by Loree Lough
Eyes on the road again, he huffed, shook his head. But she could see that he was grinning.
“Harrumph,” he said, scrubbing a palm over his face. “If this mess turns into scars,” he joked, “I might just give ol’ Brad Pitt a run for his money.”
She gave in to an urge and gently grazed his right cheek with her knuckles. “‘Ol’ Brad’ only plays heroes in the movies, but you’re a hero in real life.”
Lamont swallowed, cleared his throat. “So…nice day we’re having, don’t you think?”
Yes, he was at least as uncomfortable with compliments as she’d always been. “Thank you, Lamont,” she blurted, “for pulling me out of the fire, and putting the kids up for the night, and picking me up at the hospital and—”
“It was my pleasure. All of it.” He held up a hand to silence her. “I’ve had the feeling ever since we left the hospital that you wanted to ask me something.” He glanced over at her. “And I’m pretty sure I know what it is.”
“Is that so?” she asked, daring him to read her mind, yet again.
“You want to stop off at your place on the way to River Valley, have a look around.”
Amazed, she nodded.
“That’s okay with me, if you think you’re up to it.”
The question caught her off guard, and she bristled slightly. “’Course I’m up to it. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, the doc made it pretty clear. You’re supposed to take it easy these next few days, because of the concussion and smoke inhalation.”
As if on cue, she coughed. “Looking won’t expend any energy.” Unless, she thought, the sight was so horrible that—
“Isn’t gonna be easy, looking at what’s left.”
No, she didn’t suppose it would be. “I can take it. And if I can’t, you’ll be right there to rescue me.”
He tucked in one corner of his mouth and shrugged, and she took that to mean he didn’t know what to make of her snappish tone. Nadine felt horrible, particularly considering all he’d done for her and the kids. “Sorry,” she said, meaning it. “That was uncalled for.”
“I’ll just blame the headache.”
She frowned. “How’d you know I have a headache?” The doctor had given her pain pills, but the throbbing hadn’t started up in earnest until her head was hanging in Kaye’s shampoo sink.
“I’ve taken a few whacks to the head in my day,” he said, patting her hand, “so I know from personal experience that the so-called pain relievers the docs dole out don’t come close to easing the pain.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold your cantankerousness against you.”
Before she could respond, he turned into her driveway. Almost immediately, the acrid scent of charred lumber assailed her nostrils. When the remains of the farmhouse came into view, she tried to stifle a gasp behind her hands. Nadine had seen the aftermath of house fires before, so what had she expected?
Certainly not this, Nadine thought. Certainly not nothing left at all.
Things had happened fast last night, too fast. As she’d fought to remain conscious, she hadn’t been able to distinguish between flames and the strobes of emergency vehicles. Men shouted, but she hadn’t understood a word. Only Lamont’s voice, low and soothing, reached her: “Everything’s gonna be okay, pretty lady. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”
That bump on the head must have caused a disconnect between her brain and her mouth, because, hard as she’d tried, Nadine couldn’t reassure him by saying, “Thanks” or “I know.” The inability to communicate had scared her. Was it permanent? How would she read to Amy, or sing in the choir? To keep him from seeing fear in her eyes, she’d closed them. Well, that, and because during those moments in his arms, she’d read the concern on his face, and hadn’t wanted to add to his worries. She remembered how cold and alone she’d felt, despite being surrounded by experienced paramedics. Remembered, too, how helpless and troubled he’d looked as they took her from his arms. Nadine remembered all that, but she didn’t recall seeing the house ablaze.
Now, heart knocking against her ribs, she blinked back tears and held her breath. Thin wisps of smoke still spiraled from spongy, sooty ashes amid jagged black spikes—some no more than three feet tall—that had supported the walls and roof of her two-story home.
She opened the passenger door and stepped onto grass, still wet from fire hoses. The doctor had said to expect headaches and light-headedness. He hadn’t mentioned ringing in the ears, or the sweaty-yet-cold-all-over sensation that now prickled her skin.
Lamont’s strong arm slid around her waist. How he’d reached her so quickly she didn’t know, but Nadine said a little prayer of thanks. Had he pulled her close, or had dizziness made her lean into his hard, lean body? He stepped in front of her, gently gripped her biceps and, bending his knees, peered into her face. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
Drawing her into a comforting hug, he kissed the top of her head. “Aw, darlin’, whatever for?”
For behaving like a child, she thought. For getting weak-kneed and teary-eyed. Nadine pressed both palms against the soft fabric of his white shirt, then took a step back.
Nerves twitching, she plodded ahead, until she stood ankle-deep in the debris. Heat seeped through the soles of her shoes, even after all these hours and the hundreds of gallons of water that sogged the ashes. What could have caused a fire that burned so incredibly hot and fast?
Everything, it seemed, had turned to cinders—photographs, the Mothers’ Day clay palmprint Adam had made in first grade, the framed copy of Amy’s newborn footprint, her collection of wolf figurines, Gamma O’Riley’s lace tablecloth, her mother’s favorite soup tureen—gone, all gone.
She was about to turn away from the hideous sight when she stepped on something. “Oh no,” she wailed quietly, digging it out. “It’s Peeper’s collar.” There on her knees in the still-warm coals, she hugged it to her cheek. Was Julie’s devoted feline gone, too?
“I’ll bet she made it out alive,” Lamont said, one big hand on her shoulder. “Cats are resourceful. Peeper could be anywhere, hiding until she thinks it’s safe to come out.”
“Maybe,” she whispered. “I hope…”
In her prayer position, reality hit hard. Silent sobs shook her as she pressed the cat’s collar to her chest. Peeper had spent every night of her five years in Amy’s bed. The child would be heartbroken.
On his knees beside her, Lamont gathered her in his arms. “Shhh,” he breathed into her hair, “don’t give up hope just yet.”
His kind, reassuring words, the comforting warmth of his strong arms around her, loosed a floodgate of hot tears.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Get it all out now, so you can be strong for the kids.”
If anyone knew how to handle grief and sadness, it was Lamont. She’d seen him enough times with Rose to know that they shared far more than marriage and children. During their years together, they’d shared a love so deep and abiding that anyone who witnessed it felt humbled in its glow. Nodding, she patted his arm, a silent signal that her crying jag had ended.
As he helped her to her feet, a shard of sunlight glinted from something a few feet ahead. Nadine went toward it and, crouching, dug through the boggy dust again. “My father’s pocket watch,” she said, palming it, “minus the gold chain.”
Standing, she rubbed away the grit and grime. The lid popped open, exposing old-fashioned numerals and filigreed hands. Amazingly, the thin second hand moved steadily clockwise in perfect rhythm with her heartbeat. “It was a wedding gift from my mother,” she said, holding it out so Lamont could get a better look.
He didn’t take it from her. Rather, he cradled her hands in his, leaned closer to read the inscription: “‘I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.’” He met her eyes. “From the Song of Solomon.”
Snapping the lid shut, she clasped it tightly in one hand. “I can’t believe it survived all that heat,” she said, mostly to herself.
&nbs
p; “Good reason to believe Peeper survived it, too.”
Maybe, she thought.
She didn’t know how many minutes had passed as they stood side by side, staring at the scorched coals. Nadine wondered if, under similar circumstances, Ernest would have sensed that she required nothing more than his quiet presence to soothe her. Something told her that Lamont would have stayed with her forever, if he felt she needed it.
If she’d been keeping a ledger these past few months, with “Reasons to Like Lamont” in one column and “Reasons to Keep Your Distance” in another, Nadine knew which would be longer. Still, those few items on the Distance side troubled her, deeply.
Squaring her shoulders, Nadine took a deep breath. “Well, I guess there’s nothing more we can do here. Might as well head on over to your house.” She smiled up at him, hoping he hadn’t seen her lips quiver. “Thanks for putting us up tonight. First thing tomorrow, I’ll see about getting a place for the kids and me.”
He led her back to the truck and gently closed the door. It wasn’t until Lamont turned onto the highway that he said softly, “Nadine, I, ah, I didn’t want to bother you with this before, what with all you’re going through, but—”
“Lamont, you can tell me anything. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said, squeezing her hand. “But this is bad timing.”
“No time like the present. Besides, I could use a distraction.”
He turned on the radio. Turned it off again. “Peggy… Peggy quit on me.”
“What? But she’s been your housekeeper for—what—twenty years?”
He nodded. “I hired her full time about six months after Rose died.”
“I don’t get it. She always seemed more like a member of your family than an employee.”
Lamont shrugged, as if to say he didn’t get it, either. “Big place to maintain all by myself.”
She pictured the luxurious ranch, with its looming ceilings, wide-planked floors, gourmet kitchen and grand staircase…
“I feel like a heel, asking you for a favor at a time like this, but…but I wonder if you’d consider taking her place.” He held up a hand to silence her. “You and the kids are welcome to stay as long as you need to, in exchange for light housekeeping, and maybe you can fix supper once in a while. Temporarily, of course, until you rebuild and I find a new Peggy.”
Move in with him—lock, stock and barrel? He must be joking.
One look at his somber expression made it clear: Lamont wasn’t kidding.
“You’d have the whole upstairs to yourselves,” he said, “My room is downstairs, way at the other end of the house. The biddies down at the beauty shop can’t gossip, plus y’all would have as much privacy as you’d need. You’ll hardly know I’m there.”
He’d just proposed the perfect solution to her dilemma, so either she’d gone completely insane, or this was a dream. A beautiful, fairy-talelike dream. Because shouldn’t she be the one saying, “You’ll hardly know I’m there”?
“You’d be doing me a huge favor if you say yes.”
What landlord in his right mind would rent them an apartment? She didn’t have a penny to buy Amy a gumball, and neither did Adam, thanks to Julie’s poor budgeting skills. Except for the kids’ dime-store furniture, stored in the barn, they’d lost everything in the fire. So even if she found someone willing to trust her to come up with the money, how would they pay for food and utilities?
Nadine almost chuckled aloud, thinking that when the fire marshal finished his investigation, he’d blame the blaze on the mountain of bills stacked on her desk. The smile dimmed as she corrected herself: On what had been her desk.
“So…will you do it?”
If she said yes, she’d owe Lamont big-time, and not just dollars and cents. But if she said no, she and the kids would have to move into the local homeless shelter and get their meals at the soup kitchen. Her favorite Bible verse had always been 1 Corinthians 10:13, because the Lord had always known exactly how much bad news she could handle, and provided a way out. She believed He’d help her out of this predicament, too, but the way Nadine saw it, the price tag was enormous.
“Okay,” she said slowly, “but only if you let me take Peggy’s place. I want to do all the housework—laundry, shopping, cooking, the whole nine yards.”
“How ’bout we talk about it after your doctor gives you the green light. You suffered a concussion and smoke inhalation, don’t forget. Besides, last thing I want is for you to feel like a—”
“—like a live-in housekeeper?” She laughed. “If I agree to this, that’s the only way my conscience—and my ego—will allow it.”
Nodding slowly, he exhaled a deep breath. “Okay. All right.” He paused, but only for a second. “So what do you say? Will you help me out of this jam?”
The timing was just too perfect. And so was the situation. Working as his live-in housekeeper would keep the gossips’ tongues from wagging, and keep her from feeling beholden. But no way she’d take the job if it meant putting a good woman out of work. “It just isn’t like Peggy to leave you in a lurch this way. She must have given you a reason.”
He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “She’s been talking about taking an extended vacation for years, now. Said something about Hawaii.”
Nadine remembered standing behind Peg at the convenience store recently. “Don’t need to win millions,” she’d said, waving her lottery ticket in the air, “just enough to take Ted to the islands for our anniversary.” But if she’d won, Nadine would have heard about it at church, where the pastor and at least half of his flock saw the lottery as gambling, and therefore, sinful. The only other possibility that made sense was almost too awful to consider. “She’s all right, isn’t she?”
“Far as I know. Why?”
“I just can’t figure out why she’d leave you after all these years.” Then, “Her husband isn’t ill, is he?”
“He’s fine, too.”
If that was true, then what was there to think about? Living and working at River Valley Ranch would put a roof over her kids’ heads, and yet, she’d remain close enough to visit her own property every day, to feed and water her animals. There were phone calls to make and insurance forms to fill out. What better place to do it all than his house?
Like it or not, his suggestion made perfect sense. “All right, then. If you’ll let me earn my keep, I’ll do it.”
“Excellent!” he said, beaming. “So, what’s for supper, pretty lady?”
Pretty lady. It’s what Ernest had always called her, while apologizing for beating her.
Please, Lord, she prayed as Lamont put the truck into Park, don’t let this be the biggest mistake of my life.
Adam and his family greeted them at the front door. “Grandmom,” Amy said, “wait until you see my room!” Blond pigtails bobbed as she jumped up and down. “Unka Lamont found clothes for me, too, up in his attic. He says they need warshin’, though.”
Chuckling, Adam mussed her bangs. “Sweetie, give her a minute to get inside before you drag her upstairs.”
Forefinger to the tip of the child’s nose, Nadine feigned a stuffy accent. “Yes, dah-ling, at least wait until the servants have carried all my valises up the grand staircase.”
Giggling, Amy covered her mouth with a pudgy hand. “You sound just like a movie star.” She hugged Nadine’s legs. “You’re funny!”
Adam frowned. “Honey, be gentle with Grandmom. She’s bruised from head to toe, and—”
“It’s all right,” she said, returning the hug.
Despite her best efforts to hide her discomfort, Lamont saw it on her lovely face. He noticed that her gait didn’t have its usual sprightliness, and neither did her usually musical voice. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, and her smile seemed practiced and tight. “Hey, Amy,” he said, crouching, “how would you like some pizza for supper?”
Perching on his knee, she wrapped an arm around his neck. “Pizza? On a Sunday?” She looked to J
ulie for guidance. “Is that allowed, Mommy?”
“Sure,” said her mother. “Why not?”
“Good,” Lamont said, patting his stomach, “because I’m starving. And that’s a problem, ’cause I have a lot in common with Old Mother Hubbard these days.”
Amy slid from his knee. “You mean your cupboards are bare?”
“Not even a bone for poor old Obnoxious.” He got to his feet. “So what do you guys like on your pizza?”
Amy began counting on dimpled fingers. “Pepperoni, mushrooms, sausage, green peppers, onions…but not olives.” She wrinkled her nose. “’Specially not those yucky green ones. And cheese. Lots of cheese!”
Laughing, Lamont headed for the door. “Hey, Jules, how about calling in the order while I drive into town. That way, it’ll be ready when I get there.”
“Sure thing,” Julie said, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Adam slid his wallet from his back pocket and held out a $20 bill.
But Lamont waved it away. “It’s on me. We’re celebrating tonight.”
Before the younger man could protest, his little girl jumped up and down. “Celebrating?” Amy said, blue eyes shining. “Like a party?”
“Like a party,” Lamont echoed.
As the child skipped off to join her mother, Nadine said, “Now, Lamont, we had a deal. I’m supposed to cook and—”
“Deal was,” he interrupted, “you’d start all that after your doctor gives you the go-ahead.”
When she smiled, he knew he’d won. This time, anyway. “Maybe while I’m gone, the kids can show you which room is yours.” Half in, half out the door, he added, “Have a look in the closet. Lily says you’re welcome to anything in there that fits.”
Something between surprise and shame darkened her face, and before she had a chance to launch into an “I’m not a charity case” speech, Amy darted back into the room. “We’re out of milk, Unka Lamont.”
It tickled him that, already, the kid felt at home enough to say we.
