Harvest Moon (28 page)

“So. People cancel.”

“A year ago, I would’ve. Now, for some reason, I feel a need to face him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her sister dumped the flowers on the counter and turned toward the vase, as if the conversation were over.

Veronica moved to her sister’s side, placed a hand over hers to stop her from picking the flowers up. “You know when I took Cassidy hiking on Sunday?” Her sister nodded. “She told me the boy who’d been bothering her was at the beach on Saturday and followed her to the ice cream truck. He tried to touch her again.”

“What? She didn’t tell me.”

Veronica sighed. “Listen, please don’t say I told you. My point is, Cassidy’s brave. This time, she told him off, said he’d better not touch her again or she’d report him.” Veronica stared without flinching at her sister’s skeptical face. “I want to be brave, like Cassidy. Besides, I won’t be alone at the party. Trent’s going with me.”

“Does he know this creep will be there?”

“He knows about the rape.”

“But he doesn’t know who, right?”

“I can’t tell him. This is my fight. I don’t want him in the middle.”

“He should know what he’s walking into.”

Veronica considered it for a moment. Her only goal was to face her own demons in a showdown; even if that showdown meant staring Gary in the face and letting him know she wasn’t afraid to be in the same room with him. Trent’s knowing about Gary would complicate things, his expectations toward resolution perhaps higher than hers.

“No. I need Trent at my side so I don’t feel so alone, but nothing else.”

Emily frowned, shook her head. “I wish you’d told me this years ago. I would’ve supported you.”

“Em. It wasn’t personal. I didn’t tell anybody.” Veronica studied every inch of her sister’s concerned expression. “Please don’t tell anyone, especially Mom. When she returns, I promise to talk to her, too.”

Emily blinked a few times. “Sure. I understand.” She unwrapped the plastic wrap around the flowers. “What if this guy talks to you? Won’t you be scared?”

“Terrified.” The truth ransacked Veronica. “All I want to do is face him, maybe even find the courage to tell that bastard what I should have said years ago.”

“Which is…?”

She stared at her sister. “When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.”

* * * *

Veronica sat with her feet curled to her side, and Boomer hogging the rest of the sofa. A sitcom played on the television. As she laughed at a line, it hit her how the talk with Emily tonight had really helped lighten her mood. Secrets—Cassidy’s and her own—carried a hidden kind of stress she’d noticed whenever she was with her sister lately. Thank God it was now in the open.

Veronica’s cell phone rang. She reached to the end table to pick up the phone and was relieved to see Trent’s name flash across the display. She answered.

“Hey, beautiful. How was chorus?”

“Boring. I kept thinking about you.”

“Really? That’s sweet.” She could almost hear his smile. “Wish I didn’t have until Friday to see you.”

“Your side of the bed is free right now.”

He groaned. “Aw, you’re killing me. I’d be there in three seconds, but I have to be up at five-thirty and on the road with Jay at six. How about a late lunch tomorrow? Can you sneak away from the library to my cottage around one? I’ll make a farm fresh lunch treat.”

“And get to sample your culinary skills? Of course I’ll come.”

“Great. I called to ask about the party on Friday. What’s the time and dress code?”

“Let’s leave around six-thirty. The attire is dressy casual. Sports jacket, no tie. Or something along those lines.” The phone line clicked.

“I’ve got another call,” Trent said. “It’s my mom. She’s working on my dad to come hear my band play next weekend at the opening. I swear, I don’t think he’s heard me play once.”

“Go take the call. Hope it’s a yes.”

“Me, too. I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”

She hung up, still smiling and lingering in the afterglow of another conversation with this man who’d moved her to a better place in her life. Ry had started the movement, a very slow trust earned through a safe veil, but it was a relief to finally be able to hand the trust to someone real. In fact…

The two really did have a lot in common.

Both men were musical. Both had a troubled past. Both did karate and were teachers of self-defense. It seemed as if a half-assembled puzzle lay before Veronica.

Alone, these traits could apply to anybody. But from the à la carte menu of “men” choices, what were the chances she’d stumble upon two who were identical?

She sorted through the facts again. Could Ry be…?

Impossible! Either she or Trent would’ve surely figured it out by now. She shut off the television and went to her room, putting on her bedtime T-shirt and shorts.

She returned to the living room, took her laptop from the coffee table, and sat on the sofa. Resting the computer on her knees, she clicked the keyboard until she got to the e-mail folder where Ry’s correspondence was stored. After scanning through several, she found one she’d written about meeting a man while kayaking, sent the same day they’d run into each other.

If Ry were Trent, he’d have certainly pieced it together from
that
e-mail! Trent had been so honest with her and worked hard to earn her trust. He wouldn’t hide this.

Or would he?

Everything she’d ever confessed in her e-mails to Ry unfolded before her. If Trent had figured out the two relationships, telling Veronica the truth also meant telling her he knew her secrets…before she’d been ready to hand them over to him. Even a reasonable man might not confess, however…

Veronica considered the odds they were one and the same. Fate, and a little help from Google, had handed her Ry. A man who shared her same interests, was easy to talk to, and who offered a safe place to confess her fears. Fate, and a job offer from Duncan, had also handed her Trent, so similar and yet…real…touchable.

Both men were her guiding light, supporting her, forcing her to grow and return to something resembling the woman who used to live inside her soul. A mature woman, who embraced all life had to offer. For that, she loved them both.

But given the odds, given the random circumstances in how she’d stumbled upon Ry, there was no way they were the same person.

She pushed the laptop onto the sofa, went to her desk, and lifted a neat pile. Halfway down the stack, she found the pad containing the lyrics she’d started for Ry, inspired by the day she met Trent while kayaking.

She shut off the living room lights, returned to her bedroom, and crawled under the covers, rereading the rough draft.

Deep emotion seeped into the crevices of her heart, not only for Trent, but for Ry. The song’s lyrics took shape, all driven by love she held for them both.

Steven Tyler’s shrieking vocals vibrated off the tasting room’s high ceilings. From Trent’s desk in the loft area, he enjoyed the Aerosmith number, thankful for the freedom of working at a place where rock music could blare and nobody complained.

He stacked the latest signed contracts, pulled his keyboard closer, and entered a few sparse details into a spreadsheet he’d created to track retailers who’d agreed to carry the vineyard’s wines.

About to shut off the computer, he paused. This morning, for the first time since he’d started regular correspondence with Etta, he’d ignored an e-mail she sent.

Guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders ever since reading the drafted e-mail from
her
side of the computer the other morning. Now a reply to anything she sent made the secret he kept seem more dishonest than ever.

He logged into his account, recoiling as he considered how his true identity might be perceived. A new e-mail from Etta sat near the top of his inbox, the subject “Finally! Your Lyrics.” With everything going on, he’d nearly forgotten his last musical piece remained nameless and wordless.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

My Dear Ry,

Ta-da!!! The long waited lyrics to your inspiring music are presented to you on a silver platter. Yes, it took me far too long to get them done, but the creative muse cannot be forced.

Since you once said the music was about hope, the accompanying words are filled with my hope. The true inspiration came from two very important people who got me here. You, my friend, are one of them
.

Trent read the lyrics, then read them again. His throat tickled and eyes watered. Her words brought new meaning to his creation and enhanced his message.

This
was how he’d confess to Veronica the truth about their dual relationship.

* * * *

Veronica twirled in front of the long mirror behind her bedroom door, and the skirt to her retro halter dress lifted like a blooming flower, showing a peek of her thighs. She smoothed it back into place and slipped on a pair of black, patent leather sandals.

Without thinking, she reached for her strand of single pearls, but hesitated. Tonight a force inside her body made her stand a little taller, like a soldier walking into battle fully prepared and ready for a fight. A change of uniform was in order.

She went inside her drawer and removed a blue jewelry store box. Opening the hinged lid, she could still remember the anniversary of her first date with Marc, when he’d given her the silver chain holding a single large pearl encased in a marcasite surround. After their breakup, she’d stored it away because it reminded her of him, but over time she hadn’t worn it because it didn’t suit her usual style.

Once the chain was hooked around her neck, it dangled about two inches above her cleavage and was a perfect match for the red dress. Still a pearl, but a new pearl.

With a half hour until Trent arrived to pick her up for the party, she went into the kitchen and poured a glass of white wine. She wandered to the sliding doors near the deck, staring outside and sipping her drink. The home seemed quiet without Boomer, but leaving him at Emily’s house was easier than worrying about him if she decided to stay out late.

Gary’s shadow had followed her all day, like an imaginary stalker. The words she’d dreamed of saying to him varied—a garbled and uncertain tone one minute, strong and filled with rage the next.

What if over the past two decades, he’d turned into a super nice guy? What if he’d found Jesus and repented for his sins? What if he took her aside and apologized profusely, with claims he’d received help for his problem?

Or maybe, just maybe, he was still a vulture who preyed on women, who’d somehow managed to fool everyone around him about his true nature. She shuddered, goose bumps trailing along her neck.

She went to the kitchen table and flipped open her laptop, locating the invitation. A last minute change by the couple was possible, although improbable. She skimmed through the guest list, and they still showed a solid yes.

By some force of their own, her fingers ran along the keyboard and typed in his name into the search bar and hit enter.

A number of hits appeared, and one showed his picture on a site for a real estate agency. She clicked the link to an ad for “Tishman Realty—Three locations in Fairfield County to Serve You Better.” Gary wore a tan blazer with a logo on the lapel.

She studied the photographs on the website: pictures of him with other agents, a picture at an award banquet for a Connecticut realtor group. His toothy, Crest-perfect smile glowed in every photograph. Confidence still radiated from him, evident even via the computer monitor. Intense brown eyes and neat light brown hair with a few peeks of gray, all parted on the side and giving him the appearance of a mature, life-size Ken doll.

She stared at Gary’s face. In her mind, she repeated the words she wanted to say.
I’m not scared of you. You’re sick. You need help.

Tonight Gary Tishman would finally receive her long overdue message.

* * * *

Trent sprinted up the four steps of Veronica’s porch. She opened the door before he could knock, a touch of worry behind her smile. The urges to help her get through tonight strengthened.

“You’re early,” she said.

“I couldn’t wait to see you.” He came inside. “You get more and more gorgeous every time I see you.” He took her hand, stepped back and twirled her in a dance move, making her skirt spin while he wolf-whistled. “Pearls, I might need to have you now. Right here, in this doorway.”

She grinned. “Like you almost did at our lunch rendezvous yesterday?”

He coaxed her closer. “Exactly like that.”

She brushed the lapel of his black sports jacket, tidied his shirt collar, then kissed him, the taste of wine lingering on her tongue.

“Not only are you beautiful, but…” He licked his lips. “I’d say you taste as good as a chardonnay aged in oak.”

“Good guess. Do you miss wine?”

“Maybe a little. The hard drugs were always my real downfall, but it’s better to stay away from everything. At least for now. You drink what you want.” He patted her bottom and leered. “I’ll sample you.”

She laughed. “Sounds like a good deal for me. So, ready to go?”

“Hold on.” He lifted her single pearl, alone on its chain. A gem that had survived invasion, now left bold and beautiful. He kissed it and let it fall. “I like it. Now let’s go.”

“This town is even smaller than Northbridge.” Veronica stared out the passenger window as they passed the storefronts of Millerton, New York. She cut a sideways glance Trent’s way. “We’re a couple of minutes from Gail’s house.”

“Good.” Trent noted she’d been quiet during their ride, and just now thought he caught a glimpse of nerves behind her eyes. “Have your friends lived here long?”

“They bought the place about ten years ago. When Eli hit it big in the market, Gail insisted they get a weekend home close to the city.”

They drove for a while in silence, Veronica offering the occasional driving instructions. On the town’s outskirts, they turned into a long driveway leading toward a white farmhouse. Cars already lined the spacious lawn.