53
Audra now had a convenient excuse. Still without word from Sean, she’d been tempted several times to drive to the farm, wanting to clear up the issue. This morning, a voice mail on her cell phone gave her cause to follow through.
“Hi, Audra,” the woman had said, “this is Taylor, Sergeant Shuman’s wife. Sean Malloy asked me to do some digging for a genealogy project of yours. I left him a message about it, but haven’t heard back. Since he gave me your contact info, I thought I’d try you directly. I did uncover some things about Jakob Hemel that I think you’ll find interesting. . . .”
It was both troubling and a relief that Audra’s calls weren’t the only ones Sean was ignoring. She had honestly lost all interest in hearing about Jakob Hemel, and she would let the woman know there was no need for more investigating. But first Audra would make sure Sean was all right and, if so, assure him Jack’s antics had no real connection to his family.
At the front door of Luanne’s house, Audra knocked and waited. In the reflective glass panel she noticed strands fallen from her bound hair. She tucked them in and smoothed her fitted cotton shirt over the top of her jeans. She knocked again, but nobody answered.
Late morning on a Wednesday, she figured the chances were good of someone being home. She rang the bell with reluctance, not wanting to disturb Luanne if she was napping.
Again, no one came.
Since yesterday’s visit to the cemetery, Audra felt a renewed desire for closure in any area possible. There were only two days left until the start of summer break. Then Jack would be home full-time, limiting her opportunities to tie up loose ends. She had hoped to catch Luanne as much as Sean, still wanting to apologize for pestering the dear woman.
Audra scanned the property. Except for her own car, there were no vehicles around, though they could be parked in the garage. She retained hope based on the unlocked gate and chickens roaming the grounds.
Then a noise caught her ear—a thump—from the direction of the barn.
She treaded past the large apple tree by the weathered fence, where the goat and donkeys were grazing in the sun. They bleated and brayed a few notes of contentment.
Once at the barn’s entrance, she found its sliding door partially opened. As she proceeded inside, a square object flew through the air and hit the wall of an animal’s stall. It looked to be a chunk of hay, pitched from the loft above.
“Hello?” she called up.
The room was scented with straw and feed and the animals it kept.
“Sean?” she hollered.
All sounds of movement ceased.
It suddenly occurred to her that Luanne could have hired a helper, but then Sean stepped up to the edge. Protected by work gloves, he gripped the long handle of a pitchfork. Patches of sweat darkened his gray T-shirt, untucked from his jeans. He pulled out his right earphone, releasing the wire connected to an MP3 player.
“What are you doing here?” he said.
“I’ve been ... trying to reach you.”
He shifted his eyes away from her. “Sorry,” he said. “Been pretty busy.”
She ignored his stock excuse. “Sean, could I talk to you?”
He used a forearm to wipe the dampness from his hairline. Dust and dirt smudged his unshaven face. “I really gotta get some stuff done.”
“You can’t take a short break?” she said, trying to determine whether his aloofness was specifically directed at her.
“Carl should be here soon. He’s a friend of Aunt Lu’s. Supposed to help me put in some fence posts. So some other time, okay?”
Audra conceded with a nod, the exchange just as labored as their drive from the gallery. She could push harder, but her energy was running on reserve.
“Is Luanne around by any chance?” A chat with his great-aunt could still make the trip here worthwhile.
“Nah. She went to meet some people. Her knitting group, I think.”
So much for that idea.
“All right, then.” Audra shrugged. “I’ll stop by another day.”
“Great.”
If his tone alone hadn’t make it abundantly clear that her company was unwelcome, his next act did. She didn’t so much as say good-bye and already he had returned to his work, no longer in view.
This was her cue to leave, but she couldn’t. His shift in personality too closely resembled that of her son.
She wasn’t willing to walk out of here without at least trying for an explanation. From what little she knew of him, this wasn’t Sean.
Audra made her way up the ladder. Before she stepped off, he glanced toward her, less than thrilled. His earphone still dangled down his chest, confirming he could hear her.
In an attempt to alleviate the tension, she scrunched her nose. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not the kind who gives up very easily.”
He let out a sigh, almost a huff. “I noticed.” He dropped the pitchfork onto the floor, cushioned by stray leafs of hay. Down on one knee, he snagged a pocketknife from his jeans and cut twine from a bale with a sharp yank.
“Sean, if it’s about me talking to Luanne at the gallery—”
“That’s not it.”
One possibility eliminated.
She slid her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “To be fair, I should probably mention that I’m really good at playing Twenty Questions.”
He cut another piece of twine. “It just isn’t a good day, all right?”
A shallow laugh slipped from Audra’s mouth, not at him but at the mere suggestion. “Well, lately the occurrence of good days in my life is pretty unpredictable. So I’ve learned not to wait around for them.”
He paused for a while, as if he might confide in her. But then he went to work on loosening square blocks of hay. Audra walked over and sat on the bale closest to him, determined to root out the issue. Something had happened on First Thursday; if it didn’t involve her, it was somebody else.
She reviewed the event in her mind. After they’d arrived, he had a run-in with a crabby woman over a parking spot. But he’d laughed it off and didn’t appear agitated until his mother mentioned a friend keeping an eye out for him.
Audra had assumed the guys didn’t cross paths....
“The person who came to see you at the gallery. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”
Sean affirmed her guess by the forceful way he threw more hay off the loft.
“Sean, who was he?”
As he flung another handful, the scenario came together. “He served in the war with you,” she realized.
Sean stopped. Without looking at her, he said, “Seeing the guy’s face ... it brought back memories I thought I wanted. But I was wrong.”
She waited for more, but he shook his head and sat back against the bale he’d been trying to destroy. He took off his gloves and shuttered his eyes, either viewing the scene or blocking it out.
Audra moved down to the floor and settled beside him. “You can tell me,” she said. “If you want.”
After a moment, his eyelids lifted, but he wasn’t seeing the loft, not the bales or barn wall in front of him. This much was clear in his gaze, same for his tone when he spoke.
“We were on patrol in the Humvee, headed to Bagram from Kabul. I was the A-gunner. I’d hardly slept the night before, filling in for another patrol. So I decided to get some rest during the drive. In the rear, you could lay the seatback down and curl up on the floor. I remember Sarge was cracking jokes when I dozed off. Felt like I just blinked before everything exploded.”
His voice gained a slight quiver as he gripped the top of his bent knee. “There was blood and the sounds of screaming, but I was dizzy and couldn’t think. I blacked out after that. You realize I only lived because I was taking a damn nap, right?” He released a low, dark laugh. Then his smile dropped off and he raked his fingers through his hair. “Christ, what the hell was I doing over there?”
Audra had no clue what to say. There was no logic to be carved from a tragic fluke.
Aching with a need to comfort him, she reached out and laid a hand on his stubbled jaw. He flinched, startled from his thoughts. She expected him to stand, craving his private space. Instead he angled toward her. The grief and longing in his gaze were mirrored in her own. She had never been remotely close to a war zone, yet still she understood. It was futile, the struggle to comprehend why you survived when others around you didn’t.
She opened her mouth to say as much, but he leaned in and smothered the words with his lips. His hands rose to her face. He kissed her with power and wanting, and though she was first taken aback, any resistance quickly dropped away.
On pure instinct she ran her fingers over the broadness of his chest and down the length of his shirt. At his hips, she lifted the pool of fabric and reached beneath, seeking the feel of his skin. His stomach muscles tightened and his breath slightly hitched. As he laid her down, his kisses moved to her neck. She caught a sound, vaguely, and dismissed it when his teeth grazed her ear. The pressure of his body set off a charge inside her. But it wasn’t just desire. It was more than that, a sensation she couldn’t describe.
Not caring to try, she rolled her head to the side, an urging for his lips to follow the curves of her neck, to which he hastily complied. His hands had just grasped her sides, the vulnerable slope of her waist, when a voice sliced through the haze.
“Sean, you in here?” a man called from below.
They both froze, their breaths rough and heavy.
“Sean?”
“I’m here,” he answered, collecting his words. “I’m ... just finishing up. Meet you outside in a few.”
“All righty.”
Footsteps shuffled out the barn door.
As reality returned to the loft, Sean’s body lingered over hers before he pulled back to sit up, giving her room to do the same.
“Audra ... I, um ...”
“Yeah,” she said. “I should go.”
He nodded, looking as flustered as she felt. Once they stood, he gestured toward her. “Your, uh, shirt,” he said.
Audra glanced over her shoulder and brushed hay from the back of her clothes and hair. “Thanks.”
“Sure.”
She pasted on a smile, her pulse not yet slowing. “I’ll see you around, then.”
“Yeah ... right.”
“Good,” she said. She went directly to the ladder and climbed down. She didn’t look up or reduce her pace until she was in her car, at which point she promptly zoomed toward home.
For half the drive, Audra couldn’t stop smiling. She wouldn’t be surprised if a blush covered every inch of her skin. She was a teenager after her first make-out session, a game of Two Minutes in the Closet—except a hundred times more exhilarating, aided by experience, and without an ounce of awkwardness. If you subtracted the abrupt ending.
And then she thought of Devon.
Her husband.
Her first love.
Only a day ago, she had knelt at his grave, grieving his absence, cherishing his memories. Yet not once had he come to mind while Sean’s lips and hands were on her body. Recognizing this, she waited for a rush of guilt or betrayal, which she expected would always follow her encounters with another man.
But it wasn’t there.
The truth was, she felt alive and, in a way, liberated. As though the part of her that she had taken for dead had merely been asleep and was finally awake. Maybe later she would reflect on the day and feel differently, but not now. For now, she would relish the sensation, unconcerned of what it meant or where it would lead.
Once parked at the apartment, most of the lot empty, she took a minute in her car to reset her nerves. Particles from the barn dotted her shirt. Tess’s advice flew back to her, about the need for a good old-fashioned roll in the hay, and Audra had to smile. She wiped off her shirt and pants. In the rearview mirror she checked for hay in her hair.
That’s when she noticed a man in the reflection. Sunlight made his face difficult to see, but one thing was clear: He was headed straight for her car.