An Allegheny Homecoming

by T. R. McClure

  “Still cold, huh?”

  “I can’t sleep,” she whispered.

  “Me neither. Must be the caffeine in the coffee.” Josh shifted in his seat, staring at the fire. “I could go for a bowl of ice cream.”

  Wendy rolled her eyes. “There’s a blizzard right outside that door, and you want ice cream?”

  “I love ice cream.” He smiled. “What would you have?”

  She stared up at the ceiling and again noticed the inaccessible half-built loft overhead. “Pizza.” Her stomach growled as if in response to her words. “Pizza with everything on it.”

  “You haven’t lived until you’ve had pizza in Italy.”

  “You’ve been to Italy?”

  He nodded. “Fresh, locally grown ingredients.”

  For the first time, she noticed the striking color of his eyes, a brilliant blue. What she could see of his cheeks above the beard and his forehead looked tan.

  He dropped his gaze to hers. The blue eyes grew wary. “What are you staring at?” His brow creased, as if uncomfortable with her scrutiny.

  “You work outdoors.”

  His eyes narrowed and focused again on the fire. He seemed to struggle with his response. “Montana.”

  Wendy nodded. “Thought so. You’re a cowboy.”

  Crinkles appeared at the corners of the blue eyes. “Yep, I’m a cowboy. My name’s Josh.”

  “So what are you doing in Bear Meadows, Cowboy Josh?”

  The crinkles disappeared. “Checking on my mom.” He threw her a look. “Are you sure your phone’s dead? You should check it again. Maybe you can call someone now.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Doubt it. And like I said, my parents are visiting my sister and staying until after Thanksgiving. They wouldn’t notice I was gone even if they were home. One time after church I left the sanctuary, this is when we lived in Philly, and I went into the social hall with my friends. My parents were halfway home before they noticed I wasn’t in the car.”

  Josh laughed. “Poor baby.”

  “Tell me about it. My parents are all about each other. I’m just in the way.”

  “Well, at least yours love each other. My parents can’t be in the same room together without arguing.”

  Interesting. Her reluctant talker was beginning to open up. Score one for a fireplace and a sleeping bag. “Two opposite scenarios, and yet neither of us is happy. What’s up with that?”

  Instead of answering her question, he asked, “So, no boyfriend?”

  She frowned. “A boyfriend doesn’t figure into my career path.”

  He rubbed his hands together by the fire. His fingers looked rough, which made sense. He was a cowboy. She met his gaze, though neither of them spoke.

  Finally, Wendy broke the silence. “You know, usually when I like someone, I know his last name.”

  He leaned down until their lips were just inches apart. “Consider this a new adventure.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE CABIN WAS bathed in soft, white light when Wendy woke later that morning. All that remained of the large log was a small black chunk surrounded by glowing coals. She felt oddly at peace, more peaceful than she had felt for a long time. Then she remembered the look, and saying she liked him. The gentle, warm grin, after which she fell fast asleep. What had she been thinking?

  Katherine King’s words echoed in her mind. No men, no kids, not even a pet. Katherine King, the headhunter who had found her the job in Atlanta that had unfortunately fallen through, the woman who was still out there looking for Wendy’s big chance. Wendy had obeyed Ms. King’s advice. She didn’t count the dinner with Mac because the evening had gone exactly nowhere.

  She rolled out of the sleeping bag onto the cold floor. Grabbing her boots and jacket, she rose and walked over to the window. She squinted at the glare from the sun shining off the new snow. At least the snow had stopped falling. She could make out the water of Little Bear Creek just beyond the trees. Above was the bright blue of a winter sky. Josh’s coat hung next to hers on a hook. She glanced down at the pocket and thought about borrowing his truck. Squeezing the left pocket, she felt the sharp edges of the key.

  “You’re not going to steal my new truck, are you?”

  She jumped, and then glanced over her shoulder. “Who, me?”

  Josh smiled. “Because I can’t let you do that. I just got her.”

  “Her?”

  “My new truck.”

  Even from this distance she could see the intense blue of his eyes. Looking away, she went to the counter. “Of course not.” Unlike the front window, which overlooked the road, and then the creek to farm fields on the other side, the window above the sink looked out on a steep bank covered with pine trees and mountain laurel.

  “I could use some breakfast. Scrambled eggs with onions and green peppers, sausage and bacon...” He groaned. “Sugar cookies and half of a Hershey Kiss just don’t do it for me anymore, you know?”

  She had forgotten the intimacy of the night before. She had awakened, freezing, and he had made coffee. She wasn’t comfortable with the familiarity. “If you would be so kind as to take me home, perhaps I can find something to feed you.”

  His grin faded. “If I would be so kind...” He struggled to his feet. He’d slept near her, also close to the fire, and used the quilt for warmth. Picking up the quilt, he rolled it in a ball and left it on the wooden chair. “Certainly, mademoiselle.”

  He checked the fire and then, satisfied it was safe, got his coat from the hook. He opened the door.

  Wendy’s breath caught at the sight greeting them. A foot of snow had blown against the front door. “Can your truck make it? It looks pretty deep.”

  “We’ll find out, won’t we?” He grabbed the broom from the corner and shot her a look. “Finish getting ready, and I’ll clean off the truck.”

  She nodded. Her socks and boots were dry. She removed the heavy socks and replaced them with her own. She zipped up her boots and slipped on her jacket, then went over to the window. The truck was cleared of snow. She took a deep breath and stepped onto the porch.

  Josh leaned the broom against the porch and locked the door. Reaching in his pocket, he replaced the key on the ledge over the door.

  So the sharp object in his coat pocket hadn’t been the truck key after all. She’d forgotten about the fob. Good thing she wasn’t planning on making a run for it.

  “Do you want some help?” He glanced from the porch to the truck. Melting snow ran down the windshield and plumes billowed from the truck’s tailpipe.

  Her gaze followed his. The snow was as high as the porch. But she had already depended enough on the stranger...er, Josh. “I can do it.” She threw him a glance. “I’ll follow in your footsteps.”

  “Okay.” He sounded doubtful, but she managed it. It wasn’t until they had gotten to the main road and the bridge did the conversation resume. “Looks like they made one pass through here this morning.” He pointed to the other side of the road, where they could barely see the red roof of her car. “You’ll have to call a tow truck. Cross the bridge, you said?”

  “Yes, then turn right.”

  “Right? Down Last Chance Road?”

  “Yes.” Wendy studied her rescuer’s profile. She had detected a note of tension in his cryptic response. “Is that a problem?”

  “No.” He looked out the window. “I only know of one farm down that road. I thought maybe you lived past the Smith farm.”

  “Well, we haven’t been there long. My parents built a house a few years ago. I was attending Penn State, my dad had retired and they decided they liked the area. I commuted from home.”

  Josh nodded. “Lucky you.”

  “For sure.” She pointed to a mailbox by the side of the road. “Turn here.” The long driveway ha
d already been plowed and was cleared so well she could see bits of the blacktop through the layer of snow. “My dad must have someone set up to plow the driveway.”

  “Nice.”

  “Pull around back.”

  The parking area there was plowed, but the short sidewalk was not. Wendy appreciated how Josh grabbed the snow shovel by the back door and cleared the pathway. She went in via the kitchen door, turned up the heat and made coffee. Her phone had completely died, so she plugged it in to recharge.

  She was checking the refrigerator when she figured it out. Of course. She heard the kitchen door open and close. She turned. Josh stood just inside the door looking around the modern kitchen.

  “Well, I guess you’re good so...”

  “I made coffee. I owe you that much and something to eat.” She pointed to the booth next to the window, where two steaming cups of coffee waited. “Have a seat, Mr. Hunter.”

  His eyebrows shot up until they disappeared in the thick mop on top of his head. “Excuse me?”

  “That’s your name, right? You’re Josh Hunter, Sue Hunter’s son.” Wendy crossed her arms in satisfaction at the look of shock on the young man’s face. Ha! Was she an investigative reporter or not!

  “You are correct.” He settled into the booth and stared out the window. “Your bird feeder’s empty.”

  Wendy’s arms dropped to her sides. “Don’t you want to know how I guessed your name?”

  He shrugged.

  So much for that. Her phone dinged. She had a message from Walt. Call me. She pulled a box from the freezer. Walt would have to wait until she fed her unexpected company. “I don’t cook much here, but my dad has some breakfast sandwiches in the freezer. Will that do?” She glanced over her shoulder. “Josh?”

  A faint flush appeared on his cheeks. “That’s fine.” He seemed uncomfortable, whether from being in her house or at her figuring out his name, she wasn’t sure. “Is that your dog?”

  “I don’t have a dog.” Wendy watched the timer click down on the microwave. “My mom has a terrier, but she took him with her.” The microwave dinged. She set one egg and muffin sandwich in front of Josh and kept one for herself. Suddenly starving, she quickly sat opposite him at the table.

  He sipped his coffee and looked down at his food. “Okay, but there’s a dog in your yard. And he looks cold.”

  She peeked out the window just in time to see a big black dog lift his leg against the maple tree. Her mother wouldn’t be happy about that. With a longing glance at her cooling breakfast, Wendy jumped up and opened the door, intending to shoo the animal away. Instead he slipped past her as if he had done so hundreds of times, shook, scattering wet snow in every direction, and curled up on the rug in front of the sink.

  “He has a lot of nerve.” She thought she saw Josh grin as he held his coffee cup to his lips.

  “He doesn’t look too bad. Maybe he took shelter on your porch.”

  Wendy knelt. “He has a collar but no tag.”

  “Looks like you have yourself some company while your parents are gone.”

  Wendy’s heart jumped into her throat. No men, no kids, not even a pet. And here she was with a man and a dog. If she weren’t careful, she’d soon be building a snowman with a passel of kids in the backyard.

  * * *

  JOSH WONDERED AT the look of alarm on Wendy’s face when he suggested she keep the dog. She obviously wasn’t afraid of the creature. So what was the big deal? “You don’t like dogs?”

  “Of course I like dogs.” She sat back on her heels. “I used to have a dog like this one a long time ago. Her name was Maggie.” She ran a hand over the animal’s smooth dome. The dog rolled over. When she didn’t respond, he nudged her knee with his nose.

  “Looks like he has your number.”

  She smiled, and then the smiled faded. “Why don’t you take him into town, Josh? He’s lost. Somebody will know where he belongs.”

  “No way.” Josh held up his hands, palms out. “I’ve only been back twice since high school. I don’t really know anybody. Besides, I’m not going into town. I’m heading to the cabin.” His sandwich already gone, he slid out from the booth, dragging his coat behind him. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  Concern lit her eyes when she glanced up. “You’ll be cold there. And you don’t have anything to eat.”

  He gave the woman and dog a wide berth on his way out. It was past time for him to go. He pulled open the door and took a deep breath of the frosty air. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Wait.” Wendy jumped up from the floor so quickly the dog skittered under the table. She looked from the dog to Josh. “At least let me give you some food to tide you over. We don’t have a lot, but still...”

  Josh waited. He was afraid if he let go of the door handle he might want to stay. Get to know her better. He gripped the knob tighter, watching Wendy throw bread, cold meat, snacks and cans of soda in a basket she brought from the laundry room.

  Finally, she propped her hands on her hips and tried to catch his gaze. “Thank you.”

  Josh avoided her eyes, his gaze on the dog, still under the table. “Nothing to thank me for, miss. I just did what anybody would do.”

  She came closer. “Miss? What happened to mademoiselle?”

  He heard the note of teasing in her voice, but even so, his body tensed at her close proximity. When he tore his gaze from the dog, he looked into her soft brown eyes. Only now did he see the flecks of amber. For some reason they reminded him of the mountain lion he had seen in Montana, whether because of the color or the unblinking stare he couldn’t say. He had to clear his throat before he could answer, but even so, the words came out softly. “I don’t know.”

  Resting her hands on his shoulders, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed the one bare spot high on his cheek. “Thanks for...for...uh, warming me up.” Her face reddened at the memories her words evoked. “I mean, uh, never mind. If I can ever return the favor...”

  “You don’t owe me anything.” His fingers released the doorknob, compelled of their own volition to cup her cheek, warm and soft.

  She rested her hand on his chest, fingering the loose button. “Josh, last night was—” she bit her lip, as if uncertain what to say “—kind of special. But when I said I didn’t have time for a boyfriend, I meant it. My work, well...” The button fell into her hand.

  “No need to tell me, Wendy.” He withdrew his hand from her cheek and reached again for the doorknob. “I’m not planning on sticking around town any longer than I have to.” He stepped out onto the back porch.

  “Wait.”

  He turned. “Yes?”

  “Your food.” Tucking the button into her pocket, she handed him the laundry basket. He took one last look at her and then he was gone. Seconds later he was in his truck, speeding away.

  When he crossed the bridge, he started to turn right onto the lane that would take him to the cabin. Instead, he slammed on the brakes, spotting Wendy’s red car. Should he go back to her? They did have a connection...he thought. But he had to remember why he was back in town. He had seen his mother, oddly chummy with the tea shop owner. He had yet to see his father.

  He turned left.

  Ten minutes later he stood in the kitchen of his childhood home. “What happened to all the furniture?” The last time he was here, his mother’s matching couch, chair and end tables had flanked the television. His mother prided herself on having a comfortable and attractive living room. Now the space was empty, but for his dad’s large recliner and a giant-screen television. “Where’s Grandma’s rocker?”

  Brad Hunter stood at the stove. He had been in the middle of making lunch when Josh arrived. Instead of a hug, his father had offered to cook him a hamburger. Nothing had changed. Brad Hunter was not a demonstrative man. “In your bedroom.”

  When no mo
re information was forthcoming, Josh decided to set the table with the ketchup and rolls. “Soda?”

  His father’s grunt indicated an affirmative. He had brought Wendy’s laundry basket into the house, figuring the cold meat would fare better in a refrigerator than the cabin. He retrieved two cans of soda, noting that Wendy’s family liked cherry-flavored cola just as he did. Brad turned off the stove and set a plate of hamburgers on the table. He pulled a large bag of potato chips from the top of the refrigerator.

  The next few minutes were taken up with the snap of opening cans and fixing the burgers. His dad poured a healthy serving of potato chips on his paper plate and waved the bag at him. “Chip?”

  “Thanks.” Josh hadn’t realized how hungry he was. Except for the breakfast sandwich and the cookies, he hadn’t eaten since noon the day before. Ketchup dripped from the sandwich down the front of his shirt. He dabbed with a paper towel, then decided the effort was fruitless. “Mind if I take a shower later?”

  “Help yourself. Your clothes are still in the drawers. They’ll probably even fit.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome to stay, too.” His father leaned back in his chair. “So what brings you home?”

  Anyone else might have been insulted at his father’s question. Josh didn’t answer until he finished the last bite of his second hamburger. “I don’t understand what’s happened. Is Mom sick? Is that why she moved out?”

  Brad’s head jerked at his question. “What?”

  “Mom. Is she sick? She must have lost about forty pounds.” Josh tapped one finger on the surface of the cheap wooden table. What happened to the old Formica one? And then he remembered. The original kitchen table was in the cooking area of his mother’s bakery. “Does Mom have cancer?”

  Brad’s eyes popped open. “What? No, of course not.” He pushed a broken chip around on the paper plate. “At least, I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so? You don’t know if your wife has cancer or not?” Josh’s voice rose at the end.

  Brad pushed back his chair and stood, his face red. “How should I know? She never talks to me.” He tossed his paper plate into the garbage can and stood looking out the window over the sink.