Harvest Moon (29 page)

They parked and Veronica pushed open her door.

Trent reached for her wrist and she turned to him, her large, dark eyes questioning why he’d stopped her. Before she could say a word, he kissed her, tender and with passion, hoping to ease her mind, letting her know he stood by her side as she faced the enemy.

He pulled back and winked. “Now we can go.”

They got out. Veronica slipped her purse over her shoulder and a lace shawl over her forearm. Hand-in-hand, they walked toward distant piano music and voices, blending with sounds of chirping crickets from the woods surrounding the rural property. The sun kissed the horizon and promised a beautiful night. Knowing what they were about to walk into, he could only hope.

Veronica mentioned some friends who’d be here, giving Trent a little background on the group and how their bonds had formed. Only once did her voice show even a crack, at the mention of Carin, who he’d seen in the photograph with Gary. They followed a slate path to the back of the house.

A small crowd had already gathered under a large party tent, situated between an in-ground pool and the antique farmhouse’s stone patio.

“There’s Gail.”

She led him to the tent. Twinkling party lights hung from the ceiling, sparkling like stars above guests and round tables, covered with colorful floral centerpieces. Veronica panned the area, silent, staring at clusters of guests, her lips tense. She gripped his hand, tighter than ever before. More than anything, he wanted to reassure her, but couldn’t.

Trent leaned close to her ear. “Hey, Pearls darling? If you want to arm wrestle, at least give me a heads-up.” He lifted their hands. “You’re strong.”

“Sorry.” She smiled, gave him a playful squeeze.

They went over to a group standing by the bar. He surveyed the area for the man from the photograph or his wife.

“Ronnie!” Gail shrieked, stopping the conversation in their circle of people.

Veronica hugged her friend, who showcased a rich beach tan set against a white sundress. Gail’s short, edgy hairstyle said Manhattan chic, not surprising, since Veronica had said the family spent most of their months in the city.

She took Trent’s arm and drew him closer. “This is Trent Jamieson.”

“Welcome, Trent. Geesh, Ronnie. Where’ve you been hiding this one?”

“No hiding at all. He came in the new batch of arrivals we get every year in Northbridge.”

Gail grinned. “Trent, this is my husband, Eli.”

Trent shook hands, and then Eli hugged Veronica. “Can I take your things? We’ve set up a spot in the guest room down the hall for purses and jackets, right near the bathroom.”

Introductions were made with people Veronica already knew. Trent pretended to listen while he combed the crowd. His skin pulsed, nerves eager and still filled with rage over the details of Veronica’s rape.

And yet here she stood, talking and laughing with her friends, ready to face this creep.

He placed a hand on her lower back, whispered in her ear, “I’m going to get us drinks. White wine? Something else?”

“Wine is good.” She smiled, making him wish he could share the pride swelling inside his chest over her bravery tonight. He went to the bar, got her drink and a seltzer with lime. A couple rounded the corner of the house. Trent stilled and watched them, thinking it was the couple. As they neared, he saw it wasn’t.

When he returned with the drinks, Veronica was talking about the tasting room opening tomorrow. Trent shared some details about events during the day, the food they planned to serve and how he’d be playing with his band later that night.

Every so often he’d catch Veronica glance around the yard, subtle movements where he’d see a glimmer of fear in her gaze. All while he stood by, hands tied by a secret. Her secret. His secret. If only one of them had been bold enough to share. Frustration he couldn’t ease her worries mounted, but he tried to hide it and listened to the old schoolmates chat about their classes.

Veronica’s laughter drew his attention her way. “Gail, I think your memory of that class is clouded by the crush you had on the professor. He never—” She quieted and stared out into the yard.

Trent followed her gaze.

A couple headed toward the tent. Tall torches cast a golden glow along the path to the party, enough light so Trent could make out the newcomer’s faces, and also the reason behind Veronica’s silence. His jaw tightened, and he impulsively clenched his fist.

“…he never tested us fairly. Right?” Veronica turned to a third woman from their school days, who agreed.

Trent continued his study of the new arrivals. Without a doubt, he could take this guy.

Veronica put a hand on his forearm. “Want to get something to eat?”

“Sure.”

Leaving their drinks at the first empty table they found, they went to the buffet. While they put food on their plates, Veronica kept glancing toward the group they’d just left, where the man and woman Trent had seen on the invitation spoke with Gail.

Trent filled his plate but noted Veronica took very little. He couldn’t blame her. Hell, even his own gut was twisted in knots right now, mostly driven by having to hold tight to the reins of his rage.

They returned to their table, sat, and ate for a few minutes. Neither spoke, yet both picked at their food, glanced around the tent, often staring in the same direction…toward her attacker. Trent’s silence ate away at him. He wanted to scream, promise to protect her tonight.

She pushed some salad around the plate and looked up. “I think you’re a hit with my friends.”

He stopped cutting a piece of skirt steak. “Good. I’m enjoying them, too. Want to try a bite of this steak? It’s great.”

“No thanks.” She quickly glanced to the other side of the tent when Gary’s loud laughter carried across the cool night air.

The only thing he could do was take her mind off her troubles. “Hey, did I ever tell you about the time Duncan got in trouble in college for putting a live chicken in the dean’s office?”

Her gaze wandered over to him and expression shifted from worry to amusement. “Your brother?” She laughed and appeared to relax. “He doesn’t seem the type.”

“That’s why it was hilarious. Here he was, this perfect kid who never did a single thing wrong his whole life. Then his first semester in college, he decides to join a fraternity and they make him pull that prank. Only it figures he’d get caught.”

Veronica’s eyes brightened. “Did he get in trouble?”

Trent didn’t get a chance to answer.

“There you are!” Gail approached their table, eyeing Veronica. The couple from the PartyTime photograph walked directly behind her.

Trent studied the woman’s darkish blond hair and pretty face, Gary’s football star build. In high school, he’d have said they were a shoo-in for prom king and queen.

Gail stepped aside and made room for the others. “It only took Carin twenty years, but she’s finally returned to us.”

“Okay, okay. So I disappeared for a while.” Carin opened her arms to Veronica. “Ronnie, it’s so great to see you.”

Veronica stood. Her smile didn’t smudge as she hugged the slender woman. Gary watched, his thoughts unreadable. “You, too, Carin.”

Trent rose, placed a hand on Veronica’s back, his gaze piercing Gary. Nothing about this man’s appearance seemed threatening. In fact, the opposite was true; he was a little too close to perfect. The way a Venus flytrap is able to lure unsuspecting bugs into its petals. The kind of creep who could commit a rape and still appear innocent to the outside world.

“Gary.” Carin encouraged him to her side. “This is another one of my old friends, Ronnie Sussingham. If you can believe it, Ronnie, this guy was right under my nose during grad school.”

Veronica’s smile faded. Trent inched closer.

Gary’s perfectly squared teeth flashed a phony beam and not a muscle of recognition flinched on his face. “Nice to meet you, Ronnie.”

“Yes. You too.” Beneath Trent’s hand, Veronica’s back tightened. She stared for several seconds, then cleared her throat. “Oh, this is Trent Jamieson.”

Gary extended a hand and Trent did the same, even though his body wanted to lunge at this guy.

“So strange that we were all at the same school for two years and never met.” Gail glanced around the group. “Isn’t it?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Gary focused on Gail. “There were about ten thousand students at the time. More if you count the graduate enrollment. It’s easy to get lost in your own crowd.”

Carin motioned to the half-eaten plates of food on the table. “We’ll let you guys finish eating and catch up later.”

Gary glanced between Trent and Veronica, flashed a quick smile. “Real nice to meet you both.”

“You too,” Veronica mumbled. The second they stepped away, she dropped into the wooden folding chair and closed her eyes.

Trent sat. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, then took her half-full wine glass and drank it to the last drop. “Maybe I just need a little food. I had a light lunch.”

Another couple came to the table and asked if they could join them, a neighborhood friend of Gail’s who Veronica had met here a few years back. A conversation ensued, but Trent pushed aside his plate.

He rested his elbow on the table and stroked his chin while he watched Gary at the buffet, filling a plate and talking to the person behind him. A moment later, Gary’s gaze drifted to Veronica. The relaxed facade of seconds earlier slipped, and Trent swore a strange expression flickered over the man’s face.

In the three hours since Gary and Carin had arrived, Veronica found herself stuck talking to them on several occasions. Each time, Gary barely looked at Veronica, let alone showed any signs of recognition.

Fury wormed through her veins, his disregard after what he’d done inexcusable. She tried to reason, figure out why he’d act this way and then realized the sad truth; what choice did he really have? A more disgusting thought occurred to her; maybe he really
hadn’t
remembered her. Perhaps the repulsive way he’d forced himself on her was so commonplace in his world, the victims in his wake were used and forgotten.

Gary’s loud laugh rumbled from a few tables away. She glanced over, just in time to catch him sling his arm over the chair of the man next to him and lean close, speaking too loudly near the poor guy’s ear about politics. Gary finished off another glass of scotch and stood, heading toward the bar…again. Carin stayed at the table, watched him walk away. Her annoyed expression, however, spoke volumes.

Trent’s arm rested on Veronica’s chair back, his hand rubbing her shoulder. “Want to dance, beautiful?”

She stared into his blue eyes. “I would.”

They excused themselves to the dance floor, where a handful of other people slow danced. Trent wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her against him, and she tried to relax, tried to clear her head. He hummed in her ear the beautiful Van Morrison song the DJ played, and she remembered their first dance at Sophie’s party, when he’d done the same thing.

His accompaniment stopped, and he whispered in her ear, “This was an excuse to hold you.”

She melted ever so slightly against his chest. “You never need an excuse.”

Placing her head on his shoulder, she took comfort, yet her primary thoughts still wrestled over a confrontation with Gary. Her anger would be wasted on a man who gave so little thought to his crime that he didn’t even remember her.

Crash!
They stopped dancing, turned to the sound. Gary leaned over two toppled chairs near the bar, bending over to stand them upright.

“I think someone should be cut off,” Trent mumbled, an expression of disgust on his face.

Veronica nodded, afraid to say too much more. In Gary’s current condition, having a talk with him didn’t seem smart. Chances were, he wouldn’t even remember it the next day.

The song ended and Veronica kissed Trent. “I need to run in and use the ladies’ room.” She slipped from his arms and took a few steps to leave.

“I’ll come with you.” He took her hand.

“It’s okay. I can go—”

“Hey, Trent?” Gail approached. “Some folks are interested in the vineyard opening. Didn’t you say you had some information with you?”

“Yeah, in the car.” He glanced at Veronica for a second, then said to Gail, “I was just about to run inside, and then I’ll—”

“Go get them now.” Veronica squeezed his hand. “I can go inside by myself. Gail, he’ll bring them to you in a minute.”

As Gail walked away, Veronica whispered in Trent’s ear, “Did you forget I had a really good self-defense instructor? And sexy, too.”

His gaze shifted somewhere across the tent, brows knitting, but he agreed and trotted across the lawn to the car.

She headed for the farmhouse and entered the kitchen. Updated with modern stainless steel appliances and fine cherry woodwork, it was a far cry from the old house Eli and Gail first purchased. Veronica followed the hallway to the guest room and sorted through the pile until she found her purse. She used the toilet, flushed, and while washing her hands, stared in the mirror.

The same on the outside, different on the inside. She’d faced Gary and hadn’t crumbled.

Tonight was a gigantic step, considering her countless worries over the years. So what if the confrontation she’d planned never happened?

She felt taller. Stronger. The same satisfaction she’d experienced after the wine bottle exercise, and again after trying out the self-defense moves. Trent had taught her one thing…trust. She’d even had enough faith in herself to come here tonight.

She smiled. Confronting Gary didn’t matter; proving that he didn’t rule her life would allow her to move forward.

She stepped into the hallway and returned to the bedroom. After tossing the purse onto the bed, she searched through the pile of sweaters and shawls, finally locating hers near the bottom.

The floorboard creaked. “Hello, Ronnieeee. L-l-l-ooong time no see.”

She swung around to the slurred voice, at once familiar, making her stomach curl inward. Gary stood just outside the doorway. Distant, dark eyes replaced the personable front he’d donned upon arrival. He studied her, his chin dipped toward his chest and his lips pressed into a thin line.