by Brenda Novak
“Hey,” she echoed and, after pushing the clay into a big lump, turned off her wheel.
He gave her a sheepish look. “I didn’t cause that, did I?” he asked, indicating her ruined vase.
“No,” she lied. Then she bolstered her response with the truth. “Mistakes and do-overs happen all the time. This was actually my fourth try today.”
“Really?”
“Really,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”
He lowered his good arm to move the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “You ever seen the movie Ghost?”
She had. That steamy scene with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze was one of her all-time favorites, but after last night, she was surprised he’d bring it up. “Yes.”
“That’s what finding you covered in clay and not much else reminds me of.”
Ignoring that comment, she got off her stool and walked over to him. “You broke your hand, huh?”
“Yeah.” He frowned at it. “In two places.”
“I’m sorry about that. But I’m glad you saw a doctor.”
“Yeah, it’s a good thing. It would’ve had to be rebroken if I’d let it heal on its own, so...better to go this route from the beginning.”
“Is this your first cast?”
He chuckled without mirth. “’Fraid not.”
“They’re no fun.”
“You’ve had one?”
“Broke my arm once.”
“How?”
“Motorcycle accident.”
“Who was driving?”
Sebastian had been driving. He’d been angry with a friend and going too fast, and he’d pulled out in front of a semi that clipped their back tire. It was a miracle they’d lived through it. Because of that, he had a scar going halfway around his back, and she had two pins in her arm, but it could’ve been so much worse.
“A friend,” she said to avoid mentioning Sebastian’s name.
Rod studied her until she felt too uncomfortable to allow the silence to continue.
“So...what can I do for you?” she asked.
His mouth quirked to one side. “I just found a plate of cookies on the railing of my deck.”
It was almost impossible not to return his smile, but India fought the impulse. She had to remain on guard at all times. He did something to her she couldn’t explain—probably because it didn’t make any sense. She’d barely met him. “I hope the ants didn’t find them first.”
“Not that I could see. Although I wouldn’t have let that stop me. They were delicious.”
“Were?” she repeated. “You ate them already?”
“Was I supposed to wait? If my brothers came home and found me with homemade cookies, they’d be gone in seconds. And my father and his wife are always there.”
“So to prevent sharing, you ate all twelve?” she said with a laugh.
“They were for me, weren’t they?” he responded with a wink.
He made her feel better. She preferred not to contemplate why. “Yes, they were for you, and I’m glad you liked them.” She sobered. “I hope you also got my note.”
“I did.”
Then why was he here? Didn’t her note say it all?
She crossed to the sink in the corner. “I’m really sorry about last night,” she said as she washed her hands. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, but I’ve never done anything like that.”
“I’m not here for another apology. I just wanted to tell you not to worry about it. I can understand why you might want to feel good for a change.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your forgiveness. But I’m really not as bad as hitting on you made me seem.”
“I know.”
After drying her hands, she used the same towel to mop the beads of sweat running down the sides of her face. “Then...can we pretend it never happened?”
His gaze slid over her like it had last night, and she suddenly realized why she’d propositioned him. Just the way he looked at her—as if he was undressing her with his eyes, even though they weren’t talking about anything remotely suggestive—made her too aware of him. He exuded sex appeal, and as a young, lonely widow, she was vulnerable. It’d been eleven months since she’d felt a man’s touch; she missed Charlie’s gentle caress.
“’Course. I’m not holding anything against you,” he said, giving her the impression that he wouldn’t have thought twice about what she’d done, with or without the cookie offering.
Maybe he got hit on all the time. India knew she couldn’t be the only woman to find him attractive.
She clasped her hands in front of her, partially to hide the fact that she didn’t know what to do with them now that she’d cleaned them, and partially to block his view of the stains on her shirt. When she was creating, she didn’t care about staying clean. She didn’t care about much of anything then. Several hours could pass without her noticing. Her art was the one thing that helped her cope with life since Charlie died.
“Good. Thanks again.” She gestured toward her back door. “I’d better go inside. I’ve still got a lot to do tonight.”
“India?” He stopped her before she could reach the sanctuary of her kitchen, and his tone suggested that whatever he was about to say wasn’t idle chitchat.
She turned. “Yes?”
“Let me take you to dinner.”
She almost told him again what she’d told him last night. That she was still in love with her late husband, that she couldn’t get involved. Even when she started dating again, she couldn’t date anyone like Rod. Her in-laws would take one look at him, see Sebastian Young instead and sue her for custody of Cassia. It could easily be the final piece of “evidence” to convince them that her poor choices were to blame for the death of their son.
But instead of “no,” she heard herself say, “When?”
“Tomorrow night?”
He’d lowered his voice in what felt like a meaningful way and that filled her belly with butterflies. She stared at him, willing herself to clarify that she couldn’t go, but she didn’t. She nodded.
“Pick you up at six,” he said.
Her heartbeat seemed to travel out to her fingertips. What was she doing? Clearly, she’d lost her mind—and yet she overrode her better judgment for a second time. “Okay.”
When his smile widened, she felt a bit wobbly in the knees. “See you soon.”
6
Rod was mowing the lawn. India could see him from the window above her sink, where she was doing dishes. She had a hard time looking away, especially once his T-shirt grew damp and he took it off. He wrapped it around his head to block the sun, which wasn’t the most attractive way to wear a shirt, so she knew he wasn’t trying to show off.
That certainly didn’t detract from his appearance, however. His bare chest and arms... Holy cow! As much as she’d loved Charlie and would never have tried to change him, she had to admit he hadn’t looked like that. He couldn’t; he didn’t spend enough time outdoors, didn’t do anything physical. He was too busy concentrating on his patients and his career. They’d even had a yard service.
She didn’t realize she was no longer washing dishes—that she was only staring—until her phone buzzed. Then she finally looked away. She’d been trying to reach her in-laws to tell them about the DA’s decision, and now they were getting back to her.
After drying her hands, she turned from the window and hit the talk button.
“Hello?” She went into the living room so she wouldn’t be tempted to watch Rod anymore. Charlie was dead, but somehow she still felt guilty about the things she thought and felt whenever she encountered her neighbor. She knew the Sommerses wouldn’t appreciate the fact that another man had that kind of effect on her. She’d have to remain single for a long time in order to convinc
e them that she’d loved Charlie and wouldn’t have done anything to hurt him.
“India? It’s Claudia,” her mother-in-law said. “How are you, sweetheart?”
The endearments Charlie’s mother bandied about could be so misleading. India wished they were sincere. Since she’d never really had a father, and she’d lost her mother when she was still young, she often felt a childlike craving for the love of a good parent.
But experience had taught her that Claudia’s sweetheart, honey and darling were mere words. Claudia tried to like her because she’d meant so much to Charlie, but on some level, she couldn’t help blaming India, as India blamed herself, for what Sebastian had done. The defense attorney had made her look so bad. India had felt her in-laws’ loyalties weakening as witness after witness claimed she’d called Sebastian several times, which she had, but only for moral support because he’d been talking about suicide, that she was probably still in love with him—given their history—and that they were planning to run away together once she inherited the money. As a result, relations between her and Charlie’s parents were strained and had been for months, although they all tried to pretend they were as close as ever.
“I’m fine,” India said, despite the fact that she felt as if she was living from minute to minute. “And you?”
“Busy. Little Cassia and I went to the thrift store today and bought an old trunk that we filled with whatever toys she wanted. Guess what she picked?”
“A ball of some kind?” India knew it wouldn’t be anything too girlie. Cassia preferred to be outside playing with boys and had no interest in Barbies or dress-up.
“Yes. We got her a tee to hit off and some other sports stuff but no dolls. She’s such a tomboy.”
A twinge of jealousy had India gritting her teeth. Cassia was her daughter, damn it. India wanted her back. And yet she couldn’t push, not if Sebastian was free. He could be looking for her this very minute. It wasn’t as if she’d moved far away. Her in-laws had insisted she remain fairly close so they could continue to be a big part of Cassia’s life.
But right now India felt they were too involved. A whole month without her daughter was beginning to feel like an eternity.
“I’ll bet she loved that,” she said, carefully modulating her voice to sound congenial and appreciative. “You’re such a good grandmother.”
“It’s been wonderful spending time with her. I can’t tell you how much fun we’re having. And I’m sure it’s made things easier for you. Moving is such a big job.”
India gripped the phone tighter. “Yes, but I’m pretty well finished.”
“You’re all settled, then?”
“Except for hanging the paintings. I...I’m not ready for that.”
There was a moment of silence. “Charlie bought you a lot of art.”
“Yes. He knew how much I loved it.” She closed her eyes. “I miss him so much.”
She hadn’t intended to say that last part. The words had just welled up and slipped out. They came from a place of pain and deep regret, but she could tell from Claudia’s hesitation that her mother-in-law didn’t know whether to trust her.
“We all do,” she said. She spoke stiffly, as if she was the only one who really missed him.
After that India found herself gravitating to the window to see if Rod was still out. The fact that she was ogling another man almost made her believe she must be as fickle as her mother-in-law suspected. But admiring him helped combat some of her anger, disappointment and fear.
Too bad he was mowing on the far side of the house where she couldn’t see him...
“Will you be coming soon, to check out my new place?” she asked Claudia.
“Not before we bring Cassia home. Steve’s too busy with his new victims’ charity. We’ve been putting together a golf tournament, and it’s taking hours and hours out of every day.”
India caught her breath. “You could always bring Cassia home early if you need to concentrate on other things. That would be no problem for me. I’m basically moved in and ready.” She’d figure out some way to protect her...
“Oh, no. Cassia’s more important. We won’t let anything interrupt this month with our girl.”
India slowly released her breath. She’d taken advantage of the opportunity to try—because she knew as soon as she told Claudia that Sebastian was no longer in jail and might never return to custody, she’d probably have to battle her in-laws in court to get Cassia back. “Can I talk to her?”
“Of course.”
A momentary flash of hope shot through India, which Claudia immediately extinguished.
“But later,” she said. “She’s right in the middle of helping Papa make lunch. We’ll have her call you after, if we get the chance.”
If we get the chance... They wouldn’t call, and if India ever asked why, they’d invent some excuse. Charlie’s parents were so possessive of their granddaughter.
Now that India knew she wasn’t going to be speaking to her little girl, at least in this conversation, she moved on to the purpose of her call. “I got hold of Detective Flores earlier.”
“You did? I’ve called and called. I always get his darn voice mail. What’d he say? When’s the next trial?”
Rod came into view, the muscles of his left arm bulging as he carried the grass clippings to the green waste can. India put her hand to the window as if she could touch his warm skin or feel the solid thud of his heartbeat—as if such a strong man could shelter her in some way. But that was ridiculous. He was rough around the edges, much more like the ex-boyfriends who’d created so many problems for her in the past than true-blue Charlie.
“They’re waiting,” she told Claudia.
“I couldn’t hear you. What’d you say?”
India forced herself to speak louder. “They aren’t convinced they have enough evidence to get a conviction. They’d rather not risk a second trial, not until they’ve built a stronger case.”
Another long silence, this one filled with shock and anger.
India could identify with both of those emotions.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Claudia said when she spoke again.
“I’m afraid not.” India swallowed, trying to wet her tongue, to make it easier to speak. “But Detective Flores is hopeful that they’ll be able to bring him back to trial soon.”
“When?”
India watched Rod disappear around the corner of his house again. “They can’t give us a date. Yet.”
“Which means what? It may never happen? Is that animal going to get away with what he did to my son? He took a life! And not just any life—the life of someone who mattered!”
India winced. She’d often felt Claudia wished she’d been the one to die that night. There’d been times she’d wished the same thing...
“It’s heart-wrenching,” she said and prayed she’d put enough emotion into that statement. The Sommerses, and everyone else who knew Charlie, were always watching her and interpreting everything she said or did with such suspicion. She felt as bad as Claudia did about this most recent turn of events. But she couldn’t commiserate with her on the DA’s lack of action or show the doubt she had that Sebastian would eventually be brought to justice, because then her mother-in-law would start thinking about Cassia and the fact that she might not be safe living with her mother.
If India wanted her daughter back without a fight, she had to ignore her own despair and convince the Sommerses that this was only a temporary setback.
“It’s beyond heart-wrenching,” Claudia said. “There are no words for what we’ve suffered.”
That was true. The past eleven months had been hellish. And yet, for her own sake as well as Cassia’s, India had to keep herself together. She was fighting to do that. Charlie wouldn’t want them to be miserable, but this new hurdle...
India wasn’t sure how she’d get past it.
“They’ll find the gun,” she said. “That’s what they need. If they find the gun and they can link it to Sebastian, they’ll have him.”
“You knew Sebastian well,” Claudia said. “What could he have done with it? Where might he have put it?”
That night was a jumble of terror for India, but she could trace the gun through those memories because Sebastian had it in his hand, pointed at her, for so long. She’d spent hours believing he’d shoot her, and Cassia would be an orphan. “I told you. I told everyone. He took it with him when he ran out.”
“If they haven’t found it by now, they never will,” her mother-in-law said. “What more can they do that they haven’t already done? What more can we do? We hired that PI—little good it did us. He accomplished nothing, and the police haven’t been much better. Detective Flores will move on to other cases, and we’ll be left with our lives destroyed and Charlie’s killer running around free.”
“Please. Don’t talk like that,” India said. “We have to retain hope.”
“I have to go,” Claudia said abruptly.
India was afraid to let her hang up for fear of what she might decide. “I’m sorry about this, Claudia. I wish... I wish Detective Flores had given me better news, but...don’t assume the worst. We’ll see justice yet.”
“Is that what you think? Because there is no real justice. You get that, right? Even if Sebastian goes back to prison for life, we’ll still have to live without Charlie.”
“Which is hard to fathom. I know.”
“You do? Because sometimes I can’t help feeling...”
India’s stomach cramped at the sudden bite in Claudia’s tone. “Yes?” she prompted when her mother-in-law’s words fell off.
“As if you’re—”
Someone—her father-in-law?—spoke in the background, but India couldn’t make out the words.
