Indelible (28 page)

“He’s not a man getting back on the horse that threw him. He’s a little boy.” She pressed the mother’s heart beating in her chest.

“I get that. Now.” He could still hear Cody crying.

“Come here.” She hugged him. “He’ll be all right.”

He held her, trying to do what Whit wanted, but words wouldn’t come. “So, I’m going to work, but I wanted you to know. It wasn’t personal.”

“Okay.” She let go.

How many times had she taken the hurt and moved on? For the first time he considered how unfair it might be.

But her mouth tipped up and her raccoon freckles collected as she said, “Pictionary tonight.”

He grinned. “You’re on.”

“Trevor. If Natalie needs help with Cody, I’m here.”

He raised his brows. “That’s great. I’ll tell her. Or you can.”

“Just let her know.”

He nodded. Maybe Sara and Natalie could work out their own friendship; then it wouldn’t be a big deal to include Nattie in things like Pictionary. Whit was overreacting. Frowning, he got into his SUV. Matched pair. Maybe Whit hadn’t noticed he was the one with a family.

Because of Fleur’s meeting with Mr. Granby, Lena took charge of Cody when they arrived. She hid rolls of Smarties, suckers, and Matchbox cars,
and they were playing Huckle Buckle Beanstalk. Natalie’s heart warmed. There was surely no shortage of love for her little nephew—or her.

Aaron’s concentration was elsewhere, her parents out of reach, but the friends she’d made in this short time were constant and generous. And in spite of the way their conversation ended, in her nightmare last night, Trevor had burst through the crowd and grabbed her off the disintegrating tightrope.

Fleur had come in with her and stood, fidgety, near the podium. Carter Granby would see a lovely, conscientious artist.

“He should be here any minute,” Natalie told her.

Hands peaked against her lips, Fleur nodded. “Is your model ready?”

“I’ve had no time. Carter stayed in town last night, so when I called, he set up this morning for
you.”
She turned. “And here he is.”

“Tell me quickly what he looks like.”

She described a suit similar to yesterday’s in flamboyance. “Beige and drapey, with a turquoise shirt and candy apple tie.”

“I can’t be nervous with a sausage man in gift wrap.”

Laughing, Natalie assured her she had no reason to be nervous. After making introductions, she left them to discuss his offer. Lena had Cody upstairs, and Natalie wandered toward the front.

Sunlight shown on Trevor’s statue, and someone had stopped to view it through the window. She moved closer to observe the reaction. At first she couldn’t make him out and didn’t want to be obvious. Then wind cast the hood back from his face, revealing a damaged and tortured mien. With a cry, she staggered back, grasping a platform for support.

No, oh no
. Her heart raced. Her throat constricted.

“Natalie?” Lena’s voice.

Eyes closed, she saw and hurt. She needed it out.
Oh, please
.

“Help her into the studio,” Fleur said.

The pain. The ruin. The excruciating expression. She pressed her fingers to her temples.
Please. Please
.

Lena touched her arm. “I’m going next door for Trevor.”

“No, please. Don’t.” She had to stop dragging him into this.

“Does she need medical help?” said Carter Granby.

“No,” Lena told him. “But thank you for your concern.”

Gripping the older woman’s arm, Natalie entered her sanctuary, needing and dreading a release—then cried, “Cody!”

Lena said, “He’s upstairs playing cars. I’ll watch.”

This was exactly what Trevor meant. Without Lena or someone …

From the dregs of the sludge bucket, she built a mound, gathered herself for long, aching moments, then drove her hands into the clay.

“Okay, wait.” Trevor clicked the volume up on his phone. “Who is this?”

“Lena. At the gallery.”

He frowned. “I can barely hear you.”

“Natalie told me not to call, but I thought you’d want to know.”

His pulse quickened. “Know what?” He pictured what she described with disturbing clarity.

“I don’t know what it was, but she’s in the studio—”

“Where’s Cody?”

She said, “He’s here.”

“I’ll be right over.”

“No, I—”

He didn’t wait for her argument. Entering through the front, he scanned only moments before Cody ran to him, clutching a black Firebird. “I huckle-buckled it.”

“No, really?” He crouched. No apparent damage from yesterday, but the little guy didn’t need any more scariness, and seeing his aunt the way she got would be scary. He looked up at Lena. “Care if I take him next door?”

Cody bounced on the balls of his feet. “A’venture store!”

She gazed over her spectacles. “You think I’ll be the meany who says no?”

He scooped Cody up and said, “As soon as she’s done—”

“I’ll tell her where he is.”

Barely back in the door, his cashier, Caitlyn, snatched Cody, whom she had previously dubbed their mascot. “You won’t be needing this,” she said over her shoulder and tickled Cody’s tummy.

“I’ll be in the office when you decide to turn him over.”

“Not likely.” The dimpled blonde swung away.

He considered going to the studio, but if Natalie told Lena not to call, she was probably stinging from last night. He thought of a thousand ways he could have handled the conversation better. He hadn’t even said what he meant, just fell back into old patterns.
Don’t love me; I’ll hurt you. Don’t trust me; I’ll leave you
.

He rubbed his face, feeling his dad’s grip on his shoulder.
“You’ll get this someday. You’ve got me running through you like a gold vein in granite.”

He went out and hit the climbing wall without a rope, lunging up and leaping from grip to grip, breaking their rules a hundred ways. It wasn’t gold running through him. It was tar.

“And that, people, is how you get yourself banned from this store and struck from the company insurance.” Whit’s voice penetrated the dark place in his head.

He stopped moving around the wall and eased himself to the floor. He locked gazes with Whit, then took in the other people watching. He swallowed. “What he said.”

The cool breeze hit his sweat-soaked, long-sleeve shirt like a fan, temperate sixties, not withstanding. He’d built up some heat. Moving through the gallery, he ignored Lena’s raised hand and went through to the studio.

Natalie stood with clay-smeared hands on her cheeks. A mess of clay on the table, but no model. After a moment he realized she was crying. He turned her around and took the hands she tried to pull away.

“I’m a mess.”

“I don’t care. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Her voice was tight. “I tried, but I can’t make it. I can’t.”

“Is it still in your head?”

“I think I blocked it.”

He smoothed her hair back. “I thought you couldn’t do that.”

“I never have.” She gulped. “But when I tried to make this”—her whole body shuddered—“I’ve never felt so destroyed.”

He pulled her tight and held her, rubbing her back until some of the tension left.

“I wasn’t going to bother you today.”

His fault completely. “Can we talk about that?”

She flicked a look up, then away.

Hopefully it was enough to see he meant this. “I wasn’t honest last night. I should have said don’t be careful. Don’t be afraid. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Trevor …”

He bent and kissed her, tasting clay and salt and her sweet mouth.

She brought her crusted hands to his face, his neck, his hair. Fingers curled against his jaw, she said, “Take me out of here.”

He led her out through the gallery, so Lena would know he had her. She raised her brows, but made no comment. At the last moment, Natalie turned.

“You take care,” Lena told her.

The back of her eyes ached. She felt faintly nauseated. But Trevor’s arm on her shoulders was hard and firm.

As he opened his door, he said, “Don’t be surprised if Whit gets in my face.”

She pulled her thoughts in. “About Sara?”

“No, that’s cool. I talked to her this morning.”

“Then …” She still felt dazed.

“I broke the rules on the climbing wall, working out some tension. Whit’s a safety nazi, so we’ll snag Cody and make a run for it.”

But Whit had Cody. He was walking through the shelves and telling him about the gear and equipment. Anticipating a blowup, she saw only a penetrating look pass between them.

Cody yawned and reached out for her. Taking him, she wanted to weep. What kind of caregiver was she, stunned by something she saw while everyone else had her little guy? She shuddered as the feeling, if not the face, rolled over her again.

“You’re dirty.” Cody rubbed his finger on her cheek.

She’d forgotten. No wonder Whit held his tongue. She must look like a refugee.

“Everything cool?” Whit said.

“Sure.” Trevor smiled. “Thanks for holding on to him.”

Whit pocketed his hands. “Sara said you talked.”

“I groveled; she let me off light. Pictionary tonight. I’ll bring these two.” He brought his hand to the small of her back. “Sara said she’d help out with Cody anytime.”

Natalie took that in with mixed feelings. “That’s … kind.”

“She’s great with kids. Even before Braden.” Then to Whit, “We’ll grab dinner and come around eight.”

“That’s almost Cody’s bedtime.” She snuggled her nephew.

“We can tuck him in there.”

Something was going on that she couldn’t quite grasp.

Whit shrugged. “You and Sara covered the details?”

“Just that I’d be there.”

Again the undercurrent. The thought of Whit and Sara’s, and some kind of turf war made her temples throb. She could beg off later.

With Cody down for a nap, she washed in the bathroom, Trevor at the kitchen sink. Coming back together, she pulled a crumb of clay from his hair. “I made a mess of you.”

“Mud wrestling would be a mess.”

She laughed. “I have a sludge bucket.”

“Are you offering?” He cocked his head.

“Absolutely not.”

He said, “You believe me, right? What I told you?”

“It’s really soon to be making promises. I’m not even sure I can take care of Cody. Real life? The jury’s out.”