Читать книгу Keeping Cole's Promise - Cheryl Harper - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

“NOT A SINGLE WORD?” Sarah shook her head. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

Rebecca blew out a frustrated breath. “Just... You won’t understand this, but some people, normal people, can be intimidated by making conversation with others they don’t know. We don’t have anything in common. Besides, he was here for less than ten minutes.”

And she’d been watching him for about five minutes longer than that, but nobody needed to know that part. When her students Alyssa and Madison had joined her at the window to see what she was staring at, she’d nearly died of embarrassment.

Then he’d caught them watching.

Rebecca was pretty sure she was actually a ghost at this point. No one could survive the flaming heat of embarrassment that had swept over her and live to tell the tale.

Up close, his power was scary. She’d been amazed at how easily he’d finished the cleanup of the yard that would have taken her a solid month to slog through. He’d mowed and trimmed the huge expanse. The trash that had accumulated there when it was not being used had all been removed. And he’d done it in heat that made stepping outside a test of endurance.

Rebecca would never have imagined the man who’d barged in that first day could be so gentle with the animals.

Cole had doubled the shelter’s capacity with his strength and focus and hard work. In one week, he’d made a change that was going to impact the shelter for years to come. Not just the shelter, either. Holly Heights would be better off, too.

She’d almost chased him away. Why? Irrational fear. How humbling that was to consider.

“What? Did I miss something?” Rebecca ran a hand through her curls self-consciously when she realized Sarah and Shelly were watching. She hadn’t said any of that out loud, had she?

“We’re waiting on you to finish the conversation in your head,” Sarah said with a smirk. “What I said was that you have never once in the years I’ve known you had trouble making conversation with strangers. And we know Cole. So give me another excuse, but this time put it in the form of a question. Just for fun.” Sarah started humming the Jeopardy theme.

Shelly was coldly patient. For the first time since Rebecca had met the older woman who’d kept the shelter afloat until Sarah stepped up, Shelly’s mouth was pursed with displeasure. “That boy is doing the work of two men for this place, I’ll have you know.”

Hearing sweet Shelly, the grandmotherly type who enjoyed the cat room above all else, voice Rebecca’s own thoughts made it hard to stand still. Rebecca wanted to duck behind Sarah or at least hold up both hands as a shield. Then Shelly glanced at Sarah. “I’ll go let the first group of dogs out.”

She narrowed her eyes at Rebecca and marched down the hallway.

“Oops. I should have waited until his biggest fan had left the room.” Sarah shrugged. “We’re one week in. Les and Shelly both believe Cole is better than Christmas, payday and a Cowboys win all combined.”

Rebecca nodded. “Great. I’m glad. And I don’t dislike him.”

“No, you vibrate with nerves whenever he’s around.” Sarah braced both arms on the counter. “What’s the deal?”

Telling Sarah about her disastrous attempt at breaking up a fight wouldn’t explain all the reservations she had about Cole, but it might be enough to buy her some understanding.

“At school, I did a stupid thing. I tried to stop a fight between two boys.” Rebecca squeezed the counter tightly. “Together those boys might make one of Cole Ferguson, but that didn’t stop Eric from pinning me against the lockers, his hand wrapped around my throat. If he hadn’t come to his senses, he could have hurt me. And...I don’t know. That first day, when Cole walked in, he surprised me, rattled me.”

Sarah reached over to squeeze Rebecca’s hand. “That’s scary, Rebecca. I had no idea, but Cole’s just...a guy, no more dangerous than the veterinarians we work with or Will.”

Except none of those guys had spent time in prison. Rebecca wanted to argue, but she’d already disappointed her friends enough.

“Listen, maybe it’s a matter of time,” Sarah said. “I’ve worked with him for a week and haven’t seen one bit of anything other than a man determined to work himself into...something. Exhaustion, maybe. I don’t know.” She sighed. “It sort of reminds me of how I worked here in the early days. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I knew that it could save me.” Sarah blinked rapidly. “It did. You did, with your money and support for this place. And together we can do the same for him. So...try, okay?”

Sarah Hillman, formerly the queen of Holly Heights High School who had terrorized anyone unfortunate enough to cross her, was asking Rebecca to be nice.

The change in circumstances was dizzying. Rebecca had started her first charity in elementary school. Her mother had volunteered them to supply a school in Africa with shoe boxes filled with toys and basic toiletries, so Sarah had convinced her fifth grade class to perform chores in exchange for donations. She’d exceeded the goal by 50 percent. Austin’s homeless, wounded veterans, Romanian orphans—Rebecca had raised funds for them all.

All that work was part of being a Lincoln. They did the right thing. Helping others was all in a day’s work.

Cole Ferguson needed some of that charity.

“I will. I will try.” If she didn’t, she’d be the worst sort of hypocrite.

“Okay, let’s go see what Freddie has destroyed.” Sarah rushed around the counter and wrapped her arms around Rebecca’s neck. “You, you’re awesome. You know that, right? No one cares as much as you do.” Sarah squeezed her arm.

Rebecca nodded to satisfy Sarah. Then Sarah towed her down the hall by one arm and they were caught in a low-level circus in the shelter’s play yard. Happy dogs were barking at something outside the fence, two Lab mixes were zooming in a breakneck game of chase, and it was almost impossible to walk, thanks to a begging hound anxious for a treat or a scratch, or any drop of attention.

As she and Shelly worked with the girls whose volunteer hours at the shelter would enhance their college applications to Baylor and SMU, Rebecca did her best to ignore the small voice whispering in her mind that she should be doing more.

This was important, but it was so comfortable. Writing checks was easy.

Improving Holly Heights was nothing like serving as a doctor in Peru the way her older brother, Daniel, was doing. Stephanie was going to leave home to set up a network to help him. Even Sarah was out of her comfort zone with this shelter, although every day the leadership settled on her shoulders better.

If she was doing everything she could, Rebecca thought, she would feel better. Wouldn’t she?

Talk about First World problems. The lottery winner is morose.

As they worked, Rebecca knew Sarah had one eye on her at all times. Pretending to be her normal self wasn’t working. Even after the shelter closed and she did her very best not to study the entrance to the trailer park she passed on her way home, Rebecca couldn’t get Sarah’s words out of her head. Just try. Not even her nightly twirl and lovefest with her new kitchen could silence them.

The quartz countertops sparkled. The stainless steel commercial-sized refrigerator was quietly awesome. The double ovens were charming as she preheated them to prepare some of her famous cookies.

But all she could hear was Sarah’s words. Just try. The memory of Cole’s face as he said goodbye to Freddie that afternoon distracted her, and before she knew it, three dozen cookies were cooling on racks. Her top-of-the-line dishwasher was quietly cleaning her prep bowls while she rested against the counter in her beautiful kitchen.

Her phone dinged to announce an email—Stephanie’s promised link to the new HealthyAmericas website for Peru. Rebecca clicked it and smiled as her brother’s goofy grin took over the screen. He had his arms wrapped around a gaggle of boys who were clearly soccer fans. Every photo on the page showed volunteers working hands-on with kids who had limited access to medical care.

She read a short profile, so clearly written in Stephanie’s voice that it made Rebecca tear up, about a boy they’d met at three years old and the progress he’d made after he received the vaccinations he needed. Rebecca realized Daniel and Stephanie would be able to watch that boy grow. They’d be his neighbor, see his life and the changes they’d made.

Her money was funding that good work. That improved her outlook for half a second.

While she puttered in her fancy new kitchen, Cole was... She had no idea. A man recently released from prison. What were his circumstances? He walked to work from the trailer park. EW picked him up every day. His old button-down had been replaced with the three-in-a-package T-shirts from the local discount store.

Rebecca covered her hot cheeks with her hands as an unexpected wave of shame swept over her. She had everything. Cole was doing his best with the cards stacked against him.

But he’s a criminal. You work hard to have things you enjoy. The logical voice in her head wasn’t sympathetic.

“And I live in my parents’ house, work the job I love because I graduated from a college my parents paid for and spend obscene money on appliances. Then I drift through life, wallowing in my loneliness.” The guilt tightening her stomach made it hard to sit still. “While I avoid Cole because he makes me feel...”

As Rebecca shoved a cookie in her mouth, she picked up her phone to call Jen, the only single friend she had left. After she lured Jen over, she could convince her to do something crazy.

She could take cookies to Cole. That would brighten his life and it was an easy thing to do.

Almost as easy as writing a check. The cynical voice whispering through her mind was new and unwelcome. It sounded a bit like Jen, too.

When Jen answered, Rebecca said, “I have cookies. Come get them.” Once Jen was here, Rebecca would ask her to drive her over to the trailer park. The two of them together should be safe enough. She could make Cole’s night better, smooth things over and get back on Shelly’s good side, get rid of all the cookies that she’d eat all by herself otherwise and have a reason to bake more. So many wins with one simple plan.

“Can’t tonight. The decorator Sarah recommended is demanding to hear my vision before he’ll take the job and paycheck,” Jen snapped. “Save me some.”

“I need to get out of the house. Take a ride with me.” Rebecca dropped her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Or I’ll bring them to you. Are you unpacking?” Luring Jen out to the car would be easy enough, and she had to get out of the house. The rosy glow of the setting sun covered the ceiling in pink.

“No, I have so many magazines still to destroy while I create my design board. I hate decorating homework. I’ll call you in the morning. We’ll shop for my new house’s kitchen, okay?” Jen ended the call before Rebecca could argue. She almost called Jen back.

“Nope. If she wanted company, she’d tell you.” Rebecca paced in a circle around the beautiful new island she’d had installed. It had four outlets and a prep sink. The cost had nearly knocked her backward when her contractor showed her the bid.

And if she spent a minute longer staring at the outrageously expensive gifts she’d given herself, she’d melt down.

Was she brave enough to go to Cole’s trailer all by herself?

No, but she was desperate to uncoil the knot in her stomach.

Before she knew what she was doing, Rebecca had pulled down a tin covered in happy sunflowers and loaded it with cookies. She could deliver them to Jen, no matter how pathetic it might seem. If she got roped into unpacking or whatever do-it-yourself project Jen had tackled, so be it. At least she wouldn’t be running the movie of her regrets through her mind on a constant loop.

Delivering the next batch of cookies to Cole in the bright light of day made so much more sense anyway.

One turn through town meant she was nowhere near Jen’s new place on the highway headed out to the state park. Instead, she was going toward the shelter. And Cole’s trailer park.

“Just try,” Rebecca muttered as she turned in. If worse came to worst, she could say she was visiting EW. Her father had taken his Cadillac in to EW’s garage every three months like clockwork until EW sold the place. She could remember his old waiting room clearly. He’d favored wildlife scenes and gospel music instead of blaring country tunes and talking heads of twenty-four-hour news channel like the dealership she frequented in Austin.

Of course, EW wouldn’t remember that from fifteen years ago. And no one would believe her story.

The growing shadows didn’t help the trailer park. Everything seemed scary in the twilight, especially the three kids standing under the basketball goal. At this distance, making out their faces was difficult, but the one standing directly under the goal could be Eric.

“Such a terrible idea, Rebecca,” she muttered as she squinted at the nearest lopsided mailbox. “Don’t be ridiculous. No one attacks a woman carrying a tin of cookies.”

This is not your smartest plan. The kid had wrapped his hands around her neck.

Should she even get out of the car?

The door to Cole’s trailer opened, spilling a golden rectangle of light down the steps.

Busted. She had no choice now.

Rebecca stared at his expressionless face, willing him to come down the steps and cross the tiny yard. She’d roll down the window and hand him the cheerful tin with a conciliatory smile and a finely worded apology without leaving the safety of her comfortable, four-door sedan. Then she’d throw the car in Reverse and return to the safe side of Holly Heights.

But her telepathy failed. Cole pressed one shoulder on the doorframe and waited.

Rebecca shook out her clammy hands before turning off the ignition. Holding the tin of cookies like a peace offering and a shield, she slid out of the driver’s seat.

* * *

REBECCA WAS WEARING her petrified expression again. Whatever she’d been watching down at the end of the street had better be some kind of monster. Otherwise, he was doing it again without lifting a finger.

Scaring a woman with his breathing and standing upright.

If he ever wanted female company, this would be something he’d have to work on.

“I should have called.” Her breathless voice was hard to make out, but she repeated herself as she stopped in the light at the bottom of the steps. “I’m sorry. The polite thing to do is to call.”

“No phone.” Cole didn’t move from his perch at the top. If he did, she’d drop the tin and run for the safety of her car. He had a feeling whatever was inside would be compensation for whatever little digs her visit made to his confidence.

“Oh, you don’t have a phone.” She bobbled the tin and managed to catch it. “I would have had to yell really loud then.”

Her joke hit hard on the ground between them. He didn’t smile.

“These days, everyone has a phone. I didn’t...think.” She cleared her throat. “So far, this is going well, am I right?”

“No air-conditioning. No television. Nothing to drive.” Cole straightened. “Want me to go on? I do have running water. The lights work. And I’m not locked behind bars, so I’m making progress.”

“I brought cookies.” Rebecca shrugged. “A peace offering.”

Cookies. The only choice homier and more downright small-town America would have been apple pie. This woman with her golden curls and frilly apron—she must wear it so often she’d forgotten she still had it on—was standing there with baked goods in her hands.

And shaking in her shoes.

The whole situation was nuts.

“What will scare you less? If you tiptoe forward and deposit them on the bottom step or if I come down to get them?” Cole muttered. If she’d brought something else, like spinach, he’d have closed the door in her face. He avoided her at work. How dare she come here like this? “I’m not up for visitors.”

He wanted those cookies. He’d investigated all the cookies in the discount store’s bakery but walked away. There was no sense in spending good money on something that would disappoint him. The need for his grandmother’s sugar cookies would go unfulfilled.

Whatever Rebecca held might soften that blow.

“I have something to say to you.” Her voice broke on the last word, ruining her delivery. Rebecca’s shoulders squared off and her chin snapped up. “I am coming inside and you will listen. Then I will give you the cookies.”

Whatever mental pep talk she’d given herself must have been powerful. The teacher voice was enough to make his lips twitch. Instead of breathy nerves, this time he could hear steel and no-nonsense “do what I say or you will regret it, mister.”

She was good at faking confidence. He had to admire that in anyone.

Cole stepped out of the doorway and did a courtly sweep of his hand. “I wouldn’t dare argue with that tone or the boss’s boss.” Then he raised both hands and backed slowly into the living room.

He watched her face carefully, certain he’d see distaste or dismay. Seeing how the other half survived would be good for her.

Rebecca’s march didn’t slow down until she was standing in the center of his grandmother’s tiny kitchen. She did a measured spin to take it all in and then slid the tin on the empty counter.

“I used to have the same refrigerator.” When she met his stare, her lips flattened. “Put your hands down. I’m not here to rob you.” The small flush that bloomed in her cheeks the second she realized she’d said “rob” to a would-be robber should have been satisfying. But it made her blue eyes brighter.

“Of course not. Nothing here to steal.” Cole lowered both hands. “But I don’t want to scratch my chin and scare you into screaming bloody murder.”

Rebecca crossed both arms over her chest.

“Especially when you might have dropped the cookies.”

Her eyes met his, and some of the grim determination on her face faded.

“You don’t have a weapon, do you?” Cole asked. “If I sneeze, are you going to pull out a handgun and stand your ground?” He lowered his hands.

“Just cookies. A tin of cookies that I can toss out the door at any second.”

He wondered if she knew her shoulders were raised so high that they brushed her golden curls.

“Wasted home cooking. That would be a shame. I might actually cry.” Instead of sitting on the verge of tears like the biggest wimp in Texas. Whether it made him mad or sad, too much thinking brought out the worst in him.

That didn’t mean he was up for visitors, though.

“That almost sounds like the truth,” she said as she shifted from one foot to the other. “You haven’t even tasted them. What if I’m a terrible cook?”

“Frilly apron like that, I figure you must have some skill.” If he could still grin, he would have at the way her head snapped down to check if he was telling the truth.

“Great.” Rebecca closed her eyes. “Exactly the good impression I was hoping for.” She reached behind her to untie the apron, whip it off and fold it carefully before placing it on the counter. Her khakis were still spotless and the white shirt she was wearing was the same one she’d worn to the shelter. There was not one wrinkle in the cotton.

Millionaires probably had a staff dedicated to making sure they didn’t wrinkle.

Showering off the fish smell before he put on his new pair of shorts and one of the three clean T-shirts he owned had been all Cole could manage after the long day.

“Why are you here?” Cole asked. She still didn’t trust him. He wasn’t sure she realized she was leaning toward the door even as she did her best to pretend she was in control.

“I made cookies. I wanted you to have some. You’ve done such a good job this week.” Rebecca clasped both hands in front of her. Her eyes darted to meet his before she returned to studying the linoleum.

“That’s what you came to say? Good job?” No way. Cole knew better.

“This is me making amends. For...when you came in to apply for the job. It’s clear you were the best man for the position.” She smiled. “And I’m welcoming you to Holly Heights.”

And now she was here to make herself feel better. With cookies and a frilly apron and spotless clothes and a superiority that she’d been born with.

Cole grunted. “Well, Your Highness, it’s difficult to express my gratitude for the effort. I have the job. No hard feelings.” He hadn’t done anything wrong, except talk over her and insist on an interview. She thought her expression of remorse was a big gesture, no doubt.

But she had a stubborn streak. She pressed her lips together. “Fine, I understand I have no reason to be so...”

“Afraid?” Cole said. He didn’t want to rehash his history, but curiosity was building. Where was she going with this?

“Right. My only excuse is that I had a...run-in with a student, ended up with his hands around my throat. When you came in that day, it surprised me—”

Cole held up a hand. “I get it. First rule of prison life is not to sneak around behind a man. Good way to get hurt.” And even when he’d made his presence known, Stitch, his cell mate, had reacted violently when Cole caught him off guard. Fight or flight was powerful, especially when a person’s only choice was fight.

“Except this isn’t prison. You weren’t sneaking. And there was no reason to...” Rebecca pursed her lips. “Freak out.”

“I respect fear.” Cole shrugged. “Better than most, I get being afraid. And I should never have put my hands on you.” He had no explanation for why he had except desperation. This soft, sweet woman wouldn’t understand desperation. “The kid. What happened?” Why was he asking? The situation had zero to do with him. He wasn’t getting involved with anyone, much less her.

“He realized the mistake he was making, I think.” Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut. “He might be your neighbor. When I drove up, I’m sure it was Eric standing under the basketball goal.”

“Ah, another reason to shake like you were about to meet with a serial killer when you opened your car door.” Cole shoved aside the curtain to look out the window. The same three kids who’d loitered under the goal almost every night that week were in their usual spot. “Don’t know them, but they spend a lot of time right there. Days and nights.” He didn’t add that that was where all his trouble started. The plan to steal his grandmother’s station wagon for a joyride had hatched right there and ended with a long walk to town and his grandmother having to pay a tow truck to pull it out of the mud. His first taste of alcohol had been under that goal.

Ricky Martinez had shown him the handgun he’d “borrowed” from his stepfather there, too.

Maybe he shouldn’t have felt the wave of nostalgia for the goal. The kids might be better off if he knocked it down.

“I haven’t seen him at school since that day.” She shook her head. “Why didn’t it occur to me that he hadn’t been there since then? It’s been more than a week.”

“Seems like that would be a relief.” Cole let the curtains drop. A weak breeze lifted the fabric before it settled. “Just like me avoiding you was my gift to you. Accept it and move on instead of invading my space with a peace offering I can’t refuse.” He shrugged. “Assuming those cookies are any good.”

“It’s my job to assist these kids and make sure they have a plan for the future,” Rebecca muttered as she jerked the lid off the tin.

His input was unnecessary. She was talking to herself.

She sighed and held out the cookies, her mouth downturned.

“Forget about me and those guys. Nothing but trouble that direction. Focus on the kids you can help.” Cole picked two of the biggest cookies and then set the tin on the table next to his grandmother’s photo album. A split second later he realized he should have shut it before confronting Rebecca. He’d been trying to distract himself by flipping through the pages. Sixth grade had been a rough year for him. If she got a load of that school picture, she’d die of laughter instead of fright. “Those girls headed to college appreciate your help. Save yourself some aggravation. Work on them. Leave the rest of us...” Behind. Where we fall. In the dust. He wasn’t sure what words finished that sentence.

He took a bite as she slammed both hands on her hips. Wrong thing to say.

“I’m supposed to help them all. And that boy needs his high school diploma.” She paced in a line back and forth in front of the coffee table, her fingers twisted together in a tight knot. “Loitering like that is only going to lead to trouble.”

“No argument here.” Cole nodded as he took a bite of the chocolate chip cookie. Then he closed his eyes to savor it. Nothing tasted like homemade.

“So, what are we going to do about this?” Rebecca stopped pacing to wait for his answer.

He couldn’t be bothered. They weren’t his grandmother’s sugar cookies, but they were heaven.

When the first cookie was gone, Cole realized she was waiting for him to say something. “What?”

“I asked what we’re going to do about Eric. Those kids. Out there.” She pointed at the window in case he couldn’t add all the clues. “We have to do something. Good people don’t walk away when they can see someone needs help. What should we do tonight?”

“Nothing. You’re too scared to say boo to them and I’ve got all I can handle keeping a roof over my head.” He broke the second cookie in half and held a piece in each hand.

“Unacceptable.” Rebecca pursed her lips. “Try again.”

He thought about arguing. The firm set of her jaw indicated she was ready to go a round or two.

Cole sighed, set his cookie down and stood abruptly. If that didn’t send her on her way, he’d be shocked. He held both arms out in a trick he’d learned to make himself seem bigger.

More dangerous.

The more he said with body language in prison, the fewer bruises he’d picked up.

She didn’t retreat, but something about her posture shrank. Her hands were clenched in white-knuckled knots. Standing her ground was costing her.

“I’m not going to panic. Not again. No one who hums when he bites into a chocolate chip cookie is going to hurt me.” She tapped her chest. “I make the best cookies in Holly Heights.”

Cole pressed one hand to his chest and dropped down on the couch.

“Also, that’s a dirty trick, using my fear against me.” Rebecca’s disappointed face wasn’t quite as powerful as his Mimi’s, but it was hard to ignore the guilty feeling he’d always gotten when his grandmother gave him the same sad eyes.

“And now we know it doesn’t work,” Cole muttered. “When did that happen?”

“Possibly it was the sight of your knobby knees.” Rebecca tilted her head, a bright smile chasing away clouds of worry. “Now I know your weak spots.” She blinked so innocently as she said it that he studied her face. She was teasing him? They were alone. She had no safety net.

He didn’t smile but watched her until she got that nervous V in the middle of her forehead.

Her smile faded as she stepped closer to the door. When she had one hand on the doorframe, she stopped. “You could talk to them? Tell them they should be in school?”

Cole shook his head slowly. “Not going to happen. I made a promise. No more trouble. They are trouble.” She was trouble.

Rebecca nodded slowly. “If I leave my phone here, will you call the police if things get out of hand when I go tell them they should be in school?” She snapped her fingers. “I could pay you in more cookies.” Her enthusiastic smile told him she’d won plenty of cooperation previously with charm and baked goods.

For a split second, the idea that she was trusting him to have her back, even from way back, by being her phone call lifeline amused him. Her opinion of him had taken a small turn, at least. Then he realized she honestly thought baked goods could fix everything. How naive. And insulting.

“You’ve done your good deed, so your guilty conscience should be taken care of. Go home. Call their parents. Help the kids who want your help.” Cole waved another cookie. “Write a cookbook or something, but learn the lesson that kid tried to teach you. Don’t stick your nose in his business and you’ll be okay.”

Now get out. He didn’t say it. He didn’t have to.

He expected an argument. Instead, she pointed at the tiny photo his Mimi had framed and hung over the sink. “Is that the county fair?”

Cole frowned as he tried to follow the conversation.

“It looks like the building where they do all the craft and food judging.” Rebecca bent to study the photo. “Someone should have brushed your hair.”

“Someone did. The tousled hairstyle was in.” That sounded like a criticism of his grandmother. She’d done her best to hold him down and make him presentable. It wasn’t her fault he’d taken that as a challenge. “And yeah, that’s my grandmother and me at the fair.”

“Blue ribbon. For what?” Rebecca asked.

Cole rubbed his aching head. “What does it matter? Baking. She won a ribbon for baking sugar cookies, but she’s dead, so you don’t have to worry about losing your cookie queen title.”

Even he was surprised at how angry he sounded. Instead of arguing or telling him to shove his head in the toilet, Rebecca turned and disappeared into the dark night.

If she gets hurt by three boys when you could have stopped it, you’ll have nothing in this life left to redeem, idiot.

Cole lifted the curtains. The boys had disappeared.

He hurried over to the door to see Rebecca’s taillights fading as she drove out of the trailer park.

Good. This was not his problem. Those kids would learn their hard lessons.

Cole slammed his door shut and locked it before he turned to see Rebecca’s neatly folded apron on his grandmother’s counter. “Probably has a frilly apron for every day of the week. She’ll be fine.”

Cole studied the tin of cookies and considered walking down to EW’s to offer him a couple. The guy had been his lifeline so far. Without him, Cole wouldn’t have stood a chance. That burned, irritated him because he’d been so certain he’d be better off by himself. There’d been no beer runs, but it was a matter of time until EW let him down. Still, that afternoon had been nice, normal, a glimpse at what life could be like. Too bad EW hadn’t taken him fishing at seventeen. How different his life might have been.

What if you could do that for one of those kids? What if that is all it takes to make a difference?

To drown out the little whisper that sounded a lot like Rebecca’s voice, Cole snatched up another cookie. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my knees,” he grumbled.

He was certain he’d be replaying her visit long after her peace offering was gone.