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The jingle of the keys was the only sound between them.
Finally, he spoke. “I had to see it for myself. And then, it was so good I had to send it for a second opinion—aprofessionalopinion,” he added with emphasis.
Roberta’s face turned scarlet with heat. “I don’t care why you took it. You had no right and certainly no right to show it around to anyone else. Call them up and have it overnighted back here now!”
Taylor ran a hand through his hair and began pacing. “Why? I’m doing you a huge favor. Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?” He walked around the ATV and stopped in front of her. He grasped her shoulders, gazing into her eyes. Picking up one of her trembling hands, he said, “Let me help you.”
She snatched her hand away. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want anyone’s help.” Her fingers pulled at the roots of her hair, and tears sprung to her eyes. Her writing was not meant for anyone but her. “Why can’t you leave it alone?”
He scowled. “What in God’s name are you so afraid of? Look, I’m sorry. I never expected you to be so upset about this.” He stepped forward, laying his hand on her upper arm.
Wordlessly, she glared at him, tears coursing down her face, the fierce look in her eyes changing to terror.
“What are you so afraid of?” he whispered, drawing her into his arms.
She did not resist. Clinging to his shirt, she sobbed a few minutes before reining in her emotions. She stepped back slightly, their fingers still entangled, eyes holding steady. “Once before—only once has anyone else seen my writing. It ended in humiliation.”
Shock registered on his face. “Tell me what happened. Everything. So, I can understand.”
Her eyes dropped somewhere toward the center of his chest as she exhaled heavily. “Back home when I lived in a tiny town called Monroe in Massachusetts. I had a boyfriend, Pete. He wanted to start a poker night with his hunting buddies. He lived at home, and his mother wouldn’t let him have it there. When he asked me if he could use my rented house, I agreed.”
She pulled out of his arms, walking to the ATV, reliving the pain of the memory. Taylor stood silent and still as if waiting for more of the story.
Turning back to him, her features tight, she continued. “It went on for a few months, every Friday night. I would usually go out to dinner and a movie with my girlfriends, leaving the guys to themselves.”
“In that house, my writing desk was in the dining room corner, along with binders of my manuscripts.” She walked toward him. “One night, I returned early. I found Pete reading pages aloud from my steamy romance. It was a love scene. The guys were hooting and laughing, making fun of my words, and making obscene gestures. They didn’t even try to be ashamed about it when I entered the room.” She paused again, her eyes sweeping his. “I threw them all out. Ridiculing my words, words they had no right to hear.” Her eyes bore into his. “Pete said if I didn’t want people to make fun of my book, I shouldn’t write such garbage. Then he stormed out like he’d done nothing wrong, and I’d overreacted. That I’d brought on the ridicule myself.
“After that night, gossip around town was thick. Some of the guys embellished the story and my words. Making me out to be a porn writer. Some people laughed. Others, well, their contempt for my writing was made unmistakably clear. Their eyes followed me when I went out, whispering without regard if I heard.” Her toe kicked at a clump of weeds growing out of a stone crevasse.
“How long ago did this happen?” Taylor’s voice was soft, his expression full of sympathy.
“Eight years ago. Other than the scientific articles, no one has seen my writing since then. Fortunately, I get paid for those things.”
“What did you do? After word got around town about your books?”
Shrugging, she looked up. “After a good long cry, the pariah left town. I was angry, humiliated, and wanted to be left alone, so I bought a small house in Branfield so I didn’t have to hear the rumors and gossip. I vowed no one would see my work ever again without my consent. No way, no how.” Wiping her palm across her forehead, she added, “Lot of good that did me. You’re the only person since then who’s seen my stories. Even though it was by theft.”
Taylor took her hand. “I’m sorry you were so cruelly treated. By Pete, by his poker friends, and by the townspeople. I would never do that to you.” His eyes locked on her face. “I haven’t done that to you.”
Shaking his hand off, she narrowed her eyes. “You’re not getting it. You read my manuscript without my permission. It doesn’t matter what your intention was. You had no more right than Pete did.”
His jaw stiffened. “I was protecting myself. Pete was an immature ass, as were his friends. You don’t throw someone you love up for ridicule. You’re best rid of him.”
“The night of the party, did you tell your friends?” She swiped away more tears. “I saw you talking with your friends—all of you were laughing.”
“Of course not. We were laughing about something unrelated.”
Her heart wanted to believe him, but her gut felt sucker punched. Glaring, she straightened her shoulders and stood tall. “Maybe I should be rid of you too.” Her brows furrowed as she looked him up and down.
“I am only trying to help you.” The tone of his voice softened, almost apologetic.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Roberta refused to be swayed. “I don’t care to be helped. I want my manuscript back, and I want it back now.”
“Or else what?” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “What if they say it’s great? Won’t that be a help, Bertie?”
He wasn’t getting it. Tears flooded her eyes as the heat changed to a wash of shame.No one reads my work. No one!It was pointless to continue the argument. As she had expected, Taylor had taken it. As she had feared, he had shared it with others. And yet again, her work was open to the ridicule of unknown persons.
Seeing her tears, Taylor tried to put his arm around her, but she shrugged him off. “If you aren’t going to give it back to me, take me home.” Roberta climbed on the back of the ATV.
