Читать книгу Suddenly Family - Christine Flynn - Страница 11

T.J. was intimately familiar with nearly every square mile of Harbor Island. She knew the lush mountainous forest that filled its interior and the hiking trails, caves and clear creeks meandering through it. She knew its coves and tide pools and had introduced her son to all manner of seals, urchins and starfish. She knew who lived in the secluded cabins, houses, shacks and the occasional mansion tucked into the trees or overlooking the shore.

She disturbed little of it. Not the wildlife and not her neighbors. She regarded herself and her son simply as part of the ecology, custodians of their own small space in the woods and observers of all the rest.

She felt safe on Harbor now. Secure in a way that had eluded her all the years she’d been growing up. That was why she’d come back after only a year away at college. It was why she wanted to raise her child in Harbor. But that hard-won sense of security felt threatened at the moment. It had ever since Maddy had told her about Brad.

Try as she might, T.J. simply couldn’t shake the feeling that she hadn’t heard the last of him.

She wasn’t sure if she was simply being cautious or actually getting paranoid, but she checked her rearview mirror twice before she pulled her ancient Jeep off the shore road and headed for the blinding-white hangar at the edge of the airstrip. She had no idea what she expected Brad to do. Or if he would do anything at all. As she glanced at the child craning his neck from the seat beside her, she just knew she didn’t want Andy to know she was concerned.

Not that he was paying any attention to her. His focus was glued to the half dozen private airplanes parked away from E & M Air Carrier’s huge hangar.

He practically vibrated with excitement as he grappled with the latch on his seat belt. “Can I go look at a plane? I won’t get too close. I promise.”

“Jason’s dad is expecting us in the office, honey.”

“Is Jason here?”

“He’s visiting his grandma in Seattle right now.”

Seat belt unfastened, he reached for the rusting handle on the door. “Can I see a plane after, then?”

“If it’s not too dark.”

Her son grinned. “’Kay,” he murmured, not bothering to press.

He was such a good little boy. Affectionate. Obedient. He never demanded anything the way she often heard children do in the bookstore when they would beg, cajole or cry for just one more toy or treat. He simply accepted what she said and moved on to whatever next claimed his interest.

Tugging her heavy denim bag over her shoulder, she climbed out of the battered, but blessedly reliable, old vehicle and automatically took Andy’s hand. She didn’t know why he was always so agreeable. It could have been because he knew there wasn’t money for extras. Or because he instinctively understood that she already gave him everything she could and that it all came from her heart. Maybe it was because, even with Crystal living nearby, he knew it was really just the two of them and that they had to take care of each other because there wasn’t anyone else who would.

Whatever it was, she told herself, pushing open the door next to the black letters indicating Office, she was simply grateful he was hers.

Andy looked up at her, confused. “There’s nobody here.”

“I see that.”

The small waiting room with its huge map on the wall was empty. So was the space across the long counter where filing cabinets and two gray metal desks—one cluttered, one painfully neat—occupied the area.

Sam had said he would be available that evening. He’d told her that yesterday when he’d brought her the book weighing down her bag. Though she hadn’t talked to him since then, she had left a message with one of his employees that she would be by after she got off work at eight and asked that he call if the time wasn’t convenient. Since she hadn’t heard from him, she’d assumed the timing was fine.

Still clutching Andy’s hand, she moved to the end of the counter to peek through the open door behind it. The door opened directly into the hangar. Wondering if the guy named Chuck who had taken her message had forgotten to pass it on, she glanced into the cavernous space.

A white aircraft far larger than the tiny two-and four-passenger planes outside occupied the middle of the huge hangar. The cargo pods on its underbelly hung open.

While her son whispered a reverent “Wow,” T.J.’s attention settled on the big man in a khaki shirt and jeans.

Sam was shifting boxes from the underbelly of the plane to a low flat dolly—large boxes that he handled two at a time and that were heavy enough to make the dolly buck when he hefted them onto it.

He didn’t seem to notice her and Andy when they moved to stand in the doorway. Not sure if they should enter, she simply watched, unwillingly fascinated by his strength. She was intrigued, too, by the concentration etched in his features. No one could deny the sense of capability surrounding him, or the masculine beauty in his sculpted profile.

Sam Edwards was an incredibly virile and handsome man. T.J. had always thought him so—much as she had always thought redwoods mighty and the ocean vast. It was simply a fact of nature, and she appreciated beauty in nature wherever she found it. She had just never before considered exactly how broad his shoulders were. Or how strong the muscles in his back and thighs had to be to raise him up so easily as he hefted the heavy loads. His arms had to feel as solid as stone.

She imagined his arms felt rather empty, too.

Her grip tightened slightly on her son’s little hand. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been for him to be left alone to raise his children, or how hard it had to be for his children to have lost their loving mother. She had known Tina. T.J. had even helped her out on occasion at the preschool where Tina had worked by bringing animals for the children to learn about and helping when the aide wasn’t available. She had been on school field trips with Tina, too, where they had talked about measles and how to get their offspring to eat vegetables. When Tina had brought Jason and Jenny into the bookstore, they had talked about children’s books.

The beautiful, bubbly ex-cheerleader had doted on her children and adored her husband. They had clearly cared for her, too. The few times T.J. had seen Sam with them at community functions, it had been clear that their family had been as happy as any around.

Watching him now, when she was so aware of his physical strength, she couldn’t help but wonder at the fortitude and tenacity he had to possess. Rumor had it that he seemed to be doing well now, though he stuck close to work and his family. But she remembered hearing early on that he’d taken his wife’s death as hard as any man could.

As if he had finally become aware of how intently he was being watched, Sam’s motions began to slow. With his last box unloaded, he straightened like a pinnacle rising from the sea, plowed his fingers through his hair and turned toward the doorway.

The bright fluorescent lights illuminated the sculpted lines of his face when his glance jerked from them to his watch. “I didn’t realize how late it was,” he called to her. “How long have you been standing there?”

Longer than I probably should have, she thought. “Only a couple of minutes,” she called back. “I hope you don’t mind us coming through the office.”

“Not a problem. Come on over.”

Since he stayed where he was, near the plane, she gently tugged Andy forward. She was halfway across the gray concrete floor when she noticed the lines of fatigue fanning from the corners of Sam’s eyes. Deep creases bracketed his mouth. She’d noticed the lines before, but thought only that they added interest to a face that would have been too perfect otherwise.

With his loss fresh on her mind, she realized now that what had carved the furrows so deeply could very well have been grief—and a kind of weariness that ran soul deep.

She stopped a couple of yards away. “I didn’t know if you got my message.”

Looking very competent, very capable and very…big, he ran an impersonal glance from her short T-shirt to the hem of her baggy linen pants, then smiled at the child clinging to her hand.

“I got it about an hour ago.” Turning, he reached inside the open door of the plane’s cabin and pulled a clipboard from the pilot’s seat. “I just wanted to get the cargo unloaded before we got started. We can talk while I work on the plane.”

Concentration sharpened his features as he dropped the clipboard atop the stacked boxes and made a note on an attached form. His manner was as brisk and businesslike as his tone. She had no idea what time he’d started work that morning or how many places he’d flown over the course of the day. But from the fatigue he dutifully ignored, she had the impression of a man running on nothing but reserves.

Still, he offered another easy smile to the little boy who peered past him to the plane. Andy hadn’t budged from beside her. Sheer awe rooted him to the concrete.

Sam’s preoccupation lifted when he noticed where her son was staring. “Have you ever seen a plane up close before?” he asked the silent child.

Solemnly, Andy shook his head to indicate that he hadn’t.

“Then, you’ve never been inside a plane before, either?”

Without a blink, the little boy shook his head once more.

“Do you want to sit inside this one?”

The awe in Andy’s expression moved into his voice. “Inside it? Can I? Really?”

“Promise not to touch anything?”

Andy nodded so fast that his bangs bobbed.

“Wait a minute.” T.J.’s wary glance darted past the open cockpit door to the complex array of gauges and gadgets on the control panel. “Is it safe for him to be in there?”

Looking intimately familiar with the workings of a worried mother’s mind, Sam paused. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if it weren’t,” he replied, reasonably. “Would you rather he didn’t?”

Andy’s eyes beseeched her. Eyes of startling blue met hers with calm patience.

“If you’re sure he’ll be okay…”

“I’m sure.” He arched one eyebrow. “Do you want to let go of his hand?”

Andy nodded, his expression still pleading. “You can come, too, Mom.”

At her son’s encouragement, she finally let go. She always kept a close eye on her son. Especially in unfamiliar places. That was why she was right behind them when Sam swung her child up in one arm, carried him to the plane and plopped him onto the pilot’s seat.

“Here you go,” he said to Andy. “You can sit in here while your mom and I talk. That’s the throttle and this is what steers the plane. And this,” he said, digging something out from the utility box by the seat, “is a Game Boy. Do you know how to work it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Then you can play with that. Hands off everything else. Okay?”

“’Kay,” Andy murmured, obligingly. His nose wrinkled. “What’s a throttle?”

“It’s like the gas pedal in a car,” T.J. replied from behind Sam’s broad back.

“Oh.”

“Look,” she murmured, touching Sam’s arm to get his attention. The muscle beneath the soft khaki felt every bit as hard as she’d imagined. “You’re sure he’s okay in there?” she asked, feeling that heat move into her palm.

He turned, causing her hand to fall, then forced her to back up as he stepped toward her. “I’m positive. Even if he does touch something, it might mess up an instrument, but it won’t hurt him.” His big body towered over hers as he nodded toward the exposed engine. Its cowling lay on the ground. “You don’t have to worry about him starting it up, either,” he murmured, sounding as if he knew she was thinking just that. “I have the key, and the fuel line is disconnected.”

He was crowding her, though she didn’t think he was doing it on purpose. There was just nowhere else for him to go with the door open, the plane at his back and her blocking his path from the front.

Jerking her focus from his firm mouth to his wide chest, she curled her fingers over the odd heat lingering in her hand and backed to the middle of the long high wing.

“You’ve been reading.” He offered the observation as he followed her, obviously referring to her response about the throttle. “Did you get the chapters finished?”

Nothing about him made her think he was at all affected by her proximity. Uneasily aware that she was not unaffected by his, she thought about the book she carried and willed herself to relax.

“Some of them. Most of them,” she corrected, her glance automatically seeking her son.

She had been more anxious than usual about her little boy over the past couple of days. Every time she lost sight of him, which was never for more than a few moments, a bubble of panic rose in her chest, pumping adrenaline into her veins, making her heart lurch. But she could easily see Andy holding the Game Boy in a death grip as he stared, enthralled, at the complex instruments.

He was fine. Sam had even assured her that he was safe.

For the moment, with Sam there, she realized that Andy truly was.

The knot that had formed in her stomach yesterday morning actually began to loosen. Grateful for the respite, only now realizing how tense she had been, she pulled the book from her big denim bag and held it out with both hands. “I’m afraid I won’t be needing lessons, though. Thank you, anyway.”

The weathered creases in his forehead deepened as he reached for the bulky volume. Confusion colored his tone. “What changed your mind?”

“That book, for one thing. I had no idea until I started reading it how complicated it all would be. Even if you could teach me how to get a plane off the ground, I can’t afford the money or the time it would it take for real lessons and to get a license. Doc Jackson will be leaving in a couple of weeks. It would be a couple of years before I could fly a plane on my own.”

“It wouldn’t take that long.”

“It would for me. I wouldn’t want to leave Andy all those hours, either.” She didn’t want to leave him at all. “It’s like you with your children,” she explained, because there was no need to tell him why she didn’t want her child out of her sight. “You said you hated leaving them any more than you already have to. I feel the same way about Andy.

“I’ll still watch Jason and Jenny,” she hurried to assure him, “but I’ll have to find some other way to get veterinary care.”

Ratchets and wrenches rattled as Sam set the book atop the chest-high portable toolbox under the tip of the wing. The entire time she’d been backing down from flying lessons, he’d been waiting for her to back down from watching his kids. He’d felt it coming as surely as sunset over the Pacific. Since she had just unexpectedly eliminated that worry, he now was simply feeling mystified.

He had already told himself he didn’t have to understand this woman to work with her. He’d even expected her to throw him off guard. After all, it wasn’t every day a man encountered a woman who informed him out of the blue that she wasn’t going to sleep with him. Or who practically begged him to teach her to fly so she could rescue the local wildlife.

He’d been unwillingly impressed by that desire, too. Though he’d never considered himself particularly jaded, he had to admit there really wasn’t much that did impress him anymore.

He also had to admit that the idea of sex with her had crept into his thoughts with disquieting regularity.

The phenomenon was nothing more than a power-of-suggestion thing. He wouldn’t have thought of it if she hadn’t put the idea in his head. He felt certain of that. But thoughts of how soft her skin would feel, of burying his fingers in the wild tangle of her hair, of how shapely she was beneath the baggy clothes she wore, had crept into his mind, his sleep. The unwanted mental images had to be why his body had tightened when she’d touched him. And why the fresh wildflower scent of her had him feeling as taut as a trip wire every time he breathed it in.

“Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”

“That depends.” With his glance on her mouth, hesitation slipped over her face. “What do you want to know?”

“Why are these animals so important to you?”

The nature of his interest made her lips curve. “For some of the same reasons children are important. They need protection and care,” she explained. “Because I care, I do what I can for them.”

She looked as she sounded, as if she were certain he would understand something so basic.

He didn’t understand at all.

Not sure why it mattered, he ran a skeptical glance from the curls disappearing behind her back, over her clear, unembellished skin and paused at the hand-strung brown beads skimming her collarbone. His assessing glance narrowed on her shoulders.

He was unable to detect so much as a hint of a bra strap or cup beneath the soft fabric of her shirt, nothing to support or mold the high, gentle swells of her breasts. Making himself ignore the thought of how perfectly she would fit in his palms, he forced his glance to the loose linen drawstring pants riding her slender hips.

There was nothing artificial about the woman. Nothing made up, made over, restrained, restricted or enhanced. She was completely, unabashedly natural. He’d even bet her underwear was 100 percent pure cotton.

Not that he was ever going to find out. Since he was no more interested in a relationship than he’d heard she was, his thoughts were actually leaning more toward her beliefs than her bedroom. He now had the nagging feeling she was one of the vegan ilk who had refused to baby-sit at his house because he had leather furniture. “You’re a vegetarian.”

At the flat conclusion in his voice, T.J.’s expression mirrored his own.

“So?” she prompted.

“So are you into some esoteric philosophy that regards animals as gods or something?”

She had already struck him as being a little unconventional, which made her fit in perfectly on Harbor where eccentricities were the norm. The island was populated with a curious blend of kiwi farmers, entrepreneurs, loners and dot-com millionaires, each perfectly content to march to his own drummer. Considering who her mother was, he figured T.J.’s philosophies could be light-years away from his more traditional leanings.

“Do you mean, do I worship cows and that sort of thing?”

“Well…yeah,” he rather unintelligently concluded.

Her smile emerged, as warm as sunshine and faintly chiding. “My burgers are made of tofu,” she admitted, “but I’ve never confused something on four legs with anything other than what it is. I just happened to grow up with animals. They were always around the communes we stayed in when I was a child.”

One slender shoulder raised in a faint shrug. “They were my friends,” she explained, her voice softening as she thought of how much company and comfort those animals had given her. “It’s only natural that I should provide a safe environment for those who need it now.”

For a moment, Sam said nothing. He simply watched her study the wrenches on the cart before she glanced around the cavernous space. She seemed infinitely more at ease than she’d been when he’d first seen her standing in the office doorway, and terribly curious about what surrounded her.

He was feeling more than a little curious himself. Her comments about being raised in a commune had just summoned images of tie-dye and love beads.

He’d certainly heard of the communes of the sixties and seventies and their free-living lifestyle. He even knew several aging hippies himself, a few of whom ran the Mother Earth Spa on the north end of the island and whose faithful clientele flew in regularly on his airline. Then there was her mother.

“The animals lived in the commune with you?”

“I don’t remember any living with us. Except for this mangy yellow dog someone had. But he didn’t stay very long. The guy or the dog,” she mused. Having perused the wrenches on the cart, she looked back at him. “Metric, right?”

He nodded at her query and watched her glance swing to a spare propeller blade hanging above the long, brightly lit workbench. “For as far back as I can remember,” she continued, crossing her arms as if to keep from touching anything, “if I wanted company I headed for the woods.”

“How many people did you live with?”

“Anywhere from half a dozen to twenty or so.”

“Weren’t there any other children?”

“Sometimes. That depended on where we were. And on the weather. Winter tended to weed out the wannabes.” Tipping her head back, she studied the structure of the wing flap above her. “Even when there were other kids, they didn’t stay long enough to really get to know.” No one stayed long. Ever. Transience had always been part of the life. “But there were always animals. I’d find their dens and play with the babies.”

“You’re kidding.”

Her attention remained on the wing as she shook her head, her smile rueful. “I know. I’m lucky I didn’t lose a limb.”

“Or your life.”

“That, too,” she easily agreed. “Some babies’ mothers can be very protective. I think bears are the most aggressive,” she mused, still checking out the hardware. “But I ran into a beaver once that was a close second. She wasn’t happy at all about me playing with her kits.”

Without thinking about what he was doing, Sam let his glance slide over the long line of her throat as she followed the flap to the light on the wing tip. His first inclination was to ask where her mother had been while she had wandered the woods in search of playmates. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, though. Wasn’t sure he wanted it to matter.

What she’d just so artlessly told him conjured the uncomfortable image of a very isolated child.

“It sounds lonely.”

Her inspection of his plane came to an abrupt halt. Meeting his eyes, she tipped her head to study his.

“It was,” she admitted with compelling candor. Sympathy unexpectedly moved into her soft expression. Her voice, already quiet, quieted further as she searched his face. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Feeling alone like that, I mean.”

She had caught him off guard before. She’d just never caught him as unprepared as he felt at that moment. As it had the other day at the bookstore, her candid manner had pulled him past the protective wall he’d built around himself, caused him to be curious and left him without the distance he tended to keep between himself and nearly everyone else.

He had no idea what he’d done to give himself away, but she had somehow recognized the emptiness living inside him. As ruthlessly as he battled that feeling, as diligently as he tried to avoid thinking about why it was there, the last thing he wanted was to talk about it now.

He dealt with the feeling enough when he was alone.

Feeling exposed, hating it, he took a step back and nodded toward the plane. “I think I’d better check on your son.”

The understanding in her eyes flickered out like a candle in a draft. He could even feel her draw back from him as he moved past her, tension radiating from him in waves.

“Hey, buddy,” he called, forcing that tension down for the child’s sake. “How’s it going in there?”

“Do I hafta get out now?” came the little boy’s reply.

T.J. blinked at Sam’s back and tried to focus on what he was saying to Andy. Something about rudder flaps, she thought, but little registered. The way he’d so abruptly changed the subject made it feel as if he’d just slammed a door in her face.

Not at all sure what she had done, she was trying to figure it out when the distant drone of an airplane filtered in with the breeze. In a matter of seconds the sound intensified, reverberating through the building, then faded off as the plane passed, banked and set itself down on the runway.

“That’s Zach,” Sam said, appearing to note the tail numbers of the E & M craft taxiing off the runway. Wanting to see what was going on, Andy crawled to his knees on the seat. “I was sure Chuck would get here before him.”

Sam seemed to be talking more to himself than to the child who now asked if another plane was coming soon.

All T.J. cared about was getting out of there before they were joined by anyone else. Feeling awkward and uneasy, she moved to where Sam shadowed the cockpit door.

“Come on, Andy,” she murmured, edging in front of Sam’s solid-looking chest. “It’s time for us to go. Mr. Edwards has things he needs to do, and we don’t need to be in the way.”

Andy clearly didn’t want to leave. There were too many new things here for him to see. Though disappointment made him hesitate, he dutifully put the Game Boy back from where he’d seen Sam take it and held his arms out so she could lift him to the ground.

Andy’s tennies hit the concrete with a faint squeak. Turning, she automatically took her little boy’s hand before glancing up at the man towering over her. Something like caution shadowed his features, along with a fair amount of the reserve she was feeling herself.

“It’s Sam,” he corrected, frowning at her turn toward formality.

“Then thank Sam for letting you sit in the plane, Andy.”

“Thank you,” came the child’s sweet reply. He smiled then, the dimple in his cheek as deep as a cherry pit. “It was way cool.”

A smile involuntarily twitched at the corner of Sam’s mouth. “Way cool, huh?”

The child’s head bobbed, but Andy’s attention was already being diverted to the plane that had taxied to a stop near the hangar. The circular gray blur of the propellers slowed to reveal three still blades.

“Well, we’d better get going,” T.J. said quietly, heading around Sam with her son in tow. “I’ve kept you long enough.”

A muscle in Sam’s jaw jerked. “You haven’t kept me from anything.”

She shrugged, offering a smile that looked uncomfortable at best. “Your partner is here, and we need to get home and feed the animals.” With the graceful sweep of her hand, she motioned toward the open end of the hangar. Dusk had already robbed the sky of its color. “It will be dark soon.”

Sam’s only response was a nod. He hadn’t meant to be rude when he’d walked away from her moments ago. He knew he had been, though. He also knew he had offended her in the process, but he’d had no idea how else to handle her question. He had no intention of opening a vein for this woman. Or anyone else, for that matter. And that’s what it felt like he would be doing if he were to acknowledge to anyone else the void inside him. So he let her go with a wave to her kid and swore silently to himself as he watched them walk away. From her polite reserve after he’d killed the light in her eyes, it was as clear as rainwater that she’d crawled inside a shell.

He’d liked her a whole lot better when she was being feisty and straightforward. She seemed far less vulnerable that way.

The knowledge that he’d been the one who’d caused her to withdraw kicked him square in the conscience as his partner walked inside. All she had done was let him know she understood how lost and alone a person could sometimes feel. Just because he didn’t care to share that understanding didn’t mean he couldn’t have handled the situation with a little more finesse. After all, he still needed her to watch his kids.

“Hey, Sam. That was T.J. wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. It was.”

“That must have been one tough first lesson.”

His partner of thirteen years strode past the loaded cargo dolly with his log book in one hand and pure speculation carved in his face. Zach McKendrick was a regular guy. The best, as far as Sam was concerned. He was also an excellent business partner and one of the best bush pilots in the entire northwest. The strapping, ex-jet-jockey didn’t make a bad brother-in-law, either.

“What makes you think the lesson was tough?”

Scratching his jaw, Zach shrugged. “It’s not like her to ignore a person. I know she saw me, but she kept going anyway. She usually asks about Lauren. Makes small talk, you know?” His shrewd eyes narrowed. “She seemed awfully anxious to get out of here.”

“She has animals she needs to feed.” Later he might consider that he’d truly screwed up his best prospect for temporary child care. Now he just wanted to do something…physical. “Do you have anything to unload?”

“The mail from the outer islands. Are you changing the subject?”

“Yeah,” he muttered and grabbed an empty dolly. “I am.”

Curiosity arched Zach’s eyebrows. “Why don’t you want to talk about T.J.?”

“Because she’s not taking the lessons.” That was part of it, anyway.

“Does that mean she won’t be watching Jas and Jenny?”

That was another part of it. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t had time to come up with anything else to barter with.”

Considering the way she’d withdrawn from him, the bigger problem was whether she’d be willing to barter at all.