Читать книгу That Maddening Man - Debrah Morris, Debrah Morris - Страница 11

While Jack steered the truck in and out of winding hairpin curves with practiced ease, Ellin fielded Lizzie’s questions and faked intense interest in the country landscape. Having spent her entire life within city limits, she was not accustomed to seeing nature as it was in northwestern Arkansas. Trees and gnarled underbrush flourished with in-your-face abandon just beyond the reach of highway brush-cutting crews.

Brown and russet leaves carpeted the ground beneath winter-bare trees. Oaks, hickories and bois d’arcs stretched gray limbs toward the pale, cloudless sky. Tall pines and squat cedars splashed the drab hillsides with waves of green.

Across the valley, the land rolled to the horizon in a crazy quilt of muted colors. Here and there, wispy columns of smoke spiraled from chimneys and flues and drifted lazily above the treetops.

“How much longer?” Lizzie bounced on the seat, unable to contain her excitement.

“Nearly there.” Jack flipped on the turn signal and angled off the highway onto a rocky track that wound through the trees. When they came to a heavy gate secured with a looped chain, he stopped, set the brake, and jumped out to release the padlock. The gate swung wide.

“Holy-moley! Is this a road?” Ellin asked skeptically as the truck began its bone-jarring climb up the hill.

“Actually it’s an old dry stream bed.” He explained the property belonged to his sister and brother-in-law who’d given him permission to cut a tree from an upland meadow. “They had the bed leveled to make it easier to get in and out.”

“You call this level?” Ellin braced her hand against the dash. “And easier?”

“For these parts, it is.” Jack drove carefully. He didn’t want to blow a tire or knock the front wheels out of alignment. “Jana and Ted drive SUVs,” he said. “They don’t have any trouble getting up to Crazy Bear Holler.”

“Crazy Bear Holler?” Lizzie giggled. “That’s a silly name.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Jack grinned down at the little girl. “But back in the 1800s a mean old bear terrorized the homesteads around here. The men tried tracking it down with dogs, but they couldn’t find his trail.”

“’Cause it was a crazy bear,” Lizzie put in.

“That’s right.” Jack went on in his storyteller voice. “That bear caused a lot of trouble. Then one morning, a settler’s wife caught him raiding her chicken coop.”

“What did she do?” Lizzie’s eyes widened.

“Well, she didn’t like it one bit that he was stealing her chickens. So she grabbed up the shotgun and filled his ornery old hide full of buckshot. He ran off and no one ever saw him again.”

“Good for her.” Ellin smiled at him over Lizzie’s head. “Never underestimate the wrath of a ticked-off pioneer woman.”

Jack laughed. “Or any woman, for that matter. That’s always been my policy.”

“Oh, I get it,” Lizzie said. “It’s called Crazy Bear Holler ’cause the lady made the crazy bear holler.”

Careful not to discount the little girl’s conclusion, he explained that in Arkansas, the valleys between hills were known as hollows, but most people called them hollers.

“Does your sister’s family live out here?” Ellin’s tone clearly expressed her opinion of extreme living.

“No. They have a place in town. They plan to build a house here later, when the kids are older. Laurel’s just a year old and they have a boy almost five.”

“What’s his name?” Lizzie asked.

“Colton. Maybe you’d like to play with him sometime.”

“I might,” she allowed. “Does he like princesses?”

“I’m sure he does.”

“Does your sister work?” asked Ellin.

Jack nodded. “According to Jana, all mothers work. Besides taking care of the kids and the house, she has a bookkeeping and accounting business.”

“Are her children in day care?”

“She leaves them with a lady in town. Mrs. Kendall.”

“I’ll need a sitter for Lizzie,” Ellin said. “Ida Faye was planning to watch her, but that’s out of the question for the time being. Do you think your sister would recommend someone?”

“I’ll ask her. Or better yet, I’ll introduce you, and you can ask her yourself.” Jack wanted the two women to meet so his twin would see how wrong she was about Ellin. He had no doubt the self-assured woman beside him could be a pain if the occasion demanded, but he didn’t think she actually was one. A small, but important, distinction.

“You’ve always lived in Washington?”

She gave the question an accusatory spin, like a cross-examining prosecutor. So, Mr. Madden, you would have this court believe vanilla is the only ice cream flavor you’ve ever tasted?

“Born and raised,” he said with a sly challenge.

“I suppose you went to school locally, as well?”

Come now, Mr. Madden, have you never been tempted to try chocolate? Or strawberry? What about Rocky Road?

Objection, Your Honor. Pressuring the witness. “I earned a bachelor’s degree at the University of Arkansas. I traveled a bit before completing postgraduate work at Stanford.”

She looked skeptical, like she could produce DNA evidence to the contrary. “You have an advanced degree? From Stanford?”

Jack nodded solemnly. A less secure man might be affronted by her surprise, but he rather enjoyed it. “You’d be amazed at the number of closet educated people in Arkansas. Gotta protect that possum-eating hillbilly image Hollywood gave us.”

“I intended no offense.” Her pretty flush assured him she meant it.

“None taken.” Jack had to watch the rugged road, but he glanced in her direction often. He enjoyed looking at Ellin Bennett, making little discoveries about her. Like the dimple that appeared at one corner of her mouth when she smiled a certain way. The tiny white scar that bisected the tip of her left brow. The canine that lapped ever so slightly over its neighbor. Getting to know her was akin to opening a brightly wrapped gift box and finding another one inside—a never-ending surprise. The suspense was killing him.

He’d already learned some interesting things about her. She was an attentive mother. She actually said “holy-moley.” She was city-bred but knew how to dress for a trip to the woods. And she was trying hard to conceal her nervousness. He suspected she was not often ill at ease, and it pleased him to think he made her fidget like a four-year-old.

He would have been sorely disappointed if she hadn’t been tipped a little off-balance when she met him sans Santa suit. She needed to have her strong opinions challenged once in a while, and he believed he was just the man to do it.

He liked her hair down. Restrained by a skier’s headband, it tumbled to her shoulders in glorious brown waves, as soft as he imagined and smelling of wildflowers. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel. Even on such a short acquaintance, he understood her well enough to know she would not appreciate him reaching over and sifting his fingers through the silky strands. But that was exactly what he wanted to do.

“You said you traveled after college. Any place in particular?”

“Africa.” He didn’t elaborate and hoped she wouldn’t press for details.

“Really? And you decided to live here?”

You claim you actually tried Rocky Road, Mr. Madden, and prefer vanilla? Yes, prosecutor. Guilty as charged. “I like Washington. My friends are here, my family’s here. I love my work. Why wouldn’t I want to stay?”

She shrugged. “There’s a whole world out there.”

“Yep, and I’ll stick with Washington. You sound like Jana. It’s okay for her to settle down here, but she thinks I’m a slacker because I want to.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t think that.”

Jack laughed. “She not only thinks it, she broadcasts it to the public on a regular basis. I’m surprised she hasn’t taken out an ad.” He drew a banner headline in the air with one hand. “Jack Madden Is Not Fulfilling His Potential. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

She shook her head. “I’m an only child, born before mom realized how time-consuming motherhood would be. My parents divorced when I was ten.”

Insight based on teaching experience and intuition gave Jack a glimpse of Ellin as a little girl, lonely and desperate for parental attention. He’d seen it before. When the acceptance they craved wasn’t forthcoming, some kids acted out. Others withdrew. The smart ones, the survivors, found comfort in achievement.

“Jana and I are twins,” he said. “She thinks sharing a womb and being born first gives her squatter’s rights on my destiny.”

“You two must be very close.”

He nodded. “Yeah, we are.” It would be hard to explain twinship to someone without a sibling. He liked to complain about Jana’s well-intentioned meddling, it was part of the game they played. But he couldn’t imagine living without her or the other noisy, nosy members of his extended family.

“Your parents are here, I take it?”

“Yep. Hal and Mary. They run a chicken farm a few miles south of town. I’ll have to show you two their operation sometime. It’s all automated. Up to date. Very impressive.”

“I don’t know.” Ellin inclined her head in Lizzie’s direction. “I’m afraid if she finds out where drumsticks and chicken nuggets really come from, she won’t want to eat them.”

“They don’t raise chickens for the packing plant,” he said. “They sell eggs.”

“Oh, that’s different. A trip to a real egg farm might be very educational.”

“I recall Ida Faye saying your dad passed away a few years back, but what about your mother?”

“She finally left Chicago for Phoenix. Said she was tired of snow. She sells commercial real estate.”

Interesting that she described her mother by occupation, as though what a person did for a living revealed the most about them. But that fit with what he’d heard about Ellin. She was more than just career-minded; getting ahead was more important to her than getting along.

Had her drive to succeed undermined her marriage? According to Ida Faye, it had ended more than two years ago. Before he could ask about it, Lizzie interrupted with another question.

“Do deers live in these woods?” She looked around hopefully.

“Sure, they do. Lots of them.” Jack parked the truck in a small meadow dotted with young cedars. In the summertime the grass fairly glowed with yellow wildflowers, but now, a week before Christmas, it was dry and brown, limned by frost.

“Reindeers?”

“No. Just little whitetails.”

“Can we see some?”

“Maybe. They come down to drink at the creek in the evening. We might see some there.”

“Goody.” Lizzie clapped her mittened hands at the prospect.

Ellin picked up the thread of their conversation as though trying to settle something in her mind. “You say you like it here and all, but haven’t you ever just wanted, well, more?”

Jack switched off the engine. She seemed to think not wanting more meant settling for less. He’d have to set her straight about that. He smiled as he turned to face her and cocked his elbow on the seat behind Lizzie.

“I never said I didn’t want more.” He caught her gaze and held it. “I do. I just don’t happen to think I have to go somewhere else to find it.”

Ellin watched fondly as Lizzie ran around the meadow like a puppy kept too long in a box. She flitted from one tree to the next, crying “How about this one?”

Jack had a way with her little girl. Carrying his ax Paul Bunyan-style over his sturdy shoulder, he followed her around, making a show of seriously considering each of her ill-advised choices. Even a twenty-foot-tall pine. He didn’t talk down to her or discount her childish opinions. He asked questions that made her think. Then he guided her to logical conclusions.

And he made it all look effortless. Maybe his skill was a result of his teacher’s training or dealing with children on a daily basis. Or maybe he was just a nice guy with a good heart. Whatever it was, it was certainly refreshing. She’d dated very little since her divorce, having finally decided she was not marriage material. The child-friendly men she met considered her too career-focused, and fellow workaholics resented the time she spent with her daughter.

Her ex-husband, Andrew, fell into the latter category. If he could relate to his only child as this stranger did, things might have turned out differently for their dysfunctional little family. If he had found joy in his daughter instead of viewing her as a noisome distraction, they might have overcome their other problems. If they’d found common ground as Lizzie’s parents, maybe they wouldn’t have had to compete in every other aspect of their lives.

Visitation was part of the divorce agreement, but her ex-husband expressed little interest in exercising that right. She’d called him on it last year when he announced his move to Seattle. He’d shrugged it off, saying, “maybe in a few years when she’s older and not so much bother.” The selfish fool didn’t seem to understand, or maybe he didn’t care, that unlike having the tires rotated, bonding with a child wasn’t something he could postpone until a more convenient time.

The tree hunters interrupted her thoughts. “And we have a winner!” Jack called out with game show host enthusiasm. He indicated their choice with a sweeping Vannaesque gesture.

Lizzie danced around the little cedar, setting the pom pom on the end of her stocking cap into motion. “Isn’t it pretty, Mommy?”

“Yes, very,” Ellin agreed. “Smells good, too.”

“Yep. I picked it out all by myself.” Lizzie turned to Jack who was waiting with ax in hand and issued one of her royal edicts. “Okay, you can start choppin’ now.”

He winked at Ellin. Then pretending to spit in his hands, he rubbed them together and swung the ax dramatically. After a few solid whacks, he yelled “Timber!” and the four-foot-tall tree toppled to the ground.

“This is my bestest Christmas tree ever,” Lizzie pronounced over the fallen evergreen. She insisted on helping Jack carry it to the truck.

Ellin brought up the rear. She’d been right to come on this little jaunt, even if Jack’s startling transformation from jolly old gentleman to sexy young hunk had rattled her. Lizzie was having the time of her life. The discomfort of her own reluctant physical awareness was a small price to pay for her little girl’s giggles.

Besides, she was probably making too much of it. So what if Jack Madden lifted her spirits and made her heart beat a little faster? She hadn’t been in a serious relationship for over two years. What felt like chemistry might just be hungry hormones yearning for action. Instant attraction wasn’t reliable, nor was it always mutual.

Jack had been more attentive to Lizzie than to her. He hadn’t said or done anything to make her think his interest was anything other than neighborly. And that was just the way she wanted it.

Right?

The expedition was a resounding success. Not only did they locate the perfect Christmas tree, Jack paused on the trip down the hill to point out a family of deer browsing in the brush. The wildlife sighting propelled Lizzie over the top, and her heartfelt declaration of “I love this place” gave Ellin something else to worry about: how her daughter would react in three months when it was time to leave.

It was dark by the time they returned to Ida Faye’s. Jack carried the tree inside and clamped it into a metal stand while Ellin peeled Lizzie out of her snowsuit. Pudgy greeted them by bouncing around the living room, his yapper on full throttle.

Jack set the tree up in front of the picture window and Lizzie helped him fluff out the lacy branches. The scent of cedar soon filled the room.

“Can we decorate it now, Mommy? Can I put the angel on top? Can Jack help?”

“Oh, I think we’ve imposed long enough.” Ellin stood behind her daughter, her hands on the thin shoulders as though using the child as a buffer between them. “We can’t ask him to give up his entire evening. I’m sure he has other things to do.”

Lizzie’s upturned face swiveled from Ellin to Jack. “Do ya?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I’m free as a bird.”

Lizzie turned back to her mother. “See. He can stay and help me put the angel on top. I’m hungry. Can you cook some pasketti? Can Jack eat wif us? Huh, Mommy?”

Ellin groaned inwardly. This was not good. Jack was easy to talk to, and she’d been so lonely these past weeks. But the tree quest was taking on definite datelike dimensions, something she’d vowed to avoid. She didn’t want him to stay but was even more reluctant to see him go. A dilemma if ever there was one.

Lizzie did not share her reservations. “Don’t you want to eat wif us, Jack? Aren’t ya hungry?”

“Well,” he admitted, “I worked up quite an appetite with all that chopping.”

Lizzie beamed with satisfaction. “See? That means he’s hungry, too. Go make pasketti now.”

Jack laughed. Ellin sighed in exasperation and made a rolling gesture of obeisance. “Yes, your Royal Munchkinness. Your wish is my command.”

“Okay.” Lizzie ducked behind Ellin and pushed her into Ida Faye’s little kitchen. Jack started to follow, but she latched on to his hand and pulled him toward the couch. “You stay in here and read me a story.”

“Yes, ma’am, princess.”

Ellin gave him an apologetic look. “Can you tell she’s used to getting her way?”

“I’d say she comes by it naturally.”

“Can I take your coat?”

He slipped out of the dark blue seaman’s jacket and handed it to her. Her heart thumped with another little thrill of appreciation. Just as she’d feared. There was a nice broad chest under the cable-knit sweater. And firm biceps. With his cold-burnished cheeks and wayward hair, he looked like that virile Old Spice sailor, home from the stormy sea. After a long voyage without female companionship and rife with desire.

Holey-moley. What was her problem? The guy was just being himself. Maybe that was the trouble. “I’ll just be a little while.” She headed for the kitchen before he could see how her own imagination affected her.

He glanced up from the couch where Lizzie had heaped her favorite picture books and smiled. Darn. Now he looked like a kindly Father Goose. Bad Ellin. She had to get those errant, needy thoughts under control.

“Take your time,” he told her. “We have plenty to keep us busy out here.”

She put pasta on to boil, then peeked into the living room. Jack sat with Lizzie snuggled comfortably in the crook of his arm, an open book on his lap. He was in the middle of a dramatic reading of The Story of the Three Little Pigs in which he somehow managed to make the Big Bad Wolf sound like a regular guy. How the heck did he do it?

After a simple dinner of spaghetti and salad, Jack helped Ellin carry the box of Christmas ornaments in from the garage. He sat in Ida Faye’s recliner with a cup of coffee in his hand and Pudgy in his lap and watched the Bennett girls decorate their tree. He imagined Jana’s reaction when she called for a full report of the day’s events and found he still wasn’t home. It would drive her nuts and serve her right.

Funny, he’d only known Ellin and Lizzie a few hours, and yet he felt strangely at ease. Being here with them gave him that familiar, déjà vu feeling that thrilled and frightened at the same time. He knew there was something right and logical about meeting them. Something fateful. As though the sequence of events that led them out of Chicago and into his life had been carefully orchestrated for his benefit.