to get sick. Thoughts and emotions swirled in her head, making her light-headed. She thought of Hannah and the terror that had ended her life. And she knew that any woman George had loved was the kind of woman who would have done every single thing she could to protect her child and stay alive.

  She thought of George and the absolute horror of finding his wife brutalized and dead. He was the kind of man who handled things and this would have been something way out of his control.

  And she thought of herself. She’d waited twenty-eight years to fall in love with a man and she’d fallen for a man who’d been so deeply wounded that he’d sworn to never love again.

  They rocked back and forth on the swing, neither talking nor touching. Finally, when she felt she had the strength, she stretched her legs to stop the momentum of the swing. “I’m glad you told me,” she whispered. “I am so dreadfully sorry for your loss.”

  “You, maybe more than some, know how difficult it is to lose someone you love.”

  She did. It made her feel awful that she had tried to trick him into her bed. “I pushed you. I hope you can forgive that,” she said.

  She heard him sigh. “I’m a man, Melody. A man more than capable of making his own decisions. You didn’t push me into anything. I don’t want you feeling bad.”

  She felt horrible. And lost. And alone. “I’m okay,” she lied. “Maybe we should go back-”

  The front door of the tasting room opened and light spilled out into the dark night. She hardly even felt George move but suddenly his finger was up against her lips, telling her to be quiet.

  Two men, both wearing dark suits, came out. The men walked directly over to an SUV that was parked next to the building. Melody realized it had been there the whole time but she’d missed it because of the darkness. The men got in, started the car, and pulled out of the drive, not turning on their lights until they reached the gate.

  Seconds later, Louis filled the open doorway, once again almost blocking out the light. He stood there, staring off toward the fading taillights. There was just enough light that Melody could see that he looked very serious. He stood there a full minute after the lights could no longer be seen. Then he stepped back into the tasting room and shut the door behind him.

  George didn’t waste any time. “Let’s get inside,” he whispered. He got up and helped Melody to her feet. Once inside he pulled the blanket off her shoulders and put it back on the couch, just the way it had been. Then he motioned for her go upstairs. “I’m going to clean up our sandwich mess,” he said. “Go upstairs. Don’t turn on or off any lights.”

  “What do you think that was all about?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll talk later. Go now. He could come inside any minute.”

  Melody went upstairs; she’d barely gotten into bed when George came in. The bathroom light had been on when they left with the door cracked just a hair. It gave off enough light that she could make out his shape as he sat on the empty side of the bed.

  “Did you know those men?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so. I mean, that’s not unusual. I haven’t been living here for many years so there are lots of Louis’s friends that I don’t know.”

  “They didn’t look all that friendly.”

  “I know,” she said. “And it’s sort of late for a wine-tasting event. Although I suppose they could be buyers.”

  “At this time of night?”

  “I know it sounds weird but the wine business is very competitive. Especially in the restaurant market. Good placement on the wine list at a popular restaurant can make or break a vintage. If you can get the wine steward to recommend your wine, all the better.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” George said.

  “Deals get made. Wine brokers, the people who are in a position to influence those kinds of things, sometimes enjoy the finer things in life, compliments of the winning winery.”

  “Bribery.”

  “Yes. Grandmother is adamantly opposed but I wouldn’t put it past Tilly or Louis.”

  George rubbed his chin in contemplation. “I guess it’s possible. Would you want to tell your grandmother?”

  “I’m not sure what I’d tell her. It’s all just speculation on my part.” It was frustrating that things were going on and she had no reasonable explanation for them. But she couldn’t accuse Louis of something unless she had proof. He was family. She had to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Maybe they were playing cards? Or maybe it was like a Mary Kay party for men and they were getting facials?”

  “Mary Kay? Facials?”

  “Cosmetics. Pink cars,” she added.

  “What?”

  Oh for goodness’ sakes. “Never mind.”

  He stood up. “We both need some sleep.” He laid down on the carpet, with his shirt on this time. He didn’t bother with the quilt.

  Ten minutes later, she sat up in bed. “There are two locked drawers in the wine shed,” she said. “There have never been locked drawers before. Do you think that has anything to do with what we saw tonight?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t think Louis used that office.”

  She lay back in bed. “You’re right. It’s probably nothing.”

  It was a good five minutes later when he said, “I didn’t say it was nothing, Melody. Do me a favor, okay? Keep an eye out for trouble and don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

  “George, don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

  “There is no such thing when it comes to either yours or your child’s safety.”

  The words hung in the air, then floated down, until they lay heavy on her heart. He cared. Damn him, he cared. But he’d loved and lost and he was afraid to love again. If there was anything she understood, it was that.

  She’d loved her parents and lost them. She’d loved both Sarah and Miguel and they, too, had been taken. But to lose a spouse, to lose the one person that completes y
ou? She pressed her hand against her belly. To lose a child before it ever even had a chance to live?

  It was horrible and her soul ached for him. He was a good man and it hurt to think that he’d suffered so.

  “George,” she said.

  “Yes.” He sounded sleepy.

  “Thank you for telling me about your wife and your baby.”

  He was silent for a long minute and she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Finally, he said, “I wanted you to know. Not so that you’d feel sorry for me but that maybe you’d understand me a little better.”

  She understood all right. He’d loved and lost and he’d have no part in causing that kind of pain for somebody else.

  She closed her eyes and willed herself not to cry. He didn’t know it was too late. She’d already fallen in love with him. But that would stay her secret. He didn’t need her adding to his already heavy load.

  ***

  George waited until he was sure that Melody was asleep. Then he carefully folded back his quilt and stood up. Something was bothering him and he couldn’t sleep until he’d put it to rest.

  He walked out into the hallway and up the stairs to the third floor. As he expected, the two dogs lay in front of Genevieve’s door. He took a step forward and their ears went up and they growled menacingly. Based on Melody’s story about how they’d reacted to Louis when he’d gotten too close, he figured if he took another step, he’d be lucky to get away with all his toes.

  Plus, everyone in the house would be wide awake. He needed to find another way.

  He walked down the three flights of stairs. On his way out the front door, he detoured through the dining room and grabbed one of the candles that had been burning earlier. He walked over to the sideboard and opened the top drawer. He felt around, stopping when his hand came upon matches.

  It wouldn’t be as good as a lantern but better than nothing. He couldn’t take a chance and turn on any of the electric lights. He put the candle and the matches in his pocket and walked out the front door. It was so dark outside that if he hadn’t known where he was going, it would have made for some difficult travel. As it was, he walked slower than usual, making sure that he didn’t trip over any unexpected obstacles.