Come to the Lake

by Macarthur, Autumn

  What might have thrilled her if things were different, now just fueled her resolve to keep him at arm’s length.

  When things weren’t different, knowing he might want to be more than friends and sparring partners just made it worse. Being around him stirred up feelings she wanted to ignore. Reminded her too much why she was exactly the wrong girl for a guy like him, a guy who longed for kids of his own.

  Once they had the furniture moved and the tree in the right place, she’d do her darnedest to go back to her standard operating procedure. Avoiding Ryan as much as she possibly could. Keeping the memories at bay and her unruly emotions under better control.

  Not easy to avoid anyone in a community of fewer than two hundred people. Some might say impossible. Especially when they were more or less neighbors. And when even her best friend and her best friend’s husband seemed determined to matchmake them.

  But she had to try.

  She’d manage it. Somehow. For his sake and her own. She wasn’t the right girl for him.

  And the man was far too disturbing to her peace of mind.

  Chapter 4

  Setting up the trees for Mrs. Parks and Nancy Johannsen was a snap compared to helping Claire arrange things at the school. The toughest challenge Ryan found with the two older ladies was evading Nancy’s insistence he stay for another cup of coffee and few more of her homemade pepparkakor.

  As he’d already eaten more than a few of her addictively delicious spice cookies, and past experience warned if he sat down, Nancy would keep him there chatting for hours, his arrangement to help Claire at the school was a blessing.

  Though after an hour of shuffling furniture around the classroom three times over and trying the tree in three different locations, he’d gone well past starting to doubt that. Next year, he really might leave her to haul in her own puny tree. He could’ve split several tons of firewood in the time satisfying her requirements took.

  If her requirements actually were satisfied.

  As she walked around the classroom assessing the tree from every angle, Claire turned to face him. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “It’s okay.” It was. He didn’t have anywhere better to be. Though it didn’t sound too much like a genuine apology. More a pretense at politeness she felt she ought to do.

  Then she smiled, a wide bright smile he wished would light up her face more often. “I really am grateful for your patience with all this. I’m not being difficult. I just want things how I want them.”

  “You’re not being difficult,” he repeated her words and quirked an eyebrow. “O. Kay. Millions might disagree, but I’ll go along with your little fantasy.” She should guess from his light tone he was joking.

  She laughed. “You’re not supposed to say that! You’re supposed to say, ‘No, Claire, of course, you aren’t being difficult. I’ve loved moving The Monster and every chair and desk in the room so many times.’ That’s the correct answer.”

  “‘No, Claire, of course, you aren’t being difficult. I’ve loved moving The Monster and every chair and desk in the room so many times.’” Like before, he mimicked her words and tone.

  Their gazes met and clung in a moment of shared amusement that flipped something in his chest head over heels.

  Then she glanced away fast, spinning around so her back was toward him. “Won’t be much longer. I just need to check a few things.” Her voice lost its laughter and became brisk and businesslike.

  Relaxing against her desk, he waited for her to make up her mind about the latest setup. She stood in front of him, hair shifting softly on her shoulders as she tipped her head side to side.

  Sometime between him leaving to deliver the other trees and him returning, she’d loosened her hair from its braid. It suited her, even more than her usual style, though he suspected Maddie had more to do with making her look prettier than Claire had. Her hands-on-hips stance in front of him drew his attention unavoidably to the way her cute dress and leggings revealed rather than hid her curves.

  Quickly, he forced his gaze to the brightly colored artwork pinned up all around the room.

  Wasn’t easy to look away. Wasn’t as much help as he’d hoped, either.

  Staring at the students’ paintings raised thoughts almost as unwelcome. When would he have kids of his own to go to school here?

  He trusted God, of course. But waiting so long when all his buddies were married with kids of their own wasn’t easy. Mom surprised him by suggesting he try internet dating and sent him links she’d found to Christian sites full of happy-ever-after success stories.

  Trouble was, he didn’t want just any woman to be the mother of his children. He wanted Claire.

  The way things were looking, he’d have a long wait.

  Though she joked and bantered, he sensed a keep-your-distance chill beneath her fiery surface. With him, but not anyone else. The rest of the townfolk, she hugged every time she met them.

  Maybe her being different with him was a good sign? No way to know for sure.

  He knew the response he’d get if he suggested a date. Best to avoid being too obvious about his feelings till he saw definite signs of a thaw.

  It seemed about as likely as the frozen lake thawing for Christmas.

  No matter how unlikely, he let himself hope. Today wasn’t the first time in the past year he’d caught her looking at him and then turning away fast when she realized he’d noticed. In those split-second connections, he couldn’t help wondering if she really did feel as antagonistic toward him as she appeared.

  Then, just like it had today, her freezer-burn chill soon popped up again, leaving him guessing. Only Claire and the Lord knew what was really in her heart.

  Whether I marry and have kids is in Your hands, Lord. Just like how Claire feels for me. Please, though, bless me with more patience while I wait. Either way, whether she thaws toward me or not, I’m going to need it.

  Claire still stood assessing the room. His suspicions grew by the minute. More than making sure the setup worked safely and well for her students motivated her. She’d deliberately chosen to keep him waiting.

  Perfect way to pay him back for messing with her plans and ensure he didn’t make the same mistake again.

  It worked, though it also raised an urge to laugh as he wondered what her next move would be. As if this were a game of checkers, move and countermove. A man could never be bored with a woman like Claire.

  Though he’d definitely need to pray at least once a day for a double helping of not only patience, but forbearance and most of the other fruits of the Spirit, too.

  As if she sensed his gaze had switched back to her, she swiveled toward him. A hint of laughter lifted her mobile lips and lit her eyes. Maybe, finally, the classroom was arranged just how she wanted it, and the tree positioned just where she wanted it. Or maybe she’d just dreamed up some new way to get him to rearrange the room.

  Insisting he shuffle everything a fourth time would surely be taking things too far, even for Claire.

  Though if she asked, he’d do it and even smile as he did. No matter that it might make him look like a pushover. Refusing or showing irritation would mean Claire won this round.

  “Okay, if you’re wondering if I’ll ask you to move it all again, you’ll be pleased to hear, I think this time it should work as it is.”

  “Really?” He raised his eyebrows in doubt. “You’re sure nothing needs switching around?”

  Her smirk told him his guess had been right. “Nope. You’ve had enough punishment for one day. I’m hoping you learned your lesson already.”

  “What lesson would that be?” He didn’t attempt to keep the edge from his voice.

  “A simple one — no more offering me help I don’t need.”

  “Don’t we all need help sometimes? We’re all different parts of the same body, no man is an island, all that stuff?”

  “No man is an island, but that doesn’t mean a woman can’t be,” she quipped, her wide grin suggesting that if t
his was a game of checkers, she thought she’d just taken his King.

  Lips tightened, he shook his head and imitated her eye roll. No need to say more. Quick enough on the uptake, she’d get the message.

  Her smile faded. Hands clasped in front of her, head tilted to one side, her cute gesture of apology appealed so strongly he couldn’t even pretend to stay angry with her.

  “Joking aside, I know it might look a lot like I made you move it all so many times for fun, but honestly, I didn’t. The other two places we tried the tree didn’t seem safe enough. Now it’s far enough away from all the different workstations the kids use. And I’m hoping The Monster is now secure enough in the corner so even if someone climbed on it, it wouldn’t topple over.”

  So she hadn’t done it deliberately? Doubts still lingered. But he wasn’t complaining. More time with Claire, even if spent shuffling furniture, was no hardship.

  “Best to be prepared for all possibilities. Especially when some of the Sunset Point kids are on the…” He paused, searching for the best word. “Uh, adventurous side.”

  “Definitely.” She snorted. “Or high-spirited, another word parents like to use to describe it. My first-aid certificate is up to date, but that’s knowledge I hope never to need to use.” She studied the tree again. “Maybe I should screw some sort of fastener into the wall and tie the tree to it? That would make extra sure they couldn’t pull it over.”

  As far as he knew, Mrs. Parks hadn’t bothered with that, in all the years he’d delivered the tree with Dad. He couldn’t decide if Claire was simply more careful, or if the kids were less afraid of her than the formidable older teacher.

  “Sounds a wise precaution. I can do it tomorrow if you’d like.” He carefully scrubbed any suggestion of eagerness to see her again from his voice. “I have some big, solid eyebolts in my workshop. They’d be perfect for the job.”

  Shifting her attention back to him, she shook her head, dusting off her hands as if the job was already done. “I can manage. You know I’m happy to do my own DIY. That small task is well within my abilities. I won’t need to ask for any more help from you.”

  Probably true. Over the summer and most fall weekends, she’d done a pretty good job working on her old fixer-upper house, taking on repairs most women wouldn’t think of tackling on their own. Repairs many men wouldn’t attempt, either.

  And good thing, or he’d be out of business.

  He didn’t try to argue with her. Just hunched one shoulder to show he wasn’t bothered, either way. “Okay. Your choice. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  Did disappointment dim the spark in her eyes, just for a moment? As if she wanted him to argue. He stifled a chuckle. Her contrary nature always kept him guessing.

  “I won’t change my mind.” Her voice rang firm, without a trace of doubt. Then she nodded toward the door. “C’mon, school’s out for the day, for us and not just the kids. It’ll soon be dark and likely snowing again, too. Time to lock up and leave.”

  Class dismissed. With a smile, but definitely dismissed. So typically Claire.

  In the cloakroom, he pulled on his coat, hat, and gloves, then stood waiting while she struggled into her coat and snow boots. With the boots wrestled into place at last, she stood. “Sorry to take so long. Us Texans don’t get a lot of practice with all this cold-weather gear, you know.”

  “Take your time. Like I said, I’m not in a rush to get anywhere else. You’ve adapted better than most newcomers to the winters here at the lake. For a Southerner, that is.” He added heavy emphasis to the last sentence, letting the words curl off his tongue with mock condescension. Just enough to needle her ever so slightly.

  She huffed and rolled her eyes again but didn’t reply.

  Her guess there’d be more snow to follow the earlier fall turned out accurate. As they stepped off the schoolroom porch, occasional fat flakes floated around them. Dense clouds hung low over the mountains, their dull gray hiding the peaks and the usual alpenglow.

  “Heavier falls overnight, for sure,” he predicted.

  “So I’ll get plenty more cold-weather practice this winter.” She peered around, puzzlement wrinkling her forehead. “Where’s your truck?”

  “I left it at home after I delivered the last tree.” He shrugged. “I had to go right past home anyway, and no point using gas driving here when I can easily walk.”

  So his attitude was downright un-American. He liked to walk. Maybe he hadn’t been too unhappy with the thought of walking Claire home, either. If he’d driven here, she would surely have refused a ride the short distance to her house.

  Since his tree kept her late at the school, he had a responsibility to make sure she made it safely indoors before the snow started falling in earnest. That was all.

  Or pretty much all. He wouldn’t try pretending he didn’t have an ulterior motive, too.

  “Okay.” Unusually for Claire, she didn’t make an issue of it. It would have made no sense if she had, but that didn’t always stop her. “I guess that means we’re headed the same way, then.”

  She stomped off through the few inches of snow that had fallen earlier, since anyone last cleared it. He fell into step beside her.

  Her determined pace limited small talk and carried them to her house in under a minute.

  A glance at her woodshed showed plenty of logs, but only a couple of baskets worth of split firewood. He eyed Claire, wondering whether to offer.

  “Thank you, but no.” Her firm words showed she’d noted his glance. “You know I can split my own.”

  No point arguing, though his exasperated huff should give her the message he wanted to. “Okay. Up to you.”

  A fluffy tabby cat, barely half-grown and wearing a blue collar, emerged from Claire’s porch and meowed.

  “Hello, Mr. Mehitabel,” she practically purred to the cat. Pity, she didn’t talk to people like that — or maybe she did, just not him.

  He’d heard a cat turned up on her doorstep a few weeks back, and she decided to keep it when no one else admitted ownership. Installed her own cat door, of course.

  Since he lived just over the back fence, he’d heard her doing it.

  “Ryan, do you know anything about cats?”

  Her sudden question surprised him. She wasn’t someone who ever asked for advice.

  “I’m no expert, but Mom’s always had a cat or two. You’ve probably seen her current furbaby, Sacha, out in the yard. Why?”

  She blew out a long breath. “I know nothing about cats or dogs. We never had pets growing up. The nearest vet is twenty miles away. And the internet wasn’t much help. A zillion sites, and all saying different things.”

  “If you want to make that a zillion and one different opinions, ask away.” He smiled.

  “I’m wondering why he’s always so hungry and if it’s okay to let him eat as much as he wants.” Her forehead creased as she studied the cat. “I figured once he was with me a week or so, he’d stop eating so much. But he still wants way more than what the cat food instructions say. It’s hard to see if he’s gained any weight, because of all that fur. I don’t want to overfeed him. But he meows so pitifully if I don’t.”

  “I guess, with abandoned pets, it might take a while for them to trust they have a good home now?” He wasn’t quite sure though. Best not to mess up the one time Claire willingly asked for help. “Want me to ask Mom?”

  The cat stretched delicately and padded across the snow to them, rubbing against their legs. Ryan bent to pet the friendly creature, then skimmed a gentle hand along its thickly furred belly.

  Straightening, he turned to Claire. “Uh, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure this cat isn’t a he. And though it’s unusual for this time of year, she has plans to present you with proof.”

  Unmistakable pain flashed across her face, so fast he almost missed it.

  The eye roll and huff he’d expected soon replaced that hurting, crumpled expression. Maybe he’d imagi
ned it, along with the way she’d seemed to sag in on herself for a moment.

  The hand he’d automatically extended to support her dropped back to his side.

  “I assumed he — I mean, she — was a boy because of the blue collar. She had it on when she turned up on my porch.” Her hands rose to cover her ears. “I don’t think I want to hear the reason she’s so hungry.”

  A chuckle escaped him. “So I won’t say it. I’m sure you know the facts of life and can figure it out for yourself.”

  “Thanks for that vote of confidence.” Droll sarcasm heightened her slight Texas drawl. “Though it could be misplaced. I’ve had this cat three weeks, and I didn’t realize it intends to thank me with some unexpected Christmas gifts.”

  “That’s how it goes. Find one stray cat, get six kittens free.”

  “Six?” The horrified word shot from her as her eyebrows winged up to her hair. She waved her hand as if shooing him away. “Go home, Ryan. I don’t need any more of your ‘help’, whether it’s landing me with the monster tree or telling me my cat’s expecting.”

  Laughing, he went.

  So he had no clue how Claire really felt for him? God knew. And he trusted the Lord planned for his good, no matter what. That was enough for now. It had to be.

  Chapter 5

  After a whirlwind final week of school, Claire breathed a huge sigh of relief as she opened her front door on Friday afternoon. Ten minutes later, she sat slumped on her sofa, feet up. Mrs. Mehitabel purred on her lap, a fire blazed in the woodstove, and she sipped from a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

  At last, she could let herself relax.

  For a short time, anyway.

  Her To Do list remained endless. As soon as she crossed one item off, she added two more to the end. The few weeks with no school during the Christmas break just meant she’d be busy with other stuff. This weekend was no exception.