Lone Oak Feud (Harlequin Heartwarming) (13 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T
HE
MORNING
OF
M
ARCH
TWELFTH
dawned gray and cold. Just as dreary a day as the one twelve years ago.

The night Zach had grown up. That sounded dramatic but it was true. The night Josh had smashed into Lindsey’s car and killed her mother instantly.

The date had always bothered Zach. He’d tried to put it out of his mind each year, but it seemed he always had to write a check or fill out the date on a bid or a contract. And it never failed to scream out at him like the death sentence it was for Mrs. Salinger.

This year, ignoring it was even more impossible since he was right next door to the Salingers. Seeing Lindsey’s car pull up at her dad’s midmorning didn’t help. The housekeeper had returned, and Lindsey had moved back to her own place a few days ago. Her absence hit Zach harder than he’d like to admit. She visited her dad frequently, but it was usually in the evenings, unlike today.

Today must be awful for her.

He tried to concentrate on work. Even though Chuck had given him leave, Zach was adamant about being involved in the next meeting with the commission. He had more to research before they met again, but he found himself reading information three or four times without absorbing any of it.

He played Hot Wheels with Owen, discussed the local bone-headed county government with Gram, paced to the dining room window repeatedly.

“Zachary, what is wrong with you today?” Gram asked.

It was early afternoon, and Zach still couldn’t sit still. He lowered himself into the overstuffed chair. Gram sat in her recliner trying to do the crossword puzzle from this week’s newspaper. Zach had figured out how to tell when she was having a bad day—she didn’t even attempt a puzzle then.

“Thirteen years today.” He was intentionally cryptic because Owen was on the living room floor building a garage for his cars out of Lego blocks.

“Thirteen years what?” Gram squinted thoughtfully, then nodded as understanding dawned. “The accident.”

Sometimes her mind was so clear he could let himself believe she was absolutely fine. But he’d taken her to the neurologist and the doctor had shown plenty of concern. They’d get her results from a whole battery of tests soon.

Neither of them spoke for a couple of minutes, but Gram put her puzzle aside. “Wonder if it still bothers your brother.”

Josh was out in the driveway working on his truck. Sober. Zach imagined he didn’t give that night much thought.

“It was the point of no return for him,” she continued, seeming to speak more to herself than to Zach. “He’s never made it back.” Gram shook her head sadly.

Zach was more worried about how Lindsey must feel.

“She’s not so bad,” Gram said, still lost in her own world.

“Who?”

“Lindsey. She likes to take charge. But she’s good with him.” Gram nodded toward Owen, who appeared to be ignoring their conversation.

“What makes you bring her up?”

“She’s on your mind, isn’t she? That’s why you keep looking in that direction?”

“Didn’t know I was,” Zach lied, ignoring the other question.

“I think she’s all right.” Gram watched him closely when she said it. “Must be a tough day for her.”

Gram seemed content with the mostly one-sided discussion so far, so Zach remained silent. When restlessness finally drove him to stand, he paced toward the dining room window again. Old man Salinger’s car was pulling out of the driveway, with Wendell in the passenger seat. Zach strained to see if Lindsey was with him. A woman drove—an older one. The housekeeper. Another was in the backseat, but her hair was too light. Katie, he’d bet.

Which meant Lindsey was probably by herself over there.

He almost wished he hadn’t seen the car leave, because there was no way he’d venture over to check on her with her father home. But now he knew. He was itching to see her.

He sauntered back through the living room toward the kitchen, trying to appear unaffected.

“Zachary.”

He looked at his grandma.

“If you want to talk to her, go talk to her. I’m not going to stop you.”

“Talk to who?” Owen apparently was listening.

“Lindsey,” Zach answered, considering what would happen if he did go over to see her.

“Can I come?” Owen asked.

“No,” they both answered at the same time.

“Not today, O.”

Shrugging, Zach decided to do it. She may not be happy to see him, but he was going to wear a path on the carpet here if he didn’t do something. He grabbed his coat and went out the back door into the frigid air.

Zach headed straight through the back porch to the door and knocked.

He waited for her to answer, and the longer he waited, the more he started to wonder if someone besides Lindsey was there.

Finally the door opened. Lindsey stood there staring at him. She was covered in flour.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly. “Are you by yourself?”

She smiled—too brightly. “Yeah.” She backed up so he could get by her, then shut the blasted cold out. “What are you doing here? What if my dad was home?”

“Nice to see you, too.” Being reminded that her dad considered him bad news was getting old. “I saw him leave a few minutes ago, otherwise I wouldn’t have come.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Thanks.”

She went back to the kitchen counter, which was covered with clutter—baking ingredients, measuring cups, bowls. A radio played upbeat music.

“What are you doing?” He leaned against the counter, confused that she was acting so...normal. Today.

“Baking. Cookies, cake, bread.”

“I didn’t know you baked.”

“I don’t very often. I guess I’m kind of manic about it. I figure if I’m going to mess up the kitchen, I might as well mess it up good. Want to help?”

“I don’t know a thing about it.”

“Come over here.”

She grasped him by his elbow and steered him in front of a big bowl. He looked down at the sleeves of his dark brown leather jacket and frowned at the white handprints.

“Can I take my coat off?”

She laughed and slid it off him from behind.

She set his jacket on one of the kitchen chairs, then parked herself in front of a different mixing bowl. She measured out ingredients and threw them together as if she’d forgotten he was there. Finally, she looked up at him.

“Well?” she said.

“What am I supposed to do?”

She leaned over and ran her finger down a recipe he hadn’t spotted. “I’ve only got the butter and sugar in there so far. Just go down the list—most everything’s out here on the counter for you. Measure, follow the directions.”

He’d never baked before, but he figured it was best not to mention that now.

He picked up the recipe card for Salinger Chocolate Chip Cookies and read through every word. Okay, he could do this. He started measuring, wondering how to bring up the topic of her mom or if he even should.

“You never told me why you’re here.”

Nice opening. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Saturday.”

He thought her reply sounded almost flippant, but he couldn’t gauge her mood. “The date.”

Lindsey faltered. “Yeah. I know.” She resumed mixing the stuff in the bowl. “They say it’s supposed to snow tonight.”

Maybe she wasn’t as okay as she wanted him to think.

Zach concentrated on adding ingredients before he tried again. “Doesn’t it get to you?”

“No.” She licked some batter from her thumb, then poured the contents of the bowl into a cake pan. “I don’t let it. It’s just another day.”

“How can it be?”

“It just...is. I don’t like to wallow because of what the calendar says.”

Noble. But he wasn’t sure he bought it. “Have you been to the cemetery today?”

“My dad’s there now.”

“What about you?”

Lindsey put the cake pan in the oven and set the timer. She shook her head. “I don’t like cemeteries.”

“No one likes cemeteries.” He measured chocolate chips and dumped them in the bowl. “You really don’t go?”

“I don’t see what good it would do. It won’t bring her back.”

He was stunned. Lindsey was doing a bang-up job of hiding her feelings—from him
and
herself. He shouldn’t care. He should be glad she wasn’t suffering.

They measured and stirred in silence for several minutes.

“It’s always gotten to me,” he said.

Lindsey’s spoon clattered to the floor. She didn’t immediately pick it up. “What has?”

“March twelfth.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then bent to retrieve the renegade spoon. She threw it into the sink, pulled another out of the drawer and went back to fiercely mixing whatever was in the bowl.

He was sure of it now. The date bugged her, too. Whoever said that men were the insensitive, uncommunicative gender had never met Lindsey.

“You have nothing to say to that?” he asked.

“What do you want me to say, Zach? I’m sorry it bothers you. I really am. Don’t hold it against me that it doesn’t bother me.”

For not being bothered, she was sure defensive.

It was stupid for him to be here. He’d come over to comfort her and she didn’t need comforting. Didn’t want it.

So be it.

As soon as the cookies were mixed and ready to drop onto the baking sheet, he washed his hands.

“I need to go.”

“Yeah, my dad should be home soon.”

Her dad was all that mattered to her.

He went to the door, but before opening it, he paused. “I think you’re scared to visit her grave.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Every time the subject’s brought up, you change it to something else. Anything else.” He stared at her. “I wish I could help somehow.”

He went outside and closed the door before she could tell him again how fine she was.

He felt edgier now than he had before.

As he reached his grandma’s back door, he heard a car and turned to see Lindsey’s dad pulling into the garage. He almost wished the geezer had shown up five minutes earlier. Then what would Lindsey have done?

* * *

L
INDSEY
DROPPED
SPOONFULS
of cookie dough onto the baking sheet. Flung them down, actually.

It was no business of Zach’s whether she went to the horrible cemetery or not. Visiting a grave was a dumb practice, one she’d never subscribed to. It was a stone with a name on it. It wasn’t her mom.

The back door opened and Katie, their dad and Claudia walked in, all of them red-eyed and quiet.

“Hi,” Lindsey said. “The first cookies should be done in about fifteen minutes.” She hated that they all seemed lost in a fog of gloom.
That
was why she didn’t go with them.

“Thanks, honey. I’m going to rest,” her dad said.

On top of the grief, he looked exhausted. He still wasn’t used to leaving the house. His face was pale and his eyes drooped. He shuffled off to his room.

Katie dropped her purse on the table. “I’m going to change and go for a run.” She hurried out of the kitchen.

Claudia removed her coat and sat at the table.

“Thanks for going with them,” Lindsey said. It was something Claudia had always done. She’d worked for the family since long before Lindsey’s mom had died.

“Of course.” Claudia bent down to remove her boots, then set them on the mat by the door. She watched Lindsey for a minute. “You don’t seem as cheery as when we left.”

Lindsey considered telling her about Zach’s visit. It was her dad who was so against the Rundles. She had a feeling Claudia was much more relaxed in her opinion of them, although she’d never express it openly.

Lindsey glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were alone. “Zach came over. I’m not sure why.”

“Zach Rundle?” Claudia kept her voice as low as Lindsey’s. “I didn’t know you two were so friendly.”

“We’re not,” she lied. “I guess he wanted to tell me I’m awful for not visiting my mother’s grave.”

Claudia didn’t respond. That made Lindsey wonder if she, too, thought Lindsey was a bad person.

“He said I’m scared to go to the cemetery.”

“Are you?”

She glanced quickly at the woman. What was with everyone today? She hadn’t gone in the twelve years since her mother had died and
now
she was a terrible person?

“I honor my mom every day. She’s the reason I went into social work.”

“Lindsey.” Claudia’s voice was kind. “You don’t have to defend yourself. Everyone handles things differently.” She patted Lindsey’s arm affectionately before leaving the room.

Lindsey couldn’t help wondering if the woman had really meant, “I know you can’t handle thinking about your mother’s death.” Which was true.

She finished the cookies, baked two kinds of quick bread and frosted the cake after it cooled. Finally, with the help of some good music and the busy work of baking, she didn’t feel compelled to knock the daylights out of anyone who so much as mentioned her mom.

As Claudia had said, everyone handled things differently, and this had been Lindsey’s way of handling it for the past twelve years. She was just fine the way she was, thank you.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

O
KAY
,
SO
L
INDSEY
WASN
’
T
quite “just fine.” She was lonely and avoiding going home. Doing her best not to think about the significance of March the twelfth.

Now that Claudia was back, her dad didn’t need her as much. He didn’t even complain very often about not being able to go into work full-time yet, now that he was in for half days.

After they’d debated for over an hour about the future of small-town newspapers and what effect the internet would have on them, he’d finally given up and gone to bed, back in his old bedroom upstairs. Claudia had checked in to her private suite early as well.

The house was too quiet. Lindsey did so well during the day, even when Zach had come sniffing around to see how she was holding up. Daytime was easier, when there was a lot to keep her busy. But now, she didn’t have the energy to do much of anything.

She’d thrown on a jacket and gravitated to her favorite place on the back porch. Something about the darkness and the night air, and even the crisp temperature, made her relax.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the light was on in Zach’s shop. Yeah. Right.

The blinds were open, and she remembered his revelation that he’d always kept them raised on her account. That he liked having her watch him.

Was he sending her a message? An invitation?

Attempting not to look at the lighted window was a joke. Her eyes were drawn there almost of their own accord.

He moved in and out of her line of sight. A chambray shirt hung from his shoulders, unbuttoned to reveal a plain white tee beneath. He wore his usual faded blue jeans. She was riveted to his movements around the room, getting tools out, searching through wood scraps.

She wasn’t close enough to see the look on his face, but he paused in what he was doing and ran his hand through his hair. He stared thoughtfully at the table in front of him. Then, as if he sensed her, he looked directly at her.

Surely he couldn’t see her from there. She tried to write it off as coincidence.

But she couldn’t sit there and wonder any longer. She checked inside to make sure her dad was sleeping, made obvious by the snoring she could hear from the top of the stairs.

Lindsey slipped out the back door. She shut it without a sound, hurried across the wooden porch floor and descended two steps to the crunchy, icy lawn.

What was she doing? The last time she’d snuck over to see Zach in the shop, she’d come away angry and embarrassed.

Things had changed since then, of course. She was no longer a naive high school girl. He’d made it clear she was welcome. And that was the bigger danger.

She pressed forward, telling herself it was because she couldn’t stand being alone tonight. She just wanted to get away from the silence.

The windowless door of the stone shop was on the opposite side from her dad’s house. As she reached the corner, she turned back to make sure no lights had come on inside. Nothing.

Blowing her breath out in a cloud of steam, she knocked gently. The door opened seconds later, as if he’d been waiting for her, and judging by the lack of surprise on his face when he saw her, he probably had been.

A slow smile crawled across his face. That smile did things to her it shouldn’t.

“Wondered if you’d be by,” he said.

The cocky jerk.

Raising her chin a notch, she played back. “I saw you looking for me.”

He stepped closer. “You did, huh? And you still came over?”

A spark of mischief in his eyes made her catch her breath, but she refused to back away. She wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid of herself.

Looking over his shoulder, she asked, “What are you working on?”

The room looked much the same as it had years ago. The far half was dedicated to woodworking, with different saws and other tools, as well as a large workbench. A hooded light loomed over the area but wasn’t turned on, leaving the room blanketed in the soft glow of a single lamp near the sofa and a fire in the fireplace.

An ugly blue-and-green-plaid couch stretched along the wall to her left. On the wall to her right hung an electronic dartboard she hadn’t noticed before. She hadn’t noticed much besides Zach the last time she’d been here.

“A surprise for Gram. A new hutch for all her collections of dishes. For a woman without a lot of money, she’s got a load of dishes. They’re stuffed away in her closet.”

She was touched, once again, by his thoughtfulness toward his grandmother.

“She’ll love it.” She moved around him toward the work table. “What’s it going to look like?”

He joined her at the table and his scent filled her nostrils. No cologne, just man. He picked up a pad of paper and showed her detailed sketches of a hutch.

“Did you design that yourself?”

He nodded and pointed out several features.

Lindsey didn’t want to show she was impressed. He’d just think it was grounds to kiss her or some other stupid thing.

“Care for a soda?” he asked.

This was too familiar. It was exactly how the evening had begun twelve years ago.

“No, thanks. I just had something at my dad’s.”

Grabbing the notebook with the plans, he crossed to the fridge and took out a Sprite. Then he lowered himself to the sofa. “Can I get your opinion on something?”

She started toward him but the open blinds beckoned to her. All her dad had to do was wake up and look out the window. “Mind if I close these first?”

He gave her a mischievous look and she rolled her eyes.

“My dad has a weak heart. It’s better if he doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Feel free.”

Oddly, his cockiness made her want to throw him off balance by kissing him instead of shying away, as he probably expected her to do. The thought tantalized her as she reached up to lower the blinds, then shrugged off her coat.

She walked to the couch but sat on the arm of it instead of next to him.

This could be fun. But also dangerous, she reminded herself. It’d be best just to give him the opinion he asked for and keep a safe distance.

“What kind of opinion do you need?”

Suddenly, he was all business. “Down here at the bottom, I could either leave the shelves open, put on glass doors, or use solid ones so the space is hidden. What do you think?”

“Solid doors so she can hide stuff.”

He chuckled. “You have a lot to hide, do you?”

Their eyes met and neither looked away. He was smiling.

“I’m an open book,” she told him. “But then, I don’t collect dishes.”

“I don’t think you’re as open as you like to pretend.” His tone became serious, his words pointed.

She stood and took a few steps away. “I think your grandmother would appreciate some covered storage space. It wouldn’t be good for displaying so close to the floor, anyway.” She turned to see him staring at her, and her temperature climbed by several degrees under the weight of his gaze.

Zach nodded and made a note on the plans before setting them aside. Lindsey scanned the room for the darts she knew lurked somewhere. When she turned again, he stood inches away from her and she could feel his body heat.

“Why’d you come over tonight?” he asked in a low voice.

He was too close. She could see the individual threads in his shirt, the muscular chest below it.

“Darts,” she blurted.

“You came over for darts?”

Getting a hold of herself, she took a step back. “Yeah. Darts. Where are they?”

“In the cabinet,” he said, gesturing toward the dartboard. “You any good?”

“Not really,” she lied. “Wanna play?”

* * *

T
HIRTY
-
FIVE
MINUTES
LATER
,
the game was over. Lindsey flopped down on the sofa, disappointed that she’d lost, even if it was by a hair.

Zach sat a couple feet from her, shaking his head. “‘Not really good,’ yeah, right.” She’d led the whole game, but a lucky triple nineteen at the end had saved him.

“What are you complaining about? You won.”

“Barely. You would’ve nailed the three your next turn.”

“Probably.” She grinned.

He crossed his left ankle over his right knee. “You try to come across as such an open book, but that’s not the case at all, is it?”

Lindsey stiffened. “Why do you say that? Since I got here that’s your second reference to me being secretive.”

Zach debated silently whether to get into the topic that’d bothered him all day. The truth was he’d rather climb to her end of the sofa and kiss her senseless, but he suspected that’d be the easy way out. For both of them.

He wasn’t feeling particularly easy tonight.

“Your secret dart talent isn’t the only thing you’re keeping to yourself.”

“What else, Oh, Wise Guy?”

“I still don’t believe today doesn’t get to you.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Would you rather have me whimpering around all day? Why can’t I be okay?”

“
I’m
not okay today. I didn’t know her that well. She wasn’t my mom.” He leaned his head on the couch. “Lindsey, every year when this day comes around, I get knocked flat by memories of that night.”

“Just because you’re bothered, you think I should be, too?” Her voice wavered on the last word, just enough for him to know she wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to believe.

“It has nothing to do with me. I just think it doesn’t add up that you’re fine.”

She stared straight ahead in silence.

“That night changed my life, Linds.” She still didn’t look his way. “Up to then, I was out to cause trouble. People thought I was bad news, well, I’d show them bad news. Josh and I were alike that way.”

For a moment, he considered shutting up, but he suspected that was the problem. Everyone else had shut up about it, too. If she ended up hating him after tonight, well, then...nothing much had changed.

“I heard the crash even though I was inside the house with all the windows closed. It was that loud. The kind of sound you just know something horrible has happened.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I knew right away it was Josh. Knew it like I knew my own name. I tore up the street and could see it from the corner. Saw his pickup. Couldn’t make out the other car yet. Didn’t even consider it much because I was just thinking about Josh. Then I got to the scene.”

He stopped talking, the lump in his throat swelling. Lindsey had drawn her knees up in front of her and hugged them. Tears streamed down her cheeks and Zach felt like the worst kind of jerk.

Sliding closer to her on the cushions, he resisted the urge to take her hand. He had a point to make. “One of the worst things is that I saw you, Lindsey. I saw you as you got out of the car. The horror in your eyes.... It rocked me to the core. In that one instant, I understood how much pain being ‘bad news’ could cause.”

He could no longer
not
pull her to him. Somewhere in his brain he registered surprise when she reached for him at the same time.

Burying her face in his chest, she wept into his T-shirt. He held on to her tightly, suspecting this would do her good but wishing now he’d kept his mouth shut. “Let it out,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure she could hear him between her gasps for breath.

She fought for control—he could see it on her face. “You don’t understand.”

Taking her with him, he lay back on the couch, settling her alongside him. She let him do it. Rested her head on his chest where her tears had soaked him.

“You’re right. I don’t.”

Her breathing deepened and she didn’t respond.

“Why can’t you talk about it?” He understood what it was like to avoid talking, but that’s not what this was. She could normally keep up with the best.

She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. “I begged my mom to go to a movie that night,” she said hoarsely. “She didn’t want to go at all, didn’t want to get out in the cold, didn’t want to see the movie I did, didn’t feel like going, period. I talked her into it.”

“Sounds like you two were close.”

Her eyes popped open and she glared at him. “You don’t get it. I forced her to go when she wanted to stay home and watch TV with my dad.”

His throat tightened as he realized belatedly where she was going with this. “You didn’t force her, Lindsey. She made up her own mind.”

He felt her shake her head against him. “That’s not the only thing.” She paused, and the seconds stretched out. “I was driving the car, Zach.” Her voice was oddly hollow, barely familiar to his ears.

“I know,” he said quietly.

She plastered her face into his shirt again.
“I was driving.”

He squeezed his eyes closed. “No. Lindsey, no. Don’t do this. The accident was not your fault.”

Her silence told him she wasn’t convinced.

“My brother was tanked. He ran a stop sign and broadsided the passenger side of your car. Open and shut case.”

She sat up and hugged her knees again, facing away from him. “Easy for you to say.”

This was far beyond anything he knew how to help. Who was he kidding? He didn’t know how to help at all. Shouldn’t have ever brought up the subject in the first place. But the need to get it out in the open between them, to tell her his part of the story, how he’d been affected, had driven him.

The more she talked, though, the more he understood—the way the accident had changed him...was
nothing
.

“A drunk driver hit you, Lindsey. He broke a laundry list of laws.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, Zach. I hear you, and in my head, you make sense. But it’s not getting through any farther. Inside here, I regret every second of that night.” She clenched her fist to her chest.

Lindsey felt like she exhaled for the first time in an hour. Zach tugged her back down against him, and she acquiesced, sure she’d never felt so wiped out. There was a reason—okay, a host of reasons—she didn’t let herself think too hard about the night her mother was killed. Number one, she couldn’t bear the crushing pain.