shape, life would probably be better.
However, a sudden change in perspective gave him a view of himself as others might see him, and he didn’t like it. Oh, well. He knew the rages that could bubble up unexpectedly inside him. He never wanted anyone else to suffer from that. Who cared what anyone on the outside thought? All they’d ever see was the guy in a wheelchair.
“Do you know anyone around here?” Ashley asked.
“After all these years? I doubt it. Doesn’t matter, anyway.”
“No, I guess not.”
Well, he had told her he wanted to be left alone. Then the first asinine thing he did was let her bring him dinner. “I told you I’m antisocial.”
She nodded, then studied him with those startling blue eyes. “It can’t have always been that way. In the military you were part of a team, right?”
“I’m not in the military anymore.”
“No kidding,” she said a bit tartly. “However, we have a few guys in this county who might get where you’re coming from. They’ve walked in your shoes, and some of them have had to struggle with being home.”
“So?”
He guessed that was it for her. She rose, leaving the remains of her dinner on the table. She grabbed her jacket and slipped it on, then picked up the rice cooker and the bottle of mustard powder. “You said you could clean up. Have at it.”
Then, without another word, she walked out. He heard the front door close behind her.
A whimper drew his attention to Nell, who was sitting beside him.
“Damn it, dog, I don’t need your opinion, too.”
She gave a little moan then settled beside him with her head on the floor between her paws.
Yeah, he was a jackass. He knew it. He nurtured it. Better to be alone with his demons than inflicting them on innocent people. That had become his mantra.
At that moment he wondered if it wasn’t also his excuse.
* * *
Ashley sighed as she stood in her kitchen cleaning the rice cooker at her sink and wondering where that burst of temper had come from. That man seemed to bring out the worst in her. Yesterday she’d gotten acidic with him, and today she’d walked out on him—rather rudely, if she were to be honest about it.
And why the heck had he accepted her offer of dinner? He’d obviously been uncomfortable, and finally he’d felt it necessary to make it clear yet again that he wanted to be left alone. He didn’t even want to talk with other vets.
When she summed up the total of conversation that had passed between them, she figured it wouldn’t fill one typed page.
God, she didn’t want to be a snippy, sarcastic person. A good reason to grant his wish for solitude. It would be easy enough to pretend he wasn’t even there.
Her life was full enough anyway, what with school and helping with the project to get Mikey a better wheelchair. In fact, there was the fund-raiser at the church on Saturday evening that she still needed to do a few things for.
But she couldn’t help feeling bad for a man so alone, even if it was by choice. She spent a lot of time as a teacher making sure that no child was left out or ostracized, because a sense of belonging was so important to human beings.
Well, Zane was a grown man. None of her business, no matter how she felt about it. Plus, he’d kind of warned her that he was still a bit unstable mentally. PTSD. Awful. Certainly not something she could help him with.
She dried her hands, then pulled out her folio to start correcting papers. Except for taking dinner over to Zane, she’d have started a while ago. Time to catch up. Immediate feedback was important to learning. Nothing the kids had done today would matter to them in a week.
The phone rang just as she was spreading her work on the table. She picked up the cordless handset to hear her friend Julie on the line.
“Hey, word has it you were seen visiting Zane McLaren. How is he?”
“Very much antisocial and very much wanting to be left alone. Straight from his lips.”
“Oh.” Julie sighed. “That’s sad. Any number of people have mentioned him to me, wondering how he’s doing.”
“And he said he’d very much appreciate not having a parade of well-wishers at his door, so pass it along.”
“Well, dang. I thought we’d have something new to talk about.”
Ashley laughed. “Hurry up and have your baby. Then you’ll be too busy for gossip.”
Julie’s answering laugh poured through the phone. “I’m sure Trace would agree with you. I can’t figure out if he shares my impatience or if he just wishes I’d settle down.”
“Maybe a bit of both. Listen, I’ve got a bunch of papers to correct. Saturday, right?”
“Oh, that’s why I called. The weather’s going to be beautiful Saturday. A couple of the girls suggested we meet at your place and have our coffee on the porch. You have a big enough porch and enough chairs.”
And she lived next door to the mystery man, Ashley thought wryly. “Sure, that’s fine. Who’s bringing the coffee cake?”
“Marisa said she would. She’s looking forward to turning the youngster over to Ryker for a few hours.”
“I can imagine. Okay, Saturday. Here.”
“Done.”
Ashley hung up, shaking her head. She wondered if she ought to give Zane a warning, then decided she was being ridiculous. He didn’t have to poke his head outside. He could just tough it out indoors.
Saturday afternoon turned into the last taste of summer. Autumn leaves still blew gently around on the breeze, but the weather was warm enough that light clothing allowed the women to sit outside on Ashley’s porch.
Julie Archer had been Ashley’s friend forever, and now that they taught at the same school, the friendship had only deepened. They could discuss various student problems with a deep understanding. Julie’s auburn hair and green eyes had always made her a striking woman. She also rarely withheld her thoughts.
Connie Parish was older than the rest by a little over a decade, but she had fit seamlessly with them. The mother of three as well as a sheriff’s deputy, she had her hands full and she swore the Saturday get-togethers were a lifeline.
Marisa Tremaine had been widowed a few years ago, and now was married to her late husband’s best friend, who also happened to be a good friend of Julie’s husband.
Ashley sat as the lone spinster among them and she was quite happy with her lot, thank you very much. She honestly couldn’t
