Actions Speak Louder (23 page)

Ethan sighed.  “Ah, shoot.”  He turned to his elderly neighbor.  “I take it Marcia’s not home?”

He shook his head.  “She left around seven.  We’ve been watching for her to come home.  I don’t want her going up to that attic alone.  A cornered raccoon can get mighty crusty.”

“You’re right about that,” Ethan agreed. 

“I figured I’d head on over when she got home and have a look upstairs,” he said.

Ethan gave a dismissive wave.  “Hey, don’t worry about it.  I’ll go over when she gets home.”

Mr. Grambel gave him a speculative look, seeming to search for the right words before finally speaking.  “Uh, I, uh, well the missus tells me…”  He smiled self-consciously.  “I understand you and your, uh, ex-girlfriend, are back together…”

“Arrgghh,” Ethan groaned, shaking his head.  “You saw the photo.”

“Read the article too,” the older man said, pinning him with a look.  “Son, so you know, Marcia is like a granddaughter to me.  Now, I like you a lot too, but I have to tell you, if you hurt Marcia, all bets are off.”  He straightened to his full height and thrust back his shoulders, in an attempt to look menacing.

Ethan forced back a smile.  “The photo is old.  I didn’t even go to the event.  I don’t know why the paper ran that picture.  Gwen and I are no longer together,” he finished.

Mr. Grambel grinned broadly with relief and thumped him on the back.  “Okay, then.  I figured there had to be an explanation.  I mean, with you watching Marcia all dopey eyed, I figured you…”

“Dopey eyed,” Ethan repeated, laughing uncertainly.

“Well, it’s mighty clear you have it bad for Marcia, boy.  No harm in that, as long as you do right by her.”  He chuckled with relief.  “Well, good then.  The wife said the photo appeared to be a few years old.  She has a good eye, the missus…”

Ethan forced a laugh.  Had he aged that much in the last few years?  Truth was, he felt as if he was growing older by the second.

Ethan crossed the lawn to Marcia’s house, deciding to wait for her on her porch.  He wasn’t going to chance her arriving home and missing that damaged screen.  If she heard a noise and went up to the attic alone, there was no telling what might happen if the raccoon became disoriented.  In an agitated state, it might not easily recognize the open window as an escape route.

He sat down on the porch, learning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.  He glanced out over the tidy little neighborhood, with its mature, green landscape. 

Folks here took pride in their homes.  He felt a sudden pique of conscience that until recently, his little bungalow had been the odd house out—a wreck of a place that marred the picturesque little neighborhood.  Soon, however, his bungalow would fit nicely within the other well-kept homes.

Suddenly, he wondered about the logistics of living next door to Marcia.  If he and Marcia worked out… 

He smiled sheepishly and glanced around, as if fearing someone might have seen the wistful look on his face.  Realizing it was dark enough outside to obscure his features from onlookers, his thoughts began to wander again.  He just could not seem to get his mind off of Marcia and his hopes for a future with her. 

Lately, he often found himself fantasizing about a wife and kids—about settling down in this very neighborhood.  He always saw Marcia in the role of wife, and he just couldn’t envision her living anywhere else.  Who knew though?  Maybe she would want to put some distance between herself and the home she had shared with her ex.  If that was the case, they could always pick up a lot and build a home together…

Once again, he grinned self-consciously.  He hadn’t even told Marcia how he felt about her, and the truth was, if she didn’t feel similarly about him—well, the dream would die.  Besides, she was so skittish, he couldn’t begin to speculate when she might be open to a relationship. 

He knew she needed time.  He hoped she didn’t need too much time, however.  When it was right, it was right—and being with her made him feel as if all was right in his world.  If only she could feel the same with him.

He ran a hand through his hair.  He had never had these feelings for Gwen.  A sudden feeling of guilt washed over him.  Since he hadn’t had them, he had done her a disservice by staying with her as long as he had.  He sincerely hoped she would ultimately find happiness—but, he knew with absolute certainty, it wouldn’t be with him.  It wouldn’t be fair to her anyway, to settle down with her—since to do so would be to settle for the wrong person.

When Ethan heard the sound of Marcia’s car pull into the driveway, he felt relief.  His thoughts had taken a disturbing turn.  He’d gotten way ahead of himself and he needed to handle things just right with her.  If she’d seen that photo…

She pulled her car into her garage, but walked outside a moment later.  When she reached him, it was clear by the look on her face that something was troubling her.  Her lips were set in a grim line, her posture stiff. 

He hoped she hadn’t seen the photo, but if she had, and was bothered by it, it might be significant.  It might mean she … cared about him?    

“Hello, Ethan,” she said cautiously as she approached.  “Is everything all right?”

“Actually, no,” he said, standing up and directing her to the upper window.

She squinted to see, and then gasped.  “The screen is broken.”

“It seems you have a visitor.”

She realized the visitor must be of the four-legged variety, otherwise she would have arrived home to several patrol cars parked in her driveway.  “Is it a possum?” she asked with a wince, taking an instinctive step back.

“Raccoon.”

“One of yours?” she said pointedly.

“Mine?” he repeated with a chuckle.

“Well, you did recently evict several,” she reminded him.  “Did you really have to send them over here?”

He watched her face.  Was she teasing him?  When he saw a sparkle of humor in her eyes, he realized she was.  It was a relief, yet, he detected a tone to her voice that worried him too.  She seemed … detached, guarded.  

“Thanks for letting me know,” she said and turned to enter the garage again.  To her surprise, he followed.  After reaching back into her car to retrieve the newspaper she’d left on the passenger seat, she stopped and turned to him.  He could just make out the shrug of her shoulders in the darkened space.  “Was there something else?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, eyeing the paper nervously, before meeting her gaze.  “I’m going with you.”

She folded her arms across her chest.  “Going with me where?”

He gave a startled laugh.  “Up to your attic, of course.  You don’t think I’m going to let you go up there and face a raccoon all alone.”

“I think I can handle it.  Oh,” she added, passing him the newspaper.  “Do you want my copy of the paper?  I’ve already read it.  It happens there’s a nice photo in there you might want to keep for your scrapbook.”

Ethan heard a definite edge to her voice.  Was she angry?  Was she … jealous?

He fought the hopeful grin that tugged at his lips.  “I don’t have a scrapbook,” he said, laughing lightly.  “So, you … saw the picture?”

With a crisp nod, she turned to leave.  He restrained her with a gentle hand.  “I’m sorry if the photo bothered you,” he said, straining to see her face in the dark garage.  “If you’ll let me explain…”

“It didn’t bother me,” she hastily interjected.  “Why would it have bothered me?”  She walked away from him.

Ethan hurried after her, pausing when she stopped to press the button to close the garage door.  He followed her into the house then, where she turned on the kitchen light.  She turned toward him, shrugging in question.

He took a step closer to her, staring intently into her eyes.  He opened his mouth to talk—to clarify some things about that photo—when suddenly, they heard a loud crash from above.  Marcia glanced upward, her eyes widened in alarm and ears perked.  Instinctively, Ethan reached for her hand.

“I’d better get up there,” she announced.  She shrugged his hand away, and hurried off. 

He groaned.  He really wanted to address that old photo.  But, first things first, he thought, as he dashed after her. 

To her surprise, he passed her on the stairway.  “Let me go first,” he insisted.

“It’s my attic,” she said breathlessly, struggling to move past him. 

She heard his exasperated sigh as he stopped and turned, reaching out to bring her to a breaking halt.  “Okay, look, I’m going into that attic to deal with that raccoon, while you wait for me in the hallway.  Please don’t argue…”

She opened her mouth to argue.  To her utter surprise, he leaned forward and silenced her objections with a kiss.  He pressed gently at first, but soon deepened the kiss until both were drowning in sensation.  When he finally pulled back, Marcia nearly toppled backward.  He reached out to steady her, and then spun around and raced up the steps.  Not to be deterred, but still shaken from their kiss, Marcia hurried after him and arrived in time to see him standing several feet away from an obviously disgruntled raccoon. 

“Stay back,” he told her softly.

Ignoring his command, she moved to stand beside him.  He gave her a chagrined glance.  “Why isn’t he moving toward the window?” she whispered.

He shrugged.  “I think he likes it here.”

“So do I.  And I have dibs.”  To make her point, she began clapping and stomping, hoping the raccoon would leave.  Unfortunately, he simply stood his ground, rising up on his back legs and watching her with what could only be deemed as a challenging glint in his black eyes.  Despite his posture, he was a beautiful creature.

“Oh, he’s so cute,” Marcia crooned suddenly, tipping her face to the side and admiring his glossy fur and bright black nose.  “Look at his little hands…er…paws…”

Ethan gave her another chagrined glance.  “Cute, but dangerous.  He’s a large male.  I’ve seen him around.  This guy does appear kind of thin,” he remarked, taking a small step closer.  “I bet he’s hungry.” 

Sensing Marcia would follow, he reached back and took her hand, urging her to stay behind him. 

“It’s my attic,” she pointed out.  “If anybody’s going to be eaten tonight, it should be me.” 

“He isn’t taking a bite out of either one of us if I can help it,” Ethan muttered, eyeing the raccoon suspiciously now.  “I hope he isn’t sick.  It is nighttime, so he probably isn’t rabid.”

“Rabid?” she repeated, cringing.  That possibility hadn’t occurred to her.  “I have an idea,” she announced, and hurried off, only to return a moment later with a cereal bar.  “Do raccoons like these things?” she whispered.

“My guess is they’ll eat anything.”  Ethan tore open the package and waved the bar around a bit, apparently hoping to cause its scent to waft through the air.  The raccoon’s nose twitched with interest, and he dropped onto all fours.   

Reaching for Marcia’s hand, and shielding her with his body, Ethan took a step forward.  He dangled the cereal bar again, and then gave it a good toss out the window.  The raccoon abruptly spun around and scampered after it.

Marcia followed Ethan, as he crossed the attic and carefully leaned out the window.  The raccoon had reached the ground in record time and was already charging off with the food.

“I hope he doesn’t come back,” Marcia muttered.  “I’m out of cereal bars.”

Ethan chuckled.  “I’ll have to secure this window with a raccoon-proof screen,” he observed.  “I’d hate for him to come back and bring his sidekick with him next time.” 

Realizing he’d said the word
sidekick
, he sent Marcia a glance, as he once again remembered her conversation with Collette in the hardware store.  Apparently, his use of the word didn’t prompt her to remember the dialogue with the teenager, but her observations on that particular day just seemed to stick with him.

Marcia studied him briefly.  He’d spoken about fixing the window as if it were his responsibility, rather than hers.  “I’ll take care of the window,” she asserted.

He pulled back from the sill and closed the window, securing the latch.  He scrubbed a hand across his jaw.   “Why is it so hard for you to let me help you?”

“I’m perfectly capable of fixing a screen.  Besides, I could ask you the same question,” she said pointedly.  “Why is it so hard for you to let me help
you
?”

He sighed, remembering her stubborn insistence that she pay him back for the paint by working off her supposed debt.  “Because you don’t owe me anything for the paint,” he insisted, for the umpteenth time.

She studied him briefly through narrowed eyes.  “You know what I think?  I think you don’t want
my
help,” she accused, turning the tables on him.  “You probably prefer to work alone, or maybe only alongside the people you
really
trust.”  She paused, and then frowned.  “Or, is it the quality of my work that’s at issue?  Is my work subpar?  Is that why you’re so resistant to my helping you?”  She watched him, her eyes flashing with challenge.

“Good grief,” he groaned.  How had she reached that ridiculous conclusion?  “Look, Marcia, the quality of your work is obvious.  It’s just…”

“What?  What is it, Ethan?”

“It’s just…”  He gritted his teeth.  “It’s...  I mean…”