by Hope Ramsay
It took only a moment’s conversation with Garnet Willoughby in his shabby office to discover Mr. Raintree’s room number and to learn that Garnet was in a big, hot hurry to get rid of the difficult Mr. Raintree and his “noisy dog.”
Now Jenny stood before the room in question feeling a range of emotions she didn’t want to show. She rolled her head on her neck and shrugged her shoulders a few times, willing herself to relax. Then she exhaled, trying to blow out the tension.
It sort of worked.
She steeled herself and knocked on the door.
A low, impatient voice sounded from beyond the peeling orange paint. “Who the hell is it?”
Before she could answer, the dog started barking, but another sharp word from Mr. Raintree and Aslan stopped.
“It’s Jenny Carpenter.”
She heard movement within the room, but it took almost a minute before Mr. Raintree opened the door.
He didn’t look well. His eyes were bloodshot, and the stubble on his face seemed to have a bit more gray in it than she remembered. The collar of his white T-shirt was misshapen enough to show a little bit of collarbone, and the tiniest swirl of chest hair. He looked as if he’d slept in his jeans. He braced himself with an aluminum cane in his right hand, his left ankle encased in a plastic walking cast.
Aslan stood on his left side. A studded, black leather collar encircled the dog’s neck, giving Mr. Raintree a means for keeping him from bolting out the door, which Aslan seemed to want to do the moment he set his beautiful brown eyes on Jenny.
And Jenny had to stop herself from dropping to her knees and giving the dog a great big hug. She was, truly, infatuated with the animal. But she wasn’t about to show that to Mr. Raintree. Not right at this moment anyway.
But she did end up staring at Mr. Raintree’s left hand, which was wrapped around the dog’s collar. His skin was brown, as if he’d been off to Bermuda in the middle of winter. His fingers were blunt and powerful. A tracery of veins traveled like a road map across his knuckles and up his arm.
“What do you want?” he asked, drawing her attention back to his unshaven face with its dark eyes and tousled hair that fell over his forehead. He sounded as gruff as he looked, and a little bit of her hard heart melted. He was hurt, and he seemed to need as much care as the dog.
She dug into the pocket of her big coat and pulled out a jump ring with the set of shiny brass keys she’d had made at Lovett’s Hardware.
“These are the keys to The Jonquil House. I’m prepared to give you a room at the inn on two conditions. First, the house is not yet ready for guests and won’t be for a while, so you’ll be temporarily housed in the back bedroom—Luke’s room. When my furniture is delivered, I’ll move you to a better room upstairs.
“And second, I need to ask you a big favor.”
Aslan sat down and leaned into Mr. Raintree’s bad leg, but he didn’t seem to mind. Man and dog looked as if they were both listing a little to the right. “How much are you asking for this room?” he said.
Any fool could see that the dog was bonding to the man. Jenny’s heart gave a lurch in her chest. She was so irked by this state of affairs that she forgot all about the library and Nita’s looming unemployment and spoke her mind. “For starters, you can give me back my dog.”
The corner of Mr. Raintree’s mouth twitched. She couldn’t decide if that little tic betrayed his annoyance or amusement. He studied her for a moment, saying nothing, while his black eyes focused on her in an almost preternatural way.
“He’s not your dog,” he finally said. “Zeph told me he’s a stray. I’ve taken him to the vet and gotten him all his shots. So he’s mine now. And his name is Bear.”
“Bear? He doesn’t look like a bear. He looks like a lion. I was thinking of calling him Aslan.”
“No. He’s Bear. He looks just like—” He bit off the words, and something in those black eyes changed. There was a much more vulnerable person behind the mask he usually wore.
And it occurred to her that maybe Mr. Raintree needed the dog more than she did. Which was something, because Jenny needed a companion in the worst way.
She stared up into Mr. Raintree’s sad eyes and decided that she would get herself a cat. “Look, I’m very sorry. I didn’t realize that you’d taken him to the vet. So let me start over. I don’t want the dog back.”
“Then what?”
How on earth was she supposed to tell this self-absorbed man that the book club was hoping to enlist his help in saving the local library?
It was absurd.
Then again, the insides of the Peach Blossom Motor Court, which she could see just beyond his big shoulders, gave new meaning to the word “seedy.” He might jump at the chance to help the local librarian if it meant he could sleep in a nice, clean room with a fireplace.
She cleared her throat. “Mr. Raintree, I’m here as a spokesperson for the Last Chance Book Club. We meet every other week at the Last Chance branch of the Allenberg Library. We just learned that the county wants to shut down our library. And our librarian, Nita Wills, is about to lose her job. So, anyway, the group wanted to ask you if you would be willing to help us with a fund-raiser to save the library and the librarian.”
It was a long speech, and she’d kind of rushed through it. As she spoke, his dark eyebrows arched with a look of utter amazement.
“So they sent you to convince me? You, who have already admitted that you aren’t one of my fans? Interesting choice.” His right hand tightened on his cane.
“Well, you see, it’s that—”
“Miss Carpenter, are you blackmailing me?”
“Blackmail?” Of all the words he might have used to describe this deal she was trying to make, “blackmail” was not one of them. “Uh, no, I’m trying to strike a bargain.”
She cocked her head and made a show of looking past him into the shabby room. “The Jonquil House might not be finished, but it is much cleaner and nicer than the room you’re staying in right at the moment. And there’s space for the dog to exercise.”
“Is the power back on?”
“Yes, and I’m taking steps to get a generator.”
“Good thinking, since it’s out there in the swamp.”
“Mr. Raintree, a day ago you offered to buy the house at a ridiculous price and now—”
“Are you willing to sell?”
“No, but I’m willing to let you stay there even though we are not open for business yet.”
“And what would this library group require of me?”
“A lecture at The Kismet, followed by a showing of Black Water.”
“You’re asking a lot.”
She wasn’t surprised that he didn’t want any part of her bargain. She got the feeling that he preferred being alone. She could almost understand how he might feel that way. If you were alone for long enough, it became a way of life.
“I’m sorry, then,” she said, and turned away toward the parking lot. She made a show of putting the keys in her pocket.
“Wait,” he shouted after her. “How much rent are you charging?”
She turned, the wind whipping her hair across her face. “Mr. Raintree, I said I would give you a room at the inn. I don’t plan to charge you any rent, especially seeing as you slipped in my drive. It’s the least I can do.”
“I can afford to pay rent.”
“I’m not asking for any. Just your help with the library.”
His mouth twitched at the corner. “You’re a book lover, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
He nodded. “Then I’ll accept your bargain.”
CHAPTER
5
The front door of The Jonquil House was locked when Gabe arrived later in the afternoon. He was about to slip the key into the lock when Bear turned and started to bark.
“Hush,” Gabe said as he turned to look over his shoulder.
Zeph Gibbs stood in the middle of the circular drive, cradling a shotgun. How many times had he seen
Zeph standing exactly like that? The man was like still water. You couldn’t read what was going on inside him just by examining the surface.
Boyhood memories tumbled through Gabe’s mind. Once, Gabe had deeply admired Zeph’s ability to move through the woods without making any kind of sound. Zeph used to say that he learned that trick as a boy growing up in a shack not a stone’s throw from the river. He’d grown up hunting and fishing—not because it was a fun thing to do, but because catfish and possum might be all his family had to eat. He’d once told Gabe and Luke that being quiet in the woods and good with a gun had saved his life a time or two in Vietnam.
Gabe turned all the way around, leaning on his cane. He gave Bear’s lead a little tug, and the dog sat.
“Zeph,” Gabe said, “what can I do for you?”
“I heard something about you renting the house.”
“No, Miss Carpenter is letting me stay here for a while. In Luke’s old room. I promised to help the library with its problem.”
Zeph frowned. “The library has a problem?”
“I gather budget cuts are threatening the local library and its librarian. I promised to help with some fund-raising. I happen to love libraries, and I’m deeply worried that they might be going the way of bookstores.”
Zeph stilled even further. Where did this enmity come from?
“What is it, Zeph? Spit it out.”
“I just want to know if you’re all right, sleeping in Luke’s old room.”
The question took him aback. “Of course I’m okay. It’s a damn sight better than the Peach Blossom Motor Court. Now, if you don’t mind, my ankle is killing me, and I’d like to get it propped up in that bed.”
“You need to go, Mr. Gabe. Staying here in this house is a bad idea. A really bad idea.”
“You’ve told me that at least a dozen times, but you haven’t told me why.”
“It’s better that you don’t remember what happened here.”
“I know what happened here. My brother got shot, and it soured my grandfather, and literally sent my grandmother to her deathbed. But life goes on.”
Zeph said nothing. He kept staring with those dark eyes of his. Zeph could be pretty unnerving when he set his mind to it.
“Look, I’m not leaving. This is a good place for me right now, and you just need to quit worrying about me, okay?”
“I won’t be responsible for what happens this time. Do you understand?” Zeph said in a low, hard voice that sent wary shivers rippling up Gabe’s back.
Gabe didn’t remember Zeph being this menacing, but he must have been. Otherwise where had Gabe come up with Zebulon Stroud, the crazy killer in Black Water? For the first time, Gabe wondered if maybe his book had hit closer to the mark than intended.
“What do you mean—responsible this time?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“Don’t be a fool. This ain’t no place for you anymore. You should just leave the dog and get in your fancy car and drive away.”
“I’m not leaving the dog, and I’m not leaving town. Don’t ask me again.”
“Mr. Gabe, please. You’ll be happier if you leave.”
He barked a laugh that made Zeph flinch. “Happy? I can’t remember the last time I was happy. I’m not interested in pursuing happiness. It’s highly overrated. I just want some peace and quiet, and another bestseller.”
Gabe turned away and slipped the key into the lock, but he was uncomfortably aware of Zeph as he stepped through the threshold. The man’s stare seemed to burn a hole in the middle of his back.
He hobbled down the hall and turned left into the room that had belonged to Luke.
Someone, probably Jenny Carpenter herself, had made up the bed with plain white linens and a pale blue microfiber blanket that looked brand new.
There were no curtains at the windows, no furniture except the bed. The wainscoting and plaster was painted white. All in all, the room looked like an empty canvas.
That suited Gabe fine. Having a sterile room to work in would minimize distractions.
He left the dog in the room and returned down the hall, intent on bringing in his luggage. But when he got to the front door, he found all his luggage and his groceries sitting up on the porch laid out bizarrely end-to-end in a straight line. The positioning was almost creepy. And how the hell had Zeph gotten into the locked trunk of his car? More important, how had he moved all this stuff to the porch so quickly?
He looked around, but he could find no sign of Zeph. The old man had dematerialized back into the woods.
The skin on Gabe’s neck prickled as he stared at his luggage and pushed back the unwanted feeling that he’d become trapped in one of his own novels.
His disquiet lasted only a moment before he shook it off with a private little smile. No, this wasn’t anything except the reemergence of his imagination. He had nothing to fear here. In fact, he was certain The Jonquil House would be the perfect place to write.
Which is exactly what he spent the rest of his day doing. He climbed up into the bed, propped his laptop on his knees, and settled down to work for the first time in months. His mind was clear. He wasn’t looking over his shoulder. And the phone wasn’t ringing constantly.
He could think here, even though it was incredibly cold.
He got about a thousand words down then took a break. He and Bear headed out the back door to the woodpile, where he found plenty of wood to keep a fire going in the fireplace.
He and the dog made several trips, stacking the wood in the corner by the hearth. He also found a card table and folding chair in the living room. There was a sewing machine on the table, but he didn’t give a darn. He moved the machine to the floor and hauled the table into his bedroom.
It was easier to write at a desk. He worked until his eyes felt sandy, and the day had faded into night. He saved his file to the hard drive, took the dog out for a walk, fell into the bed, and slept like he hadn’t slept in a long, long time.
Sometime in the middle of the night, the dog woke him up. The room had been utterly dark when he’d gone to sleep. But now, his laptop was open and powered on, with the screen open to his file manager.
The coals still glowed in the fireplace, but the room was bitterly cold.
“What the f—” He climbed out of bed and limped over to his improvised desk. He sat down, blinking at the screen as his mind slowly awakened.
“Shit, where the hell is my book?” he asked to no one in particular. But the dog let out a little whine.
He began frantically searching through his files and folders. Everything seemed to be in order, except that the file containing the first three thousand words of his novel had been completely deleted from his laptop.
He turned on the light, squinting as he headed through the bedroom door and out into the hallway. Bear followed at his heels. Gabe went into the kitchen first and tried the door.
Damn it. It was unlocked. Great. And he couldn’t even blame his landlady, because the last one through the back door had been himself and the dog. How could he have been so stupid? Easy, he’d been deep into the book at that moment and only left the keyboard because Bear needed to go.
The door didn’t have a dead bolt, which was worrisome, but he set the snap lock and then headed off to the front door to check it as well. Thankfully that door was locked.
He was wide awake now and angry at himself. He couldn’t be too careful, even here in Last Chance, South Carolina.
Now that Gabe Raintree had taken residence in the back bedroom at The Jonquil House, there was no space for Jenny. So on Thursday night, Jenny slept at the rented town house that she’d shared with her late mother for the last five years. Friday morning, she awakened in the wee hours and baked hot cross muffins in her old stove.
Then she shared a cup of coffee with Cousin Maryanne. After a nice cup and some time with the baby, Maryanne bundled herself and Joshua out the door to go to their new situation at the Methodist day care center. Maryanne’s new job didn’t pay much
but it allowed her to earn some income and be with her child.
Jenny hadn’t said anything, but once the inn got going, she planned to offer Maryanne a job as her helper. For now, though, the day care center was a perfect fit for the young mother.
After Maryanne and Joshua had left, Jenny threw on her raggedy work clothes, wrapped up the remainder of the morning muffins, and headed out to The Jonquil House.
Mr. Raintree had posted a yellow sticky note on his bedroom door that said “Do Not Disturb” in big block letters. Jenny chose to ignore it.
She knocked briefly.
“Are you illiterate?” came the snarling voice from the other side of the door.
“No, but I come bearing muffins. And dog food. I’ve made a pot of coffee and the muffins are on the counter in the kitchen. The dog food is in a bowl by the back door. Help yourself, Mr. Raintree. And also, please let me know if you need linens.”
“I need quiet,” he shouted. Bear punctuated this by barking.
“Then I suggest you stop shouting,” Jenny said.
She refrained from grinding her teeth as she ascended the stairs. All the stress was giving her an ache in her jaw.
For the rest of the morning, she threw all her energy into hanging wallpaper in the big back bedroom. She gave Mr. Raintree not a single thought until she heard the kitchen door open. She peeked through the window to see what he was up to.
He’d let the dog out without a leash, which seemed pretty cavalier, seeing as Bear was a stray and probably liked to wander. At the moment, though, the dog seemed happy to be marking his territory on every rhododendron in sight.
Mr. Raintree, dressed today in jeans and a tattered Harvard sweatshirt, was limping his way toward the woodpile with clear intent.
“Oh, good Lord,” Jenny said aloud.
She headed down the stairs at breakneck speed and into the backyard in time to see Mr. Raintree attempting to balance several pieces of wood while simultaneously walking with a cane.
She hurried across the yard and right up to him. “Here, let me carry that. You have no business being up on that ankle.”
