Читать книгу The Rebel Rancher - DONNA ALWARD, Donna Alward - Страница 9

AS MUCH AS CLARA LOVED her job at Diamondback, Virgil’s care was not enough for the full-time hours she was paid. Sometimes she felt like a glorified housekeeper. Not that it was a problem, but one of these days Molly was going to let her go and she’d have to find a new job. She would probably have to leave Cadence Creek; her stay at Butterfly House was only temporary until she could get on her feet. She’d been squirreling away money, but it cost a lot for an apartment and all the furniture she’d need.

She needed this job for as long as it held out and she was going to wring every drop out of the opportunity.

But for now she was sitting in one of the spare rooms, needle and thimble in hand, making tiny, even stitches in Molly’s latest quilt.

She enjoyed doing things with her hands. As a girl she’d learned to cross-stitch and knit; she and her mother had spent evenings in front of the television working on little projects. It had been her mom’s way of unwinding after working all day in an office, and it had been Clara’s way of spending time with her mom.

She’d spent a lot of time thinking about her mom lately. She’d learned so much from her mother, but the lesson that Clara carried now was how she had always insisted that a woman needed a way to support herself. No matter what, Wendy Ferguson had put in a good day’s work and still had time for her kids. As Clara fed the needle through the fabric, she missed her mother something terrible. She talked to Ty about mending fences, so maybe once she was settled she’d reach out to Wendy, too. Maybe they could be a part of each other’s lives again.

But for now Molly sat across from Clara, her own needle flashing in and out as she made stitches on the patterned lines of fabric.

“It’s almost ready to roll,” Molly remarked, tying off her thread and moving to cut a new piece.

The quilt was tied onto old-fashioned wood frames with metal brackets holding the corners. Once they’d quilted as far as they could reach comfortably, the frame would be rolled in and clamped tight. When it was all done Molly would bind the perimeter. But that was weeks away yet, especially since they only sneaked the occasional hour to work on it.

“It’s beautiful,” Clara replied. “The burgundy-and-green pattern is stunning against the cream.”

They stitched for a few more moments, but Clara got the sense that Molly wanted to say something. She shifted in her chair and there was a tension around them that usually didn’t exist. Clara’s fingers tightened on the needle. Did Molly have a concern about Virgil’s care? Or was it something else? Molly, along with the rest of Cadence Creek, had surely seen Clara run from Ty at the wedding. She’d probably seen how close they’d danced, too. And she would be foolish to think the older woman hadn’t noticed the strain around the house since his arrival. There was no question that despite breaking the ice, Clara and Ty still tiptoed around each other.

“Is something wrong, Molly?”

Molly put down her needle and sighed. “I suppose so, Clara. I find myself feeling a little bit selfish these days.”

Molly? Selfish? Impossible. Clara tied off her thread and snipped it with the scissors. “I don’t think you know how to be selfish, Molly.” She smiled, but inside she was feeling a bit uneasy.

“No, I am,” she admitted. “I have gotten used to having you here. I like having you here. And I have taken terrible advantage of you.”

Clara’s head swam with confusion. Advantage? She had so much to thank Molly for. If anything, Clara felt like she was taking advantage of the Diamonds’ generosity. “You gave me a job when I needed one, Molly. You made me feel welcome from the moment I arrived.”

“Virgil’s care is not a full-time job, Clara, and I feel I’ve kept you here when you might have found another better position somewhere else. And I’ve kept you for my own selfish reasons that have nothing to do with medical care.”

A cold line of dread snuck down Clara’s spine. Was this Molly’s gentle way of letting her go? She could look for something else, but it would mean she’d be even longer getting into her own place. She swallowed against the growing lump in her throat. It wasn’t just the money either. She’d come to care for Molly and Virgil very much. She already knew it was going to be difficult to say goodbye when the time came.

Molly sighed and began stitching again. “I never had a daughter around, you see. Never had someone to cook with or talk to or sit and quilt with. It was all boys all the time, and I’ve enjoyed having you here so much. But you’re a nurse, Clara, not a hired companion. I just want you to know that if you were to find another position it’s okay. I’d miss you, but I’d understand.”

Clara swallowed again as relief made her wilt on the inside. “You’re not letting me go, then?”

Molly lifted startled eyes to Clara’s. “Heavens, no! Was that what you thought?”

Clara’s cheeks heated. “I thought you were letting me down easy.”

“Oh, goodness.” Molly’s eyes softened with compassion. “We all adore you. But this is about you, not us.”

All adore her? She doubted it. Obviously Molly hadn’t included Ty in that equation. Since their talk things had been a bit easier, but it was a long way from being totally comfortable, and adoration was a joke.

“I’ll stay as long as you feel Virgil needs my help,” she replied carefully. “Honestly, Molly, sometimes I feel guilty taking a paycheck.” She offered a smile.

“How much longer are you staying at Butterfly House, then?” Molly didn’t look up but her stitches seemed to slow.

“I’ve been saving up for my own place,” Clara explained. “The program is great, but if I can find an apartment, that frees up my spot for someone else who needs it more.”

Molly’s voice remained conversational as she stitched along a dark green leaf. “This job could easily include room and board.”

Clara’s heart leapt. Oh, that was generous and so very Molly. And a few weeks ago she might have accepted—especially with Angela and Sam getting married and moving into their new house soon. But now there was Ty. It shouldn’t matter that he lived here now, too, but somehow it did.

“Oh, Molly, that’s so kind of you to offer, but I can’t do that. You’ve been far too good to me already.”

Molly’s soft eyes met hers. “You’re already like one of the family. It doesn’t make sense for you to have to scrimp and save when there is plenty of room here.”

But there was every reason, and not just because of Ty. “I wouldn’t hurt your feelings for the world, so I hope when I say that this is something I need to do on my own—on my own two feet—you understand. I know you’re offering from your heart, and that means so much.” Her throat tightened with emotion. “But I can’t stay here. I need my own place, my own space. And even though I know you don’t mean it that way, I would feel a bit like a charity case.”

“Of course I understand.” Molly smiled. “I told you I was being selfish. And I’ll confess, I’m a bit relieved that you’re not going anywhere for a while. You’ve made all our lives easier.”

Except Ty’s, Clara thought dryly. She put her needle to work again. Every time he came into a room where she was, he got this weird look on his face before masking it away.

And despite her assertions that she needed independence, she knew darn well she’d be tempted to take up the offer if it didn’t mean being faced with Ty twenty-four-seven. Morning, noon and night. Running into each other in the hallways. Sleeping down the hall from each other…

That thought made something delicious hum inside her and that was how she knew it was trouble. Trouble she wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole.

They worked together until they’d each finished the side they were stitching. Molly took a few moments to check on Virgil, who was watching television, and came back with Ty in tow.

“Look who I found hovering around the doughnut jar. Just the help we need to roll the quilt.”

Ty’s eyes met hers and their gazes caught for one breathless moment. Goodness, she didn’t know why he had the power to make her feel all fizzy and flustered. He looked so ordinary, after all, dressed in plain jeans and a plaid work shirt, with his hair still slightly messy. One of Ty’s eyebrows rose as he spoke to Molly but kept his gaze locked on Clara. “I haven’t rolled a quilt since …”

“Since you were a teenager and still at home, and you and Sam did the rolling while I put on the clamps,” Molly finished.

Ty looked down on the top of Molly’s head. Clara hid a smile. Ty was what, close to thirty? It had to be constricting for a grown man to be back in his childhood bed again after years of living on his own.

“I haven’t forgotten how,” he replied, going to one end of the quilt. “Mom, you and I can roll and Clara can do the clamps.”

Molly braced her hip against one of the frame pieces and held everything taut while Clara removed the clamps. Then together Molly and Tyson pulled the fabric tight and rolled it under—once, twice, three times.