“No. Why would she?”
“‘Cause Oliver saved hers. ‘Cause Oliver’s gonna expect to see you in the clothes he gave you. You need to get ‘em back.”
Carrie wasn’t going to ask for her clothes back. Jenna wouldn’t return them anyway. Even if she did, Sasha would just complain that Carrie had more than her allotted amount.
“So where do you want your well?” Greg asked, turning in a slow circle to take in her backyard.
Jonah grunted, tugging on Carrie’s hand to break free. The little guy was stronger than he looked, and she struggled to keep hold of him.
“I thought you weren’t going to ask,” Carrie said, “but how about outside the Kovach’s back door.”
Greg folded his arms. “Why are you fightin’ me on this, Carrie? Is it ‘cause I was the one who suggested it?”
Surprised, she looked up. “No.” Well, yes, but not that she’d admit. “I just don’t want people thinking I need special treatment.” Especially him. “I can take care of my family just fine.”
“Not from what I keep hearin’,” he muttered.
Her temper flared. “From who?”
He rolled his eyes. “When was the last time you talked to your best friend, or does my grandma only have those conversations with me?” His voice suddenly mimicked an eighty-year-old woman’s.
“‘If only Carrie had a man around to take care of her, Gregory, I could sleep more soundly at night. She’s all alone, watching out for herself and her poor siblings. It makes me sick to death to think about what could happen to her—what almost happened to her! Sick to death, Gregory! My poor Carrie. Poor, poor, poor Carrie!’”
By the time he finished, Carrie was laughing. She couldn’t help it. Not only was his impersonation of his grandma spot on, but she finally understood why he’d given her the first well.
“I’m sorry, Greg, but it’s not like I agree with May. My siblings and I are just fine. If you’re giving me the first well to get your grandma off your back, then tell her you did and give it to someone who really needs it, like Jenna.”
“First off, I doubt you’d ever lie to my grandma, not even for her own sake. And secondly…” Without warning, he crouched down next to Little Jeffrey and raked his fingers through the grass as if searching for bugs. “Secondly…” he started more carefully, “I happen to agree with her on this.”
Carrie’s mouth dropped.
“You’re mom and dad to two teens,” Greg said. “You’re teacher for six others, nurse for an ornery, pregnant lady, babysitter for her little boys, and protector of the entire clan. As far as I’m concerned, it’s time people around here did somethin’ nice for you. So if anybody has a problem with you gettin’ the first well, they can take it up with me.” He stood and met her stunned gaze head on. “That includes yourself, Miss Ashworth.”
She couldn’t move. It sounded so close to a compliment, she didn’t know what to think. Surely Greg meant it as an insult. Surely this whole thing was some big joke. She just couldn’t figure out how.
He wandered over to the closest flowerbed. “I figure we can hide your well in this weed patch here. What do you think?”
Normally she would have mentioned her peas intermixed in the weeds—peas that were barely an inch tall—but she managed a quiet, “Okay. Thank you.”
He nodded. “Braden’s comin’ up with a lid that’ll hopefully camouflage it good enough. With luck, the patrolmen will never notice it. As far as timing, the well at my grandparents’ took two months to dig. I’m hopin’ to turn yours out in a week.”
In her stunned state, Jonah won the battle. He slipped out of her grasp and took off down the hill, headed straight for the water’s edge. Carrie chased after the little guy and scooped him up. He whined, squirmed, and flailed every possible direction, making it hard for her to walk back up her yard.
“Well, Greg,” she said, “I better go make some lunch for the boys.”
“Alrighty. I gotta take a few measurements and then I’ll be ready.”
“Ready?” she asked.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Whatever y’all are eatin’ is fine. I’m not picky.”
Her stomach dropped. Lunch? For Greg?
She searched her yard for an excuse to get out of an invitation she hadn’t intended. She couldn’t find one fast enough. Sighing, she said, “Okay. Do you mind if Little Jeffrey stays outside with you? I’ll only be a few minutes.” And Little Jeffrey was in the same spot he’d been in for the last half hour, searching the grass.
“That’s fine. I’ll keep the other one, too, if it’ll free up your hands.”
Her grip tightened on Jonah. “No, that’s okay. I better take him with me.”
Greg’s expression hardened again. “Why do you have such a problem accepting help, Carrie?”
“I don’t.”
“So what? You think I’m incapable of watchin’ a couple kids for a minute?”
“I…” She blew out her breath. “Fine. Just don’t let Jonah get too close to the—”
The look Greg gave her shut her up. He walked toward her and held out his hands. As much as Jonah hadn’t wanted to be stuck in Carrie’s arms, he certainly didn’t want to be in Greg’s. The toddler twisted back to Carrie, practically climbing up her to escape. Greg grabbed him anyway, wrestled him a moment, and then plopped him on his belly next to Little Jeffrey. Once Jonah realized the game, he poked his fingers into the cold grass.
Deciding she’d be able to keep an eye on the little boys from the kitchen, Carrie ran up her deck stairs.
Amber met her at the kitchen door, eyes wide in a smile.
“Greg’s finding a spot for our new well,” Carrie said. “He’s staying for lunch, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t look at me like that, Amber. It’s not what you think. At all.”
“Maybe it should be,” Amber said. “Greg’s looking mighty fine today, don’t you think?”
“Amber, please,” Carrie begged. “I need you to help me find something to feed him besides a flimsy piece of bread.”
twenty-six
IT TOOK LONGER THAN usual to get a fire going, and then Carrie still had to fry up Greg’s egg. She had to admit, it would have been hard to work with Jonah. Not only was it a messy, hand-consuming job, but fire was another of Jonah’s fascinations. Her fireplace wasn’t set up like Jenna and Jeff’s either. It sat at the same level as the carpet.
As she worked, she kept glancing outside. Zach had joined the boys outside, having rushed outside once he heard the almighty Greg was in his backyard. Greg wasn’t on his stomach like the three boys but sat in front of them, palms out to hold any doodlebugs they caught.
Little Jeffrey reached up to touch Greg’s clean-shaven cheek. Greg said something, probably explaining why he was the only beardless man Jeffrey had ever seen. Whatever Greg said made Zach laugh. Little Jeffrey giggled, too. Carrie watched it all in amazement. It was almost… She couldn’t think of the right word, but it was almost something.
“Man, he’s so dreamy,” Amber said over her shoulder.
Flinching, Carrie went back to the fire. “Did you get me the lid?”
Amber handed it over with a grin. “Don’t you think Greg is dreamy?”
“No.” Carrie poked the coals with fervor. The wood cracked and popped. Maybe someday Jeff would figure out how to dry wood so it didn’t smoke so much. She smashed the coals into tiny glowing pieces.
“I think you have a crush, Carrie,” Amber said.
Carrie’s face burned as hot as the fire, but she stayed facing away. “Stop, Amber. Seriously. I know you want me to like Greg, but he just annoys me to no end.”
“Why? He’s so dreamy.”
“Ugh. Would you stop saying that?” Carrie said. “Unless you mean the nightmare kind of dreamy, then yeah, you’re right on.”
“No, I mean dreamy, like green eyes to die for and arms built like a machine. But his smile…” Amber sighed a deep, dramatic sigh. “Yeah. His smile is the best.”<
br />
“Are we even talking about the same guy?” Carrie asked, flipping his egg over. “I can’t tell you the color of his eyes because they’re always glaring at me. His arms look like they’re ready to strangle me, and I’ve yet to see him smile. Not even once. Who goes a whole month without smiling?”
“Well I’ve seen him smile,” Amber crowed. “He smiles at us girls all the time.”
Carrie turned slowly. Though Amber loved to exaggerate, Carrie didn’t think she was this time. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. Maybe because it confirmed her suspicions. She really was the only person Greg hated.
“I knew it!” Amber cried. “You do like him!”
Carrie leaped up and shoved a hand over her mouth. “Stop it!”
Amber pried her hand off. “You’re just shy, Carrie. But don’t worry. I can fix shy.”
Carrie took her by the shoulders. “Amber, I’m begging you. You can’t talk about this anymore. Not to me and especially not to anyone else. I do not like Greg, okay?”
“Fine. I’ll promise to stop bugging you if you admit he’s dreamy.”
Carrie risked another look outside. The distance softened Greg’s expression. The moment softened his personality. If she went on looks alone, she could see why everyone found him attractive. Very attractive. But she didn’t care about that. Not enough to call him dreamy.
But…
The way Zach leaned on his shoulder. And the baseball game. And rushing out in the rain to save people he barely knew. And giving her the first well. No more begging Amber for fresh water, cold sponge baths, or dragging laundry down to May’s one painful basket at a time. There were moments when Carrie caught a different glimpse of Greg, almost like he’d hijacked this all-around nice guy who was fighting to get out. So, for a moment, she allowed herself to block out the bad long enough to play Amber’s game. Greg said something else that made Zach laugh, and she sighed.
“Fine. He’s dreamy, but I’m holding you to your promise, Amber. Never mention this again. Never to anyone. Not even your friends. Understand?”
Beaming, Amber crossed her heart. “I swear on my life that it will go to my grave that you think Greg Pierce is totally and completely dreamy.”
She jumped out of the way before Carrie could smack her.
When lunch was ready, Carrie sent Amber out to get the boys. Zach came in with the two little ones, taking up the three folding chairs, but Amber lingered outside with Greg, talking.
“What’s for lunch?” Zach asked.
Carrie shooed him out the chair. “You have to eat standing up today. Oh, and you can’t have a plate either. We’re having bread and butter. Greg’s having an egg sandwich.”
For once, Zach didn’t fight her and stood next to the counter. “Does Greg like eggs?”
“Oh, I really hope so.”
Stomach fluttering with nerves, Carrie set the food on the table and glanced outside. Amber was still talking to Greg, smiling and tossing her dark hair around. She had no problem flirting with a guy ten years older than her. All Carrie could think was that she better not forget her promise.
Carrie turned back to Jonah. “Do you want some water?”
By the time Amber slid open the back door, Carrie was buttering the boys’ bread. She didn’t turn around to welcome Greg. Having him in her yard was one thing. Having him in her kitchen, eating at her table, was another entirely. Thankfully her parents had given birth to two extroverts. As they ate, Zach fired off every possible question about the Yankees, cars, big cities, and life outside of Logan Pond, while Amber did her best to add to the conversation, talking up baseball—which she hated—and cars—which she hated even more. Mostly Amber batted her big brown eyes at Greg. In return, Greg was pleasant, almost nice as he ate. It was like Carrie wasn’t even there. Fine by her.
She stayed busy getting the little boys water, keeping Jonah on his chair, cleaning up spilled water, and convincing Little Jeffrey to eat his bread instead of punching holes in it. Greg didn’t say a word to her, and she didn’t say a word to anyone over the age of three, making an enjoyable lunch for all of them.
Once Greg finished sopping up the last of his egg yolk, Amber jumped up.
“Here, let me take your plate, Greg.” Amber rinsed it in the bucket and spoke over her shoulder. “Hey, Carrie, I can take Jonah back for his nap if you want.”
Carrie looked up in surprise. Amber was really putting on a show. “Okay, but I told Jenna I’d put him down today since she was still sick on the couch when I got there.”
“No prob. I’ll also take Little Jeffrey with me if you want. I was going to stop by Ziegler’s and he can just hang out with me for a while. Then you can have some quiet time.” Amber’s gaze flickered to Greg for the briefest second. “You deserve some quiet time today.”
Carrie looked from Amber to Greg. Greg gave Amber a tiny nod. Something was going on. Something bad. She could feel it.
I can fix shy.
Carrie’s stomach dropped.
“Hey, Little Jeffrey,” Amber said. “Do you want to go see Lindsey and Maddie with me?”
“No.” He punched more holes in his bread.
“I bet they have doodlebugs at their house,” Greg added.
That’s all Jeffrey needed. He hopped off his chair and sprinted for the front door. Amber and Greg exchanged another conspiratorial look, at which point Carrie knew something was definitely up. Something bad if Greg was in on it. Then she remembered Amber and Greg’s animated discussion outside, and her pulse sped up. What had they talked about? Carrie trusted her sister less than she trusted Greg because there was only one subject Little Miss Hopeless-Romantic-Without-An-Ounce-of-Tact would want to chat about with Greg.
I can fix shy. I can fix shy.
As Amber took Jonah from her, Carrie felt queasy. The bread wasn’t sitting well in her stomach.
“Thanks, Amber,” Carrie managed. “Tell Jenna I’ll be by a little later than usual tomorrow. I have to plan the field with the Watsons.”
Amber was all smiles. “Okay. Let’s go, boys.”
Zach was right on her heels. “Can I go over to Tucker’s?”
“Did you finish your—” Carrie started.
“Yes. Homework. Chores. Room. It’s all done,” Zach said. “Bye.”
Carrie took a deep breath as Zach followed Amber out. Four down, one to go. If her instincts were wrong—which she prayed they were—Greg would be gone soon, too, and she’d have a quiet afternoon to herself. A rare luxury. She was tempted to dream of peas and daffodils and every other spring thing, but she had the sneaking suspicion she wouldn’t get to any of it.
Greg hadn’t budged.
She brushed Jonah’s crumbs into her hand. “Thanks for joining us for lunch today.”
“Sure. It was good. Real good,” Greg said.
Again with the niceties?
Her nerves were strung tight.
She cleaned off the table, wrapped up the loaf of bread, and dumped the crumbs and scraps into the chicken feed bucket. Greg watched her as if he had all the time in the world.
He was the first to break the silence.
“You’re probably wonderin’ why I invited myself to lunch today,” he said. “Or why I’m still here.”
Yes.
She put away the last cup.
“You don’t want me here, do you?” he said, blunt as usual.
“Uh…” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, wondering how to answer politely.
“That’s okay,” he said. “Amber told me you wouldn’t, but I wasn’t convinced until now. That’s good. It’s actually why I’m here. I’ve just got a couple questions, then I’ll leave you be.”
He motioned for her to sit at the folding table, as if it was his house and she was the guest. Rolling her eyes, she sat in Little Jeffrey’s vacated folding chair and started playing with a stain on her shirt.
“What did Oliver really offer?” Greg said. “The part you forgot to tell the rest of us.
”
Her hand froze.
Smelling blood, he sat up. “I know you’re hidin’ somethin’, so out with it. What did Oliver offer the clan, start to finish?”
How did Greg know?
Nobody knew.
The guilt crept up on her. It wasn’t fair that she’d taken matters into her own hands, but it also wasn’t fair to let Oliver do what he had offered to do on Thursday—and then again Friday.
“He wants to replace everything,” she said softly. “All the mattresses, blankets, food, and”—she winced—“the guns. Even the goat.”
Greg nodded slowly. “Interesting. And you didn’t tell anybody else ‘cause…?”
“Because it’s not right! Oliver’s job doesn’t pay much beyond housing and food. He doesn’t have money to replace our stuff.”
“And we do?”
“No!” she said, blood pumping. This was exactly why she hadn’t told anyone else. “But that’s our problem, Greg, not his. He shouldn’t have to bail us out every time something goes wrong. He owes us nothing, and we already owe him too much. It’s not like he’s the one who burned our stuff.”
“True, true,” Greg said thoughtfully. “But for some reason, you didn’t trust the rest of us to come to the same conclusion?”
“Some of the clansmen maybe, but others…” She shrugged.
“Interesting.” Then he twisted around and pointed outside. “Why don’t y’all fish in the pond?”
She stared at him. “That’s it? You’re not going to yell at me? You’re not going to tell me I should’ve taken Oliver’s offer? You’re not going to say I had no right to decide this on my own?”
He gave her a strange look. “No. Should I?”
“What I did was wrong, Greg,” she said, voice rising. “The clan works on a strict democracy, and you’re not going to call me out on it?”
It sounded like a guilty conscience come clean, even to her, but having him change the subject worried her. She didn’t trust him. Except she did. He had never said a word about Amber’s slip-up on the night of the raid, but that didn’t make sense either. Nothing Greg Pierce ever did made sense, and it was driving her crazy.
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 19
