Harvest Moon (27 page)

“And you’re pretty brave. I’m proud of you.”

She sat upright and smiled. “Thank you. Let’s go inside. I hope you’re not too disappointed, but Boomer is staying at my sister’s tonight. I figured we’d be back late.”

“No Boomer?” He frowned as he stepped from the car, then grabbed her hand as they went to the front door. “I’ll miss him, but won’t miss his interruptions when I try to kiss you.”

While she unlocked the door, he stood close behind with his hands smoothing her hips and his warm breath caressing the back of her neck. Distracted by his touch, she struggled to insert the key in the lock. He chuckled, nibbled more, pressed against her backside, his hands roaming and driving her wild.

She finally got it opened, but once inside, he shut the door and pressed her to the wall. “Now I have you where I want you.”

“Or perhaps I have you where
I
want you.” She looped her arms around his neck.

“Either way, I win.” He slipped his hands beneath the skirt of her dress, running them along the bare skin of her thighs and making her limbs melt like butter in the sun. He captured her lips in his, kissed her deeply, and roamed her body with his strong, warm hands.

His soapy scent. The stubble of his cheek against her skin. Every place he touched added a spark to the fire of her need. She lifted his shirttails from his dress pants, smoothing her hands along his muscular back.

“Just say stop if this is too much,” he offered, his tone sincere. “The control here is all yours.” His fingertip traced the edge of her panties, and she inhaled sharply.

“At the moment, my dear,
you
hold all the control.”

* * * *

Chirp, chirp, chirp.

Trent opened his eyes, squinting as morning sun streamed through the frilly curtains. The birds outside continued their serenade as he rolled over to reach for Veronica, only her side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool.

He listened to the quiet house and inhaled the coffee aroma, struck by how her absence in the comfortable bed left a blank space in his chest. Last night, as she curled against him sleeping, it hit him how her unconditional belief in him was a need he’d been unable to fulfill his entire life.

Trent flung his legs over the bed’s side, slipped on his boxer briefs, and wandered to the kitchen. The coffee pot light was on, but she wasn’t there. A clicking sound in the living room sent him in that direction, and he found her sitting in front of the computer, wearing a T-shirt and panties.

“Good morning, sunshine.” He grinned. She quickly minimized the screen she’d been viewing, then glanced over her shoulder, a troubled scowl on her face as she blinked away wetness in her eyes.

“You okay?”

She turned back to the screen, nodding. “I’m fine. My eyes are a little tired.”

He went behind her chair and kissed near her temple. “You should’ve stayed in bed.”

“I was restless and didn’t want to wake you. How’d you sleep?” She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck, yet her whole body seemed stiff, not the same relaxed, satisfied woman in his bed last night.

“Is that what we were doing?” He gathered bunches of her T-shirt in his hands. “Pearls, sweetie, I didn’t get much of that.”

She smiled, but it still seemed strained. “Coffee’s ready if you want some. I just need to use the bathroom and I’ll join you in a sec.” She dropped her arms and walked away, her frown returning.

“Hey. Sure you’re okay?”

She didn’t look back. “Yeah. I am.” The bathroom door clicked shut.

Trent started toward the kitchen, yet couldn’t let go of the reaction to whatever she’d been reading. He walked back over and sat in front of the monitor. A small icon on the bottom of the screen would give him an answer to whatever left her so tense. The closer they got, the more desperately he wanted to get her past this difficult time. Yet, did it justify taking a peek at whatever she’d just seen that upset her so?

His hand slipped on the mouse. Trent stood at a crossroads, but without much time until she came out, he quickly clicked on the icon and the full screen came into view. A photograph of a couple stared back, a profile picture from PartyTime.com, an Internet based invitation service. The entry she’d been reading showed a response from Carin and Gary Tishman.

Good news! We will definitely make it to the party. Gary is skipping his work event. Can’t wait to catch up with everyone. Twenty years is way too long! My new husband is dying to meet you.

Had this response to the party upset her? But why? Another tab was left opened on the screen, making him question the source of her sadness. God, she was still so guarded! In spite of the openness they’d shared lately. Yet
something
had definitely flipped a switch on her relaxed mood. One he’d seen only a few hours ago, when she woke him from a sound sleep, snuggled close, and her soft caress awakened his need.

He paused as the lines of violating another’s privacy again blurred with his concern for Veronica’s happiness. Despite the tingle of guilt in his chest, he peeked. An unfinished e-mail to Ry at Eclectic Expressions sat opened before him. Coming face-to-face with an e-mail about to be sent to his alter ego carried a surreal quality, as if he’d stepped through the looking glass. Remorse at the invasion of privacy rested a heavy hand on his chest, but curiosity propelled him further.

To: [email protected]

From [email protected]

Subject: Confession really is good for the soul.

I think I’ve made about ten steps forward this weekend. Believe it or not, I shared the details about my rape with someone. As the cliché goes, confession is good for the soul. Your encouragement led me all the way. Thank you!

On a sour note, the man I wrote you about last time WILL definitely be at the party with my old friend. It seems my destiny is to face that bastard. I believe my old college friend has shown him my photo, and knowing he’s seen it makes me so uneasy. Let’s hope he’s a more honorable man now.

Your advice to tell my date is good, but this is my battle and I cannot, in good conscience, drag him in or have anybody else fight for me. For me to move forward, I need to face the man who hurt me.

Trent went back to the photo on the first screen. This
had
to be her attacker. He memorized the man’s face. No wonder she’d been so tense just now.

The details of the rape had hit Trent hard, but now the assaulter had a face. And so did the victim. A pain pierced Trent’s heart, for the woman who’d made his heart thump with beats of love last night.

Anger roiled in his veins, like rapids after a heavy rain. The sensation pooled in his hands, and he clenched his fists. Every ounce of self-control might not stop him from beating the crap out of this guy at the party.

The bathroom door opened. He quickly closed the e-mail, but he didn’t have time to close the invitation.

“Hey.” Veronica stood at the hallway entrance to the living room, her head tipped and mouth turned into a frown. “What are you doing?”

“I figured I’d check my e-mail, but it can wait.” He motioned to the computer. “Want me to turn this off?”

She walked over and stood at his side, glanced at the screen and the open invitation. “No. That’s the party we’re going to on Friday.”

“Oh? These are old friends?”

She nodded, pondering the monitor with a noncommittal expression.

“I’m glad you asked me to go.” He took her hand and coaxed her closer to the chair.

“My college friends are a fun bunch.” Her warm hand rested on his shoulder, ran appreciatively along his biceps. We all got our MLS the same year.”

“I didn’t realize you had your masters.”

“I do. Library Science. There’s no such thing as the little-old-lady-librarian anymore. You need a degree.”

“I’ve never dated a librarian before.”

She snorted a short laugh. “After seeing your last girlfriend, I’m not shocked.”

He stood and wove his fingers through the silky curls resting on her nape. “Coffee or bed?”

This time Veronica offered a more relaxed smile. “Bed, of course. Hey, you weren’t reading my e-mail, were you?”

Trent’s heartbeat picked up. Avoiding a truth was bad, lying far worse, and yet, her silence meant she wasn’t ready to share these details. “Why?” He nuzzled her neck near her ear, and teasingly asked, “Are you hiding another lover from me?”

She laughed and tossed her arms around him, her body relaxing in his hold. Then she kissed him without answering the question, whisking away the guilt of unspoken truths.

Trent arrived at the municipal building and parked. For the past few days, he’d tried to gather the courage to cross this item off his to-do list, but each time he got close, his resolution scattered like an opened bag of marbles. A week had passed since his outburst at Polanski’s with Buzz. High time Trent faced the backlash, if only for his own peace of mind in trying to make this town his new home.

His phone pinged, a text from Veronica wishing him good luck. He sent her a winking emoticon back and stepped out of the car.

Inside the first selectman’s office suite, Wanda typed at her computer, but paused and smiled when he walked in. “Well if it isn’t my favorite self-defense instructor. What can I do for you today?”

He relaxed a little. “Is Buzz here? I just need a minute of his time.”

“Hold on.” She stood and stuck her head through the half-closed door leading to Buzz’s office, disappearing inside a second later. Low voices murmured and she finally came out.

“Head on in,” she said, flipping a hand toward the office door. “But he’s only got a few minutes before a meeting.”

Trent took a deep breath and entered.

Buzz sat behind his large desk, scribbling on his calendar, and didn’t acknowledge Trent for several seconds. He finally glanced from the calendar. “What do you want?”

“Thanks for seeing me. A couple things. First, I’m here to apologize.”

Buzz studied Trent’s face. “Go on.”

Trent shifted and worked hard to keep his temper in check. “That day at Polanski’s I wasn’t myself. Sometimes my anger gets away from me. Please know I’m sorry.”

Buzz made a gruff little noise, one Trent assumed was a sign of acknowledgment. “Fine. What else did you want?”

“It’s about Marion.”

Buzz’s eye twitched.

Trent moved forward and took the seat in front of the desk. “I’d never do anything to hurt her. She’s such a great woman.”

“Damn straight.” Buzz puffed out his chest.

“I didn’t move here to change anything about your life with Marion, but I imagine me being here now is, well…unsettling, awkward.”

Buzz’s lips pursed.

“All I want is to get to know my mother. Can we call it a truce?”

Buzz shifted in his seat before looking Trent square in the eye. “Listen, I can see you’re not a bad guy. But your father, now he’s another story. I guess I’ve been afraid you being around will remind Marion of what she had with Frank.” He leaned forward. “I’m not a stupid man. I know how Marion felt about your father. Jesus, I’m damn lucky a woman like her is with me, but if Frank Jamieson snapped his fingers, she’d—” He clamped his lips shut, as if he’d already said too much.

“I can’t control any of that. But I can see how Marion feels about you, and my father. Listen, he doesn’t want my mother to know what went on between him and Marion years ago. So maybe we all need to forget it, too.” Trent extended a hand across the desk. “How about we try to be friends?”

Buzz blinked, stared at Trent for a long moment before he reached out and shook Trent’s hand.

Trent relaxed, the weight of his past a slightly lighter load to carry, and the reason it mattered in the first place suddenly crystal clear. Maybe his own father had ignored him growing up, but the need to have his birth mother’s husband see some good in him meant more than it should.

* * * *

“Want to stay for dinner?” Emily glanced over her shoulder while she stirred a large pot of sauce.

“No thanks, I have chorus tonight. I came to give you these.” She extended a bouquet of flowers toward her sister.

Emily stopped stirring and took them. “That’s nice, but why?”

“For watching Boomer the other night. He loves his Aunt Emily.”

“Boomer and I aren’t related. I love him, but not related.” She studied Veronica from top to toe. “If you don’t mind me saying so, Sis, you look different. Like you’ve had a good roll in the hay.”

Veronica’s cheeks warmed, but she smiled. “There’s no way you can tell that from my appearance.”

“Okay, so I can’t. I stopped by your friend Sophie’s farm for some eggs this afternoon. Jay helped me and mentioned how you and Trent went out Friday and Saturday and seemed to be hitting it off, since he didn’t come home either night.”

“Guess if Jay’s talking about it, the whole town knows.” She reached below the sink, where her sister kept the vases, and removed one. “Well, I don’t care. I’m happy. Happier than I’ve felt in years.”

“Then I’m glad.” Emily’s smile slipped. “Hey, I’m glad you finally told me what happened to you back in college. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to share.”

“No. But it’s good I faced it. Thanks for
not
telling me I was stupid to let him into my apartment. I’ve always worried that would be the first thing others said.”

“How could you have known? Have you seen him since then?”

“No. Luckily, I haven’t.” Emily’s curiosity opened a door. Rather than ignore it, as she often did, Veronica stepped through. “But you know Gail’s annual party each summer?”

Her sister nodded.

“It’s in two days. One of our old friends from school—Carin—who we haven’t seen since college, will be coming to the party this year. She’s remarried now. Guess who she married?”

Emily touched Veronica’s arm. “Not…”

Veronica’s pulse throbbed. “Yes. She married the man who raped me.”

Emily dropped her hand. “Geesh, talk about small worlds. Wait… So he’ll be at the party?”

Veronica nodded.

Emily’s eyes opened wide. “You can’t go.”

“I said yes before I knew.”