Only In His Sweetest Dreams(35)

As he loaded boxes of Harrison’s lost existence into the bed of his pick-up truck, he recalled how easy it had been, after a lifetime of feeling so locked into Liebe Falls and his life there, to just climb into his truck and drive until he didn’t even have his old name anymore.

He would be doing that again soon, driving aimlessly, looking for some meaning in his life that eluded him. Maybe he would get his GED and his millwright certification, find a job that paid well enough to settle him into some town where he didn’t know anyone, allowing him to reinvent himself again, but was that really what he wanted?

The metal tailgate burned his palms as he slammed it shut and looked at Harrison’s house.

No, he admitted with a rock sitting heavy and sharp in the pit of his stomach. He wished someone would ask him to stay here.



Edith recalled Edward Hilroy saying something about a fresh start, so she wasn’t convinced he would want used furniture. Nevertheless, when Mercedes called over to ask if she would make the offer to Mr. Hilroy, she complied. She was anxious to see how he was getting on.

She had sat with him for a long time the morning Harrison died, holding hands and not feeling the least awkward. Finally, he’d said, “I’m going to fall asleep on you, Edith.” He had kissed her knuckle and moved to settle on his side on the bed, his back to her, his sandaled feet on the folded comforter beneath her bottom.

She had felt an urge to remove his shoes, experiencing something oddly tender along with a reluctance to leave him.

Since then, a ridiculous shyness had kept her from seeking him out. She’d spotted him from afar, escorting a tall, young brunette, his daughter she presumed. A pair of furniture deliverymen had made a ruckus in the hall two days ago, so she expected he was settling in. It was past time she confirmed it.

With girlish nerves, she checked her appearance before she left her apartment, bemoaning things she hadn’t cared about for years: frizz in her hair, skin too sensitive for the kind of make-up that might hide a few lines, too much weight around her middle.

As if Edward Hilroy would notice one way or another. She never had been, and certainly never would be, a siren for any man.

Impatient with herself, she marched to the elevator and made her way to his apartment, knocking firmly with the intention of delivering her message then leaving him alone. If he wanted to see her, he knew where to find her.

Inside, he called, “Just a minute,” and there seemed to be scuffle of some sort. Voices were abruptly cut off—the television or radio—and he swore. He opened the door with a somewhat anxious expression.

“Edith!” A relieved smile brightened his face.

The enthusiastic greeting caught at her heart. No one ever smiled with such pleasure when they saw her.

“Have I interrupted you?”

“No, I, uh—” He blushed. “I was in my shorts. Had to get dressed. The air conditioner doesn’t seem to make a difference to the heat in here.”

“The blinds!” she remembered with chagrin. “I know exactly the problem. This was my apartment until two weeks ago. Here, let me show you.”

She moved through the kitchen to the living room, noting his spanking new sofa and recliner and big, fancy TV. Stacks of photographs in frames littered the polished coffee table.

“This must be your daughter,” she said, pausing to admire the brunette in a wedding dress, posing beside a young man in a tuxedo. “I saw you with her.”

“Selena, yes. She helped me pick out the furniture and get things started with the insurance company. She brought all these pictures because I lost mine. She wants me to feel at home.”

“How thoughtful.”

He nodded. “She’s a good girl. But I have to buy a hammer and some hooks. A tape measure. Things I’ve always owned and took for granted would always be on hand.” He scratched the back of his head. She could see he was overwhelmed.

“Ask Mr. Fogarty to help. He made me a very smart bookshelf. He’s quite handy. Or perhaps Harrison had a few tools. That’s why I came to speak to you.” She explained the situation as she adjusted his blinds.

“You wouldn’t think this would make a difference,” she said once the blinds were in order. “But that’s why this hook is here. You have to set them like this before eight o’clock in the morning, May to September, or you’re suffering. You can lift them again around four or five, when the sun has moved, to give your plants some light. Oh. No plants?” She looked around, thinking this bare room really needed softening with something green. “Not to worry. Many of our ladies are avid gardeners. I’ll give you a list of names.”

“Thank you, but I don’t want to bother anyone.”

Edith looked up at him in surprise.

“I’m happy keeping to myself.” He shuffled his feet. Shy?

“I understand.” She did. She was not naturally outgoing, but forced herself to move in society so she wouldn’t die of loneliness. “Have you been out at all since you moved in?”

“No. Well, once, to have a look around.”

“Did you meet Mercedes? I mean properly?”

“No, I met...” He stared into the distance, confounded for a moment. “Linda Bella-something?”

“Lindy Bellacerra,” Edith said with a tsk.

“That sounds right. Quite a forward woman?”

“Quite.” Small wonder the man wanted to barricade himself indoors. “Please do not tar our entire population with her scarlet brush. I must insist, sir, that you take a walk with me to Harrison’s unit. We’ll see what he had by way of tools and meet Mercedes and Mr. Fogarty.”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his chest. “Will there be a lot of people there?”

For some reason, the gesture reminded her quite sharply of Dayton, worrying the other day over an upcoming spelling test.

“There might be a few people there, but they’re our Friends In Need committee. A man who lost everything he owns might appreciate what they offer. Come. Before the heat.”



The midday sun was high and bouncing off windows, striking directly into Mercedes’s prickling eyes by the time L.C. returned from disposing of one load to pick up the second. Squinting up at where he yanked on a yellow rope, tying down Harrison’s mattress, she hesitantly said, “So you don’t want any of it?”

Edward Hilroy had taken a hammer and screwdriver, but had claimed his daughter would ensure he had anything else he needed.

L.C. leapt down beside her and for a moment they both surveyed what remained of Harrison’s life: a few pieces of furniture, a box of mismatched dishes and a garbage bag full of clothes.

Not much, in Mercedes’s opinion. The real mark Harrison had made on the world had been the people he’d touched through his writing and friendship.

L.C. tugged his earlobe. “Where would I put it?”

She folded her arms, unable to offer an answer to that.

“I’d like to see if the consignment store will take any of it,” she said.

He nodded. “I’ll get Zack to wipe the computer hard drive before you take it, but this lamp goes now, right?”

Dumbly, she nodded and a few minutes later he invited her with a wave to climb into the cab of the truck.

Oh. They were going together. Alone. She should have thought this through.

“We’ll be back in an hour,” Mercedes told the ladies pulling weeds.

“That’s fine,” one said, shading her eyes to glance up at them. “Pete can turn off the water. We’ll let the cleaners do the rest.”

Mercedes nodded and decided she absolutely needed her sunglasses from the front office. Any excuse to put off the uncomfortable silence between her and L.C.

However, when he picked her up out front of the complex, she couldn’t help blurting, “I hate this.”

“I know. You can feel everyone wondering when their things will be trucked out like it’s garbage day.” He always understood her so well.

“The first month I worked here, three people died.” She slouched into the door. “That was horrible, but I didn’t know those people. It didn’t rip my guts out. I know death is a natural part of living, but it’s so sad.”

“Yup.” He poked at his stereo system until the cab was filled with a gentle ballad by a female vocalist. As he pulled away, he asked, “Wanna go for a drink?”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “Me, too.”

“You don’t make it easy, M,” he growled, making her smile a little.

She rolled her head on the seatback to look at him. He wore mirrored sunglasses, a plain white T-shirt and frayed cut-offs. All of it showed tanned skin and honed muscle.

“Has it been really bad for you?”

“It’s been bad. Temptation’s pretty strong.” He turned his head and she sensed she was being appraised. “Fortunately, certain thoughts distract me.”

Oh. All of her went hot and weak with memory. Propping her elbow against the closed window, she angled her face to feel the cool air coming out of the A/C vent.

“Do you want me to leave, Mercedes?”

Oh, God. The short answer, the honest one, was ‘no,’ but the word wouldn’t leave her throat.

“What I want doesn’t matter. I have to think of what the kids need.”