Yes, being so close to Tommy’s parents was a blessing, and the family was being very generous in so many ways. But the idea of going through renovations on top of everything else...
All of which had sounded perfectly feasible when Angelita Lopez had promised the house to them two years ago, for when Tommy came back home.
A thought Val deliberately let linger, as though to toughen her heart. So when this one—she leaned over the crib to finger Risa’s soft curls—asked about her daddy, Val would be able to speak with love, not pain. Less pain, anyway.
Risa flipped onto her back, arms splayed like she was making snow angels. A smile flickered across the baby’s mouth, making Val smile in return, her heart swell. Because life, she sternly reminded herself, was about cherishing what you had, not regretting what you’d lost. About accepting the gifts that came your way. Even those that, at first glance, seemed more trouble than they were worth. Like this butt-ugly house.
Like, say, offers from the last man in the world you wanted to deal with right now—or ever—to help fix up said butt-ugly house.
Val sighed.
Back downstairs, she peeked into the cave-like living room, a hodgepodge of dull, dark wood and mismatched furniture pieces. Eyes glued to the TV screen, Josie sat cross-legged on the sofa, pointy elbows digging into scabbed bare knees. The hound stretched on the cushion beside her, dead to the world, chin and paws propped on the sofa’s arm.
“Is he gone?” Josie asked.
“He is. Whatcha watching?” As if she didn’t know.
“Elf.”
Val smiled. “Again?”
The little girl shrugged. “I like it,” she said, and Val’s heart twisted. On his last leave—two Christmases ago—Tomas and Josie had watched the movie together a million times. Then Josie forgot about it...until she found the DVD when they unpacked.
“This was Daddy’s favorite scene,” her daughter said softly, and Val decided this was part of that toughening-up-her-heart thing. Although if a stupid movie helped her baby still feel connected to her father, she’d take it. Because Val knew those memories would fade, would be replaced by a whole life’s worth of new ones. Oh, there’d be scraps left, of course, but they’d be as soft and faded as the ribbons from Val’s wedding bouquet.
“Fried chicken okay for dinner?”
Josie nodded again, then pulled her knees up to her chin, her far-too-old gaze swinging to Val’s.
“So that was Levi,” Josie said, and Val nearly choked.
“It was. Did...Daddy talk to you about him?”
“Uh-huh,” she said easily, her gaze returning to the TV. “He said if anything happened to him? Levi would take care of us.”
Val could barely hear her own voice for the clanging inside her head. “When did Daddy say that?”
Josie shrugged. “Before he left. The last time. He said if he didn’t come back, Levi would make sure we were okay. Because they were best friends, that Levi always had his back. That...” The little girl frowned, as though she was trying to remember, then smiled. “That, except for you, he trusted Levi more than anyone in the world.”
Val dropped onto the edge of the craptastic armchair at right angles to the sofa, pressing her hand to her stomach as she rode out a new wave of anger. What the hell were you thinking, Tommy? To confide in Josie—who was only five at the time—rather than her...
Not to mention even suggest that he might not come back.
Val shut her eyes, breathing deeply. Funny how, with her background, Val had always considered herself a realist. Not a pessimist, exactly, but fully aware of how often things could go wrong. Tomas, though...he’d been the dreamer, the idealist, seeing silver linings where Val only saw clouds, giving her glimpses of shiny hope peeking through years of gloom and doom. No wonder she’d fallen in love with him. And consequently why, every time he left, she’d steeled herself against the possibility that he might not come home. Especially considering his particular job. “High risk” didn’t even begin to cover it.
But little girls shouldn’t have to worry about such things, or live in fear about what might happen. All she’d wanted—which Tomas knew—was to make a safe, secure life for her children. That her sweet, gentle husband had gone behind her back, undermining everything she’d fought so hard for—
“Mama? What’s wrong?”
How about everything?
“I... I didn’t know. About what Daddy said.”
“You mad?”
She smiled—tightly—before holding out her arms. Josie clumsily slid off the sofa to climb on Val’s lap, where Val wrapped her up tight to lay her head in her daughter’s springy hair, struggling to find the peace she’d once let herself believe was finally hers.
“I’m surprised, that’s all.”
“That Daddy didn’t tell you?”
“Uh-huh.”
Josie picked at the little knotted bracelet encircling Val’s wrist, the one Tomas had given her when they’d first started going together, more than a dozen years ago now. It was grimy and frayed and borderline disgusting, and Val would never take it off.
“Daddy made me promise not to say anything. He said it was our secret. But that he wanted me to know it’d be okay.” She leaned back to meet Val’s eyes. “With Levi.”
Yeah, well, somehow Val doubted that. For a boatload of reasons so knotted up in her head she doubted she’d ever straighten them out.
But she certainly didn’t need to drag her little girl into the maelstrom of emotions Levi’s appearance had provoked. However...she supposed she might as well let the man fix her porch, since those rotting floorboards gave her the willies, too, and it wasn’t as if she could replace them herself. And the nearby ski resort had apparently hired every contractor, carpenter and handyman in a hundred-mile radius for a massive, and long-overdue, renovation.
So. A job she could give him. Anything else, though—
Holding her daughter even more tightly, Val reminded herself, again, to be grateful for what she still had—her beautiful daughters, Tommy’s doting parents, a roof over their heads, even if it wasn’t exactly hers. More than she ever thought she’d have, once upon a time.
And damned if she was about to let Levi Talbot screw that up.
* * *
Levi slammed shut the gate to his old pickup and piled high what he hoped was enough lumber to fix Val’s porch. Yeah, he should’ve taken measurements, but that would’ve meant hanging around, that last “Why?” of hers buzzing around inside his head like a ticked-off bee. Not that it still didn’t. But yesterday, with nothing separating him and Val but a few feet of hot resentment, he couldn’t deal with the question and her eyes. Those eyes—they were surreal, a pale blue like pond ice reflecting the sky. Cold as that ice, too.
At least she hadn’t told him to go to hell, he thought, as he headed out of the Lowe’s parking lot. Not with her mouth, anyway. He only wished Tomas had been a little clearer about what he’d meant by “Take care of them, bro.”
He turned off the main road leading to the ski resort onto the dinkier one that went on to Whispering Pines. At this altitude, early mornings were chilly even in May. Would’ve been a peaceful drive from Taos, too, if it hadn’t been for the hard rock music pulsing through the cab, his head, driving out any and all wayward thoughts. Same music he’d listen to in the Sandbox, and for the same reason—to drown out that bizarre blend of boredom and constant anxiety nobody ever admitted to. At least not out loud.
He’d thought he’d known what he was getting into, that he was prepared, only to soon discover nobody and nothing could prepare you