Skin Heat (27 page)

“We need to talk about what happened,” she said.

He scented her fear, too, a sour-milk stink beneath the lye. It had taken a lot of guts for her to face him alone—and maybe lack of self-preservation, too. Even now, she wasn’t sure it was safe, and that made the beast roar.
She’s ours.
With effort, he fought down its anguished outrage. His animal self felt like she’d kicked it. But he’d given her reason to doubt him. More than one.

“Gonna sleep in the barn while you’re here.” It was just too much temptation otherwise. If he saw her moving around his home, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her. The beast wouldn’t let her be; in his head, it roared in protest. Even now he wanted to stroke her and tell her everything would be fine, that he’d never let her go and they could fix anything bad between them. Most of all, he wanted to keep that promise:
I’m not going anywhere.
But promises were made to be broken, and someone like him had no business making them to a woman like her.

Her breath hitched. “What are you saying?”

“Know what I’m saying.” He couldn’t meet her gaze, and it hurt way worse than he’d thought it would, like an echo of needles beneath his skin. Added to the heartache from before, it became damn near unbearable.

“You don’t want to be with me anymore? Because of this? It was a little . . . over the top, I admit, but I understand why you thought I didn’t want him touching me. But that was a special circumstance.”

Wonderful. She didn’t get it. Her emotional state mattered not at all, didn’t count even slightly when it came to his animal impulses. Her preferences hadn’t even dawned on him.

“Can’t say that was a one-time thing, Neva. If you’re around him—or
anyone
—and you’re mine, then I’ll do it again. Next time, might kill him.”

“But why?”

Zeke focused on the critters inside his shirt, their contentment instead of his own pain. “Can’t stand to see somebody else’s hands on you.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Her forehead creased. “He was comforting me. I found out—”

“Don’t matter.” He cut her off, not wanting to hear why.

Her scent shifted from fear to hurt. In doing so, it darkened, a touch less sour in his nose, more like meat soaked in brine. But that was no better, just a different kind of wrong.

“Maybe you could learn to control it. I mean, obviously it’s not . . . all right. What you did.”

Zeke shoved to his feet, startling the kittens. He caught them and deposited them back in their freshly cleaned box. He turned and headed for the door. Words couldn’t fix this. Nothing could change what he was and he didn’t believe in endless talking that only turned the knife in the wound. He had been beyond stupid to think it could work, even for a little while.

“So that’s it?” Her voice rose. “We’re done?”

He went out the front door without looking back. Zeke almost expected her to follow him; he hoped, though it would only make the parting more painful. If she pleaded or cried, he might not be able to stand firm. God help them both.

But she didn’t. From outside he heard her moving around the house. It took him a minute to realize she was packing.
Did you think she’d stay?
She’d rather be anywhere but here, now.

A flock of snow geese lit in the distant field, resting and looking for food. Their white feathers contrasted with the dark earth. It should have been beautiful, like the cascading call of the winter wren. There was much to admire here, and yet he turned his back on all of it and strode toward the outbuilding: the perfect place to hide.

When the front door opened, it took everything he had to stay in the barn. Cold wind blew through the cracks in the rotting walls. Empty stalls and rusted tools gave the building a haunted air. This was the worst place on the farm, where he’d found his mother’s body. Sometimes he thought she lingered here, trapped and hopeless as she’d been in life. Fitting he stood in these shadows now, listening to love leave him.

Zeke didn’t budge until he heard her engine start and the car drove away. She was five miles down the road before he stepped outside. Funny, he felt the cold as he hadn’t since his escape, but it didn’t settle on his skin. Instead he felt it in his bones.

The house was too quiet when he went back inside. She’d turned off the music, probably to save electricity since she didn’t know when he’d come back. But the silence felt to him like the grave, heavy and final.

He sat down to grieve, one night only. Zeke didn’t believe in brooding for long on things that couldn’t be changed. As things stood, he would have to give notice at the clinic and start looking for other work. There was no way he could see her every day and not die of the pain. Better to make the break clean and permanent. Hell, maybe he should even sell the farm, if he could find a buyer. Start over somewhere else. That might be best.

Hours later, a car slowed near his drive. That meant the person intended to turn. He wasn’t in the mood for company, but he stood, ambling to the window to see who it was. Sid parked and climbed out of her old Ford, then went to the trunk and started unloading. The wicker basket in her hand would be loaded with dishes, if he knew the woman at all. Time to turn on some lights and pretend he was fine.

Zeke sighed and went to open the door. “Evening, auntie.”

“Oh my,” she said, marveling at the bright walls. “You’ve done wonders for the place, you surely have.”

“Glad you like it.”

“I brought leftovers.” She leveled a chastening stare on him. “Last week you promised you’d come to Sunday supper, after church let out. When you didn’t show, I figured you plumb forgot.”

Shit.
The last time they’d talked, he
had
promised. Neva had a way of edging everything out of his brain, not that his mind was a steel trap on the best of days. Another reason she’d do better without him. Zeke never could’ve imagined he’d miss the average IQ he’d had before.

“Sorry.”

Sid brushed past him, heading for the kitchen. He followed her. She clucked over its humble state. “Good thing everything’s still warm. Have you eaten today?”

Had he? Yeah, at the luncheon, but he’d been too tense to enjoy it much. He took a seat at the kitchen table. It brought back memories to see her here. While he was a kid and his dad was still alive, she’d often come over with that same basket full of food. If she hadn’t, no telling what would’ve happened to them.

“Not supper,” he admitted.

“Then I’ll fix you a plate and you can tell me what went wrong.”

He froze. “Huh?”

“I heard your girl moved out.”

Did the whole town know everything about everyone? Christ, it had only been a few hours. The wound hadn’t even scabbed over, and they were already gossiping. It must be worse for Neva; she’d risked her good name by taking up with him.

“How?” No point in denying it. Sid knew her information was good.

“The housekeeper at Harper Court called her cousin to say she’d be staying late because they needed her to prepare Geneva’s bedroom. She was supposed to have Sunday supper with Gladys.”

“Gladys.”

“The housekeeper’s cousin. And she goes to church with my friend Judy.”

“Who called you?” He wasn’t sure he understood why, but he didn’t ask.

Gladys probably called somebody in her prayer chain; telephone lists worked equally well for spreading juicy news. His aunt Sid had been guilty of doing the same a time or two. He just wished it didn’t involve him directly.

“Lands, yes. You and Geneva have been the talk of the town, and she hasn’t spent a night at Harper Court in a while now. For her to go home . . . well.” His aunt smiled. “Things must be rough on both of you, and I figured you’d need cheering up. Don’t worry, baby. You’ll meet a girl who appreciates you.”

He almost laughed. She figured Neva had done the dumping ; it made no sense the other way. Why would a man like him break it off with a woman like her? No point setting the record straight; even Aunt Sid wouldn’t believe him.

The forest sounded better and better.

What could he say, except: “Thanks.”

With grim resolve, he ate the food she’d brought: fried chicken, peas and carrots, and apple cobbler. Zeke let her comforting words pour over him in a vague rush of noise. He made the right sounds and nodded now and then, wanting nothing more than to be alone. Eventually she left and the silence came back. Tonight, he didn’t stick around to listen.

Instead he went to the woods, where he belonged.

 

Could things get
worse? Neva was with her mother of all people, unpacking in her childhood bedroom. Suite was more like it. Everything was pink and gold—a dream come true, if she were eleven and still dreaming of ballet. In fact, her last pair of slippers still sat in the closet, waiting for a little girl who didn’t exist anymore. She didn’t know whether to be touched or horrified. Nobody had cleaned the place when she moved out permanently, as if leaving these things here would ensure she came home.

“You want to talk about it?” Her mother was making a real effort to be kind, though she had to be thrilled, after what she’d said about not marrying the help. She paused delicately. “I . . . heard about what happened.”

Neva tensed. When she’d turned, horrified at Zeke’s behavior, there had been a few guests milling around; no doubt they’d wasted no time in spreading the story. People would be talking about this for weeks. Since she was a Harper, it made the furor worse, too. It had taken all her courage not to bolt like Zeke had. Instead she’d taken Ben’s arm and spent an excruciating hour pretending the stares and whispers didn’t bother her. She’d learned early on that running only made it worse.

“Not really.” She hung up the last shirt in the enormous closet; her bathroom at the apartment was smaller.

Lillian sighed. “You should. If not to me, then to Julie. You won’t be ready to move on until you accept it’s over.”

“We’re not talking about Zeke anymore, are we?”

“Did you want to talk about Luke instead?” Her mother shifted, crossing her legs elegantly even while she perched on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t want to talk period. I just need to stay until the kittens are big enough not to need overnight care.”

And she didn’t want to impose on Travis and Julie, though she expected they’d be happy to have her. They’d find some way to work around his allergies, if they knew she really needed help. She was just conscious of not asking for favors from friends; it tended to strain the relationship. Whereas her relationship with her parents could hardly get worse, so it didn’t matter. It might be a little awkward, but the house echoed with space. She could stay out of their way, if she could just get rid of her mother first.

“Fine.” The other woman capitulated unexpectedly. “I understand you spoke to your father . . . and he told you.”

Since it was at least off topic, she nodded, shutting the closet doors and turning to face Lillian. “I can’t believe it.”

“I suppose he gave you the same speech?”

“That we need to cut each other some slack, because soon we’ll only have each other?”

“That’s the one.” Lillian studied her hands, and Neva did, too.

Though she was well kept and lovely, cosmetics couldn’t hide the signs of age on her fingers. Her fingers had thickened slightly, the knuckles a touch knotty. As her mild arthritis worsened, it would show even more. Her mother hated that, and had even stopped wearing her beloved rings, hoping people wouldn’t notice. Neva remembered when she’d worn diamonds on just about every finger. She remembered pulling them off to try them on her thumbs—and her mother hadn’t scolded her or complained she might lose them. It hadn’t always been . . . like this, between them. Maybe she could make the first move.

“I’m sorry I can’t be who you want me to be.”

She sat down on the bed, seeing how old her mother looked—without her makeup and in her at-home clothes, Lillian Harper showed her years in the small lines about her eyes and the ones bracketing her mouth. Luke’s disappearance had hit her hard. They’d all depended on him, maybe too much, and his absence left a hole.

Her mother took her hand. “I’m the one who’s sorry. With your brother gone and now your dad sick . . . I feel like I’m lucky I still have you at all.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “It hurts me to see you sad. Did I have anything to do with this?”

So it takes a dying man and broken heart to dig any real emotion out of you, huh?
She squished the uncharitable thought and tried not to remember what an ice queen her mother had been out at the farm. It wasn’t like that mattered anymore. Zeke had walked out on her, and she wouldn’t be crawling back. She didn’t want a man who was always running instead of fighting.

“With my breakup?” Though she didn’t know if those words even accurately represented the situation. They’d never had an official date; she didn’t think she could count that meal at Tom’s Diner. In all the ways that mattered, they’d never been together like normal people, and the one time they tried, it blew up in a huge way.

“I was a bitch to him,” Lillian said flatly. “And I did it on purpose because I still had it fixed in my head you should be with Ben.”

That surprised her. “You don’t think so now? Why the sudden change of heart?”

For her mother to admit she’d been wrong, it might mean the end of days. Perhaps she should be looking for a rain of toads, blood in the rivers, locusts in the fields, and fire in the sky. Neva glanced out the window, just in case, and saw only darkness. She wondered if Zeke was still out in the barn, or if he’d gone back inside as soon she left. The idea didn’t sit right. God, she wished she’d had a chance to tell him off before walking out.