She supposed she could find Alex and convince him to leave, but to do that, she’d have to put up with his slurred speech and unfocused eyes. And that was after she’d peeled his latest dance partner from his arms.
She inched along the wall separating the bar from the dancers until she could peek around the partition without being seen. There he was, arm draped around Loretta Stone, lips moving awkwardly in time to the words of a country song. She didn’t worry that Alex was after anything more than a dance with Loretta. He was loyal to one woman alone, and thankfully he didn’t overindulge with booze often.
She’d just started into the room to retrieve her date when she realized she’d have to pass Mike to get to Alex. Bumping into Mike again while tempers were still hot was not something she wanted to face. She retreated behind the wall once more and waited to see what Mike would do. He approached Carrie on the dance floor and started talking to her.
“No, Dad. I’m not going. That’s not fair!”
Brenna didn’t realize she had a talent for lip-reading. Or maybe Carrie was just being superexpressive about not wanting to leave.
Brenna hid herself more securely behind the wall. She couldn’t let Carrie realize she was near or the girl might enlist her help in persuading her father to let her stay. Mike didn’t need another reason to be angry with her. Poor guy. Brenna almost felt sorry for him. He wouldn’t win this argument with Carrie without invoking a parental edict, something that would embarrass his daughter and only widen the gap between them. Mike wouldn’t do that, so he would probably just have to leave on his own, and let Carrie ride home with the Montgomerys.
The women in Mike’s life were not making his life any easier. One had outright defied him. The other had undeniably disappointed him.
Thankfully Alex spotted Brenna after a few more moments. He stumbled over to her.
“Hey, babe, where you been? In the ladies’ room?”
Unbelievable. “Yeah, that’s right, Alex. I’ve been in the bathroom for two hours.”
He grinned. “You must have eaten some powerful beans.”
She looped her arm with his to keep him upright. “Okay, we’ll go with that. It’s time to leave, Roy Rogers.” She smiled, thinking of Mike’s reference earlier. “Wave goodbye to all those brokenhearted women you’re leaving behind.”
The grin stayed in place as if his lips were glued. “I don’t care about their hearts, Bren. You’re the only lady that matters to me.”
“I know, Alex.” She led him to the exit. “Just don’t step on my feet, all right?”
Thirty minutes later she drove Alex’s car up a narrow, landscaped pathway that ended at the log cabin where he spent many of his weekends. His parents had built the place a few years before to give the busy, career-oriented family a place to unwind. Alex had definitely fulfilled his parents’ dream of unwinding. He was asleep in the passenger seat, snoring loudly.
She jostled his shoulder. “Wake up, Alex. I can’t carry you inside.”
He opened the passenger door and stepped out. “You’re coming in, aren’t you?” His voice was sleep-filled and groggy.
“To watch you sleep it off? I don’t think so.” She got him in the door and watched while he flopped onto the sofa. “I’ll phone you later,” she called from the porch.
“’Kay.” He was asleep before she’d locked him safely in the cabin and walked to her car.
Brenna was halfway home when her phone rang. Diana’s face smiled up at her from the screen. Brenna activated her speaker. “Hi. What’s up?”
“Where are you?” Diana asked. “I’ve looked everywhere for you.”
“You’re still at the Riverview?” When Diana said that she was, Brenna explained her quick trip home, minus the details about her argument with Mike. “When I got back to the tavern, I clearly saw I would have to drive Alex home.”
“Wise decision,” Diana said.
“Why were you looking for me?” Brenna asked.
“I’ve got good news. Stan Peterson, that new Mount Union commissioner, stopped by the barbecue and told me the council had voted to turn the library building over to your committee. They need to run some standard inspections before you go in—electric, plumbing, stuff like that—but he said you could start working in there on Wednesday.”
In three days? Brenna had told Mike it would be at least a week or more. She was hoping their disagreement would have faded into insignificance by then and maybe they could still work on the project together with no hard feelings.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Diana prompted. “It’s great news, right?”
“Of course.”
“You’ll tell Mike? I know Bobby will see him tomorrow at practice, but if you see him first...”
Easier said than done, Brenna thought. Mike was probably still chewing on the bitter realization that his new lady friend was a shallow, greedy hypocrite.
Brenna disconnected and set her mind to bridging the gap that now existed between her and Mike. Maybe, if she was successful, this sudden, miserable, empty sensation in her stomach would go away. She didn’t like thinking she’d offended her new friend. But had she really?
She shouldn’t regret telling him the truth. If he was putting her on some sort of unrealistic pedestal, he should know she didn’t belong there. Maybe Mike would never understand Brenna’s motives for the decisions she made, but surely they could still work together. She had to try.
She thought of the kisses they’d shared on Friday night. She’d kissed him first, but she’d left the alley confused and uncertain herself. And the impulsive kiss he gave her on the porch later—she’d enjoyed that kiss, too.
She couldn’t think about those possibilities now. Mike wasn’t her type. She definitely wasn’t his. It was not that they were prime examples of the “Haves” and “Have nots.” But they were definitely card-carrying members of the “Wants” and Want nots.” Still, she could save their fragile bond. She could have a relationship with him and his daughter. For the sake of the Cultural Arts Center, if nothing else.
So a plan formed in her mind. When Brenna reached town, she passed her street and kept going for three more miles. She pulled onto Mike’s overgrown road and headed for the cabin, confident she could establish trust between them. She would reveal the details of one of the most disturbing incidents of her life—the one she never talked about. She would tell him about Marcus, make him understand.
When she got out of her car, Brenna immediately noticed the eerie calm, almost as if no one lived here. Even the woodsy sounds of insects and small animals seemed muted, allowing just the beat of her heart to accompany her faltering steps to the old porch.
She knew Mike was home. She’d parked next to his truck. Maybe he was napping. She considered leaving, coming back later, but no, she wanted to do this before Carrie arrived home with the Montgomerys. Brenna raised her fist, opened the screen door and tapped lightly.
The door opened at once. Mike, barefoot and dressed in army-issue shorts and a Fort Pendleton T-shirt, stared through the screen. His shoulders, usually so military-squared, slumped slightly.
“What a surprise,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“May I come in?” Four little words, yet they’d been so hard to say.
He paused, staring at her, and then finally held the screen for her. She walked inside. The room was just as it had been before. The old but comfortable plaid couch was covered with newspaper. An iced tea and a computer were on the coffee table. The monitor showed a pet-rescue site.
“Shopping?” Brenna said, nodding toward the computer.
“Carrie mentioned wanting a dog. I’m just seeing what’s out there.”
“A dog would be nice. You certainly have room for him to run.”
“Yep.”
Neither spoke f
or a few moments until Mike stacked the newspapers and asked if she wanted to sit. She did and he took the chair next to the fireplace.
“This will be a cozy room in the winter,” Brenna said.
“Suppose so.” He frowned. “Though it might be a bit simple for some people’s tastes.”
Don’t take the bait, Brenna.
“So...” He settled one leg over the opposite knee. “I assume there’s a reason for this visit.”
No niceties. Brenna’s mouth went dry, and she desperately wanted a sip of that iced tea. She refrained from lifting his glass. Sharing wouldn’t have bothered her, but Mike was obviously still holding on to his anger.
“I didn’t like the way we left things earlier,” she said.
“I thought our points of view were pretty clear.”
“I know. But...” Her voice crackled with hoarseness. “Can I have a sip of your tea?”
He nodded and she picked up the glass. The sip turned into a gulp.
Her confidence, bolstered by a couple of beers earlier in the day and the refreshing coolness of the tea, returned. And with it, a spark of anger. She reminded herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d been honest with Mike, and now she was being made to suffer for it as if she’d wounded him irreparably.
“Look,” she began, “you can make this difficult for me, or you can make it easy. Either way, we are committed to working on the center together, so we have to make peace.”
She tried to read his stoic face for a sign that she was getting through to him. Nothing.
“Unless you want to back out of the project.”
“I don’t want to back out. I’ve got nothing against the arts center, or that century-old building that’s being repurposed for a new use.” He swept his arm around his living room, encompassing the primitive old furniture that now held Carrie’s backpack and Mike’s lunch box. “As you can see, I’m quite fond of finding new uses for old things.”
That shouldn’t have sounded like a dig, but oddly it did. Just because she liked fine antiques and pretty new things...
“I hope you’re not waiting for me to apologize for something,” she said.
“What should you apologize for? Telling the truth about yourself?”
Her thoughts exactly. “Good, we agree on that, then. I am sorry if I altered an opinion you had mistakenly formed of me. If we’re going to be working together, I don’t feel there should be any illusions—”
“Oh, you took care of that. No illusions. And, like you said, we’re just friends anyway, working buddies.”
He stood. “That’s it, then?”
Was he suggesting that she leave? “No! I haven’t even gotten to the reason that brought me all the way out here.”
Again he crossed his arms, his remarkably fabulous, masculine arms. “Okay.”
She took another sip of his tea. “As long as we’re being honest, I thought it was important for you to understand how I feel about my teaching position.”
“I think I do. Good salary, vacations...”
“I knew you thought that.”
“Only because it’s exactly what you told me.”
She couldn’t argue. She did say that, but he deliberately left out the part about how she loved her work in the classroom. “Those things make me sound shallow, and it’s not the whole picture.”
He didn’t sit again, just stood there, legs spread, eyes narrowed, almost combative. “If it will make you feel better to fill in some blanks, Brenna, go ahead.”
When she’d decided to come to the cabin, she’d intended to tell him the truth about her past teaching experience. Now she wasn’t sure. But she was here, and the tension between them was still crackling. She cleared her throat. “Remember I told you there was an incident from my past when I was at another school?”
“Yes. I believe you let slip the name Marcus.”
The man remembered everything! “I was teaching seventh grade then, a difficult age, both for kids and teachers.”
“I’ll take your word for that.”
“Anyway, I was employed in a poor district, low budget, lacking equipment and mostly disinterested parents who dropped their children off as if it were free day care.”
“I get the picture.”
“Marcus was in my class. He was a sweet boy, a trait that stood out because so many of the boys were tough guys practicing for the adulthood they would soon grow into. Marcus was sometimes bullied because of his size. He was small, thin. His clothes were often torn. His mother had run off, and so he had no one to mend them. I kept an eye on him when I could in case he needed someone to come to his defense.”
Mike nodded. His eyes suddenly reflected a serious interest.
“And sometimes I noticed he had bruises on his arms.”
“From the other kids?” Mike asked.
“No. From his father, as it turned out.”
“That stinks.”
“Yes, it does. When I asked him about the bruises, he denied any abuse at home, but I knew it happened. The days he had the marks, he had trouble concentrating. His schoolwork suffered. The situation couldn’t be ignored.”
“It shouldn’t have been,” Mike said.
“I took the advice of a superior and called the DCF, that stands for Department of Children and Fam...”
“I know what DCF stands for, Brenna.”
“Okay. A representative from DCF visited the home. She didn’t discover solid evidence, but she was disturbed enough to call and tell me she was putting a weekly check on the address. Marcus and his brother would be watched carefully.”
“What happened then?”
“Marcus wasn’t in school the next day. I was concerned, scared for him, really. But it wasn’t until the end of the day, when I was home watching the news, that I saw the story.”
Tension lines popped in Mike’s temple. “What did you hear?”
“Marcus had been hospitalized for severe injuries. Neighbors had heard his screams and called the police. The father was arrested, the brother taken into DCF custody and Marcus... Well, an ambulance was called.” Her voice hitched. “He almost didn’t make it.”
Mike’s fists clenched several times.
“I went to the hospital to visit him, just one time. I couldn’t believe what I saw. His little jaw was wired shut. If he knew I was even there, he didn’t show it. He wouldn’t, or couldn’t, speak to me. His arm and one leg were in casts. There were bruises...” She stopped, looked at Mike. “Could I have my own tea, please?”
He hurried into the kitchen to get her a glass.
She drank and continued, “He stayed in the hospital a long time, more than two weeks. When he left, his father was in jail and his brother was in foster care. Marcus had weeks of rehab before he was sent to foster care, also. I heard he didn’t live too far from Darius, that’s his brother, but after that, I don’t know what happened.”
Her throat was parched, her eyes burning, but she was almost done.
“I never saw him again. I quit at the end of the school year and began filling out applications for another position. I couldn’t stay there, not after what I’d done.”
Mike sat next to her on the couch. “What you’d done? Brenna, what are you talking about?”
“For months, for years, I couldn’t get the image of that child out of my mind. He had suffered so. If only I hadn’t made that call...”
Suddenly Mike’s arm was around her, and he was patting her shoulder. “You can’t believe that. Not making the call would have meant you were ignoring the problem.”
“But I felt every bit as guilty as Marcus’s father was. I didn’t strike that poor little boy, but I started the whole thing. With good intentions, yes, but you know what they say about the path to hell being paved with
good intentions. That applies to me.”
“What was the alternative, Brenna?” Mike asked, his arm strong and sturdy, supporting her. “You couldn’t have gone on pretending everything was okay with that kid.”
“But if I had, at least Marcus wouldn’t have suffered such horrible injuries.”
“Or he would have suffered them anyway, at another time, for another reason. You ultimately got him out of that situation.”
“I don’t even know what happened to him,” she said, her voice choking. “I’ve always been too afraid to find out. What if he never got well? Maybe he turned to crime or drugs. I don’t know.” She grabbed for her purse, but it wasn’t within reach. “Do you have a handkerchief?” she said.
He stretched the hem of his T-shirt. She took it, smiled at his blurry face and dabbed her eyes. “This is getting to be a habit.”
“No problem. We have a dependable ringer washer out back,” he said.
“You don’t!”
“No. We’re not that backwoods.” He handed her the tea glass, and she took a swallow.
When she was relatively assured she was in control again, she said, “I wanted you to know this, Mike. Maybe it explains some things to you.”
“I’m glad you told me. This goes a long way toward explaining your reaction to seeing Carrie at your house that first night. I’m sorry this happened to you, Brenna.”
“I won’t ever go back, not to that sad, underfunded school district, not to that single-wide trailer where I grew up. I’m not good with sadness. And I’m really not good at living with my questionable decisions.” She laughed softly. “I know it sounds awful, especially to a guy like you, a man who has fought for his country and lived in unbelievably remote and deprived conditions, but I need my life to be easy.”
He removed his hand from her shoulder and threaded his fingers on his lap. “Okay, Brenna. I get it. There’s nothing wrong with easy.”
“So we can still be friends, like we were just getting to be?” But without the kissing. “I want to go back to the way things were, maybe build on our friendship.”
“Sure, pal. We’re friends.” He chuckled. “Can’t say how we’ll be as working partners, though. Who will be boss?”
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