Читать книгу The Little Bookshop Of Promises - Debbie Macomber - Страница 11

Three

Grady Weston had been in a bitch of a mood all afternoon, and he knew why. It was because of Richard and that damn letter. Just when Grady was beginning to feel his life was finally free of his brother, Richard turned up again. Like a bad penny. Interesting how many relevant clichés there were, he thought grimly. A rotten apple. A bad seed. A thorn in his side.

Richard’s most recent effort to weasel his way back into the family’s favor infuriated him. Grady knew he needed to talk to Savannah and soon, otherwise Caroline was going to start asking questions. He’d never been good at hiding his concerns from his wife. He hadn’t mentioned the letter, which meant she’d probably hear about it from Savannah. He wanted to avoid that. Even now, after three years of marriage, he couldn’t shake a niggling fear that was tied to Caroline’s past connection with his brother.

At the end of the day, Grady didn’t head back to the house as was his normal routine. Instead, he turned off the main road toward Laredo and Savannah’s place.

Grady parked the pickup, then walked to the rose garden, where he knew he’d find Savannah. While she prepared the earth for new plantings, three-year-old Laura was busy filling a yellow plastic bucket in the sandbox and nine-month-old Matthew was contentedly chewing on a toy in his playpen.

His sister stopped her work, leaning on the hoe when she saw him approach, almost as if she’d been expecting him. A large straw hat shaded her face, preventing him from reading her eyes. One thing he’d say about Savannah: she certainly had a way with roses. A profusion of color marked the rows—deep reds, pale pinks, whites and yellows. Even from a distance, he caught their scent. Savannah’s roses had an unforgettable fragrance.

She had a thriving mail-order business that specialized in antique roses. She was what some people called a “rose rustler”—or “rose rescuer,” as she preferred to describe it. She visited abandoned farmhouses, old churches and even cemeteries to find long-forgotten roses, many of them a century old. She scoured ditches and detoured onto rambling dirt roads. It wasn’t unheard of for Savannah to drive two hundred miles to track down old roses. More than once, she’d stood up to demolition crews and halted highway construction work. She’d do whatever it took to find and rescue surviving rosebushes. She’d bring them home and restore them to full health and beauty, then propagate them for sale to other rose lovers—whose numbers continually astonished Grady.

“Hi, Grady,” Savannah finally said. She slowly put aside her hoe before walking out of the garden, stopping to scoop Matthew out of his playpen first.

The child offered Grady a toothy grin, showing off four front teeth. In all his years, Grady didn’t think he’d ever seen a youngster who resembled his father as much as young Matthew did, in personality as well as appearance. Even at nine months, Matthew displayed a stubborn strong-willed nature. Although, come to think of it, Caroline said much the same thing about their son, three-year-old Roy. Except Caroline attributed those traits to Grady, often saying Roy was “just like his dad.”

“Everything all right?” Savannah asked. She sat down at the wrought-iron table outside her garden and motioned him to join her. There was a tray holding a pitcher of iced tea, along with two empty glasses—and again Grady had the feeling she’d been expecting him. She poured tea into both glasses, sliding the second one in his direction.

Grady declined with a shake of his head and remained standing. “I’m here about Richard’s letter,” he said abruptly. He didn’t want to be distracted by social niceties before he’d explained the reason for his visit.

“Yes,” she said with a soft sigh. “It’s been on my mind, too.”

At those words, Grady pulled out the empty chair and sat. “Have you answered him?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you going to?” This was the more important question.

Savannah hesitated. “I...haven’t decided.”

“Don’t,” Grady advised, apparently louder than he’d intended because Laura looked up from her construction project in the sandbox to stare at him.

“He didn’t ask for anything,” Savannah said.

She’d offered to let Grady read the letter, but he’d refused. He wanted nothing to do with Richard. As far as he was concerned, his brother was dead. If Savannah chose to have contact with him, contrary to his advice, that was her choice, but he felt obliged to give her fair warning.

“You know he’s just trying to use you,” Grady muttered. He was well aware of Richard’s game. His brother intended to slither back into their lives a bit at a time. All he had to do was find an opening—and Savannah, with her soft heart, would most likely provide it. Then, once again, Richard would get what he wanted. And he did want something; Grady would stake his life on it. Richard always wanted something.

“He asked us to forgive him,” Savannah said. “I do wish you’d read the letter, Grady.”

“I don’t need to.”

Savannah sipped her tea, but in a way that told him she was concentrating on something else. To his surprise, he noticed a smile edging up the corners of her mouth. “I’d forgotten how hardheaded you can be.”

That reputation annoyed him, especially since he didn’t feel he deserved it. True, he held some firm opinions and stuck to his convictions...but he was willing to listen to argument. He considered himself a fair man. And smart about Richard, if nothing else. He’d been burned one too many times by his worthless brother.

“Take my advice, little sister,” Grady said curtly, wanting to make himself clear, “don’t answer that letter.”

“Oh, Grady, do you honestly believe Richard is incapable of regret?”

“Yeah, I do.” In fact, he didn’t have a single doubt. His brother was a user and an abuser.

“You don’t think three years in prison has taught him anything?”

“Oh, I’m sure it has,” Grady conceded with more than a hint of sarcasm. “I can only imagine everything he’s learned.”

Savannah’s shoulders rose and fell as she sighed again. “He didn’t say, but I had the feeling Richard’s found God.”

Grady snorted, unable to hide his disgust. “They all do.”

A pained look came over her. “Oh, Grady,” she whispered, her eyes full of disappointment. “When did you become this cynical?”

The question didn’t require a response. “Don’t let him use you, Savannah.”

“He’s our brother,” she protested.

“And he’s done nothing but abuse our family and ruin our name. Not once, but twice. Don’t let it happen a third time.” Grady figured he’d said his piece, let her know his thoughts; what he couldn’t do was insist she ignore Richard’s letter. That decision belonged to Savannah alone. With a brief salute and a smile for the children, Grady headed toward his truck.

“Grady!” Savannah called after him.

He turned back and met her gaze.

“How can I not forgive him? That’s all he wants. He’s lonely and he’s asking for news of our family. That’s reasonable, isn’t it?”

This pulled Grady up short. “What did you say?” He returned to the table in just a few strides.

Savannah blinked, apparently surprised at his reaction. “Richard asked me to write him and tell him about the family.”

“The hell you will!” That did it as far as Grady was concerned. He slapped the table hard enough to send pain shooting up his forearm.

Savannah jerked and Matt let out a startled cry. Savannah comforted him and sent Grady an accusing glare. Grady regretted frightening the baby, but he didn’t regret saying what he had.

“Under no circumstances are you to tell Richard anything having to do with Caroline, Maggie, Roy or me. Not one damn word. Is that understood?” Anger churned in his gut.

“But—”

“I mean it, Savannah. Write him if you must. You can bare your soul to him if you’re foolish enough to think he’s changed. But I forbid you to write so much as one word about me or my family.”

“Grady, I’d never—”

Frightened by the loudness of his voice, Laura climbed out of the sandbox and raced toward her mother.

Savannah drew her daughter close. “If I do write him, I won’t mention a word about you, Caroline or the kids.”

He waited for his pulse to return to normal, then nodded. “Thank you.” Sorry he’d frightened his niece and nephew, Grady crouched down to Laura’s level. The little girl tentatively met his eyes.

“You still my favorite girl after Maggie?” he asked, his voice coaxing.

Laura grinned.

“Good. Now give me five.” He held out his palm, which she slapped with her own hand. Standing, Grady kissed the top of Matthew’s head. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“All right,” Savannah answered.

It came to him then, what he needed to say. What he should’ve said earlier. “If Richard’s so keen on seeking our forgiveness, why didn’t he write me, too?”

His sister couldn’t answer that.

* * *

Adam Jordan waited a couple of days before apologizing to Jeannie French; he wanted to give her a chance to cool down before he humiliated himself further. He flushed with embarrassment every time he thought about locking her keys inside her car. It’d been an accident—but he’d acted like an idiot. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d done it in front of Frank Hennessey. He was tempted to hand in his badge. Not that there was any chance Frank would let him.

Parked in his patrol car outside Promise Elementary, Adam waited until the school buses rolled out of the parking lot. A few of the town kids lingered in the playground, swinging on the monkey bars, the same ones he’d swung on as a child. The children stopped when they saw him step out of his car.

One little girl waved and he waved back. Soon the kids were back to playing their games.

Walking through a side entrance, Adam made his way to the first-grade classroom, heavy shoes pounding against the floor. When he got to the room, he glanced inside. Jeannie was busy rinsing paintbrushes at the small sink in a corner of the classroom.

Every time he saw her he found it hard to swallow or even breathe. His heart seemed to speed up as though adrenaline was surging through his body. He supposed it was; after all, that fight-or-flight response was a familiar one to him, given his military background. For twelve years, as part of a close-knit army unit, he’d been capable of making life-and-death decisions. His training had taught him to trust his instincts and to react quickly. Yet whenever he was in the vicinity of Jeannie French, those same instincts clamored that she was the woman he’d been waiting for. A woman to share his life.

His mother had been after him to settle down, not because she feared he couldn’t fend for himself, but because she was blatantly in pursuit of more grandchildren. Adam’s older sister had stopped at one child ten years ago, so the responsibility had fallen upon Adam’s shoulders. Thus far, he’d been a disappointment to Margaret Jordan.

Now that he was back in Promise, his mother’s hints had grown less than subtle. Years ago Adam had come up with a defense, telling Margaret he’d know the woman when he saw her. He wasn’t sure that was true, but it seemed to satisfy his mother, however temporarily.

Then it actually happened. He met Jeannie French, and it felt like a bullet between the eyes. Adam had never experienced anything close to this kind of feeling. His stomach started acting up, he couldn’t sleep and every ounce of finesse he’d ever possessed deserted him. Here he was: a man who could leap out of a plane, rope a calf and curse in five languages. But when it came to asking Jeannie out on a date, he reverted to the insecure teenage boy of twelve years ago.

What puzzled Adam was the realization that, objectively speaking, Jeannie couldn’t even be described as beautiful. Attractive, perhaps pretty, but she certainly didn’t have a face or figure that would stop traffic. She was average in height and weight. About five-five, maybe five-six with shoes. Mid-length brown hair, brown eyes. Round face with a small mole just above her lip on the left side. Kind of cute, he’d say. And sweet-natured. A perfect teacher for first-grade students. He’d dated women far more beautiful, far more sophisticated, but not one of them stood out in his mind the way Jeannie did.

She must have felt his scrutiny because she turned around and met his look, mild surprise showing in her eyes.

“Hello, again,” Adam said.

“Sheriff Jordan.” Glancing away, she straightened, then set the clean paintbrushes aside as if she wasn’t completely comfortable around him.

After everything that had happened, Adam didn’t blame her. He stepped into the room, prepared to begin his apology. “I thought I’d come by and make sure you didn’t have any problems with...” His voice faded when he realized he made no sense. She’d been driving back and forth to school in the same car all week, so clearly there’d been no trouble because of his stupid trick.

“Everything’s fine,” Jeannie told him. She pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and wiped the brushes dry before storing them upright in a glass jar.

“I, uh, wanted to let you know how sorry I was for causing you any inconvenience.” Adam could feel the heat gathering around his ears.

“You couldn’t possibly have known I’d tossed the car keys under the driver’s seat,” she was quick to assure him, which gave Adam hope. “It’s a dumb habit, I know.”

“We don’t have much crime to speak of here in Promise, but it’s a good idea not to tempt fate. You wouldn’t want to make it easy for someone to steal your vehicle.” Adam relaxed, grateful that her annoyance had faded since he’d last seen her.

“You’re right, of course,” she said politely. “I’ll be more cautious in the future.”

She seemed to be waiting for him to leave, even wanting him to go. Instead, Adam walked between a row of impossibly small desks. “Mrs. Schneider was my first-grade teacher,” he announced and instantly wanted to kick himself. He must have sounded like an idiot. He’d been looking for a way to make conversation, to gradually introduce the question he wanted to ask. He should have known better. Small talk wasn’t his forte.

Jeannie folded her arms and nodded.

“Since you’re new, I, uh, wasn’t sure anyone told you the sheriff’s office generally meets with the elementary students every year. Either Deputy Green or I’ll be making an appearance within the next month or so.”

“Oh. Well, that’s a good idea.”

“We want the students to know the sheriff is their friend.” He yearned to tell her he wanted to be her friend, too, but couldn’t figure out how to do that without sounding like he was making a pass. Which basically he was, only he’d rather not be so obvious about it.

“I’m sure the children will enjoy your visit very much.” She remained standing with her arms folded. She continued to look as if she was waiting for him to leave, but he ignored her signals. This was the longest conversation they’d had without a major embarrassment on his part, and he wanted to take advantage of it.

“I...hate to be rude,” she said after a moment, “but I have a dentist appointment at four this afternoon.” She glanced at the clock.

Adam’s spirits sank. Ask her, his mind shouted. A movie on Friday night, perhaps dinner afterward. Just how difficult could it be to get the words out?

“Before you go,” he said quickly, then remembered he was the one expected to leave. “Actually, I’ll be going, not you.... I was thinking—no, I mean hoping, that you’d let me make it up to you.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Locking your car keys inside your car.”

“Sheriff, really, it isn’t necessary.” She refused to meet his eyes, which flustered him even more.

“How about dinner on Friday night?”

“Sheriff...”

“If not dinner, maybe you’d be interested in seeing a movie. I hope you like butter on your popcorn.”

“I love buttered popcorn.” Her eyes softened with a smile, and Adam saw for the first time how truly beautiful her big brown eyes were. Jeannie French wasn’t the least bit ordinary; she was beautiful, stunningly so. Funny he hadn’t recognized that earlier.

“Great.” He felt like leaping up and slamming his hand against the door frame, the way he’d done in sixth grade. “How about dinner and a movie? I’ll pick you up around five on Friday and we’ll catch the early show at the theater and then go out—oh, maybe to the Chili Pepper. What do you think?” He wanted to groan at the thought of all these wasted months. They should’ve been dating since at least January. The only reason they weren’t was that he’d been a fool—and a repeat offender, at that.

“Oh, Adam—”

It was the first time she’d used his given name, and she made it sound like the most incredible name a man could have.

“—I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she continued awkwardly.

“No?” Surely there was some mistake. He waited for her to explain.

“There’re some people who just don’t...gel together,” she blurted. “Certain people who aren’t meant to be more than friends. I’m honored that you asked me out, but I just can’t see the two of us...dating.” She paused and glanced guiltily in his direction, as if to determine the amount of damage her words had inflicted. “Don’t misunderstand me—I like you.”

“Obviously not enough.”

“I’m sorry....”

“Listen, Jeannie, if you don’t want to go out with me, all you have to do is say so.” Which she had. Adam set his hat back on his head and hurried for the door, eager to escape.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

In an effort to save face, Adam shrugged as though it was of little consequence. “No harm in asking.”

“None,” she agreed earnestly. “It was very nice of you to be so understanding.”

Adam didn’t think that remark deserved a response and made a quick getaway.

Driving through town, he stopped at his father’s western-wear shop. He should have known, Adam decided. Women like Jeannie French didn’t date guys like him. Hey, maybe she had a boyfriend in Brewster. Some cowboy or other. She hadn’t said so, but it was certainly possible. And just his luck.

“How’s life treating you?” Max Jordan asked when Adam walked in.

“Fair,” Adam muttered, suddenly wondering why he’d bothered with this impromptu visit.

Max Jordan leaned both elbows on the counter and studied him.

“What?” Adam demanded sharply.

Max sighed heavily. “She turned you down, didn’t she?”

“Who?”

“That new teacher you’ve had your eye on for the past six months. You finally worked up your courage to ask her out, and then she turned you down.”

“You know how I feel about Jeannie?”

“Are you kidding? Half the town knows.”

Great, just great. No wonder Jeannie had been rushing him out the door. She knew how he felt—just like everyone else in town, apparently—and had been trying to spare him further embarrassment.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Adam told his father, disgusted with himself for not having figured it out sooner. It’d taken thirty years to find the right woman, only to learn she wasn’t interested in him.