Dance Away with Me(75)

“You want her to have the chances you didn’t get.”

Kelly’s eyes clouded, as if she were far away. “I’m disappearing. Every day, I get smaller.”

This wasn’t what Tess had expected, but then she’d heard more than her share of strange confidences over the years.

Kelly twisted her wedding band. “Getting smaller and smaller until I’m afraid I’ll wake up some morning, and I’ll be so small that Brad won’t even know I’m there.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth and shot up from the table. “I have to go.”

Despite the grief this woman had caused, Tess pitied her. “You can talk to me if you’d like. I’m the town pariah, remember? Your secrets are safe.”

The teakettle whistled, and Kelly slumped back into her chair, as if she didn’t have the energy to do anything else. “I don’t have any secrets. Forget what I said. I’m being stupid.”

“You don’t sound stupid.” Tess turned off the kettle and posed the question she’d been trained to ask. “Do you feel safe at home?”

“What do you mean?”

“Has your husband ever hurt you?”

Kelly’s red-rimmed eyes widened. “Are you asking if Brad abuses me? God, no.” She bit out the words. “Brad is perfect. I’m the one with the problem.”

Tess dropped the tea bags in the mugs. “I doubt he’s perfect. Not if you’re afraid he’ll squash you.”

“I’m not afraid. I told you. I’m being stupid.” She fell silent.

Tess brought the tea to the table one cup at a time, not pressing her.

Kelly gazed around the cabin. “Sometimes I imagine living here. There used to be an iron patio set in the back, a little table and two chairs. My grandmother and I had tea parties. She . . . She made me feel like the most important person in the world.” Her eyes lost their focus, as if she’d drifted far away. “I imagine Ava coming to visit me here. And Brad . . . Brad standing outside the window. Not able to get in.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I—I can’t believe I said that. I must be insane.”

“Not insane. Just unhappy.”

“I have no reason to be unhappy. I have everything I could ever want. Everything!” She crushed the damp tissue in her hand. “It’s only that . . . He’s so big. Everything about him. His voice. His appetite. His ambition. He sucks all the oxygen out of the house until I can’t breathe!” Her eyes widened with alarm. “I don’t know what I’m saying. He’s a good husband. A good father. He gives me anything I want. He loves me.”

Tess settled at the table, saying nothing.

Kelly curled her hands around the warm mug. “It’s . . . exhausting.”

“Have you thought about talking with someone?” Tess said gently.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re dealing with a lot. A counselor might help.”

“I don’t need a therapist! God, no. Brad would be so hurt.”

Tess cocked her head, speaking softly. “Then how are you going to fix this?”

“I don’t need to fix anything! I’m fine. In a mood, that’s all.” She pushed the mug aside and rose. “I’m sorry you had to listen to this.”

“It can help having someone to talk to.” Tess hesitated, then gave in to her do-gooder instincts and found a scratch pad from the clinic where she’d worked. She wrote her name and cell number. “I can’t always get a signal, so I don’t know how useful this is.” She held out the paper. “If you need to talk . . .”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Kelly said, even as she stuck the note in her purse.

Tess didn’t want to say it, but she had to. “You’re welcome to use the cabin whenever you need to get away.”

“Really? You’d let me do that?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.” Kelly fiddled with the clasp on her purse. “If anybody found out what I’ve said . . . I’d appreciate it if you kept this conversation to yourself.”

“Tell that to Wren. She’s the blabbermouth.”

Kelly managed her first smile. “Thanks.”

*

Kelly had just left by the front door when the back door opened and Ian came in. So strong and steady. So decent. Beneath that hard-bitten exterior, the most honorable man she’d ever known. He gestured toward the front windows. “Is it my imagination or did I see Kelly Winchester heading down the trail toward town?”

“Not your imagination. She’s my new bestie.”

“How did that happen?”

“The magic of my personality.”

“Why do I think there’s more to the story?”

“Because you’re more perceptive than you like to let on. What are you doing down here?”

“Checking up on you. The next time you decide to disappear, leave a note.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re hauling around a six-week-old baby!”

She was glad he didn’t know about the nasty messages on her car.

As he wandered toward the fireplace and bent over to look up the flue, she curled her toes in her sneakers. She had something she needed to get out of the way before she let another hour pass. “Wren’s asleep,” she said. “Let’s go upstairs and get this marriage thing off the ground.”