Summertime Dream (19 page)

She pushed at him, consumed by her shameful need to run and hide away, but he foiled her hope of escape, cuddling her close and stroking her back calmly.

“I think you’re sweet and perfect, and you need to take a deep breath.” He kissed her cheek lightly. “You don’t need to apologize. I’ll never rush you into anything you don’t want.”

Sagging into his embrace, she swallowed hard against her threatening tears. Her little be-normal experiment had certainly backfired. Perfect? Far from. She
was
a tease. She’d deliberately used him from the moment they’d met. Finally, someone she liked, who liked her, and didn’t know everything about her. She’d taken advantage of his kisses and friendship, thinking she could handle a little experimental fling.

Only, foolish her, she’d gone and fallen in love.

****

“You’re safe with me, honey.” Christopher pressed a kiss to Margie’s temple and dragged in steady breaths to ease his body down.

He continued rubbing her tense back in soothing circles. She’d quit trying to push away. Hard and aching for her, he needed to back out of the wrap of her legs, but, despite the logic, making himself move was proving impossible. His brain was too fogged with lust and the memories of her hand on him, of him stroking her sweet, wet warmth, and her joyous, trembling climax. Everything had been so right. Right and perfect. He wanted to hold her forever.

Figured he’d manage to screw this up.

Whoa. Back up there. Forever?

Really stupid of him to dream that was possible.

He sucked in another breath. “Do you want to talk? Tell me what I did wrong. Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” She kept her face buried against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

He took heart that she was letting him keep her in his embrace. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You have every right to say stop. I’m just worried about you.”

“You were wonderful. I wanted you. I thought I could, but I couldn’t.” She took a deep sobbing breath and straightened, her pinched face turned away.

He let her sit back, but he caught her hands in his, letting them rest lightly in her lap.

“We should finish with the dishes, put them away.” But she stayed put, her gaze locked on their clasped hands.

“Whatever you want, honey.” He dragged his attention off her words
I wanted you
. He gently stroked his thumb over her hands. What was she hiding from him? His gut took a sinking plunge. Something he should have considered…”I have to ask. So I know where we stand. Is there another guy?”

This time she didn’t evade his gaze. “No. It’s not that. I’m not involved with anyone.”

He exhaled heavily, believing the honesty in her face. “Okay. Thank you.”

But she was wrong about the
anyone
.

You’re involved with me. And looks like we’ve both just found out we’re into this way deeper into than we planned. Now we need to figure out what to do before either of us gets hurt.

He helped her slip from the table to her feet. She snatched up her panties and darted from the kitchen. The half-bath door creaked shut. Water ran.

Releasing a heart-felt groan, he gripped the table edge and hung his head. He’d deliberately ignored the fact he was temporary here. He’d deliberately ignored that as much as he enjoyed her company and kisses, and how well they worked together on the house, thinking their everyday lives had enough in common for forever was a foolish dream.

Margie was a sheltered hometown girl. He was big city. He was on the run too much. He was too old for her. She wasn’t the kind of girl to make love without it meaning something important, and he was going to hurt her if he didn’t back off and use the head on his shoulders.

So, what did you think of making love with her?

Yeah, with her it was important. Huge. Meaningful.

Real life practicalities aside, with Margie he didn’t feel awkward, or like he was doing things wrong, or not talking enough. No wonder he’d gotten carried away. With other women, he’d been left feeling like there was a script or plan he was supposed to follow and he’d never quite figured out his part.

Margie made loving her easy.

After a few more steadying breaths, he closed his shorts and buttoned his shirt. As the minutes ticked by, he paced the kitchen. Should he knock on the bathroom door or give her some space?

Right, pacing’s so useful. Instead of spinning around in worry, how about getting a grip and thinking on how to fix things?

He refilled his wine glass and slumped into a chair at the table.

Soft hesitant footsteps announced Margie’s return. He looked up to find her hovering in the doorway, her freshly-scrubbed face composed and her hair tightly braided. “You okay?”

She hesitantly met his eyes. “Yes.”

“Would you like more wine?”

“No, not now. I need to finish the dishes.”

“They can wait. Why don’t we go sit a bit.”

His cell phone rang. Out of habit, he glanced at the caller ID, fully intending to let it go to voicemail. His distraction over Margie slowed his recognition of the local number. Dex Taylor. He grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“Mr. Gordon? This is Dex Taylor. I received your message.”

“Thanks for calling back.”

“I was expecting you might want to meet. I don’t have all the answers you’re looking for, but I think I can set some of the record straight about Loretta. I’m free now if you and Miss Olsson would like to stop by for drinks. Or we can make it another time, if this is too short a notice.” Christopher could easily imagine Taylor’s crisp gravelly voice stiffening a student’s spine.

“Thank you.” He turned to Margie. She was fussing around the kitchen, straightening the towels and putting the dishes and flatware away. “Margie? We’ve been invited for drinks by Mr. Taylor. Both of us. Are you up to heading over there tonight?”

And how did Taylor know Margie was here? Good guess or a warning they’d become a topic of interest in the town gossip stream? Great.

Interest brightened her distant eyes. “Really? Yes.”

Oh, good. Some of his worry eased. They could both use the breathing space from this distraction. “Tonight would work fine, sir. Thank you.”

“Miss Olsson can give you directions. See you shortly.” Taylor ended the call.

A half hour later, they’d dropped Penny and Margie’s car at her home and Margie now wore a short sleeved blouse and white slacks, looking fresh and perfect. Dex Taylor was pouring wine and opening beers while Mrs. Taylor was offering crackers and cheese. Age might have slowed the retired Marine, but hadn’t dulled the indelible stamp the Marine Corps had left on Taylor, just as the Army had left its mark on Dad.

And, yeah, Taylor had that same sharp, spine-straightening look in his icy blue eyes as his old swim coach.

Taylor eased onto the wicker settee cushion. “Damned arthritis. I’d say don’t get old, but old’s better than the alternative.”

After a sip of beer, Taylor opened the yearbook lying on the coffee table to one of several bookmarked pages. “Here’s Loretta’s senior year photo. I can see her in you about the eyes.”

Seeing the photo stirred elusive memories. If only he could grasp what. He probably had just seen this picture or a similar one when he was young. And yeah, he took after her, as Dad had, and he’d definitely inherited her eyes.

“Lor—that’s what I always called your grandma—spent too much time with me, that’s a fact.” The old man gave a sharp grin. “Folks conveniently forgot the two of us had been friends since kindergarten. In high school, I kept the other guys from hassling her. She helped me pass history and English and nagged me into bothering to graduate. I might have been labeled trouble with a capital T in those days, but I never messed with Lor. Despite the gossip, we weren’t ever more than friends.” He chuckled. “I have to say it’s hard thinking of her as a grandmother, when in my mind she’s still seventeen and riding on the back of my motorcycle with me. Or six and daring me to drop that worm down Charlie Harrison’s shorts. Then again…” He splayed his knobby arthritic hands over his knees and pondered them. “Sometimes I wonder where the time went and how the hell I got to be the granddad of six and soon to be a great-granddad this December.” He nodded at the family photos crowding the shelves and walls.

Christopher smiled and nodded. “A great-looking family.”

“I thank Lor for that. If I hadn’t listened to her, I wouldn’t have enlisted and I wouldn’t have straightened out my young dumbass self and I wouldn’t have met Beth and been blessed with three of the finest daughters a man could have.” He gave a loving wink at his wife, and she patted his hand, her eyes sparkling with the love between them.

“Lor was something else back then. She had a sharp mind and a will of her own. Your great-granddad never did like that.”

“Do you know why she left and why she kept her family here such a secret?”

“Well, things hadn’t been good at home. Never really were. The bastard was as heavy-handed there as he was around town. Getting away to college back East was like being sprung from jail for Lor, even if it was some stuffy old women’s school. The Christmas before she ran off, she came home all head in the clouds in love. I figure the guy was probably your granddad, but back then she never said his name, afraid it would get back to her dad. Carl Falk was enough of a fucking prick I wouldn’t have put it past him to screw with the guy’s military career if he discovered his name.

“Language, dear,” Mrs. Taylor murmured and patted his knee.

Taylor nodded. “Sorry about that. She only told me that he loved her, he was in the service, and that her parents would hate him even more than they did me. I thought that would be hard, given how much they hated me. Their grief over your great-uncle was still raw, so I could see how maybe a military guy might upset them, in a warped way. I told Lor to stick to her guns and go for what she wanted. I saw her the night she left. I’ll never forget that Fourth of July. Some serious shit had hit at home—she wouldn’t say what—and she needed me to take her to Jefferson City. She told me she was going to marry her guy and she wasn’t ever coming back. She nagged me one last time about doing something bigger with my life, to do something more with my math than counting cards and gambling, and kissed me goodbye. I put her on the train and that was the last time I saw or heard from her.

“After she left, Carl paid some guys to jump me and tried to beat where she went out of me.” A hard bitter grin lit his face. “Happy to say I left every last one of those bastards hurting. Then, he got me fired from McBride’s garage. The son of a bitch even tried to get my mom fired from her cleaning jobs—Sorry, hon—I just don’t have anything good to say about the man. I wonder what he’d think now. Success is the best revenge, I suppose. Mrs. Falk, while I might never have been her favorite person, she didn’t hold a grudge when I settled back here with Beth. She never asked me about Lor, either, so I figured maybe she knew.”

“I’m sorry.” Dismayed, Christopher didn’t know what to say.

“Nothing for you to be sorry about. Every family has their problems. Carl was a vicious bastard, but your great-great-granddad Magnus was as nice as they come. He used to slip me candy and nickels, and your great-uncle was a good guy and really missed around here when he died. As for me back then, heh, I was young and stupid and thought all my problems could be solved with my mouth and fists.” He chuckled. “Wasn’t real good at negotiation. Thankfully, the Marine Corps straightened the stupid right out of me. Lor dreamed of teaching history. Did she ever?”

“Yes, she became a college professor. Renaissance studies.”

Taylor nodded, his eyes misty. “Good. Your granddad make her happy?”

“As far as I know, yes. She missed him after he passed, and she never remarried. Dad said he and his brothers had a good life growing up.” He pulled up Dad and Mom’s wedding photo with Grandma Loretta, Grandpa Will, Uncle Bill, and Uncle Wayne on his phone, the whole group grinning with hope and joy on that day.

Taylor studied the photo with a misty-eyed smile. “Yeah, she looks happy there. Good looking family. I’m real glad. Thanks for showing me this. Meeting you, well, that’s made all the troubles back then worth it.”

Mrs. Taylor refilled their drinks. They talked on, sharing little memories of Loretta, how Dad’s, Grandpa’s, and Taylor’s tours of duty served over in Vietnam had strangely enough overlapped, about families, math, and schools, and sometimes Margie and Mrs. Taylor chatted between themselves over familiar matters of Falk’s Bend.

Sunset deepened into purple night, the stars claimed the deep sky, and the time came to say goodnight.

Christopher walked out to the car with Margie, head crowded with emotions, glad to have met the man, and more sorry that Grandma had never contacted her best friend to at least let him know she was okay. Probably just another example of only seeing a piece of the whole story, just like he didn’t have the whole story to understand what happened with Margie earlier.

And he hadn’t exactly offered up what was going on in his head.

But it was too soon to be feeling what he felt for her, and definitely too soon to tell her, not until he was certain, right?

Chapter Eight

As they drove away from the Taylors, Margie rested her arm in the open window, letting the warm night air blow through her fingers and weighing the topsy-turvy day.

Christopher drove in silence, his face drawn in heavy rumination.

Rushing along in the dark without the jazz music and conversation that had filled all their other nights added a strange and uncomfortable distance. Coming unglued earlier hadn’t helped matters between them one bit. She owed him an apology and explanation, but after their visit with the Taylors, she didn’t know where to begin.

She’d heard how Christopher’s great-grandfather been a hard man, with a habit of throwing his weight around town, but it sure sounded like the strict former pillar of the community had crossed the line from hard to cruel and abusive. Not something you ever wanted to learn about family. This threw a completely different, depressing light on Reba’s reclusive nature and Loretta’s coldly turning her back on her hometown and her friends.