The Comforts of Home (30 page)

He smiled. “I’l look forward to it.”

She darted away, embarrassed that she’d been so bold to ask.

Ronny ignored the pain and jogged her way home.

She’d just slipped into her pajamas when she heard the garage door. Shoving Marty’s jogging pants under the bed, she hurried to the kitchen.

When her mother walked in carrying an empty salad bowl, Ronny looked up from her crossword.

“Have you been sitting there al night? I swear. Couldn’t you at least move into the living room and watch TV?

Working those little crosswords wil ruin your eyes. When you’re sitting around with glasses thick as safety glass you’l wish you’d listened to your mother.” Before Dal as could rage on, Ronny asked, “How was the meeting?”

She never said another word as Dal as talked herself into exhaustion. Even when they’d retired to separate bedrooms, she could stil hear her mother mumbling in her sleep. Ronny knew that her mother thought the world would go to hel in a hatbox without Dal as Logan to explain everything.

Dal as would never take the time to see where her daughter was going.

Ronny smiled. She’d made up her mind. She was going to fal in love.

AFTER SPENDING ALL DAY SATURDAY IN HIS

CLOSET OF A room trying to figure out what parts of his drunken rage had been real and what came from the bottle, Noah elected to just sleep. He didn’t want to see Reagan.

Every part of his body hurt, but if what he thought had happened in the hal way hadn’t happened, he decided he didn’t want to know yet. The truth might hurt worst of al .

Lately, when he drank, he drank slowly al day long. He hated being drunk, but he liked the dul feeling of being halfway in-between. Not sober enough to do any serious thinking, not drunk enough to do anything stupid.

When Reagan brought him orange juice on Saturday, he pretended to be asleep; later that night someone set a tray by his bed, but he didn’t eat anything.

Sunday morning he knew he’d have to face Reagan.

Bran had probably told her the details of how he’d found Noah passed out in the bar anyway.

When Noah got downstairs, everyone smiled at him and said hel o. Foster even asked how he was feeling, but no one, not even Reagan, asked him any questions.

Aunt Pat, whom he seemed to have inherited when his sister Alex married Hank Matheson, was reading to Uncle Jeremiah, who looked to be sound asleep. Noah wandered into the kitchen and found Rea setting up to make pies. He sat down and watched her for a while, then asked, “Why do you love making pies so much?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because when I lived in children’s homes between foster homes, we never got pies, not real ones. I find it hard to believe anyone would want to eat a store-bought one after tasting homemade.”

Noah had never given it much thought. “What are we having today?”

She smiled. “Chocolate. Both Pat and Jeremiah are having a little trouble with their teeth.”

“And they can gum chocolate.”

“Right.”

Noah looked down at his hands. “You mind if I borrow your pickup again? I need to go to town and thank someone after I say I’m sorry. It won’t take me thirty minutes.”

“I don’t mind. Bring Bran back for lunch if you like.” Noah studied her. “How’d you know I was going to see Brandon Biggs?”

“I saw him drop you off at the back door and start walking back to town. Foster picked him up about the time he got to Lone Oak Road and took him home. He probably thought if he knocked he’d wake everyone up.” She paused and then added, “Like you did stumbling over everything.” Noah watched her closely. She wasn’t mad. She just looked busy. He almost asked if she’d kissed him in the dark hal way, but he wasn’t ready to hear the truth.

“Tel Bran we’re having baked pork chops. He likes those.”

Noah lifted the keys and started to say something, but then he thought better of it and grabbed his hat. He’d much rather beat the tar out of Brandon Biggs than apologize, but Noah knew he wouldn’t feel good in his own skin until he made it right between them.

Bran had done him a favor and, like it or not, he wouldn’t feel even until he paid the guy back.

He found Brandon Biggs on the front porch of a duplex near the old downtown square. He was drinking a beer and offered Noah one without a word when he walked up.

Noah sat down on the porch railing, but before he could say anything, a terrible banging racket came from the open front door.

“That’s my brother, Border,” Bran yel ed. “He’s practicing.”

“He do that often?”

“He’s been doing it since just before I started drinking.” Bran laughed. “After a few beers he gets better.” They both took a long drink and he added, “After five beers you start dancing to the music.”

Noah found that hard to believe. “About Friday night . . .” he began.

“Forget it. You would have done the same for me.” Noah wasn’t so sure he would have, but he nodded. “I owe you one.”

Bran smiled. “Next time you get the urge to slug me, promise me you’l take a step back.”

“Fair enough.”

They listened to the band practice while they finished off their beer. When the boys took a break Bran asked, “You hiding out at the Truman place?”

“I guess. I didn’t real y think of it as hiding, but you may be right.” Noah found it strange that the one person he real y didn’t like knew his secret. “Rea told me to invite you to Sunday lunch, but I guess you’re busy.”

“No such luck.” Bran smiled as he stood. “I’l be there before you can get that old pickup started.” Noah watched him leave, then poked his head in the apartment to tel the boys how good they sounded. Friday night he hadn’t paid much attention to the band, but now he decided they must have added to the headache he had yesterday morning.

Border Biggs was a carbon copy of his big brother. The kid named Beau, on the other hand, had something about him. Noah had seen it in bul riders. Something in the way they stood or maybe something in their eyes that said they were going to be somebody someday and nothing would stop them.

Noah took the time to drive around the town square before heading back to the Truman farm. When he was away from Harmony he thought he might never come back, but now when he was home he realized how dearly he’d missed the town. It was as if one windy day the soil got in his lungs and no matter where he went for the rest of his life there would always be a piece of this town in him next to his heart.

He took his time driving home. When he passed his folks’ house in town, he could tel it was al closed up. Most people were sleeping in or already in church. The First Baptist and the First United Methodist Church were across the street from one another. Every Sunday they’d fight over the parking spots along the street. The Methodists won in the end because they always started five minutes before the Baptists. Noah figured they’d stil be racing on their way to the Pearly Gates one day.

He drove past the bank, the post office, and the town hal . In an odd way he felt like he had to see them al , just to make sure nothing had changed.

A half hour later he walked into the Truman kitchen and found Bran kissing Reagan right in the middle of her pie making.

He took one step, his fist ready to fire, and then Reagan broke the kiss and looked at him. Noah expected her to look startled or even shocked into fear, but no, she simply looked bothered.

“What in the hel do you think you’re doing?” After al , she’d just kissed him two nights ago. At least he thought she had.

Reagan smiled and moved back to her pies.

“Comparative shopping,” she answered.

Noah glanced at Bran, and the big guy looked as confused as Noah felt. A half hour later, they sat down across from one another. Each looked at the other, and Noah had a feeling Bran felt the same way he did. They were in the same boat, and someone had taken the oars.

SUNDAY MORNING, DENVER WAS PACKING

WHEN HE HEARD a car drive up in front of his house. The part of him that had lived far too long in a war zone came alert. He walked to the front window and flipped the security system he’d just set on rest to ful cover.

A moment later he flipped it back off and ran for the door. Claire had just stepped from her car when he grabbed her and swung her around. Before she could even say hel o he was kissing her.

The feel of her in his arms made him realize just how much he missed having her close. He felt like al of him wasn’t there, wasn’t working, wasn’t breathing, when her skin wasn’t brushing against him.

When he final y broke the kiss to let her breathe, he whispered against her cheek, “I’ve missed you.” She laughed. “You saw me last night at dinner.”

“No, I saw your family and, much as I like them, I didn’t want to rip their clothes off. I want you.” Since their rainy walk in the park he’d seen her twice. Once when he’d taken her and Saralynn to the show and on Saturday night with everyone around watching them. She might be taking their going public seriously, but he wanted the private back.

“I thought I’d come over and drive you to the airport.”

“I don’t have to leave for another hour.” He kissed her neck as he talked.

When he pul ed back, waiting for an answer, she just smiled and he understood. They might have trouble carrying on a conversation, but they had no problem communicating.

“I’l race you,” he whispered.

An hour later they were both trying to find the clothes they’d tossed on the way to the bedroom. Both knew it was time to leave, but they couldn’t seem to stop touching one another.

“We’re worse than Saralynn’s rabbits.” Claire laughed.

Denver caught her and kissed her again, and then she insisted they leave.

Since he was heading east, they drove to the Wil Rogers International Airport in Oklahoma. His hand never stopped touching her on the drive. He thought of tel ing her that he was fal ing in love with her, but using the word
love
was something he never did. Denver had always felt like that one word opened the relationship up for a world of hurt.

They talked of little things and listened to music. He told her how to drive and she told him to shut up. They argued over which road to take, but al the while he was caressing her hair, trying to memorize the feel of it.

“Next time,” he whispered in her ear, “I’l hire that crazy pilot who lives in Harmony. What’s his name, Wild Derwood? He could have me to OK City in half an hour, and then I’d have longer to stay home and make love to you.”

Claire laughed. “Derwood is nuts. He smoked too much weed in the sixties. Half the time he flies my mother to Dal as, she has to tel him which way to go. I think his method of navigation is the same as the Wright Brothers—

fol ow the train tracks.”

“It would be worth the risk,” Denver whispered. “I didn’t get enough of you, Claire. How about pul ing over?”

“There’s not even a tree left between here and Oklahoma City. I’m not pul ing over.”

He kissed the side of her throat and she sighed. “I’m hiring Derwood next time,” he whispered. “And I want four hours at home alone with you before we start playing the couple to everyone. Four ful hours, Claire.”

“I’l try,” she answered, her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “But I was thinking more like six. I’d like to take it slow for once. Very slow.”

“You got it, beautiful.”