Still Waters (4 page)

The speculative gleam in Ben’s eyes made him wish he hadn’t. “Interesting.”

“Dr. Brian?”

“No. You. We’ve been out here for an hour and in that time we’ve discussed Tiffany Anderson saving a dog, Tiffany Anderson offering a job to a kid, and now you want to discuss Tiffany Anderson’s boyfriend.”

“I don’t want to discuss him. Doris mentioned the name this morning and I wondered who he was.”

“Dr. Brian McMath is a family practitioner. Good doctor.”

“That’s it?”

“And he’s Tiffany Anderson’s boyfriend.”

“Not a very good one.” Jake wanted to pull the words back but it was too late. Ben’s gaze settled on him once again.

“According to who?”

“According to me. He was supposed to meet Tiffany at Becky’s. By the time we got there he’d gone to prayer meeting and left her to find her own way home.”

“I guess Brian has his priorities.”

“Shouldn’t Tiffany be one?”

“That’s for Tiffany to decide.”

Jake bit back a comment that wasn’t fit to be spoken and forced himself to let the topic go. “True. And it’s not my business, anyway.”

“No?”

Jake was saved from responding by the beep of his pager.
He checked the number and shook his head. “Looks like there’s more trouble. I’m going to have to call it a day.”

“I thought this was your vacation.” Ben reeled in his line, and started the boat’s motor.

“It is, but I told dispatch to keep me informed. There’s been too much petty crime this summer, and I’ve got a feeling things are going to escalate.”

“So what’s happened this time?”

“Some windows smashed at the middle school. I want to go interview the neighbors. See if anyone saw anything.”

“Any hope of that?” Ben spoke as he maneuvered the boat into the dock.

“Not much. Whoever’s causing the trouble is being careful not to get caught. That won’t last for long, though. Sooner or later he’ll get cocky and make a mistake. Then I’ll slap him with every punishment available under the law.”

“Sounds harsh, Jake. This is Small Town, U.S.A. Not the big city. People here will expect you to be lenient. Especially if it’s kids involved.”

“Not kids. A gang. I’ve dealt with enough to know the signs.”

“Still—”

Jake held up his hand, forestalling the words. “Like I said before, giving kids second chances just gives them the opportunity to commit more crimes. I won’t do that. No matter what people here expect.”

“Understood, friend. So let’s get moving. We don’t want to miss all the excitement.”

“We?”

“Sure, what better way to get people to tell the truth than to have a pastor along? Besides, we rode here together, remember?”

Jake hesitated. In D.C., he wouldn’t have considered
taking a civilian along on a police matter, but here in Lakeview things were different. That was one of the reasons he’d taken the job as sheriff.
One
of them. “All right. Let’s go.”

T
iffany rubbed at the tension in her neck and tried to ignore the loud conversation going on in the living room. Brian and his parents were discussing Lakeview’s summer crime wave. Though she was as interested in the welfare of the community as anybody, Tiffany figured five play-by-play descriptions of the broken windows at the middle school, the sheriff’s quick response to the crime scene, the dusting for fingerprints and the interviewing of witnesses was overkill. She shook her head at her own irritation and vowed to try to be a more pleasant hostess.

Or maybe she’d just keep hiding in the kitchen until the McMaths left.

The fact was, Tiffany needed a break from her Sunday afternoon routine. If the aches in her arms and legs hadn’t told her that, the image reflected in the gleaming surface of the
toaster she was cleaning would have. Deep lavender smudges shadowed the area under her eyes. Dull, reddish curls escaped the confines of the chignon she’d scraped her hair into that morning. And her skin, pale on the best of days, looked like the underside of a toad—greenish-white with a shiny glow. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning and it showed.

Turning away from her reflection, Tiffany used a damp cloth to wipe the counter. Then, with quick, efficient movements, she unplugged the coffeepot, placed the last mug in the cupboard, and turned to inspect the kitchen. Every surface gleamed, including the floor which Tiffany had scrubbed within an inch of its old-linoleum life. A haphazard housekeeper, Tiffany accepted her cleaning frenzy for what it had been—avoidance.

Cleaning the kitchen had been a good excuse for escaping the living room and Brian’s parents. Though the McMaths had always been kind to Tiffany and she enjoyed their company, somehow their presence at lunch every Sunday afternoon had become a habit. A habit only Tiffany seemed to be getting tired of.

Worse, she couldn’t remember the last time she and Brian had spent any time alone together and that, along with a whole list of niggling worries, had kept Tiffany from sleeping. Now she was tired, frustrated and annoyed. She needed some time to herself. Time to think about Brian and their relationship. Or lack of one. What she did
not
need was a three-hour discussion on Sheriff Reed and his dedication to his job.

The loud conversation quieted, and floorboards creaked. A moment later, the McMaths called their goodbyes and Tiffany responded in kind, glancing out from the kitchen and waving, before retreating to her spot beside the kitchen sink.

Brian stepped into the room, a smile on his face and questions in his eyes. “Lunch was great. As usual. Thanks.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Did you put the leftovers out on the porch for Bandit?”

“Yes, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea for a dog to eat table food. You’ll spoil him.”

“I don’t think a dog can be spoiled.”

Brian shrugged in response, the silence in the room stretching out as he surveyed the clean floor and gleaming counters. “You were being a Martha today.”

“What do you mean?”

“A Martha…you know, busy cleaning instead of talking to your guests.”

Tiffany felt her cheeks redden at the veiled criticism and bit back an angry retort. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steer their conversation back to safer ground. “Your parents didn’t seem to mind. And your mom came in to chat with me for a while. She’s really enjoying that quilting class she’s taking.”

“Yeah, and I guess she’s pretty good at it. She said one of the quilts is going to be on display at a regional folk art show. Maybe I can get some time off and we can go see it.”

Tiffany didn’t respond. Instead she reached for a teacup, filled it with water, and placed it in the microwave.

“Is that decaf?”

Startled by the question, Tiffany glanced down at the tea bag she’d taken from the cupboard. “I don’t know. I think so.”

“If you’re not sure, you probably shouldn’t drink it. Caffeine can increase appetite. You’re doing so well on your diet. I’d hate for you to blow it.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” Jerking open the microwave, Tiffany dropped the tea bag into the heated water, turning her back to Brian in the process. The last thing she wanted was a lecture about healthy eating.

“Tiff, something’s bothering you. Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

Tiffany shrugged and turned to face the man she had pinned so many dreams on. “I’m upset about what happened yesterday, Brian. I’m afraid of what it says about us.”

Brian’s brow furrowed, a puzzled expression replacing his concern. “I apologized for leaving you at the diner.”

Tiffany met Brian’s gaze, then looked down into her teacup, watching the water turn brown as she tried to think of words that would express her concern as well as her disappointment. “Yes, you did but that doesn’t change what happened.”

“Okay, I thought we’d settled this last night but I guess we didn’t.” Brian ran a hand through his hair. Tiffany was sure he glanced at his watch while he was at it. “Why don’t we go in the living room and figure out what’s going on here?”

“Fine.” Tiffany led the way down the hall and into the large room she used for company. Two overstuffed chairs and a love seat created a cozy U around the room’s fireplace. Tiffany dropped onto the love seat and took a sip of her tea as Brian made himself comfortable in one of the chairs.

When he spoke he did so with an air of weariness that made Tiffany wish she had waited another day or two before starting this conversation. “Look, I’m not happy about what happened, either. I sat at the diner, alone, waiting for you. I was almost late for my meeting because you took a detour by the lake.”

“I almost drowned, Brian.”

“I know that. And now you’re taking responsibility for a huge mutt and a juvenile delinquent. I don’t understand how you could even consider letting Tom work for you.”

Anger rose swift and vicious, sending blood pumping hard through Tiffany’s veins. She swallowed it down. “Tom is not a delinquent. He’s a boy who’s getting into trouble because he has too much time on his hands. His mother abandoned him years ago, his father drives trucks because their farm is going under. The kid is alone more than he’s with someone. No wonder he’s having problems.”

“Everyone in town knows the boy’s situation. It
is
sad but it’s
not
an excuse for poor behavior.”

“You’re right, it isn’t an excuse. It
is
a reason. Tom needs something constructive to do while his father is away. The job I’m offering him will fill up his time and keep him out of trouble.”

“Or bring the trouble to you. Come on, Tiffany, even you can’t be so naive as to think giving the kid a job is going to change him.”

Anger surged again and this time Tiffany let it have its way. Rising from the couch, she stretched to her full five foot eight inches, and glared at Brian who rose to face her. “I’m a thirty-three-year-old woman who built a computer support business from the ground up. My company is pulling in a profit every year. If I were as stupid and naive as you seem to think I am, I would never have accomplished what I have.”

“I never said you were stupid.”

“Stupid. Naive. It’s all the same when I’m being treated like a child.”

Brian’s eyes widened in surprise, his lithe form tense and stiff with anger. Silence stretched between them, thick as morning fog. Then, as suddenly as the argument had begun, it was over. Tension eased out of Brian’s shoulders and he ran a hand through his short blond hair. “I’m sorry for calling you naive. I’m just concerned.”

Tiffany sighed and shook her head. “But not concerned enough to wait for me at the diner.”

“Tiff…”

“Nothing you say can change the fact that your prayer meeting was more important to you than I was. And if that’s the case, I don’t think we have a future.” Tiffany paused for a moment, gathering the courage to say what she had to. “And, if we don’t have a future, then I don’t see any reason to keep seeing each other.”

“I think yesterday was more stressful for you than either of us realized. You’re exhausted. Why don’t I go home and let you rest? We can talk about this again when you’re more yourself.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

“Want me to pick you up for evening service?”

“No. I’ll drive my own car.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Thanks, anyway.”

“All right,” Brian hesitated, unsure in a way Tiffany had never seen before. “We’ll talk about this again. Soon.”

“Right.” Tiffany walked Brian to the front door and allowed herself to be pulled into a quick hug.

“We’re signed up to help with the youth volleyball game before church tonight.” Brian opened the door and stepped out into midday heat. “See you then?”

“Yes, but, Brian, I meant what I said.”

Brian, already halfway down the porch steps, turned and nodded. “I know.”

Tiffany watched as he drove away. Then stared out at her overgrown front lawn, wondering why it had taken her a year to realize that her relationship with Brian was no more than a convenience for either of them.

Only when Bandit nudged her hand and whined for at
tention did Tiffany shake herself from her thoughts. “Feeling lonely, big guy? Me, too. Don’t worry, we can keep each other company while I work.”

Tiffany stepped back into the house, shutting the door on the heat, and on her worries. She and Brian would have their talk eventually, but as far as Tiffany was concerned they had already said everything of importance. Now she had to get to work renovating the Victorian monstrosity she’d purchased with thoughts of children and grandchildren in mind.

Maybe Tiffany would never have the husband and family she desired, but at least she’d have a nice home to live in. Swallowing back the lump that formed in her throat, she grabbed the electric sander and set to work.

Five hours later Tiffany sat in her beat-up Cadillac, listening to the engine sputter and cough. A hand-me-down from her parents, the car had served her well for the past three years, and would continue to do so as long as she remembered to fill the gas tank. A task Tiffany would have performed had she not been running late.

Caught up in the job of stripping paint from the carved oak mantel on the living room fireplace, Tiffany had lost track of time. When the phone rang she had been too engrossed in her work to answer it. Luckily the answering machine had been turned up high, and even with the radio blasting into the room, she’d been able to hear Brian’s message—another offer to give her a ride to church. If not for the timely phone call, she might still be removing layers of paint from wood. As it was, she was probably still wearing flakes of the stuff.

Worse, she was coasting on empty, the car giving one last sputtering sigh as the engine gave out. Using the car’s forward momentum, Tiffany maneuvered to the side of the road and pulled to a stop. She resisted the urge to bang her
head against the steering wheel, and focused instead on coming up with a plan of action. Most days she loved rural life, but at times like this, she would have been happy to be driving through the middle of the city, a gas station on every corner.

Unfortunately, Tiffany wasn’t in the city and the church was six miles ahead; the nearest gas station ten miles back. That, and the fact that she’d left her cell phone sitting on the kitchen counter, made her options few.

Though summer added length to daylight hours, it also added heat. Tiffany was thankful for the first and worried about the latter. She’d make it to the church before dark if she didn’t collapse from the heat first.

Of course, there was a chance someone would drive by and offer her a ride. Not much of a chance though, since Tiffany had bypassed Main Street and headed for church on one of the least traveled roads in Lakeview. Sighing in exasperation she opened the car door and stepped out into the heat. Waves of scorching air floated up from the pavement, curling around Tiffany’s ankles and up her legs, hugging her body like a thick winter coat.

She was covered with sweat before she took a step.

Even sweating and stumbling along in high heels, Tiffany didn’t mind the first mile. The second mile took more effort, and by the third, she would have given her life’s savings for a drink of water. “Why did I take this road? Of all the roads I could have chosen, why the one that no one travels?”

But of course Tiffany knew the answer. She’d been running late and had hoped to make up for lost time by avoiding traffic and stop signs. She’d succeeded. There hadn’t been a car or a sign for miles.

By the time Tiffany reached the crossroad two miles from
church, a pulsing pain beat behind her eyes and her stomach knotted with a familiar and dreaded nausea. With each step the pain grew sharper and soon Tiffany’s desire for water was replaced by an overwhelming need to find a quiet, dark place to hide. Sinking down onto the thick roadside grass, she rested her head on her knees and prayed the migraine would pass quickly.

Jake’s day had been pleasant until he spotted the abandoned car. He’d gone to church, had lunch at the diner and spent the afternoon exploring the back roads of Franklin County. Though he’d been living in rural Virginia for a year, the novelty of traffic-free travel hadn’t worn off and Jake often took the back roads for the sheer pleasure of not seeing another car.

Today was no different. Prompted by Ben Avery, Jake had decided to attend evening service and had picked a long, winding route to the church. He’d been enjoying the play of greens and browns in the fields that lined Old Farm Road when he saw the car.

Long, lean and old, the Cadillac was as easy to spot as a whale on the beach. Though abandoned cars weren’t unusual, finding one on a little-used road was. Jake pulled over to examine the vehicle. The doors and windows were locked, the trunk closed tight, and the car empty.

Relieved, Jake got back in his truck and called in the tag number. His relief was short-lived.

Tiffany Anderson owned the car.

Jake figured a woman willing to risk her life for a dog, one ready to give a chance to a troubled teenager, might just offer a ride to a hitchhiker. He could picture Tiffany, red-gold hair swirling in a tangle of curls, smiling as she motioned for some not-so-helpless man to get into her car.