Crossroads (11 page)

“And to him. Which was exactly what he intended.” She combed her fingers through her hair distractedly, then clasped her hands tightly together on the table in front of her. “More than anything, though, I'm angry at myself that I still let him do that to me, after all these years.”

“Some scars run deep.”

“Yes, they do. Thank you for stepping in, Mitch. I was sinking fast.”

“You would have been fine.”

“I don't know,” she said doubtfully. “I can't believe he can still make me feel so…unworthy, somehow. Of respect. Of consideration. Of love. It wasn't until you came along that he looked at me with anything but contempt.”

“You didn't need me to validate your worth.”

“I agree with you, in theory. And in my heart. But you're right—some scars do run deep.” She closed her eyes and gave a little shudder. “I had forgotten just how bad he could make me feel with only a word or a look.” She took a deep breath, and when she opened her eyes, she could see the concern in his. Again she tried for a smile. “I really am sorry, Mitch. I wanted to give you a pleasant evening, not force you to deal with ghosts from my past.”

Instinctively he reached over and laid his hand over hers. His eyes grew warm and his smile was genuine. “The evening is young, Tess. And ghosts don't scare me.” For a moment his own eyes clouded, but they cleared so quickly she wondered if it had just been a play of light from the flickering candle on their table. “Now, how about that wine?” he suggested as he gave her clasped hands a gentle squeeze, then released them to open the menu.

After that, the evening seemed to fly. The food was good. The pianist excellent. The atmosphere relaxing. Her tension gradually melted away, leaving her feeling peaceful and happy. Or had her mellow state of mind been induced by the wine? Tess wasn't sure.
All she knew was that she was having one of the most pleasant evenings of her life. Mitch was warm and witty, and their conversation ranged from politics to music to favorite vacations. They talked about Uncle Ray and Bruce. About their own childhoods. About philosophy and history and art. About the importance of faith in their lives. And they discovered they had amazingly similar tastes and values. It was one of those evenings she wished would never end.

Mitch seemed to feel the same way. Only after they'd lingered over their coffee and dessert did he finally, reluctantly, look at his watch.

Tess savored the last bite of her dessert, feeling completely at ease and relaxed. “What time is it?”

“Ten o'clock.”

Her eyes widened. “You're kidding!”

“I wish I was.”

Carefully she laid her fork down, trying to hide her disappointment. “Well, we do have an early day tomorrow. I guess we should go.”

“I guess so.”

But neither made a move to rise. Tess risked a look at Mitch, and their gazes locked. Oddly enough, she saw conflict in his eyes. As if he was wrestling with a difficult problem. What was he thinking? she wondered. And what did he see in her eyes? Liking? Yearning? Attraction? Heaven help her, she hoped not! But since all of those things were in her heart, they might well be reflected in her eyes.

As Mitch gazed at the woman across from him, he struggled to reconcile his conflicting desires. Earlier she'd seemed vulnerable, and he'd wanted to protect her. During dinner her unaffected charm and sponta
neity made him want to learn everything about her. Now, as the evening waned and her eyes grew luminous in the candlelight, he just plain wanted. He wanted to feel her soft hair against his cheek. He wanted to run his hands over her silky skin. He wanted to hold her so close that they would forget the past, the present and the future. He wanted no barriers between them.

And there lay the problem. Physical barriers could be dispensed with. But the secrets and the ghosts would remain, making true intimacy impossible. Mitch sighed. It was definitely time to say good-night.

But Tess spoke first, in a voice that was hesitant and uncertain. “I know we drove separately, but I— I have some Irish Cream liqueur at home if you'd like to stop by for a nightcap before calling it a night.”

Mitch took a deep breath. Dear Lord, how much willpower was a man supposed to have? he pleaded silently. How could he refuse the very invitation his heart yearned for? But he had to be firm, he told himself resolutely. He had to stay the course he'd set six years before.
He had to!

Yet when he spoke, his heart betrayed him. “That sounds great.”

The words stunned both of them. Tess clearly hadn't been expecting him to accept her invitation, and Mitch couldn't believe he had.

“I'll just follow you home in my car,” he added.

And so he did, Tess noted, her gaze moving back and forth between the rearview mirror and the road in front of her. And with every block she drove, her panic grew. What was she getting herself into? She had asked Mitch to her apartment for one simple rea
son—a desire to extend one of the most perfect evenings of her life. Her motives were straightforward. The real question was, why had he accepted? And what did he expect? She wished she knew!

So did Mitch. As he drove through the darkness behind her, he asked himself those same questions. He liked Tess. A lot. He enjoyed her company. He admired her spunk and courage. She made him feel happy and somehow whole.

But the real reason he'd accepted her invitation was because he was powerfully attracted to her. To pretend otherwise would be foolish. She made him feel things he hadn't felt in a very long time, fueled the flames of longing he'd so carefully banked. But Tess didn't fit into his plans. So it would be better to keep his distance before the flames she was fanning to life erupted into a white-hot blaze. And yet here he was putting himself in a position that could very easily get out of hand.

Mitch sighed. For six years he'd put his life in the Lord's hands and resolved to devote himself to helping teens find the right path—to the exclusion of pretty much everything and everyone else, other than Uncle Ray. And he'd stuck to it resolutely. Yet tonight he'd accepted Tess's invitation for a nightcap. Which was clearly a mistake. One of the lessons he'd learned as a cop was that the best way to avoid danger was to stay away from dangerous situations if at all possible and to proceed with extreme caution when danger couldn't be avoided. It was a cardinal rule.

And it was a rule he'd just broken.

B
y the time Tess set the parking brake and took a couple of deep breaths, Mitch had pulled in beside her. A moment later he opened her door.

“I won't stay long,” he said, his voice huskier than it had been at the restaurant. “You need your rest.”

She looked up at him, but in the dim light it was impossible to discern the expression in his eyes. Nevertheless, she felt reassured that he hadn't interpreted her invitation for a drink as an invitation for something more.

He accompanied her to the door, his hand resting lightly and protectively in the small of her back, and Tess thought again about how he had come to her rescue earlier in the evening. And how right and good this man's touch felt.

Until she'd met Mitch, she'd successfully stifled her needs, had put all her energies into raising her son and creating a stable home life for them. Then had come her problems with Bruce. Problems that
stemmed not from lack of trying or insufficient commitment on her part, but from long-ago hurts inflicted on her son by the man Mitch had so accurately assessed and dispensed with tonight. Without the man beside her, Tess wasn't sure where Bruce would be right now. Mitch had brought Uncle Ray into their lives and found the key to unlock Bruce's artistic talents—two great blessings for which she would be forever grateful.

Tess knew how she felt about what Mitch had done for Bruce. She wasn't as sure how to feel about what he'd done for her. To her. Because of Mitch, she'd lain awake for too many nights, tense, lonely, wanting. Because of Mitch, she'd begun to realize just what a difference the right man might have made in her life. Because of Mitch, she'd begun to believe once again in the possibility of fairy-tale endings. Because of Mitch, she felt more like a woman than a mother for the first time in years.

None of those were bad things, she supposed. But Mitch and Bruce still had issues to work out between them, and she wasn't at all sure about Mitch's feelings for her. Early on, she'd thought she'd detected interest in his eyes. Attraction, possibly. But since her surgery, he'd grown more distant, despite his act tonight in front of Peter. He'd obviously heard enough of the conversation to realize how little Peter thought of her, had most likely heard the man's remark about her still-single state—and the reason for it. Mitch had meant to neutralize the biting words of her ex-husband, to throw them back in his face and show him how wrong he was, and he'd succeeded. It was a noble gesture, handled with taste and tenderness,
and it had touched her deeply. She just wished it had been motivated by more than nobility.

They paused at the threshold of the apartment while Tess fitted her key in the lock, then Mitch followed her inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said over her shoulder. “I'll get the drinks.”

By the time she reappeared with two glasses, Mitch had removed his jacket and was checking out her meager supply of CDs. He extracted one and held it up as he turned to her.

“You didn't tell me you were a fan of Satchmo.”

She smiled. “Didn't I? I'm surprised. We talked about everything else tonight.”

“Do you mind if I put this on?”

“Not at all. I like a little Louis Armstrong late at night.”

A moment later the gravelly voice of the singer, backed by mellow jazz, filled the room, and Mitch joined her on the couch.

“I ditched the jacket. I hope you don't mind.”

“You can do the same with the tie if you'd be more comfortable.”

He grinned. “A woman after my own heart.” He reached up and loosened the tie, but left it in place. “
Much
better.”

She swirled her drink, glanced down and took a deep breath. “Mitch…thank you again for tonight.”

He tilted his head and looked at her quizzically. “I think that's my line.
You
treated
me.
”

“I mean about Peter. For pretending that we were…that you were my…” She flushed and grasped her drink with both hands to steady them. “You know
what I mean. Anyway, it…it made me feel sort of…vindicated, I guess…to have him think that maybe he wasn't the only one who was attractive to the opposite sex.”

Mitch studied her, a slight frown marring his brow. “There are no maybes about it, Tess. You're a beautiful woman. Frankly, I think your ex-husband was an idiot to let you walk away.”

Tess's flush deepened and she took a sip of her drink. When she spoke, her voice was slightly unsteady. “I was just a tool to Peter. Someone who could help him make the right connections for his work.” She paused, then took a deep breath to muster her courage. “He…he never loved me, Mitch. Not even in the beginning.” There. She'd finally put into words the painful truth that she'd hidden in her heart for years.

Mitch sensed that Tess had just shared something with him that few, if any, had been privy to. Without even stopping to think, he reached over and took her hand, enfolding it in a warm, protective clasp. “I'm sorry, Tess.” The simple statement, spoken from the heart, communicated all that needed to be said.

Tess looked down at their entwined hands, and her throat tightened. Gentle, supportive touches like these had never been part of her marriage. Nor had such simple but heartfelt expressions of caring. She swallowed, struggling to hold in check the tears that suddenly welled in her eyes. Tears for all she had missed, and tears of tenderness for this special man.

“Even after all these years, it hurts to say those words,” she admitted in a choked voice. “But I don't really think Peter knows how to love. He's always
been too absorbed in his career, assessing and evaluating everything in terms of how it might enhance his advancement opportunities. Bruce and I were just props. There was nothing between us in the end. No love. No warmth. No respect.”

“So why did you stay so long, Tess?”

The question was gentle. Curious, not accusatory, though surely Mitch must think she was a fool to have endured such a loveless marriage. But she'd had her reasons, and she looked at him directly. “Because I'd taken a vow before God that said for better or worse, till death do us part. And because I believe in keeping my promises, Mitch.” She drew a shaky breath and once more looked down at her drink. “I just never realized how bad the ‘worse' part could get.” Her voice caught and she closed her eyes, struggling again to control the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

Mitch saw the raw anguish in her face, and his gut clenched painfully even as his grip on her hand tightened. Tess had never told him any details about her relationship with her ex-husband, only that it had been bad. And it was clear that Peter had hurt Tess and Bruce psychologically. But for the first time he wondered if there was a component of physical abuse, as well. The very thought that anyone might lay a hand on this gentle woman filled him with a cold fury that he had to struggle mightily to control.

“Tess, I know what you told me at the school carnival, and I got a firsthand look at your ex tonight,” he said as calmly as possible. “Tell me to mind my own business if this question is out of line, but…did he ever physically hurt you or Bruce?”

Tess opened her eyes and looked over at him. There was a fierceness in his expression, a coldness that was at odds with the warmth of his tender touch. As if the thought of any harm coming to her or Bruce mattered to him personally, far beyond his role as a caring principal. Slowly she shook her head, deeply touched by his concern. “No. He never laid a hand on us. I would have walked out sooner if he had. But the scars are still there, Mitch. You just can't see them.”

He was quiet for a moment, as if debating whether to ask his next question, but at last he spoke. “Can I ask what finally made you decide to leave?”

She looked at him, into the eyes of this man whom she trusted implicitly. Their deep brown depths radiated strength and integrity. He was the kind of man you could count on. In the three months she'd known him, never once had he been anything but supportive and understanding in his dealings with her. And from what she heard, he was that way with everyone.

Tess gazed down at her drink. Should she trust this special man with her final humiliation or allow it to remain hidden, just as the intricate design on the bottom of her mother's antique glasses was hidden by the opaque liquid? Caution advised her to play it safe and leave the question unanswered. But her heart told her otherwise. And suddenly she knew that it was time to listen to her heart—and to place her trust in the Lord. She took a deep breath and then forced herself to meet his eyes.

“Are you sure you want to know? It's not pretty.”

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, never relinquishing his hold. “Life isn't sometimes.
And I've seen my share of the sordid side. More than my share, in fact. I'm willing to listen, if you're willing to share.”

Carefully she set her glass on the coffee table, and with a final squeeze of his hand, she extricated hers and rose to walk over to the window. She pulled the drape aside to stare out into the darkness while Mitch waited quietly on the couch behind her. Though they weren't touching, she could feel his support. It was an almost tangible thing, reaching across the distance that separated them, enveloping her with warmth and caring, giving her the courage she needed to begin.

“Bruce was eight at the time,” she said, striving with only limited success to control the tremor that ran through her voice. “We'd gone to my parents' house for the weekend to celebrate Bruce's birthday. As usual, Peter said he was too busy to make it. Even though my parents and I did our best to make it a happy weekend, and even though Bruce pretended he didn't care about Peter's absence, I could tell that he was upset by it. So on Sunday I told Bruce we'd head home early and surprise his dad, and that maybe the three of us could go out for a birthday dinner.”

Tess let the drape fall back into place, but still she didn't turn to face Mitch. “When we got home, there was a strange car parked in the driveway. It didn't really surprise me. Peter worked at all hours of the day and night, seven days a week, so even though it was a Sunday afternoon, I just figured a colleague had stopped by. And that's exactly what had happened.” Her mouth twisted wryly at the memory. “His twenty-year-old summer intern, in fact. Only, they weren't working.”

She paused and drew a deep breath. “Fortunately, Peter heard the car and met us in the upstairs hall. He'd barely had time to throw on a robe, and I could see her through the crack in the bedroom door, which wasn't quite closed. She was…in my bed.” Tess closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her body. When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper, and Mitch had to lean closer to hear her. “Peter was furious. At
me!
As if I should apologize for catching him in a compromising position.” She gave a brief, bitter laugh. “Believe it or not, I almost felt as if I should. But I didn't. I just hustled Bruce out of there, and except for returning to get our things, I never set foot in that house again.”

There was a long moment of silence, and then Tess finally found the courage to face Mitch. His mouth was set in a thin, unsmiling line, and she could see the tension in his jaw. “I don't know how many there were before her, Mitch. Probably quite a few. I was completely oblivious. It just never occurred to me that Peter would be unfaithful. I always knew his work came first, that it was his mistress and his first love. I figured no woman could compete with that. But I was wrong. I just wasn't the right woman.”

She turned away again to hide the hurt and embarrassment in her eyes, struggling to maintain an even tone. “Needless to say, I was devastated. And humiliated. How could this kind of behavior have been going on—in my own house and in my own
bed—
without my knowledge? I felt like a fool. And I knew then that I had to get out. For my sake and for Bruce's. Peter was just plain bad news. So we left. And we built a new life. And now you have my life
s-story.” Despite her best efforts, her voice broke on the last word.

Mitch was on his feet and beside her in three long strides. Silently he gathered her into his arms and held her close, one hand tangled in her hair, the other wrapped around her slender waist. She was trembling, and for several long moments he simply held her, pressing her cheek against his solid chest as he silently cursed the man who had hurt her so badly.

Tess struggled to control her tears, but finally lost the battle. A ragged sob escaped her lips, and she felt Mitch tighten his grip. She clung to him, drawing comfort from his strong arms and the steady beating of his heart against her ear. Though she'd spent many a lonely night berating Peter in her heart and silently lashing out at him for the devastation he'd wreaked on his family, she'd never let herself cry. She'd told herself that he wasn't worth tears. But now she let them flow. Not for what had been. But for what might have been, with the right man beside her. Like the one now holding her so tenderly in his arms.

Mitch gazed down at the bowed head resting against his chest, and a surge of emotion swept over him. It was almost like…love, he realized with a frown. But how could that be? He and Tess were little more than acquaintances, really. And yet, he couldn't deny the feeling of connection between them at some deep, intrinsic level. As if they were soul mates. This strong woman, who had faced adversity head-on and moved ahead with courage and determination, had made him reexamine his priorities for the first time in six years. Her tenderness had touched his heart, awakening emotions that he'd long ago suppressed. And
her touch left him aching with need, igniting a deep, powerful desire that had kept him awake for far too many nights.

Tess moved in his arms then, nestling even closer to him, and warning bells began to flash in his mind. Mitch knew he was on dangerous ground. Knew the self-control he'd always prided himself on was slipping. Knew he had to get out of there. Fast.