Familiar Stranger (12 page)

"Yes, Mr. Wilson, I have entered you into the system. Will you be needing a driver at the airport?"

"Not this trip," David said. "I'll catch a cab. Oh … there will be a package arriving for me within a couple of days. That is to be held for me to pick up upon my arrival."

"Yes, sir. Have a safe flight."

David hung up, set the laptop aside and crossed his arms upon the steering wheel then leaned forward. The sun was close to setting, giving the glassy surface of the lake a mirrorlike appearance. It seemed almost impossible to believe that only the day before yesterday they'd been here, fishing and laughing and pretending that they were normal people with normal lives.

Although he sat without moving, his thoughts were in constant motion. He'd done all there was to do from this end. There was nothing left to do but get to D.C. and wait for Frank to contact him. And he was in no doubt that it would happen. His brother had obviously invested a lifetime in tracking him down with full intentions of destroying him. All David had to do was make sure it didn't happen.

A simple thing, actually. Just stay alive. It was an instinctive act that shouldn't pose a real problem. The only thing was, Frank was most likely set on the very same thing.

David said a brief but fervent prayer. It wouldn't be the first time brother had fought brother on American soil. He just hoped to God the outcome of their meeting would lie in his favor.

When he looked up, the sun was slipping behind the treetops. He packed up his equipment and then started the car. He had a gallon of milk to buy and a woman to come home to.

By the time he got into Chiltingham, the streetlights were on. The charm of the little town was amazing to him. Everywhere he looked was a picture postcard scene. Perfect little houses with perfect little lawns and perfect little flower beds to accentuate their beauty. He pulled into the parking lot to the supermarket and caught himself whistling as he walked toward the door.

 Lord, when had he last done something so innocuous as whistle? Then he grinned. Too damned long, that's what.

As he strolled inside, he grabbed a shopping cart and began to wheel it down the aisles.

What was it Cara wanted me to buy? Oh, yeah … milk.

He headed toward the back of the store, knowing that was where most of the cold storage items were kept, but got sidetracked by the cookie aisle and then sideswiped by a woman he knew he'd seen before. It wasn't until she started to speak that he remembered her name. Macie. The woman with whom Ray had his affair.

"Why … if it isn't Cara's sweetheart," she said, and slid her hand up his arm. "Isn't this cute? I just love to see a big, strong man doing these thoughtful little chores."

David reached for a package of cookies, well aware that as he did, she had to step back.

"I'm sorry, but I've forgotten your name," David said, knowing that wasn't something she would appreciate. From the frown that appeared on her forehead, he was right.

"Macie. My name is Macie."

He nodded. "Now I remember. Sorry. Nice seeing you again," he said, and pushed the cart a little farther down the aisle. Unfortunately, she followed.

"I see you have a sweet tooth," Macie purred, and then lowered her eyelashes to half mast.

David assumed she thought it was sexy, but he could see they were false and wondered if she knew one was coming unglued.

"You know what they say about men who love their food," she whispered.

David grinned. "Yeah, they get fat. Listen, it's been nice talking to you, and I'll be sure and tell Cara you said hello."

Macie looked irritated. "Yes, well … you do that," she muttered, and then walked away.

David didn't bother to watch. He'd spied a box of cereal that he might want to try and tossed it into the cart.

"Milk. Milk. Remember to get milk," he muttered, and kept on going.

By the time he got to the checkout stand, he'd covered the entire store. He now knew where the toilet paper was shelved and where he could find aspirin and cinnamon, as well.

The checker, who couldn't have been more than nineteen or twenty, rang up his purchases, eyeing him curiously as she did. When he handed over a ten and a twenty to pay for his purchases, he caught her staring at him and he winked.

She blushed all the way to the roots of her hair and dropped a dime of his change.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, as she dug another out of the drawer and handed it to him. "Thank you, and come back again."

"Yes, thanks, I will," he said.

"Do you need any help carrying those out?" she asked.

"Are you offering?"

She blushed even harder. "Why, no, sir, but I could call a—"

David grinned. "No, thanks. I don't need any help. I was just teasing you."

She grinned then, a little more sure of herself.

"Well, I
was
staring. I suppose I had it coming." Then she added, "Are you new here, or just passing through?"

He hesitated and then smiled. "New."

"Then welcome to Chiltingham," she said.

The innocence of her remark took him aback and then touched him greatly.

"Thank you. The longer I'm here, the more certain I am that it's just where I belong."

As he left the store, he had the feeling that he'd just made another friend. Dr. Marvin Edwards had welcomed him home from Vietnam and now this girl, barely past her childhood, had welcomed him to the town. Damned if he wasn't taking a real liking to normal living.

He put his purchases in the trunk and then drove out of town, anxious to get back home. He thought of the pie that Cara had been baking when he left and wondered what other surprises she had in store for him. Whatever they were, they were bound to be good.

Chapter 7

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^
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D
avid pulled into the driveway of Cara's house and parked. Before he could get out of the car, she came out the door to meet him. He waved as she circled the car and gave him a welcome-home kiss.

"I got the milk," he said, as he popped the trunk of the car.

Cara peeked over his shoulder and stifled a grin.

"It's sort of difficult to see it among all the other stuff you bought, so I'll just have to take your word for it."

"Do not chide the hunter who brings home sustenance," David said.

This time she let her grin show.

He handed her one grocery sack and then took the other two himself, closed the trunk lid with his elbow and shifted the sacks to a safer position within his grasp.

"Lead the way," he said. "I'm right behind you."

All sorts of wonderful scents assailed David as they entered the house. He could definitely smell that apple pie she'd been baking when he left.

"Smells good in here," he said, as he sat the grocery sacks on the counter.

"I haven't had this much fun cooking in I don't know when," Cara said.

David took the grocery sack from her and then took her in his arms.

"Yeah, and I don't know when I've had this much fun, period."

She smiled and combed her fingers through his hair.

"You're too easy to please," she said softly.

"It's not that. It's the woman who's doing it."

She gave him a quick kiss. "Save that for later. I want to see what the
hunter
has bagged."

"Just stuff," he said, and dug the milk from a sack and put it into the refrigerator.

"Is there anything else in these that needs refrigerating?" Cara asked.

"A couple of things, I guess."

"Like what?" she asked, as she started digging through the sacks.

"Well … like this … and for sure this, and I think this would spoil, too."

Her eyes widened, then she started to smile as she watched him pull out a half gallon of

Rocky Road

ice cream, a package of hot Polish sausage and a carton of dip to go with the enormous bag of chips in the other sack.

"This looks like the groceries Tyler used to bring home."

"He's the youngest, isn't he?"

Cara nodded. "And my only son. He'll be thirty on his next birthday. You'll like him."

David stilled, watching as Cara began putting the items away that he'd purchased.

"Saw Ms. Macie at the supermarket. She said to say hello."

Cara turned. "And you would be lying to me now."

He nodded. "Well … she definitely said hello to me."

"She's a snake," Cara muttered.

"More like a barracuda," David offered.

The simile made Cara smile.

He handed her a couple more items from the grocery sacks, which she put on the refrigerator shelves, then moved to the pantry to store the rest.

As she worked, she realized David had gotten very quiet. She turned and looked at him, trying to judge what he was thinking against the expression on his face. As usual, it was impossible to tell.

"Well," she said. "Are you going to tell me, or is this going to be another game of twenty questions?"

"This life is so simple—so ordinary. I keep worrying if I'll ever fit in. And your children … I'm trying to put myself in their places when confronted with someone like me. I'm not so sure this is going to be good. If I was them, I don't think I would like me."

"Well … I like you, which is all that matters. Besides, you don't know them or you wouldn't be worrying," she said, and handed him the ice cream. "Put this in the freezer, please."

He did as she asked.

"Now go wash up, super shopper. Supper is ready."

David sighed and then headed for the bathroom. For a man used to being the one giving orders, this was a definite change in his routine, but one he could get used to.

He paused at the doorway and looked back. Cara was already at the stove, dishing up the food.

So beautiful. Then he shook his head and then hurried down the hall, anxious not to waste another moment of his time with her.

By the time he returned, she was carrying the last of the dishes into the dining room. He followed, his eyes widening with appreciation as he entered. The cherry wood table was set with china instead of the stoneware she used every day. There was a bouquet of her own flowers in the center of the table and lit candles on the mantel as well as on either side of the flowers. He thought of all the lonely days and nights of the last forty years and words failed him. When Cara turned, she saw him standing in the doorway and held out her hand. He took it, kissing it twice—once on the back, then again in the center of her palm.

"For you," Cara said softly. "For all the meals you ate alone."

He took her in his arms, too overwhelmed to speak. Cara was the first to move.

"Let's eat before it gets cold."

He seated Cara and then himself, missing nothing of the elegance. Everywhere he looked he saw beauty, and all for him—all in the name of love. Cara handed him the carving knife, indicating that he carve the roast she had cooked.

He looked at the long, thin-bladed knife, trying to relate it to serving food, but the images it evoked were deadly and ugly. Almost immediately, he laid it down.

"There's something I need to do first," David said, and took her by the hand. His thoughts flashed to Frank, lying in his own blood, and he shook his head as if clearing away the ghosts.

Cara waited.

David bowed his head, uncertain how to proceed, but the need to acknowledge a greater power was, at that moment, overwhelming.

There, in a deep, quiet voice, David Wilson asked a blessing for the food and the woman who had cooked it, ending his awkward plea with a soft amen.

Cara squeezed his hand. "Thank you, my darling, that was wonderful. Would you carve?"

This time when David picked up the carving knife, it didn't feel lethal in his hands.

"I would be honored."

After that, time passed in a series of moments that would forever be in his heart.

The flickering candlelight softening the passage of time on their faces.

The dark, blood-red wine as he filled their crystal goblets.

The purity of the
clink
as they toasted their future.

The look of joy in Cara's eyes when he took his first bite of roast.

The sensation of crisp, sugary crust, warm, cinnamon apples and the cold, silken sensation of vanilla ice cream as they ate the dessert, apple pie à la mode.

Finally, David pushed back his dessert plate with a groan.

"I have never had such wonderful food in my entire life."

Cara beamed, then held out her hand. "Come with me. The evening isn't over yet."

He groaned again. "Whatever it is, I better not have to eat it."

She laughed. "Come on. You won't be disappointed. I promise."

They got as far as the living room when Cara ordered him to take a seat.

"Just remember to save room for me," she said, and headed for the television across the room.

While David watched, she slipped a video from a case and put it into the VCR, then took a seat beside David on the sofa and punched the remote.

He grinned. "What's playing?"

"Your daughter's life."

The grin slid sideways. "They're videos of Bethany?"

She nodded. "And later Valerie and Tyler will be in them, too."

He looked at the screen, his expression fixed. When the first images appeared, she heard him grunt as if someone had just kicked him in the belly. It was easy to see why. Ray had taken it the day of her release after giving birth to Bethany. A nurse was wheeling her out of the hospital with the baby in her arms.

"Oh, Lord, I always forget how long my hair was then," Cara said, but words were beyond David.

He saw the sadness of her smile and knew it was because of him. Then the camera panned to the baby she was holding. The focus was bad and the picture kept bouncing, as if the photographer was walking as he filmed, but there was no denying the tiny little face peering out from the blankets, nor the dark wisps of hair framing her features.

"Even then, she looked like you," Cara said. "It was at once a blessing and a pain. She was a constant reminder of how much I loved you and how much I'd lost."