The River Valley Series

by Tess Thompson

  Annie came out of the kitchen and plopped down next to Linus at the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, Lee saw the men with Mike get up from the table and circle in the doorway. She heaved out of her chair and moved towards them, smoothing her dress over her extended stomach. The three men, dressed in Tommy Bahama shirts and trousers and smelling of expensive aftershave, nodded and smiled at Lee.

  Mike stepped back, allowing her into the circle. “Lee, these are the gentlemen I told you about. They’re developers from Seattle and we’ve been talking about how to turn this town into a tourist destination.”

  The oldest of the group, a handsome, polished man in his fifties, slapped Mike on the back. “Now, we’re fly fishermen more than developers. But, we’re interested in this little town. Have been for a while and I think Mike’s finally got us convinced.” He smiled at Lee. “This place has certainly helped sway our opinion. And, the bed and breakfast going in next door. Just great.”

  They said their goodbyes and the door was no sooner closed than Mike squeezed her in a bear hug. “I’ve been working on those suits for three years to partner with me to build a hunting and fishing lodge on the river. I own some choice property out there along River Road and it’s perfect for a fishing lodge. They agreed to do it tonight.” He led her to a table, calling Annie to join them. “Now you sit back down and take a load off.” He pulled out a chair for Annie, slapping the table. “Girls, just super job tonight. Super. Annie, I would never have thought of lamb shanks with that blackberry sauce on top of it.”

  Annie laughed. “You talking about my blackberry reduction?”

  “Sure, sauce, reduction, whatever you want to call it, but heck, it might’ve been the best thing I ever tasted.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a checkbook. “I’m giving you both a little opening night bonus.” He scribbled on two checks, tore them out of the register and placed them on the table in front of them.

  They were made out for 5,000 dollars each. Lee was unable to speak, but Annie held her check in both hands and shook her head back and forth. “Five G’s.” She leapt from the table and hugged and kissed Mike.

  He blushed, brushing her aside. “You two deserve it, working in here these last months with hardly a paycheck.” He looked at Lee. “This was a gosh darn miracle.”

  Annie’s eyes glistened. “This is the most money I’ve ever had at one time.”

  Mike looked between them. “I want to make sure you two stick around. There’s more of that in your futures if we keep turning them out like tonight.”

  After he left, Lee glanced around the restaurant and felt her heart swell with pride and, dare she say it, happiness. She thought about Linus’s proclamation earlier that he was opening a bed and breakfast while throwing his heart into a love affair. She thought about Mike’s steadfast resolve to change the town and of Tommy and her staff and her friends. It all felt like her real life now and she didn’t know how she could walk away if, when, Von found her.

  She thought of Zac’s money behind the desk and wondered for the hundredth time if she should steal it to pay off DeAngelo. She knew it was too dangerous. She, Mike, and Zac were the only three with a key to the office. He’d figure it was her as soon as he discovered the money was gone. It was trading one danger for the other, except Zac knew exactly where she was. As long as Von didn’t find her, she could keep saving until she had enough money to buy her freedom. She turned and watched Tommy’s strong hands tuning his guitar, a gnawing emptiness in the pit of her stomach.

  Chapter 21

  Lee opened her eyes to sunlight peeping through the black-out shades in Tommy’s bedroom. It was Monday morning and Riversong was three weeks old. She stretched and thought it felt like three years instead of three weeks. She rested her hand on her stomach, which moved with the rhythm of the baby’s habitual morning hiccups. There was a note on the bedside table from Tommy saying he went for a run and would be back by 8:30. It was 8:40. She turned and rested her head in the indent of his pillow and breathed in the scent of his hair and the salty smell of his skin that lingered on the soft cotton.

  Twenty minutes went by, and another twenty. She paced the floor, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, sweating, fighting the nausea. She showered, trying to scrub away the panic that invaded her, but crazy thoughts ran like a wildfire and she was helpless to stop them. She sat on the floor of the shower, gripping her knees, water hammering the top of her head. She imagined him dead on the side of the road from a hit and run. Maybe it was a heart attack or a rattlesnake hidden in the tall grasses that lashed out to bite his ankle. Either way he writhed in pain, dying in the hot sun. Perhaps he decided she was too much work and had pushed his truck without starting it to the highway so as not to wake her and snuck out of town. Maybe he ran into one of the women from the bar and decided to follow them home.

  Or did Zac come after him?

  Or Von.

  Or maybe he shot himself.

  At ten after ten, sitting in his large armchair in the corner of the bedroom, she heard his keys drop on the front table. He called out, “Baby, I’m back. You up?” He came into the bedroom, sweaty and more alive than ever. He tore off his shirt. “I smell awful but it’s the most fantastic day. There’s some crispness in the air and it felt so good I decided to run all the way to the farmer’s market to buy blackberries. I had a plan to get Ellen to make me a pie but when I got there I realized I had no way of getting them back. I mean, can you imagine me running back with a flat of blackberries in my arms?” He paused, considering her while slipping off his sneakers by pushing the toe of his shoe into the heel of one, then the other. “Why is your hair wet? You shower already?”

  She stared at the floor in front of the chair, resting her arms on top of her pregnant belly. “I was about to go home.” The panic lingered and she felt as though she might suffocate.

  “What? I thought we’re spending the day together?”

  She shrugged. “I have a meeting at the restaurant.”

  He kneeled next to the chair and covered one of her bare knees with his hand. “This because I’m later than I said in the note?” He scooted in front of her and leaned closer to her face. Although she didn’t meet his gaze, she felt him analyzing her and his voice was tender. “I worried you. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how long I was gone. I’m back now and it’s okay, right?”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about how much it would scare you if I was late. And I should have.”

  She jumped up from the chair and grabbed her clothes. “I’ve got to get to my meeting.”

  He sat on the floor and watched her getting dressed. “I know there’s no meeting. Can’t we talk about this?”

  She held up a hand. “What’s there to talk about?”

  “Lee, I will always come back. No matter what. You need to understand that.”

  She sobbed, making angry swipes at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You don’t know that. You don’t know all the things that can happen that could wreck your life.”

  He looked at her, his face helpless. He opened his mouth but seemed to think better of it and shut it without another word. Although her insides roared with the desire to stay, she left the room and headed for the door.

  At her car, he put his hand on the handle to stop her. “Just stay, let me fix you breakfast.” There was fear in his eyes, his need for her palpable, but instead of softening her, it made her angrier still.

  “It’s way past breakfast,” said Lee.

  “Will I see you later?”

  “You’re playing tonight, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I’ll see you later.”

  She drove away, angry that he stood in his yard, watching her car move down the dirt road, a cloud of dust billowing behind like a giant apparition. She could feel his eyes bore into the back of her car and imagined she felt the pull of him saying, come back, come back.

>   Later that same night, she allowed him to take her to his home after the restaurant closed, feeling grateful he seemed the same as always. Her panic having subsided, they continued as if nothing had happened. But Lee was filled with dread, a foreboding that she could not shake.

  * * *

  The next morning, she awakened when the front door slammed. She heard Tommy throw his keys on the table next to the door where he always tossed them. It was thirty minutes after eight. She turned over, facing away from the door and closing her eyes to feign sleep. The bedroom door creaked and she heard his muffled footsteps move across the wood floors and a small thud on the bureau like he dropped something. Seconds later, she heard the bathroom door swing open and thump on the wall and then the gush and patter of the shower. She turned over and looked into the bathroom. The outline of his body showed through the opaque glass of the shower stall, his hands in his hair, his torso leaning backwards into the water stream. Steam wavered in the open doorway, illuminated by the streaming sunlight from the large bedroom window. After a few minutes he turned off the water and his brown hand reached for the towel that hung on the rack next to the shower. She closed her eyes until she smelled his clean skin as he walked by the bed. She stirred to let him know she was awake and opened one eye. He had the towel wrapped around his waist, hair sticking out in every direction, a day’s growth of stubble on his face.

  He sat on the side of the bed and touched her hair. “Did I wake you?”

  She stared at the wall behind his torso, trying not to purr like a cat with his touch upon her hair. “I heard you in the shower.”

  He traced the skin under her eyes with his thumb. “You get enough rest?”

  She touched a vein in his forearm. He looked into her eyes and murmured, “Don’t do that, unless you want me back in bed.”

  She shifted her gaze from his eyes and watched the muscle on the side of his neck twitch. “You have someplace to be?” She pulled closer to him, kissed him on the mouth, slipped her hand under his towel and touched the sinewy muscle of his leg.

  “I haven’t shaved.”

  “I don’t care.”

  He threw back the covers and got into bed. He looked into her eyes, touching her face with his long fingers. “I won’t be late again. I feel terrible I scared you yesterday.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She escaped his scorching gaze and looked at the ceiling, the room suddenly airless until he shifted to kiss and lick her neck.

  He ran his hands down her body, his touch familiar now but still possessing the power to move her. His fingers moved between her legs, where they tapped and flicked in the same way he plucked the notes from his guitar. No longer shy, she caressed him with freedom, enjoying the feel of his muscular frame in her hands.

  He nudged her on her side, his mouth on her shoulder, hands on her hips, round belly protected from his weight as he positioned behind her and their legs entangled like two pairs of scissors. Her mind emptied and she was simmering liquid, unsure of where her flesh began or ended.

  His callused fingertips gripped her skin and she quivered, excitement building as he thrust harder into her and she touched his face with the back of her hand. His mouth was next to her ear, his voice hoarse, and his breathing fast. “Te amo,” he said.

  She gritted her teeth and shut her eyes to shut out the light coming through the windows. “Don’t say it.”

  His voice was low in his throat and his words cracked. “I love you. Why can’t I say it?”

  She bit the inside of her bottom lip. “Just don’t.”

  His fingers clutched the insides of her thigh, his wet mouth hot against her shoulder. His energy was frenetic, intense, no longer playful or teasing, his words breathless. “I can’t help myself.”

  She willed her body to separate from him but the climax was upon her and like something slippery and unconnected, invaded her and she shuddered and cried out, half wail, half scream. Still inside her, he cried out too, a low abrupt gasp, and buried his face in her neck. After several seconds, he pulled away from her onto his back. She stayed on her side, drew her legs up and lay in the fetal position, the sweat from him still wet on her skin, the dampness between her legs warm and ripe. He was stiff beside her and she felt him shiver and cover himself with the blanket. She stared at the sunlight drifting through the spaces in the slats of the shades.

  The bed moved and she heard his feet on the floor, the closet door creak open and shut. She turned to see him pull boxer shorts over his lanky legs. Her eyes drank him in until he faced her and she pretended to look at the ceiling.

  His voice sounded tired and sad. “You want breakfast?”

  “I should shower first.”

  “Eggs or oatmeal?”

  “Oatmeal.”

  * * *

  Tommy’s oatmeal sat in his bowl, untouched. He appeared to be reading the paper but he hadn’t turned a page in fifteen minutes. She dropped her spoon into her empty bowl and it clattered in the thick, silent room. “I’m the one that should be angry.”

  He turned a page of the paper with a deliberate movement, his mouth a thin line.

  She shook the newspaper. “I don’t think a person should be hijacked right before an orgasm. It’s hardly fair.”

  In two paces he was at the kitchen sink. “You’re making a joke.” His shoulders sagged and he hung his head over the sink. He pushed on the side of the counter with his hands, as if it took all his strength to hold himself up, his voice resigned. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  Frigid fear crept up her spine but she used a scathing tone as if his statement was juvenile and needy. “Do what?”

  He turned to her and his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “I can’t be in limbo with you anymore.”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “What are you hiding?” She saw he noticed her flinch and his face softened. “What are you so afraid of? We need to talk about the future. The baby’s going to be here before you know it and I want to be a part of it.”

  She glanced down at the spoon and saw her face reflected in its shallow curved cup, deformed and ridiculous. “I’m not ready.”

  “You say that, yet you’re here every night.” He picked up the newspaper and threw it across the room. “Stop lying to me. Tell me what you’re so afraid of.”

  She stood, pushing the chair into the table. In one heated shrieking breath she screamed at him, “You’re right. I have a secret and it’s something that you could lose your life over if I get you involved.” She stopped and took a deep breath, willing herself to gain control. “I’m trying to protect you.”

  He was next to her in one stride and grabbed the tops of her arms in his large hands. “What is it? Tell me the truth, so help me, Lee.”

  She bit the words. “You cannot help me, even with all that love for God and your mother and this house that pulls in sunshine.”

  “I will do whatever it takes to help you. Do you get that? Anything.”

  She stared at his Adam’s apple and spoke through tight lips. “Life is not a sentimental three-chord song.” She started to shake from her insides. Her teeth chattered and she clamped her mouth shut, pulling away from him.

  He inched towards her and put his hands on both of her shoulders. His eyes were dim and red rimmed. “You’re running from something or someone. Who is it?”

  Her lips trembled and there was a lump in her throat so big she couldn’t swallow. “Tommy, I love you. There, I said it. I love you but this is something you need to leave alone.”

  He jerked away from her and paced, pressing his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He stopped at the sink, crossed his arms and looked at the ceiling. “See, the thing is—I know you love me. I know you. You think keeping this secret is to somehow spare me from whatever it is. But I can’t be with you if you will not tell me the absolute truth about your life.”

  “Why are you pushing this? Why can’t it just stay the way it is?”

  “Because I need to
know if you’re going to be here in a month, or a year, or ten. Because I don’t want to fall in love with the baby too, only to have you leave me.”

  She didn’t know what to say, except that he was right. The truth was she wasn’t free, couldn’t be free until she paid DeAngelo.

  “This thing that happened between us this morning in bed…” His voice broke and he looked at the ceiling. He drew in a deep breath, the vein on his forehead popping. “I’m in too deep. I can’t go on this way, not knowing where we stand, feeling like you’ve got one foot out the door all the time, reserving the right to leave.”

  She reached for him, took his hands. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  His eyes filled and he put his hands on her stomach. “Lee, I’m begging you, tell me what it is so I can help you.”

  She stared at him, helpless to think of what to say. “No good will come from you knowing the truth. It will put you in danger and I can’t risk it. Can’t you just trust me?”

  He turned from her, sinking into a chair and burying his face in his hands. “You need to go now.”

  “Tommy, I—”

  His hands still covered his face. “Come back when or if you decide to tell me the truth.”

  Her legs shook as she walked to his bedroom to gather her things. She reached for her bag and there on the bureau was a small jewelry box. Unable to stop herself, she opened it. Sitting inside was a diamond engagement ring. She snapped it shut and left it on the bureau. She ran to her car and drove half blind down his dirt driveway. She didn’t allow herself to cry until she pulled onto the highway.

  Chapter 22

  At home, Lee stumbled to her bedroom. Joshua had left the upstairs windows open but the paint fumes permeated the thick August air. Lee shivered as if her blood, bones, every organ were slush. She phoned Annie’s voicemail and left a message that she was ill and to have John act as host for the next several nights. She pulled on long sweatpants and a sweater and fell into bed, pulling the covers over her head.