by Liz Talley
But while he slaved over the intricacies of tax law, Ben and Courtney had been falling madly in love over lattes and late night movies.
Lucas hadn’t a clue until he’d shown his brother the carat and a half square diamond and watched the blood drain from Ben’s face. At that moment, he began to suspect the distance between him and Courtney hadn’t been because he’d been studying too much. A kernel of suspicion had bloomed, only to be confirmed days later when Ben and Courtney had come to him, contrite, tears in their eyes, as they explained how the impossible had happened, how they’d tried to fight against falling in love, but hadn’t been able to stop fate. Oh, and not only were they in love… but Courtney was pregnant.
Lucas glanced over at that baby, thirteen now, and disdainful of the man who had stayed away from him because it hurt too damn bad to be in the same room with the two people who had betrayed him.
“You missed the turn,” Michael said.
“Sh-” Lucas bit off the curse word. He had to be careful with his language around the children but minding his tongue when he felt stressed to the limit grew increasingly harder. “Easy fix. I’ll take the next exit. Little sightseeing.”
Except it wasn’t great sightseeing on the detour—most of the houses were dilapidated and lonely. Like a neighborhood time forgot… or more like politicians forgot after Katrina. Lucas’s artist eye saw opportunity for some emotional photos. Maybe when the kids were in school, he’d slip down with his camera and play around with some shots. Wasn’t stark landforms against a barren landscape, but the curlicue beauty peeking from beneath the cracks and weathering had a rare quality.
Fifteen minutes later, they were back on State Street. Ten more and they were in Addy’s drive unloading bags containing the wood screws and other supplies. Michael, without being asked, hefted a roll of heavy-duty plastic from the bed of the truck and dropped it onto the grass next to the greenhouse.
“Careful,” Lucas said, nudging a layer of lumber with the toe of his boot. He wished he’d brought his worn work boots, but the newer, shiner cowboy boots would have to do. “We don’t want to tear any of that plastic.”
Michael’s mouth flattened into a line. “I don’t know why I have to help do this. I didn’t tear it up.”
“Because it’s Saturday, the sun is out, and a neighbor needs help.”
No response came from the kid.
Lucas glanced over into the backyard where Chris ignored his younger sister who balanced on her stomach on the swing dangling from the massive wooden playset. The ten-year-old’s finger swooped across the small screen he held, his concentration centered on the i-whateveritwas he held. “Chris, please keep an eye on your sister while we unload everything,” Lucas called.
“Okay,” the boy said, not looking up from the screen.
“That means put that thing you’re tapping on away.”
Grumbling, the boy slid the electronic device into his jacket pocket.
“I can watch Lottie,” Michael said, crossing his arms.
“Chris isn’t strong enough to unload this.”
Michael made a sound that might have been a muttered “whatever,” but Lucas chose to ignore it, picking his battle once again.
Addy’s car pulled into the drive and Lucas glanced down at his watch.
1:20pm.
A little late, but that could be expected of a business owner. Things came up and had to be addressed before closing down for the day. Besides he’d not been counting the minutes until Addy arrived.
Or at least that’s what he told himself.
Lucas wasn’t accustomed to keeping shopkeeper’s hours. As a landscape photographer, he didn’t keep steady hours. Though his art brought in plenty of money, he never allowed the business to overshadow the passion, so often he worked in spurts, obsessively working days on end on a project and then taking weeks off before beginning the artistic cycle again. Usually after working with no rest and little food, his body demanded the restoration. Not to mention, at some point he had to meet with Chavez about the running of the ranch. But he liked his world, liked being able to embrace his passion whenever the mood struck him.
Addy pulled the car into the parking spot sitting kitty-corner from the back door, her posturing proving she’d forgotten they were to work on the greenhouse that day.
How could she have forgotten?
He tried to stop thinking about her over the past few days. Heck, that morning while walking Kermit and scooping cat litter, he’d convinced himself that the attraction he’d experienced nights before had been a figment of his imagination.
But he knew he lied.
Addy was a cool drink of water after walking a desert… otherwise known as Home Depot with three kids.
Maybe the kids were driving him bonkers, but he suspected the desire to see Addy was more than craving an adult’s company. If he’d had wanted that sort of stimulation, he’d have taken Shannon Whatever Her Name Was up on her coffee invitation after dropping Charlotte at St. George Day School yesterday morning. Of course, the bored Shannon had had more than caffeine on that agenda. Something in her eyes said, “Let’s have a play date.”
But he didn’t want to have a play date with Shannon or any other “single” mother in Charlotte’s preschool class. He wanted a work day with Addy.
“Hey,” Addy said as she climbed from the cute little Volkswagen that somehow looked too cartoonish for such a serious woman. “I’d forgotten we said we’d work on repairs today.”
Disappointment gave him a little sock. He’d thought she was attracted to him several nights ago. Something had ignited between them… but maybe his lack of sleep from being kicked by Chris who’d climbed in bed with him that night had his mind playing tricks on him.
Addy’s shoulders were tight and something in her expression worried him. She looked so different from the way she’d looked before. Today she looked spooked.
What could possibly make a woman look so haunted?
Addy pushed a few tendrils of hair from her eyes and studied the big man looking down at her. She hadn’t actually forgotten Lucas. She had, however, temporarily forgotten about the greenhouse and repairs. Messages from Robbie Guidry did that. Rattled her so she forgot to stop for milk or pay her water bill on time. When she got reminders from the man who’d stalked her, attacked her, and attempted to kill her, it put her off balance for several days which is why she’d canceled on Wednesday night and stayed inside. Even taking the letter by Lt. Andre’s office stirred anxiety, and it took constant reminders to her brain that Robbie was behind bars and she had control of her life.
But how much longer would he remain behind bars?
She inhaled and exhaled, knowing she had no control over when Robbie Guidry would get out of prison. But it would be soon.
Lucas approached her as if she were made of glass. She willed her thoughts to settle.
“You okay?”
She stiffened. “Of course, I am. Busy morning at the shop, that’s all.”
She lied because she didn’t want to talk about her life. About how she’d been a victim. That was her past.
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Something’s wrong.”
“Not really. Just have a lot on my mind.”
“What do you have on your mind?” His question wasn’t soft. He pried into her thoughts, and she didn’t want him there.
“Nothing. Let me change and then we’ll get started.” Addy pulled her purse out of the car, pausing to slide the cellphone out of a side pocket. She’d texted her father to let him know she’d talked with Lt. Andre yesterday, but he hadn’t replied. But then again he didn’t check text messages often—they seemed beyond him. She didn’t want to call because then her mother would know something was up, and Addy hated when her mother worried. Maybe she’d drive out to New Orleans East and see if she couldn’t corner her father and share what Andre had told her.
Addy’s father was her go-to man. When she’d first received an anonymous drawin
g of a single brown-eyed susan, she’d reported it, but with no evidence the drawing came from Guidry, there was nothing more to do. Still, Don Toussant kept track of the evidence and haunted the parole hearings trying to make sure Guidry didn’t get out until he paid his entire twenty-five-year sentence for assault with a deadly weapon, attempted rape, and attempted murder. They were a team… a team who couldn’t do much else but wait.
Addy dragged her gaze back to Lucas, whose dark eyes weighed and measured her.
“Something’s off with you, Addy. You seem scared. Did something happen?”
Those words you seem scared caused embarrassment to flood her. Why was he pressing her? Prying? Asserting himself? “How I feel is none of your concern. I don’t like people shoving their nose in my business. I said I’m okay.”
Lucas raised his brows. “Sorry. I’m just trying to be neighborly. I thought maybe it would help to talk about what’s bugging you.”
She stopped on her voyage to the back door, yanking her keys from her purse as she turned back toward him. The anger pressed beneath the shame slipped out. “I don’t need you to do that. I didn’t invite you into my life. I didn’t even invite you to fix my greenhouse. You’re the one who insisted. So respect the fact I don’t want to talk about my day with someone I don’t even know.”
Lucas didn’t say anything. Merely lifted a dark eyebrow and studied her more intently.
Something about the way he looked at her made her want to apologize. Because she knew her words were defensive and hard. Still, she’d learned too well that guys who pressed a woman or who wouldn’t take no for an answer were often demonstrating predatory behavior. So Addy was always firm when a man wouldn’t respect her boundaries.
Yet, she knew deep in her bones, Lucas Finlay wasn’t harmful to her. At least not in the way Robbie had been.
“Look, I know you’re trying to be nice, but I’m good. Okay? I’ll change, we’ll fix the greenhouse, and then we’ll talk about how I can help out with the kids. I told you I would.”
Lucas lifted a shoulder. “Sure. I’ll try not to be so neighborly.”
“Well, considering you’re not actually my neighbor that could be best.”
Something flashed in his eyes. She’d pissed him off.
“Good point. Don’t worry yourself with helping me. Let’s just fix the greenhouse.” He turned and walked away… just like she wanted, making her feel like a total bitch.
Her fear, those stupid memories of having no control, had once again won. This is what Robbie had done to her. The man might be behind bars, but his “messages” had done more damage than what she wanted to admit.
She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath.
Then she went inside to do what she said she would do.
Addy’s words had surprisingly hurt him. They shouldn’t have. He didn’t know her beyond a couple of hours spent with her at most. But somehow her defensiveness when he’d tried to be helpful, tried to nurture a stable relationship with the only rational nearby adult, made him feel less than what he was.
He was honorable, damn it. And no one had ever called him nosy. He was not nosy.
Aunt Flora bumbled out the back door and gathered the children, directing Michael and Chris to unload pots out of Addy’s car and giving Charlotte a spoon for worm digging. The three-year-old made a strange face but allowed the older woman to lead her to the compost pile in the corner of the yard.
Addy disappeared into the house.
For a moment, Lucas stood grappling with having his feelings hurt. What the hell was wrong with him? He was a man who rarely cared what others thought of him, a man who rarely cared that he pleased others.
But he knew one thing—something had made Addy fearful.
The phone attached to his belt rang, and Lucas glanced at the screen to check the caller. He’d been waiting on the director of a Manhattan gallery to call him about some canvases for a renovation at a New Jersey Women’s Hospital. But it wasn’t Gerald. It was Courtney.
Dread knotted in his stomach.
Was she calling to check on the kids or had his brother worsened?
“Hey,” he said, darting a glance as Addy reemerged from the house still wearing the dark dress and casting an apologetic glance at him. Something moved within him at that look in her eyes. He turned away.
“Hey,” Courtney said, her voice weary. “Thought I better call and check on the kids while I had a chance. They’re changing Ben’s bedding and I’m in the waiting room.”
“The kids are fine.”
“Are they? I’ve been worried. I left without saying goodbye.”
“Wasn’t ideal.” He’d arrived early Monday morning. Courtney had taken a cab to the airport minutes later, leaving him with sleeping kids and a page of instructions that didn’t cover things like smart mouths and trembling tears on lashes.
“It was the best way.”
“Not sure about that, but you can smooth things over if you tell the kids about Ben’s illness. It would be easier-”
“How?” She interrupted, her voice a mixture of annoyance and weariness. “Look, I’m truly grateful you came to help us. I know it was hard for you. But, I can’t tell my kids that their father may be dying over the phone, Luke.”
He hadn’t been called Luke in many years, and the sound of his name on her lips confused him. It swept him back to a time when he loved hearing her say his name. But as quickly as that thought came, another took its place—betrayal. And that ate away any pleasure in hearing Courtney call him Luke. “I understand, but I’m a stranger to them. Not knowing what’s going on with you and their father only makes it harder on them. Not me. Them. Courtney, you need to tell them something more than what’s been said.”
Michael rounded the corner, followed by Addy’s Aunt Flora. He noted Lucas talking on the phone, and some kind of internal homing signal must have gone off. The boy walked toward him, frowning as Lucas stepped back into the shadows.
“Is that my mom?” Michael asked, moving closer.
Courtney dropped a curse word. “Tell him no. Please. I’m not ready to talk to him about Ben.”
Lucas pulled the phone from his ear and turned to head off Michael. “This is my call, and you’re being rude interrupting it.”
Michael’s chest expanded in outrage. “If that’s my mother, I have a right to talk to her. It’s her, isn’t it? Let me have the phone.”
Lucas shook his head and pointed back toward where Chris stood holding a stack of planters. Addy appeared from around the back, her forehead crinkled in concern. Chris watched his brother, mouth slightly open, anticipation of confrontation in his eyes. Charlotte happily dug in the compost heap looking for worms which she promptly dumped into a can sitting beside her. The girl didn’t seem to know there was anything else in the world except fat, squiggly earthworms.
“Go back and help Addy’s aunt with the wheelbarrow.” When Michael didn’t budge, Lucas added. “Now.”
“This is bullshit. If that’s my mom, I want to talk to her. She won’t text me or call me. I need to talk to her.”
Courtney sighed. “Give him the phone.”
Lucas didn’t want to concede to Michael. He’d read in one of the parenting magazines consistency was the solution to many behavior problems in children of all ages. He wanted to stand firm on telling Michael no, but he wasn’t the kid’s parent. Courtney was, and maybe she’d finally tell the boy about his father’s condition.
“Mom, what’s going on? Why did you leave us with him?” Michael turned his back on his uncle and moved toward the front of the house where a low screen of bushes lined the older home.
Lucas studied the boy’s expression—the nods, the defiance, the frustration. Several heated words were exchanged before the boy’s shoulders sank in defeat.
Lucas knew Courtney hadn’t told Michael about Ben’s injury and complications. If anything, the kid looked even more resentful as he silently handed Lucas the phone and stalked away.
“Courtney?”
“What?” She was crying.
Lucas moved toward where Michael had stood arguing with his mother. “Why won’t you at least tell Michael about Ben? He’s old enough to understand.”
“Shut up, Luke. You don’t understand how vulnerable Michael is. He and his dad are so close. Michael already deals with some anxiety, and I don’t want him dwelling on his father’s injuries or the very real fact that Ben might not pull through.”
“What do you mean?” His heart thumped hard in his rib cage.
“He’s dealing with some infection, and they’re worried about his kidneys. I can’t deal with everything here and know that the kids are scared there. Just hold down the fort and tell them you don’t know anything. That’s the easiest thing to do right now.”
“Avoiding reality doesn’t help.”
“Right now it does. I know. I am not going to put them through what I went through with Mom and Dad. You understand?”
“I know what you went through, Courtney,” he said, his voice softening. Because even though Lucas held anger for Courtney, he remembered how much she’d gone through years ago.
When Courtney had been in high school, her parents had been shot in a convenience store robbery. Neither had died in the actual robbery, but they’d been gravely injured. Her mother had been shot in the face and the trauma had been severe. Courtney’s father died from his wounds the day after the robbery, but her mother had held on for days, undergoing several surgeries before succumbing. Courtney had lived at the hospital, Lucas with her, bringing her food and comforting her as best as an eighteen-year-old kid could. The loss had devastated the sunny Courtney, turning her into a shell of what she’d been, maybe even driving the wedge between them that allowed for the future betrayal.
“Luke, it was excruciating watching my mother slip away, and I could do nothing to save her. Those memories knock around in my head. I can’t get them out, and I don’t want my children to have that same hopelessness.”
