All Shook Up (22 page)

As an adult, he saw that there were a number of ways in which her words might be construed. The tone
seemed much sadder and more remorseful than he remembered. Filled with an odd, aching regret for what had been so precipitously thrown away and could never be retrieved, he reached for the next letter in the stack. He ripped the envelope open and fished out the single piece of expensive parchment.

Stomach leaden, J.D. went through the remaining letters, missives that had followed him from one foster home to another. Some of them had caught up with him right away; others had collected a number of forwarding addresses before they’d finally reached him.

He sorely regretted not opening them now. For himself and for Edwina. He’d spent a lot of years resenting her…unnecessarily, it seemed. Her letters were full of apology and love, and sitting here in the bedroom of a place she’d bequeathed to him, he acknowledged the possibility that he himself might have left Edward
Lawrence’s watch out on the arm of the settee that day, to be knocked into its depths.

Worse, with the arrogance of youth, he’d held Edwina to an impossible standard. He’d blamed her for not believing in him, but neither had he believed in her. When she’d asked him about the watch, he hadn’t told her outright that he didn’t know where it had disappeared to. And he sure as hell hadn’t trusted her to work out their misunderstanding. Instead, his attitude had been screw-you combative, and he’d run at the first sign of trouble, rather than risk sticking around to be kicked out.

He found himself with a sudden need to be with Dru, wanting her warmth and her good humor, and he gently replaced the letters in his duffel bag and headed for the door.

It was a hell of a note to discover, after years of assuming he’d been wronged, that perhaps the person who had been wrong was himself.

W
hen someone started banging on Dru’s apartment door as if she were behind on the rent and they were there to collect, she expected to see J.D. on the other side. Instead, Char, looking sleepy and too boneless to have produced that authoritative rap, stood propped against the doorjamb.

She gave Dru a languid smile. “Hey, stranger.”

Dru stared. Her friend looked…different. For a moment she couldn’t put her finger on the reason why, then suddenly realized that Char looked as if she’d been thoroughly, utterly—“Omigod. You and Kev finally quit dancing around each other.”

“It shows, huh?” Char laughed deep in her throat. With a fluid movement, she straightened away from the doorjamb and ambled into Dru’s living room.

“Not at all; it was just a wild guess,” Dru said dryly as she caught up with her friend. Then she gave her a
poke. “From the look of you, I’m assuming it must have been—”

Char’s eyelids went heavy and her lips curled up at the corners.

“—one
pret
ty darn satisfactory experience,” Dru concluded. “I guess that explains why I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days.” She grinned. “Want some iced tea? Or I’ve got Pepsi, if you’d rather have something to give you a little oomph. Or there’s”—she opened the refrigerator and leaned in to peruse its contents—“a pitcher of black cherry Kool-Aid.”

“Who made the Kool-Aid, you or Tate?”

“Me.”

“I’ll have that, then. He always puts in too much sugar.”

“Yeah, he follows the directions, silly boy. Grab a couple of glasses.”

Char did and Dru dropped in the ice cubes she’d fetched from the freezer, then poured the Kool-Aid. They sat at the table.

Char propped her chin in her hand and gave Dru a dreamy smile. “Kev says he’s been attracted to me since junior high.” A wondering laugh escaped her. “Can you imagine? I thought he was an ass in junior high.” Then her gaze sharpened. “But what about you? J.D. looked ready to chew your clothes off the other night at the bar. How did that go when he took you home?”

Dru was dying to lay out all her confusion, in the hope that her friend could help her make some sense of it. But before she could make up her mind whether to tell Char everything or keep it to herself until she
was surer of her situation, there was another knock on the door.

“Now, who the heck can that be?” Char asked with a lazy smile. “All your friends are here.”

“Cute.” Dru rose from the table and went to see. She opened the door and stared in surprise at the man in the hallway.

“J.D.!” It wasn’t that his appearance on her doorstep was so startling, but he didn’t look at all his usual wary self. What
was
it with everybody today?

Staring back at her a little wild-eyed, he reached out and pulled her against his chest, then wrapped his arms tightly around her, burying his nose in her hair.

“What?” she mumbled against his shoulder. “Has something happened, John David?” She tried to pull back to get a look at his expression, but his arms tightened further and she subsided against the hard plane of his torso and simply held him in return. “Are you all right?”

Soft laughter, abrupt and lacking in humor, erupted from his throat. “I’ve just had a twenty-year belief turned upside down—”

“Did I hear you say J.D., Drusie?” Char’s voice floated out from the kitchen, and J.D. stiffened. “Come on in here, big fella, and join us,” she invited. “We were just getting set to go wild on black cherry Kool-Aid.”

J.D.’s arms dropped away and he stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

His expression had turned cool and noncommittal, and Dru got the impression he was ready to turn right around and head back out the door. She reached for his hand, gripping it between both of hers.

“Char’s not company; she’s a friend. To both of us, I’d like to think.” She tugged on the hand within her grasp. “Come in. Have a glass of Kool-Aid with us. Or if you prefer, I’ll even provide you with an actual grown-up drink.”

That drew a slight, lopsided smile from him. “It’s been a few years since I’ve had Kool-Aid, but I used to think it was pretty hard to beat.” He followed her into the kitchen.

As their Kool-Aid klatch progressed, J.D. appeared to relax a bit. He talked easily with her and Char, and if he didn’t laugh often, he at least smiled in the appropriate places. Dru nevertheless got the feeling he was waiting for Char to leave. His expression might be contained once again, but she sensed the turmoil beneath and was anxious to know what had put that earlier look in his eye.

She never got the opportunity to find out, though. For, just about the time Char started making noises about taking off, Aunt Sophie and Tate showed up.

J.D. greeted them civilly, but Dru detected frustration in the stiff set of his shoulders. She could relate. The fact that he’d come to her with whatever troubled him pleased her, but she wanted to talk to him about it, and it didn’t look as if that was going to happen any time soon. And as Sophie told them about her plans with Uncle Ben for the evening, Dru realized she wouldn’t even have the opportunity to go back to J.D.’s place to talk to him there.

She could only watch helplessly as, looking at her as if he wanted something from her that she couldn’t define, J.D. finally said his good-byes, backed out of
her kitchen, and headed back to his cabin in the woods.

By ten that night, Dru was going crazy. Tate was in bed and she found herself restlessly prowling the apartment. Finally, uttering a sound of disgust, she picked up the phone and called the front desk. The lodge provided a baby-sitting service, and if ever there was a good time to utilize its services, this was it.

She identified herself when Reception picked up and inquired about the availability of a sitter. When assured that one was free, she said a heartfelt “Good. Would you ask her to come up, please? Tate’s asleep and I have to go out for an hour or so.”

Fifteen minutes later she crossed J.D.’s clearing and climbed his porch. Moths fluttered against the light fixture overhead, casting huge, erratic shadows as she tapped on the screen door.

J.D. appeared silently on the other side. “Hey.” The door creaked as he pushed it open. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“I hired a baby-sitter for an hour or two.” She swiftly pressed herself against him, looping her arms around his neck. Raising up on her toes to give him a peck on the lips, she then drew back to look into his face. “You were upset this afternoon. Tell me what happened.”

He hesitated, as if he’d had second thoughts since he’d left her apartment. After a moment, however, he led her to the Mission-style rocker in the living room, where he pulled her down to sit on his lap. He wrapped
his arms around her, and pushed off with his foot to set the chair in motion.

Then he told her about Edward Lawrence’s missing pocket watch, his belligerent flight from Edwina’s house, and the letters that had followed him from foster home to foster home.

“And you never read them until today?” she asked when he lapsed into silence.

“After I’d read the first couple, there didn’t seem much point. I was so certain I knew what they said.”

His tone clearly tried and found himself guilty, and Dru rubbed her cheek against the hollow between his chest and collarbone as she looked up at him. His hazel-green eyes had narrowed as he stared stonily at the opposite wall.

“Don’t do that to yourself,” she commanded softly. “Edwina did that, too. I remember her talking about you when I was a little girl. Except I didn’t know it was you at the time—you were just some boy she kicked herself for handling all wrong.”

“Ah, damn.” He gazed down at her. “I was really crazy about her, you know? She must have been close to sixty when I met her—I remember she seemed incredibly old. But she knew about things I’d never even heard of, and she treated me nicer than anyone I’d ever met.”

“You loved her,” Dru said softly, and had to blink away the tears that rose at the look flashing across his face.

“Yeah. I guess I did. She was the first person I ever knew with actual standards. She thought that things like table manners mattered, and she talked with a per
fectly straight face about the importance of personal honor—which, believe me, was not a concept I’d ever heard anyone in my part of town discuss before. That’s what made it so tough when things between us suddenly turned to shit. But at least I had my sense of injustice to keep me warm.” He laughed without humor. “Now it turns out I’m probably the one who threw it all away. What am I supposed to use when things turn cold and lonely now?”

“Me.” Dru stretched up to press a soft kiss on his mouth. Settling back, she cupped his jaw in both hands, looked him in the eye, and reiterated firmly, “You use me—I’ll keep you warm. I love you, John David.”

An indefinable light flared in his eyes and his grip on her was almost painful as he pulled her up and fiercely returned her kiss. His hands went to the buttons on her top. “You don’t have to say that, you know,” he muttered against her lips.

A moment later he demanded in a low voice, “Tell me again.”

Midmorning the next day, J.D. let himself into his cabin and headed straight for the bathroom. Bits of grass stuck to his T-shirt and in the sweaty creases of his neck, and grease smeared the knuckles of his right hand and his forearm. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossed it on the floor in the corner, and washed up. Snatching a towel off the rack as he passed by a moment later, he headed for the bedroom.

While he dried off, he thought of Dru last night say
ing
I love you
. He approached the memory warily from every conceivable angle, shying away from it one moment, only to immediately turn around and edge right back up to it. No one had ever said that to him before, and when he finally sank his teeth into the fact that she had, he found himself worrying it like a hound with a knotted rag—particularly the part where he’d kept demanding to hear it over again. He couldn’t believe he’d made love to her with such agonizing slowness, dragging it out until he’d thought the top of his head would blow off before either one of them found satisfaction. And all to hear her say, “I love you, John David. Oh, please,
please
, I love you.”

Christ. Talk about a needy bastard.

Standing stock-still in the middle of the room, blindly tuned in to the thoughts and images in his head, he shook them impatiently aside and grabbed a clean T-shirt out of the drawer. Enough, already. He had a job to do and this wasn’t getting it done.

He’d just pulled the shirt over his head and was stuffing his arms into its sleeves when he heard a clatter of feet on his porch and a knock on his door. Tucking the shirt into his waistband, he went to answer it.

Through the screen door he saw Sophie, Ben, and Tate standing on the porch.

“Hey,” he said in surprise. “What’s up?” It was the middle of the morning and he was scheduled to be out with the gardening crew, which he assumed they knew. So what had brought Dru’s family here?

Dru’s family
. His heart kicked hard against the wall of his chest and he snapped straight-backed. “Is it
Dru?” He shoved the door wide and took a tense step out onto the porch. “Has she been hurt—”

“Dru’s fine, son,” Ben said.

Sophie looked stricken and said, “Oh, darling,
no.
”

She reached out to squeeze his forearm. “I’m so sorry,” she added contritely. “We certainly didn’t intend to scare you.”

“Yeah, we just came to getcha because they’re bringing in the canoe,” Tate said excitedly.

“What?” He’d heard the words perfectly clearly; he was just having a difficult time changing mental gears. Drawing several deep breaths to get his heart rate back down where it belonged, he said more calmly, “Someone found my canoe?”

“A couple of the lifeguards had today off and decided to amuse themselves diving for it,” Ben explained. “It didn’t present much of a challenge, apparently, since the bow had surfaced, but they called a minute ago to tell me they’re towing it to our dock. We thought you’d like to be there to check it out.”

The depth with which J.D. wanted exactly that took him by surprise, and he took an eager step forward, ready to go. Then he remembered his errand and halted. “Damn. I can’t. I’ve got to get back to work.”

“One of the perks of being an owner, son, is that you get to take an hour off here and there when something important comes up.”

“Yeah, and I’d do it in a minute, too. Except one of the riding lawn mowers quit cutting properly, and the supervisor assigned me to take the blade assembly in to be sharpened at a place called McCready’s.”

“I’ll take it,” Sophie volunteered. “You go with Ben and I’ll run the assembly into town.”

Yes
! His first inclination was to make a headlong dash for the dock, but the pesky sense of fair play that Edwina had instilled in him dictated that he offer her an opportunity to change her mind. “You sure?”

“Yes. I think it’s more important that you check out your canoe than it is for me to see it.”

“Thanks, Sophie. Do you know how to drive a stick shift?”

“Sure. It’s been a while, but I cut my teeth driving my father’s pickup truck, and that’s not a skill one ever forgets.”

“If you don’t mind taking my car, then, I’ve already loaded the blades in the trunk. No, hell, what am I thinking?” Disappointment weighed heavily as he took a step back and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “You can’t carry it into the shop. The assembly’s not particularly heavy, but all those blades are darn awkward—not to mention greasy.”

“I’m not helpless, J.D.,” Sophie snapped. “And I respond to soap and water every bit as well as you do.” Then the short-tempered impatience left her expression. “Sorry.”

“Grandma, you having a menopause moment?” Tate asked, leaning against her side.

She gave him a one-arm hug. “No, darling. Much as it pains me to admit this, sometimes I just have plain old, garden-variety cranky moments.” She turned a gentle smile on J.D. “Mike McCready will give me a hand. You run along with Ben. Tate, would you like to ride into town with me?”