The Way Home (11 page)

He looked at Meg, whose profile was to him as she leaned out of the swaying basket, trying to see everything at once. He was going to miss her, he thought suddenly. If it hadn’t been for her companionship, these past weeks would have been nearly intolerable. Instead, when he left, he was going to take more than a few pleasant memories with him.

It really had been like having a little sister for a few weeks, he thought as he helped her step out of the basket. Of course, his thoughts hadn’t always been exactly brotherly, he admitted as Meg linked her arm through his and tilted her head to smile up at him. But that was something he tried not to think about too much.

“Oh, look. Kewpie dolls.” Meg stopped at the edge of a booth, admiring the row of fat pink cherubs that perched on one of the shelves. “Aren’t they sweet?”

“Practically like having an angel in the house, miss.” The man behind the counter was short and round, his thin dark hair combed sideways across his scalp and heavily pomaded. “They’ll bring you good luck,” he added.

“Really?”

“Of course. Why don’t you try your hand at knocking over the bottles,” he said, offering her three small balls. “Just knock over a few bottles and I’ll give you your pick of those little dolls.”

“Oh, no.” Meg shook her head, smiling ruefully. “Thank you but I could never hit even one of those bottles.”

“How about you, mister?” The man promptly turned his attention to Ty. “You gonna let your girl go home without one of those little dolls she’s got her heart set on?”

Ty glanced at Meg, seeing the way her cheeks had flushed at hearing herself described as “your girl.”

“Of course not,” he said, grinning at the huckster. He winked at Meg. “Who could pass up an opportunity to win a little good luck?”

Ten minutes, two dollars, and uncounted missed bottles later, the man behind the counter handed Meg the kewpie doll she’d picked out.

“Isn’t she darling?” Meg hugged the doll to her and then smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. Her pleasure was so real that Ty was half sorry he hadn’t won her something more spectacular. “Thank you, Ty.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Seems to me the man deserves a kiss.” The older man leaned against the counter, giving the two of them an indulgent smile. “Fella goes to all that work to win something for his girl, he ought to get a reward. Go on, miss. Don’t mind me.” Flushing, Meg stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss across Ty’s cheek. He felt the light pressure of the hand she set on his shoulder for balance; caught the warm, clean scent of her hair and suddenly remembered the softness of her mouth under his, the gentle weight of her body against his. As she drew back, their eyes met and he knew she was remembering the same things. Ty felt his hands lift, the idea of pulling her close half formed in his mind.

And then she dropped her hand from his shoulder and looked down at the doll she held, breaking the tense little moment.

“Thank you for the doll,” she said, her tone almost formal.

“I hope she brings you luck,” he said.

Maybe it was just as well he was going to be leaving soon, he thought as they walked away from the booth. If he spent much more time with Meg, it might be easy to forget all the reasons she was strictly off limits.

“Meg?” At the sound of her name, Meg turned, relieved to have the awkward moment interrupted. The woman who’d spoken was a little taller than Meg, a little older, a little heavier. Her pale-brown hair was cut in a cap of short curls more practical than fashionable. Her eyes were blue, but a paler shade than Meg’s.

“Patsy?” Meg hadn’t seen her older sister in more than a year.

“It
is
you, Meggy,” Patsy exclaimed, her face creasing in a smile.

“Patsy!” This time Meg’s voice held warm affection.

They embraced, a quick hug that reaffirmed the warmth that had always been between them. When they stepped back, Meg’s eyes took in the changes in her older sister. She’d seen so little of her since her marriage five years before, a quick visit at Christmas had been about it, and last year, there hadn’t even been that much.

Meg had accepted Patsy’s withdrawal, the same way she’d accepted everything else in her life that couldn’t be changed, from her father’s abuse to her feelings for Ty. She’d never seen much use in questioning the reasons for why things happened.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in so long.” Patsy kept her hands on Meg’s shoulders as if she couldn’t bear to let her go.

“I’m fine. How are you? And Eldin?” she added, dutifully asking after the brother-in-law she barely knew.

“We’re both fine. Eldin travels a lot, you know — selling farm equipment and all. He’s working harder than ever these days, what with things being the way they are. Farmers don’t have much money to spare.”

“I guess not.” Meg searched for something else to say, shocked to find that it was necessary. After all this time, there should have been a hundred things she wanted to ask Patsy or tell her. But the Patsy standing in front of her wasn’t the teenage sister she’d known so well, and she found herself groping for something to say to the woman she’d become.

Meg sensed more than saw Ty shift slightly and turned to him, relieved to have a distraction.

“You remember Tyler McKendrick, don’t you, Patsy? Ty, this is my sister, Patsy Baker.” She stumbled slightly over the last name, still unfamiliar after five years.

“If you don’t remember me, you probably remember my friend, Jack Swanson,” Ty said, grinning easily. “He was the one who dunked your pigtail in the inkwell when you were in first grade.”

“I remember you,” Patsy said, leaving her memory of Jack open to question. “It’s good to see you again,” she added politely.

“And you. I heard you’d gotten married.”

“Yes. Five years ago.” The fingers of Patsy’s right hand sought out the plain wedding band on her left as if needing to confirm its presence.

“Is Eldin here with you?” Meg asked, glancing behind Patsy for her brother-in-law, wondering if she’d recognize him if she saw him.

“No. I came with friends. They’re watching one of the shows. It was dark and stuffy in the tent so I slipped out. You know how I hate being closed in.”

“I remember.” Meg remembered when George Harper had shut his eldest daughter in the toolshed overnight to “learn her.” Remembered, too, how her six-year-old self had climbed through their bedroom window and slipped the latch on the shed door to let Patsy out.

She saw the same memory in Patsy’s eyes, and, for a moment, it was as if the last five years had never been and she felt all the old closeness.

“You’re welcome to join us until your friends’ show ends,” Ty told Patsy.

“Thank you, but I imagine it’s about over. I should get back.” Patsy glanced from Ty to Meg, her gaze speculative. Meg flushed, hoping she wouldn’t say anything. “Well, it was nice to see you, Meg.”

“It was nice to see you, too.” They hugged again, more awkwardly this time. Meg was aware that Patsy hadn’t said anything about seeing her again. When Patsy released her, their eyes met and Meg thought she read a plea — for understanding? — in her sister’s look. But then Patsy turned away, giving Ty a polite smile.

“Nice to see you again, Ty.”

“You, too.”

Patsy glanced at Meg again, her expression unreadable, and then turned and walked away. Meg watched her for a moment before turning away, disturbed by the meeting, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on the reason. She was aware of Ty’s curious look but she didn’t want to talk about her sister with him.

“Oh, look. A snake charmer.” She pointed to the colorful sign in front of a tent and smiled up at Ty, putting the meeting with Patsy behind her, determined that nothing was going to intrude on this evening. “It says he’s a real live Indian, all the way from India.”

“Probably from Cleveland,” Ty said with good-natured cynicism, but he didn’t protest when she headed toward the small tent.

It was well after dark when they left the fair. Meg thought briefly of the fact that her stepfather would surely be home before she was, but since he’d already seen her leaving with Ty, there seemed no reason to rush. If her mother was right and he was going to be upset by her friendship with Ty, then he’d just have to be upset. So when Ty asked her if she needed to be home before dark, Meg shook her head.

She was vividly aware of the fact that summer was ending. Ty would be leaving soon and heaven knew when — or if — she’d see him again. Oh, he’d come back to Regret to visit his family. But she couldn’t fool herself into thinking that she’d be high on his list of people to see. She was darned if she was going to cut short their visit to the fair in hopes that it might placate her stepfather.

At her insistence, Ty didn’t come to the door with her. If her stepfather was angry with her, she didn’t want Ty there to witness any scene he might create. He waited until she reached the porch and turned to wave before turning the roadster and heading back out to the road. Meg watched until his taillights disappeared, hugging the day’s memories to her, along with the kewpie doll he’d won for her.

Surely there had never been a more perfect day, and she was reluctant to spoil it with the scene she suspected awaited her inside. But she could hardly linger on the porch forever. With a last glance in the direction Ty had gone, Meg turned and pulled open the screen door.

“Margaret. Come here.” Harlan’s nasal voice twanged from the small living room the moment the door shut behind her.

Meg felt her spine stiffen with resentment at the autocratic command. For a brief moment, she considered just going on to her room as if she hadn’t heard him. She couldn’t quite imagine him coming to get her. But her mother would be the one to suffer for it. Reluctantly she obeyed his order.

“Hello.” She conjured up a smile for her mother.

“Meg.” Ruth’s voice was hardly more than a whisper, and she didn’t lift her eyes from her lap, her attention all for the restless movement of her fingers as they pleated and then smoothed the fabric of her skirt.

“Do you know what time it is, miss?” The question forced her to look at her stepfather. It had always seemed to her that his features huddled in the middle of his face, as small and stingy as his personality. His eyes were a blue so pale they seemed colorless, and they peered out at the world with disapproval.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what the time is,” she said, forcing the dislike from her voice.

“Too busy spreading your legs to look at a clock?” he snapped.

Meg gasped. The crude accusation was so unexpected that she was struck momentarily speechless.

“No.” The word was a choked denial.

She looked at her mother’s bent head, waiting for her to say something, to tell Harlan how wrong he was, but Ruth kept her head bent over the restless movements of her fingers as if, if only she pleated the worn fabric just so, the unpleasant scene in front of her would go away. Meg knew there’d be no help from her mother.

“You’ve no right to say that,” Meg said, outrage making her throat tight.

“No right?” His voice rose to a shout. “I’ve every right to say anything I please to you. Who do you think puts the food on the table and provides the money for the clothes on your back? And you repay me by going out whoring.”

Her face white, Meg turned to leave, wanting only to escape the rage in her stepfather’s eyes, the ugly words he was spewing out. She hadn’t taken more than a step when his fingers closed over her arm, digging into the soft flesh with force enough to draw a cry of pain as he spun her around to face him.

“Don’t you dare walk away when I’m talking to you.” He grabbed her other arm, dragging her close enough that she could smell the slightly sour odor of his breath.

“I’m not a … what you said,” she protested, frightened by the rage in his face. “We just went to the fair. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You’re just like your sister,” he snarled. “Whores, both of you.”

“I’m not.” Meg gasped. “And neither is Patsy. You’re a filthy liar.”

He moved quickly. The impact of his hand on her face jerked her head to the side and drove the soft inner flesh of her lips back against her teeth. Meg felt the salty, sweet taste of blood fill her mouth. Through the ringing in her ears, she could hear him shouting that she was a whore — just like her sister.

It was the first time since her father died that someone had struck her in anger. She’d have thought all the old responses buried too deep to find, but now she felt the old freezing calm welling up inside her. If she just went far enough away, it wouldn’t matter what happened here.

She swallowed the blood in her mouth but didn’t lift her hand to check the extent of the damage. She stared at her stepfather but she was looking through him, her eyes focused on nothing at all as she gathered the protective mental blanket around herself. It didn’t matter what he did. He couldn’t really hurt her. Not inside, not where it counted.

As if watching a picture on a movie screen, she saw him draw back his hand to strike her again, but she didn’t feel any fear. She didn’t feel anything at all.

“Now, Harlan.” Her mother’s voice shook with fear as she put her thin hand on her husband’s arm. “I’m sure there was no harm done.”

For a moment, he didn’t seem to hear her. He continued to stare at his stepdaughter, his hand poised to slap her, his eyes holding something small and dark that reached inside the layers of protection Meg was trying to put up, making her shudder with fear.