Harvest Moon (9 page)

They spoke quietly for a half a minute, and then she stood in front of the piano. A few seconds later, music flowed from the piano. Veronica closed her eyes, swayed her head to the beat. Trent recognized the song as “Walkin’ After Midnight.” Not quite the country pace made famous by Patsy Cline, but a slowed down, jazzier version he’d once heard by Madeleine Peyroux. As Veronica’s shimmering lips parted, she sang the first line.

Her voice flowed like soft velvet, her tone rich and sexy. She lifted her chin and opened her eyes, now sparkling with a playful glow, and launched the next line about an after midnight search for love. He breathed in her beautiful sound, hypnotized by the subtle sway of her body, as spellbinding as the beat.

At a line from the chorus, one filled with hope that the search for love wasn’t one sided, her gaze landed on him, exposing a vulnerability he hadn’t been aware of. His breath stalled but didn’t recover even when she averted her gaze across the room and picked up the next verse.

Who was this woman? This relaxed persona and sultry songstress offered a stark contrast to the woman he’d met on the elevator. Mesmerized by both the sight and sound, he sat enchanted by her act. She was—a word rested on the tip of his tongue…classy. Classier than he might expect from someone in this small town, as though she really belonged someplace else and had landed here by mistake.

She finished the song to wild applause and returned to her table where her boyfriend gave her a peck on the cheek. Lifting her purse, she quickly left the room.

Trent got up and walked to the table, unsure what he was even doing.

“Your girlfriend has quite a voice. I’m Trent Jamieson, Duncan’s brother.” Trent offered his hand to her date and they shook.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jim Fitzhugh. Indeed, Veronica does have a lovely voice. Duncan said you’ve recently moved to town?”

Trent nodded.

“Please. Have a seat.” He motioned to an empty chair so Trent sat. “I live across the lake, in New Scotland.”

“How’d you and Veronica meet?”

“I’m a pharmacist. Veronica couldn’t get something at Walker’s Drugs so ended up at the New Scotland pharmacy, where I work.”

They talked for a bit about Northbridge small businesses, and he concluded Jim seemed likable enough.

“Hello.”

Trent looked up. Veronica stared back, her beautiful dark eyes questioning his presence at their table.

He pushed back the chair and stood. “I was telling Jim how much I enjoyed your singing.”

“Thank you. Do you two know each other?”

“We just met.” In the background, the piano music switched to a slow number. Trent almost couldn’t believe the next words out of his mouth. “Jim, would you mind if I asked Veronica to dance?”

“Not at all.” He gave Veronica a quick smile and flagged down a waiter passing by with a carafe of coffee and motioned for a refill.

She scanned the room, as if plotting an escape route. “Well, I…” She rested her purse on the table. “Sure. One dance.”

Trent offered his hand, but she ignored it, jutted her chin out, and walked past him. He followed from behind, soaking in the delightful sight of her body, showcased in the glove-like fit of her dress. Jim must have some vision problems because Trent would never let someone like her leave his side.

She stepped onto the wood floor, stopping near a few other couples. Turning toward him, she stood straight and waited. He moved close, and when she lifted her arms in a traditional dance pose, he gathered her around the waist, coaxed her close, and nestled his cheek near hers.

He whispered, “You can put your arms around my neck. I don’t bite.” He leaned back and grinned.

“I know you don’t bite.” She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin. “You just…” She sighed. “Oh, never mind.”

Her soft hands landed at his nape. Although he couldn’t see her face, the stiffness in her body screamed of her discomfort. Was her irritation with him from his unexpected kiss or because she’d learned things about him from others in Northbridge?

“Your voice, it’s beautiful.” He spoke quietly near her ear, breathing in the exotic scent he’d enjoyed when they’d kissed.

“Thank you. Sophie said you’re in a band?”

“I am. With a few guys I’ve known since college.” He leaned back and stared into her eyes. “I’m sorry I was so uptight when we met in the elevator. It was a bad day.”

“It’s okay.” She stared at him for a few seconds before her gaze drifted toward the piano player.

“How come I didn’t meet you at Sophie and Duncan’s Fourth of July party?”

“I was away.”

He nodded and after a few awkward seconds moved his head back near hers and gathered her a little closer, taking note of her tense hold, so rigid she might crack in half any second.

The piano player’s skills did justice to “Chances Are,” a romantic tune he found difficult to take advantage of with Veronica’s stiff pose. He closed his eyes, hummed, and moved her along the floor to the music. After a minute, she relaxed ever so slightly. He continued to hum, as if he hadn’t noticed.

Her voice landed close to his ear. “You sure hum a lot.”

He leaned back. “Do I?”

“On the elevator at RGI you started the second you got on.”

“Oh. Then I guess I do. I like music.” He stared into her eyes and, this time, their gazes remained locked. “So, Pearls, what do you do when you’re not getting stuck in elevators?” He cracked a closed lip smile, hoping to further lighten her mood.

Her lips waivered, but she stopped short of a real smile. “I work at the Northbridge library. I was in Hartford to attend a librarian luncheon the day we got stuck. I only stopped at RGI to give Duncan something he’d left at home.” She paused and a troubled expression crossed her face. “You know, that kiss… I didn’t know…I’d never do any—”

“I’m sorry. From behind, I honestly thought you were my date.”

She pursed her lips, nodded.

“Come on, Pearls. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

She dropped her chin to her chest for a few seconds, and when she lifted it, her gaze was somber. “Why do you keep calling me Pearls? Are you making fun of me?”

“No.” He chuckled, but when she didn’t smile back, his smile faded. “It’s only a nickname.”

“Hmm.” She watched something across the room.

“Did you know pearls are formed when a foreign substance gets inside an oyster or mussel shell?”

“Of course.”

“But I’ll bet you don’t know how.” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “It secretes a substance to protect the mollusk’s soft, internal surface. The substance turns it into the gem.”

She raised a brow. In the far recesses of her eyes, he saw some interest, but it disappeared, quickly replaced by concern.

He brought her close and continued to dance. A part of him was afraid he’d never get this woman to forgive him. For what, though, he really wasn’t quite sure.

“Thanks, Aunt Ronnie.” Cassidy dug into the ice cream sundae.

“You’re welcome.” Veronica eyed her own cup, guilt settling into every drizzle of hot fudge. She stuck in her spoon anyway and took a big bite.

From their picnic table on the grassy plot next to the Dairy Inn, they watched people heading into town, in their cars or walking along the sidewalk with dogs, young children, or strollers.

This afternoon’s kayaking trip with her niece had done little to steer Veronica’s thoughts away from Trent Jamieson. His image had seeped into the crevices of her mind all day, especially his lesson about the creation of pearls. Did he ever consider how
he
was the foreign matter invading her protective shell? And no pretty gems would result from his invasion. Only added worries she might make another bad choice, allow an attraction to an overly confident man to get the better of her.

Cassidy wiped some whipped cream off her upper lip. “I’m glad you were around today so I didn’t have to go to Missy’s soccer game with my mom and dad.”

“Me, too. What’d the text say from your sister? Did they win their match?”

“Yeah. They’re on their way home. Thanks for the ice cream and taking me kayaking.”

“Well deserved after helping with Boomer’s bath.”

“How’s the peanut butter?” Cassidy eyed Veronica’s sundae.

“Good.” She pushed the cup toward her niece.

While Cassidy dipped in her spoon, Veronica again couldn’t get over how her niece had matured in the past six months. Childlike roundness had thinned. Glossy strands of dark hair curled at her shoulders, and her long eyelashes held an exotic quality. Dressed in simple white shorts and ribbed tank top, she carried the fresh appeal of a sunny spring day. Everyone said Cassidy and Veronica looked alike, but she never remembered being quite as beautiful as her niece.

“Try mine. Strawberry Fusion.” Cassidy offered her cup.

Veronica skimmed a little off the top and tasted. “Mmmm. Good. Excited about school starting in a few weeks?”

“I guess.”

“You’ll be an eighth grader this year? Big chick on campus.”

She shrugged, poked at her ice cream.

“Will you join any clubs?”

“Yearbook and chorus again.” Cassidy stared out in the distance. After a minute, she put down her ice cream and turned sideways on the bench seat. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell Mom?”

A loaded question, but Veronica considered her sister’s hysteria over most things. She nodded. “I won’t say anything.”

“Last year, a new boy started at school. We had lockers near each other, the same homeroom. Cluster assignments came out this week, and I found out he’s in my cluster again this year.” She stared into her lap for a few seconds, then slowly lifted her head to meet Veronica’s eyes. “I hate him. He’s such a jerk.”

“How so?”

“He does things…” Cassidy lowered her voice. “Creepy things.”

“Like what, honey?”

Cassidy rubbed the top of her hand with her fingertips and glanced around the lawn, where other patrons sat talking, eating their ice cream. Her gaze shifted back to Veronica. “A couple of times he’s touched me.”

A tremor ran down Veronica’s core. She searched deep for the right response, pushing aside the uproar those words raised inside her head. Cassidy’s eyes quickly covered with a watery sheen, but she blinked the tears away.

Veronica put down her cup and took her niece’s hand. “Can you tell me how?”

“One day he pretended to bump into me, but grabbed me here.” She pointed to her chest with her free hand. “Then he ran off laughing with some other boys.” She swallowed and glanced away, dropped her voice to a near-whisper. “Another time he pressed up against me at my locker, like pushed me with his…” She paused and pointed to her lap area, then wrinkled her nose. “It was gross.”

A hard lump wedged inside Veronica’s throat. Gary’s large body pinning her to the sofa. Pressing against her. No way out. She inhaled and regained focus.

Veronica hugged her niece tightly, trying not to cry. “Oh God, Cass. Telling me was brave. So brave.”

Cassidy pulled back, her lower lip trembling ever so slightly. “I’m scared to go to school, Aunt Ronnie, not brave.”

“I know, but telling me was courageous.” Veronica questioned her own silence. Tripped up by her own shame, worried others would judge her. Accuse her of provoking the act. And yet this thirteen year old…

A protective urge seized Veronica. A need to protect Cassidy. “We can’t let this boy do this to you again. It’s not right.”

The day Veronica had been raped, her entire operating system re-programmed. The event had usurped her life for the past twenty years. What a fool she’d been. Why hadn’t she been strong enough to reach out to others, like Cassidy? Why was it still so hard now?

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell your mom? I mean, this is harassment and the school should know—”

“Please don’t make me. You promised you’d keep it our secret.” Terror flared from Cassidy’s dark eyes.

Veronica understood. At this moment, however, she had a tough time reconciling her own silence years ago with the one her niece wanted to keep.

“Okay, I won’t, but here’s the deal…” Veronica put an arm around Cassidy, who sat there on the brink of tears. “If he does it again, you have to promise me you’ll tell Mom. She’d want to know, and the school
should
know. Maybe he’s doing it to other girls, too.”

Cassidy nodded but frowned.

Veronica squeezed her in a hug. “Maybe there’s something we can do together, to help you before school starts.”

Cassidy glanced up, blinked a few times. “Like what?”

“I’m not sure. A support group or…something. Let me look around.”

The tense lines on Cassidy’s face relaxed. In the process of helping Cassidy, maybe there was a chance Veronica could finally help herself.

* * * *

The last time Trent stood at this doorway, he’d been young, confused, and had unintentionally set in motion one of Northbridge’s biggest police department cover ups. He considered leaving, but everything about his future in Northbridge hinged on smoothing over the decades old mistake.

He lifted the shiny brass knocker on the hunter green door and banged it three times.

Footsteps approached from the other side. He relaxed his grip on a bouquet of fresh flowers cut earlier from the farm’s flower gardens, and shook off any remaining worries. Instead, he smiled, as if the idea of visiting his birth mother was no biggie.

The door opened and Buzz Harris stared back. The lines on his square face always seemed to be shellacked in permanent irritation. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Hi, Buzz.” Trent’s jaw tightened. Would this dude ever cut him any slack? “Marion around?”

“Come in.” He turned to the stairs leading to the second level of the small cape and yelled for his wife.

They stood and waited in the foyer, the silence as heavy as a dense fog. Trent had never seen Buzz outside of his job as the town’s first selectman, where he was usually suited up for a day at the municipal center. Dressed in a T-shirt and plaid Bermuda shorts, the belt cinched just below his slight belly, some of his power wilted in Trent’s eyes.

Buzz ran a hand across the short gray bristles of his scalp. “Listen, Marion won’t be as direct as me, but…” He scratched the back of his neck and glared. “Don’t you do anything to hurt her, like you did last time.”