The Way Home (7 page)

“Can I give you a lift home?” Ty asked, as if reading her mind.

“No, thank you. I have a few more things to pick up for my mother.” She didn’t really, but she had a sudden memory of her stepfather’s thin face twisted in anger when Patsy came home from the movies with a boy. He was home today and she suddenly didn’t want him to see her drive up with Ty. She smiled up at him. “Thank you for the sundae.”

“You’re welcome. Thank
you
for the company.” The warmth of his smile made her heart bump in her chest.

“You’re welcome.” She hesitated a moment longer, reluctant to leave. But unless she wanted to change her mind and let him drive her home, there was no excuse to linger. “Goodbye, then.”

“I’ll see you around.” Ty was still smiling as she turned away.

Meg held both the smile and the words close to her heart as she stopped at Lewison’s General Store and bought a spool of quilting thread for her mother. As she walked home, she replayed every moment of their time together, feeling as if she were walking on air.

She wasn’t silly enough to read anything in to him buying her a sundae. She didn’t need her mother to remind her of the gap that lay between her and Ty McKendrick.

But didn’t it almost seem like fate, the way their lives had touched over the years?
the dreamy romantic Meg whispered.

Certainly not,
the more-practical Meg responded. Living in a small town, it was surprising their paths hadn’t crossed more often than they had.

But in the movies, unlikelier romances found happy endings.

The movies had nothing to do with real life. And thinking about things like fate and happy endings was only going to lead to someone’s heart getting bruised. And she knew just whose heart it would be.

* * *

But later in the afternoon, when she was waiting to get her ticket for the matinee at the Criterion, she felt someone tap her shoulder. Surprised, she turned and suddenly felt almost dizzy when she saw Ty smiling down at her.

“Looks like we both decided to catch the picture. Must be fate that we’d bump into each other again like this. We’ll have to sit together now.”

“Yes.” She couldn’t seem to get out more than that one breathless syllable as she gave a quarter to the woman at the ticket window and took her ticket. She watched as Ty paid for his ticket, feeling her heart beating much too quickly.

Fate, he’d said. Was it possible? Even just the smallest bit possible?

Despite her determined practicality, Meg felt hope flutter delicate, foolish wings inside her.

CHAPTER 4

Ty glanced sideways at Meg, watching her face in the flickering light from the screen. They’d sat through the newsreel and chapter five of a serial that had ended with the hero’s car plunging off a cliff, apparently sentencing him to a fiery death. Since there were at least five more chapters remaining in the thrill-packed series, Ty suspected that the resourceful hero had somehow managed to exit the car before it plummeted into the gorge.

The movie that followed was a melodrama, and by halfway through it, Ty had already decided that the cad of a husband was going to be forced to repent his callous behavior when he discovered that his wife might be dying of some unnamed but fatal illness. He wondered if he was the only one to notice that she showed no symptoms other than a tendency to occasionally place a graceful hand to her forehead and sigh.

Certainly the thinness of the plot didn’t seem to bother Meg. She gave the screen her full attention, hardly remembering to dip her hand into the box of popcorn he’d insisted on buying for her. She was completely absorbed, her expression reflecting the emotions being played out on the flickering filmstrip. As far as Ty was concerned, watching her face was far more entertaining than the histrionics on the screen.

“It was so sad, the way she died.” Meg dried her eyes with the handkerchief Ty had thoughtfully provided during the movie’s final scene.

“I don’t see why she forgave her husband.”

“Because she loved him and she didn’t want him to feel guilty after she’d died.”

“Considering the way he treated her, I think a little guilt would have done him a world of good.” His hand cupped Meg’s elbow as they walked up the carpeted aisle toward the heavy curtains that separated the theater from the lobby.

“When you love someone, you don’t want them to suffer, no matter what they’ve done.”

They followed the other patrons out the door and into the faded sunlight. Without talking about it, they turned left, walking down the sidewalk together.

“Do you really believe that? That loving someone means you want their happiness, no matter what the cost to yourself?”

“Of course.” Meg looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, as if she couldn’t imagine why he’d need to ask such a question. “That’s part of loving someone,” she said, as if there could be no question about it.

“I know a few people who’d disagree with you,” he said cynically, thinking of his mother.

“But isn’t a big part of loving someone wanting them to be happy?” They’d stopped in a pool of shadows between two buildings and Meg looked up at him, frowning a little. Ty reached out to take her arm, drawing her a step closer to him to allow room on the sidewalk for an elderly couple to pass.

“I’ve always thought it should be,” he said slowly. Looking down into her eyes, he couldn’t help but notice what a deep, clear blue they were, with not a trace of gray to dilute the purity of their color.

He still held her arm and he could feel the warmth of her skin through the soft cotton of her dress. His fingers tightened, drawing her imperceptibly closer. She drew a shallow little breath, her eyes widening. For a moment, Ty half thought that something passed between them — a tingle of awareness he’d never felt before.

Up the street, a car backfired, the sound sharp as a gunshot. Startled, Meg jerked her head toward the noise and the momentary spell was broken. Ty let his hand fall from her arm and the odd tingle disappeared. His imagination was starting to run wild.

“Can I give you a ride home?” he asked. He was relieved when she shook her head, saying that she’d enjoy the walk.

He didn’t argue and after Meg had thanked him for the popcorn, they parted company. Walking to where he’d left the roadster, Ty gave himself a mental lecture. Meg Harper was just a kid, still in high school, for crying out loud. The more time he spent with her, the harder it seemed to be to remember how young she was.

Remembering how she’d been able to lose herself completely in the movie had him half smiling as he pulled open the roadster’s door and stepped onto the running board. He’d certainly seen much better films, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed one as much. Seeing it through Meg’s eyes had made it seem a little less stale.

He settled onto the soft leather seat and set his hands on the wheel but didn’t immediately start the car. There was no question, a smart man would stick to his original decision and keep a distance between himself and the temptation of those big blue eyes. And he’d always considered himself a very smart man. He sighed as he started the engine.

It might be nice to be a little less smart sometimes.

Smart or not, Ty found himself outside the Criterion the following Saturday afternoon. It was just to give himself something to do, he’d argued as he walked to the theater. But then he saw Meg’s smile when she saw him, and he admitted that he’d wanted to see her again.

After all, where was the harm in watching a movie together? And if he bought her a soda at Barnett’s afterward, that wasn’t a proposition, was it? The fact was, he was tired of reading, tired of listening to the radio, bored with fishing, and most of all, bored with his own company. Meg Harper was good company. Spending an hour or two with her now and then would help to pass the summer, which had begun to stretch endlessly before him.

“I thought I might see you here,” he said as Meg stepped away from the ticket office.

“You did?”

“I’ll buy you a box of popcorn if you’ll let me sit with you,” he offered, giving her a smile that had been known to persuade women to agree to much more than a box of popcorn.

“You don’t have to buy me popcorn,” she protested, looking surprised that he’d think a bribe was necessary.

But he insisted and a few minutes later they settled into their seats. Ty was aware that, for the first time in a week, he didn’t have the restless feeling of an animal caught in a cage. There was something ineffably soothing about Meg’s quiet presence.

He’d been a conceited fool to decide to avoid her just because she was attractive. No doubt, in her eyes, a man of twenty-eight was practically ancient.

Meg found it hard to concentrate on the flickering images on the screen when she was so vividly aware of Tyler’s shoulder only inches away, of his long legs so close to hers. She was glad she’d worn one of her prettiest outfits, the soft blue rayon dress that had belonged to Patsy. She’d left it behind when she moved out five years before. Meg had restyled it only a few months ago, adding a white pique collar and cuffs that made it look practically new.

He probably wouldn’t notice that the blue of the dress echoed the blue of her eyes or the way the slim-fitting skirt flared out to swirl gracefully around her calves. But she knew she looked her best, and she couldn’t help but be glad Ty was seeing her that way.

Meg was even more glad when he suggested a soda at Barnett’s after the movie. She hesitated only a moment before agreeing. But as they walked to the drugstore, she reminded herself not to read too much into the casual invitation. Ty had already commented that most of his old friends were either married or had moved away. If he seemed to be seeking out her company, it was only because his options were limited at the moment. She’d be a fool to think otherwise.

But her stern mental lecture did nothing to still the foolish, fragile flutter of hope inside.

“Gladys Martin mentioned that she saw you and the McKendrick boy together at the motion-picture house on Saturday.”

“We happened to meet there,” Meg said. She could feel her mother’s anxious eyes on her from across the quilting frame, but she refused to lift her gaze from her stitching.

“She said that it wasn’t the first time she’d seen you there.” Ruth Davis’s tone was worried.

“Lots of people go to the movies on Saturday,” Meg said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug, knowing it wasn’t the answer her mother wanted.

It was hot in the parlor, even with the windows open. She wanted to go outside and curl her bare toes into the sweet green grass. Maybe even walk down to the stream and dangle her feet in the cool water. But her mother had promised Mrs. Morgenson that she’d have her quilt done by the end of the week, and there wouldn’t be much time for walking barefoot in the grass or enjoying the cool shadiness along the stream until it was done.

Ordinarily, Meg didn’t mind helping her mother with the quilting she took in. She enjoyed the soothing rhythm of her stitches, and there was plenty of time for dreaming, for losing herself in fantasies. The fact that, lately, most of those dreams had involved Tyler McKendrick was no one’s business but her own.

“Gladys said she saw the two of you go into Barnett’s together,” Ruth said, persevering in the face of Meg’s silence.

“Mrs. Martin seems to spend a lot of time keeping track of what I’m doing,” Meg said tartly.

“She can’t help seeing what’s in front of her nose.”

Especially not when her nose is always poked in someone else’s business.
But Meg kept the thought to herself.

“Ty bought me an ice cream soda,” she said, trying to sound as if this were a matter of so little interest that she couldn’t imagine why they were discussing it at all.

“Someone might have seen you,” Ruth said worriedly.

“We weren’t doing anything wrong,” Meg snapped, and then sucked in a quick breath as the needle slid through the soft muslin and pierced her fingertip. She popped the injured finger in her mouth, careful not to let so much as a drop of blood fall onto the soft pastels of the quilt.

“Someone might tell your stepfather.” It was a measure of Ruth’s distress that she didn’t automatically caution Meg about getting blood on the quilt.

“I don’t see why he’d care,” Meg said. She examined her fingertip and, assured that the small injury had closed, slid it back into place under the quilt.

“He wouldn’t like it.” Ruth’s hands were still, her faded blue eyes fixed on her daughter.

“There’s nothing to not like, Mama.” Seeing Ruth’s worry, Meg softened her voice, trying to reassure her. “We just happened to meet at the movies and he offered to buy me an ice cream soda afterward.”

“I suppose that really isn’t much,” Ruth said after a moment. She began quilting again, rocking her needle smoothly in and out of the quilt, but the anxious frown still lingered.

“Nothing at all.” Meg hoped her mother wouldn’t hear the regret in her voice. She wished with all her heart that there were something more to her relationship with Ty.

She’d neglected to mention that they’d shared movies and an ice cream soda every Saturday for the past four weeks, but that hardly mattered.