More Than Friends (10 page)

He cringed as he recalled a Saturday spent by the river. It had been August. A hot, humid day when breathing had taken all the energy they’d had. They’d stretched out under the gnarled old oak tree. All those teenage hormones had been surging and he’d told her it was time. Even now he could see the fear that had darkened her eyes and paled her cheeks.

“I love you,” she’d whispered. “But I can’t make love to you.”

Her pain, as real and tangible as the river itself, had frightened him. He’d kissed away the tears, as if by removing the symptom, he could erase the cause. Three weeks later everything had been over. In the space of an afternoon, he’d lost his home, his future and Jenny.

Eleven years, he thought, turning left at the signal. Eleven years he’d hated her for something that hadn’t been her fault. The memory of the harsh words he’d spoken yesterday and that morning echoed loudly around him. He’d accused her of lying, had called her names. She’d never said a word—and one word of the truth would have vindicated her. Shame coiled in his belly and left a metallic taste on his tongue.

He’d sensed there was more to the story with the carny worker. Why hadn’t he pushed her to tell him the truth? Why had he let his self-righteousness get in the way? Why in God’s name had she let him spend the night? Why hadn’t she shut him up with the truth?

Davidson was right. It
was
all his fault. He should have known, should have kept her safe. She’d needed him and he’d failed her. He should have been able to see what had happened. Rage joined the other emotions and he thought about how he would have killed the man who had hurt her. His right hand tightened on the gearshift, as if crushing the metal knob would punish the man who had violated her body and savagely stolen her innocence.

Chase pulled over and parked on the street. Taking slow, deep breaths, he tried to steady his breathing. Around him, people went about their business. A few stared at the truck; a couple recognized him. He saw the half frowns as they tried to place him, then their glares and hurried steps when they did. He’d come home a changed man, but he could feel those hard-won differences slipping away. It had begun the moment he’d seen the mill; it was completed when Davidson had told him the truth. He was now as he had been then—an angry, frustrated man who would never fit in. Jenny had been the only friend he’d had in Harrisville and he’d let her down.

He gazed across the street. A new mall took up two city blocks. On the opposite side of the road sat the old stores. A butcher shop, the dry cleaners. Modern glass and brick blended with small-town architecture. Those were the changes he’d expected. He hadn’t allowed himself to picture Jenny still around and he’d never dreamed it would matter. It had. And now—

Why? Why hadn’t she told him? He would have listened. Pain joined the rage and frustration until he thought he’d explode.

He closed his eyes and remembered the last time he’d seen her. It had been less than three hours before. If he recalled correctly, his parting shot had been to tell her to go to hell. He winced. Did the right words exist for an apology? Would she understand?

For a moment he thought he’d lost everything, but then he remembered the way she’d looked in her tiny kitchen the night before. He’d baited her with his anger. She’d shuttered her expression, hidden her feelings, but even then he’d known she’d never throw him out.

Chase propped one booted foot on the opposite seat and leaned his head against the window. There was only one solution. He’d make things up to her, fix what had been broken. Despite what had happened at the end of that summer, she’d been his best friend for more years than he could remember. He owed her nothing less than making it right.

With that decided, he started the truck and pulled out into traffic. Her house was only a few blocks away. He glanced at his watch. She’d be home within the hour. He’d tell her that he knew, explain how sorry he was, that he hadn’t meant the things he’d said. Her secret had trapped her here in Harrisville. There was no reason for her to stay if she didn’t want to. He could help her leave, give her money or something. The plan was vague, but that didn’t matter. Between now and the time he left for Phoenix, he’d take care of Jenny’s future. Then the debt would be paid.

He pulled into the driveway. The small red house looked worse for wear in the afternoon light. Cracked paint peeled off from the front corners and the porch steps sagged. There were a couple of plastic chairs in front of the living-room windows. He locked his vehicle and climbed up to sit and wait.

A few minutes later, a blue sedan stopped in front of the house. He rose to his feet. But the large car didn’t look familiar. And the woman stepping out, while Jenny’s height and coloring, wore her hair long, in a braid.

Her face had the same heart shape as Jenny’s, but the angles were slightly off, as though a sculptor had designed one from the memory of the other. A similar likeness, but not exact. In the world’s eyes, Anne would probably be considered the beauty of the two, but to him there had only ever been Jenny.

Anne marched up the front path. “I might have known I’d find you here,” she said as soon as she was within earshot. “If you think you’re going to weasel your way back into my sister’s life, you can just forget it. She doesn’t need you. Go away, Chase. Go back to your fancy home on the rich side of town. We don’t want you here.”

“You haven’t changed at all Anne. Still protecting your own,” he said.

“Someone has to.” Her chest rose and fell with each agitated breath. “How dare you sit on Jenny’s porch advertising your presence.”

“I needed to talk and—”

“Oh sure. Talk. As if that’s what people are going to think you’re doing. Don’t you care about her reputation? This is still Harrisville. It might be the nineties in the rest of the world, but we have small-town values here. Haven’t you done enough?”

Chase walked to the end of the porch. Anne stood on the first step. He was taller by several inches to begin with, but now he towered over her. Rage returned. And frustration. He knew it showed on his face. He waited, but she didn’t back down.

“I don’t scare so easily,” she said softly. “I love my sister.”

“Once I loved her, too.”

“A lot of good that did her.”

The shot hit home. Chase turned away and walked over to the railing. “I have a couple of things to say to Jenny. When I’m done, I’ll leave her in peace. As soon as things are taken care of with my father, I’m out of this town. You’ll never see me again. Satisfied?”

“No.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder.

She shrugged. “You could have waited on the back porch.”

“My truck would still be parked in the driveway. Is it that terrible that the neighbors see me here? Jenny and I used to be friends.”

“Some friend you turned out to be.”

He knew she was trying to get a rise out of him. What she couldn’t know was that nothing she could say was worse than what he’d already told himself. He was all the things Anne thought of him and more. His anger faded as quickly as it had flared.

“You’re right,” he said, holding her gaze. “I am responsible for what happened. I can’t change the past, but I can try to make up for—”

“Make it up?” She climbed up until she stood next to him. “Are you crazy? This isn’t some broken doll you can fix with a little glue. We are talking about a person. What happened to Jenny—” She paused. “Wait a minute. How do you know? She didn’t tell you, did she?”

“No. Your father had that pleasure.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not important how I found out,” he said. “What matters is that I know now. I understand I can’t completely erase what happened, but there are things I can do to make it easier. I owe her that.”

“Then leave her alone.”

“No.”

Anne shook her head. “You don’t get it, do you? We don’t need you. Jenny doesn’t need you. We look out for our own here.”

“And I’ve never been one of your own.”

She shrugged as if to say why dispute the obvious.

“It always comes back to that damn mill.”

“Us against them,” she agreed. “It’ll never change.”

It would when his father died, he thought grimly. But this wasn’t the time to go into that. “You’re right, Anne. Nothing ever changes in Harrisville.”

“Except Jenny,” she said softly.

He shifted until he was sitting on the porch railing. “I know that.”

“No. You don’t. You plan to fix her.” Green eyes met and held his own. “But she’s all grown-up. The past is behind her. What will you do if she doesn’t want or need fixing?”

A beep from a car horn interrupted them. Chase turned and saw Jenny pulling into the driveway, next to his truck. She opened the door and climbed out. A combination of shame and anger and pleasure and guilt flooded his body. The urge to run battled with the need to ask for her forgiveness. If Anne hadn’t been standing beside him, he would have raced off the porch and pulled Jenny next to him just to reassure himself that she was okay. But he couldn’t. After all, the neighbors might be watching.

“Anne,” Jenny said as she walked up onto the porch. “What brings you here?”

Her sister offered a half smile. “Just stopped by to welcome Chase home. We’ve been catching up on old times, haven’t we?”

She dared him to speak the truth. He would. But not like this. “Yeah. A welcoming committee of one.”

Jenny glanced from one to the other. The skeptical look on her face told him she knew they were lying. He waited, but she didn’t push for the truth.

“How’s your father?” she asked.

“A little better. They took him off the breathing equipment, but he still hasn’t regained consciousness. Dr. Martin says maybe tomorrow. I hope so. I’d like to talk to him for a few minutes, at least.”

She moved closer and reached out to touch him. Then she dropped her arm to her side. He winced at the insecurity in her eyes. Damn. It was his fault. He remembered how he’d blown up at her at lunch. The way he’d told her to go to hell. Even now, he could see the hurt on her face as he’d turned and stormed away.

The light cotton of her blouse had been muted by the ash and grit that belched from the mill. The gold in her hair had been erased by the soot. A smudge stained one cheek. God, she was beautiful, he thought. How could he not have seen it yesterday? Had he been so blinded by rage, so caught up in avoiding the past that he’d ignored the pleasure of watching her live and breathe?

“Jenny, I—”

“I’d better be going,” Anne said, interrupting. “Goodbye, Chase. A pleasure and all that. Do remember what I told you.”

“No problem. I’ll send you a postcard from Phoenix.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” She kissed her sister on the cheek. “Talk to you soon.”

“Do I want to ask what that was all about?” Jenny asked as Anne drove away.

“Not really.”

“She didn’t bother you, did she? Say things that—”

“Let it go.” He took her arm and steered her toward the door. “Maybe we could continue this conversation inside.”

“What conversation? Why?” She pulled her arm free. “What’s gotten into you?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the neat rows of houses across the street. “I have a lot to answer for.”

She smiled and reached for her key. “If you mean about last night, forget it. So little happens around here that people are dying for something to gossip about. You and I both know you spent the night in the spare room. And even if you hadn’t, it’s really none of their business.”

She pushed the door open and motioned for him to precede her. He walked into the small living room and turned to face her.

“I don’t mean about last night,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I mean about before. That summer. I spoke to your father at the hospital. I know—” he glanced at the ground, then lifted his head and stared straight at her “—I know about the rape.”

Jenny felt the blood drain away and wondered if she looked as shaken as she felt. No! He couldn’t know! Fiery shame filled her, sweeping across her body like wildfire. Her hands clutched the keys so tightly, she could feel the cold metal digging into her skin.

This was the moment she’d dreaded for the last eleven years. Seeing the pain and disgust in Chase’s eyes, hearing the pity in his voice. Why now? she wondered. Just when she’d managed to pull her life together, it all began to unravel again.

“He had no right to tell you,” she said at last, staring at the third button on Chase’s shirt.

“He had every right. You’re his daughter. He was trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need his protection.” She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to raise her eyes to meet his. “Or yours. So if that’s what this is about, you can just forget it.”

His face was as expressionless as it had been yesterday. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but it was just a matter of time until he blamed her, or got angry. She’d been the only one in the support group without a husband or boyfriend, but she remembered the other women talking about the men’s reactions. Some had turned into a one-man vigilante force, swearing to hunt down the rapist and punish him. Others had withdrawn slowly, day by day, until the relationship was little more than a fragile shell, shattered at the first sign of discord. Alec had been different. She’d told him about the rape, but it had occurred so long before they had met that he had no personal feelings save concern for her. There hadn’t been any macho posturing, little desire for revenge, no sense of violation. He had healed her with his easy smile and gentle touch.

Regret joined the apprehension. Regret that she hadn’t been able to forget her past enough to enjoy the present and the potential future. Alec had seen that there was more holding her back than the rape. He’d known that she’d never recovered from loving and losing Chase. He hadn’t known the other man’s name, but had felt his presence in their lives. In the end, he’d asked her to choose. She couldn’t, in good conscience, deceive Alec any longer. She’d let him go.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Chase said, taking a step closer.

She stiffened. “Then forget everything you heard today. It doesn’t matter anymore.”