The Other Side of Silence (3 page)

“I bet you’re meticulous,” she said.

He grunted.  “I like to take my
time,” he stated quietly, “with everything I do.”

Her eyes closed as an arrow of heat
stabbed low in her abdomen, radiating out to her limbs and then back again,
full circle. 
Idiot
, she chided herself, but when she raised her lids he
was looking right at her, his dark lashes shadowing the amber hue of his gaze. 
Sunny drew a steadying breath.

“I built my own home,” he said. 

“Wow, that’s impressive.”

“Maybe not so much.  It’s a log cabin
I moved from another location and rebuilt.”

“Don’t belittle what you’ve done,”
Sunny said.  She could picture him in that type of surrounding, rugged,
grounded, four-square and strong.  “That’s a lot of work.”

He twitched his mouth in a
self-deprecating manner and took another bite of what little remained of his
lunch.

“What do you do for relaxation?”

“I like to read,” he said.

She blinked.  “Really?  Most of the
men I’ve known would have said a beer and TV are what do it for them.”

He shrugged.  “I don’t drink.  And I
don’t even own a television.”

No shit
, she thought on an expulsion of
breath.   A long-held tightness in her unfurled a little at his words.  “I
don’t drink, either,” she responded, thinking of Scott and one of the multiple
reasons they parted company, “although I must confess to the occasional tube
watching.  And I love to read.  Anything and everything, but especially
history.”

He laughed, a short sound of
pleasure.  “Me, too.”

His gaze held hers before moving slowly
over her face and returning to her eyes.  A closed smile curved his mouth.  Feeling
her heart beat a little faster, Sunny popped the last of her sandwich into her
mouth, chewing quickly as she stood.

“Um, I’m making a salad for dinner. 
Greens, cold baked potatoes, and whatever else I have on hand.   A little bit
of baked chicken, if you’d, um…”  Dammit, was she pushing it, offering him
dinner like this?  She hadn’t played the dating game in more years than she
could count, if she ever had.  She and Scott had gotten together their freshman
year in college, for crying out loud.   Since their split, she’d agreed to
dinner on several occasions with well-meaning friends and whoever they’d also
invited in an effort towards matchmaking, but that had been wholly different
than something of her own instigation, and none of those dinners had ever
extended to a second one.

“I’d love to,” he answered. 

“Okay,” she said and headed back to
the house with her teeth in her lower lip to keep her grin from spreading too
broadly.

*        *        *

Candlelight and music seemed a tad
presumptuous, so Sunny served a casual dinner on the wrought iron table on the
front porch as soon as Roger finished painting for the day.  Centered in the
table was a single, fat candle, though, which she lit with an apologetic look.

“The porch light is out, and I
haven’t gone to buy more bulbs yet.”

Roger settled his long frame into the
seat opposite, hair slightly damp across his forehead from his brief ablutions
in her laundry room.  The tools of his labors had been stored temporarily in
the barn.  Splotches of primer on his upper arm and the edge of his sleeve made
her want to smile. 

“I’ll pick some up for you tomorrow,”
he said.  “I have to work in the morning, but I’ll come back in the afternoon
to get on with the painting.  The lighting’s nice, anyway,” he added, nodding
at the flickering flame. 

“I didn’t want you to think I was
trying to seduce you,” she joked.

“Why on earth not?”

She glanced at him quickly.  In the
candle’s illumination she couldn’t tell if he was teasing. 

“Does that question require an
answer?” she asked him.

“Only if you’re ready to give one,”
he said.

“Hmm,” she murmured, and chose to
ignore the opening, if that was what it was.  Although physical intimacy had
played a part in a great many scenarios that had run through her head since she
offered Roger Macleod dinner, consideration of the actual act of seduction made
her hesitate.  She had been without a man for too long, with only one man in
her life for years before that, and the details of such an endeavor made her
nervous.  Picking up her fork, she started in on her salad.  After a moment he
followed suit.

“This is delicious,” he said in
praise, pausing to pick up a warm roll and slather it with butter.

“Thank you.”

He lowered his knife to the edge of
his plate.  “Sunny?”

“Yes?”

“If I ever do or say anything that
makes you feel uncomfortable, you’ll tell me, won’t you?  I was teasing you a
few minutes ago.  I like you.  I think you’re sweet and kind and spunky and we
seem to get along.  I’m enjoying that.  Are you?”

Silently, Sunny nodded, moved by his
gentle tone.  She visualized getting up and climbing into his lap to feel his
arms around her, to hear the cadence of his gravelly voice rumble through his
chest beneath her ear. 

“Good,” he said.  “There’s nothing
wrong with enjoying each other’s company.  That’s how people get to know one
another.”

She nodded again.  His lips curved.

“So,” he said, “I didn’t ask
earlier.  What do you do?”

Sunny laughed then, and speared
another forkful of salad before answering, spending an enormous amount of time
talking to him about furniture and design and her life in general.  After
dinner, he helped her clear the table, and then went back onto the porch to
wait for her while she slipped the dishes into the dishwasher.  The fact he
chose not to remain inside the house with her seemed significant.  She located
him sitting on the steps when she came out.  The candle had been snuffed, the
thin scent of smoke still lingering in the air.  She sat down beside him,
folding her hands on her knees.

“Thanks again for dinner,” he said.  “I’ll
have to remember those ingredients next time I make a salad.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said,
lifting her head to look up at the stars.  Several strands of hair had loosened
from her pony tail and he reached up to push them back off her neck, his touch
gentle.  She shivered.  Leaning toward her, his arm across her back, hand flat
on the porch floor, he pressed his lips to the side of her head.  Then he stood
up. 

Extending a hand to her, he helped
her to her feet.  She stood on the upper step, still barely reaching his
shoulder in height.  For a long time he stared at her and she stared back,
unflinching.  She felt like there were words and words and words to say, and
neither one of them much inclined to start to say them. 

“Goodnight, Sunny,” he said finally. 
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She watched him walk to his truck
with a stride that made her hungry every time she witnessed it.  “Crap,” she
said, as she had earlier that day.  This time, her sentiment of the morning had
an expansive new meaning.

                                                            CHAPTER
THREE

Roger tossed his keys onto the table
just inside the front door.  He stood a moment listening to the small sounds
that made up the quiet.  In the hush he could hear the steady rhythm of his own
heartbeat, of the blood pulsing through his veins, of his breath and the
remembered cadence of Sunny’s voice in his mind.  His mouth curved.  He thought
of the color of her eyes and the way her lips moved to form certain words.  He
thought of the scattered freckles across the bridge of her nose and the brush
of candle light through her hair.

You’re a fool, Roger Macleod, he
thought, and grinned.

Yep, he sure was.

Stripping out of his clothes as he
made his way to the bathroom, he tossed everything into the hamper and turned
on the water, waiting until the mirror started to steam before climbing in the
shower.   Turning his face up to the warm flow, he considered the feeling he’d
had for years, of waiting.  Always waiting.  He didn’t feel it any longer. 
What did that mean?  He’d never believed the feeling had anything to do with a
woman, but he was beginning to think he’d been wrong.

Giving his body and hair a quick
scrubbing to free himself of flakes of ancient paint, he toweled off and
slipped into a pair of sleep pants and a tee shirt and went to sit on the edge
of his bed, staring at the wall of books filling the built-in cases, his hands
folded between his knees. 

One day, he would show all of these
books to Sunny and ask her what she thought of the subject matter.  She might
think him obsessed.  She might think him crazy.  Or she might just be the one
to tell him why.

                                                           CHAPTER
FOUR

Yanking up the parking brake, Sunny
shut off the engine and got out of her car, staring at the open front door to
her house.  She felt no alarm, didn’t think she’d walked up on a burglary in
progress or anything like that.  It was Scott.  She knew it was Scott, because
his truck idled in the place where she usually parked her vehicle.

As she gathered her purse from the
seat, the screen door opened.  Scott stepped out onto the porch, a folder in
his hand.

“Hi, Sun.  You look nice.  Good day
at work?”

Sunny closed the car door, pushing it
the final inch with a definitive click.  “What are you doing?”

“I needed some paperwork from when I
had the contract for snow removal over in Hereford—”

“You should have waited until I got
home, then.  I’m surprised there’s anything of yours still here.  How did you
get in?”  Sunny demanded, stopping on the walkway.  “You don’t still have a
key, do you?  I asked for it back, if I recall.”  She knew she sounded bitchy
and regretted it, but she couldn’t help her aggravation with the fact Scott
still acted as if the house was his to freely invade.

“Now, Sunny, don’t be like that. 
Besides, I didn’t need a key.  The door wasn’t locked.”

“I always lock— ” Sunny began, and
then stopped.  Today she hadn’t.  In fact, for the past three days she’d left
for work with the door unsecured in case Roger needed to get into the house for
the bathroom or a drink before she got home.  Spinning on her heel, she looked
at the barn.  The ladder, the paraphernalia of painting were missing.  Fresh
brown paint gleamed on the last section of trim to be completed.  Everything
was in order.  The job had been completed and Roger was gone.

Sinking her teeth into her lower lip,
she tried to ignore her disappointment.  She’d paid him Tuesday, so he had no
reason to come back unless he happened by again with her ex-husband.  The idea
of meeting him again in Scott’s company would be less than ideal.  She
short-changed herself, she knew, because she had no reason to assume he
wouldn’t want to spend time with her again, that he wouldn’t just stop by, see
how she was doing, maybe ask her out.  Right?

Maybe not.  This was a game with
which she was no longer familiar.  Why should she assume her personality was
simply so magnetic he would be drawn back?  She had certainly enjoyed his
company, enjoyed their brief but informative conversations, enjoyed the way he
looked, the way he smelled, the way he sometimes stood quietly and said
nothing, just watched what she was watching, his thoughts his own.  Or watched
her.  Remembering his silent, contemplative regard caused a flood of heat not
just to her skin, but to those places that were deep and private and longing
again for contact with a man.  Not just any man, though.  That much had become
increasingly apparent during the few days Roger had been around.

“Does good work, doesn’t he?” Scott
commented, coming to stand beside her.  Sunny started and glanced at him, then
back to the barn.  “Ned was here earlier today checking over his farming
machinery.  He saw all the stuff lying around, but not hide nor hair of Roger.  Of
course, Ned wouldn’t know him if he tripped over him, since he’s never met the
guy.  Still, he said no one was here.  Wonder what ol’ Roger was doing?”

“I don’t know,” Sunny answered
absently, looking again at the barn, the cleaned and empty lawn.  “Doesn’t much
matter, though.  He finished the job.” 
 
   

“He did that,” Scott agreed, making
no move to leave. 

“Really, Scott,” Sunny said, turning
to him, finding herself impatient, “what were you doing in the house?  It’s not
like you live here anymore.”

“Sorry,” he said, spreading his hands
out, the folder flapping open.  “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I do,” she answered, bounding up the
stairs onto the porch and almost turning her ankle in her heels.   She tossed
her purse down on the rocker, bending to remove her shoes.  She’d probably ruin
her pantyhose, but she didn’t care.  “I really do.  You can’t act like it
doesn’t matter, because it does.  You haven’t lived here for more than two
years.  Pick a day and we’ll check to see if anything else of yours is here, so
you won’t have to worry about needing it sometime in the future.”

She turned around in time to catch
Scott eyeballing her legs beneath the hiked hem of her skirt.  He raised his
eyes quickly to meet hers as she yanked the hem back into place.

“Whoa, Sunny-girl, what’s up?  I
honestly didn’t think you’d care.”

“I do care,” she said, picking up
purse and shoes and managing to manipulate the latch on the screen door.  “You
have another life, totally separate from mine.  It’s time you acted like it.”

“I don’t want to act like it, Sunny.”

Sunny stared at him.  “Jesus, Scott,”
she said and went inside.

He followed, standing silently in the
kitchen as she deposited her purse on the telephone table.  A white envelope
with her name on it leaned against the scalloped wooden back.  She picked it
up, narrowing her eyes at the unfamiliar handwriting.

“I saw that,” said Scott.  “Didn’t
touch it, I swear.”

Sunny shot a glance at Scott over her
shoulder before slipping her finger beneath the haphazardly glued flap.  She
flipped through the bills, counting them.  Two hundred dollars and a receipt
for the paint.  Crap.

“What is it?” asked Scott, coming
closer. 

“Nothing,” she answered, closing the
envelope and returning it to the table.  Crap. 

He made a noise, nothing concrete,
and then his hands came up and rested on her shoulders.  His thumbs began to
move, massaging the muscles to either side of her neck.

“You’re tense,” he said.

“Yep,” she answered tersely, moving
away from him.  “Care to guess why, Sherlock?”

He laughed uncomfortably and followed
her, stopping right up against her when she paused.  His arms went around her
from behind.  Dropping her shoes to the floor with a clatter, Sunny took his
hands from her waist and set them at his sides.  She spun around.

“Go home, Scott.  Go home now.  This
isn’t going to happen.  I don’t want it to happen.  Despite how I might act
sometimes, I actually like Kathy, and I’m not going to let it happen.  Go
home.”

He sighed, his blue eyes taking on an
expression she didn’t much care for.  “This is home.  It feels like home to me,
Sunny.”

“I don’t care,” she said, backing
away from him, “it’s not.  Not anymore.”

For several seconds he said nothing,
and then he laughed again, no humor to the sound.  Lightning quick he bent and
kissed her, his mouth forceful on her own.  She shoved him away, wiping her
linen jacket sleeve across her lips where his tongue had tried to wedge
between. 

“Sunny, please,” he begged, reaching
for her.  “I want you.  I want you back.”

Sunny backed away, feeling the edge
of the table against her hip.  She crossed her arms over her breast, her hands
in fists. 

“No!  What the hell is wrong with
you?” she yelled.  “Did you and Kathy break up or something?”

He stood before her, breathing
heavily.  Involuntarily her gaze flicked to his khaki trousers where the
beginning of an erection was making itself evident.  She lifted her eyes back
to his face, brows lowering in anger.

“Well?” she prompted.

Scott straightened, exhaling loudly. 
He ran the palm of his hand across his close-cropped hair.

“She’s pregnant, Sunny.  Kathy’s
pregnant.”

Closing her eyes, Sunny sat down in
the nearest chair.

*        *        *

Two hours later, she stared out
through the night’s gloom to the place where Scott’s truck had been parked.
 If she’d had a cigarette she would have been
smoking it, even though she’d never smoked a day in her life.  Instead, she
made due with a piece of cherry licorice, holding it between her teeth, sucking
air through the narrow, hollow center, occasionally taking an aggressive bite
from the end.  

Pregnant.  What the
fuck
.

Leaning her head against the back of
the porch rocker, Sunny pulled her sneakered feet up onto the seat, wrapping an
arm around her legs.  The light blue paint of the ceiling had faded to gray in
the darkness.  In the advancing warmth of spring a great many of the new leaves
on the trees and shrubs had started to unfurl.  She could hear them whispering
like voices, soft and sibilant in the light breeze. 

With a jerk of her shoulders, she set
the rocker to rocking again, the loose floorboard beneath one runner creaking
under the pressure.  At least she had stopped crying about it.  What was the
point?  The fact Scott had never wanted kids and she did ceased to be a
consideration long ago.  She had simply given up trying to convince him, and it
had never occurred to her to just let it happen.  Considering the demise of
their relationship, she felt almost grateful it hadn’t.  It was difficult
enough to deal with Scott as an ex, let alone as an ex and the father of a
child they shared, with all that entailed.  Scott had veered away from the
responsibility of parenthood with a vengeance, refusing to even listen to other
parents who tried to convince him the whole thing was a learning process with
no rules, that it would always be that way, no matter how long you waited.  But
for Scott, it wasn’t a matter of waiting for a certain position in his life, it
was a matter of not ever wanting to reach that place at all.

No wonder he was scared now.  Even
so, by the time he had finished blabbering about it and Sunny had calmed him
down, he actually seemed excited.

What the fuck.

Taking another bite out of her
licorice, she lowered her hand to the chair arm, whipping the twist back and
forth against the leg of her jeans in time to the motion of her rocking.  Wait
until Jess heard this one, she thought, but she felt no urgency to call her
sister with the news.  In fact, she didn’t want to talk about it at all. 
Anything she had to say aloud on the subject she had said to Scott already. 
Anything else didn’t bear voicing.

Hearing the sound of an engine, she
turned her head to watch a set of headlights move slowly along the road, pause
at the top of the driveway and turn in.  The driver parked the pickup alongside
her car, cut the engine, opened the door and stepped out, tall against the
moving shadows of the night.

“Roger,” she whispered.  Silently she
berated herself for the tears that started to her eyes.  Lowering one foot to
the floor, she stopped the rhythmic motion of the chair.

Through the window at her back, the
light from a single lamp at the opposite side of the living room fell on the
high planes of his cheekbones and shadowed his eyes where he stood on the
walkway. 

“Sunny.  I would have called you, but
I had a tree come down the same day yours did, bringing down the phone line.  I…well,
I hadn’t been in any particular rush to have it fixed.  I’ll do it soon.”

He shoved both hands into his
pockets, seeming in no hurry to come up onto the porch, either, to get to the
reason for his visit, to do anything but watch her and wait.

“You gave me the money back,” she
said.

“I don’t need it,” he answered. 

“But all the work you did…”

“I enjoyed it.  I enjoyed spending
that time with you.  I have to be honest.  I wasn’t doing it for the money.  I
did it for the chance to get to know you better.”

Sunny lowered her lids over her eyes,
viewing him through the moist clump of her lashes.  She felt a trembling begin
low in her abdomen and radiate into her chest and out to her limbs.  Setting
her licorice across the top of her glass of water on the floor, she stood up
and crossed to the edge of the porch.  He strode forward, stopping at the base
of the stairs, hair damp, dried at the ends but clumped and dark and wet closer
to his head.  She could smell the shampoo he had used, faint and fresh, and the
clean soap scent rising from his skin.  He looked freshly shaven, the line of
his jaw smooth and strong, his full mouth held immobile as he waited for her to
speak again.

“How much do you know about Scott and
me?” she asked.

His eyes widened slightly, pupils large
and dark and surrounded by the amber ring of iris, the only sign her question
surprised him.  “Nothing that matters,” he said.

So Scott had talked about her to
Roger.  Roger’s statement, however, made it clear to her he had ignored the
talk, or had at least dismissed it.  Good. 

“And I know really nothing about
you,” she went on.

He shook his head.  “You do,” he
said.  “You know everything that matters.”

Sunny gazed back at him, feeling
herself grow very still.  Her first instinct had been to ask him why he said
that.  But she knew.  She knew exactly what he meant.  Lifting his arm, he took
her hand into his own, rubbing the ball of his thumb across the backs of her
fingers.  “You’re trembling.”