2 Crushed by Barbara Ellen Brink Page A

preacher man pronounces you man and wife down along the cow pasture.”
    “Don’t worry, you aren’t invited!”
Billie called after her.
    The sound of the front door banging
shut was her reply.
    She sighed. “Why can’t people just
be happy for other people instead of always trying to rewrite the occasion to
fit their dreams?”
    “Don’t ask me,” Adam said, watching
her shut down the computer. “I’m a guy. I don’t dream about getting married.
Talk about nightmares!”
    “If your music doesn’t pan out, I’m
sure you’ll have a bright future in comedy. You should take your routine to the
Standup Club downtown. They have a lot of drive-by shootings.”
    “Ouch! Is that how you share the
love in your moment of joy? You should be ecstatic. Run off and call Mom and
inform her you’ve finally said yes to a man, so she can start counting down the
days until grandchildren begin popping out.”
    She ignored his teasing for the
most part but her lips tightened at mention of their mother. When they exited
the door of the winery Sally’s car was already gone; a haze of gravel dust left
in its wake.
    “You did say yes, didn’t you?”
    She stuck her hand two inches from
his nose. “Of course I said yes. How else would I get this ring?”
    “True.”
    He kept pace with her as she strode
toward the house. The temperature had dropped with the sun. It felt almost
comfortable. He wasn’t accustomed to ninety-degree weather at the end of
September, but he supposed he could learn to live with it. Snow and ice would
make a much better vacation get-away than dealing with it for nine months of
the year.
    Inside, Billie flipped lights on as
she hurried through the house. She never could stand to be in an unlit room. He
understood now the reason for that, and regretted teasing her about it when she
was a teenager. The fancy leather couch greeted him when he stepped into the
living room. He chose the recliner instead and stretched out with a sigh of
contentment.
    “You want something to drink?”
Billie called from the kitchen.
    “No thanks.”
    A couple minutes later she joined
him, a cola in hand, and plopped down on the couch. She took a long drink and
laid her head back, her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.
    Adam watched her from beneath his
lashes. She looked exhausted. Even with the glow of happiness about her, there
was a hint of disappointment. She opened her eyes and caught him watching her.
    “What are you looking at?”
    He grinned, but refrained from
using one of the timeless brotherly comebacks that quickly formed on his
tongue. He noticed whenever she sat on the couch she always stroked the leather
as though remembering something. “Mom said your furniture was ripped up when
Sean Parker broke in that night. That must have been quite a shock.”
    She ran a finger down the seam of
the armrest. “A visit from a mountain lion would have been preferable. Sean
Parker’s handiwork was from a violent and cruel mind.”
    “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it
up.” His mother had told him of the man who raped Billie when she was a child;
the reason she had suffered night terrors for years; the man who would soon be
her father-in-law. At least he was safely behind prison bars for a good long
time. Adam had never met him, but if the man showed up again while he was
around, he’d make damn sure he never hurt another child.
    For a moment he imagined a depth of
unhealed pain flooded Billie’s eyes, but then she shrugged. “It’s all right. My
therapist tells me that holding things in is not healthy. To think they go to
school for eight long years to be able to spout that drivel.” She grinned and
changed the subject. “So, when are you going to figure out how to get
Fredrickson Winery making money again instead of losing it? That’s why I hired
you, you know. Do you know a good magician?”
    He pulled the lever of his chair
and sat up straight to meet her at eye level. “No, but I have a better