Christmas To Remember Page 15

  “But there’s no reason you shouldn’t be flirting with that young man now.”

  She faltered. “Excuse me?”

  Roberta smiled gently. “You’re young and beautiful, Marley, and we all have our moments. You made a mistake, yes, but that was a long time ago.” Mrs. Forbes made the comment with a nod of her head as though Marley couldn’t have already realized that fact. “But as much as I love your mother, and I do, she’s such a dear friend of mine—”

  “I know.”

  “Well, then you know it’s with love that I say it’s time for her to let go of the past. I’ve told her so, many times.”

  Marley had to look away from Roberta and blink rapidly to clear the haze of tears blurring her vision. All of these years she’d put the blame on Roberta and her cronies for making her mother feel uncomfortable and the reality was that it was her mother who—She couldn’t take it in. “You have?”

  “Yes, dear. Things happen, but we can’t be held accountable for childhood mistakes forever. Like I’ve told her, you’ve more than made good with yourself. Why, you donate flowers to the church to give the mothers every Mother’s Day, you work the auxiliary’s weedy beds and don’t charge them.” Her expression changed, became equally all-knowing and maternal. “I’m so sorry your mother hasn’t been able to handle things, but I’m telling you now, dear, you can’t let her inability to cope with life’s ups and downs keep you from living.” Roberta pointed toward the door. “That young man was gorgeous.”

  “Mrs. Forbes!” Marley laughed, hoping the sound disguised the emotion the woman’s words had unearthed. “He’s…just one of the electrical crew. That’s all.”

  “If that’s so then why didn’t he simply call you?”

  Marley ducked her head, her cheeks heating. Why, indeed. Obviously Barry Buchanan didn’t know where his son was. And wasn’t she doing the same thing she’d often thought her mother guilty of doing? Attempting to live up to someone else’s rules and standards?

  But they were her family, not strangers.

  “See?” She patted Marley’s forearm. “You think about what I said. Life’s too short not to live for yourself, dear. You want your mother to be happy, we all do, but there comes a point where a decision has to be made.” Roberta’s eyes sparkled. “And given that that young man is making trips to come see you, I’d say you need to make it soon before the other girls in town get a look at him. Otherwise they’ll have him under their tree for Christmas.”

  She nodded dazedly. The holiday was just around the corner. The town’s streetlights were decorated with wreaths and carols had started appearing on the radio between the year’s hottest hits. But despite the woman’s words, all she wanted for Christmas was for her mother to wake up to reality and for her family to be a family again. For them to find forgiveness in their hearts for everyone needing it.

  Including Beau?

  The answer was yes—but that wouldn’t happen. She knew very well that no one ever got everything they asked for.

  BARRY WATCHED as Jack dropped the hammer he was using to nail in an electrical outlet box. The boy muttered a curse and picked it up again. “Something wrong?”

  “No. Yes,” he countered quickly. “Why was I such a jerk growing up?”

  Dean snickered from another room, the open two-by-four studs allowing him to hear. “Got you tied up in knots, doesn’t she?”

  “Dean.” Barry jerked his head toward the door. “Why don’t you go get another roll of wire?”

  The man shuffled off with a smirk on his face.

  “What happened?” Barry asked once he was gone. He had to be careful these days and not slip up when he called the boy by name. Now that he knew the truth, the differences in the two men were obvious, making it that much harder not to distinguish them by name.

  “I stopped by Marley’s Treehouse on the way back from getting the supplies.”

  “Beau, I asked you to leave that girl alone.”

  He tossed the hammer aside and turned to sit on the floor. “I know. I wish I had now.”

  “Something happen?” Maybe the girl had kept her word and set the boy straight.

  “I guess I just don’t get how I could be so different. Then and now, you know?”

  Barry opened his mouth to tell him the truth. Maybe it was time. Jack was stronger now, better able to cope. But then he thought of the consequences if the news was too much for Jack to handle, and closed his mouth again. Soon. Jack was just upset, but he’d settle down. “Things will work out. You’re remembering more and more. Get yourself in shape and then you can decide what to do about the landscaper.”

  Keeping them apart was the only decent thing to do until the truth came out. He didn’t want Jack or that girl doing something they regretted later. And while he never thought he’d be thankful for it, the damage Beau had done to the girl and her family worked to help him do just that.

  Dean tossed the roll of wire into the house with a thud, ending the conversation. Jack got back to work nailing in the boxes.

  Barry watched him, guilt tasting bitter on his tongue. Beau had been his flesh and blood, but Barry hadn’t been blind to Beau’s shortcomings as a son and as a man. He didn’t like keeping the truth from Jack, but that guilt was nothing compared to the sadness he felt for liking the man Jack was proving to be more than he’d liked his own son.

  Apparently, he wasn’t so different from Jack’s father after all.

  BY THE END OF THE WEEK Marley had made some major headway at the second house but she’d yet to decide how to confront her mother about the pills. Time was speeding by and all her spare time was spent either at the garden center or at her display near the courthouse.

  If she hadn’t seen the box of pills with her own eyes, she probably would’ve laughed at anyone who suggested her mother—her mother—was living such an existence. An older, upper-middle-class woman wasn’t exactly the image a person had when they thought of a drug addict.

  She paused to stretch her back, her thoughts matching the layered, purple sky overhead. Eli had already mounded the soil and because of the design, only the front of the house was to be planted along with a small island in the yard. Perennials had already died back, but come spring they’d flourish.

  Low-growing shrubs interspersed with day lilies lined the walk to the porch, and in an open area between the entry and the wall of the garage, she’d added a medium-sized white trellis and a red climbing rose. She’d planted a two-year-old Bradford pear in the island out front, and added a stone bench and what would eventually be a colorful assortment of black-eyed Susans, more bright orange-and-yellow day lilies and three Knock Out roses that were virtually maintenance free but smelled heavenly. Winding through the center, she made a miniature river of rock with small round stones that would give the island texture and added a path to the bench.

  Marley found a bare spot and crouched, spreading more mulch. With a thick layer of insulation against the winter ahead, none of the plants should be lost. This part of northern Kentucky didn’t get a lot of snow, and the plants had plenty of time to acclimate before the ground froze.

  A thump sounded and echoed off the house. Marley startled, glancing up to locate the source.

  “Let’s go, son. It’s been a long week.”

  Barry Buchanan climbed into the diesel truck but left the driver’s door open, one leg hanging out of the cab.

  Beau emerged from the newly roofed house and shut the door behind him. “You go on, I’ll be right there.”

  Barry Buchanan murmured something she couldn’t make out, but she saw Beau nod in response. The truck’s brake lights blinded her when they flashed on, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Seconds later the truck was gone.

  Beau turned and, hesitating, lifted a hand in her direction. She smiled before she caught herself and ducked her head, hoping that the dim light of dusk covered her mistake.

  She glanced at her watch and decided to call it a day, as well. Seeding the grass and spreading the straw w
ould have to wait until Monday, but it was a good job for Eli.

  Marley gathered up the plastic flowerpots, the weed blocker and mulch bags she’d tossed aside, fatigue dragging at her every step. When she couldn’t fight the need to keep Beau at arm’s length, she knew it was time to go home. Despite Roberta’s urging to flirt, things had to be settled with her mother before she could ever even remotely consider…

  What? Consider what? Did she have any options where Beau was concerned?

  “Hey.”

  She stilled. How had she missed noticing him coming over?

  He bent and grabbed a rake. “Let me help you.”

  “I can do it. You go on home. It’s been a long week and you’re—you’re still recovering.”

  “It’s been nearly three months. Other than the memory thing, I’m fine.” He picked up the bucket she’d used to water everything next. “I saw your display for the Winter Festival. It looks great.”

  “Thanks. But no one puts out more than their basic design at first. The best parts are the finishing touches that go out the night of the judging. I put a lot of thought into the setup, though.”

  “It shows. Where’d you find the wagon?”

  “One of my customers. Her husband makes them.” Silence. “Look, Beau—”

  “I’m not leaving you here alone so don’t ask. You don’t want me hanging around in your personal life. I get that. But I heard today that some equipment was stolen and things were messed with. I’ll leave when you do.”

  “It was probably just some kids playing around. Stupid stuff like—” She bit her lip at yet another blunder.

  “Like I used to do?” He acknowledged that with a slow nod. “Maybe so, but there were signs of a party in the woods, and that kind of playing could mean trouble. I’ll help you pack up and then we’ll both call it a night.”

  The sun had set behind the hill well over an hour ago and dusk was quickly turning to night. The temperature was dropping, and before long it would be pitch-dark. She’d admit to not wanting to be there alone. The development resembled a ghost town when empty, and in the last hour alone she’d jumped a good half-dozen times because of the eerie sounds she heard in the woods. Animals scurrying in the treetops, things falling. She was jumpy because of nuts?

  She was jumpier because of Beau.

  Some truths had to be faced. “Fine,” she murmured, relenting. “Let’s get me packed up then.”

  Ten minutes later she wiped her hands on her pants. The air was crisp and fresh and she could see her breath, but she’d layered on clothes and was comfortable. “That’s it for me. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll follow you home. Make sure you get there okay.”

  “It’s out of your way.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s a good night for a drive. I’ve done it a lot lately.”

  “Where do you go?”

  “Down to the dam. I stare at the river and…” He shrugged. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Without comment, Marley climbed into her truck. The whole way down the nearly deserted road she listened to promotion spots for Angel’s program, and thought of Beau sitting in his truck and staring at the water. Then she looked behind her and liked that he was there, following her. The sight brought comfort whether she wanted it to or not.

  The ID tags Beau wore around his neck had caught her attention more than once the last few times they’d talked. They’d become a symbol of change to her, and represented his growth as a person. Too bad her parents and Clay would never recognize it, much less believe it.

  Marley turned into the alley behind her apartment and slowed. Would he follow her?

  Did she want him to?

  Shaking her head at herself, she decided she did. Just to talk. She liked that they’d actually had several conversations now that hadn’t disintegrated into fights, and even though she knew she was playing with fire, she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  Beau pulled into the alley and slowed. She parked the truck in the area she used as an equipment garage and locked up. Still, he waited. Her heart picked up speed. Don’t make me decide. Because she already knew what her decision would be and it wasn’t one Clay or her parents would approve of. She was tired of living for everyone but herself and never gaining their approval regardless.

  Without a word, Beau got out and took the empty water cooler from her hand. He followed her into the building and up the enclosed stairs to her apartment. Outside her door, she paused.

  Ever since she’d noticed the changes in him, she’d been drawn to him. Stupid of her, but true. Why couldn’t she like some nice, normal guy?

  “Beau, I’m sorry I’ve been acting so strange lately. Being nice and then telling you to go away. I know it’s probably been confusing, but if my presence causes you more pain a-and headaches, I thought it was best. I’ve been so concerned about you being here in town with my mom and family, and trying to avoid another fallout with them that…I’m trying to say that you’re right. After our talk, things were different, better, but I don’t want to cause either one of us more pain.”

  He frowned at her words. “Marley, you don’t make the headaches worse. Why would you think that?”

  “Your father said—I guess it was just his way of saying I add to the stress you’re under to remember.”

  Beau’s hair had grown over the last two months, and Marley curled her fingers into her palms to keep from reaching out to touch it, to smooth the wind-mussed length brushing his ear into place.

  “The headaches come and go as they please, you have nothing to do with them.”

  “Good.” Relief flooded her. “I’m glad.” She fiddled with her keys, unlocked her door and opened it slightly. “I—I guess I’d better go in and let you go take that drive. Thanks for seeing me home.”

  “Marley—Wait.” He dropped the cooler to the carpeted floor and took her arms in his hands. “I remembered something today. Something that didn’t make sense. I saw a casket…a funeral with a tiny casket at the front of a church. You said I wasn’t around when our baby died, but what about when the baby was buried?”

  “You still weren’t around.” She swallowed tightly, the memories of her daughter’s death overwhelming her for a brief moment.

  “It was white with pink flowers on it. A big bouquet of pink flowers—roses. It was in a church and there were a lot of people.”

  “You weren’t there.” She sucked in a deep breath. “And that’s not what the f-funeral was like. We—we didn’t have it in a church because my parents felt—It was at the funeral home. And it was private. M-me and Clay and my p-parents. And Angel,” she added softly. “That’s all.”

  He stared at her, one hand lifting to his forehead where he rubbed hard. “But I felt it. I felt her passing. I felt the pain of losing her. If it wasn’t the baby we had—”

  “You weren’t there, Beau. You—You must be thinking of a—a different baby. A different funeral. I’m sorry.” Beau’s hands latched on to her arms and he gripped them, as though he held on to keep himself standing, his eyes closed.

  “I hate this,” he growled, his voice revealing the depth of his frustration, his gaze holding hers. “I hate what I did to you. I hate that I…that I wasn’t there to see my baby buried.” Beau dropped his hands and paced across the short landing. Away from her, back again. “I hate who you say I was. And I hate myself for not being man enough—What will it take to convince you that I’m not him anymore, Marley? I don’t know why I ever acted like that, but I’m not him.”

  The dim overhead light allowed her to make out his features. She stepped in front of him so that he stopped, lifted her hands and placed them on his chest, barely daring to breathe. He’d changed on a deeper level. She recognized it in her marrow, knew it in her soul. And more than anything, she liked the man he’d become way more than she should. Too much, given the circumstances. So many things were wrong. Messed up wrong.

  Except for this.

  Despite her railing at him—justif
iably or not—he hadn’t once said a word against her. Hadn’t tried to make her feel guilty or sleazy for their brief connection. Some guys would have. Angel’s ex-husband was a good example of the type of man who would’ve tried to belittle her.

  Beau had helped her, talked to her, apologized many times over. He’d shown her he wasn’t the same man by carrying a stupid tree. So many little things, but they were important things. Gestures that described the man inside him better than any smooth lines or prettily worded apologies could.

  The list grew in her head, one by one, and still, Beau stood, silent and tall, his expression revealing and vulnerable in a way that tore past the last of her defenses and opened the very gates to her heart that he’d closed so long ago.

  Her mind screamed a frantic No, no, no! but her heart refused to listen. This moment was about way more than the past, more than regrets. It was about believing in a person’s soul, in their goodness. Believing in the man she saw standing before her.

  Marley inhaled, hesitated, but deep inside she knew what she wanted, knew she couldn’t go back. “I believe you.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  SHE’D READ THAT three little words could change everything. Most people meant I love you, but her I believe you had the same effect.

  Beau’s expression tightened, his nostrils flared and his mouth parted to draw in a rush of air. A rough sound left his throat and an instant later he lowered his head, his mouth claiming hers with such seductive force and raw sensuality that she forgot to breathe. Forgot that she should be frightened because she’d walked this path before.

  All she could do was feel. Want. Need. She twined her arms around Beau’s neck and held on, knowing this man was everything the boy she’d known wasn’t. One kiss turned into two, and she was vaguely aware of Beau’s hands sliding low and lifting her up until she was pressed breast to thigh along his hard frame. They groaned at the contact, at the erotically painful pressure.

  “Beau…inside.”

  He held her safe in his arms while he pushed the door open, turned and shut it by pressing her to its varnished frame. Over and over his head dipped so he could kiss her, as if he couldn’t help himself, then he’d break the contact and journey somewhere else to kiss and nip and lick. Back again.