The Man From Her Past Page 9

  “Mmm,” she said. “Maybe Mr. Van brought me more spaghetts.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, punkin’.” Mr. Van wouldn’t be back. In a display of perverseness that annoyed her, she was sorry she’d made herself so damnably clear to him. Suddenly, she’d learned to want what—whom—she couldn’t have.

  Hope yanked at the door until Cassie managed to undo the lock and the dead bolt. Beth stood outside, brandishing a white bag full of delectable aromas.

  “Doughnuts from Hagenthaler’s. I got the last bear claw, ladies, and I’m willing to fight you both for it.”

  “I can thumb wrestle,” Hope said, pronouncing the B. She popped onto the porch. “Where’s Mr. Van?”

  “He’s working in D.C. today,” Beth said, and Cassie pretended not to notice her close glance.

  “Izzat where our airoplane went, Mommy?”

  “Where we rode the big bus.”

  “I didn’t like that bus, Miss Beth. A man sat on my coat and he wouldn’t get off.”

  “Till she thumped him with her purse,” Cassie said, “purely by accident.”

  “I’m not ’posed to have accinents no more.”

  Beth laughed and spirited her booty into the house. “The better to avoid lawsuits, my dear.”

  “What kind of suit?”

  “A grown-up kind that’s hard to explain,” Beth said. “Let’s get some milk and coffee and feed Mommy before we send her to the hospital.”

  “Who’s taking care of the lodge, Beth?”

  “Aidan. He and Eli can handle it for a few days. He likes the change from his business. You never saw a man so proud to wield a toilet plunger.”

  Cassie made a face.

  “I hope I hid my feelings about that a little more skillfully,” Beth said.

  “Maybe the grass is always greener.” Cassie lifted the coffeemaker’s lid.

  “Have you been inspecting the grass around here?” Beth asked.

  “Nope.” Cassie borrowed her daughter’s vehemence.

  “Too bad. I’ll do the coffee. You go dress to see your dad.”

  HER FATHER SEEMED to have worked the miracle of stealing energy from Hope. He quizzed Cassie on her life in Washington and warned her she was putting herself in danger, working at the shelter.

  They went for a walk down the hall, with Cassie pushing his IV stand. With permission from his nurse, she treated him to soup and lime sherbet in the cafeteria. With touching excitement, he considered the break from eating in bed a treat.

  Again, in the late afternoon, he tired. Instead of falling asleep, he suggested she might be missing her daughter.

  “I would like to see her, and Beth probably has business to look after at the lodge.”

  “I’ve had a nice day with you,” Leo said.

  She kissed his forehead. “You need to come home soon, Dad.”

  “If I do, you won’t leave?”

  Her heart softened like the sherbet that had melted before he could finish it, with his conversation going at light speed. “How would you feel about coming home with me?”

  His frown reminded her of Hope. “All the way to Washington?”

  “It’s not that far by plane. We’d take all your favorite stuff.”

  “I can’t do that. I have responsibilities here. Obligations only I can take care of.”

  His voice broke at the end, and his anxiety filled the room. Cassie squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything. We’ll work this out.”

  “Do you wonder how much time we have left together? I think I was really sick.”

  “Don’t. You scare me.” She hugged him again. “I’ll bring your razor tomorrow, and maybe we could slip Hope in for a quick visit.”

  He grinned, looking reassuringly younger. “Cassie?”

  She smiled back.

  “I’m sorry about before. You know, when I couldn’t look you in the eye.”

  “You see things pretty simply now.”

  “It’s all through a haze, but I remember when I was cruel to you.”

  She leaned on her elbows on the bed rail. “It doesn’t matter now. You’re sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t know you were sick. Let’s call it even and be glad we both remembered in time that we love each other.”

  “Okay.” He touched her shoulder. “Do me a favor.”

  “You’re almost your old self, Dad.”

  “Listen to me while I’m feeling clear.”

  “I’m anxious about what you’re going to ask.”

  “Because you already know what I want and you know I’m right.”

  “You’re about to bring up Van.”

  He nodded. “You two split up. I told him to stay away from me. Our family fell apart, and none of us knew why.”

  “I knew.”

  “About me, but I think you were wrong about Van. He was angry all right, but he kept trying to tell you he was angry at the man who…” His voice drifted a little. “The man who hurt you.”

  “I’ve heard all this from him.”

  “Try listening, only once, and then I’ll leave you alone.” He leaned back and exhaled, weariness settling on him like the haze he’d spoken about. “I’m sleepy.”

  “Good night, Dad.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Whether he was asleep or not, he wasn’t with her any longer. She backed out of the room and looked for Lang to tell him about her father’s few moments of clarity.

  “He’s on rounds. He’ll stop by Mr. Warne’s room later, but I’ll tell him for you. Try not to assume too much. His body is fighting back, but this could be a phase in his condition, too. Early on, you’d expect him to be clearer than he has been.”

  Nodding, Cassie stumbled toward the elevator. The nurse already assumed a more dire prognosis than she’d considered. She still hoped her father would get better. She hoped it enough to do him that favor.

  VAN CAME OUT of the bank to a light snow muffling children’s laughter from the Christmas tree lot on the square.

  A balloon arose to the sound of a shout, sheer joy only a child could feel. Over the trees, the red balloon floated, trailing a leash of dark green tinsel.

  He hadn’t thought about a tree for his own house. He tucked the receipt for his latest loan payment into his pocket. Having worked at the bank when he was just out of college, he knew that Jonathan Barr, who handled loans now, liked to feel superior to those who desperately needed them. Paying in person, with a total lack of concern, had become Van’s petty revenge.

  He’d like to be too busy to waste the fossil fuel, but an investment analyst was only as good as his last picks, and his errors eight months ago had given him more free time than he wanted.

  No one could have worked harder to change that.

  Those Christmas trees looked inviting. It’d be ridiculous to let Cassie’s rejection turn him into a Scrooge.

  He pushed his bare hands into his pockets and started across the street. A green mesh fence ran around the tree lot and he followed it to the parking area nearest the courthouse entrance.

  A car’s balking engine drew his attention. In a gray minivan, one of his neighbors, with a spectacular Douglas fir on her roof, was unsuccessfully trying to go home.

  Van hesitated only a moment. He went over and tapped on Lexie Taylor’s window. She rolled it down, relief flooding her face.

  “Do you think you could give me a jump, Van?”

  “We could try that.” He glanced into the back, where her son lazily kicked his boot-clad feet as he gnawed on a piece of teething toast. “You and Spence stay warm. I’ll get my car.”

  “You’re a lifesaver.”

  “Thanks.” Gratitude beat suspicion any day of the year. He nosed his car as close to Lexie’s engine as he could get it, and then took jumper cables from his trunk. After a couple of tries with the cables, he had to climb out and disappoint the mom-in-distress.

  “Sorry, Lex. It’s not working. I’m afraid we’re going to drain my battery, too, and we’ll both be stra
nded. Why don’t I give you a ride home, and maybe Sam can get you a replacement battery?”

  “Sounds good, if you don’t mind driving us.” She opened the door, sliding her arms into her coat sleeves. “But you were going in to buy your tree. We can wait.”

  He shook his head. “Let’s move yours to my roof. You can’t leave it sitting here. Spence needs his tree at home.”

  “Well, it cost enough that I’m reluctant to abandon it,” she said.

  “You transfer Spence and the car seat, since I don’t know how to hook them up, and I’ll take care of the tree.”

  He undid the cables and backed the car into a space. Then he took her tree down while she moved the car seat across. He finished the tree about the time Lexie was leaning in to put Spence back in his car seat, laughing at a mother-son game that involved kissing and cradling of faces.

  Grinning, wondering what it was like to be part of such a family, he straightened to find himself staring into Cassie’s bewildered eyes. Hand in hand with her, Hope jumped as she saw him, too.

  “Lookie, Mr. Van, we’re buying a tree for my grampa.”

  He couldn’t restrain a wary glance toward Lexie, who’d been a few years behind Cassie and Beth in school. She hadn’t been too young to read about the rape and the trial. “Sounds like fun,” he said.

  “Come on, punkin’. Mr. Van’s busy.”

  Before Lexie could raise her head, they were gone, swallowed by the fragrant evergreens and the laughter inside the fence, as if he’d imagined them.

  “Van? Something wrong?”

  He got a grip. “Not a thing. Spence all set?”

  Lexie nodded. “And I’m freezing. You don’t even have gloves.”

  He brushed the snow off his shoulders and out of his hair. “I missed the forecast.”

  “WAS THAT Mr. Van’s girlfriend, Mommy?”

  Exactly the disquieting question she had on her mind. The woman had tucked her little boy inside the car while Van tied down their tree. Working in tandem, they looked as if they were together. Used to being together.

  “Where did you hear about girlfriends, missy?”

  “I watch TV, you know.”

  “Apparently the wrong kind for your age. Want some cider?”

  “Uh-uh.” She shook her head. The hood on her coat shifted back and forth, mussing her silky hair.

  “Hot chocolate?”

  Hope slapped her mittened hands together. “Yummy.”

  “Let’s indulge ourselves and buy a tree and pretend we’re at home.”

  “What’s hen-dulge?”

  “Have something we really like. When I was a little girl, they sold tasty apple fritters along with the cocoa and cider.” Who was she kidding? Not even a fritter would shave the edge off this dull, unexpected pain.

  “I never had a apple critter.”

  “Fritter,” Cassie said, visions of squirrels and chipmunks that hadn’t been quick enough to hide for winter dancing in her head.

  They bought a tree, which Cassie wrestled onto the roof rack of their rented car while Hope shouted plentiful advice.

  At home, she hauled the tree as far as the bay window in the living room. Then, while Hope stayed to admire it, Cassie plucked up her courage to visit the attic, where nothing was out of order. No paper towel stacks. No newspaper like the piles that had turned up beneath the master bath cabinets. Just the boxes and oddments she and her parents had stored over the years.

  She found the ornaments and dragged the box downstairs. All the while, an image of Van, with that woman and little boy in his car, kept sneaking back into her mind. How many times had she asked him to stay away? And now was he putting a star on some other woman’s tree?

  That woman, laughing, had been grateful to him.

  “Mommy, you look sad.”

  “What?” She brushed off Hope’s concern. “I’m just avoiding the untangling-of-the-lights ritual.”

  Hope giggled. Together, they opened the box. Together, they decorated the tree, Hope doing the bottom while Cassie covered the top. Finally, Cassie lifted Hope, who managed to maneuver the star onto its place of honor.

  “Can I plug in the lights, Mommy?”

  “Maybe I should.” They hadn’t yet mastered the concept of keeping tiny fingers from between the plug and the socket. “You keep an eye out for any bulbs that don’t work.”

  Miraculously, the tree lit up.

  “Let’s open the curtains,” Hope said, and again Cassie lifted her so she could push the drapes away from the living room window. Dust sifted down on them, and they raced to the kitchen to get water and take turns washing each other’s faces.

  “Time for dinner,” Cassie finally said. “It got dark when I wasn’t looking.”

  “Not bedtime.”

  “Pretty soon.”

  Hope yawned over their soup and sandwiches. Afterward, Cassie ran her a warm bubble bath, and then they turned to a stack of books.

  At last, Cassie sang Hope’s favorite good-night songs and traded “lights off” for a reading of How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

  Hope was asleep before the sleigh reached Whoville.

  Cassie eased the bedroom door shut and then went back downstairs to clean the kitchen. Running hot water into the sink, she peered through the window at the sky.

  The view had changed since she’d moved away. New trees branched against a blue velvet night, pressing bony fingers into puffy, moonlit clouds.

  Cassie plunged her hands into the bubbly water. She’d always preferred washing dishes by hand. It was her quiet time, her few free moments to contemplate the world. Tonight, freedom didn’t sit well.

  She’d lost her place in Honesty. The sky had changed. Her father had become a stranger. Van had insisted he didn’t believe they were over, but he’d looked happy with that other woman.

  Tsking, like her mother before her, Cassie slid dishes beneath the water. He might have been helping, just the way he’d insisted on helping her and Hope since she’d come back.

  He’d always been a guy who needed to do something. He hadn’t said “I love you” the first year they’d dated, but he’d washed her car and changed the oil and wipers, and shown up each Tuesday just to haul her garbage down the five flights of stairs from her apartment for pickup.

  His first “I love you” had sounded more like a question.

  The image of him asking someone else flashed through her mind.

  She’d finished the plates when footsteps raced across the attic above her head.

  A glass slipped. She swore but caught it just in time, and then backed up, holding it like a weapon. Crazy.

  She set the glass on the counter and grabbed her mother’s rolling pin before she lit out on tiptoes for the stairs.

  The footsteps above raced back, almost even with her head. Something fell over up there. Another clatter followed. An intruder tripping over whatever he’d run into?

  Common sense told her those footsteps were too fast. They even sounded scratchy. An animal had to be in the attic, but she’d just been up there. She’d seen no openings other than the dormer windows, close enough to the trees to provide an entrance for a human.

  She’d moved some boxes. Maybe she’d somehow unblocked an opening for an animal.

  Either way. She grabbed her cell phone and hurried to Hope’s room, which had once been her playroom. She eased inside and locked the door.

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?”

  “Are you awake?”

  “Gonna read more?”

  “Sure. Let me just make a call.” She slipped to the window and checked the lock, then went to the bathroom. “I have to go in here a second,” she said. “Choose a book.”

  “Okay.” Hope rolled out of bed like a big drop of water, and then crawled across the rug to the bookshelf that still held most of Cassie’s childhood books.

  Cassie tripped over a wet towel and Hope’s discarded clothes. She dialed the police.

  “Honesty Police Department. Monica James
,” the dispatcher answered.

  “Monica.” They’d been in the same French class. “This is Cassie Warne. I think there’s an animal in my dad’s house.” She gave the address.

  “What kind of animal?”

  “I don’t know.” She hesitated, not wanting to tell anyone about Hope, but she had to explain she had a child in the house. “The thing is, it could be a person—I just don’t think so, and I didn’t want to scare my daughter, so I thought I’d call the police. If you want to send Animal Control, that’s fine, but we’re locked in a bedroom until I’m sure what’s going on.”

  “Maybe I’ll send a patrolman and a crew from Animal Control. You’ve heard no voices?”

  “No—just really fast feet.”

  “You know, the squirrels can’t find much food in this weather. You’re probably fine. Want to hold the line until someone comes?”

  “No, thanks. My daughter hasn’t heard anything yet, and we’ll be reading until they arrive.”

  “I’m not supposed to let you hang up if there’s any question in your mind about a human intruder.”

  “Do you mind if I just leave the phone on? I’ll set it beside us.”

  “That’s fine. When the car arrives, let me know.”

  “Thanks, Monica. I appreciate your help.”

  “Sure, Cassie. That’s what we’re here for. I’m betting on a four-footed visitor.”

  The other kind couldn’t happen twice to one person? “Me, too.”

  Hope had turned on the tiny lamp they’d set up beside her bed. She looked up, a glow from the purple shade on her face, a book about mining moon cheese on her lap. “Mommy, who are you calling from the bathroom?”

  So much for subtlety. Cassie crossed to the bed. “An old friend, sweetie. Scoot over, and I’ll read to you.” She set the phone on the nightstand. “You picked one of my favorites.”

  Hope held it up, open to a picture of a backhoe dragging cheese off the moon’s surface. “You wrote your name. Miss Tawny, at my school, says I’m not ’posed to write my name in books.”

  “We all do things we’re not supposed to sometimes. Let’s open her up at the first page and see what else I did.”

  They’d reached the backhoe when blue lights flashed onto the faded yellow wall paint.