“Right.”
“Ha, I say.”
“Ha? You say? Who talks like that?”
“I do,” Dani said. “Don’t try and change the subject.”
“I wasn’t. I just wanted to point out—”
“That it’s all about the sex. Wrong. I don’t know what it is, but I guarantee it’s a hell of a lot more than sex. I’m all for the two of you having some. Have lots. But you won’t get him out of your system that way.”
“Then tell me how.” All the teasing was gone. Tyler needed to know. She needed a way. Drew Harper was in her blood and nothing she had tried had purged her of him.
“Oh, honey.” Dani reached over and squeezed Tyler’s hand. “I know you still hurt. I’d hold him down while you kicked his ass if I thought it would do any good. Maybe it’s time to take the direct approach.”
“And what would that be?”
“Ask him why he broke your heart.”
CHAPTER TWO
TYLER LET HERSELF into her studio, her mind still rolling over her conversation with Dani. Ask Drew. Such a simple thing and yet so complicated, her brain felt like it was about to explode. Land mines at every turn; huge areas of quicksand. Neon lights flashing DANGER, DANGER. Ask Drew. She had never been a proponent of self-flagellation — she wasn’t starting now.
She dropped her keys on the counter of her small, but serviceable kitchen. When she had decided to return to Harper Falls, Tyler knew exactly the space she wanted. She was an artist. Her mother swore Tyler had started drawing before she could walk. Using the walls as her canvas hadn’t gone over very well with her father, but Mom encouraged her daughter every chance she had. Anita Jones was not a woman to assert herself. When it came to Tyler’s artistic abilities, she at least had tried. Martin Jones hadn’t cared enough about his daughter or her talent to waste his energy arguing. “Scrub the damn walls” was his only response. Anita scrubbed.
The abandoned warehouse by the river suited Tyler’s purposes perfectly. Large, open, with plenty of natural light. At one time, it was used to store building materials. A huge docking area out front would have been perfect for trucks to back in, unload, and be on their way again. The building boom in Harper Falls went bust and the warehouse sat vacant for years. A restaurant tried its hand for a brief time. Mediocre fare and food poisoning had put them out of business almost before they started.
As kids, she and her friends would ride past the old place on their bikes. Rose thought it was creepy. The overgrown weeds and spider-filled cobwebs made her shudder. Dani thought it might make a good photography studio, but it would be too much work to make it habitable. Tyler knew if she had the money what she would do with it. The plans were in her mind and had stayed there until she was able to implement them all these years later.
She quickly changed her clothes. A glance in the mirror showed her a tall, slender woman. At the moment, she had on nothing but the ridiculously expensive lingerie she loved to wear under her jeans and t-shirts. Her little secret — not Victoria’s. Subtle curves, strong muscles covered in silk, satin, and lace. Today, pale lavender. It made her skin look like rich cream, smooth and silky.
Her ancestry was a mixed bag. Irish, American Indian, a hint of Slavic, and a whole lot of your guess is as good as mine. The result, in Tyler’s case, was straight, near black hair that she wore long, often piled into a messy bun. Her gray eyes could be a clear silver or dark pewter or stormy gunmetal. It depended on her mood. Happy, sad, angry — the shade told the tale.
She pulled on a pair of loose paint-covered cotton pants and an equally stained man’s button-up shirt. They were clean but well used and as far as Tyler was concerned, every mark was a symbol of her sweat, toil, and creativity. She would wear them until they fell apart, only then throwing them out, and starting over. Same outfit, same effort. Her art was what got her out of bed at three in the morning, and what kept her up sometimes days at a time running on brief naps and gallons of coffee.
Inspiration was a fickle bitch. Tyler and hers had a love/hate relationship of long standing. Right now, they were in a good place. The Harper Falls Centennial Statue was coming along at an amazingly fast pace. Every time Tyler touched the sculpture, it almost talked to her — vibrating with energy. Yes, she talked to her projects, and sometimes when everything flowed, they spoke back. This one was creating a soliloquy.
Tyler had to admit that of all her projects, this one had a special place in her heart and mind. Just getting the commission had been a process fraught with more drama than a Real Housewives episode — and most of it just as manufactured.
Harper Falls had been buzzing about the centennial celebration since before Tyler returned. The planning stages had been slow and meticulous. What else could you expect from a project headed by Regina Harper? She may have married into the name, but she took her responsibility as matriarch of the town’s founding family seriously. As far as Tyler could tell, Regina took everything seriously. The woman had no discernible sense of humor. She’d especially found the idea of her one and only child, the heir to the Harper money and power, becoming involved with Tyler Jones nothing to smile about.
Tyler mentally shook herself. Those memories were not for now. Dani encouraged her to confront Drew. Her friend thought it was time to find out why he had broken — no, check that. Why he ripped out her heart and ground it into tiny pieces. She was still looking for some large chunks of the battered organ — almost convinced they were lost forever. If the day ever came when Drew told her the why of it? Well, that was a conversation he was going to have to initiate. She was ready to fuck him — not spill her guts.
Tyler pulled back the cloth that covered what would be her contribution to Harper Falls. She ran her hand over the unpolished bronze. It didn’t look like much at the moment, but she could see it — perfectly. In her mind, the lines were bold, almost stark — but infinitely powerful. It would sit in the middle of town. Visitors would notice right away. How could they not? It was large and dominating. Harper Falls residents would eventually become used to the sculpture. They would pass it on a daily basis getting to the point where they would seldom even notice it. However, there it would be. Created by Tyler Jones. And no one, not even Regina Harper would ever be able to take that away from her.
Of course, if it had been up to Queen Reggie, Tyler’s design would never have been in the running, let alone been chosen. The woman did her best to eliminate every entry Tyler submitted, under every alias Tyler used. How had she known? Well, Regina Harper had her spies — everywhere. In the end, none of the intrigue or teeth gnashing had mattered. Regina had stepped away from the committee in charge of choosing a winner and they chose Tyler. Her design — her original design — had been deemed the best.
Tyler was so happy that it took her awhile to figure out who had made it happen. Only one person had that kind of influence. Only one person held any power over Regina Harper. Her son — Drew Harper. Tyler didn’t know what he had said or what he had done. She was certain, though, that it had been Drew.
Her stomach knotted. The text she sent him had been so inadequate and had gone unanswered. Thank you. Had he cared? Been insulted? Even seen it? How was it possible that once — so long ago — words hadn’t been necessary? Tyler only had to look at Drew and everything that was important would pass between them. When had it changed? She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment. Sometime during those last few weeks. The ease between them slipped away — tension grew. Tyler was blissfully unaware that it even happened. That was how he blindsided her. She had been wrapped in a false cocoon. With just a few sentences, Drew burned it away, leaving her raw, and her emotions in tatters.
Work. Her art. That was what she needed — the only thing that mattered. They were about to celebrate the founding of Harper Falls. A century ago, her love for Drew hadn’t even been a wisp in the wind. A hundred years from now, it would be a long-forgotten blip. But this. Her hands traced the sculpture again. This would last. This, people would reme
mber.
Tyler picked up her welder’s torch, flipping down a protective visor over her eyes. She lit the torch and went to work. Yes, in all likelihood, history would forget. Unfortunately, she never could.
ELEVEN YEARS EARLIER
HER PARENTS WERE fighting — again. No, that wasn’t right. Her mother didn’t know how to fight. She whispered, cringed when her husband raised his voice. That was something Tyler never understood. Martin Jones was a bully but to her knowledge, he had never hit his wife. He didn’t loom over her in a threatening manner or pull his hand back, an instant away from slapping her face. Why then did Anita Jones cower before he even opened his mouth?
Because she was meek — and not the kind that would inherit the earth.
Tyler longed for her mother to stand up for herself — just once. She wanted to scream at the woman to get a backbone, to stop letting not only her husband but also her two sons walk all over her. As frustrating as it was to watch the woman let herself be used as a doormat, Tyler loved her mother. She refused to be just one more person exerting her will on that sweet, timid soul.
All Tyler could do was ease her mother’s burdens as much as possible. Right now, that meant keeping her worthless brothers occupied and away from the family drama playing out in the living room. Martin Junior, or M.J., and Kyle loved nothing more than joining in on chipping away at their mother’s self-esteem. It must have been genetic — passed down to the male members of the Jones family. If they could catch the scent of weakness, they moved in like a pack of hungry wolves, tearing away until there was nothing left but bloody bones. Or in her mother’s case, a too-thin body. Her once pretty face looked perpetually haggard and ten years older than her forty-three years.
Today, thank goodness, Anita only had to deal with her husband’s censure. Tyler had slipped both her brothers a twenty. With money burning holes in their lazy-ass pockets, they called their one friend in town who owned a car and headed for the big city. Tyler almost felt sorry for the residents of Spokane, but they would have to fend for themselves.
Who knew, maybe she and her mother would catch a break and the idiots would get themselves arrested. Nothing too serious, just enough to keep them in jail for a few days and out of their mother’s hair.
The noise volume from the living room increased. That meant the end was near. Martin Jones would soon storm out of the house, off to drink with his buddies. And Anita Jones would head to church to pray for…? Who knew? Her mother had followed the same pattern for as long as Tyler could remember. Take verbal abuse from her husband and sons — talk to God. You had to admire the kind of faith that had you coming back, seeking comfort, even when you never received any.
Tyler heard the front door slam and sighed with relief. Her bedside clock read three o’clock. Not too soon for her father’s first drink of the day — he’d started earlier. Right on cue, only minutes later, she heard her mother’s less volatile exit. Martin would have taken the car — Anita would walk. Again, the same moves in the same pattern.
Certain that everyone was gone, Tyler slung her backpack over one shoulder and slipped out of the house. She didn’t have a lot, but what she had was always clean. Her sneakers had seen better days. The shorts that covered her long, tanned legs were getting a bit threadbare from all their washings. She had filched one of her father’s t-shirts; he liked to keep himself looking good so his clothes were always new and perfectly pressed. It hung on her, but she didn’t care. Being a fashion plate had never been a life’s ambition and the thought of taking something from her father gave her a twisted kind of pleasure.
Martin Jones made plenty of money. He traveled, selling insurance. And he was good at his job. Charming, persuasive. When he poured it on, her father could get almost anything he wanted. But for some reason, it was never enough. Dissatisfied with the life he led, convinced he had been destined for greatness, he took his frustrations out on his family. He needed a new suit or new golf clubs. His wife and children could get by another year with the perfectly good clothes they already had — clothes that his hard work had put on their backs.
Her father’s chintzy ways had been why they had taken Rose O’Brian in as a boarder. Tyler imagined it hadn’t taken much persuasion. One little girl wouldn’t get in his way and the extra money would keep more of his salary in his pocket.
Tyler had her own money now. She and her best friends, Rose and Dani made a good income doing odd jobs around town. Need your lawn mowed? Your hedges trimmed? Gutters mucked out? They did it all and were grateful for the chance. The three of them worked hard and were dependable.
Word traveled fast and soon they were actually turning down requests, something they all regretted. If there had been more hours in the day, they would have used them to earn more money. Rose used hers to buy instruments, guitar strings, and sheet music. Dani spent hers upgrading her cameras. She would sell the old ones on eBay and use the same website to find a better model at a bargain price.
Tyler wanted things. A pair of silver earrings she’d seen in the window of Jeri’s Jewelry Jamboree. Molding clay. A set of sculptor’s tools that, even secondhand, had a price that took her breath away. But she bought none of it. Her money had one purpose and one purpose only. To help get her out of Harper Falls. She had been saving every penny, every hard-earned dime, from the time she was old enough to dream of leaving.
Now, fifteen years, three hundred and thirty-six days old, she had a very nice nest egg squirreled away in the bank. The loss of the forty bucks she’d used to bribe her brothers had hurt, but it had been worth it. Right now, they were miles away, making other people miserable.
Tyler jumped on her well-worn bicycle and headed out, free for a few hours. She gave a wave at Terry Wilde, happily mowing his front yard. He and his wife, Bobbie, represented everything that was good in a marriage. Loving, supportive, a household full of laughter. Tyler didn’t know what the norm was — the Wildes or the Joneses. She supposed it was somewhere in between. Whatever the answer, Dani had hit the jackpot — Tyler had rolled craps. And Rose? Well, her family situation was a whole different kind of messed up.
Luckily for her and Rose, Dani’s parents welcomed them with open arms and hearts whenever things got too heated in the Jones household. Terry had even put bunk beds in Dani’s room so they didn’t have to sleep on the floor. If she were to actually stop and count, Tyler would have bet that as the years passed, the girls had spent more time “sleeping over” than staying where they supposedly belonged. Home, such as it was, never felt very homey.
Any other time Tyler would have sought out her friends. Today she was on her own. Dani and her mother were in Tacoma visiting Bobbi’s sister. Rose was at the high school mapping out the school’s big fall musical. Barely June and she was worried about something that wouldn’t happen until October. But put a piano in front of her friend and she was in her element. For Rose, it wasn’t work.
It was one of the many things that the three friends had in common. They all created. Rose had the ability to make grown men weep and the melancholy smile. Music and words, words and music. They flowed from Rose’s brain and onto paper with an ease that was stupefying. She had a gift. She might not have the whole world singing yet, but it was just a matter of time.
Dani had vision. She looked at what was in front of her and saw it in a way no one else could. When she picked up a camera, lifted it to her eye, and framed the picture, it came out telling a story. Her images never lied.
Tyler liked to think that the time would come when she would be able to match her friend’s abilities. She knew she was talented. She could draw anything, put her own spin on it, and remain true to the subject. Painting came easily. But sculpting was her passion. She had a raw talent that needed honing. She longed to be where she would be taught — encouraged to spread her wings.
Rose and Dani were her biggest fans. They believed in her. Her mother had hope but little else. Her father and brothers, when they could be bothered, put down her dreams. Na
me a famous sculptress, her father derided. M.J. and Kyle barely knew what that was; they only knew that their sister didn’t have what it took to be one. Others in Harper Falls shared those sentiments. If they didn’t laugh right at her, they did it behind her back. Tyler preferred the ones who got in her face. At least they were honest.
None of it mattered. Tell Tyler she couldn’t do something and it was like throwing gasoline on the fire of her ambition. One day the faith her friends had in her would be justified. One day she would show Harper Falls that Tyler Jones was somebody to be reckoned with.
Today, all she wanted was to get away. Find some air — breathe.
Her first thought was the little cove across the river.
Just thinking about it made her feel lighter. Hidden from the world, no one to answer to. It was her place. It didn’t matter that technically she was trespassing every time she set foot across the long, wide bridge that spanned the Columbia River. The only thing on the other side was Harper House and the surrounding land. It all belonged to the family whose ancestor founded the town.
Tyler supposed that if she were caught, the Harpers could have her arrested. She was only fifteen. What was the worst that could happen? What would the Harpers gain by having the book thrown at a skinny girl of no consequence? Maybe make an example of her to keep other kids away?
Tyler didn’t know what the Harpers were like; they and her family didn’t exactly run in the same social circles. But she had seen them. Every now and then, they actually set foot in the town that bore their name.
Russell Harper III was a handsome man, quiet, dignified. What Tyler imagined a high priced New York lawyer would look like. His wife, Regina, was so regal, just like her name — it seemed like she floated instead of walked. Her clothes were expensive and perfectly fitted. Polly Porter, whose mother had once worked at Harper House, said Mrs. Harper had all her clothes custom-made. Couture only.
If You Only Knew (Harper Falls #3) Page 2
