Whisper's Edge (16 page)

“Would you like another beer?” When she titled her head up Tristan had a hard time not closing the gap between them and kissing her.

“Yes, please.” He handed her his empty bottle, and the slight touch of her fingers brushing his sent another jolt of longing through his bloodstream.

“Coming right up.” She gave him that shy smile of hers that made him want to drag her into his arms and kiss her. But then again what didn’t? All it took was a look, a touch; even the sound of her husky laughter turned him on. Now
that he knew what it felt like to kiss her, he wanted her in his arms even more. The kiss was sort of hanging in the air between them, creating a sexual tension unlike any he’d felt before. But it went beyond attraction. There was just something about Savannah that made him feel…protective of her. This basic male instinct wasn’t something he was used to experiencing and it took him by absolute surprise.

He looked over at her and watched her open the bottle of beer. Maybe it was because she had a vulnerable softness and he was used to hard edges.
Or perhaps I’m already starting to care about her
tiptoed into his reasoning but he pushed that thought away.

Tristan already knew that coming here with a bottle of wine was going against everything he’d told himself to do. And cooking dinner with her in the moonlight wasn’t smart either. But where Savannah Perry was concerned Tristan didn’t seem to have one ounce of self-control.

“Thanks,” he said when she pressed the cold beer into his hand and then peered over his shoulder. “I think we should give it about ten more minutes and the coals will be perfection.” She gave him an okay sign with her thumb and index finger.

Tristan nodded. “I always go for perfection when given the option.”

“So you’re a perfectionist?”

Tristan stepped away from the heat of the grill. “You sort of have to be in my line of work. A minor missed detail could cost the client lots of money or even the case.”

“That must have been stressful.”

“It was, especially when you’re poring over details at all hours of the day and night. I needed a break.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

When he sensed she would have asked more, Tristan decided it was best to change the subject. “Let’s sit down while the coals burn. Unless you have something I can help you with in the kitchen?”

“I don’t think so.” Savannah shook her head. “Those
amazing steaks you brought are seasoned and coming to room temperature. The potatoes are baking in the oven and the salad is tossed and chilling in the fridge. I even have some emergency dessert in the freezer.”

“Emergency dessert?”

“Mint chocolate chip ice cream. I keep it on hand for my sweet-tooth cravings and for when I’m having one of those days.”

“I have a stash of Reese’s Cups for that.”

“Excellent choice!”

Tristan smiled but he hated to imagine Savannah sad and in need of ice cream in order to cheer her up. He suddenly wondered if she had any friends her own age that she hung out with or if she dated. Although they’d had a blast at Wine and Diner, Tristan got the impression that she was a homebody. The thought somehow bothered him. Savannah deserved to go out on the town and have fun on a regular basis. “Well”—he raised his eyebrows—“sounds like you have everything under control. You must like to cook.”

“I’ve learned a lot from watching seasoned cooks in the community. Since I’m often invited to dinner I pitch in and help. My senior friends cook a lot of comfort food that likes to stick to my bum.” She lightly patted her backside and groaned.

Tristan chuckled as they sat down at the bistro table, but he thought her bum was quite nice. The sun had set but the lanterns cheerfully flickered in the background and there was just enough light coming from the kitchen to cast a soft glow over the backyard. Savannah had replaced the geranium in the center of the table with two fat candles and added two place settings. An end table held a small galvanized bucket of beer chilling in ice. Little did she know that she was the perfect hostess and that her simple patio and lush garden could easily be featured in one of those decorating magazines that were stacked on her coffee table.

“Would you like some music?” Savannah asked.

“No, I don’t think so right now.” He shook his head. “Our conversation is enough for me. Do I hear water gurgling?”

Savannah nodded. “Yeah, it’s a tiny pond with a waterfall in the center over there in the far corner of the yard. The water attracts birds and sometimes a frog or two will appear. It was a DIY project gone way wrong until Ben came to my rescue.”

“The sound is soothing.”

“Oh, I know. I leave the windows open until it gets too hot to take. I like hearing bullfrogs from the river, the wind in the trees, and the chirp of crickets. The sounds of nature put me to sleep in nothing flat.”

“I can imagine. All I heard from my condo was the hum of traffic on the highway, horns honking, and an occasional siren. Not exactly music to my ears.”

She took a sip of her wine. “I know I’ve already asked but I can’t believe that you really don’t miss the city?”

Tristan tilted his head. “Ah, some things, for sure. And at the risk of sounding like a mama’s boy, I do miss my mother.”

Savannah’s eyes widened. “Oh, don’t
ever
apologize for missing your mother.” She leaned forward. “And don’t ever take her for granted. People do, you know.” She suddenly sat back and looked up at the sky. “Oh, sorry for sounding so bossy! I guess you just hit a nerve.”

Tristan had to ask, even though he was pretty sure of the answer. “Are you an orphan, Savannah?”

“Not technically, but kind of like that,” she answered quietly, but then gave him a slight grin. “But I sure looked like Orphan Annie. All that poufy red hair! I just never had Daddy Warbucks to rescue me or a cute dog named Sandy to keep me company,” she joked, but he wasn’t buying the humor.

“So were you raised in an orphanage?”

“No.” Savannah shook her head. “There really aren’t orphanages like that anymore. Foster care is supposed to create a ‘family atmosphere.’” She used air quotes.

“And I’m guessing it didn’t?” he asked gently.

Savannah shrugged. “It’s an overcrowded and flawed system for sure. There are way too many kids and not nearly enough homes to place them.” She shook her head. “Foster parents are supposed to be trained and certified. Qualified. And don’t get me wrong, I think many of them offer their homes for all the right reasons but sometimes it turns out to be more than they can handle and they drop out of the program. Unfortunately, others are in it simply for the money. There is abuse and neglect. It’s sad, Tristan.”

“Are there social workers who check up on things?”

“Not nearly enough. Those jobs are low-paying and difficult at best. The stories you might have seen on the news were things I witnessed with my own eyes.”

The vision of his mother reading bedtime stores to him at night filtered into his head. He couldn’t imagine not having that in his life. “So were you given up for adoption at birth?”

“No, I’m told that my parents were declared unfit, so they didn’t give me up, just didn’t take care of me. I was removed from their care at about the age of two. Sometimes I wish I remembered them but I guess in a sad way I’m blessed that I don’t recall the conditions that led to me being taken away. Couldn’t have been good, that’s for sure.”

He reached over and covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry. My comment about being a mama’s boy was callous.”

“You didn’t know,” she said. And when he squeezed her hand she said, “You gotta play the hand you were dealt.”

“That’s true.” Tristan thought once again about his own childhood without a father figure and a grandfather who resented him. But still, he’d always felt loved by his mother. “But you know what they say: it’s not the hand you were dealt but how you play the game, right?”

“Yeah, buddy, and I sure had to do some bluffing along the way.” She remained thoughtful for a moment and then said, “There was one year when I had seven different addresses.”

“Wow.”

“It was my normal so I just dealt with it. I didn’t have a clue as to what it felt like to have a real family. I could only go by books and television, so my idea of the whole thing was probably a little bit unrealistic. There weren’t shows like
Modern Family
back then.”

Tristan nodded. “I never knew my dad so I could have used a show like that too.”

“I’m sorry, Tristan. Here I am going on and on. We all have our story, that’s for sure.”

“Not that I’m comparing it to your situation.”

“Like I said, it was my normal,” she replied, but then something flickered in her eyes. After a moment she said, “Oh, but going to those adoption fairs was not my favorite thing.”

“Where prospective parents come to adopt?”

“Yes.” Savannah nodded. “When I was really little it was just a fun afternoon of activities usually held at a park or something like that. I had no idea what was really transpiring. Later on, the whole thing just made me nervous and ultimately disappointed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was like speed dating for kids.”

Tristan found that concept unsettling. “That had to be difficult.”

“It was horrible for me but lots of cute kids got adopted so it is a method that works.”

“I guess so, but seriously, I would have thought you would have been chosen right away.”

“Are you kidding?” Savannah rolled her eyes. “I was born extremely pigeon-toed so I had to wear braces on my legs for a couple of years. Of course
now
they say braces don’t even help and that the condition would have corrected itself. To top it off, remember I had this neon orange curly hair.” She pointed to her head. “I looked like Orphan Annie on a good day and a Carrot Top mini-me when it rained. I was teased like crazy.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“Ah, don’t be.” Savannah waved a hand at him. “Kate says that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” She laughed. “I guess I’m pretty damned strong.” She bent her arm and flexed a muscle. “Maybe even have superpowers that I haven’t discovered.” She took a sip of wine and shrugged. After another minute she said, “
Aging out
is the hardest part.”

“Aging out?”

“When you’re too old to remain in the system. You’re kind of just like shoved off into the big, bad world.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.” Tristan felt his anger rise.

Savannah toyed with the stem of her glass. “What other choice is there? The sad thing is that lots of kids end up getting into drugs and land in jail. Pregnancy…poverty. It’s a cycle that starts all over again. I, at least, finished high school and I tried so hard—I
really
did—but couldn’t support myself. It was tough to make ends meet on minimum wage. I didn’t have a car at first so getting to work was an issue. I finally bought this old heap of junk that lasted for about six months and then croaked.” She paused for a second. “I’m embarrassed to admit it but I ended up homeless and just started…wandering. Kate found me here when this place was empty.” After her quiet admission she lowered her gaze and fell silent.

Caught off guard, Tristan searched for something comforting to say. But having trained himself to stay emotionally detached, he remained at a loss for words. He liked to stick to graphs, charts, and reports and hard data. But when she took a sip of her wine he noticed a slight tremble in her hand, and it was his undoing. “You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about,” Tristan said firmly. “Look at you, Savannah. You do a lot of good around here. You’re one of the ones who broke the cycle.”

She glanced over at him. “Thanks for saying that, but I was fortunate that Kate took me under her wing. Who knows what might have become of me.”

Tristan had a sudden urge to reach over and take her hand but refrained. “I have a feeling you would have made it. I’m just sorry that your journey was such a tough one.”

“Well, the journey led me here and I’m grateful. Hey, I have a nice home and lots people who care about me. I enjoy my job. Not everyone can say that.”

“I really do admire your positive attitude.”

“It wasn’t the best of circumstances growing up, for sure, and boy, I saw some crazy stuff over the years, no doubt about it, but all in all I feel pretty lucky. Some of the other kids came from hideous abuse and acted out.” She shuddered as if from the memory. “I just tried to stay away from trouble.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Let’s just say that if I could have had a superpower it would have been invisibility.”

Something inside him rushed up to defend her. “Again, you don’t give yourself enough credit! Sounds like you made your own luck.”

She lifted one shoulder and looked at him. “Don’t we all?”

“To a degree, I guess.” Tristan watched her while she traced the rim of her wineglass and looked out over the yard.

After a moment she turned to him and smiled. “Well, there’s always an upside to everything if you look hard enough.”

“A silver lining?”

“Yeah, the cool thing about being poor is that you’re so thrilled with such little bitty things. And my escape was always reading. The library was free! I spent a lot of time there as a kid. My afternoons weren’t filled with playing soccer or at Girl Scouts meetings. I still visit the library whenever I can get the chance. It doesn’t take much to make me happy and I appreciate everything I have. And, wow, that was a long speech.”

“Savannah…”

She laughed. “Oh, don’t look at me like I’m some kind of saint. I have my moods. Just ask Kate. I can moan and groan
with the best of them.” She made a big show of moaning and groaning until Tristan laughed with her.

“Okay, I get the picture,” he said, but when her eyes suddenly turned serious again he asked, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Well, it’s just that…” She shook her head but then put a hand up to her lips. “Nothing.”

“Savannah? Seriously, did I say something wrong?” The thought that he could upset her hit him like a sucker punch. “Tell me.”

“Well, there is one thing that I don’t like about working here.”

“What? Is it something I can fix?”