Third Time's a Charm (28 page)

Ryan nodded, and pointed toward a slatted structure beyond. “There’s the corn crib.”

“What’s in there?” She pointed toward the white barn.

“Equipment. Tractors and the like.”

Tori’s nose detected the first hint of their destination before she saw it. “Eewww. What is that disgusting smell?”

The grin he turned toward her was as teasing as his father’s had been earlier. “That, my dear Miss Sanderson, is the aroma of a real pigpen.”

The closer they drew to the edge of the barn, the stronger the stench became. Her nostrils twitched in protest at the mixture of ammonia and . . . something totally disgusting. The smell really did defy description.

“Your pigs must stink more than most. I’m sure I would remember a smell like this.” Tori’s step slowed. Did she really have to go closer to that foul stench?

He laughed and tugged her forward. “You visited a petting zoo! They probably gave those pigs a bath every morning before the tourists arrived. And besides, what was the name of the place?”

She heaved a heavy outward breath through her nostrils, trying to blow the smell away. “The Double Stink Pig Farm.”

“I rest my case.”

They rounded the barn and Tori got her first sight of the pigpen, an unimpressive building of wooden slats surrounded by a wire fence. The small barnyard boasted a gigantic puddle of thick, black mud in the center. In one corner, resting in the shade of the building, a huge pig lay on her side, surrounded with piglets. Most were gray, like their mother, but one little piglet was pink, like Wilbur in
Charlotte’s Web
.

“Oh, look. They’re adorable!” Taking care to inhale through her mouth, Tori approached the wire. “Will they let me touch them?”

Ryan’s laughter echoed off the side of the barn. “Why would you want to touch those stinky things?”

“Because they’re so cute. I’m sure the smell is coming from their mother, not them.”

She squeezed his hand and turned to face him. The sun shone brightly above, and she squinted as she looked up at him. Heat from their clasped hands radiated up her arm as she shifted her fingers to intertwine with his.

The air between them grew heavy, expectant. A tickle fluttered in Tori’s belly. He was going to kiss her. Right here, in front of the pigs. Not exactly the most romantic of locations, but she felt herself drawn toward his warm brown eyes, his soft lips. If Joan was right, one kiss and she’d know if this was just another attraction or something more. She tilted her head and rose slightly on her toes . . .

“Miss Tori, Miss Tori, Grandpop said we could show you how we jump in the haystack. You wanna see?”

Disappointment doused the flutter in her stomach as Ryan pulled away. The boys ran to them, and Cody came to a stop with a giant leap to land flat-footed in front of her.

Laughing, Tori ruffled his mop of red hair. “Sure I do. I’ll bet you’re a great jumper.”

Butch pointed behind her. “Uh oh. He’s doing it again.”

Tori turned in time to see Shep wiggle beneath the wire fence on the opposite side of the pigs’ small barnyard.

Ryan’s voice was stern as he called, “Shep! You know better than that. Come on out of there.” He looked down at Tori, shaking his head. “That dog loves to tease the pigs. But one day that big old sow is going to catch him, and he’ll be sorry.”

The dog ignored Ryan’s command. It ran toward the mama pig, barking in a high-pitched, excited yap. The piglets squealed and scattered as the gigantic sow got to her feet faster than Tori would have thought she could move. She let out an ear-splitting scream of fury. No delicate little oinks from this angry pig. Shep’s barking grew more rapid as he raced forward and darted around the sow, obviously enjoying himself as the piglets fled before him. Ryan continued to yell for the dog to come out, and the boys’ delighted peals of laughter joined the sound of Shep’s joyous taunts. Then the sow charged. Shep’s barking stopped, and dirt kicked up from his back paws as he turned and raced for the fence.

“Now you’ve done it, you dumb dog,” Ryan yelled. “You better hope she doesn’t catch you.”

Tori couldn’t hold back her laughter as the dog, obviously having the time of his life, charged across the barnyard and right through the center of the black mud hole, the furious sow close behind. Where Shep’s hind claws had kicked up puffs of dirt a moment before, now chunks of mud flew as he dug in for purchase in the thick ooze.

In the next minute, Tori’s laughter stopped abruptly. Wet, slimy mud flew through the air and landed with a sodden splat—right on her! Gasping, she looked down at her clothes. Big splotches of the oozy black stuff dotted her designer clothing.

Beside her, the boys’ laughter rose to hysterical levels, while Ryan, clearly horrified, stood with his mouth gaping. Out of the corner of her eye, Tori saw Shep clear the mud hole, take a giant leap toward the fence, and scrabble over the top while the angry pig screamed and snorted from below. Tori dropped Ryan’s hand and flicked at the biggest chunk of wet mud to knock it off the front of her jeans.

Ryan’s shirt had taken some of the splatter too, but the majority of the muck had hit her.

“Tori, I’m so sorry.”

Forcing a brave smile, she told him, “It’s okay. It’s just mud. Once it dries, I’m sure it’ll come right out.”

He blanched, and Cody piped up with a giggle in his voice. “That ain’t just mud, Miss Tori. It’s got poop in it.”

Tori’s breath stuck in her lungs. Poop? Her stomach gave a lurch as she turned a horrified stare toward Ryan. “Do you mean to tell me I have
pig poop
on my three hundred dollar jeans?”

The boys dropped to the ground and rolled, gales of laughter filling the air. Disbelief creased Ryan’s forehead as he took another look at her jeans.

“You paid three hundred dollars for a pair of
jeans
?”

O-kay, that was
so
not the correct response!

“They’re D&G,” she snapped, twisting sideways to point toward the leather patch on the waistband. From the blank look he gave her, he didn’t know what that meant. “Dolce & Gabbana,” she ground out through gritted teeth. “They’re made in Italy.”

Ryan folded his arms, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was smearing splotches of muddy pig poop on his shirt. “Well, hopefully Italian jeans can handle a washing as well as the cheap domestic kind. Let’s go get you cleaned up.” He held a hand toward the house. “Shall we?”

Tori hesitated. A moment before she’d been hoping he would kiss her, and now she was covered in disgusting filth. So much for her “dress to impress” strategy. The only one she was likely to impress in this condition was the dog, who apparently
liked
the smell of pig poop. Not only was Ryan not impressed, the disbelief hovering in his eyes as his gaze dropped repeatedly to her jeans held a faint note of disapproval.

Ouch. That stung.

Tori forced a smile. “Well, there is one consolation.”

“What’s that?”

She plucked at her splattered blouse with a thumb and forefinger. “At least I have a clean shirt to change into this time.”

His laugh echoed off the wooden barns as they headed for the house.

16

The apartment seemed unusually quiet. Tori tried watching a DVD, but even Daniel Craig as James Bond failed to hold her attention, so she turned it off. Music used to draw her in for hours when she was in school, but tonight the stereo couldn’t distract her. She curled up in the corner of her sofa, her uneasy thoughts back on the farm she’d visited this afternoon.

Being splattered with manure was revolting, of course, but why did she act like such a prima donna about the stupid jeans? In fact, what in the world had possessed her to wear D&Gs to a farm, anyway? A lame attempt to impress Ryan’s family, when they obviously didn’t know the difference between her pricey clothes and the ones they bought at Walmart. And what’s more, they wouldn’t care if they did know. Except, maybe, they’d think she was insane for spending so much money on an article of clothing, like Ryan did.

At the memory of the disapproval she’d seen on his face, she launched herself off the sofa and paced to the patio doors. He had no right to disapprove of her! She had a good job and could afford to buy whatever clothes she wanted. Just because he had to scrimp and save, that didn’t mean everybody else did too. When he finished his degree and got a better job, his attitude would change.

She stopped in the act of pulling the cord to close the vertical blinds. No, actually, Ryan’s attitude toward money probably wouldn’t change much, no matter how big his paycheck grew. He had worked hard all his life to earn his way. She couldn’t see him ever dumping a ton of money on something he’d consider frivolous, and his reaction today proved he thought her expensive clothes were frivolous. Now Mitch, on the other hand, probably had as much money in his wardrobe as Tori.

With a jerk, she shut the blinds. She did
not
want to be compared to Mitch. Ryan was so much more fun, so much easier to be with. So much more . . . genuine. She grimaced at the word he’d used earlier to describe Ken.

Ryan’s family was nice too. She liked them, liked being around them. Even Loralee, with her thick hillbilly drawl, was friendlier than most of the people Tori worked with. And Walt, who was building a house for her and their children with his own hands. And Tammy, who loved flowers and baking, and who loaned her a pair of baggy sweatpants to wear home. And Pop . . . Tori’s eyes misted as she remembered the familiar way Pop’s arm circled his wife as she perched on the arm of his chair, and the way he’d teased Tori about opening her gift like a girl. Pop would have welcomed her if she’d been wearing rags.

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Why couldn’t her father have been like Pop?

She brushed the tear away, but another quickly took its place. They’d been there, waiting to spill over since yesterday afternoon when she searched for Daddy’s name on the Internet. She wouldn’t give in to them, to
him
. Wouldn’t allow him to break her control. Why should she, when he didn’t even care enough to call and let them know he was alive?

If he
was
alive.

Her throat tight, Tori started forward, then stopped, uncertain, in the center of the room. Why did the thought of Daddy being dead send her into such a panic? His absence wouldn’t be any more painful than it already was. There wouldn’t be any difference at all. She wrapped her arms around her middle and hugged. So how come she’d avoided telling Joan and Allie what she found on the Internet yesterday? How come she’d refused to even think about finding out more? What was she afraid of?

She sucked in a quick breath. She was
not
afraid. He’s the one who ought to be afraid. Of her, showing up on his front porch and demanding to know why he’d deserted his daughters. Deserted her.

Spine stiff with sudden determination, she marched across the room to the dinette table, where she’d set up her laptop. A few quick commands brought up the search box she’d seen yesterday, the one with Daddy’s name. And Mom’s. And Patricia Ann Parker’s. She clicked the
View Details
button, and the screen displayed the payment options she’d seen before. Moving quickly, before she could change her mind, Tori dug a credit card out of her purse and paid the fifteen dollars to get the expanded report.

The first screen that opened included full addresses in Phoenix, Las Vegas, Dayton, Columbus, and—she gulped—Cincinnati. He’d lived in apartments most places, but the Cincinnati address looked like a house, with no apartment number listed. Snatching a pen and a piece of paper from her purse, she jotted down the address. At the top of the screen, a series of buttons offered the additional searches she’d paid for. She clicked the button to perform a marriage search, and entered Daddy’s name.

A ton of Thomas Sandersons came up, as before. Tori scanned the column labeled
Bride’s Name
and quickly found Mom. The date of their marriage and the county was correct. Nothing new there. She looked for another marriage record for Daddy, but didn’t see one. Patricia Ann Parker was nowhere on the list.

Interesting.

The row of search buttons at the top of the screen drew her eye.
People Search
and
Marriage Search
she’d done.
Property
Search
and
Divorce Search
didn’t interest her. But the other one . . .

Her mouth dry, Tori’s finger slid across the touchpad. The mouse arrow glided across the screen and came to rest on the button labeled
Death Search.
Steeling herself, she clicked.

Another list appeared on the screen, with columns labeled Name, Age, Year Born, Birth Date.
Gulp.
The last column held Death Date. A quick glance revealed the entries were sorted in order of that column, with the most recent dates on top. Tori’s breath caught in her lungs as, fearfully, she scanned the list of all the Thomas Sandersons who had died.

Her eyes snagged on one.

Thomas Alan Sanderson. Sixty years old. Born January 14, 1949.

Died March 2, 2009.

The screen disappeared in a blur of tears. The pain in her chest was vivid and sharp, as though someone had plunged a knife directly into her heart. Tori lowered her head to the keyboard and wept.

17

At eight fifty-four Monday morning, Kate led a man and woman down the hallway outside of Tori’s cubicle. She glanced over her shoulder and caught Tori’s eye with a nod toward the conference room.

Fingers trembling with nerves, Tori opened her top drawer, pulled out a pressed powder compact, and glanced in the small mirror. Her eyes were still a little puffy from where she’d cried herself to sleep, but at least the imprint of the keys from her laptop’s keyboard had finally faded from her cheek. The news washed over her again—Daddy was dead!—and fresh tears threatened. By sheer willpower she forced them not to appear. No red eyes for her first meeting with the clients. With a quick dab of powder on the swollen skin beneath her eyes, she snapped the compact shut and headed for the meeting.

Kate stepped out of the conference room as she approached. “Go tell Rita to let Dan and Stephen know the clients are here, and ask her to bring in some coffee.”