Restore My Heart (29 page)

Joe expected Sally to sleep during the drive from Anchorage back to Jeffersontown. But as soon as they cleared the railroad tracks a mile from his mother’s, she quizzed him. “Why did you act so strange when I mentioned Ellen Kennedy’s Packard?”

“Mom has suffered enough. She doesn’t need to hear about Ellen Kennedy.” His mother had told him to keep her informed, but he’d be damned if he’d pass along the innuendo surrounding his father and Ellen Kennedy.

“What are you saying? Ellen Kennedy is a customer, right?”

Joe exhaled a weary sigh. “Gossip around the office says she had a thing for my dad.”

“Joe, a lot of women had a thing for your dad. That doesn’t mean he fooled around.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’d see him at the Universal Joint. Women were always hitting on him. Your dad was a handsome guy. He never hurt any of their feelings, but he always,
always
declined their offers. He’d have a drink with Uncle Sal, then hurry home to his wife. Everybody knew that.”

“You think he declined Ellen Kennedy?” Or
reclined
her, he thought, remembering the gorgeous widow he and Sally had visited.

“I think he would have, yes. There’s one way to find out.”

He shot her a quick glance. “What do you mean? Ask her?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Want me to do it? Woman-to-woman sort of thing?”

He huffed an exasperated breath. “To what purpose?”

“To put you out of your misery. This is eating at you. But I have a purpose in offering.”

“Such as?”

“Say she and Leo had an affair—just hypothetically—and he felt rotten and guilty about it because he loves Lucinda. Guys have these mid-life crises sometimes. But say Ellen Kennedy doesn’t like being the spurned woman. Would she murder him, then stage a suicide?”

“You’ve been watching too much TV.”

“I seldom watch TV. I’m looking for a murder motive, unless you still believe Leo shot himself. Your mom and I don’t.”

Sally continued to surprise him. She really gave his father the benefit of the doubt. “Why do you think he was murdered?”

“Because Roy was murdered, too. Which is what throws a monkey wrench in my Ellen Kennedy motive. If she killed your dad in a crime of passion, why would she kill Roy, too?”

“And why have you and me killed?”

“Assuming everything is related. There’s another thought. Ellen kills Leo, but Vic thinks Leo committed suicide after finding out about the classic car scam he’s running on the side with Dan Alsop. So he has to go after the evidence. You, me, and Roy are in his way.”

Joe shook his head. “I don’t know. Mom swears Vic is no killer. We need more information. I want to pull the official spreadsheets and compare them to this file. Then I think I’ll track down a few more of these buyers.”

“You? Don’t you need me to go with you?”

He grinned. “I was hoping you’d offer, partner.”

“We don’t know for certain Vic is involved.”

“Except the incriminating file is hidden under
his
desk.”

“I know.” Sally paused for another yawn. “But it’s still circumstantial, just like Leo’s suicide.”

“You sure talk like you watch TV.”

“My cousin Maggie went to law school at U. of L.”

“I didn’t know that. Does she practice?”

“Not since she started a family, although I think she keeps up. She hasn’t even sat for the Bar yet. She was married before graduation. I guess a law career just isn’t a priority.”

“Seems a waste, though, to prepare yourself for a career, then not use it.” That’s why he could never give up financial management. He’d studied and worked too hard. Sacrificed too much. His dad would be so proud to learn about the promotion. But then, he never would. Joe’d never be able to tell his dad anything now.

He caught the shrug of Sally’s shoulders in his peripheral vision. “I don’t know. Maggie always tells me the important thing is to be happy.”

“Is she happy?”

“One of the few truly happy people I know, which is one reason we don’t hang out much anymore. The last nine years have been a strain on her patience with me.”

“Because you aren’t happy?”

“As you pointed out, I’ve indulged in my share of pity parties. You’re probably the only one who understands that it’s about me and Dad more than about me and my leg.”

“That’s because I’m the only one you’ve told. I still think you need to talk with your father.”

“Easier said than done. But you’ve got me thinking about it.”

“I hope so. Don’t wait until it’s too late to make things right with your dad, Sally.”

“Like you did?” Her voice softened. “Is that what you’re thinking?”

“You’re very perceptive or I’m transparent.”

“Neither. I just heard the ache in your voice. You’re hurting, too, Joe, just like me. But from what you’ve told me, you shouldn’t feel guilty.”

“I just wish I’d come home a few more times. Talked with him. I want more time with him, dammit!”

“How many more times should you have come home? Once a month?”

“Huh? What are you getting at?”

“I mean, how much more time would’ve been enough? Don’t you see? If you’d seen him once a month, you’d wished you’d seen him every weekend. I went through this over my mother, even though I was just a kid when she died. It’s part of grieving to have those regrets.”

“I seldom came home, Sally. I did well to chat with him on the telephone once a month. And I had to program a follow-up in my electronic organizer to remind me to do even that.”

“Sounds like you’re organized, not thoughtless.”

“Consumed with my own life, self-centered is more like it.”

“You know, you beat yourself up more often than I do. Is there unfinished business, something you wish you’d told him or apologized for?”

Joe swallowed hard, the admission clogging his throat. His eyes burned. Stress and fatigue were taking their toll. Surely he wasn’t turning sappy.

“Remember I told you that Dad called and said he could use my expertise with his business?”

“Sure.”

“I didn’t tell you what
I
said, how I treated him. I cut him off, assuming he meant for me to give up my job and work for him. With hindsight, I think he was talking about an isolated problem, like the trouble we’ve uncovered. I’ll never know.” The confession shook him. He’d never admitted his regret to anyone until now, not even himself.

“He didn’t push it?”

Joe shook his head. “He’d never pressured me before and I had no reason to snap at him. But the timing of his call was really bad and I took it out on him.”

“So your last words with your dad were angry words?”

“Not angry, but not patient, either. I treated him as if he were interrupting my oh-so-busy-and-important life.”

“Oh, boy. What a load of guilt you’ve been hauling around.”

He sighed. “I can’t un-do it. If only I’d made just a little time for Dad.”

“Don’t beat yourself up with
if onlys
. Try to remember the good times with your dad. He’d want you to.”

“I—I can’t remember telling him I loved him. It just seemed awkward. Un-macho.”

She wrapped her fingers around his arm. “Oh, Joe, we’re all guilty of that. I bet he knew you loved him, whether you actually said the words. You loved him, or you wouldn’t have bothered setting up a monthly reminder to call him.”

Her simple words soothed him. “You give me more credit than I deserve, Sally.”

“I’ve never met a more tender, sensitive man than you, Joe Desalvo.” She squeezed his arm. “And macho, too.”

He chuckled, the serious mood lightened. Sally had a gift for that, in spite of her own troubles. She radiated a joy of life that seemed at odds with her self-deprecating remarks. She used her sense of humor to cope, and help him cope, too. “Thank you. I mean that.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

And what was he going to do without her?

Sunday morning, Sally scribbled a To-Do list while eating her bowl of cereal. After opening the shop Monday, she needed to drop off Monette’s dress at the cleaners, swing by the auto supply for gaskets, then stop by Ellen Kennedy’s house. Joe hadn’t told her not to. If she didn’t like the answers the woman gave her, she wouldn’t tell Joe anything about it.

His grief over his father’s death had just begun. Joe didn’t need to conjure up non-existent regrets. He had a plateful of remorse already. Sally could understand that. She also understood her need to help him through it. His aches were her aches, as corny as that sounded. That’s what happened when you loved someone.

His aches were her aches
. Was that how it was for Dad? Did the scars on her leg cause him insufferable pain because he loved her so much? If Joe hadn’t planted the notion in her head, she never would’ve considered it. If only Joe would stay, Sally knew they could help each other to heal. But he couldn’t be there for her if he lived in Atlanta, nor could she give up her business here.

So what kind of future did she have with Joe? She’d seen through his evasion tactics the night before. He didn’t want them to become lovers. That’s why they’d gone to the main house instead of his room. That’s why he’d not followed through with buying condoms. A few days ago, Sally would’ve misinterpreted his behavior as rejection. Now she only loved him more for trying to protect her heart.

Her father creaked down the stairs. He picked up the Sunday paper folded beside his place setting, where Sally always left it for him. Catching the chair leg with his foot, he dragged it from the table.

“Good morning, Dad. You want cereal or shall I make French toast?” As a child, she’d eaten French toast every Sunday they’d been home. It had been nine years since they’d eaten French toast together. Would he remember?

He settled into the chair, his gaze locking on hers. “Cereal is fine.”

She handed him the box of Raisin Bran. “I’ll get the milk.”

He mumbled something that passed as thanks while pulling out the Comics.

After Sally poured coffee, she pushed aside her empty bowl and cleared her throat. “Dad, I want to thank you for all you’ve done this week at the shop.”

“You’re paying me.”

“That’s right. But it’s a load off my mind to have someone I can trust look out for the place.”

At the word “trust,” Justin narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing. What was that about?

“Anyway, I appreciate it.”

Nothing but silence. This was harder than she thought. She’d wanted to talk to him, really talk, as Joe had suggested. Even civil conversation seemed beyond them. How would she ever get him to open up?

The ringing telephone broke the awkward silence. Sally answered.

“Can you meet me for lunch?” The sound of Joe’s sexy voice accelerated her pulse.

“When and where?”

“I’m going to the hospital to see Grandma, so let’s meet at the Mall.”

“At the food court?”

“No, at the tea room. We need privacy. I want to show you what I found.”

Her curiosity piqued, Sally agreed on a time to meet Joe before hanging up. As she hurried to her bedroom to get dressed, her father’s words startled her.

“Are you meeting Joe Desalvo?”

“That’s right. Why?”

“You don’t need to be out by yourself right now.” The newspaper hid his face.

“Why don’t you go with me?” After all, she and Joe had nothing to hide from her father. He knew about Roy’s murder, the shooting, the hit and run attempt. “Please?”

Apparently, the “please” did the trick. “I’ll ride with you, but I’ll get lost after you meet up with him.”

“As far as I’m concerned, Dad, you can stick around. You aren’t intruding.”

Sally came as close as physically possible to skipping down the hall to her room. She punched the air. Yes! Progress.

Joe’s mind ran through a conglomeration of thoughts as he drove toward the mall to meet Sally. His need to see her, to share his latest discovery with her, should have disturbed him the most. The more time he spent with the woman, the closer the bond. He’d neither wanted nor needed any bonds when he’d met her.

And now? Recalling their night of sex, he shook his head in wonder. What a surprise. Sally Clay, warm and passionate, touched him as no woman ever had. Had he really believed he’d protected their hearts by not going all the way? A mere technicality. In the daylight hours, lying in the sheets where her rose-scented perfume lingered, he’d faced the truth.

They’d made love that night.

Now, he could hardly wait to see her again. No way in hell could he stop the runaway ride. Full speed ahead, he was falling—no, make that
had fallen
—for the remarkable female mechanic with the stubborn chin and sexy mouth.

He parked, then hurried to the mall’s second level in search of the tea room. In search of Sally. Riding the escalator, he scanned the second level. No sign of Sally, but Justin Clay stood outside the tea room, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. Nodding at Joe, he sauntered away.

Joe pushed past customers crowding the counter, dodged the displays of china teapots and mugs, then slipped into the chair opposite Sally. She greeted him with a smile, her eyes shiny and wide. Wearing her hair swept back as she had for the Derby Ball dramatized her eyes. Or maybe it was the shaping of her eyebrows. All he knew was beneath the mechanic’s overalls hid a beautiful and genuine woman.