“I didn’t intend to, but I heard you from the living room. It sounded like you were upset, and so I came into the hallway...”
She swiped at her eyes with an index finger that she dried on her skirt. “This was private,” she said. “You had no right.”
He leaned on the door frame. “Okay.” He used the perfect comeback for her accusation. “But sometimes, and I think you’ll agree, we do things whether we have a right to or not. Sometimes we just sense a need and step in.”
Her eyes widened with recognition and maybe a grudging admiration. “Point taken.” She stood. Despite the cowgirl boots with two-inch heels, she seemed small and vulnerable. “So what all did you hear?”
“Pretty much all of it. You mentioned a hospital. Is someone ill?”
She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “My father. He suffered a compound fracture of the leg today. That was my mom I was talking to. She’s trying to get a hospital to operate...” Her voice broke and she inhaled to steady herself. “I mean, she found a hospital but it’s across the county and...”
Mike was aware that some hospitals gave emergency treatment and dismissed indigent patients to other facilities. “Your parents are asking you for money? Don’t they have insurance?”
“No. My mother let it lapse, obviously not a good decision. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to cover their expenses, but this is the worst.” She looked back at her computer, as if staring at it would change the bottom line she’d just seen on the monitor—her bank balance. “I...I only have forty-eight dollars in my savings account now. Forty-eight dollars. I can’t remember my balance ever being so low.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Two tears spilled over her bottom lashes. “This is ridiculous. I don’t tell guys my bank balance. It’s not like you can help by lending me a bunch of money.”
“Yeah, forty-eight dollars seems like a lot to me.”
“I’m a private person. And I don’t cry...well, hardly ever.” She sniffed again. “Don’t you have a handkerchief or something?”
He patted his pockets though he knew he didn’t even own a handkerchief. To compensate, he handed her the tail of his T-shirt. “Will this do?”
Surprisingly, she took the hem and dragged it under her eyes, leaving a trail of mascara like storm clouds on the blue fabric. “I can get that stain off,” she whimpered. “I’m a home ec teacher, remember?.”
He chuckled and suddenly she was pressed up against him with her head nestled where his shoulder met his neck. She emitted a tiny sob, sighed and finally said, “I’m glad you’re here.”
For a moment he forgot to breathe. He rubbed her back, awkwardly at first since he hadn’t held a woman in a long time. He’d forgotten how soft and fragile-feeling female bones were. He wanted her to feel protected. He was an army-trained protector after all, and he hoped he was good at it. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. He smiled, though she couldn’t see it. “Think of all the things a really good home ec teacher can do with forty bucks. Probably put together a whole Thanksgiving dinner with change left over.”
She laughed softly into his T-shirt. “Actually, I’m rather proficient at turkey roasting. This holiday maybe I’ll fix one for you. You’ve earned it today.”
He turned her in his arms and led her to the sofa. She sat and he settled in next to her. “I think maybe you should talk about this,” he said. “Talking helps, or so I’ve heard.” An odd observation from a guy who’d refused to even talk to his army chaplain when his wife died. “Is your father going to be all right? Are you upset because you’re worried about him?”
She clasped her hands in her lap and stared at them. “I am, but I know he’ll be fine. He’ll get good care once the county hospital has the money worked out. And I’m not upset about lending money, not really. I’ve sent them money before, a few hundred here and there.”
He was baffled. “Then what, Brenna? You’re obviously strung out about something.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“I might.”
“No chance. You’re happy living in that cabin with all the things your grandmother left in it.”
“Yes, I’m okay with it, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“You’ll think I’m a terrible person.”
That was the last statement he expected to come from her mouth. Confident, knowledgeable, opinionated Brenna Sullivan, a terrible person? Even if by some ridiculous stretch of the imagination he did think that, he couldn’t believe that she’d think it of herself.
He stared at her profile. She still concentrated on her hands. “First of all, do I seem like the kind of father who would ask a terrible person to take his daughter shopping? Second, as troublesome as Carrie can be, she is a good judge of character. I don’t think she would have become attached to you so quickly if you were a terrible person. And third, you’re just not a terrible person. Nosy maybe, but not terrible.”
She rubbed a finger under her nose and took in a deep breath. She was regaining control, and he was almost sorry. Holding her had been unexpectedly nice.
“I’m so ashamed,” she said after a moment. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, but we’re so opposite. And I’ve gone this far. You’ve seen me at my worst now.”
“I thought I’d seen you at your worst when you were swatting mosquitoes in my driveway.”
She didn’t smile, and he considered cutting the one-liners. Whatever was bothering her was serious. He placed his hand over hers. “Why are you ashamed, Brenna?”
“Look around this place,” she said.
Okay. He could do that even if the request didn’t make much sense. “It’s nice. You’ve done a great job decorating and fixing it up....” At least he supposed she had. He hadn’t had much experience in decorating anything but an eight-by-eight tent, and that didn’t require much skill.
“I have, haven’t I?” Her voice was flat, hollow. “You’re sitting on a fifteen-hundred-dollar sofa. Those chairs over there by the fireplace cost, well, you don’t want to know. Everything in here I either bought new or picked up at antiques shops.” She raised her face and seemed to be examining her belongings for the first time. “I guess it’s obvious that I don’t mind spending money on myself.”
“There’s no harm in that,” he said.
“That’s what I thought, so I spent and spent. Like this house. I didn’t need a three-bedroom single-family home. I could have managed in a one-bedroom apartment when I moved to Mount Union. But no...Brenna Sullivan has to have more than she needs, more than she can reasonably afford.”
Since he’d never had excess money, Mike had a hard time relating. But he tried. “Hey, this house was probably a good investment.”
“Great. I think most people are like you, Mike,” she said. “They prioritize so they can acquire the things they need and they sacrifice the things they can do without.”
He wasn’t sure he liked being lumped in with the people who made do, even though it was true, especially because Brenna wasn’t in this group.
He shook his head. “I don’t see where this is going, Brenna. You’re single, you make a decent living, why shouldn’t you have nice things?” He gently squeezed her hands and gave her one more chance to appreciate his humor. “Unless you really stole all this stuff.”
“No. It’s all bought and paid for or on a payment plan. Lately I’ve been able to manipulate my credit cards so I can get most everything I want.”
“Okay. But I still don’t see why you’re ashamed.”
“I’m ashamed because, deep down, I don’t think I can survive without all this stuff. I need these things to validate who I am, to make all my sacrifices seem worthwhile.”
“How long have you felt this way?” he asked.
“Since you... Well, maybe today ha
s been a harsh eye-opener for me.” She stared into his eyes, and he couldn’t deny the cold reality in hers. “You can call me shallow, Mike. I won’t blame you if you do. But I need these things to make me feel good about myself.”
“You’re really confusing me, Brenna. I don’t see how a teacher can be called shallow. You give so much of your time and energy to kids...”
“But I don’t. Not anymore. At least until Carrie. I don’t understand why I’ve become so involved with her. I’m basically selfish.”
He let go of her hands and half turned on the sofa, putting distance between them. “Are you deliberately trying to paint an unpleasant picture of yourself? Because if you keep it up, it just might work.”
“I’m telling you what I’m really like whether you want to believe it or not. I’m a good teacher. I am, but that’s because I love my job. I like the salary, the benefits, the vacation time, the crafting and creating I do in the classroom with my students. There is nothing I would rather do every day other than go to Mount Union High School and be with those kids.”
“Only the first three of those reasons are selfish,” he said. “The last one at least makes me believe you have what it takes to be a good teacher.”
“I told you that passion for a subject is the most important requirement for being a successful teacher. I have that.”
“A little knowledge about kids and a certain amount of empathy helps, too, I would imagine.”
She shook her head. “I can’t afford to be empathetic or sympathetic. Years ago I learned a very hard and painful lesson about interfering in a student’s life.”
He’d known for a while that she’d had a heart-wrenching story to tell. “Do you want to tell me about that?”
“I don’t like to talk about it. Just know that my interference only made life much worse for that kid. Much worse. So I simply don’t allow myself to care too much anymore. That’s why I took this job in Mount Union. It’s a middle-class community with strong family values, a good school system and excellent parental support. The kids aren’t needy, at least not like Marcus...” Her voice trailed off.
“So Mount Union is ideal if you want to maintain your isolation?”
She shrugged. “And it pays well.”
“And allows you to buy all this stuff and give a chunk of your salary to your parents?”
“That’s what has been happening.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Why exactly do you give money to your parents? They can’t support themselves?”
“Not well enough. It’s a long story.”
He waited while she breathed deeply.
“I grew up in a single-wide trailer. Not one of those fancy ones. A run-down, beat-up hunk of metal in an overgrown park that my parents still live in today. I lived there while I went to high school and college and saved money. And I haven’t slept there one night since the day I graduated.”
“If you believe that makes me think any less of you, you’re wrong. If anything, I admire your determination to get out of that situation.”
She smiled. “Thanks. And I knew you would believe that. But here’s the thing. I’ve come to admire you, too. You’re in a situation that isn’t easy, like I was. You’re practically a new dad. You lost your wife, moved, and you’re trying to make the best of it.”
“Are you saying we’re alike?”
“Oh, we’re not alike. Not at all.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear that.
“You’ve recognized a greater purpose in your life—your daughter. And because of her, you’ve given up your dreams of college, your career in the military...”
“You make me sound pathetic.”
“Just the opposite. You’re living simply, honestly and honorably.”
“And you’re not?”
“Not like you.” She stood and spread her arms to encompass the room. “I’m certainly not wealthy, but I amass things anyway. I live above my means and certainly above my needs.”
“But you’re supporting your parents.”
“I’m helping out when I need to. And here’s the really horrible part. I resent every dime I give them, and then I feel guilty for days because I resent it. My parents are stuck. They can’t get a break, whether it’s their fault or not. And I’ve escaped that life. I live better than they’ve ever dreamed. I could help them out of that trailer park, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to give up a darn thing I’ve got.”
He didn’t want to believe her brutal honesty. Deep down, he was convinced she was selling herself short. “You obviously care deeply about your parents.”
“Sure. I love them, I guess, but I’m not willing to compromise my life in any significant way to help them have a better one.”
“But according to you, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.”
She sat down next to him again. “Only when their situation is dire,” she said. “Here’s one for you. I’ve been in this house for four years, and they’ve never seen it. And that’s because I’m afraid that they’ll ask to stay. I couldn’t let that happen. I don’t want them here. Right or wrong, I don’t want them to be my greater purpose.”
“Brenna, being responsible for a dependent child is a lot different than being responsible for one’s parents. You can’t compare the two.”
“Yes, I know that. But I could be responsible for them. I have the space. I could do much more than I do.”
She took his hand this time. “You’ve become a friend to me, Mike, whether you intended that or not. Granted ours isn’t a friendship that just coasts along. It has needed work and will continue to need it if it will grow. We both know we are about as different as any two people can be.”
He wasn’t sure he knew that. “Okay.”
“Why do you think I date Alex? Other than the fact that he’s semi-gorgeous, a trait that may have eluded you since you’re a guy.”
“You tell me.”
“I like him. We have fun. We go to good restaurants, the theater, things like that. And he’s successful.”
Mike frowned. “Somehow you’ve made that last quality stand out more than the others.”
“I’m sorry, but his success is part of what attracted me to him. I found it easy to like someone with his qualities.” She paused before adding, “I told you I’m shallow. I guess that proves it.”
“Yes, you did.” But I wasn’t convinced—didn’t want to be.
“I don’t know if Alex will ask me to marry him. I think he’s leading up to it. If he does ask, I’d be foolish not to consider his proposal. We could build on what we have.”
She hadn’t mentioned love or any reason that should lead to marriage in Mike’s view. He spoke without emotion, just stating the facts as he understood them. “And Alex could alleviate some of the guilt you have about your parents by bankrolling them.” Something I could never do.
“Well...he could.”
“And someday you could have a bigger house and more pretty things.”
“I suppose.”
He’d heard enough, and he tried to ignore the almost physical stab of disappointment by looking at his watch. “We’d better get back to the tavern. I don’t want to leave Carrie too long. And you’d be smart not to leave Alex on his own, either.”
A wisecrack remark, he knew. But after the conversation they’d had, he wasn’t much concerned with pleasing Brenna Sullivan. Not that he ever could. He knew that now.
Neither spoke as Mike passed the old library building and headed out of town. When they were almost at the Riverview, Brenna finally cleared her throat and said, “You haven’t had much to say, Mike.”
He kept his eyes on the road. “Don’t know what to say.”
“Obviously you’re upset about what I told you, and now I’m worried that my honesty will affect ou
r friendship.”
He didn’t answer.
“It’s not a crime to want to protect what you have,” she said in a small voice.
“I guess that depends on your definition of protect.” He should have let the subject drop right there, but he didn’t. “It’s not a crime to marry someone for money, either, but it sure does go against all the laws of nature as I see them.”
He pulled into the Riverview lot and jammed his gearshift into Park. “You’d better hightail it inside, Brenna, before your cash cowboy finds another filly.”
She stepped out of the truck and glared back at him. “Now you’re just being ridiculous. And narrow-minded.”
Mike stayed in the pickup, watching her walk toward the restaurant and thinking about what she’d said. He had been ridiculous and petty. Like a child who had his favorite toy suddenly snatched away from him. He shook his head. “Problem is, Mike,” he muttered, “you never had a chance with this toy in the first place.”
He waited until Brenna had gone inside and then he got out of his truck. The last thing he wanted to see was her with Alex, so he’d check quickly on his daughter and leave. He hoped Carrie would agree to go with him. Maybe she would have had enough of barbecue and beans herself.
No such luck. Mike walked into the main dining room and saw Carrie linked up with other teens, the same ones from the pizza shop. They were involved in some kind of dance where they all seemed to know the same steps. Mike stood off to the side and just watched. He was learning that fitting in was tough when you didn’t know which foot to put forward first.
CHAPTER TEN
BRENNA WAS STEAMING. She didn’t want to see Mike. She didn’t want to see Alex. She couldn’t even ask the friendly bartender for a beer because she knew she’d be the one driving when she took Alex home and picked up her car. Thank goodness there were iced colas in a cooler at the end of the bar. Brenna picked one up, wiped the ice crystals off and took a long swallow.
She tapped her boot on the rough wood floor. It’s going to take more than a soda to cool me off right now.
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