“Sometimes. Especially when I was a starving graduate student.”
“What was your major?”
Carly bit back a sigh. Obviously Trooper was prepared to interrogate her, and as tired as she was, she wasn’t sure she could hold her own with him.
Myrna glanced at Trooper, then laid a hand on Carly’s arm. “Mind your manners, Nelson. We haven’t even asked Miss Morrison to sit down, and I’m sure she’s tired after having Marshall Aubrey around all day. He gets on a body’s nerves. Here honey, sit in the swing and let’s enjoy the breeze a few minutes before we go inside to eat.”
Carly accepted the invitation with gratitude, not only because she was tired but also because she welcomed an excuse to back away from Trooper. There was something both appealing and disconcerting about his persona, and she preferred to avoid both his pull and his push until she was better prepared to deal with him.
Myrna motioned for Carly to sit on the side of the swing closest to the street and then sat down beside her. “Nelson tells me you’ve had new air conditioners put in today. Did Marshall do a good job for you? What brand did you get and how much did Arlis Starr charge you for them?”
Carly decided that if there was such a thing as an interrogation trait, it must run in the family.
Trooper shot his aunt a raised eyebrow look. “Now Aunt Myrna, let’s give Miss Morrison a chance to catch her breath before we start asking her a bunch of questions.”
Carly squared her shoulders. “First, I hope both of you will call me Carly. I’m really not used to being called Miss Morrison. And second, I don’t mind sharing what I learned today.”
Ten minutes later she had exhausted all the information she possessed about air conditioners and was relieved when Myrna suggested they step inside for supper. “It’s late enough now,” Myrna said, “that there’ll be a nice breeze stirring on the screened-in porch out back. Nelson, you show Carly the way, and I’ll get the chicken salad out of the refrigerator.”
She turned to Carly. “We’re just having a real simple supper, honey, but I don’t believe in eating heavy at nighttime. It’s not good for a body’s rest.”
Trooper stood and opened the screen for his aunt and Carly, then stepped inside and loosely grasped Carly’s arm. She felt the shock of it clear to her toes. Wow! That was unusual. She rarely reacted so strongly to a man’s casual touch. She decided it had to be a combination of the heat, the wine, and her exhaustion.
Either that or the fact that Trooper was the sexiest man she’d encountered in a couple of decades or so.
Darn it! She couldn’t afford any sort of attraction to Trooper. The risks for complications were just too high. As casually as possible, she reclaimed her arm and stepped in front of Trooper, following Myrna toward the back of the house.
Carly found herself enjoying dinner much more than she had expected. Myrna’s screened-in porch opened off the kitchen, and a ceiling fan set on low speed augmented the modest breeze that wafted through the screens. All in all, the room was comfortable, and Myrna’s light meal was excellent. A scoop of chilled chicken salad centered the plate and was surrounded by slices of kiwi, Georgia peaches, and fresh pineapple. A poppy seed muffin completed the main course.
The conversation, led by Myrna, drifted from the summer heat to the upcoming homecoming at the Methodist church to the need for the city to repair the potholes on the square around the courthouse.
Carly, lulled by the good food and a second glass of wine, was caught off guard when Trooper suddenly addressed a question to her.
“What kind of book are you writing, Carly?”
“Book?” she responded, then felt blood rushing to her face. She’d blurted out the word as though she’d never heard of such a thing. Hoping Trooper would attribute her high color to the wine, she took another sip and dredged up the story she had concocted in case anyone ever pressed her. “I’m rewriting my dissertation, hoping to get it published.” The story wasn’t a complete fabrication. She really was rewriting it but only one paragraph at a time every month or so.
“And what’s the topic of your dissertation?”
Carly always enjoyed herself when she got to rattle off the name of her work. She couldn’t totally suppress a smile as she hurried through the title as though it were so commonplace that anyone would immediately identify with the topic. “It’s titled Domesticity as it Relates to the Modernist Aesthetic in the Works of Djuna Barnes and F.T. Marinetti.”
Myrna merely stared at her, but a slight smile tilted the corners of Trooper’s lips. “F. T. Marinetti’s name is associated with the Futurist Manifesto, isn’t it?”
Carly’s eyes widened. Trooper was one of the few people she’d met who recognized the name, and most of the people she knew who’d heard of Marinetti had been in her university’s English department.
“Yes. Have you studied Marinetti?”
Trooper grinned and then shook his head. “I used to date an English prof, and she mentioned the name to me.”
“And you still remember it?” Carly decided he must have an exceptional memory.
Trooper shrugged. “It stuck with me for some reason. So, how close are you to having your dissertation revised?”
“Oh, it’s not a simple revision,” Carly said quickly. “It’s a pretty thorough re-write, and I’m doing more research online too. Plus, because much of the material that has been written about Marinetti is in Italian, I’m trying to teach myself about the language.”
Myrna spoke up. “My goodness, child. If you’re trying to teach yourself Italian, you must keep pretty busy.”
Carly nodded. “Most of the time, yes.” Hoping to avoid any more questions, she laid her napkin down beside her plate and stood. “I’ve enjoyed this very much, but I really should get back home. I haven’t learned yet what setting to use on the air conditioners, and I’m afraid my house will feel like a refrigerator if I don’t adjust them fairly soon.”
Trooper also pushed back from the table and stood. “I’ll walk you across the street.”
Carly shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure it’s perfectly safe.”
“Now, child,” Myrna interjected, “you go ahead and let Nelson walk you back. It’s dusky dark and a girl can never be too careful. I know there’s not a lot of crime in Holly Grove, but a stranger could wander through here same as any other place.”
“No doubt you’re right,” Carly responded because there was little else she could say without seeming argumentative. She gave Trooper a smile that she hoped appeared sincere. “Thanks.”
When they stepped onto Myrna’s front porch, the night air hit Carly in the face like a damp blanket. “Wow, I can barely breathe out here. How does your aunt keep her house so cool?”
“She says it stays cool because the house is well insulated and has lots of shade around it. I also know that the house cools off during the night and she closes the windows in the mornings to keep the hot air outside and the cool air in.” He nodded his head toward the front steps. “Ready?”
“Yes, thanks.” Carly was glad he maintained a comfortable distance between them as he walked her across the street and up the sidewalk to her front porch. She didn’t trust her body’s response to any hint of closeness. She wondered if he might feel the same because he waited only until she’d opened her door and stepped inside before he quickly murmured, “Have a good evening, Carly,” then turned and hurried away.
Carly paused just inside the front door of her wonderfully cool house and shivered, although she wasn’t quite sure why. Common sense would suggest that it was because of the contrast in temperature between outside and in.
But in truth, her shiver reminded her much more of an occasional spooky reaction to an unidentified fear. She and her high-school friends had always described the experience as “someone walking over my grave.”
Chapter 3
Carly had expected to sleep better that night since the temperature in her bedroom was actually comfortable. She w
as more than a little irritated when she awoke at 3:00 a.m. and couldn’t go back to sleep.
Finally, at 4:00, she decided to get up and try to write for a while. Her current novel wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped, and while she was still well ahead of deadline, she couldn’t afford to procrastinate. After all, she was depending on the advances from her suspense novels to fund the months she planned to spend on her true crime book. Since she’d never mentioned that book to anyone, including her agent, there would be no advance to help pay the bills while she wrote it.
She pulled on a robe and slipped her feet into her scuffs, then made her way to her office, which was located at the front of the house and next door to her bedroom. Across the hall was the bathroom and finally, at the back of the house, was a guest bedroom where she housed the occasional friend or family member who decided to pay her a visit.
Stepping into her office, she switched on the overhead light, then sat down at the computer and hit the space bar to wake it. Her current chapter appeared on the screen. She had stopped halfway through a sentence, as was her usual method. Finishing the sentence would help her writer’s mind slip back into the storyline.
Ten minutes later, her fingers were flying over the keyboard as she got into the rhythm of the scene. Her protagonist’s best friend had just exclaimed, in a loud whisper, “Jill, darling, did you happen to notice that lady on my kitchen floor with the knife sticking out of her back?” when the phone on Carly’s desk rang.
She started and jumped, her fingers crashing against the keyboard. Adrenaline pumped into her system, and her heart rate picked up speed. In that split second, she realized that the old fears she thought she’d left behind had merely lain dormant over the past months, ready to resurface at a second’s notice.
Heart pounding, she grabbed the receiver, then silently cursed herself for not first looking at the caller ID. “Yes?” Her voice came out as a scratchy whisper.
“It’s Trooper. Are you all right?”
“Trooper?” Carly sighed as energy drained from her body along with the fear.
“Trooper Myers. Across the street. I saw your light and wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“Oh.” She considered telling him she’d been fine until he scared her half to death, but she clamped down on her temper. No need to antagonize him when he’d only intended to be neighborly. “Yes, Trooper, I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep so I decided to write. What are you doing up?”
“I couldn’t sleep either.”
Carly waited for him to expound on the statement but when he remained quiet, she stepped in to fill the silence. “So? Do you usually have trouble sleeping?”
“Not as a rule. I thought I heard a noise so I got up to investigate. I couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary.”
Carly felt a new shiver move down her spine. “You heard a noise? What kind of noise?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe just a tree limb bumping the side of the house when the wind blows.”
“Oh.” For some reason, Carly was not comforted. “Well, I didn’t hear anything and I’ve been awake for over an hour. Of course all of my windows are closed, so I wouldn’t be as likely as you to hear any unusual noises.”
“Sounds as though you’re up for the rest of the night.”
“I suspect I am. Are you going to try to go back to sleep?”
“Nah, no use. I think I’ll go for a run.”
“A run? It’s still dark.”
“It won’t be dark long. The sun will be coming up by the time I get dressed.”
“In that case…” Carly hesitated.
“What?”
“Would you mind glancing around in my yard? I mean, since you heard something, or thought you might have. I could turn on the outside lights and meet you on the porch with a flashlight.”
“Did I make you jumpy?”
“A little, I guess. Forget it. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Turn the front porch light on.” He hung up without waiting for her to agree.
Carly didn’t know whether to feel annoyed or relieved, but it didn’t matter. In either case, she had to hurry to get dressed if she was going to meet Trooper on her front porch in ten minutes.
Nine and a half minutes later, she flipped on the porch light and glanced out the door’s sidelight. Trooper was coming up her walk.
She turned the deadbolt and opened the door, then stepped out. “You’re right on time.”
He smiled. “I’m usually prompt. Especially when something’s important. I brought my own flashlight. Do you have one?”
“Just a second.” Carly ducked back inside to grab her flashlight and flip on the floodlights located at each corner of the house. “I’m ready,” she said as she stepped back outside.
Trooper merely nodded and waited for her to join him before he started down the porch steps. “Stay close. Not that I think anything’s out here.”
Carly fell into step beside him. “I hope you’re right.”
They circled the house slowly. The floodlights lit up large patches of the lawn but they also created deep shadows around the shrubbery. Twice when Trooper or Carly aimed their light into those shadows, a pair of bright eyes stared back for a split second before disappearing. Obviously those eyes belonged to small nocturnal animals, which was only to be expected, but for the third time that evening, Carly felt a shiver move down her spine.
Less than ten minutes after they started, they were back on her front porch. “Well, at least I know there’s nothing lurking around my house,” Carly said. “Thanks for your help. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”
“I’d love to, but I was going for a run, remember?” He glanced down at his tee shirt and running shorts as though to remind her. “How about if I run by the doughnut shop in town, pick us up a couple of Danish, and stop back by here for coffee?”
“Sure.” Carly didn’t really want a Danish, but she didn’t want to appear churlish either. “I’ll have the coffee brewed by then. Is regular okay or do you prefer decaf?”
“Regular’s fine by me.”
“So be it.” Carly smiled. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Do you have a preference between cream cheese Danish and fruit Danish?”
“Surprise me.”
“Will do.” Trooper paused by one of the porch columns to begin his stretching exercises. Carly hadn’t intended to watch but discovered it was just too appealing to turn away. Both his biceps and the muscles in his legs were well defined but he was clearly favoring his left shoulder. Trooper glanced at her, saw her watching, and shot her a mischievous grin. Although he didn’t say the words, she could guess what he was thinking—“Do you like what you see?”
Blushing, Carly turned and grabbed the screen door handle. “I’ll have the coffee ready,” she said, and hurried inside. As she made her way to the kitchen, she reminded herself that she really must give some thought to what she was doing. After all, she’d moved to Holly Grove to write a book about the death of Trooper’s parents, never dreaming she’d actually meet Trooper himself.
To avoid potential problems, she’d better work it into the conversation that she knew he’d been in the news recently. On the other hand, she’d have to be careful not to express any knowledge of his distant past, and she sure couldn’t afford to share her identity with him.
* * *
Trooper grinned to himself as he finished his stretching exercises. He was beginning to like Carly Morrison, but he still had the notion that he’d seen her somewhere before.
He knew better than to wrack his brain trying to figure it out. If he did, he’d drive himself crazy and it would take him even longer to place her. Best to just let his subconscious stew until his memory cells finished whatever process they used to dredge up long-buried memories.
By the time he finished stretching, the sky had lightened enough that he could see to begin his morning run. He was pleased to discover that most of the sidewalks had
been maintained well enough that he could run on them rather than in the street.
He jogged to the corner and hung a right on Dahlia Way, headed toward downtown and the local doughnut shop. Of course, as he’d discovered yesterday, nowadays the shop would more accurately be termed a bakery. Mrs. Watson, the original owner, had passed away, leaving the business in the hands of her daughter, Patricia.
Patty Watson had been in school with Trooper and the two had even dated a couple of times before he left town. When he’d dropped by the shop yesterday, Patty had been friendly and welcoming. She’d even abstained from asking about his plans, although she’d inquired about his injury. Fortunately, she hadn’t pressed when Trooper had given his usual short answer that he was “fine.”
The town was almost deserted, this being early on a Sunday morning, and Trooper worried that the bakery would be closed and he’d have to renege on his offer to bring Carly a Danish. He huffed out a sigh of relief when he neared and saw lights on in the store and a figure behind the counter.
This morning the shop was empty except for the sleepy teenager behind the counter. Trooper ordered four Danish to go—two cream cheese, a strawberry, and a blueberry. Carly had said to surprise her, but he’d learned from experience that most people who said to surprise them really hoped you would return with exactly what they had wanted all along.
So he’d give Carly a choice and hope that he’d hit on a pastry flavor she liked.
Bag in hand, Trooper continued his run, circling the courthouse and heading back down Dahlia Way to Sugar Maple Drive. Half an hour after he’d started, he was back in front of Carly’s house.
He set the pastry bag on the porch while he cooled off, then picked it up on his way to the front door. He pushed the doorbell button and listened as chimes sounded from somewhere inside. A few seconds later, Carly answered the door.
She had changed from the short shorts she’d worn earlier into a pair of jeans and a loose cotton shirt that hid any hint of curves. She’d also bathed and washed her hair. He could tell because her hair was still damp and curling around her face, a far different look from the sleek style she’d worn last night. The dark curls jogged a couple of memory cells, which in turn tried to send a full-blown signal to his brain, but the signal faded before he could grasp it.
Holly Grove Homecoming Page 3
