The Man From Her Past (9 page)

“I convinced myself I couldn’t feel, as if I were floating above my own head, and I would be okay.”

“You weren’t.”

“Your eyes scare me. You’re so afraid for me.”

“I was then, too, but tell me you aren’t pretending again because I’m around.”

She shook her head. “It’s been five years since I’ve let anyone except Hope touch me for this long.”

Immediately, he opened his hands, but she caught his wrists.

“Why are you changing my locks?” she asked. “Squirrels with lock-picking tools make me laugh, but no one else has a key.”

“We don’t know that. Your father might have given one to anybody. He might have dropped a key on the bridge that night.” He went back to the door. “All the way around the lake tonight, staring at the lights on Tom’s car, I wondered why I hadn’t looked down. I thought someone had picked up the key, read about Leo in the paper and assumed the house was empty.”

His glazed expression didn’t belong to Van, her husband who’d been certain of every move he made, every decision he reached.

“The crazy thing was, your father gave me his keys at the hospital,” he went on. “I used them to get in the house, but I was so afraid for you and Hope, I didn’t remember having them.”

“And Hope? What changed for you?”

“She’s part of you.” She knew him. He’d said it without thinking, without trying to make her think he’d changed.

She pulled out a chair and sat.

“You love her,” he said. “Why are you stunned that I care about her?”

“I learned to love the idea of her because she was part of me, too. I’m not a bad person.”

“A little misguided, sometimes.”

She smiled, her mouth trembling.

He set the screwdriver on the floor. It glinted silver and rolled into a wrench, giving Cassie something to look at instead of Van. He knelt beside her.

“Don’t.” The past five years squeezed her so hard she couldn’t breathe.

“If I’d been more insistent then, would you have stayed?” He took her hands.

Her heart betrayed her, beating too fast. Her mouth went dry. She’d felt the same the first time he’d looked at her as a woman and not just Leo Warne’s daughter.

“Van, it’s too late.”

“Not ‘it,’ Cass. Either you and I have stopped caring for each other, or we can try to salvage something from the love we both felt.”

His hands fascinated her. They looked the same, and hers did, too. After five years. “No one has touched me,” she said. “I didn’t think I could stand being touched.”

“Am I familiar? Safe?”

She looked into his green eyes. Beautiful eyes she’d loved. Each morning when he woke, each evening when he came home to the house and the bed and the life they’d shared.

She shook her head. “Anything but safe.”

“Why? I’ll never hurt you.”

“You might make me risk feeling again.”

“Cassie?” He pulled her to him. His hands closed around her shoulders as if he were testing the feel of her. She couldn’t move her own arms to hold him. Her heart lodged in her throat. She was choking.

Van didn’t seem to notice. He pressed his mouth against her hair. She heard her name again, the barest whisper. She uttered a sound.

He backed up and opened his arms.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to force you.” His shame was a palpable force that made her feel sick.

“No.” She grabbed his wrist. “I’m just not used to—”

“I’ll finish the locks and go.”

“The one thing seeing you with your friend Lexie taught me was that I may not want you myself, but I don’t want her or anyone else to have you.” She had no shame.

His arms dropped to his sides. His mouth thinned. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Give me time? Even though I’m not being fair.”

He shook his head.

“My father asked me to try, and your sister said you still care for me. Am I too late?”

Van climbed to his feet, slapping at the knees of his jeans. “When I need Leo and Beth to find me a date, I’ll be in real trouble. As it is, I have a thing for you, even though you divorced me five years ago. That’s as nutty as I want to be.”

She froze, longing for an answer she could live with—an answer that would make them like any other man and woman.

“Maybe you should check on Hope,” he said.

“Let me try again, Van.” She started toward him, determined to make him see she might be ready.

He stopped her. “I’m not your last, best hope. I’m a man. I was your husband. I deserved more trust than you gave me then, and I won’t be the one you settle for now.”

“You misunderstand.” And the thought of him leaving for good hurt so much, she ached for enough trust to ask him to stay. Those words refused to come.

“Even I have a little pride, and maybe you can’t see that you aren’t willing to need a man anymore.”

Her foot inched to stomp, but she was a grown woman. And that annoying voice in her head still insisted he might be right. She whirled, too flustered to care about being melodramatic. “Good night.”

She stopped at the kitchen door, pointedly waiting for him to answer her like a civilized human being. The screwdriver scratched against metal.

Maybe she didn’t care about civilized. Maybe she wanted him to help her forget she no longer knew how to be touched. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“I’m going up to take a shower. Lock up when you leave.”

He grunted as an answer. She didn’t tell him she was happier taking a shower tonight with him in the house. He didn’t need to know the squirrel family had spooked her. But Van didn’t leave while she was bathing.

She’d finished and was toweling her hair dry when she heard the front door open and close. She went to the hall as the dead bolt turned.

“I
KNEW
I’d get to meet you before you came home with us, Grampa.”

A week after they’d arrived in Honesty, Hope addressed her grandfather from the bony discomfort of his lap. As usual, she’d seen someone who belonged to her in any way sitting, so she’d assumed he was meant to hold her.

“Punkin’, don’t swing your legs.” Cassie feared Hope might break her father’s.

For at least the third time, he protested. “She’s fine. Let the girl be, Cass.”

“I don’t want her to hurt you.”

“I’m not fragile.”

Cassie folded a pair of his pajamas into the sports bag she’d dug out of her closet—a relic of her field hockey days. “You could gain a few pounds. Your doctor says so.”

Behind her, the door opened. Van, of course.

“Mr. Van.” Hope slipped to the floor and ran to swing on her new best friend’s hand.

Her father clapped like a little boy. “Thank goodness you’ve come. My daughter’s turned into a nag. She may drive me crazy before we get home.”

Hope giggled, but Van looked stern. “That’s not nice, Leo. Cassie just wants you to be healthy.”

“So she can escape again.”

“Dad.” Cassie nodded at Hope, who’d already let go of Van to sort through her grandfather’s shaving kit.

“Leave that stuff alone.” Cassie redoubled her folding speed. “You’ll cut yourself on a razor or something.”

“Nothin’ good, anyway.” Hope gave the bag a little shove. “Mr. Van, are you my mommy’s brother?”

He laughed too loud.

Cassie saw nothing funny. “I told you, Mr. Van is my friend.” Like Lexie? She shook the thought from her head. “What say we stop at Mrs. Draper’s diner for lunch? Lang says you can eat whatever you want. And, Hope, she makes homemade ice cream.”

“Choplit?”

“The best.”

“Okay. What are you gonna have, Grampa? Mr. Van can come, too.”

While they planned their meal, Van began helping Cassie pack her father’s things. He passed her a T-shirt.

She took it with less grace than his help warranted. “You could say you’re busy.”

He reached for another shirt, his mouth tilted in a wry smile. As he leaned toward her, he made her feel small—and safe. She had to defend herself against such temptation.

He nudged her with his elbow, entirely unaware of her turmoil. “I’m not intruding for once. Hope said I could come.”

Cassie turned her head to hide a smile he had no business seeing.

“I think you should come, too,” Cassie’s father piped up. “You need to know Hope better, and I’ve missed you, too, Van. We need to get this family back on the right track.”

A
S
C
ASSIE STARED
at her father, appalled, Van grabbed the back of Leo’s wheelchair. “What say I roll you two down for a soda? Hang on, Hope. If anyone sees you hitching a ride, we’re busted.”

“Mommy won’t let anyone bust me.”

Van laughed at her certainty. He’d bet “Mommy” would defend Hope with her last breath. He changed the subject before she became too curious about exactly who made up her family.

“Want anything, Cass?”

“An iron skillet to the head.”

Leo peered over his shoulder. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said by the time you get back, I’ll have cleared your things off this bed.” She stuffed his shaving kit in the bag. “And then we can go.”

“Instead of eating at Mrs. Draper’s diner, why don’t I stop at that Posh place for takeout again, Cassie?”

“You don’t have to do that, Van.”

“I know I don’t have to, but we can eat takeout at home. I care about Leo, and I’d like to see him settled and rested.”

“I forget how close you were.”

“So you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Leo said, “and it’s my house. Let’s get that drink, son. I’m parched.”

A
FTER THEY ATE
, Leo took Hope into the living room to color. Van helped Cassie with the dishes. Her father had insisted on real china.

“At least he’s letting us wash it,” Van said without thinking.

Cassie turned, a plate in her hands. “What do you mean?”

“Sorry. When I first came in the house, he’d used all the dishes and then started on paper ones, and they were all stacked in the dining room.”

“Why?” Cassie wiped her hair away from her face, streaking her hair with soap suds.

He used a tea towel to blot up the foam. “I don’t know. Sorry I mentioned it.”

“Lang said he might fixate on behaviors that seem incomprehensible to me.”

A high-pitched scream shattered the house.

“Hope.” Cassie’s voice poured terror into the silence.

Van ran ahead of her as Hope screamed again and again. In the living room she stood over her grandfather, who lay unconscious on a flower-strewn rug.

Van dropped to the floor and flipped his phone open.

“Wait.” Cassie scooped Hope into one arm, at the same time grabbing a slip of paper from her back pocket. “Lang gave me his home number as well as his office and the hospital. Call him first.”

In the back of his mind, Van wondered why the doctor was so solicitous. Idiotic. He checked for a pulse and found one. Leo seemed to be breathing steadily. He dialed the home number first.

A woman answered as Cassie shushed Hope, turning her head away from Leo’s prostrate body.

“Lang Baxter,” he said. “I need to talk to him.”

She sighed. “Just a minute.” She turned away from the phone. “Lang, it’s for you. Again. How many times is this—”

“Baxter,” the doctor said.

“This is Van Haddon. I’m over at Leo’s. He’s just passed out. He’s breathing, and his pulse feels steady to me.” He looked across the room. “Hope? Hope, honey, did Grampa say that he hurt anywhere before he fell down?”

She shook her head. “Make him better, Mr. Van.”

“Did he say anything at all?” Van asked.

She shook her head, tears soaking the dark hair already plastered to her flushed cheeks.

“He said noth—” Leo’s head moved to one side and then the other. Van tried to stop him, gently holding his head still. “He’s waking up.”

“A side effect of one of his medications is fainting.”

“Should I get an ambulance?”

Lang hesitated only a second. “I’ll come over. He’s been miserable at the hospital.”

“Thanks. Are you sure he’ll be all right?”

“If I’m not, we’ll call an ambulance after I examine him. Don’t move him.”

He hung up. “We’re not supposed to move you, Leo. Do you mind lying here until Lang comes?”

Leo’s eyes seemed to roll. He was searching for Cassie. “You won’t send me back to the hospital?”

Cassie glanced at Van. He laid his hand on her shoulder, wishing he could give her more than inconsequential comfort.

“I’ll try not to,” she said, “but if Lang thinks you’ll be better there…”

“He doesn’t know anything.”

Hope sank to the floor, leaning her head on her grandfather’s chest. “I’ll stay with you, no matter what. I never had a grampa before.”

Cassie looked desperate. Van urged her to sit on the ottoman beside her father. He sat on the floor next to her and pulled Hope into his lap. “Better let your grampa get all the air he can.”

Hope leaned against him, her head heavy, her chest quaking every second or so with a gaspy little cry.

“Do you want some water, Dad? That should be okay.”

“No, sweetie. I don’t want you to leave me, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded, her mouth tight, her eyes wet.

Minutes later, the doorbell rang. Van and Hope stood together. To his surprise, she took his hand, and they walked toward the hall. At the doorway, he glanced back at Cassie. She looked as frightened as Hope. His heart ached for her so intensely he rubbed his chest as he opened the door.

“Lang.”

They shook hands, already moving toward the living room. Leo struggled to rise, but Lang urged him back. “Just a minute,” he said. “Cassie, why don’t you and Hope and Van give us a minute?”

They trooped out to the hall. Van shut the door and lifted Hope to his hip. At the same time, Cassie leaned her forehead against her daughter’s and her shoulder pressed into Van’s chest.

He put his other arm around her. “He’ll be all right. Lang said this might be a side effect.”

“Did he faint that first night?”

He had to shake his head. “But if it’s the medication, he’ll be fine.”

Hope looped one arm around Van and one around Cassie. “I don’t like when grampas are sick.”

“Neither do I,” Cassie said.

“I don’t like when moms and little girls are so upset.” Van hugged them both. “I wish I could do the worrying for both of you.”

He expected Cassie to wrench herself and Hope away from him, but she put her arm around his waist. He held his breath while the scent of her hair seduced him. The silky strands teased him. He longed to stroke his chin against the top of her head.

When the door opened again, they all stared at Lang, waiting for news. He grinned.

“He’s fine, you three. Calm down. The man’s not fragile. His vitals are all normal. He’s had enough blood work he ought to be anemic, so I know there’s no infection or disease. We’ll lower the dose of his medication and see what happens from there. For the next week or so, don’t leave him alone too long. He’s not to drive at all.”

“Okay,” Cassie said.

Van wanted to move between her and Lang, protect her from anything else that could hurt.

“And don’t let him walk anywhere alone.” He opened the door again. “Van, help me get him upstairs.”

He did. When he came down, Hope was coloring again, hunched over the ottoman. Cassie was pacing up and down the living room, her eyes wide.

“Let’s go out for a coffee,” he said.

She stopped, an immediate no forming in her eyes and on her lips.

“Please,” he said, though he wasn’t used to begging—even for Cassie’s time.

“Hope’s bedtime…”

“I’ll call Beth.”

“I hate to leave Dad.”

“He’ll be fine. Beth’s been raising Eli for twelve years. She has watchdog experience. She’s equal to anything Hope or your father can come up with.”

She smiled. Hope looked up. “I don’t mind, Mommy. I like Miss Beth.” She grinned at Van, a coconspirator.

Cassie acted as if she hadn’t noticed. “Let me check on my father and get Hope into her pajamas.”

“I’ll call.”

Beth agreed to come immediately. Lang came downstairs while Van was waiting for Cassie and Hope to come back. Van explained their plans.

“I’m worried about Cassie. She’s tense, and I’d like to take her mind off things, but if you think Leo’s in any danger…”

“None. He’ll be better off without Cassie hovering over him.”

“Ho-ver-ing?” Van said, enunciating each syllable.

“You know what I mean. Still protective after all these years?” Lang shrugged. “Cassie and Leo Warne are too careful around each other. She makes him nervous because she wants so badly for him to be well. He makes her anxious because she can’t help analyzing each word and every one of his actions.”

Because she wanted to leave Honesty, and she couldn’t if her father wasn’t able to take care of himself.

“They both have some things to make up to each other.”

“I wish they would so they could get on with living.”

It was a cliché that could change a man’s life.

Cassie reappeared at the top of the stairs and Lang turned to her, giving further directions for her father’s care. Van stared at them both.

Had she heard what Lang had said?

Did she realize he’d diagnosed all of them in one fell blow? She and Leo and he were all stranded in a triumvirate of detachment. Where once they’d been a family, they’d split apart without ever explaining themselves.

He’d tried to put Beth and Eli in Cassie and Leo’s place. That hadn’t worked. Cassie had replaced him and Leo with Hope, and she’d raised a loving, lovable daughter who’d already begun to capture his heart. Leo had embraced forgetfulness.

He had a feeling none of them had fully lived a single day since she’d left.

“Van, I’ll be down in a second. Hope and I are going to say good-night to my father.”

He nodded. Coffee, hell. He had to ask Cassie if she was willing to live again. He pulled on his own coat, struggling to make it fit as if he’d never worn it before.

Even if he forced Cassie to turn her back on him once and for all, living with all contact broken was better than this half-life he’d grown to hate.

“I’ll go,” Lang said, shaking Van’s hand. “Call if you need anything else.”

Van followed him onto the porch, into falling flakes of snow that glittered like diamonds in the streetlights.

“Thanks, Lang.”

The other man raised his hand. His car pulled away, leaving a cloud of exhaust that slowly dissipated. Two houses down, a Santa stood inside a plastic globe that percolated snow over a chimney top. Up and down the street, icicle lights blinked on and off in a silent strobe.

Van pulled his collar close. Nights like this reminded him of moments he’d spent alone over the past five years. Happiness he’d thrown away because he hadn’t fought to make Cassie believe in him.

She’d rejected his arguments before. He breathed in the cold air. She might reject him for the last time tonight, but she’d know he wanted to start over—with her and Hope. No guessing, no pretending he didn’t understand she thought he’d let her down.

It was now or never, because neither he nor she nor Leo nor Hope had another five years to waste.

“L
ET
’
S NOT GO TOO FAR
, Van.” Second thoughts had started the moment she’d agreed to leave with him. “I don’t need time away from my father.”

“Everyone needs a break.”

Some thread in his tone, a huskiness that sounded like a cold—or like his voice when they’d made love all those years ago—made her stare at him across the dark car. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Something Lang said.”

“About my father?” She settled her hands quietly in her lap. “Something he wants you to tell me?”

“Didn’t you hear him, Cassie?”

“Every word he said to me.” She frowned. His profile, sharp and unfamiliar, made her hug the car door. “Are you angry?”

“No.”

He didn’t say anything else. She let it go. “I can’t face another argument today.”

“Tonight,” he said, and turned down a street she didn’t know.

“Where are we going?”

“To my house. I’ll make you coffee.”

“I think of you in that old Victorian.” They’d bought it just before the rape. It hadn’t been habitable, then. They’d rented the small apartment that became her idea of hell and started restoring the house themselves. “What did you do with it?”

“I finished it.”

“You live there?” Somehow, it seemed like a betrayal. That house, up on a hill with a guest house for her father should the need ever arise, had been the stuff of their future. Their dream of a future together. He’d lived their dream without her? “How did you do all the work?”

“I hired a lot of contractors.”

All the same, she didn’t want to see it. “Isn’t there a coffee shop closer?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go there.”

“I’m not trying to force you, but I want to talk, and I’d rather not have an audience.”

“No, Van.” She put her hand on his arm. His muscles jumped. She felt them through his coat and his shirtsleeve. “I’m telling you I don’t want to see it.”

“That’s something of an answer already,” he said.

“To what?” He was scaring her. “You weren’t even angry with me after the—attack.”

He glanced at her, his eyes looking black in the car. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

“But you are angry now.”

“Just determined. For once, you’re going to hear me out. If you send me away this time, I’ll stay gone.”

Instinct brought a flip dismissal to her mouth. She pressed her fingertips to her lips before it escaped.

He passed through the square, turning right at the courthouse. The road opened onto a wide avenue of Christmas lights and deepening snow, red ribbons that glittered with ice, candy-cane light poles dressed in green velvet ribbons. People strolled past shops, fathers with daughters, mothers with their own moms, families with the children hopping between their parents’ outstretched hands.

“Oh,” she said.

“Santa’s waiting in that little house at the end.” He pointed, but she barely had time to see before they turned again and he found a parking spot.

“We always had to go to D.C. for shopping,” she said.

“Honesty’s growing, even when the folks who’ve lived here since birth vote against expansion like this.”

He opened his door and then came around to open hers, too. “It gives us a place to walk.”

“Walk?”

“And talk.”

“Sounds good.” Walking would straighten out her thoughts and keep her from promising anything reckless. She didn’t necessarily trust the Christmas-induced warmth of Honesty’s new square.