Hawks Mountain - Mobi (20 page)

Granny held up her hand. “Hold your horses, child. Just let me tell the tale.” She cleared her throat and went on. “Earl came stumbling in around a quarter till four in the morning, banging into things, knocking things over and generally raising a commotion that woke me out of a sound sleep. I didn’t get up. I just lay there waiting. Pretty soon, I heard a loud
thud
and a groan, then another heavy
thud
and then the house went quiet.” She chuckled.

Becky’s mouth fell
open,
appalled that Granny would find anything funny about
Grampa
Earl possibly hurting himself.

“I got out of bed and crept downstairs to see what the darn fool had done. I found him passed out on the kitchen floor. Sprawled out like a chicken waiting to be plucked. I was so disgusted with him that I left him there with the broken rolling pin lying next to his head and went back to bed.” A grin broke across her face. “Next morning, Earl apologized and promised he’d never drink again if I’d promise not to hit him with my rolling pin again.”

“But you—”

Granny held out her hands, underscoring her innocence.
“Never laid a finger on him.
Seems he woke up with a good sized knot on his head. Probably from hitting the table when he fell. He saw the handle broken off the rolling pin and figured I’d whacked him with it.” She cradled the rolling pin in one hand. “I made him an ice pack for his hurting head and never told him otherwise.”

While her grandfather’s behavior shocked Becky to her toes, she was confused. “I don’t understand what this has to do with men being jerks.”

Granny stood and placed the pin back in the dish drainer, then came back to the table. She sat and took Becky’s hand, sandwiching it between hers. “You’ll get no argument from me that men can be jerks, sweetheart. It’s in their genes. But sometimes we ladies are to fault, too, because we stay quiet when we should speak up. Maybe, instead of giving your granddad the silent treatment, if I’d talked to him about why I didn’t want him to go drinking, he’d have stayed home where he belonged and saved himself a knock on the head.” She pointed at the rolling pin. “And my rolling pin would still have two handles.”

She paused, her brows dipping toward each other. “In your Nick’s case, I think he’s bruised inside where no one can see it, and he’s not inclined to talk about it. As long as he keeps it locked inside, it’s
gonna
chew on his soul.” She patted Becky’s hand. “I don’t think he’s so much being a jerk as he is protecting himself against more hurt.” She started to get up, and then stopped and winked at her granddaughter. “You were always real good at getting people to talk to you about things. You might try that charm on Nick.” A gentle smile curved her lips. “What have you got to lose?”

What indeed? The two weeks they’d spent working on
Lydia
’s house had brought them closer than ever and then there was the night they’d made love, and Becky wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to test that. What if she pushed him and he decided he didn’t need her butting into his life and left the mountain? Then again, if he didn’t find some kind of peace with whatever it was that caused him to shut down, she’d lose him anyway. Worse, he might lose himself.

Left with making a choice between the lesser of two evils, she knew that either way, the chances of losing him hovered over her like a threatening storm cloud.

“I can see this isn’t going to be an easy decision for you,” Granny said. “Why don’t you go out on the porch where’s
it’s
quiet and think it over. I‘ll take care of cleaning up the supper dishes.”

Becky kissed her grandmother’s wrinkled cheek. “Thanks, Granny.”

“Honey?”

“Yes, Granny?”

“Just
remember .
 . . loving someone with everything that’s in you is never easy. You gotta learn to take the good with the bad, and sometimes you have to swallow your fear and make the hard choices.”

The spring nights
were growing warmer and had been slipping by with the lazy speed of maple syrup oozing over a stack of Granny’s pancakes. Becky pushed the rocker back and forth in an easy rhythm and stared at the black silhouette of the mountains against a sky studded with a big lemon-yellow moon and millions of stars that looked like tiny polished gems, her thoughts a turmoil of indecision. Fireflies blinked on and off around the yard as if handfuls of the stars had come down from the heavens to investigate these strange mortals below. Granny’s roses filled the night with a heady fragrance that no expensive perfume could duplicate. It could have been so romantic, if
only .
 . .

No sense dreaming about that until she settled her main problem. What was Nick holding inside that could make him abruptly draw into himself like a turtle hiding from danger?

She hadn’t seen Nick since he’d dropped her off after they’d made love, three nights ago. Every time she gone into town, she’d searched the faces of the people she ran into, hoping one would be his. On her daily walks into the woods, she’d looked for him behind every tree and bush. She’d even hiked to
Honeymoon
Falls
praying she’d find him sitting on the rock reading. But in each case, she’d been disappointed.

She’d looked for him
everywhere .
 . . everywhere except where she knew he’d be, his cabin, but something had always stopped her from venturing up there. As she mulled this over, it finally occurred to her that the wall stopping her had been erected from fear. Fear that he wouldn’t talk to her. Fear that she’d bring on one of his dark, close-mouthed moods. Fear that he just didn’t want to see her again. Fear that somehow she’d drive him away, severing forever that fragile thread that had connected them on that magical night at his cabin.

You’re a coward, Rebecca Hawks.

The niggling little voice of her conscience got no argument from her. Terror that Nick had walked away for good and that the one night of love making would be the last lived inside her like an open sore. Hiding from that truth kept her sane. If she went up there and he told her to leave, her suspicions would become reality, and she wasn’t sure she could stand having her heart wrenched from her body a second time.

That thought gave rise to memories of Sonny and their tempestuous relationship, the arguments, the accusations, the hurtful words. Then another thought occurred to her. Maybe, if she and Sonny had just talked, she could have found out what had driven him into the arms of another woman before it happened. But her insecurities, her surety that it was she who was doing something wrong had prevented her from saying anything. Instead, she’d hidden from the truth and in the end lost everything she’d cared about.

Could she let that happen again?

No! She couldn’t. She loved Nick and his happiness meant more to her than her pride. This was too important to let her cowardice take control. Granny was right. The time had come to swallow her fear and go face to face with Nick. Squaring her shoulders, jaw set in determination, she nodded her head in agreement with herself.

Jumping out of the rocker, she took the steps in two strides and hit the grass running toward the car. An owl hooted, reminding her of the time. She looked at her watch and sighed.
Eleven fifty-four
.
Too late to go tonight.

Not to be discouraged, she brightened. “Tomorrow!” she promised the crickets and the fireflies. “I'll go tomorrow.
First thing.
Early enough so he can't have gone off anywhere else yet.” Then as she turned back toward the house, she doubled her vow. “And I will get him to talk if I had to tie him up to do it.” Her steps faltered, and she gazed at the star studded heavens. “Please, God, don't let me chicken out before morning. But above all, don't let it be too late.”

Although Becky’s plan had been to get to Nick’s right after breakfast that morning, a parade of frustrating interruptions had kept her busy until mid-afternoon. To her surprise, as she pulled the car up in front of the cabin, Nick rushed down the front steps.

Becky’s nerves tightened. What now? Would she have to chase him into town and hope to stop him long enough to talk? Worse yet, was he going to chase her off his land? What had seemed so simple last night had suddenly become a major undertaking.

When he spotted her car, he hurried toward her, but his expression was not one of a man who didn’t want to see her. On the contrary, he seemed anxious to see her.
Very anxious.

Some of the tension she’d felt building on her way here eased. At least he wouldn’t order her off his land. One hurdle out of the way.

She climbed from the car. “Hi.”

“Thank God, you’re here. Where have you been?”

His demanding tone brought her to a halt. He had the nerve to ask her where
she’d
been?
She wasn’t the one who’d been hiding out in a cabin with no phone and no means of communication for three days. Uncontrollable, indignant anger boiled up inside her.

Bitterness tainted the words that finally spewed from her. “Where have
I
been? Where have
you
been for three days?”

He ignored her question and her irritated tone of voice. “
Lydia
’s been trying to reach you. She finally sent me a note with Davy.” He waved a piece of paper at her. “George managed to get the custody hearing scheduled for today.”

“What?” The almost unbearable anger that had been consuming her seconds earlier vanished in a sudden rush, along with the reason she came here. Becky couldn’t believe it. Custody hearings usually took weeks, sometimes months, to make it to the family court docket. All the mental energy she’d been aiming at her talk with Nick transferred to
Lydia
and Davy.
“When?”

He checked his watch.
“In about an hour.
We need to hurry if we’re going to be there with her.” Obviously taking her agreement to accompany him in his vehicle for granted, Nick grabbed Becky’s arm and steered her toward his truck.

Once seated in the truck, she voiced her thoughts. “Evidently the weasel used his mayoral influence to get the hearing scheduled quickly, figuring he’d catch
Lydia
off guard. If she isn’t at the hearing, chances are George could snow the judge and win.”

Nick backed the truck up and jammed it into drive. Throwing up a shower of gravel, they careened out of the driveway and onto the rutted mountain road. “Oh, she’ll be there. The court clerk is a friend of
hers,
saw the schedule and gave her a heads up.” Maneuvering the car onto the main road, he gripped the steering wheel hard. “By the way, my friend called me—”

Becky swung toward him. She stared at his profile. “Called you? How is that possible? You don’t have a phone.”

He glanced sheepishly at her before centering his gaze back on the rutted road.
“Had one put in a day or two ago.
I didn’t tell anyone because I don’t want a lot of people calling me.”

Evidently that included her since he didn’t see fit to tell her about it or to give her his number. A hard lump formed in the pit of her stomach.

Before she could say more, he went on. “
Lydia
got the job in
Charleston
, and her new boss, having recently been through a custody battle with his ex, took pity on her. Even though he hasn’t officially hired her yet, and she hasn’t put in her first day of work, she’s on the payroll books, in case George checks.”

Thankful that
Lydia
now had a repaired, safe home for Davy and a good job to provide for him and her chances at winning this custody battle had improved tenfold, excitement began to build in Becky. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t fail this time.

Despite the excitement that Nick’s news of the job had produced, she still couldn’t help wondering why Nick had not told her about his phone. Was this just his way of keeping her at a distance along with everyone else? Did he regret their night together?

Trees and bushes whizzed by Becky’s window in a green blur as Nick sped down the road toward
Carson
. Elated for Lydia, but afraid that her relationship with Nick had imploded before it had a chance to really begin, Becky rode in pensive silence, clutching the door’s arm rest to keep from flying across the seat and into Nick’s lap. But that didn’t stop her head from hitting the roof with every pothole and bump the truck bounced over.