by Sherry Lewis
“A little.” He’d learned long ago that claiming the pressures of the office carried no weight with his aunt. She had her own agenda and rarely let anyone sidetrack her, regardless of the other person’s commitments.
“Have you gone out to fix Abby’s porch yet?”
He’d seen Abby at Little League practice, but he’d managed not to get too close. In spite of his best intentions, he found himself more and more drawn to her. So he’d been trying to stay away. “I’ll have to stop by after work, Aunt Zelda. I can’t go right now.”
“You’re going to have to,” his aunt said emphatically. “Now she’s got a problem with the washer and she says there’s water everywhere.”
Looking at his desk, he bit back an oath of frustration. He couldn’t very well leave Abby standing in water for another two hours.
“Naomi tells me she can cancel your afternoon appointments, so I don’t see why you can’t run over there now.”
Considering that Zelda had already dismissed every conceivable obstacle, he couldn’t, either. “I’ll go.”
“Right away?”
“Yes, Zelda. Right away.”
After he’d hung up, Kurt cleared his desk quickly. Grabbing his jacket from the coat tree, he slung it over his shoulder.
The outer office stood empty. Naomi certainly knew how to disappear quickly after putting him on the spot. He needed a secretary with a little backbone. Somebody who could stand up to Aunt Zelda. Unfortunately he’d never met anyone—except Jack—who could do that.
He left a note on Naomi’s desk telling her he wouldn’t be back and where to find the brief on the network. Sweet revenge. Naomi hated to clean up his rough drafts.
Because he’d made a court appearance that morning, he’d worn a suit to the office. He’d have to stop at home to change. And on the off chance Brody hadn’t already finished his chores and gone to Abby’s, Kurt could pick him up and take him along. With Brody there to provide a distraction, maybe Kurt could avoid being alone with her.
Relieved to find an easy solution, he enjoyed the drive home. The sun peeked through a few clouds on the western horizon and the earth took on a golden glow as evening neared. He loved the drive along the Gorge and the sight of the Columbia River as it rolled toward the Pacific less than fifty miles away.
Along the highway, the forest grew to the edge of the river, and where the trees ended, the ground fell away sharply to the water. Kurt’s house stood almost squarely in the center of a five-mile stretch of highway with a clear view of Castle Island. The combination of earth, water and sky never failed to inspire awe in him.
Surprisingly Brody was still on the riverbank with Pride. Kurt waved, then ducked inside to change into jeans and a shirt. When he stepped back onto the deck, he shouted through cupped hands, “Hey, sport! Want to run over to Michael’s house with me?”
Brody tossed the branch he’d been holding and raced toward Kurt, his face bright with a smile Kurt knew wasn’t meant for him. “Sure, but can I take Pride? Michael hasn’t been over to see him and he’s never had a dog.”
Fighting to keep his tone light, Kurt returned the smile. “Never had a dog? Poor guy!”
“I know. He told me his mom hates dogs. She’s allergic or something.”
So Abby did have one or two flaws. “Shocking.”
“I’m serious, Dad.”
“So am I.”
“Dad—”
“Sorry.”
“You’re weird.” A tentative grin appeared on Brody’s face.
Kurt matched it. “I wondered when you’d notice.” He put an arm around Brody’s shoulders and headed toward the driveway, more confident than he’d been in a long time that things were looking up.
ABBY PACED the length of the living room, peered through the front window and retraced her steps. She’d called Zelda over an hour ago asking for the name of a plumber. But Zelda had insisted on sending Kurt.
Abby had managed to lessen the flow of water, but she hadn’t been able to close the rusted valve completely, and a slow stream still swirled from the laundry room into the kitchen. She needed help, but she didn’t want it to come from Kurt. Every time she ran into him, his appeal grew stronger. The air became almost electric whenever he was near, and the sound of his voice on the telephone made her weak.
Michael’s friendship with Brody only complicated the situation. If the boys hadn’t become such good friends, Abby might have been able to avoid Kurt, but with the boys spending so much time together, she and Kurt were inevitably thrown together, too.
She saw Kurt at Little League practice, and every time she went to town she seemed to pass him somewhere. She did have to call him if she wanted to invite Brody along with them, but she refused to call him about every little thing that went wrong with the house.
She’d avoided reporting the broken screen door on the back porch, and they’d ignored the leak under the kitchen sink for more than a week. She’d never mentioned the loose board on the porch, though Zelda had somehow found out about it. And she’d even tried to handle today’s plumbing crisis on her own. But unfortunately she needed help with this one. She just didn’t want it to be Kurt’s help….
The sound of a car in the driveway caught her attention. Racing to the window, she peeked through the lace curtains at the white Jeep Cherokee. Her heart leapt.
She heard a dog bark and then a door slam. She pulled back from the window and waited until the sound of hurried footsteps reached the porch.
As she opened the door, the dog barked again, closer this time, and a huge black head poked through the opening. The animal pushed the door open the rest of the way and nudged Abby with its nose.
Abby smiled and scratched behind one ear, and the dog looked up at her with huge brown eyes, leaning its head against her thigh.
Brody followed, dismayed. “Pride, stop that! Sit! I’m sorry, Abby. He just got away from me.”
Pride nudged Abby’s hand again and she ran her fingers across his short coarse hair. “He’s just fine. He’s not hurting a thing.”
Brody seemed confused. “I didn’t think you’d like him.”
“Are you kidding? I love dogs.” She scratched the soft spot beneath the dog’s chin and laughed at the adoring look in his eyes. “Especially great big beasts like this one.”
Brody turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. “Look, Dad. She likes him.”
Kurt rounded the corner of the house carrying a toolbox, and Abby’s heart raced the way it did every time she saw him.
He took a step forward, but his eyes narrowed. “Looks like you’ve made a friend for life.”
“I’ve had worse friends.”
“So have I.” He glanced down at his toolbox. “I’ll go around to the back. I just…I thought maybe you were having trouble with the dog, so I came…” His voice trailed away and he fixed her with his steely eyes again.
What was wrong with him? “This sweet thing wouldn’t give anybody trouble, would you?” Pride wagged his tail and nudged her hand again. “Unless he didn’t think he was getting his share of attention.”
Brody wound his fingers through Pride’s collar and tugged him away. “I thought Michael said you were allergic to dogs.”
Abby froze. Now she knew why Kurt was looking at her that way. He’d caught her again. Somehow, in innocent conversation, Michael must have said his mother was allergic—and Rachel was. But Abby wasn’t. What else had he told Brody?
Oblivious to the tension in the air, Brody tugged at Pride’s collar. “Can I show him to Michael?”
“Sure. He’s around back with Erin.”
Brody bounded down the steps and raced the dog across the yard. Abby watched them go, aware that Kurt did, too. When they’d disappeared, she turned back, nearly sick to her stomach with anxiety.
Her mouth felt too dry to form words. She thought of a dozen things she could say and discarded them all because she couldn’t think of any reasonable explanation to offer.
Kurt shifted the toolbox to his other hand and avoided meeting her eyes. “I’ll just check on that problem you’re having.”
“Right. I’ll show you.” As if he didn’t know his way around.
Kurt’s lips formed a thin smile as he waited for her to lead him to the kitchen.
She’d mopped up the worst of the water, but the floor was still wet and slippery. Walking cautiously, she was concentrating so much on her feet that when he took her arm to steady her, she wasn’t prepared. She stiffened at the feel of his touch.
She didn’t dare look up, fearing the telltale blush that must be coloring her cheeks. She couldn’t speak, not trusting her voice. After she’d crossed the worst of the floor he released her; anxious to get away from him before she revealed too much, Abby increased her pace the last several feet into the utility room.
“Here it is,” she said stupidly.
Kurt looked around with a grimace, setting the toolbox on the washer. “Did you unplug it or is it still connected to the electricity?”
“I couldn’t move it enough to reach the plug.”
He nodded, pulled the machine easily away from the wall and disconnected its power. Studying the pipes and hoses, he finally located the broken one and smiled with satisfaction. “It could be worse. This shouldn’t take long at all.”
She told herself she’d been waiting to be sure he didn’t need her help. And now that he knew what was involved, she could leave him to the job. But knowing what he must think of her after catching her in another obvious lie burned her heart, and it took all her willpower to turn away.
Kurt hammered at the pipe fitting with the wrench, releasing a little of his frustration. Something was wrong here, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer. He twisted the joint and banged again. Abby and her kids were hiding something.
Using the pipe wrench, he loosened the fitting and caught the dripping water with a rag. There were too many unanswered questions. Take the night they’d arrived, for example. Sure they’d been tired, but who had Michael seen in his nightmare? Why had Abby said Michael couldn’t play baseball? Why did Michael claim his mother was allergic to dogs when she obviously wasn’t? And why was Erin so quiet and withdrawn, reserved beyond mere shyness?
He checked the next joint. He liked having Michael close enough for Brody to play with, but if something strange was going on here, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to let them get any closer. He slid his hands up the pipe and hammered at the fitting again.
Though he couldn’t deny the strange pull Abby exerted on him, she had to be hiding something. But what? Why? He’d interviewed witnesses in court many times over the years, and he’d heard too many lies and half-truths to ignore the signals Abby sent out. His heart tried to tell him not to worry, but his internal warning system was sounding an alarm.
He should see what he could find out about her—at least find out what Zelda knew about her and where she came from. Surely Zelda had asked for references before she’d rented the house. It would be easy enough to check them out.
Despite his questions, Kurt couldn’t get her out of his mind. But how could he have feelings for her? She was married. Married. Why did he want to forget that? Why did his thoughts keep straying to this woman’s face, her sapphire eyes and the citrus scent of her hair?
Throwing himself into his work, Kurt tried to beat Abby’s image away, as if by sheer physical labor he could exorcise the power she held over him. But the job wasn’t hard enough or long enough to do the trick.
When he’d finished the washer and had nailed down the loose board on the porch, he went in search of her, telling himself he couldn’t leave without letting her know he’d finished. He searched the living room and family room without success and was just turning around to go back for his tools when she appeared at the top of the stairs.
With the late-afternoon sun streaming through the windows and glowing around her, she was a vision. He blinked slowly. “The washer’s fixed.”
“Great.” She came down a few steps, waited as if she expected him to speak, then asked, “Would you like a glass of iced tea before you leave?”
He should say no. He should just grab his toolbox and get out before he said or did something he shouldn’t. Instead, he mumbled, “Sure. Thanks.”
Following her into the kitchen, Kurt tried to still his too-rapid pulse. Watching her reach for glasses and pour the tea, he tried to drag his eyes away. But his senses whirled as he watched her drink.
Fighting his impulses, Kurt reminded himself that somewhere halfway around the world, there was a man who had the right to gaze at her like this. And suddenly he felt an urgent need to know more about her husband. The mysterious Mr. Harris.
He was nothing more than a remote concept, an unreality. Maybe if Kurt knew more about the guy, he’d have an easier time putting Abby out of his mind. And it might even answer some of his other questions.
He gulped his own drink and felt a little control return. Grasping at his one coherent thought, he said, “So…your husband’s working in Europe this summer?”
Abby felt her eyes widen with surprise and belatedly managed to make herself nod. First the incident with the dog and now questions about her husband.
“What does he do?” Kurt looked at her expectantly.
“He’s a consultant.” A consultant? That was it? The minute Kurt turned his incredible green eyes in her direction, she started babbling like a fool. Why on earth had she asked him to stay?
She knew he was waiting for her to say more, but she lifted the glass to her lips again to buy some time.
“In what field?”
“Field?” Don’t sound like an idiot. Take a breath. Now another. “Computers. He’s helping American firms set up new systems in Europe.”
She tried in vain to remember the details of the story she’d worked out so carefully, but she somehow knew Kurt wouldn’t believe it, and she couldn’t force the words from between her frozen lips.
“The kids must miss him.”
“Yes.” Dear God, he was going to ask the kids about this. But surely they’d remember all the details of the story the family had worked out in Arizona—wouldn’t they?
“Do they look like him?”
Shaking her head, she spoke softly. “They both look more like my side of the family. Michael looks a lot like my dad and Erin looks just like…like my sister, Rachel.” She couldn’t believe it—she’d almost slipped again. Steeling herself, she met his gaze with a determined one of her own. “I can sure see the resemblance between you and Brody.”
Kurt grinned. “Yeah, poor guy. Is this the first time your kids have been away from their father for so long?”
“Yes.” Gnawing at her lower lip, she looked away. She had to get him to change the subject.
“I wondered, because they seem to be making the adjustment pretty well.”
Pretty well? When Erin scarcely spoke to anyone and Michael still had nightmares three nights out of five? “Erin’s having trouble. She misses things at home, I guess—friends and her routine. But it’s been great for Michael to have Brody so close.”
“It’s been great for Brody, too. He’s had some difficulty adjusting to his mother’s leaving.”
At last. A subject she could talk about without feeling nauseated. “I’ve noticed some things…”
“He has other friends whose parents are divorced, but he’s the only one we know whose mother walked out. We had real trouble the first couple of months after Laura left, but things are a little better now.”
But not entirely better, Abby knew. Still, Kurt gave Brody lots of attention and encouragement, and his heart seemed to be in the right place where his son was concerned. “Maybe he just needs more time.”
Kurt hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. He needs stability. I think back to summers when I was a kid—the things Jack and I did together. We had a great childhood. Brody’s alone. And he’s old enough now that, should I get around to giving him a brother,
they’ll never be really close.” He smiled thinly. “But you’re here this summer, and at least he’s got Michael….”
Uncertainty lingered behind his words. “But…?” Abby prompted.
“I’m a little worried that he’ll get too close to Michael.”
“You want him to spend less time with us?”
Kurt looked disconcerted at her question. “I thought so. Now I’m not so sure what I want. He likes being over here so much I hate to tell him not to come. But—”
“You want me to promise not to hurt him.”
Kurt smiled. “Yes.”
“I’d never intentionally hurt him.”
“I already know that.”
Abby studied a scratch on the table. “I won’t let him get too attached—is that what you want to hear?”
“Yes. And no.” Kurt grinned and lifted his glass.
His smile made her pulse race, but his words stung. She tried to smile back. At least she admired his honesty. “Brody said you’re an attorney. That surprises me.”
He looked confused. “Why?”
“You just don’t seem the type, I guess.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what my ex-wife thought, too.” His voice took on a steely tone.
“Oh.” She felt the flush of embarrassment creep up her face. She hadn’t intended to touch on a painful subject. “But do you enjoy it?”
“Yes, I do now. The thing is, I’ve always wanted to help people. To make a difference. For a while I thought the only way to do that was to work my way up the ladder in a big firm, put in ninety billable hours a week and schmooze with the boss like crazy. But I hated every minute of it, so I came back here. That’s when I realized I can make more of a difference here than I ever would have in Seattle.”
She liked the way his eyes seemed to glitter when he got excited. “How?”
“Help one person and you indirectly touch the lives of everyone they know. It’s a great feeling—but there’s not a lot of money in it.”
This time she laughed, and when Kurt joined her, she realized she’d never heard him laugh before. It was a warm friendly sound. She suddenly knew she wanted to hear him laugh again. Often.
