Her House Divided (Beach Haven Book 1) (8 page)

Chapter Twelve

They heard nothing more from Jacqueline all week, which made Tara wonder what the other woman was up to.   Meanwhile, the mood between her and Ethan remained distant and cool; it was as if Monday night’s passion had never happened.  They were polite to each other.  Polite strangers who shared a home and nothing more.

Tara busied herself with Bea’s collection of steamy paperbacks, getting lost in the tales of happy endings and love that triumphed over all troubles. Ethan spent several hours at the school, readying his classroom for back-to-school.  They stayed out of each other’s way without actually 
avoiding
 each other.   By Friday, Tara was so fed up with the polite distance between them that she was ready to scream.

They were going to a high school football game together that night.  It was just a scrimmage before the actual season kickoff the following week, but Ethan explained to her that it was a good chance for the community to get together and show support for the kids.  He told her that it was also a tradition for some of the teachers to get together afterwards.

“It’s a great chance for us to be seen as a couple,” he told her.  “And some of my co-workers are curious about you.”

“You told your co-workers about me?”

“Well, yeah.  It’s a small town, Tara.  And we weren’t exactly discreet at the fair.  Most of them had already heard about you.”

She winced, wondering just exactly what they had heard.

He didn’t seem to notice.  Instead, he held out a small gift bag.  “I got you something,” he said shyly. 

The bag held a red and white t-shirt emblazoned with the high school logo.   She held it up and gave him a questioning look. 

“I thought you might want to show some school spirit, since you’re dating a teacher,” he explained.  “I’m wearing a shirt just like it.”

“So we’re going to be 
that
 couple – the couple that dresses alike?”  She laughed aloud as his face reddened.  “That’s sweet, Ethan.  I always wanted to be one of those couples!”

“Me, too.”  He sounded relieved and embarrassed at the same time.

The heat wave and humidity had broken with Monday night’s storm, so she decided to wear jeans with the school t-shirt.  She already knew some of the teachers; as Ethan had pointed out, Beach Haven was a small town, and she had been a busy cosmetologist at a popular salon.  Some of his co-workers had been her clients, and she suddenly realized that she was nervous about them seeing her in her current condition.  She didn’t think she could handle their pity.

As it turned out, she needn’t have worried.  Ethan’s co-workers greeted her warmly, and the ones she recognized from the salon seemed happy to see her recovering so well.  Afterward, she would never remember who won the game; after nearly three months of isolation, she drank in the energy and excitement of the crowd around her and enjoyed herself so much that she paid little attention to the game itself.

They ended up sitting with another couple, whom Ethan introduced as teachers in Science and Math.  Tara wasn’t sure which one taught which subject, and she was a little shaky on their first names, but they seemed ready to welcome her into their circle.

“How did you and Ethan meet?” the woman asked, as the first half drew to a close.

Melissa, Tara
 reminded herself.  “His grandmother was my client for a lot of years,” she said, looking at Ethan for help.  They hadn’t planned out an answer for that question.

He leaned around Tara and told Melissa, “Grandma was a shameless old matchmaker.  She tried 
everything
 to get us to meet.”

Well, that 
was
 true.  He winked.

Melissa looked from Ethan to Tara and linked her arm through Tara’s.  “Come on,” she said.  “Let’s go get some popcorn.”

Ethan didn’t seem to notice Tara’s beseeching gaze, so she had no choice but to follow the other woman.  Melissa kept a friendly grip on her arm, guiding her through the half-time crowd until they reached a sheltered area beside the concession stand. 

“So,” she began.  “What’s the 
real
 story?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve known Ethan for a long time.  My husband and I helped him get through his divorce, and he told us everything.  In fact, we just got together to play golf last week.  And he 
never
mentioned you.”

“We—well, we—um.”

“That’s what I thought.”  Melissa stood back, arms crossed over her chest, and studied Tara for a moment.  Finally, she nodded, apparently satisfied.  “Okay, I won’t ask any more questions,” she decided.  “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

“Melissa, we—“

Melissa linked her arm through Tara’s again.  “You know,” she said; “Jacqueline never came to football games with him.  Or school carnivals, or fundraisers, or any events that were important to him.  I only met her a few times, and she had her nose so high in the air that she couldn’t look down long enough to notice me.  Whatever is going on between you and Ethan, I already like you better than I liked her.  I think you’re good for him.”

“He’s been good for me, too,” Tara said slowly.   It was true.  No matter how hurt and angry she had been this past week, she had to admit that she felt more alive than she had felt at any point during the past three months.  Being around Ethan was like waking up from a long, sad dream.

Melissa squeezed her arm in a half-hug.  “Want to know something else?”  She asked.  She looked around furtively and leaned in close.  “I hate football.  I’m only here for the popcorn.”

“I’m a cheesy-pretzel kind of gal myself.”

They were still giggling when they returned to their seats.  Ethan gave her a questioning look, which she ignored.  Melissa’s husband shook his head in disgust.

“I see how it is,” he grumbled.  “They go get all kinds of junk food for themselves, but do they bring back anything for the hard-working men in their lives?  Ethan, you and I are just going to waste away to nothing while these two stuff their faces.”

“That’s okay, Dan.  We just won’t share our French fries with them later.”

It felt good to laugh and just have fun with another couple.  Tara had missed the social interaction during her long recovery, but even before that she and Randy always seemed to go out with 
his
 friends rather than 
their
 friends.  In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so welcome and comfortable within a group of people.   

The sense of camaraderie continued after the game as they followed each other out to a tiny restaurant just outside of town.  “It’s small and off the beaten path, but they have the best burgers and fries in town,” Ethan explained, holding out her chair for her.  “The burgers are so huge that the menu offers the option of buying just a half-burger.”

Tara opened her mouth to explain that she had been there before, but she was interrupted by a whoop as their waitress swooped in for a suffocating hug.

“Tara!” the girl shrieked.  “Just 
look
 at my hair!  Just 
look
 what Jeffrey did to me.  When are you ever going back to work?  I need your magic touch.”

“Thank you, Lacey.”  Tara carefully disentangled herself.  “I think your hair looks fantastic.  Jeffrey is the best there is – I love your new color.”

“But when are you coming back?”

“I’m not sure,” Tara said.  She felt her face grow warm as Ethan’s friends turned to look at her.

“Jeffrey said you wrecked your car,” the girl went on, unaware of the discomfort she was causing.  “He said that tree fell right on it.  I was like, ‘no way’, but then I saw it on the news, and oh, wow, your poor little Mustang!”

“Could we get something to drink while we look at our menus?”  Ethan interrupted. 

Lacey looked startled, but quickly recovered her wits and scribbled down their drink orders.  When she had scampered away, an uncomfortable silence hung over the table.  Tara squirmed for a moment, and Ethan reached under the table to give her hand a squeeze.

Drawing strength from his support, she turned to face his friends.  She was done being embarrassed about it.  Done avoiding it.   She was never going to be able to move on from it if she kept hiding away from everything that had happened that night.

“Well,” she announced, wearing her best tragic face.  “I guess my secret is out, isn’t it?  I should have come out with it right away.  It’s true:  I drove a Ford.”

“Hey!  There’s nothing wrong with Fords,” Ethan protested.  “I drive a Ford.”

“That’s okay, we like you anyway,” Melissa giggled.

When the laughter died away and they had all placed their orders, the conversation turned to other subjects that had nothing to do with her accident or her injuries.

So this is what it feels like to be normal
, she thought.

* * *

Ethan watched her closely, waiting for any signs of tears.  She usually seemed rattled by any mention of her accident, but she was taking it in stride tonight.  He wondered if it was some kind of act for his friends, or if she really was finally starting to leave the horrors of that night behind her. 

He liked the way she chatted and laughed with his friends.  There was a brightness to her smile tonight that he had never seen before, a vivacious energy that made her green eyes sparkle.  After a week of sitting in the sun on the back patio avoiding him, her skin had lost its unnatural pallor, and he wondered how he had ever thought she was anything less than beautiful.

He wanted to take her in his arms right here, right now.  Fling her back on the table and have his way with her right here amidst the ketchup bottles and salt and pepper shakers.  He remembered the little noises she had made when he kissed her, and her throaty cries of passion.  He wanted to touch that little spot in the small of her back that made her quiver; he wanted to smell her rose-scented perfume and taste the sweetness of her skin on his tongue.

“—isn’t that right, Ethan?”

He blinked. Tara was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer to some question that he had not heard.

“Dan asked if you plan on selling the Seashell,” she told him.  “I told him you plan on keeping it.  Isn’t that right?”

“Absolutely.  That whole front row is going to be turned into Tourist Row if we’re not careful.  We need to keep some of the old homes as private residences, and fight off the developers.”

“This town needs the tourist dollars, Ethan,” Dan said.  “Local businesses need every penny they can get during those three or four months.”

“I know that,” Ethan told him, tearing his thoughts way from Tara.  “I miss the old days, the way it was when we were growing up here.   The tourists stayed in the cottages and hotels along South Beach, and the townies stayed on the North Beach.  Now, they’ve built condos all up and down the North Side and bought up half of the cottages too.  It’s becoming 
their
 town, and we’re just here to serve them, wait on them.”

“Does it have to be ‘us’ and ‘them’?” Tara wondered. 

“I don’t know any other way it can be,” Melissa said.  “When half the homes along the North Beach stand empty for most of the years because the summer renters have gone back to Illinois or wherever, it’s an open invitation for break-ins and squatters.  And when the tourists 
are
 here, the treat our town like it’s one big MTV party.  At least the locals have a little bit of respect for the town and the people in it.”

“People who would go broke without the tourist dollars,” Dan reminded her.  “You know, Ethan, your ex was pretty interested in selling the Seashell.”

“Don’t remind me!  She nagged and nagged at Grandma while we were married, and then forced a friendship with her in hopes of being in the will.  That’s why –“  He stopped, horrified at what he had come so close to blurting out. 

“What about you, Tara?”  Melissa jumped in.  “How do you feel about the Seashell?”

“Why, I love it,” Tara sighed.  “It’s 
home
.”  

Ethan did a quick double-take.  There was a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes and a contented smile on her lips that couldn’t possibly be an act.  She thought of the Seashell as her home, every bit as much as he did. 

He wasn’t sure what it was about that realization that made him feel so ridiculously happy.

Chapter Thirteen

Ethan was surprised – and a little disappointed – when Tara disappeared into her bedroom as soon as they returned from the restaurant.  Then he scolded himself.  
Did you really think she’d jump right back into your bed just because we had a good time tonight?
  
Face it, Davis; the other night was a one-time thing.  There is just no way this roommates-only arrangement is going to work if you don’t keep your hands to yourself.

With a sigh, he sat on the couch and turned the TV to the local news.  Might as well see if anything interesting was taking place in town.  Whatever might be happening, it was bound to be more interesting than what was happening here in his own home.

He soon became so absorbed in the sports report that he didn’t hear Tara’s door open, or the sound of her bare feet on the hardwood floor.  He thought he was still alone until she spoke softly from close behind him.

“Haven’t you watched enough football for one night, Ethan?” 

He spun around to look at her – and nearly fell off the couch.  She was wearing the short floral robe again, knotted loosely at her waist to reveal a tantalizing amount of creamy white skin.  The fabric parted dangerously as she took a few steps closer to him, revealing long legs and almost so much more.

“Tara—“  Even to his own ears, his voice sounded funny.  He cleared his throat.  “What are you doing?”

“I think that’s fairly obvious, isn’t it?”  She stepped around the end of the couch, bringing herself within arm’s reach. 

“But I thought—“

“Don’t think.”  She toyed with the loose knot at her waist, slowly untying it.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, girl,” he growled.             

“It’s not a game, and I’m not a little girl, Ethan. I’m a woman,” she breathed.  “Or hadn’t you noticed?”  She gave a final tug at the belt and shrugged her shoulders.  The silken fabric slid silently to the floor and pooled at her feet.

He took a long, shuddering breath at the sight of her naked body, and then he took the steps to close the distance between them. He pulled her close and kissed her, moving his hands across the warm flesh of her back.  As his hands crept downward, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss.

“You’re trembling,” he broke free and whispered.  “Are you afraid of me, Tara?”

“No.  I – I just need to know. . .”

“Know what?”

“That you really want me.  That the other night really wasn’t all about pity.”

He cupped both hands under her round, firm behind and pulled her close so she could feel just how much he really wanted her.  She gasped.

“Any more questions?”  He asked.

* * *

Tara stretched out under the warm quilt, feeling a bit like a lazy housecat luxuriating in the patch of late morning sunlight steaming through the bedroom window.  She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept in so late; even during the months she had been off work, she had struggled to maintain some sense of normalcy to her days by setting her alarm clock every morning.

It was a sunny Monday morning, Ethan’s first day back to work.  She hated to see him leave, but she had to admit that there was a part of her that was really looking forward to being alone in the house for a little while.   As soon as he left for work, she had climbed back into the bed to wrap herself in the bedding that still smelled of him.  She hadn’t expected to fall back to sleep.

She glanced at the clock and blinked in surprise.  
Ten-thirty
?  She must have been more worn-out than she had realized.  She blushed, thinking about all the delightful reasons that she and Ethan hadn’t gotten much sleep over the weekend.

Tara threw back the quilt and stepped out of bed, wincing at the random aches that greeted her. After all these months, it never failed to amaze her that she could hop out of bed like that in the morning and actually forget that some parts of her body were just going to hurt.  The surgeon had warned her that this would probably happen in different degrees for the rest of her life
.  Just like a football player with an old knee injury
, he had said.  
It’s always going to be there, but it won’t always be this bad.

The thought of Dr. Wilbur made her take another look at the
 
clock.  She had her three-month follow-up appointment with him today, when he would assess her progress and see if her healing was still on-track.  But she was going to have to speed things up a notch if she was going to get herself showered and dressed and out the door in time to catch the bus to make her appointment.

Thirty minutes later, she let herself out and scrambled to the corner bus stop with only a few minutes to spare.  It was at times like this that she really missed the freedom of being able to hop into her trusty little Mustang and drive herself wherever she wanted to go without worrying about bus schedules.   Someday, she told herself.  Someday soon, she would be able to drive again.

“Absolutely,” Dr. Wilbur agreed, when she asked him that question an hour later.  “Your range of motion is still not good, so you’ve got some pretty big blind spots.  I wouldn’t recommend driving anywhere in heavy traffic just yet, but I see no reason why you can’t start easing back into it.”   He leafed through her file and frowned.

“What’s wrong?”  She asked.

“I see here that you haven’t made an appointment with our physical therapist yet.  Tara, therapy is crucial at this point in getting you up on your feet and back to normal.”

“I – I can’t afford it. I don’t have any medical insurance.”

The doctor’s frown deepened.  “Wasn’t this auto-related?”

She nodded.

“Who is your case manager?”  He wanted to know.  At her blank look, he sighed.  “All right, before you leave today, I want you to talk with my assistant, okay?  We’ll have her set you up with a case manager to help figure out some of the details, but we’ve got to find a way to get you into physical therapy ASAP.”

He answered a few more questions and left her in the care of his assistant, Michelle, who looked over the file and frowned just as the doctor had done.  “Let me see if I understand this,” she said, after a moment.  “You had no medical insurance, but you had full coverage on your vehicle at the time of your accident, and the company has refused to pay for your medical bills?

“It was 
car
 insurance, not 
medical
 insurance.”

Michelle shook her head.  “Doesn’t matter,” she said.  “In Michigan, your auto policy must include PIP – Personal Injury Protection – unless you show proof of medical insurance. That means that all medical expenses incurred as a result of a car accident should be covered.”

“That must be why the lawyer wanted to talk to the insurance company,” Tara said.  “They’ve been . . . less than helpful.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Michelle told her.   “I’d like to give them a call, too.  In the meantime, I’d like to take you downstairs to our physical therapy department and get you set up on a program.”

Tara’s head was spinning.  She hardly dared hope that everything could be cleared up so easily, but she followed the other woman and was soon handed off to a physical therapist who proceeded to ask her what seemed like a million questions.  He used a tiny measuring tape to measure how far she could raise her chin and turn her head to the left and right.  He had her stand and turn and reach different directions while he scribbled measurements and notes on a clipboard.

“I want to see you three times a week,” he told her when he was done.  “It’s going to take a lot of hard work from you, and it’s not always going to feel good.  But I promise you, it’ll be worth it.”

“Will I ever get back to normal?”  She asked.

“I can’t promise that.  We’re going to get you a new ‘normal’ that’s better than where you are right now.”

Tara signed an agreement to follow his schedule and took the instruction sheets for a set of exercises he wanted her to do at home.  Her eyelids were drooping by the time she boarded the bus home, and it was all she could do to make it to the couch before exhaustion overtook her.

She had no idea how long she had been asleep when she heard Ethan calling her name.  “Mmmf?” she murmured, gradually becoming aware of his hand on her arm. 

“You’ve been asleep for quite a while,” he told her.  “I thought you might want to wake up and eat some supper.”

She blinked, suddenly wide awake.  “Ethan! What time is it?”

“It’s almost six,” he told her.  “I got home about an hour ago.”

“I was going to make supper for you!’’ she wailed.  She sat up -- and promptly smacked her forehead against his as he leaned over her.  “Ow!  What are you 
doing
?”  She demanded.

“I was worried about you,” he said, sounding sulky as he rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand.  “I know you had your doctor appointment today, but you didn’t answer when I called you this afternoon to see how it went.  And when I got home, here you were, sound asleep with your shoes on and your purse still in your hand.  I wondered if maybe you got bad news or something.”

“Not at all.”  She sat up more slowly this time and yawned.  “I’m sorry.  No, it was all really good news.”   She filled him in on the doctor’s comments about her progress and told him what Michelle had told her about her insurance coverage.  She finished by telling him about her physical therapy assessment.  “I guess it just wore me out,” she finished apologetically.  “All that walking and bending and twisting for the PT guy, moving around after three months of not doing much at all.  What a wimp, huh?”

He draped an arm around her shoulders and leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her temple. “Not a wimp at all.  I think you’re pretty darn tough, Tara.”

She snorted.  “I used to work twelve-hour days on my feet doing perms and highlights and haircuts without so much as a lunch break.  Now I need a three-hour nap after turning my head and raising my arms a few times.” 

“It’ll take time.”

“So I hear.”  She said, grimacing.  “I wanted to make supper for you to celebrate the first day of school.  I’m sorry.”

“You can cook tomorrow. Tonight, I went all out.  Fancy, exquisite, gourmet fare.  Otherwise known as grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

Tara suddenly realized that she was ravenous.  She wolfed down the simple meal as Ethan told her about his new students and some of the different things he was anticipating about the new school year.   His enthusiasm was so appealing that she almost found herself wishing she could go back to school.

“I never had a Math teacher like you,” she blurted.

Ethan stopped.  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”  He wondered.

“Remember Mr. Hart?”  She drew herself up and deepened her voice in an imitation of the high school Math teacher:  “’You gotta have your tool box.  Only five things in it, the letters 
T, H, I, N, K.  
Knowing how to think is only tool you’ll ever need.’
 
Turns out, I needed a whole bunch of other tools for his class.  A calculator.  A tutor.  Permission to drop his class.”

Ethan laughed.  “I remember him.  He’s one of the reasons I went into teaching.  I knew there had to be a better way to reach kids and help them enjoy learning.”

“I wanted to teach, once upon a time” she admitted.  “Right after I got my Cosmetology license, I really thought about getting my instructor’s license.  It’s such a rewarding field to work in, but so many people drop out before they even take their state board exams, or they get their license and never use it.  Statistically, less than five percent of all licensed cosmetologists are still working in the field after five years.”

They washed the dishes together, and then Tara made two cups of blueberry tea for them to drink on the porch.  Ethan talked some more about his day, and she found herself nodding off again.  
We’re like an old married couple
, she thought with a chuckle.  
Just a couple of old farts talking about our day and watching the sunset.

She felt a small jot of panic at the word “married”.  No, she was not going to expect that from Ethan.  This wasn’t about love or marriage
.  
It was about physical attraction, sure.  Friendship, of course.  A common goal of keeping the Seashell out of Jacqueline’s greedy hands.

But that was all it was.

She was not falling in love with Ethan Davis, she told herself as she drifted off to sleep once more.  Definitely not.