The Comforts of Home (32 page)

“Where shal we drive?”

“I don’t care.”

He grinned. “Then pick a direction and we’l head that way until we spot a Dairy Queen. Then we’l turn left. If we always do that, we should end up back home.”

“Makes sense to me.”

He tossed her a few books from the backseat. One explained every historical marker in Texas and another told about sites not to miss in the area. She read and explained as he drove. She’d always thought there was nothing much to see in the panhandle, but suddenly everything looked interesting.

On a long stretch of road he rol ed down the windows and drove ninety. When they were both half frozen he closed the windows and explained to her that he felt like he was skiing again. She listened as he explained the thril of it, the adventure. “It’s like,” he said al excited, “it’s like flying. You’re one hundred percent alive for that moment.

You can feel every ounce of blood in your body pumping.

You know what I mean?”

“No,” she admitted. “I don’t know.”

He looked at her as if he didn’t believe her. “Ronny, tel me about one time in your life when you felt total y alive, so alive that you could die and wouldn’t have to go anywhere because you were already in heaven.”

She looked at him. “Right here. Right now.” He pul ed off the road on a lonely strip where truckers sometimes pul ed off to sleep. There wasn’t a tree or another car in sight. He pul ed her into his arms and just held her for a long while, and then he didn’t say a word as he set her back in her seat and buckled her seatbelt.

They drove home singing songs with the radio. Light faded behind the clouds. Ronny knew it was time for her to head home, but she couldn’t bear to end the day. Her mother was having afternoon tea with Martha Q, so she probably wouldn’t be in until late. The two liked to move from tea and sweets to wine and cheese.

When Marty asked if she wanted to come in and help him finish off the pie she’d brought for lunch, she nodded. A few more minutes. No matter how much Dal as yel ed when she got home and found out Ronel e hadn’t started heating dinner, it would be worth it to stay a few more minutes with Marty.

Ronny ate her buttermilk pie with her feet propped beside Marty’s knees. His hand rested on her ankle as they talked about al their likes and dislikes. She was growing used to his casual touch and guessed that he liked touching her almost as much as she loved having him near. With Marty she wasn’t homely and he wasn’t crippled. They were just two people enjoying being alone together.

Final y, he said, “I know I have to let you go, but first I want to thank you for the best afternoon I’ve had in a long time. You make me forget about things.”

Ronny smiled. “And you make me feel pretty.” He frowned. “Climb on,” he said, reaching his hands about her waist and pul ing her onto his lap. “I’ve got something to show you.”

He rol ed them toward his bedroom. A minute later, they were before a floor-to-ceiling mirror. He took her face in his hands and turned her to face him. “Look deep in my eyes and tel me how I see you.”

She tried to pul away, but he wouldn’t let go. Then she looked into his eyes and saw his honesty, his caring. She saw that he cherished her. “You see beauty. To you I’m pretty, but you don’t see me. Not the real me. Not the me everyone else sees.”

“No, honey, you have it backward. You don’t see the real you. I’ve known lots of women. Girls who know how to use makeup, the lighting, flattering colors, everything to their advantage, but in the morning with no makeup or fril s, believe me, they are not as beautiful as you. A few times I’ve slept with a beautiful woman and felt like I needed to introduce myself in the morning.

“They stand poor in comparison. They don’t have your shy honesty, your gentle kindness. Believe me, no matter how stunning a woman is, if she’s lying to you, she’s turning bone ugly.”

Ronny smiled.

He kissed her, deeper than they’d ever kissed.

When he pul ed away, he said, “You’ve got to go. It’s bound to be after six.”

She shook her head. “Not before I have that lesson you promised.”

Marty laughed. “Oh, one other thing I forgot to mention.

You’re demanding.” He began rol ing backward. “I’l give you the lesson, but not here. If we’re going to do one a visit, we’d better not start in the bedroom or the lessons might run together.”

He took her back to the fireplace and she sat on a chair facing him. As she met his eyes with only a few inches between them, he whispered, “Put your hands behind you, Ronny. I don’t want you tempted to touch me.” She moved her arms until her hands caught the bars of wood at her back.

“Now close your eyes and take a deep breath.” She could feel her heart pounding, but she fol owed his orders.

“When I begin to kiss you, I want you to move closer as the kiss deepens. Can you do that?”

She nodded and waited. Very slowly she felt him growing closer until his lips brushed over hers.

Ronny caught her breath and he broke the kiss.

“Closer,” he whispered, and touched her cheek with his knuckles. “Move your body closer.”

The kiss continued and she did as he said until her breasts brushed against his shirt.

“Right there,” he said against her lips. “Now hold it right there and take a deep breath.”

He wasn’t touching her anywhere but with the kiss, but she pushed lightly against him each time she breathed and his kiss made her breathe deeper and faster.

Final y, he pul ed away and laughed. “Now you know how to drive a man crazy.”

Ronny blinked. “Real y. Did it drive you crazy?”

“Honey, you’ve been driving me crazy since you walked into my life. I would have never guessed insanity came special delivery.”

He took her hand and they talked while the wind whipped violently around the duplex. For a second, she thought she heard someone running, and then a whistle sounded from out back. Someone was circling the side of the house.

Before she could act, Marty tightened his grip on her hand. “Something is going on outside. Don’t move.” A pop of shattering wood sounded from the kitchen a moment before the unlocked front door slammed against the foyer wal .

Ronny screamed as men carrying guns rushed in from both the front and the back. In the firelight they seemed like approaching demons.

“Freeze, Winslow!” someone yel ed.

Men stormed forward from the shadows. Men with guns.

Men wearing the brown uniforms of the sheriff’s office and the blue of the highway patrol.

She glanced at Marty. He sat stone stil , but she saw no fear in his eyes, only anger.

“What’s going on here?” Marty snapped.

A deputy she’d never seen stepped forward. “We know you’ve got a child here. Where is she? Her mother informed us the girl was kidnapped, brought here, and held against her wil .” Men began to spread out, searching.

Phil Gentry, the deputy who always brought mail in at the office, stepped forward and lowered his weapon slightly.

“Ronel e? What are you doing here?”

Ronel e gulped down her planned scream. “Having pie.” She said it so innocently the other deputies began to look confused. “No one is here but us.”

“I’l try again. Deputy, what’s going on here?” Marty asked, calming his voice as they both figured out that somewhere along the line the cops had made a mistake.

“There’s no child here. There never has been while I’ve rented the place.”

A younger deputy stepped forward. “A woman cal ed about an hour ago saying that her little daughter had been kidnapped. She said this duplex was on her route and one of the two criminals living here must have kidnapped her.” Phil Gentry holstered his gun. “What was the woman’s name?” he said in the same tone one might say,
Slug me, I
deserve it.

“Dal as Logan.”

Phil swore. “Put up your guns and stand down, boys.

You’re looking at Dal as Logan’s only child, and I’ve known Ronel e al her life. What are you, about twenty-six or -

seven?”

Ronel e looked down. “Twenty-seven.”

Phil stepped closer. “We’re real sorry to have bothered you folks. These guys didn’t know your mother, and they overreacted. You’re not a child and it doesn’t look like you’re being held against your wil .”

“No, sir, but I didn’t cal my mother to tel her where I was.”

Phil laughed. “You’re a grown woman. You don’t have to cal your mother, but for our sake, now and then, you might.

Sorry to have bothered you folks. I think I’l run by your mother’s house and let her know what might happen to people who file false reports. She’s had half the town out looking for a child.”

Ronel e nodded. “My mother stil thinks of me as a child.”

Phil held his hat in his hand as he backed away. “I’m sorry to have bothered you both. I’l have someone come out and secure that back door we kicked in, Mr. Winslow.” Marty didn’t smile. “You might think about knocking next time.”

After the police left, they talked for a while and then Marty insisted on driving her home. He wanted to go in with her, but Ronel e wouldn’t have it. She’d been embarrassed enough for one night. She could face her mother far easier than she could face what her mother would say to Marty.

“If it gets bad, cal me and I’l come get you.” She nodded, barely hearing him.

He gripped her arm. “If it gets bad, walk out. You don’t have to take anything. You can always walk away.”

“Where would I go?” she whispered.

“To me,” he answered. “To a hotel. To friends.” Ronel e stepped out of the car. Al her life she could never remember wanting to go home, and she didn’t want to go now.

She walked into the house that had never seemed like her home. It had always been Dal as’s. She and her father were simply guests fol owing Dal as’s rules.

To her surprise, her mother wasn’t there. Two gym bags she’d bought once at a garage sale were left on her bed.

Ronel e walked over and tried her mother’s door, but it was locked. She knew without trying that Dal as wouldn’t answer even if she pounded al night. In the kitchen her TV dinner had been tossed in the trash along with her crossword puzzles.

She emptied out al the junk her mother had put in the bags and packed one change of clothes, her toothbrush, and a picture of herself and her dad taken when she was five. Then, without looking back, she walked out of the only house she’d ever lived in. Dal as had said al she needed to say. Ronel e was trash and she wanted her out.

For a block she thought she might go back to Marty, but she didn’t want to force her problems on him.

Final y, she knew there was only one place she could go. To the one other person who’d ever seen her in the shadows. To the man who’d given her a hug when she’d most needed it, at her father’s funeral.

Ronel e Logan turned toward the funeral home as the last of the gray light of day faded.

TYLER SAT AT HIS DESK FINISHING OUT THE

PAPERWORK for the day. He’d been putting off e-mailing Kate. For days after she flew away she hadn’t written, and then last week when Martha Q found out about Autumn taking the housekeeper job, she took it upon herself to write Kate.

It seemed, according to Martha Q, that Tyler had gotten himself in a mess with a homeless woman who wasn’t married, was three months pregnant, and almost got him kil ed when he stepped between the wayward girl and her drug-addicted boyfriend.

Though Martha Q’s summary was fairly accurate, Tyler wouldn’t have described it the way the old innkeeper did.

Tyler didn’t even know where to start with an explanation to Kate and, more to the point, didn’t think he needed one.

Martha Q had the facts, but not the truth. The old busybody had left out facts, such as the fact that Autumn was on the run from being abused, and he wasn’t just taking her in, she was working for him. Everyone at the funeral home had taken the time to stop by and tel Tyler they thought he’d done the right thing offering her the job. Beth, in the office, said Autumn was always wil ing to run errands when she left for the store. Calvin said she helped him bring in the flowers and was already better than him at arranging them at the front of the chapel. Even Dave, who never commented on anything, told Tyler the girl should have a raise because they’d never find anyone who could cook like she did. Tyler suspected Dave had been bribed with chocolate chip cookies.

He typed
Dear Kate
, then stopped. Part of him didn’t want to explain anything to Kate. He was a businessman who’d been running his own life and a business for more than twenty years. He didn’t want Martha Q, or even Kate, tel ing him what he should do. He’d done the right thing helping the girl.