The Way Home (13 page)

“Yeah.” He heard the flatness in his voice and made an effort to shake off the odd mood that had gripped him for the last few days — ever since he’d realized that his time in Iowa was coming to an end. He straightened away from the sink and turned to meet Jack’s curious look. “You’re right. Besides, there wasn’t anything to gossip about in the first place. It must have been a slow summer for most of the town’s old biddies,” he said, forcing a grin.

“Probably. That’s one of the problems with small towns. People blow things all out of proportion.” If there was still a lingering doubt in Jack’s eyes, Ty was able to ignore it. He changed the subject.

“So, tell me what you’ve been doing. How much work are we going to have?”

It seemed to Meg as if the summer were rushing to an end. She wanted to grab hold of it somehow and force the days to slow down. It didn’t seem possible that it was already September. But the nights were cool and it wouldn’t be long before the grass would crunch underfoot in the mornings, coated by a beautiful crystalline layer of hoarfrost.

In years past, she would have said that autumn was her favorite season. She’d always loved to see the leaves change, summer’s deep green reluctantly giving way to soft golds and reds. And in a few weeks, those, too, were forced to surrender to winter’s paler shades.

But this year she wanted to cling to summer, to force it to linger past its allotted time. For when summer was gone, Ty would leave Regret. And take her heart with him.

“I think she was a fool to wait for him,” Ty said.

“She loved him. What else could she do?” Meg looked at him as they exited from the theater.

“She could have found someone who wasn’t a thief.”

“But she loved Blackie.”

“He was no good,” Ty said critically. “He lied to her. She was arrested for a crime he committed and nearly went to prison.”

“But then he realized that he loved her and came forward and confessed,” Meg pointed out.

“Too little, too late, as far as I can see. She should have married the lawyer.”

“She didn’t love him,” Meg protested.

“He could have supported her.”

“That’s not enough to make a marriage work.” Meg shook her head, frowning a little. “She was in love with Blackie. She couldn’t have married another man.”

“Even if that other man would take better care of her? Even knowing that Blackie was going to spend five years in prison and would probably be the same lying, cheating crook when he came out?”

“She loved him,” Meg said stubbornly.

“And love conquers all?” Ty asked, his mouth twisting cynically.

“I think so.” Meg lifted her chin, refusing to back down even if he did think her a foolish romantic. How much more foolish would he think her if he knew she was halfway to being in love with him?

“It would be nice if you were right.” His expression softened in a smile that held real affection, making Meg’s heart ache. She’d have given anything to be able to read something deeper into that look.

“Of course I’m right.” She smiled up at him, wishing with all her heart that love really
did
conquer all.

Ty’s smile faded, replaced by a small frown. “What happened to your mouth?” He touched the tip of one finger to the faint trace of swelling still visible in her lower lip.

Meg pulled back, lifting her own hand to touch her lip as if she didn’t quite know what he were talking about. It had been two days since her stepfather had hit her, and the swelling was almost gone. If she hadn’t been standing in the spill of light from Barnett’s window, Ty couldn’t possibly have noticed anything wrong.

“This? It was so silly, I hate to admit it.” She hoped he couldn’t hear the forced note in her laughter. “I dropped my napkin under the dinner table and hit my mouth when I leaned down to pick it up again. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“You must have hit it pretty hard,” he said, still frowning.

“Not really. I think I must have hit it just right. You know how things like that are.” She hoped he
didn’t
know, hoped he’d accept the excuse she’d thought up just in case she had to explain the swelling to anyone. If he knew that her stepfather had hit her because he’d seen her with Ty, she might not even have these last few precious days with him.

“It’s almost completely healed now,” she said, seeing that he still looked concerned. “I’d almost forgotten it.”

“You should be more careful.”

“I should be less clumsy,” she corrected lightly.

“That, too.” He grinned and she was relieved that he’d apparently accepted her explanation. “Buy you a sundae?” he asked, just as he had every Saturday for the past three months.

“That would be nice,” she said.

It took all her willpower to keep from looking over her shoulder at her stepfather’s hotel as they walked up the brightly lit steps of Barnett’s. It seemed as if she could almost feel his small eyes boring into her back, counting up the imagined sins he could charge her with when he got home.

She pushed the memory of their last confrontation away, determined to enjoy her sundae and Ty’s company. Later she’d pay whatever price she had to with her stepfather.

“Hiya, Meg. Ty.” Eddie’s cheerful greeting helped chase away Meg’s dark thoughts.

“Hello, Eddie.” She slid onto a stool and smiled at him. “How’s business?”

“Can’t complain, I guess. Ask me in a coupla weeks and I might not say the same, though.”

“Why?”

“Folks just don’t eat as much ice cream when the weather starts cooling off. Things‘11 start slowing down pretty soon, I imagine, what with summer pretty well over.”

“I’d guess they would.” Meg heard the flatness in her own voice and she felt Ty glance at her, but she kept her attention on Eddie’s cheerful face. “I’ll have a Miami Flip,” she said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel.

“Miami Flip you got,” Eddie promised. “Usual for you, Ty?”

“Coffee soda,” Ty confirmed.

“Coffee and Miami, cornin‘ right up.”

Eddie’s departure left a silence that seemed strangely awkward.

Summer
was
almost over. No matter how much she wanted to pretend otherwise, nothing was going to make time suddenly reverse its march and make the leaves bright green and the flowers bloom again.

Or make Ty stay in Iowa.

“Hard to believe it’s September already,” she said softly. “I guess summer really is gone.”

“I guess so.” He didn’t seem to be overjoyed by the thought.

“Your parents should be back from Europe soon, shouldn’t they?” she continued, trying to sound as if she were simply making polite conversation.

“The boat will dock any day now.” Ty stirred restlessly on the shiny red stool.

“Then you’ll be going back to California soon.” She couldn’t have said just why she felt the need to rub salt into her wounds, but the compulsion was there.

“Yes.” Ty frowned at the shiny marble counter and then turned his head to look at her. “Jack Swanson got into town a couple of days ago. He says he thinks there’s a couple of jobs waiting for us when we get back to Hollywood.”

“That’s wonderful.” Meg felt herself bleeding inside, the pain sharp and hard in her diaphragm, making her wonder that she could still breathe. “I guess I’ll still be seeing you at the theater. Only you’ll be on the screen this time,” she said lightly.

“Maybe.” Ty’s gaze was searching on her face. Meg didn’t know what he was looking for, but she presented him with a serene expression. Not for anything would she let him see that her world was crumbling around her.

“One coffee ice cream soda and one Miami Flip, as ordered.” Eddie’s cheery voice cut through the silence like a hot knife through butter.

Ty looked away and Meg pulled the sweet citrusy concoction toward her, her appetite gone as she wondered if she’d imagined the question she’d seen in his eyes.

“Ty! What a surprise to see you here.” Ty turned at the sound of Jack’s voice.

“Jack. What are you doing here?”

“Buying a bottle of perfume for Beryl. Her birthday’s coming up, you know.”

Ty didn’t know anything of the kind. Last he’d heard Jack’s sister’s birthday was sometime in April. September seemed to be a bit early to be buying gifts. But then Jack’s eyes swung to Meg and he knew exactly what his friend was up to.

“Introduce me?” Jack suggested, raising his eyebrows in Ty’s direction.

“Jack, this is Meg Harper. Meg, this is Jack Swanson, a former friend of mine,” he added ominously.

“Pleased to meet you, Meg.” Jack ignored Ty’s scowl and slid onto the stool on the other side of Meg. “Pay no attention to Ty. He’s just jealous because I’m better looking than he is.”

“And a bigger buffoon, too,” Ty said.

“See?” Jack lifted his brows and grinned at Meg. “Jealousy, plain and simple.” He sighed. “People don’t realize how difficult is life for someone of my good looks and talent.”

“It must be very hard for you,” Meg said, her solemn look spoiled by the tuck that appeared in her cheek.

“Yes.” Jack’s lugubrious expression was pathetic to behold. “But I bear up under the pressure rather well, don’t you think?”

“You’re very noble,” she agreed.

“You see, Ty,
someone
understands the burden I bear.” Jack’s laughing green eyes met his across Meg’s head.

“It isn’t the burden you bear that bothers me, Jack. It’s the burden you
are.”

He sipped glumly on his coffee soda, listening with half an ear as Jack went out of his way to be outrageously charming. And from the sound of Meg’s soft laughter, it was working. The thought annoyed him in some way he couldn’t quite define. If he hadn’t known better, Ty might have thought he was jealous. But the idea was so ridiculous that he dismissed it instantly.

“Fill it up, Joe.”

“Goin‘ someplace, Ty?” Joe made no immediate move toward the gas pump, lingering to question his customer’s purchase with the familiarity of someone who’d had to help that same customer pull his first flivver out of a ditch less than a week after he got it.

“Nowhere in particular. Just like having a full tank.” Ty didn’t mind the question. It was the kind of thing he expected in this town, where everyone seemed to feel they had not just an interest in but a right to know everyone else’s business.

“It’s a good feeling,” Joe agreed. He pulled a rag from the pocket of his overalls and rubbed a faint smudge from the roadster’s gleaming finish. “Not as many filling their tanks these days.”

“Business must be slow.”

“Not too bad.” Joe rocked back on his heels and squinted up the road. “Folks’re keeping their automobiles ‘stead of gettin‘ new ones. I keep pretty busy doin‘ repairs. Still, can’t say as how it wouldn’t be nice to see things lookin‘ up for everybody.”

“I’ll second that,” Ty said.

“Reckon most of us would,” Joe said, his grin revealing a gap where a front tooth was missing.

“The worst thing about small towns is that everyone is so friendly,” Jack commented as Joe finally departed to fill the gas tank.

“I much prefer people to be unfriendly,” Ty agreed solemnly.

“You know what I mean. You order a chicken dinner and you get a lecture from the waitress on the latest government study that says it’s important to eat plenty of red meat to keep your blood healthy. You ask for some gas and instead of getting a full tank and paying your eighteen cents a gallon and going on your way, you have to have a philosophical discussion about the current state of the country.”

“Get up on the wrong side this morning?” Ty asked, grinning at Jack’s disgruntled expression.

“Every morning I’m in this town.” Jack hunched his shoulders under his jacket. “The place gives me claustrophobia.”

“You’re right. Big cities are so much more wide open,” Ty commented dryly.

“You know what I mean. In a city, you may be surrounded by people but not one of them is going to walk up to you and comment on how they once helped your mother diaper you. Or how you were their worst pupil in second grade or . .

But Ty lost the thread of Jack’s complaints. Half aware of a feeling that someone was watching him, he turned his head and found his eyes colliding with those of a man sitting in the rusty black Model T on the other side of the pumps. It took Ty a moment to put a name to the round face and pale eyes.

Harlan Davis might run the only hotel in Regret, but Ty’s path had rarely crossed his.

This was Meg’s stepfather; the man she’d said was small in mind as much as body. The knowledge sharpened his interest, making his gaze linger on the other man. Davis’s skin seemed almost unnaturally pale but perhaps that was to be expected. After all, a man who owned a hotel probably didn’t have much chance to spend time in the sun.

Ty brought his eyes back to the older man’s and was caught off guard by the cold hatred that made his eyes the color of heavy ice. Surprised, he looked away, and when he looked back, Joe’s nephew, who worked with him at the filling station, was standing in front of Davis, blocking Ty’s view.