Читать книгу An Officer And Her Gentleman - Amy Woods - Страница 10

Chapter Three

As he waited for her answer, Isaac glanced at the grandfather clock near the hallway, one of the many things he’d been unable to part with when Nana had willed the old ranch-style home to him a couple of years ago. Its iron hands indicated the hour was near two o’clock in the morning.

They had plenty of time for a bite before daylight when Avery would leave and go back to Dewberry—a thought that, had he more time to entertain, he might have admitted he didn’t much care for. He liked the quiet comfort and surrounding memories of the house he’d spent so many happy summers in as a child, and most of the time he was okay with the fact that he lived in the country and didn’t entertain a lot of visitors, but there were times when he got lonely. Even though Jane was one hell of a listener, she didn’t do much in the way of talking.

It was nice to have a woman in his home. He liked the way Avery’s presence added a certain softness to the atmosphere, and he found himself caring whether or not she liked the place.

“I’m not really very hungry,” she answered, earning a pointed look from him.

“Come on, now. I’m a very good cook. I’m famous for my barbecue, but I can make a mean sandwich in a pinch. Seriously, call your brother and ask him,” Isaac joked, regretting the words when he saw they’d caused her to wince. Tommy had mentioned, of course, that he had a sister who’d recently come home after a few tours in Afghanistan, but since they’d never been introduced or run into each other anywhere in town—which was odd in itself—Isaac hadn’t given much thought to the mysterious female Abbott. He and Tommy crossed paths frequently, as the farm always provided food for the events Isaac hosted on behalf of his dog training center, Friends with Fur, but he’d never once seen Avery.

He wouldn’t have forgotten her if he had.

The locals talked about her enough; they all had theories about how she might be doing now that she was back, what kind of girl she’d been growing up and—these comments were always in hushed tones accented with the sympathetic clicking of tongues—how she wasn’t quite right anymore, bless her heart. But in Isaac’s line of work, he’d learned to withhold judgment until he got to know someone.

And he knew that when broken people kept to themselves, holed up behind walls built to keep out hurt, eventually their family and friends, even the closest ones, stopped asking the hard questions and accepted the new, hollow versions, forgetting that at one time those wounded people were whole.

He got up from his chair and moved toward the couch to scratch Janie’s pink tummy, which she’d shamelessly turned over and exposed so that Avery could have the esteemed privilege of rubbing it.

He raised his eyes and watched as Avery pet Jane, admiring the way the dog’s gentle serenity seemed to seep into the woman’s weary bones.

“Tell you what—I had a long day and I’m hungry, so I’m going to start up a grilled cheese sandwich.” He watched Avery for any change in her expression, but her features remained still. “You’re welcome to join me if you want to, and I’d be happy to make two.”

She raised her eyes then and he was reminded of how blue they were, like shadowy mountaintops at dusk.

“I wasn’t always like this, you know,” Avery said, her voice so quiet he wasn’t sure the words were meant for him to hear.

Even though her gaze was on his, Isaac could tell her thoughts were far off somewhere he couldn’t reach. He’d seen the same look on many of the veterans he worked with at the training facility, and he’d learned not to push too hard. Sometimes it was best to stay silent and let the person decide how much he or she wanted to say or not say.

“I used to be strong. Independent.” She glanced away. “I can’t tell you how humiliating it is to be sitting here in your house, having to trust your word on how I got here.”

Isaac’s insides ached at her admission and he had the sudden urge to reach out and hold her hand. He wouldn’t, but he wanted to.

He’d always had an easier time relating to canines than to his own kind, a product of being homeschooled by a widowed young mom who’d been overwhelmed by the world outside their door, with only his older brother and a series of family pets to keep him company. He would never complain about his childhood. After all, it had been safer and saner than many of his friends’ and colleagues’, but it had also been lonely.

Ever since he’d moved away briefly for college and then come home to start a business, Isaac had longed for a family of his own. He wanted life to be much different from the way he’d been raised; he wanted kiddos running around shouting happily, dogs barking joyfully and, above all, lots and lots of laughter.

Most people wanted quiet when they came home at the end of a long workday, he thought with a chuckle, but Isaac craved noise.

He wasn’t sure what he could say, but he gave it a try anyway. “I know I don’t know you, so my saying so doesn’t mean much, but you have nothing to be embarrassed by.”

He looked up in time to see Avery shaking her head, but he went on, sharing things he rarely got a chance to. “You served your country with honor, and I can bet you dealt with a lot of things no one should ever have to, but that doesn’t mean you’re different than any other human being. People aren’t meant to be around the things I’m sure you were, and come out the same on the other side. War is bound to do some damage to a person’s soul. I don’t think anyone expects you to come back and pick up where you left off without a few hurdles to jump.”

Avery closed her eyes and then opened them slowly, regarding him with an expression he couldn’t read.

“Sometimes it feels like that’s exactly what they expect.”

“Well, they shouldn’t,” he responded. “And I think that’s just a product of not really being able to understand what you went through over there.”

Not wanting to say anything that would make Avery uncomfortable, that would make her retreat back into her shell, Isaac gave Jane one final pat and then headed off to the kitchen.

He’d pulled cheese and butter out of the fridge and was opening a wooden bread box when he heard her soft footsteps behind him. He tossed a welcome grin over his shoulder, pleased when he noticed that she wasn’t alone. Jane, his big, goofy sweetheart, had followed Avery and was glued to her side. It was one of the characteristics he loved most about dogs. They were quick to make friends.

“How are you so wise about this stuff?” Avery asked, giving him a sad little smile. “Did you serve, as well?”

He shook his head. “No, but in my work, I meet a lot of people who did, and I’ve learned a few things along the way.” He bit back the urge to mention the brother he’d lost; talking about what happened to Stephen would likely be unhelpful at that particular moment.

Her eyes, huge and dark blue in a small, lovely, heart-shaped face, were full of questions and she seemed almost eager, for the first time that evening, to talk with him.

“What kind of work do you do?” she asked, not meeting his eyes as she ran a finger along the glossy edge of the oak table in the adjoining breakfast nook.

“I own a dog-training facility. I opened it a couple of years ago and I have a few assistants now, other trainers. We do all kinds of work—basic obedience, scent, search and rescue—but my most recent project is working with veterans.”

“Do you mind if I ask, I mean, how well does that usually work? The vet-and-dog combination?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her sit down at the table and he began cutting squares of cheese off a block of cheddar.

Isaac gave a rough little laugh. “You’re not the only one who wants to know that,” he said. A lot of people—influential people—wondered the same thing, and soon Isaac hoped to have a way of answering that with his own research, so that he could raise the necessary funding to expand his project. A project that, thanks to great dogs and veterans willing to work hard to overcome their pain, had already changed several lives for the better. He enjoyed all kinds of training, but this particular sort had become his passion over the past couple of years.

“Quite well, actually.”

Avery’s forehead wrinkled in curiosity, which he took as an invitation to keep talking. Normally, he was a pretty quiet guy, even a little on the shy side, one might say, but when it came to his career, he could go on all day.

“Service animals make some of the best companions to soldiers who’ve returned from war carrying more than physical baggage. With the right training, they can be a huge asset to people dealing with past trauma or symptoms of PTSD, and they can be even better than medication at calming soldiers in the midst of panic attacks, or...even flashbacks.”

He wasn’t going to put a label on what had happened with Avery that night. He wasn’t a doctor and he didn’t have all the details, but his gut told him that’s what had occurred to her prior to him stumbling upon her in that ditch.

“Sorry if I sound like a public service announcement. I just care a lot about this stuff. It’s affected a lot of people I care about.”

Her shoulders let go of some of their tension as he spoke, and there was even a hint of hope in her eyes as he explained the process of rescuing dogs from the local shelter and giving them homes, purpose and new, full lives.

“So basically you’re saving two people at once,” she said, her eyes brighter than they had been since he’d met her. “Or, well, one person and one dog—you know what I meant,” she said, her cheeks turning a pretty, soft pink.

He bent to pull a skillet from a low cabinet, partly so he could warm up a pat of butter and start the sandwich, and partly so she wouldn’t see the way her sweet expression had affected him.

He didn’t mind helping her out—any decent guy would have done the same—and he was glad to let her stay awhile until the sun came up. He was even happy to make her a much-needed meal. He told himself it was harmless to feel attracted to a too-thin but still gorgeous woman he’d happened upon by some stroke of fate, but what he could not allow was for that attraction to go any further.

From the looks of things, Avery Abbott needed a lot of help, some of which he might even be able to offer, but it was highly unlikely she was looking for a relationship. Not with what she was obviously going through right now.

And Isaac, truth be told, very much wanted one.

He lit the stove and waited for it to heat, finally placing the butter in to melt.

“I haven’t saved anyone,” he said. “They save each other.”

While the butter changed from solid to a sizzling little pool, he put cheese between bread slices and arranged two plates to hold the finished food. Once he’d set the first sandwich in the pan, he chanced another look at her, surprised to see unshed tears shimmering in Avery’s eyes. She rubbed at her lids and he looked away, kicking himself for saying something that might have added any more pain to her already awful night. He wanted to apologize, but wasn’t sure what to say; words had never been his strong suit. He much preferred movement and action, but those weren’t always what was required.

Five minutes later, he plated the sandwiches and brought them, along with two glasses of water, over to the table to join Avery, who smiled up at him as he sat, all traces of moisture gone from those sapphire eyes.

“Thank you for this,” she said softly, “and for everything. I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “What was I supposed to do, leave you out there alone on the side of the road? What kind of man would that make me?” He winked and picked up his sandwich.

That coaxed a little grin out of her, which gave him more satisfaction than it should have.

“I have to say, Mr. Meyer, you do seem like a stand-up guy. Do you make a habit of rescuing lost women in the middle of the night?” she asked, and he had the distinct feeling she was flirting with him a little.

Something fluttered in his belly, and he didn’t think it was hunger.

“I haven’t before,” he answered, “but after tonight, who knows? Maybe I will.”

Avery laughed so hard at that cheesiness that the sip of water she’d just taken almost came out of her nose. Within minutes, they were both laughing like idiots, at what he really couldn’t say.

But it felt good.

After the weirdest night of his life, and after the too-strong sense of relief he now felt seeing that this woman, this soldier, could still laugh despite the things life had thrown her way, it felt good to join her in a moment of ridiculousness. It was almost as if something in his heart had come unknotted.

Even though he knew it was completely irrational, he realized suddenly, with as much certainty and force as one might realize it’s raining as drops hit the ground, that he would do absolutely everything he could to help her get better.