Evan frowned. “How can a, what, nine year old, get her mother to do anything?”
“I borrowed a book from the library and I sat with her every day. I wouldn’t do my homework until she’d done hers, and she wanted me to succeed.” Carly had been adamant. She’d understood that they wouldn’t go back to El Salvador, and the only way her mother was going to get on in Houston was to learn English. She’d begun to teach Zita as well, so by the time her younger sister went to school, she was speaking it like it was her native tongue. On the weekend, they spoke English one day and Spanish the next.
It had also given her mother something to argue about, something to interact with the girls about, because the first year after their father had died had been hard on them all.
“So you taught her English?” He seemed impressed.
“We all had to learn and improve. Communication is so important and Mama needed something to do.”
“It took her a while to get a job?”
Carly nodded. “She grieved for over a year, but eventually she found her feet.”
“What do you mean she grieved for over a year?”
She hated remembering that year. She’d been so scared all the time. Caring for her sisters, taking care of her mother, managing the money. “She was an empty shell after Papa died, going through the motions. She left most of the care of the girls to me. I picked up Bridget from school and we’d catch the bus home together, and then I’d make dinner and make sure everyone had showers and read them a story before bed.”
Evan frowned. “What did Carmen do?”
“She cried a lot, or sat on the couch staring at nothing. There was a family in the apartment next to us who had a little girl the same age as Zita, and so I arranged for Zita to play there at least twice a week.”
Evan looked appalled. “Geez, Carly. I can’t imagine what it was like for you. You were only a kid.”
She shrugged. “I had to look after everyone. I was the oldest, and besides, I used to care for the girls when we were on the farm. Mama and Papa worked long hours.” It was the way things were in the country. “All the arguments about the English lessons eventually got through to Mama. She got better after that.”
It had been such a huge relief. Carly had been at the end of her tether.
“And you’ve been looking after everyone since then. No wonder you didn’t know how to take anything for yourself.”
They arrived back at the house. Carly was tired of talking about herself, remembering the bad times. She wanted to live in the now, particularly if Evan was moving on. “Is it too early to go to bed?” She winked at him.
He grinned. “Never.”
Chapter 17
Evan woke to an empty bed. Damn, he was supposed to have woken before Carly so he could make her breakfast in bed. He mustn’t have set his alarm properly. He peered at the clock, it was only seven. He’d set his alarm for eight, hoping she’d sleep in. No such luck.
He slipped out of bed and pulled on some shorts, before following the coffee smells through to the kitchen. Carly was cooking.
“Good morning,” she called, looking far too perky for this time of the morning.
“Morning. What are you doing up so early, Carly? Didn’t we agree to sleep in?”
She smiled. “I did. I didn’t get up until half past six. I thought you might like some breakfast.”
He poured himself a coffee, took a sip to get his brain functioning and then hugged her from behind. “I was going to cook for you.”
“Oh. Well, you’re too late. Take a seat.”
He did as she asked. She was rolling some dough on the bench and something brown and mushy was simmering in a fry pan behind her. “What are you making?”
“Desayuno Salvadoreno,” she answered. “Salvadoran breakfast.”
He frowned. “Where did you get the ingredients?”
“I bought them when I bought the dinner things yesterday.”
Carly flattened the balls of dough between two plates and he realized she was making tortillas. He’d always thought they came in a packet. “Can I help with anything?”
“You could feed McClane. He’s been giving me sad eyes since I started cooking and I wasn’t sure what to feed him.”
Sure enough McClane’s eyes were droopy sad and there was a bead of drool coming out of the corner of his mouth. Evan chuckled. “All right.”
By the time he was done, Carly had three pans on the stove and various things were frying. He watched in fascination as she stirred one, flipped another, knowing exactly what she was doing. He’d not expected this side of her.
In no time at all, she was dishing up. She handed him the plate. “Fried egg with tomato, fried plantains, pureed black beans, tortillas and sour cream,” she said, pointing out each item.
“Thanks, Carly.” It did smell good even if the beans looked like miscellaneous sludge.
She sat down next to him and sighed happily. “I haven’t had Desayuno Salvadoreno in years.” She used the tortilla to scoop up the food, and Evan followed suit.
It was delicious. “This is fantastic. You should definitely make this more often.” He grinned. “Particularly when I’m staying over.”
She laughed at him. “So what are we doing today?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” He was pretty excited about what he had planned and he hoped she liked it. He wanted to treat her.
After they cleaned up from breakfast and were ready for the day, they headed out to his car and McClane jumped onto the backseat. They were halfway down the drive when there was a knocking sound and the engine stopped. “That didn’t sound good,” Evan said. He turned the key again and nothing happened.
They both got out of the car and peered under the hood. He had no idea what he was looking for.
“Any idea?” she asked.
“None.” His brother had received all the mechanical genes. “I’d better call a tow truck.”
“Or we could leave it here for the weekend and take the Mini.” She smiled at him. “It’s not going anywhere.”
“McClane will spread hair all over your new seats.” He sighed. “Plus I’ll need the car on Monday.” He hated spoiling the weekend he had planned.
“So we’ll put down a sheet and you can borrow my BMW next week if you need to.”
The idea of being reliant on her was a little uncomfortable, but it was a good solution. “All right. Thanks.” He transferred their bags into the small trunk and then made the backseat as McClane-proof as he could before they all got in.
“Where to?” Carly asked.
“I’ll direct you,” he told her, and smiled when she pouted.
An hour later Carly slowed the car. “We’re going to Brenham,” she said softly.
Evan nodded. “I’m told it’s the home of your favorite antique shops.” Zita had given him Bridget’s number to get all of the details.
“It is, but I’ve never gone in person.” She giggled. “This is going to be fun.”
His heart squeezed. He loved the pure excitement in her voice, loved that he was able to do this for her. He directed her to the first shop and took McClane out of the car. He opened the door to the store for Carly.
“Is McClane allowed inside?” she asked, hesitating on the doorstep.
“Yeah, I checked.” He’d rung to find out what time they opened and asked whether there was a park nearby he could take McClane. He might have mentioned Carly’s name and was told McClane was welcome in the store.
Carly stood inside the shop, slowly looking around. Her eyes were wide and her lips turned up in a smile. She took a couple of steps forward and then glanced back at him.
“Go and explore,” he said. “I’ll find McClane some water.” The shop assistant strode toward them with a determined look on her face. Evan smiled at her. “Are you Alice?”
The woman paused mid stride. “Evan?”
“That’s right. If I can grab some water for my dog, He’ll be happy out there on the pave
ment for a little while.”
The woman seemed relieved. “Of course.” She glanced at Carly, who was slowly walking around, running her hand over different pieces of furniture.
Evan figured they’d be there a while.
He took the bowl of water from Alice and led McClane outside where he set him up under a tree, with the water bowl in easy reach. He’d be perfectly fine out here while Carly looked at antiques.
Inside, Carly and Alice were discussing a clock. It was something Evan imagined on a mantelpiece, and probably needed winding every day. Not his kind of thing, but it looked nice. Carly was in her element, asking questions about the piece, so he left her to it and wandered around the store.
There were items that showed their age, despite the care that had been applied to them – a scratch here, a dent there – but each one told a story. He could picture that dressing table in an old southern mansion, or the chaise lounge in the Hamptons. Perhaps his next project would be interior landscapes. Imagine what stories the furniture could tell.
He wandered back to Carly, who was finalizing her purchases. She beamed with happiness. He was glad he’d brought her here. Bridget had said Carly would love it and she’d been right.
Outside, she hugged and kissed him. “Thank you! That was great!”
“You’re welcome. Have you had enough, or do you want to continue?”
She raised both eyebrows. “What do you think?” She glanced around. “Where’s the next one?”
He pointed down the road, collected McClane, and they strolled down the pavement to the next shop. By the time Carly was done, she’d bought half a dozen more items and she couldn’t stop smiling.
Evan grinned. Seeing her so happy made him happy. This time the idea didn’t scare him so much. He was a lucky man. He was doing a job he adored and had found a woman he loved with all of his heart.
He grinned. He couldn’t decide when he should tell her how he felt. There was a tiny worry that maybe she didn’t feel the same way about him that he tried to ignore. He was in no rush. If it was up to him, they’d have forever together.
They stopped for lunch at a cafe and then explored the town together, before Carly announced she was exhausted.
“Ready to head to our accommodation?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
They got into the car and he directed her back toward Houston. He winced as they took a dirt road to their destination. He’d thought they’d be taking his old station wagon, which could handle all the bumps and rattles the road dished out. As they pulled into the clearing, Carly breathed, “Oh.” She stopped the car and stared, her eyes wide. “It’s like the house.”
He nodded. He’d searched all the accommodation websites until he’d found a place similar to the cottage in his painting that she’d bought.
“It’s so quaint.”
“Yes.”
Carly got out of the car and he followed her up the steps of the cottage. He unlocked the front door and pushed it open so she could walk inside. McClane was already off exploring the trees.
The inside was a combination of modern and old-fashioned. The couches were large and soft, but the coffee table was sturdy and worn. There was a big television on one wall, and the kitchen across the room had all the mod cons. Carly wandered down the hallway to where there were a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom. “It’s lovely.” She turned to him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He kissed her slowly. “No problem. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll grab the things from the car.”
He’d arranged a picnic dinner and food for breakfast, which he carried in and put away, before taking their overnight bags to the bedroom. Carly was lying on the double bed, her hands under her head, looking extremely contented.
Evan kicked the door shut with one foot. McClane would be fine on his own for a while.
He wanted to show this beautiful woman how much he loved her.
***
Carly felt like a pampered princess for the first time in her life. After Evan had shown her all the wonderful things he could do to her body, she’d reclined in bed while he’d brought in a picnic basket of food and they’d eaten naked. Now she was relaxing on the bed while Evan sketched her.
It surprised her that she wasn’t bothered by the fact she was still naked. She was comfortable with him and she trusted him. She smiled.
“That’s perfect,” Evan said as his hand dashed across the page.
“What is?”
“Your smile.”
She laughed. “Sorry, should I have frozen into position?”
“No. It’s recorded in my mind.”
Her heart squeezed. Did that mean she meant something to him? Could he care for her even half as much as she loved him? Carly watched him as he sketched. Sometimes he’d look at her a moment, his hand still, before concentrating on the paper with a slight furrow between his eyes, and other times he’d keep his eyes on her as his hand continued to move across the paper. She didn’t understand how he did it. “You’re a magician.”
He looked up. “What?”
“It’s like watching magic happen, seeing you paint and draw,” she told him. “Your hand moves of its own accord. Sometimes you don’t even look at the paper. It’s amazing.”
Evan shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about it. It’s just what I do.”
He was so casual about it, but there was a tiny smile on his lips when he looked back down at his drawing that made Carly think perhaps her words had pleased him.
“Why do you pretend not to like compliments?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You’re always so offhand when people praise your work, as if the praise doesn’t matter, as if what you do is just work, but it’s not. It’s art, and you are allowed to enjoy compliments.”
He continued sketching as he said, “I learned not to need them.”
She sighed. He was clearly uncomfortable with the conversation so she let it slide.
But she’d make sure she praised his work on a regular basis.
Chapter 18
“It’s going to cost how much?” Evan stared at the mechanic across from him. The fantastic weekend he’d had with Carly was now a distant memory as the shock of the repairs blocked everything else from his mind.
“Three grand. Your timing belt snapped and bent the valves.”
“The car’s not worth that much.”
The man shrugged.
Evan closed his eyes. He didn’t need this now. He’d spent all of his savings on getting the paintings framed for the exhibition and didn’t have enough to cover repairs or a new car.
“What do you want to do?”
“Give me a second.” Evan walked out of the shop. He didn’t have a lot of options. He needed a car to get around. Though he seriously hated asking Carly for help, he dialed her number.
“How’s the car?” she asked.
“It’s terminal.” He sighed. “Would you mind if I borrowed your BMW for a couple of weeks?”
“Not at all. What’s the problem?”
“The timing belt snapped and bent other parts. It’ll cost more to repair than the car is worth, so I’ll look at getting a new car after the exhibition.” He’d hopefully have some more money by then.
“You can keep the BMW if you want. I was going to sell it anyway.”
His skin tightened. “No. You’re not giving me your car.”
“Why not? I’ve got no use for it now.”
“No. I just need a loan until I get back from New York.”
Carly sighed. “Sure. You can pick it up whenever you want.”
“Thank you. I’ll catch a cab in when I’ve dealt with the mechanic.” He hung up. It was a relief to know he had wheels, but he wasn’t going to accept such an expensive gift from Carly. It wasn’t right.
He walked back into the shop. “How much to scrap it?”
***
Carly was getting used to her lightened workload. Work l
ast week after going to Brenham had been fabulous and she’d just had another relaxing weekend with Evan. Their only disagreement had been over the BMW, which he wouldn’t accept as a gift. She’d left a signed vehicle sales form in the car in case he changed his mind.
She strode into work on Monday morning with a smile on her face. Even faced with a calendar full of meetings — the last few things she needed to hand over to her respective managers — she was excited about the week ahead. Her plan was to get to the test phase of her app, spend some time in the indie hub, and work on the speech she was giving for the Refugee Symposium being held in Houston next month. Tonight she was meeting with the refugee advocate group to talk about it.
She was pretty nervous about the symposium. Some of the biggest refugee advocates were going to be speaking, and Carly had been invited to talk about her program at Casa Flanagan. She’d thought Zita or her mother would have been better candidates to speak, as they worked with the girls, but in the end, her reputation in the community was considered to hold more weight.
Suddenly, Carly had an uneasy thought. What date was the symposium? Checking her calendar, her stomach sank.
No, it couldn’t be.
She checked again. December 4. The same day as Evan’s exhibition.
Quickly she scrolled through her emails to check the time she had been assigned. Two o’clock. She wouldn’t be finished until three at the earliest. She opened an airline website and checked whether there was any way she could fly to New York in time for Evan’s exhibition.
There was nothing.
Putting a hand to her nauseated stomach, she breathed in and out slowly. She couldn’t possibly cancel her speaking engagement, it was too important. There had been talk about getting rid of detention centers for years, and Casa Flanagan was the shining case study of how this could work. If she could convince the powers that be that it was achievable, children wouldn’t be forced to be incarcerated for long periods of time, facing such awful uncertainty as to their future.
But she felt dreadful.
The exhibition was so important to Evan. It was the next step in his career – the biggest step to date. And she was going to miss it. She really wanted to be there for him, to support him, but it wasn’t possible. She sighed. Evan would understand how important the symposium was, she was sure of it.
Change of Heart (The Flanagan Sisters, #2) Page 19
