Close to Home Page 4

  Too late she realized how she had neatly been snared in her own statement.

  She lowered her eyes, her hands grasping the paper as she fought to keep herself grounded in the present.

  “Dodie…why are you like this?” he asked. “What happened?”

  Thankfully his voice held an impatient edge. His question was easier to brush off if he was angry with her. Any hint of caring would have undone her.

  She shoved her paper into the folder she had taken along, then stuffed the folder in her bag. “Anything else?” she asked, as she got up and slung her bag over her shoulder.

  Their gazes caught and held, and Dodie could feel his frustration humming in the air. Then his expression grew enigmatic. “You’ll keep me posted on your progress?”

  “If I need any help, I’ll ask.” Dodie spun around and strode down the hallway and out the door.

  She was halfway down the sidewalk before she unclenched her fists, before the tightness across her forehead eased away. She shouldn’t have let him get to her.

  She had made her own choices out of self-preservation. The only way she could get past that horrible night was by keeping the memories locked down.

  And for the past few years, she had managed.

  She folded her arms tight against her chest, as her mind, against her will, flashed back to that night.

  The pain. The utter humiliation. How unclean she felt afterward.

  The man who had violated her had taunted her, telling her that she had asked for it. When he was done, she had stumbled out of the room. Then she went home, packed her bags and ran.

  Dodie breathed in and out. In and out, struggling to calm herself, to push the memories down.

  No matter what happened, she could not tell Jace the real reason she had to keep him at arm’s length. Keep him away from her heart.

  If he found out the real reason she had left those many years ago, he would pity her.

  And that she couldn’t handle.

  Chapter Three

  “You’re married?” Dodie pulled her attention from the other vendors at the Riverbend Farmer’s Market to Paul Grady, the middle-aged man standing in front of her.

  Paul wore his usual plaid woolen coat and still carried the battered guitar that he used to busk at the entrance to the farmer’s market.

  But today he was clean-shaven and his long, thinning hair neatly combed. Even if she didn’t believe what he said, she had to believe what she saw. Paul seldom shaved, and the only time she saw him with neat hair was when he was playing a gig on the folk-music circuit.

  But that wasn’t starting for at least a month or two.

  “Yeah. Happened about a week ago.” Paul sent her a wink. “It’s great. You should try it.”

  Dodie ignored the hint, still trying to absorb the idea that Paul, the footloose gent who had been single all his life, was now married.

  “So…who…?”

  “Helen Lennox.”

  “The Helen Lennox?” Dodie tried to make sense of this surprising information, sure Paul was either teasing her or had become delusional.

  “Yup.” Paul grinned happily. “You’ll have to come up and see us sometime. She’d love some company.”

  Just like that. A casual invitation to meet Helen Lennox, one of Dodie’s favorite singers. Don’t let your mouth fall open, Dodie, she thought. “Well…sure…I guess. Are you living at…your place?”

  “Yeah. She likes it up here. Says it’s rustic.”

  Rustic was a kind description. Dodie tried to imagine Helen Lennox of the spangled guitar and sweeping formal dresses being happy in the log cabin Paul had built with his bachelor brother over the course of five years.

  “I’d love to come.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Okay.” Dodie was dumbfounded. Sure, she had visited Paul before, bringing him the occasional meal, some baking and the farm-fresh eggs he enjoyed, but to come for a visit to see Helen Lennox…

  “I think she’s a bit lonely. Could get to know some local women. Me and the Lord are working on her to come to church. She’s thinking on it. You’d like her—she’s real sweet.”

  I’m sure I would, Dodie thought, still trying to process the information. Helen Lennox. “So how did you meet?” she asked, trying to not project her incredulity into her voice.

  Paul shrugged. “I was doing a gig down at a coffee house in Calgary a year ago. She was sitting with a friend who also happened to be a friend of mine. So I thought, well, why not? Went up to their table. Introduced myself. Tried not to make a fool of myself.” A faraway look filled his eyes. “Then we started talking about music and I was okay. We talked about all kinds of things that night. Loneliness. God. Forgiveness.”

  Paul offered Dodie a shy grin. “You know me and the Lord talk often about forgiveness. Anyway, when I got home, I wrote her a letter and she wrote me back. We kept it up for a while. Then I went down to visit her this winter and we hit it off.” His face lit up. “And the rest is history.”

  “Well, I’d love to see her.” Dodie felt a flutter in her heart at the thought of meeting a woman whose music had always touched her. Helen’s soulful lyrics and heartfelt singing seemed to give voice to the very things she herself couldn’t express. “What time should I come?”

  “Seven. Eight. Up to you. Just make sure you bring some eggs like you usually do. And maybe some of those cranberry-and-orange muffins. Helen will love those.”

  “Right.” Dodie tried to imagine a woman who had probably dined in the finest restaurants enjoying her homemade muffins. She was about to say something else when a movement caught her eye. A man. Tall. Dark hair. Commanding presence. And he was winding his way past the honey seller, the quilt lady and the man selling antler carvings, heading toward her and Paul.

  Her heart stuttered and she felt a tinge of dismay.

  She had thought that Jace wouldn’t come here. She had thought that here, at least, she was safe from seeing him.

  Today Jace wore blue jeans, a faded chambray shirt and a canvas coat. He blended in very well.

  And he looked less like a corporate lawyer and more like the man she had once cared for. The man she no longer belonged to.

  A residual pain pierced her heart. She had to get out of here.

  But just as she was about to make a sharp left turn toward Honey Bee Mine, Jace was in front of her, and it would look rude to walk around him.

  And just at that moment Paul noticed him, as well.

  “Well, hello, Jace,” Paul said. “I heard you were back in town.”

  “And I heard congratulations are in order,” Jace said, flashing Paul a dazzling smile.

  Paul’s grin ran from ear to ear. “Yeah. Thanks. I think I found a woman who doesn’t mind listening to me foolin’ on my guitar all hours of the night. God is good. All the time.” He strummed his guitar as if to underline each statement.

  “And I heard she’s a singer,” Jace continued.

  Dodie frowned. How did he know so quickly? She had just found out herself.

  “That she is. Better’n me.” Paul looked him over. “So…Jace Scholte. Working for Carson MacGregor. Your dad would be proud.”

  Jace simply nodded, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of Paul’s statement.

  “I would meet your dad, once in a while, when he’d go to the local coffee shop.” Paul smiled. “He always had his Bible with him. Always read it, hoping someone would ask him more about it. He was a good man, your dad.”

  “Well, thanks for that,” Jace said.

  “I heard you got sent back here to clean up the mess Harvey left at the law office?”

  “Hopefully. I’d like to restore Riverbend’s faith in Carson and his firm.”

  Paul nodded. “Well, Carson’s a good man. That boy of his is a pistol, though.”

  Jace chuckled. “I work with him now.”

  “Really? Chuck MacGregor? A lawyer like his daddy?” Paul shook his head. “The Lord’s mysterious ways never cease to confou
nd me.” He turned to Dodie. “So, you still coming tonight?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” Dodie said with a forced smile, rubbing her arms against a sudden chill.

  Paul turned to Jace. “You want to come, too?”

  Dodie angled her body away from Jace and shot a frown at the singer, giving him an imperceptible shake of her head. She didn’t want Jace along. Bad enough that he showed up here, where she thought she was safe from him, now he had to be intertwined into her social life?

  It was too hard.

  “My wife just moved here,” Paul was saying. “I was telling Dodie she gets kind of lonely. Would be nice if we could have a couple over for company.”

  Dodie kept her gaze fixed firmly on Paul, hoping Jace would be put off by his torn blue jeans, his stained jacket worn and frayed at the cuffs, and his scuffed boots.

  “Yeah. Why not?” Jace replied.

  Dodie’s heart plunged. She would have backed out immediately but for the fact that she would hurt Paul’s feelings. Plus, she desperately wanted to meet one of her favorite singers.

  “That’s just great,” Paul said. Then, with a smile and a wave, he strolled off, strumming another song, blissfully unaware of the chaos he’d just created.

  She turned to Jace, ready to talk him out of coming. “You may as well know, Paul’s place is…rustic at best. He lives way out east. Right along the river. You don’t have to feel obligated to come.”

  “Obligated? Are you kidding? Miss a chance to meet Helen Lennox? I don’t think so.”

  Dodie sighed. She knew her actions could be seen as selfish. But in truth, it was self-preservation. She needed to create a time and space that Jace wasn’t a part of if she was going to carry on working on the fundraiser.

  Each time she saw him it grew harder and harder to maintain a casual attitude toward him. To act as if nothing had happened between them. As if he didn’t matter to her….

  “Besides,” Jace continued, “I’ve been tapped to talk to him about singing at the fundraiser. The organizers thought it would be neat if he did what he does here. Walking around, singing old folk tunes and gospel music. So this works out perfectly.” His glance skated over her, and for a moment she wondered if he felt as uncomfortable around her as she did around him.

  “Do you know the way to Paul’s place?” Jace asked.

  Dodie made a point of looking at her watch. “Wow, look at the time. I’ve got a bunch of people to talk to yet.” She lifted her gaze. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

  “I don’t know how to get to Paul’s place. Can I ride with you?”

  Spending half an hour in the intimacy of a car? No way.

  “Why don’t you follow me?”

  Jace frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Then you can leave whenever you want. In case you get bored.”

  “I doubt I’ll get bored. Besides, I thought your car was at the mechanics, that’s why you walked to my place for the meeting this week.”

  Dodie thought how her car had sputtered on the way here. She had to bring it back to the mechanic again. Obviously something was still wrong.

  “Okay, then,” she said, conceding defeat. “Meet me at my place at seven-thirty and we’ll take your fancy BMW.”

  Two women hurried past them, jostling Jace. His shoulder brushed hers, and it was as if a live spark jumped between them.

  Before he jerked away, however, Dodie caught the woodsy scent of his aftershave and her stomach knotted up with memory.

  It was the same brand he always wore, the brand she had bought when they started dating because she disliked the brand he used until then.

  Wannabe rich-guy cologne, she’d called it. The same kind Chuck MacGregor always used.

  She swallowed and edged away. “I…I should get going. I’ve got to talk to a few more people. About some more donations.”

  Jace glanced at the clipboard in her hands. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

  “I know how important this is to you.”

  “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about that. I think I came out kind of harsh.” He lowered his voice and touched her arm.

  Without thinking, she jerked her arm back just as he was about to say more. His face grew hard and he took a step back. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Dodie’s neck grew warm. He seemed to think she was upset with him because he had crossed an invisible boundary. He had. But he didn’t need to know that her reaction was because of another unbidden emotion—attraction.

  She tamped the feeling down and opted for a slightly injured air, building on his response. “That’s okay. I have a wide personal space.”

  Jace’s light frown reminded her that this wasn’t always so. When they dated they’d held hands, walked with their arms linked, and sat in church with his arm over her shoulder, her hand cradled in his.

  Don’t go there. Don’t go there.

  “I’ll see you tonight.” She spun around and strode away as fast as she could, trying to outrun her memories and her emotions.

  Chapter Four

  Jace raised his fist to knock on Dodie’s apartment door.

  What was he doing? Did he have some kind of masochistic streak?

  She wasn’t interested in him anymore. She had made that abundantly clear.

  Nor was she going to tell him what had happened all those years ago.

  He should go.

  And then what? Act as if everything between them was fine, over and done with, even though they had never even come close to discussing why she left?

  He rapped on the door and stood back, wishing he didn’t feel so nervous. He had done nothing wrong. Lest he forget, he was the one who’d been left behind. He resolved to relax and try to enjoy the evening.

  He heard the sound of a deadbolt opening, then another lock. Dodie finally opened the door a crack and looked at him from behind a chain. She had a towel wrapped around her head and, from what he could see, was wearing a sweat suit. “Oh…you” was all she said.

  He wasn’t early. In another life, Dodie would have been scolding him for being late. But that was Dodie before. He felt he was constantly reminding himself that the meticulous Dodie he’d once dated was long gone.

  The door opened again and Dodie stepped back from the door, toweling her hair. “I’ll be a while longer.” Her voice held the faintest note of challenge as she closed the door, but Jace chose not to acknowledge it. He simply nodded as he glanced around her apartment.

  A beanbag chair slouched in one corner, and a worn Victorian couch with scrolled woodwork sat beside it. The lamps were covered with gauzy scarves, and though it was early spring, Christmas lights sparkled along the ceiling.

  The thrift store decor was a far cry from her tidy dorm room in college. As was the homey scent of muffins hanging in the apartment. The old Dodie never baked.

  She continued towel-drying her hair, angling her chin toward the living room. “Make yourself at home. There’s not much to read. Some magazines on the coffee table but I doubt they’d be your style.” She then disappeared into the other room.

  While he heard the whirring of a blow-dryer in the background, Jace ambled into the tiny living room.

  A few celebrity magazines were scattered on the coffee table. He picked one up, drawn by the hint of scandal promised by the headlines. The rest of the magazines slithered aside and he caught a glimpse of what looked like a psychiatry textbook.

  Curious, he picked it up and leafed through it. Notes in Dodie’s peculiar handwriting dotted the margins. Passages were highlighted in pink, yellow and blue. As he turned the next page, a piece of paper, also covered with Dodie’s scribbles, fell out.

  More notes.

  He put the paper back where it belonged, closed the book and covered it again with the magazines.

  Was Dodie going back to school? And where? There was no college within one hundred miles of Riverbend.

  Or could she be taking a correspondence course?

 
He wished he felt confident enough to ask her what she was taking. At the same time, he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope. Maybe the honor student, the recipient of numerous scholarships, hadn’t been completely subsumed by the new Dodie.

  In the far corner of the living room sat a rickety desk holding a laptop decorated with colorful decals. The desk overflowed with papers, magazines and some more textbooks. Above the laptop, close to the phone, hung a large wall calendar. The days were scribbled with dozens of notes in different colored pens, showing her work schedule and, it seemed, a variety of other notes about groceries, appointments and reminders.

  In spite of his curiosity, he pulled his attention away from the calendar, feeling as if he was intruding on a very personal part of her life.

  The sun was just going down and the town lights were flickering on as he glanced out the large window of her living room. He knew, once they were out of the town limits, he would be able to see the stars.

  A memory tugged at his consciousness. He and Dodie lying on the still-warm hood of her car, tracing out constellations in the sky. Dodie had tried to educate him about Cassiopeia, the Big and Little Dippers, tried to get him to find the stars Deneb and Vega.

  But he was far more interested in trying to steal a kiss than gaze at stars.

  Jace spun away from the window. In one way he wished he could forget her as easily as Dodie seemed to have forgotten him. The last time he was in Riverbend, he hardly saw her. He had thought he was over her. But when he returned to the city he couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind.

  So when Carson asked him to take on this job, a part of him thought it would be a chance to either confront Dodie or put the past behind him completely.

  “Okay. We can go.” Dodie came around the corner, and when Jace saw her he felt an unwelcome jolt of pleasure. Instead of her usual mix-and-unmatch clothes, she had opted for a simple off-white shirt, a brown corduroy blazer and blue jeans. A gauzy orange scarf added a splash of color.

  She looked like the Dodie he knew. The Dodie he had once cared so deeply for.