Читать книгу Wanting Something More - Kathy Love - Страница 11

“I can’t believe you got into town last night and didn’t come right over,” Ellie said, setting a cup of tea in front of Marty.

Marty sat with her sisters in the kitchen of Ellie’s gorgeous house. The whole room was done in rich, polished oak with huge windows that overlooked the ocean.

Abby probably would have agreed with Ellie, but she was too busy nibbling on a saltine and looking distinctly green.

Ellie placed a cup of peppermint tea in front of Abby. Abby managed a slight nod in thanks.

“Well, like I said, I didn’t get into town until late, and I didn’t want to wake everyone,” Marty explained again. “Plus I really wanted to sleep in my old bed.” She paused. “That is, until Nathaniel Peck showed up in the upstairs hallway in the dead of night.”

Ellie paused, her own teacup halfway to her lips. She set the cup back down on the kitchen table. She winced. “Oops.”

“Yeah,” Marty agreed. “It was quite a shock. Why on earth would you let him have a key to our house?”

“The house is just standing empty,” Ellie said a tad defensively. “And Nate lives down this twisty, narrow dirt road, and we just figured he might appreciate the offer.”

Marty nodded, but she wasn’t particularly pleased with Ellie’s defense of this person. Ellie was as bighearted as a person could be, but Marty didn’t want her generosity to extend to Nathaniel. He didn’t deserve it—even if he did seem different.

“But had we known you were going to be in town, we would have warned you,” Abby added. Of course her nausea would pass in time to support Ellie’s position.

Marty nodded again, deciding she didn’t want to discuss Nathaniel Peck anymore, even though the man had been on her mind all day.

“Okay, we are thrilled you are here,” Abby said. Her greenness had faded to a mere pasty white, but her practicality seemed to be fine. “But why are you here? You just told me less than a week ago that there was no way you could get up for the holidays.”

Marty hesitated. She wasn’t ready to tell them that she might be staying here permanently. She wasn’t decided. She needed to think.

“I decided I’ve missed too many holidays.” That was certainly the truth. She had missed far too many important moments with her sisters. “And I wanted to see Emily on Christmas morning.” One of the most important things she had missed had been the first year of her niece’s life.

As if on cue, Mason, Ellie’s handsome, blond husband, came in the back door with Emily perched on his shoulders.

“Marty! I thought that was your car outside.” He set his daughter on her feet and moved to give Marty a quick hug. Emily stood where Mason put her down, peering at her often-absent aunt from under her red fleece hat.

Marty leaned forward and tweaked Emily’s belly through her thick, red woolen coat. “Hey, Emmy, remember me?”

Emily continued to stare at her for a moment, then her face crumpled and she turned to bury her head against Mason’s leg.

“She’s like her mommy—shy,” Mason assured Marty as he picked up the little girl and unzipped her coat and tugged off her hat. “She’ll loosen up in a bit.”

Emily might or might not have had her mother’s personality, but there was no question that she had her mother’s looks. The little girl looked like an angel, with a riot of blond curls, blue, blue eyes and plump, rosy cheeks.

“So how did you get away?” Mason asked, as he headed over to Ellie and handed Emily to her. “Ellie said you were doing, like, three fashion shows over the holidays.”

“I just decided to pull out of them,” Marty said casually. She didn’t feel the need to mention that she pulled out without notifying her agent or the shows’ organizers. But as soon as they all realized, she was going to have some explaining to do.

“You can do that?” Abby asked. “So close to the show dates?”

Marty nodded. She could do it. People were going to be very, very angry, but she could do it.

“Well, that’s great. You’re going to stay with us, right?” Mason asked, and Marty knew her brother-in-law’s invitation was sincere.

Marty still couldn’t believe the way Mason had changed since he married Ellie. He was happy and friendly, not the hardened guy she’d first met. And Ellie was happier than Marty had ever seen her. They were a wonderful couple.

Mason leaned down and kissed his daughter’s head, then his wife’s.

And they were crazy in love. Love might happen to some people, but Marty was pretty sure she wasn’t one of them. She obviously put out a vibe or pheromone or something that attracted the worst of the opposite sex.

“I actually think I’ll stay at the house,” Marty said slowly, knowing the idea was going to be met with resistance.

Ellie looked up from murmuring to Emily. “Why?”

Marty couldn’t explain that not only did she want time with her family, but she also needed time to herself. They’d ask her why. She wasn’t ready for those questions.

“I’ve been homesick lately, I guess. I just want to stay there. But I’ll come see you every day,” Marty cooed at Emily.

Emily hid her face in Ellie’s shoulder.

“Whether you want me to or not,” Marty added wryly.

“She’s tired,” Ellie said, stroking her daughter’s blond curls. “It’s past your bedtime, isn’t it, sleepyhead?”

Ellie started to rise, but Mason reached for Emily. “I’ll put her down. You visit.”

Ellie smiled. “Okay.” She gave her baby a kiss good night, and daddy and daughter disappeared out of the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you drove up here in that storm,” Abby said, reaching for another saltine. “You really should have waited a day.”

“It was pretty wild,” Marty admitted.

“I know you won’t appreciate this,” Ellie said hesitantly, “but I’m actually glad Nate was with you last night. If the power went out or the furnace, it was probably good he was there.”

Marty bristled a little. Did Ellie think she needed a man to rescue her? Although she couldn’t really be angry with her sister. Ellie had found her knight in shining armor and, as the acknowledged romantic of the family, she liked the idea that Marty would one day find hers. But Marty knew she wasn’t going to find any type of knight, shiny armor or not. Especially not in Nathaniel Peck.

“Yeah, you’re right, I don’t appreciate that,” she said dryly, but tempered the comment with a slight smile. “I think I’d rather freeze to death.”

“Nate has changed,” Ellie told her. “He—”

A knock sounded at the back door and stopped Ellie.

Chase, Abby’s tall, dark, and gorgeous husband, pushed open the door. He kicked the snow from his boots and stepped inside.

“There you are,” Abby said. “I was getting worried.”

Chase smiled. “Sorry. I ended up running into Nate and going out to his place to try and get the snow cleared out of his road.”

Marty frowned. Not again! She was starting to feel like she was in the cult of Nathaniel Peck. People couldn’t seem to go more than five minutes without mentioning him.

“Hey, Marty!” Chase said with his usual easygoing, lopsided grin. “I didn’t know you were coming for Christmas. You are staying for Christmas?”

Marty nodded.

“Good.” He went over to Abby and touched her cheek. “Are you feeling okay?”

Abby smiled, and although she still looked wan, she also looked very happy. “Fine.”

Chase leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, and for a moment, they seemed to forget anyone else was in the room. When they parted, Abby’s pale cheeks were tinged with pink.

“Well, there’s a way to get her color back,” Marty teased.

Abby blushed more.

“Baby girl is out like a light,” Mason announced, entering the kitchen. “Hey, Chase, you’re here. I was beginning to think you were going to miss the tip-off.”

“Yeah, I got hung up trying to help Nate with his road. We got it halfway done, then had to quit. Tommy Leavitt was there with his small plow, but it didn’t quite do the trick.”

“You should have called me, I could have at least helped shovel,” Mason said as he opened the fridge and grabbed a can of diet soda. He held it up. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Chase replied, and Mason leaned back in the refrigerator to get another one.

Marty was impressed with not only Mason for his very successful recovery from alcoholism, but also Chase for his support. She knew Chase would normally have a beer when watching the game. And although she didn’t think Mason would mind if he did, Chase wouldn’t even consider bringing liquor into his friend’s house. He had too much respect for Mason’s struggle.

“All right, ladies, can you do without our company?” Mason asked, and both men looked at them like eager children.

“I think we’ll be fine,” Ellie said, her dimples appearing with her amusement. Mason gave her a quick kiss and the two men disappeared out of the kitchen.

Marty heard Chase say to Mason as they walked down the hall, “Nate is really doing way too much on that knee.”

“He is pushing himself too hard,” Mason agreed.

Again, Marty wondered what happened to Nathaniel. And why people who had just tolerated him before the “accident” were suddenly rallying around him.

“You should have Chase take the baby swing tonight,” Ellie was saying to Abby. “Emily loved it.”

Abby laughed. “We have months before we need it.”

“Well, you can have it whenever you need it.”

“What happened to Nathaniel Peck’s knee?”

Both heads snapped toward Marty, her sisters obviously surprised by the sudden question. She was, too. Here she’d been wishing they could talk about something other than Nathaniel, and she was the one reintroducing him back into the conversation.

“He was attacked,” Ellie finally said. “In his house while he slept.”

Marty had expected her sister to say an accident. A problem while on the job. Not an assault—while he slept.

“Does he know who did it?”

Both Ellie and Abby shook their heads.

“No,” Abby said. “There aren’t even any suspects, as far as I know. And Nate doesn’t remember anything.”

Marty thought about that. “He is a police officer, and the truth is, not a very nice person. Both of those things could result in enemies. He must have some suspicions about who might have done it.”

“I’m sure if he has any enemies they were checked out,” Ellie said, her voice sounding almost indignant.

Marty became annoyed in return. “I don’t get what has come over everyone. You all know the kind of guy he is.” She turned to Abby. “He crashed your wedding, for God’s sake. And look at what he did to me in high school. That prank was not just a simple, impulsive joke. He thought that out. He planned it. He worked hard to win my trust. He convinced me that he liked me. Then he embarrassed me in front of the whole school. And forgive me if I seem callous, but I don’t find it difficult to believe that he did awful things to other people too. It sounds to me like someone else he hurt decided to fight back.”

Abby paled, and this time Marty didn’t think it was a result of her pregnancy. Ellie gaped at her.

“He was in a coma for nearly a week. It was a miracle he survived,” Ellie said, her usual mild tone downright stern.

Guilt tightened Marty’s chest. Marty would bet money he’d hurt lots of other people, but nothing merited that kind of attack. She pictured the angry, red scar that started at his temple and curved onto his cheek. A steel-toed boot, he’d said. Someone kicked him in the face—that was vicious. That was anger.

“Well, I am truly sorry that he was so badly hurt,” Marty said sincerely. “But as for this sudden transformation that he has suddenly undergone, I don’t buy it. People just do not change that much.”

“So are you going ice fishing with us on Saturday?” Sam Peck asked as he reached across the table and speared a large slab of steak from a plate in the middle of the table. Red juices splattered on the speckled Formica as he brought the meat to his own plate.

Nate watched his brother and grimaced slightly. He turned back to his own baked potato. “I don’t think so.”

Sam set down his fork with a noisy clatter. “Why not? You haven’t been out fishing with Dad and me all season.”

Nate sighed. “I just don’t feel like it.”

“Do you hear this?” Sam asked their father as he returned from the kitchen carrying two cans of beer. Wendell Peck, whom everyone called Dell, sat down, handed Sam a beer, and cracked open his own before he said, “Ayuh,” in his slow down-eastern drawl.

Nate watched as both men took a swallow of their beers. “Dad, is there more?” He gestured to the can his dad just set on the table.

His father nodded as he stuck his fork into one of the steaks. “I didn’t think you drank anymore.”

Nate frowned. “Why would you think that?”

“You don’t fish and you don’t eat meat. It only stands to reason you don’t drink beer,” Sam said.

“What?” Nate asked, both confused and annoyed. “Because I decided to become a vegetarian, I can’t have a beer?”

“Beer and steak. They just sort of go together,” his dad said in his very practical Maine drawl. He didn’t look up from sawing into his New York strip.

Nate cast a disbelieving look between his father and his brother.

Sam shrugged as if to say that their father did have a point and began to cut into his own steak.

Nate shook his head, then pushed up from the table and went into the kitchen to get his own beer.

This was exactly why he’d been trying to avoid his family as much as he could. Sam was impossible to avoid, since they worked together at the station, although to Sam’s credit, he did manage to keep things pretty professional there.

Of course, Nate was his boss there. Here at home, Nate was just his brother, and Sam didn’t feel the need to keep his opinions to himself. And though his father was less vocal, Nate knew that he shared Sam’s judgment: Nate had gone mad.

All because, after the attack, he’d decided to go vegetarian and he wasn’t interested in hunting and fishing. He wasn’t into a lot of stuff the old Nathaniel had been. But the changes hadn’t been Nate’s conscious choice, they just happened.

He cracked open his beer and took a drink. Now if he told his brother and father that, they’d really think he was a lunatic.

He took another sip, then sighed and headed back into the dining room.

Sam and his father were discussing where his father’s friend, Joe Miggs, had caught a huge bass just last week.

They stopped talking when he entered, as if Nate couldn’t even bear to hear about fishing.

“Keep talking,” he said and began to eat his baked potato.

Sam did, but the conversation was stilted. Finally, he gave up and turned to Nate. “Did you see Dr. Hall today?”

Nate nodded as he finished chewing his bite of green beans. “He thinks I’m doing too much on my knee, but otherwise I’m fine.”

Sam nodded, but Nate got the distinct feeling that wasn’t the answer he wanted.

There was silence.

“He didn’t say anything else?” Sam finally asked. “You know, about your memory loss.”

Nate knew Sam was curious about more than the memory loss. He wanted to know if Dr. Hall thought he had brain damage. After all, that was the only reason a person would stop eating meat.

“No. He doesn’t think the memory loss is an issue. It’s just a mild form of amnesia. The memories are there, I sometimes just need a cue to remember them.”

“So try the steak. Maybe you’ll remember you like that,” his father said matter-of-factly.

Nate set down his fork and turned toward his father. “Dad, why is the vegetarianism such an issue for you?” He glanced at his brother. “Both of you?”

For a moment Nate thought his father was going to simply continue to eat and ignore his question. Then slowly, he set down his fork and knife and pushed his plate away. He looked at Nate.

“It isn’t that you don’t eat meat.” He sighed, the sound weary. “It’s that when you were in the hospital, I thought I’d lost you. But then, thank God,” he reached over and touched Nate’s hand, “thank God, the doctors brought you back to us.”

Then he said slowly, “But you aren’t the Nathaniel that went into that hospital. You’ve changed, and in some ways, I feel like I still lost you.”

Nate looked at his dad, noticing the deep wrinkles around his eyes. Whiteness peppered his thick hair and bushy eyebrows. His blue eyes, so different than his sons’, looked tired. He appeared far older than his fifty-seven years.

It bothered Nate that he had added to his dad’s premature aging. Not only as an adolescent but now as an adult. His father had had a tough enough life. He didn’t need to be worrying about his adult son.

“Dad, I have changed.” He squeezed his father’s hand, and even that felt old, the skin rough, his fingers gnarled. “But I’d like to think it’s for the better. And that doesn’t mean I think fishing and hunting and eating meat are bad. It’s just not something I’m interested in anymore. I guess, being so close to death, I have a new respect for life.”

That explanation was the closest he’d come to telling his father and brother the truth. He wanted to tell them, but if they were having problems understanding him now…Well, they’d never accept the full story.

His father stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Well, I reckon there are worse things.”

“Yes,” Nate agreed readily.

His father released his hand and pushed away from the table. “Anyone want coffee? The Celts hit the court in about ten minutes.”

“That would be great,” Nate said.

Dad disappeared into the kitchen.

Nate returned to his dinner, taking a bite of potato before he realized his brother was staring at him.

“What?”

Sam hesitated, his look probing. “You still like girls, though, right? That hasn’t changed?”

“Why the hell would you ask that?”

Sam shrugged.

“What out of what I just told Dad would make you think that?” Nate demanded. “What? Do you think being a vegetarian makes a person gay?”

Again Sam hesitated. “You just don’t act the same toward women as you did before.”

Nate considered his words for a moment, then laughed humorlessly. “Well, there are plenty of ladies who would say that is a good thing.” He sobered. “Yes, Sam, I still like women.”

Marty Stepp suddenly popped into his mind.

And if his physical reaction to just picturing her as she’d looked in the bathroom this morning was any indication, his head might be messed up, but other parts of his anatomy were working just fine.