Instructions for Love

by June Shaw

  “Thanks, T-Fred,” Erin called, letting go of his hand to wave at the bar. “I enjoyed your po-boy. And meeting you.”

  The diner’s owner nodded toward Dane. “Make him bring you back Friday. Tomorrow we’ll have pork chops and smothered potatoes, but our catfish—girl, you’ll want to stay down here.”

  “I almost do now,” Erin said. She walked beside Dane to the door, smiling at the few people still left inside. “Bye, y’all,” she said, accentuating her contraction.

  “Good seein’ you, honey,” Jim Ed’s wife said from their table. The lanky woman aimed a big grin at Dane and turned back to her husband with a nod.

  Oh boy, had she just affirmed to her husband that she’d been right—Dane got himself a girlfriend?

  He let more distance come between him and Erin while they walked out. Saying nothing to her when they ambled to his truck, he remained silent on the drive home. His passenger glanced at him, staying strangely quiet as though maybe she could tell his thoughts. They were reaching his driveway when she said, “That was nice. Thank you for dinner.”

  He couldn’t help but snigger. “Dinner’s at noon.”

  For the first time since they’d left the diner, Erin smiled. “That’s when we have lunch.”

  “Then when do you eat supper?”

  She offered a friendly laugh. She didn’t say anything when he parked in the garage, only peering around, glancing at him as he walked toward the back door brightened by a spotlight on the wall.

  Thoughts of the vegetable clutter in that first room made him slow his stride and point toward the long porch that would open up to the dining room. Things didn’t look so great in that room anymore either, but at least it wasn’t such a mess. “We’ll go in through that door,” he said.

  She climbed the steps in the dark ahead of him, making him decide he should have installed a spotlight near the entrance ahead to put some light on the porch. He should not be considering how good Erin looked. He shouldn’t think of how comfortable he’d felt being around her just now.

  No, he thought, jamming the key in the keyhole, he hadn’t felt comfortable, not when all of those people in the bar decided he’d forgotten about Anna and taken a new lover.

  He opened the door and waited.

  Erin didn’t come in.

  She stood, hands clamped on the porch railing, and stared out at the dark lawn. “It’s beautiful out there,” she said, her tone quiet.

  Dane glanced out. He had done a good job of setting those spotlights in the oaks, he realized, noticing how attractive they made his yard. The lights’ glow made the branches hung with moss stand out. Crickets and toads were making themselves known, not with racket like they made after much rain, but soft, as if they were enjoying the night’s peace.

  “At first this place seemed so still,” Erin said, continuing to look out there. Her voice was so soft Dane felt a need to move closer to hear.

  He stopped beside her, and she glanced up. Her face and stance looked the most relaxed he’d ever seen. Her eyes appeared darker. Her upturned chin made her full lips aim up at him.

  His heartbeats raced. His arms wanted to move, to slide down around this enticing woman.

  But this Erin, with eyes searching his face, could not give him only a short time. She would want more. She’d need more. He had nothing more to give. And darn it, she was Tilly’s niece.

  His gaze slid away from her face, and she stared out again, offering him only her attractive profile.

  Balling both hands into fists at his sides, he willed away the urge to draw her body close to his.

  This woman needed to leave. He’d told her when they had ridden through the fields that this place was his. But had she really understood? Just as soon as they went inside, he would sit her down and make certain she did. Erin needed to go back where she came from.

  “There’s so much life out here,” she said. “If you really listen, you can hear the smallest sounds. Maybe even your heartbeat.” She was quiet. “And the trees are gorgeous. The moss, doing that slight sway, almost seems alive.”

  “It is.” Dane moved away from her, heading for the door. “Moss is a member of the pineapple family, and while it’s on the branches, it’s living. After it falls to the ground, it’s dead. Just like people.” He pulled the screen door open. “You’re coming inside?”

  Her dreamy expression vanished. Erin went in ahead of him. Dane stomped behind, determining how he’d tell her for certain that Tilly and Cliff had not owned this plantation but both worked for him. And no matter what nonsense Tilly wrote on those sheets of paper, Erin would have to go so he could get his mind and body working normally. Tomorrow morning wouldn’t be soon enough for her to leave.

  “I’m still full from that po-boy, but we told Mom Bea we’d try her bread pudding tonight,” Erin said, moving through the dining room without turning on lights. She headed for the kitchen. “We have to taste it.”

  Dane gave his head an angry shake. Whatever had gone on between his mother and Tilly must’ve created this ruse they’d both been playing, even after Tilly was down in her grave. He hated to hurt either woman, but he’d do what he must, even if it caused brief discomfort. Surely only the death of your soul mate would cause the anguish that lingered.

  “We need to talk,” he said, following Erin into the kitchen.

  She turned on the lights, went to the fridge, and pulled the door open. “We can talk while we eat. This must be the bread pudding.” She grabbed a long glass dish and set it down on the table. The phone rang, making her head jerk.

  The ringing continued in the dining room. Dane grew even more annoyed. He was ready to get things settled with Erin once and for all.

  Taking long strides to the phone, he yanked up the receiver. “Yes.”

  Nobody spoke. No buzzing sounded to tell him the caller hung up.

  “Who is this?” he asked gruffly.

  “Is Erin there? Erin Westlake?”

  The man’s voice surprised Dane, making him even more unsettled. “She is.”

  The caller grew quiet again. After long seconds he said, “Can I speak with her?”

  “You can.” Dane thrust the receiver down on the tabletop. In the kitchen, he told Erin, “It’s for you.”

  Her face brightened. “Thanks.” She darted out the room.

  He sure didn’t want to hear her with her boyfriend. Dane noticed the dish she’d put on the table. Gathering spoons and bowls, he made certain to create noise.

  “He’s the overseer,” Erin said, her raised voice carrying from the next room. “And he lives here.”

  Now, Dane considered, stopping with the dishes. He could go in there, tell her and her man Trevor all the truth, and settle their problems.

  He stepped toward the dining room.

  “I will not!” Erin said to her caller, not spotting Dane at the doorway. “I’m really sorry if you don’t believe me, but I won’t leave this house just because another man is here and you think I’m doing something wrong.”

  Dane’s finger was on the light switch. He withdrew from the room and returned to the kitchen, not needing to butt into their discussion.

  Erin quit talking. Probably Trevor was reading her the riot act, letting her know he didn’t want her sleeping in the house with Dane. He didn’t blame the man.

  He pulled the dry dishes out of the drain and put them away. Erin still hadn’t returned. He wanted to sneak back and listen. But that wouldn’t be right. He looked around for something else to do.

  A few crumbs lay on the floor under his chair.

  He tuned in his hearing while he used a broom and dustpan to sweep them up. Dumping them in the wastebasket, he drifted toward the open doorway.

  “Yes.” Erin spoke in a pleasant tone on the phone. “He is a nice person, and I do like him.”

  Dane grinned. She was talking about him. He had to lean closer now, to see her face when she spoke of him.

  Even across the darkened room, she stood out. Her prof
ile was curvy and attractive, but even more of her natural prettiness came from inside.

  Her expression sank. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m staying.” She listened to Trevor, murmured something, and hung up.

  Dane jumped away from the door. He grabbed glasses, poured milk and set it at their places, disturbance building when she didn’t return to the kitchen. He listened for her footsteps. Glancing toward the dark dining room, he didn’t see her and looked for something else to do. He spooned bread pudding into their dishes.

  “Oh thanks,” Erin said, having soundlessly entered the kitchen.

  Dane felt his face brighten. Hers didn’t. She sat where she had eaten earlier in the day, her face glum, shoulders drooped.

  He didn’t think he should mention her caller. Instead he said, “Did you ever have bread pudding?’

  She glanced at him, seeming to take great effort to speak. “Once. At a restaurant.”

  He couldn’t think of anything to say. This didn’t seem the time to make small talk, and neither to tell her about the plantation belonging to him. He sipped his milk and took a bite of the pudding.

  With an aura of muted wretchedness, she seemed to notice what to do. She swallowed from her glass and spooned up a bite of pudding with raisins and a heap of meringue.

  Her face brightened. “This is good,” she said, eating more.

  Dane enjoyed watching her eat. He tasted his dessert again. His mother had done an extra fine job.

  Erin appeared energized while she ate. She smiled at him, and he noticed that her smile added satisfaction to his food.

  Her bowl was empty when she quit. “Gosh, I ate it all. But the bread pudding I had before was nothing like this.” Her eyes looked happy. That pleased Dane. But even as he hated to, he should probably tell her everything right now.

  “Erin,” he said, and she leaned toward him, her eyes wide and bright. He glanced at her mouth. “There’s meringue on your lips.”

  She grinned; so did he. She wiped her lips with a napkin. “Now, what?”

  “You see,” he said, confusion roiling in his gut. Why was it so difficult to come out and say it?

  But her eyes were so pleased now, her expression content. He hated to destroy what he saw at this moment. Or what he felt. Yes, he determined. He was satisfied being around her. But that feeling would go. She was only a woman and not important to his life.

  “Erin.” He shoved his chair back. It squeaked against the floor.

  Her head pulled back with the sound. Erin’s neck swiveled when the phone rang in the next room. She looked back at him.

  “Do you want to get it?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  Dane flipped on the dining room light when he stomped in. He lifted the phone’s receiver, ready for an argument with the caller. “Yes?”

  “Hi, sweetie. I hope you’re having a great day. Can I talk to Erin?”

  “Mom… what do you want with her?”

  “Just a little girlie chit-chat. You wouldn’t be interested in that.”

  “You’re correct.”

  “I know, so please give her the phone. And don’t forget your dessert. Everybody needs a sweet treat every evening.”

  “The pudding was good. Thanks,” he said, but his gut feeling told him his mother hadn’t been speaking about food. She never ate sweets in the evening and had always suggested that he shouldn’t either. She filled up on sugary things during the day. But at night, she’d often said, eating sweets put on too many extra pounds.

  He strolled to the kitchen grinning. His mother had sometimes wondered aloud why she wasn’t losing any of the balloon-waist she said she carried and never seemed to connect it to her afternoon sweet tooth.

  “It’s for you,” he told Erin. Her face darkened, making him consider what she must think. “And it’s not your boyfriend.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.” Annoyance clouded her face. She stomped off to the dining room and seconds later was laughing, telling his mother how much she liked the bread pudding and asking for the recipe.

  Dane tuned off to their chatter, going about the table and picking up their things. He washed the dishes and had just set the dry towel above them in the drain when Erin bounced back into the room.

  “Mom Bea is such a sweetheart,” she said, her hands doing their small happy clap.

  “I have to agree. She’s great.”

  He leaned back against the counter, watching Erin’s bright face. She glanced at the table and then at the drain. “You’ve already done the dishes. I was going to wash them.”

  “No problem. I’m accustomed to cleaning up, at least in the kitchen.”

  She peered around the room. “Oh, these need more water.” She lifted the vase with roses and took them to the sink.

  He had hated having her cut those roses. But he did like seeing her take care of them.

  She set the water-filled vase back in the center of the table. “There.” She looked up at him. “Mom Bea reminded me. Tomorrow I’m supposed to go fishing.”

  Dane’s disturbed mood returned. “And how did she say you’re supposed to do that?”

  Erin peered down. Her gaze swept the floor and then swung up at him. “She said you’re a pretty good fisherman.”

  Anger stung his chest. “Me?”

  “Yes, well she said you might not be in the mood and you’d have things to do, but you can’t just work all day seven days a week. She said to tell you that if you’d just let work go for a couple hours, you’d find yourself having fun.”

  “Fun?” How could he have fun when he’d have to take this woman out in his boat? She’d probably get his lines all twisted up, and taking mountains of knots out of monofilament wasn’t a chore he liked doing. “It’s too hot to fish, and they probably aren’t biting. Too much wind with the low pressure system that’s pushing in.”

  Erin faced him from the opposite side of the table. “She said to ask you real sweet.” Placing hands on her hips, she leaned forward and gave him an extra wide smile. “Oh Dane, you are such a nice gentleman. Wouldn’t you like to take a lady fishing? For just one tiny fish?”

  “Only one?” Before it was out of his mouth, he regretted his words.

  “That’s all Aunt Tilly asked for. Her instruction for Day Two said catch a fish.”

  “But as soon as we get one, we’re coming back.” He spoke to her backside as she traipsed away, heading for the foyer. He went behind her, making certain she’d heard. “I have work to do tomorrow,” he added.

  She whirled around and smiled at him. “I know. And thanks for this evening. It was lovely.”

  He watched her jaunt into the master bedroom. She was lovely.

  And she liked him. She’d said so on the phone, during her talk with Trevor.

  Well, he decided, heading for the guestroom, after she caught that one fish tomorrow, she would be heading back to Trevor, and they’d get their matters all straight.

  Tomorrow was another day, he recalled from having been forced to read Gone with the Wind in high school. He’d been glad his English teacher made the class read what he’d expected to be a mushy love story. Instead, he admired Scarlett O’Hara’s fierce determination to save her family’s plantation, especially now that he’d had to do the same thing. Nature had been kind and the men he employed were hard workers, all giving him tremendous assistance in keeping the fields his grandfather had let fall behind from going under.

  And if he wasn’t careful, he’d face the same problem. He needed to get all of his equipment ready. He needed to get ready to plant his fields.

  Entering the room he had to sleep in, he pictured Erin coming through this room earlier. She’d glanced at his clothes tossed aside and then scooted to the bathroom. How funny she’d looked in that tiny space, glancing all over the place and eventually staring up at the window. He hadn’t noticed how that bathroom had been made for only one person until he’d stood near her, getting her jasmine scent, seeing a dimple on the rea
r of well-toned skin on her shoulder.

  “Grr,” he muttered, yanking off his clothes and tossing them at a wing chair. He’d forgotten to get more clean clothes out of the room she was going to sleep in.

  Early in the morning, he would have to sneak back in there.

  Chapter Ten

  Erin awoke having the strangest impression that someone crept into her bedroom. She sat up in bed, tugged the sheet to her neck, and peered around.

  The foyer door and door to the next bedroom were still closed. So were the shuttered doors leading to the porch. The slight sound she’d heard when she woke up earlier must have been the house settling. Or possibly a chicken or raccoon or other small animal.

  She had rested well after having such a pleasant evening. Except when Trevor called.

  Darn, why was it so difficult to deal with the man? Why did her boss insist that she return to work just because he thought she had become enamored with a man here? She had vacation days coming.

  She headed to the bathroom and paused to listen, disappointed not to hear a shower running in the adjoining room. A glance at the stained-glass window told her it was still dark.

  She showered, felt a chill, and decided to wear the longer casual clothes she’d brought. She was almost dressed when the aroma of baked biscuits reached her, making her nearly skip through the house to find Dane baking them.

  The brightly-lit kitchen was empty.

  Sound carried of the dining room door shutting. “Hey sleepy head, you finally got up?” Dane said, coming from that room. He looked boyish with faded jeans and blue T-shirt and fishing lures sticking out from his cap. The smile he wore faded. “You aren’t wearing shorts today?”

  She glanced at her jeans and long-sleeve cotton shirt. The shirt had a couple of slight wrinkles, but what would that matter in a boat? “I find it cool this morning.”

  “That won’t last.” He headed for the stove. “I made coffee and grits and baked a can of biscuits.”

  “How nice of you.”

  “I was hungry, figured you would be, too. I ate and then hooked up the boat. Maybe you could hurry. The fish bite early.” He poured coffee from the drip pot on the stove and served her a demitasse cup.