Читать книгу The Unknown Malone - Anne Eames, Anne Eames - Страница 11

Four

Michael dropped a plumb line from the header above the new door frame leading to one of the large upstairs bathrooms, the scent of this morning’s bacon lingering in the air, and the image of Nicole lingering in his mind. He’d read the paper and drunk coffee, pretending to ignore her, but when she hadn’t been looking, he’d studied her graceful and confident movements around the kitchen. It had been seven years since his mother’s death, and until this morning he didn’t realize how much he missed the presence of a woman doing what seemed to come natural. It felt good.

Damn good.

Damn it. This wasn’t smart. In a week or so she’d be gone. He’d be wise to remember that.

He kicked the bottom of the stud so that it aligned with the plumb line, then hunkered down and nailed it in place.

“Refill?”

Over his shoulder Nicole stood with a fresh pot of coffee. He lifted his mug from the floor, and she filled it, a smile on her face and a fresh floral scent invading his space. Nowhere was there a hint of the woman with the attitude he’d met yesterday. Which was the real Nicole? Or was she a chameleon, someone who could adapt at the drop of a hat? And for what purpose? To ingratiate herself so that she could stay here indefinitely?

“Can I help you with anything?” Her voice sounded sincere enough.

“No, thank you. Breakfast was great.” He sipped some of the hot brew and added, “And so is this coffee. Thanks.” Damn! Why did he feel so uncomfortable with her standing nearby? He felt awkward and clumsy and so big next to her slight figure.

And what a figure it was, he thought, setting his mug down and turning back to his work. Her knit top, though not snug, could not hide her generous curves. Today’s jeans looked even sexier than yesterday’s denim skirt. Oh, brother. It had to be his neglected libido speaking. This line of thinking was stupid, stupid, stupid.

“There’s a big pot of soup simmering on the stove,” she said to his back. “I...I, uh, was thinking maybe I should do a major grocery shopping today...unless you need me for something else.”

No, no. Please leave. “You can take the van, if you want. Keys are hanging by the door.” He kept hammering at the nail, refusing to meet those big brown eyes.

“Could you check on the soup whenever you’re downstairs?”

“Sure.”

“It should be boiled-down and thick enough by lunchtime. There’s some bread cooling on a rack, too.”

“Great.”

“Um...I have some personal things to take care of while I’m out, so I probably won’t be back until supper. Is that okay?”

“No problem. Take your time.” Please.

“Well, then—”

She was still standing there, her perfume driving him to distraction. What was she waiting for? And then it hit him. Money. She’d need money for groceries.

He stood and retrieved the money clip from his pocket and started counting out twenties. He handed them to her, and she took them shyly, a slight tinge of pink rising in her cheeks. “Do you think this is enough?”

“Oh, plenty, I’m sure.” She looked at him soulfully, and this time he couldn’t look away. “Thank you, Michael, for everything.”

He could feel the heat rising up his neck, and he waved a hand before returning to his work. “See ya later.”

He heard her retreating and forced himself not to look over his shoulder, not to notice again the gentle sway of her hips, the just-right curve of her small backside. He blew out a loud breath. It was good she’d be gone all day. He had work to do.

Yes, he lectured himself, downing more coffee. He’d put Nicole out of his mind and get down to business.

He grabbed a handful of nails and dropped them into his tool belt, a little voice at the back of his head reminding him of a more immediate problem—one he’d been avoiding. It was time he sorted things out regarding the Malones. In Michigan it had been easy to think he could deal with the complications of their intertwined families. Here, faceto-face with people he barely knew, it was quite a different matter.

Michael gave up any pretext of working and sat cross-legged on the floor. The subject needed more than a cursory glance, and there was no point putting it off any longer. If he planned to live in Joeville, he’d have to see them sooner or later and make peace. Not that they had ever been at war, he reminded himself. Actually, in the brief time he had met them seven years ago, he liked the whole family.

Even Max. He let out a long sigh, wishing he could sweep away the truth as easily as he did sawdust.

Max.

His father.

How strange that simple thought.

He wasn’t the dad that John had been, the man Michael had lived with and worshipped. But nonetheless, Max was his father—a fact he hadn’t learned until after his return to Michigan—a fact he had denied, or at least refused to dwell on, for all the intervening years.

As long as the good man who raised him was alive, he’d wanted no other father. Even now that his dad was gone, Michael still had trouble thinking of Max in those terms. For all practical purposes, they were strangers. Sure, there would be family gatherings that would force them to be in the same room from time to time, but the family was large and they could get lost in the crowd. They could be civil with each other without the need to go further.

He closed his eyes and pictured his dad working alongside him. All their years together—he’d taken them for granted as if there was no end. Now Michael would give anything to have him here He would have loved this old place, taken pride in its rebirth. Two peas in a pod, his mom had always said.

The ache in his chest returned as it always did when he thought of his mother. He had always put her right up on that pedestal with his dad. If only she were still alive to answer his questions. Why had she been unfaithful? And why had she deceived them both, taking her lies to the grave with her? He had loved her and trusted her with all of his heart.

Why, why, why?

Frustrated, he stood and picked up his hammer, feeling all the old anger welling up inside him—anger at his mother, anger at Max, anger at Roxanne, the next woman Michael had so unwisely chosen to love, and mostly, anger at himself for his inability to control any of it.

He stalked to the window and gazed down. There, looming at the end of the brick walk, was Nicole’s rusted Chevy. He planted his hands on his hips and spoke to it as though it were the woman herself.

“And what am I going to do about you?” He said aloud. Another woman. Another problem. Yet he couldn’t just send her packing. She needed work and money first. He remembered Taylor had hinted at a remedy for that, but her solution meant having Nicole stay.

“I’ll be damned if I allow that!” He turned and strode back to his work, knowing his words were as hollow as the wind whistling through the open window behind him. He had about as much control over Nicole as everything else. He pushed the tool belt lower on his hips, thoughts of her not wanting to retreat.

Even if—he repeated the word if stronger in his head—even if she went to work for Taylor, he didn’t have to let his guard down with her. She may look fragile and harmless, but underneath, he’d bet anything she was cunning and deceptive.

Ignore the perfume and pretty face, he lectured himself, driving in a nail. Ignore the aroma of the homemade soup wafting up the stairs. He pounded another nail. Ignore the image of her playing sweetly with the children. He drove in two more nails and then threw the hammer on the floor.

As soon as the van was out of sight of the Palace, Nicole pulled off to the side of the road. She opened her oversize denim shoulder bag that sat on the bench beside her. Carefully she extracted the plastic container of hot soup and set it on the floor where it wouldn’t spill. Next to it she placed one of the loaves of bread she’d made this morning. Then she opened the newspaper to the pages of coupons and started circling the ones she could use. When she was done, she added the values of each and came to the grand total of just over twelve dollars.

Finally she drove on, her plan nrmly in place. First the post office to mail her letters requesting references, then a grocery store where she’d spend as close to twelve dollars as possible.

For once she took advantage of the no-speed-limit law, feeling more confident in Michael’s sturdy van. In spite of this, by the time she came to the third and most important part of her day, she had used nearly three hours of the seven she’d allotted herself.

Her heart raced as she wound her way down the narrow dirt road, sending a cloud of dust billowing out behind her. Then she saw it—the hand-carved “Williams” on a wooden sign swinging gently in the wind below a homemade mailbox. She slowed and pulled up the dirt drive alongside the squat log cabin, hoping someone would see her and come rushing out. When no one did, she ran to the front door, knocked once and let herself in. Sprawled out on the floor on his stomach amidst a jungle of logs was her reason for living. He looked over his shoulder at the sound of the door and then scrambled to his feet.

“Mama!”

Nicole scooped the freckled-faced boy into her arms and held him close, inhaling deeply the fresh scent of his tousled hair. “Cody, Cody. I missed you last night.”

His little arms tightened around her neck, and she wondered how she could ever say goodbye again, how she could do what she knew she had to do if they were to be safe and together soon.

“I missed you, too, Mama,” Cody said as Nicole set him down.

“Pretty soon I won’t be able to pick you up. You’re getting so heavy, big guy.”

He beamed up at her. “That’s because I’m seven and a half years old,” he said proudly.

Nicole ruffled his sandy hair as Mabel waddled in from the kitchen, her wrinkled face creasing into a big smile at the sight of Nicole. Nicole went to her and kissed her on the cheek. “How’s my favorite grandma today?” Mabel’s eyes brightened at the compliment. She wasn’t really Cody’s grandma, but she was the next best thing and the only one he had ever known.

Mabel took Nicole’s other hand and led her to the worn sofa, where they sat side by side, Cody snuggling on the other side of his mother. “Tell me what you’ve been up to, dear. I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Neither did I.” She pulled Cody closer and smiled. “I found a job.” It was a stretch, but she knew if Michael didn’t hire her, Taylor would. With luck her references would arrive soon.

Mabel covered her mouth, and her eyes grew brighter. She sniffed once and tried to straighten her hunched shoulders. “My prayers have been answered...and so soon! Wait till I tell Walter. He’s been so worried about you.”

Nicole looked out the windows. “Where is Walter?”

“Deep in the woods, I’m afraid. Berry pickin’ or some such. Ya know how he loves his long walks and his critters. Can you stay till he gets back?”

Nicole looked down at Cody under her arm, his eyes pleading with her to say yes, and she thought her heart would break. If only she could take him with her. But she couldn’t risk them being spotted together. She’d just have to wait until she’d saved enough money to move on, far away.

“I can stay for a while, but not long. I have to do grocery shopping, and it’s more than a two-hour drive to my new place.” She watched Cody drop his chin, and she scrambled to change the subject. “Sweetheart, I have some bags in the car. Want to help me carry them in?”

His smile was sweet, and he was trying to act brave, but underneath she worried how all this change was affecting him long-term. She reminded herself she was doing the best she could under the circumstances, but that never seemed to work. She still worried.

Cody helped her carry the bread, soup and twelve dollars worth of groceries inside. She felt guilty about spending Michael’s money, but she knew he never would have clipped coupons to save. Besides, when she got money of her own she’d replace it.

Mabel was effusive in her gratitude for the food, and Cody was thrilled with a box of his favorite cereal. It took so little to please them. Watching them find places for their new treasures warmed Nicole’s heart and she wished she could have brought more. Next time. Perhaps Wednesdays could be her day off, and she could make this a habit. And maybe next time she could stay longer.

She glanced at the clock over the stove: 2:15. With the drive back and shopping for Michael she’d be lucky to have time to make a quick supper for him.

While Mabel put on a pot of tea, Nicole wrote out the address and phone number of where she could be reached in case of an emergency. She explained that her new employer knew nothing about Cody or her need for secrecy and Mabel completely understood. She and Walter would wait to hear from Nicole unless the unexpected forced them to do otherwise.

Nicole worked on a picture puzzle at the kitchen table with Cody for another twenty minutes, finished her tea and then pulled Cody onto her lap. Lately she’d noticed he’d been avoiding her lap, acting as though he’d outgrown such childish things. Today he came eagerly.

“I have to go, big guy.” She nuzzled her nose into his hair, memorizing the smell of it.

He whined, “Just a little longer.”

“Not this time, my love. Soon.” She hugged him hard and then set him down. He took her hand and walked her to the van as Mabel lingered in the doorway.

“Whose cool van, Mama?”

“The man I work for. He’s a carpenter.” She knelt down and clasped Cody’s narrow shoulders. “You know I wouldn’t be leaving you if I didn’t absolutely have to, don’t you?” She saw tears starting to rim his lower lashes, but he blinked them back bravely.

“I know, Mama.” He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve, then eyed her. “It’s all because of that bad man you told me about.”

“That’s right. Have you looked at his picture lately?”

He shook his head.

“You go find it and look at it with Mabel after I leave. You have to remember what he looks like so you can hide if you ever see him, remember?” She hated to say anything that might frighten him, but he had to know.

“I remember what car,” he said, showing a hint of his gap-toothed smile. “A Cadillac. A big Cadillac.” He stretched out his arms as far as they could reach.

Nicole poked him m the tummy. “You and your cars.” She kissed him quickly on the cheek, afraid to take a moment longer. She opened the van door, hopped up on the seat and slammed it shut Through the open window she said, “See ya later, alligator,” and forced a big smile.

Cody ran alongside the van and called back, “After while, crocodile.”

She watched and waved at him in her rearview mirror until the first bend in the road, then she let the first tears spill.

Nicole sped up the gravel road to the Palace, worried about the fact that it was nearly six o’clock and that Michael might think she wasn’t holding up her end of the bargain. He bad asked so little of her in exchange for food and shelter. This wasn’t exactly the way to start, the way to prove he needed her and increase her chances to stay.

She no sooner cut the engine and opened the door than he strode out, freshly showered and changed into a clean white T-shirt, one that accented his muscles and deep tan. He sauntered closer and she could see that the ends of his brown hair that hung recklessly down his neck were still wet. Suddenly she realized he was watching her watching him, and she averted her eyes.

“Did you clean out the place?” he asked as she moved to the rear of the van and opened the doors. She listened for reproach in his voice, but didn’t hear any.

“Not quite,” she said, picking up a bag in each arm and heading for the house. “Sorry I’m so late. It won’t happen again.” It was easier talking to him when she didn’t have to look at him. She never knew quite what she’d find when she did. Sometimes he was studying her, making her feel naked. Others he was accusing her, making her feel deceptive, which of course she was. She had no choice. But mostly what she saw was a very handsome and basically good man.

And that’s what bothered her most.

She heard the rustle of bags behind her and glanced back. “You don’t have to do that I can manage.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do. I’m done for the day.”

“You must be starved.” He elbowed open the screen door and held it for her, forcing her close to him. She could smell his soap and felt his warm breath on her shoulder as she passed.

“Had another bowl of that great soup a while ago, so I’m fine.”

They made three more trips to the van and back before starting the process of putting everything away.

Now who was this Michael, Nicole wondered, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed friendly and relaxed. It made her nervous. For some reason she found dealing with his cynicism easier.

“Jenny brought over a meat loaf and scalloped potatoes. They’re in the oven staying warm...so you don’t have to worry about dinner tonight.”

He’d waited for her? Why?

“Jenny is Josh’s sister-in-law. The one who had twins when I was here last time. A couple of little girls. They’ll be seven soon.”

She turned away, busying herself with another bag, not wanting him to see the pain on her face. Cody was seven. No! She couldn’t allow herself to think about him now. Later she would look at her album in the privacy of her room. “That must have been some night... I mean when Josh flew her to the hospital. Good thing his dad is a doctor and was along—” She turned back to place the last of the groceries into the refrigerator just in time to catch the same expression on his face that she’d seen last night... when Max’s name was mentioned.

“Would you like a glass of wine? There’s a bottle in there chilling.”

The change of subject was so abrupt that it caught her off guard, and she heard herself saying, “That would be nice” before she could weigh the wisdom of her decision.

Michael uncorked the bottle and poured while she set the table, took the dinner from the oven and placed the pottery dishes atop trivets on the table. When they were both seated at the small round oak table, Michael raised his glass to her and she lifted her wine tentatively. He clinked her glass and said, “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” she said back, unable to hold his intense gaze. What was this all about? She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“So, Nicole,” he said, setting his glass down, “don’t you think it’s time you told me the truth?”