Tempered (A Daughters of the People Novel) (Daughters of the People Series) (8 page)

Aaron opened the
cab door and stepped onto the curb outlining a lush, well-kempt yard
surrounding a rambling Craftsman. Wide wooden steps led to the ubiquitous
Southern porch. Large rock columns supported the porch’s cedar shingled roof,
their square bases tapering as they rose. The house itself rested on a rock
foundation and had wood siding painted a deep gray with forest green trim
around the doorways and windows. Dark brown, curved shingles graced the gables
under the roof’s angles. It was a massive structure, stretching out in even
wings to either side of the yard.

Hank opened the
trunk and Aaron helped him unload the two suitcases he’d brought on the
cross-country flight from San Francisco. He’d shipped his bicycle and a box of
art supplies by UPS in the hopes that he’d actually need them. Hawthorne could
still change her mind.

Or draw her
sword.

He rubbed his
temples with one hand and stifled a sigh. Chances were good she’d do one or the
other.

He helped Hank
drag the suitcases up the steps to the wide front porch, gathered his overnight
bag and the bag holding his tablet and sketchpad from the back seat, and
exchanged business cards with Hank.

“You want me to
stick around, make sure somebody’s at home?” Hank glanced furtively around the
neighborhood. “We was getting some mighty strange looks coming through town.”

“Probably just
checking out your handsome mug.”

Hank cackled and
smacked Aaron’s arm. “Probably checking out yours. You get bored, you call.
I’ll hook you up with some fine entertainment.”

Aaron slipped
the cab fare into the old man’s hand as they shook. “I’ll do that. Thanks,
Hank.”

“Anytime, son,
anytime. Get you a receipt for this.”

A few minutes
later, Hank pulled away from the curb with a cheerful wave of his arthritic
hand. Aaron studied the house. What if Hawthorne wasn’t home? He eyed the truck
parked at the curb, the closed door of the garage. She must have company, a guy
by the looks of it. Had she already found somebody else? Or did the vehicle
belong to one of her innumerable relatives?

He gathered his
courage and walked down the rock sidewalk and up the carefully crafted wooden
steps to the front porch. He set his bags next to his suitcase. A few more
steps put him at the door. Before he could lose his nerve, he jabbed at the
doorbell. It echoed inside the house before dying off, leaving silence in its
wake.

Maybe she was
out back. All of the houses in this section of Tellowee seemed to have large
back yards. He eyed what he could see of the side yard. If he went around
there, he’d probably get in trouble. Already, a neighbor in a nearby house had
moved to the edge of her porch, peering at him intently with a phone to her
ear. He couldn’t catch her quiet conversation, the houses were spaced too far
apart for that, but he could imagine who she was calling. Hawthorne, the
police. Maybe the mean-looking guard at the complex they’d passed. She’d
appeared more than eager to use the gun slung over her shoulder, the really big
gun that looked like it could do a lot of damage in a short amount of time.

He rang the
doorbell again. Footsteps beat out a rapid patter inside, and a moment later, the
door opened on a pretty blonde girl who stared up at him from waist height. She
wore the same kind of athletic wear Hawthorne and Levi had worn at DragonCon
and stood eerily still in the doorway.

He squatted down
in front of her. “You must be Lali. Is Hawthorne home?”

She stuck a
finger in her mouth and blinked at him with huge gray eyes.

“I’m Aaron, a
friend of your Nana’s.” Which was true. Sort of. They’d been friendly enough
for nearly four days. Surely that counted for something. “Can I see her?”

The finger
dropped away from Lali’s mouth. “She gots comp’ny.”

“Oh.” Aaron’s
heart sank. So, she’d already moved on.
Dammit
. “She’s expecting me to
come by so we can work on a book.”

“I like books.”
Lali tucked her hands behind her back and peered at him from eyes gone suddenly
shy. “You’re pretty.”

“Ah, thanks. So
are you.”

“Are you
married?”

“No. You?”

“Nunh-unh.” She
sighed deeply and smiled. “You could marry me and then we could live happily
ever after.”

“Um.” How did a
man even go about turning down a proposal from a little girl? “Don’t you think
I’m a little old for you?”

Lali scowled,
her bow mouth curving down into a frown. “That’s what Levi said.”

“Well, it’s kind
of a practical question.”

“I don’t know
what that means, but I don’t like it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and
stared him down with a look that was pure Hawthorne. “Not one bit, mister.”

“Aaron,” he
corrected. “Look, we could compromise here. How about we try friendship first
and see how it goes?”

Her bow mouth
twisted into a skeptical frown. “Really?”

“Sure.” He stuck
out his hand. “Shake on it.”

She remained
stubbornly in place.

Yup, she was
definitely related to Hawthorne.

“I likes hugs
better,” Lali said.

“Oh, well,
that’s probably not appropriate…” He
oomphed
as she leapt into his arms
and wrapped herself around him, nearly knocking him over. “Ok, then. Hugs it
is.”

She buried her
face in his collar, muffling her voice. “You smell good. Will you be my puppy?”

He stood
carefully, steadying her with one arm under her bottom and a hand on her back.
“Make up your mind, Lali. You want to marry me or keep me as a pet?”

“Both,” she said
cheerfully. “I like puppies, too.”

Two sets of
footsteps approached the open doorway, one the heavy thuds of a man’s boots on
wood, and the other a nearly silent swish of bare feet. A well-built man of about
Aaron’s age appeared on the threshold, his hazel eyes hard in a handsome enough
face. He stepped out onto the porch, his expression softening when his eyes
fell on Lali. “Thought you were my girl.”

Lali leaned away
from Aaron, twisting to wrap her arms around the man’s neck while her legs
clung to Aaron’s waist. “You can be my other husband.”

“Spoken like a
true Daughter.” He eyed Aaron from head to toe. “Bobby Upton.”

“Aaron
Kesselman.” Aaron juggled Lali as she let go of Upton and wrapped herself
around him again. “I’m a friend of Hawthorne’s.”

Bobby raised an
eyebrow at Hawthorne, who stood quietly in the doorway, her fit body clothed in
athletic wear that left little to the imagination. “Yeah?”

“Aaron is a
co-worker,” Hawthorne explained. “Lali, please release Aaron. You must dress
now for our trip to the park.”

Lali’s hands
squeezed tighter around Aaron’s neck. “Can Airn come with us?”

“Perhaps,”
Hawthorne murmured.

“Gotta run.”
Bobby lifted Hawthorne’s chin with one work-roughened hand and pressed a
lingering kiss to her mouth, then speared Aaron with a hard stare. “Kesselman.”

Aaron’s mouth
dried up and his heart dropped through the floor. She hadn’t pulled away. Bobby’s
boots thudded heavily on the wooden porch as he walked by. Aaron nodded, the
only polite gesture he could manage while his tongue cleaved to the top of his
mouth and his hope of at least rekindling his friendship with Hawthorne
withered on the vine.

“Lali, to your
room now. Mr. Kesselman and I must talk.”

Lali scrambled obediently
down and raced past Hawthorne into the house, where she skidded to a stop. She
turned and said, “Are you gonna go to the park with us, Airn?”

The truck roared
to life behind him, it’s engine settling into a low rumble as it moved away.
Aaron stuffed his fingers into the back pockets of his jeans. “If Hawthorne
says it’s ok.”

“Ok.” Lali waved
cheerfully, then scampered up a set of steps just visible from where he stood,
her footsteps diminishing into silence.

Hawthorne
speared him with a glare not much different from the one Upton had directed at
him. “Why are you here, Mr. Kesselman?”

He sighed and
rubbed the nape of his neck. “So we’re back to that, are we?”

“That was not an
answer.”

Aaron dropped
his hand. Her expression hadn’t so much as flickered since she’d appeared in
the doorway. His heart dropped another notch. He was pretty sure it was close
to hitting bedrock. “I’m here to collaborate on your graphic novel.”

Hawthorne
blinked. “That is not possible.”

“So you don’t
want to work with me.” Dammit. Hadn’t he expected as much? “Look, it’s already
been arranged. You can find somebody else if you want, but you know what kind
of delays that’ll cause.”

“I am not
concerned with delays, merely with your appearance on my porch,” she said
evenly.

“I’m here to
work.”

“So you say.
Yet, I have found you to be not quite trustworthy.”

He winced.
“C’mon, Hawthorne. That’s not fair.”

“Nothing is,”
she murmured. Rapid, skipping footsteps sounded on the stairs. “You may bring
your bags in and visit the park with us.”

Some of the hope
rebounded, right into Aaron’s throat, squeezing it tight. “So I can stay?”

“You may
accompany us to the park, only because my granddaughter has taken a shine to
you.”

“She thinks I’m
a puppy.”

“She is lonely
for a father,” Hawthorne corrected gently. “Come. I must change and then we shall
discuss your visit while Lali plays with her friends.”

Aaron gathered
his luggage and followed Hawthorne inside. A visit to the park wasn’t a kick to
the curb, though on top of that kiss between her and Upton, it wasn’t exactly a
sign of welcome. He dropped his things and held Lali’s hand when she offered
it, and chatted with the young girl in the foyer while Hawthorne changed into
street clothes.

The crisp autumn
air was filled with the smell of leaves floating to the earth, coating the
ground in shades of orange, yellow, and red. Hawthorne stuffed her hands into
the pockets of her denim jacket and observed Lali interacting with her
playmates. The little girl dangled upside down on the monkey bars, her legs
threaded through the metal rungs as she swung back and forth, chattering with a
friend who hung the same way a few rungs away, facing Lali.

Aaron set his
sketchpad aside and shifted on the bench. Hawthorne placed a light hand on his
forearm. He tensed beneath her fingers, and she allowed them to slide away.

“Aren’t you
worried she’ll fall?”

“She will not.”
Hawthorne nodded to the monkey bars, where Lali had already wiggled free and
righted herself. “The children here learn how to handle themselves at a young
age.”

He exhaled
noisily and slumped against the back of the bench where they sat. “I’ve never
seen so many laid-back parents in my life.”

Hawthorne glanced
around the park, reimagining it through his eyes. Fathers and a few mothers
occupied the other benches surrounding the play area, chatting with one another
or tending to other children. A few bent diligently over handiwork, knitting or
the like, their eyes sharp as they glanced from their work to the playing
children.

“Is it not
normal for parents and children to visit playgrounds in California?”

“You’re kidding,
right? In the land of litigation and helicopter parents?”

“What is a
helicopter parent?”

He shook his
head with a mild
hmph
. “Never mind. Forgot who I was talking to.”

Hawthorne turned
her attention back to Lali. “No need to be dismissive, Mr. Kesselman.”

He shoved his
hands through his hair. “Look, can’t you call me Aaron?”

“I would rather
not.” Doing so would only remind her of their prior relationship and the harsh
words he had uttered during their last meeting. She ignored the pang in her
chest. “How did your name come to be drawn as my collaborator?”

“Ah, well, about
that.” Aaron rubbed his hands down his jean-clad thighs. “I asked my agent to
put my name in the hat.”

“And the
publisher chose you among the many illustrators available.” Hawthorne stifled a
sigh. Perhaps that would not have happened if she had not offered his name as
well, but there was no help for it now, unless Dana Goldburg could intercede.
“I am not surprised. You are a good illustrator.”

“Thanks.”

“You sound
surprised. Did you think I would not study your work when we became involved?”

“Ah, I…” He
crossed his arms over his chest. “Not really.”

“I was aware of
it before, of course.” Lali did a series of somersaults across the grass,
racing through them with two of her friends. Hawthorne watched them flip, their
little bodies lithe as they tucked and rolled. “Why would you wish to work with
me after our last parting? You made your contempt of my personage rather
clear.”

“Look, about
that.” He rubbed his nape, cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry. I swear, I
didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”

“Then you should
have given me the chance to prove my words to you, Aaron Kesselman.” Hawthorne
stood, suddenly restless. “That does not explain why you are here today.”

He stood slowly,
his long body ranging out to its full height next to her. “I wanted to
apologize, see if we couldn’t work things out. I guess you’re seeing somebody
else now, huh?”

She eyed him
curiously. “I am?”

“Don’t pretend you
didn’t just kiss another man.”

His apparent
jealousy amused her, though she was careful to mask it. “Young Upton was being
mischievous, nothing more.”

“That didn’t
look like mischief to me.”

“I assure you,
it was. In any case, it is of no consequence. Bobby’s heart lies elsewhere.”

Aaron’s
expression turned skeptical. He turned his gaze upon Lali as she took a turn at
the seesaw. “Yeah, right.”

“You should not
concern yourself with my affairs,” Hawthorne chided. “It was your choice to
quit our relationship.”

“You told me you
were Boudica’s daughter. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Believe me,”
she said flatly.

Lali came
running toward them, her face wreathed in grins, and held her hands up. “Did
you see me, Airn, huh? Did you see me? I did four somersaults in a row.”

Aaron hefted
Lali up and settled her on his waist. “I saw, kiddo. You’ve got some talent
there.”

“One day, I’m
gonna be a great warrior, just like Nana. You’ll see.” Lali rested her head on
Aaron’s chest and closed her eyes on a sleepy yawn. “You’re gonna be there when
I do, right, Airn?”

Aaron’s gaze met
Hawthorne’s over Lali’s head. “I don’t know, Nana. Will I?”

Hawthorne shut
her heart off from the child’s plea, and from Aaron’s. He had already abused
her heart enough for one lifetime. She could not imagine allowing him close
enough to have another chance, not for something as simple as collaborating on
a book, not even for Lali, who had never known her father and longed fiercely
for one.

They walked from
the park to Hawthorne’s house with Lali between them, each holding one of her
hands. Occasionally, Lali lifted her feet and they swung her out and back by
her hands as her laughter rang out. Aaron’s laughter mingled with hers, a deep
harmony to the girl’s high-pitched giggles.

Hawthorne kept
her own counsel. While he did not appear to be the kind of man who would use a
young girl’s feelings to his own ends, it would be wise to nip Lali’s affection
in the bud before it had a chance to grow into attachment.

Hawthorne knew
only too well how harsh Aaron could be with a woman’s heart.

Lali dropped
their hands and raced ahead of them, her earlier fatigue forgotten.

“Wow,” Aaron
said. “She’s a bundle of energy.”

“As children of
that age should be.”

“Yeah? Hunh.” He
kicked a piece of gravel off the sidewalk into the gutter. “Look, I know me
showing up out of the blue is awkward.”

“You never said
why you have.” She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and peered up at him.
“Why would you wish to work with me?”

“It seems like
an interesting project.” He fixed his eyes on Lali and shrugged. “Plus, I hated
the way we left things. I’d kinda hoped we could at least be friends.”

“I would rather not.”
She ignored his wince. His regret would not soften her resolve. “You may
apologize, if you feel the need to, and then you should go.”

He rubbed a hand
over his mouth. “Ok, then. Well.”

She nodded and
set out to chase down Lali, stopping when he grasped her arm.

“Hawthorne,
wait.” He dropped his hand at her icy stare, his own gaze helpless. “I
am
sorry about what I said. I could’ve at least been a bit more tactful.”

“Is there a
tactful way to tell a woman you think she is insane?” She shrugged the hurt
away, refusing to let it linger. “I offered you proof. You rejected it.”

His voice
dropped to a soft, low pitch. “Could you show me now?”

“No,” she said
flatly. After everything that had passed between them, how could he even ask?
“There is no further need for you to believe me, not when you will depart
shortly.”

She walked away,
quashing the words clogging her throat, staunching the hurt rising in her chest.
Tears pricked at her eyes. She, who never shed them, was on the verge of crying
a second time over the same man. Such would not be tolerated.

She followed
Lali into the house, leaving Aaron to enter or not. Lali snagged a book from
the coffee table and climbed onto the couch with it, calling for Aaron as she
did. Hawthorne kissed Lali, reminded her granddaughter to behave, and slipped
past Aaron into her office to call her agent.

Fifteen minutes
later, after a marginally calm discussion with Dana Goldburg, Hawthorne
terminated the call and bit back an exasperated sigh. Aaron had not been
exaggerating about the severity of the delays losing his assistance would cause
to the project. If they wished to release the graphic novel in conjunction with
the final book in the Black Queen quadrilogy, then work would have to begin
now. As Dana had gently pointed out, the graphic novel complemented the
quadrilogy perfectly, as it followed the life of a minor character that played
an important role in the main series.

Hawthorne
dropped her head against the cushioned back of her chair. She would have to
work with him. Joy sprang immediately into her heart. She ruthlessly stamped it
out. Aaron Kesselman could not be trusted. If he stayed, and on this she hesitated
still, he would have to be put on a tight and short leash. No touching, no
friendly chats, and absolutely no sex.

She rose from
her chair and followed the sound of his voice into the living room. Lali sat on
his lap, book in hand while Aaron read to her, his finger underlining each of
the words in turn. Hawthorne pressed a hand over her heart. It flipped and raced
in an unacceptable manner.
Aaron is not to be trusted
, she told it.

Her heart
ignored her caution, unwisely.

Aaron glanced up
and smiled, his chocolate eyes gentle in his handsome face.

No, he could not
be trusted. He was up to something, something other than work and rebuilding
the ruins of their budding friendship. He was a man, after all, and men always
wanted more than a Daughter was willing to offer.

* * *

Hours later,
Aaron wandered aimlessly around Hawthorne’s office while she tucked Lali into bed
for an after-lunch nap. After their trip to the park, Lali had pulled him into
the living room for a story while Hawthorne had retreated here to make a phone
call. She hadn’t said who she was calling, but he could guess: Anyone who would
ok finding another illustrator. A few minutes later, she’d come out and stared
down at him, her eyes hot in her otherwise blank expression, the fingers of one
hand curled into a fist.

Strangely
enough, he’d been more satisfied than scared. Hawthorne losing control? Maybe
not such a bad thing after all, especially if it gave him an edge in their
battle of wills. He wanted to stay, she wanted him to go. As long as she stayed
away from her sword, he might have a chance of gaining the upper hand.

He examined her
office, circling it in slow strides while he waited. It was a large room, more
library than anything, with row upon row of books lining every wall. A
fireplace with an inset wood heater broke the pattern of shelving on one wall,
though no fire burned in it now. The day had been too warm. Two distinct
sitting areas occupied the open interior of the room, each defined by a large,
antique rug. One held a sturdy wooden desk with a comfortable chair behind it
and two in front. The other held a dark brown leather sofa, a twin to the one
in her living room, a mission style coffee table, and matching end tables.
Tiffany lamps were placed on the end tables, shedding soft light into the cozy
room.

He explored the
books, occasionally sliding one off its shelf for a closer inspection. A lower
shelf was packed with children’s literature, Lali’s he presumed, but the rest
covered a broad range of non-fiction and fiction alike. Two entire sections,
from floor to ceiling, were devoted to histories. Classic science fiction
occupied another section. He thumbed through an Edgar Rice Burroughs, raised an
eyebrow at the first edition signed copy of
The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress
.

One shelf held
the works of Al C. Hawthorne. In the week before coming to Tellowee, he’d
finally found the time to read
The Dawn of Time
, the first book in the
Black Queen quadrilogy, released a few weeks before DragonCon. The carefully
layered story had fascinated him, drawing him into a world woven by a woman who
outwardly seemed so simple. The mind behind that story had to be so much more
complex. Reading Hawthorne’s work, coming to know the part of herself she’d
chosen to share within those pages, had stiffened his resolve to repair the
fragile pieces of their friendship.

She came in not
long after he discovered a shelf of westerns. He replaced
A Lonesome Dove
in its spot and rose. “Is she asleep?”

“Yes.” She swept
a graceful hand toward her desk. “Please have a seat. We shall discuss your
arrival here now.”

“I’d rather sit
on the couch,” he said mildly.

She stared at
him, her gray eyes implacable.

“Don’t pretend
it’s just business.” He made his way to the couch and sat at one end,
deliberately slouching into the plush leather. “Comfortable, casual. Just right
for a meeting between friends.”

“We are not
friends.” She took the other end, sitting stiffly on the edge, her spine so
rigid, he thought it might snap. “The desk is perfectly appropriate.”