Silver Thaw: A Mystic Creek Novel

by Catherine Anderson

  Crouching beside her daughter, Amanda said, “You slept through dinner, sweetie. Do you think you can eat now?”

  Chloe nodded, so Amanda picked her up and carried her to the kitchen, Bozo following on her heels. Jeb got the child’s meal from the warmer and placed it on the table. Then he said, “Do I have any comers for hot chocolate?”

  “Me!” Chloe cried. Then, remembering her manners, she added, “Yes, please.”

  “Yes, please,” Amanda echoed.

  She gave Chloe a paper towel and sat beside her while she ate. Jeb filled mugs with hot water from the coffee center. Then he mixed in packets of Swiss Miss, another thing she’d mentally consigned to the unaffordable bin. “Who wants marshmallows?”

  “Me!” Chloe crowed with delight. “I love marshmallows.”

  “Me, too!” Jeb replied. “But I hate the dehydrated kind.”

  Seconds later, Chloe grinned at Jeb from beneath a chocolate mustache. “This is so yummy! Thank you, Mr.—” Chloe broke off. “Um, I can’t remember your name.”

  “Sterling.” Jeb took a sip of his drink. “Aw. Just the thing to chase away the chill on a winter night, and you’re welcome. And ‘Mr. Sterling’ is a mouthful. You can call me Jeb if you like.”

  The little girl dimpled a cheek at him. “My mommy says it’s impolite to call adults by their first names.”

  He nodded. “Mr. Jeb will work, then.”

  “Okay, Mr. Jeb.” Chloe glanced into her mug. “You’ve got miniature marshmallows. They’re my favorite.”

  Amanda warmed her hands on her mug, wishing the cold feeling inside her would dissipate. Unlike her daughter, she couldn’t quite relax. How had she and Chloe ended up here, about to spend the night in a stranger’s home?

  Chloe seemed to be as hungry as Amanda had been, because she cleaned her plate. Jeb said, “You were a hungry girl. I can warm up some more for you.”

  Chloe looked tempted, but then a wary expression settled on her face. “No, thank you.”

  Jeb shot Amanda a questioning look, but he didn’t pursue the matter. After Chloe finished her hot drink, Amanda took the child upstairs for a bath.

  * * *

  While Amanda ministered to Chloe, Jeb bundled up to brave the storm, strapped chains back on his shoes—which was a pain in the ass—and decided as he ventured outside that he’d dig out a second pair of boots to wear only outdoors. The hail felt like rocks hitting his head, which hurt like hell, but he didn’t dare run to reach an outbuilding for fear he’d slip and fall. Thank God he’d left Bozo behind and had locked his other animals inside shelters this morning.

  As he reached the first pen, he dug in his jacket pocket for his gloves. Damn. He’d laid them out to dry inside the house. No way was he going to walk all the way back. He’d just tough it out. With that thought still rolling through his mind, he grasped the door handle of the ewe’s shed, and his hand froze to the metal. When he jerked it loose, he parted company with some skin, which also hurt like hell.

  The sheep bleated a hello that he barely heard over the din. Jeb checked to make sure the animal’s jacket remained fastened. With so much wool missing, she needed the extra protection. After feeding her and refreshing her water, he pulled his jacket up over his head and braved the hail again to reach the barn. All okay there. Next he hurried to the chicken coop. His mother was sure to ask after the flock.

  When he returned to the house, he heard the murmur of Amanda’s and Chloe’s voices upstairs. Tender of foot on the uneven slate, Jeb sometimes wore Romeo slippers inside the house, but since he had guests, he donned another pair of boots and stood close to the woodstove to warm himself, listening to their voices. For some reason, their soft chatter made him feel melancholy. He’d always believed that he would be married by now, with a couple of kids. Instead he rattled around in this huge house all alone. That was disappointing. But he guessed everyone experienced disappointments in life.

  Amanda’s laugh, a musical sound, drifted down like the notes of a song. He hadn’t seen her smile without restraint, but he was willing to bet her face was aglow right now. She was a beautiful woman, petite and fine-featured, with a wealth of dark hair and a trim, small-breasted build. He enjoyed watching her move. Just by looking, he could tell that she was active and a hard worker. When he thought of how he’d nearly driven past her house, thinking it was vacant, he sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks.

  Jeb thought of his mother’s prediction, that when he least expected it he would cross paths with the right woman. Maybe, just maybe, he’d finally hit pay dirt. Get real, Sterling. The woman is still married. Even so, Jeb allowed himself to dream a little.

  Lost in the possibilities, he was startled when Amanda walked into the kitchen. “If you don’t mind,” she said in a soft, shy voice, “I think I’ll turn in now.”

  Jeb wished she’d chat for a while so they could get better acquainted. But she was probably tired. “I don’t mind at all. I’m dead on my feet, so I’ll be hitting the sack, too.”

  She grasped the banister, staring at him as if she had something more to say and couldn’t quite get it out. “Um, thank you for helping us today.” She glanced at the ceiling. “That’s a horrible ice storm. I’m so glad we aren’t still trapped in that old house, trying to stay warm. I think you saved our lives.”

  Jeb felt a flush crawl up his neck. “You saved your own by deciding to trust me.”

  She pushed at her hair. “Dinner was wonderful, too. You’re great with Chloe. Normally she’s very reserved around men, but she seems to like you.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. She’s a sweet kid. I’m sorry if she’s had bad experiences with men.” Because he’d read so many of Amanda’s notes, Jeb knew far more than he wanted to reveal. She’d be embarrassed if she learned that the wind had brought him daily special deliveries. “It’s good that she’s starting to relax with me.”

  “Well,” she said, “I guess I’ll say good night.”

  “G’night. Sleep tight. The master suite is down here, so I won’t be coming up.”

  He watched her climb the stairs. When she disappeared, he turned off the lights, leaving on only one in the kitchen in case his guests wanted something before morning.

  With a snap of his fingers, he got Bozo to follow him. The silly dog gazed at the stairs as if he’d lost his best friend. “Traitor,” Jeb whispered. “Show you a pretty face, and you’re ready to jump ship.”

  Jeb lay in bed on his back with his head resting on his folded arms. As always, Bozo jumped up on the mattress the moment the lamp went out. Jeb stared into the darkness above him, listening to hail strike metal. He hoped the sound didn’t disturb Amanda’s or Chloe’s rest. On the second floor, they were a lot closer to the roof than he was. Thinking of the butcher knife, he wondered where Amanda had stashed it. Probably under her mattress, handle right at the edge so she could grab it and skewer him if he tried to touch her. If having it gave her comfort, he was glad. He had a feeling she had endured some pretty bad stuff during her marriage.

  Just then, a loud rumble vibrated through the house, adding to the din of the hail. Jeb shot upright in bed. Sweet Jesus. Was his roof collapsing? He’d made sure that the support beams could withstand more than twenty pounds of weight per square foot.

  Jeb leaped from bed, pulled on jeans, and ran upstairs, flipping on light switches as he went. His heart pounded. He stopped in the hallway, stared at the alder-plank ceiling, and was about to call out for Amanda and Chloe to evacuate when he realized the rumbles and thumps were coming from their room. Bewildered, he stepped to their door and pressed an ear to the wood. It sounded as if something heavy was being pushed or pulled across the uneven slate. What the hell? Then it hit him that Amanda was barricading the doorway, probably with the dresser.

  Pulse returning to normal, Jeb turned to leave and nearly fell over Bozo. Sighing, he patted the dog’s hea
d and led the way back to his bedroom. Off with the jeans. Head pillowed again on his folded arms, he stared into the darkness.

  When Bozo jumped up on the bed and circled before lying down, Jeb whispered, “Let’s hope that makes her feel safe enough to get some rest.”

  Bozo growled a response. Jeb fell asleep on that thought.

  * * *

  When Jeb awakened the next morning and looked out his bedroom window, he saw a world encrusted with thick ice. It was beautiful—but also treacherous. He showered, shaved, and scrubbed his teeth. Then he threw on clothing warmer than he’d worn yesterday. Thermal underwear. Up top, he pulled on a sweatshirt and then doubled the layer with a sweater. He had no idea how much damage the storm had done during the night, but he suspected it was extensive. Amanda and Chloe would be going nowhere today and probably not tomorrow. The thought eased his mind. If Amanda even acted as if she meant to go back to that awful rental, he would pitch a fit.

  When Jeb got downstairs, he took a page from his mother’s book and listened to a weather update. He learned of widespread power outages, downed trees, blocked roads, half-frozen people being taken to Mystic Urgent Care or to St. Matthews in Crystal Falls, and another day of school closures. He decided that he’d better take a chain saw with him as he made his rounds on Elderberry.

  He was about to put on his jacket to tend his outdoor animals when he heard the rumbling sound again. He winced, picturing Amanda struggling to move that dresser. She could pull a shoulder muscle or hurt her back. A few moments later, she came downstairs. Tousled dark hair lay over her shoulders. Her eyelids looked heavy with sleepiness. Using the newel post to swing down to the first floor, she stopped, lifted a delicate, arched brow, and asked, “How bad is it?”

  He gestured toward a window. “Really bad, I’m afraid. No school today. Power’s out in places all across town. People are being taken to urgent care or the hospital in Crystal Falls. It dropped to thirty-five below. In Mystic, that’s unheard-of.”

  She splayed a hand over her heart. She wore an old, oversize T-shirt and holey sweatpants and still managed to look beautiful. “I p-p-pray all our neighbors—that everyone—is all right.”

  After watching her struggle to utter the word pray, Jeb decided it was something she didn’t often say. He figured the reasons behind that were ugly. “I’ll be heading out as soon as I’ve taken care of my animals.”

  “Animals? You have others besides Bozo?”

  That shot to hell his theory that she’d ever walked past his place and seen him working outside. “Horses, some steers, a pig, and a Lincoln ewe, plus chickens.”

  “Oh, Chloe will love seeing them.”

  “Not this morning,” he said as he pulled on chained boots and donned his Carhartt jacket. “It’ll be slicker than greased owl shit out there. Maybe tomorrow.”

  She nodded. Then she frowned. “How slick is greased owl shit?”

  Jeb felt heat prickle on the nape of his neck. He needed to clean up his mouth. “Pretty damned slick.” He winced, deciding he was a lost cause. “Sorry—it’s a Southern saying I picked up from Dad, and my mom’s not here to threaten me with a bar of soap.”

  “Your mother threatens to wash your mouth out with soap?”

  Jeb pictured his spry mother. Amanda reminded him of her in many ways, something he needed to think about. He’d heard of women falling for men who resembled their fathers and men who went for gals who reminded them of their mothers. He kept his heart on a much shorter leash. “Not only does she threaten, but she’ll also grab a handful of my hair, even though she’s short and it’s a stretch, to shove my head over a sink.”

  “And you allow that?”

  Jeb tried to picture himself using his strength against the woman who’d raised him. He shrugged. “She never follows through. She’s just bent on getting grandkids and keeping our mouths clean so they don’t embarrass her when they go to kindergarten.” Jeb’s sisters sometimes talked even worse than he did, and he’d heard them being threatened with bars of soap, too. “Mom is the matriarch. She tries to keep all of us in line. The soap thing—it’s more a joke than serious. When we were kids, we actually got soap scrubbed against our clenched teeth, but that never happens now.”

  Amanda inclined her head. “My mother insisted on clean language as well.”

  Jeb started for the door and then did a U-turn. “I almost forgot. I’m going to wear gloves this morning. Last night I grabbed hold of the door handle to my ewe’s shed, and my hand froze to the metal. I lost a little hide.”

  He fetched his dirty old leather gloves from the closet shelf where he’d left them yesterday to dry.

  “Let me see,” she said, walking toward him.

  Jeb felt silly. He wasn’t a kid who needed his scrapes kissed. But she looked so concerned that he showed her anyway.

  “Oh, no.” She gave him an accusing look. “Why didn’t you say something? That needs to be bandaged!”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “It’s just a raw patch, Amanda, nothing serious.”

  “But it must hurt. Where is your first-aid kit?”

  Jeb didn’t want to be fussed over, but if he protested, he might seem grumpy. He told her where the kit was kept, sat at the table, and braced himself for some pampering. He hadn’t had a woman nurse him since he’d left home.

  With gentle care, Amanda cleaned the raw patch. He’d given it a good wash last night, and it was already glazing over with a hard crust. It would be sore for a few days, but he’d live through it. While she dabbed on antibiotic ointment and wrapped his hand in gauze, he distracted himself by trying to breathe in her scent. No perfume. She smelled of bath soap, shampoo, and woman, an essence all her own. He wished he could press his face to her hair.

  “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

  She jerked as if he’d poked her with a pin and gave him a startled look that soon morphed into suspicion. Great move, Sterling. You sure blew that all to hell.

  “I know how beautiful I’m not.” Her words were clipped. “I do own a mirror.”

  Jeb wished he could call back the words. She’d begun to let down her guard, and his big mouth had shot it back ten feet in the air. “Uh, can you cook?”

  “Cook?” Her tone told him she hadn’t been expecting this. “Well . . . yes, it’s the only thing I do halfway well.”

  “Would you mind fixing me some hot food? It’ll be a long day, and after I’m done tending to animals, I won’t have time to fix anything.” He thought of the man who’d fallen yesterday. “I hauled in enough wood to last the night for the old guy who bruised his hip, but by now, he might be running low.”

  “You must hurry then.” She wound tape over the gauze. As she returned the first-aid supplies to the case, she asked, “What would you like for breakfast?”

  A taste of your mouth. Aloud Jeb said, “Some bacon, eggs over easy, and a couple of pieces of toast will do me. Lots of bacon, four eggs.”

  She moved toward the bathroom to put the kit away. “I’ll have it ready.”

  Jeb put Bozo’s boots on him, and together they went out to care for the critters. The only thing she does halfway well? The lady needed a large dose of self-confidence. When she looked in a mirror, she didn’t see the same woman he did.

  When Jeb returned to the house, he sat down to perfect eggs. A lot of people broke the yolks of eggs over easy. She’d added fried potatoes and gravy to his order.

  When he glanced up, she shrugged. “They’ll stick to your ribs better than only toast.”

  She seemed tense as he took a bite. Flavor burst over his tongue, and he closed his eyes in appreciation. “This is fabulous, Amanda. Thank you.”

  “It’s just plain fare.” She walked to the sink to begin cleaning up. “I can’t stay here without earning our keep. I need to pay my own way.”

  Jeb understood that. “If I could co
me home for a hot lunch, I’d be a happy man.”

  She turned with a dishcloth in her slender hand. “What would you like?”

  “Think freezing cold and weak with hunger. By noon, I’ll be starving.”

  She looked at him with a plea in her eyes. “Can you give me some hints?”

  He thought fast. “I’d love a hearty beef stew, lots of spuds, celery, onion, and carrots with tender meat in a thick tomato and broth sauce.”

  She nodded, looking relieved to have some direction. “If you have all the ingredients, the stew will be waiting for you.”

  Jeb finished his breakfast and stuck his plate and utensils in the dishwasher. Then he gave Amanda a tour of his larder, cupboards, and chest freezer. She flinched when he gestured with his hands. She said that she and Chloe shouldn’t impose on him another night. Jeb prayed he wouldn’t come home to find lunch ready but her and the child gone. The very thought nearly gave him a heart attack.

  “When bad weather hits, neighbors help neighbors,” he said. “If you feel like you’re running up a debt, you’re right. When the next storm strikes, I’ll be glad if you show up to lend me a hand. That’s what we call paybacks. It’s about helping out, and being there for each other. That’s one advantage of living in a small town.”

  She nodded, but Jeb wasn’t sure she really got it. Glancing at his watch, he knew he couldn’t waste more time trying to reassure her. “Okay, I’m off to the races.”

  Standing by the table, she knotted her hands together and held them at her waist. “Take care.”

  “I will.” Jeb wished he could ease her mind. He regretted asking her to fix lunch. She clearly feared that he might dislike what she made. Shit. He’d hoped to make her feel welcome, not give her more to worry about. He remembered that he needed to get his chain saw and chose to exit by the back door. As he pulled the door closed behind him, heading Bozo off at the pass with the angle of his leg, he yelled, “The downstairs bathroom could use a good cleaning.” Why the hell did I say that? He poked his head back inside. “Only if you have the time. No big deal if you can’t get to it. And Bozo is a beggar while I cook. He can’t have garlic or onions, but other vegetables are fine.”