Her heart wrenched. “I think more of you—for surviving. But what did you do? How did you get away from this man?”
“I sneaked out my bedroom window the next morning, before he got up. I walked four miles to the police station. I told them what the SOB had done. I had to go to a doctor, have a damn physical. At that point it was the last thing I wanted to do.”
“How old were you?” She was riven by sympathy for what he must have suffered.
“Eleven,” he said between clenched teeth. “I’d just turned eleven.”
“And the man?” she asked, still numb with horror. “What happened to him?”
The corner of his mouth twitched in bitterness. “Oh, they got him. They found out he’d had his way with my two older foster sisters, too. And others before us. He got twenty-five years in the state pen. He died there ten years later. A nice, peaceful death, lying on his cot, watching TV.”
She laid her hand on his upper arm. “I wish you’d told me before. You were brave, Josh, to go to the police like that.”
“No. I was scared out of my mind. I used to have nightmares that he’d break out of prison and come looking for me.”
“You can be scared and brave at the same time,” she told him.
He turned to her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve taught me that, Briana. You’re the perfect example.”
“I never went through anything like that. It must have been the most frightening thing that ever happened to you.”
He shook his head. “No. Nealie’s being sick is the most frightening thing. It’s a thousand times worse.”
She knew this had to be true. But she still burned to ask him more about his childhood. When they were falling so headlong into love, he’d fended off questions about growing up. I spent a lot of time in foster homes, he’d say. I don’t like to talk about.
They were on Cheryl’s block, only a few houses away. There was no time to ask anything.
“Guess we’d better put on our happy faces,” Josh said.
He pulled into Cheryl’s driveway. Wearing expressions that were falsely cheerful, they made their way to the porch to get their child.
“WELCOME HOME, Poppa,” Briana said, kissing her father on the cheek. He sat in his recliner watching television. “Is Mrs. Swenson here?”
“She’s in the kitchen, doing the supper dishes,” Leo said rather pettishly. “She said she wouldn’t leave until you came back. You took your time up in St. Louis. Have fun?”
Resentment rippled through her. “We didn’t go for fun. Nealie and I both had appointments. We spent most of the day in doctor’s offices.”
“Well, I hope you can stay home for a while now. Where you belong.”
Briana took a deep breath. The Center for Reproductive Health had never before dealt with a case related to Yates’s anemia. They wanted to monitor her almost every day.
She said, “I have to go back and forth for more tests and things. For the next two or three weeks.”
Leo reared back in his chair. “Two or three weeks? Is this something serious? You look plenty healthy.”
Briana steeled herself to talk fast. She knew her father had a Victorian horror of discussing what he called women’s problems. So she said, “It has to do with my, er, time of the month. It’s a common problem, but they have a new treatment with high-dose vitamin B-12 shots.”
Leo winced. “You can’t get a vitamin shot here?”
“No—it’s a very new thing. It takes a specialist. And I’m more comfortable with a woman doctor. These matters are so—personal.”
Leo was embarrassed and displeased. “But how can you keep chasing off? You’ve got a business to run.”
“Penny’s coming in,” Briana said.
Penny was her part-time assistant. She was thirty-two and lived in town with her older sister, Tammy, a music teacher. Penny had been a violinist in Branson, Missouri, but she’d broken her wrist in a bicycle accident and could no longer play with her former skill and precision.
She was taking correspondence courses in business and management. Her fingers were nimble enough to work a computer keyboard. She was a quick learner and grateful for the chance to earn money and learn at the same time.
“Penny hasn’t got the experience you’ve got,” Leo complained.
“The more she works here, the more experience she’ll have,” Briana reasoned. “Besides, she helps at the greenhouses, too.”
“Phooey,” said Leo.
Briana changed the subject. She forced a hopeful smile. “So how do you like Inga Swenson?”
Leo’s expression grew strange. “She’ll do, I guess. She came back with me when Larry drove me home. But now I’ll have to have her here almost full-time—what with you gallivanting all over.”
Briana sensed that her father was pretending to be far more displeased than he actually was. At that moment the kitchen door swung open and Inga came into the living room.
She radiated confidence and cheer. “Hello, Briana,” she said. “How’s your little Nealie? Doing well, I hope.”
“She’s doing all right, thank you.”
“That’s good,” said Inga. “That’s good.” She set about straightening a disorganized pile of magazines. She seemed a bustling sort of woman, born to set things in order.
“I would have come to say hello sooner, “Inga said, “but I thought you and your father would want some time alone. I’ll be out of here soon. I’ve already phoned Harve to come get me.”
Briana blinked in displeased surprise. “Harve?”
Inga looked up with an innocent smile. “I’m having a little problem with my car. But Harve said he’d take me and bring me. He’s such a sweet man. So generous.”
Briana nodded and forced another smile. She said, “Poppa’s going to need you all week, and maybe then some. I hope that’s all right.”
“Oh, yes,” Inga said, moving to inspect a magazine rack jammed with past copies of TV Guide. “Why, some of these are three years old, Leo. Do you want me to throw them out?”
“I haven’t done the crossword puzzles in them yet.”
“Whatever makes you happy, Leo. Do you want me to pick up anything special for your lunch tomorrow?”
“I’d like some more of that vegetable soup you brought with you today,” Leo said. “That stuff’s good enough to eat seven days a week.”
Briana stiffened, still more surprised. Leo loved raising vegetables but often tired of eating them. He had long scorned vegetable soup.
“I’m trying to coax Leo into eating a more healthy diet,” Inga said in a stage whisper. She ducked her head as if in shyness, then threw him a little glance.
Leo tried to look nonchalant. “I suppose I should.”
The doorbell rang. Briana started. She had been so fascinated by the dynamics in the room she hadn’t heard anyone pull into the drive.
Harve, she thought in dread. It’s Harve, and I have to be polite to him.
Inga said, “That must be my dear boy. Briana, if you’ll answer the door, I’ll get my coat. I’ll be out of your way in no time at all.”
Reluctantly, Briana went to the front door and opened it. Harve stood on the welcome mat, his expression shy and full of yearning. He swallowed.
“Hi, B-Briana,” he said. Sometimes, under duress, he stammered.
“Hi,” she returned. “Come on in.”
He entered, giving Leo a nod of greeting. Inga was slipping into her coat, which was stylish. “You’re such a kind fellow,” Inga said to Harve, “taking care of your old aunt like this.”
“It’s a pleasure,” said Harve and swallowed again.
Inga began to button her coat. She was leisurely about it. “Harve,” she said, “when I looked out the window at Briana’s house, I saw she’s got a drainpipe coming loose. Do you suppose you could fix it for her?”
No! Briana wanted to scream. Instead she said, very softly, “No. You don’t have to—”
“Harve’s such a w
onderful fix-it man,” Inga said, with that fetching tilt of her head. “He’s got his own place in such perfect shape, there’s nothing left for him to do. He’s been itching for a project.”
“I like fixing drainpipes,” said Harve.
“You’re a good fellow, Harve,” said Leo.
“Always glad to help a neighbor,” Harve said, giving Briana a shy look. Help! Briana thought. They’re ganging up on me!
“No,” she repeated, “really. You don’t need to—”
Inga cut her off. “Tut, tut, dear. It’s a man’s job. Your father can’t do it. And Larry works so hard, plus he’s got his own home to keep up. Harve will be glad to help. Won’t you, sweetheart?”
“I like to work, all right,” said Harve. “Keep things fixed up.”
Briana struggled to take control of the conversation. “You don’t need to, Harve. My husband—my ex-husband—Nealie’s father can do it.”
“Harve can help him,” said Inga, chipper as could be. “Many hands make light work.”
“I don’t think Josh does that kind of work,” Leo said with a disapproving slant to his mouth. “He’s more the artistic type.”
“Oh, yes,” said Inga, winding her scarf around her throat. “You said he’s a photographer. And goes everywhere. How wonderful to travel all over the world, to see exotic sights. Does he just love his work?”
“He certainly seems to,” Leo said dryly.
“He’s wonderful at his job,” Briana countered. “Not many men have the courage to do what he does. Nealie’s very proud of him—and so am I.”
“Oh, to be free as a bird,” Inga said dreamily. “But of all the world, I came back to Illyria. I may decide to settle down here. I guess that roots are what I may most want.”
“Me, too,” said Leo.
“Me, too,” said Harve.
“We’re all of a kind,” Inga said. “As alike as peas in a pod. But here I am chattering, and I should be on my way.”
She walked to Harve’s side and took his arm. “I’m going to hold on to you, dear. I wouldn’t want to slip on that packed snow out there. But you’ll take care of your old aunt, won’t you?”
“I’ll take good care of you,” Harve vowed. He opened the door.
Inga laughed and looked over her shoulder at Leo and Briana. “He means what he says. He’s a man of his word. Leo, I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”
The door closed behind them. Thank heaven they’re gone, thought Briana, her knees going weak with relief.
“Ah,” Leo said with satisfaction. “They’re good people. The best.”
CHAPTER TEN
BRIANA LOOKED distressed. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her long hair tousled by the wind.
“Hi, Mommy,” Nealie called from the couch. She sat curled under the afghan, watching All Dogs Go To Heaven.
“Hi,” Briana said, her voice tense. “You and I have to go to Grandpa’s for the night. We need to stay with him.”
“Aw, Mommy! I don’t want to. Can’t I stay here with Daddy?”
Josh went to Briana, gazing at her in concern. “What is this? Yes, I’ll stay with her. She’ll sleep better in her own bed. She’s had a long day.”
Briana shrugged with an air of helplessness that was at odds with her usual independence. “I—I don’t know. Poppa wants us both there.”
Irritation rose in Josh in a swelling tide. “Does Poppa always get what Poppa wants?”
“No, of—of course not,” she stammered.
The correct answer, Josh thought, was yes, always. But he didn’t want to argue with her. With Nealie sick, he and Briana were both feeling their emotions spinning out of control. The result was that they bickered, and he yearned to make peace with her, a peace that lasted.
Nealie said, “Mommy, I don’t want to go to Grandpa’s. It’s always dark there, and he keeps it too hot in winter. It makes me cough.”
“Daddy and I are talking it over,” Briana answered.
Josh took her hands and drew her toward the kitchen. “Come on,” he said as gently as he could. “Let’s talk. What’s happening?” He led her to the far corner, where Nealie couldn’t see. Josh kept hold of Briana’s hands. “Now,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Poppa,” she said. “He’s afraid to be alone. He’s afraid he’ll have another spell.”
Poppa, Josh thought, is afraid you’ll slip out of his grasp.
He said, “He doesn’t need Nealie. She’s missed a day of school and she needs to get back into routine. She’s sicker than he is. Let her stay here.”
She nodded, but didn’t look at him. “Yes. You’re right. Of course.”
He studied her expression but could not read it. “Something else happened up there,” he said. “I can tell. What’s wrong?
“Inga Swenson.” She raised her eyes to his. “The woman I hired. I think I made a mistake.”
“Why? Doesn’t your father like her?”
Her mouth took on a rueful quirk. “Maybe he likes her too well. I think he’s rather smitten with her.”
“And he doesn’t see that she’s really a wicked hellcat?”
Briana shook her head. “She’s not that, at all. I have the feeling she’s basically goodhearted. But…”
“But what?”
“She’s manipulative, dammit. And she’s having Harve drive her there and pick her up. She’s practically pushing him in my face. She told him to come here tomorrow and fix my drainpipe.”
Josh’s muscles tensed. “What?”
“Once Harve got there to pick her up, they wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise. It was like they circled and closed in on me.”
“Harve’s coming here?” Josh demanded.
“I said you could fix it. You know how, don’t you?”
He took a deep breath. He felt his masculinity being challenged, and he resented it. But he’d tell the truth. “Actually, no. I’d have to improvise. I like your drainpipe crooked. It’s got an interesting angle. I thought of taking some pictures of it. Black and white. Kind of an abstract.”
“Ooh!” she said, as if in despair.
“I’ll try, I’ll try,” he consoled her.
“I don’t want him coming here,” she said with passion.
“Then I’ll send him packing. I promise you.”
“This woman seems sweet, but she’s also sort of…relentless.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “So am I, babe.”
“I—I really wanted to talk to you tonight,” she said.
He leaned closer until their foreheads touched. “Yeah. Me, too.”
“I could phone you,” she said. “When Poppa’s asleep.”
“I’d rather talk to you face-to-face,” he said. “I could come up to your father’s house when he’s out for the night.”
“No. Nealie shouldn’t be left alone.”
“You could come down here,” he said.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”
He studied her. She looked so pretty—and so exhausted.
“Whatever you want,” he said.
“About today,” she said. “I don’t know how to thank you for going through it.”
“Give me a kiss,” he said, and bent to take it.
Her lips were warm and pliant. He wished her jacket was off so he could feel the delicious curve of her breasts against his chest. He let himself slip his hands under her coat and grasp her waist, pulling her nearer.
She surprised him by putting her arms around his neck and pressing closer still. He felt his groin harden. He kissed her more deeply, and she strained upward, opening her lips.
He tasted her tongue, and it was an aphrodisiac to him. He slid his hands higher, inching them toward her breasts.
Nealie’s voice interrupted his enchantment. She had a small, feminine voice, but it startled him as much as an air raid siren.
“Wow!” said Nealie, delighted. “Are you guys getting back together? Are you going to get married a
gain?”
He and Briana sprang apart.
“Your daddy and I will always like each other,” Briana said, straightening her jacket.
“That looked like more than just liking each other,” Nealie observed. “Can I have a glass of apple juice?”
“Sure, sure,” said Josh. “I’ll pour it for you.” He left Briana and moved to the refrigerator.
“I should be going back to Poppa’s,” Briana said.
“Do I have to go, too?” asked Nealie.
Josh paused, his hand hovering beside the bottle. His back was to Briana, and it went taut with tension while he waited for her answer, hoping she hadn’t changed her mind.
“No,” he heard her say. “Stay with Daddy. You’ll rest better here.”
Then she said “Good night, sweetheart,” and he heard the sound of her kissing Nealie.
He took his time pouring the juice. He heard the front door open, then close. Nealie came to his side. “Why were you kissing like that? That’s how people in the movies kiss.”
He shrugged. “Once in a while she lets me. And I like it.”
“She seemed to like it, too,” said Nealie, with a challenging look.
He thrust the glass at her. “Drink your juice,” he said.
AT EIGHT-THIRTY the next morning, Inga Swenson was already at Leo’s house, making his breakfast. Briana was driving to the center in St. Louis for a blood test and ultrasound, and Josh was taking Nealie to school.
Harve saw his opening and he took it. Inga had convinced him he must assert himself and display his superior householder skills.
He drove his truck to Briana’s from Leo’s, where he had just repaired a faulty faucet. He parked and took his toolbox from the pickup’s bed. He plodded to the drainpipe and began to wrestle it into its right position.
One of the metal clamps that held it in place had come loose and needed fastening. He began to hammer.
He was so engrossed that he didn’t notice the woman come out of the house. He’d seen her car there, of course, but had hardly thought of her. Her voice startled him. Truth be told, it scared him.
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