Everything but the marriage (8 page)

She scratched under Beauty's chin. Maybe what she'd needed all along was for someone or something to need her again. Or maybe, she'd had to go through a period of mourning before she'd be able to respond to that need.

When Devlin had asked her if she'd tried to kill herself, he'd chiseled the first small crack in the wall she'd built to protect herself. Life had held little value for a long time, but hearing that it had almost been taken from her, perhaps by her own actions, had struck her harder than she'd realized at the time.

She sat up, dislodging the cat, who gave her a huffy look before jumping from the bed, hitting the floor with a less than dainty thud. Annalise hardly noticed her indignant departure. She swung her legs off the bed and then sat without moving, staring at the bare plywood beneath her feet.

Just where was she going to go from here? It was all very well and good that she was starting to rejoin the living, but that didn't make all her problems go away. She had no money, no place to live, no job and no prospects of getting any of them.

She fought back the depression she could feel hovering in the background, ready to swoop down and swallow her whole. Squaring her shoulders, she stood up.

There'd been a time when her optimism had been so strong it might almost have been considered a character flaw. It might take a long time to recapture that optimism. She might never regain it. But she wasn't going back to the gray emptiness that had characterized her life for so long.

She had a long way to go before she had her life in order. But she could only take it one step at a time and hope to God that there was firm ground to step onto.

Devlin had showered and shaved in the second bathroom and was cooking breakfast when Annalise made an appearance.

*'Good morning."

"Hi." Devlin returned his attention to the bacon, trying to ignore the sharp pinch of awareness he felt. Damn, why couldn't I have fished a ninety-year-old lady out of the river?

"Is there anything I can do to help?" In the face of his less-than-enthusiastic greeting, Annalise's smile faded, her eyes taking on the uncertain look that made his chest ache.

"Sure. You can tell me how you like your eggs and then you can butter the toast." Devlin made a conscious effort to soften his voice. It wasn't her fault that she made him think of hot nights and cool sheets.

A few minutes later, they sat down at the kitchen table. Ordinarily Devlin ate at the breakfast bar, but he preferred to have Annalise across the table from him than sitting inches away on a stool.

She had more appetite this morning, he noticed. She was doing justice to the bacon and eggs. He waited until they'd both finished eating before breaking the silence. "Do you remember where your car is?"

"I think so." She frowned, trying to bring better focus to blurred memories. "It died and I pulled it off the road. I remember seeing an old bam. It looked like it was about to collapse."

Devlin nodded. "I think I know the place. It's a couple of miles from where I first saw you, though. Did you walk far?"

Annalise thought about it for a minute and then shook her head. '*I don't know. I.. .wasn't thinking very clearly, Vm afraid."

"Don't worry about it. There aren't all that many dilapidated bams around. Chances are it's the one I'm thinking of." He rose from the table and picked up both their plates. "Why don't we go take a look at your car? If I can't get it running, we'll tow it back here."

Annalise started to protest that he'd already done more than enough for her, but she closed her mouth without speaking. Without a car, she couldn't go anywhere. No doubt, Devlin had already thought of that. He was probably anxious to get her car in running condition and get her out of his hair.

They left the house a few minutes later. Devlin stopped on the porch, frowning down at her bare feet. "You can't keep running around without shoes. With all the construction that's been done on this place, the whole area is probably full of nails and bits of wire and God knows what else."

Annalise curled her toes against the floorboards. "I don't have any shoes."

"No. I suspect they were lost in the river," he said absently, still frowning at her feet. "Hang on."

He disappeared back into the house, leaving Annalise to contemplate the embarrassment of being so completely incompetent in providing for herself that she was dependent on someone else for something as basic as shoes.

Devlin was gone only a minute, returning with a pair of white sneakers in his hand. "Here. See if these come close to fitting/*

Annalise took the sneakers from him and sat down on the edge of the steps. A moment later, she stood up, flexing her toes inside the slightly stiff canvas.

"They fit."

"Good. Kelly left them last time she was here. I should have thought of these yesterday before asking you to check the mail."

"Kelly?" Annalise hung back when he stq)ped off the porch. "Are you sure she won't mind me borrowing her shoes?"

"Positive." Devlin turned back, narrowing his eyes against the bright morning sun. "She'd be glad you could use them."

"Oh." Annalise followed him to his truck, aware that the shoes didn't feel as nice as they had a moment ago. Who was Kelly? A girlfriend, no doubt. The thought caused an odd twinge of something that could have been, but wasn't, dislike.

"She sounds nice," she said as Devlin inserted the key in the ignition.

"Who?" He glanced at her questioningly as he started the truck.

"Kelly. She sounds nice."

"She is. Always has been, actually." He put the truck in gear and started down the driveway.

"So you've known her a long time?" They were probably practically married, she thought. Maybe he was even building the house for the two of them.

"All my life." He shot her a curious look. **She's my sister.'*

*'Your sister?" Annalise felt her mood lighten. Not that it had anything to do with finding out that she was wearing his sister's shoes and not his lover's. "She lives near here?"

'' In Remembrance.''

He didn't seem interested in expanding on the bare-bones information, and Annalise didn't pursue the topic. She doubted if he'd have told her even that much if she hadn't questioned him.

It didn't take them long to find her car, pulled crookedly off to one side of the road. Annalise felt as if she were seeing the little compact for the first time in months.

The car had been a wedding present from Bill. His family had been wealthy, and by the time they married when she was nineteen and he was twenty-two, he'd already come into two trust funds. Buying a car for a wedding gift had been nothing out of the ordinary for the Stevens family.

She remembered how excited she'd been, examining every inch of shiny blue paint, polishing out imaginary smudges on the bumper with the hem of her shirt. Now the paint had faded to a dirty gray shade and the bumpers were pitted with rust. The little car looked unloved and unkempt. Reflecting its owner, she thought bleakly.

She smoothed her hand over the cheap cotton of her skirt. She hadn't taken any better care of the car this past year than she'd taken of herself. And they'd both suffered some wear and tear as a result.

Devlin pulled his truck in behind the car and got out. After a moment, Annalise followed him. She wasn't at all sure she wanted to get any closer to the car. It held so many memories. She'd gone from happily married to single to destitute in that car. For the past few months, she'd lived in it more often than not, sleeping curled awkwardly across the front seats.

As Annalise reached the rear of the car, Devlin opened the driver's side door and reached in to pull the keys out of the ignition.

*'I guess I wasn't too worried about anyone stealing it," she said uneasily, though he hadn't, by so much as a look, commented on her carelessness.

"I guess." The look he ran over the car made it clear that he thought any such worries would have been close to delusional. He slid behind the wheel with some difficulty. The seat was adjusted for legs considerably shorter than his, and his efforts to push it back proved useless.

Annalise linked her hands together in front of her, watching as he cranked the engine without result. A look under the hood didn't produce any miraculous solution. Devlin lowered the hood and pulled a rag out of his back pocket, wiping his hands as he considered the battered little car.

"Is it something awful?" Annalise asked at last.

"I don't know. How long has it been since you had a tune-up done?" Her blank look told him it had been considerably longer than it should have been. "It could just be that it needs points and plugs." He shrugged. "Or it could be one of half a dozen other things."

"Oh/' There didn't seem to be much she could add to that single word. She didn't need to tell him that she didn't have the money for a tune-up, let alone the half a dozen other things it might require. He hadn't asked about her financial state, but he had known it was nearly nonexistent.

If Devlin was aware of the blow his words had dealt to her fragile optimism, he didn't show it. He looked up and down the road, frowning in thought.

"There's no sense in trying to do anything with it here. I brought a tow chain. I'll tow it back to my place."

Annalise nibbled on her lower lip. She wanted to ask him to just tow it to the nearest service station and she'd deal with it from there. But the truth was, a service station was going to want money even to look at the car. And money was something she had all too little of.

While Devlin moved the truck around to the front of her car, Annalise opened the passenger door. Her purse was lying on the floor in front of the seat, an open invitation to anyone who'd happened by. On the other hand, the purse wouldn't have been much loss. When Shakespeare wrote that "Who steals my purse steals trash;" he could have been writing for her.

Even the purse itself wasn't worth stealing. It was cheap brown plastic that had started to crack on the comers, an advertisement that its contents were no more valuable than it was.

Perched on the edge of the seat, she opened it, examining its contents as if someone might have dropped a wad of one-hundred dollar bills in when she wasn't

looking. But it was the same pathetic inventory she'd been seeing for months: a lipstick she hadn't used in weeks, a checkbook for an account she no longer had, a pocketknife that had gotten damp and rusted shut, a handful of small change and four tattered dollar bills.

Her fingers trembled on the edge of a leather photo wallet, its quality a contrast to its surroundings. She hadn't opened the wallet in almost a year. The images it held were just too painful. Not that she'd noticed the pain growing any less for avoiding the photos.

Suddenly she wanted desperately to open the wallet. What if her manories had grown dim? What if she was no longer remembering clearly? After all, her memories of forty-eight hours ago were blurred. She toyed with the clasp, feeling her pulse speed with something close to fear.

"I've got everything hooked up."

Annalise jumped, her hand jerking back from the wallet as if she'd just been caught shoplifting. She slipped out of the car and faced him, the purse clutched defensively in front of her.

"I was just looking at things."

Devlin lifted one brow in surprise. "They're your things," he said mildly.

"Of course. Of course they are." Annalise forced her fingers to relax their death grip on the cheap plastic purse. He must think she was a total idiot. Not that he could have had much doubt even before this latest demonstration.

"I've got the tow chain hooked up," Devlin said, offering no comment on her odd reaction.

Annalise followed him back to the truck. She had to get herself under control. A tall order when she hadn't managed anything close to that in months.

Devlin was aware of his passenger's tension as he towed the battered compact back to his house. He wasn't quite sure what had triggered it, whether it was seeing the car or something in the ugly purse she clutched with white-knuckled fingers.

From the looks of her car, he'd consider it a miracle if it didn't need everything from the chassis up replaced. And he wouldn't bet much on the condition of the chassis. It was a wonder it had run as long as it had.

So much for getting her off his hands today. But he couldn't pretend to feel the disappointment he wanted to at that thought. The truth was, it had been rather pleasant to go out to the kitchen this morning and see that scruffy cat waiting to be fed. And it had felt good to lean against the counter and watch the sun coming up, cup of coffee in hand, and know that there was someone else in the house, someone else to concern himself with.

If he was honest, he had to admit that maybe Annalise provided the same thing for him that the cat had given her—a chance to be needed. Maybe he was ly-mg to himself in thinking that he could make his life away from the rest of the world, that he didn't miss occasional human contact.

Not that he was particularly anxious to open his doors to the entire world or even to a tiny portion of it on a permanent basis. But it wouldn't be so bad

having a houseguest for a while. She'd have time to put her life back together, and he'd get the chance to feel as if he were helping her out.

One thing he'd learned was that there wasn't much personal satisfaction in handing out sums of money to worthy charities. Oh, it helped to soothe his conscience, which still pinched over his accepting the money in the first place.

It didn't matter how logical Reed's arguments had been or how right he was, there was still a part of Devlin that regarded Sampson's fortune as nothing more than the biblical thirty pieces of silver, only he'd somehow sold himself down the river.

But Annalise didn't need his money. Or at least, that wasn't all she needed, he amended, glancing in the rearview mirror of her car. It seemed to him that what she needed, more than money, was time. Time to rest, time to heal.

Who knows, maybe in helping Annalise St. John to heal her wounds, he'd find a way to heal some of his own.

After Devlin maneuvered her dead car into position near the house and unhooked the tow chain, Annalise pulled a cardboard box of clothing out of the narrow back seat. She'd sold her suitcase to a pawnshop months ago—in Saint Louis, she thought.