A Man Worth Loving

A pang of anguish reminding him just how screwed up he was made him grin like a jackal as he answered, “I’m grieving. Can’t you tell?”

Dean’s face darkened and Sammy knew he’d gone too far. He half hoped Dean would lay him out. He certainly deserved it. “You sure as hell don’t look like you’re grieving to me. How do you think it makes Annabelle feel to hear around town about all the women you’re nailing like the end of the world is around the corner when her best friend—your supposed beloved wife—died just six months ago? It’s killing her! The other day she burst into tears because of some story she heard about you and some former coworker of Dana’s getting it on outside the bar, in the damned alley! What is wrong with you!”

“Tell your wife to mind her own business,” Sammy said and turned to walk away.

And that was the final straw. But it wasn’t Dean who threw the punch.

It was Josh.

Sammy hit the ground and went into blissful oblivion.

AUBREY BUNDLED IAN UP AGAINST the chill so the boy could have some outside play time before it got too cold to enjoy the fall season. Walking the perimeter of the property, she drew a deep breath of the crisp air and smiled at the rustic beauty of the area, such a stark contrast from where she grew up. Here there were rolling hills of trees and brush, not a manicured lawn in sight, but it took her breath away. So gorgeous. She could imagine Ian running free, weaving in and out of the trees, playing cops and robbers, jumping in mud puddles, and ending the day covered head to toe in dirt. A warm smile followed. How awesome. Then she sighed. “Perhaps if fate hadn’t been so cruel as to take your mama and leave you with that self-absorbed man you know as your father, I’d say you were a lucky boy. But sometimes fate is cruel, sweet baby. That is something you may very well learn when you get older,” she murmured to Ian, whose cheeks had pinked to a rosy hue and his delighted smile seemed to say that he agreed with her. Impulsively, she bent down and pressed a quick kiss on his crown. Oh, you shouldn’t have done that, a voice warned inside her head, but she immediately pushed it aside, even though the advice was sound. But babies need love and affection, she protested. It wasn’t like the boy’s father was going to provide it. She rounded the back side of the house and gasped with pleasure when she saw the young apple tree, bursting with fresh apples, some of which had dropped to the ground to rot.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had an apple tree growing in your backyard?” she asked Ian playfully as he watched her with happy eyes. “I’ll bet your mom planted this tree when she and your dad got married.”

She moved closer and noted the variety of the tree was written on a small tag. “A self-pollinating Gala,” she read. She didn’t know much about apple trees but she was open to learning. Somehow she knew keeping this tree alive and blooming for the future would’ve been important to Dana. Plucking an apple, she took an exploratory bite. Juice dribbled down her chin and the crisp flavor was like manna from heaven. “Ohh, this is good,” she said. Then looked again to Ian, an idea forming in her mind. “I’ll bet your mom has a basket or a bucket we can find that she used to pick these apples. Let’s find it.”

Just as she figured, Aubrey was able to find a large basket in the laundry room, tucked into the far reaches of the cabinet above the washing machine. She brushed it out, then she and Ian headed back outside to ease the burden of that beautiful apple tree.

SAMMY WAS STILL IN A PISSY mood when he got home, in spite of stopping by the bar first for a beer. His jaw ached where Josh had clocked him and a bruise was beginning to shadow the stubble on his chin. He wasn’t sure which was worse—the fact that he’d deserved that punch or the low to which he’d sunk in his mind. It was as if he was in a downward spiral he couldn’t do anything to stop and everyone around him was trying to help but he was gunning for that fateful moment when he went splat against the concrete. If Dana were here she’d no doubt tell him to quit feeling sorry for himself. A sad smile lifted his mouth, but only for a moment. He couldn’t think of Dana. Maybe if Ian didn’t look so much like her….

He opened the door and was hit with the savory aroma of something he hadn’t smelled in a long time. Apple pie.

Entering the kitchen, the smell triggered a memory that nearly sent him to his knees. He slowed, let his eyes close and sank into the past.

Suddenly, it was September of last year, and Sammy had come home to that same tantalizing aroma.

“Damn, girl, what is that amazing smell?” he’d said, whipping his ball cap off and tossing it to the hat stand by the door. He saw Dana in the kitchen, pregnant, flour in her hair, the room looking as if a bomb had gone off, there was sweat dampening her forehead and one perfect apple pie cooling on the counter. He’d never been so conflicted by his desire to eat pie and make love to his wife. In the end, he did both. Right there on the kitchen floor.

“I thought you might like a pie made from our very own apple tree,” she’d said huskily, her voice retaining the warmth created by their lovemaking. She propped herself up on her elbow and stared down at him as he lay on his back recuperating. “I had no idea pie has this kind of effect on you,” she teased, her brown hair falling forward to tickle his face.

“You have this kind of effect on me,” he murmured, pulling her down to his mouth, savoring everything about his wife. “But I do love pie,” he added playfully.

“I love you,” she said softly.

The echo of Dana’s whispered sentiment brought him crashing back to the present, and he found Aubrey staring at him, an uncertain expression on her face.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a strangled tone.

“I…took Ian for a walk and discovered the apple tree…and they were just dropping on the ground,” she said, faltering. “I didn’t think you would mind if I put them to good use.”

“Well, I do mind,” he said, shaking with pain. He had a vision of grabbing the ax and chopping the damn tree down so he never had to deal with this happening ever again. But then he noticed that she’d been very busy while he’d been at work. Not only had she baked a pie but she’d made applesauce for Ian and that’s what she’d been doing when he walked in, putting the sauce into small containers for later use. He choked down the angry words that bubbled to the surface as he remembered Dana talking about how she’d hoped to do that very thing for their child. She’d been so excited to be a mother, she wanted nothing but the best for the baby—and apparently the best had included homemade applesauce.

Aubrey stiffened and her mouth tightened as she offered a terse apology. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about letting the apples go to waste. I won’t do it again,” she said.

“Forget it,” he bit out, hating the gruff quality of his voice. “I…” He tried to apologize but he couldn’t get the words out. Instead, he just turned on his heel and headed to the shower. She was his employee. He didn’t owe her explanations.

TEARS STUNG AUBREY’S EYES but she managed to hold them back until Sammy stalked from the room. It was ridiculous, she thought, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand before returning to her task. Did he have to be such an ass? She twisted a lid onto the last container and stuck it in the freezer with the rest she’d made. She wiped down the counter and put everything in its place then prepared Ian for his bath.

She took great care to avoid looking in the direction of Sammy’s bedroom, but she couldn’t help wondering what had caused him to snap like that. She didn’t want to but she saw the pain in his eyes, and it softened her just a little toward him. Oh, stop that. He’s not a stray, injured dog you can nurse back to health. He’s a grown man acting like a spoiled, selfish child. Steer clear. Odd, how that scolding came straight at her in the voice of her mother. She rolled her eyes at herself and repressed a grateful shudder that the voice was only in her head and not being delivered in person.

After a quick bath and a bottle of milk, Aubrey put Ian to bed. As soon as Ian’s eyes drifted shut, she went to Sammy’s bedroom and gave the door a soft knock.

“Mr. Halvorsen…. I’m taking off. Ian—” She was startled when the door opened abruptly and Sammy stood there, his eyes red-rimmed and his expression stark. She straightened and continued. “As I was saying, Ian has had his bath and his dinner. He’s asleep in his bed. Is there anything else you need before I leave?”

He shook his head and she turned. His voice at her back made her stop.

“I’m sorry for…snapping at you,” he said quietly.

She nodded, but the motion was stiff. Still, since he was extending an olive branch of sorts, she’d do the same. “I apologize for not asking first. I realize it was presumptuous of me to assume you wouldn’t mind if I put the apples to use.”

“Does he like the applesauce you made for him?” he asked.

“He does. Very much.”

He ran his tongue across his lip and it was then Aubrey noticed the swelling along his jaw.

“What happened to you?” she asked, appalled at the injury and his apparent disregard for his own care. “Come here,” she instructed, forgetting for the moment that she thought he was the lowest of all men who hardly deserved more than a cursory glance much less her help. She led him to the kitchen where the light was better and then set about putting together an ice pack. “Was this a fight?”

“Something like that,” he answered with a shrug.

“Kiss the wrong girl? One with a husband perhaps?” she muttered and he chuckled darkly as he accepted the ice pack and set it against his jaw.

“Nothing like that. My brother wanted to teach me some manners.”

“Your own brother did this?” she repeated, horrified.

“Yeah.” He paused, then added, “I said something I shouldn’t have.”

“So you deserved it?”

He lifted the ice pack. “Josh wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t feel it was justified. Now, if it’d been Dean…he has more of a temper. And he’s been known to swing a few punches here and there. Just ask Aaron Eagle. He’s felt the sting of my brother’s fist. But he had it coming, too.”

“Who is Aaron Eagle?” she asked.

Sammy tried to grin but the effort cost him and he winced instead. He waved away her question. “Nobody. Just a guy my brother Dean doesn’t much care for. Dean clocked Aaron one day at a construction site. But trust me, the guy had it coming.”

“Sounds like your brothers are a couple of violent ruffians,” Aubrey observed, not quite sure what to think of this information. She only knew Dean by association through Annabelle and Mary and it was hard to reconcile this image of the eldest Halvorsen brother with what she was hearing.

“Are you still fighting with your brothers?” she asked cautiously. She didn’t mean to pry—it certainly fell under the category of none of her business—but she was curious.

“Probably,” came his bleak answer. He studied the ice pack in his hand, turning it slowly. He looked at her. “You got brothers or sisters?” he asked.

Startled by his question, she only stared for a moment. He mistook her hesitation and waved away her need to answer but for some reason she wanted to. “I have a twin sister,” she said.

He eyed her. “Someone who looks just like you or the other kind?”

“Someone who looks just like me,” she said, then added with a fierce glower, “but we’re nothing alike. She’s more like our mother. I take after my father.”

“Where are you from?”

How to answer…She supposed she was from Manhattan but really, her family had houses all over the place. They’d wintered in Manhattan, summered in the Hamptons, it was all so cliché. Her mother had made sure the Rose family was always in the right social circles, attended the right parties, dressed to impress. The whole shallow, superficial nonsense made Aubrey want to gag. Noting Sammy’s expectant expression, she made something up. “Vermont.”

Why she said Vermont she hadn’t a clue but for some reason she couldn’t just admit that she’d grown up a privileged nomad, living mostly in hotel penthouses and the occasional sumptuous cottage. Vermont sounded rustic and accessible. She tried to smile but gave up when it felt forced. Returning to what was safe, she gestured to the ice pack. “You need to keep that on or the swelling won’t go down. Tomorrow, your jaw will be sore,” she advised, grabbing her purse to leave. “Good night, Mr. Halvorsen.”

SAMMY WATCHED AS AUBREY LEFT, bothered by her stiff manner with him. She persisted in calling him Mr. Halvorsen, which made him feel like an old man, and she made sure there was an invisible line between them that she didn’t even come close to crossing. That’s a good thing, his inner voice reminded, but it still didn’t sit right with him. He was a lady killer of the first rate but this woman was immune to his charms. Well, to be fair, he hadn’t really turned up the wattage when it came to her. He wasn’t attracted to her sort, anyway. And what sort was she? the voice challenged. Not easy to reel in, he answered darkly. Pressing the ice pack to his face, he allowed a groan since he was alone. He suffered the pain while Aubrey was there but now…shit, that hurt. So Aubrey was a twin, he mused. Interesting. He couldn’t imagine two of her running around. She mentioned they were nothing alike. Did that mean her sister was prone to giggling, flashing bright pearly smiles and flirting? He tried to picture Aubrey being like that and it was too much for his meager imagination, not to mention the headache that had begun to pulse behind his eyeball. He sighed and tossed the ice pack in the sink to melt. It was probably a good thing Aubrey was a little on the uptight side. If pressed, he’d have to admit she wasn’t hard on the eyes. When she wasn’t scowling at him, that was.

CHAPTER FIVE

AUBREY GRIPPED THE PHONE a little tighter and pressed her lips together to keep the distressed sound in her brain from escaping through her mouth.

“Mother, you hate the country,” she reminded Barbie, silently wondering how on earth she’d been found. Then she remembered a short conversation with Arianna before she’d left, mentioning the small California town of Emmett’s Mill. “And you’d really hate it here. There is nothing but trees and country folk, two things that you find little to recommend. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be opening the Manhattan apartment for the season?” she asked, almost desperately.

“Aubrey, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were trying to keep me from visiting,” Barbie said with a sniff. “I am your mother. It’s my duty to see what you’re about, even if you’ve decided to exile yourself to the sticks of California.”

The way she said California made it sound as though she’d just compared it to Tijuana.

“I’m not exiling myself, Mother,” Aubrey said between gritted teeth. “I wanted a change in scenery and Emmett’s Mill seemed a nice getaway from the city.”

“Yes, but did you truly need to go so far? You could have easily taken in the country in the Hamptons, although this time of year it’s dreadful, as you know, but still it would’ve been preferable to this…what is the place called, Everest Hill?”

“Emmett’s Mill,” Aubrey corrected and mentally counted to ten.

“Whatever. What’s with the fascination with this town? I’d never even heard of it until Arianna mentioned that’s where you were. All this time when you said you wanted a change of scenery I thought you meant you wanted to go to Europe for a bit.”

Aubrey felt truly invaded with her mother poking and prodding at her personal reasons for moving and it chafed no end. She wasn’t about to tell her mother that she fell in love with Emmett’s Mill through the pages of a magazine. American Photographic had featured Emmett’s Mill in one of their annual Twenty Best Places To Live and Aubrey had worn the pages thin from the many times she’d gazed at the images, wishing she could just insert herself into those colorful, quaint photos. Everything in that pictorial had seemed so much better than the life she was living at the time. Of course, that was around the time that her relationship with Derek had started to unravel. Anything might’ve seemed like Eden as long as it was far from New York.

“It doesn’t matter what brought me here, Mother,” she said a bit sharply. “This is my home now and I love it.”

“No need to get snippy, Aubrey,” her mother admonished. “I was only curious. It just seems so random, that’s all.”

“Well, perhaps it was but now I’m quite happy.”

“Excellent. Then you’ll enjoy showing us the sights.”

Aubrey knew that the moment her mother stepped foot in Emmett’s Mill she was likely to declare there were no sights to see, so Aubrey figured it was best to avoid the whole fiasco of a visit in the first place. She tried a different route to dissuade her mother from her plan to visit, and by visit she meant berate Aubrey constantly for ruining her life and by proxy Barbie’s life. “Besides, Mother, I really don’t have time to visit. I have a full-time job as a nanny for this adorable little boy and so it would be a wasted trip. And I thought you and Arianna had plans to redecorate the apartment? You know that will take at least a few months just to agree on the designer.”

Arianna and Barbie always quibbled over taste and style, sending more than one designer running away in frustration at their inability to come to an agreement on anything from textiles to color. The very idea of being caught in their web of misery was enough to make Aubrey want to live in a cave.

“Oh, Aubrey,” Barbie said in distaste. “Being a glorified babysitter is not what anyone would call a career. You’re an Ivy League graduate for crying out loud. If you’re not going to use your good looks to their full potential and snag a suitable husband—which really, you should give another thought to as you’re not getting any younger—then you might as well find a way to put that ridiculous degree of yours to use.”

“I am putting that degree to good use, Mother,” she said, her blood pressure rising with each syllable dripping with disdain from her mother’s professionally plumped lips. “I have a degree in child psychology and a minor in child development. I guess you could say I’m an expert in the field of raising children to be happy, well-adjusted adults.”

“Darling, a piece of paper on the wall does not make you an expert in raising children when you’ve never had one of your own,” Barbie remarked offhandedly. “And since you can’t have children—someday you’ll realize what a blessing that is—then it’s a bit like someone trying to say they can pilot a plane because they’ve mastered a video simulation. Surely you can see the logic in that.”

Why didn’t she just hang up? Aubrey actually pictured slamming the phone down so hard that her mother’s ears rang like church bells on a Sunday morning. But she didn’t. Instead she simply remained silent, locked inside her own head while her mother ranted and raved about how her daughter was withering on the vine, going on as if they were in the 1800s and Aubrey was going to die a spinster. Oh, for shame!

“I have to go, Mother,” she broke in, unable to take another minute, but she had to be sure that she’d dissuaded her mother from boarding a plane to come to Emmett’s Mill. “I promise to visit during the holidays,” she offered, hoping that little white lie was enough to satisfy Barbie for now. She’d think of another excuse not to go home later.

“Truly?” Barbie asked, clearly suspicious. “You’re not just saying that to get me off the phone?”

Damn, the woman was onto her. She faked a light laugh. “Mother…please. Would I do that?”

“Arianna would and you’re exactly alike,” Barbie said, sounding a little hurt, but Aubrey was too impatient to get away from the sound of her mother’s voice in her ear to care.

“We are not alike and you know it,” Aubrey said.

“All right, maybe you’re a little more…considerate, but only by a smidge,” Barbie conceded grudgingly. Then her tone brightened. “Oh, if you can make it for Christmas you can go to the Buchanan party with us. You know how Brett always had a thing for you. He became a doctor, you know.”

Brett Buchanan had grown up to be a dog. Any woman who had the misfortune to bring him home was bound to catch fleas…or something else. She shuddered openly. “No thanks. Not interested in dating anyone, Mother. Not right now. I’m trying to focus on getting myself together first.”

“Fine. Suit yourself. I’ll be in touch.”

And the line went blissfully dead. No endearments, no warm goodbyes, just a click and then nothing. She tried to imagine what it’d be like to have a mother who was actually warm and loving, prone to giving big full-body hugs instead of air kisses and awkward pats on the hand as a way of communicating affection. But then, what was the point of conjuring fantasy when it had no chance of becoming reality?

Thoughts going rapidly downhill along with her mood, she made quick work of getting dressed and headed to the Halvorsen home for work. The memory of Ian’s sweet face brightened her disposition and pushed the sour reminder of her mother’s conversation far from her mind.

AUBREY WAS IN THE LIVING ROOM thumbing through a magazine while Ian played on a quilted blanket on the floor when there was a knock at the door.

Giving Ian a smile, she opened the door to find Annabelle on the other side. Sammy’s sister-in-law lifted a bag and smiled warmly. “I have Ian’s milk delivery,” she said as Aubrey ushered her in.

“Oh, good. He drank the last batch this morning.”

Annabelle started putting the plastic bags filled with milk into the freezer so they’d stay fresh longer and then when that was finished, she seemed inclined to chat so Aubrey invited her to stay. In truth, Aubrey was curious to know more about Dana, and Annabelle seemed a logical place to start since Sammy wasn’t up to sharing.

“So how’s it going with Ian?” Annabelle asked, pausing to pluck the boy from the floor to hold him close. She placed a smacking kiss against his forehead and he gurgled with delight, trying to grab on to the burnished-copper curls falling around her shoulders. “Is he giving you any trouble?”

“Not at all, he’s a wonderful baby,” Aubrey said, smiling at her easy and affectionate way with Ian. It was apparent Annabelle loved Ian deeply and it touched Aubrey to see that open fondness. “I wondered if you might be able to tell me what Dana was like,” she said, watching Annabelle closely for any signs that she might’ve stepped into forbidden territory. When Annabelle merely smiled, her eyes warm with the memory of her friend, Aubrey knew she’d come to the right source.

“Dana was strong,” Annabelle started, her voice nostalgic. “She overcame a lot from her childhood to build a better life. She was smart and funny, but she was allergic to bullshit. She didn’t dish it out and certainly didn’t let anyone give it to her. She’d be the first person to call you on it if you tried. She’s the reason me and Dean got together.”

“Really? How so?” Aubrey asked, tucking her feet under her in anticipation of a good story. Lord, she was a sucker for a sweet romance. “If you wouldn’t mind sharing…I’d love to hear what happened.”

Annabelle grinned and blushed a little but seemed open to sharing. “Well, Dana had already married Sammy when I came to Emmett’s Mill. She knew from the start that Dean was my perfect match even if we were both bound and determined to muck it up. I fought it pretty hard but in the end…he turned out to be my knight in shining armor and I couldn’t resist.” Annabelle got a dreamy look in her eyes but then must’ve realized how silly she looked and blushed deeper. “I must sound like a total sap. But it’s true. Those Halvorsen men…good stock. Every single one of them.”

“I heard that Josh punched Samuel…do you know why?” she asked, hesitant to bring it up, but her curiosity was burning a hole in her brain.

“Um, yeah, I did hear about that,” Annabelle said but seemed reluctant to elaborate. She caught Aubrey’s searching gaze and then said, “Well, you have to understand that Sammy hasn’t been himself since Dana died. He’s been…uh…regressing.”