Small Town Secrets. Sharon Mignerey
decided that it might have once been one. It appeared that after it had been closed in, a pair of glass double doors had been left that now opened onto a balcony too narrow even to stand on.
“The left-side door doesn’t open,” she said, pulling back the sheer curtain. She vibrated with tension as she stared out the window. “Right after we moved in, Foley dubbed this the Romeo balcony.”
“I thought Juliet was on the balcony.”
Léa nodded, her gaze lifting to his. “Exactly.”
“And he was able to get in this way?”
“I used to love sleeping with the door open,” she said without directly answering his question. “A breeze would come in, and you’d be able to smell the junipers and the piñon. I hate this—locking the doors up this way—but I don’t know any other way.”
“You could move.”
“No,” she stated simply, although the look she gave him spoke volumes.
Though Zach disliked the idea of marring the white woodwork with the sturdy latches she handed him, he installed them both. Since the doors were panes of glass, they also wouldn’t keep anyone out for long.
Finishing, he turned around to look at Léa where she stood next to the bed.
“Need anything else?” he asked, deliberately putting distance between them and heading down the hallway toward the stairs.
“You’ve done more than enough,” she said. “Any time I can return the favor…”
“You fed me breakfast. Let’s just call it even.”
She followed him to the front door where he casually let himself out of her house without looking back, telling her that he’d see her in a day or two. If he could stay away that long, that is. Like her cooking, she was a feast for the senses, and he loved everything about being around her.
Oh, he could tell himself that he was simply being a gentleman and a good neighbor because he was worried about her. But that would only be half the story. Being with her had made him feel more human and more alive than anything he’d experienced during the last three years. And seeing her vulnerability made him ache to hold her close the way he craved a shot of bourbon.
He shook his head to clear it. That comparison made him break into a sweat.
As he put away the drill and headed to the pasture, he called up the tools he had learned in AA. Take things one moment at a time. He didn’t have to stay sober forever. Just for the next five minutes.
And he didn’t have to give up wanting Léa forever. Just for the next five minutes.
“Human beings live not on bread alone,” he recited to himself, “but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.”i As always, he had a choice. Surrender to the temptations of the moment. Or hold them at bay for the next five minutes. Five minutes. He could do that.
Deliberately, he reminded himself of all the reasons to stay away from Léa. She had plans to be a mother, plans that a relationship with him would probably ruin. She had an ex who would clearly go ballistic if he even suspected she was interested in someone else. Her uncle was the chief of police. As soon as he found out where Zach had spent the last three years, he’d definitely be persona non grata. Since Zach had gone to the police station to register his presence in the county, complete with a new mug shot and fingerprints, it was only a matter of time before the whole police department would know about his past. He hoped he was ready to deal with the predictable fallout.
Zach glanced at his watch. Three minutes more.
Sadie’s cows ambled toward the fence as they always did, the red Angus more pets than livestock. Her bloodlines book showed the care she had taken over the years to breed the cattle for an even disposition, low-birth-weight calves and strong growth. The calves regarded him with open curiosity. The fifteen cows and the big bull watched with more wariness, but Zach knew he could work in the field with them without worrying one of them would take after him. Tomorrow he’d need to move them to the other pasture, rotating the fields as Sadie had taught him when he was still a boy. Mentally he walked through the process of moving the cattle, then catalogued the things he needed to do tomorrow.
Find a sponsor.
Check in with his parole officer.
Repair the fence along the south boundary.
Stay away from Léa.
When he looked at his watch again, nearly fifteen minutes had passed.
“Thank you, Lord,” he said, closing his eyes.
When he opened them, he noticed, really noticed, the lush green of the thick pasture, made so by an artesian well. Beyond the pasture where surface water was non-existent, the sandy landscape was dotted with dark green junipers that stretched to the west.
He loved this view, and it was just as good as he had imagined it would be every day he was in prison. Nearly forty miles away, Azure Mountain rose above the Raven Rampart. Breaks in the hills and mesas were painted in tones of lavender, emphasizing the vast expanse of land between where he stood and the distant mountains. For thirty-two and a half months the extent of his vision had been measured in yards. For every one of those months he had imagined this view, standing right here and being free. At last he was, and one thing was for sure: he was never going to be locked up again.
The late-afternoon sun bathed everything in rich hues. The breeze carried the scent of the junipers.
Zach inhaled deeply. Sadie’s promise that she’d have a place waiting for him had seen him through the bleakest days. He had just never imagined there would also be a woman who captured his imagination the way Léa did.
Her petition to adopt a child seemed just like her, even though he hardly knew her. Easily, he imagined her in the role of a mother. Zach didn’t know anything about adoption law, but he figured an ex-con wouldn’t rate as a suitable potential father. Thinking about the kind of men he had served time with, that made sense.
What didn’t make sense was his even thinking about fatherhood or why he’d give an instant of thought to a long-term relationship with Léa Webster. Not for the world would he subject any child to the kind of father he’d had as a role model. Stern, disapproving, authoritarian. After his parents divorced, he had been shuffled between them until he ended up living with his dad after his mother remarried. To this day, he was thankful his dad’s older sister Sadie had taken an interest in him. Despite that, he was pretty sure most men grew up to be like the fathers who raised them. No way did he want any kid of his to feel like a perpetual disappointment. Best way to avoid that was to avoid having children.
Zach went back to the tool shed, opened the double doors, and went to work cleaning things up. From the film of dust on the windows to the rusty condition of shovels and hoes, everything needed maintenance. He worked until he had to turn on the light, then he continued working until hunger made him quit for the night. He warmed up a frozen dinner in the microwave, a meal that filled him with about the same amount of satisfaction prison food had. It was time to learn to cook. Just that fast, Léa was back in the center of his thoughts.
Determined to exert some discipline over his mind, Zach turned on the television. Within minutes he found the sitcom he’d tuned into boring, so, after he was finished eating, he turned off the set and wandered outside. Almost at once he felt more calm, admitting to himself that he relished the idea that he could go outside whenever he wanted. He walked around the yard, liking the feel of the lawn against his bare feet. Eventually, he settled on the swing that hung on one end of the porch. Alone in the dark, he imagined that he might be dreaming, because everything was as he had imagined it would be.
From down the block he heard someone’s TV through an open window, and the intermittent bark of a dog farther away. A couple of doors down the street, the rhythmic sound of a sprinkler was accompanied by the distinctive aroma of water flowing through a hose. From within the spruce tree in the yard came