Читать книгу A Family Christmas - Carrie Alexander, Carrie Alexander - Страница 8

TESS FROWNED INSTEAD of continuing to tease him. “Like what?”

“How she got her name, for starters.”

“She’s had it forever, it seems. I couldn’t say.”

“You could say. If you wanted to. She’s about your age, right? You must have gone to school together.”

“She was a grade behind me.”

“It’s a small school system. I’m sure you knew her.”

“Yes, but we didn’t hang out. Rose was…”

“Wild?”

Tess shook her head. “Not then. I mean, when we were younger. Maybe a little—she grew up with two older brothers. It wasn’t until later that…” She shrugged.

“So you do know how and when she got the nickname.”

“Evan, why don’t you just go by what she is now? I’ve been the subject of town gossip myself, so I’m not that eager to repeat tales about another person. Especially when it’s old talk. And who knows what’s truth and what’s exaggeration?”

“I’m not looking for reasons to condemn the woman, I promise.”

“Then why?”

“You saw Lucy with her. She really came out of her shell. So I was thinking I could hire Rose to give Luce drawing lessons. But there’s the woman’s reputation to consider.” And the reason she continued to lurk at his practices and games. Unless…

What if Rose had a crush on him?

Heat crawled up his neck. He wasn’t so conceited he thought every woman was after him. But it had been known to happen. After Krissa had died and a decent interval had passed, a number of single ladies had approached him with casseroles and come-ons, both as subtle hints and open-ended invitations. The principal’s secretary had mooned over him for months until he’d spelled out his disinterest. Even though she was going out with one of the bus drivers, she still gave him the occasional lingering glance. And there were some of the high-school girls, who were far too bold.

“Do you think—” The question stuck in his throat. He couldn’t ask Tess. She might think he was condescending to Rose, especially after he’d been nosing around her reputation.

“It’s a great idea!” Tess leaned over the checkout desk and gave his arm a squeeze. “From what I just saw, art lessons will really make Lucy blossom. And they might be good for Rose as well.” Tess smiled like a pixie, lifting her brows a little.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he warned. I’m already having enough for both of us.

She batted her lashes. “Like what?”

“I only have a professional interest.”

“Aw, that’s no fun.” Tess’s mouth straightened. “Rose could use a friend.”

“Doesn’t she have any? How about you?”

“I try. I chat her up as much as I can and I’ve invited her places and encouraged her to come to community events. But she’s not very interested. And then, there’s her mother.” Tess leaned forward with her palms on the desk. “She has a sick mother at home.”

“And Rose takes care of her on her own?” Evan adjusted his thinking on the woman one more time. Apparently Rose wasn’t out partying with the rough crowd who bought their liquor at the Buck Stop.

Tess nodded. “Rose came back to Alouette for her father’s funeral. I guess it was, hmm, maybe two years ago already.”

Around the time of Krissa’s illness, Evan thought. No wonder he hadn’t noticed.

“Her mother’s health was deteriorating and she couldn’t handle the family business on her own,” Tess continued. “So Rose stayed in town.”

The family business. Evan thought of the quaint but run-down cottages off Blackbear Road. He hadn’t realized they were still operational. Couldn’t be turning much of a profit. “No other family members offered to help?”

“Her brothers didn’t return for the funeral. Bad blood, there, I hear. One of them went off to join the Army years ago and the other’s in prison.”

Evan’s alert flag went up. “Prison?”

Tess scrunched her nose, as if she’d said too much. “Held up a liquor store at gunpoint. Don’t judge Rose by that, okay?”

“Hard not to,” he murmured.

The librarian straightened and struck a scolding tone. “Look at her actions—judge those. She runs the rental cabins, she takes care of her mother, she works late hours at the Buck Stop. I’d say Rose is practically a saint.”

Evan grinned. “Go ahead. Shake your finger at me. I can tell you want to.”

With a muffled snort, Tess wagged an index finger under his nose. “Don’t make me laugh when I’m lecturing you.”

“Oh, I’m listening, Marian.” Whenever Tess got too librarian-ish, he used the nickname on her.

“You’d better. Rose deserves a break.”

“Yeah,” he said, but he was thinking that it didn’t have to come from him. Arranging the drawing lessons would lead to getting involved, to some degree, and he had already decided not to go down that path.

“In a small town like this, where people have known each other forever, it’s not easy for someone like Rose to make a fresh start. But with you…” Tess cocked her head. “You have the ability to see her as she is, not through the filter of her past mistakes.”

“You’re not going to fill me in, are you?”

Tess hesitated. “I can tell you some of it. Do you promise to be fair?”

He gave her a look. She should know him well enough by now.

“All right,” she conceded. “You’re as good a judge of character as anyone I know.”

“Except when it came to Connor.” Evan had bristled when he’d first met Tess’s fiancé, but then even she had suspected the man of skullduggery.

Tess rolled her eyes. “Pah. That was a territorial pissing contest. Metaphorically, of course.”

Evan laughed. “Well, you know men—we’re animals. Connor had to prove himself before I trusted him with you.”

“You think Rose hasn’t proved herself?”

“Questions remain.” The lurking, primarily. The rest was his own curiosity.

Tess walked to the doorway to the children’s room, checking on Lucy’s progress. She motioned to Evan to wait and disappeared into the room, where he could hear her discussing books with his daughter. He moved off, glancing around the main room to be sure there were no eavesdroppers, then took a chair at one of the more secluded study tables.

Objectively, his interest in Rose should be curtailed, not fed. But there was his daughter’s welfare to consider, and Lucy had taken to Rose like no other. He’d risk his own involvement in the woman’s life if that meant helping Lucy. Although his heart went out to Rose now that he knew more of her situation, her troubles would have to remain secondary.

The arousal of his male interest—that was unsettling. The veritable monkey wrench in his plan.

Especially if Rose was equally attracted to him.

“Why the scowl?” Tess pulled over a chair and sat beside him. She crossed one leg over the other, tugging on her short red skirt when it rode up.

“Hmph.” The librarian had great legs, but Evan found himself wondering what Rose would look like in a dress or skirt. She might be pretty if she tried. Not that he expected women to keep themselves turned out like Barbie dolls. There was a certain appeal to Rose’s rakish independence. The intense blue of her eyes, how her wild, wavy hair framed her face…

Tess put her elbow on the table and tucked her fist beneath her chin. Her shoulders relaxed with a sigh. “Lucy’s rereading one of the Princess Ella books. She never gets tired of them.”

“Tell me about it. Every night, she wants one as a bedtime story. I know them by heart.”

“No offense, but you two need a woman in your lives.”

“We’re doing fine.”

“Then why the interest in Rose, hmm?”

“That’s, uh—” Evan slid his spine lower in the chair. “Don’t come at me from a different direction, hoping for a slip-up. I already explained. She’s good for Luce.”

Tess patted his thigh. “Keep telling yourself that, hon.”

He glowered, but he wasn’t as miffed with Tess as he pretended. She was only asking the same questions he’d asked himself. She’d probably guessed that he was feeling oddly uncertain.

Tess had her own fix-it streak and would gladly be the one to push him over the edge into unwelcome territory. For his own good, she’d say. With a twinkle in her eye.

“So,” he said in a low voice. “Spill the beans.”

She sighed again. “Most of this is rumor.”

“I’ll take it with a grain of salt.”

“You’d be better off talking with Rose herself.”

“I don’t know that the Spanish Inquisition could make her talk.”

“She’s not that bad!”

“Bad enough.”

“Why do I feel we should have theme music?” Tess said. “The song about not giving a damn about your bad reputation would do. That’s Rose, all right.”

“You’re wrong. She does care.”

Tess turned her head on its side, still propped on her fist. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ve looked that closely?”

He wondered how much he’d given away. “Get on with it, Marian.”

“What I remember…” Tess looked off across the library. “Rose was a different sort of kid when we were in grade school. Shy and quiet, but also stubborn. Rebellious at times. She didn’t take well to authority, like her older brothers. But it was as if the teachers expected no better. The Robbins were that sort of family.”

“What sort?”

“Not…admired,” came the careful answer. “The father was a hunting and fishing guide. Something of a blowhard. A big drinker, arrested at least once for illegal poaching. I don’t know a lot about Maxine, Rose’s mother, except that she stayed close to home. The brothers were hellions.”

“And Rose?”

“She wasn’t too friendly, but then she didn’t get much of a chance to be, either. All the ‘good’ mothers warned their kids away from playing with the Robbins. Let’s just say, we sure weren’t having picnics or slumber parties out at Blackbear Road.” Tess ducked her head to press her knuckles beneath her nose. “In retrospect, I feel pretty awful about that. Rose must have been lonely, even if she acted like she didn’t care.”

Evan pushed down his rising empathy. “If she was this lonely outcast you say, how did she get the reputation?”

“This is where the rumors begin.” Tess took her voice down another notch. “When we got older, like fifteen, sixteen, the boys started paying more attention to Rose. She was striking—black hair to her waist, slim, tanned. The snobbier girls dismissed her because she didn’t have the right clothes or social graces. But of course the boys didn’t care about that.”

Evan’s mind drifted, imagining Rose at sixteen. He could see her—a wild rose of the forest, hardy but also beautiful and so fragile.

Damn. Where was the poetry coming from? Somebody ought to slap him in tights and call him Romeo.

Tess continued with a shrug. “What mattered to the boys was that she didn’t have a curfew. Or many other rules. The Robbins kids basically ran wild.”

“I see.”

“Supposedly, Rose had a few temporary…alliances. And the boys talked. Bragged. You know. So she got this reputation. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was overblown, knowing how gossip balloons in this town.”

Evan was familiar with the concept. His first year as head coach, he’d suspended several of the team members for drinking and breaking curfew. The incident had expanded into a brouhaha that took over a school board meeting. Some of the more belligerent parents had wanted him reprimanded for overly harsh discipline, but he’d remained calm and kept a firm stance, and wiser heads had prevailed.

Tess had fallen silent. He prodded her. “And then?”

“Rose started hanging with a bad crowd. They got into trouble—underage drinking, petty vandalism, that kind of thing. People said she was just like her brothers. Then, I don’t know, there was an incident that was hushed up pretty fast, except that people whispered about it for a long time. They said there was some kind of confrontation between Black Jack Robbin and the Lindstroms. The rumor was that Rose had become involved with Rick Lindstrom—led him into temptation, according to his parents.”

“Or vice versa.”

“All I know for sure is that the Lindstroms wouldn’t want their son associating with someone like Rose. Rick’s gone now, died in a forest fire out west, but I remember him well. The golden-boy type—handsome, charming, spoiled and arrogant. I seriously doubt that Rose was the instigator, in whatever happened between them.”

Evan’s stomach dropped. “Do you think it was only a sexual thing?”

“Probably. That’s what my classmates assumed.” Tess aimed a “sorry” look at him, as if he had a personal stake in Rose Robbin’s love life. “But there was also a rumor about ill-gotten money, stolen maybe, or a payoff. The cops were supposedly called in, and suddenly Rose went away. Some said she ran away, some said she was sent to juvenile detention. After a while, it was clear that she was gone for good. She didn’t come back, even for a visit, not until her father’s funeral.”

“Did you ever ask her what she’d been doing, all those years away?”

“Sure. She said she’d been working here and there. Never got married, never had kids.”

Evan mulled that over for a minute or two, counting up the years. He hadn’t been able to imagine what Rose would find interesting about his basketball team—good kids, all of them, but just an ordinary group of teenage boys, fascinating only to their girlfriends and their…

Parents.

Suddenly the explanation was obvious. Though times had long changed since the days when a girl in trouble was sent away in shame to spare the family embarrassment, the epidemic of pregnant teenage runaways remained. He knew well, having put in a work-study course at a shelter and a runaway hotline during his college years. It was astounding that no one else in Alouette had come to the same conclusion.

On the other hand, he could be way off base.

“Hold on,” he said when Tess started to rise. “You’re sure Rose said that, in so many words?”

“What—the marriage and kids part? I don’t remember her exact words. But it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Tess slid sideways in her chair, eyeing him doubtfully. “Evan. What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. Rose’s business was her own, as long as she didn’t make trouble.

“Be nice,” Tess warned as she stood.

“Of course.” He glanced up. “When haven’t I been?”

“Oh, every now and then. Like whenever you see wrongdoing.” Tess looked worried. “I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn. You’re thinking that there’s something wrong with Rose.”

“No, I’m not. Honestly.” Evan rose, towering over the petite librarian by nearly a foot. He tapped her under the chin. “I’ll give the woman a fair chance.”

“Does that mean Lucy will get the lessons?”

“Maybe. We’ll see what Rose thinks. She might not be willing.”

“Turn on that charm of yours.” Tess tossed a saucy grin over her shoulder as she walked back to the main desk, reminding him why he liked her so much. Connor Reed was a lucky guy to have won her heart.

“What charm?” He considered himself to be a standard-issue, salt-of-the-earth type. A good guy. He worked hard, loved his daughter, paid his bills, did what was right. Solid, but nothing spectacular. Krissa had married him for that, and six years later asked for a divorce for the same reasons.

Tess only shook her head fondly. “Ack. You’re such a guy.”

There was nothing he could say to that, so he went to collect his pink, sparkly, princess-loving daughter, who at times still seemed like a foreign species to him.

“AHEM. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Rose opened her eyes, recognizing the voice with a flip of her stomach. “Evan,” she said. Her throat rasped. “Uh—” She scrambled to set aside the mop and cleaning supplies she’d cradled in her arms while she sat on the stone step outside her cottage to savor the last of the afternoon sun.

“Let me.” Evan took the mop while she dropped the dust rags into the scrub bucket she’d emptied nearby. “Fall cleaning?”

“We had guests in two of the cottages—bird hunters. They left this morning, so I was cleaning up the—” She stopped and shrugged, aware that she was giving away more information than necessary. That wasn’t like her, but Evan made her nervous. “Y’know.”

It had been more than a week since she’d run into Evan and Lucy in the library. Seeing him on her home territory was strange, particularly when he’d been on her mind so frequently. She might have believed that she’d conjured him up if he didn’t seem so solid and strong and real. He wore a jacket over a blue Alouette Gale Storm sweatshirt, dark jeans and running shoes. His hair was so neat, his jaw so cleanly shaved, the whites of his eyes so bright that she felt grungy and dowdy by comparison. Which she was. That hadn’t bothered her before. Much.

“Deer season next month,” he said, handing her the mop. “You’ll be full up, I suppose.”

“We have several bookings, but it’s not like the heyday when my dad was here to be the guide.” She wouldn’t have been able to stay if that had been the case. Even their occasional guests were a trial for her. She was wary of all men, but especially strangers, and was on constant alert until they were gone. A lesson learned the hard way.

“That’s a shame.” Evan scanned the woods. Fragrant pine boughs swayed in the breeze. “It’s a picturesque location. Great piece of property.”

Maxine’s Cottages overlooked a particularly nice, secluded section of the Blackbear River—a wide S-curve bubbling with rapids, with a steep slope to the water’s edge, mature forest and no other homes in sight.

“Yeah.” Although her mother had entertained several generous offers, none of them involved keeping the cottages open for rent. Maxine still expected that one of her boys would come home to take over. Rose, under no such delusion, had collected business cards from Realtors and land developers in anticipation of the day her mother saw reason. She did have an attachment to her cottage and the riverside setting, but she’d sacrifice them in a heartbeat if given the opportunity to get out of Dodge.

She stated the obvious. “The place hasn’t been kept up, unfortunately.” All that she could manage was keeping the rooms clean and the grounds trimmed. Paint was peeling off the wood trim, shingles were missing, the faulty plumbing was a constant trial. There wasn’t the money to hire pros, so she tackled the bigger jobs as she could. Her friend and handywoman Roxy had offered to help out, but Rose was uneasy about accepting handouts.

Evan barely glanced at the slipshod maintenance before he turned his gaze on her. His eyes were brilliant, the color of a mug of icy root beer shot with sunlight. Under his perusal, the skin on her cheeks became warm and tight.

“Do you have any plans for the business?”

Rose shook her head. “I’d shut down tomorrow if my mother would allow it. She’s the one in charge.”

“Ahh.” He nodded. “I just met Maxine, over at the main house. She said it would be okay if I came out here to find you. I called the other day, but I guess you didn’t get the message?”

“Sorry.” Rose looked down and mumbled. “My mother must have forgotten to tell me.”

“No problem. I was curious to see your place close up anyway. Never stopped before, even though I’ve driven by a number of times.” His gaze went to her little stone house. “This is the one from the painting you gave to Lucy, isn’t it?”

“Yes. My quarters, for now.”

“Lucy calls it a fairy-tale house. I can see why.”

Rose turned to look at the cottage. While there was nothing fancy about the humble place, it had charm. The stone walls were thick and covered in moss and ivy. Along the side that had a southern exposure, climbing roses grew, dressed for autumn in yellowed, curled leaves and the hard red globes of rose hips. Soon the remaining leaves would fall, revealing the twist of thorny vines. Inside, Rose would build a fire in the woodstove and huddle under layers of wool blankets, hibernating for the winter.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” Evan said.

She half laughed. “Yeah, well, I don’t get many visitors.” Suddenly she winced, realizing she’d fallen down as a host. “Shi—er, sugar. Pardon my manners. I should have asked you to sit. We can go—” No, not inside. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thanks. Let’s just sit out here.” Evan didn’t look around for a chair. He lowered his tall frame onto the step where’d she’d parked earlier, then glanced up expectantly.

Of course. She couldn’t remain where she was, standing in front of him. But the step was small and she didn’t like to get too close to strange men, or any men at all, for that matter.

She plopped into the grass, crossing her legs in front of her.

He smiled. “You’ll get cold, sitting on the ground.”

“I’m used to it.”

“All right.” He had an easy manner that smoothed out some of her hackles. “This won’t take long.”

She said nothing, waiting. She hoped he wasn’t going to suggest dinner again. Even though, all week, she’d wondered what might have happened if she’d said yes.

In the end, she’d decided that the only sure outcome was that at least one well-meaning meddler would have made it a mission to warn Evan away from her, and that was too humiliating to contemplate for long. Rejecting his overtures—all overtures—was the only way to stay aloof and protect herself.

“I have a job for you,” he said.

“Oh.” A job. That’s all. She stared down at her lap, where her fingers were tightly braided.

“If you’re interested.”

“I’m pretty busy, but…” Might as well admit what he must be thinking. “I could always use the money.” She made minimum wage at the Buck Stop, and her mother’s disability checks were only enough to sustain her. Medical expenses unpaid by her meager insurance coverage were mounting. The cottages brought in the bare minimum it took to pay their utilities and taxes.

“This job isn’t so much about the money. It’s more of a favor, to help me out. But I will pay, of course. Whatever you think. Fifty per session—does that sound good?”

Rose froze inside, even though a part of her knew that Evan could not be saying what it sounded like. She turned an icy glare on him, the same look that worked on the creeps who came into the Buck Stop thinking she was up for grabs. “Fifty bucks for what?”

He was momentarily rattled. “Wha’d’you—” He winced. “Sorry—I should have explained up front.” He laughed at himself, a little awkwardly. “I’m talking about art lessons for Lucy.”

Rose wanted to cringe with embarrassment. Instead she leaned forward and tore out handfuls of grass. Rip, rip. You’re an idiot. Rip. As if a guy like Evan Grant needs you.

“What do you think?”

“Uh, I don’t have any training for that kind of…thing.” Her voice was like rust, corroding her throat. She had no social skills at all. A total loser.

“I’ve seen you in action. You’re a natural.”

“That was only—” Rip, rip. “Off the cuff.”

“Exactly. That’s what Lucy needs. See, she doesn’t react well to the pressure of a structured environment. She’s in kindergarten now, but already her teacher is telling me she’s intimidated by the classroom and the other students.” Evan stopped and boyishly scrubbed a hand through his short brown hair. His forehead had pleated with worry.

Torn blades of grass fell from Rose’s fingers. “But she’s only just started. She’ll be more comfortable when she gets used to the other kids.”

Rose remembered her own experiences in the classroom. After the freedom at home, where she’d been left to her own amusement most of the time, she’d been ill-prepared for school. The first months had been frightening—the teachers, the children, the strict rules and expectations.

Although she’d never learned to fit in, she had adjusted. In her own way. Lucy was lucky—she was much more socialized than Rose had been.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Evan said. “Except that when I saw her with you, and then saw how excited she was to get home and try drawing, it occurred to me that if she had something special to give her confidence, something she’s really good at, that would help her overall, you know?”

He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “She’s a bright girl, but she doesn’t know how to shine. Not since her mother passed away.”

Rose picked at the green flecks on her palms. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” She felt Evan’s direct gaze on her, like a hot ray of sunshine. “But Krissa’s death was mainly Lucy’s loss. My wife had left me and we were in the middle of divorce proceedings when she found out she had a brain tumor. When the prognosis wasn’t good, she came back home to spend all the time with Lucy that she could.”

“Still, I’m sure you—you must have been—” Rose shrugged when the words stalled again. She wasn’t articulate. Too many years on her own.

“I’m doing okay. It’s Lucy I worry about.”

“She seems like a normal kid.”

“Around you, she is.”

Why me? Rose was truly baffled. She wasn’t even remotely similar to Tess Bucek, whom children flocked to like chicks to a mother hen. The kids that came in the Buck Stop acted as if Rose was a wicked witch who’d seize them for her stew pot if they got too close.

If she’d ever had them, and her situation made that doubtful, her motherly instincts had withered and died long ago. Wild Rose Robbin was the last person Evan should want near his daughter.

“I can’t do it,” she blurted.

“Why not? I mean, if you don’t want to, there’s nothing I can say. I won’t push.” He paused. “But I might beg. For Lucy. She really needs this.”

“I can’t,” Rose repeated miserably. Part of her wanted to. She identified with Lucy’s fears.

“Give it a try,” Evan pleaded. “One lesson.” He put out a hand and touched Rose, his strong fingers gripping her shoulder.

Startled, she pulled away, heart in mouth. She had to stop herself from bolting to prove she wasn’t a total freak. She could deal with normal touching—hand-shakes, pats, rubbing shoulders in a busy supermarket. It was an unexpected male touch that made her adrenaline pump, even when it was a friendly gesture like Evan’s.

He had withdrawn immediately. “Sorry.”

She scrambled to her feet and busied herself with brushing off her jeans, shedding grass like an Easter basket. “Not your problem.”

He got up. “Excuse me if I’ve been an imposition—”

“No, you weren’t,” she said, an unexpected rush of compassion making her want to overcome her fears to reach out. For his daughter, if not for him. “I wish I could help.”

She tipped up her chin. Read the look in his eyes.

He didn’t have to say it. She already knew. She could help, if she really wanted to.

Be generous, she thought. The good karma might come back to you.

Danny’s face flashed in her mind’s eye. Was it possible to develop the motherly instincts she lacked?

She blinked. “All right. Okay. I’ll give it a shot. One time, to see how it goes. But don’t expect me to know what I’m doing.” She rubbed her palms on her jeans, sweating with nervousness at the mere prospect. “Let’s not even call it a lesson. That sounds as if I’d have to come with a plan. Lucy and I can just get together—”

“Thank you.” Impulsively, Evan started to reach out to hug her, but he stopped with his large hands hanging in midair. After a moment of hesitation, he thrust one toward her. “I appreciate this.”

She swallowed thickly and shook his hand, pumping vigorously to show him again that she wasn’t a complete coward. “I make no promises.”

“I do.” Evan looked at her with more confidence and belief than she’d accumulated in her entire lifetime. “I promise you won’t regret this.”

Rose had to turn away from such a bright, bold faith. It left her feeling so empty. “Yeah, well, let’s hope—” She choked off her words. Let’s hope you don’t, either.

“Hope for the best,” Evan said.

Rose nodded.