Trust in Me (15 page)

"It wasn't love at first sight for either of them, but they hit it off and one thing eventually led to another. Kevin fell hard and even asked her to marry him. Well, Robin said she hadn't realized how deep Kevin's feelings for her were." Mrs. Proctor grunted and raised her chin stiffly. "But that was a lot of bunk. Any idiot could see how much he loved her. It was written all over his face whenever they were together. She panicked and left town without so much as a by your leave. She left Kevin a note but he's never told me what it said."

"And no one has heard from her since?" Claire couldn't believe her ears. How could the woman be so heartless?

"I saw her at her graduation ceremony and asked her why she'd left, how she could've dumped Kevin when he loved her so."

"What did she say?"

"She asked if Kevin was still in town, still living in the same place and working in the same store and still inching his way through college at a snail's pace."

Claire felt sick to her stomach. The answer to those questions was obvious, and she saw where the old woman was headed.
Kevin deserves a woman who can see past what he doesn't have and see what he's got
.

"She left him because he was poor? Because he lives in a trailer and works in a hardware store?"

Righteous indignation blazed in the old woman's eyes, made brighter by the tears that puddled but refused to fall. "She told me she wanted more from life, didn't want to be trapped in a small town. She asked me how Kevin expected to support a wife if he could barely support himself." Mrs. Proctor's voice cracked, and she took a moment to compose herself.

Claire's vision misted, and she blinked back the moisture. Her heart ached for Kevin and the unfairness he'd suffered. In the short weeks she'd know Kevin, she'd already seen the depth of his character and gentleness. How could this Robin person have tossed his love away so callously?

Mrs. Proctor's outrage soon took the upper hand again, and she nailed Claire with an iron glare. "Kevin has worked hard to get where he is, to pay off his mother's debts without going bankrupt. He's never given up on his schooling when lesser men would have stopped for sheer exhaustion. He's gonna go places once he gets that degree. Mark my words. Some Fortune 500 company will recognize his brilliance and fortitude and motivation, and there'll be no stopping him. He may be paying his dues now, but one day soon, he'll have his sweet reward. You can bank on that, young lady!"

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

Kevin popped open a cola, lifted the can to his lips and washed down three aspirin, hoping to dull the pain throbbing at his temples. If there were a pill that would ease the ache in his heart, he'd swallow a few of those, too. Since no such remedy existed, tonight he was stuck rehashing the miserable afternoon and nursing a heart full of regret.

After Claire left, clearly shell-shocked by what she’d witnessed, all Kevin had wanted was quiet time alone to brood. But Sam had hung around, his instincts for reading Kevin's moods particularly acute. The questions had started with Claire and progressed from there.

"That purty little gal is someone special to you, ain't she?" Sam asked as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered and in clean clothes.

His pulse quickening, wary of broaching this topic, Kevin nodded. He'd never lied to Sam and wouldn't start now.

"But that long face of yours tells me you're not too happy that she came to see ya today. What gives?"

"It was awkward. I hadn't been expecting her."

"Awkward? Why?" Sam's gaze narrowed, the clarity of his eyes indicating he understood far more than Kevin was comfortable with revealing. Kevin had to wonder how much reality his godfather intentionally blocked out.

"It's complicated."

"Why?"

Kevin flopped on the sofa, a broken spring poking his backside. "It's just…she comes from a wealthy family and—"

"Lord have mercy! You were embarrassed to have her see where you live, weren't you?"

Kevin wanted to deny it, but he couldn't. One pregnant second followed another. Sam's face grew dark.

"And me? Did I embarrass you, boy?"

"No!"

But Sam looked skeptical. Guilt slammed through Kevin, and he turned away from his parents' friend.

"I see." Sam headed for the door. "Well, I'll just get out of your hair—"

"Sam, wait! Don't go. At least have something to eat."

"No, I'll leave you be. I don't mean to be a burden—"

"You're not a burden. Sam, I'm sorry. You're not the problem. It's me. I guess I haven't forgotten what happened with Robin, and I don't want to make the same mistakes with Claire."

"What mistakes?" His godfather lumbered closer and aimed a finger at him. "You loved Robin. Lovin' someone ain't never a mistake. Even when it hurts."

Kevin saw the flash of pain in Sam's eyes, knew he was remembering Kevin's mother, and sharp-edged grief slashed through Kevin as well.

Dredging up the past was the last thing he wanted, but he couldn't deter Sam.

"Tell me what you think you did wrong with Robin."

"I don't know. But my love wasn't enough for her. She made it clear she didn't think I could provide for her. She thought marrying me would keep her from achieving her dreams."

"What kind of dreams?"

Kevin sighed and traced the faded stripes in the sofa cushion with his thumb. "Ones that had nothing to do with small town life or sacrificing creature comforts to get by each month. I can't ask someone like Claire to give up everything she has to live in this run-down trailer with me."

"She'd do it in a heartbeat if she really loved you."

"But I'd never ask her to. She deserves better."

Sam scoffed loudly. "Better than you? Hell, boy, I'm not sure they make 'em better than you."

Kevin shook his head. "It's not about me. It's about how little I can offer her, the differences in our backgrounds, the things I could never ask her to give up to be with me."

"Like?"

"Like security, for one. Living hand to mouth is plenty scary at times. Like her independence. She's just struck out on her own with big dreams for her future, and she's made it quite clear she doesn't want me stepping on her toes."

Sam tipped his head back and looked up at the ceiling. "Oh, Catherine, what do I tell him? How do I make your boy understand?"

Sam's appeal to his mother rattled Kevin's already frayed nerves. His godfather crossed to the door and hung his head. "Life's too short to not let someone love you."

Even now, several hours after Sam had ambled on his way, leaving Kevin alone with his melancholy mood, Sam's words rang hollowly inside Kevin.

The pulsing pain in his skull increased as he replayed Sam's parting shot in his mind. Let Claire love him? That was assuming she even had an interest in him.

The heat behind her kiss might have offered him hope—if he could be sure pity or gratitude hadn't been her motivation for kissing him. But even if she'd had any ideas of a building a relationship with Kevin, she'd gotten a harsh reality check this afternoon.

Oh, Claire would be polite about it, no doubt. Being a dignified, well-bred lady to the end, she’d claim the incident with the dead fish hadn’t bothered her. She'd deny being disconcerted over his living conditions or the company he kept. But the message in her eyes as she left that afternoon had been clear. His princess had seen that she'd kissed a frog.

And the magic had vanished.

Outside, the lonely call of a whippoorwill kept him company the rest of the evening then lulled him into a restless sleep.

When a loud banging jarred him from his slumber, he blinked the sleep from his eyes and discovered the sun had risen. Somehow, between body aches and haunted dreams, the night had passed into day.

The knock sounded again, and he stumbled to the door. The only person he knew who'd bang on his door at this hour of the morning was Sam, and if Sam had come back, he'd either forgotten the argument they'd had or he'd forgiven Kevin for his tactlessness. After all Sam had meant to his family, he didn't want his godfather thinking he was ashamed of him, because that was far from the truth.

Kevin yanked the door open to let Sam in, and bright sunlight flooded his eyes, temporarily blinding him.

"I woke you. I'm sorry," a sweet female voice apologized before he could blink the owner into focus.

"Claire?"  He shielded his eyes from the sun and confirmed that his ears hadn't tricked him. His heart leaped expectantly before his head reminded him of yesterday's fiasco. "What— Why are you here?"

Her wide-eyed gaze drifted down his body then back to his face, while a pink flush spread on her cheeks. The draft around his legs reminded him he’d slept in his underwear.

Well, now his humiliation was complete. He’d answered the door in his boxers.
Cripes
.

"Uh, give me a minute." He left Claire on the front step long enough to snatch his jeans off the couch and step into them. He zipped the fly as he walked back out on his stoop, and she glanced down at his fumbling hands before her eyes darted elsewhere.

"I, um...brought you some food. Mrs. Proctor spent yesterday cooking for you." She cleared her throat and aimed a thumb toward her Beetle. "It's all in my car."

Kevin’s heart drummed, and the nightmarish awkwardness from the previous day spun through him with all its numbing force. He dragged a hand over his face, and, betrayed by unsteady legs, he leaned against the doorframe for support. "Why would she cook for me?"

Finally, Claire raised her eyes to his. "Because she saw your injuries the other night and thought you would be laid up in bed for a while."

"I don't need charity." Immediately he regretted the retort and the bitter edge in his tone. But recent events had left him edgy and defensive.

Claire gave him a grunt full of exasperation and impatience. "It's not charity. The woman was being nice because she cares about you. She's repaying the kindness you've shown her through the years."

When he didn't say anything, she continued, "A lot of people care about you and were worried when you didn't show up at work yesterday. Lydia for one. And me..."

"Don't worry. I'll come in today. I'm feeling much better this morning." The stiff muscles and pounding in his head contradicted him, but he'd die before he let her know it.

"Good. That's good. I'm...glad." She drew a slow breath, seemed to be bolstering her nerves to launch into some rehearsed speech. Platitudes and unerring politeness, no doubt.

"Kevin, yesterday when I came by—"

"Claire...don't." He sighed heavily and rested his head against the door frame.

"I could tell you were awkward with—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

He was who he was. His bleak finances, his family history, his lifestyle choices were what he was made of, and he made no apologies for any of it. His situation didn't lend itself to a relationship with a beautiful, wealthy woman, but he got by. Despite his struggles he kept his dignity, and he honored the values he'd been taught. That should be all that mattered.

So why did an aching emptiness yawn wide inside him whenever Claire was near?

She made no move for several painful seconds, and finally, with his heart in his throat, Kevin raised his eyes to hers. She stared at him like a wounded animal, and a shudder raced through him.

"Don’t shut me out. Please."

Kevin tensed. Her plea was the last thing he expected.

Not knowing how to respond, and unprepared for the assault on his emotions this early in the day, he opted for distraction.

"I, uh...I'll help you unload the food." He edged past Claire, keenly aware of the moment his bare arm brushed hers in the tight confines of his front landing. His entire body jolted from the contact. He headed down the steps, trying to act as if his head wasn't spinning and his nerves jumping. "Did she make her lasagna? I don't think anyone makes better lasagna than Mrs. P. Although she shouldn't have been on her feet so long cooking." Oh, God, he was babbling like an idiot. "She's supposed to elevate her feet, so that her—"

"Kevin." She caught up to him and touched his arm. Again electric bolts raced through him.

He paused with his hand on the passenger-side door handle of her Beetle. "There's nothing to talk about, Claire." Another still, silent moment stretched between them before he yanked open the car door. "Wow, there's enough food in here for an army."

Claire stepped around him, putting herself in front of him. She grasped his upper arms and squeezed. "Kevin, please, look at me. Listen to me."

He did. Reluctantly. And, as he knew it would, her pale brown gaze sucker punched him in the gut. Her eyes bore into him like twin gold drill bits leaving nowhere to hide from her scrutiny. So he went on the offensive.

"Look, I know you're probably wondering why someone with a manager's salary is living in a stink hole like this..."

Her brows drew together in a frown. "What?"

"And then Sam showed up and...well, let's face it he smells bad, he's a mess, he threw that danged fish at you to hold, and you had no basis for understanding his history and—"

"I'm not worried about—"

"Sam served in Desert Storm with my dad. My father took a bullet for Sam then died in his arms. Sam came home from Iraq with PTSD. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Like most vets, he pulled himself together and led a semi-normal life, even with PTSD, but then—"

She squeezed his arm. "You don't owe me any explanations."

But the need to explain, to unburden his soul clambered through him. "I want you to understand. Sam had always been in love with my mother, and when she died a few years ago, of cancer—which explains where my salary goes—" The words tumbled from him in a gush, like poison from a lanced wound. "Because what little insurance we had then didn't nearly cover the cost of treatments, so I'm  paying doctors and the hospital a little each month—" He waved a hand in dismissal. "Anyway when mom died Sam just...snapped. Couldn't handle his grief along with everything else. He sort of detached from reality. I've tried to get him admitted to a VA Ward, but I'm not family, and I have no legal rights. He's happy just wandering around town most of the time and—"