Cabin Fever
Page 23
Then she opened the door, smiling brightly enough to light the staircase at her back, and distance was the farthest thing from his mind. That quick, he wanted her again, as if they hadn’t had incredible sex five or six times in the past two and a half days.
“Hey, sweetie,” she greeted Danny. “You want to run upstairs and get some breakfast?”
“I already eated. See?” He tugged at his pajama top, sniffing the stain there. “Sausage.” He sniffed, then licked, a second stain. “An’ pancakes wif butter ’n’ syrp.”
“Don’t lick your clothes. Go on and get dressed.” Leanne gave him a playful swat as he pushed past her and thundered up the stairs. “Thanks for feeding and delivering him.”
“Anytime.” Cole forced himself to take a step back, then pivot back toward his own house.
“Hey . . . how about dinner tonight? I’ll cook.”
Okay, this was it. There were a thousand simple answers: I’ve got a late appointment. Ryan’s got something at school. I promised the kid this would be father/son time. I’m under house arrest. The kitchen burned down. The kitchen might burn down if you and I get in there together. . . .
Or even simpler: No, thanks. And walk away.
But she looked so damn . . . sweet standing there, and there would always be plenty of time to break it off with her in the future. It wasn’t as if he was in danger of falling for her or anything.
“Sure. I’ll give you a call later.”
THE WEATHER FORECAST CALLED FOR RAIN ON Wednesday, and was dead-on. Nolie awakened to a room that was still night-dark at seven A.M. and the sound of a deluge beating on the cabin roof. Wishing she could stay curled up in bed—or, better yet, curled up in Chase’s bed—she delivered Micahlyn to day care in the rain, then dashed through it from the car to the store, soaking her feet in the process. It thundered on the store’s tin roof, kept traffic on the highway to a minimum, and made customers practically nonexistent.
By one, she’d waited on two people, quilted until her fingers ached, and contemplated bringing in a cot for dreary lazy days. She’d read until her eyes crossed, polished off two candy bars bought in prediet, and turned down an invitation from Leanne Wilson for a take-out lunch from Harry’s. She’d regretted it, too, because she hadn’t seen Leanne since the night they’d gone to the Starlite, and Raine had gone home the day before, and Nolie was discovering all over again how much she missed having girlfriends.
But mostly what she did that long, gray day was think, and mostly what she thought about was Chase. Thought about? Change that to mooned over. Fantasized about. Dreamed of.
And kissed. Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday nights, he’d kissed her goodnight—sweet, lazy, hungry, intoxicating kisses. The kind that could make a woman forget her relative inexperience. The kind that could make even a size sixteen feel slender and desirable and worth getting naked for. The kind of kisses that could rob a woman of her last bit of good sense and make her say yes to just about anything.
The problem was, he didn’t ask for anything.
He wanted her—she’d been achingly aware of his arousal on more than one occasion—so what was he waiting for? For her to make the first move? For the planets to align? For someone better to come along?
Maybe.
It hurt her to think that, and scared her to not think it. She was just so damn insecure, and he was so . . .
Oh, yeah. So . . .
When the bell over the door rang, she eagerly jumped to her feet. She didn’t care who it was, or if they bought anything. She was just happy for the distraction.
The figure came up the center aisle, bundled in an electric-blue slicker a size too big, its hood shadowing the wearer’s face. Rather dowdy polyester pants—the forgiving kind that Nolie’s mother had favored—were tucked into lemon-yellow rain boots, and the handle of a hot-pink umbrella disappeared up one oversized sleeve. Whoever it was certainly didn’t want to be overlooked in the limited visibility.
“Can I help you?”
One pale hand slipped out to push the hood back, then Gloria beamed at her. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”
“Only if you quack when you talk and waddle when you walk.”
“Oh, a little rain is good for us. It can wash away a multitude of woes.” Gloria propped the umbrella against the nearest shelves, shrugged out of her slicker, and hung it on the upended handles of a display of shovels.
“I’m surprised they gave you time off from the day-care center,” Nolie remarked. “The kids all adore you.”
“Of course they do, and I adore them, too. They know I’m an angel, you know.”
“I didn’t realize that.” Nolie bit back her smile. The woman had made the statement so sincerely, as if it were God’s honest truth. And who would argue with her? Anyone who could happily, wholeheartedly care for a few dozen children, most under the age of six, all day, day after day, certainly qualified as an angel in Nolie’s book.
“Oh, yes. Of course, children are much more astute about those things than adults.” Gloria gave herself a shake to dislodge stray raindrops, then turned on the megawatt smile. “And how are you settling in Bethlehem, Jolie?”
“Just fine.” She thought of Chase and smiled. “I’m glad I came here. It’s a great town.”
“Oh, yes, it certainly is. Not that there’s anything wrong with Whiskey Creek, besides that name. And the fact that Case isn’t there. Where is he now? Hidden away at that dusty old cabin?”
“Probably lying in the hammock and enjoying the rain.”
Stillness swept over Gloria for an instant, then abruptly she bobbed her head. “You’re right—he is. You know, that boy needs a job. It’s not good for a man with a mind like his to sit around idle all day.”
Nolie was surprised by the protectiveness Gloria felt, especially since Nolie’d said the same thing not long ago. “He’ll get one when he’s ready.”
“Yep. But more than a job, he needs you and Martha Lyn.”
Nolie’s gaze jerked to the older woman even as a blush began creeping up her neck. “You think so?” The plaintive, hopeful note in her voice was pathetic, but she couldn’t do anything about it.
Gloria was wearing that earnestly sincere look again. “Oh, no, Nola, I know. It’s a sure thing.”
Maybe in your world, Nolie scoffed silently. In her world, nothing was sure besides death and taxes and her boundless love for Micahlyn. Though she would very much like to believe Chase was, too.
Gloria reached across the counter to pat Nolie’s hand. “Our worlds are one and the same, dear.”
A chill snaked down Nolie’s spine. “Wh— How—” Then she smiled uneasily. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“Good. Because you didn’t.” Gloria beamed at her, then looked around the room. “This place brings back memories. Did I tell you I’d worked in this old store before?”
“No, you didn’t. For my great-grandfather?”
“I did my best, but he was a difficult man to help. Always wanted things his own way, hardheaded, wouldn’t compromise to save his life. A little compromise might have saved his life.”
“What do you mean? He died an old man.”
“His life was over long before he died.” Gloria’s voice was soft, distant, and underlaid with pity. “He drove that girl of his away and was too proud to go after her and make things right. He never got to see her grow into a woman or become a wife and a mother. He denied himself the chance to meet his only granddaughter and her only daughter. He lived all those years bitter and alone because he was more hardheaded than anyone I’ve known.” Her gaze cut to Nolie. “Do you take after him?”
“Oh, no. No way.”
“I hope not. But you’ve got a streak of hardheaded-ness . . .”
Nolie’s mouth dropped open. Her? Hardheaded? Oh, no way, nohow, not in the least! She was the one who hated confrontation, who was such a weenie about standing up for herself, who went along to get along. She didn’t have a stubborn bone in her body.
“I agree, but that’s not me.”
“Oh, no. Man tells you you’re beautiful, and you laugh in his face . . . that’s not being hardheaded at all, now, is it?”
“I didn’t— It’s not—” Nolie drew a heavy breath, then, for reasons she didn’t even understand, she solemnly confided, “I have a mirror back there in the bathroom, several in my car, and even more in my house. I look at myself every day, and I see—”
“What you expect to see. Fair skin, freckles, a few extra pounds. You know what Jase sees? Shiny, coppery red hair that’s fine as silk and soft as satin, pale porcelain skin, eyes the color of a summer sky before a storm, a cupid’s-bow mouth with one freckle right in the center of one arch. He sees strength and curves and sweet, pure womanliness.” Gloria raised both hands in a shrug. “He sees beauty.”
Her insides quavering, Nolie breathed deeply again, then sank into her chair. “He told you that?” she asked, expecting a negative answer.
“He didn’t have to tell me. He told you.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, Gloria went on. “I have a suggestion, Nolie—it is Nolie, isn’t it? Why don’t you turn the store over to me for an hour or two and take Louanne up on that lunch invitation? You’ll only have three more customers today, and I can wait on them as easily as you.”
Nolie wanted to go back to the subject of Chase, to demand answers to a dozen questions, while at the same time she wanted to declare him off-limits in conversation. And if it was questions she had, well, how did Gloria know about Louan—Leanne’s invitation? And how in the world could she possibly know there would be only three more customers?
“It’s my job to know,” Gloria said in a reassuring voice. She stepped through the back-room door to retrieve the rain jacket Nolie had hung there, then reached without hesitation into the drawer—out of nine!—where Nolie kept her purse and presented both to her with a pleased smile. “I may have a problem with names, but I keep track of everything else.”
“But—”
“Go on, dear, and don’t worry for a minute. I know exactly where to go for help if I need it.” She rolled her gaze heavenward, then gave a big wink and a laugh.
It wasn’t the best idea in the world. Some part of Nolie recognized that, but she couldn’t come up with a single reason to say why. She had no doubt the woman was trustworthy, or the good folks of Bethlehem would never let her work with their children. She did need to get out, just for a while, and she really did want to see Leanne, and . . . Suddenly it seemed a perfectly wonderful idea. She shrugged into the jacket, dug her keys from her purse, and stepped outside into the rain.
“By the way, Noreen.” Gloria stuck her head out the door and grinned. “If there’s a God’s honest truth, is there also a God’s dishonest truth?” With another wink and a grin, she disappeared back inside.
Nolie walked to her car in a daze. Okay, so the woman was psychic or something. She could read minds like the people Nolie had seen on late-night infomercials, only she was for real. That was the only way to explain it.
Well, either that, or . . .
She really was an angel.
FOR THE MOST PART, THE HAMMOCK WAS PROTECTED from the rain, though an occasional gust of wind blew a sprinkling of drops across Chase’s legs, turning the denim indigo. It had been coming down for hours, slacking once in a while to give the saturated ground a chance to recover, then returning with a vengeance. It made everything smell rain-shower clean—hey, wasn’t that the scent of the soap in his bathroom?—and turned the greens and browns of the hillside into deeper, richer shades.
It was also creating a nice, shallow lake between his cabin and Nolie’s, and gouging the ruts on the last uphill section of the road a little deeper. It was a lousy day for being out and about, but just about ideal for being lazy at home. In fact, if he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing for just five minutes, he could probably go right to sleep and stay there until Nolie came home from work.
He was trying it when raindrops splattered across his face. Not even the strongest wind had brought them higher than his knees, and he hadn’t felt even the slightest of breezes just now. Irritably curious, he opened his eyes and saw a familiar face watching him. Familiar—not necessarily welcome. “Sophy, isn’t it?”
Smiling, she sat down on the porch floor, back against the wall. “At your service. Is this how you spend all your days?”
“Can you think of anything better to do?”
“Oh . . . how about helping people? That’s the business I’m in. That used to be the business you were in. Don’t you miss your law practice?”
He lifted his head to scowl at her. “How do you know—?”
“Don’t go blaming Nolie again. Remember, I told you—I know everything.”
“You’re arrogant enough to be a lawyer yourself.”
Modestly she shook her head. “My talents are better used elsewhere. Did you know your church is having a picnic Saturday afternoon at City Park? Lots of people will be there . . . including your folks. You should go.”
He didn’t bother to point out that he didn’t have a church, not anymore, or that the last people he wanted to see were his parents . . . or maybe Fiona and her current husband. He considered it a moment, then shook his head. No, it was his parents. If he never saw them again, he could die a happy man.
“Nolie and Micahlyn will be there, too, at least for a little while.”
“Good. They’ll have fun.”
“Your sister will also be there.”
The last time he’d seen his sister popped into his mind as clearly as if it had been yesterday. She’d been twenty-four years old, so much more grown-up than the eighteen-year-old he’d left when he went away to college. Defying their parents to attend his law school graduation hadn’t been easy for her—defiance wasn’t one of her strong suits—but she’d done it rather than leave him to mark such a momentous occasion by himself, and he’d been more grateful than he could say.
And more hurt than he could say when she hadn’t been willing to do it again to attend his wedding.
“Then I assume she’ll have fun, too.”
“And her son. Your nephew. You didn’t know you were an uncle, did you?”
Her casual question sent an old pain stabbing through him. No, he hadn’t known. But he wasn’t surprised. Leanne had been raised with the notion that she could have anything she wanted, and what she’d wanted most, at least as a teenage girl, was a husband, home, and children of her own. He should have met his brother-in-law, though, and he certainly should have met his nephew. He should have known. She should have told him.
Like he’d told her about Fiona? An invitation to the wedding, sent in care of their parents, was the only information he’d offered.
Like he’d told her about the divorce? His arrest? His subsequent twenty-two months in prison?
Like he’d told her he was back?
“Who did she marry?” he asked stiffly.
“Who? Your sister? Oh, no one. After she got pregnant, the father decided he wasn’t ready to be a father, so he took off. She’s raising Danny alone. He’s a cute kid. Looks like his mother, and a little like you. He’s got that Wilson coloring.”
“How did you—” He broke off, and his jaw tightened. “I forgot. You know everything. Well, do you know what I’m thinking right now?”
Sophy gave him a poor-sap look, then shook her finger in admonishment. “It’s not nice to think such things. The grandfather whose name you bear would wash your mouth out with soap if he were here.”
Lucky guess. Of course, how lucky did a person have to be to match the thoughts she couldn’t see with the hostility she could? Still, a twinge of discomfort spread through him as he slowly sat up. He didn’t know this woman from Eve, but she seemed to know an awful lot about him. On top of that, she was one hell of a busybody
. Could she be trusted to keep her mouth shut, or would she amuse herself by telling precisely the people he didn’t want to know that he was back?
“Where did you come from?” His tone was a sharp indication that his patience was stretched thin. She must have heard it, but it didn’t seem to concern her.
“A long time ago in a place far, far away . . .” Once more she smiled, looking about fifteen with her blond curls frizzing around her face. “Oh, you meant just now, didn’t you? I hiked through the woods.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t drive.”
“Where were you going?”
“Here.”
“Why?”
She gave him a look that made him feel like a very slow child. “What have we been doing the last few minutes? Talking.”
“So you hiked through the woods in the rain to talk to me.”
“Bingo.”
“Even though I have no desire to talk to you.”
“Sometimes people don’t want to talk to me. Sometimes I have to sort of force the issue.” She shrugged carelessly. “That’s what I do.”
“You annoy people. That’s what you do.”
That earned him another charming grin. “Aw, I’m not annoying you, Chase. You just say that because I make you think about things you’ve spent the last half of your life ignoring.”
He eased to his feet and walked past her to the door. There he turned back. “If I’m so good at ignoring things, then maybe I can learn to ignore you.”
“Don’t count on it.” She scrambled to her feet and dusted her damp clothes. “I’m impossible to ignore—but easy to forget.”
“I doubt that,” he said dryly, letting the screen door slam behind him to punctuate the words. He didn’t make it more than five feet, though, before he went back and pushed the door open again. “Hey—”
All he’d wanted to do was tell her—warn her—to keep what she knew to herself. But he slowly closed the screen door without saying a word.
Because she was gone. Disappeared. Vanished.
And damned if he could figure out how.