If I Loved You

by Leigh Riker

  “Molly’s coming with me.” When Brig caught her hand, Pop’s look could have ignited the wood stacked in the fireplace. And Brig stopped.

  “You have something to say, Thomas?”

  Pop’s eyes were all but bugging from his head. In that moment their recent truce was about to blow up. “I said what I had to say the first morning after you got here. You heard me then and the night we fixed the sink. Same message now.”

  His warnings must be playing like an old tape in Brig’s head. “I’m keeping my hands to myself,” he said, then drew Molly from the room to get their coats on.

  Outside, they breathed in cold air and began walking. There might still be one last snowstorm or two, but right now a sunset display of red and orange and pink tinged with lavender glowed across the horizon. Darkness would descend before they had rounded the block.

  “Those two are funny,” Brig said, still holding Molly’s hand. She felt it warm and strong around her smaller one, another painful reminder that she would miss him—and of course, Laila—when they left. “He likes her but is afraid to show it.”

  Molly gaped at him in the growing dusk. “Are you kidding?”

  “Well, we know she likes him. And she took good care of him at the rummage sale when he tried to do too much. He might be grateful for that.”

  Molly mulled that over. “I have seen Pop give Natalie a look or two. And then there’s Ann,” she said. At Brig’s curiosity, she added, “She’s having dinner with Jeff tonight. That’s why she couldn’t come to my impromptu party.” Molly was still trying to process that.

  “Good for her. Good for them, too,” Brig said with a smile.

  “Jeff must be a miracle worker.”

  “Maybe he has magical powers—like Natalie.”

  “Don’t hold your breath about that.” Molly sighed. “I’m glad Pop has had Laila to focus on, even temporarily,” she couldn’t help adding, “but I don’t know what he’ll do when she’s not here.”

  She didn’t mention Brig. Despite her dad’s earlier warning glare, most of the time now he seemed to accept Brig’s presence in their home.

  Brig said, “Know what I think?” He and Molly turned the corner. “I think Thomas and Natalie are not so different.”

  “But Natalie’s talkier and much more sociable than Pop. She’s bubbly and he’s like a clam sometimes.”

  “Two sides of the same coin,” Brig insisted, swinging Molly’s hand as they walked along the street. The sun had slid below the horizon, and lights had begun to come on here and there in the houses.

  “Really?” Molly said. “You think they’re—”

  “Lonely,” they both said at once.

  For long moments they walked without speaking, her hand still tucked into his as if it belonged there, and Molly indulged herself in the fantasy that she and Brig had never parted. Instead, they had married and Laila was their child and they owned a house on this very street near Pop.

  To make the all too pleasurable fantasy vanish, she asked Brig about his family.

  “I talked to Mom. She said to tell you how much they appreciated all your help in Indiana. My grandmother’s doing okay in rehab, but she’s not happy there. At least she’s walking now.” He paused. “My mother claims they could be home within the next few weeks—once they spring Grandma Collier from rehab and talk her into moving to Liberty.”

  “Could they take Laila after all, then?”

  “We didn’t get that far. I doubt it,” he said. “That wouldn’t happen soon enough—and doesn’t change their obligation to my grandmother. My dad’s pretty hard-nosed about her selling her house. He’ll want to do that first. Which means even longer until they’re likely to get home.”

  Molly didn’t know what to say to that. Brig was probably right, which didn’t help the situation with Laila.

  Brig, too, was lost in thoughts. “You know something?” he finally said. By then they were on the front sidewalk again at Molly’s house. “I lied to your father.”

  “About what?” Pop wouldn’t care to hear that, just when he had begun to like, even trust, Brig again. Except with Molly.

  “Keeping my hands off you,” Brig said, and their relaxing walk around the block vanished like Molly’s fantasy. In the near darkness he spoke even more softly. “I don’t want to, Molly. I want—very badly right now—to kiss you.”

  She withdrew her hand from his.

  “To be honest,” he said, “I’ve never stopped wanting to.”

  Focused on his words, she failed to notice that Brig had pulled her off the path into the shelter of the big sycamore tree by the front porch. Surprised by his movement and her own lack of resistance, Molly gazed at him, trying to read his expression. In the soft glow of light from the living room, she could barely make out his eyes, so dark and...dear. The years hadn’t changed that. If I loved you, she thought, again. But Molly knew she wouldn’t dare do that.

  She voiced the reminder. “So much has happened since you left, Brig. For both of us,” she added. “We were finished long ago,” she said to save herself. “There’s nothing—”

  “There’s something,” he insisted. “Ever since Indiana at least.”

  Molly couldn’t deny that. “But those were a few days out of time,” she murmured. “Nothing more. I can’t go back—”

  The rest was never said. As Molly stood there, unmoving, he clasped her shoulders to draw her closer, and then Brig’s mouth was on hers and Molly was in his arms. The warmth of his lips, the oh-too-familiar way he kissed, sent a wave of yearning through her even stronger than that night in the snow. Without even thinking, Molly kissed him back.

  “We’re already there,” Brig whispered against her mouth.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE LITTLE INN not far from her apartment was too cozy for Ann’s comfort tonight. She had never felt this jumpy in her life and, considering her life since the accident, that was saying something. Asking Jeff out was the most idiotic thing she’d ever done and by far the most impulsive.

  Sitting across from him in her favorite restaurant in Liberty, which wasn’t saying much because there were only two in town other than fast food chains, threatened to shred the last of her nerves.

  Jeff looked manly and handsome, as he always did, but too formal in dark dress pants and a white shirt with a well-fitted blazer.

  “No tie,” he told her when he caught her looking. “I hope that was okay for here. I’m not into suits.”

  They both seemed to babble in between awkward bouts of silence.

  She tried again to keep up her end of the stilted conversation. “Who’s staying with Ernie?”

  He named one of the aides from Little Darlings. “She helps me out now and then. She wanted to know who I was seeing tonight, but I didn’t tell.” He paused. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted that to be common knowledge, and I figured the news would spread through the center fast, then all of Liberty.” Jeff fiddled with his knife and fork. “Is it a secret?”

  “One meal,” Ann murmured. “A third meal, I mean. That’s no reason to reserve the church for a wedding.” Oh, stupid. Why had she said that?

  Saving her from an explanation that would only make things worse, their waiter delivered their drinks. Jeff waited until he was gone.

  “Ann, I’m coming out of my skin here. I’m about to break out in a sweat,” he admitted. “Not about some wedding. You wouldn’t believe the grilling I got from Ernie before I left to pick you up. I escaped before he guessed the truth, but it was a near miss.” He took another sip of his drink. “Full disclosure? I’m nervous. I haven’t had a date in over five years, and that was with my then fiancée, now ex-wife, who we’re not going to talk about tonight.”

  “I haven’t gone out with anyone since...” She didn’t remember when. Soon after the accident
, she’d met a few times with other classmates, who often ended up just wanting to know the gory details or even to censure her for what she’d done. And once she’d had dinner like this with a man from the gym she used to belong to, but that had been as uncomfortable as now with Jeff.

  Which reminded her of her promise to come clean, the very reason for their date and, probably, her nerves.

  “Maybe we should go,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I can’t believe I asked you out. Put you on the spot like this.” And myself.

  If she kept her mouth shut, maybe they could at least be friends.

  Across from her, Jeff was still playing with his knife. He clinked it against his water glass, producing a loud chime. He laid the knife down, then put a finger to Ann’s chin, forcing her to look up at him.

  “Why don’t we start over? We’ve already ordered, and in spite of the heebie-jeebies I’m feeling, I’m hungry.”

  “So am I,” Ann murmured. A little.

  “I’ve heard this inn has good food,” he said. “I hear a lot of things in my line of work—kind of like being a hairdresser.” Jeff half smiled. “People confide all sorts of stuff.”

  Especially under pressure, she thought.

  “They were right. The food here is good.”

  After that, they both started to relax. Ann’s chicken marsala was delicious, and Jeff had no trouble digging into his steak. She didn’t have to tell him anything if she didn’t choose to. Ann even ordered dessert, a crème brûlée to share.

  Then they were done, walking to the parking lot, and Jeff was opening the door to his own car, not the sheriff’s department cruiser. He concentrated on his driving, a pop radio station softly playing to cover the silence, but all the way back to her apartment Ann worried again.

  Could she tell him after all about the accident and hope he wouldn’t see her as a monster? If she told him, would he run off, revolted, after dumping her at her door? Or, if she didn’t talk, would he kiss her good-night? Which pretty much laid waste the friendship theory.

  His closeness in the car overwhelmed Ann. She could smell his aftershave, something subtle and mildly spicy. Her onetime boyfriend, the guy she had thought she loved then, the man whose life she had ruined, had always laid the scent on too thick. If she passed someone and smelled that same brand, she felt dizzy. Now she was light-headed, but not for the same reason.

  All too soon Jeff pulled into the parking space in front of her apartment building where he’d met her that night with Ernie. He kept the engine running because it was chilly outside, but Ann shivered anyway. The look in his eyes had grown serious, probing.

  “Time’s up,” he said, as if he’d been anticipating this moment all night. “You promised to tell me something.”

  Ann’s stomach clenched. She’d hoped he hadn’t heard her that day. Hoped she might escape after all, chicken out with a quick good-night. But Jeff wasn’t letting her.

  Ann faced him, her back pressed against the passenger door. She swallowed twice before she could speak.

  “When I was eighteen,” she began, her throat tightening with each word, “I went to a party with a boy I was dating. He had, well, way too much fun—”

  “Drinking. He was over the legal limit,” Jeff guessed.

  He sat against the opposite door, his long legs stretched out for comfort, or maybe to put Ann at ease. His casual posture didn’t fool her. He would extract the whole truth from her now if he had to wait all night.

  “Probably,” she said, clearly surprising him. “But that wasn’t all. I was drinking, too. Everything was fine until he and his friends began roughhousing. At first it was just pushing and shoving, a few insults tossed around the way guys do to be funny. But then things turned ugly. Someone didn’t like what was said and threw a punch. Robert waded in, and all at once they were fighting seriously. It was a real brawl.”

  “Did anyone get hurt?”

  Ann paused. “Robert had his back to some stairs. When another guy slammed into him, Robert went flying backward. He managed to break his fall but hurt his ankle. His right one.”

  Jeff understood. “His driving foot.”

  Ann nodded. “He was in a lot of pain, and the ankle was already swelling. I was afraid he’d broken it, and I wanted to phone his father to pick us up, but we were driving his car that night, and Robert begged me not to.” She waited a minute before going on. “I didn’t want to call Pop, either,” she added with a sigh. “He didn’t care for Robert, and at the time of course I thought he was the one.”

  “At eighteen we’re all sure.”

  So far, so good, Ann thought. Jeff wasn’t being critical.

  She took a breath. “I considered phoning Molly. I even tried. But she and Brigham Collier were still engaged then, and they’d gone to some big dance at the Cincinnatian Hotel downtown. She had her phone turned off.” Ann paused. “I didn’t know what else to do except...”

  She trailed off and stared into the distance. “Let me guess.” Jeff pulled her back to the topic she had hoped to avoid, and Ann realized she’d been woolgathering, stalling. “You offered to drive.”

  Ann shut her eyes at the memory. “The worst decision I ever made. Robert didn’t want me to—I guess the pain had sobered him up—and he kept saying I shouldn’t get behind the wheel. But I insisted. I just wanted to get him to the E.R.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “I decided to call his parents from there. The route took us along unfamiliar roads. It was dark and raining by then, and there were no streetlights.” She stopped, her breath coming faster as the scene replayed itself in her mind. “I was already having a hard time seeing.” Ann’s senses seemed to become more acute as she relived the horror with every word. “Then...while I was navigating a curve, pain must have overcome Robert, and woozy, he slumped against me, knocking me off balance.”

  “You lost control.”

  “That shouldn’t have been a surprise. I’d only had my license for a few months. Pop didn’t believe in his girls driving at sixteen. Without much experience I never came out of that curve. We veered off the road, then plowed into a high brick wall on someone’s property.”

  Jeff waited a few seconds before asking, “Injuries?”

  “Robert.” Ann could still hear him, pinned into the damaged passenger seat, crying for help. “His side of the car had caved in, crushing him. The paramedics, the police, whoever had to cut him out.”

  “The Jaws of Life,” he murmured.

  She began to shake. So did her voice. “His back was broken in the crash. He’ll never walk again. His parents still blame me—as they should. You can imagine that was the end of our romance.” The end of most everything.

  She risked a glance at Jeff—and froze. His face held the exact expression she had most dreaded after telling him the truth. For a long moment he simply stared at her, shaking his head a little, and Ann thought, I was wrong to tell him. No wonder Jeff’s face showed the horror he must feel.

  “Ann—” he began, but nothing more emerged except a soft curse.

  Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about his interest in her again or how much she had come to like him.

  She flung open her door and ran out into the night, toward her building and the safety of her apartment, without looking back.

  * * *

  MOLLY FELT AS though she was about to reach some point of no return.

  A few days after Brig had kissed her under the sycamore tree in her father’s yard, she was still reeling from the sensation. We’re already there, he had said, but nothing could have served as a better reminder that he and Laila would soon be gone from her life than today’s meeting with Sean Denton’s cousin.

  In the living room Molly faced her with a weak smile. As she’d promised, she wouldn’t think beyond helping Brig now to assess the
dark-haired, thirtyish woman who sat across from her. For lack of anything else to say, Molly asked, “How was your drive?”

  “Not bad.” Susan Denton Frasier lived north of Columbus, an hour or so away.

  Leaving Molly to invent small talk, Brig had gone upstairs to get the baby, whose schedule finally seemed more regular than not. She’d actually napped this afternoon and had slept almost straight through the night before. Brig was taking a long time to return, and Molly wondered if he was dragging his heels, but he finally reappeared.

  “Sorry, she needed a diaper change—and I decided to try her newest outfit for the occasion. Meet Laila Denton.”

  Susan’s face broke into a wide smile. “Isn’t she lovely.”

  “We think so,” Brig murmured, including Molly.

  “May I?” Susan moved slowly so as not to startle the baby. She peered into Laila’s dark eyes and the baby smiled, her gaze darting from Susan’s face to her hair, which apparently fascinated Laila.

  The little girl was wearing the pale pink-and-white romper with white tights that Molly and Brig had bought her in Indiana. She had a little pink-striped matching hair bow—Molly’s addition to the ensemble.

  Molly didn’t know whether to hope this interview turned out well or not. On one hand, an agreement to care for Laila, at least until Brig could make more permanent plans, would relieve his growing tensions. On the other, a good result meant Molly would lose Laila almost immediately.

  “She has Sean’s smile,” Susan said. “It lights her whole face, too.”

  “You said you were close to him,” Brig stated.

  “As kids, sure. We were like siblings. He was an only child, as you probably know, and my brother and I were the other two of our, well, triplets, you might say.” Her wistful smile faded. “Sean didn’t have the best home life after his mother died, so mine took over when she could. We spent a lot of time running around those Kentucky hills, fishing in the creek and swimming in the lake... I was shocked to learn of Sean’s death. So young,” she said, “and just when he’d gotten this little one.” Susan paused. “You spoke to his father.”