Life Rewritten Read online

  He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. He couldn’t think about Delaney. He needed to get some work done tonight.

  He left Rennie’s door open a crack and went into Leo’s room. The boy had burrowed under his covers and curled into himself. Sam brushed the blond strands of hair out of his face. How long had it been since either of these kids had a haircut?

  He watched his nephew breathing for a moment, then left his room, too.

  As he opened his laptop at the kitchen table, Sam glanced out the window. There was nothing but darkness.

  A couple of hours later, he’d written two pages of his book, a crucial action scene where the hero flees to Switzerland from Austria. He glanced out the window again. Had he hoped she would see his light on and maybe think about coming by, as he’d asked her to?

  The house was quiet, except for the occasional creak of wood settling, the click of the furnace turning off and on. He imagined he could hear the kids breathing in their rooms, slowly and steadily, filling the house with life.

  He’d always been alone when he worked. But he liked having the kids close by. Liked knowing they were here.

  As he was struggling with a sentence, he heard a groan from one of their rooms. Then a whimper. Leo.

  He hurried into the boy’s room. He was thrashing on the bed, kicking the covers away. “No! No! I want my daddy.” His voice rose in a howl of anguish. “Where’s my daddy?”

  Sam dropped onto the mattress and tried to wake him. Leo clutched at him. “Daddy, come back. Don’t leave.”

  His heart breaking, Sam scooped him into his arms, holding him tight and rocking him back and forth. “It’s okay, Leo,” he murmured. “It’s okay. I have you. It’s going to be okay.”

  “Daddy,” Leo sobbed.

  He shouldn’t have taken the kids to the pub. It must have triggered memories of Diesel.

  Sam smoothed the damp hair from his nephew’s face and wiped away the silvery tracks of tears. He remembered waking Diesel from a bad dream when he was about Leo’s age. Sam had had the same scared, helpless feeling then. He hadn’t known what to do for Diesel, either.

  Leo shifted, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck as his sobs subsided. It took a long time for the boy to relax and go limp.

  Even after Sam was certain Leo was sleeping peacefully again, he cradled him against his shoulder. Finally, when he laid the boy back on the bed, he whispered, “It’s all right, Leo. I’m here. We’ll fix this. We’ll make it right.”

  When Leo sighed in his sleep and hugged a pillow to his chest, Sam went into his own room and grabbed his blankets and pillows. Then he returned to Leo’s room and made a bed on the floor in case Leo had another nightmare.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SAM KNOCKED ON DELANEY’S door late the next morning, but there were no sounds coming from the house. He leaned over the railing to peer into the window, but there was no movement.

  He’d found her in the barn once before. Listening to the demos and crying. Maybe she was there today.As he got closer, he heard the beat of heavy rock. When he leaned close to the window to peer inside, he felt it vibrate. Even as he knocked on the door, he knew it was futile. No way could she hear over that much noise.

  The door was unlocked, so he stepped inside, inhaling the scents of freshly cut wood and sawdust. He didn’t recognize the female voice singing about heartache, but it was loud and energetic. At a momentary lull in the music, he heard the whine of a machine. A saw, maybe, in a room at the back.

  He wove through a maze of furniture. Desks, dressers, tables and chairs. He’d noticed it earlier, but only in the periphery.

  The pieces were beautiful. Works of art. The stains were rich and complex, the varnished surfaces smooth as glass. The designs varied from simple to ornate, but all the wood glowed in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

  When he reached the back room, he found Delaney dressed in overalls and a green tank top, safety goggles on and a yellow bandanna wrapped around her head. She pushed a piece of wood through a band saw, then set it in a pile with others like it. She positioned another plank on the table, adjusted a couple of knobs on the saw, and began to guide it through.

  A bag hung in front of the blade, collecting sawdust, but a fine stream of particles escaped its suction and rose into the air. They drifted onto her overalls and clung to the fine hairs on her smoothly muscled arms. The overalls tightened across her rear end as she leaned over the saw.

  She’d made all the furniture in the outer room, he realized. That’s what she did in this barn. He hadn’t made the connection before today.

  He hadn’t really paid any attention to her. He’d never asked what she did. Never showed any interest in who she really was.

  She’d been one-dimensional in his mind—the woman who had what he wanted. The woman who’d gotten Diesel tangled up in the drugs that killed him.

  She’d denied that. Maybe she wasn’t lying.

  DELANEY STARED AT THE stack of maple planks in her workshop, but she didn’t see the wood. She saw Rennie, sleeping on the table at the Harp the night before. She saw Leo’s bravado and his desperate attempt to appear older than ten.

  She saw Sam, too. Loneliness had been a shadow enveloping him last night. Separating him from the brightness and warmth of the Harp, from any connection with the other patrons.She longed to draw him into the light, sweep away the isolation she sensed in him.

  The memory of his gaze last night, locked with hers, made her quiver. Even from twenty feet away, she’d felt the punch of his desire. Responded to it.

  She wanted to give Sam a lot more than help with the kids.

  Just as Sam didn’t have talking in mind when he’d asked her to stop by his house.

  That was lust. She’d experienced it before. Ignored it before. But this time, it felt like something more. For the first time in years, she wanted a connection with another person. And she wanted to be herself.

  The thought terrified her. She’d shielded herself for so long, she wasn’t sure where to begin.

  She selected another length of maple and laid it next to the saw. Better to concentrate on helping Leo and Rennie. She could do that without baring her soul.

  Maybe she should give Sam the demos and prove that money wasn’t going to give those children the peace they needed.

  She let the initial panic subside and considered the idea. Pictured the reporters who would arrive in town, the sidelong glances from people she knew.

  The exposure would be painful. But she was strong now. She’d gotten clean, found work she loved, made a home for herself.

  Maybe she could do this without destroying herself.

  And maybe baring herself in public would make no difference for Leo and Rennie. By the time the CDs were released, Sam and the kids would be back in Miami. Leo and Rennie would be enrolled in some fancy school before Sam recognized that their problems went deeper, and she’d be too far away to do anything for Diesel’s children.

  She threw the switch to turn on the table saw. Maybe she needed to focus on making this bookcase and stop listening to her crazy conscience.

  She hooked her iPod up to her stereo and picked a loud playlist. She wanted upbeat songs that would get her heart pumping, and lift her spirits.

  The music helped. After cutting enough lengths, Delaney turned off the saw and listened to the whine of the blade slow, then stop. A bouncy pop song about feelings blared from the boom box as she danced her way to the pile of wood on the floor.

  As she bent to pick up the top slat for sanding, the back of her neck prickled and she spun around. Sam leaned against a wall, dressed in his uniform of worn jeans and leather jacket. It hung open to reveal a dark green sweater.

  “Sam. What are you doing here?” She looked behind him. “Where are Leo and Rennie?”

  “The neighbors across the road came over and introduced themselves this morning. They’d heard we were renting the place, and they invited Leo and Rennie to a birthday party at some
cheesy place.” He smiled, his eyes heavy-lidded. “I’m watching you dance. Don’t stop on account of me.”

  She slapped the button on the stereo and the music stopped. She yanked the goggles off her forehead and wiped the sawdust from her face with the bandanna in her pocket. When she felt the one covering her hair, she pulled it off, too. She began to comb her fingers through her hair, then stopped. This sudden wish that she wasn’t so scruffy-looking pissed her off.

  “I don’t dance in front of strangers.”

  “Strangers?” He pushed away from the wall, a disturbing light in his eyes. “I thought we were a little more than that.”

  “Acquaintances, then. I don’t dance for them, either.” Her heart thundered, and that irritated her, too. It was okay for this to happen when she was playing. She expected that.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen because Sam smiled at her in her workshop.

  He was walking toward her, but before he could corner her, she stepped into the showroom and put a dresser between them. “What can I do for you?”

  “I tried to call you early this morning, but you didn’t pick up.”

  “I was busy.” She’d heard the phone vibrating while she was doing yoga.

  He paused, as if expecting her to tell him what she’d been doing. She watched him steadily, waiting.

  His mouth lifted slightly. “I decided to come by, instead.”

  She swallowed. “How were…how were the kids this morning?”

  “They were tired.” His smile vanished. “We were worn out after yesterday.”

  “You looked exhausted last night.” She wanted to ask him what had happened, but that wouldn’t be smart.

  “It was the mother of all bad days.”

  “I’m sorry.” Now was the time to get brisk. “So what brings you here today?”

  Instead of answering, he looked around the showroom. “I didn’t know you made furniture.”

  She shrugged. “I’m a carpenter.”

  “More than a carpenter.” He crouched down and ran his fingers over the elaborate edge of a coffee table. Smoothed his hand over the surface of a desk. “These are beautiful.”

  “I got a job as a carpenter after I got…after Diesel died. I was good at it, and went to work for someone who made furniture. Now I have my own business.”

  As he wandered closer to her, he let his fingers trail over each piece he passed. When he reached a Shaker-style dresser, he paused and curled one finger around the drawer pull.

  God! Why did he have to be a toucher? She’d always had a weakness for men who knew how to use their hands.

  “I like this. A lot.”

  The pleasure that bloomed inside her was all out of proportion to the simple compliment. What did she care what he thought of her furniture? His opinion didn’t matter in the least.

  She was an idiot. “Thank you.”

  He moved closer, and she resisted the impulse to back up. On Friday night, she’d been revved after the first set. Keyed up. Energy had been humming through her, and she’d wanted Sam. Badly enough that she’d stayed in the pub’s kitchen until the last possible minute.

  So badly that she’d been crushed to find out he was gone.

  That was Friday. This was Saturday. She was back to normal. Cautious. Wary.

  It didn’t matter how close he got.

  He stopped a few feet away, disappointing her. “The other day, you said you had some photographs. Pictures of my brother that would prove he was doing drugs before he got involved with you. I’d like to see them.”

  All of the fantasies she’d enjoyed since last night vanished.

  Ignoring the disappointment, she said, “That’s in the past. Looking at a bunch of pictures isn’t going to change anything.”

  “It’ll tell me the truth.”

  “Why do you want to do this, Sam? It’s not going to bring Diesel back. I shouldn’t have said anything, but I was…” She’d been hurt that he’d blamed her for Diesel’s death. “I was angry.”

  “So get your revenge. Show me the pictures.”

  “I’m not angry anymore.”

  He leaned over the dresser between them, his eyes almost silver in the sunlight. “You’re protecting me, aren’t you, Delaney? Trying to keep me from being hurt.”

  She shouldn’t feel cornered. She had the whole showroom at her back. “Why would I protect you? You’re a big boy, Sam. You can take care of yourself.”

  “Then show me the pictures.”

  He’d maneuvered her neatly into a trap and slammed the door. “Fine.” She pushed away from the dresser and headed over to the maple cabinet in the corner. She reached up and grabbed the key. There was no dust to wipe off this time.

  She swallowed as she stared at the door. You’ve already listened to the demos. Nothing in there can hurt you more than that.

  Chantal was in that cabinet.

  Finally, she pushed the key into the lock.

  She pulled out the box that held most of her photos, and set it on a desk, thumbing through them without allowing herself to really look. To think. As she found the ones she needed, she laid them on the desk.

  Sam picked up the first one. It was a picture of Diesel at a club with the rest of the band. There was powder on the table, and Diesel had a small white mustache as he grinned at the camera.

  “That’s Bogeyman,” Sam said, pointing to the guy at Diesel’s left shoulder.

  “Yes.” Bogeyman had been the drummer before her. Diesel had hired her when Bogeyman went to rehab.

  The next photo was from a concert. Diesel was drinking from a bottle of Goose on the stage. Again, Bogeyman was the drummer.

  The next one was taken in a dressing room. There was a small bag of white powder on the dressing table, and the band members were posing with rolled up money in their noses.

  “Lovely,” Sam said.

  “I warned you.”

  Finally he looked up. “I had to know. I made a lot of assumptions about you, based on your public persona back then. I wondered if I’d made assumptions about your relationship with Diesel, too.”

  “Our relationship is off the table. I’m not discussing it with you.” She snatched up the pictures, stuffed them into the envelopes and slammed the container back into the cabinet.

  “You don’t have to.” He looked away from her for a moment. “I wanted to talk to you the other night because I’ve made a decision, and these pictures just confirm that I’m making the right one. I still want the demos, but I’ll figure out a way to keep your identity secret. You won’t have to do publicity, or interviews, or join the rest of the band for a tour.” He shrugged. “I heard Bogeyman was out of rehab and straight. He can be the drummer.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll respect your right to privacy. I don’t want to out you.”

  “But you’ll still write the article for Rolling Stone if I don’t give you the CDs.”

  “The kids need that money.”

  She could stay here in Otter Tail. Continue to build up her business.

  Continue to play at the Harp with Paul and Hank and Stu.

  “Thank you.” She studied Sam for a moment. He seemed uncomfortable. “Why did you change your mind?”

  “Because I developed a conscience? Hell if I know. But I don’t want to hurt you, just help Diesel’s kids.”

  “I’ll think about the CDs.” She put her hand on his arm. “It would take a few months to put together something that can be released. Where are you and Leo and Rennie going to live until then?”

  “If I know the money will be coming in, I can take out a loan for their tuition. Then they could live at the school.”

  “At the school? You’re sending them to a boarding school?” She snatched her hand away.

  “I thought I made that clear. It’s the best place for them. They’ll be sheltered from the negative publicity Heather gets. It’s as close to normal as I can make it for them.”

  “A boarding school is close to normal? You’re
out of your mind. They’re already lost souls. How is living with a bunch of strangers going to help them? Rennie’s only five years old, for God’s sake.”

  “What’s the alternative? Heather? I don’t think so.”

  “What about you? Why can’t you take care of them?”

  “It’s better for them if I don’t. But I’ll stay a part of their lives.”

  “What does that mean? You’ll stop in and see them on visiting day?”

  “You’re making it sound as if I’m sending them to some kind of prison. This is one of the most exclusive schools in the country.”

  “And Leo and Rennie would be just a couple of ATMs for the school.” Just like they’d been for Heather.

  “It’s not as if I’d dump them there and forget about them. I’ll be around.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “That’s the best I can do.”

  “Really? You can’t bring yourself to love two children?”

  “I couldn’t save my own brother. How am I supposed to save his kids?”

  “You blame yourself for Diesel’s death?” She shook her head. “No one could have saved him.” God knows she’d tried. The new songs on the demos had been her last, desperate hope.

  Fear made her hands tremble, but she knew what she had to do. Sam had left her with no choice. “All right, Sam, I’ll make you a deal. You stick around here, with Leo and Rennie. Promise not to put them in that boarding school, and I’ll release the demos.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “WHAT?” SAM TOOK A STEP back from her. “You want me to stay up here? With the kids?” He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”He paced through her showroom, and she knew he was trying to think of a reason. “I don’t even know if I can extend the lease on that house,” he finally said. “And there weren’t any other houses available for rent in this area.”

  “Come on, Sam. You’re a writer. You can come up with a better excuse than that.”

  “Leo and Rennie belong in Miami.”

  “With Heather? I thought you said she’d be in rehab for a while. And you can work anywhere.”

  Sam stared at her with panicked eyes. “Why are you so determined to keep Leo and Rennie up here?”