More Than Neighbors (29 page)

So how could
Ciara
not know how he felt about her, how much he admired her strength and fierce defense of her boy?

But he knew the answer. He’d always been aware she was protecting not only Mark, but some deep wound. And then, in opening his damn mouth, he’d done the same thing her SOB of an ex had: he’d dumped a load of blame on her.

I have to fix this, he thought desperately, but didn’t know when or how he could. He couldn’t even blame her for avoiding him.

He tried to ignore the niggling little voice in his head suggesting that she had invited him that first evening to meet her parents only because she knew they’d been curious after hearing Mark talk about him. Didn’t mean she’d admitted to them that he and she had a relationship beyond neighborly. He couldn’t possibly be the kind of man she’d proudly bring home to Mom and Dad.

And yeah, he knew it was his own insecurities talking. It was hard to get past the fact that he’d spent his whole life in this rural corner of the state. He still didn’t read very well. He’d barely graduated from high school. His computer skills were limited, which left him unable to speak the same language as most of his contemporaries. He was a craftsman, not a professional like her father and her ex-husband.

He’d been good to her boy, though, and she was grateful to him for that. They’d had sex half a dozen times. Maybe it hadn’t meant that much to her.

A groan vibrated in his chest, but he suppressed it, going to greet Ciara’s family.

Damn it,
he thought,
she’s not like that. I know she isn’t.

He had to quit being such an idiot. Find the right words to say and then corner her.

“Your mom didn’t come?” he said to Mark, aware of Ben’s interested expression.

“Uh-uh. She’s sewing something for Bridget. She wanted to finish it.”

He nodded and smiled at Bridget. “Are you ready for another ride?”

Her expression was tense as she shot glances around his yard. “Yes.”

He slapped Mark on the back. “You tack up Aurora while I put Hoodoo in his stall.”

“Sure,” Mark said nonchalantly. There was a swagger to his stride that would have amused Gabe if he weren’t so tangled up inside about the boy’s mother.

Today it didn’t take nearly as much coaxing to get Bridget up in the saddle, and after clutching the horn in terror for the first five minutes, she noticeably relaxed and even began to look proud of herself.

“I’m riding,” she told them all.

“Smile,” her father said, holding up his cell phone. “We’ve got to have a picture.”

She opened up with a big, wide grin. “This is fun!” she yelled. “I
like
horses.”

Gabe tightened his grip on the reins just beneath the bit, but Aurora’s only reaction to her exuberant rider was to swivel her ears. She continued her placid stride even as her passenger threw an arm out, flung back her head and laughed. It was as if she understood. This was one horse who had depths he’d never appreciated. He stroked her sleek neck, and she turned her head to look at him with a liquid, dark eye.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and she tossed her head the slightest bit.

After Bridget had dismounted and while Mark was unsaddling Aurora, Ben approached Gabe.

“Mark is growing up,” he said quietly, making sure neither of the others could hear them.

Gabe glanced at Mark. “That’s natural. He’s thirteen this week.”

Something else that stung; he hadn’t been invited to any birthday celebration.

“That could be it.” Ben Malloy sounded doubtful. “He’s not as clumsy. He also seems...a little more sensitive to other people’s feelings.”

Gabe had noticed both, too. “I think the horseback riding is helping his balance and ability to center himself. I was going to suggest you think about looking into a riding program for Bridget. She seems to enjoy it, and she was a lot more confident today.”

“She was, and I think that’s a great idea.” He smiled. “I also think you’re responsible for a lot of the change in Mark. Thank you.”

Thrown for a loss, Gabe said only, as he had to Ciara, “He’s a good kid.”

Nope—still couldn’t spit out words like
likeable, fun, smart
.

When they left a minute later, he felt lonelier than he had in years.

* * *

H
E’D HAVE BEEN
more pleased by the eventual invitation to Mark’s birthday party if Ciara’s voice hadn’t been so constrained when she called to issue it. Gabe had a really bad feeling he was being asked at Mark’s behest, not because she wanted him there, too.

Not that long ago, before he blew it so bad, he’d have taken for granted that he’d be part of anything important in their lives.

He didn’t say any of what he was thinking, though. He thanked her politely, verified the time he was expected and hung up the phone.

Turned out Mark had also invited Jennifer Weeks as well as both the Ohler boys. Gabe arrived as Ciara was still talking to Sabine on the doorstep.

“You really didn’t have to send a gift.”

Sabine laughed. “So you said, but my boys decided that wasn’t right. And we do own a sporting-goods store.”

Ciara laughed, too. Behind her, Mark was clutching a perfectly round, wrapped present. From the size, it had to be a soccer ball versus a larger basketball. “Jennifer brought one, too.”

Both women greeted him, Ciara looking shy. Sabine raised her eyebrows and said, “
He
brought a present, too.”

“I give up,” Ciara said with another laugh, not admitting that she not only knew he’d bought something for Mark’s birthday, she’d also been with him when he did.

She accepted the box from him, said, “Thank you for coming,” and led the way in before stopping. “Oh, dear.”

Her sister had backed into a corner of the living room and clapped her hands over her ears. “They’re so loud. I don’t like it. Mo-om! They’re loud.”

Ciara thrust the box back in his hands and went to her sister. “Come on, Bridget.” Her voice was very soft. “Let’s go into the kitchen. It’ll be quieter there.”

She was careful not to touch her sister, he saw, but she stayed between her and the admittedly rowdy group of kids. Jennifer appeared to be demonstrating a cheerleading routine, which had him shaking his head. Good God, was the rough and tough rider going to morph into a girly-girl in the next couple of years? Hard to imagine.

Mark caught sight of him just as his mom and aunt disappeared through that swinging door into the kitchen. “Gabe!” His eyes locked greedily onto the present. “Is that for me?”

“None other.”

The desire to start ripping open the paper was in his eyes, but he carried the gifts from the Ohlers and Gabe into the dining room and set them with a heap of others on the buffet at the end. A couple of leaves had been added to the table to extend it, and it was already set for nine. Gabe wondered how Bridget would handle sitting down with so many.

Not well, as it turned out. She liked the hot dogs and baked beans, but gobbled her food quickly so she could say, “I’m done,” and leap up and rush out. When they got around to Janet carrying in the cake with candles lit, Bridget hovered in the doorway, joining in the singing although her voice was discordant. Nobody minded, though; the youngest set of guests displayed no interest in her at all, and Mark was obviously used to her.

Ciara seemed constantly on edge, jumping to her feet to anticipate everyone’s wishes before they were expressed. Either excitement and all that nervous energy or the discomfiture that kept her from so much as meeting his eyes had also brought spots of color to her cheeks. A couple of times, her mother laid a gentle hand on her arm and spoke to her in a low voice, as if trying to soothe her, but Gabe couldn’t see her efforts making any difference.

It didn’t help that Mark was hyper, jumping up half a dozen times himself, knocking over his glass of milk once, interrupting people who were speaking. Being the center of so much attention was something like sticking his finger in an electric socket, as far as Gabe could tell.

When they finally got to the main event, opening presents, his mother fixed a look on him that had him pausing after inspecting each gift to thank the giver. Fortunately, he seemed genuinely enthusiastic about all of them. Gabe kind of doubted he’d have had the social skill to pretend to be pleased if he wasn’t.

Jennifer had given him a book about cutting horses. He started trying to head the soccer ball until Ben deftly relieved him of it. About three-quarters of his presents consisted of computer software and games. Ciara had to dissuade him from rushing to try them out. Gabe’s was one of the last to be opened.

When he lifted the black felt Resistol Western hat out of the box, his face was a study in awe and happiness. “This is so cool!” he exclaimed. “It’s
perfect
.”

It was the one time Ciara’s eyes met Gabe’s in a moment of shared pleasure.

“Try it on,” she urged.

The fit was just right. Giggling, Jennifer showed him how to tip it low when he wanted to look brooding. The Ohler boys appeared jealous, although Gabe felt sure they, like pretty much every other local kid, had similar hats of their own.

Gabe made his excuses shortly thereafter. His hopes rose when Ciara stood to walk him to the door.

But that was as far as she went.

Her “Thank you for coming” was polite. Aware of too many people within earshot behind her, all he did was thank her for having him.

Turning to leave, everything he wanted to say, unsaid—that was hard.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

W
AS THERE ANY
going back? Ciara couldn’t even imagine.
I’m sorry
wasn’t relevant. She’d been honest with Gabe, and he’d been honest with her. The clear result was a distance between them as deep and wide as the Columbia River Gorge.

So, okay, she’d reacted badly to his gee-I-thought-you-should-know revelations. But he was the one who’d retreated. The one who’d never said
That stuff about how you’re a lousy person? You know it’s crap, don’t you?

He had tried to say something about her tirade, honesty made her admit. But it had been an afterthought, and when she shut him down, he hadn’t bothered to pick up the phone and finish it.

He’d apparently invited Bridget and Mark to come down to his place, and he’d showed up at the birthday party for Mark’s sake. But her? She’d said
I am a lousy human being
, and it appeared he agreed.

No longer being able to call him and talk at night, not seeing in his eyes how much he wanted to kiss her, was more devastating than her divorce had been. Her relationship with Jeff had been so damaged by then, she’d been so enraged by his treatment of Mark, she wanted the divorce and was only sorry she couldn’t cut him off entirely. She didn’t like feeling as if she’d failed, or the sickening knowledge he disdained his own child and her because
her
genes were at fault. She’d hated the deep, gut-clenching sense of shame she hadn’t a hundred percent understood, but now realized had to do with the implication that on a DNA level she was like Bridget, which meant...that every complicated thing she’d ever felt for her sister, she should have been feeling for herself, too.

And, oh God, maybe she had been. Maybe that always had been the real trouble. Where was the line between them? Maybe she wasn’t normal, either.
Jeff
didn’t think she was.

And maybe, maybe, she’d been so fixated on the times she’d wanted to pretend Bridget didn’t exist, when she’d been embarrassed about her, that she’d forgotten she mostly accepted her exactly as she was.

Standing on the porch, she watched Gabe striding through his pasture, his horses trailing him like friendly dogs, and wished desperately that he would look back. The fact that he didn’t, not once, felt like a stiletto to the heart.

Since the door stood open behind her, she wasn’t aware she had company until an arm came around her. Her father gave her a gentle hug.

“I like him,” he said.

“Gabe?” She managed surprise, if a poor facsimile. Oh, who was she kidding? She swallowed. “I do, too.” It came out not much above a whisper. Because she felt small?

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Her laugh was closer to a sob. “Everything.”

He brushed her hair back from her face. “Wanna tell me?”

“I—” She looked over her shoulder.

He did the same then reached out and closed the door. “No one will miss us.”

After a minute, she nodded.

“We can walk if you want, or sit here on the porch.”

They sat on the steps, her father looking entirely comfortable. He had a talent for that, she realized. How had she ever picked a creep like Jeff to marry, when she’d had as a role model a man as confident and kind as her father?

“I hadn’t told Gabe anything about Bridget.”

He looked interested but not judgmental, and only waited.

“I never told you what Jeff said.” She did, watching the rare sight of her dad getting mad. Really mad. “The thing is,” she said miserably, “it’s true.”

“What’s true? Mark isn’t autistic.”

“No, but I think he’s on the Asperger’s spectrum. The school psychologist said he was, and I blew up.”

“As you should have,” he said stoutly. “I don’t much like labels. Some people are good socially. Some aren’t. Some are generous, some selfish, some athletic, some not.
Everyone
is on a spectrum.”

“Yes, but—”

“No
but
,” he said firmly. He smiled. “Gabe said Mark’s a good kid.”

“I know. And he is.” She told him what Gabe had said about normal, too, and how it had revolutionized her thinking.

“So if he takes Mark in stride, what is the issue?”

“I’ve fought really hard not to let Mark be labeled. Partly because it would hurt him for no reason. But also because I didn’t want to believe he was anything like Bridget,” she said miserably. “I’ve always felt so ashamed because I didn’t want friends to come home with me or even know I
had
a sister like her. I guess I started out being ashamed of her, and ended up ashamed of myself.”