Читать книгу Discovering You - Brenda Novak - Страница 13

6

Rod was mowing the lawn. India could see him from the window above her sink, where she was doing dishes. She had a hard time looking away, especially once his T-shirt grew damp and he took it off. He wrapped it around his head to block the sun, which wasn’t the most attractive way to wear a shirt, so she knew he wasn’t trying to show off.

That certainly didn’t detract from his appearance, however. His bare chest and arms... Holy cow! As much as she’d loved Charlie and would never have tried to change him, she had to admit he hadn’t looked like that. He couldn’t; he didn’t spend enough time outdoors, didn’t do anything physical. He was too busy concentrating on his patients and his career. They’d even had a yard service.

She didn’t realize she was no longer washing dishes—that she was only staring—until her phone buzzed. Then she finally looked away. She’d been trying to reach her in-laws to tell them about the DA’s decision, and now they were getting back to her.

After drying her hands, she turned from the window and hit the talk button.

“Hello?” She went into the living room so she wouldn’t be tempted to watch Rod anymore. Charlie was dead, but somehow she still felt guilty about the things she thought and felt whenever she encountered her neighbor. She knew the Sommerses wouldn’t appreciate the fact that another man had that kind of effect on her. She’d have to remain single for a long time in order to convince them that she’d loved Charlie and wouldn’t have done anything to hurt him.

“India? It’s Claudia,” her mother-in-law said. “How are you, sweetheart?”

The endearments Charlie’s mother bandied about could be so misleading. India wished they were sincere. Since she’d never really had a father, and she’d lost her mother when she was still young, she often felt a childlike craving for the love of a good parent.

But experience had taught her that Claudia’s sweetheart, honey and darling were mere words. Claudia tried to like her because she’d meant so much to Charlie, but on some level, she couldn’t help blaming India, as India blamed herself, for what Sebastian had done. The defense attorney had made her look so bad. India had felt her in-laws’ loyalties weakening as witness after witness claimed she’d called Sebastian several times, which she had, but only for moral support because he’d been talking about suicide, that she was probably still in love with him—given their history—and that they were planning to run away together once she inherited the money. As a result, relations between her and Charlie’s parents were strained and had been for months, although they all tried to pretend they were as close as ever.

“I’m fine,” India said, despite the fact that she felt as if she was living from minute to minute. “And you?”

“Busy. Little Cassia and I went to the thrift store today and bought an old trunk that we filled with whatever toys she wanted. Guess what she picked?”

“A ball of some kind?” India knew it wouldn’t be anything too girlie. Cassia preferred to be outside playing with boys and had no interest in Barbies or dress-up.

“Yes. We got her a tee to hit off and some other sports stuff but no dolls. She’s such a tomboy.”

A twinge of jealousy had India gritting her teeth. Cassia was her daughter, damn it. India wanted her back. And yet she couldn’t push, not if Sebastian was free. He could be looking for her this very minute. It wasn’t as if she’d moved far away. Her in-laws had insisted she remain fairly close so they could continue to be a big part of Cassia’s life.

But right now India felt they were too involved. A whole month without her daughter was beginning to feel like an eternity.

“I’ll bet she loved that,” she said, carefully modulating her voice to sound congenial and appreciative. “You’re such a good grandmother.”

“It’s been wonderful spending time with her. I can’t tell you how much fun we’re having. And I’m sure it’s made things easier for you. Moving is such a big job.”

India gripped the phone tighter. “Yes, but I’m pretty well finished.”

“You’re all settled, then?”

“Except for hanging the paintings. I...I’m not ready for that.”

There was a moment of silence. “Charlie bought you a lot of art.”

“Yes. He knew how much I loved it.” She closed her eyes. “I miss him so much.”

She hadn’t intended to say that last part. The words had just welled up and slipped out. They came from a place of pain and deep regret, but she could tell from Claudia’s hesitation that her mother-in-law didn’t know whether to trust her.

“We all do,” she said. She spoke stiffly, as if she was the only one who really missed him.

After that India found herself gravitating to the window to see if Rod was still out. The fact that she was ogling another man almost made her believe she must be as fickle as her mother-in-law suspected. But admiring him helped combat some of her anger, disappointment and fear.

Too bad he was mowing on the far side of the house where she couldn’t see him...

“Will you be coming soon, to check out my new place?” she asked Claudia.

“Not before we bring Cassia home. Steve’s too busy with his new victims’ charity. We’ve been putting together a golf tournament, and it’s taking hours and hours out of every day.”

India caught her breath. “You could always bring Cassia home early if you need to concentrate on other things. That would be no problem for me. I’m basically moved in and ready.” She’d figure out some way to protect her...

“Oh, no. Cassia’s more important. We won’t let anything interrupt this month with our girl.”

India slowly released her breath. She’d taken advantage of the opportunity to try—because she knew as soon as she told Claudia that Sebastian was no longer in jail and might never return to custody, she’d probably have to battle her in-laws in court to get Cassia back. “Can I talk to her?”

“Of course.”

A momentary flash of hope shot through India, which Claudia immediately extinguished.

“But later,” she said. “She’s right in the middle of helping Papa make lunch. We’ll have her call you after, if we get the chance.”

If we get the chance... They wouldn’t call, and if India ever asked why, they’d invent some excuse. Charlie’s parents were so possessive of their granddaughter.

Now that India knew she wasn’t going to be speaking to her little girl, at least in this conversation, she moved on to the purpose of her call. “I got hold of Detective Flores earlier.”

“You did? I’ve called and called. I always get his darn voice mail. What’d he say? When’s the next trial?”

Rod came into view, the muscles of his left arm bulging as he carried the grass clippings to the green waste can. India put her hand to the window as if she could touch his warm skin or feel the solid thud of his heartbeat—as if such a strong man could shelter her in some way. But that was ridiculous. He was rough around the edges, much more like the ex-boyfriends who’d created so many problems for her in the past than true-blue Charlie.

“They’re waiting,” she told Claudia.

“I couldn’t hear you. What’d you say?”

India forced herself to speak louder. “They aren’t convinced they have enough evidence to get a conviction. They’d rather not risk a second trial, not until they’ve built a stronger case.”

Another long silence, this one filled with shock and anger.

India could identify with both of those emotions.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Claudia said when she spoke again.

“I’m afraid not.” India swallowed, trying to wet her tongue, to make it easier to speak. “But Detective Flores is hopeful that they’ll be able to bring him back to trial soon.”

“When?”

India watched Rod disappear around the corner of his house again. “They can’t give us a date. Yet.”

“Which means what? It may never happen? Is that animal going to get away with what he did to my son? He took a life! And not just any life—the life of someone who mattered!”

India winced. She’d often felt Claudia wished she’d been the one to die that night. There’d been times she’d wished the same thing...

“It’s heart-wrenching,” she said and prayed she’d put enough emotion into that statement. The Sommerses, and everyone else who knew Charlie, were always watching her and interpreting everything she said or did with such suspicion. She felt as bad as Claudia did about this most recent turn of events. But she couldn’t commiserate with her on the DA’s lack of action or show the doubt she had that Sebastian would eventually be brought to justice, because then her mother-in-law would start thinking about Cassia and the fact that she might not be safe living with her mother.

If India wanted her daughter back without a fight, she had to ignore her own despair and convince the Sommerses that this was only a temporary setback.

“It’s beyond heart-wrenching,” Claudia said. “There are no words for what we’ve suffered.”

That was true. The past eleven months had been hellish. And yet, for her own sake as well as Cassia’s, India had to keep herself together. She was fighting to do that. Charlie wouldn’t want them to be miserable, but this new hurdle...

India wasn’t sure how she’d get past it.

“They’ll find the gun,” she said. “That’s what they need. If they find the gun and they can link it to Sebastian, they’ll have him.”

“You knew Sebastian well,” Claudia said. “What could he have done with it? Where might he have put it?”

That night was a jumble of terror for India, but she could trace the gun through those memories because Sebastian had it in his hand, pointed at her, for so long. She’d spent hours believing he’d shoot her, and Cassia would be an orphan. “I told you. I told everyone. He took it with him when he ran out.”

“If they haven’t found it by now, they never will,” her mother-in-law said. “What more can they do that they haven’t already done? What more can we do? We hired that PI—little good it did us. He accomplished nothing, and the police haven’t been much better. Detective Flores will move on to other cases, and we’ll be left with our lives destroyed and Charlie’s killer running around free.”

“Please. Don’t talk like that,” India said. “We have to retain hope.”

“I have to go,” Claudia said abruptly.

India was afraid to let her hang up for fear of what she might decide. “I’m sorry about this, Claudia. I wish... I wish Detective Flores had given me better news, but...don’t assume the worst. We’ll see justice yet.”

“Is that what you think? Because there is no real justice. You get that, right? Even if Sebastian goes back to prison for life, we’ll still have to live without Charlie.”

“Which is hard to fathom. I know.”

“You do? Because sometimes I can’t help feeling...”

India’s stomach cramped at the sudden bite in Claudia’s tone. “Yes?” she prompted when her mother-in-law’s words fell off.

“As if you’re—”

Someone—her father-in-law?—spoke in the background, but India couldn’t make out the words.

“Never mind,” Claudia said instead of finishing.

That sudden reversal led India to believe Steve had anticipated what was about to come out of his wife’s mouth and admonished her against it.

“What?” India pressed, but she could guess. The Sommerses had questions about her involvement with Sebastian. They didn’t understand why she’d been associating with him again. If she hadn’t accepted him back into her life, none of this would’ve happened.

India wished she could explain. She’d tried, several times. But in light of what Sebastian had done, her reasons sounded lame. Everyone thought she, of all people, should’ve had some idea what he was capable of. Yes, she’d known he could be angry and unreasonable, even unpredictable. He’d gotten her in serious trouble when he robbed that liquor store on a whim. But he’d been young and impulsive, and he’d done what he could to make sure the police understood she’d played no part in it. That was why they hadn’t charged her. He’d apologized over and over for involving her that day.

Prison and the drugs he’d taken over the years had changed him more than she could ever have dreamed. She’d assumed he’d learned his lesson—and was just down on his luck. She’d also naively thought she could help him.

How she wished she’d never responded to that first message on Facebook. She’d been beating herself up over that ever since. At first she hadn’t understood why she’d allowed Sebastian to reconnect with her, either. But, unlike the Sommerses, she had no family. That made her hesitant to cast old friends aside, even if they’d once been boyfriends.

“We love Cassia,” Claudia said. “She’s all we have left of Charlie. Thank you for letting her stay with us.”

In other words, Charlie’s mother was biting her tongue in order to preserve the relationship. But the calm her in-laws affected almost worried India more than if they’d unleashed their anger and disappointment. So much turbulence churned under the surface of those “still waters,” probably more than she’d ever be able to overcome.

She feared where those powerful currents were carrying them...

“Of course. Cassia loves you. So do I,” she added, hoping to retake some of the ground they’d lost.

Her mother-in-law wasn’t receptive. “Good night” was all she said.

As Claudia disconnected, India let her head fall against the cool glass. It wasn’t until she heard the sound of a mower in her own yard that she remembered Rod.

She hurried out front to find him cutting her grass. “Rod!” she yelled, trying to flag him down.

When he finally heard her, he looked over.

“You don’t have to do this,” she shouted above the noise. “It’s getting a little overgrown, but I plan to buy a mower on Monday. I’ll take care of it then.”

“No big deal,” he said. “Won’t take long.”

He seemed more than capable in spite of his broken hand. And here in Whiskey Creek, neighbors probably did that type of thing for each other. But receiving even a small amount of kindness on the heels of that call with her in-laws brought a lump to India’s throat.

“Thank you,” she said and turned away before he could see the tears in her eyes.

* * *

That night, Cheyenne brought over some lasagna and garlic bread. While Natasha helped her serve dinner, Rod and his brothers tossed Kellan around, making him laugh and squeal. Cheyenne complained that they were getting him too riled up, but Rod could tell she liked the attention they paid him. Kellan certainly enjoyed the roughhousing.

“More,” he’d say whenever they stopped. It was about the only word he knew, besides Mama and Dada.

J.T. and Anya either heard the noise or smelled the food, because they entered the kitchen just as Cheyenne asked about their new neighbor.

“She’s all moved in,” Grady told her.

“I’d love to see the inside of the house now that it’s been renovated,” Cheyenne said, interested because she used to live there before she married Dylan.

“I bet she’d show you.” Mack handed out forks. Rarely were their meals formal occasions, with someone setting the table beforehand. They ate whenever they were hungry and fended for themselves or ordered out. Heaven forbid Anya would ever go to the trouble of cooking or doing the dishes, even though she didn’t work.

“You should stop by,” Grady said. “And get her number for me while you’re there. She’s freaking gorgeous.”

Cheyenne glanced up. “She’s single?”

“Not sure yet,” Mack said. “She’s wearing a wedding ring, but her husband hasn’t shown up. So...maybe he works out of the state or country.”

“He’s dead,” Rod announced.

Everyone looked at him.

“She told you that?” Mack asked.

“When she gave me a ride home last night.” Rod felt this would be the natural time to reveal that he’d be taking India to dinner tomorrow night. He’d heard Grady’s little joke about getting her number and didn’t want him or Mack to go on thinking she was fair game. But he didn’t speak up. He wasn’t sure his relationship with her would go anywhere and decided he’d wait and see how they got along before telling anyone. His brothers could be merciless; he wasn’t going to provide them with fresh ammunition.

“Why’d she give you a ride home?” Cheyenne asked. “Where was your truck?”

“She came across me after the fight, when I was trying to get help.”

“What was she doing out there so late at night? Was she at the bar, too?”

“No. She was on her way back from some art show.”

“Oh, art,” Grady said.

“Something wrong with that?” Rod asked.

Grady gave him a funny look. “Of course not. I’m just messin’ around. When did her husband die?”

“About a year ago.”

“So she’s available,” Mack said, and Rod felt himself stiffen—almost as much as Natasha did.

“She’s too old for you, bro.”

“But not for you.” Anya smiled like the Cheshire cat. “Is that why you mowed her lawn today?”

Rod hadn’t realized his stepmother had seen him. She usually stayed in her room all day, playing on the computer or watching TV. “Not necessarily. She doesn’t have a mower yet, so I figured I might as well do hers while I was doing ours.”

“And did she show you any appreciation?” J.T. joked, sending him a meaningful grin.

Rod didn’t care for the way his father talked about women since he’d been released from prison. “She thanked me, if that’s what you mean.”

“Is she nice?” Cheyenne asked.

“Seems like it,” he said.

Cheyenne took a bottle of salad dressing out of the box she’d used to transport all the food. “I’d like to meet her sometime.”

Grady sat down and dug into his meal before the rest of them could get a plate. “Why not tonight?”

Without Mack’s even asking, Natasha added a second piece of garlic bread to his plate, and Rod pretended he didn’t notice that whatever Mack received from Natasha was always the biggest and the best.

“Dyl’s getting home soon,” Cheyenne replied. “So I should head out.”

“Have him join us,” J.T said. “He hardly ever comes over these days.”

Rod suspected Anya’s presence had a great deal to do with that. Dylan liked her even less than the rest of them did.

“Can’t,” she said. “He has a baseball game.”

“We should go watch him play,” Anya suggested, but no one chimed in to encourage her.

Rod put Kellan down to accept his plate. “Thanks.” Since he wanted to speak to Cheyenne in private before she left, he hoped she wasn’t going to rush off.

“How’s your hand?” She nodded toward his cast.

“Throbbing like crazy,” he admitted.

“I made that apple crisp you like for dessert.” She winked. “Maybe that’ll help ease the pain.”

He leaned over to drop a kiss on her forehead. “Dylan got lucky the day he married you.”

“That’s what I keep telling him,” she teased.

“Will Aaron be at the game, too?” Mack asked.

“Should be,” she told them. “Dyl talked him into joining the team.”

Mack got up to get a beer and grabbed one for Rod, too. “Want to go over to the park?” he murmured so Anya and the others couldn’t hear.

Normally, Rod would’ve enjoyed seeing the game. But after being up so late, and everything he’d dealt with today, he was ready for bed. “Not tonight.”

Cheyenne put the dessert on the counter and started cleaning the spatula and serving spoons. “I’ll leave the rest of this here,” she said, indicating the leftover salad, lasagna and bread. “Just remember to take the dishes to Dylan tomorrow so he can bring them home.”

“I will,” Rod said.

She swung her son into her arms. “I’d better get going. I want to make sure Dyl has a chance to eat before he has to show up at the field.”

Rod wasn’t finished with his supper, but he stood. “I’ll walk you out,” he said so the others wouldn’t find it odd when he left the kitchen after only a few bites.

He caught up with his sister-in-law at the front door. “Before you go, could you do me a favor?”

She turned in surprise. “Of course.”

“Will you take a second to come up and look in my closet?”

“What for?” she asked.

He lowered his voice to make sure no one else could hear. Fortunately, they were all so busy eating, he didn’t think anyone was paying attention. “I have a date tomorrow.”

“And you want me to tell you what to wear? This girl must be special,” she said. “You’ve never asked for my help with that kind of thing before.”

He’d never felt so out of his element before. “She’s...different.”

“Special,” she confirmed with a grin. “Do I know her?”

He scratched his neck. “It’s our new neighbor.”

“Oh!” Her smile widened. “Why didn’t you speak up a second ago?”

“It’s one date,” he said with a shrug.

“But you’d like to impress her.” She wasn’t buying his nonchalance.

“I need to dress up a little, that’s all,” he said. “Her husband—the man who passed away—was a heart surgeon.”

“I see,” she responded. “So we’re going for sophisticated and respectable.”

At least Cheyenne seemed to be catching on to what he needed. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

She put down her son and linked her arm through Rod’s. “I have no doubt you’ll clean up nicely. Let’s go take a look.”