Wounded Heroes Boxed Set

by Judith Arnold

  Which from the look on Dana’s face was totally unacceptable.

  ***

  HER FACE PALE, Ruth lifted her chin and kept her calm. Dana didn’t. Though Joe’s skin had turned pasty, too, she ignored his reaction. "You’ll have to leave, Joe, and not contact me again. I know I just agreed to pursue a relationship with you, but I won’t tolerate comments like that to someone I love. It’s unacceptable for you to bear a grudge against Ruth."

  He ran a nervous hand through his hair and shot her a pleading glance. "Look, I was out of line. I’m sorry."

  "Excuses don’t matter. I can’t risk hurting Ruth. And this decision is final."

  Openmouthed, he stared at her. She wondered how she could make him leave if he refused. He was one of the good guys. He took a step toward her and she wheeled back.

  Ruth, literally this time, came between them. "Dana, let me handle this."

  "What? Why?"

  "Because it’s me he said that to." Ruth faced Joe. "Could you leave us alone a minute? Stay in the hall, I want to talk to you, too, but first I need to deal with Dana."

  "Ruth, this is my decision."

  "No, it’s not."

  Dana was shocked to hear Ruth’s voice raise in pitch. For as long as she could remember, she’d never heard the woman speak above normal levels.

  Slowly, Joe backed out of the room and Ruth crossed to the door and shut it. Then she turned to Dana. Her friend’s expression was conflicted.

  "Ruth—"

  "Let me speak, please. Actually, I insist."

  "A-All right."

  "Take some deep breaths first."

  Because she was so upset, Dana followed the suggestion and felt a bit calmer. Ruth knew her so well.

  "You’ve been moping for days about this guy not calling you. I saw him watch you dance, saw you talk afterward. I heard you say you’d decided to date. I’m not going to sit by and let you forgo a relationship with a man you care about because of me."

  "It’s not your choice. It’s mine. I refuse to allow anyone to speak to you that way. He blames you for my condition, Ruth."

  Silence. Then, "To a degree, I was to blame." When Dana began to protest, Ruth said, "Sweetie, we had some therapy sessions together. Caroline said not to cover up that fact."

  "Caroline said what happened to me was an accident. It was!"

  "Yes, one that wouldn’t have occurred if I hadn’t gone backstage that night."

  Dana was thoughtful for a moment. They’d both benefited from the honesty that Caroline Barge had insisted on. "All right, then. You’ve more than made up for your part in my accident. In what you sacrificed for me."

  "Oh, yeah? Let’s see." She began counting on outstretched fingers. "I gained a daughter. I found a life’s work that I never had, mind you, while I was married. And after John died, I was lost. I have you, an interesting job that gives my life purpose and a beautiful house to live in. Some sacrifice."

  Deflated, Dana eased back. What Ruth said was true, even if she did put a slant on the situation. "You know what I mean."

  "And you know what I mean."

  "Why Joey? There will be other guys…"

  Now Ruth snorted. "You’ve barely dated in the twelve years since the accident."

  "Neither have you."

  "I’m sixty. You’re forty. A huge difference."

  They’d had this conversation before. Dana always wished Ruth would find a man to share her life with, regardless of the effect it would have on Dana herself.

  "In any case," Ruth continued, "I won’t be responsible for running Joe Moretti out of your life."

  "How would this work, Ruth, practically? He feels what he feels." The statement was an honest, unemotional assessment of the situation.

  Ruth took some time to think about the question. "He’s going to have to get over his resentment. His sense of blame."

  Dana shook her head.

  "It’s not up to you. It’s up to me. And him."

  Dana wheeled the chair back and forth, like an able-bodied person might shift on his feet. Of course she wanted Joe in her life but not at Ruth’s expense.

  "Now," Ruth said, somewhat haughtily, "I’d like to talk to Joe alone."

  Scowling, Dana did her best to glare at Ruth. "I’m not happy about this unilateral decision."

  "Then you’ll have to find a way to deal with that." She walked to the door but turned before she opened it. "Have I ever asked you for anything, Dana?"

  "To get better emotionally. To work harder at it."

  "Other than that?"

  Dana stared at her. They both knew the answer to Ruth’s query.

  "Well, I’m asking now. And, as you said, to some degree, you owe me."

  Dana didn’t know this Ruth. In the ten years they’d been together, they’d never had one fight. Which was another thing she didn’t like—Joe bringing strife to Dana and Ruth’s relationship. "Fine." Head high, she wheeled out the door in a huff. She was, after all, entitled to pout.

  Joey was standing in the hallway like a kid being called into the principal’s office. "Dana, I’m—"

  "Don’t talk to me. I’m mad at you. Go inside. Miss High-and-Mighty wants to see you." With that, she rolled away with as much flourish as was possible in a wheelchair.

  ***

  THE OLDER WOMAN with attractive gray hair and big green eyes stared over at Joe from where she leaned against the desk. Instead of anger, her body language revealed determination, though her face was ragged.

  "I’m sorry, Ruth," he repeated once he was inside. "I was out of line in what I said."

  "In some ways you were, Joe. In some ways you weren’t. Let’s put all the cards on the table."

  Since the hand he held was shit, he wasn’t anxious to do that, but he sensed Dana was serious about kicking him out of her life, and he had to get back into this woman’s good graces.

  "Dana did indeed get hurt because of me. If I could have changed places with her at that moment, I would have. But"—she pointed to Joe’s shoulder— "like you, she saw someone was in danger and pushed that person—me—out of the way."

  Joe hadn’t made the connection to what he’d done with Evie Falk and Dana’s reaction with Ruth’s predicament. Saving people was his job, but he saw the similarity now.

  "I’ve tried to make up for my unintentional part in her accident the best I can," Ruth continued. "And I’ve learned to live with my guilt. Dana’s adjusted to all that, too."

  "I—I’m glad."

  "And if you want to stay in her life, you’ll have to work on tamping down your resentment of me."

  "Am I going to get a chance to stay in her life?"

  "Yes."

  Cops were suspicious by nature and he wondered if anyone could be this forgiving? "Why are you doing this? You have the power to get rid of me."

  "I don’t want to get rid of you. I want, have always wanted, Dana to find a loving relationship with a man. The only one she’s ever really cared about was that idiot Jacques, who dumped her without even trying to adjust to her situation."

  Dana had mentioned the jerk.

  "She’s afraid to have a relationship with a man. She’s afraid to trust another one."

  "What about Craig?" The guy she’d dated when Joe was making his decision.

  "Milquetoast, compared to you."

  He allowed himself a chuckle.

  "I’m going to tell you this, and I’m trusting you not to use it against her."

  He nodded.

  "She likes you, Joe, a lot. She’s never been interested in any man as she seems to be in you. Her feelings for you are special. I think a relationship between you two holds great possibilities for you both."

  "Thank you for telling me that."

  "In return, I want your promise to go to any extremes you have to not hurt her."

  "I promise. Of course."

  She straightened. "Now, that’s over; we have one more thing to talk about. Sit down for this."

  Like an obedient school
child, Joe sat, but Ruth remained standing. He often did that to gain advantage of suspects. "Yes, ma’am."

  "I know about your father’s illness. Furthermore, I know you haven’t told Dana about him."

  For a moment, the lights seemed dimmer, the air harder to breathe. The reaction hadn’t happened in a long time. "I don’t talk about my father."

  "I guessed as much."

  "H-how do you know?"

  "I researched you, of course. You don’t honestly think I’d let my girl get involved with someone I hadn’t done a background check on?"

  "Apparently not."

  "You’re easy to find on the internet. Home town boy makes good at Syracuse. Your older brother is a big shot. Your younger one a boy genius. Bios of your family talk about your father’s ALS, and Spence has the fundraiser every other year."

  "So you connected the name Moretti."

  "I connected the dots, yes."

  His whole body was stiff with opposition to this discussion, but Dana was worth fighting for. "And?"

  "I have to ask you outright if you’re capable of dealing with Dana’s condition when it’s bound to bring back what happened with your father and his illness. I take it he ended up in a wheelchair."

  Joe nodded. "My brother asked me the same question."

  Now Ruth’s eyes were filled with concern. And maybe a bit of fear. "What did you say?"

  "Yes, I think I can deal with the connection. I want to. That’s the best assurance I can give you. Dana and I already talked about there being no guarantees in a dating relationship."

  "I’ll accept that for now. But you have to tell her about your father’s condition."

  "I will. In my own time."

  "No, now."

  "I’m going to have to take a stand here, Ruth. I know my mind and don’t think it’ll be an issue. But I’ll tell her in my own time."

  Ruth’s brown knitted. "People have hidden resentments and difficulties that they aren’t even aware of. Your unconscious mind could be keeping you from telling Dana, could be sublimating the connection with her and your father. And it could surface at a very bad time and hurt you both."

  "Ruth, I can hardly deal with my conscious mind most of the time, let alone deal with my inner id." He swallowed hard. "I need time."

  "I don’t know."

  "I have to do this my way."

  "All right," Ruth said reluctantly. "But if you don’t tell her in what I consider a timely manner, I will."

  "Fair enough."

  "Are we done here?"

  Ruth watched him. "No, one more thing."

  Joe arched a brow.

  "I want you to paint this office and bathroom."

  "Really, why?"

  "Because my guess is, Dana’s not going to be happy about my insistence on keeping you in her life and she won’t want to see you for a while. This way, she’ll have no choice. You seem physically able to paint a few rooms."

  "I am. When can I start?"

  The woman had a stellar smile. "As soon as possible."

  Chapter 6

  * * *

  "DADDY, I COOKED you breakfast." Joe’s daughter Kara was in the kitchen, dressed in dancewear like Dana’s, when he came out of his first-floor bedroom, showered, ready to work at Devlin Dance Studio. He wore old paint-spattered cutoffs, battered sneakers and a Syracuse T-shirt, all of them ready for the rag bag. Funny how he was looking forward to a day of menial work. And to seeing Dana. She’d been cool to him when he’d said good-bye yesterday, but he was hoping proximity would help warm her up.

  "Thanks, honey. You didn’t have to do this." He glanced at the clock. "What time do you have to be at dance camp?"

  "Nine. But we can go early, so you can drop Kaelyn off at art class first." She slid pancakes onto a plate and placed them in front of him, accompanied by a kiss on the cheek. All he really wanted was coffee, but he picked up his fork and dug in. "Where is the little munchkin?"

  "In bed upstairs." After the divorce, Joe had remodeled the whole second floor of his newly purchased Cape Cod into two girls’ bedrooms. The kids had been hurt by the split between their parents and he’d wanted to make coming to stay with him as comfortable as possible. He’d do anything for his girls. "Kae sleeps till the last minute."

  His daughters were different in physical appearance, but more so personality-wise. Kara was always up early and a perfectionist, especially in dance where she performed gracefully, with ease, in front of hundreds. Kaelyn was last minute on everything. She preferred to be behind the scenes, which he believed was one reason she liked the solitary effort of art.

  Kara served her own food, then joined him at the table. At least she ate well, unlike some of her other anorexic dancer friends. "What are you going to do today after you drop us off?" She took in his clothes. "Paint?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "At Uncle Spence’s?"

  "No, at a dance studio in town."

  Without looking at him, she poured a modest amount of syrup on her plate and asked casually, "Which one?"

  "Devlin Dance."

  Kara’s fork clattered to her plate. When her head snapped up, her brows were raised and her eyes wide. "Shut up."

  Joe knew teen lingo and didn’t take offense. "Honest to God." The solemn oath in their family. No lie could be told with that vow accompanying it.

  "Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Dad, that’s the best dance studio ever. The real Dana Devlin owns it. I love her. I’ve got DVDs of most of her performances and I’ve watched them all twice."

  "Honey, you know what happened to her, right?"

  "Yeah. It’s so sad, but she still demonstrates and wrote the whole curriculum for her school." Her eyes widened. "And she just won that award. My dance teacher said she was green with envy."

  "Then why don’t you take dance at Devlin’s?"

  "I’m good enough, but her studio’s hard to get into."

  She certainly was good. In June, she’d had a solo in her recital, which had brought the roof down. And he’d been mind-boggled that the beautiful child up on stage was his. Even just looking at her and Kaelyn, he sometimes experienced the same emotion.

  "Their classes are small. And the waiting list a mile long. Mom calls them every year, but they enroll previous students first and nobody drops out. When girls graduate, they take a few new people, but I’m too far down on the list." Kara frowned. "How do you know her?"

  Joe hadn’t wanted to tell the kids about his online-dating search. The internet was rife with predators and he didn’t want them to think they could go online to find boyfriends. "I met her through some people I know. I’m painting as a favor to her."

  Kaelyn, his seven-year-old, stumbled into the kitchen. Her curly hair needed combing, but she was dressed in cute shorts and top.

  "Hey, sleepyhead."

  "Hi, Daddy." Like Kara, she kissed his cheek and grinned when she caught sight of the table. "Pancakes!"

  Kara started to get up.

  Joe said, "Sit, Kara, and finish your meal. I’m done. I’ll make some for Kae."

  As he fixed Kaelyn’s breakfast, he listened to the girls’ conversations. Kara told Kaelyn what Joe was doing today—which Dana still knew nothing about. Kaelyn responded with suitable awe about the dance studio, which apparently her sister had told her about. But when he turned around, he saw a shadow of sadness on his younger daughter’s face. Whereas Kara was as graceful as a gazelle, Kaelyn wasn’t. She had artistic talent that she’d gotten from her mother, an interior designer, but felt bad about her physical awkwardness. He made a note to be more aware of that.

  After a pleasant half hour with his daughters, Joe dropped them off at their respective destinations and then, truck already packed, he headed for Devlin Dance. Yesterday, all Dana had said to him was, No matter what Ruth thinks, I’m still mad at you. Don’t talk to me. And go away.

  Not a chance, he thought, not one freakin’ chance. Sure, there were tons of hurdles to mount in this relationship, but he’d be damned if he di
dn’t give it the old college try!

  ***

  WHILE RUTH WAS out doing errands, Dana had come into the studio early Friday morning to make sure the rooms and the schedule were ready for the weeklong workshop to start on Monday. The girls were all good dancers and had taken classes from her for years. Still, they had a lot to learn. Even when she’d been at the top of her game, she herself had never stopped taking classes. Now she could think about that time in her life without gut-wrenching pain and only a modicum of sadness. She glanced over at a row of DVDs that had been made through the course of several years of her career. Though she’d come a long way, she’d never been able to watch one of those, and they were displayed only because she let the girls borrow them.

  There was a clatter from the front of the studio. Ruth rarely came in that way, as they had a private entrance in the back. Dana waited a bit and heard more noise. She was about to roll away from her desk when Joey appeared in the doorway. "Hi, pretty lady."

  Her eyes narrowed, though her heart did a little two-step at seeing him. God, he was overwhelmingly male. "What are you doing here?"

  He held up a paintbrush. "I’m gonna spruce the place up."

  "You’re kidding, right? I told Ruth to hire some people to do that."

  "She hired me yesterday." Leaning indolently against the doorjamb, he smiled at her. He had several of them—one of pure joy, one tinged with sadness and this one—cocky as all hell. "I got a lot to make up for, remember. Ruth’s a hard taskmaster. I won’t get out of line again."

  Though she appreciated his irreverent humor online, this was not a joking matter. "Is nothing sacred to you?"

  His expression turned serious. "My girls."

  She couldn’t very well criticize him for that. From what he’d told her online, he was a great dad, a trait she admired in a man. Her own father had always been focused on her career. When it had ended, he’d tried his best, but the crux of their relationship was gone.

  "As a matter of fact, my girls and I were talking about you this morning."