Take Me Home (10 page)

“Oh,” she said, doing a little stutter step when she saw the car on the gravel driveway. A dark-green Range Rover, shining as though newly waxed, stood where she had expected a pickup truck. “Nice car.”

“It’s big and useful.”

Like you
, she almost said.

“I really wanted a Porsche,” he said, “but I got leg cramps during the test drive.”

Claire’s laugh was pure amusement as she pictured Tim levering his substantial frame into the tiny interior of the sports car. “I think you’d have to get one custom built.”

“Now why didn’t I think of that?”

She was surprised to see his eyes light up with serious intent. He truly
did
want a Porsche. She realized that being so large imposed limitations she had never considered. Flying coach must be sheer torture for him.

He walked her around the car and opened the door for her, giving her a little boost up onto the high step. When he carefully tucked the voluminous folds of her skirt out of range of the door-frame, her delight at the gesture put extra warmth into her thanks.

He responded with one of his slow, safe smiles before he closed the door.

As he came around the car, she settled herself in the capacious leather seat and traced the elegant woodwork while admiring the fancy sound system. This was a high-end model—and a new one. Maybe Tim
could
afford the Castillo. Not that she was selling it.

The other door opened, and Tim slid into the driver’s seat without bothering to use the car’s running board. He started the engine before reaching into his jacket pocket and sliding a pair of tortoiseshell glasses onto his nose.

“I’ve never seen you in glasses before,” Claire said.

“Just for driving. Too much staring at the computer screen, according to my ophthalmologist,” he said, turning to give her a rueful look.

“They suit you.” The transformation was striking. Between the tailored clothes and the stylishly intellectual glasses, he looked like a man with lots of initials after his name. Even his unruly forelock seemed to fall onto his forehead in a more restrained fashion. She still had an urge to brush it back, but his altered appearance and the intense moment by her couch had pushed the intimidation factor up several notches. Her impulse to touch him was easier to squelch.

“You’re not really a simple country vet, are you?” she said as he put the big SUV into gear. “I mean, look at these speakers! They probably cost more than my entire car did.”

Tim slowed down so he could look over at his passenger. Her brown eyes were smiling, so he decided she wasn’t criticizing him.

“What about you?” he asked. “You look like you’re from the big city, but you have that little touch of country in your voice. There are some hidden layers there too.”

“I thought I’d lost my accent,” she said. “Everyone here says I sound like ‘one of those uppity New Yorkers.’ ”

“They aren’t paying as much attention as I am.”

He saw her look down at her hands where they clutched her purse amidst the billows of purple skirt and realized he’d made her nervous for the second time tonight.

The first time had been when she’d licked her lips. As a scientist, he knew it was an unconscious response triggered by his half-joking scrutiny, but as a man, it had made him want to follow her tongue with his own. He’d seen the flicker of hesitation in her eyes and tamped down his reaction. He had learned that his physical size sometimes made his mental sharpness overwhelming to people. He’d have to be more careful, or Claire would run right away.

“That’s a real pretty dress,” he said to defuse the tension. He didn’t know much about clothes, but he knew this outfit was different from her usual sleek, sophisticated gallery attire. It reminded him of glamorous old movie stars. He liked the softness and grace of it.

Anais had been a chameleon, changing her persona daily even when she wasn’t onstage. She would transform everything: her gestures, her posture, her speech patterns. He was never sure who he would wake up with every morning.

He was reassured that Claire still moved and sounded like herself.

“Thank you. My nieces helped me pick it out,” she said, fiddling with one large black button. “That reminds me—Holly was curious about how you got reservations at the Aerie on such short notice. You said you called in a favor?”

“The chef has a German shepherd who tangled with a bear last year. I sewed up a few gashes, and he told me to call anytime I wanted to eat there.”

The dog was nearly dead when chef Adam Bosch had carried him into Tim’s office with tears streaming down his face. Tim had worked on the bloodied creature for three hours before he was sure the dog would pull through. Bosch had sent him a case of Opus One wine and an open invitation to dine at the Aerie anytime he wanted to.

This was the first time Tim had taken him up on the offer.

“I guess being the local vet has its advantages,” she said. “It’s sort of like the town doctor. People are grateful to you for taking care of their loved ones.”

“It’s better than being the town doctor because people don’t have to be embarrassed that I’ve seen them without their clothes on,” he said.

“Oh yes, as a teenager, I always blushed when Dr. Wiley said hello to me anywhere outside of his office.”

“My patients, on the other hand, greet me with big, sloppy kisses.”

Her laugh was silvery, a contrast to the slight throatiness of her speaking voice. He was emboldened to shift to a more significant topic. “Since I can’t have the Castillo, you’re going to have to find me something just as good for my new house. When I chose a building site with a great view, I set up a problem for myself.”

“Competition?”

“In a nutshell.”

“That happens a lot in Manhattan apartments. The spectacular views of the cityscape make mediocre art hanging near them look even worse. Here most people find Len Boggs’s work a complement to the scenery.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think the fellow’s got plenty of talent, but I’m a scientist, and his style is a little too impressionistic for me.”

“Hmm, I can think of a couple of possibilities that I can pull out the next time you’re in the gallery. So where is your great view?”

“Near the summit of Flat Top Mountain. The house is still under construction, but there’s enough finished so I can live there.”

“Doesn’t the noise and mess drive you crazy?”

“I’m not there during the day, and at night, it’s quiet. I like coming home to my own place and seeing the mountain ridges stretching out to the horizon. It makes my troubles feel smaller.”

He hadn’t meant to say that
.

“Sharon says that’s why they call it Sanctuary,” Claire said. “People come here to take refuge from their troubles.”

“And the folks who already live here, what do they do?”

“I guess they tell their troubles to one of Sharon’s whisper horses,” she said, her skirt rustling as she shifted in the seat.

A faint scent of citrus and rose tantalized his nostrils. Tim took a deep breath, savoring the clean floral fragrance.

“It felt good to come back here,” he said. “Like wading into a cool mountain stream after being hot and sweaty and chewed up by horseflies.”

“Not for me,” she murmured, turning away to stare out her window.

“What did it feel like to you?”

Dozens of trees flashed past before she said, “An admission of failure.”

He understood that she had admitted something to him she didn’t let on to many people, so he thought for a moment before speaking. “I don’t see it that way.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that,” she said, touching his sleeve in a feather-light gesture of apology. “Home doesn’t mean that to most people.”

“I’m not offended. I’m interested. You held a trusted position at a big art gallery in New York City. You came here to help out your sister when she became ill. Where’s the failure in that?”

“Didn’t you work very hard to get into college? Didn’t you think that, once you left Sanctuary, you would never come back? Didn’t you believe that you really didn’t belong here?” Her voice grew more passionate with each question.

“Yes, but I see things differently now. I have different resources to draw on.”

“I guess I don’t. As soon as Holly is on the mend, I’ll be heading back to the bright lights.”

He was surprised at the stab of regret he felt. Claire intrigued him. He liked the New York edge softened by her mountain twang. She was smart and sophisticated, but grounded in ways most of his wife’s friends in the city hadn’t been.

“I have a dream job waiting for me there,” she continued, “opening a new branch gallery for Henry Thalman.”

“No wonder you want to get back. He’s top of the heap in art dealers.” He considered how powerful the lure of that position would be to someone in Claire’s field. She wouldn’t linger in Sanctuary with that prospect in her future. He slowed down to negotiate an especially sharp turn and changed the subject again. “How’s your sister doing?”

“She still has a lot of joint pain, and she gets exhausted very quickly. The doctor says it may take a year to get back to normal. I guess you know that Lyme disease is hard to diagnose, so she didn’t start on antibiotics until it was pretty advanced.” She seemed about to say something more, so he waited. Then she gave a tiny shake of her head and remained silent.

A sign indicating the turn to the Aerie flashed white in the dusk, and he steered the big car onto the narrow road. A muffled trill of electronic notes sounded from Claire’s purse.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, digging out a cell phone. “I leave this on in case Holly needs me.”

The number on the phone’s screen had her pushing the
Answer
button immediately. “It’s Holly. She wouldn’t call if it weren’t urgent. Hello?”

It wasn’t Holly; it was Brianna, whispering. “Aunt Claire? I’m scared Papa’s going to hurt Mama. He’s yelling at her, and I just heard a noise like glass breaking.”

For a moment, Claire couldn’t grasp what the little girl was talking about. “Brianna, sweetie, where are you?”

“In Mama’s bedroom. She told us to come here after Papa came in. Now they’re in the kitchen, but I can hear them. I’m afraid he’s going to hit her again.”

“He hit her?” She was still trying to comprehend what Brianna was telling her.

“Not yet, I don’t think. It was another time when they had a fight.”

Suddenly, the bruises Holly blamed on Lyme disease took on a horribly different significance. Claire shook her head to clear the panic that threatened to cloud her thinking.

“Brianna, I want you to take Kayleigh and go to that little secret storage space in your closet. Be very quiet when you go down the hall, and take the phone with you. Tell me when you’ve gotten there safely.”

“Okay.”

Claire was concentrating so hard on what she was hearing through the phone that she had forgotten she was in a car until
it swerved sharply. She looked up to see that Tim had reached a slightly wider spot in the road and was turning the big vehicle around as quickly as he could in the limited space. She threw him a grateful glance.

“Brianna, are you there, sweetie? I just wanted to let you know that I’m on my way over there. Everything will be all right.”

Claire winced as the muffled sound of a man shouting came through the receiver. She braced herself against the door as Tim took the mountain road’s sharp turns at a significantly higher speed than he had during their leisurely ascent. He must have figured out the urgency of the situation from her side of the conversation.

“Okay, Aunt Claire, we’re in the closet,” Brianna whispered. “Mama and Papa didn’t notice us.”

“You did really well, sweetie. You’re a very smart, brave girl. I have to hang up for a few minutes so I can get there faster. If you get scared or something else happens, call me back. I’ll be there very soon.”

“All right, but hurry. I don’t want Papa to hurt Mama.”

“Oh God!” Claire said, dropping her head in her hands for a brief moment after she disconnected. Holly’s situation was so much worse than she had ever dreamed. The car banked hard left, and she grabbed for the Jesus handle, saying, “Thank you for turning around so quickly.”