“I’m very sorry to hear that. Was it an accident or an illness?”
“An act of God, or so they tell me.” I met Scott’s inquisitive gaze squarely. “He was vice principal for a middle school in the town where we lived. I taught in a high school in the next county, so we didn’t work together, although we met when we were both teaching at another school.” I took a deep breath. “Anyway, Brent was always very devoted to his job and his students. He really loved those kids.” I smiled wistfully at the memory. “So one day, when a tornado warning went out for the area near his school, he jumped into action.”
“The school didn’t have a warning system of some kind?”
“They did, but Brent knew there was a classroom, one of those stuck in a trailer due to lack of space, whose alarm hadn’t worked properly during the last drill. He told the office staff he was heading out to make sure they’d gotten the warning.” I gripped the edge of the table with both hands. “That was the last time any of them ever saw him.”
“So sorry,” Scott murmured, his eyes filled with sympathy.
I coughed to hide the trembling in my voice. “Brent managed to shepherd that class into the main building and secure them in a windowless room before the tornado touched down. The only thing was, with the rising wind, they found that someone had to hold the door shut outside so that it could be locked from the inside. Anyway, that’s what the teacher and kids told me later.”
“They survived, then?”
“They did. Brent’s actions saved that entire class and their teacher. But apparently, before he could find shelter for himself, the roof in the hallway came off and he was swept away.” I squared my shoulders. It was never easy to tell this story, especially when I had to face the pain, and shock, in a listener’s eyes.
“Oh God, that’s terrible.” Scott blinked rapidly but couldn’t halt the single tear that trickled down his cheek. “He was a true hero, though.”
“Yes, yes, he was. And the town recognized that. They gave him a hero’s funeral, and even renamed the school for him. And they were very kind to me, too. Helped me out any way they could.”
“As they should have.”
“It was still above and beyond. The town even paid for a memorial plaque dedicated to Brent in the local park. So anyway, like you said about your conflicted emotions about your dad, the truth is, I wasn’t as grateful as I probably should have been.” I pushed my hair behind my ears with both hands and then pressed my palms against my temples. “I understood the town’s devotion to Brent’s memory, but honestly, I just wanted out of there. I’d been reduced to the ‘widow of the hero,’ you see. It was done in kindness and to honor Brent, but I felt trapped by the town’s reverence for his sacrifice.” I dropped my hands. “Sounds horrible, doesn’t it?”
“No. That makes sense. You weren’t being appreciated for who you were, or liked for yourself.”
I nodded. “Exactly. And even though I did, and do, love and admire my husband for his bravery and sacrifice, I am now alone. He’d done a heroic thing, but that still meant he’d left me. Selfish, I know.”
“But understandable. I had a similar feeling about my dad. I loved him but wanted to be my own person. When he was alive, I was always questioning whether people I met really wanted to know me for me or were hanging around just as a way to connect to him. And I always felt guilty about that.”
“Something we have in common.” I absently ran my fingernail over the deckled edges of one of the books on the table. “Anyway, when my great-aunt left Chapters to me in her will, I jumped at the chance to start over. Even if I had to give up my teaching career. But honestly, I didn’t quite know what I was getting into,” I said, allowing my hand to rest on the book’s cover.
“I guess, for starters, that you didn’t expect a murder on your doorstep.”
I offered him a wan smile. “No, I definitely didn’t see that coming.”
Scott reached across the table and covered my hand with his. “Well, hopefully this will all be cleared up soon and you can get back to your normal life.”
“Thanks,” I said, sliding my hand away. Not because it felt wrong. No, it was actually nice to feel a man’s touch again.
But in addition to my reluctance to encourage more than friendship with any guy, there was also my belief that Scott’s real interest was Julie. A situation I wanted to encourage, not complicate.
Not to mention, I reminded myself,that Scott is still a suspect.Despite his seeming honesty and the ease of our conversation, I had to remain on my guard.
Because if life had taught me anything, it was that just wanting something to be true didn’t make it so. No matter how secure I felt, Brent’s death had taught me that everything could change in the moment between one breath and the next.
Chapter Nineteen
A crash startled me from sleep. Throwing a lightweight robe over my short pj’s, I grabbed my cell phone off my nightstand, filched a walking stick from the umbrella stand in the corner of my bedroom, and stepped cautiously out into the main hall.
The noise was coming from the kitchen. I glanced upstairs, where everyone else in the house slept. No one but me appeared to have been awakened by the clatter. Fingering the phone in my pocket, I tiptoed to the kitchen door.
One glance reassured me that there was no intruder—only a girl seated at the small table under the window.
“Tara, what are you doing in here at this hour?” I asked as I crossed the kitchen. Surveying her tangled hair and bleary eyes, I wasn’t surprised by the empty split of spumante lying beside her bare feet.
It had obviously rolled off the table—the source of the sound that had woken me. I released my grip on the cell phone in my robe pocket and leaned over to pick up the small blue bottle.“And what’s all this?” I asked, shaking the bottle under her nose. “You’re too young to be drinking alcohol.”
Tara straightened, tossing her heavy mane of hair behind her shoulders. “I’ve had wine at home plenty of times.”
