Rachel Lee (29 page)

"Listen," he said abruptly, suddenly needing to get away for a few minutes. "I'm going to go see what's taking your mom so long. Maybe she needs a chain saw for that sandwich. I'll be right back."

Joni obligingly laughed, but her eyes were haunted as they followed him from the room.

Haunted. The word fit them all, Hardy thought as he went looking for the staff break room.

But he couldn't blame Karen for that. She had been a sweet girl, with a genuinely kind heart. And while she'd also had a wild streak that led her to fly in the face of her father's dictates, that wasn't so weird for anyone that age.

But she had had a good heart. A kind and decent heart. The kind of heart that he sometimes thought had made her date him just because he was something of an outcast in school because of his father. Well, that and the fact that it was guaranteed to turn Witt livid.

The thought almost succeeded in drawing a reluctant smile out of him.

He hadn't thought of Karen as being particularly rebellious back then, but she must have been. He'd probably been blind to it, involved as he had been in his own problems. Teenage egotism at its best. The most real thing in any teen's life were his own internal emotional storms.

And if that had been true of him, it had also been true of Karen. And Joni.

Joni. Christ, imagine her having a crush on him back then. He'd thought of her primarily as Karen's younger cousin, too young to consider as serious date material. Heck, even when he'd begun noticing he was drawn to her, he'd managed to convince himself she was too young and he shouldn't even be noticing her that way. And most especially he shouldn't be noticing her that way because she was so close to Karen.

But he'd noticed anyway. Well, hell, she'd been fifteen toward the end there, and that certainly wasn't too young for an eighteen-year-old to at least notice.

But he'd never guessed she was noticing him, too. Now, looking back on it, he wondered if it would have made any difference if he had realized she was attracted. Maybe he would have broken off with Karen sooner?

But he doubted it. Because the things he'd started feeling about Joni back then had made him feel sleazy. Doubly so because of Karen. So he wouldn't have acted on his attraction anyway.

Then a bitter thought struck him. That high school crush of Joni's might explain why she'd made love with him last night, then leaped out of bed so convinced it was a mistake. She might have acted on the memory of the crush, then realized there was nothing left of it.

Nothing to justify sleeping with him.

God, that made him feel awful. Just awful. And not simply because Joni might be disgusted with herself, but because the closeness he'd been feeling with her might have been an illusion. An illusion born of something that had been little more than illusory twelve years ago: a girl's crush.

Man, that thought hurt.

It also made him a fool, and he was never happy to discover he was a fool, especially when his foolishness hurt someone else. Then, too, he was a proud man, one who preferred never to do anything he was ashamed of. Right now, he felt ashamed.

He found Hannah in the break room, eating a plastic cup full of fruit salad and a small bag of chips. Coffee in a disposable cup steamed beside her.

She looked up when he entered. "Do I need to go back?"

He shook his head. "She seems okay, Mrs. Matlock. Really. I'll go back in a minute. I just needed ... a moment to myself."

She lifted an eyebrow, then gestured for him to make himself comfortable. He could have sprawled on the now-empty couch, but instead he chose to sit facing her at the small table.

Finally he said, "What do you think of this whole mess?"

She dabbed her mouth with a paper towel and met his gaze. "Which mess?"

"The whole mess. All the way back to Karen."

"Ah." Her dark eyes grew gentler. "It's a mess, all right."

"Do you think I killed Karen?"

"No. Nobody but Witt thinks that."

Hardy sighed and rubbed his chin. Two days' growth of stubble rasped noisily, and he stopped, looking rueful. "That's nice to hear. I still blame myself."

"Of course you do. Survivors tend to do that."

He nodded. "Doesn't make me feel any better. So ... do you mind me hanging out with Joni?"

"Not at all. I think she's missed your friendship."

Hardy realized he'd missed Joni's, too. All these years. "But what about Witt?"

"Witt is an ass," Hannah said bluntly. "A lovable, redeemable ass, but still an ass."

Hardy had to laugh. The smile that accompanied it seemed to ease all the terrible tension in his face, neck and soul. "Yeah. He is."

"But only about this," Hannah cautioned. "Don't ever mistake the man for a fool. He's just got this one awful blind spot." She sighed and stirred some half-and-half into her coffee. "I don't know what in the world to do about it. I've certainly argued with him more than once.

All he hears is his own pain."

Hardy drummed his fingers once, quickly, on the table. "I can understand that." "So can 1.1 love the man dearly, but this is...

well, it's been a big problem for a long time. He's clinging to his grief past reason. And I'm still trying to figure out why. There has to be a reason."

"Maybe. Or maybe it just hurts that bad."

Hannah shook her head. "No. He's nursed that pain and anger. He's tended it like a fire he's afraid to let go out. I just wish I could figure out why."

Hardy shrugged. "Beats me. I know Karen thought he was too strict, but what teen doesn't feel that way about their parents? I still wonder sometimes if she dated me just to make him mad."

"It wouldn't surprise me. Joni had some spells of that, too. And Karen was far more rebellious than Joni. At least back then." Her expression turned wry. "She's done quite a bit of catching up over the years."

"She sure has." A kind of admiration filled him. "But she was always impulsive and stubborn."

"True. But not to this degree."

"Well, I don't think she ever stood up to Witt before. Has she?"

"Never. Maybe it was high time." Hannah sipped her coffee, then set the cup down. "Witt's autocratic. Always has been. Maybe it comes from having so much responsibility thrust on him. I know there were times when I resented it. Lewis was married, I was working, and Witt still insisted on paying for Lewis's medical school. That was generous and kind, of course, and I'm not knocking it, but the fact that he kept slaving to earn all that extra money when he had a wife and child of his own ... it made me feel bad. Made us both feel indebted. And gave him a shoe in the door to comment on everything."

Hardy nodded slowly. "But you still love him."

"Yes, I do. You see, his intentions were good, Hardy. The best. He didn't want Lewis living off me. Felt it was a bad setup for both of us. " She shrugged." It ended up that way anyway. We just lived better than a lot of other students. " She looked down, staring into her cup as if she might find answers there.

" After . after things went south with Lewis and me, I found myself wondering if Witt hadn't suspected that Lewis was just using me. I never did reach a conclusion about that. Most likely it was a mixture of motivations. Anyway, Witt was just trying to prevent Lewis from taking advantage of me. "

"I can understand that." Hardy felt a sharp, unexpected pang of sympathy for the woman. Given what Joni had told him, he suspected her marriage had been no bed of roses.

Hannah glanced up. "Witt didn't succeed, but it wasn't his fault. It was mine. I let myself be used."

Hardy didn't know how to respond to that. He couldn't argue with her, because he didn't know all that she knew. But agreeing seemed cruel and pointless.

"Anyway," Hannah said after a few seconds, "Witt meant well. He usually means well. There's just this one problem, and I don't know what to do about it. He's being irrational."

"Maybe..." Hardy hesitated and cleared his throat. This was a stupid idea. Crazy. But he said it anyway. "Maybe I should talk to him."

Both of Hannah's dark eyebrows lifted. "He'll just get furious."

"Well, I can get as loud as he can. Maybe if you're there... I don't know. It's just been bugging me that the two of us have never really had it out. It's like unfinished business, and maybe he feels the same. But then ... well, he's sick. I guess it's not a good idea."

Hannah sat thoughtfully for a few minutes. Although he hadn't seen a whole lot of her over the intervening years, because of Witt, he still remembered that thoughtfulness of hers. Back in their teen years, she'd been something of a mother to Karen, and both he and Karen had come to trust Hannah's thoughtful, quiet, composed way of looking at the universe. Karen had often said she could talk to Hannah about anything and never get fireworks, not even little sparklers, the way she always did from her dad.

Joni had felt the same way, he recalled. For his own part, he'd used Hannah as a sounding board when needed. She'd always seemed like the calm in the middle of a storm at a time when life had seemed to be a series of typhoons.

"You know," Hannah said, "I'm not sure we need to protect Witt that much. He's had a couple of angry eruptions that haven't seemed to affect his health. In fact, I'd say he's pretty much recovered. Except for his attitude."

"Attitude? What's wrong?"

"He's terribly depressed. And he's refusing to change his eating habits to something healthier."

Hardy nodded. He could understand the eating habits part. He would find it pretty hard himself to part with thick, rare steaks. "But wasn't anger what caused the attack?"

"It appeared to be. But in the final analysis, no one can really say.

There was no serious damage to his heart muscle, no evidence of a clot basically, they think he had a serious arrhythmia. They're treating that."

"Still..." Hardy had enough on his conscience. He did not need to risk causing Witt another heart attack.

Hannah nodded. "Still. Well, I'm going to speak to him. If he starts to get too irate, I'll shut up. But he rarely blows up that way with me, Hardy." "But what good will it do for you to talk to him? You've talked to him about this before, haven't you?"

"Yes. But this time I'm going to make the old fool hear reason. And I'm going to make sure he'll sit down and talk with you. Joni was right about that. It's high time."

Joni was released from the hospital around noon the next day. Hardy picked her up.

"Where's my mom?" she asked when he walked into the room.

"The vet had an emergency and needed her." He looked pained. "Afraid to drive with me again?"

"No!" Joni was appalled that he should think such a thing. Then she realized that asking where her mom was could have implied a whole lot of things to him, none of them flattering. "I'm sorry. It's just that last night she said she'd be picking me up."

* "I'm a poor second, I know. But I rode here on my brand-new trusty charger...."

That piqued her curiosity. "You got a new car? Already?"

"Didn't have much choice. I can't get much work done if I can't get around when I need to. Come on, I think you'll like it."

It was at least something different to think about.

Most of the night, with Hardy sitting beside her, trying to keep her awake, her mind had gone on worrying about the same old problems, round and round like a carousel she couldn't get off.

"Maybe I need to see a shrink," she announced as they crunched across the icy, snowy parking lot.

"Why?" "Oh, well, how about the fact that my mind keeps running in circles over the same stuff all the time?"

"Obsess much?"

He said it lightly, and she couldn't resist smiling back. "It's never quite gone out of my mind, but lately ... lately this whole thing with Witt is driving me nuts."

"You know what your problem is? You're a problem solver. You can't let go of things until you think you've found a way to solve them. And the closer you think you might be to a solution, the more you worry the problem. No big deal. You don't need a shrink."

She looked up at him, her cheeks already pinkening from the cold. "You don't think so?"

"Hell no. Look at Witt and me. Why would you be exempt?"

Another smile helped lift her spirits as he made her feel better.

Hardy, she thought, was so good to her. So understanding. So kind. A flicker of dismay went through her as she remembered how she had acted only the night before last, running from him like some crazy kid after they made love.

Then her eyes fell on a cherry-red Suburban, so new it had hardly picked up any dirt from the snowy roads. "Is that it? That?"

"Yup. I kinda went hog-wild."

"Red? Oh, Hardy, you always wanted a red car. Always!" She couldn't help clapping her mittened hands together with delight.

He laughed. "Well, yeah. Except that I originally envisioned different lines, you know? Something lower, more aerodynamic, with twin chrome exhaust pipes and an engine that rumbled with power.... You know. A Corvette. Or a Mustang. Or..."

She laughed with him. "Our priorities change."

He half shrugged. "I guess. I have to carry a lot of junk with me to job sites these days. The gas mileage ain't nothin' to write home about, but this baby can handle just about anything."

She approached the vehicle, admiring it. But the instant he opened the passenger door for her, all thoughts of the cherry-red Suburban went out of her mind. On the gray cloth seat was a florist's box.

Her heart fluttering, she turned slowly and looked at him!

"That's for you," he said offhandedly.

Her hands were suddenly shaking, and her knees felt like rubber. It was just flowers, she told herself. Just flowers. It didn't mean anything. But she lifted the top of the box and wondered how it could possibly be meaningless. A dozen long stemmed roses looked back at her, a dozen red roses.

Not yellow or pink or white, but red. Her heart thumped so hard it seemed about to leap out of her breast. "Hardy?" She spoke his name almost tentatively. Afraid of anything he might say. Anything at all.