Wicked Burn

“Uh . . . I guess I’ll see you . . . uh . . . at school then,” he said awkwardly to Niall after he’d grabbed his sketchbook off the table and shuffled toward the back door.

Niall noticed the look of longing the teenager gave the platter of fried chicken she’d just placed on the table. “I’m glad you’ll be there, Donny. Here. Take a piece with you,” she offered, handing him a napkin and nodding at the plate. He’d come from the stables about ten minutes ago and had already asked at least five times how long it was until they’d eat.

“I’ll get you registered, Donny. You just make sure you show up on Monday on time,” Meg added for emphasis before the boy bolted out the screen door with a napkin-wrapped drumstick in one hand and his sketchbook in the other.

Niall watched as he talked animatedly to Vic through bites of chicken as they walked to Vic’s truck. Vic’s head tilted slightly as he listened, his manner reminding her poignantly of the silent, stoic man with whom she’d fallen in love.

“They seem like they’re really close,” Niall said wistfully.

Meg glanced around from the counter. “They are. Eerily so. You’d never guess that they first met only half a year ago,” she said with a small laugh. “Vic thinks that I suggested he hire Donny on solely for the boy’s sake. Donny had been ditching school back in November, and then he got caught by the police with beer and pot in his car several weeks later. He was headed down a path that was bound to end up with him bunking with one of his brothers at the county jail—or worse, in Pontiac or Joliet Prison. Donny deserves better. You see how bright he is. I have to admit I’ve grown really fond of the kid. I’ve gotten to know him pretty well. I should have, considering how much time he spent in my office his freshman and sophomore years,” Meg joked as she placed the bowl of potato salad on the table.

“But I asked Vic to hire him on to help out in the stables as much for Vic as for Donny. Vic was so withdrawn after Christmas. I thought he needed something to pull him out of himself,” Meg continued. She glanced out the door thoughtfully as Vic backed his truck skillfully out the long drive. “And you know, I think I did a pretty good job of things. Donny needed a strong male role model, and Vic needed . . .”

Niall looked over at Meg sharply when she paused.

“He needed someone to need him,” Meg finished softly.

Niall’s heart felt like it skipped a beat. Had Vic’s depression originated from the fact that he’d fallen in love with her, just as Niall had with him? Or was his melancholy more based on the fact that he’d cautiously allowed someone else into his life after Jenny, only to believe that Niall had betrayed him just as callously? The expression on Meg’s face made Niall cringe inwardly with guilt.

“I’m sorry I hurt him, Meg,” she said softly. “No matter what happens between Vic and me, I want you to know that I appreciate you giving me this chance.”

Meg’s faraway look faded as she focused on Niall. “I like you, Niall. Mom and I were so bummed when you canceled your visit at Christmas, and you know how thrilled I am about having you here now. But I’m mostly doing this for Vic . . . and the kids at school, of course. Don’t think I don’t know that El Paso High is very lucky to get someone of your caliber as an instructor,” she added as an aside before she sighed. “I know Vic’s a stubborn ass at times, but I love him.”

“I do, too,” Niall said quietly.

“And it’s a good thing,” Meg stated with a wry grin as Tim and Andy came up the steps. “Because it looks like my little brother is bound and determined to prove that he couldn’t care less about you, Niall.”

The first three weeks of Niall’s stay on the farm passed much more smoothly than she would have ever expected or perhaps hoped for, given that the easy going was mostly because Vic almost completely ignored her presence. His avoidance of her was compounded by the fact that he spent several days a week in Chicago, overseeing his play and running the Hesse Theater. She sometimes wondered if she would have had a better chance of running into Vic on a Chicago street than she would on his farm. At least the Hesse would be closed during July, and the chances were that he would spend less time in the city.

She hoped anyway, if his determination to stay away from her didn’t make the city seem more and more tempting to him. Maybe he and Eileen Moore were busy sharing dinners together at The Art after performances of Alias X, as well as Vic’s bed at the Riverview Towers—

Just the thought acted like a poison to Niall’s system, making nausea sweep through her like a wave.

June—perhaps one of the most changeable months in central Illinois—segued from a crisp, refreshing spring to a humid, sweltering summer with amazing rapidity. She enjoyed her class and found her twelve students a joy to teach. The class was held three days a week for two-hour sessions, however, so she found herself having a lot of time on her hands. She and Meg grew closer as they took on several projects on the farm—expanding Meg’s already extensive garden, refinishing the farmhouse’s enormous antique front porch swing, or taking shopping trips to Bloomington for bulk food items or art supplies. They also took long walks on the horse paths that cut through the large property, meandering by a wooded area and a small lake in addition to the vast acreage of the fields. Sometimes they’d see Tim or one of the men in the distance on a tractor, and they’d wave.

Niall felt invigorated by country living. She’d always been an early riser, finding early morning to be the best time to do her yoga routine. Lately she’d shifted her time for her workout to the evening, since she was often busy helping with the breakfast the men ate before they left for the fields. She enjoyed her solitary workout in the empty, spacious living room that Meg had decorated, like the rest of the farmhouse, in the arts and craft style. Last Monday night she’d sensed eyes on her while she was collapsed on the floor in a stretch, only to look up and see Vic. He seemed unbelievably tall from her position right next to the floor, the top of his head coming within less than a foot from the entry archway. The sight of him struck her as compelling . . . even impressive . . . in its unexpectedness.