Yesterday's Tomorrows (16 page)

I tried to withdraw my hand, but Holt's fingers encircled my wrist and kept it pinned to him. His other hand gently held my chin in place so that it was hard to look away. My pulse fluttered wildly as his head moved fractionally toward mine. I didn't have much experience to draw from, but I was pretty sure he was leaning in to kiss me.

And I wanted it.

I longed to feel what his lips would feel like against my own; to feel, even for a moment, what it was like to be wanted as a woman. Instinctively, I started to stretch up on my toes to meet him halfway, my eyes never leaving his as they grew darker, closer...

His cell phone rang and vibrated between us.

We jerked apart. Holt cursed under his breath as he reached for his phone while I inhaled deeply to calm my nerves. I tried to escape the room once again, to hide among his family, but he blocked my path and held up a finger asking me to wait. I almost ignored him since he seemed engrossed in the call until his eyes flashed to me. They narrowed as he scowled and a bad feeling formed in my gut. His answers were limited to mostly, "I see.” “Are you sure?" and finishing with, "I will" before hanging up.

"Is everything alright?" I ventured.

"That was John McCloskey. He got an update on the fire at your apartment because his name is listed as the co-signer on the lease."

"And?"

He stared at me, a dark expression on his face. "The fire marshal believes it was arson."

I staggered backward. "You mean someone started it on purpose? Who would do that?"

He peered at me with narrow eyes. "I don't know, Madelyn. Who do
you
think might have done it?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because it was started in your apartment."

I
backed away
from him until I bumped into the dining room table. "Wh...what? Are you sure? How can they tell?"

My mind was racing. I'd been doing lots of cooking earlier that day before Serafina had knocked. Had I been so distracted I'd forgotten to turn off the stove or oven? No, I wiped down some spills on the stove top which I couldn't have done if it was still hot. Or was I remembering that moment from the night before? Details I felt certain of only seconds earlier now seemed cloudy.

"It's only preliminary, but based on the kinds of charring, they can tell there was some sort of flammable liquid used."

"Oh, my God! Who would do that? And why?" My mind was racing. Charly? It was just irony the fire happened the same day I got her second note saying she was worried about some ‘bad people,’ wasn’t it?

He crossed his arms. "I don't know, Maddy. Why don't you tell me?"

"Tell you, what? I don't know anything!" My voice was shrill, and I started shaking. I looked into his stern face. Only moments earlier it had looked warm and caring. "You think I did it, don't you?"

I was outraged. Just earlier he was trying to convince me that he knew there was more to me than my past. And now he was using that same past to damn me.

"Everything alright in here?" Cal asked from behind Holt.

"Get out," Holt demanded while I simultaneously responded, "Your brother's an arrogant, pig-headed, stupid..." I sputtered trying to find more words and finally settled for, "...ass."

Cal pushed past his brother and stopped beside me. "Well, I can't fault your assessment, but what he'd do this time?" He had an amused sparkle in his eye.

"Cal…" Holt's voice sounded ominous.

But his brother remained undeterred and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. His expression grew more concerned as he looked closer at me. "Do you need to sit? You look a little pale." He looked up at his brother. "What the hell is going on in here?"

"I'll tell you what's going on," I answered. "He tries to convince me of one thing one minute, then practices the opposite the next."

"He's bullheaded, for sure," Cal responded, pinning his brother with a glare. "Hard to believe he's a lawyer, isn't it? Always suspicious. Always stubborn. Always--"

"Fucking enough! It's not like that." Holt roared, causing other family members to come running in. "Damn it, Maddy! That's not what I meant."

"Unca Hulk, you said a bad word," little Andrew said.

Sara gathered him in her arms. "I'll take the kids upstairs," she mumbled, looking between Holt and me. As she passed Holt, she whispered something in his ear. His eyes still looked angry, but he nodded, and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

He ran both hands along the side of his head, holding the back of his head before slowly sliding them down his neck and to his sides. He took a step toward me. I tried to step backward, but the table was in my way. Cal sensed my effort and stepped slightly in front of me like a shield.

"I think you need to calm down, little bro," Cal said.

Holt looked at his brother in amazement. "I'm not going to hurt her. I'd never do that."

Cal nodded. "I know. But she doesn't." He tipped his head toward me.

"Does someone want to explain what's going on here?" his dad asked.

Holt shoved his fingers in the back pockets of his jeans. "The fire marshal thinks someone deliberately set the fire in Maddy's building."

A chorus of gasps and 'oh no's' filled the room along with a mixture of concerned and angry expressions.

"That's an awful thing, but why all the loud voices?" Carol questioned.

"Because it started in my apartment, that's why," I spat.

That roused another chorus of concerned comments.

"Oh, darlin.'" His mother came over and hugged me. "Thank God you weren't there. I still dinna understand why all the..."

An expression of understanding lit her face. She whirled around to face her youngest child with an angry expression. "Holten Andrews! You dinna mean to accuse the wee lass of startin' it, do ya?" Her accent had ratcheted up a notch.

I saw what Holt had meant about the bristles beneath the clover. I was grateful it wasn’t directed at me.

"No! Of course not," he sputtered under his mother’s glare. "I don't think she's done anything wrong. She always assumes the worst about me. But someone tried to get to her, possibly to hurt her or maybe even worse.” He pointed his finger at me. “But she's as closed up about her past as a virgin nun's legs, so how the hell can I help figure it out?"

I felt Cal snicker, and even his dad hid a smile behind his hand. Molly, however, apparently didn't find him funny at all. "Holten Andrews, I didna raise ya to be so rude. I'll not have ya speak so disrespectfully of the church or any of those who serve it." She got right up in his face, or under his chin as it were since he towered over her. "You'll apologize right now."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry."

I had to bite my tongue to refrain from the childish impulse to stick it out at him. I wrinkled my nose instead.

His eyes glittered back at me. "I'm sorry. You just jumped right to that conclusion before I could say anything more. You always do that."

"Because you looked so angry," I tried to explain.

"Well, of course, I was angry!” His voice rose again. “It's bad enough someone tried to burn down your building, but now we suspect you were the target."

I forgot about our audience. "Why do you care so much, anyway?" I challenged. "I'm not your responsibility. I've been on my own for my entire life."

He remained silent.

"Yeah, Holt," Cal countered. "Why do you care so much?"

I didn't understand why Cal was so intent on getting under Holt's skin.

Holt threw his hands up in the air. "Because I just do. I care what happens to her. I care
about
her, goddamnit!" Holt exploded, spinning around and pounding the wall.

Everyone stood still, hardly breathing. Even Holt had seemed startled by his words, but Cal grinned and relaxed his stance next to me. "Exactly what I thought. Although yelling at her probably isn't the best way to convince her of that."

Cal squeezed my shoulders and whispered, “He’s not always such an idiot. You’ve rattled something loose inside him, and it’s driving him nuts.”

I looked at him questioningly.

“His heart, sweet girl. It’s been locked up as tight as he says you are. Judging by your reaction, maybe he rattles something in you, too, hmm?”

I blinked at him, not knowing what to say. He winked again and let go and then began to usher everyone out of the room. At the door he paused and turned.

“I’m curious, Maddy,” Cal commented casually. “Did you happen to see the military awards Holt has in his living room?”

“Cal,” Holt growled warningly over his shoulder, shaking his head.

His older brother ignored him and remained focused on me.

“Yes, he got them for being injured in Afghanistan. He told me his team was ambushed.”

“Ah, yes. All true. It’s how he received the Purple Heart. But did he tell you he was responsible for saving three of his buddies?”

I stared in amazement at Holt. “No, he didn’t,” I answered, crossing my arms and giving Holt an accusatory look.

“No, of course he wouldn’t tell you. But he did. He risked his life to drag those men who were gunned down and fell in the road. He went back three times to drag those men to safety.
That’s
how he got shot. I just thought you should know that when Holt cares about someone, there’s nothing he won’t do for them.” He turned and left, leaving Holt and me alone.

I wasn't sure how to react. I wanted to leap and shout at Holt’s earlier admission. At the same time, I wanted to run and hide, my instinct of self-preservation trying to remain at the top of the heap of my jumbled up emotions.

"I'm sorry." Holt was still facing the wall, head down with one hand in his pocket, one hand braced against the wall. "I don't think I've ever said those words to anyone as many times as I've said them to you. Not even my mom, and you heard how she demands an apology." He turned and rested his back against the wall and gave me a half smile.

"For someone so small, she certainly knows how to make bigger men do what she says," I snickered. "I'm sorry, too. I've been blamed my whole life for things that weren't my fault, and it's easy to be defensive. You seemed so mad at me, so I assumed you blamed me for the fire. But Holt, I didn't do it."

He leaned his head back and blew out a breath, staring at the ceiling. "I know that. I wasn't angry with you." He slanted his eyes down to look at me. "I felt kind of helpless, and I don't like that feeling."

I had a feeling that wasn't easy for him to admit. With his heartbreaking story fresh in my mind, I suspected he was still reacting from what happened long ago.

"Maddy, what happened Friday night was no accident. John and I are worried about you. We both think it's best if you continue to stay with me. John's been hired as a consultant on a case in Charlottesville, so he's traveling a lot, and he has Emma to consider. I know you don't have anyone else to stay with. My building is more secure than most, and I can take you to work and bring you home. I understand it's hard for you, and I know you have your reasons, but I'm going to need you to trust me so I can help protect you until we figure out who was behind the arson and put them behind bars. That's going to involve talking to me about your past. I understand it may not be easy, but I don't know where else to start."

The last person I trusted almost destroyed me. I was torn between wanting to turn all this over to Holt and let him help me versus relying on the only person I knew I could trust - me. I also couldn't handle anyone else getting hurt because of me.

You can't grow an orchard by itself, girlie. Whatcha gonna do about it?

I stared at Holt, whose eyes implored me to understand and accept his offer. From everything I'd learned about Holt, he had a strong instinct to defend and protect the people he cared about, whether it was his country, his clients, or people he cared about which apparently now included me. His brother basically just confirmed that.

I wanted other people to accept and trust me. Mary had been able to do it. Holt was doing it. Maybe it was time I did the same and let someone in.

"I do trust you, Holt. But I need a promise in return."

"What's that?"

"I'll do my best to answer any questions you have, but I'm doing so in confidence. I'm not ready for everyone to know. I realize I need to open up, but I need to be the one to decide who knows what and how much. So please, don't keep any secrets from me, and if you think someone else needs to know, I need you to talk to me first."

He pushed off from the wall. "I can work with that," he agreed as he stopped in front of me. "And I meant what I said earlier. Well, yelled," he chuckled. "I do care about you, Maddy. You're not like anyone else I know. It's been a long time since I cared about what happened to anyone outside of my family, so I guess I'm not handling that well either." He brushed the backs of his fingers down my cheek and held it there, causing an involuntary shudder to ripple through me.

I looked up at him. "You mean since Claire?" I whispered.

He nodded.

"What about other women? You've had other girlfriends since her, right?"

"No."

"Not even as friends?"

"Not until you. I guess that's why I'm pretty rusty at it," he chuckled.

"That's okay," I giggled. "I haven't made it easy for you. But if it helps, you've grown on me, too."

He laughed. "Yeah, maybe like moss on a tree."

"That's okay. At least with moss I know which direction you're coming from." He kissed me on the forehead. "Come on. Let's go home so we can talk in private."

Home. Interesting that no matter how hard I tried to decorate my small apartment to feel more like a home, it always seemed to be missing something. Now that I was living with Holt, even temporarily, I realized it was the sense of belonging that helped to create a home; knowing that someone who cared was waiting for you. Maybe he thought he was only protecting me, but he was doing so much more.

M
y family seemed
to understand our need to leave. Maddy looked a little overwhelmed by the hugs from not only the children but all of the adults as well. I didn't have to know much about her family life to recognize that she wasn't used to being the recipient of so much affection, but my family was one to lavish it out, and both of my parents made sure to tell Maddy that she was welcome to their home anytime. Poor Buddy stood at the driveway and barked until we were out of sight. Damn traitor.

The ride home was fairly quiet, other than agreeing to a time we'd leave for work in the morning and when we'd meet up to come home since there was no bus near my complex, and I didn't want her walking alone. Someday soon she was due for a driving lesson, but I kept that thought to myself since I knew she'd fight me on the idea of borrowing my brother-in-law's car that Carol had offered for her to use until Rick came home.

We were both a little lost in thoughts. She had a lot to absorb tonight. I only hoped she was truly willing to let me in. Not only would it possibly provide me some clues as to who might want to cause her harm, but I had a feeling she wasn't used to anyone believing in her and choosing her side. And for some reason, I wanted to be that person for her.

Once back at my apartment, I locked the doors and checked all the windows, even though I lived on the third floor.

"Do you really think all that's necessary?" she asked.

"I'm not taking any chances. Someone was willing to commit a felony to get to you, Maddy, and they didn't care who else might get hurt. I'd say that's about as serious as it gets." I finished my security check and paused at my mini-bar. "Speaking of, I think it's time."

She sat stiffly on the edge of the couch and although she tried to hide them between her knees, I saw her fingers twisting with each other. "Do you want a drink?"

She shook her head. A nervous laugh escaped her tight lips. "Are you hoping it will make me talk more?"

"No, I want you to tell me because you trust me." I poured some of my favorite Scotch and settled on the couch.

Maddy twisted on the couch, so close to the edge I thought she might fall off. "Do...do you need to take notes or something?" she asked.

I picked her hand up and squeezed it. "Maddy. I'm here as your friend. Yes, I may use my contacts to help you, and yes I can offer you some legal advice if you need it, but for now, that's all secondary, okay?"

Long lashes blinked at me. "I'm not sure where to start."

Oh, her eyes. There was so much vulnerability in them as she looked to me for guidance. I wanted to tell her to forget about everything and pull her into my arms while we watched a movie...or while I refreshed my memory about how her curves felt in my hand or against my body.

I managed to stick to the task as hand. “Well, let’s start with the basics. Is there anybody who’s threatened you?”

Her mouth turned down. "Well, there was that day you picked me up from prison. Do you think Sharon Regis could be behind it?" Her voice trembled slightly.

Thinking back to the day I had my first introduction to the 'grieving widow,' I'd seen how verbally hostile she was, but I wasn't convinced she had the gumption to back up her words. "I don't know, but she's on my list of possibilities. She was really angry the day you were released, and she did threaten you, but I’m not sure it was her. Could there be anybody else who would want to hurt you? Did anyone else cause you problems while you were in prison? Any former boyfriends?"

She shook her head. "I've never had a boyfriend, and I don't think I made any enemies over the past six years."

I was amazed. "You never had a boyfriend? Not even before..." I didn't like to keep pushing her conviction in her face.

"I was sort of focused on schoolwork," she said, pink coloring her cheeks. "Besides, the boys never really paid much attention to me. I was shy and quiet. They liked the girls who were more likely to hang out with them behind the bleachers, if you know what I mean."

I did. "I would have totally hung out with you behind the bleachers," I answered, grinning at the thought.

"Except you would have been with girls like Claire, not me." Her tone wasn't accusing but full of something else. Maybe regret?

Claire's name threw cold water on my feelings immediately. I'd hardly given Claire a thought all day except when Maddy mentioned her in the truck at my folk's house. I realized I was rubbing circles on the back of her hand that I still held. Guilt crept into my heart, and I withdrew my hand.

But it still didn't answer why some other guy didn't want her. "So why were you so driven in school that you didn't pay attention to the boys?"

Reaching for the throw pillow beside her, she cradled it to her chest and rested her chin on top. "My dad was the town drunk, Holt. People never saw Madelyn or Charlotte, my older sister. They always saw Madelyn and Charlotte, Jacob Stone's girls. We always lived under his shadow, at least when we were young. People never expected anything good out of my dad. He couldn't hold a job for longer than a few months, couldn't pay the bills, and couldn't get past his pride if anyone tried to help us. So while there were some people who felt sorry for us and would drop off food and clothes when he wasn't home, a lot of people transferred their opinion of him on to us."

"I can't imagine how hard it was to grow up like that." It was true. Sometimes growing up we'd been shown some tough love, but there was never any doubt my parents were always there for us, no matter what we did.

She shrugged. "You get used to it after awhile. Charly, that's what I call my sister, was able to find her own spotlight eventually." She raised her eyes to mine. "She could always be found behind the bleachers, with anyone. She was the fun, fast, and flirty one. She thrived on the attention she got from the boys. And so then, most people thought I'd follow in her tracks – as the next town slut."

I frowned at the presumption. "Obviously, you didn't. So what were you like?"

"Me? Someone had to be the responsible one since Dad wasn't home much and Charly just wanted to have fun. I was very organized, and since I wasn't outgoing like Charly, it was a role I naturally fell into."

"So your older sister played while you basically did all the work?" It didn't matter it was years ago; I was pissed that a child should have been put into that position.

"She was a young teenager. She deserved to have fun."

How could she defend their actions? "And you didn't? You were just a little girl!" She flinched at my voice. I stood up and refilled my glass, pacing restlessly through the room to tame my growing fury.

"You don't understand," she cried. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

I stopped my pacing in front of her. I knew it didn't help her anxiety towering over her, so I sat back on the couch, only this time right next to her. "You’re right, I don't. She was the big sister. She should have been home trying to help you. Why did she deserve to play while you worked? Huh, Maddy? Tell me that," he hissed.

"Because I'm the reason our mom died," she whispered.

Whatever reason she was going to give, that wasn’t one I was expecting. "What?"

"Our mom hemorrhaged to death after I was born. Charly lost her mom because of me." She buried her head in the pillow like she was ashamed.

She thought she owed her older sister because she blamed herself for her mother's death? That was one hell of a burden to place on oneself. The heart that I thought died five years ago was obviously alive and well judging from the pain that suddenly seared through it. Her life started out on such tragic footing, and it didn’t get much better.

Tugging the pillow away from her so she couldn't hide behind it, I leaned in close. "You're not to blame, Maddy. You don't owe anyone anything, especially for something you had no control over." Without the pillow in the way, I lifted her chin with my finger. To my surprise, there were no tears, just a resigned, almost stoic look on her face. "That's what you meant that night in your apartment about being born was a crime in your family, wasn't it?"

When she didn't deny it, I caved. "Oh, sweetheart." To hell with whatever limits friendship placed. I pulled her on my lap and kissed the top of her head. She sat stiff as a board; her spine held straight and her shoulders tense. Using both hands, I slowly massaged her shoulders, trying to rub the tension out. It must have worked because her shoulders slowly lowered. Taking advantage of it, I leaned back slightly against the arm of the couch, taking her with me. She exhaled deeply, and it was like all the fight drained out of her.

"School came easy to me,” she mumbled against my chest. “I thought maybe I could change everyone's mind about me if I could prove that I was different, that having the Stone genes didn't mean we were destined to be lazy, drunk, or slutty. I think I did for the most part, but there were some who were all too happy to remind me of where I came from.

“Mrs. M, well Mrs. Kissinger back then, was one of the first people to tell me I could be anything I wanted to be. That's when I decided I wanted to be a teacher like her. And I never veered from that goal. Eventually, I got a part-time job after school, but most of that money went to keep our power turned on. The only chance I had at going to college was to get a scholarship."

I remained quiet, letting her tell her story while I alternated between rubbing her back and playing with her hair that seemed to beg my fingers to comb through it.

"My high school counselor was helping me with applications my senior year when she called me out of class to her office. There was a man there, Paul Regis. She said he was a regional vice-president for one of the national lumber store chains, which happened to have a major warehouse nearby. He explained that because our town made up most of the employees, they wanted to give something back to the community and were creating a college scholarship based on academic excellence and financial need. They thought I was the perfect candidate."

I couldn’t stop from tensing when she mentioned Regis's name, but I held my tongue. I listened as she explained how Regis had not only interviewed her at school, but that he stopped by her house a couple of times with extra paperwork. He invited her out to dinner to celebrate getting the scholarship. She thought it seemed beyond what was appropriate, but Charly had come home and once wrangling her own invitation, convinced her they should accept. All of my senses were on high alert, waiting for her to tell me just how inappropriate he had gotten.

"Charly kept telling me how handsome she thought Paul was after our dinner. He seemed charmed by her. Most of the time I just sat and ate, while they talked and laughed. I knew something felt off, but I didn't want to jeopardize my ticket out of town. Besides, Charly was an adult, even if she didn't act like it most of the time.

"One day I came home from school. Paul's car was in front of our trailer. I thought it was strange since he knew I'd be at school. When I walked in the door, I heard what sounded like a muffled cry from Charly's bedroom. I rushed to her door and saw Paul was on top of her on the bed, one hand over her mouth and one hand trying to pull down her shorts. She was struggling, and I saw tears in her eyes. It looked like her arms were tied. Neither of them saw me, so I ran to the hutch in the living room where I knew my father used to keep a gun. I didn't know if it was still there, and I swear I thought it was unloaded."

I wrapped her tighter in my arms as she started to shake. I was sure I knew where this was headed.

"I went back to the bedroom and called out his name. He looked up and saw me. He laughed and said I had perfect timing, that now he could have both sisters at one time."

Her shaking grew worse. She buried her head in my chest, muffling her words, but I caught them anyway. "He just laughed at me, Holt. He climbed off of Charly and told me if I wanted to keep my scholarship, I should take my clothes off and join her on the bed. So I pulled the gun from behind my back. He laughed harder. He said I wasn't dumb enough to pull the trigger and ruin my ticket out of town. He said I owed him. I cocked the gun. I remember my hands were shaking so hard, and the gun felt so heavy, but he didn't stop. I'm not even sure what happened next. I think he lunged for me, but somehow I pulled the trigger and then he was on the floor, blood pooling under him. I didn’t even know it was loaded."

Her voice had dropped off to just above a whisper, but her words were so intense they rang in my ears like cathedral bells at noon.

Dozens of thoughts raced through my head, each one worse than the previous one. She'd been sentenced for murder when she was only protecting someone else? That's not right. Maybe voluntary manslaughter. And that meant the 'witness' who didn't show up was her own sister!

I sat up, startling her with the suddenness of my movement and almost making her fall on the floor. I caught her and settled her while I stood up. I ran my hands across the sides of my face and clasped them behind my head.

I turned to face her. "What happened to Charly? Why didn't she show up for your trial?"

Shaking her head, she seemed to choke on her words. "She ran off before the police got there, and I haven't heard from her since. At least until..."

Worried eyes snapped to mine. "I got a letter from her on Friday. That's one reason I went out that night," she said. "I needed to clear my head, but with everything that happened afterward, I forgot about what she wrote. Hang on."

Hopping off the couch, she hurried to her bedroom and came back with two envelopes, one much larger than the other. Without a word she handed them to me, then curled up in the corner of the couch hugging her knees close and biting her lip.

Her name written in fancy script was the only thing on the outside of both envelopes. I started with the smaller one and skimmed it quickly. Anger roiled inside me. Damn straight she didn't deserve Maddy's forgiveness.

Taking care not to crumple it as I shoved it back into the envelope, I dropped it on the coffee table and opened the larger envelope. My breath caught when I got to the second paragraph. It seemed Charly was in some kind of trouble again. So why was she contacting Maddy? The skeptic in me doubted the sincerity of the apologies and excuses offered in both letters. Experience had taught me to go with my gut instincts, and I suspected Charly only had two possible reasons for making contact with her sister after all this time. One, she was genuinely sorry and was seeking absolution. Or two, and the more likely in my mind, she needed something, so she turned to the one person who had always been there for her.