Читать книгу Mending Fences - Jenna Mindel - Страница 11

That Saturday evening, Laura returned from the hospital to find a moving truck parked in the drive. Two men and Jack unloaded boxes and plastic-wrapped furniture into the clean and empty barn. A tall, lanky girl with one long, dark braid sat on the porch swing looking lost.

Laura parked her car and put up the top just in case it rained. The weather had been hot and humid. She eyed the girl on the porch who watched the movers with annoyance. Poor kid.

“You must be Jack’s daughter.” Keeping her distance, Laura sat on the top step of the porch. “My name is Laura.”

“Mine’s Angie,” the girl said softly.

Sensing the kid’s reluctance to chat, Laura didn’t want to push. She rose to leave, but the stark grief pooled in the girl’s blue eyes stopped her cold.

“Moving is tough,” Laura quickly said. “My mom’s lived here for thirty-three years. She’s in the hospital right now and hates it. I tried to get her to move into an old folk’s home but she said she’d rather live in a barn. I can’t blame her a bit. Barns probably smell better.”

She spotted Jack coming toward them. She cringed when she realized the kid had reduced her to rambling. Besides, Laura’s heart went out to her. “Have you seen the inside of the apartment yet?”

Angie nodded and rolled her eyes.

Ouch.

Jack stepped onto the porch, his color high. “Laura, this is my daughter, Angie.”

“We’ve met. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to fix you dinner, but I’m no gourmet cook. Either of you like macaroni salad and sandwiches?” Laura didn’t know where that offer had come from, but it seemed like the neighborly thing to do.

Angie shrugged her shoulders. She looked like she wanted to disappear.

“Come on, Ange, what do you say to Ms. Toivo?” Jack said.

A teenager living in a barn, even with a cute little apartment, was not a good idea. Angie probably thought her father had taken leave of whatever sense he might possess by moving up here.

“Please, no need to call me that. Makes me sound like an old lady.” She looked at Angie, hoping Jack didn’t mind that she’d just counteracted his instructions. “Just Laura, okay?”

“Okay.” Angie glanced back at her dad.

Jack didn’t look confident about what to do with her, but his eyes narrowed in some form of communication.

His daughter evidently understood. With a sigh, she rose from the bench swing. “Point me to your pots and pans. I can help.”

Laura unlocked the door to the kitchen. “Good, because I need all the help I can get.”

“Ange, you go on ahead with Laura. I’ll finish unloading. We don’t have much more,” Jack said.

Angie nodded, but her shoulders drooped.

Laura had heard that junior high girls might as well be aliens. One of the tech guys at work constantly complained about his daughter’s changing attitudes—nice one minute, grouchy the next. She couldn’t blame Angie. Who’d want to move here anyway?

“Your dad said you lived in East Lansing—anywhere near Michigan State? That’s a pretty college campus.”

No answer, just a shrug of skinny shoulders as they went inside.

“Living in the country will grow on you, kind of like mold.” Laura released a nervous laugh.

No response, not even a hint of a smile.

Great. Laura set her purse on the kitchen table. “So—” She clapped her hands together. “Are you good with a knife?”

Angie looked surprised. “I guess.”

Laura opened the refrigerator. “Let’s see, carrots, cukes, pickles, celery and hard-boiled eggs. You can cut these up into a big bowl. I’ll start the pasta and sandwiches.”

“Where’s your big bowls?”

Laura looked through her mother’s cupboards and found some. “How’s this?”

“Fine.”

Laura kept busy. She gathered the fixings for turkey sandwiches and then grabbed a pot, causing all the other pans to rattle and spill out of the cupboard. She glanced at Angie. A ghost of a smile hovered at the corners of the girl’s lips.

“Do you live here?” Angie’s quiet voice asked.

“No. This is my mother’s house.”

“What’s the matter with her—your mom?”

Laura heard the slight tremor in Angie’s voice. It still hurt. Of course it did. Laura still felt twinges when she thought of her dad. She filled the pot with water and set it on the burner. “She had a stroke. Her blood pressure’s too high for her to come home yet.”

“Oh.”

Laura dumped macaroni into the pot and turned on the gas. She knew Angie watched her every move as she slathered a piece of bread. “Do you like mayo? I didn’t think to ask.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you like to drink? I’ve got milk, Diet Coke and prune juice.” Laura looked at Angie, hoping for a smile.

Nothing. And then finally, “Milk’s fine.”

Laura set the table when a hissing sound caught her attention. She turned in time to see bubbling water foam over the rim of the pot and onto the stove. The gas burner flared red. Laura ran to grab the pot, and gasped when she burned her fingers.

Angie actually laughed. “You put the pasta in too soon. You’ve got to wait until the water boils.”

Laura finally relaxed. “Why didn’t you tell me? I make macaroni like, never.”

Angie laughed again. “I used to make macaroni and cheese from the box all the time, but now we get the microwave kind.”

“I didn’t know there was a microwave kind.” Laura’s meals were either eaten out, ordered in or frozen entrees.

“Don’t you cook?” Angie asked.

“I do breakfast. Eggs and toast.”

Angie shook her head then took over. She fished in a drawer for potholders, grabbed the hot pot and dumped the contents into the colander.

“Hey, you know what you’re doing,” Laura said.

Angie ran the noodles under cold water. “I help with dinner at home.”

Laura stepped closer and peeked into the sink. “Are they done?”

“They’re okay.”

Laura fished a limp noodle from the colander and popped it in her mouth. “I guess they’ll have to do.”

“It’ll taste better once I mix in the veggies, eggs and mayo.”

“Obviously, you’ve done this before,” Laura said.

Angie gave her a “the artist isn’t finished” look. “Salt and pepper?”

“Whoa.” Laura jumped when the screen door suddenly slammed shut with a gust of wind. She didn’t realize it had been left open.

Then Angie screeched.

“What’s the matter?” Laura’s heart jumped into her throat.

“What is that?”

Laura saw a small black form dart through the kitchen. “It’s just a bat.”

“Eeeeew, gross,” Angie breathed.

“He won’t hurt you,” Laura said.

“I must have left the screen open,” Angie whined. “Can you get it out?”

Laura took control by fetching a plastic bowl. She’d chased bats out of her mother’s house ever since she was a kid. It was no big deal. She placed her finger on her lips and crept into the living room.

“But I thought bats were deaf,” Angie whispered.

“No, they’re blind. They use radar or something to fly.” Laura quietly closed the door to the upstairs, then the door to the laundry room and spare room. And then waited for the bat to land.

Angie ducked under a magazine she grabbed from the coffee table when the black ball of fur zoomed through the air. But she stayed quiet.

The minutes ticked by until finally the bat gripped a torn piece of wallpaper in the dining room.

Angie’s eyes went wide as plates, when Laura lifted the large bowl overhead. “What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see.” Laura tiptoed toward the bat.

Angie scooted behind Laura, not wanting to be left alone in the open.

“Don’t move,” Laura breathed.

Angie folded herself into Laura’s back. “I won’t.”

Laura cupped the bowl against the wall, trapping the bat underneath. It flapped then settled down. “Get me that macaroni box. Open it flat so I can slip it between the wall and the bowl.”

Angie looked unsure, but she ran to the kitchen and returned with a flattened box.

Laura kept one hand on the bowl and wedged the cardboard underneath the rim.

“You did it,” Angie said with a trace of awe.

“Yup.” Laura headed for the porch. She set the bowl down and lifted the cardboard lid, then stepped back. The bat flew out against a darkening, angry-looking sky.

“Is it gone?” Angie whispered from the other side of the screen door.

“Yes.”

“I thought bats only came out at night.”

“Usually just before dark, to get the bugs. I think they’re cute.”

“You’re crazy. They make nests in your hair and stink.”

Laura laughed. “Who told you that?”

Angie shrugged. “I dunno. Isn’t it true?”

“Nope, not true. You’ll get used to them.”

Angie didn’t look like she believed Laura, but she sighed. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to get used to.”

Jack wiped his hands on his shirt. “Are you guys sure you won’t stay for a bite to eat?” He overstepped Laura’s invitation by offering food to the movers, but it had taken longer than he thought to finish up and he was starving.

“Thanks, but we’ve got to get back,” one of the movers said.

Jack nodded, relieved. He gave each man a tip and shook their hands before they climbed into the moving truck. A low rumble of thunder in the distance made Jack thank God for keeping the rain away until the last of his boxes were unloaded and stacked in the barn. Now, it could rain buckets for all he cared.

A fork of pink lightning skittered across the sky and the wind picked up as he stepped onto the porch and stopped. Through the screen door, he caught a scene in the kitchen that made his jaw drop. Angie stirred something in a big bowl and Laura placed a tray of sandwiches on the table.

Jack checked his watch. It had been over an hour and a half but the girls didn’t seem to have noticed his delay. They chatted comfortably and Jack thought he heard a few giggles. He wiped the sweat from his brow and noticed a plastic bowl at his feet beside a piece of cardboard. He picked them up and knocked on the door.

“Come in, Jack,” Laura said.

He handed her the bowl. “Something smells good.”

“Eeewww, Dad, you better wash your hands. There was a bat in there. You’ll get rabies.”

Jack grinned. “You can’t get rabies from a bowl. What was in here, a bat? Who caught it?”

Laura squared her shoulders, looking pleased. “I did. With your daughter’s help, of course. Welcome to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.”

Jack raised his eyebrows.

“Angie has also saved the macaroni salad from becoming a pile of mush.”

“How’d she do that?”

“Laura doesn’t know how to cook pasta.” Angie looked more amused than disgusted.

And Laura ignored the comment as if she’d known his daughter longer than just a couple hours. “We have turkey sandwiches, too.”

“Sounds great.” Jack looked around quickly. “I better wash up.”

Laura guided his way. “Down the hallway off the dining room. The door to your right, it’s closed but no one’s in there.”

Then Angie giggled. “Use lots of soap, so you get the bat stink off.”

Laura joined in with a soft laugh.

Jack nodded. It wasn’t that funny, but he clamped his lips shut and entered the bathroom. He didn’t want to ruin a private joke by making someone explain it. Besides, he was tired of trying so hard with Angie. He was just plain tired.

As he dried his hands, he thought about what Angie had said about Laura. How could someone not know how to make macaroni? The instructions were right there, easy as can be. He returned to the kitchen and took a seat at the retro metal-legged table with matching red, vinyl-covered chairs.

“Water, Diet Coke or prune juice?” Laura asked.

His daughter giggled again.

After all the arguing they’d done about the move, he’d nearly forgotten how much he loved the sound. After driving nine hours with Angie, he’d rather examine a porcupine. Now she laughed as if nothing had ever been wrong. He’d never figure her out. “Water’s fine. I can get it.”

“Sit, sit.” Laura gestured with her hands.

He sat across from Angie and they waited for Laura. Then Jack bowed his head.

“Oh,” Laura whispered.

Jack peeked up at her. “Do you mind?” He caught her quick glance at Angie, who rolled her eyes.

“Not at all.” She bowed her head and waited.

Jack took a deep breath. “Dear Lord, thank You for this wonderful food and bless those who prepared it. Oh, and please protect me from rabies and any bat stink I might have missed. Amen.” He reached for a napkin and a rumble of thunder echoed through the air.

“I think He heard you.” Laura scooped pasta onto her plate, and then looked at him. “I didn’t think you could make fun when you prayed.”

“God made us with a sense of humor, why wouldn’t He have one, too?”

Laura cocked her head. Her chin-length blond hair had been pushed back with a headband. It made her look young and vulnerable. “I never thought of it like that.”

He quickly looked away as he took the bowl of macaroni salad from her.

“I love thunderstorms,” Angie said, digging into the pile of sandwiches.

“Ugh, why?” Laura said.

“I dunno.” His daughter tossed her head and flipped the braid off her shoulder. “I just do.”

Laura took a bite of the macaroni salad. “Wow, this is really good.”

“Thanks. But I think it still needs something.”

Jack watched in amazement at the easiness between them. His daughter didn’t warm up to strangers. Lately, she didn’t warm up to anyone. “So, how’d the bat get in the house?”

“I left the screen door open,” Angie said.

Laura looked at him. “It was an accident. I think the bat was looking for a place to ride out the storm. We’re supposed to get a real soaker. We need the rain.”

Just then a flicker of lightning brightened the room and a crash of thunder shook the house. The fluorescent light overhead dimmed, flickered and then went out.

“There goes the power,” Laura whispered. “I hate it when this happens.”

Her admission surprised him. The bat in the house didn’t rattle her, neither did his daughter. Other than spider webs, Jack didn’t think Laura Toivo scared easily. Yet the sounds of a storm building outside made her anxious. “How long does it stay out?”

“Who knows?” Laura got up from the table, leaving her sandwich half-eaten. She rummaged through one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out some taper candles. Sticking a few into skinny juice glasses, she lit them and placed a couple on the table. “We’ve got plenty of candles if you’d like some to take to the apartment.”

“That’d be great.”

“Yeah, great,” Angie muttered.

“It’s only for a while, Ange.” Jack squeezed his daughter’s hand.

She pulled away. “Where am I going to put my clothes?”

Another flash of lightning followed by a deafening crack of thunder and Laura jumped. She focused on her plate, looking uncertain, almost shy. “It’s late and probably too dark to get unloaded in the apartment tonight. There’s plenty of room if you’d like to stay here tonight.”

Jack stared at her. They were practically strangers. “We couldn’t put you to all the trouble.”

“Really, it’s no problem.” But she sounded nervous.

Another crack of thunder boomed while lightning danced through the windows. The wind whipped and, with a roar, a deluge of rain fell followed by heavier beats. He heard the clicking of ice balls ricocheting off the side porch.

Angie ran to the screen door, water spraying in from outside. “Dad, we can’t go out there. It’s hailing.”

“Close the door, Ange.” He glanced back at Laura who twisted her napkin. She looked tense.

“To be honest, with a storm like this, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

He knew Laura’s invitation had more to do with her fear of storms than anything else. Cocky, capable businesswoman, Laura Toivo was scared of a thunderstorm. An unexpected urge to protect her assaulted him. But staying overnight under the same roof couldn’t be a good idea. He’d prefer to keep his attractive neighbor at a safe distance across the lawn and driveway.

Angie noticed his hesitation. “Come on, Dad. How are we going to find anything in the dark? Let’s just stay here with Laura.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll stay. Now, could someone pass me another sandwich?” But something more than hunger twisted his gut. His magnetic spark of interest flashed into full-blown attraction.