"This house and the barns. . .the horses out in the fields, you look like you’re doing so well." She clamped her lips together as his eyes narrowed.
"I can afford it now."
Did he think she was interested in his money?
She hung back. "Why don’t you just show me where I’ll stay tonight? I-I really don’t need anything to eat."
"Cabin’s out back, but I want you to get ice on that bump first." He held the door open.
Climbing the stairs, Christie walked through the open door into the kitchen. Delicious aromas assaulted her senses. "It smells wonderful in here."
Garrett’s smile eased some of the tension lines beside his mouth. "Ruth has a pot roast cooking."
Her mouth watered helplessly. Surreptitiously, she looked around the well-lit kitchen. Garrett might think twice about hiring her if he caught her drooling she thought humorously. She hoped her eyes weren’t watering; she’d never felt so hungry.
On Christie’s right was a long kitchen counter and cupboards. The light colored oak cabinets had etched glass doors with antiqued pull knobs.
"I really like your dark blue marble countertop," she remarked. "The black appliances give the room an air of sophistication."
He looked at her with one brow raised. "I was trying more for country simplicity."
"Did you design all this?" She looked down at the floor. "I’d say you’ve achieved country simplicity and more with this slate blue tile. What a great kitchen to work in."
"Ruth seems to like it."
Christie couldn't imagine anyone complaining about a modern kitchen. She thought of the small, cramped counter top in her old apartment.
Light hued wainscoting coupled with ivory painted walls added to the warm homey look. "Did you do the stenciling over the doorways?"
Garrett laughed. "No, that wasn’t me. Actually, Kim tackled that."
"I’m surprised that a man would even think about stenciling." Belatedly realizing how sexist that might sound, she quickly added, "I mean, I don’t know many -- any men who could single handedly design their own kitchen."
"When I was putting the kitchen together I had some help from the girls who work for me. Truthfully, I didn’t think of the stenciling. Kim suggested it and I agreed, as long as she didn’t go crazy."
"She’s artistic."
"Yeah, well, that's why she took care of it. I can’t claim any artistic ability. Now through that door on your left is a pantry, another freezer and the laundry room. The open archway straight ahead, just past the kitchen table, leads to the rest of the house."
Christie looked across the kitchen at the opening Garrett indicated. Through the archway could be seen honey colored oak flooring and a hand woven throw rug in shades of rose and cobalt blue.
Bo Peep trailed behind Christie and then settled with a plop onto a plaid cushion in a corner beside the archway. She found it curious that this big, tough looking man had named his dog after a fairytale character to please his daughter. A smile tugged at her lips. Somewhere under that calm demeanor lurked a sense of humor and perhaps a gentle heart. Christie reined in her wayward thoughts, knowing she had more important things to worry about than her new employer’s predilection for kindness. She didn’t think she’d ever forget the dread on his face when he’d first knelt beside her and Hannah. It was like he’d seen a ghost. She looked up and found him watching her.
Momentarily caught off guard, Christie blurted, "Your kitchen table is big enough for a small dinner party."
"I like having friends over. I’ll be right back." Garrett disappeared through the doorway to the pantry and Christie placed her bag out of the way against one wall. He reappeared moments later with a washcloth and proceeded to open a large upright freezer.
"Here," he said, handing her the washcloth with ice. "Put this on your forehead."
"Probably a smart move," she agreed, taking the cloth and ice. In truth, she had developed a slight headache.
"Sit." He indicated the table behind her.
She pulled out a heavy wooden chair and sat down.
He removed his hat and ran a hand through dark blond hair. It had been combed back from his forehead in a smooth wave, but the hat had flattened it and now his fingers caused further disruption and several strands fell across his forehead.
"Garrett!" A woman called out from somewhere beyond the kitchen. "I hope you’re washed up for dinner. I’m almost ready to serve."
The woman who entered the kitchen wore an old-fashioned blue calico dress down over her knees with a pristine white apron in place. She was tall and somewhere in her sixties with tightly curled iron gray hair. Bemused, Christie stared at the running shoes on the woman’s feet. When she spotted Christie she stopped short, tossing Garrett what looked like an accusing glance. She picked up a wooden spoon from a spoon rest on the counter and waved it in the air. "You didn’t mention you had a guest," she said tartly.
Christie found herself being scrutinized from head to toe. For a moment she wondered if she passed muster, then straightened her shoulders. She was here to work in the barns and get to know Hannah, not worry if the cook/housekeeper found her appearance acceptable.
"And what have you done to her!" The older woman hurried across the kitchen and without ceremony tilted Christie’s chin up and moved the washcloth aside.
Warily, Christie watched the spoon waving in front of her eyes. "Just a bump," she murmured, discomfited by the attention. "I’ve had worse."
"This is Christie," Garrett said. "She’s going to be working here temporarily. Christie, meet Ruth, my housekeeper." Garrett lifted a brow. "You’d better put that spoon down before Christie thinks you’re going to smack her."
"Hmmph," Ruth said.
Christie didn’t know anyone could actually make that sound into a word, but coming from Ruth, it definitely sounded like a statement.
Ruth put the spoon down and with her hands on her hips stared at Garrett. "I knew when I saw Hannah that something was up. You’d better tell me what’s happened."
Garrett ran a hand around the back of his neck. "Hannah was playing out by the road when one of the boys was coming down the drive with the hay truck. Christie got her out of harm’s way but hit her head in the process."
Ruth nodded. "Hannah tried to escape into her room, but I chased her down. She wouldn’t tell me anything, but she did show me a scratch on her finger," Ruth added. "We put antibiotic on it."
"To make matters worse, Les Doyle showed up."
Ruth reached into an apron pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses. She perched them on the end of her nose and peered at Christie’s forehead. "You have to be careful with bumps on the head." She looked directly into Christie’s eyes. "Are you feeling dizzy at all? Nauseous?"
"No, just a slight headache."
"A headache?" Garrett jumped in. "You didn’t mention your head hurt."
Ruth tsk-tsked. "Of course it hurts, look at the size of that egg." She touched the tender area around Christie’s eyebrow gently. "We’ll keep a watch over it, though I think with all the worry about head injuries, she should probably go to the hospital." She straightened. "And what’s this about Les?"
"He came for Kim’s check. He’d been drinking," Garrett said, an edge to his voice.
"If he’d spend as much effort looking for a job and keeping it, that man would make out a lot better," Ruth remarked. "I don’t know what Kim was thinking, marrying up with him." Christie saw the sharp look Garrett gave Ruth. "Enough of that," Ruth said briskly. "Right now you two need to get cleaned up and I’ll serve dinner. I’ll never hear the end of it if it’s cold."
"I wouldn’t dare complain about anything you serve," Garrett said, grinning.
Christie relaxed. Ruth, for all her gruff manner, reminded her of her own aunt Rose. She wondered if beneath that starched apron beat a big heart. Aunt Rose had been tough, but she’d loved her and her sister Ellen when no one else had cared. Ellen. Christie bit her lip. Two sisters gone. At least she
and Ellen had had Aunt Rose. Judith hadn’t had anyone.
"Thank you," Christie rushed into speech, "I’m just putting ice on this then I’ll go over to the cabin."
Ruth turned to her, then glared at Garrett. "She’s staying in that dusty cabin -- without dinner?"
Garrett looked at Ruth, but the older woman had turned her back to him, her shoulders stiff.
"There’s nothing wrong with the cabin," he said mildly.
Ruth turned, brows raised. "Who stayed in there two nights ago?"
"The boys."
"Exactly, and I haven’t had a chance to get in there to clean it up yet. I had other matters pressing for my attention. You know what those young men left it looking like last time."
Christie saw Garrett’s grimace. Hurriedly, she said, "I don’t mind a little dust and I don’t need anything special."
"You can’t stay in the cabin," Ruth was adamant. "Sink’s over there if you’d like to clean up."
Christie hesitated and looked at Garrett. "I’m sure you’ll appreciate the chance to wash up first," she said.
"Garrett, set an extra place for Christie."
Christie thought Garrett might be angry at the housekeeper’s highhanded ways, but he seemed to give a philosophical shrug.
"I must say you look like you could do with a few square meals," Ruth added. "You’re a bit on the skinny side." Ruth turned away and began to remove pot covers from pans. Christie grimaced. Ruth obviously said whatever was on her mind.
"Don’t take Ruth seriously." Christie felt the brush of Garrett’s glance. "She likes fattening everyone up."
Christie stared at Garrett’s flat stomach. There was nothing fat about him.
"I serve nutritious meals, Garrett McIntyre," Ruth snapped. "A man needs good food after a hard day’s work."
"You won’t get an argument from me. You’re the best cook this side of the Mississippi."
Christie glimpsed the pleased smile on Ruth’s face.
"Ruth, where is Hannah?" he asked, drying his hands on a towel. He moved aside from the sink so Christie left the table and joined him.
"While we were patching up her finger your brother rang. He’d called earlier saying he might stop in, but the second call he said he wasn’t making it after all, there was a burglary in town he had to check out." Ruth lifted her brows. "After I told Hannah Randy wasn’t coming, she ran out of here like a two-minute twister. Right now she’s playing one of those video things in her room."
"I’ll be right back." Garrett dropped the towel on the counter, his mouth in a straight line.
Christie chewed her lip, watching him stride from the kitchen and through the archway. She kept listening as she washed her hands and face, but she didn’t hear any noise coming from the other part of the house. Recalling the grim look on his face, she couldn’t help but wonder how he’d discipline his daughter. Christie stared at the wall in front of her, thinking of her father’s idea of discipline, and for a moment the old queasiness hit her. She gripped the steel sink, the mess of her own childhood rearing up before her.
"You got any family?" Ruth asked.
Surprised by such a personal question and recalling Garrett’s wish to keep her identity quiet, Christie said, "My nephew." She thought of the last time she’d seen Eric. "He’s five. He had a birthday last week." She’d missed it, although she had put a card in the mail for him. "I, uh, haven’t seen him in a while."
Ruth nodded. "My Mama always used to say when you’ve got nothing else, there’s always family."
Christie hadn’t seen Eric since her brother-in-law Darrell took him almost a month ago, the day after the court awarded him custody. Eric had cried, but she’d closed herself off from his pain, the want and need in his face. She’d promised him that she’d return, but that he needed to be with his father now. At the time she’d been sure it was the right thing to do and she had walked away. After Ellen’s death she’d thought she would raise her nephew, but his father’s reappearance had changed all that. Emotion bit at her and she drew air into her lungs, slowly and carefully. Reaching blindly forward, she placed the bar of soap on the sink and turned off the water. Eric and Hannah were first cousins.
"I imagine you’ll have the cleanest hands at the table," Ruth remarked dryly.
Christie turned. "I was pretty dusty." She ran the damp paper towel over her face and neck. "I guess that will do for now." She looked toward the empty doorway. "Um, what do you think is taking them so long?"
Ruth didn’t answer, but ladled gravy over the roast. When she picked up oven mitts, Christie moved closer and lifted the roasting pan for her.
"On the table," Ruth said. "Take a seat, they’ll be along shortly. So Hannah wasn’t paying attention to the road again? I gathered as much from the little I got out of her."
Christie thought that sounded rather ominous. "She ran after her kitten just as a truck came down the driveway. The driver had all he could do to avoid her. It scared all of us pretty bad."
Ruth’s expression softened and she put a hand to her breast. "Poor child and Garrett too." She shook her head. "She’s got her father at wit’s end. Last week she let Randy’s pigeons out, the week before it was the chickens. She just wanted to play."
Christie licked her lips and took a seat. She wondered what kind of mother Judith had been and felt frustrated that she couldn’t ask. If Garrett found her asking too many questions before he validated her information. . ..
She looked across the kitchen. What was keeping them?
"We may as well get started." Ruth began filling plates and Christie was left to speculate.
Garrett and his daughter appeared in the kitchen a moment later. Christie’s shoulder muscles relaxed when she saw the way the child clung to her father’s hand. Hannah cheeks glowed pink and it was obvious she’d just had her face washed. Hannah’s gaze met hers across the room and she stopped dead. "You’re eating with us?" she asked, the corners of her mouth drooping in obvious disappointment. She gave Christie an angry glare. "Uncle Randy was supposed to eat with us."
"Hannah," Garrett’s voice held a warning. "Uncle Randy called and said he had to go back on duty. It had nothing to do with Christie being here." With a hand at her shoulder he urged her forward.
"Sorry," she mumbled, eyebrows drawn together. She slid into the seat across from Christie. Reluctantly, it seemed, she continued, "Thank you for helping me on the driveway. Daddy said the truck could have hit me."
"I’m glad you’re okay," Christie said simply, studying this beautiful child who was her niece.
Hannah twisted around in her seat to stare at her father as he stood behind her. The look they exchanged made Christie realize the words had probably been his idea.
"Christie’s going to work here until Kim is able to come back," Garrett said. "We’re also going to make sure she doesn’t have a problem with the bump on her head."
Christie noticed the slight tremble of the little girl’s shoulders and was filled with compassion. She kept her voice matter of fact. "I can tell you I’ve had much bigger bruises than this little thing."
Hannah watched her warily but made no comment and Christie wondered at the resentment emanating from the child. Had the child decided to dislike her because of the kitten that had gotten away?
Garrett sat beside Christie and Ruth beside Hannah, and the meal began.
As they ate Christie let herself absorb the mellow atmosphere of the kitchen. The table could have held ten people easily, and it sat in a glass enclosed breakfast nook. Christie imagined Garrett sitting here in the morning with his coffee as he looked out over his property. The windows offered a generous view of lush, green meadows and white painted barns. How very lucky he must feel to live in such a beautiful place and to have a healthy child with whom to share it. Poor Judith, to have lost all this.
In the middle of the table was a slender, paper-thin crystal vase with yellow roses. The outer lips of the petals were tinged with red. Christie leaned forward to breath
e in their delicate scent. "Breathtaking, I’ve never seen roses quite that color."
"They’re Ruth’s secret weapon," Garrett said, passing her a bowl of fluffy mashed potatoes. "They’ve never taken less than a blue ribbon at the state fair."
"I can understand why."
Throughout dinner Hannah’s earlier frowns were gradually replaced by small bursts of chatter. Christie was amused and touched by the way Garrett patiently answered each of his daughter’s questions. Christie envied Hannah the opportunity to grow up in a household with such a devoted parent. Her own childhood had been different. . .it would be a stretch to call it a "family life." More often there had been discord than harmony and she rarely recalled her entire family sitting down to an entire meal uninterrupted. Fighting. . .why couldn’t she remember the good times?
"Christie, how is your head?" Garrett asked.
She looked up at him with a smile. "Fine."
"Sure you’re still interested in the job?"
"I still want the job." She wouldn’t get far with the money in her pocket. "Other plans can wait." Did he expect her to back out? "And besides, I feel I owe you for such a wonderful meal." Pointedly, she let her glance rest on Hannah, then returned it to Garrett.
"After the doctor's visit, if he says it's okay, you can start tomorrow." He resumed eating.
"I don't need to go to the doctor," she said firmly. "I'm fine." Christie put her head down and concentrated on the last of her mashed potatoes. She had a feeling it was only a matter of time before Garrett wanted to know more about her plans. Information should flow both ways, but she wasn’t used to anyone prying into her business. God knows it had become second nature to guard the truth about herself and her past. A past she wasn’t particularly proud to claim.
Chapter Three
Garrett was frankly amazed at the amount of food Christie managed to consume, considering her slim build. His suspicion that she hadn’t had a decent meal in a while might have been on the mark and that troubled him. Plus, she seemed skittish, given the way she’d barely stood for Ruth’s examination of the bump on her head.
Echoes From The Past (Women of Character) Page 3
