by Alison Kent
But she’d obviously had something go wrong. And someone she didn’t want looking into the house where she lived, seeing her making soup and sandwiches. Lena wasn’t going to push. If it was important for her to know later, she’d push then. She certainly understood what it meant for one human being to wound another to the point of words turning unexpectedly into weapons.
Just then a toddler boy and another of preschool age came running through the kitchen, the older one jumping into one of the chairs, the younger leaning over the seat and giggling. Lena stood. Ellie followed. She was working at removing the top to the chèvre when a woman Lena assumed was the boys’ mother appeared.
She stopped just over the threshold, looking from Lena to the far corner of the room where the boys had pulled out a box of giant Duplo toys from behind one of the chairs and were dumping them on the braided rug. “I didn’t know we had company.”
Ellie left the cheese on the counter and stepped forward quickly. “Lena, this is Frannie Charles, and those are her sons, Robert and James. Frannie, this is Lena Mining. She works at the chocolate shop next to Bread and Bean. Look what she brought us for supper.”
“How nice,” Frannie said hesitantly, glancing toward her boys. “What’s the occasion?”
The woman was gorgeous, though terribly gaunt, her dark hair lank, her skin olive and flawless, save for the circles beneath her big eyes. The vibes she was giving off told Lena to tread carefully. “I was hungry, and Ellie brought me a sourdough round yesterday morning, and waxed poetic about the joys of grilled cheese.”
“I did not,” Ellie said, giggling. “I don’t have a poetic bone in my body.”
“Mommy! Mommy!” The older boy caught sight of his mother and came running, slamming into her legs and wrapping his arms around her. He peeked at Lena with one eye. “Why is that lady’s hair purple?”
Embarrassment stained Frannie’s cheeks. “Well, I suppose she likes the color. But let’s not talk about what other people look like, all right?”
“It’s cool,” Lena said, quickly adding, “that he’s curious, I mean. I don’t mind him asking about it.”
“Did you hear that, James?” Ellie said, leaning down and ruffling his hair. “If you want to ask Ms. Lena about her hair, go ahead. As long as it’s okay with your mom.”
Frannie nodded, so Lena dropped to the boy’s level and held out her hand. “Hi, James. I’m Lena.”
He was tentative at first, then reached to shake. “Is purple your favorite color?”
“I do like purple,” she said, canting her head forward so he could see all of it. “Do you know what color this is?” she asked, lifting a scissored chunk that hung above her ear.
“That’s blue!”
“You’re exactly right,” she said, pointing to another stripe at her temple. “And this?”
“Pink!” he said, clapping his hands. “You have pretty hair.”
“Thank you, James,” she said, smiling and too aware that his clothes had probably been handed down a dozen times. His jean shorts were washed nearly white, and his T-shirt, once blue with a big red dog in the center, was just about as faded.
“Why do you have earrings in your eye?”
“James!” Frannie gasped, mortified.
Lena waved off his mother’s objection. “They’re eyebrow rings. Though I guess they do look like earrings.”
“Do they come out?”
“They do. Would you like to see?”
James nodded excitedly, his mother saying, “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s fine. I offered.” She crossed her ankles and sat on the floor. James came close, holding on to his mother’s hand as he watched Lena pull open the hoops and slide them from their holes. She’d worry about getting them back in when she got home.
Setting each in the center of her palm, she opened her hand to show him, then pointed to her eyebrow with her other hand. “They go through these tiny little holes. Just like earrings go through tiny little holes in ears.”
James let go of his mother and moved closer, hunkering down to look at Lena’s eye. “Does it hurt? When you poke them in?”
“Not anymore,” she said. “It hurt some when I first had them done.”
“Did it bleed?” he asked, his little lips turned down, his eyes sad. “Did you get a butterfly?”
A butterfly? Oh, a bandage, right. Lena shook her head. “It didn’t bleed much, so I didn’t need a Band-Aid.”
James let that sink in, frowning when he said, “Mommy needed a butterfly one time for her eye when Daddy hit her.”
“James!” Frannie reached out and lifted the boy away, carrying him toward the chairs where Robert was still busy with the blocks, leaving Lena to stare at the hoops and try to remember how to breathe. Wow, she mused, and shuddered with the hurt. Just wow.
“C’mon,” Ellie said, urging her to her feet. “There’s a big mirror in the bathroom off the front room’s hallway. It’ll make it easier to put them back in. Just watch the hole in the floor right outside. It’s got a pillow covering it, but sometimes Robert likes to drag it away.”
Lena followed her out of the kitchen and through the big dark room at the front of the house to a hallway she hadn’t noticed before. It led to the rest of the first-floor rooms, and the staircase to the upper stories. The bathroom was the second door they passed.
“You were so perfect with James,” Ellie said, pushing the bathroom door open and flipping on the light. It sputtered several times before it finally caught. “He’s such a good boy, but I know being here all the time with just us and his mother is hard.”
“He doesn’t go to preschool or have playdates?” Lena asked, walking into the room with the huge claw-foot tub, the porcelain chipped away from its gilded feet, which appeared to be rusted to the floor’s worn black-and-white tiles.
Ellie shook her head, her frown causing her glasses to slip. “Frannie rarely lets him out of her sight,” she said as she pushed them back up her nose.
“She didn’t seem overprotective,” Lena said, leaning close to the mirror and smoothing her eyebrow before pushing the post of the first ring into place. “Just wanting him to have good manners. And, well, not talk about what went on at home.”
“Unfortunately, talking about it is the only way he seems to be able to deal,” Ellie said with a shrug, her hand on the doorjamb at face level. “He talks about it all the time.”
“About the abuse?” Lena asked, finishing with the second ring and catching Ellie’s reflection in the mirror, her heart catching, too.
Ellie blinked, then looked down as she said, “And his dad setting fire to their house.”
Her stomach bunched in knots, Lena’s hands stilled as she turned and met Ellie’s gaze. “Are you serious?”
“I wish I wasn’t.”
“But they’re okay?” What a stupid question. How could anyone be okay after that?
Ellie nodded. “Physically. And they’re staying here to make sure they remain so.”
“The dad doesn’t know where they are?”
“No.” Ellie pushed off the doorjamb. “Though I imagine he’s trying his best to find out.”
Lena couldn’t keep it in any longer. “This is a shelter or something, isn’t it? For abused women. I mean, don’t worry. I’m not going to say anything. I saw the scars on your arms—”
“We’re all just staying here, living here, for now,” Ellie said with a shrug, pulling down on one sleeve then the other as she did. “We’re all fine. Just . . . careful.”
“It’s good to be careful,” Lena said. God, why did she have to keep saying the wrong things? “And I’m sorry. I seem to be stepping over a lot of lines I shouldn’t tonight.”
“You, Lena Mining, are so sweet to worry,” Ellie said almost sadly, placing her hands on Lena’s cheeks then leaning close and kissing her
.
It was a soft kiss. Quick and gentle. Just Ellie’s lips touching Lena’s and pulling away. Nothing more. Nothing insistent. But so unexpected Lena didn’t have time to react before Ellie took a step back, gesturing over her shoulder. “I’m going to run and get started on supper. You know where the kitchen is. Come find me when you’re done.”
Then she was gone, leaving Lena with the last of her rings to deal with, and the invitation she’d been waiting for. Now to figure out how to answer it without making a mess of things.
CHAPTER TEN
Dakota was standing on the cottage’s tiny square of a front porch when Indiana arrived the next morning, guiding her low-slung Camaro to a stop next to his truck. He had his first cup of coffee in hand. He’d hoped to be on his third by now. Dealing with his sister and her questions and Thea on top was going to require a lot of caffeine.
His brain wasn’t there yet. Sleep would’ve helped, but it was getting harder and harder to come by. Something about suppressed thoughts bubbling to the surface when he closed his eyes. His degree might be in engineering, but he’d taken enough psychology classes and seen enough shrinks while in prison to figure that out for himself.
So he wasn’t exactly sorry to see Thea pull in behind his sister as Indiana got out of her car. Good, he mused, watching Indiana turn to see who else had arrived so early. The two could catch up and maybe this whole intervention could be put off for another day. Though in a perfect world everyone would just leave him alone now and get together after he was gone.
Bringing his mug to his mouth, he saw recognition dawn in his sister’s expression. She left the sack of what he assumed were his breakfast tacos on top of her car and ran to Thea.
Thea had just slammed her door, and left the bag of what he assumed were his kolaches on top of hers, meeting Indiana between the Subaru’s front end and the Camaro’s back.
Their hug was huge. They rocked back and forth. They pulled away to get a closer look. They screamed and they cried and they gestured wildly and held hands and jumped for joy.
Great. His breakfast was going to get cold and stale and soggy while they revisited a decade plus of life. He whistled once, waving for both women to grab the food and get their asses in gear.
Indiana waved back as if telling him to hold his horses. Thea just ignored him. He waffled between heading inside for more coffee, or heading down the steps to the food. The word waffle did him in. As much as he wanted to wait them out, his pride tasted like cardboard.
He set his mug on the porch and took two long steps to the ground before crossing the yard to the cars. He reached across the Camaro’s roof for the first bag, across the Subaru’s for the second. Then he growled out the words, “I’m hungry,” and returned to the cottage.
In the kitchen, he dug two tacos from the bag to heat and shoved half of a kolache in his mouth while he waited. He was still chewing when the door squeaked open and laughter filled the front room. It nearly choked him when he tried to swallow. It was the laughter of his teen years, the same two voices he’d listened to through the wall adjoining his bedroom to Indiana’s.
He reached first for his empty mug, then for the coffee pot, pouring while he tried to hide his cough but spitting crumbs everywhere. The women walked into the kitchen to find him with his hands full as he spewed the remnants of his kolache into the air.
“Good grief. Are you all right?” His sister came toward him, brushing his shirtfront clean and taking the carafe from his hand, then patting his back as if that actually helped. “You’re making a mess.”
“Trust me,” he said, barking another cough before sipping at the hot coffee to clear the rest of the kolache from his throat. “Not what I intended.”
“Why didn’t you tell me Thea was coming?” she asked, fetching two mugs from the cabinet. “I would’ve brought more food.”
“I brought plenty of kolaches.” Thea stood at the kitchen’s entrance, one brow arched as she added, “Or there were plenty last time I looked in the bag.”
“I had one,” Dakota said, holding up a finger to defend himself. “One. And half of it ended up in my windpipe.”
“I don’t remember you being one for wasting food,” Thea said.
And then his sister responded, “No, but he was always one for making a mess.”
He came so close to mentioning the mess that had sent him to prison, but managed not to be stupid. Just annoyed at being ganged up on, though it served him right for bringing both women here. “I’ll clean up the mess. And the rest of the kolaches are yours.” He nodded toward the microwave. “I’ll just take my tacos and coffee to the porch while you two have a nice long visit.”
Indiana grabbed his sleeve before he took a step. “Not so fast, big brother. I see what you did there.”
Of course she would have. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She glanced at Thea, then arms crossed, glanced back. “You mean it’s completely coincidental that you invited an old friend to join us for the breakfast where you and I were supposed to continue yesterday morning’s conversation?”
He shrugged off his guilt. “I thought you two might like to catch up.”
“I asked you about this when you suggested I join you,” Thea said, waving a hand she then shoved to her hip. “You told me I wouldn’t be in the way.”
“You’re not in the way,” he said with an expansive gesture, nearly sloshing what was left of his coffee from his cup. “Plenty of room. And once I get out of here, there’ll be even more. You can get on with your girl talk, and I’ll get to work.”
“As lovely as it was of you to surprise me, I didn’t come here for girl talk,” Indiana said. “Thea and I can do that later. When we have more time and I don’t need answers from you.”
“I don’t have any answers to give you, Indiana. I don’t have any answers to give Clark here. Hell, I don’t have any to give myself.”
She looked down for a moment, frowning, her lips pressed tight, then said, “Fine. Deny it all you want, but there’s got to be a reason behind your wanting to leave. You told Tennessee you were going. You told Thea—”
Well that hadn’t taken long, he mused, looking at Thea. “Thanks.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know it was a secret.”
“It’s not. It’s just—” He looked from Thea to Indiana, then hung his head. Screw it. Might as well get this crap over with so he could get back to his life—what there was of it—and to work. “Look. I don’t want to disappoint Tennessee more than I already have. Okay? Happy now? Moving on is just a simple way to exit a bad situation.”
“Why do you think you’ve disappointed him? And how in the world is moving on going to make anything better? And what bad situation are you talking about? Because honestly . . .” Indiana stopped, gathered her cloud of dark hair and held it at the back of her head, then let it go. “I think you’re overreacting to something. I just can’t figure out what.”
His sister. Poking holes in everything as always. And probably more right than he wanted to admit. “You know he and I talked about making a go of the construction gig as partners. Keller Brothers. We discussed it for years. Well, turns out I’m not much a fan of construction.”
“Have you told him you don’t like it?” Indiana asked, as if doing so was the most logical thing in the world. “It’s not like he’s making you work for him.”
No, but guilt was, an admission that sounded as dumb as it probably was. “I’m not going to say anything. And neither are you. I’m not going to let him down. At least not like that. He’s been talking about our finally being in business together since the day I got home.”
“Give him some credit,” she said imploringly, rubbing at her forehead as if her head was hurting as badly as his. “He’s not going to buy this bad situation bullshit anymore than I am.”
“Uh, guys,” Thea said, interru
pting. “I’m going to head outside—”
“No.” Dakota said the word without even thinking, his gaze on his sister when he did. Indiana leaned both hands against the counter in front of the sink and stared out the window above.
That was when he let his gaze drift to Thea. Her arms were crossed and she was staring at the floor, the rooster tail on top of her head flopped to one side. He could see a few strands of gray at her temple where the morning sun through the window lit the side of her face.
Stress? Worry? Secrets she was having trouble keeping?
He was still looking at her when he said, “I’m not happy here, Indiana. Can’t we just leave it at that?”
“No. We can’t. Not without you giving me a reason why.” She faced him again, stomping one boot and nearly wailing the words. “I don’t understand. Are we not enough for you? Me and Tennessee? What’s out there”—she waved one arm, nearly slamming it into Thea—“that you don’t have here?”
“Don’t even say that. That you’re not enough. It’s not that.” But it was, wasn’t it? He needed something more. He needed answers: Why had he been duped by the boy who’d assaulted his sister? Why hadn’t he been able to see the truth beneath the surface of Robby Hunt? Why had he thought that beating half to death someone he’d considered a friend would make what had happened to Indiana any better?
Why had he chosen a path that made things worse?
And then. To walk out on his brother and sister when he was almost twenty-two years old. Indiana had still been in high school, Tennessee in college. He could’ve gone home with them the day he’d left prison, but he’d had to live for three years with the truth of what he’d done.
How he’d ruined their lives as completely as he’d ruined his own.
Now he was living with the consequences. “And I don’t know.”
“Neither one of those is an answer,” Indiana said with a sigh. “And neither one of them explain why you have to leave town.”
