Jett stepped to her side and placed his fingertips on the arm of the couch directly in front of her face. He pushed downward gently, urging her to set it on the floor. With a grunt, she complied.
He smiled at her and climbed over the couch, totally ignoring that she’d just said she didn’t want him to have to help. Once he’d maneuvered his way across the couch and over the arm at the other end, he bent and lifted his side like it might weigh ten pounds instead of a hundred gazillion. “I really don’t mind helping.” He stood quietly, waiting.
“You really shouldn’t—”
“—It’s not getting any lighter.” He smiled and winked, and somehow she didn’t feel any animosity in the words.
“Right.” She lifted her end and backpedaled toward the junk pile. The couch cut painfully into her palms, but she kept moving, determined not to keep him any longer than she had to.
By the time they set the couch down, her hands had throbbing red indents in them. She massaged her thumb against one of them, meeting Jett’s gaze across the length of the couch. She wanted to ask what had brought a guy like him to a place like hers, but based on his responses to her questions this morning he probably valued his privacy, so instead all she said was, “Thank you. I really appreciate the help.”
“Anytime.” He looked around at the piles she’d created. “You’ve been busy this morning, haven’t you?”
And she still had a long ways to go. She started back into the house. “I need to get Gran moved down from the top floor. She’s having a hard time with stairs lately.” Not that Gran would appreciate her attempts to make life easier for her. She loosed a soft breath. How she missed the woman who had complimented her at every turn, and boosted her ego with hugs and a listening ear no matter the time, when she’d been a girl.
Jett fell into step beside her and tipped a nod to where she was still massaging her palms. “You alright?”
“Yes.” She made a conscious effort to stop rubbing at the indents.
“You need gloves.”
“Gran didn’t have any.” She didn’t add that until he’d paid for his thirty-day stay this morning, she hadn’t had two pennies to rub together.
A furrow ticked his brow. “How long have you lived here, helping your grandmother?” He held a hand out for her to precede him into the entryway.
Salem sighed and stepped through. “Just long enough to renovate your room and get it listed. Before that I lived in town with my friend Zaire. Like I told you, you’re our first guest.” She paused at the bottom of the stairs and gave him a smile, hoping she looked happy to have him and not just worn to the bone. “I need to go up and check on Gran. Thanks again for the help.” She took two of the steps and then remembered her manners and turned to look at him again. “Did you enjoy your morning in town?”
He shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his faded jeans and tilted his head. “Is it always this cold around here in June? In Florida it would be in the high eighties or nineties already. I might have to go shopping for a parka and some long johns.” He shivered dramatically.
Salem laughed. Her gaze skimmed the corded expanse of tanned muscles in his arms. Too bad he’d likely be covering them up. And…you are staring at his biceps. She zipped her focus back to his face. “It’s supposed to get up into the seventies over the next couple days.”
He tilted her a get-serious look. “Oh, good. I’ll be able to lose the long johns, but likely not the parka.”
She laughed.
“Seriously, though…I only brought t-shirts. What’s the best place in town to buy a few sweatshirts?”
Salem’s thoughts immediately went to Zaire. “My best friend owns a little shop in town. I’m not sure what all she has out right now, but I bet I could talk her into digging out a few sweatshirts for a thin-blooded boy from Florida.” She quirked an eyebrow at him and decided to tease him a little and see if he took the bait. “She has a lot of Seahawks gear. I’m sure there are some warmer things left over from last season.”
His nose wrinkled. “Seahawks, huh?” Other than that he gave no reaction.
Salem folded her arms and rubbed at the carpet with the toe of her sneaker. Maybe this guy was just some amazingly exact doppelganger of Jett Hudson, the quarterback? Right. With the exact same name as him too? “I looked you up. Online.” The words blurted out before she could rethink them.
His shoulders sagged. “I see. So…how many people have you told that I’m staying here?”
Salem frowned, a little hurt that he’d immediately jumped to that conclusion. Why would he think that? “No one. My…friend called.” There was no need to mention that “friend” was about as far from accurate as possible right now. “His name is Dale and—”
“Dale, huh?” Jett tilted her a questioning look.
She blinked. He gave the impression that he didn’t like Dale, but they’d never even met. Maybe he just has good intuition. She smirked inwardly. “Yes. Dale Schmidt is one of the two cops in town. When I told him your name, he told me there was a quarterback for Tampa Bay named that.” She left out the fact that Dale had said any guy who was using the name Jett Hudson was likely an imposter. “After I hung up, I looked you up online. That was it.”
He grunted. “This Dale cop…is he likely to spread the word to the media or anyone like that? Tell them I’m staying here?”
She considered. “He doesn’t know it’s you for sure yet. And if I ask him not to say anything, I think he will honor that.”
He frowned. “Why wouldn’t he know it was me? You told him my name.”
“Dale is…” She spread her hands. “Suspicious. He figured you were likely an imposter posing as…you.” She worked her teeth over the inside of her lip. “You don’t want people to know you are here?”
He sighed and scrubbed one hand over the back of his neck. “My playing career ended this past season. I’m just…looking for some time away from the spotlight to do some thinking and planning for the future. And like I said, praying. Hoping to get a little direction from God.”
Her heart went out to him. Boy did she know what it felt like to need direction from God. And it must be doubly hard to figure out what was right when you had people from all sides trying to tell you what to do. “Well, I’ll pray for you too, then. And you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone you’re here. But I should warn you… Dale might be by later to check you out.”
He frowned. “Why?”
She sighed. “Because Dale doesn’t think I’m strong enough, smart enough, or capable enough to take care of myself, let alone myself and my grandmother.” She winced and waved a hand, wishing she could take the explanation back. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all that. Suffice it to say, Dale is Dale. And I just thought you should be prepared.”
He tugged off his cap and ruffled the hair at the back of his head. “I appreciate that. And Salem?”
“Yes?”
“You’re stronger than you realize.” With a wry grin, he rubbed at his chest, reminding her of where she’d assaulted him earlier.
Humor tugged at her lips. “I really am sorry about that.”
He folded his arms, skullcap dangling from one hand. “That’s what I get for sneaking up on you.” He tilted her a cocksure wink. “Can’t say that I minded when you leapt into my arms, though.”
Humiliation burned her cheeks. “I did not—”
He started laughing, and she realized he’d just been trying to get a reaction out of her. Just as she’d expected… A guy who was used to having women throw themselves at his feet.
She wrinkled her nose at him, then lifted a finger toward the upstairs. Partly as a reminder to herself that she couldn’t stand here talking to her good-looking tenant all afternoon. Partly as a reminder that she’d sworn off men, even if they were gorgeous and flirty. “I need to go see to my grandmother.”
He pointed back toward his room. “I need to go put on layers.”
She smirked.
Neither one
of them moved.
But it only took Salem a moment to snap out of the hazy trance she seemed to have fallen into. She gave herself a little shake and turned her back to the man, taking the stairs a little more quickly than she normally would have. She couldn’t so easily be forgetting about all the pain Dale had caused her, could she?
No. She couldn’t.
Wouldn’t.
Absolutely. Would not. Go there.
Gran was sound asleep in her recliner. But Salem could see that at some point she’d knocked over her cup of tea and hadn’t cleaned it up. She’d probably forgotten it had spilled even before it was done dripping on the floor. Yet, she couldn’t seem to forget about Dale, even though he hadn’t been in Salem’s life for a couple months. With a sigh, Salem headed to the bathroom to grab a towel.
How long would she be able to keep caring for Gran? When would her medical needs outstrip Salem’s ability? Since she didn’t really have any medical training, likely that would be soon.
In times like this, she missed Mom and Dad the most. If only she could call them and ask for advice. Should Gran be in a home? Her dementia was getting worse. Last night Gran had even tried to slap her when she’d been helping her into bed. There were moments when Salem felt certain Gran should be in a full care facility. In fact, she’d planned on just that until the job she’d been angling for had fallen through. But even then, the guilt had been heavy. Who was she to kick Gran out of the only home she’d known for the past fifty years? Was she so selfish that she wasn’t willing to give of her own time and ability to help care for the woman who meant so much to her?
Salem sighed and studied Gran’s profile as she wiped up the spill. For now they were doing okay, but she had a feeling her ability to give Gran the care she needed would soon reach its end. What would she do then?
No answers came to mind.
CHAPTER 6
Jett entered his room and flicked on the corner gas fireplace. A welcome wave of heat blew through the vents. He sank onto the edge of his bed and released a long breath of disappointment. Not that he’d expected to be able to stay here long without someone recognizing him, but he’d kind of hoped that the pretty B&B owner wouldn’t find out about him for a while. It would be really nice to get to know a woman and see if someone would befriend him just because he was him and not because she knew he was worth millions. And his disappointment was stupid, because he wasn’t here to try and befriend anyone. He was supposed to be uncomplicating his life, not making it more so.
And yet… He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had chosen to guard his privacy. She’d found out about him, but hadn’t blabbed to all her friends. That raised his estimation of her several notches.
He rolled his eyes at himself, scooped his hands through his hair, and flopped back on his bed. He shouldn’t be thinking about her. He should be asking himself what he was going to do with the rest of his life.
God? You even listening to this has-been?
He huffed at his self-pitying thoughts. Snap out of it, Hudson. He’d known that he wouldn’t be able to spend his whole life on the field, but…he’d thought he’d at least have a few more years.
He’d never been one to flounder or question what to do next. He always just took a step and prayed that if he wasn’t doing what God wanted, that God would close doors and lead him where He wanted him to go. But this… This time, he couldn’t seem to see any farther ahead than the hands he scrubbed over his eyes. He’d always at least had a goal to shoot for. Something he wanted to accomplish. But now… He didn’t have the first clue what he wanted to do with his life from here on out.
He dragged his cell phone from his back pocket. He at least needed to let his parents know where he was.
Dad answered on the third ring. “Hi, son.”
“Hey Dad.” He could hear the crackly air sound of Dad putting him on speaker phone. “Hi Mom.”
“Oh, honey. You sound bone weary. Where are you?”
Jett sat up. Stood. Paced to the window and yanked on the cord to lift the blinds. “I’m staying at a bed and breakfast out in Washington. I needed to get away for a while.”
“Washington state?”
As usual, Dad remained quiet in the background.
“Yeah, Mom.” Below him the crystalline waters of the Wenatchee River gurgled by. Evergreens lined the banks of the river, but they were so tall that the branches didn’t start until above the inn’s roofline. An eagle plunged into view, hit the water, and emerged in a shower of sparkling drops, with a fish flapping in its talons. “It’s really beautiful here.”
“Are you sure you should be that far from your doctor, honey?” Worry tightened his mother’s voice.
Jett scrubbed the knuckle of his thumb over his forehead. “Mom, I’m fine. I’ll keep up with the therapy exercises he recommended. And if something comes up, there are good doctors out here too. I’m not too many hours from Seattle. I just wanted you two to know where I am. Because the media’s probably going to start their slate of guesses soon.”
“Alright, just be careful.” He could hear her sniffling, and she must be walking away because the sound of her crying was getting softer.
He sighed. He hadn’t meant to cause Mom pain by taking off without telling them where he was going.
“We’re praying for you, son.” Dad’s voice was soft and understanding.
“I know you are. I’m sorry I took off without stopping to say goodbye. I just needed some space.”
“We understand. Your mom’s not hurting because of you, she’s hurting for you.”
“I know.” Jett felt his throat close up a little. “I should go.”
“Keep reading the Word, son. God wasn’t surprised by this like we were. He’s got a plan for you.”
“Yeah.” Jett gave the expected response, but he sure wished figuring out this audible play was easier. “Bye, Dad.”
They signed off, and when he tucked the phone into his pocket he heard voices from out in the kitchen area. Maybe in exchange for introducing him to her friend with the warm weather clothes, he could talk Angel in to letting him help her this afternoon. The room she was cleaning out had to be the one right across from his. She’d left the door open, and earlier when he’d come to his room he’d seen that, though she’d made progress, she still had a lot of work to do. The woman never stopped moving. It was no wonder he’d found her dead asleep on her desk the evening before.
He followed the sound of the voices, and poked his head into the kitchen.
Salem clasped the arm of a very slender, stooped woman whose white hair, curled and cropped short, framed a face with pale blue eyes. Salem gave a tug in an obvious attempt to lead her grandmother away from the stove and toward a little four person table shoved up under the room’s one window. “No, Gran. It’s my turn to make lunch, remember? You just come sit over here and chat with me while I cook.”
“Oh, aren’t you sweet,” her grandmother murmured as she tottered toward the table.
Jett’s brow pinched. This morning he hadn’t gotten the feeling that the older woman said much nice at all. Maybe that had been the wrong impression.
“That’s what you used to tell me all the time.” Salem’s voice held a little hitch of emotion. She helped her grandmother into a seat and turned. She gave a little start when she saw him.
He lifted his palms, sorry that he’d once again startled her. He couldn’t seem to keep from surprising her.
Salem’s grandmother pushed away from the table and started toward the stove again. “I’ll just make us some lunch.”
A picture of the real situation was quickly filling Jett with understanding.
Salem put fingers to her temples in a gesture of frustration, but her voice was gentle when she spoke. “No, Gran. Really, it’s okay. I’ll get lunch today.”
Her gran frowned and planted her hands on her tiny hips. “This is my house young lady, and I’ll not have you bossing me around in it!”
Jett steppe
d more fully into the room. Salem looked like she needed a break from the battle of the wills. “Hi there.” He offered his most charming smile to the older woman and stretched out his hand. “My name’s Jett Hudson. How about if you and I sit at the table and boss Salem around while she makes us some lunch?”
Gran took his hand on reflex, but then clutched at the brooch pinned near her throat. A glimmer of fear leapt into her eyes. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet.” He smiled calmly and took her elbow, urging her back into her seat. “But I’m a friend of Salem’s, and it’s certainly a pleasure to meet you. Salem’s told me about you.”
Salem watched dubiously from the center of the room, giving him a squint-eyed look that fell somewhere between frustration and thankfulness.
Gran chuckled, a sweet melodic sound. “Did Salem tell you about Howard, too?”
“No she hasn’t mentioned him.” Jett sank into the seat across from Gran and folded his hands on top of the table, leaning in to make direct eye contact. “How about you tell me about Howard? Who was he?”
In his peripheral vision, he saw Salem open the refrigerator and begin to pull out sandwich fixings. His stomach rumbled, and he reminded himself that he had paid only for bed and breakfast.
“Howard was my beau.”
Salem smiled fondly. “And then he became your husband, didn’t he, Gran?”
Gran rubbed her arthritically-crooked fingertips over a short section of the table’s wood grain. Her brow furrowed, and Jett could tell she was searching the recesses of a failed memory for more details about Howard.
He wasn’t sure if it would upset her if she couldn’t remember more, so he inserted. “My grandfather’s name was Jermaine. That’s my mother’s dad. My father’s dad was named Mike. He served in the Marines for most of his life.”
Gran’s eyes lit up. “Howard was a Marine!”
Jett angled a questioning glance toward Salem where she was layering together some sandwiches at the cutting board. She tipped him a subtle nod.
That bit of recollection seemed to have spurred Gran’s memory, because she added. “Howard liked to play the guitar.”
Angel Kisses and Riversong Page 4
