Take Me Home

by Nancy Herkness

  She couldn’t help it. She licked her lips, an involuntary reflex.

  The glint and the smile disappeared, and in their place was a look she’d never seen nor expected from Tim. It was as though a huge lens were pulling all the light from the sky and focusing it on one thing—her mouth. She could almost feel the heat, and it shocked her. She had thought of him as big, slow, and safe, but right now, he seemed coiled and ready to spring.

  She waved the lipstick tube around to distract him and said, “Maybe I’ll let you borrow it for our next date.”

  Now why had she said that about another date? She let out her breath as his eyes lost their laser intensity.

  “I don’t think it would work with my skin tone,” he said.

  Her laugh was hearty with relief. “Nor your muscle tone.”

  “Thank God!”

  “Let me grab my wrap, and I’m ready.” If she didn’t fumble her purse again.

  As they walked out the front door, he took her elbow in his warm, enveloping grasp. She had always thought of herself as an independent woman who didn’t need a man’s support. Yet she found herself savoring these little demonstrations of Tim’s physical strength. It made her feel...cherished. It was an old-fashioned word, but Tim seemed a bit of a throwback to her, like a knight protecting those weaker than he was, whether they were abused horses or cats named Chuck.

  “Oh,” she said, doing a little stutter step when she saw the car on the gravel driveway. A dark-green Range Rover, shining as though newly waxed, stood where she had expected a pickup truck. “Nice car.”

  “It’s big and useful.”

  Like you, she almost said.

  “I really wanted a Porsche,” he said, “but I got leg cramps during the test drive.”

  Claire’s laugh was pure amusement as she pictured Tim levering his substantial frame into the tiny interior of the sports car. “I think you’d have to get one custom built.”

  “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

  She was surprised to see his eyes light up with serious intent. He truly did want a Porsche. She realized that being so large imposed limitations she had never considered. Flying coach must be sheer torture for him.

  He walked her around the car and opened the door for her, giving her a little boost up onto the high step. When he carefully tucked the voluminous folds of her skirt out of range of the door-frame, her delight at the gesture put extra warmth into her thanks.

  He responded with one of his slow, safe smiles before he closed the door.

  As he came around the car, she settled herself in the capacious leather seat and traced the elegant woodwork while admiring the fancy sound system. This was a high-end model—and a new one. Maybe Tim could afford the Castillo. Not that she was selling it.

  The other door opened, and Tim slid into the driver’s seat without bothering to use the car’s running board. He started the engine before reaching into his jacket pocket and sliding a pair of tortoiseshell glasses onto his nose.

  “I’ve never seen you in glasses before,” Claire said.

  “Just for driving. Too much staring at the computer screen, according to my ophthalmologist,” he said, turning to give her a rueful look.

  “They suit you.” The transformation was striking. Between the tailored clothes and the stylishly intellectual glasses, he looked like a man with lots of initials after his name. Even his unruly forelock seemed to fall onto his forehead in a more restrained fashion. She still had an urge to brush it back, but his altered appearance and the intense moment by her couch had pushed the intimidation factor up several notches. Her impulse to touch him was easier to squelch.

  “You’re not really a simple country vet, are you?” she said as he put the big SUV into gear. “I mean, look at these speakers! They probably cost more than my entire car did.”

  Tim slowed down so he could look over at his passenger. Her brown eyes were smiling, so he decided she wasn’t criticizing him.

  “What about you?” he asked. “You look like you’re from the big city, but you have that little touch of country in your voice. There are some hidden layers there too.”

  “I thought I’d lost my accent,” she said. “Everyone here says I sound like ‘one of those uppity New Yorkers.’ ”

  “They aren’t paying as much attention as I am.”

  He saw her look down at her hands where they clutched her purse amidst the billows of purple skirt and realized he’d made her nervous for the second time tonight.

  The first time had been when she’d licked her lips. As a scientist, he knew it was an unconscious response triggered by his half-joking scrutiny, but as a man, it had made him want to follow her tongue with his own. He’d seen the flicker of hesitation in her eyes and tamped down his reaction. He had learned that his physical size sometimes made his mental sharpness overwhelming to people. He’d have to be more careful, or Claire would run right away.

  “That’s a real pretty dress,” he said to defuse the tension. He didn’t know much about clothes, but he knew this outfit was different from her usual sleek, sophisticated gallery attire. It reminded him of glamorous old movie stars. He liked the softness and grace of it.

  Anais had been a chameleon, changing her persona daily even when she wasn’t onstage. She would transform everything: her gestures, her posture, her speech patterns. He was never sure who he would wake up with every morning.

  He was reassured that Claire still moved and sounded like herself.

  “Thank you. My nieces helped me pick it out,” she said, fiddling with one large black button. “That reminds me—Holly was curious about how you got reservations at the Aerie on such short notice. You said you called in a favor?”

  “The chef has a German shepherd who tangled with a bear last year. I sewed up a few gashes, and he told me to call anytime I wanted to eat there.”

  The dog was nearly dead when chef Adam Bosch had carried him into Tim’s office with tears streaming down his face. Tim had worked on the bloodied creature for three hours before he was sure the dog would pull through. Bosch had sent him a case of Opus One wine and an open invitation to dine at the Aerie anytime he wanted to.

  This was the first time Tim had taken him up on the offer.

  “I guess being the local vet has its advantages,” she said. “It’s sort of like the town doctor. People are grateful to you for taking care of their loved ones.”

  “It’s better than being the town doctor because people don’t have to be embarrassed that I’ve seen them without their clothes on,” he said.

  “Oh yes, as a teenager, I always blushed when Dr. Wiley said hello to me anywhere outside of his office.”

  “My patients, on the other hand, greet me with big, sloppy kisses.”

  Her laugh was silvery, a contrast to the slight throatiness of her speaking voice. He was emboldened to shift to a more significant topic. “Since I can’t have the Castillo, you’re going to have to find me something just as good for my new house. When I chose a building site with a great view, I set up a problem for myself.”

  “Competition?”

  “In a nutshell.”

  “That happens a lot in Manhattan apartments. The spectacular views of the cityscape make mediocre art hanging near them look even worse. Here most people find Len Boggs’s work a complement to the scenery.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I think the fellow’s got plenty of talent, but I’m a scientist, and his style is a little too impressionistic for me.”

  “Hmm, I can think of a couple of possibilities that I can pull out the next time you’re in the gallery. So where is your great view?”

  “Near the summit of Flat Top Mountain. The house is still under construction, but there’s enough finished so I can live there.”

  “Doesn’t the noise and mess drive you crazy?”

  “I’m not there during the day, and at night, it’s quiet. I like coming home to my own place and seeing the mountain ridges stretching out to the horizon. It makes my t
roubles feel smaller.”

  He hadn’t meant to say that.

  “Sharon says that’s why they call it Sanctuary,” Claire said. “People come here to take refuge from their troubles.”

  “And the folks who already live here, what do they do?”

  “I guess they tell their troubles to one of Sharon’s whisper horses,” she said, her skirt rustling as she shifted in the seat.

  A faint scent of citrus and rose tantalized his nostrils. Tim took a deep breath, savoring the clean floral fragrance.

  “It felt good to come back here,” he said. “Like wading into a cool mountain stream after being hot and sweaty and chewed up by horseflies.”

  “Not for me,” she murmured, turning away to stare out her window.

  “What did it feel like to you?”

  Dozens of trees flashed past before she said, “An admission of failure.”

  He understood that she had admitted something to him she didn’t let on to many people, so he thought for a moment before speaking. “I don’t see it that way.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that,” she said, touching his sleeve in a feather-light gesture of apology. “Home doesn’t mean that to most people.”

  “I’m not offended. I’m interested. You held a trusted position at a big art gallery in New York City. You came here to help out your sister when she became ill. Where’s the failure in that?”

  “Didn’t you work very hard to get into college? Didn’t you think that, once you left Sanctuary, you would never come back? Didn’t you believe that you really didn’t belong here?” Her voice grew more passionate with each question.

  “Yes, but I see things differently now. I have different resources to draw on.”

  “I guess I don’t. As soon as Holly is on the mend, I’ll be heading back to the bright lights.”

  He was surprised at the stab of regret he felt. Claire intrigued him. He liked the New York edge softened by her mountain twang. She was smart and sophisticated, but grounded in ways most of his wife’s friends in the city hadn’t been.

  “I have a dream job waiting for me there,” she continued, “opening a new branch gallery for Henry Thalman.”

  “No wonder you want to get back. He’s top of the heap in art dealers.” He considered how powerful the lure of that position would be to someone in Claire’s field. She wouldn’t linger in Sanctuary with that prospect in her future. He slowed down to negotiate an especially sharp turn and changed the subject again. “How’s your sister doing?”

  “She still has a lot of joint pain, and she gets exhausted very quickly. The doctor says it may take a year to get back to normal. I guess you know that Lyme disease is hard to diagnose, so she didn’t start on antibiotics until it was pretty advanced.” She seemed about to say something more, so he waited. Then she gave a tiny shake of her head and remained silent.

  A sign indicating the turn to the Aerie flashed white in the dusk, and he steered the big car onto the narrow road. A muffled trill of electronic notes sounded from Claire’s purse.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, digging out a cell phone. “I leave this on in case Holly needs me.”

  The number on the phone’s screen had her pushing the Answer button immediately. “It’s Holly. She wouldn’t call if it weren’t urgent. Hello?”

  It wasn’t Holly; it was Brianna, whispering. “Aunt Claire? I’m scared Papa’s going to hurt Mama. He’s yelling at her, and I just heard a noise like glass breaking.”

  For a moment, Claire couldn’t grasp what the little girl was talking about. “Brianna, sweetie, where are you?”

  “In Mama’s bedroom. She told us to come here after Papa came in. Now they’re in the kitchen, but I can hear them. I’m afraid he’s going to hit her again.”

  “He hit her?” She was still trying to comprehend what Brianna was telling her.

  “Not yet, I don’t think. It was another time when they had a fight.”

  Suddenly, the bruises Holly blamed on Lyme disease took on a horribly different significance. Claire shook her head to clear the panic that threatened to cloud her thinking.

  “Brianna, I want you to take Kayleigh and go to that little secret storage space in your closet. Be very quiet when you go down the hall, and take the phone with you. Tell me when you’ve gotten there safely.”

  “Okay.”

  Claire was concentrating so hard on what she was hearing through the phone that she had forgotten she was in a car until it swerved sharply. She looked up to see that Tim had reached a slightly wider spot in the road and was turning the big vehicle around as quickly as he could in the limited space. She threw him a grateful glance.

  “Brianna, are you there, sweetie? I just wanted to let you know that I’m on my way over there. Everything will be all right.”

  Claire winced as the muffled sound of a man shouting came through the receiver. She braced herself against the door as Tim took the mountain road’s sharp turns at a significantly higher speed than he had during their leisurely ascent. He must have figured out the urgency of the situation from her side of the conversation.

  “Okay, Aunt Claire, we’re in the closet,” Brianna whispered. “Mama and Papa didn’t notice us.”

  “You did really well, sweetie. You’re a very smart, brave girl. I have to hang up for a few minutes so I can get there faster. If you get scared or something else happens, call me back. I’ll be there very soon.”

  “All right, but hurry. I don’t want Papa to hurt Mama.”

  “Oh God!” Claire said, dropping her head in her hands for a brief moment after she disconnected. Holly’s situation was so much worse than she had ever dreamed. The car banked hard left, and she grabbed for the Jesus handle, saying, “Thank you for turning around so quickly.”

  “No problem,” Tim said as he finished manhandling the SUV through an S curve. “Where are we headed once we get off the mountain?”

  “Rolling Meadows. The new development. Holly’s on Cornsilk Lane. We need to get there fast. Evidently, Frank has hit Holly before, and Brianna is afraid it’s going to happen again. He’s shouting and throwing things.”

  “I know a shortcut there, but it’s going to be bumpy.”

  “As long as your car will survive, I’m good with that. Should I call the police? Oh God, Holly will hate me for dragging them into her private affairs.”

  “Did Brianna say anything about Frank having a gun?”

  “No, and I know my sister made him get rid of his hunting rifles when Brianna was born.”

  “Then I think I can handle him, if you’re afraid it would upset your sister to have the police involved.”

  Claire looked over at her companion. His gaze was locked on the road unspooling crazily back and forth in front of them. His hands seemed to envelop the steering wheel, holding the heavy SUV steady as they raced down the mountain.

  Even in the roomy interior, Tim took up a lot of space. “You can certainly handle him, but the police might get there faster.”

  “We’ll be there in under ten minutes. Hold on,” he said, wrenching the car off the asphalt and onto an old dirt logging road.

  Claire’s teeth snapped together as they hit the first bump, so she remained silent until they made it to the blessed smoothness of pavement again.

  “Just so you know, Frank asked Holly for a divorce two days ago,” she said as Tim turned into Rolling Meadows. “She hired Paul Taggart to represent her. I don’t know what Frank would be upset about, since it was his idea to split up.”

  “The man’s wife is seriously ill and he can’t hold off on the divorce until she’s healthy? What a bastard! Which house?”

  “Third one on the right.”

  Tim was opening his door before the car had stopped rolling. Claire kicked off her high heels and followed him at a run up the front walk. He gestured her to stop as they reached the front door. He turned the knob gently and cracked the door open so they could get an idea of what was happening inside.


  Holly’s voice came through the opening with horrifying clarity. “Please, Frank, no! Please put her down!”

  CLAIRE BOLTED INTO the house, ignoring Tim’s protest. All she could think of was that Frank was threatening one of his daughters.

  She skidded on the polished marble tiles in the tiny entry-way and felt Tim’s steadying hand on her back, but she wasn’t stopping. She burst into the living room to find Frank standing by the fireplace, brandishing one of the Royal Doulton figurines. Her knees nearly buckled with relief when she realized Holly was pleading for the china, not a child.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Frank demanded, lowering his arm and staring blearily at Claire. “You weren’t supposed to be here tonight. Holly told me you wouldn’t be. She lied to me again, that slut!”

  “I’m just here to help out while she’s sick,” Claire said, inching toward where her sister cowered in an overstuffed armchair.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you stay in New York with your stuck-up husband and all your stuck-up friends? I told Holly not to let you come here, but she didn’t listen to me. We don’t need you messing up our lives.”

  He seemed to have forgotten that he was messing up his own life. He also seemed to have forgotten the china lady in his hand, much to Claire’s relief.

  “I’m not trying to mess up anything,” she said calmly.

  “The hell you aren’t, you damned bitch.” He staggered before bracing his legs wide apart. “I come home to see my children, and my wife tells me she’s already been to a lawyer. Have you fucked him yet, you whore?” he snarled, turning to address his wife. Moving his head upset his balance again, and he grabbed at the mantel with his free hand. “Then she accuses me of having a girlfriend. You ungrateful bitch, I work my ass off to put a roof over your head and food on the table, so I deserve some appreciation every now and then. I can’t get it from you, that’s for sure.”

  “That’s enough of that kind of talk,” Tim said in a firm voice Claire suspected he used to deal with difficult pet owners.