Harvest Moon (30 page)

She swallowed, her pulse throbbing at the base of her throat. “What do you want?”

He stepped forward, wobbled, and leaned on the doorframe for support. “So you
do
remember me?”

Anger returned. Swift and more powerful than ever before. Veronica clenched her fist. “How dare you act like we never met?” Her heart pounded with the thud of a thousand jackhammers against her ribs.

He snorted. “Come on. WhywouldIkissand tell?” The words tumbled out of his mouth, barely discernable.

“Kiss and tell?” The throttle of her rage burst wide open, causing her voice to get louder. “Is that how you see it?”

He chuffed a dismissive sound and let go of his hold on the door. “You invited me in that night. That’s how I see it.” He puffed out his chest, suddenly on more sure footing.

“Listen, you bastard, you raped me that night.”

“What are you talking about? We hooked up at a party.” He smirked and his Ken-doll looks faded to ugly. “Women! God, you all love to exaggerate.”

Vulnerability she’d carried for years stirred like a tornado in her chest. Swirling. Building up momentum.

Her limbs trembled, but she moved toward him until she stood a step away. “You fucking bastard,” she growled. “You’re a rapist. I let you ruin my life for too long. You’re sick and need help. And you’re drunk. Go back to your wife.”

His arm shot out fast, the unexpected strike of a cobra. He wrapped his thick fingers around her wrist, a tight hold despite his condition. “You’d better keep your mouth shut about what happened. Do you hear me?” He tugged her so close she caught a whiff of the heavy alcohol lingering in his breath.

“Let go of me.” She pulled. His grip stiffened.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Think about the class. What were those steps? She took a step toward Gary and bent her elbow until their forearms lined up.

Pop!
Her hand slipped from his hold and she backed away, farther into the room.

He opened his eyes wide and laughed, a sound so terrifying it sent a chill racing along her spine. “So you like the chase now?”

He came toward her, fast, vile eagerness emitting from his gaze. She moved backward, only to be cornered by the bed. Lessons from the first night of class flashed in her head, including Trent’s words about the element of surprise. She readied her palms and stepped toward Gary. Putting all her weight into it, she smacked his chest with every ounce of strength she owned and screamed, “Leave me alone!”

He tumbled backward and slammed into the doorjamb, making him grunt. His eyes widened and arms flailed. “What the—” A red hue blasted his cheeks, but he regained his balance. He glared at her, glanced at the bed.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins and her knees trembled. Getting away from him was priority, but it wouldn’t happen unless he moved away from the doorway. She inched to her right to lure him in a new direction, even though it took them both closer to the bed.

“That’s it, keep going.” He inched closer, making her freedom through the doorway possible. She tried to dart past him, but he grabbed her wrist before she could. This time she angled her elbow and snapped her wrist free faster than before. His arm lifted, but before he could strike or grab again, she lunged forward and jammed her flattened palm underneath his nostrils.

“Arghhhhh!” His hand flew up to his face.

Veronica bolted for the door and ran down the hall.

“I’m going to kill you!” Gary screamed. His footsteps pounded the wooden floors, closing in on her.

At that moment, Trent rounded the corner. “I knew it!”

He brushed past her and rushed Gary. Veronica turned to the two men and gulped large breaths, trying to steady her nerves.

Trent rammed Gary’s midsection with his shoulder and sent Gary tumbling backward
. Gary slammed into the wall and slid to the floor
.

“Get up,” Trent demanded, raising his fists. “I’m not done with you. This is payback. Long overdue payback.”

Gary hobbled to get up, but before he could, a woman in a blue dress came around the corner. “Oh my…” She turned around and ran out the door.

“Trent,” Veronica said quietly. “That’s enough.” She stepped closer, touched his shoulder, and he turned in surprise.

“He tried to hurt you again, didn’t he?”

Veronica’s heart stuttered. “Again?”

Trent stared back, a blank expression overtaking his face, and he lowered his raised hands.

Eli rounded the corner. “What the hell is going on in here?”

Gail entered behind him with a few others, including Carin, who rushed over to her husband and knelt at his side.

“What’s wrong with you?” she screamed at Trent.

Veronica cleared her throat and all heads turned her way.

“Trent was helping me.” She took a step closer to Carin. “Gary and I met back in college. Isn’t that right?” She stared down at him, determined not to back down from his icy glare. “What he doesn’t want you to know is that we met briefly back then. At a party, where he took me home and…” She shut her eyes, as a wedge clogged her throat and tears formed. When she opened them, she jutted out her chin and stared directly at Carin. “Where he took me home and raped me.”

The bystander’s stares settled on her skin. She forced herself to stand firm and tall, though, despite what anybody might think about her or what had happened.

“Tonight is the first time Gary and I have crossed paths since then. When I came in to get my sweater, he tried to attack me again.”

Carin gasped. “He’d never do that. What’s wrong with you, Ronnie?”

Veronica stared at Carin for a few long seconds. “I suggest counseling for your husband. He’s a sick man. A very sick man.”

She reached for Trent’s hand and led him away from the scene, ignoring all questions.

* * * *

Veronica stared out the car’s window at the dark country road. Too many things had been said for her to ignore them. After she’d explained to Trent what he’d walked into, she grew silent, thinking of ways to address his comment, tossed out in in the throes of a fight.

This is payback. Long overdue payback.

They sped past a sign reading, “Welcome to Connecticut.” Trent cleared his throat. “I’m glad Gail stuck by your side afterward.”

“Yes. It helped that she’d heard a rumor he’d done the same to another woman back when we were roommates. If I’d only known, but if she believed it gossip, I could see why she didn’t spread the word.”

Trent reached for her hand. “She promised to tell Carin. Let’s hope she gets her husband some help. I’m proud of you.” He squeezed her hand. “You fought him. I saw his nose. My best student.”

She turned to him. “What did you mean by again? You knew Gary hurt me once before.”

He cut a glance her way, frowned.

“I never told you Gary raped me, or that he’d be at the party and yet… You seemed to know.”

Trent sighed, blinked as he stared ahead at quiet country road.

“Did you read my e-mail? Or… Or did my sister talk to you?”

“Your sister?”

“Yes, I told her Gary would be there, what he’d done to me years ago. But asked for her confidence. If she told you—”

“Your sister didn’t tell me.” He licked his lips. “Yes, I did read your e-mail.”

“So you lied to me the other morning.”

Trent glanced her way, pain in his gaze. “Yes. I’m sorry. I knew it was wrong, but you were upset and wouldn’t say why. I was worried.” She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms.

“So you worried because I’d been upset that morning, and it somehow justified a breach of trust?”

“Come on, Pearls. I’m so proud of how you handled yourself tonight.”

“But you lied.” She faced out the window into the trees to avoid his pain while clinging to her own.

He exhaled loudly. “I have never been more sorry.”

Silence. She let it hang.

“Veronica.” Trent’s grim tone, plus he’d never called her by her full name, made her look his way. “There’s something else.”

“What?”

He drew in a deep breath. “What I knew… It wasn’t only because of the e-mail that morning. I knew about Gary because—” Trent paused and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I’m Ry.”

“Oh come on, Trent! I get it. You saw the e-mail. Saw I’m close to someone named Ry, who I’ve shared some secrets with. Pretending to be him is just sick. It’s just mean.”

“No. I am.” He stopped the car at an intersection and looked right at her, his expression determined. “Eclectic Expression is my blog.” A car pulled up behind them and tooted the horn. Trent took a left toward Northbridge.

A tidal wave of thoughts barreled over her. Trent on the elevator. Their kiss at the bar. The way he’d slowly earned her trust, let her fall for him. She’d been talking to Ry for many months prior to all these things.

“I never told you who I was, or how to find me. Were you following me? Was our meeting on the elevator… It wasn’t chance?”

“No, it was. I didn’t know you were Etta on the elevator. Or at Sophie’s party.”

“So when—exactly—did you know?”

“Pieces fell in place after I moved here…after we began to spend time together. Then, the day you e-mailed me about running into a man you liked while kayaking, well it had to be you.”

She did a quick calculation. “You’ve know all this time, but never said a word?”

“I-I was afraid you’d be upset or angry to learn that everything you told to me—to Ry—wasn’t such a secret to me at all. And see? You’re upset.”

“I’m beyond upset. Try violated. You’ve acted like a voyeur to something inside me.” She shivered, suddenly her innermost thoughts debased by his dual identity. “I can’t believe you’d keep up this charade so long…I…I…”

He reached out and touched her arm, but she jerked away.

“The lies, they were never meant to hurt you.”

She drew deep into a space inside her head, a place where she could regain control of her life again.

He watched her, anxious and visibly shaken. “What can I do to fix this?”

“Trent, it’s not just the lie.” The lump in her throat almost swallowed her next words, but she quietly forced them out. “It’s my lost belief in you.”

As the sun rose over the horizon, Trent studied the pages of a book by Eckhart Tolle from his porch chair, reading a single passage for the umpteenth time in his recovery.

He let the words sink in, thought about his past. Addiction. To fix pain, but you do something that only ends in more pain. That unconscious thing Trent had always done to avoid facing what made him hurt.

The idea he could slip back into massaging his wounded soul with drugs scared the hell out of him, and this author’s wisdom was often a source of solace. He closed his eyes, breathed in the crisp early morning air, listened to the waking sounds of the barnyard animals, and, most of all, he let the pain of his lies to Veronica take over his body. As she’d stepped away from his car last night, with her mouth downturned, eyes distant, face marked with confusion, Trent’s heart had withered. When he asked if she’d be coming to the tasting room tonight, she’d shrugged and asked him to give her space.

Uncertainty grabbed Trent by the throat, tightened its grip. He sank deep into his own grief, allowing the lyrics Etta had written—Veronica had written—to play inside his head.

He opened his eyes, rushed inside, and removed his guitar from the case.

Had he made different choices, this separation never would have happened. If only they hadn’t gone to the party. By tonight, he’d have shared the truth about his two identities by playing her this song at the tasting room opening, as he’d planned all along. Now, it was too late.

He settled on the edge of the sofa, strummed the chords he’d created, quietly sang the lyrics. Lyrics spawned by hope they’d both possessed, yet now…

Each note encased his heart, squeezed it dry, and made him ache. Each perfect word showed how, like nature, love nurtures two souls to the right place. He finished, closed his eyes, and the hollow feeling of loss spread through him. His foolish silence had yielded the worst possible outcome.

But the song they wrote together meant something.

This song was
their
story. They’d nurtured each other, grown as individuals due to the closeness they’d shared. An idea formulated, one that might take a few tries, but he wasn’t a quitter.

Hope. Something he hadn’t given up on yet.

* * * *

Veronica put the last of the dirty lunch dishes into the dishwasher and reached below the sink for the detergent. The kitchen wall phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, surprised to see her mother’s home phone number.

Veronica picked up. “Hi, Mom. I thought you got back tomorrow.”

“We decided to book an earlier flight so we could go to the vineyard opening tonight. I know how much it means to Sophie.”

“That was nice of you. She’ll be thrilled. Those pictures you e-mailed from Amsterdam were beautiful.”

“You really should go, honey. You know, we met several singles on our tour. They seemed to be having a good time. Although, maybe you and Jim could—”

“We broke up while you were gone.” Veronica poured the dish detergent and tapped the machine start button.

“Oh. Well, like I said, the singles with us were having a grand time.”

“Good to know.”

“Come over for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll show you more pictures. What time are you going to the vineyard tonight?”

Trent. His deceptions. “I’m not sure.” The comment sat like a lead weight. She might be upset with Trent, but Sophie would be disappointed if she wasn’t there. Plus, her mother had come home early to go.

“Hold on.” Her mother’s voice moved away from the phone. “What?” Veronica’s stepfather talked in the background.

Suddenly an opening presented itself, a chance to take the risk she’d refused to take twenty years ago.

“Sorry, what were we—”

“Mom, there’s something I want to tell you. Remember when I came home from grad school and I wasn’t quite myself?”

“Yes. The breakup with Marc, such a sad time for you.”

Butterflies flittered inside Veronica’s gut, a few remnants of her old self. Only now she ignored them and said, “Well, there’s a little more to it.”