“What?” Even through the door, the hostility was almost enough to knock Leah back, but she stood her ground.
“Dinner is ready.” She infused an extra helping of enthusiasm into the statement as if that could make up for the boy’s attitude.
“I’m not hungry.”
Leah blew out a quick breath. Heaven help her, she was going to need an extra measure of patience tonight. “You were so hungry you were going in search of something to eat half an hour ago.”
“I changed my mind.” Jackson’s tone crawled with defiance.
“If you’re not hungry, you can watch me eat. We sit together at the table for meals in this family.” She bit her lip. The truth was, she usually sat wherever she felt like sitting for meals―sometimes at the table but more often on the couch or, on nice summer nights, the deck. Still, it sounded like something a parent would say. And from now on, it’s what they would do.
Five seconds went by. Then ten.
Finally, the shuffle of footsteps, faint but definitely there, reached her through the door. A moment later, Jackson emerged, looking as sullen as ever.
“It’s a stupid rule,” he muttered as he passed her.
She chose not to respond, instead following him to the kitchen and taking out two plates. “Wash your hands please.”
Jackson gave her a look but went to the sink and ran his hands under the water. “There.” Leah held a towel out to him, but he wiped his hands on his shirt.
She debated with herself for half a second, then put the towel down. Maybe some things weren’t worth arguing over.
“Do you like stir fry? It’s my favorite.” She scooped a generous portion onto her plate, then held the pan toward Jackson.
“I told you I’m not hungry.” His eyes darted toward the living room window.
Leah’s eyes followed, just in time to see a pizza delivery car backing out of Miranda’s driveway―or for now, she supposed, that guy’s driveway. She hadn’t even gotten his name, she realized with a flash of shame. She usually prided herself on her hospitality.
She set the pan of stir fry down and folded her hands in her lap. “We say grace before we eat.”
Jackson looked at her as if she’d grown a pair of horns on top of her head. “What’s that?”
“We thank God for our food.” Leah faltered. Had Jackson never lived in a home where people prayed? “Fold your hands and close your eyes please.”
Jackson folded his hands, but he stared at her―more defiance. She decided it was good enough.
Closing her own eyes, she offered a prayer. “Lord, we come to you with hearts overflowing with thankfulness for bringing Jackson and I together tonight. We may have just met, but we know that you have a plan in all things, including making us a family, and we ask that you would bless us as we get to know one another. Thank you for the food you have given us and the home. Most of all, thank you for your love. Amen.”
As she finished the prayer, she looked at Jackson. But he was staring ahead, stony faced.
“Are you sure you don’t want some stir fry?” She held the pan out to him again, but he knocked it away.
The pan tumbled out of her hand and hit the floor with a loud clang that reverberated through the house. Chicken and vegetables splattered across the kitchen floor.
Jackson sprang from his chair before Leah could fully register what had happened. “I told you I didn’t want any.”
Before Leah could answer, he’d taken off down the hallway. A second later, the slam of his bedroom door shook the house.
Leah closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the table. One extra measure of patience wasn’t going to be enough tonight. She was going to need a whole truckload of it.
After cleaning the floor, she sat to finish her now-cold stir fry. Not that the temperature of the food mattered since she barely tasted it. She’d known bringing an older child into her home wouldn’t be easy. She’d known all the potential difficulties. She’d thought she was prepared for them.
But it turned out that knowing something and experiencing it were two different things.
But that didn’t matter. She’d promised to give Jackson a home and a family, and that was what she was going to do. Plate empty, she pushed back from the table with a new resolve. She wasn’t going to give up on this kid after a few hours.
Scratch that. She wasn’t going to give up on him, period.
After she’d washed her dishes, she pulled out a loaf of the homemade bread she purchased from Peyton’s bakery every week, a jar of the strawberry jam she’d made this summer, and some peanut butter. Jackson may not be willing to eat her stir fry, but she hadn’t seen a kid yet who could resist a PBJ. Especially when they were as hungry as she was sure Jackson was.
When the sandwich was made, she brought it to his room and knocked on the door. When there was no answer after a few seconds, she pushed it open.
Jackson was sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t look over when the door opened, though she noticed his shoulders tense.
“Hey.” She crossed the threshold with one foot, holding out the sandwich. “I know not everyone likes chicken stir fry. So I made you a PBJ. You can eat it in here if you want. Just for tonight.”
Jackson didn’t so much as twitch. She bit back her desire to stand here until he said something―anything―reminding herself that this was all new to him too.
“I’ll put it on your dresser, in case you want it.” She crossed the room and set the plate down, then stepped to within a few feet of his bed. “I know this is going to be an adjustment. But you should know that I’m on your side here.”
Jackson blinked slowly up at the ceiling, not a single emotion registering on his face.
“I’ll always be on your side,” she added as she retreated from the room. “I’m sure you’re tired. Why don’t you eat your sandwich if you want it and then go to bed.”
Ever since she’d begun the process of applying to be a foster parent, she’d envisioned the bedtime hug she’d give her child. But it would clearly be a bad idea to attempt that tonight. Jackson would probably sprint out of the house so fast she’d never see him again. Ignoring her disappointment, she pulled the door closed.
In the living room, she settled into the chair at the desk in the corner, shoving aside the latest payroll sheets and pulling out a blank piece of paper.
So today hadn’t gone as well as it could have. Tomorrow was another day, right? As was the day after that. And the day after that. She had a lifetime of days with Jackson to show him he could trust her, that she wanted to be his family.
All she had to do was brainstorm some ideas how.
First up was introducing him to her friends tomorrow night.
She could take him to the petting zoo too. And maybe ice skating. They could tour the Old Lighthouse, though she’d have to check if it had closed for the season.
Her pen stilled. What else?
She spent the next two hours searching the internet for every event in Hope Springs and the surrounding area, until her list sprawled from the front of the page across half of the back. But it felt like something was missing. She rubbed her eyes, grainy from the long day and hours on the computer. Maybe she should just go to bed. Surely this had to be enough opportunities to bond with Jackson. But as she moved to put the list away, her hand brushed the day’s mail―and a postcard announcing the annual Christmas decorating contest.
That was it. They’d decorate the house together and win the contest. She’d make this the best Christmas he’d ever had―the best Christmas any kid had ever had.
She made a note on her paper, then put it in the desk drawer.
Every muscle in her neck and shoulders protested as she stood and stretched. The day had taken its toll on her, and she needed some sleep.
On the way past Jackson’s room, she nudged the door open softly. The boy was asleep―still clothed, still lying on top of the blankets. Leah padded to the linen closet and pulled out a spare bl
anket, then returned to Jackson’s room and draped it over him. For a few minutes, she stood watching him. In sleep, there were no traces of the rebellion he’d shown earlier. He was just a sweet little boy who needed someone to love him.
And Leah would be that someone.
She blew him a silent kiss as she tiptoed out the door, continuing down the hall to her own bedroom.
She’d just nuzzled her way under the blankets, snug in her comfiest sweats, when a loud thud jarred her upright. She sat still, listening again. She had no idea what the sound had been or where it had come from, but her first instinct was to run and check on Jackson. Before she could swing her legs out of bed, though, the thud sounded again. This time it was louder―and clearly coming from outside.
She waited a few seconds, hoping whatever it was would go away, but the sound came again. And then again a few seconds later, taking up an oddly familiar rhythm.
She’d heard that sound plenty of times as a kid when her father had gone outside to chop wood. But it had always been during the day. Not at―she peered at her phone―nearly midnight.
It had to be the guy staying in Miranda’s house. The elderly couple who lived on the other side of her had their lights out by eight o’clock every night.
Leah clenched her blankets in her hands as the thudding continued, seeming to grow louder with each thwack. She had to put a stop to this now―before the idiot woke Jackson.
What kind of person chopped wood at midnight?
Leah pounced out of bed and seized her robe, sliding her feet into her slippers.
Apparently, she was taking a midnight trip into the cold.
Chapter 5
The vibration of the ax making contact with the solid hunk of wood ran up Austin’s arms. He savored the ache in his shoulders, the repetition of lifting the ax, swinging it in a downward arc, yanking it free, and starting again.
Another hour or so of this, and maybe he’d be exhausted enough to fall into a dreamless sleep. Though he doubted it.
It was why he rarely slept anymore. If he didn’t sleep, he couldn’t dream. And if he couldn’t dream, he couldn’t see that day again. Couldn’t be dragged back into the horrifying images that he usually managed to keep at the edges of his consciousness when he was awake.
The doctor had prescribed sleeping pills for him and urged him to take them. But he had seen too many guys go that route. Become dependent on the pills. Turn to other pills to numb not only the physical pain but the emotional. That wasn’t him.
A drop of sweat trickled into his eye, and he paused to blink it away, then lifted the ax again, bringing it down for one last whack. The log split with a satisfying crack.
He bent over the woodpile the owner had left unstacked and hefted another log onto the stump he was using as a chopping block.
He had the ax poised over his shoulder when a light sprang on in the backyard next door. His gaze jerked that direction in time to see a woman rushing outside. The same woman who had yelled at him earlier for being in the house he had rented and paid for.
With a barely suppressed groan, he dropped the ax. Why did he get the feeling she was going to yell again?
As she hurried toward him, her hair now pulled into a ponytail and a robe flapping around her sweats, his eyes caught on her feet. Hmm. He wouldn’t have guessed she was a bunny slippers kind of woman.
Seemed more like a porcupine to him.
He leaned against the ax handle as he waited for her to reach him. Judging by her narrowed eyes and pinched mouth, she hadn’t decided to make this a welcome visit either.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hiss-whispered the moment she was within five feet of him.
He gestured to the pile of split wood on the ground. That should be self-explanatory enough.
“It’s nearly midnight.” Her breath hung in the air between them. “I have a―” She caught herself, as if unsure how to continue, but when she spoke again, her whisper had sharpened. “I have a kid in there I’d like to get a good night’s sleep. And this―” She gestured at the same pile of wood he’d pointed to, her lips twisting. “It’s not exactly helping.”
“Oh.” Austin blinked at her. He hadn’t considered the fact that normal people went to bed at normal times. That they slept through the night without worrying about being woken by nightmares. Or by a crazy neighbor chopping wood at midnight. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
The woman contemplated him, her face softening. “So you’ll stop?”
He nodded. When had he become so inconsiderate? The guys had always razzed him about being Mr. Polite, but here he was, only thinking about himself. Then again, that was all he’d been thinking about for the past eleven months, wasn’t it?
“Yeah.” He leaned the ax against the stump. “I’ll try to keep the midnight wood chopping to a minimum.”
“Good.”
He waited for her to turn back to her house, but she stood there studying him, her eyes raking over his face. In the dark, she probably couldn’t see the jagged scar along his jawline, but still he shifted. He’d gotten plenty used to close scrutiny by doctors and nurses and therapists―but that didn’t mean he liked it.
“Well, if that was all.” He repeated the phrase from earlier, taking a step toward his own house.
The woman stepped closer, so that he could smell the tantalizing scent of apples and cinnamon that drifted from her. “Actually, I owe you an apology.”
Now it was his turn to study her. Her cheeks were tinted pink, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the cold of the night air or from embarrassment over admitting she needed to apologize.
“For what?” He couldn’t resist asking. “Yelling at me now or yelling at me earlier?” The lightness in his tone sounded foreign, like he was speaking a language he’d once known but long since forgotten.
Her laugh sparkled on the crisp air. “Both. It’s been a long day.” She glanced over her shoulder toward her house. “It was my first day as a foster mom, and let’s just say it could have gone better.”
When she dragged her gaze away from the house, he caught the worry in her eyes. She looked as exhausted as he felt.
“But that’s no excuse,” she hurried to add. “I was rude, and I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” Austin wasn’t sure why it was important to him to see the tension in her face ease, but it was. “And you no longer believe I’m a squatter here?”
Her long ponytail flipped over her shoulder as she shook her head. “I got an email from my neighbor. Looks like you’re on the up and up.”
“That’s a relief.” He pretended to swipe a hand over his brow. “I was afraid you were going to call the FBI earlier.”
“Honestly, I thought about it.” There was that sparkly laugh again. “I’m Leah, by the way.” She held out a hand, and Austin pulled off his glove to shake it. Her fingers were icy, and he felt an odd need to hold on longer to warm them.
“Austin.”
He let go of her hand, and she slid it into the pocket of her robe. “So what brings you to Hope Springs?”
Austin stared over her shoulder. Beyond her house, everything was dark and quiet. Still. Peaceful.
“I was born here, but my mom moved us to Iowa when I was too little to remember. I guess I just wanted to see this piece of my history.” He left out the part about how he was broken and had no idea where to go to be fixed. How for some reason, he thought this place might be it.
“That’s so cool. What’s your last name?”
“Hart.”
She tipped her head toward the sky, apparently deep in thought. Austin followed her gaze until his eyes met the spread of stars far above. Hard to believe this was the same sky he’d slept under so many nights.
“I don’t think I know any Harts,” Leah finally said. “But I’ll ask around to see if anyone remembers your family.”
“You don’t have to―”
“Nonsense.” Leah’s eyes twinkled almost as bright as the sta
rs. “Figuring out how everyone in town is connected is sort of my hobby.”
He was pretty sure the sound that came out of him was a laugh―but he couldn’t be positive after so many months of not hearing it. “Strange hobby, but whatever you’re into.”
Leah’s laugh was followed by a violent shiver.
“You’d better get inside before you freeze to death. Don’t you know it’s crazy to be outside at this time of night?”
Leah shook her head at him but turned toward her house. “Sleep well.”
Austin sincerely doubted that would happen, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same. “You too.”
He bent to stack the wood he’d chopped.
After a few seconds, her voice carried to him from the edge of her yard. “And Austin?”
He looked up in time to see her flash a grin. “Welcome to Hope Springs.”
He gave a quick nod before returning to stacking the wood. It didn’t make sense that his heart felt lighter after being here for only a few hours. But it did. Only a sliver, maybe. But a sliver was a start.
When he’d finished stacking the wood, he glanced toward Leah’s house. The lights were now all off, and Leah was probably already asleep.
Austin tried to remember what it had felt like, once upon a time, to fall asleep instantly, to sleep through the entire night, to wake up feeling rested.
Maybe tonight he’d be able to do that.
He crossed the yard and returned to the house, letting its warmth thaw his raw face.
He puttered around for a while, but finally he couldn’t put it off any longer. Between the drive, the cold, and the physical exertion, he had to admit he was exhausted.
He dropped to the side of the bed to pull off his prosthetic, then climbed under the blankets, sure he’d spend the next hour staring at the ceiling.
At least tonight he’d have something new to think about. This house. This town. The neighbor with the blue-green eyes.
But before he could decide what he thought of her, he was out.
Not Until Christmas Morning (Hope Springs Book 5) Page 3
