Loving Laura (The Cantrelle Family Trilogy) (14 page)

He knew she was being more sensible than he was because the more time he spent with her, the harder it was going to be to pretend that all he felt for her was friendship. And the last thing she needed right now was more turmoil in her life, more guilt heaped on her.

He helped her with her raincoat, taking care not to touch her. She tied a scarf around her head, and Neil couldn’t help thinking how much she looked like a waif, with her pale face sprinkled with freckles and her big, sad eyes.

She picked up her umbrella and just before she turned to go, she said softly, “Thanks, Neil. Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime.”

* * *

Laura hardly remembered driving home. All she could think about was Neil and how kind and understanding he had been when she’d told him about her mother, how easy it had been to talk to him, how much she trusted him. When had this happened? When had she gone from feeling uncomfortable and tense around him to feeling as if she could tell him anything?

What a difference from the way she felt about Norman. Although she had been comfortable with him, she had never been able to talk to him. Because she worked with him every day, she’d had to tell him about her fear of the dark and closed-in places, but she would never have been able to tell him the things she had told Neil because Norman didn’t want to hear them. He refused to look beneath the surface. He told her she was making too much of her fears.

“If you don’t think about them, they’ll go away,” he said, as if that easy answer were really possible.

Laura sighed. His attitude about her problem was typical of his attitude about everything. He saw only what he wanted to see. He hadn’t known her at all. She’d realized long ago that they weren’t right for each other, but still she’d delayed breaking off their relationship because of her growing love for his family and for what he represented.

She’d been crazy to think she could marry him. Thank God Norman had refused her impulsive gesture. A marriage between them wouldn’t have worked. It was bad enough they didn’t really communicate, but she’d also never felt any physical desire for Norman. She’d certainly never wanted to feel his arms around her, never wanted his kisses, never ached to have him touch her and make love with her.

Like Neil.

The knowledge throbbed inside like a toothache. Something that wouldn’t go away, wouldn’t let you forget about it. The feelings she had for Neil weren’t casual, weren’t brotherly, weren’t wise.

She wanted him. She wanted him as a lover as well as a friend. She wanted to feel his hands on her naked skin, warming and caressing her. She wanted his mouth taking hers the way it had taken it today: hungry, demanding, possessive. She wanted him to fill her up, all the empty spaces and places that craved filling.

She was in deep trouble.

She wished she’d never met him.

* * *

Neil didn’t finish the roofing bid until after ten o’clock that night. He spent so much time thinking about Laura, reliving everything that had happened and everything they’d said, that it took him much longer than it should have.

About eight the rain slacked off, and he sent out for a pizza. Then he forced himself to concentrate. When he was done, he put the finished bid on Laura’s desk so she would see it first thing in the morning. Then he put on his jacket and left, locking up behind him. He started up the stairs to the apartment, then remembered that he needed shampoo and a couple of other things. He’d meant to stop on his way back from the hospital, but had forgotten.

Better go now, he thought.

Ten minutes later he drove through downtown Patinville, turning onto Main Street. Maybe the drugstore would still be open. Sure enough, Bradley’s Drug Store blazed with light.

Neil parked in a vacant slot across from the store. He was glad the rain had stopped, but it was chilly out, and he zipped up his jacket, then sprinted across the street. Entering the store, he quickly scanned the signs over the aisles, then headed for the one where he should find shampoo. After selecting a bottle and grabbing some shaving cream and toothpaste, he headed toward the front of the store.

He put his purchases on the counter and looked for a clerk. He could see the top of William Bradley’s bald head behind the pharmacy counter in back, but no clerk. Just as he was about to pick up his purchases and walk toward the rear, a woman’s voice said, “May I help you?”

He looked up and met the green-eyed gaze of Margaret Chase, his ex-wife’s mother. He saw recognition flash across her fleshy face, then the narrowing of her eyes, and the clenching of her jaw. Animosity was evident in her very stance. Well, it was mutual, he thought. He’d never liked Margaret because he felt she fed Erica’s dissatisfaction with life by leading her to believe she was better than other people. That she deserved more than she was getting.

“Hello, Margaret.”

“Neil.” She inclined her head. “Wondered if you’d come home. Heard about Norman.”

There it was again, that small town network that sped news with more efficiency than any newspaper or telegraph.

“How are you?” he said. He’d be civil if it killed him.

“Oh, I’m just fine.” She smirked. “How about you? You find your fortune down there, wherever it is you went when you left here?” She didn’t say,
with your tail between your legs,
but Neil knew she wanted to.

“I’m doing okay.” He kept his tone neutral.

“That’ll be $7.14,” she said. She dropped his purchases into a plastic bag.

He handed her a ten-dollar bill and waited for his change. She started to count the change out, mouthing the numbers under her breath. Then she stopped. A sly smile slid across her face. “I guess you’re wondering how Erica is doing, aren’t you?”

He had been, but he would never have given her the satisfaction of hearing him ask.

“Well, she’s doing just great. She went out to Hollywood, you know, and she married her a rich producer. Yes, sirree, she’s living high on the hog now. They got them a huge house in Bel Air. You should see it. She’s even got a heart-shaped swimming pool. Johnny—that’s her
new
husband—he’s loaded, and he had it built ’specially for her.” The smile on her face was one of glee. “I go out to see her two, three times a year. Johnny treats me real good.”

Neil didn’t begrudge Erica her new-found wealth with her successful husband. If that’s what it took to make her happy, so be it. The knowledge that this was so made him smile with genuine warmth. “I’m delighted to hear it,” he said. “Give her my best, will you?” He couldn’t help the additional feeling of satisfaction from seeing Margaret’s face fall in disappointment. What a witch. No wonder Erica had such skewed values.

What made people like that? he wondered as he climbed into the truck. She was actually disappointed that he wasn’t jealous. He was still shaking his head when he got back to the apartment, but by the time he got inside, turned on some lights, and put his purchases away, Margaret Chase and her nasty little digs had disappeared and he was once more thinking about Laura.

He wondered what she was doing now. He eyed the phone. What would she think if he called her? He took two steps toward the phone, then stopped. He couldn’t call her.

Remember your brother, he thought as he headed for the kitchen and the bottle of J&B. In the middle of pouring himself a hefty drink, he stopped, the second time in less than five minutes that he’d halted an action. What was he trying to do? Drown his sorrows?

Then he laughed at himself. Melodrama didn’t suit him. He finished pouring his drink and carried it into the living room. He was making too much of all this.

When he saw Laura tomorrow, he probably wouldn’t feel anything at all.

On Wednesday morning, Neil was coming down the steps from the apartment when Laura pulled into the parking lot. He took one look at her and knew all his rationalizations were so much garbage. She gave him a shy smile as she walked toward him, and he felt just like he’d felt when he was a freshman in high school and Susan Traylor, who was a senior and had been homecoming queen that year, winked at him.

“My father asked me to help out with the Port Allen job today,” he said.

She looked up at the sky. “I hope it doesn’t rain again. We’ve lost a lot of time on that job.”

“Yeah, I know.”

That was all they said, but it was enough to keep her in Neil’s thoughts all day. And it was enough to prove to him that if he hoped to handle this impossible attraction he felt for her, he’d better keep his distance.

And for the most part, he did. He kept himself busy helping the crews on the days it didn’t rain;
the other days he spent at the hospital with Norman. But there were times when he couldn’t stop himself from doing something for her. He knew it would be much better for everyone concerned if Laura thought their kiss was only a gesture of comfort, that it really meant nothing to him, so he tried.

But one day he was on his way out of the supermarket and he saw a display of fresh flowers. Impulsively, he picked up a bunch of red and white carnations and gave them to Laura that afternoon. The spark of happiness he saw in her eyes when she realized the flowers were for her made him ache to have the right to lavish gifts on her.

Another day he stopped in the local used bookstore to pick up something else to read besides the books of poetry he’d brought from Florida, and he saw a new mystery that had already hit the bestseller lists. He picked it up, wondering if Laura would like it. Knowing he shouldn’t, he bought it anyway. By the time he reached Norman’s apartment, Laura was gone for the day, and he knew the most sensible thing to do would be leave the book on her desk with a note. Instead he waited until the next morning and delivered the book in person. Her obvious pleasure warmed his heart for days.

He told himself there was nothing wrong in what he’d done. He was just being nice to someone who had had too little kindness in her life. And, after all, hadn’t he promised Denise he’d keep an eye on Laura? Be kind to her?

Two days before Christmas, Dr. Dunado told Neil and his parents that Norman was completely out of danger. “His left leg is coming along nicely, and the stump is clear of infection. If he keeps up this pace, we might move him over to physical therapy by the middle of January. It all depends on how fast he can walk on that left leg.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Arlette asked.

“Yes, that’s very good.” Dunado rubbed his nose where his glasses had made little indentations. “Surprising, too. For a while he was exhibiting signs of depression, as if he didn’t care about getting well, but now he’s fighting.”

Neil had noticed this change, too. He’d been worried about Norman’s depression and was grateful for the change. He wondered if the change had anything to do with what Laura had said to Norman. He’d been meaning to feel Norman out on the subject, but the right opportunity hadn’t presented itself.

“Well, my Norman, he never was one to give up, you know?” Arlette said. “My children aren’t quitters.”

She didn’t look at Neil, but Neil knew her remark was meant for him as much as for the doctor. Obviously, if she was back to her old feisty self, she was feeling better about everything. She was an amazing woman. Also a determined woman. She had been dropping hints for days now— hints that perhaps Neil should think about staying in Louisiana. And if it hadn’t been for Laura, he probably would have considered it.

“When will he get his prosthesis?” Neil asked Dunado.

“Once he goes to physical therapy, the first thing they’ll do is put on a shrinker. That’s a thick, stretchy type of knee hose that shapes the stump and prepares it for the artificial limb. That’ll stay on about a week or so, then they’ll fit the prosthesis.”

Neil hadn’t known things would move this fast. He’d had some vague idea that Norman might have to wait six months or so before getting his new leg. “And then what?”

“Once we get him fitted, he’ll have to remain in rehab for anywhere from one week to a month. It just all depends. He’ll have physical therapy twice a day until he’s able to function on his own and has regained most of his strength.”

Encouraged by this news, Neil walked with his parents to their car. The sky was heavy with dark clouds, and a fitful wind scattered dead leaves and small bits of debris across the parking lot. Even the air smelled of rain. Neil was sick of the wet, cold weather, but the forecasters were predicting more on the way. He zipped up his jacket against the chill and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I’m so happy about Norman,” his mother said.

“Me, I wonder how long it will be before he can go back to work,” his father said, forehead furrowed.

“Who cares when he goes back to work? We should just be thankful he’s alive!”

Neil grinned at his mother’s show of spunk. She was definitely back to her old self.

Réne looked wounded as he answered. “I know, Arlette. I
am
thankful. I thank God every day that he let Norman live, okay? But I can’t help worryin’ about the business.”

Neil’s father had only expressed a concern that had been gnawing at Neil for days. The business was important, not only because it was the family’s livelihood, but because it was an integral part of all their lives.

When Réne had graduated from high school, he had gone to work for a roofing and home improvement company in Baton Rouge. After working there for five years, he had decided to strike out on his own and started Cantrelle Roofing and Home Improvement Company in Patinville, borrowing money wherever he could. That first year he worked long hours seven days a week to build it up. Gradually, over the years, he had hired several other men to work for him. Both Neil and Norman had grown up working for their father, and although Neil wanted to be a cop and joined the Baton Rouge police force, Norman had never seemed to want anything else. When Réne retired two years ago, Norman took over and had been running the business ever since.

“It’s been slow because of the holidays and the rain, but soon business will pick up again,” Réne said. He eyed Neil’s mother. “Me, I’ll pro’bly have to go back to work.”