Читать книгу The Long Way Home - Cathryn Parry - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

BRUCE STARED DOWN at the woman he’d aimed for like a laser beam. She was tilting her head at him, focusing on him with those inquisitive blue eyes as if she were trying to figure him out. To other people that might be a good sign, but not to him. He didn’t want to actually talk to anybody about anything more important than an offer of champagne or a stroll on the beach.

He wanted a distraction. That was all.

He held the glass out again. “I can’t promise it’s a good year, but I can promise a decent toast from it.”

She smiled at him, a brilliant, relieved smile. “Then I’m glad I didn’t leave and miss the opportunity.”

Her voice was soft and pleasant-sounding. He had to lean forward to hear her, which was nice. She smelled great, something lush and sexy that came from soap or shampoo rather than perfume.

Once there, in her space, she didn’t shrink from him, and he didn’t back away.

He handed her the flute of champagne, his heart kicking up a notch. She accepted it with a small laugh, and for a moment their fingers brushed. Hers felt soft and slight, her nails short and free of polish.

She’s low-maintenance, was his automatic thought. Good.

He lifted his glass to her. “To getting to know you better.”

She gave him a smile that invited him in, like a blond Mona Lisa. He suddenly felt very predatory and very hungry. It had been...months since his last hookup, with an international flight attendant who led the same transitory lifestyle he did. They’d drifted apart, and he missed nothing about her but the sex. Maybe that was cold, but that’s who he was. He just didn’t feel things the way regular people did. Not anymore.

A shout went up from the dance floor. Maureen was dancing with her new husband and everyone was congratulating her.

“I hate these things,” he said to Natalie.

She blinked for a moment, and then smiled harder. “I know. I’d rather be somewhere else, too. With you, of course.”

“That’s heartening.”

She brought the flute to her lips and took a sip, so he did the same. The tart, bubbly taste jarred him. He wasn’t a champagne guy, but he drank a swallow, both of them watching each other over the rims of their glasses. The magnetism between them made his blood pump.

“We should probably toast the bride,” she said, licking the champagne off her lips.

He raised his glass. “To Maureen and Jimmy. May they have years of bliss ahead of them.”

Her gaze moved from his mouth to his eyes, then back to his mouth. She kept doing that, and it made his groin tighten. It also told him to keep going, that she was interested. “How was that for a toast?”

“Scintillating.” She lifted her glass and clinked it with his, her eyes sparkling. “And now it’s my turn. To bliss. May you have a good visit in Wallis Point.”

Yeah, right. If she only knew how short it would be. Then again, she was still looking at his mouth. Maybe she wanted him to stay for purely selfish reasons.

He could handle that.

He took a second drink of champagne and then put down the glass. “I’m Bruce,” he said. “And you’re a...friend of Maureen’s?”

Her brow furrowed. Her mouth opened then closed. Then she pressed her lips together and glanced toward Maureen.

Ah, hell. And they’d been doing so well.

“I’m Natalie,” she said finally. She was still staring at his mouth, so there was that. He needed to press on.

“Pleased to meet you, Natalie.” He held out his hand to shake hers, but she didn’t take it. For some reason, she looked disappointed.

“I’m up-to-date on all my shots,” he said to lighten the mood, “and I haven’t bitten anyone yet.”

Finally she smiled and took his hand, and he felt himself exhale. At the soft press of her flesh against his, he felt a thousand sparks within him.

She didn’t. Or maybe she did—he couldn’t tell because even though she gave his hand a halfhearted shake, her sharp blue eyes were focused on his mouth. It was confusing as hell. Maybe she wanted him to shut up and take her to her hotel room for some quick sex.

That was fine with him.

But first, they needed to stop dancing around the one clarification they needed to get out in the open.

“Look,” he said, steering her gently by the elbow away from some guests returning to their table with dessert plates. “I know you don’t know me from Adam, and that’s fine—it’s how I prefer it, too. But since you’re a friend of my sister’s, I need you to tell me how you know her, so at least there are no misunderstandings between us.”

Protecting his baby sister took priority over anything he would do in town during these few hours. Even over his own need to escape.

“What kind of misunderstandings?” she asked. At least it appeared she was considering his offer.

“I...” When I leave, you might get mad. It had been known to happen. She didn’t look like the stalker type—he didn’t get that vibe at all from her. His impression was that she was sweet and laid-back—exactly what he needed.

But a man with white hair was walking straight toward them. If Bruce wasn’t mistaken, he looked like his old elementary school principal. “How about we take a walk on the beach and sort this out?” Bruce asked.

She frowned. “It’s dark on the beach.”

Wasn’t that the point? He noticed, with alarm, that his niece Nina was skipping his way as well. “None of my family members or old teachers are there, either,” he quipped.

Her head tilted as she listened to him. But it was too late. Nina ran up to them and came to a stop. Natalie put her hands lightly on his niece’s head. “Hello, Nina.”

Shoot. She knew his family better than he’d assumed.

“Hi, Natalie! Uncle Bruce, will you come dance with me?” Nina pleaded. She hopped up and down, clinging to his hand with both her tiny ones.

Aw, hell.

“Dance with your niece,” Natalie said softly. It was noisy, and he had to lean close to hear her. Then she turned and smiled at the white-haired gentleman. “I’ll dance with Bill.”

He felt deflated. He couldn’t get a read on this woman, no matter how hard he tried. Altogether, nothing about her made sense. She’d come on to him, too, with her looks, her smiles. But then as soon as he’d asked how she knew Maureen, she’d turned...cautious.

But her expression was smooth, and she gave him no hint of trouble. Her face was...a mask. Happy-go-lucky. Agreeable.

Just not to him. Because as he stood there, staring, she walked off arm in arm with a guy two and a half times his age and a lot crankier. He didn’t get it.

She had snubbed him. And good.

But he picked up his niece, tossed her over her shoulder the way she adored and headed for his own dark corner of the dance floor.

Because here, in this moment, he had figured it out.

Natalie did know him from Adam. She knew all about him from the court of public opinion. Anybody in town could have told her. Hell, Maureen could have told her.

In the three-hundred-and-fifty-year-plus history of their little seaside town, he was probably the only guy who had ever been blamed for killing his best friend, and then leaving town before the funeral to pursue his own agenda.

He willed himself to turn cold inside, still and unfeeling. No guilt, no pain. He’d had lots of practice, and of all the things he was good at, this is what he did best.

Feeling dead, he held his niece’s hand as she twirled around and around, her puffy dress expanding like a top. This was a favorite game for the “princess cowgirl,” as she’d so seriously told him she wanted to be when she grew up, and though he loved her, he was afraid his heart had been pretty much burned out and shrunk to ash. There just wasn’t much of anything...meaningful...he felt moved to give anybody. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, even if he could. It just ended badly. The fact he’d shown up at Maureen’s wedding at all...well, that was about all he was capable of giving.

“Okay, princess,” he said, extricating himself when the song ended. “Let’s go find your mom.”

On the way to search for Maureen, he glanced to where she had been. Natalie. But she was gone.

* * *

HE HAD NO IDEA who she was.

Natalie walked on stiff legs across the crowded boulevard to the public beach. Overhead, a moon shone low and full. The waves lapped on the shore. A smattering of couples strolled along the wet sand at the waterline, lovers enjoying the first warm evening of this Memorial Day weekend, the symbolic opening of the season.

She’d had such high hopes with Bruce. She’d felt elated when he’d approached her, but then crushed that he didn’t remember her.

Even if he didn’t immediately recognize her—and she’d been willing to cut him some slack on that count—she had been the only “Natalie” in their small high school. There was no getting around the fact that he didn’t remember her at all.

She sat on the sand and wrapped her arms around her knees. The breeze felt good against her face, though she still felt an ache inside. She had never considered that Bruce might not attach the same significance she did to their meeting that night—the night she’d stolen the key and unlocked the door to the room in the funeral home where the body of Brian Faulkner lay after the car accident that had killed him.

She had crouched beside Bruce in that horrible place, which smelled of chemicals and was filled with fear. The room was lit only by a tiny penlight, because she was too afraid to turn on an overhead bulb and risk them being seen. She had witnessed how Bruce had cried, listened to everything he’d told her when she’d answered the door. And after he’d begged her, she’d promised she wouldn’t tell anyone. She’d thought she was special to him. Because of that, she’d never discussed with anyone how he had mourned, or how he’d sat with his friend’s body, alone in the dark, all night, until the attendants came to work in the morning.

And through that night, she’d learned that what everyone else had assumed was guilt was actually something else. Yes, Brian had died in a Mercedes stolen from the valet stand where Bruce worked. But Bruce wasn’t complicit; she was positive of that. After all, Brian had been alone in the car when he crashed.

For all she could see, it was obvious Bruce had not known about the stolen keys. He’d simply sat with his best friend, seeing his soul through the last of his ordeal, loyal to their friendship to the last. Everyone else in town saw guilt in his reactions, but Natalie recognized it as a heartfelt, bone-deep grief. One that came from losing his best friend.

She didn’t know how to connect with people on that level. She’d always tried—witness tonight’s silly attempt at flirtation with him—but the truth was, she was inept at achieving that kind of friendship or intimacy. She had always wished she could have heard what Bruce had whispered to his friend at the end. Maybe she would have some inkling of the secret.

But she’d never know what he’d said to him, because Natalie couldn’t hear very well.

That was her secret.

She stood and brushed the sand off her bottom. Now that she knew that she’d imagined the past connection with Bruce, she needed to move on. There was no point in considering him any longer; he would be leaving town soon, anyway.

Yes, it was true she was attracted to him physically. She could imagine what it would feel like to make love to Bruce Cole, to want that to happen, but it was a mistake to think about that now. She’d actually accomplished what she’d set out to do tonight, so she could forget Bruce Cole. She’d done everything Maureen had asked her to—she’d talked to him and made sure he danced with his niece when asked, just as Maureen had wanted. Natalie had fulfilled her end of the bargain. The rest was up to Maureen.

And, if there was one thing Natalie had learned today, it was that she needed to consider other ways to bring in business for her father’s law firm. She had an open house planned for next week—one that she hoped would net her more contacts. A lot of planning was required, and she needed to step that up.

She found her shoes and headed back to the hotel. Her parents hadn’t raised a rude daughter. She would gracefully say her goodbyes, and then extricate herself from a no-win situation. There was no one at this wedding she could help, and no one who could help her. Time to move on.

Still, she thought, as she pushed open the glass door to the hotel, it stung. It would probably always sting, but at least now she could chalk up the experience as one big lesson.

Stay practical.

* * *

BRUCE CIRCLED THE LOBBY three times, feeling unsettled. He’d danced with his niece for a few more songs, though it had taken all the effort he could muster to keep the numbness in place. Nina adored him and was begging him to stay. If he let her affect him, he would go crazy.

He needed to get out of here, now. Time to drive back to the airport hotel. He had a 6:00 a.m. flight out of Boston tomorrow.

But Maureen would never let him hear the end of it if he left without at least saying goodbye, so he had to stick around until he found her and his parents. He tried her cell phone but she wasn’t picking up—understandable since it was still her wedding reception—and nobody knew where she was.

On his fourth circuit of the lobby, his sister emerged from the elevator. Maureen had changed out of her wedding dress and into more casual clothes. In each hand she held the chubby fists of twin boys.

Jimmy’s kids from his first marriage. Maureen’s new stepsons.

For a moment, something seemed to break through Bruce’s self-imposed numbness. A faint tinge of...regret? He didn’t know the toddlers at all. He’d barely exchanged more than a hello with any of Maureen’s new in-laws. Heck, he’d barely spoken to Maureen.

That was for the best, wasn’t it?

He shook off the doubt. In the end, he made his way toward her, cognizant of the people in the vicinity, scanning their faces and wondering if he knew them.

But before he’d cleared the first set of lobby couches, Natalie appeared.

He faltered, then stopped. Why did this woman affect him so much? He couldn’t help sensing something...important with her, but that didn’t make any sense.

While he stood there, frozen by indecision, Natalie gave Maureen a quick hug. Then she knelt down to each boy and gave him a soft pat on the head.

Natalie was leaving the reception, too.

Without even knowing why, he switched directions to follow her. She was headed for the elevators that led to the parking garage. As he caught up to her, she stood before the closed doors, the down button lit up red.

He ambled up behind her. Leaned in close and said in a low voice, “I screwed up in there. What I meant to say is I think you’re beautiful, and you look amazing in that dress. Of all the people in that room, you stood out to me. You still do.”

The bell rang, the elevator door opened and Natalie walked inside. She didn’t turn. She didn’t look at him. She kept her face averted.

And then the doors closed, and he was left staring at his reflection in the stainless steel.

He began to laugh. If he’d been looking for a sign that he needed to get out of here, that was it. There was no place for him in this town. The old prejudices were still evident—why else would she have snubbed him? He was enough of a professional problem solver to know that some problems never got solved. They were just worked around.

He jiggled the car keys in his pocket and turned back to where Maureen had been. She was gone, but when he looked for her he found his brothers Mark and Mike instead, holding up one end of the bar, post wedding-reception.

Eight years older than him, his brothers had marched past forty with their trademark stoicism. Their only concession to a midlife crisis was that they’d each bought a boat they moored at the local marina. The two brothers ran Cole and Sons plumbing, and pretty much did everything together. They’d both married girls from their graduating high school class. They each had two kids apiece. Mark, two daughters, a toddler and an infant, while Mike had sons the same age. Their lives were mirror images of each other. Their dad was retired, but now and then when he was bored, he took a small job with them. Of course, there were always the customers who insisted on the “father, not the sons.” That was because Mark and Mike charged top dollar, while Dad could be counted on to fall for a hard-luck story. And sometimes, he plain forgot to bill people.

Bruce stood and looked at his brothers, their backs turned to him. Their blond hair was getting thinner, and their waistlines thicker. But they seemed content with their lives. “Townies” at heart.

Still dressed in their wedding tuxes, they each grasped a beer bottle—Mike left-handed, Mark right-handed—and were watching the baseball game on the big-screen TV. At the bottom of the sixth inning, the local team was losing.

Bruce clapped Mark on the shoulder. “Marcus, I’m headed out.”

Mark turned and blinked at him. “You just got here, B.B.”

B.B. was short for “Bruce Boy.” He’d forgotten that stupid nickname.

“Yup,” he said. “And now I’m leaving.”

Mark took a drink of beer and nodded. He had been in Florida on a plumbing job with their parents back when Bruce had gotten into all his trouble with the law. None of them had ever really discussed it. “Did you check with Moe?” Mark asked.

“What, she runs our lives now?” Bruce said.

“She tries.” Mike took his hand and shook it. “How’s the weather in Florida?”

“Dunno, Mikhael,” Bruce said. “I haven’t been home in a week.”

“Where’ve you been?” Both twins stared at him. They were always slightly bewildered that Bruce traveled for a living instead of staying put in Fort Lauderdale and enjoying his boat and his motorcycle in the sunshine.

“I’m on a project in D.C. The navy hired me to analyze their procurement systems.”

He earned blank stares from his brothers. But that was good—if they didn’t know what he was talking about, they wouldn’t ask questions, which meant he could bug out of town even sooner.

“Bruce! When did you get here?”

Internally he groaned. Mark’s wife, Desiree, stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek, and Mike’s wife, Holly, followed suit. A real family reunion. At this rate, he’d never be able to leave.

But he smiled, gave each of them the requisite kiss, went through the motions of being a sociable brother-in-law. “You two are looking better and better. How are the kids?”

“My niece Kristen is watching them upstairs in the room,” Desiree told him. “You should go see them.” She scratched her head, and Bruce noticed she had a new tattoo on her wrist. Some kind of Chinese symbol. “Your mother is up there, too. I swear, she’s in her glory. She loves it when we all get together.”

“She’ll be in heaven when we’re all in Disney World together,” Holly agreed.

It was Bruce’s turn to stare. What was she talking about?

Oh, yeah. The whole clan was going together for the week of Maureen’s honeymoon: his parents, his siblings and their kids, mainly so Maureen and Jimmy’s three wouldn’t be too upset by their parents’ absence. Bruce had covered the airfare, hotel and the car rental with his points, so he’d contributed without having to go with them. “I’m sure you’ll all have a good time.”

“It was so great of you to agree to stay here while we’re gone. We’ve got the house all set for you,” Desiree added.

Wait, what? Warnings went off in his head. “No, I’m leaving,” he stated as calmly as he could. “I’m taking the 6:00 a.m. flight out tomorrow.”

“The fridge is stocked,” Desiree continued rapid-fire. Sometimes he wondered at their habit of talking over everybody. Maybe it was part of being in a big family. “And we changed the sheets on our bed, so you can use our room. There’s a copy of the instructions tacked to the refrigerator. All you have to remember to do is to leave the screen door unlocked for the dog-sitter.”

Mark and Desiree had two yapping dachshunds. “Sorry, you’ve got me mixed up with somebody else.” He didn’t do pets.

Holly shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“You haven’t talked to Moe yet, have you?” Desiree asked.

“Where is she?”

“She’s up in the room with Mom and the kids.”

His mother lived and died for her grandkids. She’d been sixty when Nina was born, and on that day, she had promptly retired from being the dispatcher and chief bookkeeper for the family plumbing business. Holly currently did the honors. Desiree was some kind of nurse.

“Or Jimmy,” Holly added. “He’s the one who organized it all.”

What had Jimmy organized? “I’m not part of this plan, whatever it is,” Bruce said coldly.

Holly and Desiree glanced at each other. He was getting all kinds of bad signals.

“I think,” Holly said slowly, “that you had better talk to Maureen.”

“Isn’t she on her honeymoon as of now?” he demanded.

Mark ambled up beside him. The ball game had cut to commercial.

Bruce pointed to his brother. “Tell your wife I’m flying back to D.C. in the morning. Tell her that I work for a living. I’ve already used my two weeks’ vacation, and I don’t have time for a social call.”

“We’re having a family emergency,” Mark calmly explained. “Everybody’s got to pitch in.”

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.

Everyone went quiet and he realized he’d been shouting. His brothers looked solemn. Their wives just looked sorry for him.

Bruce ground his teeth and got control of his emotions, waiting for them to explain. As a business consultant, he always waited for the people with the problems to speak first. But he suspected his family was all a little bit afraid of him now. He didn’t blame them; he had reached the end of his rope. This trip home had left him edgy, and he didn’t like it. This wasn’t like him. On the job, he was known for being Mr. Cool. He skimmed the surface of life; he didn’t get sucked into the muck. And if they weren’t used to that by now, it was their problem.

“Look, I’ll see you guys next Thanksgiving,” Bruce said quietly. “In Florida, like always.”

“You really need to talk to Maureen,” Mike said.

“And why is that?”

Holly and Desiree snuck a glance at each other. A loaded glance, ripe with meaning. He just didn’t know what it meant. Mark looked at his toes, and Mike was busy peeling the label off his beer bottle.

“If you can’t tell me, then it can’t be that important,” Bruce said. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” He pulled out his phone and pressed the speed dial number for Maureen. Honeymoon or no honeymoon, he was solving this problem before he left.

Desiree put her hand on his arm. “It’s Gramps. He’s sick.”

Everything within Bruce stilled. He should have known something would have been very wrong to keep Gramps from coming to Maureen’s wedding.

“How sick?” he asked.

“They gave him a CAT scan this week,” Holly said. “Gramps has beginning stages Alzheimer’s.”

Bruce felt as if he’d been sucker-punched. He needed to sit.

Leaning against a barstool, he tried to remember his last interaction with Gramps. Thanksgiving, six months ago at his place. Gramps hadn’t been quite as strong as usual, but he’d been riding in Bruce’s boat, for cripe’s sake. And he’d seemed completely lucid.

“He’s frail, Bruce. He’s been going downhill rapidly. You won’t recognize him.”

Bruce turned back to his his phone. He’d have to check flight times for tomorrow afternoon. “I’ll visit him early before I leave.” He’d be flying out on standby, and that meant a middle seat in the rear of the plane beside the bathrooms, but for Gramps, he would do it.

He was glad that nothing had worked out with Natalie after all. He wanted to be alone tonight.

Now he needed a local hotel room, too. There was no way he was staying in Desiree’s house with her dogs and her nosy neighbors.

Scrolling through his phone’s contact list, he strode toward the bellhop stand, typing as he went. By the time he’d retrieved his suitcase, he’d changed his flight and canceled his reservation at the airport hotel in Boston. He went to the front desk to book a room, momentarily confused that there was no frequent-traveler check-in station, and that he had to wait in a long and snaking holiday-weekend line beside people who commandeered the luggage carts and loaded them with mounds of duffel bags, piles of grocery bags and cases of soda, water and beer.

When he finally got to the front of the line, he was incredulous to hear that there were no rooms available.

And he didn’t have status here, because this wasn’t a national chain.

I’m in hell.

“It’s Sandcastle Weekend,” the bubbly clerk explained.

“It’s what?”

“You’ve never heard of it? Sand sculptors come from all over the world to compete for prizes. It’s our second biggest weekend of the summer, after Fourth of July week, of course.”

Great. His sleepy little hometown had turned international on him.

He was contemplating sleeping in his car when he bumped into Maureen. Without a word, just a shake of her head, she tucked a room key into his hand.

He opened his palm and looked at it. “How did you get this?”

“I reserved a room for you months ago, Bruce. It was booked for last night, too, in case you’d changed your mind about attending the rehearsal dinner.”

He suddenly felt ashamed of himself. Moe rarely asked him for anything. She’d just wanted him to come to her wedding like a normal brother.

A tear had leaked out and was running down her cheek. “Aw, honey.” With nothing else to say, he put an arm around her shoulder.

“We need you to stay for the week, Bruce.”

“You know I can’t.” He suddenly felt tired.

“If you don’t, then I have to stay home from my honeymoon.” “

“That’s...blackmail.”

She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “No, it’s life, Bruce. We have to take care of each other. And frankly, you’ve been doing a piss-poor job.”

“That is not fair,” he said.

“Isn’t it? How is it fair that we’ve all been taking turns visiting Gramps every day, making sure he sees a familiar face because he’s terrified about what’s happening to him, and yet, you’re not a part of it? And you’ll never be a part of it, because you never come home. If he’s lucky, you might show up for his funeral after he’s gone, but we can’t even count on that.”

She was referring to him missing Nana’s funeral a year ago. Well, he’d been in China then. He’d had no choice. “Do not go there,” he said coldly.

“Why not, Bruce? It’s true. You’ve cut yourself off from everyone. No one knows you anymore. The only reason Nina recognizes you is that she sees your photo on the bureau when we visit Gramps every day. He can’t remember me, he can’t remember Nina, but he remembers you. The guy has one son, one daughter-in-law, four grandchildren, seven great-grandchildren and of all of us, you’re the only one whose picture he displays. You’re his favorite, and you can’t even see fit to visit him for one week. To support us for one week.”

“I support you plenty.”

Maureen paused, and in her silence, Bruce knew exactly what she was thinking. “We’re all tired of this, Bruce,” she said quietly. “Get over it.”

“I am over it.” It was the nonfamily members who weren’t. Natalie, for one. “I stayed away to make it easier for you and the rest of the family. I still do.”

“You know, I used to think it was best you stayed away, too, Bruce. You’re right...sometimes it’s hard being here. But lately I’ve been changing my mind. Family is important.” Her voice broke. “I waited until you got here to tell you, but if you really want to make it easier for me, then you’ll step up and help me while I’m gone. Visit Gramps for the week. You’re the only person left for him, and he needs you. Don’t you understand?”

He did. And he couldn’t even spin it anymore, not even to himself.

That was the worst part about it.