“Anything else.”
Doreen swallowed a sigh. He wasn’t making this easy. “Name something and we’ll talk about it.”
Leonard chewed and swallowed a mouthful of vegetables. “You could ask me about my day.”
Doreen dropped her fork. “I did while we were cooking. I thought I’d cheer you up with a more positive topic.”
“I may not have anything good to say about the math class I’m teaching this summer, but I don’t want to talk politics, either.” Leonard finished his salad and moved on to his spaghetti.
How is he able to argue and eat at the same time? Doreen toyed with her salad for a long, tense silence before shoving it aside. “You know what you don’t want to talk about, but you can’t tell me what you do want to discuss.”
“That’s right.”
“Can you hear how annoying that is?”
“No.” He looked puzzled.
Doreen played with her spaghetti. “When you figure out what you want to talk about, let me know.” She shoved a forkful of pasta into her mouth and chewed. The food settled like barbells in her stomach.
“I don’t understand why you’re upset.” Leonard continued after a tense silence. He’d already cleaned half of his plate. “How would you feel if I talked about my work all the time?”
“You do.” Doreen lowered her fork. Is he kidding?
“No, I don’t.”
Arguing the point wouldn’t get her anywhere. “Are you still opposed to my being mayor?”
“It’s your decision.” He avoided her eyes.
Doreen sighed. “In other words, yes.”
“You know how I feel about you, Dorie.” He lowered his knife and fork, and his voice. “I want to marry you. I don’t want to talk about education, infrastructure, or emergency services. I don’t even want to talk about teaching math or coaching football. I want to talk about building a life with you. What are we going to do this weekend? Where are we going on vacation over Christmas break?”
Emotion lodged in her throat. Doreen swallowed it. “I care about you, Leo.”
“But you care more for the memory of your dead husband. It’s been almost a year and a half, Dorie.”
“When I lost Paul, my whole world changed.”
He reached his right arm across the table. His fingers were just short of touching her hand. “I’m not looking to replace him. I’d just like a bigger role in your life.”
She cared for Leonard. But did she love him? She wasn’t sure. She did know she didn’t want to lose him. But neither did she want to lose herself—which she feared would be possible with Leonard.
“You have all that I can give for now. Is it enough?” Doreen held her breath.
Leonard sat back on his chair, allowing his arm to draw back to the edge of the table. “For now.”
His tongue may have spoken the words she wanted to hear, but his eyes carried an ultimatum that chilled her heart.
It was 12:27 A.M. Audra was tired, but she wasn’t at all sleepy. Damn it!
She sat on the top step of her cabin’s oak porch. Because of her morning jog, she didn’t fear an encounter with wildlife any longer. Her body was still on California time, believing it was only 9:27 P.M. But then it should also think she’d been up since four in the morning. She tugged on her hair and squeezed her eyes shut. Sleep already!
All of the light from the cabin’s great room poured through the open door behind her, relieving some of the night’s oppressive blackness. She glared at the notebook in her fists. An entire page of crossed-out lyrics scowled back at her.
She’d been in Trinity Falls two solid days. She still had writer’s block. She still had insomnia. This was stupid. She should drive to the airport right now—without taking the time to change out of her nightgown and robe—and wait for a flight to Los Angeles International Airport. Only desperation to meet her three-song contract by August 4 kept her from giving up on Benita’s stupid
plan to go into self-exile.