Country Roads (34 page)

E
RIC
’
S PA IS
here,” Verna announced through the intercom.

Paul followed Eric’s dash out of his office and into the reception area. His brother stood in front of Verna’s desk, laughing as he threw his arms open to catch his son. Jimmy still wore his dirty work clothes and heavy construction boots, but he looked more like the brother Paul had once known than the defeated alcoholic he’d become.

“Hey, Jimbo,” Paul said. “You didn’t have to come rushing home. Verna’s always glad to have Eric’s company. Of course, once she’s done feeding him sweets, he may not have any teeth left.”

“Eric knows two pieces of candy are the limit,” Verna said. “Then he has to switch to apples.”

Jimmy smiled at his son, his blue eyes striking in contrast to the tan he had acquired since he started working construction. “I’ll make sure he has one when we get home.”

Eric made a face.

“I know you’re busy,” Jimmy said, holding out his hand to Paul and pulling him into a brief embrace, “but I just wanted to say thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you, bro.”

“You’d do fine,” Paul said, surprised by his brother’s demonstrativeness. He gave Jimmy an affectionate pound on the back before he released him. “It’s always a treat to see Eric.”

The smile faded from Jimmy’s face. “A lot of people talk the talk,” he said, “but you walk the walk too. I just want you to know I appreciate that.” He turned back to his son. “Okay, buddy, let’s get out of Uncle Paul’s hair so he can bill some hours.”

Paul watched them as they exited, Eric carrying Julia’s drawing as carefully as a ten-year-old could while describing his encounter with Julia to his father. Jimmy’s arm was around Eric’s thin shoulders again, and the love between the two of them practically glowed like a halo.

His job was to keep it that way.

The roar of a motorcycle engine shattered Julia’s concentration. She stepped back from her painting as footsteps sounded on the front porch of her studio. The screen door creaked open and Paul strode in, dressed in jeans and leather.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said, coming around the counter to bend her over his arm for a soul-searing kiss.

She took fistfuls of his leather jacket and tilted her head back so he could run his mouth down her neck. When he grazed her skin with just the edge of his teeth, she shivered as the sensation rippled outward from his touch.

“Gosh,” she said, as he righted her, “that wasn’t what I expected. You’re not mad anymore?”

His expression darkened slightly. “It’s not my place.”

“You were mad before.”

Although he didn’t release his hold, he looked away. “Your life and mine are different, and you can live yours any way you see fit.”

Julia wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. The overprotective Paul made her feel connected to him. This Paul seemed to be distancing himself. She gestured to the painting, just to see if she
could provoke him. “What do you think? I was inspired by my first horseback ride and found new depths to add.”

He pivoted, keeping one arm around her waist. “Hmm. My expert appraisal is that it’s pretty damn good. You’ve given him that adolescent combination of insecurity and bravado.”

She studied the half-finished painting, looking for what Paul saw. It was there in the angle of Darkside’s ear and the gleam in his eye. She’d also conveyed the fragility of his skull under his smooth coat. It added a touch of vulnerability.

“That’s what I understood about him today,” she said. “He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do so he acts out to cover it up. I can’t wait to ride him again.” She was so pleased by Paul’s perception she forgot about trying to strike a spark of anger.

Until she felt him stiffen and regretted her last words. Then he drew in a deep breath. “As long as I don’t have to watch.”

Leaning away to look up at him, she said, “When did the aliens kidnap Paul and put a pod person in his place?”

He gave her a tight smile. “You want to go for a ride on the hog?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Just let me clean my brushes.” She gathered up her supplies and carried them to the bathroom to give them a speedy scrub.

When she emerged, Paul was standing at the back window as he had earlier. For all his devil-may-care facade, his posture was leaden. She dropped the brushes with a clatter, and he started.

“Ready?” he asked, coming back toward her. Paul plucked the paintbrushes she’d forgotten about out of her hair, sending it tumbling around her shoulders. “Biker chicks let the wind blow back their hair,” he said, combing the fingers of one hand through the mass of tangles. One snagged him, and he carefully worked it out before taking her hand and towing her out the door. “I brought the jacket for you for a farewell ride.”

“Farewell?” A pang of alarm seared through her.
Was he saying good-bye to her already?

“I’m donating the bike to the charity auction,” he said. “It’s time to hang up my helmet.”

Relief made her nearly giddy until the full import of what he said sank in. Somehow she knew this had something to do with her painting of him. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

“What gave you that idea?” he said, holding up the jacket for her to slip her arms into. “I was going to sell it, but your painting made me think of using it as a fund-raiser. It’s for a good cause.”

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was lying in some way. “But you and the Harley just go together.” She made a gesture of frustration. “I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart, you haven’t done anything except show me a good time,” he said. “Now let’s ride.”

She snugged herself up against his back as she had before, already mourning the fact she would never do this again. She swallowed hard to move the lump out of her throat.

The big engine yowled as he peeled out. He was riding less gently than the first time. She wasn’t afraid, but the sense that he was deliberately pulling away from her persisted. His anger at her ride on Darkside hadn’t dissipated; he had simply redirected it in some way.

They sped onto the highway and headed out of the town. As they passed the entrance to the interstate and kept going on the winding, hilly local route, she understood that he wanted the curves, to really feel his bike on this last joyride before he handed it over to the auction. It was sort of like the way she felt about leaving Darkside. She let the wind and the speed and the noise wrap around her like a comforter she was snuggled under with no one but Paul.

He slowed and turned onto a dirt track, bouncing along at low speed through a field dotted with bushes. The track climbed
gradually until they came out on a ridge overlooking the ribbon of river far below. Paul killed the engine and swung off the bike, taking her hand to help her down.

“Where are we?” she asked, lifting off her helmet and shaking out her hair.

He put both helmets on the seat. “The family farm.”

“I didn’t know you came from farmers.”

“My cousin owns it. I used to come up here when I was a kid.”

“I can see why you’d like it now,” she said, surveying the view of soft-blue mountain ridges and deep-green river valley, “but kids aren’t usually into scenery.”

He half turned and gestured toward a large tree. “That’s a good climbing tree. I’d go up as high as I could. Higher every time, just to push myself. When I thought I could get away with it, I’d bring my father’s binoculars with me. I wasn’t supposed to borrow them.” The remembered rebellion lit his face. “I got whipped a couple of times for that. Of course, if he’d known where I took them, I’d have gotten worse.”

“What were you looking at with the binoculars?”

“Where I would go when I grew up.”

Julia brought her gaze back to her companion. He was staring straight out, past the river, past the mountains, into the future as he had seen it in his childhood. So he had longed to get away, yet here he was, back where he had started. “How far did you go?”

He lost the long stare. “University of Virginia Law School. A law firm in Atlanta. It seemed far enough.”

“How long were you away?”

“Seven years. Then my brother got divorced.”

“That’s what brought you back?”

He shrugged. “More or less.”

He seemed in the mood to talk, so she pushed. “Why?”

“It’s not really my story to tell.”

“How is it not your story?” Frustrated, she took hold of his jacket and gave it a shake.

He covered his hand with hers. “It involves Jimmy and Eric and Eric’s mother.”

She yanked at his jacket again. “I’m not going to go around town spilling it to everyone I see. I’m not even going to be in Sanctuary that much longer.”

“Why do you want to know so badly?”

Just like a lawyer to answer a question with a harder question. She released his jacket and tried to disengage her hand from his. His grip tightened, so she couldn’t escape.
Keep it true but simple.
“I want to understand you.”

“Huh.” He seemed stymied by that, and she felt a certain triumph at rendering Paul Taggart speechless. “Oh, what the hell. It’s not like the entire town doesn’t know most of it anyway.” He pulled her over to a fallen tree trunk, stopping to look at it a moment. “This tree was standing the last time I was here.”

He handed her onto it and settled down beside her, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankles of his heavy leather boots. He thrust his hands into his jacket pockets and looked straight ahead. “My brother, Jimmy, was twenty-two when he got Terri pregnant, so he did the honorable thing and married her. I don’t know if they loved each other or not, but they didn’t hate each other. They were just too young, I guess. Terri was only nineteen.”

“That is pretty young to have a baby.”

“I was graduating law school when Eric was born. I came home for the christening before I headed off to Atlanta to the partner-track job waiting for me.”

Julia wanted to touch him to offer comfort, but he’d put his hands off-limits and stroking his thigh seemed too sexual. She braced her palms on the tree trunk on either side of her hips.

“Jimmy had a good job at Walmart and was climbing his way toward management when he got fired. He won’t say why, and the Walmart people say it’s a personnel matter and therefore confidential.”

“Do you have any theories?”

“It had something to do with a woman who worked there too,” Paul said with a shrug. “The best light I can put on it is he tried to protect someone from sexual harassment and lost the battle.”

“Chivalry runs in the Taggart genes. I’d still be stranded beside the interstate if it didn’t.”

He glanced down at her with a half smile. “Sometimes good deeds pay dividends.” His gaze swung away. “Mostly though, they don’t go unpunished. Anyway, losing that job did something to him. He drank up all the money Terri made cleaning houses. Couldn’t hold any new job. Picked fights in bars and ended up in jail.

“Finally, he came home drunk one night and backhanded her across the face when she called him on it. She told him to leave and never come back. The only thing good I can say about the situation is he didn’t argue with her, he just went. He knew he’d crossed the line.”

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and locked them together. Julia covered his intertwined fingers with her hand. He let her.

“Long story short, Terri divorced Jimmy, and the judge gave her full custody of Eric. Whatever his faults—and he has many—my brother loves his son, so it was killing him not to be able to spend time with Eric, especially since they live in the same town. The drinking got worse.”

“So you came home.”

He nodded. “I negotiated a deal with Terri. I would stay in Sanctuary and act as the guarantor of Jimmy’s good behavior if she would agree to joint custody.”

It was Julia’s turn to stare off into the distance as she took in the magnitude of what Paul had done for his brother and his nephew.

He’d given up his dreams.

“So the night you had to leave after dinner…” Julia began.

“Jimmy got drunk at a bar and I had to go pick him up.” Paul looked down at their hands. “He’s been going to Alcoholics Anonymous, and I thought he was making progress.” He blew out a breath. “Truth is that was partly my fault.”