The Reasons to Stay (Harlequin Superromance) (19 page)

Realization hit and she braked at a stop sign hard enough for her back to leave the seat.

Nacho looked over with a frown.

She remembered Adam’s shuttered expression. His cool eyes.

He looked at us.

“Here I am, lecturing you...but I’m not clean, either. You’ve seen me lie, too.”

The first time she’d met Adam, she’d lied. She knew he’d assume she’d be living alone in his apartment over the store. A lie of omission was still a lie. Then, that day when Nacho shoplifted that magazine, she’d batted her eyelashes and bullshitted her way out of trouble.

Just like she always did.

She turned left onto tree-lined Hollister.

Sure, she’d needed those skills when she was young. But she still employed them when threatened—and she was an adult now. A role model to her brother.

She thought back to Colorado, and farther back than that, seeing a chain of small deceptions, misrepresentations, manipulations.

Dishonesty.

Shame burned as if vinegar ran through her veins. Those skills were good for a kid who had no power, trying to stay safe in a harzardous world. Using them now was like using a kid’s toy wrench to try to fix her car.

Adam
should
have been looking at them both.

It was time to put away the old skills and develop some grown-up ones. But how did one go about doing that when you hadn’t a clue as to what those skills were?

She reached over, cupped the back of Nacho’s neck. “We both suck, dude.” She gave him a shake. “But we’re going to try harder, right?”

He pulled away but with a small smile. “Yeah, okay.”

Another truth smacked her like an unseen low-lying branch.

You’re still doing it.

Deep inside, something shifted. Light fell on the thing she’d been hiding from herself.

A lie of omission....

She had feelings for Adam. Caring, needy feelings that she could hardly admit to herself.

Oh, they were still leaving come the end of June. The day after school released Nacho, they’d be in the wind. But she might as well admit it. This stop would leave a hole in her.

She rolled slowly through town, watching the strolling tourists taking advantage of the stores’ later hours.

Well, admitting it to herself was going to have to be good enough for now. New resolution or no, this was one truth she was keeping to herself.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

P
RISS
’
S
HEELS
CLICKED
on the industrial-tile hallway, the smell of antiseptic, bland food and impending mortality making her want to turn and run. But it was her day to visit Barney so she pulled open the glass door to the cardiac-care unit.

The unit was set up like a big wheel, a nursing station in the middle, bristling with electronics measuring patients’ most intimate functions. Nothing in the CCU was private. Death and family drama played out separated from others only by a thin curtain that didn’t even reach the floor.

Is this what it was like for Mom?
An efficient, generic medical warehouse? A worm of guilt burrowed into her chest. Or was it regret?
Nothing you can do about anything now.
Priss shivered. No one deserved to die like this.

Pasting on a sunny smile, she made herself reach for the curtain around Barney’s bed.

He lay sleeping. The unkind afternoon light from the window fell across him, highlighting his grizzled hair, sallow, bloated skin, his awful disease.
Cardiomyopathy.
He’d told her the term, but she’d had to look it up on the library computer. Apparently years of drinking and neglect had hardened his heart to the point of inefficiency. She could see his edema-distended stomach from where she stood.

She walked quietly to sit in the chair beside the bed. As if sensing her, his eyes opened.

“Hey, Barn. How’re you feeling?” She took his paper-dry hand.

“Like a lab rat.” He cleared his throat. “You shoulda just let me go, that day. This is no way to die.”

“Now, that’s no way to talk. You’re gonna walk out of here.” She squeezed his hand. “How could you miss the Tigers win the pennant?”

His jaundiced eyes were sad. “It’s okay, Priss. I’m ready to go. I’ve screwed up this life so bad. Maybe I’ll get the chance to come back and try it again.”

What worried her more than his condition was his attitude. “It’s never too late to start again, Barney.”

“Nah, I’m too old and tired.” A smile began, faltered, then faded. “The only thing I would like is to see what’s left of my family, to say goodbye.” He closed his eyes. “To say I’m sorry. But I even screwed that up. They won’t come see me.”

Sorrow wadded her throat and pooled behind her eyes. She stayed, watching him sleep until the sun’s slanting rays reminded her she had to get home to Nacho.

On her way out, she stepped into the empty CCU waiting room to call Barney’s son one more time but pulled up short just inside the door. Gaby sat in a chair along the wall, reading a
Hollywood Star
magazine. “Gaby?”

She looked up. Her lips pursed like she’d eaten something sour. “Are you done in there? They only let one in at a time, you know.”

Priss hadn’t realized the old lady had been visiting Barney. They hadn’t even thought to ask if she wanted in on the rotation. “Why didn’t you let me know? I would have let you—”

“Oh, don’t you try to snow me.” She tossed the magazine. It skittered off the table and hit the floor with a plop. “You can act with the others, like you’re some good person who really cares.” She drilled Priss with a witch’s glare. “But I know what you really are.”

“And what am I, really, Gaby?” Old lady or not, Priss had taken about all the contempt she could handle. “Are you going to finally tell me what put that bug up your ass about me?”

The old lady stood and pointed a bony finger. “Don’t you swear at me. Your mother would be so disappointed.”

The truth slammed into her. “You knew my mother.” She’d assumed Gaby had been her mother’s replacement.

“I worked beside her for ten years. We were friends. And you know what I never saw, in all those ten years?”

Priss opened her mouth.

“Her daughter.” She straightened as much as the widow’s hump would allow. “Even when Cora lay in this very hospital, struggling for breath until she couldn’t do it anymore, her daughter never came.”

“I didn’t know.” Priss’s voice caught on the razor blades in her throat, coming out shredded.

“And whose fault is that?”

An oily black wall of guilt crashed over her. “Mine,” she whispered, taking a step back.

“Cora Hart wasn’t perfect but she did the best she could raising you. And as soon as you were able, you ran off. You went about your happy life and threw her on the trash heap.”

“Did she say that?” The words came out all skinny, as if not wanting to know the answer had squeezed them flat.

“Pah,” Gaby spit out. “She didn’t see you clear. She was proud that you went to ‘make something better of yourself.’”

Priss took a grateful breath.

“She tried to find you, you know.”

The air left Priss’s lungs like a too-full balloon. She took another step back.

“Yes, she did.” Gaby nodded, seeming gratified by something on Priss’s face. “She saved every free penny she could to hire a private detective. She spent hours at the library, trying to find some trace of you on the internet.” Gaby shuffled to the door on worn, misshapen slippers.

“But you were having a great time, so I guess that’s okay.”

Priss fell into the chair that was, luckily, at the back of her knees.

* * *

W
HEN
HIS
PHONE
blatted “Blood-Soaked,” Adam snatched it from the counter and answered it. “Dang it, Sin. Will you stop changing my ring—”

“Love target at ten o’clock,” she whispered, and hung up.

He scanned the empty soda fountain, glimpsing only the ends of Priss’s brown spiky hair over the Scholl’s display. His heart double-clutched from first gear to third.

Get ready to eat crow. You earned it.

Before he could chicken out, he stepped out of the drug room, locked the door, put the “Back in Ten Minutes” sign on the counter and strode to the front of the store.

She sat hunched, elbows on the table, chin in one hand, the spoon in the other dripping melted ice cream as she stared out the window.

“You’re going to ruin your dinner.”

When she looked up, his heart ignored the clutch, ramming straight to top gear. Her green eyes, usually so full of life, were soulless. Haunted.

“What is it?” He dropped into the chair beside her. “Is Nacho okay?”

“He’s fine. At least he was last I saw him. Bear has to come to town later so he’s bringing him home.” She took her elbows off the table and looked down, as if surprised to see the melting hot-fudge sundae. “Want to share? I was just drowning my sorrows in ice cream.”

“Does it work?” He reached for a spoon from a place setting on the next table. “It looks better than the crow I was going to order.”

“What’s that mean?” She dipped her spoon into the puff of whipped cream that perched like a drunken clown’s hat on the vanilla puddle.

He pushed the words out. “It means that I owe you and Nacho an apology. A big one.”

“You found out Nacho didn’t take that dollar.”

“Yeah. Daryl called me this morning. Penny had it. She was going to speak up but when I got upset she was afraid she’d be in trouble, so she didn’t.” There, he’d said it but he still wasn’t brave enough to hold her gaze. “I’m sorry, Priss. I should have—”

She squared her shoulders and looked down at the ice cream. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I didn’t believe you. I falsely accused Nacho. He has enough problems without that.” Adam shoveled a heaping spoonful of hot fudge onto his spoon, hoping ice-cream therapy really did work. “I need to find a way to make it up to both of you.”

Her smile was a sad one but he was glad to see it just the same.

“This really smart guy I know told me that it doesn’t work that way. Relationships don’t always have to be an even exchange.”

“And did he convince you?”

“I’m working on it.” She took a spoonful.

“So what’s wrong, Priss?”

She stared out the window long enough that he started to worry it could be about him. Did she want to break up with him? Wait—were they even together? Maybe—

“You know, I thought I had it all together before I hit Widow’s Grove.” She sighed. “Today I found out I’ve been flying blind for ten years.”

“How so?”

“You’re not the only one who misjudges people. Suffice it to say I’m learning that people deserve second chances. And third chances. And if they’re family, maybe even more than that.” She shook her head. “But I can’t do anything about that now. It’s the problem I
can
do something about that has me stumped.”

He’d rather hear about the family part, but he knew her. That subject was clearly closed. “What’s the problem?” He took another bite of ice cream.

“Well, I have this customer at work. A friend. He’s in intensive care and he’s giving up.” She laid her spoon on the table.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s so sad. He’s such a nice guy. I’m sure he’s made mistakes in his life but who hasn’t?” Her words sped up. “I mean, who is his son to judge? It’s real easy to sit back and look at all the bad things your parents did. But you know, they did the best—”

“Wait, slow down. What did his son do?”

“Nothing. That’s the problem.”

He shook his head. “You’ve lost me.”

“His son won’t come see his dad. All Barney wants before he dies is to talk to him, and the idiot refuses to come.”

“You’ve called him?”

She had been hanging around Nacho long enough that she now had the eye roll down. “Only twenty times. He won’t even pick up the phone anymore.”

Worry niggled at his brain. Worry that she was harassing a total stranger. Worry that she wouldn’t appreciate him pointing out that fact. “Priss, do you really think what you’re doing is a good idea? I mean, you don’t know this guy, right?”

“No. And I don’t want to know him. I just want him to visit his damned father.” She dropped her cheek on her fist. “Loser.”

“Okay, so forget about him. What about other family members? Does he have any female—”

“Shit!” She bolted upright, lethargy gone. “I’m an idiot, and you’re brilliant!” She hopped up, leaned over, took his face in her hands and gave him a loud, smacking kiss. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Sin gave them a flat stare and Adam flushed. “Not that I mind being brilliant, but what—”

“Barney’s grandson is a Tiger!” She spread her arms as if he’d just given her the secret to the universe.

“That would make him even more dangerous than his son. Aren’t there any nice old ladies in the family?”

“What kind of baseball fan are you, Adam?” She put a hand on her hip. “He plays shortstop for the Detroit Tigers.”

“That’s great. I’m sure Barney’s proud. But how does that—”

“For such a brilliant guy, you can be slow sometimes.” She snapped her fingers. “Hey, Sin, could I have Sunday’s
LA Times?
” She strode to the counter. “Come on, cough it up. I know you do the crossword every friggin’ day.”

Sin does the
LA Times
Crossword?
He took another spoonful of ice cream to cool off his brain. “The world’s gone mad.” But he didn’t say it loud enough for either of the women to hear. He had some sense of self-preservation.

Sin took out a section and handed the rest over to Priss.

“What are you doing?” he asked, fairly sure he didn’t want to know.

Priss ruffled through, took one section and strode back to the table. “Barney’s son is not talking to me. Even if he picked up my call, he wouldn’t give me his son’s number. And I hardly think he’d be listed in the phone book even if I knew where he lived, which I don’t.” She scanned page after page. “But I do know where he’ll be every Saturday for the next month.” She dropped the paper on the table and stabbed a finger at a column. “The Tigers’ schedule.”

Alarm skittered up his spine. “Priss, you’re not thinking about going to see him.”

She looked at him like he was an odd bug. “Well, I hardly think if I call the home office for his cell number, that they’ll give it to me.”

She had a point. But there had to be another way. Her aloof look and tightened jaw told him how far he’d get poking holes in her plan. “What’s his name?”

She frowned. “Um...”

“You mean you’re going to see a guy, and you don’t even know his name?”

“Hang on, hang on. It’ll come to me.” She put her fingers to her temples, as if she could pull the name out of her head. “It was something about an animal...not a tiger. A...Otter! That’s it!”

“His grandson’s name is Otter?”

“Sandy Otto. Porter told me Barney’s son had his name legally changed to his mother’s maiden name.”

“Before you go off on some crazy chase, let me make some calls. I’ve stayed in touch with some baseball people. Maybe I can get you a number.”

The rumble of glass-pack mufflers rattled the sundae dishes stacked behind the counter. A midnight-black Chevy truck from the sixties pulled to the curb in front of the store. Violet ghost flames ran its length and flattened chrome tailpipes almost dragged the pavement. The passenger door opened and Nacho hopped out. Bear climbed out the other side, walked to the bed and lifted out Adam’s old bike.

Priss put an arm around Adam’s neck. “Gotta go start dinner.” She pulled him down and laid one on him. Not a smack this time, but a searing, grown-woman kiss.

“’Scuse me, boss,” Sin said. “But Ms. Feeney is at the prescription counter with a hemorrhoid ring.”

Priss let go of the back of his neck, but he saw in her eyes she hadn’t wanted to. “Thanks, Adam. I mean it.”

“No reason to thank me, yet.” He glanced out the window. Nacho stood waving goodbye to the truck that was pulling away from the curb. “Nacho may be a few minutes coming upstairs. I need to talk to him.”

“He won’t bite.”

He whipped his head around. Was he that obvious?

Priss’s smile was tender. “Under all that attitude is a lost kid, Adam. Talk to that kid, not the one you see, and you’ll do fine.” Then she was gone, jogging down the aisle toward the back door.

“No running in the store!” he yelled after her. Ignoring Sin’s raised pierced eyebrow and Ms. Feeney’s hemorrhoid ring, he walked to the front door.