Then why didn’t he let her stay?
He waited for Arianne on the curb and watched the stoplight change colors. Cars drove past, a horn honked, a bicycle sped behind him. He stared at the empty parking space where he’d first seen Giada. He’d come here that night with a purpose and left with an altered future. Thinking totally of himself, as usual.
Was this sporting good venture just as selfish as his past decisions? Of course he’d make sure Arianne and the kid were taken care of, but he could let them stay. Then he’d have an excuse to see them from time to time. The knot in his chest loosened to a sensation he’d never felt before. Good grief, what was in that beer?
~*~
“How was your day?”
Huck’s deep drawl filled the kitchen and curled around Arianne like a fleece blanket on a winter’s night. He’d been so sweet to her ever since that day at the honey house. Thoughtful, patient… She turned and gave him a speculative glance.
The weasel must be up to something. “Wonderful. Yours?”
“Good.”
Still, she couldn’t help but enjoy it. They’d fallen into an easy camaraderie, a comfortable routine.
He came up beside her to examine the steaming casserole on the stovetop. He poised his finger. She slapped his hand.
“Ouch. That’s no way to treat a guy who brings you a gift.”
She spun to face him. His flannel shirt intensified the rich chocolate of his eyes. That crooked smile brought out his dimple and her weak knees every time. “A gift?”
Huck leaned his weight on the crutches and pulled a small glass jar from his back pocket. “Strawberry honey. We finished making the last of it today. Thought you might like to try it.”
The rosy liquid made her mouth water. “I would. Sherry sent over some homemade bread. I’ll put some on a slice at supper.”
“Did she send that over too?” He licked his lips at the pan of steaming parmesan chicken.
“No. I made it.”
His smile slipped.
“It’s her recipe though, and I followed the directions exactly. It should be edible.”
Maybe that was her problem with men—she couldn’t reach their hearts through their stomachs.
His brows knotted, and he stretched out his hand to touch her arm, but then drew it back. They fell into silent chores, him awkwardly setting the table, her filling glasses with ice.
“How was church?”
Her hand stilled around an ice cube. He’d never asked her that before. If he was scheming behind her back, he should be a little less obvious. She dropped the ice chunk into the glass. “Great. Brock Taylor was there this morning. Remember him?”
Huck set down the last fork. “Tall, dark-headed, played basketball?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s he doing now?”
“Army. He just returned from his second tour in Afghanistan. His parents were thrilled to have him at church, everyone was, but he seemed pretty uncomfortable. He was polite when spoken to, but there was sadness in his eyes. I’m sure he’s seen things the rest of us can’t imagine.”
The muscle in Huck’s jaw twitched. “That’s tough.”
“It is. I’ll be praying that he finds a new normal. And a job. He’s out of the service now, and his mom mentioned that he’s having trouble finding one. Unsure what he wants to do from here.” She wrapped potholders around the handles and carried the chicken to the table.
“Send him over. I have work for him.”
“What if he doesn’t know anything about beekeeping?”
“He can learn. It’d bring a steady income, and he can work alone, give him some time to adjust before getting back into the workforce. The government used beekeeping as a means of transition after World War I.”
Arianne couldn’t believe it. She’d just witnessed the Grinch’s heart grow three sizes. It took everything she had to stay on her side of the table and not throw her arms around Huck’s neck. She grabbed a plate instead.
He leaned his arms on the back of a chair. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“When did you get into all this church and God stuff?” Not a trace of snarkiness in his tone this time.
“Right after Emma was born. As a child I’d believed in God because people were always telling me that my mom was in heaven. We never went to church though, so I really didn’t give it much thought. The night I had Emma, I stared into the face of such a beautiful, tiny miracle…and I just knew there was more to our existence. I wanted to do right by her. I started going to church. That’s when I began a true relationship with God.”
Huck’s fingers wrapped around the chair’s back so tight his knuckles turned white. “What about your husband?”
She shrugged. “He didn’t want any part of church. That may have been what scared him off. I don’t know. He never said, just left.” She transferred a piece of chicken onto a plate. “I know one thing. If I hadn’t known God when Adam took off, I wouldn’t have had the strength to be standing here today.”
Huck stared at her, his features blank. She cleared her throat and finished dishing out supper.
He stepped to the fridge and handed her a diet soda. Sighed. “I have an investor for the building. I took him through it while you were at church today. Except your apartment. We didn’t go in there.”
His words stole her breath. What was the motive behind his kindness lately? Her heart took a dip, even though she’d known it was coming. They’d made a deal, and she too had been looking at other places. What did she expect? For him to change his mind and beg her to stay? That’d be the day this dish runs away with this spoon. At least he was being honest with her.
“Thanks for telling me.”
He pulled two root beers off the shelf and closed the fridge. “I won’t leave you without anywhere to go. I’ll make sure you’ve found another place before we start renovations.”
She raised her chin. “It’s fine. I’m making my own plans anyway. No worries.” To her amazement, she sounded convincing. She almost believed herself.
Huck’s chest rose in a deep breath. He crutched to the living room doorway and told Emma it was time to eat.
Arianne opened the bottle of strawberry honey and dipped her finger inside. She brought it to her mouth. Tart and sweet melted onto her tongue, reminding her of life’s joys and sorrows.
Emma followed Huck to the table. He pulled out his chair, sat, and then laid his crutches on the floor. Elbows on the table, he laced his fingers together and waited for Emma to pray.
Sometimes the sweetest things in life were the hardest to work for.
~*~
Emma hummed between bites. Arianne sat across from him. He’d gotten used to this routine, to the company. A normalcy he never had growing up. Pretty soon, he’d have the house all to himself again.
A strange feeling curdled deep in his core. For once, it wasn’t dinner. The food was more than edible. It was good.
“Mommy, I like this.”
Arianne’s big smile made the sick feeling worse. He was torn between needing them to go and wanting them to stay. The stay part couldn’t be what he suspected. Could it?
“Thank you, sweetheart. Sherry taught me how to make it.”
Emma grabbed her mother’s hand. “You’re learning, Mommy.”
Guess he was too.
“One can no more approach people without love than one can approach bees without care.”
—Leo Tolstoy
20
Arianne opened the register and pulled out the day’s revenue.
Missy locked the boutique door and flipped the sign. “Eight hours of staring at the four walls, and all I sold was a pair of shoes to a homecoming queen nominee and a veil to a forty-something woman who plans to dye it black for her Halloween costume.”
One-hundred and twenty-three dollars. “The cup is half-full. Yesterday’s sales were the largest we’ve had in a long time.”
“You need to invest in
some good advertising. I don’t think anyone but the locals know you’re here, and they’re all married. Well, except us.”
Arianne ignored the jab, closed the register, and made her way to the safe. “As I’ve said before, advertising costs money I don’t have right now. Hopefully, one day soon.”
That went for the marriage thing as well. But to do that again she’d have to trust a man, and with her record it wasn’t likely to happen. The cup is half-full. You don’t need a man. The cup is half-full. Maybe if she had a doughnut to dip in it, she’d believe.
“Mommy, is it time to go home yet?” Emma rubbed her eyes and yawned.
Home. Adjusting back to apartment life would be hard for Emma when the time came. For her too, really. “Yes, it’s time.”
The safe clicked the numbers of Arianne’s birthdate. A no-no in the world of safe money keeping, she knew, but it was easy to remember, and a burglar would be disappointed in his efforts anyway.
Missy pushed the ancient vacuum over the shop floor. The thing was loud as a freight train and just as heavy. Emma followed Arianne to the glass counter where she’d stashed the mail that afternoon. Bill…credit card offer…grocery ad…bill…a letter for Missy.
Arianne waved her sister over. Missy turned off the vacuum and took the letter. Emma’s reflection in the display window made faces back at the girl. Arianne laughed and played along, thankful the rest of the square had closed hours ago.
Signs of autumn decorated the town. Golden leaves dusted the tree tops with sprigs of red throughout. Pumpkins lined the porch railing and each step of the B&B on the square. The crisp air meant sweaters and jeans, hot cider, and apple pie. Nothing was more beautiful than New England in fall.
She patted Emma’s head. “Let’s go before people think we’ve lost our minds.” She turned to Missy. “You got the rest?”
Missy’s face was as white as the wedding gown behind her. She gaped at the letter, wide-eyed, mouth open.
“What is it?” Arianne reached for the letter but Missy pulled away.
“Nothing.” Missy folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket. She shrugged as she reached for the vacuum. “Jury duty.”
No one liked jury duty, but Arianne had never seen someone that upset over it. “Well, let me know when you need off, and I’ll cover it.”
Missy nodded and started the vacuum, keeping her back to them.
“Goodnight.” Emma slipped her hand into Arianne’s, and they walked to their car. A strange sensation floated on the breeze and traveled down Arianne’s spine. She’d experienced this discomfort before and it never ended well.
~*~
Huck stood tall on the sidewalk of the doctor’s office and sucked in a deep breath of crisp October air. Freedom. He’d missed his old friend. Now for the celebration campfire tonight with his crutches and wheelchair as kindling.
He stepped off the sidewalk and fought for balance. The Aircast Boot had him striding to his truck like a tipsy cowboy who’d been in the saddle too long. He wouldn’t complain. He was back in his jeans, could legally drive, and he and Lamar had signed a contract last week to open their sporting goods store.
Huck maneuvered his pickup onto the highway. He flipped the heat on low to warm his foot, only protected from the cold air by a sock. The light up ahead turned yellow and he slowed the truck to a stop behind a semi. A Harley Sportster Forty-Eight pulled in the turn lane beside him; the driver was dressed in layers against the cold. Sunlight gleamed off the orange metal flake paint and chrome pipes. She was a beauty. The driver revved the engine. The light turned green, and with the same confidence Huck flaunted before his accident, the driver sped away, rattling doors and disturbing the peace.
No, freedom hadn’t fully returned. He’d thought about getting back on a bike, but the idea scared him witless. And so did paying his respects to Giada. He’d memorized every word of her obituary he’d read it so often. At least a dozen times he’d picked up the phone to call her parents and apologize but hung up instead. He needed to tell Giada he was sorry, even if she couldn’t hear him.
But he was a coward.
This whole turn of events—Uncle Marty’s death, the accident, Arianne—hit him like a massive earthquake and crumbled the wall he’d spent years building around himself. Now that he was left with no defenses, one wrong move and a thief could take him down. Where fear was a robber itself, the real bandit had honey-colored curls, full red lips, and a heart of gold. Arianne scared him more than anything.
At the edge of town, the cemetery flag waved in the breeze, as if signaling him that now was the time to make peace. He gulped. Fingers shook against the steering wheel. Another four-hundred yards and he’d confront his biggest regret. He owed Giada that much.
A homemade sign on a pink poster board advertised free kittens. He slammed the brakes then whipped the truck into the driveway at the last second, shoved the gear into park, got out, and headed for the house.
~*~
Sharp, tiny claws dug into his skin. Huck gritted his teeth, pulled out the neck of his hooded sweatshirt, and peeked inside. “Knock it off, you little rat. I just saved you from the pound.”
He shifted the kitten and held it tighter against him to keep it from using his chest as a scratching post. Not yet brave enough to attempt the front steps in his new boot, he entered the house through the back door.
A meaty aroma hit his nose. He sniffed his way to the stovetop where chili simmered. Steam lifted from the red juice. He loved coming home to this.
His sweatshirt meowed. “Knock it off, varmint. I’m taking you to your mama.”
Female voices echoed down the hall. He followed them to his room. Arianne held his bare pillow under her chin and shimmied on a fresh pillowcase. He liked the way she kept the house clean, everything in its place.
“Hi, Mr. Huck!” Emma bounced over to him and strangled his legs. Her head leaned back to look at him. “Hey, you can walk.”
“Sure can.”
The welcome smile on Arianne’s face dimmed, and she lowered the pillow to the bed. Huck cocked his head to the side and opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but the kitten nipped him. “Ah, you little devil.”
Emma released his legs and stepped away.
“Not you, kid.” It took him a few seconds, but he managed to kneel. “I gotcha somethin’.” His breath hitched as he reached inside his shirt and yanked the claws from his flesh.
Emma leaned in to see. The hissing fur ball calmed when it saw the light of day. “A kitten! Oh, Mommy, look. A kitten.”
That smile was worth it all. “Be careful. I think it’s part piranha.”
The feline meowed during the transfer. Emma snuggled it under her chin and rocked back and forth. The evil thing turned to mush in the girl’s arms. “Can I keep it, Mr. Huck?”
“It’s all yours, kid.”
Emma left the room, rocking the cat like a baby. Arianne’s lips flattened into a serious line. Uh, oh. What’d he do now?
“You shouldn’t have done that, Huck.”
“Why?”
She offered him a hand up, then turned away and pulled a blanket from the laundry basket. “It’s hard enough.”
The scent of fabric softener filled the room as she flicked the blanket into the air and spread it over the bed. When she wouldn’t meet his eyes, he stepped closer and touched her elbow. “What do you mean?”
Arianne sighed and concentrated on his closet door. “She’s not going to take it well when we leave. She loves it here. And that cat’s going to make it harder. We can’t take it with us, and leaving it behind will break her heart.”
“We’ll figure it out. You’re not going anywhere for a while and—”
“You’re walking on your own now.” She turned.
Sadness mixed with fear and desperation showed in her eyes. It rattled him.
“We’ll be leaving soon. You don’t really need us anymore.”
Oh, but he did. Five months suddenly wasn’t long
enough, and the thought of them leaving made him suffocate. “I…I’m not finished with physical therapy. I’ve got four weeks before I can walk without this boot.”
“You’ll be fine now on your own.” She blinked several times as if trying not to cry. Would leaving be hard for her, too? His traitorous heart hoped so.
Arianne put her palm flat against his chest. “You’ve been so kind to her. But, please, no more gifts. You’re the only man in Emma’s life right now, and she’s eating it up.” She swallowed. “This is a business arrangement, and she won’t understand at the end when we go our separate ways.”
He wrapped his hand around hers. His heartbeat pounded beneath them. Blood pulsed in his neck and wrists. Intense longing flooded him. He’d never wanted a woman so bad in his life.
What if he told her he wanted this to be more than a business arrangement? Would she stay?
The words stuck in his throat. What if she didn’t feel the same way about him as he did her? A fear he’d never really dealt with before. He rubbed his thumb across her fingers and nodded instead. She gave him a weak smile.
Arianne turned away and took her soft hand with her. “The nights are getting colder. I washed you an extra blanket this time.”
“Thanks.” His voice was husky.
“Supper’s ready.” Arianne propped the basket on her curvy hip and left the room.
Huck stared at his neatly made bed. Extra blanket or not, his nights just got colder.
“To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee, and revery.”
—Emily Dickinson
21
Clouds swept across a gunmetal sky. The wind blew crispy orange and brown leaves around the town. Arianne sat on a stool behind the register and stared out the window at the bleak world. The image mirrored her heart. As much as she tried to deny it, the thought of moving back upstairs tore her heart in two. Emma wouldn’t be the only one to miss the wide outdoors. The comfort of a real home.
Huck.
She’d tried not to let him into her heart again, but his kindness toward Emma broke any iron-clad defenses she owned. The very reason she didn’t refuse when Huck offered to take Emma to work with him today. Too many nights she’d lain awake, imagining them all as a real family. Easy to do when they’d fallen into a routine of asking about each other’s day, laughing at the dinner table, tucking Emma into bed together. She never should’ve allowed that last one, but Emma had begged, and she couldn’t bear to tell her no when the little girl had been denied so much already.
How to Charm a Beekeeper's Heart Page 15
