More Than Friends (3 page)

Laughing. Yeah…laughing at
him
.

Long-suppressed memories crowded around, mocking his intent. “You can’t go home again,” Thomas Wolfe had claimed. Chase prayed he was right. There were a lot of places he wanted to be; none of them was Harrisville.

At the top of the stairs, he paused. Not to get his bearings, since there was only one room with a light, but to remind himself that he had changed. He didn’t need anything or anyone from this town. He’d come back because they said his old man was dying.

His boots echoed down the long hall. How many times had he made this exact journey? A hundred? A thousand? There had been all the summers he’d worked in the mill, and before that, when his father had brought him to spend afternoons in his office. It should have seemed like another lifetime. It seemed like yesterday.

A scuffling noise caught his attention and he paused.

“Dad? Did you forget something? Do you want me to call Mom and tell her that…” A woman stepped into the hall and froze. “Chase?”

It couldn’t be!

He’d been prepared for every ghost but one. Jenny. The bitter rage he’d nurtured, fought against and finally conquered, returned to engulf him. He wanted to hurt her the way he’d been hurt, lie as he’d been lied to, make her feel the gaping hole he’d carried inside for so long.

She stood so still, so silent. He wondered if he’d conjured her from some dark pocket of his soul. Moving closer, he reached out his hand, hoping that by touching her, he could make her disappear. But instead of nothingness, his fingers felt the warm smoothness of her cheek. Wide green eyes, the color of early spring grass, searched his face.

She was older; he could see it in the wariness of her expression. They’d grown up. And apart. There was a time when his touch would have caused her to step closer, to offer a hug and a smile. A promise. Now, she slid away; his arm dropped to his side. No doubt she felt guilty.

“I see you made it,” she said, tucking her hands into the front pockets of her jeans.

“Yeah.” Her heart-shaped face had lost the pudginess of youth, but none of the beauty. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Miss Barnes…”

“Miss Barnes retired four years ago. Time has a way of changing things. Even in Harrisville. Why don’t you come in and sit down for a moment?”

Nothing made any sense. He felt like a salmon swimming upstream. The anger was fading fast. He tried to hold on, to remember her betrayal, but he became lost in the reality of seeing Jenny again.

He didn’t remember her voice being that calm or competent. Nor did he recall full breasts pushing against her shirt, or hips flaring out in her jeans. As she turned to lead the way, his eyes dropped to the gentle curve of her behind. Womanhood suited her.

He stepped across the threshold and into another world. Familiar blue purchase orders sat in a neat pile on her desk. Tax forms covered most of the remaining space. An old wooden chair was pushed back against the wall as though she’d risen in a hurry. Even the coffeepot was in the same place, on the same table. The only incongruity was the modern-looking computer on a stand by the far wall.

“This is your office?” he asked from his place by the door.

“Yes. I inherited it when Mr. Peters took a job in Pittsburgh. I’ve been the head bookkeeper about two years now.”

“Wilson still the controller?”

“Of course.”

She poured a cup of coffee and handed him the clean, unchipped mug. He stared at the black liquid, then at her.

She looked confused. “You didn’t want anything in it, did you? I mean…”

“It’s fine. I still take my coffee black.”

As she walked to her own chair, she motioned for him to sit in the one across from her desk.

“How was your flight?” she asked politely.

He shrugged as she sat down. “Uneventful.” The scent of her perfume whispered to him. The unfamiliar fragrance was mature, more sophisticated, seductive somehow. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Great.” Her gaze rested on him for a moment, then moved away. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes. Your hair’s different.”

She touched the shoulder-length locks. The light blond had deepened to the color of gold, providing a more dramatic frame to her fragile beauty. “It got darker.”

“I noticed.”

She smiled tightly and sipped her coffee. Every movement was studied, as though she was nervous, too.

The past—the lie—vibrated between them. It loomed like a great beast they ignored with mundane greetings and falsely casual conversation. He wanted to ask her why, but that would mean it still mattered. It was old news, he reminded himself.

While part of him remembered every curve of her body, every laugh, every word, the rest of him watched from a safe distance. He mentally probed his heart and soul, checking the thickness of the scars.

Nothing. He felt nothing for her and the past. It had been over between them for a long time.

“How’s my father?” he asked finally, acknowledging the reason for his visit.

He watched as discomfort gave way to sympathy. She leaned forward, lacing her fingers together. “Not well. The first heart attack was about four days ago. It was over the weekend, so I didn’t find out right away. I sent the message as soon as I was told.”

“You sent the telegram?”

She nodded.

“You didn’t sign your name.”

“I know.” Her shoulders hunched down. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come if you knew I was still here.”

He started to ask why, then put the question on hold. It would be easy to get lost in the past with Jenny Davidson, but that wasn’t why he was here. Besides, it wasn’t as if their story had had a happy ending. He could taste the bitterness. So much for wounds that healed. He took a sip of coffee. “You said
first
heart attack. Was there a second?”

“Yesterday. It was—” she held his gaze, her green eyes offering him comfort “—much worse. I’m sorry, Chase. The doctors, well, you need to speak with them.”

“They make their rounds in the morning?”

“Yes. Visiting hours are limited. I called the hospital a few minutes before you arrived. Your father just had a couple of tests and he’s pretty out of it. They said you could see him in an hour or so.”

“I got the first flight out I could.”

He knew his voice sounded defensive and he wondered who he was trying to convince. After eleven years, it was going to take a lot more than one bedside visit to make up for lost time. Besides, the separation had been two ways. Twice a year he’d mailed his father a note, telling the old man he was fine. Not once had there been a reply.

“No one questions your loyalty,” she said.

“Maybe I question it.” He mumbled the words under his breath, not sure if she’d heard and wasn’t really concerned one way or the other. “You think there’s someone on the hospital staff I can talk to tonight?”

“The nurses are all very helpful. They might be able to answer some of your questions.”

“He’s at Harrisville General?”

“In Cardiac Care.”

“How long until he’s out of danger?”

“They’ve warned us there are two critical stages. Three and ten days. If he makes it past a week, he has a chance of pulling through.”

“But they don’t expect him to last a week?”

“I’m not sure.” She ducked her head and the soft hair fell like a curtain, hiding her face from view. “I wish I had better news.”

Not likely. He’d spoken to a doctor in Phoenix before he left and wasn’t surprised at the prognosis.

Chase stood up and crossed the small room to the window. In the darkness, the glass reflected his own image and a distorted mirroring of the room behind him. He saw Jenny twist in her seat to study him. What was she thinking as she bit down on her bottom lip? Years ago the gesture had signaled worry, apprehension or the fact that she hadn’t studied for her algebra test. Yet that girl had grown up. What was the woman like? Did she still tell lies? Were they just as believable, told now with sophistication instead of innocence?

“I’ve been to see him,” she said softly.

“And?”

“They keep him sedated most of the time. I’m not sure he knew I was there.”

Chase shrugged. “I gave up being angry at my father about four years ago. I finally realized it didn’t accomplish anything. I always meant to come back.” One hand clenched the window frame. “Never occurred to me it would be too late.”

“It’s not.” She was at his side in a heartbeat. “The doctors are hopeful.”

“It doesn’t sound hopeful.”

“I’m sorry.” She glanced down. “Doctors don’t know everything.”

She placed her hand on his arm. The contact, brief, almost impersonal, seared through the cotton of his shirt, like liquid steel. The reaction startled him as much with its presence as with its intensity. He could feel himself weakening, forgetting the past and…

He turned so they were facing each other and took her hands in his, palm to palm, his thumbs rubbing her knuckles. Long, delicate fingers ended in short, straight nails. No red polish, no smooth, perfect skin. No rings. These were hands that worked for a living.

He glanced at her face, but she was staring at their joined flesh. Did she feel it, too? The connection? Had it lasted all this time? He’d come home to see his old man and lay some ghosts to rest. He’d never expected to find her here. He’d spent eleven years hating Jenny Davidson. There was no room for anything else in his life now.

Slowly, his thumbs found and traced old scars. There was a thin line on her right middle finger, a token from a run-in with a school yard fence. Turning her hands over, he studied the calluses from her gardening trowel, the bump from constantly writing with a mechanical pencil, the three thin burn scars that matched the ones on his hands. They’d learned together that newly rolled sheets of steel needed more than a few minutes to cool.

Her life-line stretched unbroken across her palm. Years before at a carnival, they’d had a reading done. The old crone, in her badly fitting wig and voluminous scarlet robes, had promised abundant love and good fortune. At the time, they’d assumed she’d meant with each other. No!
He’d
assumed. That had been the summer Jenny had betrayed him.

She stood close enough for him to see the faint shadow cast by her lashes. The freckles still skittered across her nose. There had been seventeen, years ago. Probably still were.

He curled his hands around hers and squeezed. She accepted the pressure, returning it, making it her own. No one else had known him as well as Jenny. Not his family nor his friends, nor the women who had shared his life. And what had she done with that knowledge?

“I’ve missed you, Chase,” she said, without looking up.

“I bet you have.” He released her hands and stepped back. “Must have been tough to find someone else so willing to play the fool.”

She winced, as if he’d physically slapped her. Good. Now she knew what it felt like to be pushed away.

“Chase, I didn’t—” She nodded. “Okay. I get it. Have it your way. Here.” She opened her top desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. “I wasn’t sure if you still had the keys to the big house. There’s a set inside, along with the cardiologist’s business card, and my home number.” Handing him the package, she cleared her throat. “Not that you’d call, but just in case.”

He took the envelope and stuffed it into his back pocket. “You’re right. I won’t. Wouldn’t want to upset your old man.”

“Old man?” She frowned. “I don’t live at home.”

He felt like smiling for the first time since he’d received the telegram. “I meant your husband.”

“I’m not married.” She closed the drawer and sat in her chair. “I live by the high school. A little red house on the corner. You can’t miss it. I’ve enclosed the address, too, in case…” She shook her head. “Never mind. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll head over to the hospital.”

“I should get home, as well. I’ve got some things to take care of.” She looked up and offered a slight smile.

He recognized the hurt in her green eyes. The knot in his gut tightened. She was getting to him again, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. Why, after all this time, did she still have the power? Why couldn’t he keep focused on what she’d done to him?

To top it all off, she hadn’t said a word. Not one damn word. He scanned her desk, but didn’t see a picture there. Nor were there any on the bare walls. No photos or proudly displayed sketches made by a-he did some quick figuring—ten-year-old child. Did she think he’d forgotten?

She turned off the coffeepot and walked to the doorway. “Ready to go?”

“Sure.” He followed her down the hall and stairs, to the entrance of the office building. After she’d secured the lock, they moved toward her car. The gravel crunched under their steps. His rented four-wheel truck looked new and large compared with her five-year-old compact.

Jenny opened the door and tossed her purse onto the front seat. “I hope your dad’s awake enough to talk to you,” she said.

There was something familiar about the way she leaned against her car and looked up at him. How many nights had been spent like this, wanting to stay, yet having to leave? When they’d been younger, the time had been filled with last-minute whispers, as though the excitement of their conversation couldn’t possibly keep until morning. Later, it had been digs and laughs about boys and girls and dating and school. Those last few months, the precious minutes had consisted of awkward, avoided glances and tender kisses that had flared into a passion so all-encompassing, it frightened them into their goodbyes several minutes before her curfew.

But only once before had he stood beside Jenny Davidson and felt the cold twist of anger clawing at his gut.

“That’s it?” he asked, finally. A better man than he would have let it go. But if he had been a better man, he wouldn’t have spent his life disappointing his father.

“I don’t understand.” Her fingers, pale in the faint light, clutched the frame of her car door. “Do you need something else?”

“Don’t you think I deserve to know how my kid’s doing?”

J
enny took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Part of her had hoped Chase wouldn’t bring up the baby, at least not so soon. There were other things she wanted to discuss instead. But, looking at the situation from his point of view, she couldn’t blame him for asking. After all, her father had threatened him with God knows what and practically forced him out of town.