Shadows of Yesterday
Page 18
“We would also string the houses, outline the yards and trees, with white lights. It’s simple, but effective. Then each of you can do what you want for your Christmas trees, wreaths, and so on. But you have to let me know today.”
A man obviously impatient with the whole thing said, “I say yes and be done with it.”
“It sounds so plain,” one of the women complained.
“I said it was simple,” Leigh said with more graciousness than she felt. She was making a lot of money from this project, so she curbed the sharp retort that itched to leap off her tongue. “If we had started sooner, we could have planned something more elaborate. Next year we’ll need to start making plans in September or so. But I promise this will be pretty. You’ll be able to see the lights from miles away.”
“When can we get the stuff?” someone asked.
Leigh knew money was no object. “I can have the supplier send out everything—lights, props, the whole shebang—by air freight. He’ll get it here by Thursday if I tell him today. We can do all the work this weekend. Do you want me to hire electricians, or will you? The men who work with me in the mall will be glad to earn a Christmas bonus.”
“That’s fine then,” said the impatient man. “Saves us the hassle.”
“All right. You’re all in agreement?”
“Yes,” said another of the women. “We canvassed the neighborhood last night and everyone said that whatever we decided was okay. We contacted everyone but Chad.”
“Yeah,” the man said. “I hear he’s down in Mexico.”
At the mention of that name, the pencil that had been scratching across Leigh’s note pad came to an abrupt standstill. The point snapped off under intense pressure.
“One helluva fire from what I hear,” the man continued.
“Fire?” Leigh asked with feigned composure. Could these people be discussing Chad Dillon?
“Yeah. One of our homeowners works for Flameco.”
“Flameco?”
“You never heard of Flameco?” the man asked.
“N… no,” she stammered. “I haven’t lived here very long.”
“World renowned and based right here in Midland. Wild-well control. Those boys put out oil-well fires, y’see?”
Tentacles of fear wound around her vocal cords and she couldn’t speak. She only nodded dumbly. Maybe it wasn’t her Chad. It wasn’t that unusual a name.
“Guess Dillon’s been with them since he got out of Tech. How long’s that been? What year did Chad graduate? I can remember him eating up that football field. Godamighty. Could that boy run with a football!” The man was on to a subject he could enjoy now.
Leigh stood quickly, upsetting her purse. As she knelt down to scoop up the spilled contents with shaking hands, she said, “If that’s all for now, I’d better get to work. I’ll be in touch with you, but plan to have this done over the weekend.”
She stumbled out of the homeowners’ club house and leaned against the wall, gasping for air suddenly gone scarce. Chad was in Mexico fighting an oil-well fire. Highly specialized work. Highly dangerous. Highly paid. Oh, God, it was Greg all over again!
She pushed away from the wall and stalked down the sidewalk. Looking around her, she laughed mirthlessly. Highly paid. He lived out here with the millionaires in one of these sprawling houses. She had thought him a mechanic, often out of work. And he had encouraged that supposition. Rising anger combated anxiety and won.
She wrenched open the door to her car and slammed it behind her with growing fury. Driving carelessly, she left the exclusive neighborhood, glancing neither right nor left, not caring which of the opulent houses belonged to the man who had lied, misled her by omission.
Tears of humiliation and hurt blurred her vision. Damn him! He had held her and kissed her and then had run away from her to go fight an oil-well fire. Hell on earth. He had left her to possibly get hurt, to possibly
She sobbed as she braked at a traffic light. Chad had known how she would feel about his work, so he had deliberately kept her ignorant of it. He had wormed his way into her life, into her heart, until she ached for the sight of him. He had made himself essential, knowing full well that she could never accept him if she knew about his career. He had cajoled the full story of her feelings about Greg’s work out of her beforehand.
“I hate him for lying to me. I hate him,” she vowed.
And every time she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. The truth hurt, but it was there, baldly evident with each tear that coursed down her cheek. The fact of the matter was—she was falling in love with him.
* * *
One look at her closed, tight face and he knew. “You found out.”
“Yes.” She had had a week to absorb the facts surrounding Chad’s work, but the anger and shock hadn’t worn off.
“Can I come in?” he asked quietly.
“No.”
He sighed. Looking down at the cowboy hat in his hand, he fingered the brim. “I was afraid you might find out before I had a chance to tell you.” He raised troubled blue eyes to hers. “I was going to tell you, Leigh.”
“Oh, really? When?”
“Dammit, I knew how you’d feel about a man who had such a high-risk job”
“And you were right. That’s why I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”
“Not until we’ve talked,” he insisted.
“So you can tell me more lies?”
“I never lied.”
“You never told me the truth, either.”
“Please let me come in.”
Grudgingly, theatrically, she moved aside and let him come through the front door. Somehow she managed to mask her relief that he appeared to be intact. He looked beautiful. His hair was too long, but well brushed. His skin was burnished to a glowing copper. The Mexican sun. He was dressed casually, but his jeans and shirt were crisply starched, his boots polished.
Leigh was wearing jeans, too. Hers were clean, but paint-streaked. She had worn them while painting a wall plaque for Sarah’s room. They were threadbare and frayed and fit a bit too snugly from so many launderings. Her red sweater was slouchy. Her feet were bare. Since she had worn her hair up that day, the moment she got home she had released it from its confinement. Now it hung loosely around her face and on her shoulders. But she wasn’t about to apologize for her appearance. He had some explaining to do, not her.
A man obviously impatient with the whole thing said, “I say yes and be done with it.”
“It sounds so plain,” one of the women complained.
“I said it was simple,” Leigh said with more graciousness than she felt. She was making a lot of money from this project, so she curbed the sharp retort that itched to leap off her tongue. “If we had started sooner, we could have planned something more elaborate. Next year we’ll need to start making plans in September or so. But I promise this will be pretty. You’ll be able to see the lights from miles away.”
“When can we get the stuff?” someone asked.
Leigh knew money was no object. “I can have the supplier send out everything—lights, props, the whole shebang—by air freight. He’ll get it here by Thursday if I tell him today. We can do all the work this weekend. Do you want me to hire electricians, or will you? The men who work with me in the mall will be glad to earn a Christmas bonus.”
“That’s fine then,” said the impatient man. “Saves us the hassle.”
“All right. You’re all in agreement?”
“Yes,” said another of the women. “We canvassed the neighborhood last night and everyone said that whatever we decided was okay. We contacted everyone but Chad.”
“Yeah,” the man said. “I hear he’s down in Mexico.”
At the mention of that name, the pencil that had been scratching across Leigh’s note pad came to an abrupt standstill. The point snapped off under intense pressure.
“One helluva fire from what I hear,” the man continued.
“Fire?” Leigh asked with feigned composure. Could these people be discussing Chad Dillon?
“Yeah. One of our homeowners works for Flameco.”
“Flameco?”
“You never heard of Flameco?” the man asked.
“N… no,” she stammered. “I haven’t lived here very long.”
“World renowned and based right here in Midland. Wild-well control. Those boys put out oil-well fires, y’see?”
Tentacles of fear wound around her vocal cords and she couldn’t speak. She only nodded dumbly. Maybe it wasn’t her Chad. It wasn’t that unusual a name.
“Guess Dillon’s been with them since he got out of Tech. How long’s that been? What year did Chad graduate? I can remember him eating up that football field. Godamighty. Could that boy run with a football!” The man was on to a subject he could enjoy now.
Leigh stood quickly, upsetting her purse. As she knelt down to scoop up the spilled contents with shaking hands, she said, “If that’s all for now, I’d better get to work. I’ll be in touch with you, but plan to have this done over the weekend.”
She stumbled out of the homeowners’ club house and leaned against the wall, gasping for air suddenly gone scarce. Chad was in Mexico fighting an oil-well fire. Highly specialized work. Highly dangerous. Highly paid. Oh, God, it was Greg all over again!
She pushed away from the wall and stalked down the sidewalk. Looking around her, she laughed mirthlessly. Highly paid. He lived out here with the millionaires in one of these sprawling houses. She had thought him a mechanic, often out of work. And he had encouraged that supposition. Rising anger combated anxiety and won.
She wrenched open the door to her car and slammed it behind her with growing fury. Driving carelessly, she left the exclusive neighborhood, glancing neither right nor left, not caring which of the opulent houses belonged to the man who had lied, misled her by omission.
Tears of humiliation and hurt blurred her vision. Damn him! He had held her and kissed her and then had run away from her to go fight an oil-well fire. Hell on earth. He had left her to possibly get hurt, to possibly
She sobbed as she braked at a traffic light. Chad had known how she would feel about his work, so he had deliberately kept her ignorant of it. He had wormed his way into her life, into her heart, until she ached for the sight of him. He had made himself essential, knowing full well that she could never accept him if she knew about his career. He had cajoled the full story of her feelings about Greg’s work out of her beforehand.
“I hate him for lying to me. I hate him,” she vowed.
And every time she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. The truth hurt, but it was there, baldly evident with each tear that coursed down her cheek. The fact of the matter was—she was falling in love with him.
* * *
One look at her closed, tight face and he knew. “You found out.”
“Yes.” She had had a week to absorb the facts surrounding Chad’s work, but the anger and shock hadn’t worn off.
“Can I come in?” he asked quietly.
“No.”
He sighed. Looking down at the cowboy hat in his hand, he fingered the brim. “I was afraid you might find out before I had a chance to tell you.” He raised troubled blue eyes to hers. “I was going to tell you, Leigh.”
“Oh, really? When?”
“Dammit, I knew how you’d feel about a man who had such a high-risk job”
“And you were right. That’s why I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”
“Not until we’ve talked,” he insisted.
“So you can tell me more lies?”
“I never lied.”
“You never told me the truth, either.”
“Please let me come in.”
Grudgingly, theatrically, she moved aside and let him come through the front door. Somehow she managed to mask her relief that he appeared to be intact. He looked beautiful. His hair was too long, but well brushed. His skin was burnished to a glowing copper. The Mexican sun. He was dressed casually, but his jeans and shirt were crisply starched, his boots polished.
Leigh was wearing jeans, too. Hers were clean, but paint-streaked. She had worn them while painting a wall plaque for Sarah’s room. They were threadbare and frayed and fit a bit too snugly from so many launderings. Her red sweater was slouchy. Her feet were bare. Since she had worn her hair up that day, the moment she got home she had released it from its confinement. Now it hung loosely around her face and on her shoulders. But she wasn’t about to apologize for her appearance. He had some explaining to do, not her.
