“Has he lied to you?”
He nodded vigorously.
“About what?”
The moment of animation faded, and he stared, bottom lip out, into the distance. “I don’t know. But Caleb says—”
“Jacob, don’t you have an opinion of your own? Isn’t there anything Caleb likes that you don’t like?”
As the road grew narrower, pavement gave way to gravel and ruts. He leaned as far forward as the seat belt would allow and watched the road, bracing himself well in advance of each jarring bounce. “He likes school an’ I don’t. He likes zucchini. And living in our house all alone. And sleeping with a light on. Not that he’s scared,” he hastened to add. “He’s not scared of nothin’. He just likes being able to see when he wakes up in the middle of the night. We couldn’t at our house ’cause we didn’t have no ’lectricity.”
“And it’s all right with you that Caleb likes those things and you don’t. So don’t you think it would be all right if you liked something—or someone—Caleb didn’t? Like Dr. J.D.?”
“I s’pose. Ya know, he’s got good food. And a TV that gets more channels than I ever seen. Did you know you can watch baseball every day?”
“Do you like baseball?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What position do you play?”
“I never played.” Predicting her next question, he shrugged. “The kids at school never let me play, and we never had no money for a ball and bat of our own. But I know about it. My teacher—once she got me a book from the library, and I read the whole thing. And I seen some games on TV every day this week. And I know all the rules. Ask me somethin’.”
Kelsey was still stuck on his careless comment that the kids at school had refused to let him play their games. She needed a moment to think of a question. “How many outs in an inning?”
Jacob gave a disbelieving shake of his head. “That’s an easy one. Three. And there’s nine innings. Don’t you know any questions harder than that?”
“Sorry, Jacob. I’m not a big baseball fan myself.” She hesitated, then suggested, “Maybe you should ask Dr. J.D. about signing you up to play this summer.” She figured J.D. would agree, but that wasn’t the point. Getting Jacob to ask something of him was.
But a glance at the boy’s face didn’t make the prospects look good. He didn’t consider the possibility for even a moment, but shook his head. “He’d just say no. ’Sides, no one would want me on their team. I never even throwed a ball before.”
“I bet Dr. J.D.’s thrown more than a few. He would probably be happy to give you some pointers.”
Shaking his head again, Jacob settled back in his seat as they turned onto an even narrower lane that ended abruptly in a clearing with a nearly finished house. “Wow. Look at that.”
The house was perfectly suited to its setting. The logs that created sturdy walls, the fieldstone that supported their weight and lent shape to the fireplace, the wood planks of the wraparound porch, and the cedar shakes that covered the roof—all of it came from the land and worked to blend right back into it. Tall windows supported the illusion, allowing a person to stand in front and look right through the house to the forest and mountains in back.
She parked beside the truck, climbed out, and walked to the far edge of the clearing to get a better look. The position afforded her a better view of the house as well as its owner, who walked to the back of the truck, lifted the window, lowered the tailgate, and began pulling out supplies. Of its own will her gaze shifted from beautiful house to snug-fitting jeans, from tall, arched windows to broad shoulders, from the serene welcome of home to the faintly dangerous aura of man.
Wow, indeed.
Chapter Six
After looking too long, though not nearly long enough, Kelsey joined J.D. at his truck. “You have great taste.”
“I know.” His tone was smug, his grin friendly. “But thanks for noticing.”
“You did all this yourself?”
“Hey, I’m good, but even I’m not that good. I cleared the site and gathered most of the stone, but I had help with everything else. I’m doing all the finish work inside myself.”
Why? she wondered as he instructed the kids to help unload food and tools from the truck. Why would a very successful, top-dollar psychiatrist spend what must have been months doing hard physical work that any laborer with a strong back could have done? In her business she’d met a lot of doctors, and she’d never known one who would even consider such a job. Giving up a lucrative practice was surprise enough, but cutting down trees? Hauling rock? Why?
When he looked at her, she realized she’d spoken the last word aloud. She shrugged. “You have to admit it would probably surprise the hell out of your colleagues back in Chicago or your classmates at Harvard.”
“Probably.”
“So why did you do it? Why are you doing it? Why not just hire someone to handle it for you?”
His shrug appeared every bit as casual as her own had been. But she sensed a layer of tension underneath. “I need the exercise.”
“You run miles every day.” She’d caught a glimpse of him during her runs both the previous morning and that morning. She’d even been a bit disappointed that he hadn’t changed his route to join her. No, not disappointed. Just curious why he hadn’t.
“I like working with my hands.”
“You’re a doctor. Become a surgeon.”
“Too much stress in surgery. If I make a mistake here, I redo it or I live with a crooked cabinet or a door that sticks. Make a mistake in the OR, and someone could die.” He shrugged again. This time the casualness was more real. “Take that stuff around back,” he called to the kids. “We’ll eat on the deck.”
The deck was multileveled and stretched completely across the back of the house. There was a stone barbecue at one end, a rough-hewn table at the other, and built-in benches all around. Kelsey helped Noah and Gracie spread the quilt while J.D. laid out the food on the table.
She was hungry, she realized as her stomach growled. If she’d gone home, she would have eaten a microwave dinner in front of the television without much appetite. This, even though it was business, was so much more appealing. There were turkey sandwiches on homemade wheat bread, potato salad, chopped veggies and dip, and huge oatmeal raisin cookies for dessert.
The kids took their plates to the quilt. Kelsey sat on the bench across the table from J.D. “Jacob says you have good food. He’s right.”
“I can’t take credit for this. All I provided was the soda. The Winchester sisters had the rest waiting when I picked up the kids after work. Besides”—with a glance toward the kids, he lowered his voice—“Jacob’s definition of good food is anything that’s plentiful. They’re collecting a stash in their closet.”
Kelsey didn’t find that unusual. Kids who’d gone hungry had a tendency to squirrel away food in the hope of preventing a recurrence. She’d known foster parents who’d found food hidden in dresser drawers and underneath bedclothes. The well-meaning parents removed the food when they found it. The smart ones left it. Sooner or later the kids would realize that there would always be enough, and they would quit hoarding it.
But it still broke her heart every time she heard about it.
“Other than that, how’s it going?”
“The younger kids are adjusting. They’re particularly good with those three elderly baby-sitters you were opposed to. Of course, Mrs. Larrabee and the Winchesters are particularly good with kids.”
She ignored his reminder of her objection. “What about Caleb?”
“He watches over the kids or keeps to himself during the day. When we get home, he checks the mail for a letter from his father, doesn’t find one, and sulks the rest of the evening. Any luck in locating some relatives?”
“I stopped by Sheriff Ingles’s office this afternoon. About all they know is that the Browns moved around quite a bit before settling here. If either Ezra or Lilah Brown is working now, it’s not being reported unde
r their social security numbers, which means they could be taking payment in cash, using a different identity, or not working at all.”
“Have they checked—” J.D. looked at the kids again, and a deeply regretful look came over his features before he returned his gaze to her. “Are they checking any unidentified bodies that turned up over the last six or seven weeks?”
“Yes, they are. So far there’s been nothing.”
“Wouldn’t that be the good news/bad news from hell? ‘Hey, kids, guess what? Your father didn’t abandon you. He really did intend to come back. Unfortunately, he can’t because he’s dead.’ ”
Which would be worse? Kelsey wondered. Living with the fear that their father had walked out on them and the constant hope that he might return, or knowing he could never return but that he’d loved them and never would have abandoned them voluntarily?
“Well, that was a grim enough conversation. Let’s lighten up a bit. Now that you’ve been here a few days, what do you think of Bethlehem?”
“It’s a nice town.”
“Uh-huh.” His tone was leading, his expression bordering on amused. “Finding everything you need?”
“Everything,” she said firmly, though it wasn’t exactly true. She’d discovered from experience that the only places in town open after nine P.M. were the police and sheriff’s departments and the hospital. Most shops closed at five or six, the video store at seven. The grocery store didn’t carry her favorite brands of a dozen or more items, and the selection of what they did have was limited, to say the least. Worst of all, while in the throes of egg foo yung withdrawal, she’d discovered that the nearest Chinese takeout was forty-five miles away in Howland.
But those were the tradeoffs for the slower pace, the lower crime rate, the reduced stress, and it was a fair enough trade. She could learn to live without her favorite bottled water or the specialty frozen yogurt to die for. She could even learn to have egg foo yung cravings only on the days she was working in Howland.
“You don’t miss all the stores and choices you had in the city?”
The smile she gave him was saccharine. “Not at all. I can find everything I need right here.”
“Have you met many people?”
She took a deep breath that smelled of pine, sawdust, and clean, fresh air. “I met Alex Thomas, and his wife brought me a welcome-to-Bethlehem bouquet that was gorgeous.”
“Alex and Melissa are good people. They’re an important part of the town.”
That was what she wanted to be—a good person who was important to those around her, and not just because of her job but because she belonged. Because she’d found a place that wanted her as much as she needed it.
“I also met Mitch Walker and most of his officers.” The chief of police was a kind man with pictures of his kids on his desk and a soft spot in his heart for everyone in his town. He was a good person too, and so were the Bishops, the Winchesters, Mrs. Larrabee, and J.D. They were all important to Bethlehem.
“Drop a hint to the Winchesters, and they’ll give a big party and invite the whole town for you to meet.”
“Is that what you did?”
“Yeah. They called it Christmas.”
“You moved here at Christmas?”
“Where better to spend that particular holiday than this particular town?”
“It seems a strange time to leave your old home for a new one. Did you have family in Chicago?”
He twirled a carrot in dip, as if coating it thoroughly was of utmost importance, then bit off the end with a loud crunch. “No. When my mother died, my father moved from Boston back to Philadelphia, where they were from.”
“And that’s it? No brothers or sisters? No nieces and nephews to spoil?”
“Nope. I was an only child.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“Once.”
“What happened?”
“It ended a long time ago.” Crumpling his paper plate with enough force to snap the plastic fork inside, he stood up. “Why don’t you talk to the kids while I get started working?”
She watched him go inside, moving smoothly in spite of the tension that hummed through him. So his marriage was a sore point. Had it been that bad, or so good he hadn’t wanted it to end? Had the emotional and financial costs of the divorce been too high? Did he consider the marriage a mistake he wished he hadn’t made, or was the divorce a regret he hadn’t yet made peace with?
She could find out under the guise of doing her job, but the idea felt too sneaky. He’d already been approved as a foster parent. Noelle had already conducted his background investigation, and Mary Therese had already signed off on it. Without a legitimate reason to request more information, asking would smack of pure nosiness or, worse, personal interest.
She would like to pretend that she had no personal interest in J. D. Grayson, but it wouldn’t be true. He was handsome, charming, great with people. He was intelligent, supportive, an emotional rock, and obviously fond of children. In short, he appeared to be everything most single women were looking for in a man.
Appeared being the operative word. There was more to J. D. Grayson than met the eye, more, she suspected, than even his closest friends in Bethlehem knew.
Which didn’t matter much, because he was also off limits—way off limits as long as the Brown children were in his care.
After depositing her dishes in the trash bag he’d brought, she descended the stairs to the lower deck and stood at the rail looking out. This would be a wonderfully healing place to sit on a quiet evening as dusk settled. She could watch the light fade from the sky and the wild creatures who passed by on their way from one place to another. She could listen to the nighttime birdsongs and the creek that was just out of sight and literally feel the tension ease out of her body. This place could put her mind at rest.
Was that just coincidence, or the hotshot psychiatrist at work?
“Hi.”
Gracie had caught her unaware, creeping quietly onto the bench that supported the rail and stopping a half dozen feet away. Kelsey smiled at her. “Hi yourself.”
The girl leaned against the railing and held her cookie in both hands while she took a bite. With crumbs trickling from her mouth, she asked, “Are you gonna put my daddy in jail?”
It wasn’t the first time Kelsey had been asked that question, but it never failed to surprise her. The loyalty innocent children could display toward the parents who abused and abandoned them was amazing. “That’s not my job, Gracie. My job is to make sure that you and your brothers are taken care of, that you have a nice, clean place to live, clothes to wear, and food to eat.”
“I got a blanket with pink and white stripes. And a bed all to myself. And I got a new dress. And new shoes, see?” She stuck out one foot with its lavender sneaker.
“And you’ve got food. That cookie’s almost bigger than you.”
“I helped make it. Miss Agatha said I’m a good baker. Want a bite?” She thrust the cookie out, but Kelsey shook her head with a smile.
“Just a bite? Kiddo, I’m getting a whole cookie all my own.” Kelsey sat down on the bench, her elbows resting on the rail, her feet crossed at the ankles. “What do you think of Dr. J.D., Gracie?”
“Caleb says—”
“You know what? I want to hear what Gracie says.”
Putting her cookie aside, Gracie sat down and tried to mimic Kelsey’s position, but her arms didn’t reach the railing. Instead, she sat cross-legged and munched a moment longer. “He’s kinda nice for a bad man,” she said at last.
“A bad— Who told you—” Caleb, of course. “Dr. J.D.’s not a bad man, Gracie. He’s a very good man, like your father. Your daddy would be happy to know that he’s taking care of you.”
Gracie tilted her head to study her. “Do you know my daddy?”
“No.”
“Do you know my mama?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Me too. She left when I was free, and Caleb won’t
tell us nothin’ about her. But my daddy used to tell us stories. He said she was a good mama, and she wanted to stay with us but she had to go away.”
Truth or fiction? Kelsey wondered. Had Ezra Brown made an effort to present them with the mother he wished they’d had? Or was there more to Lilah Brown’s leaving than anyone knew?
“Sometimes I miss havin’ a mama,” Gracie continued, her voice soft and wistful. “Miss Agatha and Miss C’rinna and Miss Bee … They’re kinda like grandmamas, and they’re nice and all, ’cause we never had one of them neither, but I’d like to have a mama. The man, he don’t got no wife. If we had to live with someone ’sides our daddy, I wish it was someone with a wife. And maybe a little girl for me to play with. And a puppy. Miss C’rinna’s neighbor lady has a big puppy named Buddy that she lets play with us, and he snuggles with me when he sleeps and I like that. Ya think that man would let us have a puppy?”
“I don’t know, Gracie. You’d have to ask him.”
The girl gave her an appealing smile. “Maybe you could ask for us. Maybe you could tell ’im the welfare people says we need a puppy.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that. But you can talk to him. He’ll listen, but,” she warned, “he might say no.”
The smile disappeared with a huff. “I know. ’cause he’s mean and don’t really like kids.”
“Gracie,” Kelsey chided.
“Well, Caleb says.” Swiftly, she changed the subject. “Hey, can we go inside?”
Because she wanted to go inside too, Kelsey was quick to agree. “Sure. Come on.” She stood up and extended her hand. After several silent moments Gracie took it, her fingers curling tightly around Kelsey’s. Her hand was warm and sticky and heartachingly small. Kelsey wanted to sweep her up into her arms, wanted to swear on her own life that Gracie would always be safe and protected, that she would never be hurt again.
She didn’t, of course. Instead, she cleared her throat and offered a husky invitation. “What do you say, kiddo? Let’s give ourselves the grand tour.”
J.D. maneuvered the last cabinet from its box. Cabinets filled the center of the kitchen and trailed into the dining room, box after box of unpainted pine. He could have asked for help in hanging them, and enough friends would have shown up to finish the job in one evening, but one part of him liked the idea of doing it all by himself. The part that had worked all day, though, wished for a helper to screw the supports into the studs while he held them steady.
Father to Be Page 11
