Читать книгу In a Heartbeat - Carla Cassidy - Страница 10

“Mr. Brown, you promised me you’d have somebody come over and look at this sink a month ago.” Erica held the phone in one hand and frantically removed the full pan of water from beneath the leaking pipe, quickly exchanging it for an empty pan.

What she wanted to do was reach through the phone wire and throttle Mr. Stanley Brown, her cheapskate landlord.

Unfortunately, even if she could reach across the line, she’d only manage to grasp thin air, since she wasn’t talking to an actual person. Instead, she was babbling, as usual, into his answering machine. “Please call me as soon as you can,” she finished, trying desperately to hang on to her composure.

She slammed down the phone, picked up the wrench and crawled beneath the sink. Shoving the pot aside, she connected the wrench to the elbow joint and tried to tighten the ring. It wouldn’t budge.

She strained again, feeling her face growing red with her effort. “Whew,” she said, and gave up. She simply didn’t have the strength required to get it to turn.

“Hello? Anybody home?”

The deep male voice at her back door startled her. She jumped, banging her head on one of the pipes. “Who’s there?” she yelled irritably, rubbing her forehead as she tried to wiggle out from beneath the cabinet.

The door opened and Caleb McMann stepped inside. In his hand he held a donut box that emitted the most delicious aromas Erica had ever smelled.

“Looks like you could use some help,” he said, stating the obvious. He set the box on the table and held out a hand to help her up.

She hesitated a moment. Her first inclination was to send him packing. She didn’t like his friendly smile and she’d always believed it was best to be wary of men bearing donuts.

But the rational part of her recognized she could use his help. The job required more strength than she possessed, and Caleb’s forearms and bulging biceps, displayed to perfection by his white T-shirt, looked more than adequate.

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to a standing position. “I…it’s leaking and I don’t have the strength to tighten it enough.”

“Mind if I give it a try?” He held out his hand for the wrench she still held.

She shrugged. Why not? “Be my guest.” She handed it to him and watched as he got down on the floor on his back and worked his torso into the cabinet.

It seemed impossible that his broad shoulders would fit, but he somehow managed to wedge himself beneath the pipes.

As he worked, it was also impossible for Erica not to notice the half of his body that remained in view. His abdomen was sinfully flat, his hips beneath his tight-fitting jeans were lean and his legs seemed to stretch forever. Erica’s grandmother would have called him a tall drink of water…a very nicely built drink of water, Erica thought.

She suddenly became conscious that she’d pulled on her ugliest T-shirt that morning and that the jeans she wore, which had once fit her so well, now hung on her like a layer of skin she was attempting to shed. She couldn’t even remember if she’d brushed her hair yet this morning. Irritation followed on the heels of these thoughts.

She didn’t care what she looked like. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone…especially a neighbor who apparently intended to be more neighborly than she wanted.

Hannah entered the kitchen clad in her pajamas. Peaches followed close behind. “Mr. Man!” she squealed in delight as she spied him beneath the cabinet. Peaches emitted a sharp yip.

Caleb jumped in surprise, clunking his head as Erica had done only moments before. “Ouch,” he exclaimed and dropped the wrench.

“Are you all right?” Erica asked worriedly. This was all she needed, for him to get hurt and sue her. Sure, he could sue her for half her bills, she thought wryly.

“Fine…I think I got it tightened well enough.” With a grunt, he squirmed out from beneath the sink, one hand rubbing his forehead.

“Did you get a boo-boo?” Hannah asked, her little face radiating sympathy.

“Only a small one,” Caleb replied as he stood. He smiled at Hannah.

“I had a big boo-boo, but it’s all well now,” Hannah said.

“Hannah, go get dressed,” Erica instructed briskly. The last thing she wanted was for Hannah to discuss her heart operation with a virtual stranger. Erica didn’t believe in sharing her business with anyone.

Hannah hesitated a moment and sniffed the air. “I smell something yummy.”

Caleb smiled at the little girl. “Donuts.” He looked at Erica. “I thought maybe your mommy could make some coffee and we could all have a visit while we eat the donuts I brought.”

“Oh, boy!” Hannah clapped her hands together. “I love donuts. They’re one of the most bestest foods.”

“Then go change your clothes and wash your face and hands,” Erica said, fighting a renewed burst of irritation. She didn’t want to make him coffee and she didn’t want to “have a visit” with him over donuts.

Still, she supposed it would be boorish of her to toss him out now, and a cup of coffee seemed a small price to pay for a sink that no longer leaked.

“Please, have a seat.” She gestured toward the table. “It will just take me a minute to get the coffee going.”

On any other day, it would have already been made, but the first thing she’d seen upon entering the kitchen that morning had been a stream of water running out from her sink cabinet. So brewing coffee had been forgotten amid the cleanup and the futile attempt to get in touch with Stanley Brown.

Caleb eased down into one of the wooden chairs as Erica began to prepare the coffee. Peaches took her usual position, lying down beneath the table, waiting for any crumbs that might drop over the sides.

“You’re going to need those sink pipes replaced fairly quickly,” he said. “They’re pretty old and corroded.”

“I know.” Erica released a deep sigh. “My landlord has been promising for months to get a plumber over here to look at them.” She turned and smiled at him tightly. “He’s also promised painters, the possibility of a central-air-conditioning unit and a dozen other things as well. That’s Stanley Brown for you…he’s big on promises but not so hot on following through. I’ve tried everything I can think of to get him to comply, but nothing has worked so far.”

“Take him to court,” Caleb suggested. “Nothing like a legal petition to make a landlord comply. Sometimes even the threat itself is enough to get them motivated.”

Erica shook her head. “It’s not worth the hassle. I mean, it’s not as if Stanley is a slumlord. The place just needs a few odds and ends taken care of.” She turned back to the cabinets to get out cups and saucers.

She wasn’t about to tell him that this house was the best thing that had ever happened to Hannah and her. Although not in the greatest shape, the house was their first real home after a long string of apartments. Stanley, knowing the financial burden Erica struggled beneath because of medical bills and the inability to hold a full-time job, had agreed to a monthly rent that was far below market value.

“I’m back,” Hannah announced as she reentered the kitchen. She was clad in a pair of denim shorts and a coral-colored T-shirt and her cheeks were pink from the obvious scrubbing she’d given her face.

She sat on the chair next to Caleb and eyed the red-and-white pastry box. “What kind of donuts did you bring us, Mr. Man?”

Caleb leaned toward Hannah, a gentle smile curving his lips. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d like chocolate, or maybe cinnamon buns, or just plain glazed, so I brought a combination of all kinds.” He opened the box to display the sweets.

“You may have two,” Erica told her daughter as she set a cup of coffee in front of Caleb and a glass of milk before Hannah.

“Two?” Hannah echoed in dismay. She eyed the various kinds and after careful deliberation finally chose a chocolate-covered cake donut.

“Doesn’t Mrs. McMann object to you bringing donuts to neighbors?” Erica asked as she joined them at the table.

“The only Mrs. McMann I know is my mother, and she hates donuts.”

So he’s single, Erica thought. Not that it mattered one whit to her. She wasn’t sure why he was here, why he had brought donuts, but if he was looking for anything remotely resembling romance, he was definitely searching in the wrong place.

“So is there a Mr. Clemmons?” he asked.

“No.” Erica offered no further information. She sipped her coffee and eyed him surreptitiously as he and Hannah launched into a conversation about the joy of donuts.

There was no denying the man’s physical attractiveness. Erica guessed him to be around her age, either late twenties or early thirties. He had bold, well-defined features…a straight nose, a square chin and high cheekbones that accentuated his sensual mouth.

His face was tanned, as if he was accustomed to working outside, and when he smiled, tiny lines radiated from his eyes, starbursts of wrinkles that only added to his overall appeal.

His hair was black, lustrous and shiny, but it was his eyes that were so arresting. They reminded her of distant stars, blue with just a touch of sparkling silver.

She blushed as she realized at that moment they were focused directly at her. “The real-estate agent told me this is a pretty quiet neighborhood.”

“It is,” she agreed, diverting her own gaze down to her coffee cup. Now, if she could just figure out a way to divert the smell of him…a clean, masculine scent that Erica had almost forgotten existed in the world. “Mostly retired people and professionals without children. Hannah and I are sort of the odd ducks.”

“Quack, quack, I’m a duck!” Hannah scooted off her chair. “Look, Mr. Man, I can walk like a duck.” She proceeded to give him her best imitation of a waddling, quacking duck.

Caleb laughed again and the pleasant, utterly male sound sent a small shiver of warmth through Erica. Yet, following the rivulet of warmth came the chill of alarm.

She didn’t want to find this man…or any man…appealing on any level. She didn’t want or need the complications and heartbreak that relationships inevitably brought.

More than that, she refused to allow anyone to break Hannah’s heart. Her daughter had been through enough with her health problems, she didn’t need broken promises and dashed hopes to burden the heart that now pumped in her chest.

“Hannah, get back up here and finish eating,” she said more tersely than she intended. “Even ducks need breakfast,” she added with a smile to take the sting from her sharpness.

“Okay,” Hannah agreed easily and gave Erica one of the sunshine smiles that always made her heart swell with love.

“You aren’t eating,” Caleb observed. He shoved the pastry box toward her.

“I’m not a morning eater,” she replied.

“But she eats a lot at dinnertime,” Hannah quipped.

Caleb laughed, and despite Erica’s embarrassment, she laughed as well. “Dinner is my favorite meal,” she confessed. “My mornings are usually filled with work,” she said pointedly, hoping to hurry him out. He obviously didn’t get the hint. She sighed in frustration as he reached for another donut, apparently in no rush to go.

Caleb got the hint that she was ready for him to leave, but he studiously pretended to be obtuse. He wasn’t prepared to go back to his empty, silent house yet.

Besides, at that moment Hannah launched into a tale about the garden she was attempting to grow in the backyard, a childish litany much like the ones Katie had often entertained him with.

As he gazed at the little girl, whose face was so animated as she told him about the carrots and radishes she’d planted, his head filled with a vision of his Katie.

Physically the two girls couldn’t have been more different, Hannah with dark hair and eyes and Katie, a blond fairy princess with bright blue eyes. Still, Caleb saw in Hannah the same enthusiasm, the same joyous embracing of life that Katie had possessed.

Had Hannah always exhibited such effervescence or had this particular quality suddenly appeared after Katie’s heart had been gently placed in Hannah’s chest? He needed to know this…and so much more. Time, he reminded himself. Time would answer all his questions.

“So, exactly what sort of work do you do?” he asked Erica after he and Hannah had exhausted the gardening topic.

“Bookkeeping here at home. I work for a couple of doctors and a dentist. I take care of their accounts receivable and issue monthly statements for them.”

“Sounds like the best of both worlds,” Caleb said. “You have a nice business, but get to do it here from your home and care take for your daughter.”

She nodded. “Child care is so expensive, I wanted something that would keep me home full-time. I also edit a couple of newsletters.”

“Really? What kind of newsletters?” He leaned forward, surprised to discover himself drawn to this woman, who radiated a cool composure and an aura of intense reserve.

She looked quite pretty despite her tousled hair and face devoid of makeup. She wasn’t the type of striking beauty who would make men turn and stare, but she had a quiet loveliness that was very attractive.

“Different kinds,” she hedged, as if unwilling to talk about herself or her work.

“Ah, that clarifies it,” he said with a smile.

She blushed, the pink of her cheeks appearing to deepen the blue hue of her eyes. “There’s one for mothers who work at home, another for men who drive classic cars…it’s freelance work that earns me a little extra money.”

“Sounds fascinating,” he replied, and meant it. She was obviously a resourceful woman who was trying to make the best of her situation.

“Mr. Man?” Hannah slid off her chair and sidled up next to him. “Are you gonna build a tree house in that tree?”

“I was just thinking about that this morning,” he replied. Hannah gazed at him eagerly, her big brown eyes filled with hope. “And I think that tree would look mighty magnificent holding a special house, complete with windows.”

“And pink curtains?” Hannah asked, breathless with the kind of excitement only a child could maintain.

“Hannah,” Erica said in protest.

“And pink curtains,” he agreed, laughing as she suddenly threw her arms around his neck.

The unexpected gesture surprised him and the warmth of the hug, coupled with the sweet smell of childhood, overwhelmed him.

A shaft of pain, a breathless ache of loss engulfed him, inundating him with wave after wave of immutable sadness.

“Hannah, run along and let Mr. McMann finish his coffee,” Erica instructed her daughter.

Hannah let go of Caleb and Caleb shot up from his chair, needing to flee, to escape and be by himself. “I’d better let you get to work,” he said, almost panicked with the need to remove himself before he broke down.

In three long strides he was at the back door. “I’ll see you both later,” he said.

“Wait…your donuts…” Erica called after him, her face registering her surprise at his abrupt departure.

“Keep them,” he replied, then with a quick wave he walked out of the house.

As he hurried toward his place, even the unusually warm morning sun couldn’t banish the utter bleak coldness that clutched his heart…a coldness that was as familiar as his own face in the mirror.

He felt the icy fingers of despair, the chill wind of anguish, the frigid indictment of guilt. From the moment his aunt Fanny had sent that damned doll, he’d been thrown into an arctic landscape that offered no relief.

“A big mistake.” That’s what his sister had told him when he’d told her of his intention to find the child who had received Katie’s heart.

Once his decision had been made, it had been remarkably easy to find the information he needed. Although there were strict codes of confidentiality concerning transplant donors and recipients, Caleb remembered overhearing a nurse in the hospital telling somebody that Katie’s heart was being sent to St. Louis.

An afternoon in the library reading St. Louis newspapers for the appropriate date had given Caleb his answers. On the day Katie had died, one Hannah Marie Clemmons in St. Louis had received a heart transplant. The article was a human-interest piece, indicating that a fund had been started for the little girl to help defray her medical bills.

At first, Caleb had hired a private investigator, hoping that the information the investigation yielded would be enough to satisfy his curiosity about the little girl.

The investigator had told him she lived alone with her mother and that they were struggling financially, but he’d been unable to garner the kind of information Caleb really needed. So Caleb had decided to come to St. Louis.

Now he was unsure if he’d made the right choice in coming here, in contacting them. He’d had no second doubts when he’d contacted a real-estate agent, no reservations when he’d bought the house next door to theirs. But Hannah’s hug, so achingly sweet, had evoked doubts about everything.

His sister had told him over and over again to get on with his life, that his need to find Hannah was unhealthy. “Move on, Caleb,” Sarah had told him. “Keep your memories close to your heart, but allow yourself to move past them.”

Everyone had advice for the grieving father, but nobody understood the force that had driven him to be here now. Even he didn’t understand it. All he knew was that he had a driving need to know Hannah, to discover what, if anything, the heart retained.

Poets wrote sonnets about hearts; every emotion ever felt was expressed through the heart. How certain could scientists be that some essence of a person, even after his or her death, didn’t remain and continue to live as long as the heart was alive?

If anyone could read these kinds of thoughts in his mind, he’d be whisked away to the nearest psychiatric facility, he mused ruefully.

He vaulted the chain-link fence, then sank down beneath the tree he planned to build a tree house.

Someplace in his head, he’d known that meeting Hannah would be an incredible mix of pleasure and pain. What he hadn’t anticipated was the attractiveness of Hannah’s mother.

A bit prickly, yes. Skittish, indeed, and yet he found himself drawn to her. He sensed sadness in her…a sadness that had its roots in something other than her daughter’s health…. a sadness that somehow called to the same emotion inside him.

What had happened to Hannah’s father? Was Erica Clemmons a divorced woman or a widow? As the single parent of a terminally ill child, she must have gone through hell in the past several years.

He stood and walked around to the front of his house. The work crew should be arriving at any moment, ready to start the renovations that were too big for Caleb to tackle on his own.

And while the workmen did what needed to be done, Caleb would build a tree house.

He frowned as he thought of the little house he’d just left. Apparently the landlord was none too eager to provide the repairs it so desperately needed. Caleb knew without question that Erica Clemmons would eschew any help he might personally offer, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t arrange something with Mr. Stanley Brown to get the work done.

For Hannah, he told himself, although in truth he knew he would be doing it for Katie. And for the woman with the lovely blue eyes who seemed to be working so hard to provide for herself and her daughter.

As a pickup and a panel truck pulled up to the curb in front of his house, Caleb went out to meet the workers, his mind already racing with plans for the very special tree house he’d build for a very special little girl.

“No, Keith, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Maybe another time.” Erica twisted the phone cord around her thumb as she spoke to her brother.

“That’s what you always say,” Keith protested. “It would be good for Hannah to come over and spend some time with her cousins. We never get a chance to spend any time with her.”

“Her birthday is in a couple of weeks, and I’m planning a big party. Of course you and Amy and the kids are invited. We can all visit then,” Erica replied.

“Erica…” Keith sighed. “Never mind. Just let Amy know what time the party is and we’ll be there.”

Erica said goodbye to her brother, then hung up the phone with a frown. Every so often Keith or Amy called and invited Hannah over to play, or to spend the night, or to go to the movies with them, and each time Erica declined on behalf of her daughter.

Erica feared that Hannah wasn’t strong enough yet to spend time with Keith’s three rambunctious children. Accidents happened, illnesses were passed from one child to another. It was simply too big a risk for Hannah.

She moved to the kitchen window and looked out to the backyard.

Hannah was there, digging in the little patch of her garden. She’d come in earlier, eaten an apple, then carefully picked out the seeds and run back out to plant them. Stretched out on the ground next to Hannah, Peaches watched her mistress with interest.

The evening sun was still unusually warm. Although it was only the first of June, it had already become unseasonably hot.

Beyond where Hannah was digging in the garden, Erica could see the huge tree in Caleb McMann’s backyard. Yesterday Caleb had worked to build a platform in the perfect cradle of branches. Today a wall had been erected, much to Hannah’s delight and Erica’s consternation.

For the past two days, the air had been filled with the banging of hammers and the buzz of saws, both from inside the big house and outside where Caleb worked. She still couldn’t believe he was actually building a tree house for Hannah. It just didn’t make any sense.

She finished washing the last of their supper dishes, then stepped outside the back door. “Hey munchkin, how are you doing?”

“Okay,” Hannah replied, waving the child-size hoe in the air. “I’m getting all the weeds away so everything will grow big and strong.”

Erica nodded and eased down on the multicolored chaise longue. The evening warmth instantly produced a pleasant lethargy and she closed her eyes, able to hear the sweet music of Hannah’s voice as she talked to her growing vegetables.

Erica sighed, for the moment at peace with the world. With the approach of sunset, a tiny breeze had kicked up, alleviating the intense heat of the day.

Hannah’s voice became lulling white noise as sleep teased at the edges of Erica’s consciousness. It had been a long day and talking to her brother always unsettled her.

Her relationship with Keith had been strained for so long. Erica sighed and gave in to the healing warmth of the sun. She didn’t want to think about Keith now. She didn’t want to think about anything.

“Hey, neighbor.”

The familiar deep male voice jarred her out of her drowsy state. She kept her eyes firmly closed, tension instantly tightening relaxed muscles. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep, he’d go away.

“Mommy, look who came to visit.” With little fingers, Hannah pried open one of Erica’s eyelids. “See, Mr. Man is here.”

Caleb McMann, her own personal version of Mr. Rogers in the neighborhood, stood holding a tray with three tall glasses of what appeared to be pink lemonade.

However, Mr. Rogers would never appear shirtless, nor would he look as good as Caleb did at the moment. Caleb, with his expanse of tanned, muscled chest and a smattering of dark chest hair, banished all sleepiness, all pretense of relaxation.

This man is dangerous, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her head. He was temptation to all the things Erica had put behind her, all the emotions she’d sworn she’d never feel again. He was a man to be avoided at all costs, a man who could make her remember things better left forgotten.

What was he doing here? Why did he seem so intent on being friendly with her? What was he doing popping in and out of her house, fixing sinks, building tree houses, bearing donuts, then lemonade? What did he want from her?

She sat up, deciding it was definitely time to explain to Mr. Rogers in no uncertain terms that she wanted him out of her neighborhood.