Town Square, The

by Miles, Ava

  They’d never been this close, and her body thrummed with a darker passion than she’d even known.

  She poured all her fear and passion into the kiss. His mouth was hot and demanding, and she was shocked to hear a moan erupt from deep inside her. His hands slid down her back, his fingers tickling her waist through the wool coat.

  She eased back and dealt with the three buttons holding her coat in place. His hands slid inside, one brushing her stomach, causing every hair on her body to stand up straight. He pulled her back onto his body, and now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could make out his heated gaze.

  “I love you,” she whispered, knowing it was true, letting at least one part of her be honest and free.

  He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and then his hand cupped her face. “I wasn’t sure you were ever going to tell me.”

  A slight sob—a combination of relief and naked vulnerability—rushed out. “I didn’t know if I should. Things have been…so complicated, and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “The only thing that could hurt me is not being with you, or seeing you get hurt. I don’t want anything to hurt you anymore, Harriet.”

  It was something he couldn’t control any more than she could, but she pressed her face to his chest just the same.

  “I know it,” she whispered. “Touch me, Arthur. I want you to touch me.”

  His fingers tickled the baby curls at her neck, and he tried to roll them over so that she was under him. It was awkward in the cramped space of the front seat, and her knee banged into the glove compartment.

  “This is the last place I want to touch you, but it’s our only option right now. It’s at times like these that I miss New York.”

  Her head was pressing against the door, and she had to raise her knee against the seat to get comfortable, but that was an overstatement since she felt every spring in the seat against her back. She tried to ignore the embarrassment of her skirt hiking up her thighs.

  “How far are we talking here, Harriet?” he whispered in the dark, cold seeping into the car now that the heat was no longer blowing.

  Warmth spread across her cheeks. “Just some,” she whispered, unable to say more. A lady never said more.

  His chuckle was deep and dark. “So I’m just supposed to know what ‘some’ means?”

  “Arthur, you’re a smart man,” she said as he leaned over her, his head near the steering wheel.

  Bracing himself with one hand on the floor, he traced the line between her breasts. She swallowed thickly. When he reached the hem of her pink sweater, she held her breath as he inched it up slowly, his fingers tracing her skin.

  Her flesh cooled as he exposed it, and their mingled breath could be seen in the dark car.

  When he reached the underside of her breast, he swiped his finger across her ribs. “Is this some?”

  “Arthur, you’re embarrassing me,” she whispered.

  “We’ve never talked about it, but now might be a good time. You told me that night that you’re a virgin.”

  She huffed out a breath at the reminder of that horrible incident. “Yes.”

  His hand covered her breast, and then his fingers dipped inside her white bra to stroke. She shifted on the seat under him, the sensation like lightning across her skin.

  “I know it makes me old fashioned, but I’m glad you are.”

  He eased her bra up, and she shifted to try and help him.

  “Let’s just touch some, Harriet.”

  And then he lowered his head to her breast.

  It was a shock, having his mouth tug on her nipple. She’d never done anything but kiss a few boys before. But as he nipped and sucked, she didn’t care. Her body arched off the seat, the springs digging into her back, but it only heightened her sense of wanting to be closer to his warm, wet mouth.

  His hand journeyed lower and touched the edge of her bunched up skirt, pushing it up to her waist on the right side. Sliding under her bottom, he pressed her against him, and she felt it, that hard line of his desire.

  With his mouth sucking strongly, she tilted her head back, reaching out to tunnel her fingers in his dark thick hair. He shifted to the other breast, and this time, she couldn’t hold back the moan. It shattered the silence of the dark night around them. And in response, he lifted her still closer and moved his hips against hers—a question, an invitation.

  It felt shocking, yet so good that she used her raised leg to press up against him. And he responded in kind, moving his hips against hers again. Oh sweet heavens.

  Then he pressed his mouth to her bare stomach and rubbed his forehead against her cold skin. “Okay, we’d better stop now.”

  He leaned up to kiss her on the mouth, but didn’t linger, and then eased off her and opened the car door, exiting awkwardly.

  “I’ll give you a minute to straighten up,” he said and shut the door.

  She righted her bra, wincing at the sensitivity in her breasts. Is this what people called unfulfilled desire? A few of the girls had talked about it in school. Every part of her body throbbed, almost like it was in pain, but it wasn’t like the pain that came from hitting an elbow or scraping a knee. It was an urgent pain in her belly, and since those same girls had told her so, she knew Arthur was experiencing it too.

  In the darkness, it was difficult to smooth her hair back into place, so she did the best she could. There would be no finding the bobby pins in the dark. Hopefully Maybelline wouldn’t say anything when she got home.

  She slid to the passenger side and waited for Arthur to return. He was smoking a cigarette, something unusual for him, the red tip illuminating the trail of smoke in the darkness.

  Should she go out and join him, or did he need some time to settle too? She decided to wait.

  He finally returned to the car and turned to glance at her.

  “You all right?” His voice was gruff.

  Her cheeks flamed, but she nodded.

  “Good. Let’s get you home then.”

  And as he drove, she realized there was one more thing she was looking forward to. Telling him she loved him when she said goodnight and went inside.

  She might not know what to do about her name, but at least she knew how she felt.

  Somehow that seemed more important.

  Chapter 16

  Working and playing became Harriet and Arthur’s rhythm as April arrived, and excitement grew over the May 7th launch of the paper. She finally went to his parents’ house with him for supper, and they got through the night all right, his family talking more than she did. Fortunately no one had asked questions about where she was from. It was almost like they knew not to go there.

  The trap had seemed incredibly tight that day.

  The Bay of Pigs captured everyone’s attention mid–month, especially Arthur, whom she heard speaking Spanish on the phone in raised tones one day right before he pounded out his latest editorial on the typewriter. When she asked about him knowing the language, he absently remarked that he’d learned enough to get by with the help of a classmate from Puerto Rico when he lived in New York. A man of hidden talents for sure.

  While Arthur rushed to keep up with current events surrounding Cuba and the launch, she and Maybelline agreed not to hurry into any decisions. Changing their name would be a big step, and the guilt they felt over considering it was huge.

  Her old life continued to slide away, almost like the ice blocks around Dare’s Snake River that were breaking away with each passing day, disappearing from view as they became water again.

  One night, she made the decision to put her mother’s pearls back in the jewelry box and don simpler jewelry. And when they went to Krotter’s Bowling Alley, she wore a looser skirt. Everyone had smiled knowingly at that the first time. Arthur suggested a bowling shirt for The Western Independent in a dark green that matched her eyes. The first time she wore it, her self–consciousness was so acute she was sure she was blushing from head to toe. If only people back home could see
her now.

  But as she fell more in love with Arthur each passing day, a niggling fear grew inside her. With each day they waited, it would be harder and harder if they finally decided to tell the truth. It was like a trap was tightening around her.

  A snowstorm swept across the valley on May first, the weight of the snow as heavy as the burden on her heart. She donned her snow boots and shoveled the driveway and sidewalk with Maybelline before heading to the paper. It was a heck of a way to start the work week. Cold weather this late in the year made her grouchy. Snow just shouldn’t be allowed to happen in May. It threw her off, and she and the other staff complained about it all day. Even Arthur was in a bad mood and spent most of the day out of sight.

  “Harriet,” Arthur called as he stepped out of his office as she was about to change her shoes so she could head home. In the snow.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you come in?”

  His tension worried her. Arthur was working brutal hours again in preparation for the launch. He’d done about twenty drafts of his first Sunday editorial for the paper and still wasn’t happy with it.

  When she entered his office, he shut the door behind her, something he rarely did. Her stomach immediately knotted up like ball of yarn. “What is it?”

  He sighed, long and deep, and ran his hand through his hair, causing a stray lock to fall across his forehead. “I’ll just spit it out. I’ve been awarded the Pulitzer for the first editorial I did on your father.”

  Pressing her hand to her stomach, she concentrated on breathing. The news stole her breath. A Pulitzer? It was an astonishing honor, especially given his age.

  And all because of what her father had done.

  The trap was so close around her it was digging into her limbs.

  “Congratulations,” she uttered, and even to her ears, her voice sounded brittle and cold, like one of the old matrons on Beacon Hill.

  He crossed the room and put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t know what to say to you. It’s the most bittersweet news I’ve ever received.”

  Those blue eyes beseeched her, and she made the corners of her mouth tip up. But inside she felt dead. He was being honored for something that had hurt her family, and the injustice of it was impossible to bear.

  “It’s great news, Arthur, and I’m glad for you. Truly. It’s quite an honor.” Stepping back, she clenched her hands into fists at her side, feeling the need to flee.

  “Harriet, please let’s talk about this. I can’t imagine what this—”

  “Arthur,” she interrupted, her voice harsher than she’d intended. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just go home now.” She stared at the floor, eyes dry and unblinking, reaching for control.

  While he stepped close, he didn’t touch her, and for that she was glad. If he did, she might dissolve right in front of him.

  “This is dredging up everything we’ve put behind us, isn’t it?”

  Clearly it wasn’t behind them. They’d only put a tincture on the wound.

  “Arthur, I’m still here under false pretenses. I don’t think anything is behind us.” She hung her head, suddenly as sad and tired as she’d been when she first read the award–winning article one Sunday morning in their Beacon Hill townhome. She hadn’t left the house for three days.

  “Harriet.” This time he did touch her back lightly, drawing her in for a sweet embrace.

  Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, and she had to blink them back.

  “I love you. We’ll figure this out.”

  This couldn’t be figured out. And in that second she knew the truth. “I can’t change my name, Arthur.”

  It would be the ultimate betrayal of herself. She wasn’t willing to pretend she was something she wasn’t, not even if it gave her distance from everything that shamed her. Oh God, why couldn’t she have figured this out before she fell in love with him?

  His fingers caressed her cheek, and then tipped her chin up so she’d meet his eyes. “I know, baby. I guessed that all along, and I love you for it. We’ll find a way to make it work.”

  Her heart gave a cry of utter defeat. With her past, they could have no future. Suddenly she had to get out of there.

  “I don’t think…Maybelline and I can stay here anymore, Arthur.”

  “Harriet…” His face fell. “Please don’t say that.”

  She shook her head. “This story about my father is never going to go away, don’t you see? And after lying to the townspeople and dragging you into it…”

  His hands grabbed her shoulders. “Stop this. Stop this right now. I won’t hear any talk of you leaving.”

  And the hoarseness in his voice finally brought the first tear sliding down her cheek. Oh, God, this was too much.

  “You can’t keep running away, Harriet. We have something here.” He shook her lightly, like he was trying to imprint his will on her.

  “Arthur, please,” she pleaded.

  “The people in town like you now. It will work itself out.”

  His head was buried as deeply in the sand as hers had been. Well, she was seeing clearly now. “I’ve lied to them, Arthur. How forgiving do you think they’ll be?”

  “I forgave you,” he said.

  Her lip trembled. “Oh, Arthur.”

  “And your actions affected me more than anyone else in town. Have a little faith, Harriet.”

  She thought of the way the people she’d grown up with, her friends, her own extended family had turned on her. They’d known her, liked her, even loved her, and yet they’d abandoned her all the same.

  “You’re wishing on a star, Arthur.”

  His brows slammed shut. “Fine, don’t trust them.” He took a breath. “We don’t need to tell them. We’ll find another way.”

  He was as stubborn as an ox, and his refusal to see the truth hurt her more than anything. “I told you,” she ground out, clenching her teeth to keep from crying. “I can’t abandon who I am, and things can’t continue this way forever.”

  “I know, dammit,” he said, yanking her against his chest. “Harriet, just trust me. We’ll figure it out. Just don’t, for cripes sake, leave.”

  His voice broke, and she wrapped her arms around him.

  “I don’t see how this is going to work anymore,” she whispered, another tear falling.

  Edging back, he stared straight into her eyes, the intensity of his gaze pinning her in place. “Harriet. Do you trust me?”

  “Arthur, I—”

  “I said, ‘do you trust me?’” he asked with more force, his hands tightening on her skin.

  “Yes,” she whispered, her heart breaking. “But this is getting too complicated, and it could have negative repercussions for you, for the paper.”

  “Like I give a flying flip.”

  Shoving away from him, she stood her ground. “Don’t you see? I can’t even be happy for you, and it’s a Pulitzer, Arthur.”

  His brow knotted. “Harriet—”

  “You’re being willfully blind about this, Arthur, as blind as I was, and that’s not like you. Aren’t you the one who’s all about seeing things clearly and calling a spade a spade?” Her body started to tremble.

  Those blue eyes stared into hers. “What I see is the woman I love, who was hurt by something I did, but can still see me for who I am and love me for it. Do you think that kind of love is normal? We’ve been tested in fire, Harriet, and I’m man enough to know that’s as rare as it comes. The other stuff doesn’t matter.”

  She swallowed thickly, the pressure to cry squeezing her chest. “I don’t think I can stand any more testing, Arthur. What if we get married? What are we going to do, hide the award in the basement?”

  Her hand pressed against her mouth when she realized she’d brought up marriage—something the woman was never supposed to do. Something she’d been terrified to think about.

  His shrug was almost Gallic. “I don’t know. I don’t give a damn about the award. All I care about is you.”

 
“No,” she said with force. “Don’t you see? That’s a problem. You should care about this. It’s an enormous honor. I’m dragging you down.”

  He framed her face in his hands. “No, baby. You make me happier than I’ve ever been. Nothing can compete with that.”

  Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips together, wondering how she could make him understand. She pulled his hands away from her face and stepped back. “Arthur, when I met you, your career was the most important thing to you.”

  “That’s changed,” he said, his voice thick.

  Her heart bled at the hurt in his voice, which was usually so sure and strong. “This paper is your dream, and a Pulitzer is an incredible feather in your cap.”

  “I know that, dammit,” he said suddenly, control snapping. “Do you think I like this? Do you think this isn’t tearing me in two? I’ve wanted a Pulitzer since I knew what it was, and now I get the goddamn good fortune of winning one for the very editorial that ruined your life and brought you here in your quest to ruin mine. Life’s not always fair, Harriet, but when this kind of stuff happens, it shows you what matters. It shows you what you’re made of. And Harriet, I know without a doubt that you’re made for me, just as I am for you.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest when he thrust a hand out toward the phone.

  “When I got that call, I didn’t have one moment of happiness over it. All I could think about was how this would hurt you, hurt us. I thought about it all day, how to tell you. Don’t you understand? I love you. The rest of it doesn’t matter. Who gives a damn about an award if you’re not by my side?”

  She’d never heard him swear this much, and it was as shocking to her as the emotion rolling through him.

  Lips trembling, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Arthur, we’re not going to settle this today, but you need to think this through. People are going to be happy about your prize, and you should be too. As for me and Maybelline…well, it’s our problem.”

  He was across the room in a second, his hands gripping her shoulders again. “No, baby. Your problems are my problems, especially this one.”