Cimarron Refuge Page 9

  He chuckled. “True. Sometimes it was open during the day back then. At night I had a gift of being able to open locks.”

  “Peter! You picked the lock!”

  “It was a piece of cake. Easily opened. Actually, it still does.” He leaned close and lowered his voice. “I think the powers that be knew about it but didn’t say anything. The coach was a good friend of Paul’s. He often worked with me on my kicking. He said a few things that led me to believe he knew I came to the stadium after hours.”

  His musky scent engulfed her as if it were reaching out to blanket her in a protective cocoon. His whispered words fanned her cheek, reminding her of other times when they had been so close that she felt his breath. But the scariest thing was that he’d shared with her a place that was important to him. Why did Peter’s revelation make her feel special and yet at the same time panicky?

  He straightened, giving her some space as if he sensed her inner struggle. “Sometimes I’d pretend I was in the middle of a game and the whole outcome depended on my field goal. Or I would actually pretend I was the quarterback throwing the winning touchdown in the last seconds. Playing football gave me an opportunity to belong to a team, to be a part of something.”

  Laura snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! Sean needs to go out for the team.”

  “I think you’re mocking me.”

  She grasped on to his teasing tone and forced a lightness into hers. “Oh, no, whatever gave you that idea?”

  “The laughter I hear in your voice.” He rose and tugged her to her feet. “C’mon. I don’t want you to knock the game until you’ve played it.”

  “Then I can knock it?”

  “Yes, but not to my face.” Although his expression was serious, his eyes held a twinkle.

  She followed him out onto the field and slowly made a full turn, taking in the empty stadium, the bleachers, the press box, the sidelines. The grass had recently been mowed and the smell surrounded her.

  “I’ll be generous and let you score the first touchdown. I’ll be the quarterback. You, the receiver. Go downfield, and I’ll throw you the imaginary football.”

  Suddenly she experienced a sensation of traveling back to when she had been a cheerleader and Stephen a pass receiver. She hadn’t thought about that time in years. They had been the “perfect” couple in high school—voted most likely to end up together and have a wonderful life. Yeah, right, she thought—as tears she hadn’t been able to shed since his death tried to fight their way to the surface. She swallowed over and over, trying desperately to keep them inside.

  Peter loped out to the fifty-yard line, but she couldn’t move. He turned toward her. When his gaze took her in, he covered the space between them at a jog and grasped her arms in a gentle hold. “Are you all right?”

  She saw his concern through a sheen of tears. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  “Laura? Did I say something wrong?”

  Don’t cry. But tears slid down her cheeks. She could taste their saltiness; she could feel their wet tracks.

  “Ah, I’m sorry if I did. Don’t cry, Laura.”

  Tears continued unchecked as memories tore down her composure. Peter drew her against him, stroking her back with long, even caresses. The emotions held at bay for months flooded her and she couldn’t stop crying. One part of her was alarmed at how comforting and wonderful his embrace was while the other didn’t care. She drew strength from his arms about her. For just this one time she needed his strength.

  What did I do wrong to make my husband hit me?

  How could I have made my marriage work?

  Why do I feel as though I killed Stephen?

  Those questions crashed through her mind with no answers. They produced more tears until finally she had none left.

  When she pulled back, staring up into Peter’s face, the sadness in his eyes almost made her cry again. With a supreme effort, she reined in her emotions, swiping her hands across her cheeks. Embarrassment bubbled to the surface. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually do that.”

  “You must have loved your husband a lot.”

  She couldn’t lie to Peter, and yet she couldn’t tell him that she had stopped loving Stephen that last year of marriage when his verbal attacks got more frequent. His words had undermined everything she had believed about herself and now she was struggling to find the person she was.

  “Until I got out on this field, I hadn’t thought about when Stephen and I were in high school. He was on the football team and I was a cheerleader. We both spent many Friday nights in a stadium. We started dating our junior year and married six months after we graduated.”

  A shadow clouded his eyes. “I married young, too. But my marriage didn’t turn out well.”

  She didn’t correct his impression of her marriage because the words jammed in her throat. No one but Cara knew how bad her marriage had really been. And then, even her friend didn’t know everything.

  “My wife filed for divorce three years ago. We had problems like all marriages do, but I never thought mine would end in divorce.”

  A bond sprang up between Peter and her. His pain pushed hers aside, and she concentrated on comforting him now, taking his hand within hers, wanting to share what strength she had with him. “Why’d she want a divorce?”

  His features darkened.

  “I don’t mean to pry and you certainly don’t have to answer me. I’ll understand if you don’t. I—”

  He put a finger up to her lips and silenced her words. A half smile graced his mouth. “I’ve worked my way through the pain. There are some things in life you just can’t change and the fact I can’t father children is one of them. Diana wanted a whole houseful of kids. I wanted that, too, but I couldn’t give them to her. She’s married again and has two children already.”

  The fact that he kept track of Diana made Laura wonder if Peter had worked through his pain. He might think he had, but it lingered and could be heard beneath his words. She saw it in the tense line of his mouth, the wounded look in his eyes. She tightened her hand holding his, wishing she could draw his hurt into her. “You could have adopted. There are other ways to have a family.”

  “Not in Diana’s mind. The bottom line was our marriage wasn’t strong enough to weather the storm. Now that I’ve had time to examine it with some distance, I realize we had grown apart. I was willing to go into counseling, to work on it. She wasn’t.”

  She took a step toward him. “I’m so sorry, Peter, especially about not being able to be a father. You would make a wonderful one.”

  Sadness eclipsed all other emotions visible in his eyes. “I never knew my own father, but Paul was an excellent example.” He wrapped his other hand around their clasped ones. “You haven’t met Alice yet. I wanted to introduce you two at church, but she’s been sick and hasn’t been able to go lately.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Is she okay?”

  “She has diabetes and it gives her trouble from time to time. This morning when I called her to check on how she was doing, she told me she’s back to normal. Has been for the past few days. I was going to pay her a visit this afternoon. Want to come along? You’d like her.”

  She did need to get the supplies so she and her children could start painting the duplexes. But at the moment she didn’t want to be alone with her memories or thoughts. And maybe her presence would help Peter. This visit to the stadium had stirred up the past for both of them. “I’ve heard so much about her. I’d be honored to meet her.”

  He released her hand and inched closer. Brushing his thumbs across her cheeks, he said, “I know my divorce isn’t the same as your husband dying, but time will heal your wounds.”

  Again his musky scent surrounded her as though he had the ability to enclose her within a protective shield where nothing could hurt her. He leaned forward slightly. Her pulse sped in anticipation of—what? A kiss?

  Disconcerted at where her thoughts were taking her, Laura stepped back, pasting a smile on her face. “I know.”


  “Let’s go see Alice.” Peter headed across the field toward the gate.

  “What about the fund-raiser?”

  “We can talk another day or later after we pay Alice a visit. Frankly I’ve loved everything you’ve come up with and can’t imagine me making it any better.”

  His compliment swayed her heart to surrender to his charms. But she couldn’t emotionally afford another mistake. She had her children to think about as well as herself. She couldn’t go through a relationship like the one she’d had with Stephen ever again. And from listening to Peter, she was beginning to realize he felt the same way about his marriage to Diana. Two wounded people, too afraid to trust. What a pair!

  “Planning parties isn’t my thing.” Peter paused in their trek to the parking lot.

  She laughed, a bit shaky, but she was desperate to get some lightness into the conversation. “So, Mr. Stone, just what is your thing?”

  “Kids and animals.” Starting forward, he threw her a glance over his shoulder. “I’m getting quite good at raising different kinds of animals thanks to our FFA teacher and the vet.”

  “Any new ones this week?” Laura passed through the gate and walked to his truck while he secured the padlock.

  “A parrot that squawks all the time.”

  “Teach him to talk and maybe he won’t squawk.”

  Peter slid behind the wheel and started the engine. “He doesn’t seem to want to learn any words. Frankly I can see why his former owners got rid of him. I came downstairs yesterday morning and his screech surprised me so much I dropped my cup of coffee. The mug shattered all over my tile floor. What a mess. Not to mention all the coffee that spattered over everything, staining it.”

  “When did you get him?”

  “Two long days ago. Believe me, I won’t forget he’s in the house again.” Peter pulled out of the stadium parking lot and turned onto a main street.

  Fifteen minutes later he switched off his truck in front of the three-story white brick apartment building where Alice Henderson lived on the first floor in an older neighborhood of Cimarron City. Large oaks stood sentry on either side of the walk that led to the wraparound porch.

  Peter paused on the top step. “I’ve been worried about Alice ever since Paul died. Their marriage was so strong that when he passed away I think he took a part of her with him.”

  Her parents’ marriage was like that. They had made it look so easy. Was that why I never went back home after Stephen died? She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had failed herself, her kids and her parents. It had been easier to come help Aunt Sarah than face her parents in Florida, knowing in her heart that her marriage falling apart had led to her husband’s death.

  Peter opened the front door for Laura. “Her health has suffered, but I can’t get her to come live with me. I don’t want her going into an assisted-living home. She took care of me when I needed it the most. I want to do the same.”

  “Independence is important to some people. Sometimes more than safety. I knew Aunt Sarah was really sick when she asked me to come help her.”

  “So it will take a crisis to get Alice to admit she needs help?”

  “Possibly, and even then I don’t know if she will.”

  “What happens if she doesn’t ask for help in time?” Peter furrowed his brow.

  “Then she lived her life the way she wanted.” She understood so much better now. Standing on her own two feet was something she was striving for. Accepting Aunt Sarah’s offer was a compromise. She hadn’t been able to go it alone in St. Louis, but at the same time she wasn’t running home to her parents and she was helping her aunt in the process.

  “So it’s better to be alone and autonomous than with someone who can help you?”

  She looked him directly in the eye. “For some, yes.”

  Peter didn’t have to be hit over the head with a two-by-four to know the conversation had shifted to Laura. What had made her want independence so much? She had told him about her life in St. Louis, but he suddenly realized it was only superficial facts, not really what her life had been like. Maybe her marriage hadn’t been a good one. Or, so good that when her husband died, like with Alice’s situation, he’d taken a part of her with him.

  Peter rang the bell. “It takes her a while to get to the door. I have a key, but I don’t want to use it unless it’s an emergency. She wouldn’t be too happy with me if I did.”

  “Maybe she’s not home.”

  “I told her I was coming by. She’s here. I hear the TV. She always turns it off when she’s not watching. She knows how to save a penny better than anyone.”

  A minute later the sound of a bolt unlocking shifted Peter’s attention to the door, which opened slowly. Alice peered around it, smiling. Her bluish-white hair styled in soft curls, rouge on her cheeks and a flowered dress proclaimed she had been ready for his visit. As he entered the apartment, he drew his foster mother into his arms and kissed her. Peter smelled her familiar rose scent. He felt as though he had come home after a long day at school and football practice.

  “It’s good to see you, Peter.” Alice’s sharp, lively eyes shifted to Laura. “And who is this?”

  Laura came forward, sticking her hand out. “I’m Laura Williams.”

  Alice ignored the hand and instead enveloped her into a hug. “Any friend of Peter’s is a friend of mine. Come in, you two.” She swept her arm toward the neat, orderly living room.

  On the coffee table were stacks of magazines, the Bible and lace doilies. The TV was still on, the volume loud because Alice was starting to lose her hearing.

  She shuffled to her favorite worn lounge chair, eased down slowly as though each movement was painful, then glanced toward the television set in front of her, then to the remote lying on the coffee table out of her reach. She started to rise to retrieve the remote.

  Peter waved her back down. “I’ll get it for you. What are you watching?”

  “I love this show. It’s called More Than Dreams. It’s on every Wednesday night. I was at my Bible study last night and had to tape it.” She took the remote and clicked the television off.

  “I’ve seen that show a few times. It is good.” Laura sat on the brocade couch.

  Alice’s brown eyes danced with merriment. “I love seeing those people’s dreams come true. This last one was about helping a man and his family get the business he’d dreamed of having all his life. He was always helping others so it was nice to see someone do something for him.”

  “Do you have everything you need? Can I take you anywhere?” Peter settled next to Laura, noticing the tired lines on the older woman’s face, the hand that shook.

  “I’m fine. I have plenty of food to eat, my Bible, lots of magazines and books to read, and my television shows. What more could I want?”

  People. You’re alone too much. But he wouldn’t say that, since they’d had this discussion before and Alice had made it clear she didn’t need a parade of friends visiting. He was sure that wasn’t the real reason because she’d always wanted and welcomed a houseful of others while he had been growing up in her home. “I’m a phone call away if you think of anything or you just want to talk.”

  Alice tsk-tsked. “Peter, I can entertain myself. Don’t worry about me. I’ve been taking care of myself for fifty-five years—” she glanced at Laura “—because I don’t count the first twenty.” She winked. “Peter has mentioned you’re helping him with the foundation he wants to start.”

  “I’m planning a fund-raiser for the second Saturday in September. It’s gonna take quite a bit of money to make this work.”

  “But such a worthy cause.” Alice swung her gaze to him. “How’s the paperwork coming on setting up the foundation?”

  “Tedious but necessary. A lawyer donated his time to help me with it. We’ve gotten our federal ID number and we are slowly moving forward.”

  “That’s all you can ask for.” Alice lifted her left leg up onto the ottoman in front of her. She winced
and tried quickly to cover up the fact that she was in some pain. “Peter, can you be a dear and get us some iced tea? I have some made in the refrigerator.”

  Peter rose, wanting so badly to help her pack her bags and bring her to the ranch instead. He kept those words to himself, though, and said, “Sure. Do you want anything else?”

  “No, dear. But I baked some chocolate chip cookies after you called.”

  “You aren’t supposed to have cookies. I’d better relieve you of some.”

  Alice laughed. “Laura, that really means he’ll clean me out of house and home. Nothing has changed in twenty years. Peter has such a sweet tooth, especially when it comes to chocolate. I can’t blame him. I used to have one before I got diabetes.”

  He walked over to her, bent forward and kissed her cheek. “I only love your chocolate chip cookies. No one else makes them as good as you do.”

  “Why do you think I made them this morning? Now go. I’m parched.” Alice cupped her hand over her throat.

  She waited until Peter left the room before shoving herself forward in her chair and leaning closer to Laura, motioning her nearer. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Peter, but I think I’ve got a way to get those homes built.”

  Laura closed the space between them by sitting on the sturdy coffee table. “How?”

  “I think we should apply to the More Than Dreams show to build the homes.”

  “Homes? Peter is talking about one.”

  “That’s just it. If the show helps, he can have more than one. Who knows where this could lead? A whole community for the kids.”

  Laura saw where Peter’s enthusiasm came from. “I’m willing to help. What do you want to do?”

  “Can you go online and find out how to apply? Then you and I can fill out the application. I don’t want to say anything to Peter until the show says yes.” She winked. “This will be our little secret. I love surprises.”

  Left unsaid was the fact Alice didn’t want to disappoint Peter if the show turned down the request. “I see why he thinks so much of you.”