Secrets (53 page)
For the second time that day her legs almost went out. The day Sam and Charlie “fought,” did he see her scraped face and swollen lips? He did not want her hurt; she knew that. And he’d taken those two on his crew when they split. But he wanted her tough. Had he thought he could make her strong enough to resist Mom’s condition? Did he think strength of will honed by harassment could help her withstand disease?
Lance curled his hand around her waist, no doubt sensing her distress. The complete and total opposite of Dad. Lance let her express hurt and showed her his own. Tears filled her throat. She had made him her partner, but was that fair? He didn’t know how much she was coming to need him. Or how much she might.
I
t took more strength than she had to get a cup of tea, but Lance brought her one, then crouched beside her sofa, wrists resting on his knees. Evvy glanced at Rese standing in the doorway, a little stiff and uncomfortable. Death did that. Left people without words.
But not Lance. Once he had gotten her home, he had repeated Ralph’s final phrase with reverence, told her about his grandparents and their great love and the meaning those words had for them. Some people might have hesitated to tell her a love story when she’d just lost her leading man, but he understood the temporal nature of their separation, and she appreciated that.
Evvy swallowed the lump that seemed to fill her throat. She would think of Ralph; she would cry. But it wouldn’t be much different from other days since he’d moved into the home. She’d been bedfellows with loneliness too long for any surprises there. Unfortunately, her body still went through the process. Her legs would not hold her, and the two young people had helped her to the bathroom where Rese had seen her inside.
They didn’t realize that even if she fell and broke a hip, it was only one more step toward the inevitable. She was the oldest of her gang and tired of waiting in line while others entered before her.
I don’t mean to complain, Lord, but haven’t I done my time?
She often thought James had the best of it, to leave this world with all his dreams intact. But then, they’d probably been shattered by the war in a way she couldn’t begin to imagine. Hers had simply faded, just as she had faded. But there she was, giving in to melancholy.
“This is the day the Lord
has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
She reached over and patted Lance’s arm. “You’ll get a crick in your knees, my boy, and they don’t last forever.” Her voice hitched with tears.
He covered her hand with his. “What else can I get you?”
She shook her head. “Not a thing. Just take your girl home and cherish her. That house needs some joy.” The tenderness in his squeeze transferred comfort that climbed from her hand to her heart and remained. “You’re a good man, Lance Michelli. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Do I look like they might?”
She laughed. “Frankly, yes. A bit of the buccaneer about you.” He shook his head. “I keep getting that.”
She couldn’t sustain the humor. She might know in her head that a reunion was in store, but her heart had still been hollowed like a harvest pumpkin. Her lips trembled. “Go on, now. I’ll be—” The thought halted. Now? When she had so little energy for it?
But she turned to Rese. “There is but one thing that stands. Put your trust in the Lord. When all others fail, He will never fail you.”
She couldn’t tell if the words sank in. That girl could rival the sphinx. “Of course, you have to admit your need.” Something had made Rese Barrett too self-sufficient by far. Evvy sank back. She might be looking in the mirror.
Lance set a paper on the side table. “That’s my cell phone number and the inn’s. If you need anything…”
She nodded. “Michelle and others from the church will be by to check on me. Never fear. I’ll be running them off with my cane.”
Lance rose to his feet, and Rese straightened in the doorway. Did she realize what she had, that girl? But then, did anyone? As they walked out the door, she turned her thoughts heavenward. “Whatever it is you intend for me, you’d best be about it. Or I just might show up unexpectedly.”
Not that anything could surprise the author and finisher of not only her faith, but every detail of her existence. As the tears came, she hungered for the joy Ralph knew, the vigor with which he would embrace heaven, and the awe he would find before the throne.
Lance pressed the trowel into the dirt, thankful for a few moments alone. He’d smoothed things over with Rico yesterday, not accepting his suspicions about Tony, but admitting his own attempts to measure up. They had needed to explode, maybe, to find a fresh balance, just as he needed to square up all the rest.
He had planned to go down and search the cellar last night to find whatever there was once and for all, but Rese was sleepless again, and they had talked long into the morning hours. She was serious about him managing the inn, but she had good instincts about advertising and community awareness.
She was used to word-of-mouth promoting, and her previous profession had been almost exclusively referrals. He liked her belief in doing something so well people couldn’t help but talk about it. His being her key to doing the inn well had him a little concerned. Sure, he had the ability, but was that his purpose?
Lance shook his head. God had directed him more clearly to this point than ever before. If it was muddled now, he’d done it. But what could he have done differently? He couldn’t let Rese face her crisis alone. Jesus wouldn’t have abandoned her to pursue His own agenda. The caring that came was out of his control. He could no more stop feeling than breathing.
But he hadn’t had to act on it. He hadn’t needed to show her how he felt; he’d wanted to. He’d wanted her to need him, wanted her to want him. She’d been the biggest challenge yet, hard and sufficient, caustic and dominating. But he’d won her over.
He’d been willing to take advantage of the situation, to get what he needed for Nonna. He would even have left Rese without help, if he’d found his answers right away. But something in her had called to him, something he couldn’t ignore. And the more he let her into his heart, the less certain his purpose became.
He had wondered if he’d find someone who could still the restlessness. Tony had married Gina at twenty-two. Monica and Lucy were younger than that. Sophie—well things hadn’t worked out too well for Sophie in the marriage department. Not that he was looking to marry Rese—his hand slipped from the trowel into the dirt.
Partners, sure. He had control of the inn, the property that had been Nonna’s. They had drafted their agreement last night, and Rese had faxed it to her attorney. But marriage? He was not sure he could ever pull that off. It took someone like Tony, who always got things right. Someone who knew his place in the world, not a wandering gypsy looking for meaning in every face he helped.
The gravel ground on the driveway under the wheels of Star’s yellow Volkswagen, back from wherever she’d been since their Chinese dinner. He stood the trowel in the front bed he was planting with verbena and sat back on his heels as she climbed out. “Hey, Star.”
She was not the same girl who had presented his painting the other night. Her eyes were too bright, her fingers trembling as she closed her car door and approached, wearing a white, gauzy dress falling in layers that ended at her knees. The bruise on the side of her neck could mean a lot of things, but he wasn’t naïve enough to assume most of them. As she squatted next to him and breathed in the scent of the flowers, he noted the fine blue veining through the brown and reddened skin and the finger marks on the other side.
“What happened?”
“Does it show?” She had to know it did, and she could have hidden it with a scarf if she didn’t want him to notice. “Rese’ll kill me.”
“She’s less homicidal than she used to be.” And whoever had bruised Star seemed the more likely candidate. Her hair smelled musty and hadn’t been brushed in a while. “Who hurt you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He pressed a line of white through the bruise as a slow anger grew inside. “Are there more?”
The breeze caught her flimsy dress and flattened it to her body—hiding signs of battering?
“Was it Maury?”
She blinked slowly and her brow pinched. “It hurt him more than me.” Lance swore. Star shot him a glance, surprised by his vehemence. But how many times would he hear that lie and be expected to swallow it?
“I shouldn’t have told you.” She wilted.
“Kind of hard to miss choke marks.”
“He didn’t mean to.”
Lance stared at her. If he didn’t gravitate to women in need, he wouldn’t see all the ugliness. There were good, strong relationships out there, built on love and respect, women who were cherished. Did Star even know that?
“Don’t tell Rese. She’ll lecture me on respect.”
“She’ll see it herself.”
Star shook her head. “I’m just getting my clothes.”
He caught her wrist before she could stand. “Stay here, Star. Don’t go back.” The thought of her returning to that guy burned. He slid his grip to her hand and softened it. “Look at me.” She did, and there was a pathos in her that clenched his insides. “You’ve been assaulted. You should press charges.” But he knew in that sick, tight place that she would not do it.
“He just couldn’t let me go.” A corrosive brilliance illuminated her eyes. She needed to believe that. In those words was a want so deep no amount of pain would compare, the want of a love that couldn’t let go. And she thought she’d found it in an abusive man.
Lance fought the building rage and the helplessness that came with it. What could he say? “This guy is not what you need, Star.”
“Yeah, well…” She glanced sidelong. “Is that an offer?”
She knew the answer, but this was exactly how Tony must have felt with Gabbi and countless others. Too much need for any one man.
Lord, help me help her without compromising
. He stood up, drawing her with him. “Stay here and heal.”
The expression on her face speared him. “ ‘Tis healthy to be sick sometimes.’ ”
He was losing her; he could see it. “Not like this. You don’t—”
The burgundy van pulling in broke his thought. Chaz and Rico. Great. He let go of Star, half-expecting her to bolt, but she stood there as they parked and got out, and he realized with silent amusement that they had blocked her in.
Chaz was driving. He would have been aware of Star’s car and was courteous to a fault, yet he’d maneuvered in behind her. He came around the van, now, with a broad smile and a slow wave. But it was Rico who had caught Star’s attention. Not unusual, and not unusual that Rico had likewise fixated. But it was definitely unusual to have it all on the heels of a prayer.
Rese slid the chisel deeper, breathing in the scent of cut wood like perfume. Was it working with the wood she loved, or avoiding everything else? In her zone she could pretend no one wanted to hurt her, no one wanted her dead. In her zone every detail was controlled. She had power over what occurred; even a mistake could be modified. But a mistake in life could be final. That was why she’d worked so hard to maintain order, discipline, respect.
The wood did not resist. It allowed her to express herself, lent itself to her talent. But she could not have relationship with wood. She had thought it didn’t matter. She could live alone, run the inn for strangers who would pay the bills but not interfere, not expect something she couldn’t give or reject what she had. But Lance had exposed her inadequacy there.
She dreaded the small talk he handled with ease. He said it wasn’t small talk; it was little connections, a touching of lives that might never cross again but had come together for that moment. He saw every minute as part of the pattern of life, and he wanted that pattern as full and intricate as he could make it.
Watching him reconcile with Rico had almost brought tears when she realized Rico had slandered Tony. She knew how that must have hurt, but Lance reestablished their tie, took Rico back to his heart as he’d taken her every time she hurt and offended him. She’d never had that before.