Harvest Moon (23 page)

Trent’s heart ached to see fresh tears fall over this simple admission. It showed how much terror she held inside over what happened to her long ago. The boldness guiding him to her door to tell the truth now teetered. How would she feel at this moment if he blurted out that he knew the intimate details of her rape? Their closeness—so new, so fragile—might easily rip at the seams.

“Pearls, I’m a mess, too.” Using his fingertip, he wiped away the wetness. “Maybe we’ll untangle each other.”

She gazed at him and finally let out a long sigh. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course.”

Her dark eyes studied him, now with some concern. “I could use some company at a party I’m going to next Friday.”

“Next Friday? Sure. I’m free.”

“Great.” She offered a strained smile.

“A special occasion?”

“Just some friends from grad school. I sometimes go alone, but this year, I’m just not in the mood.”

“Then you won’t.” He hugged her tight, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair and enjoying her soft body against his. Etta’s e-mail. Hadn’t she said the rape happened in grad school?

Veronica stretched up and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad to see you, but why’d you stop by?”

The guilt of a lie jabbed at him. However, avoiding the truth until he considered all angles of this strange reality seemed smart. He didn’t want to do anything to risk losing her. “I was in the mood for some ice cream and hoped you’d join me.”

Her gaze dropped to the dog, who sat and watched them talking. “Can Boomer come? I usually treat him to a small cup of vanilla swirl.”

Boomer wagged his tail and stared at Trent with the most pitiful eyes he’d ever seen. “Sure, let’s bring him along.” He kissed Veronica softly on the lips, with the promise he’d tell her everything when the time was right.

Veronica neared the Litchfield Hills Vineyard entrance, nearly pitch black except for the porch light on the colonial where Jay lived, her thoughts still playing out the strange scene she’d witnessed between Trent and Buzz at tonight’s monthly Harvest Festival meeting.

The meeting at the firehouse had started as routine, with Buzz lauding over the committee chairs in all his glory. Everything was pretty normal, but when Trent had walked in late, stating he was taking Sophie’s place to represent the vineyard, Buzz’s easily aroused disposition flared at Trent for being late. Even during the meeting, he’d been in-your-face rude to Trent, surpassing anything she’d ever witnessed from Buzz to date.

The second the meeting ended, Trent had rushed out the side door.

Veronica turned into the driveway, and about halfway up the hill, exhaled her relief to find Trent’s cottage windows lit up and his car parked outside. After all the care he’d given to her, surely she could offer him the same.

She pulled next to Trent’s Jeep and shut off her car. Quiet gave way to beautiful guitar music coming from the cottage’s opened windows. Trent’s skill was far better than she’d imagined. She shut her eyes, letting the cool night air and melody soak inside her skin.

Each soft chord of the hopeful music lifted her heart, and she couldn’t remember where she’d heard the song before. Then he sang, a strong, almost smoky tone to his voice. Despite the uplifting music, the song painted a sad picture of drug addiction. She’d heard this song before, and then recalled Cassidy showing her the music video a few months ago on her iPod, leaving her more solemn about his song choice.

The song’s sentiment came alive, both in Trent’s singing and accompaniment: agony, need, doing the unthinkable…all driven by an all-consuming craving. Thickness swelled in her throat. He’d glossed over the details of his addiction, but it must have been as painful as this song.

He finished and she opened her car door, but stopped as the awareness she’d eavesdropped on a private moment took hold.

She considered leaving just as the porch light came on. The door opened, and Trent stepped on the porch. “Veronica?”

She stepped from the car. “Surprise.”

He came over. The confusion on his face matched the jumbled emotion she carried, unsure about coming here to begin with. “Have you been out here long?”

“A few minutes. I was worried about you. You rushed from the meeting.”

“Were you there?”

She nodded. “Seated on the same side of the table as you.”

“I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.” He took her hand, drew her into a hug.

“I heard you playing. The song…” She hesitated. “It’s about addiction?”

His arms tensed around her, but he answered. “Yes. I play it sometimes to remind me of why I need to stay clean. Playing my guitar soothes me. I could use a little soothing tonight.”

She lifted her head off his chest. “Want to talk?”

“Just in a bad mood, that’s all.”

“You didn’t sound like yourself in the meeting. I was worried.”

He half-smiled. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Maybe I want to.” She cupped his face in her hand, kissed his lips. “You seem like you could use a friend.”

The porch light highlighted his face, his muscles tense. “It’s that damn Buzz.” He studied her for a moment. “I could use a friend. Let’s go inside.”

He led her by the hand into the house. Sophie had shown her the place after the renovation, but now with Trent’s furniture, it had taken on a life that belonged to him. A modern edge, yet comfortable, casual.

Trent removed his guitar from a leather sofa and placed it onto a stand in the room’s corner, near two other guitars. “Why don’t we sit and talk. Want something to drink?”

“No.”

He settled near the sofa’s end and patted the space next to him. She positioned herself sideways, facing him, and took his hand. “What happened with Buzz tonight?”

“Not only tonight.” He turned over her hand and ran a finger along her palm. “I’m going to be honest.” He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Because I like you, Pearls. A lot. But this needs to stay between us.”

“Of course.”

A range of emotion flickered across his face, and then his intense blue eyes settled on her. “Duncan isn’t my only tie to Northbridge.” He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled a tired sigh. “My birth mother lives here, too.”

Veronica tried not to react, but had always suspected more to the Jamiesons return to Northbridge last year. “Is that why Duncan’s firm came to town last year?”

“Sort of. It’s a long story. I’m pretty sure Buzz doesn’t like me because my birth mother is Marion.”

“Marion?” She examined Trent’s face. Yes, the shape of his profile showed a resemblance. “Is your real father from Northbridge, too?”

He frowned, more sadness sweeping across his face. “Most of my life, I was led to believe it was Elmer Tate. That’s one reason Duncan wanted to buy the Tates’ vineyard land. He thought I was the unofficial heir of that property. The theory unraveled when Sophie did some research on our family. She never reported on her findings, though.”

Sophie’s silence toward the end of her investigation on Duncan had been noticed, but when asked by their group how it ended, she’d only said she wasn’t at liberty to say.

“So you’re not the heir to the land?”

He shook his head. “On paper, Elmer Tate is my birth father.” He turned his head, staring into the corner where he’d put the guitar. “Around six months ago, we learned Marion had been having an affair with, well…” He blew out a loud sigh. “It’s complicated but her affair was with my adopted father.”

“What?” Veronica squelched her surprise. She could see telling her wasn’t easy. “So your father adopted you, even though you were his real son? Why?”

“Because, my mother wanted to help Marion with her unwed pregnancy. She didn’t know about my dad’s affair with Marion. And what could he say? He didn’t want to risk losing my mother. Right now, you’re one of a few who knows this. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Of course I will. Then I’ll assume Buzz knows the truth, and it plays into the way he treated you earlier.”

He nodded, almost smiled. “I’m starting to think he holds my father’s actions against me. Plus we do have some old history going back to the summer before we sold our family house here.” He shook his head. “I suspected the truth about my dad, demanded some answers from Marion, and it got ugly. Buzz hasn’t seemed to forgive me for the acts of a confused teenage boy. Again, between us…”

Veronica reached out, rested a hand on Trent’s chest. Clarity about what drove Trent to a life in Northbridge gave her new respect for his choice. Real bravery, though, appeared in his ability to step into this world despite how the secrets of others could stain his new life. “I swear to you I’ll never tell a soul. Marion’s very sweet. She volunteers at the library a couple times a month, so we’ve become friends.”

The tension in his face softened, and he rested his hand over hers. “I’ve had some nice conversations with her. She set me up with the self-defense instructor job.”

“I figured. She’s lucky to spend time with you.” Veronica shifted closer to him, placed her hand on his arm. “You’re an amazing guy who cares about other people and is brave enough to fight his own demons. Don’t let Buzz ruin things. He’s not worth it.”

“Thank you. It’s so hard sometimes.” His jaw tensed.

Ry had once written to her with some inspiring words she’d often repeat in her head, especially each time she’d think about attending Gail’s party. “Someone special once reminded me that we often don’t realize how strong we are until being strong is the only choice left. It’s a quote.”

He looked at her strangely, almost troubled, but then let it go and his face softened. “It’s a great quote.”

“Don’t forget what you’ve already done to turn your life around.” She slipped her arms through his waist and rested her head on his chest. His arms circled her, and he gently kissed the top of her head.

His spoke close to her ear. “Pearls, you coming here tonight means everything to me.”

She lifted her head and they kissed, slow and soulful, satiating a need found only in her heart.

He rubbed his thumb in gentle sweeps against her arm. “I’d planned to call you today. We have our last self-defense class tomorrow.”

“I hope to participate more this time.”

“Good.” He paused and his Adam’s apple rolled with a swallow. “Listen, something I want to tell you. The topic in class is sexual assault. We’ll watch a movie on ways to stop a man during an attempted rape.”

She flinched and he frowned, but she recovered with a nod, as if the statement didn’t cut straight through her. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be fine.” She motioned with her chin to the guitar. “Can you play something else for me?”

A quiet smile made his eyes soften. “I’d love to.”

For the next half hour, he sat next to her on the sofa and played, everything from classical jazz to rock to bluegrass, highlighting the range of his talent. When she joined in on a song, a slow smile crossed his lips, making her heart dance. But when he played the Willie Nelson classic, “You Were Always on My Mind,” she knew Trent was the kind of man she could fall for so deeply she’d never want to return.

* * * *

Trent slammed his foot on the brakes and pulled off the road. He’d flown past Bellantoni’s Market at least a mile back, forgetting he needed to stop. Damn it! Toilet paper was one thing you couldn’t put off until tomorrow.

He did a quick calculation of the time required to backtrack to the grocery store and his long to-do list, then remembered he’d go right past Polanski’s Market on his way back to the farm. They had a few shelves stocked with emergency items, and if toilet paper didn’t fit that bill, what did? He pulled out, continuing toward the vineyard.

Yesterday’s extra shitty day had sidetracked him more than once since waking before sunrise. Besides what had happened with Buzz last night, he’d been beating himself on a second count. Veronica was re-quoting things he’d said to her under his persona as Ry.

The Bob Marley quote had given him a gift-wrapped opportunity to come clean on his dual identity. Rather than seize the chance, he’d scampered away like a mouse coming face-to-face with a cat. Every reason he hadn’t told her last time still existed, yet every single time he ignored one of these openings, his lie grew.

His nerves jumbled. Jesus, where was the poised risk taker he used to be? A man who drifted from woman to woman, never allowed himself to get caught up in personal issues? Trent had no answers, only the realization that when you met a woman who mattered, those games lost all meaning.

Last night, when he’d told her about the next class topic, he’d secretly wished she might share the same details about her rape she’d told Ry. Then learning the truth that both men were the same wouldn’t be as bad. At least that’s what he hoped.

He turned at a peeling painted sign reading “Polanski’s Market,” and parked in front of the old house-turned convenience mart. Every morning for the past two weeks, Trent had stopped here for coffee on his way out to make marketing calls around the state. According to Jay, Stan’s coffee was the best in town, better than Sunny Side Up.

Stan stood behind the counter, sorting magazines, a grease-spotted apron tied at his full waist. The short man glanced up. “Late start today?”

“More like daydreaming and forgot to stop at Bellantoni’s. Do you carry toilet paper?”

“Aisle three. Turn at the display of fireworks.” Stan lifted another paper to his stack and said, with a straight face, “Don’t get um’ mixed up.”

Trent chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”

He headed toward the end cap with the fireworks. As he turned the corner, voices from the back of the store carried toward him, becoming more clear as he made his way down the multi-shelved aisle. He spotted what he needed and stopped in front of them to study the brands.

“I’m telling you…”

Buzz’s raspy voice made Trent pause.

“…He’s nothing but trouble. I can’t believe Jay Moore has him working at the farm.”

Trent lifted a package, but waited to hear more. Last night’s insults from Buzz still fresh on his mind, he bit down on his back teeth.

“We accepted Duncan, mostly because of Sophie.” Buzz humphed. “But I don’t trust that brother of his. He showed up at my meeting last night. Said Sophie asked him to come in her place.”