When Hannah came over later he’d have to ask if she would take care of grocery shopping for him. Though considering her reaction when he’d teased her about doing his laundry, the answer would probably be no.
It was nice that Danny wasn’t proving to be the problem Jake had expected. He’d encountered kids in his travels, of course. They were fascinated that a captured image could be seen instantly with the digital equipment he favored. Josie, on the other hand, despised the new technology, saying the old cameras and film were the true art. Jake didn’t agree; it was simply a different kind of art. Still, he had to admit it was a pain having to recharge his camera batteries, especially in the remote parts of the world where he preferred working. He had a solar-powered charger, modified for his particular needs, but it wasn’t as convenient as plugging into an electric outlet.
Well...Toby had taken care of charging batteries and shuffling equipment the past eight years. Working without him was going to mean changes; the question was whether to replace Toby or go solo again. Solo was probably best; he could never replace Toby, with all his cursing and complaining and unquestioned loyalty.
The toaster popped, and Jake smeared butter on both slices of bread. He sprinkled sugar and cinnamon over the top, only to hear the front doorbell ring before he could take a bite.
Frowning, he limped toward the front door. He’d told Hannah she could come in without knocking or ringing, though he didn’t really expect her to do it. Jake opened the door, but instead of his landlady, he saw a broad-shouldered man holding an athletic bag with Lower Mahalaton Rehab Center emblazoned on the side.
“Mr. Hollister? I’m Owen Kershaw, your physical therapist, here for our eleven o’clock appointment.”
Crap.
Jake belatedly remembered his first rehab session was that morning. He was tempted to say he didn’t feel like company, but he’d never get better if he didn’t work his ass off.
“Uh, hello. Please call me Jake.”
Owen didn’t try shaking hands, he marched in with his bag and a folding table and motioned toward the kitchen. “I noticed a room with lots of windows on that side of the house. Is there enough space to work in there?”
“Probably.”
“Excellent. We’ll have to be prompt about starting and ending our sessions. I scheduled extra time today because it’s your first appointment, but from now on I’ll need to leave shortly after twelve so I can be back at the clinic by one.”
He walked toward the sunroom as Jake snorted. Why was the guy so uptight about coming to the lodge? He was getting paid well for the extra travel time.
Owen disappeared into the kitchen. “What is this?” he demanded a moment later.
Jake limped through the swinging door and saw the therapist pointing to the cinnamon toast with an accusing finger. “Breakfast.”
“It’s eleven o’clock. You haven’t eaten yet?”
“What’s the big deal?”
“Nutrition. The bread is fine—that particular brand is made from whole grain without a bunch of crap added to it. But sugar and butter won’t help your body heal and rebuild muscle. You need protein and fruits and vegetables, as well as whole grains.”
“Whatever.” Jake grabbed the bread bag and the plate of toast and shoved them into the refrigerator. Okay, he’d known cinnamon toast wasn’t the best meal in the world, but he could order a vegetarian pizza later in the day to make up for it. “Let’s get busy.”
Owen pulled something from his bag and handed it to him. “Eat this first. It’s a protein bar.”
Two hours later Jake was soaked with sweat and feeling as if he’d gone mountain climbing. He was also grateful for the protein bar, however hideous it had tasted. Not that the exercises had been as strenuous as hiking across an ice field loaded down with photographic equipment, but they were proof that he had a long way to go in his recovery.
“Excellent,” Owen said, smiling for the first time. “Some of my patients find it difficult doing what I ask, but the real proof will be whether you do the exercises between our sessions.”
“I’ll do them.” Jake wiped his face, perspiring as much from pain as from the workout. But he didn’t want to take a pill; the damned painkillers messed with his head. The hot tub, on the other hand...
While he wasn’t wild about many parts of the industrial world, the hot tub was a guilty pleasure. Sliding into the warm, swirling water when his body ached was one of the things he actually enjoyed here at Huckleberry Lodge. Sheltered from wind by Plexiglas on the railings, the private deck off the master bedroom still had a view of the lake, and at night, with the lights off, he could almost imagine he was in a natural hot spring, somewhere far away.
Through the window he saw Hannah come down her steps and cross to the lodge with Danny alongside. She was carrying a large bag, probably containing the sheets and towels she’d taken on Tuesday. Jake locked gazes with her as they came up the back steps to the sunroom.
“Come in,” he called.
Hannah opened the door and smiled when she saw Owen Kershaw. “Hi, Owen, remember me?”
The therapist grinned. “Hannah Nolan. Of course I remember. Your great-aunt was one of my favorite patients. What are you doing here?”
“This was Great-Aunt Elkie’s house. She passed away after I graduated from college and left Huckleberry Lodge to me. I’ve leased it to Jake. Owen, this is my son, Danny.”
“Hi, Danny.” Owen shook hands with the youngster. “I have something for you,” he said, and pulled something out of his athletic bag that looked like a tropical clown fish.
“That’s just like Nemo,” Danny declared.
“It’s made from a special kind of sponge rubber. My patients squeeze them to build strength in their hands and arms,” Owen explained, and Danny promptly began squeezing the toy with all his might.
“Does everybody know each other in Mahalaton Lake and Lower Mahalaton?” Jake asked.
Hannah shrugged. “No, but Owen works at the only rehab center in fifty miles—anybody who’s ever needed physical therapy has gone there. My great-aunt broke her hip when I was sixteen and stayed at the center for several weeks, then we drove down for her physical therapy sessions. That was when she put in the hot tub.”
“Hot tub?” Owen looked concerned. “I have questions about the chemicals they require, so just be sure to shower after using it.”
Jake was glad the therapist hadn’t tried to stop him. No way would he give up the hot tub. It might feel strange to enjoy something so far out of his chosen lifestyle, but it was better than the alternative.
“It doesn’t use chemicals—it has one of those reverse osmosis cleaning systems. And it’s serviced regularly,” Hannah assured. “I see you’re wearing a wedding ring. Do you have kids?”
The therapist’s face lit up. “We’ve got two boys who run us ragged. They’re four and five. And Cheryl is pregnant again. If you’re interested, I’ll bring pictures the next time I’m here.”
“I’d love to see them.”
Owen looked at his watch and picked up his bag and the folding table. “I’m late. It was a pleasure meeting you, Danny. Take care, Hannah.”
“You, too.”
“I’ll be back at eleven on Tuesday,” Owen said to Jake.
“Nemo?” Jake asked Hannah when the other man was gone.
“He’s a character in an animated movie, about a little clown fish and its father. One of Danny’s favorites.”
“Nemo gets kidnapped and his dad goes looking for him through the whole ocean,” Danny said. “Mommy, do you think my daddy is looking for me? Maybe he got lost and doesn’t remember where we live.”
Hannah’s face froze. “Your father isn’t... That is, he knows we’re here in Mahalaton Lake. He just travels a lot. Now we need to start cleaning the house.”
When he was gone, Hannah put her chin up with an air of defiance as she turned to Jake. “You said it was all right to bring him, and he likes to feel he’s helping me.”
Exhausted, Jake sank down on a chair. “It’s fine. Does Danny ask about his father much?”
“He’s starting to more and more. But how do you explain to a seven-year-old boy that his dad is a womanizing ba...” She stopped and visibly drew a breath. “Never mind.”
“Sure. Oh, did Danny give you the money for the loaf of bread?”
A flicker of emotion crossed her face, though he couldn’t guess the reason. “Yes.”
“I appreciate him bringing it over. I started thinking about it afterward and realized I should have asked first. He also brought me some chicken. Thank you.”
“Thank Danny. It was entirely his idea. Now, please excuse me, I have work to do.”
Jake decided this wasn’t the right time to ask about the grocery shopping. He slumped deeper in his chair and closed his eyes, his body throbbing with the effort he’d put into the therapy. But he refused to lie down. Given their testy relationship, he didn’t want to appear weak in front of Hannah. Or maybe it was the age-old vanity of men in most societies, hating to appear less than virile in front of a woman. Especially such a beautiful woman.
There were noises around the house now. Domestic noises. Very different from what he’d hear in the highland villages of Nepal above Kathmandu, or deep in the Amazon. Yet it seemed as if there was a common rhythm to housework. Sweeping. Washing. Tidying. Even Danny’s voice, asking his mother what else he could do, wasn’t unlike the chatter of children in the dozens of cultures Jake had experienced from the day he was born.
It was better than the silence of the past few days, he thought, and far better than the echoes of the plane crash that still roared in his ears at the oddest moments.
* * *
THE TWO PIZZA boxes Jake had said to leave on Tuesday were on the kitchen floor, and Hannah stuffed them in a bag. Danny cheerfully took the bag out to the garbage cans.
Sugar was spilled across the counter and onto the floor as well, and she swept it up, thinking of what Gwen had said about some artists being slobs.
Maybe, maybe not.
However, it appeared that if something fell on the floor, Jake simply left it there, and she found it hard to believe that was a common custom in other parts of the world. Of course, it could be because of his injuries—it might be hard to bend over and pick something up. But when she went into the bathroom and saw the mess on the countertops and sinks, Hannah decided to go with slob.
She scrubbed everything, keeping Andy Bedard’s comments in mind about the need to keep everything sanitized. Andy was nice, a regular mother hen. And unlike some of the skiers who’d rented the lodge in the past, he and his guests always left things in good order.
After two hours, Hannah tied the dirty linens into a bundle, belatedly realizing she hadn’t seen Danny in a while. She found him sitting cross-legged on the couch in the sunroom, listening to her tenant recount a story about trekking into the Australian outback. Danny’s eyes were round with excitement as Jake described hanging over the water from a tree branch, taking photos of prowling crocodiles who’d like nothing better than to have him for lunch.
“Were you scared?” he asked.
Jake shrugged carelessly. “Not really.”
“I bet they could bite me in half.”
“Maybe not in half, but they’ve got really powerful jaws and can drag a grown man under—”
“Danny, I’m done. Can you take the laundry over to our house?” Hannah interrupted hastily.
“Okay,” Danny agreed, though he looked torn.
When he’d clattered down the steps from the sunroom, Hannah turned to Jake. “Look, I appreciate your being friendly to my son, but he’s prone to nightmares. Besides, a child his age doesn’t need to know the details of how a crocodile could kill him.”
“Hey, I saw my first wild croc when I was four,” Jake said defensively, though he also seemed to be embarrassed. “It never gave me nightmares. And after that we spent several months on an African savannah while Josie photographed a lion pride.”
“Josie?”
“My mother.”
“Okay, fine. That was her decision. But I’m worried about Danny waking up at two in the morning, screaming bloody murder because he thinks a crocodile has climbed into his bed.”
Jake winced. “Sorry. I don’t know anything about kids.”
“I understand that, but please keep in mind that certain things shouldn’t be talked about in front of an impressionable child. Besides, I bet you did have nightmares—you just don’t remember.”
“If I did, they obviously didn’t scar me for life.”
Hannah clamped her mouth shut. Being scarred for life was a matter of opinion. Jake seemed to lead a solitary existence where taking high-risk photographs was more important than human contact. Perhaps she was biased, but even the greatest photograph in the world wasn’t worth dying to get.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS A QUIET Friday afternoon at Luigi’s, and Barbi opened one of the books Hannah had given her to study. She chewed her lip, knowing she should give as much attention to math and proper English as other subjects, but history was a lot more interesting than adverbs and dangling participles.
“Good, you’re studying,” Luigi said with approval. He was a nice boss. If she could make enough money working for him to live on, it wouldn’t be so important to get her GED.
Wrong, whispered a voice inside her head. She couldn’t keep working for Luigi; she had to get out of Mahalaton Lake. When her father wasn’t in jail for drunk and disorderly behavior or boozing it up at the bar, he was coming over to her place, demanding money or getting maudlin over her mother’s death.
She tried not to carry more than twenty bucks in her wallet, but it helped to have a little cash because Vic got ugly if she didn’t have any...especially when she’d been delivering pizza. Her father knew she ought to have tips on delivery nights, though he didn’t know she’d started leaving most of them at the restaurant until she could get to the bank the next morning.
She tried to say no when he wanted money, but he’d just knock her down and go through her purse. She might be able to press charges against him, only how could she do that to her father?
And to be honest, she was scared to death of him.
Barbi looked at the bruises where Vic had grabbed her wrist the night before—he was a mean drunk. She shoved her bangles over the marks, her heart aching more than her sore wrist. It hadn’t always been like this. Before her mom died, Vic had laughed a lot, worked steadily and only drank an occasional beer. But it was as if something inside him had broken when they’d buried her mother. Hell, he wasn’t the only one who’d been hurt when Rachael Paulson died; he didn’t have to dive into a vodka bottle and stop being a dad because of it.
Sighing, she turned a page of the history book. It was the section on the American Revolution and she needed to memorize the dates. Learning the information wasn’t the problem, it was having her mind go blank when she took the test.
She was deep in the story of Benjamin Franklin’s visit to Paris in 1776 when Luigi called to her.
“Two giant pies for Huckleberry Lodge, Barbara.”
“Okay. Is one for Hannah and Danny?”
“Both are for Mr. Hollister. He never asks for any of my other dishes. No tortellini a’Luigi, or parmigiana, or even antipasto.”
“Officially we only deliver pizza,” Barbi reminded him as she lifted the insulated bag that kept the pizzas hot.
“He could ask,” Luigi said with a sniff. He could get huffy about his cooking, though never in
front of a customer—not that he got many complaints about the food. The winter skiers ate dozens of take-out and delivery pizzas every day, but they also crowded into the Tuscan dining room, declaring it the best Italian this side of Rome. The tourist trade was lighter in the summer, but they still stayed pretty busy.
Barbi drove out to Huckleberry Lodge and parked. Jake had told her to always just come in, so she pushed the front door open and called out, “Hey, it’s me. I got your food.”
“In here.” He was in the sunroom, looking tired as he lifted hand weights, a sheen of sweat on his face and bare chest. She put the pizzas on a side table next to him. He extracted four twenties from the pocket of his jeans and handed them to her. “Keep the change.”
“Ya sure, Jake? That’s a pretty big tip.” She asked every time he gave her a bunch of cash, because as much as she liked getting over thirty dollars, it almost seemed indecent to get that much for delivering two pizzas.
“It’s worth every penny.”
“I’d come even if you didn’t tip me,” Barbi said seriously. “That’s my job.”
Jake shrugged and flexed his leg in another exercise. “The lodge is several miles from town. It costs you extra in gas to drive out here, and you might lose tips from other customers.”
She fidgeted for a second. “I’ve been thinking, you can ask Luigi for a dish from the regular menu if you want. I don’t think he’d mind. He’s real proud of his tortellini a’Luigi, and it’s awful good.”
“Yeah?” Jake seemed surprised. “Hannah mentioned making a special request, but I figured that was for locals.”
“You’re a local now. And don’t tell Luigi I said so, but he’s a teddy bear at heart. I bet he’d like you asking for something else.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Pizza’s just easy. Anyhow, keep the money.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. Just so you know, you can also give Luigi a credit card number if you want.” She tucked the cash in the hip pouch she used to make change for customers and automatically checked her cell phone. Luigi always sent a text message when an order came in for a delivery pizza, but it had been a slow night.
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