by Helen Conrad
Jeremy solemnly handed back the lunch box and skipped out of the room. Carly wanted to throw the thing at Joe’s head.
“Anything else?” she asked evenly.
Joe shook his head, but Beth suddenly gasped and put a hand over her open mouth. “Oh no.”
Fear gripped Carly’s heart. “What is it?” she asked with icy apprehension.
Beth’s eyes were huge, staring at Carly, and she still didn’t speak.
“What, Beth?” Joe asked, removing her hand from her face. “What is it?”
“I forgot,” the little girl whispered, eyes full of agony. “Today is Teacher Appreciation Day. I’m supposed ... I’m supposed...”
“What?” they both asked.
“I’m supposed to bring thirty-six cookies,” she whispered. “I forgot.”
Carly slumped against the counter, all fight seeping away. Thirty-six cookies. There was no way...no way....
They were both looking at her expectantly. What did they think? Was she supposed to wiggle her nose and make three dozen cookies appear out of nowhere? She couldn’t say a word. Hope dimmed in their eyes.
Joe coughed, then laughed shortly. “No problem. We’ll stop at Millie’s. She always has cookies in the cookie jar.”
Beth’s eyes brightened. “Millie always has cookies,” she agreed. “Oh, I just love Millie!”
Carly watched, still in shock, as they piled into the truck and started down the drive. Beth turned to wave goodbye through the back window, but Carly could barely manage a limp-wristed salute in return.
What had just happened here? She’d tried hard, but she hadn’t quite made the grade, had she? And she’d been one-upped by some marvelous creature named Millie who hadn’t even had to lift a finger to get in on the action.
She looked around the messy kitchen and groaned. Maybe it was time to admit that she wasn’t cut out for this sort of life. Things weren’t working out at all. She’d come here for some peace and quiet in order to think over her priorities. But quiet was impossible with children this age. They were too intense. They needed too much attention and supervision. And what kind of peace was achievable with Joe around?
She paused for a minute, thinking about him, letting the reactions that she had been repressing all morning surface. If he’d been a different sort of man... but he was disturbingly masculine, impossible to ignore. And that constant sense of mocking laughter playing hide-and-seek in the shadows of his eyes-laughter directed at her. She shuddered. No. She couldn’t stay. This wasn’t the place for her.
Marching into the den, she dialed Doris’s number. When her cousin’s voice answered, she started to speak, but quickly realized she’d reached the answering machine, so waited for the beep to give her message. “Hi, Doris. It’s Carly. I’m afraid this isn’t working at all. There’s got to be somewhere else I can stay. A park bench, maybe. The cafe after-hours. Anyplace. Preferably without men or children. Let me know when you can come and get me. Thanks.”
There. It was done. She was going to get out of here. She turned slowly, almost apprehensively, and wondered why she didn’t feel more elated. But never mind. She would look in on Jeremy, who was watching cartoons in the family room, then clean up the kitchen and go upstairs and repack her clothes. She had plenty to do to keep her busy until Doris called.
It was about an hour later when the stranger skulking through the house nearly scared her out of her wits. Carly had been backing out of the den, looking back with a small sense of pleasure at how neat she’d made it, when the woman had materialized just behind her.
“Hello,” the cheery voice rang out, and Carly jumped a foot into the air, letting out a little shriek as she did so. “Oops, steady there.”
The middle-aged woman in a white uniform reached out and gave her support for a moment. “Sorry if I startled you. It’s just me, Nurse Hannah. I come in every morning to check on Mrs. Carrington and bring her supplies.” She jiggled the brown paper bag she carried and smiled as Carly drew back and tried to look pleasant. “Joe told me about you. Nice to have you aboard.”
And she was off, heading for the mysterious green door and the strange mother at the top of the stairs before Carly had time to form any one of the many questions she wanted to ask.
Perhaps that was just as well. After all, she’d be leaving by the end of the day. There was no point delving into all the secrets of the Carrington home if she had no intention of staying.
And that reminded her—it was about time to confront Joe. She’d heard the truck drive up the driveway half an hour before, but he hadn’t come into the house again. Looking out the kitchen window, she could see him working on the tractor just outside the entrance to the barn. It seemed as good a time as any.
Tucking the tails of her crimson silk camp shirt into the waistband of her beige twill pants, she unconsciously smoothed her hair before stepping out onto the porch and starting for where Joe was working. One speech, short and to the point—that was all it would take. She would precisely and succinctly explain why she couldn’t stay, and then she would laugh out loud at his idea that she had been coming on to him the night before. That taken care of, she would turn grandly and walk back with all the dignity at her command. He would be...oh, probably chagrined, chastened, not to mention sorry, to see her go.
The chastening would take time, of course. It couldn’t start until she’d said her piece. And that was probably why he looked so completely un-chagrined as he stood back and watched her approach. He wasn’t going to make this any easier than it had to be.
She stopped a few feet away and looked at him. The ancient jeans hugging his legs had been rubbed to a fine, silvery patina from years of work. The fresh shirt he’d been wearing earlier was hanging on a nail. He’d changed into an old stained jersey shirt which had the sleeves torn off and a jagged rip across the chest. And that revealed something startling. The man had more muscles than she’d realized—hard, rounded muscles that glistened in the morning sunlight.
Carly felt her diaphragm contract, pulling a short, sharp gust of air into her lungs, and she tried to cover it with a hacking cough that let her cover her face with her hands. Quickly she told herself her reaction was because she had been hit with the unfamiliar. After all, she was accustomed to men who wore more clothing when they went to work. Her system wasn’t used to confronting sex appeal this early in the morning.
“You okay?”
He was coming toward her with a determined look on his face. It was obvious he was perfectly capable of giving her a good hard whack on the back if he thought she needed it. She stepped back, stifling her cough, and forced a smile.
“I’m fine, really.”
He stopped and she could have sworn his eyes held regret at his lost opportunity.
“You sure?”
She cleared her throat. “Perfectly.”
He waited. Her mind was blank. She’d come here to tell him something. What on earth... ? She had to say something.
“I... I’m sorry about this morning,” she said, trying to clear her mind. “I guess things got away from me a little.”
He made a dismissive gesture. “Don’t worry about it. It’s like that every morning.”
“Every morning?” How appalling. Who could live that way?
“Sure. That’s the way it is when you have kids.”
Carly bit her lip. Surely not. There must be some way to organize things better. If she were staying one more day, she would....
Hey...she wasn’t staying. And that was the point of her being here, talking to Joe. Right. It all came back to her.
But her speech had somehow lost its zing. She had to think of a new way to present her viewpoint. In the meantime, to cover her uncertainty, she babbled on.
“I guess it was mostly that it was just so different from what I’m used to. I mean, a quiet cup of coffee, half an hour with the newspaper, and then I leave for work...”
His teeth flashed white against his tanned skin. “I knew you wouldn
’t be able to hack it, city girl,” he said, his sweeping glance up and down the length of her as scornful as it was amused. “I’ll take you back into town as soon as I’m finished working on this tractor.”
Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or maybe it was just that she hated to see this as a failure. But she couldn’t let his statement pass. “No. Oh no.” Her pride rose and she couldn’t restrain it. “No, not at all. I... I was just trying to explain why things didn’t go as well as they might have. Next time...”
What was she saying? Next time? Was she crazy? A part of her was yelling “Stop!” but she didn’t seem to be able to.
“Tomorrow I’ll get things under control,” she heard herself saying. “You’ll see.”
He studied her face for a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever,” he said carelessly, then turned to grab a toolbox and carry it into the barn. She watched him go, her shoulders sagging. What had she done? Here she’d been primed for escape, the reasons for leaving all set out logically, and then she’d locked herself in again. What was the matter with her?
Maybe she could salvage something out of this if she followed him into the barn and just kept talking. She went inside, peering into the gloomy space. There were old piles of hay here and there, but mostly it seemed to be used to store ranch equipment.
“No horses?” she asked as she wandered toward where he was going through tool bins.
He looked up as though surprised to see her there. “No, I only have the one horse these days, and I keep him in the stable or out in the pasture. The others were sold off years ago.” He looked out into the yard, a sense of regret in his eyes. “Now that we’re mostly doing produce, it’s too expensive to keep horses. When the kids want to ride, they go over to Millie’s. She still has three or four of them.”
Millie again. She turned and looked at him, back to rummaging among his tools. There was something about his voice when he said her name. “Is Millie your girlfriend?” she asked.
He looked up and his eyes changed. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said shortly. His tone brooked no nonsense. He had no girlfriend. He wanted none. That was final.
“Okay, okay.” She raised her hands in a mock surrender, backed away, and stepped off a four-inch ledge she hadn’t noticed.
The sensation of falling was getting to be a familiar one. This time she didn’t even call out. She landed with a thump on her bottom and bounced backward, flailing idiotically in a pile of hay.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, standing over her.
She shook her head, hoping her cheeks weren’t as bright red as they felt. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, ignoring his outstretched hand as she raised herself into a sitting position. “I can get up by myself.”
His grin was creeping back. Pulling back his hand, he stood back and watched her, eyes hooded. “You are clumsy, aren’t you? First last night on the stairs, and now this.”
She looked up and sighed. “I wanted to talk to you about last night on the stairs,” she began earnestly. “It wasn’t what you thought it was.”
He was still grinning with that particular male arrogance that made any sane woman want to begin screaming in frustrated rage. “Okay, if you say so. But it looks kind of like you want a replay of last night on the stairs, to me.”
This was exactly the kind of thinking she had to stop in its tracks. Attempting to retain at least a shred of dignity, she scrambled to her feet on her own and faced him. “That is absolutely untrue,” she stated heatedly. “Listen. I came here to decide whether or not to marry one man. Why would I want to get involved with another?”
He shrugged. “You got me. I don’t claim to understand it. I’m just observing.” Without another glance her way he picked up a large wrench and started back out toward the tractor.
She brushed herself off and hurried after him. Was she staying for another day? Maybe. But if she was, she wanted to make sure he understood the terms she had to work under. He had climbed up and was bent over the engine of the tractor, so she stood at the nose of the machine, hands on her hips.
“You might as well get one thing straight, Joe. I’m not attracted to you,” she said stoutly.
He turned and gazed directly down into her lying eyes. For once she couldn’t tell if he was laughing or not. “I’m not attracted to you either,” he claimed. “So I guess we have no problem.”
They stared at each other, both fully aware of the blatant untruth they had staked out between them, both determined to make it true if they possibly could.
“This is purely a working relationship,” she went on when she had found her voice again. “No entanglements.”
He nodded slowly, still captured by her gaze. “No entanglements,” he echoed. “It’s a deal.”
She nodded too. There didn’t seem to be anything left to say. Still, she couldn’t turn from him. And then he had dropped back down to the ground and was moving closer, reaching out toward her, and she frowned, starting to twist away.
“You have straw in your hair,” he said, his voice huskier than usual. “I’ll get it.”
She stood very still while he pulled out the hay, piece by piece, forcing herself to watch each straw as it fluttered to the ground, forcing herself to pay no attention to the wall of male skin and sinew presented so close to her face. But her heart was beating so hard, she could barely stand it.
Oh, hurry, she urged silently. Hurry up and go away.
Perversely, he took his time. When he finally drew back, he lingered, looking at her for a long, tense moment. She could hardly breathe. There had to be something she could say to break the electricity and send the sparks flying off into the air, but she couldn’t for the life of her think of a thing.
A humorless smile twisted his lips and he finally turned away. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, not looking at her. “I’ll keep my part of the bargain. You can trust me.”
She never doubted for a moment that she could trust him to do the right thing in any given situation, but that wasn’t the point. The way her heart was beating, she had to wonder if she could really trust herself.
She’d thought he was going back to work on the tractor again, but instead he pulled a sack from the seat and turned back toward her. Reaching inside, he pulled something out and held it out for her to see.
“Look at this.” In his palm he held a bright green avocado. “I picked it this morning. Isn’t it a beauty?”
She blinked, staring at it. “I guess so. I don’t know much about avocados.”
“This,” he told her confidently, “is a beauty.”
He handed it to her. She rolled its firmness and admired its bright green skin. Glancing up, she caught the look on his face, like a parent showing off his firstborn child. She almost smiled, but she held it back, unwilling to let him know how endearing his pride was.
“Why are you branching out?” she asked. “Aren’t the oranges enough?”
“You’ve got to diversify. You never know when a freeze or a drought or Medflies or some disease will wipe out your main crop in any given year. I want something to fall back on. I love citrus, but avocados ...” He took it back from her and held it up to the light, gazing at it with shining eyes. “This year’s crop alone will let me do things I haven’t taken time to do for too long. Things like fix up the house for the kids. It’s been going downhill ever since...” His voice faded and he glanced at her, then looked away again without finishing. His eyes were haunted by something shadowed in the angles of his face.
Carly’s heart went out to him. Ever since his wife had died. That was surely what he’d been about to say. She wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder with her hand, just a quick, comforting gesture. But she knew he wouldn’t want her to do that. So she resisted, looking away toward the horizon instead, pretending not to notice his pain.
A plume of dust was rising from the road.
“I think you’ve got company,” she noted, and Joe turned to look at the blue sedan roaring toward where
they were standing.
“It’s Millie,” he said, and Carly could have sworn a sense of quiet satisfaction warmed his tone. He started out to meet her. Carly followed, curious to see what this paragon of virtue looked like.
CHAPTER FIVE
FITTING IN FINE
The woman who stepped out of the car appeared to be in her mid-thirties, about Joe’s age. She wore a crisp plaid shirt and cotton slacks and had her dark hair pulled back from her pretty face in a youthful-looking ponytail. Her smile for Joe was warm and full of affection, but her attention was really on the woman coming behind him. It was obvious she was even more curious about Carly than Carly was about her.
They shook hands as Joe introduced them. “Joe tells me you grew up here in the valley,” Millie said. “Do you remember it much?”
Something stirred in Carly’s memory. Had she seen this woman before? “Not really,” she said slowly, trying to fit the face with a specific incident, and failing. “I was only ten when my mother and I left.” She searched the woman’s wide, dark eyes. “Did I know you?”
Millie looked startled. “No. No, I don’t think so.” Her smile flashed toward Joe and then back to Carly. “But I do remember a...a Howard Stevens who sometimes preached at the little church in town. Were you related to him?”
“Oh. He was my father.” Carly was unprepared for the sudden surge of delight she felt. After all these years of completely ignoring her father, never giving him a thought, meeting people who knew him was opening doors she had closed ages ago. “Did you know him very well? Can you tell me anything about him?”
Millie looked as though she was sorry she’d brought the subject up. “Not really. I was sixteen. I sang in the choir at the church. That’s all.”
“Oh.” Carly was disappointed. “There must be people in town who remember him,” she murmured, frowning. “Maybe I’ll have to ask around...”
“You... you haven’t seen him since you left?”
“No, not at all. I have no idea whatever happened to him. Do you?”
