The Way Home (28 page)

“Ty married her this afternoon and they’re already on their way to California,” Patsy said shortly, not bothering to look up.

“He said, even if they did get married, it wouldn’t be legal because she didn’t have permission from her parents.”

Patsy said nothing. She shoved the last of Meg’s clothes into the suitcase and slammed the lid down. She snapped the latches into place before giving the room a quick once-over, looking to see if she’d missed anything. Assured that she had everything, she hefted the heavy case off the bed. Ruth moved out of the doorway, allowing her to pass and then following her to the front of the house.

“If anyone asks, I’ll say I gave her permission to get married.”

Patsy had her hand on the doorknob when her mother spoke. She wanted only to leave this place and the memories it held, but the plea in her mother’s voice, more than her words, made her stop. She let her hand drop from the knob and turned slowly to look at her mother.

Had she always been so small and worn looking? Hadn’t there been a time when she’d been young and pretty? Patsy could no longer remember. All she could remember was that, since she was a tiny girl, she’d known that she couldn’t count on her mother to take care of her, to protect her or Meg.

Now she was offering to stand up to her husband, to lie to the law if necessary. Patsy searched inside herself for some gratitude on Meg’s behalf, for some appreciation of what Ruth was willing to do. What she found was emptiness. The anger and bitterness were gone and there was nothing to fill the void they’d left.

It was too little, too late. One act of courage couldn’t make up for the years she’d buried her head, pretending not to see first George Harper’s then Harlan Davis’s abuse. It was far too little, offered much, much too late, Patsy thought wearily. If Ruth expected her to say thank you on Meg’s behalf, she was doomed to disappointment. She owed Meg — owed both of them — so much more than she could ever repay.

“Good-bye, Mama.”

She turned and pulled open the door before picking up the heavy suitcase and walking out into the fresh, clean air.

* * *

Seeing Patsy come out, Jack dropped the cigarette he’d been smoking and ground it out with a quick twist of his foot before hurrying forward to take the suitcase from her.

“Thank you.”

“You should have called me to come in and get it,” he told her, feeling the weight of it pull his arm.

“I managed.”

Over her shoulder, Jack saw Ruth Harper through the screen, watching them. He hesitated, wondering if he should say something to her, but Patsy was already walking past him to the car. He turned to follow her, hearing the slow whine of the hinges as Ruth shut the door behind him. He put the suitcase in the car and slid behind the wheel, shooting a questioning glance at his companion.

“Everything all right?”

“Fine.”

It didn’t take a mind reader to know that “fine” was not exactly the truth. But the time when he’d had the right to probe for answers was long past, five years past. She’d taken that right from him when she’d married another man. His jaw tightening at the memory, Jack started the car, letting the sound of the engine fill the silence between them.

Neither of them spoke until they’d left Regret behind. Jack had promised himself that he wouldn’t be the one to break the silence. They could drive all the way to Herndale without saying a word if that was the way she wanted it.

“Thank you for taking me to get Meg’s things,” she said quietly.

“You’re welcome.” Jack glanced at her, wishing it wasn’t too dark to see her face. “Did you tell your mother about the wedding?”

“Yes. She said, if there was any question, she’d say she’d given Meg permission to get married.”

“Good. That should put a stop to Davis trying to make any more trouble.”

“I hope so.” She sounded doubtful.

“You think he’ll still try?” Jack asked.

“I don’t see what he can do, what with them being in California.” But there was something in her voice that said she wouldn’t be surprised if he found a way, even across that distance.

“Well, even if he tries, he has Ty to deal with now.”

“Yes. He’ll take care of Meg.”

She fell silent and Jack wished again that he could see something of her expression, read what she was thinking. But all he could see was the pale cameo of her profile against the darkness outside the window and the restless movement of her hands as she smoothed her gloves over her fingers.

“Did he … did Davis ever … hurt you?” he asked, voicing a suspicion he hadn’t fully worked out in his mind.

“What do you mean?”

The fear in her voice surprised him. What had he said to frighten her?

“Did he hit you, the way he did Meg?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she said tightly, giving him the answer he’d sought.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There was anger in the question and a hurt that he hadn’t realized he felt. But it did hurt to think that she’d have concealed something like that from him.

“What could you have done?” she asked tiredly, not trying to deny that her stepfather had abused her.

“What could I have done?” Jack shot her a quick, angry look. “What the hell do you think I’d have done? I’d have gotten you out of there so fast that Davis’s head would still be spinning.”

“Would you have?” There was a kind of wistful pain in her voice.

“You know I would have. My God, Patsy, I wanted to marry you. Do you think I’d have let that bastard hurt you?” His hands tightened the steering wheel as if it were Harlan Davis’s neck. “You should have told me.”

“And then what? You’d have ridden in on your white charger and swept me away?” There was no sarcasm in her question.

“We’d have gotten married right away,” he snapped.

“Your father had just died. You were trying to settle his affairs. Your mother had collapsed with grief and your sister was depending on you to take your father’s place, to give them both someone to lean on.” She recited the circumstances of five years ago in the flat tone of someone who’d gone over the same facts a thousand times. “In the midst of all that, do you think I should have added my problems to the list?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I’d asked you to marry me. That made your problems mine. I would have taken care of you.”

I would have taken care of you.
Patsy closed her eyes for a moment. Five years ago she’d have given her soul to have been able to let him do just that. But it never would have worked. She’d known it then and there was no reason to think she’d been wrong.

She opened her eyes as Jack turned into the drive in front of her house. He shut the engine off. In the sudden silence, he turned to face her, resting his arm along the back of the seat. Patsy kept her head down, her eyes on the restless movement of her fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Patsy? Didn’t you know I’d have done anything to keep you safe?” There was old pain in his voice, five years of wondering, and Patsy’s heart ached.

“I know you would have tried. But there were … things I couldn’t tell you,” she whispered.

“Like what?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” If she hadn’t been able to tell him then, she certainly wasn’t going to now.

She felt Jack’s eyes on her down-bent head and knew he was cursing the darkness that prevented him from reading her expression. She should say good-bye, get out of the car, and walk away without looking back. Jack Swanson was part of her past. No good could come of pretending otherwise.

“These ‘things’ you couldn’t tell me. Could you tell your husband about them?” There was a bitter edge to his voice, a jealousy that told her that she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t quite managed to put the past behind them.

“I told him,” she admitted softly. She lifted her head to look at him. She’d left the front porch light on and there was just enough illumination inside the car for her to see the impact of her words. Or did she just feel his pain?

“Why?” He sounded bewildered. And hurt. “Why could you tell him something you couldn’t tell me?”

She stared at him, searching for the right words, for a way to explain why she’d made the choices she had. And found it remarkably simple, after all.

“Because I didn’t love him the way I loved you.”

She gasped and put one hand to her mouth, dismayed to hear what she’d said, what she’d revealed. In one sentence, she’d explained why she’d been able to tell Eldin Baker what her stepfather had done, able to tell him everything that had happened. Because she hadn’t loved him enough for it to matter whether he turned away from her. But if she’d had to see the love in Jack’s eyes turn to disgust — that would have destroyed her.

“Patsy — “

“I have to go in.” She fumbled for the door handle and jerked it open.

“Wait.” Jack reached for her but she scooted out of the car, nearly falling in her haste to get away from him — but even more to escape the echo of her own words.

“Thank you for the ride. Give my love to Meg when you see her in Los Angeles,” she babbled. She saw him reach for the door on his own side. “No!” She realized that she was nearly shouting and repeated the word in a more moderate tone. “No, don’t get out.”

“We need to talk.”

“No. No, we don’t.” She clung to the edge of the door, staring at him across the width of the car. “It was all a long time ago, Jack. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“But — “

“I’m married now. And I love my husband.” She saw his hand drop from the door handle and told herself that she was relieved. “Good-bye, Jack.”

Patsy pushed the car door shut without waiting for a reply. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked up the porch steps and she willed strength into her trembling knees. After pushing open the front door, she stepped inside and closed it behind her, leaning back against it. Seconds ticked by and she finally heard Jack start the car. It wasn’t until she’d heard him pull out of the drive that she allowed the tears that filled her eyes to spill over.

Sliding down against the door, Patsy sank to her knees on the polished floor, wrapping her arms across her stomach as hard, painful sobs shook her frame.

CHAPTER 13

Meg worried at the wedding ring on her left hand, turning it restlessly around and around her finger. She’d been wearing it for three days and it felt no more natural now than it had when Ty had slipped it on her finger in Iowa.

Ty. She stole a glance across the table at him, allowing her eyes to linger when she saw that he was reading the menu. Her husband. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make the words stick. She simply couldn’t make her marriage seem real. Of course, it wasn’t completely real. Not yet, anyway.

Her wedding night had been spent on a train rocking its way across the country. She’d slept alone in the cramped upper berth that was all Ty had been able to secure at the last minute. It was a measure of her exhaustion that she’d slept through most of the night. The second night had been spent much the same as the first except that she’d been rested enough to worry about where her new husband was sleeping. Assured that he had a berth in another car, she’d climbed into her own bed and lain awake half the night, listening to the rhythmic clack of the train as it skimmed over the steel rails and trying to absorb the reality of her new circumstances.

They’d arrived in Los Angeles a few hours before. Meg had been enthralled by her first glimpse of slender palm trees outlined against the blue sky. There’d been so much to look at that, for a few minutes, she’d forgotten their situation. Ty had smiled at her excitement and laughed when she’d asked if he thought they might actually see a movie star. And for a few minutes, she’d been comfortable with him, the way she had been all summer.

But then they’d reached the hotel and she’d heard Ty ask for a suite. It had suddenly occurred to her that she’d be spending tonight alone in a hotel room with her husband — her wedding night, for all intents and purposes. But was there going to
be
a wedding night? Did she even
want
there to be a wedding night?

As if sensing her gaze, Ty looked up, his eyes meeting hers. Meg flushed and looked down at her menu, half afraid he could read her thoughts. They hadn’t talked about what was going to happen after they were married. Did Ty intend for this to be a real marriage? Or was he planning on getting an annulment once she turned eighteen and was beyond her stepfather’s reach?

Meg wasn’t sure which frightened her most at the moment: The thought of having her marriage annulled in a few months or the thought of sharing a room, not to mention a bed, with him.

“See anything you like?” Ty asked.

At his question, Meg looked up at him and Ty found himself wondering just what was going on behind those big blue eyes. She’d been studying the menu with an intensity that suggested that the fate of nations might rest on her gastronomic decision, but he doubted she’d read a word of it.

“I’m not very hungry,” she said.

“You haven’t eaten much since the … since we left home.” His tongue stumbled clumsily over the word “wedding.” The look in Meg’s eyes said that she knew exactly what he’d started to say, and Ty wished the word had come more readily to his tongue.