A Home of Her Own

by Brenda Novak

  He scowled. “I’ve already offered you twice as much as you could get from anyone else. How greedy can you be?”

  How much were her dreams worth? “I don’t know,” she said. “But somehow I always seem to be asking for too much.”

  MIKE DIDN’T FEEL like driving back to the ranch. The roads had to be nearly impassable by now and were only getting worse, making his decision to stop in at Jerry’s café a risky one. But he didn’t care. He wasn’t the unruffled, conservative guy he’d been just yesterday. He was restless and edgy and—

  The bell over the entrance jingled. Brooding, Mike glanced up from his coffee to see Gabe roll in and wasn’t sure whether he was excited to see his old friend or not. He decided he wasn’t. Gabe had seemed more like himself when he visited the ranch yesterday, but Mike didn’t want the added pressure of trying to maintain their strained relationship right now. He was still too annoyed about what had happened with Lucky. But he waved anyway. He could hardly go unnoticed. He was the only one in the diner besides Judy, the waitress, and Harry, the cook.

  “What are you doing in town in the middle of such a bad storm?” Gabe asked as he wheeled closer.

  Too grumpy to bother smiling, Mike propped an arm on the back of the booth and watched his friend. “I was wondering the same about you.”

  “I had a meeting with the mayor yesterday and stayed too long. Haven’t been able to make it home since.” Gabe remained in his chair instead of hauling himself out and sliding around the booth as Mike had seen him do before, when the restaurant was busy.

  “Too much snow?”

  Gabe nodded.

  “Considering that you bought the most remote piece of land you could find, I’m not surprised.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Did you stay at your folks’ place last night?”

  “I did. My father and I sat up talking politics.” He smiled faintly as though he’d enjoyed it, and Mike was glad that Gabe had at least remained close to his father.

  “Where’s he now?”

  Gabe grimaced. “My sister Reenie and her family stopped by. She drives me nuts, so I thought I’d get out of there for a while.”

  Reenie spoke her mind. She’d probably said something Gabe didn’t want to hear, something that should’ve been said a long time ago, and Gabe had walked—or rolled—out.

  Given his mood, Mike had half a mind to be more honest with Gabe himself. “You still making furniture?”

  “If I make much more, I’m going to have to build another cabin just to house it.”

  Yesterday Mike might have nodded and pretended it was perfectly normal to make piece after piece of furniture and do absolutely nothing with them, but he couldn’t keep up with that social farce today. He missed the honesty that had always existed between him and Gabe. “Why are you warehousing it?” he asked.

  Gabe blinked in surprise. “What do you suggest I do?”

  “What anyone else would do—sell it.” Lord knew Gabe’s rocking chairs—anything he created, really—were more than mere furniture. They were works of art. But no one else would ever be able to enjoy them because Gabe kept the furniture he made, closeting it away.

  “I don’t need the money,” he said with a shrug.

  “This isn’t about money.”

  Gabe scowled and tried to sidestep him again. “Where would I sell it? All the people around here who’re really interested have already traipsed up to my cabin to take their pick.”

  That wasn’t true. Since the accident, few folks braved his cabin. Mike was one of those who visited from time to time, and even he looked for excuses to avoid interrupting Gabe’s sullen solitude. “Who are you trying to kid?” he asked. “Me or you?”

  Gabe’s expression grew leery. “What’s going on with you today?”

  “Nothing. Nothing’s ever going on with me anymore, because I understand that our relationship has changed.” Mike took another sip of his coffee, watching Gabe over the rim.

  “Changed?”

  “We’ve been best friends most of our lives, yet ever since the car accident, I’m only allowed to smile and nod and talk about the weather.”

  Gabe’s eyes narrowed into silvery slits. “If you’ve got something to say to me, Mike, say it.”

  “Okay.” Mike set down his coffee cup and leaned forward. “It’s time for you to be productive again, to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

  Gabe rocked back as if Mike had just landed a right hook. “God, it’s Reenie, isn’t it? She’s been shooting off that mouth of hers to you, too.”

  “No.” Mike shook his head. It wasn’t Reenie at all—it was Lucky. She was bringing out the worst in him all around. But he was halfway into this conversation and he wasn’t backing out now. “What I think has nothing to do with Reenie. If she’s saying things you don’t like, it’s probably because she’s as tired as I am of seeing you cut yourself off from everyone who cares about you.”

  The muscles in Gabe’s arms bunched, revealing the anger circulating beneath his carefully controlled exterior. Since the accident, Mike had sensed the explosiveness of that anger—everyone sensed it—which was why most people chose to stay away. But until now, Gabe had kept a tight rein on his emotions. “Unless you know what it’s like to be sitting in this damn chair, you have no right to criticize or advise,” he growled.

  Mike felt terrible about the accident and guilty for having two strong, functioning legs while his best friend would never walk again. But he could finally see that his pity wasn’t getting Gabe anywhere. Maybe he was foolish to risk their relationship by pushing too hard, but he couldn’t let Gabe slip any further away from the man he used to be.

  “You’re letting it beat you, my friend,” Mike said evenly. “And I can’t stand to watch.”

  Gabe’s lips curled into a snarl, but before he could let loose, Judy came up behind him.

  “Well, look who we have here.” She tucked her bleached hair behind her ear and smiled appreciatively. “I haven’t seen you in forever, Gabe.”

  A mask quickly descended over Gabe’s face. Swiveling in his chair, he managed a tight smile. “Hi, Judy. How are you?”

  “I’d be better if you’d drop by a little more often. Are you such a health nut these days that you can’t eat a greasy burger once in a while?”

  Gabe muttered something about stopping in again soon, but Mike could tell he didn’t mean it. Gabe didn’t like being singled out, even for such a simple greeting. The exchange reminded Mike far too much of the polite nonsense that had overtaken his own relationship with Gabe.

  “So what can I get you today?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” Gabe glanced malevolently at Mike. “Go ahead and take care of Mike—if he’ll let you. Suddenly he’s an expert on everything.”

  Judy propped her hands on her hips and frowned as Gabe wheeled himself out. “Wow, what’s gotten into him?”

  “Nothing new,” Mike said with a sigh.

  She put her order pad back in her pocket. “I take it you’re not having a very good day, either.”

  He rubbed a hand over his stubbly jaw. That had to be the understatement of the year. In the past twenty-four hours he’d slept with his rival and alienated his best friend.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LUCKY SAT on the bed in her cheap green-and-brown motel room, ignoring the noisy storm outside as she stared at the three names in her mother’s journal. Dave Small, Eugene Thompson, Garth Holbrook. What were they like?

  From what she could remember of Dave Small, he had a short, stocky build, a large extended family and a pizzeria near the Honky Tonk. He also served on the city council and had two sons about ten years older than she was. Smalley took after his severely overweight mother and was one of the biggest men she’d ever seen. At nearly half his weight, Jon favored their father. Both boys were married, or at least they had been when Lucky left Dundee. But she couldn’t remember much more than that. She’d bumped into Dave here and there, but she’d never spoken to him. The only interaction she�
�d ever had with the Smalls was when Smalley and Jon rode past the Victorian one day and knocked down the Dave Small for City Council sign her mother had posted in the yard. Before they peeled away, they spotted her watching them from the shade of the porch, and hollered that their daddy didn’t need the support of a two-bit whore like her mother.

  Lucky had immediately thrown the sign away. She hadn’t liked the smirk on their faces any more than she appreciated what they had to say. But she couldn’t get too indignant about that incident anymore. On the night of Smalley’s high school graduation, he and Jon were both listed in her mother’s journal as having visited, along with a note that read Collected $50 from Theril. Several other entries indicated that Theril was another member of the Small clan and something of a regular.

  Closing her eyes, she shoved the diary aside. Surely she wasn’t related to the Smalls. She could only imagine how warmly they’d embrace her. Considering Dave’s position in the community, she had a difficult time believing he’d even acknowledge her existence.

  For much the same reason, she doubted she’d have any better luck with Garth Holbrook. He’d been elected to the state senate a few years before Lucky left and was still in office. She’d checked the Internet a few weeks ago and studied the publicity photo and biography on his Web site. Of the three men, he seemed to represent everything she’d like her father to be. Tall and stately, he possessed a full head of dark wavy hair with a touch of gray at the temples, classic features and gray eyes. He looked intelligent, self-composed, honorable.

  Of course, a politician was supposed to look honorable, so maybe she was falling for a carefully constructed illusion. His Web site also revealed that he’d been married for forty years to the same woman, which meant he’d already had a family by the time he visited Red. It didn’t reflect any better on him that his relationship with her mother had lasted longer than a one-time “Oops, I made mistake” kind of visit. According to the journal, he’d stopped by Red’s place often over a three-month period. He’d even bought her a car.

  Getting off the bed, Lucky went into the bathroom to gaze at herself in the mirror. Did she look like any of these men? She remembered Eugene Thompson as an old cowboy with callused hands and worn jeans. But there wasn’t anything on the Internet about him and she hadn’t seen him since Red married Morris. He could have moved on, or died.

  With a sigh, she leaned closer to her reflection. She couldn’t see a resemblance to anyone except Red. She had her mother’s oval face, slightly slanted green eyes and high cheekbones. But her hair wasn’t quite the same flaming color as her mother’s, and she didn’t have any freckles. Her figure was significantly different, too. She turned to the side. She wasn’t nearly as buxom as Red had been, but buxom wasn’t necessarily the ideal anymore. Appearance-wise, she wasn’t bad, was she? Certainly she was no longer overweight.

  Mike’s comment suddenly came to mind. You’re gorgeous. She’d immediately discounted that compliment as foreplay. When her mother drank, which wasn’t often but wasn’t pretty when it happened, she began dispensing advice. Her favorite warning was, “A man will tell you anything to get in your pants, Lucky. Don’t believe a word of it.”

  But Mike had seemed sincere. Sure, the huskiness in his voice had left little doubt about what he wanted, but she hadn’t been making him work to get her clothes off. She’d already shed her sweatshirt at that point. There wasn’t any need for him to tell her anything.

  Maybe he was just being kind. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, he’d been kind in several ways last night.

  No more of Mike. Purposely turning her thoughts in another direction, she undressed so she could take a long, hot shower.

  The telephone interrupted her. Assuming it had to be the front office, she hurried over, wondering if there was a problem with her credit card.

  “Hello?”

  “Lucky?”

  Mike. Chills rolled down her spine, and she felt very exposed even though she was alone in a locked motel room. “Yes?” she said, automatically covering her bare breasts with one arm.

  “You don’t have a car.”

  “I know that.”

  “How are you going to get home when the storm lifts?”

  “I—” She hadn’t made any plans. This morning her only thought had been to remove herself from his company. “I’ll hire someone to drive me or…or thumb a ride.”

  “Do you hitchhike very often?”

  “Sometimes, why?” she said, even though she’d only done it once before, in Kansas City, when she’d gone to a bar with some friends from the food bank and wanted to leave before everyone else was ready.

  “It’s not safe.”

  “This is Dundee,” she said.

  “I don’t care if it’s Timbuktu. I don’t want to be responsible if something happens to you.”

  “How would you be responsible?”

  “I’m the one who dropped you off at the motel.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. “So? If my body was found on the side of the road, the whole town would probably launch a celebration, and you and your family could lead the parade.”

  “Is that what you think I’d do?”

  “I know how you feel about me.”

  Silence. “Then why did you get into bed with me last night, especially when you’ve never been with anyone else?”

  She didn’t completely understand the answer to that question, wasn’t ready to examine it. “I was cold,” she said because it was the first thing that popped into her mind. Only after the words were out did she realize they were true. She had been cold—cold inside—and stupid enough to believe he could warm her.

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.” She glanced in the mirror again, trying to view herself as he might have seen her last night. “Will you answer a question of mine?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Did you mean what you said when…when I took off that sweatshirt?”

  There was a slight pause, then his tone changed, became deeper, earthier. “What did I say?”

  She could tell he remembered. He was challenging her again. But she wasn’t going to let him scare her away that easily. “That I was…” She swallowed. Asking proved awkward for her, which was, presumably, why he demanded she spell it out. “That I was…you know…”

  “No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”

  “You said I was gorgeous,” she finally blurted, hoping for some small concession she could take away from their painful experience. It wasn’t as if she cared about embarrassing herself in front of Mike. She’d already done a fine job of that—on more than one occasion.

  “Now I remember,” he said, his tone huskier still.

  “Okay, so…did you mean it?”

  “Honestly?”

  Her stomach tensed, drawing a complaint from her ulcer. Of course he hadn’t meant it. What had she been thinking? She’d been stupid to open herself up, to let him toy with her. “No, never mind.”

  Silence. Then he asked, “Will you call me when you’re ready to come home?”

  “Sure.” She had no intention of contacting Mike Hill for anything, but she was so eager to get off the phone she would’ve agreed to almost anything. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Lucky?”

  “What?”

  “I meant it,” he said and hung up.

  MIKE DIDN’T KNOW what to do. He found himself creeping slowly along Main Street—the storm kept him from going very fast—bored stiff. He had plenty of work back at the ranch, yet he found himself reluctant to return. He knew Lucky had something to do with his desire to hang around town, and Gabe, too. They’d both left him frustrated, although in different ways, and he hated that. He wasn’t used to negative emotions interfering with his daily life, because he always made such an effort to be cautious and courteous, regardless of the circumstances. He didn’t create false expectations, especially with women. He didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep, especially with women. He didn
’t allow his relationships to drift toward any extreme, especially with women. He’d never fallen in love and didn’t relish the idea of a messy break-up. So why, after dating for more than twenty years, did he suddenly feel so unsettled?

  If my body was found on the side of the road, the whole town would probably launch a celebration, and you and your family could lead the parade.

  The fact that Lucky actually believed she mattered so little to everyone bothered him. Maybe he’d resented her over the years, but he’d never expected her to care, or even notice. Because she’d always seemed so damn tough, like her mother, he hadn’t given a second thought to how she might feel.

  Now he had to consider the possibility that maybe she wasn’t so tough. Maybe her prickly behavior was only a front. After last night, he could believe it. She’d certainly put up other fronts, like the one that had led him to assume she looked at sex in a casual manner. Last night might have ended badly, but those few minutes before her abrupt departure had been anything but casual. Lucky seemed to put her whole heart and soul into her lovemaking, which was why he’d temporarily lost control.

  His blood warmed as he remembered the way she’d responded to his touch. She’d abandoned all reservations, trusted him completely, although she’d never been with anyone else and had given him no warning that she hadn’t…

  His parents’ street came up on his left, and he slowed to make the turn. His mother was always telling him he needed to stop by more often. He decided today might be a good day. The local high school would probably be closed due to the storm, so his father, who coached the varsity football team, would most likely be there with her. At any rate, Mike needed a distraction.

  “Hello? Anyone home?” he called, walking in without knocking.

  “Mike? Is that you?”

  He heard his mother’s voice in the basement and used the banister to jump down the stairs the way he had when he was a kid.