The Keeper (4 page)

"Don't defend him, Mother.
Make him answer. Why did you leave us?"

Alan glanced at Linda.

"Go ahead and tell her."
Linda slumped forward, leaning her elbows on the table's rough surface.

"Your mother went with another
man."

Sharon gasped, her mouth hanging
open before she shut it with a snap. It was the very last thing she expected to
hear. Not much louder than a whisper, she asked, "So you just left me
without a word? No goodbye? No I love you, but I have to leave?"

"That was probably wrong of
me," he offered weakly.

"Oh, boy. Wrong? You left me
to suffer all these years thinking it was because of me? That I'd done something
wrong. That I was too fat and ugly."

"Fat and ugly? Why would you
think that?"

Memories flooded back. Memories she
had pushed out years before. "Because you were always telling me to stop
eating so much. Because you were always making fun of me. You called me Tubs!
You never shut up about it."

"I was just kidding around,
baby."

"Shut the fuck up! Don't call
me baby! Destroying a little child like that is not just kidding around."
She pushed herself off the bench, stood, and twirled in a circle. Frenetically,
she cried, "Do you like me better now that I'm thinner? Now that I have a
figure. I wasn't perfect, so you didn't like me?"

"Sharon." Her mother
finally spoke again. "Don't be so dramatic. It wasn't about you. It was
about me."

Frustrated and deflated, she
balanced her fists on her hips and struggled to hold in the tears. "And
how would a ten year old girl know that? All I knew was one day you were here,
the next you were gone. It was just cruel. No father who loves his child would
make fun of her the way you did."

"But, honey, he's sorry now,
and he's back."

"For good?"

Alan and Linda exchanged uneasy
glances.

"Let me tell you a little
story, Alan," she said venomously. "Yeah, I was chubby at ten. I
stayed chubby through much of high school, until my junior year. A guidance
counselor at school talked to me, helped me deal with my weight. When I lost
it, I turned pretty. Who knew? Suddenly boys who'd never noticed me before or
who made fun of me wanted to date me. They wanted to fuck me." Both her parents
jolted at the second use of the crude word. "Yeah, they wanted to fuck me.
I hope you're proud of me now." She wasn't going to tell Alan she didn't
sleep with any of the guys. Let him suffer.

"I'm sorry," Alan
muttered.

"The boys gave me the attention
I was starving for. It was better than food."

"I was mad at your
mother."

"So you just threw me
away."

"What do you want me to say?
I've said I was sorry."

"I can't talk about this any
more. I don't care what you do. Just don't do it around me." Warm tears
trickled down her cheeks. She turned her face away, not wanting them to see her
weakness.

"Can't we try to make it
up?" This from Linda.

Maybe they should see how she
really felt. Maybe they should see how their actions hurt her. She turned back,
looked each of them directly in the eye, and said, "You've hurt me more
than you want to believe. You casually tell me the reason you left and expect
me to understand. And now you think I'll just forget it and make up?" The
tears fell freely. "I need to go. You, Alan, can go to hell. If you take
him back, Mother, you're stupider than I imagined."

Stalking away, she scrambled into
her car and drove off with no idea where she was going. She didn't give into
the shakes until she pulled into a wooded rest area along the highway. It
wasn't long before a police cruiser pulled up behind her. Squeezing her eyes
shut, she commanded herself to get control back. If Pete were to find out this
whole sordid story, he'd be sickened. He had a wonderful, close family, and he
wouldn't want to deal with her baggage.

She knew he was there but still
jerked at the tap on the passenger side window.

"Can I get in?" he asked.

She nodded without looking at him.

He climbed in, settled his duty
belt comfortably, and pushed the seat all the way back to make room for his
long legs. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she replied
sullenly.

He leaned back, rested his clasped
hands on his middle, and stared out the front window.

She sighed and rubbed her temple.
She was going to have to talk to him. He'd come over at just the wrong time and
had seen how distressed she'd been. Why would he want to be involved in this?
He didn't know her well enough. "That man was my father. He left when I
was ten. I haven't seen him since."

"You mean he just showed up
after—?"

"Sixteen years. Yes. I'm
twenty-six. It's been sixteen years."

"You haven't seen him in all
those years, and he just showed up now," he repeated.

"Yup." Maybe he wouldn't
ask anything more. Reliving her childhood pain and fear and the resulting depression
exhausted her. Mentally, she'd come so far in her life. After the confrontation
with her parents, she wanted to shove it all away again. If she refused to talk
about it, Pete would lose interest and leave. She caught a quick breath before
it came out in a sob. Was there no one to care for her?
Just stop. Pete's
not the one. Don't set yourself up for disappointment.

Then he did the most unexpected
thing. He wrapped his hand around her neck, his warm hand, and tugged her over.
He helped her over the space between the bucket seats and installed her in his
lap. She'd been there before, but what he did next was totally nonsexual and
totally wonderful.

He urged her head down to his
shoulder, petted her hair, and cradled her face in his palm. His thumb brushed
idly across her cheek.

She started shivering again. No one
had ever comforted her before. She'd never let anyone get this close to her
past. He didn't say anything, but his silent sympathy soothed her. The fist
she'd been pressing against the middle of her chest slowly relaxed. She closed
her eyes and breathed in his clean, male scent while his fingertips caressed
her and his warm breath wafted over her skin.

Torn—she didn't want to be weak,
but the urge to cry on his strong shoulder took over. His gentle fingers
smoothed across her face, her cheeks. He traced down her nose, over her
eyebrows. It wasn't sexual. He didn't touch her lips. His hold surrounded her
in warmth and protection. Patiently, undemanding, he gave her time and the
mental space to open up.

Her tears trickled out. She started
to dash them away, but there were too many. She buried her face in his shirt,
thinking briefly it was his uniform shirt, but it was too late. Her emotions
unleashed and nothing could stop them.

"Tell me about it, Share,"
he said when her tears died down a little.

"I was a chubby little
girl," she tentatively began. "My parents fought so loudly. Yelled,
called each other names, and threw pots and pans. I kept my head down and ate.
Just mindlessly stuffed my mouth until it was all gone. I tried to be
invisible."

"But you weren't, were
you?"

"He made fun of me. Oh, God,
this is so embarrassing. You don't want to hear this," she said with a
sob.

He pulled her in tighter.
"It's okay, baby."

She gripped the front of his shirt
with a sweaty fist. "He called me Tubs. Isn't that sick? I can't imagine
destroying your child that way, but at the time, all I knew was that I wasn't
good enough. That I disgusted him."

"What about your mother?"
he asked gently.

"She was too busy yelling at
him."

"She didn't protect you?"

Sharon squeezed her eyes closed and
shook her head.

"Oh, God, baby, I'd have
punched his lights out for you."

She shook her head again.

"I mean it. I've taken a lot
of kids out of abusive situations."

"You didn't hit anyone, did
you?" She finally ventured to look up at him. All she saw was his strong
jaw. He wasn't looking at her. He gazed out the front window, a pulse beating
in his throat. She wanted to bite it and take some of his strength.

His chest jumped with his chuckle.
"Man, I wanted to, but I stayed in professional mode. Do you want me to
beat up your father?"

"Yeah," she said in a
small voice. "I kinda do."

"You got it, babe. Now, what's
the rest of the story? When did he leave?"

She slumped against him, deflated
again. "I was in fourth grade. I came home from school, and he and Mom
were fighting, as usual. He yelled, 'I'm going out!' She yelled, 'Good
riddance.' He never came back."

"My God."

"We kept waiting, every day,
for a long time. Then I think my mother got some note or phone call or
something, and I could tell she'd quit waiting. Other men started coming
around, and I kept eating." She shuddered.

"Share," he asked, not
hiding his suspicion. "Did any of the men touch you?"

She hesitated.

"It's okay to tell me."

Chapter Six

"One tried," she said, so
softly she wondered if he heard. "He said he liked…um…meaty little
girls."

"Oh, baby." He tightened
his arms around her.

"I kicked him in the shin and
ran away."

"Good going," he
exclaimed. "That's my brave girl. I'm so proud of you. You survived and
flourished and made a nice life for yourself."

"It wasn't easy. I made a lot
of mistakes along the way."

"We all do, honey."

"You haven't. I've heard you
talking. You have a wonderful family, a good job here, and lots of
friends."

"There's one mistake I
made."

"What?" She expected to
hear about a failed marriage or an illegitimate child.

"I didn't ask you out before
Hank did."

She moaned and buried her face
deeper against his chest. He was too good to be real.

"I mean it, Share. I wouldn't
say it if I didn't mean it."

She went limp, expelling the pent
up breath she'd been struggling to hold in. "Thank you, Pete."

"You're welcome, Sharon,"
he replied solemnly.

***

Pete fumed. How could a father be
so cruel? His father would never have treated daughters that way. He had nine
siblings, older and younger, all different sizes. If any one kid dared to make
fun of another in that kind of personal, insulting way, they'd get a big
talking to by Mom or Pop.

He had every intention of making
love to Sharon Timmons and making her feel cared for and safe. She'd told him
how a counselor had helped her turn things around. Now, she's the beautiful,
alluring woman of his dreams. Of course, those weren't her words. He had a
feeling she didn't see herself as gorgeous and sexy. He was going to make it
his mission in life to change that attitude.

His cell phone chirped.
Damn it.
Unbelievable timing. "Rayne. Yeah, Route 20 and Marion Street. Okay. I'm
heading there now. 10-4." He opened the car door but paused before getting
out. "Auto versus truck at Twenty and Marion. I've gotta go."

"Injuries?" she asked.

"Yeah, two ambulances are
there already."

"Oh, my God, it must be
serious. I can go with you."

He swung one leg out the door.

"I took CPR courses at the Red
Cross since I work in the medical field. I might be able to help. Do
something."

He gazed back at her tear-streaked
face. Even with her problems, she thought of other people and wanted to go to
an accident scene with him. His already high respect for her, shot up. "It
might be pretty bad."

She was already leaning forward to
start her ignition. "I work in people's mouths. I can take it."

He met her eyes.

She nodded and gave him a brief
smile. "Go. We've gotta hurry. I'll follow you."

He leaned back in and chucked her
under the chin. "Later, babe," he promised. He didn't have any more
time to waste. Not that being with her was a waste of time. He tore out of the
rest stop, tires throwing gravel, and raced, lights and sirens, the ten miles
to the scene. What he found there was horrifyingly more than he'd expected.

A pickup hit an SUV full of kids.
Jesus. He pulled his car onto the side of the road, already blocked by other
cop cars and ambulances. Sirens were off, and the only sounds were paramedics
eerily making brief comments to each other and the squawk of the official
radios.

The sheriff spotted him and
motioned him over. "There were six kids in the SUV. Four are still in
it."

"Shit," Pete muttered,
then glanced over his shoulder at Sharon's car coming to a stop, several yards
down the road.
Smart girl to keep her car out of the way of the emergency
vehicles.

"Here, miss, you can't come
over here. It's an accident scene," the sheriff yelled at Sharon.

"Sheriff," Pete said.
"She's trained in CPR and might be able to help."

"Well, search for the other
two kids. Jesus, how far can they have been thrown?"

Pete grabbed Sharon's hand.
"Share, two kids were thrown from the SUV. Start there." He pointed
to the barbed wire fence between the drainage ditch and the cornfield.
"Walk several yards in one direction, into the cornfield a few feet, and
back in the other direction. I'll take the other side. Shout out if you find
anything."

She nodded and headed for her task,
her expression grim.

***

Sharon tried to quell her shaking.
Two children were out here.
Please God, keep them alive.
While she
stepped carefully, she listened for anything other than wind sighing through
corn stalks. Any little moan or whimper. It became strangely quiet as she went
further into the field. She couldn't see or hear what was going on at the
highway. Maybe her search parameters were too small. Maybe she should go
farther up and down on each side.