The Way Home (6 page)

Meg started to demand an explanation and then shrugged. “It’s not likely I’d have said anything anyway,” she muttered, dropping her gaze back down to the quilt.

The truth was, she said as little as possible to Harlan Davis. She didn’t like him. Though his methods were more subtle, Harlan Davis had managed to complete the process of breaking Ruth’s spirit that had been begun by her first husband. Though he wasn’t as quick to physical violence as her father had been, he didn’t need to lift his hand when he could cut so keenly with his tongue.

Over the past seven years, Meg had grown to hate the sound of his soft-voiced criticisms, the constant dissatisfaction with everything her mother did, everything she was. She’d watched the last spark of life fade from Ruth’s eyes, the last traces of Ruth wither away, leaving her an old woman at forty-two.

Meg forced aside the old anger. There was nothing she could do so it was better not to think about it. She’d think of something else instead. Something like Ty McKendrick giving her a ride home in his snappy little roadster.

As she rocked the needle in and out of the fabric, Meg allowed herself to dream a little, imagining Ty being so entranced by her charm and wit that he invited her out to dinner at some highbrow restaurant — never mind that Regret boasted no such place. From there, it was a short hop to picturing the two of them attending a spectacular premiere in Hollywood together. She’d be wearing a swanky fur coat and dripping diamonds. Ty would look devastatingly handsome in his white tie and tails. Women would be swooning with admiration when they realized that he was the dashing pilot in the film. But he wouldn’t pay any attention to them. His attention would be all for her.

She sighed quietly, her eyes dreamy, so wrapped up in her small fantasy that she didn’t see her mother looking at her across the quilting frame. Or notice the anxiety that deepened the lines around her mouth.

“I’ll have a coffee soda,” Ty said as he sank onto the stool in front of the counter.

“Cornin‘ up,” the white-coated soda jerk said cheerfully. “You’re Ty McKendrick, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Ty looked at the younger man, trying to put a name to the vaguely familiar face.

“Eddie Dunsmore, Al’s kid brother.” Eddie grinned, revealing crooked front teeth.

“Sure. How are you?” Ty shook hands with him across the counter.

“Can’t complain. I heard you were back in town. Heard you cracked your plane up pretty bad,” he added, giving Ty a speculative look as if seeking evidence of injury.

“The plane recovered quicker than I have,” Ty admitted, his mouth twisting ruefully. He rubbed his leg, aware of the dull ache that was with him more often than not. “How’s A1 these days?” He was more than a little tired of explaining his treetop landing.

“He’s doing all right. Got married four or five years back, lives in Sioux City these days. Teaching school and figuring to be principal by the time he’s forty, I guess. Two kids of his own.”

“Seems like a lot of the old gang is married,” iy commented, trying to picture A1 Dunsmore as a husband and father. The picture wouldn’t come quite clear. His most vivid memory of A1 was from grade school when A1 had succeeded in gluing Miss Randall’s dress to the seat of her chair, which might not have caused much uproar if Miss Randall hadn’t been wearing the dress at the time. The entire class had been dismissed for the afternoon, making A1 something of a hero, at least until the perpetrator was revealed and punishment descended on his sandy head.

“You in town long?” Eddie asked. He didn’t seem in any particular hurry to prepare Ty’s coffee soda, but Ty didn’t rush him. It wasn’t as if he had any pressing appointments.

“For the summer,” he said, trying not to think how endlessly the season stretched out in front of him. “My parents are in Europe and they didn’t want to leave the house empty.”

Eddie’s sandy brows rose in silent comment on the idea that anyone would worry about leaving a house empty in a small Iowa town that had so little crime that a teenager taking a joyride in his father’s car was likely to be front-page news.

“I guess you can probably use a vacation,” Eddie said, looking a little dubious.

“Yeah. Plenty of time for fishing,” Ty said, trying to look as if three months of fishing didn’t seem like way too much of a good thing.

“Lot of fishing,” Eddie commented with unerring accuracy. Before Ty could think of a response, he seemed to remember the coffee soda and turned away from the counter.

Ty pushed one foot against the counter, turning the stool so that he faced the interior of Barnett’s Drugstore. When he was a kid, having a soda at Barnett’s was practically the high point of his week. It was a sad thought that, twenty years later, nothing had changed. He’d never have believed that three weeks could seem like three months. Or that three months could look like three years.

He was just about to turn back to the counter when he caught a glimpse of sun-colored hair. She was standing in front of the magazines with her back to him, but Ty didn’t hesitate to put a name to her. Meg Harper. There couldn’t possibly be two girls in Regret with hair that color and a figure like that. He’d left the soda counter and was walking toward her even as he realized who it was.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

She turned, those beautiful blue eyes widening a little when she saw who had spoken. Her lashes lowered and a light flush came up in her cheeks. “Hello. How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” he said, echoing Eddie’s earlier greeting. The fact that he
could
complain, loud and long, didn’t seem important now. “No school today?” he asked, his thoughts more on the creamy softness of her skin than on what he was saying.

“It’s Saturday,” Meg said, looking surprised.

“Of course it is.” Ty flushed. “I wasn’t thinking.”
At least not about what day of the week it was.

“There are days I wouldn’t mind forgetting, but Saturday isn’t one of them.”

“I usually don’t forget it, either. It’s just that, lately, there hasn’t been much difference between one day and the next. It makes it hard to keep track of what week it is, let alone what day.”

“I guess it would,” she said, though it was obvious she couldn’t imagine forgetting a Saturday, no matter what the circumstances.

There was a brief pause and then Meg glanced down at the magazine she was holding. Ty sensed that she was about to make some comment about it having been nice to see him and go on about her day. And he suddenly didn’t want her to go.

“Could I buy you a soda?”

Her eyes flew to his face, wide, startled blue pools that a man could practically lose himself in. If he didn’t keep in mind that she was a kid, Ty reminded himself sternly.

“I don’t know. I’ve got to pick up a couple of things for my mother.”

“Think of how warm it is today. Wouldn’t a nice, cold ice cream soda taste good? Besides, you wouldn’t make me drink mine alone, would you?” He grinned at her, shamelessly coaxing, not sure why he was so determined to have her company but unwilling to let her go.

“Would that be so terrible?” she asked, but her smile told him she was going to give in.

“Horrible. You know, they’ve done a study and found that people who eat alone are five times more likely to go bald.”

“You don’t look in any real danger of that,” she said, her eyes going to his hair.

“The effects are cumulative,” he said solemnly. “And I’ve eaten a lot of meals alone lately. I don’t know when it’ll reach a critical point.”

“I guess that makes it practically my civic duty.”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, in that case, I’d love an ice cream soda.”

“I’m indebted to you.” Ty stood aside to let Meg pass him, falling in behind her as she walked to the soda fountain. It took a conscious effort to keep his eyes off the soft length of her spine and the inviting curve of her hips.

Meg settled herself on one of the red stools in front of the soda fountain, laying her magazine on the counter. She was wearing a dress of some rose-colored fabric with small white flowers scattered across it, and the softly flared skirt settled gracefully around her calves as she sat down, crossing her legs at the ankles.

“Hiya, Meg.” Eddie set Ty’s coffee soda on the counter in front of him and gave Meg the full benefit of his smile. “Hello, Eddie.”

“Don’t see you in here very often.”

“No.” She didn’t offer any explanation and Ty wondered if she didn’t come in often because she couldn’t afford it. Her stepfather’s business, like most businesses, had to have suffered the last few years.

“What can I get for you?” Eddie asked, leaning a little too close for Ty’s taste.

“I’ll have a Cherry Chopped Suey Sundae, please.”

“Cornin‘ right up.” He grinned at her again but Meg didn’t seem to notice the invitation in his eyes.

Her lack of response gave Ty more pleasure than he had any business feeling.

“Cherry Chopped Suey Sundae?” The words were a question.

“Cherries, pineapple, and pistachio ice cream.” She laughed when he pulled his features into a comical grimace. “It’s very good. You should try one.”

“I’ll stick with coffee, thanks.” He absently stirred his straw through his soda, his attention on the girl beside him.

“Kind of dull, isn’t it?” she asked, wrinkling her nose teasingly.

“I get enough excitement flying. I like my ice cream sodas to be nice and safe.”

“Are you going to miss it very much this summer — flying, I mean?”

“Yeah. I already do. It’s like being in a cage. You can see daylight through the bars, you just can’t get out into it.”

“Does your leg bother you very much?” Meg’s question made him realize that he’d been absently rubbing his fingers over his thigh again.

“Not really. Landing in a tree was harder on my pride than anything else.” He smiled to lighten the atmosphere, a little surprised that he’d revealed so much of how he felt. She was surprisingly easy to talk to.

“Here you go, Meg. I put extra pineapple and cherries on the bottom.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” Meg smiled at him as he set the sundae on the marble counter in front of her. He showed signs of lingering but when he caught Ty’s gaze, he changed his mind and discovered he had something else to do.

Obnoxious puppy, Ty thought, watching the younger man move away. He looked at Meg as if she were a juicy bone. Not that he could entirely blame him, he admitted reluctantly. He watched Meg dig into the sweet concoction with delicate greed, dipping up a spoonful of ice cream and nuts, careful to get a little of the canned fruit from the bottom of the clear glass dish. She put the spoon in her mouth, her eyes half closing as she savored the taste.

Ty was shocked to feel a quick stab of arousal.
She was just a kid,
he reminded himself sternly. There was nothing wrong with buying her a soda — that was just being friendly — but it wouldn’t do to forget that she was strictly off limits.

Ty was just being friendly,
Meg told herself as Eddie walked away. She’d be lying to herself if she pretended it was anything more. The idea that Tyler McKendrick might actually be attracted to her was simply ridiculous.

“How’s Patsy these days?” Ty asked.

“She’s fine.” Meg dipped her spoon into her sundae, wondering if Ty was one of the many boys who’d wanted to date her sister. “She got married about five years ago, you know.”

“I’d heard that.”

And regretted it?
But she couldn’t ask him that, of course.

“I don’t see her much. She lives in Herndale,” she said, naming a town about thirty miles away. “She doesn’t come home very often.”

“You must miss her.”

“Yes.” At least she missed the sister she’d known when they were growing up. Patsy had changed a lot in the last year or two she’d been home. By the time she’d married Eldin Baker, Meg had felt as if she barely knew her anymore.

“You like the movies?” Ty asked, tapping the copy of
Photoplay
that lay on the counter.

“I go almost every Saturday,” she admitted. “You must like them, too. If you were going to work in Hollywood, I mean.”

“I like them well enough. But working in Hollywood had more to do with making money than liking movies. There’s work doing stunt flying for the studios.”

They continued to talk while Meg ate her sundae. She’d never been so sorry to reach the bottom of the dish in her life, and the regret had nothing to do with finishing her treat. Once it was gone, there was no more excuse to linger and who knew if she’d get another chance to talk to Ty McKendrick.

He paid for their sundaes and then waited while she paid for her magazine before walking outside with her. They stood on the sidewalk in front of Barnett’s, letting their eyes adjust to the bright sunshine.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Meg said, falling back on the banal comment as a way to prolong the moment just a little longer.

“Beautiful,” Ty agreed. If she’d been looking at him, she’d have seen that his eyes lingered on her as he spoke. But she was looking at the squat brick building that was her stepfather’s hotel. It sat kitty-comer across the street from Barnett’s, and she suddenly remembered her mother’s insistence that Harlan Davis not be told that Ty had given her a ride home.