Harvest Moon (17 page)

He groaned as the double-edge sword of their relationship sliced down his center. He could
never
ask her to meet him. Doing so would destroy the little trust she’d handed him by sharing these intimate details of her past.

At least Etta had some faith in him. Gemma had only pushed him away, turned to drugs instead and cheated on Trent with a man who encouraged her drug habit.

He needed Etta to know he was there for her. But how?

A moment from rehab came back to him, and he furiously typed a reply.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Your bravery

Thank you for putting your trust in me. Anger and sadness barely scratch the surface of how I felt after reading your e-mail. I ache for what happened to you and wish I could work magic and change your past. Facing a painful past is never easy. Some days it’s also my cross to bear.

I once heard a quote, something about not seeing your strength until being strong is the only choice you have. Bob Marley, I think. Kind of stuck with me and really does help sometimes.

Back at a time when I dealt with some deep troubles, I was told a story, one you may have heard about a father and daughter crossing a bridge. The worried father asks his daughter to hold his hand, but she replies, “No, Dad. You hold mine.”

The father says, “What’s the difference?”

The young girl replies, “If I hold your hand and something happens to me, chances are that I may let go. But if you hold mine, I know for sure that no matter what happens, you will never let go.”



I share this, Etta, so you know that I’ll never let go of your hand. Ours is a different relationship, but you can come to me whenever you need to, and I promise I’ll always be here.

Trent signed off and hit send. His counselor at rehab had shared the story, suggesting if they were on the road to recovery now, most likely someone had offered them a hand to get better. In Trent’s case, that person was Duncan.

Etta’s story wound around Trent’s heart and twisted tight. What most people showed on the surface was rarely the full story of what they’d been through.

So what was the story Veronica didn’t show? Did she need a hand, but couldn’t ask? Etta had lost the ability to trust. Trent considered Veronica’s behavior, so obviously void of trust—at least with him.

If Veronica developed some faith in him, there was a good chance she’d try harder in class. She’d signed up for a reason, so any progress in her self-defense skills might leave her with a sense of empowerment.

Trent searched the Internet for “trust building exercises.” Urgency consumed him, a dire need to save Veronica. The fuel behind his resolve crystalized, a straight line leading to his wife’s addiction and her refusal for his help. She’d denied him trust, and trust meant everything to him, her rejection still the source of his pain.

The need to help two other women—one from a distance and the other right under his nose—suddenly offered the redemption from all the mistakes he’d made trying to help his wife.

Maybe by saving Veronica, he’d finally save himself.

Veronica found a spot in the last row of the jam-packed parking lot across the street from Griswold’s. Karaoke night always drew a large crowd. As she stepped out of her car, a gentle breeze brushed her body, making the soft drape of her chambray skirt dance around her bare thighs. Autumn inched closer, the scent of a season change lingering in the air.

She grabbed a lightweight sweater off the passenger seat, rested it on her shoulders, and hurried to the entrance. The e-mail she’d read from Ry seconds before leaving occupied her thoughts. Confessing her full story to him had been a risk, but his supportive response had left her lifted, more confident than ever.

She entered the rustic restaurant. A noisy crowd muted background rock music and the scent of fried appetizers drifted to the aged ceiling beams. Every stool at the long bar was occupied.

Veronica ventured into the main room, scanning the knotty-pine tables, searching for her friends. Meg’s flailing arms appeared from a table set against the back wall. Veronica squeezed through the maze of seats, noting the usual suspects at their table, with one addition: Trent.

She did her best to avoid looking at him, since his presence left her insides a jumbled mess. Instead, she inventoried the remaining places to sit, spotting an empty chair to Meg’s right and two other chairs at the far end, near Duncan, Sophie, Jay, and Eileen—right across from Trent. She sat near Meg, across from Dave and Bernadette.

“Hi, everyone.” Her eyes swept over the group, latching for a few seconds on Trent’s watchful gaze. “I can’t believe Sophie beat me some place.”

“She’s getting better.” Duncan sipped foam off the top of his beer. “I’m rubbing off on her.”

“That’s what he thinks.” Sophie grinned and rested her hand on the back of his chair. “He’s just getting used to being a little late.”

“Where’s Jim?” Bernadette glanced up as she fished through her purse.

“Working, but said he might come later.” Veronica hoped he did because she wanted to ask him to join her at Gail’s party. She figured a date might make it easier to face Gary and Carin, if they did decide to come.

The waitress arrived and took Veronica’s drink order.

When the waitress left, Sophie tipped her head toward her brother. “Hey, Ronnie. Check out Jay’s shirt and Trent’s hat. We’re starting a new Northbridge fashion trend. It was Trent’s idea.”

She glanced to the two men. Jay wore a beige T-shirt with a fancy compilation of L-H-V, the vineyard’s logo, in maroon lettering above the left breast pocket. Trent’s baseball cap had the same color, with “Litchfield Hills Vineyard” scribbled across the front. He studied her with serious blue eyes, and then lifted his lips in a soft smile. “Fashion trend might be pushing it.”

Duncan chuckled. “We’ll label the line ‘Rural Gucci.’ When do I get my shirt like Jay’s?” He stared at Trent.

“Trust me, bro, you’re getting several.” Trent grinned. “I expect you to say good-bye to the L.L. Bean catalog.”

Trent had rolled the sleeves of his maroon button-down shirt to his elbows and the collar was left unbuttoned, enough for her to catch a few dark chest hairs. He leaned forward and crossed his muscular forearms, strong as if he’d worked on the farm his whole life.

With Ry’s e-mail fresh on her mind, Veronica considered how Trent probably viewed her in class. No doubt as difficult, especially given her reluctance to participate. Did Trent seek advice from others to get to the bottom of Veronica’s psyche? She hoped not.

How strange she’d come in contact with two men who both happened to be self-defense instructors and musicians. Could it…could they be…

She covered a short burst of laughter in a cough, slipping her hand over her mouth to hide her smile. Of all the ridiculous thoughts she could have, this one was way out there. The world was a big place, the Internet, even bigger. And besides, Trent was nice enough, but he was no Ry.

“Oh man, you guys should’ve seen him today with Delilah.” Jay pointed with his thumb to Trent. “He’s got a serious crush.”

Trent raised his dark eyebrows. “Hey, you’ve got that backward, pal. She’s got the crush on me.”

Sophie had mentioned a new hire at the farm, someone to help in the office, but Veronica was appalled the two men would discuss a woman this way.

Meg’s attention swiveled back and forth between the two men. “Who’s Delilah?”

“She’s new,” Trent said. “Right, Soph?”

“Yup. Just arrived Monday. I’d say it was love at first sight for you two.”

A pleased grin spread across Trent’s face. “You might be right.”

“Don’t you already have a girlfriend?” The words slipped out of Veronica’s mouth before she could stop herself.

Trent shrugged. “Delilah is special.”

Veronica raised her hand. “Sorry. You don’t owe me an explanation about your love life.”

“It’s a fair question.” Trent’s gaze flashed her way, with it the suggestion he’d caught the scent of her envy. “But if you saw her, you’d understand. She has perfect tan skin, silky smooth ears—”

“Smooth ears?” Meg crinkled her nose.

Dave rubbed Bernadette’s back. “That’s what drew me to this one.”

Bernadette rolled her eyes, then grinned at her husband. “Save the corny jokes for the congregation, dear.”

While everyone laughed, Trent waited and smoothed his chin with his hand. “Of course, the real draw is those exotic almond-shaped eyes.” He glanced at Jay. “Anything you want to add?”

“Besides that she’s a real beauty? Let’s see…” Jay wrapped his hands around his beer and narrowed his gaze, giving the matter due consideration. “Oh, a gorgeous long neck.”

Trent nodded. “And let’s not forget her legs.” He wolf-whistled. “Slender…just the way I like them.”

Veronica tried to ignore the strings of jealousy tugging at her heart. If a woman like Angie couldn’t satisfy Trent, then he obviously—The brakes of her mind screeched to a stop. A long neck, exotic almond eyes, silky ears? Her lips twitched with a near smile as she figured out their game, but she didn’t want to ruin their fun, especially when Meg listened with rapt attention, clearly falling for their act.

Trent glanced at Veronica, and she shook her head at him. A knowing sparkle in his eyes suggested he realized she’d caught on, and he winked.

“She has only two issues.” Jay looked at Trent. “A thousand sit-ups a day won’t curb her bulky mid-section.”

“Word, my friend.” Trent high-fived Jay, both grinning like little boys. “And that voice…”

“What’s wrong with her voice?” Meg’s green eyes opened wide.

Trent looked at Jay “Want to help me out with a demo here?”

Jay nodded. They opened their mouths and out came a horrible bleating sound, like a dying car horn. Heads at nearby tables turned while Sophie and Duncan burst into laughter, followed by the two men.

Meg frowned, her face contorting into one confused mess. “Wait. Is this a goat?”

“Our newest Nubian,” Jay said, pride in his voice.

Veronica gave in to a smile. “You’re both sick. You know that, right?”

Trent grinned, a sweet and playful expression that curled around her heart.

As quickly as the sensation struck, she pushed it aside. How did Trent, a man who possessed none of the qualities she’d deemed appropriate in a man, always leave her wanting the type of relationship she’d given up on for her own protection? Yes, something about him stirred the pot of passion she’d placed on the back burner. These overtures of his were innocent enough but robbed her of the much-needed control.

Jay raised his brows, staring across the room. “Be right back,” he said to nobody in particular as he rose from his seat. “Trent, come with me to talk to Bart.”

The two men stood and headed toward the bar. As Trent passed Veronica’s chair, she tried her damnedest to keep her head down, but as if a puppeteer pulled a string, she automatically lifted her chin and met his gaze. He smiled, causing the fragile edges of her shield to curl.

Bernadette used her elbow to tap Veronica’s arm. She leaned close and whispered, “Good thing Jim’s not here.”

* * * *

Half-hearted applause followed Sophie and Duncan as they left the stage and returned to the table. Trent didn’t think their version of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” was even close to the original, but it gave the audience a few laughs.

Duncan groaned and dropped into his seat. “That was painful. Who was I again, Elton or Kiki?”

Sophie stood behind him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. “
Now
you ask.”

Trent picked up his drink, gaze passing over Veronica’s empty seat.

He glanced around the room and spotted her at a table of three other women, one who he’d seen working in the library. A few minutes later, Veronica stood, lifted her glass, and walked to the bar.

He pushed back his chair. “Be right back.”

As he passed the bar, he made eye contact with Meg’s husband, who Trent met earlier. The guy had disappeared with his friends the second Meg sat at their table. Trent nodded at him, but Roy only blinked a few times, then leaned closer to his friends and spoke quietly.

Shaking off the childish disregard, he approached Veronica, who leaned on the bar and waved a hand to the bartender. He admired the gentle curve of her waist, the way her skirt hugged her hips, and the playful flair of the bottom just above her knee, more whimsical than she often acted—at least around him.

He sidled next to her and caught her playing with a short strand of pearls, but she let her fingers fall as she met his gaze.

Laughter rose at the other end of the bar. Roy and his posse stared Trent’s way, obviously talking about him. The heat of humiliation crept up Trent’s neck, but being the new guy in town, he wasn’t surprised to find not everyone would welcome him. They were probably friends of Buzz. Veronica twisted her neck and stared at the other men for a few seconds, too.

She turned back to Trent, quietly studied his face for several seconds, her irritation obvious. “Roy’s an ass. Ignore him.”

Trent gave her a closed-lip smile, as if it didn’t matter. “I knew a guy in high school like him, too.”

“Exactly. Meg could’ve done better.”

Trent pulled out his wallet and motioned to the bartender. “What can I get you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I’d like to.” He removed a twenty just as the bartender arrived. “I’ll have a Beck’s N.A. and she’ll have…” He turned to her and raised his eyebrows, wondering if she’d comment about his non-alcoholic beer order.

She lifted the glass with the Heineken logo on the outside. “Another of the same.”

The bartender nodded and walked off.

“You mad at me or something, Pearls?” He tucked his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Angry? No.”

“Good. Because if anybody should be upset, it’s me.”

She twisted to face him and rested her elbow on the bar top. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Hey, you pushed me to the floor in class. I think you left a bruise.” He rubbed his backside, but made sure his tone teased.