The Way Home (14 page)

“You know, the least I expect from my friends is that they listen to me when I whine.” Jack’s disgusted complaint dragged Ty’s attention back to him, but he was acutely aware of the sound of the Model T’s engine as Davis pulled away from the gas pump. He watched as the car pulled onto the road and headed toward the center of town.

“Someone you know?” Jack asked, following Ty’s gaze.

“Harlan Davis,” Ty said, still watching the car.

“Davis. Owns the hotel?”

“Yes. He married Meg’s mother after her father died.”

“He didn’t look as if he was particularly fond of you,” Jack commented, having seen the exchange of glances between Ty and the other man. “Does he know you’ve been seeing Meg?”

“I don’t know. And I haven’t been ‘seeing’ Meg,” Ty said, exasperated.

“What do you do? Close your eyes when you’re with her?” Jack lifted his hand in apology at the less than amused look his friend threw him. “Okay, okay. You’re not ‘seeing’ her. But for someone who’s not seeing her, you spend a lot of time with her.”

Joe’s reappearance prevented Ty from responding to Jack’s comment. Not that it deserved a comment, he thought irritably. For some reason, Jack insisted on making something out of his relationship with Meg, as if it couldn’t possibly be what it was, which was nothing more than a casual friendship.

“She’s a nice kid,” he said as he pulled away from the gas pumps. He was aware of the doubt in the look Jack slanted him but he ignored it. Jack just didn’t understand.

“I had a wire from my parents yesterday.” Ty heard the soft catch of Meg’s breath and realized that he’d spoken too abruptly, firing the words out as if they were bullets.

“Has their ship docked?” They’d just left the theater and, for once, neither of them had any interest in talking about the picture they’d just seen.

“A few days ago.”

Now why was he so reluctant to admit that?
Ty wondered irritably. His parents were back, he’d fulfilled his promise to his mother. He’d survived a summer in his hometown, and now he could get on with his life with a clear conscience.

“Are they going to stay in the city or come straight home?” There was nothing but polite interest in the question. So why did he seem to think that her voice wasn’t quite steady?

“A little shopping, I think.”

“That will be nice for your mother,” Meg said politely.

Instead of walking to Barnett’s, they’d crossed the street to the small park. They hadn’t discussed the change in their routine, but both seemed to feel the need to avoid bright lights and people. It was growing dark earlier these days, a sure sign that summer was well and truly over, as was the chill in the evening air. Ty shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers as they stepped onto the grass.

“Then you’ll be leaving soon?” This time there was no mistaking the tightness in her voice, and Ty felt something twist tight and hard in his chest.

“Yes.”

“So I guess this is good-bye,” she said with a forced good cheer that fell abysmally flat.

Ty stopped abruptly, catching her hands in his and turning her to face him, trying to see her expression in the faint light from the streetlamps. Big maple trees blocked most of it, but there was enough for him to see the pale oval of her face and the glitter of her eyes.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard to say good-bye,
he thought resentfully. This wasn’t the way he’d told himself it would be. “I’m going to miss you, Meg.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Her smile was little more than a shadowy movement in the dark, but he didn’t need bright lights to know that it didn’t reach her eyes.

Damn, the last thing he’d wanted was to hurt her. She was such a sweet kid.

“You’re a sweet — “ Her fingers pressed against his mouth, stilling the final word.

“Don’t.” Her lips twisted in a half smile. “Please don’t call me a kid, Ty. Not now.”

Hardly aware of the movement, he reached up to close his fingers around the hand at his mouth. He pulled her hand away but kept his fingers curled around it.

“You’ve made this summer a pleasure,” he said. “Can I tell you you’re a sweet girl?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded muffled and he caught the sheen of moisture on her cheek.

“Ah, Meg.” He lifted his free hand, brushing his fingers across her skin, feeling the dampness of her tears. “The last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt you.”

“You haven’t. I just have something in my eye.” He caught the white gleam of her teeth as she tried to smile and felt that odd pain in his chest again.

“Ah, Meg,” he said softly, unable to express the feelings all tangled up inside him.

Acting on instinct, he let his fingers slide from her cheek into the soft golden length of her hair, tilting her head up to his.
Just one kiss,
he told himself.
He was leaving soon. What harm could one kiss do?

It was just like before. Only this time her mouth opened to him without any coaxing. Without giving himself time to think, to question, Ty deepened the kiss, letting his tongue taste the delicate inner surface of her lip before sliding into the welcoming warmth of her mouth.

She melted into his arms, her hands coming up to clutch his shoulders, her slender body pliant as a young willow in his embrace. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her hair sifted through his fingers, and her mouth was his — only his.

A light breeze drifted over the grass, blowing the soft rayon of her skirt against his legs, seeming to wrap their embrace still tighter until it seemed that not even a shadow could have slipped between their entwined figures.

A few yards away, Regret went about its business, a few couples braving the evening cool to stroll down the street, peering in the windows of the closed stores. A truck rattled by on the street, the smell of manure drifting from its rusted bed. But for all the notice Ty and Meg took, they could have been alone in the middle of the prairie with nothing but the sky and earth for company.

Feeling the sweet surrender in her, it took every ounce of Ty’s willpower not to pull Meg deeper into the sheltering trees, to press her down into the soft grass, and — He slammed a mental door shut on what might come after. This was Meg, not some loose woman he’d met in a bar next to the airfield. This was sweet,
innocent
Meg.

He dragged his mouth from hers but it was more than he could do to release her completely. Leaning his forehead against hers, he tried to steady his breathing, tried to remember all the reasons something that felt so right was so wrong.

“Maybe it’s just as well I’m leaving,” he said ruefully. “You make it awfully easy to forget what’s right.”

Then forget.
Meg had to swallow the words back.
This is right,
a part of her wanted to shout. Being here in his arms was right. It had to be.

But it wasn’t, of course. She might be young, as he was so fond of reminding her, but she wasn’t too young to know where this could lead. If he were staying, if she’d had even the slightest hope that he could love her, then she could have ignored every moral precept she’d ever known for the chance to be his.

But he was leaving. She might never see him again. And she wanted, on some deep visceral level, for him to remember her with affection and not with the regret he’d feel if they gave in to the need that tugged at them both. Drawing on all her self-control, she stepped back. Ty’s arms fell away from her and she immediately felt chilled in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said.

“No,” she agreed bleakly. Because it had only served to remind her, yet again, of everything she could never have. Feeling his eyes on her face, sensing his concern, she forced a smile. “But there’s no harm done. Maybe we could blame it on spring fever.”

“It’s not spring,” Ty reminded her.

“Autumn fever, then,” she conceded. She tugged her thin jacket closer around her slender body, unable to suppress a small shiver.

“You’re cold,” Ty exclaimed. “I should get you home before you catch a chill.”

The cold she felt was deep inside but Meg didn’t correct him. Neither did she mention that they were forgoing their usual visit to Barnett’s soda fountain. She was tom between conflicting urges — the need to prolong the evening, to hold on to every moment, and the need to be alone so she could let go of the tears burning behind her eyes. So she said nothing.

She walked beside Ty to where he’d parked the roadster. The silence between them was thick with things unspoken. Meg wished she could think of something light and witty to say to diffuse the tension, but all she could think of was that this was probably her last evening with him, and the knowledge closed her throat.

When he took her arm to help her step into the roadster, Meg felt a shivery awareness of his light touch. She glanced at Ty, her eyes meeting his, and knew he felt the same awareness; knew also that it didn’t change anything. She was still too young. He was still leaving. This time her shiver was caused by a deep inner chill.

“Shall I put the top up?” Ty asked, looking concerned.

“No. I like it down.” She tilted her head to smile up at him, hoping that the light from the nearby streetlamp was too dim to reveal the shadows in her eyes.

“It’s really too late in the year to have it down,” Ty muttered as he slid behind the wheel.

“I like it,” Meg said firmly. She didn’t care if the wind carried a distinct edge to it. With the top down, it was almost as if summer hadn’t quite ended.

Neither of them spoke on the short drive to Meg’s home. No matter how she tried, Meg couldn’t come up with a snappy topic of conversation. All she could think of was that this might very well be the last time she saw Ty. The thought was so painful that she was forced to admit to herself that her feelings went much deeper than they had any business doing. She’d slipped from a girlish crush into love with hardly a whisper of warning.

He stopped the car in front of the plain little house and got out. She watched him walk around the front of the car to open her door. She felt his hand close over hers as he helped her from the car, and it took a conscious effort for her to keep her fingers from clutching his.

Vaguely she was aware of her stepfather’s car parked beside the house, and some part of her registered that he’d undoubtedly be furious that she’d been out with Ty again. But she couldn’t feel any real concern. She couldn’t feel anything but the terrible pain in her chest as she looked up at Ty. She’d always known this would happen, that they’d have to say goodbye, and she’d thought herself prepared for it. But nothing could have prepared her for this kind of pain.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” he said after a moment, just the way he always did when they parted.

“Sure.” Meg forced herself to smile, determined that he wouldn’t remember her with tears in her eyes. “I’ll be watching for you on the big screen,” she said lightly.

“Right.”

The moment stretched. Meg’s eyes clung to his face, drinking in as much as she could see in the shadowy light that spilled from the porch. She needed this memory to last a long time.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” he said again.

Meg realized that he felt awkward about walking away from her, that the first move would have to come from her. Though she could have stayed right where she was for the rest of her life, she loved him enough to make this parting easier for him. Swallowing hard, she forced a casual smile.

“See you,” she said lightly.

Feeling as if a knife were lodged in her chest, she turned and walked away from him. Behind her, there was a moment’s silence and then she heard his footsteps, quick and impatient, as if he were anxious to put the moment behind him. She flinched at the sound of his car door closing. Her knees were shaking so badly that she reached out to catch one of the supporting posts to pull herself onto the porch. And then the solid roar of the engine froze her in place.

Every instinct screamed at her to turn and watch him leave, but she didn’t move. If she didn’t actually see him go, then maybe he hadn’t really gone. But she couldn’t close her ears. She heard the slight hesitation as he reached the end of the lane and glanced both ways before pulling onto the road. And then the sound of the engine rapidly fading away as he headed back toward Regret.

He was gone.

Meg sagged against the post but she didn’t cry. The feeling of loss was too deep for tears. Later, perhaps, she’d be able to cry, but for now, her eyes were dry.

Forcing herself upright, she crossed the narrow porch and pulled open the screen. She pushed open the front door, hearing the familiar whine of the hinges, remembering that she still hadn’t soaped them. It was not much warmer in the house than it was outside. Harlan Davis didn’t believe on wasting money on firing up the coal heater in the basement any earlier in the year than was absolutely necessary, which meant that, for a few weeks every year, it was necessary to layer on sweaters to stay warm. But Meg barely noticed the temperature. The chill she felt was deep inside.

“Margaret. Come in here at once.” Her stepfather’s voice was a nasal bark and Meg closed her eyes for a moment. She’d nearly forgotten that he was home.