by Jodi Thomas
She nodded. While he went for the food, she pulled off her coat and then her sweatshirt. She wore a simple button-up white shirt with cap sleeves. It was the nicest thing in her closet.
When he came back, she saw his slow smile and straightened as if she were wearing a ball gown.
He laughed. “No one would mistake you for a mailman now. Sometimes I think you must be a diamond wrapped in burlap so the rest of us won’t look so bad.”
They ate and talked. She didn’t ask about the woman in silk, and he said nothing. When she mentioned that she had savings but didn’t know what to do with it, he told her to find a good brokerage house. They’d advise her, but never should she give all her money over to one person.
“What do you want to do with it? Buy a car? Take a trip? Invest it for old age?”
“I don’t drive,” she admitted. “Dallas says there is no need.”
“How long have you called your mother Dallas?” he asked between bites.
“For as long as I can remember I called her that in my mind. I used to read fairy tales with a wicked stepmother and, even though I knew she was my real mother, I liked to think she was my stepmother.”
He laughed. “You’ve got a wicked imagination, Ronny.”
Then she told him about the seeding she did with magazines and postcards. He laughed so hard she finally joined him. Anyone else might think she was crazy, but he saw the seeding for what it was . . . her way of caring for people.
When she finally glanced at her watch, it was after one. “I have to go.”
“No, please stay. How about calling in sick? You do have sick days, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’ve never used one. If I stayed home I’d be there with Dallas.”
“I get it.” He smiled. “Just call and leave a message. I’ll tell you what to say. When the postmaster gets back from his lunch, I’m sure he’ll get along without you for one afternoon. I’d like to take you for a drive.”
Ronny was so nervous she stuttered though the entire message. She’d never played hooky; that wasn’t an option for homeschooled kids. If Marty was really sick, maybe dying, she wanted to be with him. Maybe he’d just said that to the lady in pearls, but his words hung in the shadows of her mind like damp spiderwebs.
When she hung up, he pulled her onto his lap and laughed. “You’re free, Ronny. For one afternoon we’re both free.”
They did the dishes and he showed her a few of the cookbooks that had taught him to cook. Ronny felt like she’d been saving up things to tell someone all her life, and finally she’d found someone to listen.
He pulled a book off a low shelf beneath the bar. “I want to pay you for the pie.”
“No. It was my contribution.” The book in his hand opened like a box. A secret storage place. He pulled an envelope from the side of his chair and stuffed it in the box, then pulled out a few bills from the bottom of the box and stuffed them in his shirt pocket. “Well, then I can at least buy you supper.”
The afternoon was cold and cloudy when they climbed into his Volvo that had been built for someone in a wheelchair. She watched him brace against the car door and frame. Slowly, he stood and folded up his chair, then lowered himself into the seat.
“Where shall we drive?”
“I don’t care.”
He grinned. “Then pick a direction and we’ll head that way until we spot a Dairy Queen. Then we’ll turn left. If we always do that, we should end up back home.”
“Makes sense to me.”
He tossed her a few books from the backseat. One explained every historical marker in Texas and another told about sites not to miss in the area. She read and explained as he drove. She’d always thought there was nothing much to see in the panhandle, but suddenly everything looked interesting.
On a long stretch of road he rolled down the windows and drove ninety. When they were both half frozen he closed the windows and explained to her that he felt like he was skiing again. She listened as he explained the thrill of it, the adventure. “It’s like,” he said all excited, “it’s like flying. You’re one hundred percent alive for that moment. You can feel every ounce of blood in your body pumping. You know what I mean?”
“No,” she admitted. “I don’t know.”
He looked at her as if he didn’t believe her. “Ronny, tell me about one time in your life when you felt totally alive, so alive that you could die and wouldn’t have to go anywhere because you were already in heaven.”
She looked at him. “Right here. Right now.”
He pulled off the road on a lonely strip where truckers sometimes pulled off to sleep. There wasn’t a tree or another car in sight. He pulled her into his arms and just held her for a long while, and then he didn’t say a word as he set her back in her seat and buckled her seatbelt.
They drove home singing songs with the radio. Light faded behind the clouds. Ronny knew it was time for her to head home, but she couldn’t bear to end the day. Her mother was having afternoon tea with Martha Q, so she probably wouldn’t be in until late. The two liked to move from tea and sweets to wine and cheese.
When Marty asked if she wanted to come in and help him finish off the pie she’d brought for lunch, she nodded. A few more minutes. No matter how much Dallas yelled when she got home and found out Ronelle hadn’t started heating dinner, it would be worth it to stay a few more minutes with Marty.
Ronny ate her buttermilk pie with her feet propped beside Marty’s knees. His hand rested on her ankle as they talked about all their likes and dislikes. She was growing used to his casual touch and guessed that he liked touching her almost as much as she loved having him near. With Marty she wasn’t homely and he wasn’t crippled. They were just two people enjoying being alone together.
Finally, he said, “I know I have to let you go, but first I want to thank you for the best afternoon I’ve had in a long time. You make me forget about things.”
Ronny smiled. “And you make me feel pretty.”
He frowned. “Climb on,” he said, reaching his hands about her waist and pulling her onto his lap. “I’ve got something to show you.”
He rolled them toward his bedroom. A minute later, they were before a floor-to-ceiling mirror. He took her face in his hands and turned her to face him. “Look deep in my eyes and tell me how I see you.”
She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go. Then she looked into his eyes and saw his honesty, his caring. She saw that he cherished her. “You see beauty. To you I’m pretty, but you don’t see me. Not the real me. Not the me everyone else sees.”
“No, honey, you have it backward. You don’t see the real you. I’ve known lots of women. Girls who know how to use makeup, the lighting, flattering colors, everything to their advantage, but in the morning with no makeup or frills, believe me, they are not as beautiful as you. A few times I’ve slept with a beautiful woman and felt like I needed to introduce myself in the morning.
“They stand poor in comparison. They don’t have your shy honesty, your gentle kindness. Believe me, no matter how stunning a woman is, if she’s lying to you, she’s turning bone ugly.”
Ronny smiled.
He kissed her, deeper than they’d ever kissed.
When he pulled away, he said, “You’ve got to go. It’s bound to be after six.”
She shook her head. “Not before I have that lesson you promised.”
Marty laughed. “Oh, one other thing I forgot to mention. You’re demanding.” He began rolling backward. “I’ll give you the lesson, but not here. If we’re going to do one a visit, we’d better not start in the bedroom or the lessons might run together.”
He took her back to the fireplace and she sat on a chair facing him. As she met his eyes with only a few inches between them, he whispered, “Put your hands behind you, Ronny. I don’t want you tempted to touch me.”
She moved her arms until her hands caught the bars of wood at her back.
“Now close your eyes and take a deep breath.”
She could feel her heart pounding, but she followed his orders.
“When I begin to kiss you, I want you to move closer as the kiss deepens. Can you do that?”
She nodded and waited. Very slowly she felt him growing closer until his lips brushed over hers.
Ronny caught her breath and he broke the kiss.
“Closer,” he whispered, and touched her cheek with his knuckles. “Move your body closer.”
The kiss continued and she did as he said until her breasts brushed against his shirt.
“Right there,” he said against her lips. “Now hold it right there and take a deep breath.”
He wasn’t touching her anywhere but with the kiss, but she pushed lightly against him each time she breathed and his kiss made her breathe deeper and faster.
Finally, he pulled away and laughed. “Now you know how to drive a man crazy.”
Ronny blinked. “Really. Did it drive you crazy?”
“Honey, you’ve been driving me crazy since you walked into my life. I would have never guessed insanity came special delivery.”
He took her hand and they talked while the wind whipped violently around the duplex. For a second, she thought she heard someone running, and then a whistle sounded from out back. Someone was circling the side of the house.
Before she could act, Marty tightened his grip on her hand. “Something is going on outside. Don’t move.”
A pop of shattering wood sounded from the kitchen a moment before the unlocked front door slammed against the foyer wall.
Ronny screamed as men carrying guns rushed in from both the front and the back. In the firelight they seemed like approaching demons.
“Freeze, Winslow!” someone yelled.
Men stormed forward from the shadows. Men with guns. Men wearing the brown uniforms of the sheriff’s office and the blue of the highway patrol.
She glanced at Marty. He sat stone still, but she saw no fear in his eyes, only anger.
“What’s going on here?” Marty snapped.
A deputy she’d never seen stepped forward. “We know you’ve got a child here. Where is she? Her mother informed us the girl was kidnapped, brought here, and held against her will.” Men began to spread out, searching.
Phil Gentry, the deputy who always brought mail in at the office, stepped forward and lowered his weapon slightly. “Ronelle? What are you doing here?”
Ronelle gulped down her planned scream. “Having pie.” She said it so innocently the other deputies began to look confused. “No one is here but us.”
“I’ll try again. Deputy, what’s going on here?” Marty asked, calming his voice as they both figured out that somewhere along the line the cops had made a mistake. “There’s no child here. There never has been while I’ve rented the place.”
A younger deputy stepped forward. “A woman called about an hour ago saying that her little daughter had been kidnapped. She said this duplex was on her route and one of the two criminals living here must have kidnapped her.”
Phil Gentry holstered his gun. “What was the woman’s name?” he said in the same tone one might say, Slug me, I deserve it.
“Dallas Logan.”
Phil swore. “Put up your guns and stand down, boys. You’re looking at Dallas Logan’s only child, and I’ve known Ronelle all her life. What are you, about twenty-six or -seven?”
Ronelle looked down. “Twenty-seven.”
Phil stepped closer. “We’re real sorry to have bothered you folks. These guys didn’t know your mother, and they overreacted. You’re not a child and it doesn’t look like you’re being held against your will.”
“No, sir, but I didn’t call my mother to tell her where I was.”
Phil laughed. “You’re a grown woman. You don’t have to call your mother, but for our sake, now and then, you might. Sorry to have bothered you folks. I think I’ll run by your mother’s house and let her know what might happen to people who file false reports. She’s had half the town out looking for a child.”
Ronelle nodded. “My mother still thinks of me as a child.”
Phil held his hat in his hand as he backed away. “I’m sorry to have bothered you both. I’ll have someone come out and secure that back door we kicked in, Mr. Winslow.”
Marty didn’t smile. “You might think about knocking next time.”
After the police left, they talked for a while and then Marty insisted on driving her home. He wanted to go in with her, but Ronelle wouldn’t have it. She’d been embarrassed enough for one night. She could face her mother far easier than she could face what her mother would say to Marty.
“If it gets bad, call me and I’ll come get you.”
She nodded, barely hearing him.
He gripped her arm. “If it gets bad, walk out. You don’t have to take anything. You can always walk away.”
“Where would I go?” she whispered.
“To me,” he answered. “To a hotel. To friends.”
Ronelle stepped out of the car. All her life she could never remember wanting to go home, and she didn’t want to go now.
She walked into the house that had never seemed like her home. It had always been Dallas’s. She and her father were simply guests following Dallas’s rules.
To her surprise, her mother wasn’t there. Two gym bags she’d bought once at a garage sale were left on her bed. Ronelle walked over and tried her mother’s door, but it was locked. She knew without trying that Dallas wouldn’t answer even if she pounded all night. In the kitchen her TV dinner had been tossed in the trash along with her crossword puzzles.
She emptied out all the junk her mother had put in the bags and packed one change of clothes, her toothbrush, and a picture of herself and her dad taken when she was five. Then, without looking back, she walked out of the only house she’d ever lived in. Dallas had said all she needed to say. Ronelle was trash and she wanted her out.
For a block she thought she might go back to Marty, but she didn’t want to force her problems on him.
Finally, she knew there was only one place she could go. To the one other person who’d ever seen her in the shadows. To the man who’d given her a hug when she’d most needed it, at her father’s funeral.
Ronelle Logan turned toward the funeral home as the last of the gray light of day faded.
Chapter 40
WRIGHT FUNERAL HOME
TYLER SAT AT HIS DESK FINISHING OUT THE PAPERWORK for the day. He’d been putting off e-mailing Kate. For days after she flew away she hadn’t written, and then last week when Martha Q found out about Autumn taking the housekeeper job, she took it upon herself to write Kate.
It seemed, according to Martha Q, that Tyler had gotten himself in a mess with a homeless woman who wasn’t married, was three months pregnant, and almost got him killed when he stepped between the wayward girl and her drug-addicted boyfriend.
Though Martha Q’s summary was fairly accurate, Tyler wouldn’t have described it the way the old innkeeper did.
Tyler didn’t even know where to start with an explanation to Kate and, more to the point, didn’t think he needed one. Martha Q had the facts, but not the truth. The old busybody had left out facts, such as the fact that Autumn was on the run from being abused, and he wasn’t just taking her in, she was working for him. Everyone at the funeral home had taken the time to stop by and tell Tyler they thought he’d done the right thing offering her the job. Beth, in the office, said Autumn was always willing to run errands when she left for the store. Calvin said she helped him bring in the flowers and was already better than him at arranging them at the front of the chapel. Even Dave, who never commented on anything, told Tyler the girl should have a raise because they’d never find anyone who could cook like she did. Tyler suspected Dave had been bribed with chocolate chip cookies.
He typed Dear Kate, then stopped. Part of him didn’t want to explain anything to Kate. He was a businessman who’d been running his own life and a business for more than twenty years. He didn
’t want Martha Q, or even Kate, telling him what he should do. He’d done the right thing helping the girl.
Tyler pressed the delete button just as he heard the front doorbell chime.
Adrenaline shot threw his veins. The memory of Leland showing up was still too raw in his mind to make a guest at night welcome. There were no family times scheduled for tonight.
When he reached the hallway, Autumn was already there in a robe that looked like it might have been left by Willamina. The girl had the broom in her hands as if prepared for battle.
“Should I dial 911?” she whispered.
Calvin came running up from downstairs. “I heard the bell. You don’t think it’s . . .”
Dave bumped into Calvin, almost knocking him down with the snow shovel he carried.
Tyler couldn’t panic; the job was already overstaffed. He had to be the voice of reason. “Autumn, get the kitchen phone. If it’s trouble, dial and set the phone down. The boys will be here fast when the Caller ID comes in at both the station and the sheriff’s dispatch. Calvin and Dave, stand in the shadows in case you’re needed.”
Tyler moved to the door as the bell chimed again. He felt like a general riding in front of the troops. “Everyone stand ready. It’s not that late. Maybe someone thought we’d still be open.”
He flipped the lock and slowly opened the door. As he saw who it was, he raised his hand as if to tell the troops to stand down and let out a long breath.
“A little late for a delivery.” He smiled, letting Ronelle Logan in. “But a postwoman is always welcome. Is there something I can help you with?”
Ronelle nodded. “I need a place to stay. I think I just ran away from home.”
Autumn moved forward. “Well, from the looks of you, I’d say it’s about time. Mr. Wright, you want me to get out the cookies and milk?”
“Yes.” He was grateful to his new housekeeper, as he had no idea what to do in a situation like this. No one in the hundred-year history of Wright Funeral Home had ever had one, much less two runaways in residence.
