moment, was somewhere in Beckwith.
Brian rolled his eyes. “It’s Friday night, Mom. Get real. I’ve got all weekend to do that stuff.”
She decided not to call him on a response that felt a tad disrespectful to her. “Well, what happened to your allowance?” she asked instead. “I gave it to you early…on Wednesday. Remember?”
He had the grace to squirm a little. “I guess you could say I spent it.”
“On what?”
“CDs, if you must know.”
“No more heavy metal, I hope.”
If so, he didn’t own up to it. “I’ve been using my earphones the way you asked me to,” he pointed out. “Can I have the money?”
Danny’s proximity kept whispering in her ear. “How much do you need?” she asked.
“Eight dollars ought to be enough.”
Cate supposed it wouldn’t break the family bank. At age sixteen—fifteen according to what he believed and what the doctored copy of the birth certificate in his official school records proclaimed—Brian was three-quarters grown and getting restless with maternal constraints. Still, he was basically a good kid. To date, unlike some of his classmates, he’d managed to keep out of trouble.
“Who’s driving?” she asked.
“Billy. Shawn’s mother needed the car this evening. The guys are gonna leave without me if I don’t get a move on. Say yes.”
Billy Burnett and Shawn Randazzo were both seniors, whereas Brian was a lowly sophomore. They’d begun to include him in their extra-curricular activities when he was picked for the varsity football team. Of the two boys, Billy was the most conscientious, not to mention the better driver.
About to lecture him about the need to do a few odd jobs if he wanted spending money over and above his allowance, Cate held her tongue. Won over by his patience and her strong love for him, she dug in her purse. The five and three crumpled ones she handed him would have to be deducted from the grocery money. “Behave yourself, okay?” she said. “You’re a varsity athlete now. A model for younger kids, with a reputation to uphold.”
The admonition was a compliment in disguise and Brian seemed to sense it. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, shoving the money into his pocket. His buddies hadn’t arrived yet and, abruptly, awkwardly, he planted a kiss on her cheek.
Thoughts of Danny, his calloused but exquisitely sensuous fingertips caressing her skin, his heated kisses, swarmed like bees around Cate’s head as she made her way into the kitchen and heated a can of tomato soup. Part of me can’t help but hope against hope that he’s carrying a torch for me, she thought as she ate it, even if it might set off a chain reaction that could spiral out of control. Yet she guessed the likelihood of that happening was practically nonexistent. He’d have phoned after Larry died if he still had feelings for me, she thought. I’ll bet any given time he has dozens of women swooning over him. Meanwhile, she’d been like Rapunzel in the old-fashioned fairy tale, waiting to let down her hair for the only man she’d ever wanted.
She was upstairs an hour or so later, putting on her nightgown with the idea of getting into bed and trying to focus on a novel until Brian came home when she was electrified by the rattle of pebbles against her bedroom window. Goose bumps of disbelief washed over her. During their courtship, it had been Danny’s way of letting her know he’d come to call without using the doorbell. Could it be that he’d come over without phoning his first night back in town—and used the same calling card for old times’ sake? Or was she the victim of pranksters, a disgruntled student? Her hands shook slightly as she fastened her robe firmly about her waist and drew back the curtains.
He was standing in shadow, well beyond the trapezoid of light that spilled from her window. Yet she recognized him immediately. His power and maturity drew her like a magnet. Thank God I gave Brian the money to go to Ryersville, she thought. I wouldn’t want him to watch me go through this.
Below, Danny motioned for her to open the window. She obliged with mixed emotions, Pandora lifting the lid on a box of troubles, a banished angel hungry for a glimpse of paradise.
“I’m back, Cate,” he announced in the rough-edged, faintly mocking voice she still heard sometimes in her dreams. “Come down and say hello.”
She couldn’t deny how much she longed to see him again. Needed to, if only to get him out of her system. Both her heart and her mind were begging for it. Instead of inhabiting a featureless plain, a gouache rendered in shades of gray, she might learn to live again, with the enthusiasm of authentic emotions.
Ill-considered words flew from her mouth. “I will…if you promise to keep your hands to yourself.” Seconds later, her cheeks were burning at the assumption that he planned to do otherwise.
Agreeing to her terms, he waited for her to follow through. It seemed she’d committed herself. If she didn’t go down to meet with him, he might create a ruckus, bang on her front door. Or insist in a loud voice that she keep her word. Her neighbors would get an earful.
Meanwhile, what would he think of her? Would he decide their years apart had been kind to her? Or taken their toll? She didn’t have time to speculate. Or put on fresh makeup. Turning away from the window, she raced downstairs in her robe and slippers, frantically finger-combing her hair as she went.
A moment later she emerged from the side door of her house, which led, via half flights of stairs, up to the kitchen and down to the basement. Danny hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d been standing. Advancing toward him, she paused a few feet beyond his reach. Fortunately, they were partly hidden from the street by some overgrown lilac bushes that were in the process of losing their leaves, now that the autumn nights had brought cooler temperatures.
At close range, he was as good-looking as she remembered—lean, powerful, unimpressed by his own allure. His beautiful eyes blazed into hers, overflowing with questions. To her surprise, he didn’t pose any of them immediately. Instead, he seemed to be waiting for her to speak.
“Brenda told me you were back,” she murmured, desperate to break the silence that unnerved her so. “That you were staying at your grandmother’s house…”
He nodded. “Somehow it felt like the right thing to do. Brenda probably told you…I work for Mercator now. I’m here to decide the future of the tool-and-die plant.”
He was giving her the space she’d asked for—keeping his promise to the letter. And perversely, she didn’t want him to. If he didn’t touch her, she believed, her heart would break. Can we actually stand here and talk this way, like strangers after everything we once meant to each other? she asked herself. If so, I don’t think I can bear it. It would be as if we never loved each other desperately and ran away to get married, that all our hopes and dreams weren’t invested in each other.
“Is that your only reason for coming?” she blurted, only to realize the seemingly innocent question bore a heavy freight of meaning, as well. For some reason her tongue seemed bent on exposing all the vulnerabilities she hoped to keep from him.
If he considered the question a leading one, he didn’t say so. Instead, he took a tentative step in her direction. “It’s hard to see you in this light,” he explained. “You’re standing almost completely in shadow. As for your question, no, it isn’t. For quite some time I’ve wanted to return to
