Cowboy up, buckaroo.
His dad had ridden broncs in the rodeo. He’d broken his collarbone and his arm and probably other things, too, and Eli would bet he’d never cried. His dad wouldn’t have run away from that guy. His dad wouldn’t have run away from anybody, because he’d been brave. Eli was pretty sure he’d never been scared, but Eli was scared all the time. His dad would probably have been embarrassed if he’d known how scared he was.
He got up, now, and went around and shut the blinds. The ones on the two windows in the living room first, and then the one in the bedroom, like always. He was embarrassed about that, too, but he didn’t want to think about anybody being able to look in.
When it got dark, it would be worse. After his mom had called to say good night, when he was lying in bed in the dark and trying not to notice the noises outside. He would be glad about the baby monitor then. Sometimes he even cried, because he couldn’t help it, because he was scared, and those were the worst times. He was nine, and nine-year-olds didn’t cry.
He wished he had a dog. He wouldn’t be scared if he had a dog. A dog would bark if somebody came to the door, even if they tried to be really quiet. Dogs had better hearing than humans. A dog would protect him, and it would protect his mom, too, especially if it were a big dog.
He’d asked if they could get one, but his mom had said, “I don’t think they allow dogs here. And we can’t afford a dog anyway, sweetie. Dogs have to go to the vet, and they need food and shots and all sorts of things. I’m sorry.” And then she’d looked like she felt bad, so he’d told her it was OK and had felt sorry he’d said it.
But he still wished they had one. He wished Daisy were here right now. She wasn’t very big, but she was a good dog. If he had a dog, if he had Daisy, he could lie against his dad’s saddle and read his book and have one hand on her back, and he wouldn’t feel like crying because he’d run away from that guy. He’d be able to be brave, like his dad. If he had a dog.
DEAL
Luke had two encounters with the Chambers family that week. The first one didn’t go too well. The second went better.
On Wednesday, he was driving home from a meeting up at the university when he saw Kayla walking up North Main, wearing a big black backpack and lugging a plastic laundry basket. He’d driven right past her without recognizing her, but something had him looking in the rearview mirror, and then he was pulling over and buzzing the passenger window down.
“Want a lift?” he called, leaning across the seat.
It took her a second to turn her head. He caught her eye, saw the moment when wariness changed to recognition, and for some ridiculous reason, his heart leaped. She had a baseball cap pulled down over her short blonde hair, and he wondered for an instant how he’d known it was her, and then forgot to wonder.
“No. Thanks.” She started walking again. Short white shorts, little pink shirt, same battered black tennis shoes. Tiny, and much too weighed down, because that backpack looked far too heavy for her slim shoulders.
Well, hell. He hopped down from his rig, slammed the door, and hustled to catch up with her.
“You’ll get a ticket,” she said without stopping. “Yellow zone.” So she’d noticed.
“And, see,” he said, “in the first place, I probably won’t. And in the second place, I don’t care. Just want to carry your books home from school. Please?” He grinned at her, and she smiled, just a little. So he reached out and took the laundry basket from her. She kept hold of it for a minute, then seemed to realize that she couldn’t stand there on Main Street and wrestle him for it, and let it go.
No ring on that left hand, and wherever Eli’s dad was, it wasn’t with the two of them.
“Hand me that backpack, too,” he said.
“I can carry it.”
“I know you can. But I’d sure like to carry it for you. Please,” he added when she glanced sharply at him again. “Four blocks to your place? It’s hot, it’ll make me happy, and you’ll know I risked a ticket for you, which will make me even happier. What’s not to like?”
She was smiling a bit more now. “I thought you weren’t going to get a ticket.”
“I said probably. There’s always a chance, but, hey, I love to live dangerously. How about it? Let me carry your backpack?” He gestured with the basket, which was damn heavy, too. “Set it right on top there.”
She sighed, shrugged it off, and put it down on top of the pile, and he felt the added weight. He set the basket down on the sidewalk and shrugged the backpack onto his own shoulders, adjusting the straps to fit his much larger frame, and they set off again.
“Whoa,” he said. “You definitely needed me. Car in the shop?”
“I don’t have one. And, no, I didn’t need you. I was managing to walk home by myself, did you notice?” But she was still smiling.
“Still. That’s a lot of work, doing all your errands on foot.”
She sent him another look out of the corner of her eye, and he laughed. “Yeah. Duh. You already figured that out. How’m I doing so far? Impressed you much?”
This time, she laughed out loud. It wasn’t a big laugh, but it was a real one. “Well, carrying my laundry is pretty good.” She rolled her shoulders a little.
“Happy to do more than that.” He smiled down at her, and they turned onto Cedar. This walk wasn’t going to be nearly long enough. “I’m more than happy to give you a ride, too. Just say the word.”
He hadn’t meant it to come out quite like that, like he was picking her up in a bar. In fact, it wasn’t that at all. He’d meant it. But it had been a mistake, because the smile was gone, and she’d stiffened, was walking a little faster.
“Oh, hell,” he said. “I meant—take you to the grocery store or whatever.”
“You offer rides to all your neighbors? Or just the—”
“Just the pretty ones?” He tried another smile. “Nope. Just you, so far.”
“Uh-huh. I’m special.”
“Well, yeah. You are.”
“Why?”
“Why? Uh—”
“Yeah.” They were turning onto her street now, and she turned and took the basket from him. “That’s what I figured. I don’t go for looks much anymore, personally. I haven’t found them to be a very good guideline.”
“So what kind of guy are you looking for?”
She tipped her head back and looked him square in the face, her big gray eyes serious. “I’m not looking for a guy at all. Thanks for carrying my laundry.”
She stood and waited, and he took off the backpack and handed it to her, watched her shrug it onto her shoulders, and watched those shoulders sag a little under the weight. She picked up her basket, turned around again, walked off, and left him there.
And when he made it back to his rig, he did have a ticket.
On Saturday, things went better.
He was looking over the hills and sipping at his coffee again. When he saw the boy starting up the path, though, he headed outside.
Daisy barely had the manners to let him get out the door first before she was bolting for the fence, and if Luke had had any doubt before, it was gone.
The boy had his head down as he toiled up the steep hill. When Daisy barked, though, he looked up and smiled. And then he saw Luke, and his steps faltered.
He was about to run again, Luke could tell, so he said, “Hang on there a minute, will you?”
The boy stood and waited, tension in every line of his thin body. Luke thought about inviting him to come on into the yard, but maybe not quite yet. Instead, he walked across to him, still holding his coffee cup, and put a smile on his face.
Daisy was wagging her tail furiously. When the boy didn’t respond, she jumped up, put her paws on the fence, and barked at him.
“Go on and pet her,” Luke said as he approached. “She’s going to get her heart broke i
f you don’t. Can’t leave her hanging like that.”
The boy smiled a little, just a quirk at one corner of his mouth, and reached a hand out for Daisy. The dog’s tongue went to work on his hand and wrist, and Luke laughed. “Yep. That’s a dog who needs a boy, huh?”
“Yeah.” It was so soft Luke barely heard it, and the boy didn’t look up, just kept scratching Daisy’s ears. A good kid. A lonely kid, and Luke was pretty sure he was right. That the boy was the answer to his problem, and that there might be something more to it than that, too.
“I took her to the vet the other day,” he said. “She told me I wasn’t giving Daisy enough exercise. Seems she’s a Border Collie mix, ought to be herding sheep all day long, and if she doesn’t have anything to do, she’s liable to get into mischief.” The boy didn’t say anything, so he went on. “I go running with her in the morning, and I thought that was good, but you know, I work all day.”
“Huh,” the boy said.
“It’s Eli, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Luke Jackson. Well, anyway, I was trying to think what I could do. And then I saw you yesterday—”
“I didn’t mean to come into your yard,” Eli said hastily. “It was only that one time, I swear. It was only because Daisy lost her ball. I was just going to get it for her and leave, honest.”
“No problem. No, it was a good thing, because when the vet told me that, I started wondering. I’ll come home sometimes and find Daisy panting like she’d been running. I told the vet that she ran around in the yard, and she said, ‘Dogs don’t run by themselves. They lie around and wait for their owners to come home,’ and I thought, ‘Well, that’s weird, because I could swear Daisy’s been running.’ And I think she has. I think she’s been running with you. I think you’ve been throwing the ball for her. And that’s a good thing,” he hastened to repeat when Eli backed up a step, looking like he was about to run himself. “I just wanted to make sure it was you.”
The boy nodded, quick and jerky. “Yeah.” It was barely a breath.
“Well, then. How would you like a job?”
The kid was looking up now, all right. Looking up and staring at Luke.
“Yeah,” Luke said. “A job. Every day. Throw the ball for Daisy, walk her if you like, as long as you put her leash on so I don’t get in trouble. Take her to the park. It’s summer now, of course, but after school starts, too. Just stop by after school and play with her some. Think you could do that?”
“Yeah.” The kid looked like he could barely believe it.
“Of course, you should ask your mom, make sure it’s all right with her. But if it is, how about if we say, oh, five bucks a day? Say you promise to play with her or walk her for maybe half an hour in exchange for that. More if you want to, of course, but as long as it’s half an hour, you’ve earned your five bucks. That seem fair to you?”
“Five dollars? Every day?”
“Well, just Monday to Friday. So twenty-five bucks a week?”
“Yeah.” The boy had forgotten to be wary. Now, he just looked excited. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“Tell you what. I’ll hang a couple of hooks outside the back porch there, leave her leash on one. That way you won’t have to come into the house, because I’m sure your mom would think that was a bad idea.”
“OK. But . . .” Eli hesitated.
“What? Something I forgot?”
“I don’t know how long half an hour is. I don’t have a watch or anything.”
“Hmm.” Luke took another sip of coffee and considered. “How about if I hang up a pad of paper, too, with a pencil? On a string, say. You write down what you did. Just like, ‘played ball,’ or ‘went to the park.’ And then I’ll know I got my money’s worth. What do you think? Plan?”
“Yeah,” Eli said slowly. “Except I could write that even if I didn’t do it.”
Luke laughed. “Man, you’re sharp. Tell you what. You look like a man of honor to me.” He transferred the coffee mug to his left hand and stuck out his right. “We’ll shake on it. Deal?”
The boy put out his own hand and gave Luke’s a good shake, his face serious. “Deal.”
“See?” Luke said. “I was right. A man of honor.”
“A man’s word is his bond.”
It was about the most surprising thing Luke had heard all week. “Well, yeah. That’s the way it ought to be. Who said that?”
“My dad.”
“Your dad’s right.” Luke schooled his face into calm again. “He live around here?”
“No.” Eli’s own face had closed. “Do I start on Monday?”
Luke considered saying something more, then dropped it. “Sure. As long as you check with your mom first. Have her come on up and talk to me if she wants to.”
“OK.” Eli cast him one more quick glance, then reached out for Daisy, and she jumped up again to get closer to his scratching hand, then ran for her ball.
“Hey,” Luke told her when she returned with it. “You’re my dog, remember? You better not get confused.”
She ignored him, dropped the ball on her side of the fence, and sat, her eyes on Eli.
“Hey, girl.” The boy picked up the ball, threw it across the yard, and she was after it in an instant.
“Get out while you can,” Luke said, “or you’ll never get to the pool.” He needed to give the boy a while to let it sink in, he could tell.
“OK,” Eli said. “I’ll do a good job, I promise.”
“I know you will. It’s like your dad says. A man’s word is his bond.”
The boy blinked a couple times, took a breath, and headed up the hill with his towel, and Luke watched him go.
Daisy was a dog who needed a boy. That was true. But one more thing was for sure, too, no doubt about it. Eli was a boy who needed a dog.
It did occur to him to wonder what had happened to his rules—all of them. He never dated women who lived in Paradise. Too much gossip. He didn’t get involved with a woman’s kids, either. Not because he didn’t like kids. In fact, it was because he liked them, and he knew a little bit about how kids thought, that he didn’t do it. It wasn’t fair to them to get close, not if he wasn’t in it for the long haul. And the women he’d known had usually felt the same way.
And yet here he was, carrying Kayla’s laundry and getting involved with Eli. What was happening to him? This had “mistake” written all over it. Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t want anything to do with him.
Nah. It wasn’t.
FAMILY PORTRAIT
“Hey,” Kayla said when Eli wandered into the kitchen in jeans and a T-shirt the following Saturday morning. She waved the spatula at him. “Behold a woman with funds. I got paid last night, and you know what we’re doing today? We’re having pancakes, and then we’re going shopping.”
He blinked a little, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and sat down at the table. “Shopping for what?”
“Well,” she admitted, “it might not be as exciting to you as it is to me. We’re going to the credit union so I can open an account and put my paycheck into it, and then we’re going to check out the thrift stores and a couple of yard sales. We’re buying a big spoon and a good sharp knife, if I can find one I can afford. I’m excited, anyway.” She laughed, unable to hold it back, reached onto the floor for her purse, pulled out the folded slip of paper, and handed it to him. “Take a look.”
“Wow,” he breathed. “Two hundred eighty dollars!”
“Yep. Just my first week’s worth, but it’s sure going to help with groceries, and my paycheck at the end of the month will pay the rent.” The satisfaction of it was bone deep, even though she knew how pitiful a sum it really was, and how many floors she’d had to mop to earn it. It was the hardest and worst-paying job she’d had in years, but it meant her own money, her own choices. Her own freedom, and Eli’s, too, an
d that was worth everything. That was priceless.
“But first, breakfast!” She shoved the metal spatula under the three pancakes, a patchy brown due to the wobbly bottom of the frying pan, and thought, pan. Maybe. She might only have twenty dollars to spend, but she was going to enjoy every single minute of spending them, of making their lives just that little bit better.
When she put the plate in front of Eli, though, he didn’t start eating. Instead, he said, “Just a second,” and got up and went into the bedroom. His pancakes would get cold, but she couldn’t help that. She used a coffee cup to ladle pancake batter into the pan.
Better spoon, definitely. Measuring cups, too, if she could. She smiled a little. Her list was getting longer all the time. She’d better rein it in.
Eli came back, but he didn’t sit down. He said, “I’ve got some money, too. Maybe we can get more things. We could have hamburgers and french fries, maybe. Maybe tonight.”
She stared at the bills he held out. A twenty and a five. Not saved-up lunch money this time, because they didn’t have any lunch money. “Where did you get that?”
“I . . . I found it.” He looked away, not meeting her eyes, and the sick dread was a lump in her stomach.
Oh, no. Not this. She’d known she wasn’t paying enough attention to him, that she’d had to leave him alone too much, but . . . Oh, no.
“Eli. Look at me. You didn’t find this. You took it. From where? From whom?”
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t,” he insisted when she continued to stare at him. “I . . . I earned it.”
“You earned it? How?”
“Playing with a dog.”
“What?” An acrid smell brought her back to herself. Something burning. She whirled back to the stove, where the pancakes were smoking, grabbed for the pan, and snatched her hand back with an exclamation. She reached for the hot pad with the other hand and pulled the pan off the burner, then shoved her burned hand under the cold-water tap and let it run.
Hold Me Close Page 6
