Trust in Me (24 page)

Ron. Tucker had guessed, after her son’s open animosity that afternoon at the diner, that the kid had said something to her. Not that there was much to say. He and Beth had only been together a few times. And it wasn’t until Ron had been outright rude, that Tucker had admitted to himself he was attracted to Beth.

Which only added to his list of sins. How could he want the widow of the man he killed?

You’re not responsible for Danny’s death
. She’d told him a hundred times.

And the problem was, when he was with Beth Donovan, he believed it. Which probably accounted for the heat he felt every time he was near her. Not her dry sense of humor. Not her devotion to her son. Not her hard work ethic. And certainly not that body that he’d dreamed about in 3-D living color.

A rattle, then a crash, drew him from the X-rated thoughts. He heard, “Oh, no!” Beth had dropped the tub of dishes. Several had bounced out and broken on the floor.

Tara shook her head. “Let’s get out of here.”

Tucker scowled. “Go on, I’m waitin’ for Doc.”

The others filed out as Tucker crossed to Beth. She was bent over the mess, picking up the pieces. He tossed his jacket on a stool and squatted down next to her. “Can I help?”

She raised worried eyes to him. “No. I’m such a klutz. I was watching—” She stopped and blushed. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She swiped a strand of chestnut hair out of her eyes.

He smiled. “Hey, Bonnie Parker’s no klutz. She was a great waitress. Just like you.”

“How do you know she was a waitress?” They talked as they picked up the dishes.

“I read about it.”

“You did?” Distracted by a customer calling her, she scanned the diner. Her pretty brow creased.

“Why don’t I finish up here? You go seat those customers.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask.” He raised his thumb and pointed. “Scoot.”

He could tell she was torn. But when two people turned to walk out, she stood. “Okay. Just until I get this under control.”

Tucker smiled like he hadn’t smiled in a couple of weeks as he gathered up the last of the shards and disposed of them. He whistled as he found the mop inside a closet and swabbed the floor. In minutes, the mess was gone, and the customers seated

By the time he stowed the mop, three more booths had emptied. Beth was in the kitchen.

Aw, hell, he couldn’t just leave them. Snagging a big white towel from behind the counter, he tied it around his waist, picked up an empty tub and had the booths cleaned and three more parties seated by the time she returned.

Her pretty mouth fell open when she saw what he’d done. She headed right toward him, like a female vigilante; he was behind the counter where he was pouring soft drinks.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Helpin’ out. My mama taught me the way around a kitchen when I was knee high.”

“Tucker, you can’t do this.”

“Why?” He placed four cokes on a tray and lifted it up.

“I...you’re a...I...”

He chucked her under the chin. “You’re stammerin’, doll-face. Why don’t you just take the orders and we’ll discuss why I can’t do this later.”

She had no choice. As she left him to tend to her customers, she was shaking her head.

By two o’clock the diner had finally cleared out. Tucker had bussed tables, served drinks and hummed along with the jukebox to some Tammy Wynette and Garth Brooks. Beth plopped down on a stool and blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. She looked tired and a little sad.

He turned, got her coffee and put it in front of her.

“Tucker, please, you’ve done enough.”

“Hell, I hardly exerted myself.” He grinned down at her. “It was fun.”

Shaking her head again, she smiled. “The customers loved it. I think they stayed longer just to watch you.”

“Hey, I wield a mean towel.”

“And Doc’s a great cook.”

“Yeah, I know.” He leaned over and braced his arms on the counter. “Now tell me, pretty lady, if he can help out, why can’t I?”

“You’re a superstar.”

“Shucks, ma’am, I’m just a country boy.”

“You’ve been listening to too much Western music.”

He grinned again.

“How can I thank you?”

Swallowing hard, he straightened. He tried looking at the wall—at her husband’s picture—but the reminder didn’t work this time. An image of her
thanking him
, wrapped up in white satin sheets like his own personal birthday present superimposed itself over the photos. His body hardened. “No thanks necessary.” He tried to joke, letting his accent thicken. “I’m happy to oblige, ma’am.”

When he faced her again, she’d cocked her head. “You’re a nice guy, you know that?”

“Don’t tell Tara Snow. I think she’s after a different image.”

“I think she’s after a lot more than that.”

He rolled his eyes. “God forbid.”

“Why? She’s beautiful.”

“She’s plastic and painted.” It used to be his type. “I prefer my women natural and wholesome.” At least now he did.

Her eyes, fringed with naked thick lashes, widened. And her unpainted lips parted.

It was just like that night he’d come here after Ron’s first jail weekend. He was lured in. Drawn to her, like a sexual magnet. He stepped to the counter, leaned over and reached out his hand. Slow and easy, he ran the pad of his thumb over her lips.

She swallowed hard.

So did he.

Locking his gaze on her lips, he said, “Real natural.” Tracing his finger over the few freckles on her nose, he whispered hoarsely, “And real wholesome.”

He continued to stare at her.

Only when Doc and Gerty came out of the kitchen did he draw back.

Chapter 14

“DID you get what you needed, Linc?” Jane Meachum peered up at him from her desk in the reception area of the new Social Services wing of the town hall. Her deep blue eyes held warmth and concern.

“Yes, I did. Thanks for typing this.” He held up the schedule for the next Council meeting.

“You’re welcome. It took all of ten minutes.”

“Ah, Super Secretary.”

Her smile was wholesome. Like her outfit—a maroon sweater and turtleneck and a black pleated skirt with tights. Very preppie. Margo wouldn’t be caught dead in those clothes.

Jane glanced at the clock. “I’m, um, due for a break. Want to get some coffee with me?”

“I’d love to, but I have a women’s group meeting in fifteen minutes at the church.”

“Oh, well, I know how that is.”

“That’s right. Your dad’s the minister over at Glen Presbyterian.”

“That’s me, a Preacher’s Kid.”

“Lucky you.” He grinned. “Maybe next time?”

“Sure.” He turned to go. “Linc?”

He pivoted.

“I’d really like to have coffee with you. Or lunch sometime.”

It had been so long he didn’t recognize the come-on, demure and ingenuous as it was. Margo’s face appeared before him. She’d always been his type—sassy, stylish and sexy. But his conversation with Beth rang in his ears.
You need a woman by your side...you should have kids
. And he hadn’t heard from Margo since their disastrous phone conversation. He’d called and left messages twice. Then he stopped.

Linc gave Jane a huge grin. “How about lunch today?”

She blushed. It was cute. “Sure. I’m free.”

“Wanna meet at Beth’s diner or shall I pick you up?”

“I’ll walk over and meet you. About one?”

“Great. See you then.” And he strutted out whistling.

Hmm,
he said to God as he walked back to the church.
Now, that’s interesting.

I provide, my son, I provide.

Are you my personal date consultant now?

He heard God snort.

And started whistling again.

He was no longer whistling when he arrived at church, entered the fellowship hall and found a stream of water seeping out from under a closet door.
Oh God, give me patience
, he prayed as he headed to the janitor’s closet. In a hurry, he slipped and fell right on his ass. “Damn it to hell!” Standing in now wet jeans, he picked his way to the closet. Inside, he found the utility sink overflowing onto the floor, out of the closet all the way to kingdom come. Again, carefully—his back was already starting to ache—he waded in and shut off the faucet. Where the hell had Henry gone? He heard the women for his Tuesday group arriving as he walked out of the storage area. “Be careful ladies, we’ve had a slight leak here.”

Barbara Mandarino smiled. “What a mess.”

Linc shook his head. “Go on and sit down. I’ll mop this up in a sec. I just want to check on Henry and see if he’s, okay.”

He took the stairs gingerly, his loafers squeaking on the vinyl floor. “Henry?” he called out when he reached the narthex. “Are you here?” He checked the sanctuary. Dark, no Henry. Linc’s heartbeat skittered. The guy was old. Injured. Linc prayed nothing had happened to him. He headed down to the Sunday school classrooms. A door to one was ajar. Inside he found Henry.

It was a ludicrous sight. The big man was stuffed into one of the little kids’ chairs reading a book. His knees hit the top of the table, and his arms dangled at his sides. Linc pushed open the door and said softly, “Henry, are you all right?”

The janitor looked up. Nodded. Linc glanced at the book. “Did you find something that interests you there?”

Nodding again. Linc crossed to him and stared down at the children’s Bible which was open to an illustration of Noah’s Ark. Now that was irony. The corners of Linc’s lips turned up. “Don’t you know the story of the flood, Henry?”

He nodded.

“Was the Bible just open to that page?”

“Uh-huh.” Well, that was progress.

“Did something interest you?”

Henry lifted the Bible to Linc. Linc focused in closer. Cartoon drawings of Biblical characters were sketched in full color. On this particular page was the Ark. Right in the center Noah stared up at the sky. Linc smiled. “He looks just like you, doesn’t he, Henry?”

Vigorously, Henry nodded.

Linc laughed aloud. “Why don’t you stay here a minute and bask in your fame, old buddy.” He squeezed the man’s shoulder and headed back to the fellowship hall, rolling up his sleeves.

When he got there, not a drop of water was on the floor. Everything was dry, and clean. Rags were stacked in a bucket, and two wet mops propped against the wall.

Of course. The women. Light-footed, he walked to the back room. They were in a circle, chatting quietly. Anita noticed him first. “Hi, Rev.” Her sass reminded him of Margo.

“You didn’t have to clean up after me, ladies.”

They shrugged it off. They were used to cleaning up after men. The automaticity of their actions saddened him.

“But I appreciate it.” He wondered how often they heard that. “Very much.” Taking a chair, he read the board, where he’d written the topics they’d brainstormed a few weeks ago. “Okay. Which of these shall we start out with?”

Anita spoke again. “Loneliness.”

Something Linc was on intimate terms with. “All right. Take the pads and pencils I left on the chairs.” He’d set up the room himself this time. “Let’s all write about what makes us feel lonely. Then we’ll share our experiences.”

To a person, every woman’s face blanked. He drew in a deep breath. “Um, don’t put your names on them. I’ll collect them and read them aloud; they’ll be anonymous and we’ll talk about them in general terms.” Then he planned to elicit ways to curb loneliness. He was no divine magician, though, and he wasn’t sure he could pull that rabbit out of the hat for them—or for himself.

He thought of Jane Meachum as he wrote,
lack of companionship
. He didn’t mean sex, although that was an issue, too. He wrote it down.

It immediately conjured up images of Margo. Damn! He would not do this today. She’d made it clear she was staying away from him. It was for the best.

Isn’t it?
he asked God as the others wrote.

You tell me.

Come on, I need a little guidance, here.

Okay, go to lunch with Jane. See what happens.

Is Margo all right?

All I can tell you is that I’m watching over her

The thought comforted Linc and he turned back to his list.

STARING out her window at the hustle and bustle of New York, Margo tapped the memo she held against the pane of glass. The missive had been on her desk that morning when she’d arrived at work. She’d been lulled into thinking things were back on track with Philip. The last two weeks had been business as usual. Which was why she’d been ambushed by this information.

At the end of the week, he’d taken her to lunch; they’d had a relaxed meal at Izzy’s in Times Square. Even if he did have bad news. He’d ordered a martini, which was unusual, as he rarely drank during the day. Then he’d stared somberly out at the square.

“What’s wrong, Philip?”

He shook his head. He looked tired, and lines of wear creased his forehead and mouth. He’d been impeccably dressed in a navy pin-striped suit, but his usual calm demeanor was agitated. “Things aren’t good at home.”

“No?”

“Sally and I are talking seriously about separating.”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. I’m worried about the girls.” He studied her. “I know I’ve been acting strange lately. That’s why.”

She’d squeezed his hand. “Have you thought of counseling?”

“Sally won’t go.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Me, too,” he said again. He shrugged. “Let’s not discuss this anymore. It’s too depressing. How’s everything with you?”

“Good, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I got the impression things were rough for your
friends
back home.”

The emphasis on the word alerted her. “Things are rough for Beth. You know, I’ve talked about her. Her son’s in trouble again. It’s been hard on her.” She frowned as she nibbled on her quiche. “And Annie, my other friend?”

He nodded, leaving his food untouched.

“Her ex is back in town, claiming he’s a changed man. They’re both struggling.”