Where Angels Tread (7 page)

“Yeah,” Buddy said, a reminiscent expression on his face. “I miss those days. Of course, I still do that stuff when Maribel lets me.” He winked. “But I gotta say, my friend, it’s just not the same without you.”

“How is Maribel?” Shane asked. Buddy’s wife and childhood sweetheart was one of the kindest people Shane had ever met. Buddy was crazy about her. Shane had stood beside them proudly on their wedding day as best man and was in the hospital waiting room when their first son Henry was born. The expression on Buddy’s face when he held his son for the first time was something that Shane would never forget; he clearly remembered the ache of longing in his stomach when he saw the new family together. How he wished that he could experience that kind of joy with someone.

“Great,” Buddy said, signaling for another beer. “Henry just started preschool.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe how fast he’s growing up. Maribel’s thinking about going back to work soon, maybe part time. She wants to be there for Henry when he gets home from school.” He paused, surveying Shane over the rim of his drink. “You really should come by for a visit. They both ask about you all the time.”

Shane cringed and took another long swallow of his beer. “There’s a lot of things I should be doing,” he said. “Add it to the list.”

When Buddy didn’t reply, Shane set his glass down on the table and look his friend squarely in the eye; Buddy returned his gaze warily. Shane felt as though he had an entire tribe of butterflies dancing around in his stomach. “I need to ask you something, and please be honest with me.”

“Okay,” Buddy said, still looking uneasy. “Shoot.”

“I need to know if you blame me for what happened.” There, Shane thought, he had said it. He just wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear the answer.

The bartender slid another beer across the counter to Buddy, who dug his wallet out from his pants pocket to count out a few dollar bills. After the bartender thanked him and moved away, Buddy turned his attention back to Shane; his face was stony. “Sometimes,” he said, drawing in a deep breath, “the memories of that night haunt my dreams. I wake up yelling and gasping for air. I can still hear everything—the screeching of the tires, the shattering of the glass, and, always, the sound of that woman screaming. It’s something I’ll never forget.” He reached down and rolled up the leg of his pants; Shane averted his eyes from the long red scar running from Buddy’s knee to his ankle. Another thing, Shane thought, that was all his fault.

“Thankfully I’ve healed,” Buddy continued, locking his gaze with Shane’s. “No long term damage, unless you count knowing when it’s going to rain before it happens.” He laughed. “The doctors tell me that’s ‘cause arthritis set in after the injury and that I’ll have it for the rest of my life. ‘Course, that doesn’t bother me; it’s dead useful to tell you the truth.”

“But do you blame me?” Shane pressed on. No matter what Buddy had to say, Shane needed to hear it.

Buddy traced his finger along the tankard, which was wet with condensation. “No,” he said. “I don’t even know why you’re asking me that, to tell you the truth. I told you that I didn’t blame you right after it happened, even when the doctors weren’t sure if I’d ever be able to walk again.”

Shane’s face crumpled at the memory; the terror he had felt, standing at Buddy’s bedside with Maribel, whose face was frozen in terror, was something that had stayed with him all these years.

“It was an accident, Shane, and nothing more. It could have happened to any one of us. But I can tell you that until I’m blue in the face; you won’t believe me until you’re ready to.”

“If no one blames me, why won’t they look at me? I’ve practically been shunned by everyone else on the force.”

“That,” Buddy said, a shadow crossing his face, “is entirely in your head. You isolated yourself from all of your friends, myself included. The guys just don’t know how to treat you anymore, so they started tiptoeing around you. You’re like a ghost. Anytime you’re ready to rejoin the land of the living, we’ll be waiting for you with open arms.” He glanced at his watch and groaned. “I gotta run, sorry. Maribel’s visiting her mother today and asked me to pick Henry up from daycare.” He stood up and clapped Shane on the back jovially. “It was nice to see you again, man. Think about what I’ve said. When you’re ready, we’re waiting.”

As he watched Buddy walk away, an almost imperceptible limp in his gait, Shane clutched the handle of his tankard so hard that his knuckles turned white. “I’m ready,” he growled. “Damn it, I’m ready!”

The pair of women seated at the stools next to Shane glanced his way in alarm, then shifted their bodies ever so slightly away from him. But Shane, too preoccupied with his thoughts, barely noticed. He was done being a martyr, he thought fiercely. It was time for him to get on with his life, make up for lost time. And that involved getting to know a certain woman named Heidi.

Heidi patted her hair nervously, feeling slightly ridiculous. Usually more of a wash and wear kind of girl, she had spent more money than she cared to admit on a sleek new curling iron that promised to make her look like a million dollars. Which, she thought, was practically what she had to fork over for it. Heidi studied her reflection in the mirror critically. It did have a nice effect, she had to admit. Rummaging around in her bathroom drawer, she dug out a battered tube of shimmery lipstick that she kept around for special occasions and swirled it over her mouth.

“Mom?” Zachary called.

“In here.”

He appeared at the door, watching her suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting ready,” Heidi said, ignoring his questioning eyes. “Officer Kensington is going to be here in a few minutes.”

Her son continued to stare at her. “Why are you wearing lipstick? You never wear makeup.”

She glared at him. “Why don’t you go outside so you don’t keep Shane waiting?” He frowned, then swung around on his heels and slouched down the hall. Heidi turned back to her reflection, then opened up a pack of tissues and rubbed one vigorously over her mouth to remove the lipstick, chiding herself for acting like an excitable teenage girl. Shane, she reminded herself, was not coming to see her.

After smoothing her hair one last time and tucking her sleeveless blouse into her jeans, she switched off the bathroom light and walked casually into the living room. She chose a seat by the front window, grabbed a magazine, and pretended to read, all the while peering eagerly outside and waiting for the flash of Shane’s blue cruiser to round the corner.

After a few minutes an unfamiliar car drove slowly down the street and pulled to a stop in front of her driveway. Heidi watched as Zachary raced to greet it. Of course, she thought, there was no reason for Shane to bring his squad car. She was disappointed all the same; there was something about a man in uniform that really got her blood flowing.

As Shane stepped out of the car, Heidi felt her pulse quicken; her attraction to him, fueled by the touching way he interacted with her son, had only intensified since she last saw him. A far cry from the usual stiff police clothes she had seen him in so far, today Shane sported a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt cut off at the shoulders, showing off his tanned arms and tight muscles. Tucked beneath his arm was a basketball, which he tossed to Zachary, who caught it deftly.

Heidi watched as Shane popped open the trunk of his car and lifted out a heavy box; when Zachary saw what was inside, he clapped his hands enthusiastically and raced to the front stoop. “Mom!” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “I need a screwdriver!” Then he bounded back down the steps and hurried to the car, where Shane was now pulling a large basketball hoop from the box.

After locating the toolbox, one of the things she hadn’t so much as laid a finger on since John’s death, Heidi slipped on a pair of shoes and went outside to greet Shane. “Wow, what do you have there?” She peered into the box, which besides the hoop contained a long pole and a base.

“I didn’t know if you guys had a hoop, so I decided to bring one along.” Shane straightened up and smiled at her, a slow sexy smile that she could feel throughout her entire body. She turned away to catch her breath for a second, praying that Zachary didn’t notice anything. Heidi could barely admit her feelings for Shane to herself, let alone worry about having to explain them to her pre-teen son; she shuddered at the thought.

“That’s incredibly generous,” Heidi said gratefully once she regained her composure. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Shane waved his hand in the air unconcernedly. “It’s my pleasure,” he said, then turned and ruffled Zachary’s hair. Heidi was shocked to see the grin on her son’s face; if Heidi tried to touch his hair he always flung her hand away. Boys, she thought, shaking her head. They were a strange breed all right.

Heidi could see rivulets of sweat running down Shane’s back as he bent over in the hot sun, muttering to himself as he tried to fit the pieces of the basketball hoop together. Zachary hopped from one foot to the other impatiently, every so often dribbling the ball and raising his arms to take an imaginary shot.

“There,” Shane announced after a few minutes. “We’re ready for business. Mind giving me a hand, Zachary?” Together they heaved the hoop to a standing position and dragged it over to the side of the driveway. Shane wiped the sweat from his forehead and surveyed his work. “We can always move it,” he said to Heidi. “If it’s in the way.”

“It’s perfectly fine where it is,” she replied, mentally trying to calculate how she was going to squeeze her car by the hoop without knocking it over. Heidi had never been very good at backing out of tight spaces, as Zachary could attest to, but the last thing she wanted to do was complain when Shane was going out of his way to be so helpful.

Shane raised his hands in the air, signaling for the ball; in his excitement, Zachary overshot and the ball whizzed past Shane’s head and started bouncing down the road. “Sorry!” Zachary said as he dashed after it.

“Watch out for cars,” Heidi called to her son as he finally caught up with the ball. She turned to Shane. “I’ll just leave you two boys here. I think I’ll catch up on some reading. I made some lemonade if you want to stop in when you’re done playing. Of course,” she added hastily, “I understand if you have something else you need to do. You’re already giving up way too much of your time to help Zachary.”

“I’m happy to,” Shane said, his eyes on Zachary, who was skipping back up the road, clutching the ball to his side. “And I’d love to come inside afterwards. For lemonade, that is.” He blushed, and when Heidi met his eyes, something unspoken seemed to pass between the two of them, a feeling that made Heidi’s heart skip a beat.

Zachary jogged to their side, his eyes bright with excitement. “Ready?” he asked Shane, practically squirming with anticipation.

“Ready.”

*

Heidi wished she could stand at the front window and take photo after photo of Shane and Zachary playing basketball in the driveway, but she didn’t want her son to know that she was watching. The carefree expression on his face was something that Heidi hadn’t seen since he was a little boy, and she didn’t want to embarrass him or make him feel self-conscious by cheering him on. Instinctively, Heidi knew that this moment was something that Zachary needed to share with Shane, and Shane alone.

As for Shane, Heidi thought, he seemed to be enjoying himself almost as much as Zachary. From what she could tell, he was trying to teach a dubious-looking Zachary some kind of victory dance that involved wagging his bottom and waving his hands in the air. As he demonstrated it once more, gesturing for Zachary to follow along, Heidi whipped out her phone and took a quick video. This was too good not to immortalize on camera, she thought. Besides, she wouldn’t mind watching it again, in private. Heidi giggled to herself as she dropped her phone back on the table; she was suddenly feeling a little bit reckless.

She hurried to the front door and swung it open. “Hey!” she called out, and the boys turned around in surprise. “Got room for one more?” She laced up her tennis shoes and jogged down the sidewalk to the basketball hoop. Holding her hands up, she motioned for Shane to toss her the ball. “Give it here.”

“Mom,” Zachary said, looking doubtful. “You don’t really know how to play.” He looked at Shane for support.

“Come on! How hard can it be?” Heidi gestured again for the ball. “Just throw it through the hoop, right? It’s not rocket science.”

A grin lit up Shane’s face as he turned to Zachary. “Let’s give her a shot.”

“Okay,” Zachary shrugged. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’s terrible,” he added in a mock whisper.

“I heard that,” Heidi teased. “Better watch out or you’re going to be doing all the chores around the house for the next week.” An idea struck her. “Actually, why don’t we make things a little bit more interesting? We’ll each take ten shots at the hoop. If I make more than you, Zachary, you have to do all the dusting and dishwashing this week.”

“What about me?” Shane asked mockingly.

Heidi considered her options for a minute. She could play it safe with Shane, she thought, maybe make a silly little bet that didn’t mean anything. But suddenly, that newfound feeling of recklessness washed over her again, and she realized that she didn’t want to play it safe. What Heidi really wanted was to go for it, to let him know that she was interested. “If I beat you, you buy me dinner this weekend.”