Beyond Innocence Page 30

  She wanted to ignore it. But when it rang a second time she relented and traversed the long stretch between the kitchen and the front door. Lately, every step was an effort of will, every breath a battle. She didn’t know how she could possibly face work the next day.

  She had her hand on the knob and was just about to pull it open when she realized she should be wary of anyone who would visit her at eleven-fifteen on a Sunday morning. As a precautionary measure she pulled aside the sheers that were stretched across the small window beside the door. When she identified her visitor she let the drape fall back and briefly rested her forehead against the cool oak that separated them.

  The doorbell rang again and she knew there was no escape.

  The door swung in. “Good morning, Don.”

  He just glared at her.

  “Aren’t you missing services?” she asked.

  “No. I came immediately after we let out.” He continued to stare but after a moment his gaze softened. “What’s going on, Marn?”

  She tried to pull herself a little straighter and raked her fingers through the hair that she knew must be in a sorry state of disarray. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

  “Do you want a list?”

  She closed her eyes and turned away. “Fine. Why don’t you come in so you don’t have to chastise me in front of my entire neighborhood.”

  Don followed her in silence. All she heard was the gentle click as the door closed and the soft swish of his navy silk-blend suit.

  “Do you want coffee? I think it’s about done.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Well, then, park yourself for a minute, because I desperately need some.”

  “I can tell,” he muttered as she slipped through the doorway to the kitchen.

  She chose the largest mug she owned, added a generous dollop of cream and then filled it to the brim with her most potent peel-the-paint-off-the-walls coffee. She stirred it thoroughly and took a large swallow before heading back into battle. Why did she always see her encounters with her family as battles? They did care about her. Maybe they were more controlling and judgmental than she would like, but their hearts were in the right place. She should be grateful for them. And then she found herself wondering again what Tate’s reference had meant, and what his family was like.

  With determination she stuck out her chin and braved the living room. She had barely settled down on the couch when Don laid into her. “So what’s wrong? You cancel your date with Mom without so much as an ‘I’m sorry’, or an explanation of any kind. You practically hung up on her, and then refused to answer your phone. I have no doubt it’s been off the hook at least since last night, because we’ve been getting a busy signal ever since. Now, at Mom’s hysterical urging, I come here to find out what’s going on, and I find you barely out of bed and looking like Tiffany after she’s had a tantrum.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Don ignored her language. “Your eyes are swollen and red, you can hardly hold yourself upright, and you look like you haven’t slept a wink. I doubt that you’ve showered today and it’s almost noon.”

  She took another sip of coffee. “I just slept in, that’s all.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Marnie. You’ve never been any good at it. And where’s Luke, anyway?”

  That was all it took. That one little question from her brother who had always felt it was his role to look after his little sister, and the dam burst. The tears flowed fresh and hot and strong. She wrapped her arms around herself and held tight but nothing could hold back the assault. She wasn’t aware of Don’s movements but the next moment he was sitting beside her.

  He wrapped strong arms around her and pressed her face to his chest. He stroked her hair and spoke soothing words that barely registered but were a comfort, nevertheless. He pressed a kiss to her temple and at last, when the flood finally receded, he released her and drew away. He brushed away an errant tear. “Okay, now tell me what this is about.”

  “Luke’s gone,” she whispered.

  “Gone? Just like that? Gone where? And I know you’ve become attached to him, but that hardly explains—”

  He interrupted himself and she looked down at his shoes. His perfectly laced, perfectly shiny, perfectly patent leather shoes.

  “You’re in love with him, aren’t you? Head over heels, I’d guess.”

  “Maybe. Not that it matters. He’s a thousand miles away. And that’s just physically. Mentally and emotionally, he may as well be in another universe.”

  Don sat back and crossed his arms. “Okay. Tell me everything. From beginning to end, I want to hear it all. Don’t leave out a single detail.”

  “Can I leave out the sex?”

  To Marnie’s amazement he didn’t even flinch. “Go ahead and try to shock me. I’m stronger than you give me credit for. I’ve probably seen more than you realize as well. I haven’t lived the sheltered life you seem to think I have. If this is important to you, Marnie, then it’s important to me. And if you’ll let me, I want to help.”

  She found herself battling tears again.

  “I know you always felt a little like an outsider in our home, and maybe you had good reason. But that doesn’t mean we don’t care. That doesn’t mean you’re not important to us.” He opened his suit jacket and shrugged it off his sturdy shoulders. “Is he hurt? Did he hurt you? Tell me, and let me be your brother.”

  As if being drawn by an invisible magnet she leaned into him and let him wrap his arms around her again. She did need someone, and at that moment her big brother looked like the most likely prospect for a confidante. She had friends, but no one close enough to share this with. She and Don had never exactly been kindred spirits, but maybe there was truth to that old adage. Maybe blood was thicker than water. And maybe she should be darn grateful for that fact.

  With halting phrases and choppy breaths she related everything that had transpired since Luke had gotten out of hospital. She told Don the kind of man Luke had been, the things they had shared, and how much he meant to her. Then, with a forced stoicism, she explained the events of Friday afternoon in as much detail as she could. Through it all he listened quietly and patiently, only asking the occasional question. To her amazement he never openly judged, never criticized. He continued to hold her and wipe away the disobedient tears. He let her rant and cry, and when she was done he leaned back and silently considered it all with a thoughtfulness worthy of King Solomon himself.

  At last he spoke. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Do? What is there to do? I’m going to try to pull myself together and get on with my life.”

  “You love him still? Or you think you still could, considering his past and who he is now?”

  She nodded hesitantly. “Yes. I firmly believe that the person I fell in love with is still there. For some reason he’s chosen to pursue a life in the sewer. I get the feeling it’s tied up with his family, but he wouldn’t let me get close enough to find out the whole story.”

  He steepled his fingers and propped them under his chin. “I tend to agree. It sounds to me like he’s got some major issues to resolve. He couldn’t have faked who he was all those weeks. It sounds like, without all that baggage, he was able to be a caring, sensitive human being. And I’m big enough to admit that in a few short hours he earned my respect.” He shook his head sagely. “Something made him choose this path. Maybe something can turn him away from it.”

  “You’re not thinking about saving his soul, are you? Because I’m pretty sure he’d laugh in your face.”

  Don quirked a half-smile. “Jesus wouldn’t hurt, but he may not be the only one who can make a difference for…Tate.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He picked up her hand and squeezed. “You, Marnie. Don’t give up so easily. It’s not just men who have to fight for the person they love. You’re a liberated woman. At least, that’s what you’ve been trying to tell us for years. If that’s the case then act like i
t. Don’t lie down and cry like the damsel in those fairy tales. Maybe this time it’s the hero who needs rescuing. Maybe this time it’s from a sewer rather than a tower fortress. Maybe there won’t even be a happy ending. But you won’t know unless you try, and I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who even has a remote chance of pulling it off.”

  “He crushed me, Don. I don’t know if I can live through that again.”

  “You’re stronger than you think. You’ve got more of Dad in you than you like to admit.”

  She squeezed his hand affectionately. “Maybe you do too. And for once I mean that in a nice way.”

  He chuckled and reached for his jacket. “So, give me a call as soon as you’re ready to go.”

  “What? Go?”

  “Yeah. You’re going to track him down in Philadelphia, right?”

  She hadn’t quite gotten that far yet. “Uh…yeah, I guess. But how do I find him?”

  “Honestly, Marnie.” He frowned at her as if disappointed in her inadequate mental capabilities. “But then again, I guess your brain is still a bit befuddled.” He slipped his arms into the tailored navy material. “It shouldn’t be too hard. Those police officers were in contact with the local detectives. They must have been, in order to facilitate finding Tate and the body of this other man. I’m sure the local police would have their names and at least a phone number.”

  “Peter Gruber,” she muttered. “I remember that name.”

  “Right. So all you have to do is get his number and I’m sure he’ll help you find Tate. They obviously have a long-standing relationship, even if it’s not exactly amicable. So I have no doubt he’ll have Tate’s address or the address of his clubs.”

  Marnie shook her head to clear the cobwebs. Don had said something else. “Wait a minute. You said you wanted me to call you when I’m ready to go?”

  “Yes. Of course. You don’t think I’m going to let my little sister venture into the heart of Philadelphia, brave bars and strip clubs and a potentially hostile ex-boyfriend without me, do you?”

  Her brother continued to astound her. But she still managed a little teasing. “You sure you’re not coming so you can beat up on him for hurting me?”

  He grinned and his eyes twinkled. How was it that she had always thought he was so serious and stoic? How had she missed the mischief in those eyes? How had she missed so much about him? “You know I would never resort to physical violence, Sis. Maybe a good tongue-lashing, though. And a few threats. But they would be empty.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He laughed and headed toward the door with a bounce to his step and a vigor that she had never noticed before.

  She followed him to the door, but stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could make good his escape. “Thanks, Don. I really needed a strong shoulder to cry on.”

  He shrugged and rolled one broad shoulder with a sly smile. “That’s one thing I’ve got two of. And they’re all yours.” He pecked her on the cheek and headed down the steps. “Call me. I’ll take a few days off whenever you need me.”

  She stepped outside into the overcast day. “Don!”

  He sighed and turned around. “What? Karen’s waiting dinner on me.”

  “What did you think of him? Honestly.”

  “Honestly? I thought he was smart but naïve, rugged but sensitive, a match for me any day, something of an enigma, and the best thing that ever happened to you. Believe me, it was as much a surprise to me as anyone. Because if I didn’t feel that way I wouldn’t be helping.”

  She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “You’re rather surprising yourself, big brother.”

  He waved away her comment and strode to his car. She watched him rev the engine and drive away, and wondered idly who that man was and what he had done with her brother.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  Heat radiated off the blacktop in waves. Tate felt like he was driving through thick, hot syrup. The heavy air wrapped around him, constricted his lungs and clogged his throat. After the fresh breezes and wide-open spaces of Calgary and the Kananaskis, Philadelphia seemed depleted of oxygen and devoid of color. It was as if he had traded in Technicolor for monochrome, joy for despair, freedom for a dungeon. And he hated to admit it, but the landscape wasn’t the only reason for his misery. He missed Marnie. Desperately. He hated the way he had left her. He hated everything about this whole damn situation. He hated his life. He hated his wife. He hated his clubs and he was questioning his sanity.

  The only positive thing in his life at the moment was Tanner, and despite Tanner’s relief at having his father back he was still troubled and moody. It concerned Tate, but he had a pretty good idea as to why. Hopefully, the source of Tanner’s problems would no longer exist in another week or so. Hopefully, a lot would change in another week or so.

  But there was one thing that wouldn’t. Tate gritted his teeth and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Sam. Sam was dead, and ultimately it was Tate’s fault. Every time Tate closed his eyes all he could see was Sam’s battered body and the gun against his forehead. He heard the mind-shattering crack and tasted the acrid sulfurous smoke. He saw the spray of blood and brain matter as Sam’s body pitched backward and made a sickening thud against the bed of the truck. He felt the searing path of that bullet as surely as if it had pierced his own brain. And he felt a little piece of his soul chip away.

  Every night since regaining his memories he had awakened bathed in a cold sweat after reliving the nightmare—the nightmare of losing the only thing in his sorry, pathetic life that had ever meant anything. The only thing, besides his son, that had ever held a trace of beauty.

  Maybe Calvin had pulled the trigger, but Tate had only himself to blame. He had thrown Sam away as surely as he tossed out the empty liquor bottles from The Pit. And because of him, Sam was dead.

  He had never wanted it to come to that. He had just wanted Sam to suffer a little. He had wanted Sam to feel a little bit of the pain that Tate felt. Tate had wanted to punish Sam because he couldn’t punish the person who deserved it the most. Well, Tate had gotten what he wanted and Sam had paid the price. And he had died not knowing why.

  Dammit! Sam should have known why. Tate would have to bear the burden of that guilt to the grave. But maybe struggling with that demon was the least he could do in light of the hell he had put his brother through.

  “Tate.” Faye puffed on her cigarette and blew the smoke out the window.

  Tate had tried the cigarettes again, but to his great frustration he’d realized that he could no longer stomach them. Now he wouldn’t let Faye smoke unless she blew the smoke out the truck window, or did it outside when they were at home. “Yeah,” he grunted. “What is it?”

  “What are you doing?”

  He rolled his eyes. She was even stupider than he remembered. “I’m driving us to The Pit. I’d like to start getting things back in order. I’d like—”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “Sorry, babe, I’m not a mind reader. What did you mean?”

  “I mean what’s going on with you? You somehow talked the cops into dropping the charges against me. You moved in, even though you know I screwed around on you, and…” She shifted in her seat and took another drag.

  “And didn’t warn me or try to stop Calvin from trying to kill me?” He lifted his eyebrows in a supreme effort to lend credence to his seemingly innocent question. He gave no hint of the torrent of rage that seethed just beneath the surface.

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  They had reached the club, and he pulled into his reserved space near the back entrance. He killed the engine and turned to face her. It took an effort of will but he managed to stifle the nausea that welled up every time he looked her in the eye.

  “Look, I’ve been through some…changes. My time in Canada, without my memories, was…” His brows furrowed as he sought the right word. “Enlightening. I
t gave me a new outlook on things. I know we’ve hardly had the ideal marriage, but we have a son and a new home.” He managed to not curse her for buying the new place with her lover and the money they had stolen from his private account. “I know you were involved with Calvin and made some lousy choices. But I also believe that you were in a really vulnerable spot with the drugs and with me not being around very much. I know you didn’t really want me to get hurt, but that was scary for you.” He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as he spewed the lies designed to lull her into complacency.

  She nodded vigorously, and he could almost see his hands latched around her traitorous little throat.

  “I want to give us another chance. If for nothing else than to give Tanner a shot at a decent home.”

  “You’re right, Tate. I…hated what Calvin was planning but I felt powerless.” She swallowed dryly, and he knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from confirming one little part of his story. “It’s too bad you don’t remember the stuff on the mountain, because then you’d know how scared I was, and how I begged with him not to do it.”

  He battled with a temper that threatened to erupt like Mount St. Helen’s. “Maybe it’ll come back to me eventually, but for now I believe you. We’ve been married too long to just throw it all away. I couldn’t let you go to prison even if it was just for a few months. I wanted to start fresh and I thought that was a show of good faith.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief and he congratulated himself. Stupid bitch. She had no idea what was coming. She had no idea of the fate he had planned for her. But she’d pay for shooting him in the gut. She’d pay for pummeling him with a baseball bat. She’d pay for stealing from him and fucking his partner. She’d pay for putting Tanner through all that. But, most of all, she’d pay for Sam.

  “Okay, feel better? Can we go in now?”

  “Calvin’s still out there, you know.”

  “I know.” He pushed open the truck’s door and slipped out of his seat. He stretched his bad leg and wished idly that Marnie were here to give him one of her wonderful massages. Every time he looked at Faye he couldn’t help but compare the two. Where Faye was stale, Marnie was fresh. Where Faye was dull, Marnie sparkled. The list could go on endlessly and still it couldn’t come close to describing the chasm that separated the two women.