An Honorable Man

by Darlene Gardner

  A skinny woman with frizzy blond hair wearing baggy madras capris burst out of the arcade. It was Edie Clark, who’d been in Sierra’s graduating class at Indigo Springs High.

  “Thank God you caught him before he ran into the street.” Edie practically sagged with relief. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  A second boy appeared from behind Edie, heading rapidly in the same direction as the first.

  “No, Jason!” Edie warned.

  Little Jason kept running. With a deft move, Ben caught the second boy and lifted him so he held both brothers. The boys were identical, from their mops of brown hair to their Thomas the Tank Engine T-shirts to their petulant expressions.

  “Ice cream! Ice cream!” the twins chanted even as the truck moved farther down the street.

  “No. No ice cream. It’s almost time for dinner.” Edie, her face pinched with strain, took Jason from Ben. She set him down, keeping a firm hold on his hand.

  “Want ice cream!” Nathan shouted, thrusting his small body this way and that in an attempt to escape Ben’s arms.

  “Stop yelling!” Edie yelled.

  “Hey, Nathan, what’s that behind Jason’s ear?” Ben asked in a loud voice. He reached out and pulled out a quarter. Nathan’s mouth opened, then he grinned.

  “I think I see another quarter behind Nathan’s ear.” Ben set Nathan down beside his brother, repeated the sequence and produced another coin. Nathan giggled. Jason clapped his chubby hands before Edie grabbed one of them.

  “Whoever you are,” Edie said to Ben, “I owe you my life.”

  Ben laughed and introduced himself, omitting his affiliation with the Pittsburgh Tribune. Edie started to say something, but then both boys tugged on her hands at once. She traveled a good three steps before she got them under control.

  “It’s time I got these boys home.” Edie looked pointedly at Sierra. “You’ve got a good man there, Sierra. Don’t let him get away.”

  Edie couldn’t hold back her fidgety twins any longer. The three of them headed down the sidewalk, taking Sierra’s chance to correct Edie’s misconception with them.

  Sierra watched her former classmate retreat. “That’s not good. Edie likes to talk. She’ll tell everyone we’re involved.”

  “Isn’t that what Friday night was all about?” he asked.

  Friday night had been about proving she could be wild and unpredictable with an unsuitable man. If Edie spread it around that Ben was good with kids, it would sound like Ben was relationship material.

  “How did you know how to handle Edie’s twins anyway?” She sidestepped the question and resumed walking in the direction of the downtown grocery.

  “I tried the coin trick on my brother’s kid the last time I saw him,” he said. “Turns out distraction works.”

  “How old is your nephew?”

  “Two or three, I think,” he said. “Or maybe four. I’m not real sure.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “It’s been a while,” Ben answered vaguely.

  They slowed to pass a couple who’d stopped to admire a painting of a landscape in an art gallery window. Ben took hold of her hand as they filed past. When she returned her gaze to the sidewalk, she spotted Chad Armstrong exiting her favorite Thai restaurant carrying a brown paper bag.

  Her step faltered as the day of the week registered. Chad always got takeout Thai on Tuesdays before spending an hour at the Blue Haven.

  “What’s wrong?” Ben asked, then followed her gaze. “Oh, I see.”

  She doubted he could when she didn’t have a clear view of the situation herself. Chad was upon them in seconds, his lips pursed, the way he held them in disapproval.

  “Sierra.” His expression softened when he looked at her, then tightened when he nodded to Ben. “Nash.”

  “Armstrong,” Ben said with an answering nod. They regarded each other warily, like prize fighters facing off in the ring.

  “The food smells good,” Sierra said, mostly to break the uneasy silence.

  Chad held up the paper bag. “It’s the pad thai.”

  Her favorite.

  “Will you be at the committee meeting Thursday?” he asked.

  He must know the answer since it was the last meeting before the festival got underway on Friday.

  “Yes,” she confirmed.

  “Good. I need to speak with you about something.” He dipped his head, then was gone.

  “I get the impression he doesn’t like me,” Ben said.

  “He’s not real fond of me, either,” Sierra said.

  “I don’t know about that.” At some point Ben had let go of her. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “My guess is he wants to talk to you about getting back together.”

  If that were true, would she take Chad back? A month ago—no, even a few days ago—the decision would have been easy. She’d have put aside her hurt feelings and been relieved her future was back on track.

  But now…now everything had changed.

  They resumed walking toward the grocery store in silence.

  “It’s okay if we call it a night,” Ben said. “I don’t have to make you dinner.”

  She could end things between them right now. Today had been an aberration, a window in time where they played at being in a relationship. Very soon he’d be gone.

  “You don’t have to stay with me tonight, either,” she said slowly, “but I’d really like it if you did.”

  He stopped, turned and gazed into her eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Very sure.”

  “In that case,” he said, “I’m going to make you one hell of a delicious dinner.”

  It was the perfect thing to say. She laughed, the mood instantly lightening.

  Good thing he was leaving soon, Sierra thought. Because if he stayed much longer, her heart would be in serious trouble.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE ROLLING STONES yanked Ben out of a deep sleep.

  It was his cell phone, playing a riff about getting no satisfaction. That certainly hadn’t been the case last night, he thought languorously. He and Sierra had ended up in bed before the ingredients for the seafood pasta were out of the grocery bag. Dessert, much later in the evening, had been another bout of lovemaking.

  He opened his eyes, and Sierra’s bedroom came into focus. He’d fallen asleep with her snuggled against him, the naked skin of her back nestled against his front, her head tucked under his chin. Now her side of the bed was empty, the sheets cold to the touch.

  His cell phone was no longer singing. He’d received a text, not a call.

  He found his phone in the pocket of his blue jeans on the floor next to the bed and clicked through until he got to the message. It was from Joe Geraldi, his boss.

  I need you on the group home story, it read. Now.

  He deleted the text. He’d answer it later, hopefully after he made progress on his mother’s story and could justify his continued stay in Indigo Springs.

  Even with the shades drawn, the room wasn’t fully dark. He knew from his cell phone that it was nearly eight. He was amazed he’d slept so heavily considering his mother’s birthday had dawned. He typically got little rest when the date was imminent.

  He got out of bed and deliberately turned his mind to Sierra. He couldn’t hear SportsCenter playing on the television. Where was she? The note he found on the kitchen table answered his question.

  Went into work, she’d written. If you head back to Pittsburgh today, please know you made temporary my favorite word.

  Disappointment sliced through him, as sharp as a razor blade. He searched his memory, failing to understand why she thought he might be leaving today. He was certain he hadn’t told her that.

  His hand inadvertently hit a stack of papers on the kitchen counter, knocking half of them to the floor.

  “Damn,” he cursed softly.

  He stooped down, gathering a magazine, a couple of envelopes, some advertising flyers and assorted pieces of paper. The l
ast item he picked up was a photo.

  He started to put the photo back on the stack with the other papers when he saw it was a picture of Sierra’s brother. Except on closer inspection, he realized it wasn’t Ryan. The man, who wore an orange hat and held a golf club, only looked like Ryan. That must mean the man was Dr. Whitmore.

  He turned the photo over, confirming his guess. Ryan at the Lakeview Pines golf tournament, somebody had scribbled. He remembered seeing an advertisement for the resort when he was en route to Indigo Springs.

  There was another line of printing on the back of the photo. A date. He blinked, squinting to make sure he’d read correctly.

  The photo had been taken the day his mother died.

  Feeling like he was operating on autopilot, he returned the photo to the middle of the stack of papers and let himself out of the town house.

  Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead by the time he reached the street. A cool breeze carrying the scent of spring blossoms blew over his face, chilling him.

  Whoever sent that e-mail incriminating Dr. Whitmore must have known something. Why else had Rosemary Whitmore lied about her husband being out of town when Ben’s mother died?

  Mrs. Whitmore obviously knew more than she was telling.

  He drew a ragged breath that hurt his chest. Considering where he’d found the photo, so, too, did Sierra.

  “WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

  Sara Brenneman emerged from the dressing room at the Harrisburg bridal shop late on Wednesday afternoon, almost completely engulfed by a wedding gown with huge puffed sleeves, a frilly neckline and a full-skirted ball gown of silk taffeta.

  She twirled around. Sierra sucked in a breath, afraid the bride-to-be’s feet would get tangled in the cathedral-length train. If she toppled while wearing that dress, she might never get herself upright.

  “I think you look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Woman,” Annie Sublinski Whitmore said. Sierra’s sister-in-law was sitting next to Sierra in the area the shop had set aside for the friends and family members who were on hand to give helpful advice. “What possessed you to try that one on, anyway?”

  “I already told you. This is the gown most like the one Princess Di wore.” She balled her hands into fists and balanced them on the layers of taffeta that sprung out from the waistline of the gown. “What do you think, Sierra?”

  Sierra bit her lip before she said she suspected the gown could stand on its own even without someone inside. “I think it’s a little poofier than the one Princess Di wore.”

  The bride-to-be examined herself in the bank of mirrors that ran the full length of the back wall of the shop. Besides showing a woman in a voluminous gown, the reflection revealed her mischievous expression.

  “Sara Brenneman, you’re playing with us!” Annie exclaimed. “You know you look like a marshmallow!”

  “Of course I know. I’m not blind,” Sara said, giggling. “I should buy it. If Michael married me when I looked like this, I’d know he really loved me.”

  “You already know that,” Annie said. “Now go change out of that thing. You’re hurting my eyes.”

  They could still hear Sara’s laughter after she disappeared back inside the dressing room, where the shop assistant waited to help her out of the gown.

  “Please tell me I wasn’t that much trouble when we went shopping for my wedding dress,” Annie said.

  “You?” Sierra raised her eyebrows. “Hardly. You bought the first dress you tried on.”

  “That’s because I didn’t have the Princess Di wedding fantasy,” Annie said.

  “I thought it was because you have an aversion to shopping,” Sierra teased.

  Annie made a face at her. “I like to think I’m a smart shopper. Not only did I have the sense to bring along an authority, I listened to her.”

  “I’m hardly an expert,” Sierra said.

  “Maybe not, but you’re really good at picking out what looks best,” Annie said. “I can’t tell you how glad I am—and how glad Sara will be—that you came along today. I know how busy you are.”

  The three women had set out for Harrisburg and the Extravagance bridal boutique as soon as Sierra finished with her last patient. Laurie Grieb was supposed to come along, but she canceled at the last minute because she wasn’t feeling well.

  The owner of Extravagance, a woman Sierra had known in college, had already left for the day. Her assistant, who was juggling her time between customers, reported she had orders to take very good care of them.

  “I’m not that busy,” Sierra denied.

  “That’s right. You did take the day off yesterday because of that hot guy you’re seeing.”

  Sierra fought the dejection that had threatened to overwhelm her since she’d left Ben Nash sleeping in her bed that morning. At any other time in her life, she’d consider herself in a relationship after making love with a man. Not this time. Not when she hadn’t heard from the man in question all day and he could be back in Pittsburgh by now.

  “I’m not seeing anyone,” Sierra denied.

  “That’s not what Ryan told me,” Annie said. “He said Ben Nash called to ask if you could skip work.”

  Sierra could hardly dispute that.

  A slight rustling followed by footsteps coming from the direction of the dressing room interrupted them. Saved by the bride-to-be, Sierra thought.

  Sara appeared wearing a strapless satin A-line gown with an embroidered bodice that Sierra had suggested she try on. The slim skirt was two-tiered, part of it swept up at the side and held in place by a jeweled broach. “How about this one?” she asked.

  “It’s gorgeous!” Annie jumped up from her chair and went to her friend’s side, standing back slightly to stare at her. “Just stunning.”

  “It does look good.” Sara ran a hand down the satiny material of the dress, which clung to her torso then flared slightly, creating a swirling effect.

  “Good? That’s like saying van Gogh’s paintings were okay. I told you Sierra would know what looked good on you!”

  “It’s not that difficult when Sara’s trying on the gowns. Just about anything would look good on her.” Sierra paused. “Except that first gown.”

  “Forget about the poofy dress. This is the one!” Annie declared, seeming to have forgotten her aversion to shopping. “She looks like a vision in white. Doesn’t she look like a vision in white, Sierra?”

  “A white vision,” Sierra agreed, crossing her legs and sitting back in her chair. Now that they were no longer talking about Ben Nash, she might be able to put him out of her mind. She’d have to sooner or later, considering she might never see him again. She swallowed the lump in her throat and focused on wedding fashion. “A pair of white high-heeled satin pumps, the simpler the better, would be perfect with that dress.”

  “You can wear your hair in one of those fancy sweep-ups,” Annie suggested.

  “You mean updos,” Sierra corrected gently.

  “Yes.” Annie didn’t take offense. “Maybe a couple of little flowers but no veil.”

  Sara gazed at herself in the mirror, as though picturing herself on the momentous day. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “There’s something about the dress that’s not quite right.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I like white.”

  Of course. The lawyer favored bold colors and flashy prints in her everyday wardrobe. Sierra should have taken that into consideration.

  “I have an idea.” Putting Ben Nash firmly out of her mind, Sierra moved through the shop, locating the area where they’d found the strapless gown. Like most bridal shops, Extravagance kept a limited number of samples in the store, strongly suggesting its customers have gowns made to order. Luckily the sample Sierra wanted was available in the right size. She hurried back to her friends and held it up.

  “It’s the same dress in gold!” Sara declared. “I love that.”

  “I told you Sierra knew fashion,” Annie said.

  Sara took the dress from Sierra and clu
tched it to her bosom. “I know this is the one. How can I thank you, Sierra? Wait. I know. Michael and I will treat you and Ben to dinner!”

  Sierra tensed, shoring up her defenses. She hadn’t awakened Ben that morning because she was practicing distancing her emotions for when he left town. Since he’d neither stopped by the office nor called, maybe he was already gone. It made sense that he wouldn’t want to spend his mother’s birthday in the town where she’d died.

  “Ben and I aren’t dating,” Sierra said, repeating the same information she’d relayed to her sister-in-law.

  “Really?” The bride-to-be wrinkled her nose. “That’s not what I hear.”

  “You like him, right?” The question came from Annie.

  Sierra had learned how to expertly evade questions that were too personal. With Annie and Sara regarding her with concern, as well as interest, she found to her surprise that she wanted to answer.

  “Yes, I like him,” Sierra admitted. “I like him a lot.”

  “Then what’s to stop you from dating him?” Annie asked. “He’s obviously into you.”

  “He lives in Pittsburgh. I live in Indigo Springs.”

  “He’s in Indigo Springs now,” Annie pointed out.

  “I’m not sure he is.” Sierra wasn’t prepared for the rush of sadness that hit her. “He’s about wrapped up his business in town.”

  “No, he hasn’t.” Sara shook her head decisively. “He’s working on a story about some tourist who fell from the overlook years ago, right?”

  “How do you know that?” Sierra asked. An inane question. Everybody in town probably was aware of his purpose by now.

  “When I went into Jimmy’s Diner for coffee this morning, I saw him having a late breakfast with Quincy Coleman,” she said. “He was asking about the tourist.”

  “How do you know what they were talking about?”

  “I had to wait for the coffee,” she said. “They were only sitting a few seats away from me at the counter.”