Unbreakable

by Ruth Buchanan

  Garcia shrugged. “He can contest it in court. But battery is, by definition, any unwanted touch. So unless you wanted him to touch you…”

  Rachel remembered his hot hands gripping her hips. She shuddered “Nope.” She winced at the sting of antiseptic against the side of her face.

  Garcia inclined her head. “I figured as much.”

  Rachel peered up through watery eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m the one who told Demetrius to call 911. He called to tell me he’d seen ‘some sketchy dude’ trailing you into the woods and wanted to know what he should do. He called Smith first, but he didn’t pick up. I told Washburn to call 911, and I headed right over.” She frowned. “I also told him to stay back and not get involved. Clearly, he only paid attention to half of what I said.”

  Demetrius Washburn had abandoned his little knot of admirers and sauntered over just in time to hear the tail end of this. He executed a neat little dance step, grinning at them both. “Lighten up, chica mia. I couldn’t have gotten involved if I wanted to. Shakespeare here had everything locked down. She was all—” he let out a high-pitched screech and executed the approximation of a spinning back kick.

  “I only did a front kick,” Rachel said, shaking her head. “It wasn’t even exciting.”

  It had been horrible, actually.

  “Where’s Five-Oh?” Demetrius asked, hopping on his toes. “I can’t believe he’s missing this.”

  “I’m here.” Ian stepped around Demetrius. His gaze raked Rachel, snagging on the scrapes down the right side of her face.

  “You’re late,” Rachel told him.

  18

  Rachel curled on the leather recliner in the living room of the Carriage House. She turned her face into a shaft of sunlight, sighing as it warmed her.

  Ian moved about in the kitchen, opening and closing drawers and cabinets. He’d followed her all the way here and insisted that he stay until Ann got off work. He’d initially wanted to drive her himself, but Rachel had declined. Aside from the fact that she really did feel fine, she didn’t want to bother with arranging to have her car picked up later. The sooner this whole episode was behind her, the better.

  Ian entered bearing two cups of coffee. He swiped coasters from an end table and sat down on the edge of adjacent sofa, setting the coffees on the low wooden table between them. One of them, heavily creamed, he pushed toward Rachel. She leaned forward without fully sitting up and sighed into the steam. She could hardly bear to look him in the face.

  He watched her, his expression impassive, eyes nearly translucent in the slanting afternoon sun. “I don’t know a lot about you, but I know how you take your coffee.” He raised his mug and took a cautious sip.

  “What else do you need to know?” Rachel asked, her voice light.

  “I want to know all of it. Everything.”

  “You mean about Craig Crocker?”

  “Well, yes. That too.”

  “There’s nothing going on between him and me.” She was surprised this needed to be clarified. “At least, I didn’t think there was. It turns out I was wrong. Again.” She looked down at her hands. “I’m wrong about so many things, Ian. All the time. If you want to know everything, that’s the first thing you should know.”

  Ian set down his mug and leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his knees and fitting his fingers together. He studied his hands. At length, he cleared his throat and lifted his gaze. “Rachel—”

  Rachel’s heart stalled. This was it. “I have something I want to say first.”

  He leaned back. “Say it.”

  “I owe you an apology. That’s the whole reason I wanted to meet you today. I wanted to apologize. I brought ice creams and everything.” When he said nothing, she continued. “You say all you know about me is how I take my coffee, but that’s not true. You know by now I’m not very good at relationships. I’ve been working on that. I’ve made all kinds of resolutions, and I’ve been praying about it and asking the Holy Spirit to change me.”

  “That’s good. Rachel—”

  “I’m not finished. The point is, in trying to fix some of the mistakes I’ve made in the past, I went too far the other direction and started making completely different ones. I mean—I liked you. I like you—present tense, just to be clear. But you never really clarified what was going on with us, and I didn’t want to assume anything, so…” She trailed off, hoping he would interrupt. He didn’t. “Am I making sense?”

  “I think I get the gist. Rachel—”

  “Let me just say everything while I’m at it. Ever since I met you—this whole time—Ann and Lynn have been telling me you were interested in me. I knew they were probably right, but I was scared. What if I was just overreacting and reading into things, like I’ve always done? I wanted to be sure you liked me before I let myself get even the tiniest bit close to you.”

  “To be clear, I do like you. A lot.”

  The edges of his eyes didn’t crinkle—not one bit—but Rachel’s heart still fluttered. She pushed back against the rising joy. “I know now.”

  “I could tell I was scaring you,” he admitted. “Which was why I decided to try stealth-dating you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Stealth-dating,” he repeated.

  She nodded slowly, certain events clicking into place. “That day with the sandwiches.”

  “Even before that. Back when I met with your associate pastor on a Sunday instead of any other day of the week, just so I could see you. It was all stealth-dating. The church services, the requests for rides, the Cubans, the ice creams.” He dropped his gaze to his interlaced fingers. “I was so worried about coming on too strong and sending you into one of your tailspins that I just, well—”

  “One of my—what?” Rachel’s voice jumped an octave.

  Ian sipped his coffee. “Do you prefer another term?”

  So embarrassing. Rachel cleared her throat. “Perhaps that wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had.”

  Ian shrugged, his gaze steady. “Could you suggest an alternative course of action? Because I’m running out of options.”

  Rachel blinked. Under that quiet look, her insides slowly liquified. When he stood and crossed to sit beside her on the leather loveseat, throwing one arm across the back as he turned his body to face her, her blinking lapsed into positive eye-fluttering territory.

  Goodness. This must be what Sharon Day felt like all the time.

  It wasn’t terrible, actually.

  But now wasn’t the time to think about Sharon. She needed to focus.

  Ian’s voice was firm and his gaze serious. “Rachel, listen. We don’t know each other very well, but you know enough to make an informed decision.”

  In the clear light, she could see flecks of green among the gray of his eyes. “About what?” she asked dreamily.

  Low as it was, his voice cut through the soft-tone haze.

  “Are you in or are you out?”

  19

  “So, we’re dating,” Rachel summed up, glancing back and forth between her sister and her friend. “At least, I think.”

  Rachel had called a summit at the Carriage House instead of Stu’s because she’d promised Ian she’d stay in for the evening and “recover.” Even though this summit lacked coffee and bacon, she was still happy she could tell Lynn and Ann her news at the same time. Their reactions were better than she’d hoped. Or—non-reactions, as the case was. They looked as if they were locked in a freeze-frame. They stared, unblinking.

  “Guys?” She snapped her fingers.

  “You’re dating—you think?” Ann spread her hands wide as if asking an invisible studio audience to join in her astonishment.

  “Well, we didn’t actually say the words ‘let’s date,’ but it seems pretty clear.” Rachel picked up her tea and then paused with it halfway to her mouth, suddenly beset by late-term self-doubt. “It does seem clear, doesn’t it?” She looked to Lynn for assurance.

  Lynn nodded,
laughing. “Do you have plans to meet up?”

  “He said he’d call me later.” Just saying the words made her face ignite. Ridiculous.

  “Well.” Ann leaned back in the recliner and pushed the footrest out. She rubbed her eyes and yawned mightily. “There you go. I guess you can quit Lockstep now.”

  Thank goodness. Lately she hadn’t been able to muster the fortitude to view her dance partners. The more she’d thought about the mounting backlog, the more she avoided logging in. She couldn’t wait to delete her profile.

  “My real question,” Lynn said seriously, “is what’ll happen with that crazy parent.”

  Craig Crocker. Rachel’s heart dropped as she remembered the events on the trail. “Ian’s partner Garcia is helping me with that. She says I should file a restraining order. He could be prosecuted for stalking, although to be honest, I’m still having trouble believing all this is real.”

  Lynn nodded, lifting one ironic eyebrow. “This has been quite a year for you.”

  “Congratulations on having an actual stalker,” Ann yawned.

  “Ann, don’t joke. I can’t believe you didn’t tell us what was going on,” Lynn said to Rachel.

  “I was trying to change! The resolutions—remember?”

  Ann groaned. “Those stupid resolutions.”

  “They weren’t even my idea!” Rachel protested.

  “Well, it’s over now,” Lynn assured her. “Water under the bridge.”

  “Yeah,” Ann said dreamily. “Maybe things can quiet down, and we can talk about something besides all your drama.”

  “I wish,” Rachel groaned, leaning her head back against the couch.

  Ann opened one eye. “What now?”

  Rachel flapped two hands in the air. “Lee’s wedding!”

  ~*~

  With the wedding just two weeks away, the next wedding-planning strategy session was one of the most important. Not that she could get Lee and Sharon to rise to her level of concern. They sat across from her, curled around each other in the booth, radiating calm and contentment. It was as if they didn’t realize they were still totally unprepared. Perhaps they knew, but didn’t care. They were practically purring.

  It was saying something that Rachel felt she was being the most sensible of the three.

  Sharon smiled at Rachel, her eyelashes fluttering. “Considering how important you are to Lee, and that you were sort of instrumental in helping us get together, we both wanted to include you in the wedding.”

  This was a surprise.

  Lee scratched the back of his neck. “Ideally, I’d have you walk me down the aisle. But grooms aren’t walked down the aisle. And Sharon’s dad’s walking her, so that’s out.” He cleared his throat and stared out into the parking lot as if intent on memorizing all of the license plate numbers. “So I was wondering if you’d be my best man…woman.”

  For the first time in living memory, Rachel could find nothing to say.

  Lee’s laugh rumbled. “And we have more good news. The botanical gardens had a cancellation the week of our wedding.”

  “But how can you expect everyone to—”

  “Sharon e-mailed and texted everyone the change of venue.”

  “Change of—but what about—”

  “Rachel, calm down before you start sounding like Sharon’s mom. Or mine.” Lee grinned behind his scrubby beard. “Just remember to take an antihistamine so you don’t sneeze during the vows.”

  Rachel’s vision blurred. Horrified, she lifted her hands to push against her eye sockets, willing her eyes to stop leaking.

  “Rachel?” Lee sounded confounded. “Are you serious right now?”

  “I’m sorry,” she snuffled. She rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes before dropping them to her lap where they rested, palms-up. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” The past few days had sent her into an emotional freefall from which she might never recover. Nothing to worry about.

  Sharon tilted her head to the side, blinking rapidly, her expression radiating sweet sympathy. Lee cleared his throat and patted his chest, most likely in search of a tissue. When he discovered he wasn’t wearing his supply vest, he made an annoyed grunt so quintessentially Lee that Rachel couldn’t help but chuckle.

  He watched warily as her laugh released a fresh stream of tears.

  “I’m fine,” she assured them both. “Just give me a minute.”

  Sharon handed her a napkin. Rachel swiped under her eyes and blew her nose thunderously. Vision clearing, she found Lee regarding her thoughtfully, the blue eyes very sharp.

  “What is this?” He indicated her puffy face and the crumpled napkin.

  “I’m just really touched.”

  Lee snorted. “What’s really going on?”

  “Fine,” Rachel said. She leveled.

  By the end of Rachel’s tale, Sharon’s eyes were bigger and rounder than Rachel had ever seen them.

  Lee’s beard bristled. “So you’re telling me that Myla Crocker’s dad has been stalking you this whole time?”

  Rachel met the question with a shrug. “I honestly have no idea. He may have had some sort of weird interest in me. I think the divorce and Myla leaving with her mom really messed him up.”

  Lee slapped his palm against the table. “I knew I never liked that guy. If I see him sniffing around you again, I’ll flatten him.”

  “No. You won’t. I’m taking out a restraining order. And he’ll be prosecuted, although I’m not sure yet exactly how that’ll work. Garcia’s helping me.”

  Sharon’s eyebrows drew together. “Garcia?”

  “Ian’s partner. You remember Ian Smith, don’t you? You know, the detective who came to the school and helped us with Jessica?”

  Lee’s eyebrows twitched. “So he’s ‘Ian’ now? Not just ‘Detective Smith’?”

  “Yes,” she said. “He’s ‘Ian’ now.” She fiddled with her snotty napkin, thinking it was now or never. “And I know I already returned my RSVP, but I’m hoping that you’ll let me add a plus one.”

  To Rachel’s astonishment, Lee and Sharon turned to one another, exchanged grins, and slapped a hearty high five.

  ~*~

  Rachel had called so many emergency summits lately that Ann balked at meeting at Stu’s. “I’ve had a hard day. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I just want to spend the evening in.”

  Even through the phone, Rachel could hear her weariness.

  The mountain would go to Muhammad.

  Rachel picked up Lynn on the way out to State Road 47, and they arrived just as Ann polished off her dinner. The three cleaned the kitchen together and retired to the living room with hot drinks. Ann collapsed in her recliner—legs up, head back, and eyes closed before the other two had even hunted down coasters. While Rachel curled on one end of the sofa, Lynn took possession of the other, propping her long legs against the coffee table.

  “So,” Lynn said. “You’ll be Lee’s best man. This is quite a development.”

  All things considered, this was one of the less-interesting developments Rachel had faced this week; but she didn’t want to bring up the whole Craig Crocker debacle now. Or ever.

  “I know,” Rachel said. “I’m as surprised as you are. But Lee didn’t really stay close with any of his classmates, and Sharon wants to have a small wedding party. She’s just having her sister as a maid of honor. That left Lee with just one best man to furnish, and…well. It makes sense.” Sort of. But not really.

  Ann yawned. “You have to admit it’s a little weird.”

  “Much like your whole relationship,” Lynn pointed out.

  Rachel shrugged. The shoe definitely fit.

  Ann yawned again and rolled sideways, curling more comfortably into the seat. “What will you wear?”

  The thought hadn’t even occurred to Rachel. “This will be so ridiculous.”

  “You mean Lee didn’t give you any suggestions?” Lynn asked.

  Regarding any other groom, this question would have seemed out
of place. But this was Lee. He’d probably chosen Sharon’s wedding dress.

  “He didn’t say anything about clothes. We had other things to discuss.”

  “Yeah.” Ann chuckled without opening her eyes. “I’ll bet.”

  “I guess I could always wear a dress to match Sharon’s sister, who’s the maid of honor, but—”

  “You know,” Lynn said, leaning forward and sweeping her hair from her forehead. “I may be able to help.”

  This was interesting. “Have you suddenly learned to sew?”

  Ann snorted. Or maybe she was snoring. It was hard to tell.

  “Just trust me.” Lynn smiled. “I have a plan.”

  20

  “So, let’s recap,” Rachel told the class. “We’re knee-deep in Act IV, and Petruchio’s attempts to tame Kate are ongoing. How do you think he’s faring?”

  Carl shrugged. “Well, he managed to marry her. I’d call that progress.”

  Rachel sucked in her cheeks, staring toward the back wall as she decided how to phrase her next statement. “As we’ve discussed before, clarifying the terms of a relationship doesn’t necessarily lead to smooth sailing.”

  Chris propped his legs in the aisle and crossed his ankles. “Especially not in this case.”

  “OK, genius.” Shayla rounded on him, tugging her braids. “How would you do it?”

  “What—tame Kate? I wouldn’t bother with all this stuff Petruchio’s doing. Having the horses dump her in the mud and then mistreating the servants like it’s their fault. Throwing food and ripping up her clothes because they’re not good enough for her. I mean, who does that? He seems crazy.”

  “The course of true love never did run smooth,” quoted Rachel, somehow overcoming her dislike of A Midsummer Night’s Dream for the sake of the lesson. The things she did for these kids. They didn’t even know.

  “So?” Shayla refused to let Chris off the hook. “What would be your plan?”

  Chris laughed. “I wouldn’t need a plan because I’d never marry a woman like Kate. Way too high maintenance.” He shot Shayla a bland grin. “No offense.”

  Rachel lifted her script in front of her face and coughed to hide a laugh. As she lowered it, she caught Alice’s eye. She winked. Then she saw Jessica Potts raise her hand—straight and prim.