Countdown: Grayson

by Boniface, Allie

  “Can you actually get into it without a set of stairs?”

  He grinned. “Yeah, on most days, unless I’ve worked out too much and my legs are feeling the pain.”

  “Which I would guess is most days, since you own a gym.” The afternoon light caught her eyes and made them dance. He liked it.

  “You’d be surprised. I don’t work out like I used to.”

  Her gaze moved from his face to his arms, his chest, then down. “Really?”

  There was that feeling again, that curious wondering about the heat between them. Is there? Naw. Can’t be. Kara McGarrity was way out of his league. He was stupid to even consider the possibility of her interest. But then she cocked her head and said something that tied his tongue in knots. “You know what they say about men and the size of their trucks.”

  Heat flooded his face, and all he could think about was her naked in his bed. Or maybe naked in the front seat of his truck, where he would show her exactly what the size of a man’s truck meant. Oh, Jesus Christ. His cock twitched, and he grabbed his sunglasses and slipped them on before she could read his face.

  She laughed before he could think of something cool or clever to say. “I’m just teasing you, Grayson.” She turned away. “Good luck at your... whatever it is you have to do. We’ll see you back at the house later on.”

  “Okay, um, see ya.” He stood there and watched her walk back inside Helping Hands, his head spinning and his boxers a few degrees tighter than they had been two minutes ago. Her perky little ass was the last thing through the door, and it took all he had not to chase her down and press her against the wall in one hell of a good old-fashioned kiss.

  He damn well knew what people said about men and the size of their trucks. It was a running joke in the South. We’re trying to compensate for something we don’t have. If Kara ever gave him a chance, he’d show her that myth was 100 percent false when it came to him. The one thing he’d never had any complaints about in the bedroom was size.

  Grayson trotted out front, keys in hand and a broad smile on his face. A baby and a brand-new woman in his life, all in the course of a single day? Shit, and here he’d thought moving to a small town in Virginia would make his life less complicated.

  He glanced over his shoulder and imagined Kara inside, getting soup and salad ready and maybe thinking about him. Maybe even confiding in Harmony that she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. His chest puffed out. Complications like a gorgeous, smart, next-door neighbor he didn’t mind at all.

  He climbed into his truck and turned the wheels south, away from town. Only the thought of where he was headed, where he headed every day at this time, sobered him back into reality. As the miles slipped by, his good mood faded, and by the time he’d reached the parking lot of Yawketuck Community Hall, any silly, stupid thoughts he’d had about Kara McGarrity had faded with the sunlight.

  He wasn’t man enough to handle what had wound up on his doorstep that morning, and he was kidding himself if he thought otherwise, even for a minute.

  6:00 p.m.

  Grayson had no sooner left Helping Hands than the first family walked in—Carly Grimaldi, a single mom with four kids under the age of ten. The kids descended on their favorite table in the back, with the best view of the river, and before Kara could blink, the two boys had already torn some of the placemats and napkins in two.

  “Hi, Carly,” Kara said. “Nice to see y’all tonight.”

  “Hello.”

  The circles under the woman’s eyes were more pronounced than

  usual, and she had a bruise on her wrist that looked fresh. Kara said nothing.

  A rack of brochures sat near the door with names and numbers of places in the

  Yawketuck Valley where people could go for help. Kara never pushed. She never

  said a word. She knew what it was like to live with a man who thought control

  stemmed from physical dominance—and she knew how difficult it was to leave.

  As the Grimaldis got settled and more came in behind them, Kara

  and Harmony set bowls of soup and salad on the counter that separated the

  kitchen from the dining room. Baskets of bread went on the tables themselves.

  Pitchers of water lined the shelf above the juice boxes, along with disposable

  cups in pretty colors, blue or green or whatever the dollar discount store had

  on sale.

  For a few minutes, the room was quiet except for the sound of eating and drinking. Even the Grimaldi boys fell silent as they slurped their soup. It was beef barley today, hearty and filling and one of the local favorites.

  Kara checked on Jade, who continued to sleep in her car seat on the kitchen table. Leave it to babies. They could nap through tornadoes. She’d always been both amazed and eternally grateful at the things Harrison could sleep through as a baby.

  “He’s hot,” Harmony said. “Grayson.” She studied Kara’s face, watching her like a hawk. “You never mentioned him before. Are you two, like, a thing?”

  “God, no. He’s my neighbor. I’m just helping him out.”

  “Uh-huh. I’d sure like to help him out.”

  “Harmony. He’s probably twice your age.”

  “Cool. That makes him just about your age, so you should go for it.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning you should do whatever it is that old people do—sorry, not like you’re really old. You know what I mean.”

  “Sure.” Kara laid a hand on her heart. “Just put me in the ground and get it over with. I’m almost a hundred, you know. Practically dead.”

  “Whatever.” Harmony rolled her eyes. “Anyway, like I was saying.” She glanced into the dining room as another family walked in. “He’s good-looking and practically famous. If you’re both single, you should go out. Or hang out at his place. Or show up on his doorstep in a really skimpy dress and see what he does.”

  “I don’t think I own a really skimpy dress.”

  “That’s your first problem,” Harmony said as she carried fresh bread baskets to the newest arrivals.

  Jade woke up and began to fuss, so Kara didn’t bother following Harmony to continue the conversation. Instead she changed Jade’s diaper and warmed a bottle, then sat in a chair with the baby on her lap and began to sing a lullaby under her breath.

  “In the middle of the night, when the evening air is right...”

  She used to make up lullabies for Harrison when he was little. She’d rock him all night long, even when she had to get up and go to school in the morning. She’d hold his warm little body against hers, drawing comfort from him and wishing they could just run away, go to the other side of the world where no one knew them. She’d breathed in his scent, felt the tickle of his fine baby hair, and promised she’d keep him safe no matter what it took.

  Now she felt the same maternal pull toward this helpless child, the same fierce need to keep Jade safe. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t Kara’s flesh or blood. There was something about the enormity of the world that had always made Kara want to take care of the smallest, most helpless things inside it.

  “I don’t know who you belong to, baby girl, but I can promise you this. I will make sure you’re never left on anyone’s front porch again.”

  “Kara?” A woman with long silver hair peeked into the kitchen. “What on earth are you doing with a baby?”

  “Denise, hi. Come on in.” She lifted Jade against her shoulder to burp her.

  Denise Zimmerman marched inside and pulled up a chair. She’d run a local preschool until last year, when she slipped on some ice and broke her ankle and wrist. Since then she’d lost her job and her home and now lived in senior housing on the edge of town. Kara wasn’t sure whether Denise really needed a free meal or just came to Helping Hands for the company and conversation, but it didn’t matter. People needed to feel civilized whether they had a dime to their name or not, and that was part of why Kara worked so hard to make the place look mo
re like a restaurant and less like a soup kitchen.

  “Where did this little doll come from?” Denise asked.

  “It’s quite a story,” Kara said. But she didn’t share any more than that.

  “Can I hold her? She looks like a peach.”

  “Of course.” Kara handed her to Denise, and Jade snuggled into the woman’s chest and fell asleep at once.

  “Oh, my goodness. Look at that.”

  “She’s a good baby. She’s been with me all day and only cried twice, I think.”

  “This isn’t another grandchild, is it? You didn’t tell me Harrison and his wife were expecting.”

  “No, she’s not mine.”

  She’s yours.

  But what did that mean, exactly?

  “I’m watching her for a friend.” Kara liked Denise, but the story of an abandoned baby who might or might not belong to Grayson Hollister would spread like wildfire through Yawketuck. She wasn’t ready to share any more details.

  “Really? A local friend?” Denise’s question sounded innocent enough, but Kara knew Southern curiosity was merely the cousin to nosiness and gossip.

  She nodded and then stood to check on Harmony and the dining room. A few other people had come in, but less than usual for a Tuesday. She hoped that was a good thing.

  She checked her phone, glanced at Denise, and said, “Are you okay holding her for a few minutes? I need to make a couple phone calls.”

  “Oh my, yes. This doll can nap here as long as she likes.”

  “Thanks.” Kara walked to the back door and opened it halfway, standing on the threshold so she could still see the baby, but Denise couldn’t hear her conversation. For a moment she wondered where Grayson had gone. He’d been tight-lipped about his destination, that was for sure. A meeting with another woman? Maybe. Something at his gym? Also a maybe. She let her thoughts linger on the perfection of that man’s body, the rock-solid V of his torso, the teasing tattoos, the taut, tanned muscles that made her wonder what he looked like naked.

  That is never gonna happen, girl, so get your thoughts off it.

  The breeze cooled her cheeks. Grayson was younger than she, wilder than she, and her next-door neighbor, for God’s sake. They had practically nothing in common except living on top of the Yawketuck Mountain.

  She abandoned her fantasy and searched through the contacts in her phone. Near the bottom she found the one she sought. One ring. Two. A third began, and then finally came an answer. “Briarwood House. How can I help you?”

  “Missy, it’s Kara.”

  “Hey, girl. What’s up?” A buzz of conversation rose and fell in the background. “Hang on a minute.” She went away from the phone, yelled something, then came back.

  “Are you busy?” Kara asked. The low-profile motel rented rooms by both the hour and the week, which meant there was always an interesting collection of people staying there. The owner, Missy Kennedy, had met Kara years ago when she’d stopped into Helping Hands looking for cast-off sheets and towels, and the two quickly become good friends.

  “I’ve got everything from upscale Greenway hookers to single mamas trying to leave their men,” she’d explained to Kara one afternoon. “I pretty much let ’em pay whatever they can afford.” And because Missy’s husband was an international tax consultant who was out of the country most of the year—having affairs with women who didn’t speak English, according to Missy—he let her do what she wanted with his money, which was run Briarwood House. The place on the opposite side of the river had become known over the years as clean, cheap, and confidential, which meant Missy rarely spoke a word about the people who came through her doors.

  “I’ve got a question for you,” Kara said now.

  “Shoot.”

  “You have any single moms staying there right now? Or maybe recently?”

  Missy didn’t answer for a moment. “I had one last week,” she finally said. “Can’t tell you her name or where she was from or heading to, though.”

  “She have any kids with her? An infant girl, maybe?”

  “An infant? No. Three kids with clothes that didn’t fit and ribs I could count. But the youngest was maybe four or five. That poor woman was here a week, left last Saturday.”

  Kara’s hopes sank. “You haven’t seen anyone else?”

  “With a baby girl? Just passing through?”

  “Or maybe not passing through. Maybe looking for a place to stay for a while, to get away.”

  “Nothing rings a bell,” Missy said. “But if you need a place for whoever you’re asking about, let me know. I have a couple rooms open right now.”

  “Thanks. I will.” Kara hung up and returned to take a sleepy Jade from Denise’s shoulder. Denise gave her another curious look, and Kara knew she was dying to ask more, but she didn’t. She just stood, helped Harmony stack some dirty dishes in the sink, then waved goodbye.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  The crowd had thinned, and only two veterans who lived on the outskirts of town sat in the dining room. The grizzled men usually came in together, though they sat separately and didn’t speak. They hunched over their meals, eyes on the table, and didn’t acknowledge Kara when she walked through.

  “Are you okay if I leave now?” Kara asked Harmony. When she set Jade in her car seat, the sleepy baby’s eyes fluttered open and shut. Kara couldn’t believe how mellow she was, as if she didn’t miss her mama or wonder how or why she’d ended up here. Of course, a four-month-old didn’t register much about the world, but still. Kara liked to think Harrison would’ve wailed for days if she’d left him somewhere longer than an hour or two.

  “I’m fine,” Harmony said. Her thumbs moved in a blur across her phone. “I’ve closed up a million times.”

  Or maybe ten times, Kara wanted to say, but she was grateful for the college student’s help, so she didn’t. “Thank you. Text me if there’s any problem.”

  “There won’t be.” Harmony glanced up. “I’ll be here tomorrow and Thursday, but that’s my last full day. I go back to college on Friday.”

  “Oh, shoot, that’s right. I forgot.” Kara tucked a blanket around Jade and grabbed a package of disposable diapers from the closet. As an afterthought, she ducked into the secondhand shop and found a bright pink jumpsuit and a pair of infant-sized socks.

  “Did you find anyone else to help you?”

  “Not yet. I forgot to put up a posting.”

  “I can see if I know anyone.”

  “That would be great.” Kara had a few retired friends who helped occasionally, but she really needed someone under the age of sixty who could lift boxes and carry trays of food without tiring.

  She put her purse on her shoulder and lifted the car seat. “Come on, little one.” She had one more idea to explore.

  She walked through the dining room and situated Jade in the back seat of the Mazda, then pulled a sweater around her shoulders. The sun was slipping toward the horizon, and shadows stretched across the parking lot. She wasn’t particularly afraid of where she was going, but she didn’t make a habit of driving through the abandoned ironworks at dusk. No one in Yawketuck did. Still, it seemed like she and Grayson were at a dead end, and if there was a chance that a scared, desperate mother was hiding out with the homeless squatters, Kara needed to go and see.

  7:00 p.m.

  The meeting wrapped up with the usual words, nods, and handshakes, and Grayson followed the rest of the group out into the lobby of the community hall. Some of the regulars were away on vacation, and not everyone came on a daily basis. Still, those who were there knew each other’s faces and stories by heart. AA tended to do that, he’d realized after his first few meetings. They all had shit to deal with. They all struggled. They all made up excuses, fell off the wagon, and climbed back on again. Sometimes they read through the book, once in a while they had a speaker, but mostly they just talked. They didn’t all cross paths on a regular basis outside of meetings, but whenever they walked through the doors of Room 14, it w
as like coming home. Okay, a somewhat dysfunctional home of forced circumstances, but a home all the same.

  Grayson hadn’t yet taken the step of getting a sponsor, and he came more like three or four times a week instead of every night, but he’d seen a change in himself since starting AA, and that kept him showing up.

  “Gray, good to see you,” Jake Turnbull said as they stopped near the folding table where the coffee and cookies were laid out.

  “You too, man. How’s things?”

  “Crops are good,” the older man said. Salt and pepper colored his thick beard. “Weather’s cooperated.”

  Grayson nodded, helping himself to a cup of coffee and a few vanilla wafers as his stomach growled. The rest of the group stood in clusters, talking. Twelve people there tonight, three women and the rest men. He’d almost talked about Jade, thinking someone might know something, but at the last minute he changed his mind. Felt a little too private to bring up, even in a place like this.

  He nodded goodbye to Jake and then went back into the meeting room to put the folding chairs away. The chore usually fell to him, not like he minded. He could handle stacking chairs. The few minutes alone let him settle his thoughts as well. But tonight someone had followed him.

  “Tell me about this boot camp thing.” Sarah Jones leaned in the doorway, a cup of coffee clutched in both hands, probably her sixth or seventh of the hour. She drank so much of it, the rest of them joked that she should set up a caffeine drip for herself. But Grayson understood the cravings, the need to hold on to something, the desire to drink even though the buzz wasn’t as good.

  “Will it kill me?” she went on. “I used to work out back in high school, but that feels like a hundred years ago.”

  “I haven’t killed anyone yet,” he said as he grabbed a broom. “Might make your muscles hurt for a while, though. Next boot camp starts next week. It’s a six-week program. I can email you some information if you want.”

  “That would be great.” She looked down at herself. “I need to do something to get back in shape. And to get my mind off drinking twenty-four-seven.” Her mouth was a sad twist. “Does it ever get easier?”