Loving Laura (The Cantrelle Family Trilogy) (19 page)

Laura frowned. “Why doesn’t Neil just call the road service?”

“He did. But he has to do something with all the equipment in the pickup. He can’t have the truck towed and leave the stuff in it,” Denise said.

The last thing Laura wanted right now was to spend what would probably amount to hours in Neil’s company. But she couldn’t refuse. “All right, I’ll go. I’ll leave in a few minutes. Is Neil going to call you back or what?”

“No. I told him I’d send someone. He’s waiting.” Denise chuckled. “But probably not patiently.”

Laura wrote down Neil’s exact location, turned on the answering machine, grabbed her coat and the keys to the other truck, and within ten minutes she was on her way.

Bayou Sorrel was located about twenty-two miles south of Patinville on Route 75. Laura was grateful the sun was shining, even though the temperature had dropped down into the thirties during the night and hadn’t risen much above it all day. If she hadn’t been so edgy about seeing Neil, she might have really enjoyed the drive. The sky was such a brilliant blue it almost hurt her eyes to look at it, and only a few wispy clouds floated overhead. The air felt crisp and clean and smelled fresh, with a tangy nip. It was exactly the kind of day Laura usually loved. But the closer she got to Bayou Sorrel, the more tense she felt.

It didn’t take very long for her to reach Neil. He was standing on the side of the road, leaning against the disabled truck, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. The sunlight had turned his hair into gleaming ebony, and

Laura’s stomach flip-flopped as he turned and watched her pull over. When she shut off the ignition, he straightened, feet apart, his face enigmatic as she climbed down out of the cab and walked toward him.

“Hi,” she said, heart quickening as their eyes met. “I was sent to the rescue.”

“Hi.” For one unguarded moment, his eyes were filled with emotion. “The tow truck should be here soon.” His voice sounded rough and uneven. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem.” She felt tongue-tied, as if they were strangers. Her awkwardness seemed to have permeated her body, as well, because she wasn’t sure where she should stand or what she should do with her hands.
Is he glad to see me? Is that what I saw in his eyes?

“You can sit in the cab if you like.”

“No, no, that’s okay.”

There was a strained silence for a few minutes, then he said, “At least it’s not raining anymore.”

“Yes, that is a blessing,” she agreed.
Good grief, we sound as if we hardly know each other, as if our last meeting was as casual as this one, as if we’ve never even touched, let alone shared the most intimate experience two people can share.

Was this how men and women acted when they’d once had a relationship and no longer did? Were they always this stilted and remote? Suddenly she desperately wanted to touch him, to talk to him. She wanted to know he cared about her, even if he could never do anything about it. She wanted to tell him how she’d been feeling the past two weeks, how unhappy she’d been, how much she’d missed him. She also wanted to tell him she was feeling better now, that if guilt was causing him to close her out, to treat her so coldly, he didn’t have to feel that way, because she really
did
understand. She wished she could tell him about calling Celeste, about everything.

And if he’d given her any opening at all, she might have chanced it, but he hadn’t. If Celeste was right, if Laura’s own instincts were right, and he cared for her, how could he act this way? Pain constricted her chest. Maybe she was just kidding herself.

Maybe she didn’t matter to him at all.

The thought hurt so much it was hard for her to maintain her calm exterior. She thought she’d faced the possibility that Neil really didn’t love her.

Well, she’d better face the truth now. Just because she loved him didn’t mean he loved her. And if that were true, she’d have to learn to live with it.

Starting right now.

“I’d better get this stuff loaded into the other truck,” he said, gesturing toward the ladders, lumber, boxes of tools and nails, and other paraphernalia loaded in the bed of the broken-down truck.

“I can help,” Laura offered.

Following him, she stood quietly by, and when he handed her something small and light enough for her to carry, she took it over to her truck. The work took them about ten minutes, with Neil doing most of it. When they were finished, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and squinted down the road.

He can’t even look at me,
she thought. Giving him a covert glance, she propped her arm against the truck, half facing him. His forehead was creased, as if he were preoccupied or worried, or both. The hollows and angular planes of his face seemed more pronounced than normal. She thought he looked lonely, but his stance didn’t invite intrusion. She wished she had the right to walk over to him, smooth back his hair, touch his cheek. She would have given anything in the world to see a blaze of love fire his eyes, even if that love was doomed. She just wanted to know, even if that knowledge could never be acted on, that she was important to him.

Cars and trucks whizzed by them, the sun shone down with impartial brilliance, across the roadway a squirrel scampered up the trunk of a gnarled oak tree, a monarch butterfly danced through the air, and somewhere in the distance someone was using a chainsaw. Laura was aware of all these extraneous sounds and sights but nothing was as vivid as the curve of Neil’s shoulders, the tight resolution of his lips, the glossy shine of his hair.

“Here comes the tow truck,” he said, startling her.

As they watched, the wrecker, looking like a giant bird of prey, swooped down on them, its tires grinding to a halt a few feet away. The driver leaned out of the cab, and Neil walked over to talk to him. Within minutes the tow truck had been maneuvered into position and Neil’s truck hitched to it.

“I’ll drive,” Neil said as they walked toward the truck she’d driven over, and she tossed him the keys wordlessly.

They followed the tow truck to a garage just outside Indian Village, which was about six miles closer to Patinville than Bayou Sorrel. They didn’t talk. Neil stared at the road, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the Oak Ridge Boys singing “Elvira,” and Laura stared out her window. When they reached the garage, she waited in the truck while Neil went inside to talk to the owner. She tried to empty her mind, but it wasn’t possible, not with Neil so close. Not when all she had to do was turn her head and see the top of his dark head through the grimy office window. Not when she knew within minutes he’d be back inside the truck, sitting within inches of her. Not when the memory of their lovemaking was still so vivid in her mind, causing her knees to go weak every time she remembered how it felt to hold him in her arms as they shared an unforgettable passion.

She watched as he walked out of the office and strode across the parking lot toward the truck and she wished she didn’t care so much. She wondered what he was thinking as he started the truck and they were once more streaking toward home. They still didn’t speak. The silence between them grew until it was almost palpable, a heavy tension that thrummed in the air.

Say something,
she thought, willing him to talk to her.
Whether you like it or not, I’m here. I exist. Even if you’d like to pretend nothing ever happened between us, you can’t, because it did.
The urge to say these words was so strong, she almost blurted them out, but something held her back.

She glanced over at Neil. His hands were gripping the steering wheel, and the set of his jaw was fiercely determined. She realized he intended to drop her off at home without ever saying another word. As if he could exorcise her from his life by ignoring her.

Running away.

She’d been right, even though she’d flung the words at him in anger and hurt. He was dealing with his problems by running away, even if it were only mentally. He still hadn’t come to grips with his past.

But wasn’t she just as bad? Hadn’t she always run away from her problems, too? The question reverberated in her mind like the sound that reverberates through the concert hall when the cymbals are clashed together. With a sharp intake of breath, Laura realized that she had dealt with her problems in exactly the way she’d accused Neil of dealing with his. She’d run away from her home and mother by spending most of her time at Celeste’s house, pretending Celeste’s family was her family. She’d run away from her phobias by pretending they didn’t exist and refusing to discuss them with anyone as if not talking about them would make them go away. She’d run away from her real life and into the world of her fantasies by leaving California to move to Louisiana as if moving to Louisiana—Celeste’s childhood home—would somehow make her a different person. And she was still running away by refusing to acknowledge the existence of her mother. Every time anyone asked, Laura told them her mother was dead. But the last time she’d seen Ginger, Ginger had been very much alive. And she probably still was.

Suddenly Laura realized that if she were ever going to get herself and her life straightened out, she had to confront her fears and overcome them. She had to put the past be-hind her so that she could face the future. No more running away.

Once more, she looked at Neil. If only she could tell him all that she was feeling. Maybe she could help him. Maybe they could help each other. Because she knew he also needed to put the past behind him. She knew his feelings of guilt about his partner’s death were affecting his actions now.

But she couldn’t say anything. The barrier Neil had erected between them was too high, and she knew he’d have to be the one to break it down.

* * *

From the minute he’d seen her walking toward him, coat open, hair blowing in the wind, eyes sparkling blue in the sunlight, Neil knew he had to keep a tight clamp on his emotions. Because if he didn’t, he was afraid of what might happen. He only had so much strength.

So he’d said as little as possible while they waited for the tow truck, and nothing at all during the drive back to Patinville. And now they were approaching Beauregard Street, where the office was located. Two or three more minutes, and then he could relax.

‘‘Where are we going, Neil? Aren’t you going to take me home?”

The question startled him, and he looked at her. A mistake, he thought, as the impact of her astonishing blue eyes hit him in the solar plexus. “Uh, don’t you want to pick up your car?”

“Didn’t Denise tell you? My car’s in the shop. She drove me to work this morning.”

Why did she have to look so much like a woman who needed him? Like a woman who would, if he let her, always be there when he needed her? Like a woman who would be sweet and warm and welcoming and who would always love him?

Why couldn’t he forget what they’d shared?

Why couldn’t he forget her?

“How were you planning to get home?” he asked, a tightness in his chest causing his words to sound odd. He was already passing the office and driving toward her apartment.

“I was going to keep this truck overnight.”

“I’m sorry I screwed up your plans.”

“It’s not a problem. I’m sure Denise will take me in to work tomorrow if my car’s not ready.” She made a disgusted sound. “Darn. I was supposed to call the garage this afternoon.”

“Want me to swing by there?”

“Do you mind?”

“Of course not.”

Now it was his turn to wait for her. She wasn’t long. “They’re waiting on a part. It’ll be ready tomorrow morning,” she said, climbing back into the truck.

He nodded, and once more they were on their way. He wondered what she was thinking as he turned the comer onto her street. He wondered when he would see her again. He wondered if they’d ever talk to each other again, or would their meetings become more and more impersonal? He gripped the steering wheel harder as the truth settled like a dead weight into his stomach.

This might be the last time they were ever alone together.

And there wasn’t one damn thing he could do about it.

The following Tuesday night, Laura paused outside Norman’s door. Telling herself not to be a coward, she knocked softly.

“Come in,” Norman called.

Smiling brightly, Laura pushed open the door. “Hi! How are you feel—” She broke off, noticing for the first time that he had another visitor, a small blond woman with wide gray eyes and a friendly smile. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi. You must be Laura,” said the woman in a soft, breathy voice. “I’m Alice Kendella.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Laura said, walking over and extending her hand. As they shook hands, smiling at one another, Laura was struck by the oddest sensation—a sensation almost like deja vu—a feeling of recognition. When she looked into Alice’s clear, gray eyes, she sensed many things all at once, but the most compelling feeling was that Alice was a kindred spirit, a woman she could trust.

Although Laura would have preferred to concentrate her attention on Alice so that she could explore this strange bonding she felt so strongly, she turned to Norman. “You look chipper tonight.” He did. His face had more color, and he just plain looked better.

“I feel good today,” Norman said. “And having two pretty gals here tonight is certainly nice.” He grinned, first at Laura, then at Alice. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“Hey,” Alice said, grinning back, “how often do we get a chance to practice our wiles on a captive male audience?”

“So I’m a guinea pig, huh?” Norman said with mock reproach. “And here I thought I was just irresistible.”

“That, too,” Laura said, laughing. Amazing. She felt more relaxed than she had in weeks, and she’d been dreading coming tonight. Alice’s presence had defused the tension Laura normally felt when she was alone with Norman. Alone with Norman and her own guilty feelings.

The thought had hardly formed when there was a short rap on the door. A second later Neil walked in, and Laura’s heart somersaulted. Her entire body tensed.

“Neil, hi!” Alice stood on tiptoe and kissed him.