Harvest Moon (18 page)

She didn’t smile, but her expression softened. “About that, I’m sorry I pushed you so hard.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m teasing you. Our friendship seems to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe we could change that.”

“You know, just because we keep running into each other…and I danced with you…and…” She paused. “Well, it doesn’t mean anything. We’re both dating other people, and you’re a good self-defense instructor and nice and all, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

“Well, what would that be?”

“Like I’m interested in you or—”

“That’s good because I’m sure not interested in you.”

Her brows rose. “Good. Then we’re on the same page.”

“The exact same page.”

The bartender brought their drinks. Trent paid while she poured hers into a pilsner.

He lifted his bottle and tipped it to her glass. “Then cheers to friendship. Doesn’t mean we can’t we be friends. Right?”

“Sure.” She lifted her glass to his. “To friends.” She drank, watching him suspiciously over the rim of her glass.

Placing her drink on the bar, she pushed a clear saltshaker close to a matching peppershaker, squaring both in front of the napkin dispenser, order restored.

She looked straight ahead at the mirrored wall against the bar’s back. When he followed her line of sight, they made eye contact through the mirror.

He cleared his throat. “You know what I think?”

“No. I’m not clairvoyant.” This time, she almost smiled.

“I think you’re afraid to be nice to me.”

The near smile fell fast and she snorted. “Now we know
you’re
not clairvoyant.”

For a long second he didn’t respond, and then a trust building exercise he’d read about popped into his head. He faced her. “How about we do something together, to work on our relationship?”

She turned from the mirror. “I told you. I’m not interested in—”

“I meant our friendship.” The idea made his chest flutter, the gesture risky but filled with great reward if it worked. “Something to allow us to get more comfortable with each other. Especially during the self-defense class. Are you game?”

She laughed, a sound falling somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “You’re so obstinate. I don’t need help in class. I’m only there for my niece. Remember?”

“Uh-huh. So humor me. Stay here for a sec.”

He ran over near the stage and opened a binder filled with songs for the karaoke machine and quickly flipped through the pages, until he found the perfect one. After grabbing a slip from the nearby table, he wrote down the name. On his way to take the song to tonight’s karaoke host, he glanced at the bar. Veronica watched him, a slight furrow to her brows.

“Hey, remember me?” He stuck out his hand to a stocky guy with a buzz cut. “Eddie, right?”

“Yeah. You were here with your brother last week.”

“Any chance I can get moved up on the list to sing? Maybe go next?” Trent handed him the slip. “I’m trying to get the lady over there at the end of the bar to sing with me, and if I don’t act fast, she’ll split.”

“You mean Ronnie?”

Trent nodded. Eddie took the paper and read. He looked up, snickered. “Ronnie rarely sings on karaoke night. Especially stuff like this. Consider yourself moved to the front of the line.”

Trent thanked him and worked his way through the tight rows of tables to the bar. “Okay, we’re on the list.”

She blinked. An are-you-crazy look spread across her face. “I beg your pardon.”

“We’re going to sing. Together. So we can get to know each other.”

“We know each other, and I don’t want to sing.”

He moved close and lowered his voice. “I once read that coincidences mean you’re on the right path. Since that elevator ride, I don’t think it’s a coincidence we keep running into each other. Do you?”

She scowled and sipped her beer.

“Come on. Maybe our paths have crossed so that we can sing together tonight.”

She stared at him hard, her brows furrowed deep. Restlessness danced in her eyes, raw emotion of some kind. “If I do this, will you leave me alone in class?”

He nodded, but the promise might be hard to keep.

An ear-splitting rendition of “Sweet Caroline” finished at that second. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe. What song did you pick?”

Before he could answer, Eddie’s voice rumbled through the microphone. “Folks, you’re in for a treat. Tonight my pal, Trent, and Northbridge’s own head librarian are here to perform a classic from the movie
Grease
, ‘Summer Nights.’”

Veronica’s jaw dropped.

Trent smiled sweetly, tossed his cap onto the bar top, and ran both a hands through his hair. “Ready?”

“I can’t believe you—”

“Too bad you didn’t wear a poodle skirt tonight, huh?” He slipped his fingers through hers and guided her from the bar. “Let’s go.”

“You’ll pay for this,” she mumbled under her breath.

He wove her through the chairs, despite her feeble protests, driven by a need to get her to learn to relax with him and trust him.

“Woo-hoo, go Danny Zuko! Go Sandy!” Their friends pounded on the table and cheered, Jay the loudest of them all.

They stepped onto the stage. Trent took both microphones and handed one to her. The music cued, the beat familiar. Trent swayed to the beat and tried to ignore Veronica’s starchy stance.

Trent sang the opening line, and at the word “blast,” he glanced her way and winked.

Veronica’s lips parted, her eyes glaring with disbelief, but she managed to get out her line.

They performed together, but as they exchanged lines, he couldn’t get over how Veronica really
was
so much like prim and proper Sandy. Her pearls shimmered from the overhead light, and somehow her slightly starchy stance in real life came alive on stage, a natural for the part. On the background vocals, the audience filled in. Not once during the first two verses did Veronica look at him, although she did start to move to the music.

When the audience joined in at a line that asked if theirs was love at first sight, Trent thought he saw Veronica flinch.

Their elevator ride. The first moment he’d ever laid eyes on her. The song’s question circled him like wolves surrounding prey, demanding he surrender an answer. He forced the idea aside and focused on building her trust, which suddenly meant everything.

Trent shook off the deeper thoughts and mimicked John Travolta’s moves from the movie, slowly slinking to the floor and swaying his hips as he sang about sinking down into the sand.

The crowd went crazy, and Veronica shook her head, but a teeny smile crossed her lips, making his heart lift and his earlier thoughts bombard him again.

The first slow note of the final verse hit, declaring the end of summer. Veronica turned her back to Trent. The same beautiful tone Trent had heard at the birthday party flowed from her lips.

He moved behind her, close, just one step from touching. He softened his voice, forgetting about the audience. He promised to stay her friend. More than anything, he wished she’d turn to face him, but she didn’t. He boldly reached out, slipped his fingers through hers, and gently twirled her into his arms. Her eyes widened, she gasped, but stayed there and gazed into his eyes.

Her lips parted and didn’t hesitate as she sang the words about taking true love vows.

True love vows. Trent stared into Veronica’s dark irises, the answer to the question about love now obvious as he sang his last solo line, not thinking about the words, only his swelling heart.

Through the last verse, they focused on each other, in a place where the lines between reality and acting blurred. Her soft hands stayed in his, with no effort to leave. When they finished, the audience burst into wild applause. Neither one of them moved. She smiled at him, more sweetly than ever before, then she let go and faced the crowd to take a bow.

A tall man wove through the tables and approached the stage. Trent squinted, recognizing Veronica’s boyfriend, Jim. Trent glanced at Veronica just in time to catch her spot Jim, too. Her brows creased. Mid-bow, she stood upright and turned to Trent, blinking at him, the magic of their duet slowly slipping away. A flash of panic crossed her face, and she swung her gaze back to her boyfriend.

“Jim!” she yelled.

Veronica hopped off the platform and threw her arms around her boyfriend. Jim looked shocked, unsure where to place his hands as Veronica planted a kiss on his lips. “You made it.”

Jim removed her arms from around his waist, took her by the hand, and then led her away from the stage, tossing a single glance back in Trent’s direction.

The way she’d stared into Trent’s eyes at the song’s end sank deep into his soul. Fate. Perhaps it had brought them together for this one song.

The sun warmed Veronica’s shoulders, fully exposed in a halter top she’d thrown on to stay cool while gardening. She tugged another of the pesky weeds infiltrating her butterfly garden.

After last night’s performance with Trent, she’d sensed a wedge between her and Jim. His uncomfortable and hurt expression at the end of her song had said it all. Flying into his arms—at the time—seemed like the right response. She’d never, ever hurt Jim on purpose. By the time they’d made their way out to Griswold’s parking lot, the earlier discomfort had disappeared, and they were acting normal. She’d invited him to join her at Gail’s party, and he’d said yes. After a gentle kiss good-bye, they’d parted. And yet something was off.

A faint sound made her glance behind her.

Jim’s Prius pulled into her driveway, the engine noise a whisper compared to most vehicles. Boomer lifted his head off the ground, leaped into the air, and bolted for the car.

She stood and removed her garden gloves, walking over as Jim stepped out and body-blocked Boomer from climbing inside the open door.

“Boomer. Here!”

The dog ignored her, wedging his body between Jim and the car with the skill of an NFL receiver trying to make a goal.

She slipped her hand through Boomer’s collar and pulled him back. “Sorry.”

Jim nodded, barely smiling. He wore his pharmacy smock, opened to a nice dress shirt with a tie.

“I didn’t expect to see you this morning. Heading to work?”

“Yes. Stopping by was a last minute decision.”

“Do you want to come inside? I can make us coffee.”

He shook his head and pushed his hands into the pockets of his tan khakis. “I don’t have time for coffee.”

He cleared his throat. “Listen, I could hardly sleep last night.”

“Oh, I’m sor—”

He held up a hand for her to stop. “Hear me out. I walked into Griswold’s while you sang with Duncan’s brother. Trent, right?”

She nodded, but suspected he’d seen all the emotion she’d tried to hide while on stage.

“I caught your whole act. Watching the two of you was…well, in a word, troubling.”

“Singing was his idea.”

“It was more than that, Veronica. More than the way he looked at you.” A notch quieter, he said, “It was the way you looked at him.”

“I don’t know what to say. I didn’t mean…we never meant to…” She sighed, but couldn’t deny the way the dark liquid pool of Trent’s gaze had tugged her into its undertow, leaving her breathless.

“Listen, if this was the first time this happened, I might have overlooked what I saw. Only I remembered watching you two dance at Sophie’s birthday party.” He exhaled so deep his pain radiated to her own chest. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No! God, Jim. You think I’m cheating on you? I’d never do that!”

“I don’t mean cheating, but is there a problem between us? You’re different these days. Watching you with him has made me think about how our relationship is moving.”

Or not moving. All of her post-Marc relationships always fizzled without much fanfare. A slow and painless death.

He frowned and the dimple on his chin creased. “Are you happy with me?”

She looked past him to her front yard, where Boomer sniffed near the bushes. “I’m not unhappy.”

“That’s not what I asked.” He stared at her, more serious than she’d ever seen him. “Do you have feelings for Trent?”

“No,” she said quickly, but something jabbed at her chest. “The truth, though, is I’m not sure. Besides, I’m not really sure where the two of us are headed either.”

Jim’s lips crumpled. “I enjoy our time together, too, but romantically maybe we’re both looking for something more.”

“It’s not always easy to find.”

“True.” He studied her in a way he never had. “Are you sure it’s not staring you in the face?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never once looked at me the way you watch him.”

Veronica felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Of course not. I’d know.”

“Of course.” He removed his hands from his pockets, placed them on her shoulders, and drew her into an awkward hug.

She whispered, “I’m sorry, Jim. Thank you for your honesty.”

He released her and waved a dismissive hand. About to get back in the car, he paused. “Oh, I won’t be joining you at your friend’s party.”

“I understand.” Relief she wouldn’t be alone when facing her attacker died after a short life. So she’d face Gary, alone after all. Maybe it was always meant to be that way.

She sat on the front steps, waving good-bye as Jim drove off, suddenly swathed in a strange sense of loss. Boomer dropped his orange tennis ball at her feet. She lifted the ball, tossed it as far as she could, and Boomer galloped across the yard in pursuit.

Last night’s performance replayed in her mind—blurred moments, part theatrics and part real life. At the words about true love vows, a flip had switched inside her body. Tripped on by the deep longing in Trent’s gaze. Longing so profound it had turned her heart inside out, but today it felt exposed and raw.

Jim wasn’t wrong about what he’d witnessed. Her observation was interrupted when a warm summer breeze made the treetops rustle, unexpected on this calm day. Or maybe this was the winds of change, finally making her face everything she’d surrendered on the night she’d been attacked: her lost courage, the life she’d always wanted, and the faith one puts in true love.