by Loree Lough
Smiling, Maleah sat down and bit the corner off her sandwich.
“So tell me, cupcake, have you called him yet?”
“Called who?” Teresa asked.
“Never you mind, dear. It’s a private joke.” He winked at Maleah. “Well? Did you?”
“Not yet.”
Groaning, he said, “What. Are. You. Waiting for!”
“Courage, mostly.”
“Oh my gracious.” Teresa clucked her tongue. “You don’t mean to say you’re actually encouraging her to get in touch with that...that boy, are you?”
Neither Frank nor Maleah spoke, prompting Teresa to say, “If your son and grandsons get wind of this, you’ll never hear the end of it.” She clucked her tongue again. “Don’t do it, Maleah. He isn’t worth alienating your family.”
Her grandmother had just put her greatest fear into words.
“Think about that, honey. Really think about that.” She took a sip of iced tea. “Do you have any idea how scary it is, knowing you’re considering a reunion with that...that criminal!”
He’d committed a crime. Yes, a serious one. But it had been nearly fifteen years ago, and he’d paid heavily for it. Maleah only shook her head and sighed. Maybe it had been wishful thinking that Grams had defended her when Eliot launched into yet another anti-Ian lecture. She wished her grandmother had the heart and soul of a romantic, like Grampa. But, as he was so fond of saying, “If wishes were fishes, you’d stink up the house.”
“I’m going to clear some of this snow from the front walk and driveway. From the looks of things, the weather will only get worse. No sense letting it pile up.”
“You don’t have to do that, cupcake.”
“I know. I want to do it. Need anything before I head for the tundra?”
“We’re fine,” Teresa said. “If we need anything, I can get it.” She got up and wrapped Maleah in a big hug. “You’re a sweetheart.”
After donning her coat, she stepped into the swirling storm and said a silent thanks to her grandmother, whose furry boots fit perfectly. When she turned to head back into the house, Maleah couldn’t see any evidence that she’d just spent an hour in this finger-and toe-numbing weather. Groaning, she plowed her way back to the porch. Leaning on the shovel handle, she stared into the white-gray sky. Looks like you’re stuck here for the duration.
Inside, she added a few logs to the woodstove and slumped onto the couch. “What’s the latest forecast?”
Teresa huffed. “They’re calling for record-breaking low temps.”
“And up to three feet of snow here in Howard County.”
She remembered a similar storm. Then, it had taken days to clear the highways, rescue stranded motorists and dig out.
Frank shook his head. “What do you bet we’ll break a snowfall record, too?”
“I just hope the power doesn’t go out. In this neighborhood, if a mosquito sneezes, we lose electricity.”
“Guess we’re lucky the pesky skeeters have frozen to death, aren’t we?”
The bulletin that scrolled across the bottom of the TV screen said the governor had called in the National Guard to assist the state highway administration.
“Multi-car accidents have already claimed the lives of fourteen,” the broadcaster said, heaping bad news atop bad news, “so stay inside and off the roads.”
Maleah closed her eyes, but it didn’t help get her mind off the weather map, or being stuck at her grandparents’ house, or the fact that a week or so ago, she’d loaned Joe her phone’s car charger.
The house phone rang. For a full thirty seconds, Frank and Teresa bickered about who’d answer it.
“It’s probably Mom or Dad,” Maleah said, picking up the handset.
“Everything okay over there?” Pat asked. “Your mother called the hospital to check on Dad, and the nurse said you brought him home this morning.”
“Dr. Peters checked him out and signed the release. Everything here is fine. And speaking of which, have you heard from the boys?”
“Both safe and sound at the station house.”
Why did she hear for now at the end of that sentence?
Her mom picked up the extension. “Do you have everything you need, honey?”
It had become a joke around town that even before the first flake hit the pavement, Baltimoreans flocked to the stores to pick the shelves clean of bread, milk and eggs, and the all-important toilet paper.
“Oh, you know Grams. This place is as well-stocked as a warehouse.”
“Well, if you need anything...”
Pat laughed. “How do you propose to get it there if she does? Dogsled?”
At the mention of the word, Maleah’s mind went immediately to Cash. And then to Ian, sitting alone in his apartment. Was Gladys there with him? Or Brady? Why do you care? He’s a grown man, perfectly capable of—
“No sense trying to shovel,” her dad said. “The way this wind is blowing, it’ll drift over everything before you can say Frosty the Snowman.”
“Hmpf,” his wife cut in, “ask how he figured that out.”
Maleah could hear the smile in her mother’s voice. “Like father, like daughter.” She pictured her car, nearly hidden under one of those drifts. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of going back out there until this mess has ended.”
Frank wiggled his fingers, and Maleah handed him the phone.
“Got the old woodstove crankin’?”
“Not yet. I need to muster the gumption to find the wood pile first.”
“Maleah found ours and we’re basking in the fire’s glow right now.”
“You didn’t lift logs, I hope!”
“Never got the chance, Ann. This kid of yours is kinda bossy.” He winked at Maleah.
“Somebody’s beeping in,” he continued. “Can’t see the caller ID without my glasses. Let me get back to you.”
He hit the Talk button. “Yellow...”
Teresa groaned. “I don’t know why he can’t just say hello, like a normal person.”
“Sure, sure,” Frank said. “She’s right here. Let me put her on.”
He handed the phone back to Maleah. “You might want to take this in the kitchen. Better still, upstairs in the guest room.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see...”
“Hello?” she over-enunciated.
“Man, it’s a relief to hear your voice.”
Instantly, she understood the reason for her grandfather’s suggestion and started up the stairs. “You didn’t answer your cell or your work phone. Thanks for being safe. And for being there. I would have called your folks’ house if I had to, but...”
Maleah could hardly blame him for feeling skittish about making that call.
“Call me crazy, but I pictured you alone and freezing on some deserted side road. Say the word if you think I’m prying, but where were you?”
“You aren’t prying.” By now, she’d reached the landing to the second floor. “My grandfather was rushed to the hospital night before last. Well, technically, very early yesterday morning.”
“Maleah, that’s awful. I’m sorry to hear that. I hope he’s all right.”
“He’s fine now. They implanted a pacemaker.”
“And he did well?”
“Well enough that his doctor sent him home. We barely beat the storm.”
“Glad he’s all right. How’s your grandmother? Is she holding up all right?”
“She’s fine. Thanks for asking.”
“Hey, I always liked Frank and Teresa.”
And why wouldn’t he, when—before they fell into step with the rest of the Turners—they’d been welcoming and polite.
“He’s like the Turner family rock,” Ian continued. “Wha
t’s the prognosis? He is gonna be okay, right?”
“His doctor is very pleased with his progress.”
“Good. Good. Glad to hear it.”
“How are you feeling these days?”
“Me?”
He seemed surprised that she’d asked, and Maleah felt bad about that.
“I’m fine. Getting around a little better every day, something Cash is grateful for. Poor pup was getting cabin fever, I think.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” she echoed.
“One of the reasons I tried so hard to track you down was to thank you for the cactus garden. And those balloons really brightened the place up until the helium leaked out. Hey...how weird is this—that dog of mine doesn’t think twice about racing into a burning building, or digging through mud or ashes to find a lost kid, but let a couple of half-deflated balloons bob around the apartment and he’s totally freaked out.”
Maleah laughed. “Aw, poor Cash.”
“But anyway, I’m glad to hear you and your grandfather are all right.”
“Thanks. I would have called you, too, if I’d had a working phone. I rushed out of the house so fast that I forgot my phone’s charger. No one had a charger to fit it, and since all my numbers are stored in there, I couldn’t use another phone.”
She was rambling and knew it, but couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“I had no idea who called. Couldn’t listen to messages...it was so frustrating.”
“Now I know what to get you for your birthday this spring.”
Please don’t get me a gift, Ian. She couldn’t help but remember all the thoughtful little presents he’d given her. A pocket folder specifically for her English Lit projects. Gloves with the fingertips snipped off so she could write reports and term papers in her favorite place, her parents’ unheated sunporch. Sherbet ice cream and butterscotch candies...
“No, thank you, but this has never happened before, and I doubt it’ll happen again.”
“You know what they say...”
“There’s a first time for everything?”
“Bingo.”
“How are things in Fells Point? Are you buried in snow yet?”
“It’s pretty bad. About a foot and a half out there so far.”
“Guess you’ll have to close the bistro until you can dig out.”
“Lee said he’ll stay. Gladys and I will go down later, take care of the few stragglers who’ll come in. Fells Point is populated by a whole bunch of people who like nothing better than to brave the elements. It’s not so bad really, since they do it on foot.”
“Ah, the adventure seekers.”
“Good name for them. So yeah, we’re open.” He paused again. “Too bad you live so far away.”
Because...?
“Because I think it’d be a lot of fun, being snowed in with you.”
Now really, how was she supposed to respond to that?
“It’s good you don’t have to go outside to reach the bistro. The last thing you need is to slip and fall, and reinjure yourself.”
“True. I guess.”
It sounded to Maleah as though he’d run out of things to say. And since she had nothing more to ask, either, Maleah said, “I’d better get back to the grandparents.”
“You’re staying put there, right?”
“My car is buried. Literally. I’m here for the duration.”
“Any idea when the plows will reach you?”
“The man across the street is on the county council, and while I was shoveling earlier, he said tomorrow by midnight at the earliest.”
“Bummer...but if I know you, you’ll make it fun for them. Popcorn, hot chocolate—better still, cooked-on-the-stovetop chocolate pudding. Couple of old movies on TV...” It was so similar to her plan that Maleah wondered if Ian had developed mind-reading talents at Lincoln.
“I’ll enjoy it, too,” she said. “I haven’t spent an over-nighter here since I was in junior high.”
“High school, you mean, when your folks went to New York for some sort of police convention. I remembered how furious you were with them when they insisted you couldn’t stay home alone.”
Because they were convinced a certain someone would worm their way into the house and not leave until ten minutes before Mom and Dad got home.
“I’m going to enjoy every minute. Who knows when an opportunity like this will present itself again. Before we know it, the road crews will get things cleaned up, and that, as they say, will be that.”
The silence was so long that Maleah wondered if the weather had caused interference and ended the call.
“I, ah, I think I hear Gladys in the hall. Probably wondering what’s taking me so long to get down to the bistro. I’m, I, ah, I’m glad your grandfather is okay. And it’s a relief knowing you’re safe.”
Had she said something to change his mood from jovial and talkative to standoffish and uncomfortable?
“It’s good to hear you’re on the mend, too. Keep up the good work and—”
“Well, ah, later then.”
He hung up, and Maleah stared at the handset. Why hadn’t she thanked him for calling?
Or wished him a nice weekend? Or told him to be careful, and not overdo it at the bistro?
“Because you’re an airhead.”
The worst kind of airhead...who doesn’t know her own mind, and who’s probably in love with an ex-con.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“YOU SURE ABOUT THIS, dude?”
Ian handed up his shovel, then climbed into the plow’s cab.
“I appreciate this, Andy. I know it’s out of the way for you.”
“You’re footin’ the bill—enough for that down payment on Helen’s new used car—so I’m happy to go a little out of the way.”
“Times like these it’s good having a pal who’s president of his own construction firm.”
“Just so you know... I promised Helen’s sister, her folks, couple of her teacher friends that I’d plow them out. So this might take a while.”
Ian snickered. “You’re talking to a guy who stared through steel bars for ten years. I’m a patient man, Andy. Real patient.”
But it was a lie. He’d waited nearly fifteen years for a chance like this, and patient didn’t begin to describe his current state.
The ride was noisy, rough, and when the big machine teetered atop five-and six-foot snowdrifts, borderline terrifying. It took nearly four hours to make the forty-minute trip, and when Andy idled the rig several houses down from the Turners’, he said, “You’re serious. Every driveway on the street...”
It wasn’t nearly as easy, getting off the rig as it had been climbing on, thanks to sore muscles and achy bones. He handed Andy a generous check. “Yeah, the whole shebang.”
Pocketing the payment, Andy shrugged. “It’s your money.”
“And it’s our secret.”
“I think you’re nuts, but okay.”
He’d shared his opinion earlier: “Best way to win a woman’s heart is to do a good deed for somebody she cares about. A grandpa recently released from the hospital? Can’t get much better than that.”
If things worked out tonight as he hoped they would, she’d come to him willingly and happily, not because she felt beholden to him.
“How you gonna get home again?”
Ian stood stock-still in the thigh-deep snow, unable to believe he hadn’t considered that.
“I, ah, I don’t know.”
Andy’s laughter echoed in the enclosed cab. “No worries, pal. Getting this whole neighborhood plowed out will take until morning. If you haven’t been arrested before then, you can ride back with me. No charge.”
Arrested. The word sent a cold chill through him.
<
br /> “Thanks. You’re all heart.”
“I’ll call you when I finish,” he shouted over the plow’s diesel engine.
It had been a mistake, asking Andy to drop him this far from her grandparents’ drive. Walking on flat ground had been a challenge with crutches, and then the cane. He took his time, but tromping through deep snow made him wince with every step. If you put yourself in the hospital, you’ll only have yourself to—
“Ian?”
Maleah...
He’d hoped for a few minutes to catch his breath, to pull his thoughts together, and find a way to mask his pain. It lessened some when he took stock of the woman who stood before him, snow-dampened blond curls clinging to her cheeks and forehead, cheeks as rosy as those on the painted cherubic faces of Gladys’s Hummel figurines. If she’d ever looked more beautiful, he couldn’t remember when.
“What’re you doing out in this mess?” he asked.
“Trying to stay half a step ahead of this beastly storm.” She followed the narrow path she’d shoveled and met him at the mailbox. “What are you doing here? No...” She held up an ice-encrusted mitten. “The better question is, how did you get here?”
Ian pointed to the plow just up the street. “Hitched a ride with a friend.”
“From Fells Point to Ellicott City. In a snowplow.”
He shrugged. “Uh, yeah.”
“Why?”
“So I could see for myself that you’re all right.”
“And put your own life on the line in the process?”
Ian hadn’t realized until that moment that he’d been massaging his aching thigh. He grinned, trying to make light of it. “I’d hardly call the ride over here life-threatening...”
She snorted. “I wonder if your surgeon would agree.”
“Good question.”
“You look awful,” she said. “Pale, dark circles under your eyes... You arranged for that plow, didn’t you?”
“I might’ve influenced the driver. A little.”
“You’re shivering.” She jammed the shovel into the slip-sliding mound of crumpled snow she’d tossed beside the driveway. “Come inside.”
She punctuated the order with a smile, and linked her arm through his. His heart beat hard. That oughta warm you up. “But...your grandparents...”
