Emerald Windows Page 12

  A sick feeling rose in Brooke’s stomach. What was Roxy doing “stranded” alone at a rough place like that, a place where hoods and hookers hung out, where people got shot or stabbed on Saturday nights. She glanced at the mayor’s secretary, who tried to pretend she wasn’t listening. “Yes, I know the place,” she said.

  “Well, could you come pick me up?”

  Brooke pushed her questions to the back of her mind. “I’ll be there in five minutes,” she said.

  True to her word, Brooke made it to the After Hours Bar within five minutes. She pulled into the parking lot and saw a cluster of bearded men in denim and leather turn and ogle her as she put her car in park. Roxy was nowhere to be seen. She opened her car door and got halfway out, her lights still on and her motor still idling.

  “Hey, darlin’, you lookin’ for me?” one of the men from the small crowd called out, and the others joined in with catcalls and vulgar remarks.

  Trying to ignore them, Brooke looked around frantically for Roxy. Was she waiting inside? Did Roxy expect her to walk through those men to find her?

  She was just about to turn off her ignition and take her chances when she saw Roxy slip from the shadows at the far corner of the building.

  The men saw her. “Hey, there she is!”

  “We thought you’d gone home, honey.”

  “You weren’t hidin’ from us, were you?”

  As they moved toward Roxy, she ran toward the car. When she reached it, she yanked open the door and almost fell inside.

  Brooke was pulling out of the parking lot before Roxy even had time to sit up and, more importantly, before any of the men had reached the car.

  “They’re like animals,” Roxy cried. Her hands trembled as she groped for her seatbelt.

  Brooke caught her breath and became aware that she was shaking, as well. “Did they hurt you?”

  “No. I’m okay.”

  Brooke drove for several miles before she was certain her voice was steady enough to ask the questions that had to be asked. “Roxy, what in the world were you doing there?”

  Roxy swallowed a sob, wiped her face, and lifted her chin. “Bill and I…we stopped in for a drink.”

  “A drink? Roxy, you’re seventeen! You aren’t old enough to buy liquor. Didn’t they check your ID?”

  “No!” Roxy flung back.

  Brooke bit her lip, deciding to report the bar at the first opportunity. “Where is this Bill?”

  Roxy didn’t answer for a moment. Finally she spoke, slowly choosing her words. “He…he had an emergency, and had to leave—”

  “He took you to a sleazy bar and left you there alone?” Brooke shouted. “Is he crazy? Are you crazy?”

  Roxy glared out the window, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “I don’t need this from you, Brooke.”

  Brooke tried to contain her fury as she navigated the dark streets leading to their neighborhood. “I hope you don’t intend to see him again,” she said finally.

  Roxy didn’t say a word.

  “Roxy? You don’t, do you?”

  Roxy remained silent, staring out the window.

  “Roxy, you don’t have to put up with this. You can do better than some insensitive jerk who—”

  “You don’t know anything about it!” Roxy screamed. “So just get off my back!”

  Despair stabbed Brooke’s heart. “All right, Roxy,” she whispered, pulling into their driveway. “I’ll get off your back. But promise me that if anything like this happens again, you’ll call me.”

  “That’s what I did, isn’t it?” Roxy asked, her tone softer than before.

  “Yes,” Brooke said. “That’s what you did.”

  Roxy got out of the car and started toward the house. The lights were off and Brooke knew that her parents were sleeping soundly, unaware that Roxy was going through some sort of crisis that Brooke didn’t know how to handle. She locked the car and followed her sister to the porch.

  Roxy stopped before she reached the front door. “Don’t tell them, Brooke. Okay?”

  Brooke regarded her sister for a moment, saw the desperation in her face. “That’s asking a lot, Roxy.”

  “I’ve never asked you for anything before,” Roxy said. “Not until tonight. I need you to promise me that you won’t tell them.”

  Brooke saw the red, swollen evidence of misery and heartache in Roxy’s eyes. She had no idea what her sister was going through, but going to her parents would only alienate Roxy further. Instead, Brooke vowed privately that she would find a way to take Roxy under her wing, win her trust, and guide her in the right direction again. Releasing a long, weary sigh, Brooke acquiesced. “All right,” she whispered, though her better judgment warned her against it. “I promise.”

  CHAPTER

  NICK BROUGHT THE SKETCHES INTO his kitchen. He set them down carefully, so as not to tear or bend them. Then, in direct contrast to that gentleness, he slammed his fist on the counter. Leaning over it, he clutched the edges of the counter top, his knuckles whitening with the force of his self-reproach.

  What had come over him tonight?

  Gritting his teeth, he kicked the cabinet at his knees, then headed into the living room, where he flung himself onto the couch.

  He couldn’t believe he had insulted Abby Hemphill in front of hundreds of people. Had he really said her hobby was driving people away? She was right. He didn’t deserve to work on the windows. And what a terrible witness he’d been to all those nonbelievers who’d come just for the spectacle. He had given them something to talk about, all right.

  Even Brooke had been disgusted. She had disappeared without a word.

  The doorbell rang, and he sat up, looking at the door and wondering if it was a lynch mob come to finish him off.

  Bracing himself, he crossed the room and pulled the door open—then started at the sight of his mother, his sister Anna, and her husband, Vinnie. Judging from the expressions on their faces, they might be the lynch mob he’d expected.

  “Okay, what’s going on?” he asked. “You guys never visit me. Something’s wrong.”

  “Are you gonna invite us in or make us stand out here in the elements?” his mother asked.

  Nick ushered them in and closed the door.

  “We came to talk to you.” Vinnie’s words were edged with hostility.

  “About what?”

  “About what you’re doing to Sonny,” Anna said.

  Nick frowned and shook his head, wondering if he’d missed something. “What do you mean, what I’m doing to Sonny?”

  “Encouraging him in this art business,” his mother threw in.

  “How could you?” Anna asked, glaring at him with disgust. “How could you undermine our authority as his parents? Do you know what it’s like to go through adolescence with a child?”

  “Adolescence? The kid’s nineteen!” Nick leaned wearily against the wall, telling himself that he was engaging in a losing argument, that he should stay calm. “Look, Anna, if I’ve upset you, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Upset me!” she shouted. “I want to know how you could do this! When you know how bad Vinnie needs him in his business.”

  “Anna, you’re overreacting,” Nick said. “The kid has talent. I didn’t do anything to cultivate that. He’s done it himself.”

  “Yeah?” Vinnie asked, stepping across the room until his massive frame pressed threateningly close to Nick. “Then how come when we found that paint and stuff in his room tonight, and told him to get rid of it, he told us that if we wouldn’t let him paint at home, he’d come over here and do it?”

  “And then to find out that he was at the church meeting with you tonight,” Anna said, “and that he’s been helping you with those windows, when he should have been working with Vinnie.”

  “What are you people afraid of?” Nick shouted. “It’s not like the kid’s on drugs or something. He has a hobby, for Pete’s sake.”

  “You should know better than anybody,” his mother said, sha
king her long finger at him. “Hobbies can turn into occupations. So maybe you’ve been able to make a living at it, but that doesn’t mean Sonny will. He can make good money working with his father, and Vinnie needs him. They had it planned out. It was God’s will. The direction He gave us for Sonny.”

  “If it was God’s will, why didn’t He tell Sonny?”

  “He did! But the boy decided to listen to you instead.”

  Nick collapsed on the couch, wondering just how far his control was expected to stretch tonight. Anna sat down next to him, her face as intent as he’d ever seen it. He looked at her, wondering if she’d forgotten all the fights that had taken place between him and his father all those years ago, when he had been about Sonny’s age. Hadn’t she learned anything about human determination from the way he had conducted his own life?

  “I want the best for my son, Nick,” she told him, her tone quieter as she made an earnest attempt to reason with him. “I want him to have a good work ethic, and I want him to be able to earn a living.”

  Nick released a frustrated laugh and sprang off the couch, gesturing around him, at the home that proved—to him, at least—that he earned a living. “Don’t I support myself?” he asked. “Don’t I do okay? The bank that holds my mortgage doesn’t have any complaints.”

  “You don’t even have a family!” Anna shouted, as though that meant the ultimate failure. “How is Sonny ever gonna support a family drawing pictures? If it could be done, wouldn’t you have done it by now?”

  Nick strode across the room, rubbing the back of his neck, desperate not to explode in front of these people who meant so much to him. Trying to contain his rising wrath, he went to the window, propped a foot on the sill and looked out over the small canal behind his house. “My not marrying has nothing to do with my art.”

  “It has everything to do with your art!” his mother belted out. “It was because of your art that you made the biggest mistake of your life—having an affair with a student.”

  “What—?” The question whiplashed across the room as he spun around to confront that accusation on his mother’s face.

  “That Brooke Martin woman. She ruined your good name once already. And don’t think we haven’t heard about the latest episodes.”

  Nick opened his mouth to respond, but caught himself, bit his lip and told himself that he’d burned enough bridges tonight. It wouldn’t pay to throw his family out of his house. Regardless of their lack of confidence in him, he needed them. “First of all,” he said in a voice exceedingly calm despite the fire raging within him, “I told you seven years ago that nothing ever happened between us. I thought you, of all people, believed me.”

  “This whole project is just an excuse for being with her, and I know it!” his mother shouted.

  Nick held his breath for a moment and coiled his hands into fists at his sides. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that he loved his mother. This was nothing new, after all. She’d been on him since the first day she’d discovered his intention to study art, rather than something more “practical.”

  “Ma, I’m going to say this one time, and I hope you’ll hear it. Brooke Martin and I have never had an affair, and we’re not having one now.”

  He reached out for his mother’s arm, knowing she could feel that he was shaking. “Ma, I love you, but you have never understood the first thing about me. I learned to accept that a long time ago, and it doesn’t even hurt me anymore. But don’t you do that to Sonny. He’s a great kid, and he deserves a chance to become what he wants. If that’s an electrician, fine. But if it’s not, don’t force him to give up something so important to him.”

  “You’re not going to help us, are you?” Vinnie asked.

  Nick turned to his brother-in-law, who stood poised, like a tiger about to attack. “Vinnie, I’m not going to help Sonny defy you in any way. I won’t condone rebellion or disrespect. But he’s not an adolescent. He’s nineteen years old, and if he wants to use my studio because he feels he has something in his soul that needs expressing, why can’t he? Your trying to stop him is only going to make his passion for it that much stronger. Believe me, I’ve been there.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Anna shouted, tears coming to her eyes. “You’re going to put us through this all over again, aren’t you? All the fighting you and Pop did when we were kids, you’re wishing it on us, now, aren’t you?”

  A fissure of pity cracked through his anger. His sister would never understand that embracing a gift from God did not amount to weakness or a betrayal of loved ones.

  “I’m not wishing anything on you, Sis,” Nick said. “You’re bringing it on yourself. Just let him do it. I promise you it won’t warp him.”

  Anna blotted her tears. “Let’s go, Vinnie,” she said. “Ma.”

  Nick’s mother stood in the center of the floor, glaring at him with a confusion of emotions. “Give the kid some room, Ma,” he entreated. “A little paint never killed anybody.”

  His mother said nothing as she turned and followed Anna and Vinnie out of the living room.

  CHAPTER

  BROOKE’S ROOM SEEMED DARKER than usual, perhaps because the sky was overcast, or perhaps because her heart was turbulent with emotions she couldn’t contain. Roxy, Abby Hemphill, Nick Worries and fears and more wor ries raged in her mind, making it impossible for her to sleep.

  She heard the phone ring in another part of the house and wondered who could be calling so late. Roxy’s boyfriend, perhaps, wondering if she’d made it home or gotten molested and left for dead? The thought made Brooke seethe, and she sat up and wadded her pillow.

  A knock sounded lightly on her door, and then it opened. Roxy peered in. “Telephone,” she said.

  Brooke looked at the glowing numbers on the clock, then hurried out of bed. “Who is it?”

  “Didn’t say,” Roxy told her, “but I have a strong hunch.”

  As she stepped barefoot out into the hall, Brooke clearly saw the look in her sister’s eye. The look that said, If there’s nothing between you, why is he calling at nearly midnight?

  Brooke sat down on the stool next to the telephone and picked it up. “Hello?”

  “It’s me.” Nick’s voice was deep, gravelly, thick with pain. “Look, I know it’s late…”

  Brooke heard a click and knew that Roxy had hung up the extension. Nick paused for a moment.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I wasn’t asleep.”

  She heard him sigh, sensed his struggle for the right words. “It’s been a crummy day,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking that I owe you an apology. I owe everybody an apology. I was hateful to Abby Hemphill, and I put both of us in a terrible position. It’s no wonder you left like you did.”

  She frowned, realizing that she hadn’t told Nick good-bye. Her worries about Roxy had superceded everything else. “That’s not why I left, Nick. I had a phone call. My sister was in trouble and needed me.”

  “Is everything all right with her?”

  Brooke wilted against the counter, thankful there was someone she could confide in, if not her parents. “Oh, Nick. She was stranded at some sleazy bar. Her date left her there, and she had to call me to pick her up. I drove up there, and all these hoods were standing outside boozing it up. She had been hiding behind the building waiting for me.

  “Who is this guy she’s dating?” Nick asked.

  “Some guy named Bill. That’s all I can get out of her. I can’t understand. One minute she’s acting like I’m overreacting, the next she’s hiding behind a building in absolute terror. I’ve got to keep an eye on her from now on. She’s headed for trouble. I can see it.”

  Nick was quiet for a moment, and she sensed his concern. “Why don’t you ask her to help us out at St. Mary’s? Maybe you two could get to know each other again if you worked together.”

  Brooke was skeptical. “I don’t know. It’s a real sore spot with her that I have anything to do with you, Nick. Besides, she already works at City Hall and goes to
school.”

  “School’s out next week for spring break. And we need all the help we can get.” He released a deep breath, and she could hear the self-deprecation in his tone. “Of course, after my diplomacy at the meeting tonight, we might not have jobs ourselves by the end of the week.”

  Brooke’s voice softened. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Nick. You said what needed to be said. Abby Hemphill was going to jump on us, anyway. If the chuckles I heard were any indication, I’d say a few of the people there wanted to give you a trophy.”

  “That’s just it,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about her driving people away. That was terrible. People shouldn’t be laughing at her. That makes me no different than her.”

  “Everyone knows you’re different.”

  “No, don’t you see? If I can publicly insult her, then I’m not different. That bothers me a lot.”

  “Well, the fact that it bothers you shows how different you are. I guarantee you, Abby Hemphill isn’t awake tonight worried that she insulted us.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. “And then my mother and sister and brother-in-law heard about the meeting and showed up to chew me out for getting Sonny involved…and for encouraging his art. They had his life all planned out, and I interfered.”

  She grew quiet, realizing they had more in common than she knew. “Well, I guess that’s the job of family. To make sure you never feel too good about yourself.”

  Nick was silent for a few moments, then said, “That’s why I called you. It was selfish, calling so late, but I couldn’t help myself. You make me feel better.”

  She was quiet for a moment, weighing her words, wondering if she dared go on. The memory of the night before washed over her, when he’d almost kissed her. She closed her eyes, remembering what a gentleman he had been. He was so unlike all the other men she’d known. So different. And yet here he was, beating himself up for not being different enough.

  “Nick, I think you’re probably one of the most decent people I’ve ever known. And because of that, you make me feel better too.”