A Conard County Courtship

by Rachel Lee

  She was still smiling at the memory when Tim returned and walked in the door. He smiled immediately upon seeing her. Sloughing his jacket, hanging it and his keys on pegs beside the door, he waved at all the paint chips. “Did you make a decision?”

  “Seriously? Only that I decided against the really intense colors. I think they’d be overpowering. Beyond that I don’t know yet.”

  “It takes a while. If you narrow it down by Monday, I can pick up some sample cans and we can paint small patches of wall so you can see them in the rooms.”

  “You can do that?” So much she didn’t know.

  “Sure.” He smiled, poured some of the coffee that was left and joined her at the table.

  “It seems a lot to do when I’ll be going home late next week.” Her heart stuttered as she said it. Then she admitted, “I’m going to miss Matthew so much.”

  “He’s going to miss you, too. No question. But, if you want, you can always fly back here to visit. The door’s always open.”

  “Thanks.” But he hadn’t said he was going to miss her.

  “You also don’t have to pick any colors at all.”

  She looked at him. “But you said...”

  “I know what I said. But I didn’t mean for you to struggle with it. I just thought some colors might appeal to you for some of the rooms.” He gave a light laugh. “Instead you came home with nearly everything.”

  She had to smile at that, sore as her heart felt right then. “Unlike Matthew, who’s full of certainty. I never had to think about painting a room before. I’m an apartment dweller.”

  “Ah.” He shook his head a little. “You’ve missed one of life’s great pleasures, transforming a room with a coat of paint. Or maybe you’ve missed one of life’s greatest disappointments. The color your bedroom is now? It didn’t start that way. Claire changed it four times before she was finally happy with her color scheme.”

  “That must have been annoying.”

  “Not really. But that’s why I like the idea of splashing samples on a wall. Until you see a color with natural lighting in the room you want to paint, it’s hard to be sure.”

  She could understand that. “So about what Matt wants...”

  “I may just do it, if he doesn’t change his mind in the next few weeks.”

  “Really? You’d do that for him?”

  His gaze settled on her, warm and amused. “I’d do a lot more for him, or for anyone I care about. This is just paint and stickers. When he tires of it, I can cover it all up easily enough. Paint isn’t permanent.”

  The way he said it made her grin, too. “We certainly peeled enough of it away.”

  “Exactly. But his room wouldn’t need that. A good coat of primer and I can change it to the next color he wants. The only thing I ever worry about with him is that he can be so changeable. I’d hate to paint that room next weekend only to have him decide while I was in the middle of it that he really wants gray walls.”

  A laugh escaped her, easing the strange feelings that had been swamping her. Loneliness? Really? Missing Matt...okay, that was at least understandable. The boy was a charmer, like his father.

  But feeling saddened because Tim hadn’t said he’d miss her, too? She had no right to that. None at all. He’d been wonderful to her, and she’d done everything except totally freeze him out.

  Except for the other night. Warm memories of their embrace, his kisses, his touching her intimately, so sadly interrupted by Larry’s arrival.

  She realized she wanted to pick that up where they had left off. She wanted the experience even though nothing would ever come of it. Just remembering it made her insides squeeze pleasurably.

  “I’m going to buy your house,” he said unexpectedly. “I told you I thought it was time to move on, remember? Well, that house has great bones, and it’s a bit bigger. Enough bigger that my office wouldn’t have to be the size of a janitor’s closet.”

  She gave a small laugh. “You do have a point there.”

  “A couple extra bedrooms would come in handy.”

  Given that there was one here that was more of a shrine, maybe so. He could have turned that into his office, but he hadn’t. She was kind of surprised that he’d even let her use it. Maybe he was moving on.

  “So, okay, let me help you with the colors. Since I’m going to buy it anyway.”

  Impulsively, as he reached for the color chips, she laid her hand over his. “Are you sure you want to do that? This isn’t just to take a load off me, is it?”

  He met her gaze. “I’m sure,” he said quietly. “It’s time. So let’s look at these colors together.”

  Chapter Ten

  Later the weather became nearly savage. The wind gusted so strongly that the windows rattled from time to time. Tim turned on more lights and listened every now and then to the sounds, cocking his head as if locating them.

  “There’s going to be a lot of work around here this week,” he remarked. “Roofing. Probably some trees blown down. Not good.”

  “Are you worried about it?”

  “Only for my neighbors. This place is sound enough. Your house...well, it’s been a long time since the roof was replaced. We may have to do some reshingling.”

  “Why do I think that may cost more than I can afford?”

  He shook his head. “Earl said the house was insured when I asked him about weather damage I might find. If this wind messes up your roof, you’ll be covered. Don’t worry about it unless you need to for some reason.”

  She was willing to do that. One way or another, it wasn’t going to be her headache for long. But Tim buying it? She thought he’d been joking the first time he’d suggested it. Ready to move on? What did that mean?

  She suspected she’d just have to keep wondering.

  * * *

  By evening, the wind had quieted somewhat. It was still blowing, but without the big gusts. Tim made them a dinner of red beans and rice. The warm dinner was perfect, because even though the temperature in the house was fine, the sound of the wind made her feel chilled. Or maybe there were some drafts.

  Tim chatted easily about random things, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable when silence fell. She wished she could be so comfortable, but even after all this time with him, silences still made her feel awkward.

  She might not be good at conversing and making deep connections with people, but she loved to listen to them talk. And for some weird reason, she felt that she was failing to step up when a conversation quieted and she didn’t have anything to say. Except with her colleagues. Odd.

  She liked to drift on other people’s conversations. How very entertaining she must be.

  She looked at the dozen or so strips of color chips they’d separated out between the two of them as being the most pleasing. The question now, she supposed, was which colors wouldn’t jar if they could be seen in juxtaposition.

  “Oh, my,” she said suddenly, a memory striking her.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I just remembered. When I was in college, a friend’s family painted their house. She dragged me over there to see it.”

  “You had a friend,” he interrupted quietly.

  “Well...we weren’t terribly close. I told you I have trouble getting really close. But I can fake.”

  His brows lifted. “Okay. So the house?”

  “She thought her mother had gone nuts. I wound up wondering if the woman was color-blind. We walked in the front door into the living room and everything, everything, straight back through the dining room, was a deep crimson. Powerful. But that wasn’t where it got curious. My friend led me to the back of the living room where we could see the hall. It was awful. The hall was also crimson, but one of the bedrooms off it was painted bright orange, and the next one was apple green. It was a shocker.
”

  “Sounds like it.” A smile hovered around his lips. “Maybe nobody had ever let her have her way with color before.”

  “Or something. We hurried out and my friend just doubled over, laughing so hard. I had to laugh, too. She swore I was the only person she’d ever invite to see it.”

  “And you had a friend.”

  She nearly glared at him. “What are you pushing at, Tim?”

  “That you had a friend. You keep saying you don’t get close, but you had a friend. How close does someone have to be? Living in your pocket? In your thoughts constantly?”

  “No. But when I left college, I didn’t even miss her. That says something. I leave people behind all the time and I don’t miss them. There’s a part of me that never gets touched. That’s all I was saying.”

  He nodded but looked as if he were weighing her words. “You said you’d miss Matthew.”

  Her heart jumped nervously, wondering where he was going. “I believe I will. I miss him already. I guess he’s the exception. Tim, I told you I’m a wanderer. I pack up and move without looking back. If I ever had strong feelings for anyone—and I don’t remember them if I did—they were gone as soon as I moved on.”

  “Uprooted too many times. Maybe the lack of grief when you moved on was the real protection, and not what came before.”

  She nearly sighed. “Does it make a difference?”

  “A helluva difference,” he said. “And who’s deciding to do the moving since you got your job at the museum? You? So at this point you wouldn’t even know how many friends you’ve made there that you would miss if you left.” He shook his head a little.

  “I’ve been thinking about this ever since I came back here, and I’m not getting anywhere with it,” she told him. “I’m tired of trying to figure it out, and I doubt I’m going to change. It was only coming back here that made me wonder about it in the first place. Seeing Ashley. Seeing Bob’s house and dealing with all that again. Realizing how hurt I’d been by everything that followed his deception and wondering how it had affected me. You’d be surprised how easy it is to go through the motions of what is expected and never really feel anything.”

  He tilted his head, his lips tightening a bit, and closed his eyes. She waited, but he didn’t speak for a long time. And she was through talking about this. It wasn’t helping, and she couldn’t make it clear that she lacked something inside.

  “I believe,” he said eventually, his eyes opening slowly, “that life taught you to be very careful about how you spend your emotions. People are just going to be ripped from you sooner or later. Basic truism of life. But you had way too much of that as a child, so you’re extra cautious. Giving little away that it would hurt to lose. But what makes you think you aren’t like millions of other people? Most of us don’t commit really deep feelings in the majority of our relationships. Nobody has the time or energy for that. Anyway, all I’m saying is give yourself a break. You don’t need to change yourself if you don’t want to. Happens I like you just fine already.”

  Sweet words, and they warmed her heart. But she still needed to be clear. “I’m saying, Tim, that when my parents died, I felt nothing. When my dog died, I cried. That’s weird. And if I walked away from my job tomorrow, I’d miss the job, but after a few days wouldn’t even think much about the people I’d left behind. That’s weird, too.”

  He nodded. “Okay. But why is it so important to you all of sudden?”

  “Because I don’t think it’s normal.”

  “Ah. I gathered that. But it’s the way you are, for whatever reason, so just accept yourself. You’re doing well, you’re making the life you want. Nobody says you have to get close to anyone. If you’re okay, why make a big deal of it?”

  She looked down, realizing she was clenching her fingers so hard that they hurt. The problem was, she’d been okay until she got here. Until she’d walked into the bedroom he’d shared with his wife and had suddenly imagined what it might be like to have a truly intimate understanding with someone. To have a relationship worth grieving. Then, steadily, he’d been awakening desires in her for a closeness she’d always feared. And Matthew... God, to think she could miss having a child like him because of her walls. Somehow she didn’t think she could fake a marriage the way she faked her friendships.

  But he was saying something about that. About how not every relationship could be emotionally close. So maybe she wasn’t faking all of it? Just because she didn’t pour out her heart, or open it to everyone...

  God, just let it go. The circle of her thoughts was closing around her like a noose, and she was really tired of it. He said she was fine. Apparently, she was going to continue being that way.

  But there was another home truth, and hard though it was to speak it, she forced herself to do so.

  “I would like, someday, to have a relationship like you have with your son. Like you probably had with your wife. And I’m not sure I’m capable of it.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said gruffly.

  Before she knew what he intended, he was scooping her off the chair and carrying her. Not upstairs, but back to the room he had shared with his wife. At least she thought he had.

  He flipped on the light with his elbow and carried her to the bed, where he put her on the coverlet. Then he stood, hands on his narrow hips, looking down at her.

  “This is the bedroom I shared with Claire. For a long time, I didn’t want to change it, because when I walked in here I could almost feel her presence. Then I just closed the door on it, because it was as if I were holding both of us back.”

  “You and Matt?” she asked, her voice thick.

  “Me and Claire. She’s gone. She has a right to move on to her reward, not be held back by my grief. So, if I were holding her back, that wasn’t good. Then I started thinking about Matthew and me, and how we needed to move on. There’s just so long you can live in a mausoleum, Vanessa. This has been a lively one because of Matthew, but it’s still a mausoleum.”

  She managed to swallow and absorb what he was saying. Moving on.

  “Everyone has to move on sooner or later,” he said. “Life doesn’t let us hold still for long. I’ve been holding still in some ways. You’ve been moving on far too much. And worrying about it too much. So how about you and I see if we can meet somewhere in the middle?”

  She cleared her throat. “I’m leaving...”

  “I know you’re leaving. And if you decide you never want to come back, I’ll deal. Being geographically separated doesn’t mean we can’t connect emotionally. And I think the truth is, you’re already connected to my son, and to me. Wanna deny it?”

  She couldn’t deny it. There was a lump growing in her throat, a very unusual sensation for her, as if tears wanted to roll. She almost never cried. Why did she feel like crying now?

  She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, but she didn’t leave. She looked up at him, wondering what was going on, because inside her she felt as if the earth were shaking and volcanoes were erupting. Strong feelings—the very kind of feelings she claimed not to have—were battering to be let out. All because of this man.

  But what good would it do? “I don’t understand you,” she said.

  “I’m saying that it’s entirely possible to be close with someone who lives half a continent away. Distance can be either physical or emotional. It doesn’t have to be both.”

  God, he looked almost iconic standing there with his hands on his hips, but then he moved, dropping to his knees in front of her. “Matthew likes you. He won’t stop liking you because you go back to your job. If you send him a postcard from time to time, he won’t forget you, either. I know my son.”

  The idea of sending postcards to Matthew didn’t seem threatening at all. “I’d like to do that.”

  “So you can have a relationshi
p with him. You could have one with me, too. Telephones, Skype and email all exist.”

  Despite the tightness in her throat, she felt like laughing, just a small bit. “And what kind of relationship would that be?”

  “We’ll just have to see. Right now I want to knock a few walls down by making love to you.”

  Her breath locked in her throat. Oh, man, she wanted that, too. Much as she’d been trying not to think about it, when he said it out loud, the desire to follow through overwhelmed her. Heat flowed through her veins, every nerve ending beginning to tingle in anticipation. Not even the memory of her one attempt at this, all the way back in college, could prevent the need from rising. Back then it had been awkward, inexperienced and ultimately unsatisfying, making her decide once was enough.

  But it was different with Tim, for some reason. The longings she’d forced herself to bury until they hardly ever surfaced swept over her now, an irresistible tsunami of hunger.

  Awash in powerful feelings, all her fears and objections were swept away. All she cared about was what this man was offering her right that moment. For once she didn’t consciously or unconsciously count future costs. Past and future vanished in the incredible now.

  She began to strip, wanting to get past this to what lay just ahead. She tugged her sweatshirt over her head and shimmied out of her fleece pants. When she straightened and cast aside her undergarments, she found flame burning in Tim’s eyes.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. But he didn’t reach out to touch her. Instead, he pulled away his own clothes with impatience, tossing them without regard to where they fell.

  Then they were locked in a primal space, both nude, anticipation so thick breathing became difficult. Vanessa’s mouth went totally dry.

  But it was a moment never to be repeated, and she knew it. She had free rein to look at him, to take in his broad shoulders, his narrow waist and flat belly, then...then...