Читать книгу A Gift from the Past - Carla Cassidy - Страница 10

It was just after seven when Joshua returned to the house. He carried with him a large suitcase of clothing and his state-of-the-art laptop computer.

He was tired. He’d been tired for the last year. From the moment he’d left here five years earlier, he’d thrown himself into work, as if achieving success would banish his heartache. He’d worked long hours, seven days a week to make something of himself, to fill the lonely hours that would otherwise be painfully empty.

He wasn’t sure whether it was his success or merely the passing of time that had finally healed some of the grief he’d left here with, but he no longer felt crippled by the weight of what had been lost.

In fact, it was time to move on and that’s what had brought him back here. He had to resolve the past before he could forge ahead with his future.

Claire opened the door before he could knock, obviously expecting him. Gone was the anger and resentment that had sparked in her eyes earlier in the day. Apparently, she had resigned herself to him being here.

“Come on in,” she said and opened the door wider to allow him entry.

“Thanks.” He maneuvered through the door and dropped his suitcase just inside.

“Hey, Joshua, get your things stored away and come watch this quiz show with me,” Sarge said from his wheelchair in front of the television. “I want to see if I can still whip your butt at answering the questions.”

Joshua laughed. “Okay, just let me get settled in.” He turned to Claire. “Sit down and relax. I know the way to the spare room.” He picked up his suitcase and headed down the hallway.

The first door on the left was Sarge’s bedroom. The first on the right was the room that he and Claire had shared during their marriage. The second door on the left was the bathroom and the last door on the right was the spare room.

As he approached the room where he would be staying, an unexpected knot of tension balled up in the pit of his stomach.

The door was closed and he hesitated a moment, his hand on the knob. The last time he’d been in the room, there had been blue curtains at the window and a teddy-bear wallpaper border around the ceiling.

The room had smelled of little boy and been filled with all of Joshua’s dreams, his hopes, his love.

Drawing a deep breath, he turned the knob and opened the door. White lacy curtains billowed at the window, bringing the scent of summer into the room. Pale-yellow walls matched the sunflower designs on the bedspread and accentuated the white wicker furniture.

There was no hint of baby’s-breath-and-powder scent, no lingering reminder of the beloved child who had once slept here, played here.

He placed his suitcase and laptop next to the single bed, almost able to hear the childish giggles that had once filled this space.

Baby Sammy. Named after Sarge, Claire and Joshua’s son had become the center of the universe on the day he’d been born. With Joshua’s dark hair and Claire’s smoky eyes, he’d been a little charmer with a ready smile and an easy disposition.

I miss you, Sammy, he thought. He missed Sammy and Claire and Sarge and the way things had been a long time ago.

“I just remembered that you like extra pillows.”

He whirled around to see Claire standing in the doorway, two pillows clutched to her chest. She held them out to him.

“Yeah…thanks.” He took the pillows and tossed them on the bed, then walked to the window and peered out onto a backyard as tangled and overgrown as the front. “Do you have a lawn mower that works?” he asked and turned back to look at her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You didn’t come back here to mow the lawn.”

He smiled. “True, but if you remember, I used to enjoy yard work. I don’t mind doing it, really. I spend most of the hours of my day sitting at a desk. The physical activity will be good for me.”

She uncrossed her arms and offered him a tentative smile. “Lately there just haven’t seemed to be enough hours in the day to get everything done. Sarge doesn’t like to be alone and he’s been so cantankerous it’s been hard to get people to sit with him.”

“Claire?” As if to prove her point, Sarge’s voice rang out.

“We’re coming,” she answered and together the two of them left the bedroom and returned to the living room. Joshua sat on the sofa, vaguely disappointed when Claire sat across the room in a chair instead of on the sofa with him. He wouldn’t have minded if she’d sat close enough for him to smell her sweet fragrance.

The evening passed quickly. Although Sarge couldn’t see, his mind was sharp as a tack and he and Joshua battled each other answering questions on first one game show, then another.

During the commercials, they chatted and it didn’t take long for Joshua to get a picture of what life had been like for these two during the past three years. Since Sarge’s blindness, Claire’s sole job was taking care of Sarge, and Joshua had a feeling there had been little time for leisure or fun in Claire’s life.

It was also apparent from several things that Sarge said that money was always an issue, that between his small monthly checks and his medical needs, there was never any money for little extras.

If only Claire had cashed the checks he’d mailed to her, surely the extra money would have come in handy. But he knew why she hadn’t. Claire had a healthy dose of pride; couple that with the hatred of him she’d professed when he’d left, and he’d never really been surprised that she’d refused any money he’d sent her.

It was just after nine when Sarge fell asleep in his chair and Claire said she needed to put him to bed. She wheeled him down the hallway and disappeared into his bedroom. Joshua waited a couple of minutes, then walked down the hallway.

When he looked into the bedroom, he saw Claire struggling to get Sarge from the wheelchair onto the bed. She’d already managed to take off the old man’s shoes and socks.

“Come on, Sarge, you’ve got to help me here,” she murmured, her arms wrapped around the man’s chest.

Joshua didn’t hesitate. He gently moved her aside, then leaned down and scooped the thin man up in his arms and placed him on the bed. Sarge mumbled something incoherently in his sleep, then turned his head and began to snore.

“Thanks,” she murmured, although her voice held no gratitude, but rather an edge of resentment.

He nodded curtly. “You want him undressed?”

“No, he’ll be fine for the night. In the morning I’ll help him change his clothes.” She covered the sleeping man with a sheet, then she and Joshua left the bedroom.

“Would you come sit on the porch with me?” he asked. “It’s a beautiful night and I’d like to talk to you.”

She frowned. “I’m really tired, and Sarge gets up early in the mornings. Besides, if you want to talk to me you can do it right here.”

He eyed her with a small smile. “What’s the matter, Cookie? Afraid to sit with me in the dark?”

She rose to his bait, a flush of color staining her cheeks. “Just for a minute,” she said and swept past him and out the front door.

He followed behind her and together they sank down on the top step with inches between them. For a moment neither of them spoke. Nighttime in Mayfield was always quiet, peaceful.

There were no sirens in the distance, no traffic noises to disrupt the rhythmic cadence of the insects that filled the air. The sky overhead was a blanket of stars and a plump near-full moon hung suspended in the air as if by magic. “There’s nothing prettier than a Mayfield moon,” he observed.

“It’s the same moon that shines in California,” she replied.

He laughed lightly. “I suppose it is. It just looks prettier from here.”

She released a sigh that whispered of exhaustion, and he turned to look at her, noting how the moonlight bathed her beautiful features in a silvery glow.

“How long do you think you can keep this up?” he asked softly.

She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. “As long as it’s necessary.” She sighed again. “You’ve just caught us at a bad time. Things will get better. The doctor expects Sarge to be able to get out of the wheelchair with some physical therapy and time.”

“So, he isn’t paralyzed?”

“No, just weak.”

“Is he seeing a physical therapist?”

She hesitated a moment, then shook her head. “Not right now. He’s being difficult and wallowing in pity. But with a little more time that will change.”

“Claire, given a little more time, you’re going to end up in the hospital with a bad case of exhaustion. You need to hire some help.”

“That kind of help doesn’t come cheap.” She said the words with great reluctance. “And don’t even offer because I don’t want a dime from you. Sarge and I can handle things just fine on our own.”

A stir of anger rose up inside him. “Dammit, Claire, your stubborn self-reliance is someday going to be the death of you.” It had already been the death of their marriage. The words rang in his head, but he bit them back before they could be spoken aloud. Nothing could be served by going back to that place in time.

“If you brought me out here to extol my character flaws, then I think this conversation is finished.” She started to rise, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back down next to him.

“Wait…okay, I’m sorry,” he exclaimed. She pulled her hand from his and remained tensed as if for flight. Once again, he became aware of her fresh-scented perfume and the heat of her body and he fought a sudden desire to reach out and pull her into his arms.

However, with far too much clarity he remembered how stiff and unyielding her body had been the last time he’d attempted to hold her.

“What are you going to do with the treasure if you find it?” he asked.

She eyed him, her gray eyes almost silver in the moonlight. “I don’t know, maybe hire the help that you think I need. We don’t need anyone full-time, just maybe a day or two a week so I can get a part-time job and help out with the bills.” She reached a hand up and touched a length of her hair.

“And if there’s anything left over, maybe go to the beauty shop and have your hair and nails done?” He smiled at her look of surprise. “I haven’t forgotten how much you used to enjoy a trip to Betty’s Beauty Spa.”

A tiny smile whispered at her lips. “I can’t remember the last time somebody else washed my hair for me.” The smile disappeared. “I still don’t understand what you wanted to talk to me about.”

“I have a deal to offer you.”

“What kind of a deal?”

“I’ll help you find that treasure while I’m here, if in return you help me find out something about Daniel and Sarah Walker.” It had been an idea that had been boiling around in his head all evening. He knew Claire would never take anything from him, but hoped she’d let him help her get at least some of the money they so obviously needed.

“How am I supposed to find out anything about those people?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Mayfield was begun in 1849. Maybe they were citizens. You used to like digging around in the old records at City Hall.”

“I don’t have the time,” she exclaimed.

“You could take the time while I’m here,” he countered. “I can entertain Sarge and give you the time to take a break from here and see what you can find.”

She frowned, obviously thinking about it. “They can’t be long-lost relatives of mine. I did our genealogy a long time ago and I don’t recall any Walkers in the family tree.” She swirled a strand of her hair between two fingers and he wished it were his fingers touching the silk of her hair. “Why do you care about those people in the picture anyway?”

“Aside from the fact that they look just like us?” He stared up at the moon, trying to find the words to explain to her what he’d felt from the moment he’d seen that photo.

He looked back at her, wondering if she’d think he’d lost his mind. “I just feel as though fate put that picture there in the ground for us to find, that we were meant to find it for a reason.”

She stood and brushed off the seat of her shorts. “And I’d say fate already had its go at us and I have no intention of letting it dabble in my life ever again.”

She moved to the front door. “But I’ll take you up on that deal. You help me find the treasure money and I’ll see what I can find out about Sarah and Daniel Walker for you. With any luck, both can be accomplished very quickly.” With these last words she disappeared back into the house.

Joshua remained where he was seated. He tipped his head back and once again stared up at the moon, as the sound of the night insects created a lullaby.