July Thunder. Rachel Lee

she gave him another kick in the heart. “So that’s your father moving in across the street?”

      He couldn’t blame her; her curiosity was natural. But he wished she would talk about the weather, the upcoming school year, or even his job. Anything but this. On the other hand, he couldn’t be rude.

      “Yeah,” he said, and pulled some cans of soup out of a bag.

      “I take it you don’t have a good relationship?”

      He gave a harsh crack of laughter. “That’s an understatement.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      For a minute he thought she was going to leave it there. But women never left anything there. A man would have, but a woman always wanted to pry into a guy’s heart. Hadn’t he learned that with Beth? Secrets were anathema to women. Particularly secrets of the heart and soul.

      “What happened between you?” she asked, her voice as gentle as gentle could be. That gentleness was going to kill him.

      “He disowned me fifteen years ago,” Sam said flatly. “Threw me out and disowned me.” His tone was meant to be a bar to further questions, but that didn’t work, either.

      “Oh, Sam,” she said, groceries forgotten, her gaze sorrowful. “Why in the world would he do such a thing?”

      “He said it was because I refused to become a preacher.” Although, in his heart of hearts, Sam believed it was more. As far back as he could remember, he and his father had disagreed on basic religious beliefs. Sam had challenged Elijah more than once with the brashness of youth. And even now that maturity had mellowed him somewhat and made him more tolerant, Sam still couldn’t buy into a lot of his father’s notions. Or at least the notions Elijah had tried to raise him with.

      “I’m sorry,” Mary said. “That’s terrible.”

      “It was a long time ago. It’s just better that we don’t speak. More peaceful for everybody.”

      Mary nodded and resumed putting the groceries away. “Well, it’s going to be awkward for you, living in the same town.”

      Sam shrugged and passed her a box of crackers. “I’ll deal with it.”

      Yeah, he thought. The way he was dealing with it right now? Feeling the pressure of his father’s presence like a dark cloud? Entertaining fleeting thoughts of taking a job elsewhere? Cripes, he had to quit running.

      He helped Mary make their dinner, a simple meal of salad, bakery rolls and two porterhouse steaks, which he was sure had been a big splurge for her. He felt bad about that, knowing that schoolteachers made about the same as cops.

      “How’s your car?” he asked when they sat to eat at the dinette in her kitchen.

      “Bad.” She tried to smile. “Jim can only pay for half of it right now, so I’m anteing up the rest until he can pay me back.”

      “You should have made him take responsibility for it, Mary.”

      “He is taking responsibility. And I don’t want to be responsible for making him lose his insurance, because if he can’t drive, he can’t get to work.”

      “That’s true. But that kid seems to need a lesson.”

      “He’s eighteen. He’s getting his lessons. But sometimes it’s necessary for adults to provide a bit of a safety net so these kids don’t crash and burn while they learn.”

      He nodded slowly. “You’re a kind woman, Mary.”

      She shook her head. “I’m a teacher. I haven’t had a chance to forget all the stupid things I did at that age.”

      Sam nodded, admitting to himself he was coming down harshly on Jim, more harshly than was his wont. Maybe he was just getting sick of human stupidity. He sure saw enough of it.

      “You know,” Mary said, “I’ve never known a preacher’s kid before. Well, other than one I taught. Is it true that you guys cut up more than usual as kids?”

      “I don’t know about anybody else. I think I was just average.” Actually less than average, because his father would have put him through hell for even minor misbehavior, but he didn’t want to get into that.

      “That seemed to be true of my student, too. Just the average sort of stuff. He seemed like a normal kid to me.”

      “An interesting concept, normal.”

      She smiled. “Isn’t it?”

      Her smile, he realized, was warm enough to make his toes tingle. Why had he never before noticed her? And why was he noticing her now? Both questions left him feeling uncomfortable, and he began to develop an urgent desire to get away from her. She was disturbing him, and he didn’t like that.

      But she was a beautiful woman, and he had plenty of opportunity to notice that while they did the dishes. Her movements were inherently graceful, as if she were comfortable inside her own body. What was more, she didn’t have that boyish look that seemed to be so popular in women these days. Her hips were well rounded, looking as if they could cradle a man in perfect comfort. And her breasts, while not overly large, were full and inviting. He couldn’t understand why some man hadn’t snatched her up long since.

      Which was, surely, a damn good reason to get the hell out of there.

      “Do you have any other family?” she asked as he washed and she dried.

      “Not a soul.”

      “I’m not blessed that way, either,” she admitted. “My aunt is still alive, but right now she’s getting chemotherapy.”

      “I’m sorry. How bad is it?”

      “I don’t know. The doctors seem hopeful, but…I’m not sure they’re not lying to us.”

      “Where does she live?”

      “In Denver.”

      He reached for another towel and dried his hands. “If you want to go down and visit her before your car gets fixed, let me know. I’ll be glad to take you. In fact, if you need to get anywhere between now and then, just let me know.”

      “Thanks, Sam.” She smiled. “You’re a kind man.”

      Hah, he thought as he stepped out into the night. Kind? Not hardly.

      He paused in the driveway beside his patrol car and stared at his father’s house across the street. The long mountain twilight had erased the shadows, making the evening strangely flat. A light had come on over there. The old man was home.

      Sam stood for a few minutes, trying to deal with the reality of his father moving to town. All day long he’d stewed in discomfort, but he hadn’t allowed himself to really think about it. He supposed it was something he needed to do, and the sooner the better.

      It kind of surprised him, though, that fifteen years of separation didn’t seem to have given him any real emotional distance. The instant he’d laid eyes on his father this morning, all those old feelings had been there, as fresh as they’d ever been. That wasn’t going to make the situation easy.

      Just then he thought he smelled a whiff of smoke. Instinctively he scanned the area, looking for signs of a fire. Nothing. He supposed that someone must be burning a log in their woodstove to take off the chill of the evening, even if it did seem warm enough to him.

      Another whiff and then it was gone. Nothing.

      Sighing, he climbed into his patrol car and headed home.

      Elijah Canfield had seen Sam help Mary in with her groceries, but he hadn’t seen him leave. He hadn’t intended to watch, but he was getting older and had collapsed into his easy chair, surrounded by the boxes that held the residue of his life, too tired to do any more today. It just happened that his chair had been put in position to see out the front window.

      He