“What do you think?” Jenny asked as she indicated the way into the living room.
“It’s nice.” Noah noticed the floors here were black walnut as well, along with the doors and trim. Rare. Walnut was costly and usually reserved for fine furniture. He should know. He’d spent all his afternoons after school working at his uncle Gabe’s furniture restoration and replication shop. Remembering the peaceful hours spent in his uncle’s steady, quiet presence brought a smile to his face.
Lucinda was coloring a picture laid out next to a stack of puzzles on the coffee table. Noah leaned his cane against the armrest and sat on the couch.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what brings you to Perfect?” Jenny settled into the chair across from him.
“I had planned to travel for a year.” He couldn’t very well blurt out who he was and why he’d come. “But it’s so quiet and peaceful here, I’ve decided to stay for a while.” Quiet except for the stupid dog scratching and snuffling on the other side of the double doors behind him. The sound set his teeth on edge, and he started to sweat. Not now. He sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate. He couldn’t aZaA4fford to fall into a flashback in the middle of the Lovejoys’ living room.
“That explains the truck and trailer parked out front.” She nodded. “Where are you from?”
“Pennsylvania.” The door behind them burst open, and the biggest, ugliest dog he’d ever seen came bounding through. Instinct took over. Noah shot off the couch and snatched Lucinda out of the beast’s reach. It hit him full force then—he held Matt’s little girl in his arms. His niece. Allison and his dad were grandparents, and he was an uncle.
She giggled and squirmed in his arms. The dog reacted in a frenzy of barking, leaping in circles around him. “What is that thing?”
Lucinda patted Noah’s face. “That’s Sweet Pea.”
Noah glanced at Jenny. Her intense scrutiny made him aware of how odd his reaction must seem. “What kind of dog is that?” The mutt was the color of mud-streaked ash, part of its coat smooth, part long and wiry. Its head was massive and draped in extra folds of skin. The mutt must have weighed at least a hundred and fifty pounds, maybe more, and drool hung from its jowls in slimy strands.
“Far as the vet can tell, he’s part mastiff and part wolfhound. Sweet Pea is just one rung up from a floor rug, Mr. Langford. You can put Lucinda down. Other than accidentally knocking people over with his enthusiasm, he wouldn’t hurt a flea.”
Shaken, he set Lucinda in front of the picture she’d been working on. His stump throbbed from the sudden exertion. He limped back to the couch, grateful to take the weight off his prosthesis. “Call me Noah.”
“This place has a history.” Jenny leaned forward in her chair. “My great-great-grandfather fought in the Civil War. Southern Indiana wasn’t his destination either.” She smiled. “He left Georgia intending to buy land in Texas and start a ranch. I think the quiet got to him too. He settled here, married, and founded the town of Perfect. Something about this place appeals to the war-weary.”
Noah shifted his weight.
“Am I wrong in assuming you’re recently out of the military?”
“No, ma’am. Seven years in the army, followed by six months in the VA hospital. I got out in March.”
“I lost my husband in Vietnam, along with a brother. Lovejoys have fought in every war this country has ever been in, including the American Revolution.”
War was the last thing Noah wanted to talk about. Glancing at Lucinda, he focused on the picture she was drawing, a large red barn with happy stick people in front and a big yellow sun in the corner. Sweet Pea lay on the floor next to her, his tongue hanging out, content to drool on the rug while keeping an eye on Noah. “I noticed your daughter wore scrubs. Does she work in a hospital?”
“I raised Ceejay, but she isn’t my daughter. She’s my niece.” She canted her head and studied him. “Does she have anything to do with your being here?”
Heat crept up his neck. His gut told him now was not the time for revelations. “What makes you think that?”
“Just a feeling.” Jenny shrugged. “I get them sometimes, about people mostly, and sometimes about things to come.”
“Aunt Jenny is speckle-ating.” Lucinda in exchange for s . His looked up from her task. “Mommy told me she speckle-ates all the time.”
“Who asked you, little Miss Buttinski?”
“Nobody.” Lucinda started to squirm. “Uh-oh, Aunt Jenny. The wind is gonna shift.”
“Well, don’t let us stop you. Get going.”
Noah frowned as he watched Lucinda hold the railing and take the steps one at a time. He turned toward Jenny. “What does shifting wind have to do with going upstairs?”
Jenny laughed. “Iww.w3.org/1999
CHAPTER THREE
CEEJAY ROSE UP ON TIPTOE in front of the sink and looked out the kitchen window at the mystery man sitting in her backyard. She hadn’t been able to get him off her mind since he showed up at their front door three days ago. Noah wasn’t movie-star good-looking, but he had an interesting face—the kind of face a girl could spend hours getting to know better. She liked how his eyes were mostly green with brown flecks, and he had a great smile. Still, it wasn’t his looks that piqued her interest. She knew a bird with a broken wing when she saw one, and that drew her like nothing else could.
“What are you doing?” Jenny swung into the room and set two canvas grocery bags on the table.
“I’m watching our new tenant.” Ceejay glanced over her shoulder. “It’s only two o’clock. How come you’re home so early?”
“My new assistant manager is working out well, which means I can finally cut back on my hours.” Jenny pulled cartons of diner leftovers out of one of the bags and placed them in the refrigerator. “What’s Noah doing that’s so interesting you have to stare at him out that window?”
Ceejay turned her attention back to the mystery man and smiled. “Far as I can tell, he’s in a stare-down contest with Sweet Pea. My money’s on the dog.”
Jenny laughed. “That stupid mutt broke through another hook-and-eye on the kitchen doors after Noah’s tour of the carriage house. The moment the dog burst into the room Noah shot off the couch like a rocket and lifted Lucinda into the air.”
“Really?” Ceejay frowned. “Why would he do that? Sweet Pea would never hurt Lucinda.” to my grandma?” Lucinda My,
“He didn’t know that. I think he’s one of those people who can’t help themselves. The instinct to protect is in his blood.”
“I don’t know.” Ceejay wiped her hands on a dish towel and helped her aunt put away the groceries from the second bag. “What do we know about him?”
“We know he’s recently out of the military and trying to figure out the rest of his life. It’s clear he’s hurting. Something brought him here to heal.”
“There you go speculating again.” Ceejay shook her head. “According to his rental application, he’s unemployed and doesn’t seem real motivated to change that status.”
“He just got out of the VA hospital two months ago. Give him some time.” Jenny folded the canvas bags and shoved them into the broom closet. “Where’s Lucinda?”
“Still napping. I’m going to go talk to Noah.”
“Invite him to dinner while you’re at it. I have enough ham and mashed potatoes to feed an army, and he looks like he could use a few good meals.”
Nodding, she headed out back, letting the screen door close with a loud thwack behind her. Noah didn’t stir as she approached, and Sweet Pea kept vigil at his feet. It wasn’t until she stood right next to him that she noticed the trembling. He stared at nothing, his face tight and pale as if he suffered great pain. He had the look Lucinda got sometimes when she had night terrors. What kind of hell was he seeing?
Sweet Pea nudged Noah’s clenched fist and sidled closer to lick his face. Noah came to with a gasp, shoving Sweet Pea away. “Get off me, you slobbering sack of—”
&nbs
p; Ceejay cleared her throat.
“I didn’t see you standing there.” Noah swiped at his face with the sleeve of his T-shirt.
“I don’t think you saw anything here. Are you all right?” Her nursing instincts kicked in, and she had to fight the urge to soothe him with a touch.
He nodded. “I have...flashbacks. From the military.”
How stable was he? She’d heard of vets with PTSD becoming violent during flashbacks, and she had a daughter to protect. She sat down in the lawn chair next to his, determined to find out more about him. “Are you all settled in?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“I went over your application and the lease. I’ve been watching you for a few days now, and—”
“You’ve been watching me?”
His lopsided grin and hopeful expression did funny things to her insides, and heat flooded her cheeks. “Let’s just say every time I pass a window I have a tendency to look outside, and there you are sitting in that chair. Your application didn’t list any employment. I’d be happy to introduce you to some of our local businesses, and if you want I could—”
“I’m paid up.”
“My aunt handled your application and the lease. I didn’t have a chance to talk to you first, or to ask questions. I know you’re paid up for the month, but I’m a little concerned that without a job—”
“I have money.” into the kitchens . His
“I’m sure you do. It’s hard to miss that shiny new truck and camper parked out front, but don’t you want to work?” She couldn’t imagine sitting around every day with nothing to do. It would drive her crazy. He opened his mouth to reply, and she held up a hand to stop him. “I’m sorry. It’s small-town nosiness on my part.” She shrugged. “I just want to make sure you’re going to be a steady tenant.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a better prospect waiting to move in?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe I do.”
“You don’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” He smirked. “Your aunt told me no one’s lived here for eighteen months.”
Dang. Even his smirk was sexy. “Only because I haven’t advertised. I’ve been too busy finishing school and starting my career to bother. This is a very desirable location. The carriage house is a registered historical landmark, not to mention charming. There are plenty of folks who’d love to live here by the river.” She lifted her chin, smug in the soundness of her argument. A breeze kicked up out of the northwest, nullifying her position on a single inhalation.
“What is that stench?” Noah glared at Sweet Pea.
“It’s not the dog.” Ceejay sank back into the chair. “Occasionally the wind shifts in the wrong direction. What you smell is hog farm.”
“Ah, the wind shifted.” Noah laughed. “I get it.”
“Get what?”
“Never mind. What do people around here do for fun?”
Ceejay’s brow rose. Their conversation had taken an unexpected turn, and she wasn’t in any hurry to turn it back. Hmm. Something to think about. “There’s a movie theater and a mall halfway between Perfect and Evansville, a racetrack outside of Boonville, and a few bars with dance floors and live music nearby.”
She didn’t mention the monthly Polka Fests or the pancake breakfasts and spaghetti dinners held in the local churches. And a man from Philadelphia probably would not be interested in joining the local farm families when they gathered to help one another butcher a few hogs for personal use. How many fall days had she spent making pork sausage and pickling pigs’ feet with the women while the men took care of curing the hams? Nope. She shuddered with embarrassment. That she did not want to share.
“I’m not interested in racing”—Noah turned his face away—” “or dancing. What about places to eat? Are there any restaurants nearby?”
“My aunt owns a diner in town. It’s open for breakfast and lunch six days a week.”
“When’s your next night off? Maybe we could head into Evansville, go see a movie and get a bite somewhere.”
Her heart started to riot in her chest. He wanted to spend time with her. Was it possible she’d been on his mind the way he’d been on hers? “You’re asking your landlady out on a date?”
“You don’t have to think of it as a date if you don’t want to. Pick out a children’s movie. We can bring Lucinda lodged itself in her throat.t c.” Noah’s face turned red. “I don’t know anybody else here. It would be great to have some company while I familiarize myself with the area.”
“So now you’re saying you wouldn’t want to date me?” Was she flirting with him? Huh. If so, her flirting skills certainly were rusty. No, make that nonexistent. They’d gone extinct sometime during the years she’d struggled to get through school while taking care of her daughter and working at the diner.
His face turned a deeper shade of crimson. “I’m not saying that either.”
“My shift doesn’t start until four p.m. tomorrow. Why don’t I show you around Perfect? I’m sure you’ll want to know where to buy groceries and do your laundry.”
“Is there a furniture store?”
“You don’t like shabby chic?”
Noah shook his head. “If you’d like, we could stop by your aunt’s diner for lunch after the tour.”
“Mommy?” Lucinda called out the back door.
“I’m here.” Ceejay turned to watch Lucinda cross the yard, clutching her favorite stuffed animal. Lifting her daughter onto her lap, she snuggled her close and kissed the top of her warm head. Lucinda yawned and stuck two fingers into her mouth. “Fingers, Luce.”
Lucinda took the fingers out of her mouth and smiled at Noah.
“Hey, there, princess.” Noah touched the end of her nose, and pointed to the stuffed bear clutched in her arms. “Who’s your friend?”
“Boo-Bear.” Lucinda handed the bear over for Noah’s inspection.
Ceejay smiled at the exchange. Most of the guys she’d tried to date in college had ignored Lucinda or bolted when they’d found out she had a daughter. Not Noah. He’d protected her from a dog he didn’t know, and for some reason, Lucinda trusted him. She didn’t ordinarily warm to strangers so quickly.
Birds with broken wings needed a safe place to mend. Maybe Jenny was right, and Noah came here to heal. Still, there was the PTSD to consider. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
Noah handed the bear back to her daughter. “Not if you don’t mind my asking questions back.”
“Fair enough.” She hesitated, unsure how to begin such a touchy subject. Maybe directness was best, like ripping off a Band-Aid in one swipe. “What happened to your leg?”
“I lost it in a suicide bombing near Mosul, Iraq, along with five of my men.”
“Your men. You were an officer?”
“First lieutenant.” Noah leaned his head back and studied the sky. “I commanded a platoon. I had planned to have a career in the military.”
“I know what it’s like to have the rug yanked out from under you.” Ceejay ran her fingers through her daughter’s sleep-tangled curls. “When you have flashbacks, is that the day you relive?”
Noah turned to face her. His brow creased, and a haunted look filled his eyes. “It is.”
“That was way too personal.” She averted her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“It lodged itself in her throat.t c’s all right.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “Now it’s my turn. You wore scrubs the other day. Do you work in a hospital?”
She nodded. It still filled her with pride to say the words. “I’m a pediatric nurse at Deaconess Hospital.”
“You like what you do?”
“Very much. I plan to go back to school in a few years. Maybe I’ll become a nurse-midwife, or a nurse-practitioner.”
“Your aunt mentioned she raised you. What happened to your parents?”
Ceejay shifted Lucinda’s weight in her lap. “Did I mention Jenny’s invitation to dinne
r? She always brings home some of the daily special leftovers from her diner. Today it’s ham and mashed potatoes. Come to think of it, it’s always something and mashed potatoes. Her meat loaf is amazing, and her peach cobbler is to die for. The recipe’s a secret handed down from generation to generation stretching all the way back to the Civil War.”
He stared at her and didn’t say anything.
“I can’t see how my sad little history could possibly interest you.”
“It does.”
“Here’s the thing.” He’d been so open with her, answering the personal questions she’d asked without hesitation. She’d agreed to answer his questions in return, and she meant to keep her word. Still, it wasn’t easy. She stared at the sandstone bricks of the carriage house, one, two, three...“My mother had chemical dependency issues.” Four, five, six...“She dropped me off here one day, and that’s the last we saw of her.” Seven, eight, nine...
“What’s kemcal deep ends issues?” Lucinda asked.
“Nothing you need to worry about, Luce.”
“What happened to her?” Noah persisted.
“Mommy, you’re squeezing me too tight.”
“Sorry, baby. Why don’t you go on in and help Aunt Jenny with supper? Take Sweet Pea with you.”
“OK.” Lucinda slid off her lap and headed for the back door. Sweet Pea trotted beside her, his tail a whirligig in the air.
“I was only three at the time. I don’t know what happened to her.” Noah had thrown a stone into the hornet’s nest, stirring up the sting.
“Sure, but you’re an adult now. Doesn’t your aunt know?”
“I don’t think so. I asked a lot when I was younger, and Jenny always told me ‘she’s gone.’ That’s all. Just, ‘she’s gone.’” Memories of her aunt cuddling her on her lap, reassuring her that she’d always be there for her filled her with warmth, followed by the anxiety that always chased through her at the mention of her mother.
“Doesn’t not knowing bother you? It would bother me.”
Far from Perfect (Perfect, Indiana: Book One) Page 4
