Typical Dad, he apparently enjoyed trimming the boxwood hedge around their small yard near Green Lake, and seemed obsessed where the lawn was concerned. It had to be emerald green, cut to an exact length and weed free.
“Is something wrong?”
Startled, he looked down to see that Erin stood a few feet away, peering up at him. He’d been so damned lost in the past he hadn’t even seen her coming.
“No.” He hesitated. “Just thinking.”
“What about?”
As always, his instinct was to repel her curiosity. But what was the harm in her knowing?
He told her how the flowers disappeared from their yard after his mother died, to be replaced by the order and straight lines his father preferred.
He smiled crookedly when he said, “There was this house down the block that might have been a rental, or maybe the owner didn’t care about his yard. The lawn was always shaggy, but it was the dandelions that really ticked Dad off.”
“The seeds do have a way of spreading.”
“Yeah.” Kneeling on the raw wood of the step he’d just replaced, he found himself grinning. “I was twelve or thirteen, I don’t remember. I asked Dad why he didn’t sneak over there some night and spread weed-control fertilizer. He glared at me and said, ‘You ever hear of trespassing?’”
Erin laughed. “Did he do it?”
“I don’t know.” His smile faded. “I don’t remember those dandelions much after that.” He shrugged. “We’d started butting heads by then, and he gave up on making me do yard work.”
She was quiet for a minute, and he thought about going back to work. Then she asked, “Did he visit you while you were in prison?”
He clenched his jaw. “No.”
Her consternation showed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He gazed toward the house instead of at her.
“Do you miss him?” Her voice was very soft.
His esophagus burned. He couldn’t answer. Couldn’t say “yes.” His father had written him off. End of story.
After a moment, Erin nodded in acceptance of an answer that didn’t have to be spoken aloud, and turned to go back to the shovel she’d left leaning against the porch. He still didn’t move.
What would Dad say if he heard his son’s voice on the phone?
Did it matter? Cole asked himself impatiently. It would be healthier not to waste another thought on his father. From long practice, he shoved any regret down deep. He needed to get his butt in gear. Erin wasn’t paying him to stare into space.
Twenty minutes later, he was in the garage and had just set the saw aside when he heard the ringtone on Erin’s cell phone. Her very occasional calls weren’t his business, he told himself, gathering the two-by-fours he’d cut to length for the next several steps. But the minute he left the garage, he saw that Erin was looking toward him as she talked. He immediately knew why.
Had to be Ramirez, checking up on him. Cole’s good mood evaporated. Ice formed, killing everything he’d let himself feel. Maybe the reminder was good.
Deliberately turning away from Erin, he climbed the steps, knelt and laid out the first board.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ERIN FINISHED TYING her athletic shoes and then reached automatically for her hooded sweatshirt. It wasn’t until she was zipping it up that she had a sick feeling. I wore one just like it that day. She looked down at herself. Wow. Athletic shoes. Check. Jeans. Check. How could she not have known she’d been unconsciously replicating the same outfit? As if the dead wouldn’t recognize her if she was bare-legged and wearing a tank top?
After a minute, she sighed, but she didn’t remove the sweatshirt. It was still too chilly out at night. Good justification.
Closing the front door behind herself, she all but tiptoed across the yard to her Cherokee. Cole’s bedroom window was dark. Thank goodness he hadn’t heard the scream that had torn her from the nightmare.
Tonight, after easing open the driver’s-side door and getting in, she decided not to close it until she reached the street.
Cole had completely withdrawn during the past couple of days. Apparently, he didn’t like her talking to his parole officer. As if he hadn’t asked her to talk to the guy in the first place! Was she supposed to ignore all future calls from Ramirez? The hell with Cole, she thought bitterly as she started the engine.