The Widow's Protector

by Rachel Lee

  When she came downstairs, Ryder was waiting, and his gaze was appreciative.

  “I like that top,” he remarked.

  She looked down at the plain navy-blue jersey and wondered if he’d lost his mind. Then she glanced at him again and a pleasant shiver of delight ran through her as it occurred to her he was remarking on what he saw in the top, not the top itself. Could that be possible?

  No, of course not, she told herself firmly. He was just being polite.

  But that didn’t take any of the pleasure away for her. She was going to town with Ryder and it seemed like a great adventure, however boring the purpose.

  “I need to call my brother-in-law when we get to town,” he remarked as they headed down the road. She’d given him the keys so he could drive and was glad she had. She felt safer for the baby without the steering wheel right against her tummy, even though the seat belt might be as bad. But at least she could arrange it so it was down lower.

  “You don’t want to keep him waiting,” she answered, trying to be decent about it even if she hated the thought of him leaving.

  “He can wait. He’s waited this long. But I do need to let him know I’m going to be late.”

  The drive into town amazed her. Alongside the road, where she could look out across rolling fields, she could see the huge tornado’s path of destruction. It went on for miles and the only mercy she could see was that few houses had been in its path.

  When they reached the edge of town, what she saw disturbed her even more. Although the damage hadn’t been total, there was no missing the number of downed trees, the debris that homeowners had heaped at the curb, or the fact that an awful lot of people were on their roofs with shingles. Not as bad as it might have been, nowhere near as bad, but still shocking.

  “This is a miss?” she finally said.

  “I was wondering the same thing. It looks bad enough. Imagine if that thing had hit head-on.”

  She didn’t want to imagine it. Conard City would have vanished from the map. As if he sensed her reaction, he reached out and clasped her hand.

  “Take it easy,” he said. “Believe me, folks will come back from this relatively soon. They’ll be fine.”

  At the lumberyard, he gave his name, and to Marti’s surprise an order was pulled and the employees began loading the truck.

  “How did you manage this?” she asked Ryder.

  “Thank Micah. He asked them to set aside what he figured I’d need for the repair. I do want to get a few other things, though. Do you mind walking around?”

  Of course she didn’t mind. It felt good to be out of the house and free to look beyond her narrow walls. Before long, Ryder had a cart full of things like a tool belt, a nail gun and nails, wood glue, dowels… She didn’t even know what all the stuff was, but apparently he did.

  Even more amazing was that he didn’t even wince when he handed over his credit card.

  “That’s an awful lot you just spent,” she said in a subdued voice. “Ryder…”

  “Don’t say a word. I need this job as much as you need to have it done.”

  He didn’t explain, leaving her to sort through all the things he had told her about how working made him feel better. The working part she could understand. The expenditure would have made her sick, though.

  Then he invited her to lunch at the City Diner. While they waited to be served, he took the opportunity to use the pay phone. Watching his face across the room as he spoke troubled her. He didn’t look all that happy.

  He returned to the table in time for Maude to slam down their sandwiches and refill their glasses, his with water, hers with milk.

  “Something wrong?” Marti asked.

  “Not really. Ben seemed a little put out that I might be a few weeks later than I promised, but once I told him the gist of the situation around here, he calmed down. He just wanted to know how to reach me.”

  “This must be as hard on him as it is on you,” she offered.

  “Harder,” he said flatly. “He didn’t see Brandy’s struggles on a day-to-day basis. I don’t think he really understands the demons she had to battle.”

  “I’m sorry. How in the world do you think you can explain?”

  “Honestly?” His face was grim. “I don’t think I can explain it. I’m just going to try to get him to accept that everything humanly possible was done. Brandy was simply too sick.”

  She hesitated then asked, “Do you really accept it yourself? That you did everything possible?”

  “Logically I do. Emotionally I’m probably always going to wonder.”

  She understood that. How many hours had she wasted wondering what she might have done for Jeff that she hadn’t? It was a hard thing to live with, even though her emotional ties to Jeff, that thing called love, had died long before he had. Absent love, there was a deep sense of responsibility. Even loyalty. How could you not feel at least some guilt that maybe you hadn’t done quite enough?

  “Maybe,” she said reluctantly, “you should just get to Ben’s first. If you’re feeling guilty, he must be feeling even more so because he wasn’t there to help.”

  “If he’s feeling guilty he hasn’t said so. I know he’s angry with me, and I can understand it. But no, I’m not going to leave you at the mercy of the next thunderstorm. First things first.”

  “But he’s family. I’m just a stranger.”

  He lifted one brow. “Tell me, Marti, when was the last time you felt you deserved to have anyone do something for you?”

  She looked quickly away, her throat tightening. Not for a long time, if ever, she realized. Then her throat tightened even more as he clasped her hand.

  “You deserve some things,” he said, “just because you’re a fellow human being. It’s as simple as that. Some things shouldn’t have to be earned or paid for in some way.”

  She darted a glance at him and saw he looked deadly serious. “What do you deserve?” she asked.

  “A chance to fix your roof because it’ll make me feel better about myself. How’s that?”

  That wasn’t something she could argue with.

  “Give in gracefully,” he suggested, “or we’ll be fighting over every single nail I drive, and I’m going to be driving them anyway.”

  That drew a laugh from her, and she finally relaxed enough to eat and actually enjoy it.

  * * *

  “Oh, hell,” he said as they pulled out of the grocery store parking lot where he’d insisted on taking her to pick up some essential perishables and more food—which he insisted on paying for, much to her added embarrassment. She had also discovered he had a weakness for chocolate chip cookies and when she found that out, she offered to bake them for him.

  But now they were headed home, a heavy load in the back of the pickup, groceries in the crew seat behind them. “What?”

  “Look over there.”

  She turned her attention to the west and the mountains and wanted to groan when she saw the dark clouds preceded by a white squall line. “Oh, no!”

  “Oh yes. We’ve got to hurry. I at least want to nail up the new tarps I bought before that hits. We don’t want any leaking.”

  “This is supposed to be a dry climate.”

  “Right now you couldn’t prove that by me,” he answered and pressed harder on the accelerator. “If the ride gets too bouncy for you, let me know.”

  It wasn’t too bad until they hit the gravel road about two miles from her house. She tried to ignore it, but finally a growing sense of discomfort forced her to ask him to slow down.

  He immediately eased up and she was able to relax a bit. He glanced her way. “This wouldn’t be my choice for a place to deliver.”

  “Or the time. I still have two months.”

  “Then easy does it.”

  He
pulled up in front of the porch when they reached the house. “Just get inside,” he said. “I’ll take care of everything else.”

  She wanted to rebel. She didn’t like feeling helpless or useless, and irritation rose in her. In that instant she no longer felt cared for, she felt like a burden.

  “I can make decisions for myself,” she announced before she got out of the truck.

  He looked at her, turning in the seat to face her squarely. He appeared surprised by her reaction, then something in his face softened. “Of course you can. Sorry, I should have phrased that as a request. Lady, I’d feel a whole helluva lot better if you were sitting inside with your feet up, and I can grab the groceries fast and get them inside. Would you oblige me?”

  She glared at him, but not for long as she realized she was being a bit ridiculous. That didn’t make her feel any better, but at least it calmed her ire. She slid out of the truck and went inside, trying to figure out her nutty reaction.

  She guessed she was reacting to Jeff again. He had never asked her to do something, had simply tossed out orders that she didn’t dare disobey lest they wind up in a really ugly fight.

  Sometimes she wished she could carve her entire experience with Jeff out of her life, then realized that would mean carving out Linda Marie also, and nothing could make her want that.

  Sighing, she rubbed her eyes and tried not to watch Ryder walking by with grocery bags that she knew she was perfectly capable of carrying. He was protective, maybe too protective, and she wondered if Brandy had made him that way or if he’d always been like that.

  Dumb question, she told herself. As if he would even know anymore. Just like she didn’t know if she’d always been weak in some ways or if Jeff had enhanced weaknesses that were already there.

  Ryder didn’t give her long to ask herself unanswerable questions, though. He paused in the doorway. “Would you mind putting the groceries away? I’d like to get all that stuff from the lumberyard into a dry place—assuming I can find one in that barn.”

  “Sure,” she answered, giving him no more because she was still a little fluffed with herself and needed some more time to settle her feathers. The image eased the last of her irritation as she suddenly thought of herself as a puffed-up sparrow getting annoyed with a very large hawk.

  By the time she got to the kitchen, she was even smiling inwardly. If she was going to argue with the hawk, it would make sense to choose something important to argue about, not over carrying in some dang groceries.

  Through the kitchen window, she saw him drive toward the open barn door. And beyond that she saw the squall line getting nearer. Damn, she thought and hurried to put stuff away. Not another one. Please not another one.

  She started a pot of coffee, then sat to wait. Only lately had she discovered how much she hated to wait. It seemed as if she were perpetually living in expectation, and not only because of her pregnancy. Something had been telling her for a while now that Linda Marie’s arrival would bring about other changes than simply having a baby. A job, definitely. Maybe a big move if she could afford it eventually. Or maybe even an inclination to become a part of this community.

  But everything was on hold until then. Everything. She really couldn’t do anything until the baby arrived, and that was a date circled in red on a calendar, perhaps right and perhaps wrong.

  She sighed and went to turn the flame down under the coffee.

  She heard Ryder on the roof, heard him moving around, even heard the hammer of his new nail gun. Now that was an extravagance, she thought, but maybe not from his perspective. Not when he probably was looking at driving hundreds of nails.

  She had no difficulty imagining what he looked like up there because she had watched him after the tornado. Silhouetted against the dark sky, a powerful-looking man ignoring the lightning behind him.

  The image had been sexy to her then, even in her state of horror and shock, and now, without the horror and shock it was even sexier.

  Looking down, she pulled up her pants legs and saw that her ankles had swollen slightly. Not too much and to be expected after the trip to town. She decided she’d put her feet up later, after she made the cookies. It seemed like the least she could do for the man on her roof.

  By the time the second batch emitted delicious aromas from the oven, Ryder entered the kitchen, tool belt still hanging from his hips, smiling. “Damn, that smells good!”

  “Fresh coffee, too,” she said, pointing. “Help yourself to it and the cookies.”

  He put half a dozen cookies on a plate and carried them over to the table with a mug of coffee. “What can I get for you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He put one hand on his hips, canting them in a way that reminded her just how sexy a man’s narrow hips could look. “Now listen,” he said, “I’m standing. It would be easy to get you coffee or anything else. Is there some reason you want to be just fine?”

  She regarded him, feeling her brow crease. “Because I am fine?” He studied her in a way that made her feel as if he could see right through her. She wondered how much of that came from trying to read Brandy’s mind. How often he must have tried to see beyond the surface so he could gauge the pain beneath. “Do you have a problem with someone being fine?”

  His brows arched, then he pulled out a chair and sat facing her. “I guess I do,” he admitted.

  “Why?”

  “Because every time Brandy said that it meant a brewing storm.”

  “God, that would be awful!” The words burst out of her. “Sorry. Not my place. But I’ve known people like that. When they say, ‘I’m fine’ they’re anything but.”

  “With Brandy that was sure true. I learned to translate it as meaning she was anything but fine but she didn’t want to talk about it right then. Eventually she would explode or curl up in tears. I got so I hated those words. Sorry.”

  “I can’t imagine how rough it must have been.”

  “Maybe no rougher than what you went through. It was what it was, you know? I loved that woman, and it wasn’t like she caused her own illness. She was blameless. You might get frustrated at times, but you can’t hate someone for being sick.”

  No, she thought. But you could stop loving them. That caused her a twinge of guilt, but she pushed it away. Her love for Jeff had died. It hadn’t been a choice—it had just happened. One morning she had awakened and felt icy inside when she saw him. She’d known with certainty that whatever she once felt for that man had vanished.

  He sighed, then bit into a cookie. His face brightened immediately. “These are great!”

  “I’m making six dozen, so enjoy.” She summoned a smile, dragging her thoughts away from marriages past. “You’re certainly going to work them off. What were you doing out there?”

  “Putting up those new tarps I bought. Less likely to leak. I just hope the weather clears soon so I can get to the repairs.”

  And so he could leave sooner. Her heart plummeted. Then a worry popped up. “Ryder?”

  “Hmm?” His mouth was full of cookie.

  “How in the world are you going to get that plywood and those shingles up there? The plywood is heavy and awkward, and although I suppose you could carry one bundle of shingles on your back at a time…” She shook her head. “I just don’t see how you can do it.”

  “That’s what they make ropes for. Trust me—I can do it.”

  “But won’t the plywood swing around?”

  “The ladder,” he reminded her. “I pull it up flat against the ladder. As long as the wind cooperates, it’ll work.”

  “Like the wind ever really stops out here.”

  “But it’s not usually very strong. Just constant. Not as bad as it was when I passed through South Dakota. The wind there makes a soda bottle sing.”

  “You have been wandering.”

&nb
sp; “Good chance to really see the country.”

  She noticed all of a sudden that the day had darkened. At once she rose and went to look out the window over the sink. “Not again,” she murmured.

  She realized that Ryder had come to stand beside her. “It’s just a storm.”

  “Maybe.” Never before had an ordinary thunderstorm frightened her. Up until a few days ago, she had always enjoyed them. Right now she was feeling queasy at the appearance of the sky, and dread started creeping along her nerve endings.

  “Are you scared?” he asked quietly.

  “Aren’t you, after what just happened?”

  He reached over and flipped on the battery-operated radio. Some tinny bluegrass emerged. “They don’t sound worried,” he said.

  “Not yet.” Her entire body seemed to be waking to a potential threat, and Linda Marie stirred as if she felt the uneasiness. Then her nose picked up something else. “Oh, my gosh, the cookies!”

  He stepped aside to let her pull out the sheet, just in time. They already looked a tad too brown. She set it on the counter to cool for a few minutes, trying to focus on the ordinary activity, planning to put another sheet in.

  “That dough will hold, won’t it?” he asked.

  She turned and found him only inches away. “Yeah,” she said uneasily. “I can just put it in the fridge.”

  “Then we’ll do that for now. You don’t look so good.”

  “I’m just nervous. It’s stupid, I know, but after that tornado…” She bit her lip.

  “It’s not stupid. Not stupid at all. But as long as they’re playing bluegrass, everything’s okay, right?”

  “Right.” She tried to say it with conviction.

  “Aw, lady.” He sighed, then did the most amazing thing in the world. He wrapped her in his powerful arms and drew her gently against his chest.

  In an instant she forgot the storm. In an instant fear faded to be replaced by a wondrous sense of safety. Never had she imagined just how good it could feel to have strong arms around her. Not ever, because she’d never felt this way before.

  He shifted her a little so that she stood sideways to him and cradled her shoulders securely in one arm while his other tucked around her thickened waist. As huge as she’d been feeling lately, he made her feel small.