by Rachel Lee
The recognition ripped something deep inside her, and the agony filled her. She’d not only hidden, she’d run, locking entire parts of herself away.
Jumping up, ignoring Tim when he called her name, she went back to the bedroom and closed the door. Leaning back against it, she stood shaking, horrified and agonized as she faced the real loss she had suffered.
Herself.
Chapter Six
Saturday morning came swiftly. The sale had been announced on the radio and in the local weekly, and despite the cold gray day, quite a number of people showed up to pick through the furnishings left behind by the Higgins family.
Vanessa had decided not to put prices on anything. She didn’t care if she made a dime off this, so she sat in the kitchen and accepted whatever offers people made. Bit by bit the house began to empty itself of usable furnishings, and from her perspective the people who came were helping her out.
After Larry’s visit, she was initially tense about this whole affair, but the people who came were friendly, and the majority didn’t seem to have any idea who she was. Bob Higgins had faded into the background a long time ago for most, and the Welling name had vanished from the county twenty years ago. Older people who might have remembered simply smiled and welcomed her to town.
A very different reception from the one she had anticipated. A scandal that might have been on every tongue all those years ago had ceased to matter.
Maybe she ought to learn something from that, she thought. It was past. Long past. Now she needed to deal with the scars that had come after, and maybe place the blame where it really belonged: on her father, a man who had been unable to overcome his losses, and instead had lost himself and his family.
Look at Tim, she thought as he moved between rooms with Matthew nearby. He’d lost his wife yet had continued to make a good life for his son.
Her father clearly had a weakness of character, and after her realization the other night, she had to face the possibility that she might suffer from a similar weakness. Not as bad, obviously. She was maintaining a life and a job and had plenty of casual friends. But anything deeper than casual? She hid. Not in a bottle but inside herself.
Matthew eventually grew bored with wandering around the same rooms and watching people talk to his dad about furniture. He came to the kitchen to sit with Vanessa.
“How come you don’t want this stuff?” he asked.
“Because I’m going to clean up the house and sell it. Furniture would get in the way.”
He turned toward her, a frown creasing his young brow. “You’re not going to live here?”
“That’s not my plan,” she said forthrightly.
He nodded slowly but didn’t look exceptionally happy about it. “You have to go back to the museum.”
“Yes, I do.”
“But why can’t you stay here?”
A million reasons. Many still to be sorted through. But there was one reason she thought he’d understand. “My job is too far away, kiddo. I’d have to fly back and forth, and I can’t do that every day, or even every week.”
He nodded again, gravely. “And we don’t have a museum here.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“We can come visit you, though, right?”
Another bud of warmth blossomed in her heart. “You bet.”
Another visitor approached, wanting to buy two end tables. Vanessa let them choose their own price, then suggested Matthew count the money and write it down on her list. That made the woman smile. “Cute boy,” she said before walking away with her prizes.
Watching Matt carefully print the name of the item and the amount in the designated column, she felt a small shock of surprise. Were people paying more because she let them set their own price? Because the sum was mounting, and it was more than she had expected.
A little while later, Tim came into the kitchen to snag one of the sandwiches they’d brought with them and to give Matthew one, spread out on a napkin. Simple peanut butter.
“Tim? Do you think I made a mistake by not pricing anything?”
He pulled out the remaining chair and straddled it. A table with only three chairs. That still struck her as strange. “Why do you ask?”
“Because people are paying far more than I expected.”
The corners of Tim’s eyes crinkled. “They’re paying what they want to. If that makes them raise the price a little, I’m sure it’s not by much. On the other hand, if you’d priced everything, no matter how low, they’d have felt obliged to haggle.”
Maybe he had a point, she thought as Matthew asked what haggling was. Tuning out the explanation, noting only how patiently and clearly Tim explained, she wandered down a trail of thought triggered by Matthew.
He seemed to want her to stay. He professed understanding about why she couldn’t, but had she detected a note of disappointment in his voice? Already he was planning to visit her? She wondered what Tim would think of that.
Of course, Matthew was only seven, and he could forget a lot before spring break or the summertime. He could get distracted.
Oddly enough, for someone who was an emotional recluse, she hoped he didn’t forget. She genuinely liked the child. For that matter, she was growing fond of his father.
Dangerous territory for her, but she had a safety valve in her eventual departure. That date promised her security.
Apparently bargain hunters were early shoppers. The crowds died away until everyone was gone shortly after two. So was most of the furniture.
“One last truckload for donation or the dump,” Tim said. “Gee, that went well. I’m such a genius for thinking of it.”
Matthew giggled.
“It was a brilliant idea,” Vanessa said.
“And not too tough on you?”
She glanced at Matthew, wondering how much the child had picked up and understood, then decided probably very little. “Not tough at all. Everyone was really nice.”
“And I helped,” Matthew announced. “Does that make me a genius, too?”
“Absolutely,” said his father. “Define ‘genius.’”
Matthew pursed his lips, then sighed. “I gotta use the dictionary?”
“Always.”
Matthew scowled. “That’s like school.”
“Precisely. Or homework, even. Okay, everyone, jackets on. I want to air out this house one more time before we go.”
“You made it cold in here this morning,” Matthew said. “Do we have to do it again?”
“You won’t care. We’re leaving.”
Matthew ran out into the yard to play in what was left of the snow while Vanessa helped Tim open all the windows.
“We’re doing this why?”
“Because until the guy comes to test the air in here on Monday, I have no idea what we might be breathing.”
She nodded. “Still worried about lead?”
“Until I’m told otherwise, yes. Basically, since I first aired it out, I doubt there’s much bad in here. I was more worried because the place had been shut up so long. Now it’s open a lot and it’s probably safe. But if we find lead paint... I hate to tell you, Vannie, but that could get expensive, depending. I just hope the sagging paint is all latex, and the wallpaper isn’t covering bad secrets.”
“I never thought about all of this.”
“No one ever does. We all live on assumptions.”
An interesting statement, she thought as she finished opening the last upstairs windows. There was no mistaking that a strong, icy breeze was blowing through the house.
We all live on assumptions. She’d certainly brought a few of them along with her here. With the exception of Larry, she’d run into absolutely no judgment or hostility. The things her father had dreaded were mere boogeymen. At least so far.
Then it was time to close the windows, and once again she walked room to room with Tim.
“This will give us a great baseline reading on Monday,” he said. “A house shut up for way too long—in this case almost two decades—can pick up a lot of bad things. Radon from the basement, for example. Most houses need a good airing from time to time, lead or no lead. So whatever the inspector reads on Monday should establish what someone living here would be exposed to. And what we might be exposed to as we strip it down.”
“You suggested I stay here!” she said, pausing and staring at him.
He shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d have a problem for a few days, not with me airing the place out again and again. And if you’d stayed here, I’d have kept on doing it. Come on, Vannie. You don’t think I wanted to poison you!”
Horrified at what she had just suggested, wondering where that had come from, she leaned back against a papered wall and closed her eyes. Surely she didn’t believe Tim would have exposed her to harm. So what had she been thinking? Or not thinking, was probably a better question. Was she acting on some gut instinct to make sure she didn’t get involved? Because she was sure getting involved here, and her escape date suddenly didn’t seem safe enough.
“Are you angry with me?” Tim asked when she didn’t move or respond.
“No. Really, no. I don’t know what I was thinking. I certainly don’t believe you’d expose me to harm. And if I don’t believe that about me, I definitely know you wouldn’t bring Matthew here if you were concerned.” She opened her eyes, shuddering a little as she tried to release tension. Really, she had to get over these hang-ups. Sometimes they made her act in stupid ways. Like this.
She and Tim resumed closing the windows. He looked thoughtful, however, and she was worried she’d offended him beyond repair. “I’m really sorry,” she said as they closed the last of the windows.
Outside, Matthew had evidently found a couple of other children to play with him in the snow. Their piping, happy voices reached even through the closed windows.
“It’s okay,” he said.
She wasn’t sure it was, but didn’t know what else to say. Trying to change subjects, she asked, “Does anyone call Matthew ‘Matt’?”
“At school they do, I think. For me it’s just an old habit. Claire and I did it when he was an infant. Big name for a little guy.” He gave a brief laugh. “I don’t think it’s going to last much longer, though. He’s going to decide what he prefers.”
Back in the kitchen, Tim scooped the remaining cash into the bank envelope he’d brought for her to use, and passed it to her. She passed it right back.
“Down payment on everything you need to do here,” she said. “Or at least a small start.”
She summoned a smile then headed for the front door. A perfectly good day, and she’d made a mash of it. Well, that was certainly something she seemed to be good at. She ought to be locked up with her fossils.
* * *
Matthew was only slightly reluctant to head home. The kids he’d been playing with were friends from school, and they didn’t live that far away. Tim had no problem promising there’d be more time to play with them while he was working on the house. That satisfied Matthew.
Vanessa wasn’t such an easy puzzle. Her reaction, thinking that he might have let her stay in a house with poisonous air, had shocked him. Then he’d watched her expression alter and realized that it had shocked her, too.
The lady had some issues. He knew that, but now he’d gotten a taste of how deeply they ran. Far from simply fearing judgment over her father’s past, she didn’t seem to expect anyone to take care of her in any way. God, what a childhood she must have had. Vanessa Welling against the world. Had her mother even filled in the gaps? He’d assumed so, but now he thought not. She must have practically raised herself in a lot of ways.
What a sorry couple of parents.
At home, he looked at his son’s bright face and hoped he never failed that boy. Matthew deserved every unshadowed moment of childhood that life would allow. He deserved to feel safe and protected by his father. He deserved the magic and wonder of each new day.
But Tim wasn’t a fool, and he knew he couldn’t even guarantee that he’d always be there for Matthew. Claire had been stolen from them. Life happened to everyone.
But it battered some more than others, he supposed, although he was fond of saying that there was no way to tell what burdens another person carried. Nor could burdens be compared.
But he felt a deepening compassion for Vanessa. A lovely young woman who, the more he grew to know her, seemed to be very alone and locked up within herself. The only time she really loosened up was with Matthew.
He wished he could find a way to loosen the restraints life had locked her in, but he knew it wasn’t his place and that it was also a dangerous pursuit. She’d built a life she felt mostly content with. Who was he to disturb the walls she’d built for survival?
Worse than that, he wasn’t qualified to do so safely.
But that didn’t keep him from feeling bad about it.
Let it rest, he told himself. She needed to resume her life in a week or two, and she wouldn’t want to go home with her defenses full of holes. Who knew what she was dealing with back in Albuquerque?
Bones, yes. But he could also easily imagine some politics and possibly jockeying among the people working at the museum. Every workplace suffered from some of that.
Holding herself aloof might be the best protection she had. It must have been when she was a child.
So let her be. Ignore the impulse to dash in somehow like a white knight. And while he was at it, put away his desire for her.
Because that just kept nagging at him. He had some self-restraint, and while he occasionally caught a glimmer of interest in her smile or her eyes, he could easily be misreading her. And what if they had sex and it brought her walls down?
Even though he was a guy, he was aware that sex brought down some barriers. It had to. And Claire had once told him that women were especially susceptible to falling in love with a man when they’d had sex. He couldn’t remember what the subject had been, but he clearly remembered her saying that. It kept his pants zipped most of the time.
He’d since gathered that not all women reacted that way. A couple of brief failed attempts at relationships had taught him that. Still...
Dang, he wished his parents were still around, especially his mother. He’d have loved to talk to her, to see what she thought of Vanessa and her barricades. Or even Claire’s parents, who had utterly shocked him and probably half the town when they announced they were moving to New Zealand. Because of the Lord of the Rings movies.
Yeah, really. A couple of middle-aged Tolkien fans on the adventure of a lifetime. When they called, they always promised Matthew that when he was old enough they were going to bring him to visit.
Which had resulted in the entire works of Tolkien being on his shelf. He’d read them start to finish to the boy and wondered if he’d be doing that again this winter.
Well, except they now had this Harry Potter thing going.
Tim sighed, looked at the time and realized that he hadn’t even thought about dinner. Vanessa had gone to take a shower and said she needed to catch up on email. Matthew was settled in front of the TV playing a game that absolutely promised it contained no violence or graphic gore.
Taking a chance, he went down the hall to Vanessa’s room, once his and Claire’s room, and knocked.
After a few seconds, the door opened. Vanessa had turbaned a towel around her hair and was wearing a thick, fluffy green bathrobe.
“I was wondering,” he said, his throat feeling suddenly tight and his voice sounding thick. “I need to run out and take care of dinner. Can you watch Matthew for maybe a half hour? He’s in the living room playing a vi
deo game.”
“Sure,” she said with a smile. “Not a problem. Just let me get dressed.”
As she closed the door, he walked away absolutely certain she hadn’t been wearing a thing under that robe. His mouth turned as dry as the Gobi Desert.
Ah, hell.
It was cold enough on the run to Maude’s diner to chill his impulses and restore rational thought. Man triumphs over hormones, he thought with amusement as he walked inside and ordered dinner. He wasn’t sure what Vanessa would like and had failed to ask her. Oversight. Duh.
But he ordered Matthew’s favorite burger and fries with a side of veggies, then he ordered a grilled chicken sandwich for Vanessa and a steak sandwich for himself. He’d have no problem if she wanted to switch. Then, for safety’s sake, a huge chef’s salad.
“Feeding an army?” Maude asked.
“Screwup. I failed to ask what everyone wanted.”
Maude harrumphed, her usual sour response to life. Thing was, her cooking made up for everything else. The diner was always busy, and everyone called it by her name, not its proper name, the City Diner.
Right now, except for a pizza place at the edge of town and the truck stop diner, she was the only game in town. Sometimes he wished they’d get some variety, but he doubted people around here had a lot to spend on eating out. Maude’s was always cheap and always good. Who could compete?
By the time he got home, Vanessa was dressed in a tan chamois shirt and faded blue jeans, her damp hair caught in a narrow headband, and busy playing the game with Matthew. She sat cross-legged on the floor beside him, laughing at her own learning curve. Matthew was an expert, and it showed. Tim sometimes played the game with his son, and marveled at the boy’s patience. It was as if he’d been born with a game controller in his hand.
“Hamburger?” Tim called from the entry. Matthew at once paused the game and jumped up.
“Let’s eat, Vannie!”
She was still smiling broadly as she rose to her feet in one smooth movement without touching her hands to the floor. The woman must practice yoga, he thought as he continued into the kitchen. He was in pretty good shape, but he doubted he could have managed that.
