Читать книгу Heaven Sent and His Hometown Girl: Heaven Sent / His Hometown Girl - Jillian Hart - Страница 10

The new morning’s sun had already burned the dew off the ground as Hope made her way through the neighbor’s fields. Dark green, knee-high alfalfa swayed in the warm breezes and brushed her knees as she spotted the Joneses’ barn and the man kneeling on its steep peak, tacking down new gray shingles with a nail gun.

She only had to look at him for her heart to flip in her chest. For one brief moment she noticed the wind tangling his collar-length hair and let her gaze wander over the lean hard height of him. In a white T-shirt and wash-worn jeans, he was a good-looking man. As if he felt her gaze, he glanced up from his work and shaded his eyes with one gloved hand. Then he waved in welcome.

A prairie dog gave a chirp of alarm and scampered out of sight as Hope hurried through the field, alfalfa shoots brushing against her bare skin. Matthew disappeared from the roof only to reappear circling from behind the weathered barn, stripping off his work gloves.

“Hey, I began to think you stood me up.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. Nanna was in a lot of pain this morning and we couldn’t get her to eat. I finally tempted her with fresh cinnamon rolls, but it took more time than I figured.” She held up a paper sack. “I brought a peace offering, though. Figured you couldn’t be too mad with me if I brought sweets.”

“A wise woman.”

“No, a grateful one. You’ve helped me twice now, and I’m indebted. The cinnamon rolls are only a start.”

“You don’t owe me a thing.” Matthew flicked his gaze away toward the west side of the barn where shade stretched over soft grasses in an empty corral. “I’ve got a cooler with juice over here. Let’s get down to business.”

“Sure.” She followed him past the wooden posts, worn gray from time and the elements, and when she saw the blanket spread out on the small patch of wild grasses, she realized that Matthew had gone to some trouble. She regretted being late.

“Tell me how the new kitchen plumbing is working out,” he said over his shoulder as he knelt down in front of a battered blue cooler.

“Nanna’s happy with your work, but she’s fretting over the ruined cabinet.”

“It shouldn’t be long until I have the replacement for her. I planned on tooling it in my workshop at home this weekend. Tell her I won’t forget to come by and make the cabinet as good as new.”

“Oh, I think she can’t wait to get us in the same house together.” Drawing closer, Hope knelt on one edge of the fleece blanket. “After you left last night, she kept going on and on about all your wonderful attributes.”

“She had to resort to lying, huh?” His eyes twinkled with merriment.

And she felt that twinkle in her heart. “I can see a few good things about you, Matthew, not that either of us is interested in the way Nanna thinks. I tried to tell her that you were more interested in fixing her ancient pipes than in making small talk with me, but she wanted to know every single word we exchanged when we were alone in her kitchen.”

“She couldn’t hear us well enough from the garden, huh?”

“That’s what I thought, too.” Hope unfolded the neat crease at the top of her sack, and the fresh scent of frosting and cinnamon made her stomach rumble.

Matthew handed her an unopened juice box and knelt down a fair distance from her. “My mom was singing your praises last night when I went to pick up my boys. She had that same look in her eyes that Nora had.”

“You’re right, they are shameless meddlers and they need to be taught a lesson.” She held out the bag to him.

He reached inside and withdrew a gooey pastry. “Now I’m doubly grateful you came by. These cinnamon rolls are the best things I’ve seen in a long time. Nora’s baking is famous county-wide.”

“Nora’s recipe, but I baked them.”

“You?” Did he have to look so surprised?

“Hey, I have my uses. I packed enough for you to take home to your boys.” She took one sticky roll and plopped the bag on the blanket between them. “Now, wipe that shocked look off your face and tell me. Do you have any idea who your mom might be interested in?”

“Not one. I’ll have to pry into her life a little, like she’s been doing to mine lately.” He sank his teeth into the roll and moaned. “I took a long hard look at Mom last night, and I figure she’s got to be lonely. I’ve got my boys, but when the day is done, she’s alone.”

“Nanna’s the same way. It’s got to be sad. All the work they did and the sacrifices they made to raise their families, and now, when they should be enjoying their lives, they have no one to share with.”

“Do you know how we can fix that?”

“Not really. I was hoping you’d have a brilliant idea and get me off the hook.”

“Give me another cinnamon roll and we’ll see what I can come up with.”

He’s deeply lonely, too. Again, Hope felt it with the same certainty as the gentle breezes on her face. She wondered if he sat up at night, watching the late shows or reading to the end of a book just to keep from going to bed alone, as she did. She wondered if he, too, had a hard time sleeping with the dark and the silence of the night, when prayer could only ease the empty space….

“Nanna let it slip that she has a crush on Harold.”

“Kathy’s grand dad?” Matthew nodded slowly as he helped himself to another roll. “I noticed Helen fought to sit next to him at the Founder’s Days committee meeting, but I didn’t know Nora was interested in him, too.”

“He wouldn’t be lonely, would he?”

“He’s been a widower as long as I have.” Matthew stared down at the pastry and didn’t take a bite, the sadness in his eyes stark and unmistakable.

Maybe Nanna was right, Hope considered. Maybe, every now and then, true love was possible. Every now and then.

“I’m taking the boys to see him at his ranch this weekend. Between chasing after my sons, I’ll try to figure out if Harold is interested in Nora.”

“And if he is, we could casually set them up so they wouldn’t know it was us. Something not as obvious as what they did to us on the Founder’s Days committee.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Matthew took a bite of the roll, but the sadness remained in his eyes. The breeze tangled his hair, tossing a dark hank over his brow, and she fought the urge to brush it away, fought the urge to reach out and try to comfort him.

“How’s the roof coming along?” she asked, not knowing what else to say to change the direction of their conversation. She stood, drawn toward the ladder stretching twenty feet in the air, and studied the roof’s steeply pitched slope. “Do you mind if I climb up?”

“Yeah, I mind.” He leaped to his feet, all business, square jaw set and hands fisted. “You could fall, and then what would I say to your grandmother?”

“I won’t fall.” She spun around, taking in the expanse of the river valley bright with the colors of spring, and ached for her camera. “Okay, I’m not interested in your roofing job, but on the walk over here my mind clicked back to work and I could get a great view from up there.”

“You can get a great view of the valley from the road.”

“Yeah, but I’m already here.” She grabbed hold of the ladder and fit her sneaker onto the weathered rung.

“Hope, I’m not kidding. You’re going to break your neck.” But he didn’t sound too upset with her.

When she looked over her shoulder, she saw that he was holding the ladder steady for her and shaking his head as if to say women didn’t belong on ladders. Well, she wouldn’t be on for long. “I appreciate this, Matthew.”

“If you weren’t helping me out with my mom, I’d let go of this ladder.”

“Sure you would. You’re too nice of a guy.”

“That’s only according to rumor. You can’t trust everything you hear.”

“Nanna says a man who can raise three small boys at the same time has to have the patience of Job and the temperament of an angel.”

“Either that or he’s on psychiatric medication.”

Hope stumbled onto the roof, laughing, but Matthew hadn’t fooled her. Sure, he was joking, but there was no way he could disguise the patience and good humor lighting him up from within, not quite chasing away his sadness. It touched her somewhere deep inside her well-defended heart. How was it that this man could affect her so much and so quickly?

“Be careful up there.” The ladder rubbed against the weathered eaves with each step Matthew took as he climbed higher. “I don’t want to have to explain to Nora how I let her only granddaughter tumble off a barn roof. I’d never get work from her again.”

“Repeat business is all that matters, is it?”

“Sure.” He hopped onto the roof with an athletic prowess that drew Hope’s gaze, and a slow smile tugged at the left corner of his mouth. “Now before you start running around up here, some of the shingles aren’t tacked down yet.”

“I noticed that. Really.” Wisps had escaped from her ponytail, and she swept them back with one hand. “Between you and Nanna, I feel like an awkward kid again. Stop worrying about me, okay? I’m not going to take a nosedive off the barn. I’ve been on a roof before.”

“Not as often as I have, I bet.” He curved his hand around her elbow, holding her secure. “Just in case.”

“I’m not afraid of heights.”

“I am.”

“You? Manhattan’s best carpenter?”

“My roof jobs would dry up if word like that got around. You’ll keep my secret, right?” His grip on her arm remained, sure and steady, keeping her safe.

“I don’t know,” she teased in turn, heading toward the roof’s peak. “Seems to me keeping a secret like that could be worth some money.”

He chuckled, rich and deep, and it somehow moved through her even though they hardly touched. Like a vibration of warmth and sunlight, she felt it, and when her sneaker hit a loose shingle, his grip on her arm held her steady even before she could stumble.

His touch remained, branding her with his skin’s heat, and she almost stumbled again. Why was her heart beating as if she’d run a mile? With every step she took, she was aware of the way he moved beside her—the easy, athletic movements as he escorted her safely to the peak of the sloped roof.

No, she wasn’t attracted to him. He was simply being a gentleman, as he’d been when he’d carried her luggage and driven her home on the night of the storm. A gentleman, nothing more and nothing less, and even if that was attractive to her, she didn’t need to panic. He was no threat to her heart. No threat at all.

She faced the wind, and the sweet country breezes lifted the hair from her brow and whirred in her ears. Sunlight slanted in ragged, luminous fingers from the wide blue sky to the rich green earth.

“I should have brought my camera. Look at the cloud shadow on those hills.”

“The Tobacco Roots.” He nodded toward the wrinkled hills in the distance, rugged and rocky, in contrast to the regal Rockies to the West. “Kathy and I used to hike there before the boys were born. We tried it once afterward, carting the three of them in backpacks, but they were hot and miserable and, unfortunately, teething. We decided not to make that mistake again.”

“Scared away the wildlife, did they?”

“I still think half the deer never did return to their natural habitat. The park ranger threatened to ticket us.” He shrugged one capable shoulder but his grin didn’t reach all the way to his eyes.

“I remember Kathy. She was two years behind us in school, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.” A muscle worked in his jaw as he towered over her, his back to the sun, his face shadowed.

Hope sat on the hot shingles, emotions tangled into a knot in her stomach. She didn’t want to say anything more that would make sadness shade his eyes. “How old are your boys?”

“Three, almost four. Their birthday is in July.”

“Triplets. That must be a handful.”

“When Kathy was alive, it was almost manageable. When we finally got them on the same sleeping schedule, that is.” The sadness crept into his eyes anyway as he sat down beside her, leaving a deliberate space between them. “Right now I’m between housekeepers. It’s hard to find someone with the right temperament.”

“I bet it isn’t easy keeping up with triplets.”

“It’s not impossible. They are something, I’ll tell you that, always going in different directions at once, but I wouldn’t trade ’em for the world.”

The wind tossed dark shocks of hair over his brow as he looked everywhere but at her. “I haven’t seen the world like you have, heck, I haven’t even been out of Montana, but I have everything I want right now. I have my boys and that’s all I need.”

“Then you’re a lucky man.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about that.”

His voice dipped and he turned away from her to study the valley spread out before them. As the silence lengthened, Hope tried to pretend she wasn’t touched by what she’d seen in Matthew’s eyes and heard unspoken in his words, but she failed. She was touched. Anyone could see a father’s steadfast love in him as certain as the warm sun overhead.

Not that what lived in Matthew’s heart was any of her business.

Maybe this jumpy, skittery feeling wasn’t an attraction to Matthew at all. Maybe she was itching to start working again. That’s it. “I’d better get back before Nanna misses me.”

Matthew stood, not meeting her gaze, and offered his hand.

She straightened on her own, not certain if she could touch him one more time. She wasn’t attracted to him…and she didn’t want her physical reaction to him proving her wrong.

“Looks like we’re in trouble.” Without looking at her, he nodded across the field toward the dirt road, where a dust plume rose behind a sedate burgundy sedan. “It’s my mom. No, there’s no time to run. There she is. We’re busted.”

The look of dismay on Hope’s face told Matthew she didn’t like the prospect of being caught alone with him, and he couldn’t blame her. Mom would jump to conclusions and only take seeing them together as encouragement. He held the ladder for Hope so she could climb down safely.

She knelt and carefully placed her designer sneakers on the top rung. “Sure, send me down first into enemy territory.”

“Better you than me. Mom will show you mercy.”

“Not if she’s anything like Nanna.”

Her attempt at humor touched him because she couldn’t like this situation. It was absurd that anyone would think that a small-town carpenter belonged anywhere near a millionaire’s daughter.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” The words rang on the air the instant the passenger door of Mom’s car swung open. As Hope finished descending, Matthew watched his sons race full out toward the fence until Mom shouted at them to wait and not touch the barbed wire.

Hope lighted on the ground and tilted her head back to look at him. “I didn’t know they were identical.”

“Keeps things interesting.”

“I bet it does.” She covered her eyes with her free hand and squinted through the glaring sun to watch the triplets tumble into the field.

He started down the ladder, descending quickly. Already Mom was helping the boys through the fence and there was no mistaking the look of delight in that grin of hers, which he could see plainly from across the field. This wasn’t what he needed. Mom would think she was on the right track and start really pushing.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” The triplets plowed through the sweet-smelling alfalfa and scrambled to him, arms flung open.

Matthew barely had time to brace himself before the boys threw their arms around his knees and held on tight, bouncing and shouting. “Did you three give your gramma so much trouble she decided to give you back?”

“It was tempting,” Mom teased over the racket of the boys talking at once. He heard the words “fire,” “fireman” and “big truck.” “Agnes had a small kitchen fire and wanted you to give her an estimate on the damage.”

“You could have called, Mom.” Matthew lifted Josh onto his hip.

“Yes, but you know I hate talking to that beeper thing of yours. Hope, what a pleasure to see you again.” Mom practically beamed as she approached the slim woman who stood off by herself, as if not sure what to think of them all. “I heard from Nora you were in town.”

“She finally figured out a way to get me back here.” Hope took Mom’s hand, her manner warm, as if she wasn’t upset in the slightest. “It’s good to see you again, Patsy.”

The boys demanded Matthew’s attention, telling him everything about the sirens and the big red truck, but his gaze kept straying to the woman talking with his mother, whose girl-next-door freshness was at odds with everything he remembered about Hope Ashton from high school.

“Is that lady gonna take us?” Josh asked, both fists tight in Matthew’s T-shirt.

The other boys turned to frown at Hope, and before Matthew could answer, she did.

“No, but I did bring you boys something.” Hope swirled away from his mother and snatched the paper bag from the blanket.

Of course, his mother took one look at the blanket, not an item he usually took to work with him, and lifted one curious—or was that accusing?—eyebrow.

Ian took one step forward, interested in Hope’s paper bag. “Cookies?”

“Candy?” Kale looked tempted.

Josh buried his face in Matthew’s shoulder and held on tight.

Matthew watched as Hope shook her head, dark wisps tangling in the wind, and knelt down, opening the sack. “If you boys don’t like cinnamon rolls, I could eat them all by myself—”

“Cinnamon rolls?” Kale shot forward, not caring if this woman was a stranger. “Like the kind Gramma makes? With frosting?”

“With frosting.”

Ian scrambled closer. “Does it got raisins? Don’t like raisins.”

“No raisins, but they do have icing. Go ahead and try one.” Hope shook the bag, as if she were trying to coax them closer.

Huge mistake. Matthew set out to rescue her as both boys plunged their hands into the sack, fighting for the biggest roll. But Hope only laughed, a warm gentle sound that made him stop and really look at her, at this outsider who had never quite belonged in their small Montana town.

She didn’t look like an outsider now. Her faded denims hugged her slender legs with an easy casualness, and her T-shirt was probably a big-label brand, but the cherry-red color brought out the bronzed hue of her skin and the gleam of laughter in her eyes. She didn’t look like a millionaire’s daughter and an established photographer.

She looked like a beautiful woman who liked children. His children.

“No, only take one.” She merely shrugged when Kale got away with two plump rolls, and Matthew was about to make Kale put the pastry back when Hope shook her head, her cheeks pink with laughter, her eyes bright and merry. “Good thing I brought enough for second helpings.”

Josh buried his face harder into Matthew’s shoulder and held on tighter.

“He’s sensitive.” Matthew leaned his cheek against the top of the boy’s head. “We’ve gone through a lot of baby-sitters and it’s been hard on him.”

“I know exactly what that feels like. I had a lot of different nannies when I was little. All that change can be hard.” She pressed the bag into Matthew’s free hand. “He might be interested once I’m gone.”

Why did he feel disappointed that she was leaving? “So, you’re leaving me alone with my mom?”

Hope glanced over her shoulder to watch his mother sit Ian and Kale down on the blanket, admonishing them to eat with their mouths closed. “I bet a grown man like you can handle anything and besides, I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You’re welcome to stay.” And it surprised him because he meant it.

“This will be the perfect opportunity to talk with your mother and try to figure out who we should fix her up with.” She backed away, lifting a hand to wave at Mom and the boys.

“I hope to see you again soon,” Mom called. “Say thank-you, Ian, Kale.”

Two thank-yous chimed in unison.

Matthew watched helplessly as she breezed away from him, the big blue sky at her back, the green field at her feet. He wanted to stop her, to keep her here with him. It didn’t make a bit of sense, but that’s how he felt. He couldn’t help it.

He watched as she turned around to glance at his boys eating unfurled sections of their cinnamon rolls, sticky and happy, and the look in her eyes, the softness on her face made his knees weak. He had to lean against the corner of the old barn for support.

Was that longing he saw on Hope Ashton’s face? Before he could be sure, it was gone. She shouted across the widening distance. “I’ll tell Nanna you haven’t forgotten about repairing her cabinets.”

“Sure.” He felt tongue-tied, not sure what to say as she spun around and headed off through the fields, leaving him with a strange, yearning feeling.

A feeling he decided he wouldn’t look at too closely.

“Those boys are the cutest things I ever did see,” Nanna crooned as Matthew’s triplets tripped down the church aisle, their father towering over them. “And Matthew is cute in an entirely different way. Why, if I were you, Hope, I’d cut a path for that man, I tell you. He’s as dependable as the day is long, and you already know he’ll make a wonderful father. Look how he handles those boys.”

“I’m immune to the lovebug, Nanna. Don’t get your hopes up because I’m not planning on marrying anyone.”

“Still, Matthew is a very handsome man.”

“He’s still grieving his wife, Nanna. Have you and Patsy given one thought about how much your matchmaking is hurting him?”

“Well, if that’s true, then I’m sorry about that, but honestly, grief does fade, maybe not completely, but there comes a time when you’re ready to start accepting what life has to give.” Nanna’s hand covered Hope’s and squeezed gently, lovingly. “In time a heart is ready to love again.”

“You’ve been a widow for over ten years.”

“That I have.” Her sigh was sad, and the old lady looked hard at the stained glass windows bursting with color beneath the sun’s touch. “But I’m more concerned about you. You should be thinking about starting a family of your own. Patsy told me you went to see Matthew for a little picnic the other day.”

“No, I went to remind him about your cabinets.”

“With cinnamon rolls?”

Hope glanced around, desperate for a change of subject. She spotted an elderly man, his back straight and his shoulders strong as if he’d done battle with age and won, his gray hair distinguished as he strode powerfully down the aisle toward Matthew and the triplets. “Look, there’s Harold. I can see why you have a crush on him.”

“It’s probably foolish, but I—” Nanna stopped, the brightness in her eyes fading. “I’m just having a little fun, and it makes me feel young again.”

Hope wondered at the change in her grandmother, and when she saw Helen hurrying down the aisle to speak with Harold, she knew why. Helen might not have any idea how Nanna felt about the handsome older gentleman, and Hope knew that Nanna wasn’t about to say anything differently now.

Organ music broke through the din of the congregation settling onto the old wooden pews, and disappointment wrapped around Hope’s heart as Helen took Harold by the arm and led him to Matthew’s pew.

“It’s not like I’m crazy over the man or anything,” Nanna said staunchly, but her voice sounded too tight and strained to be telling the truth. “But a handsome man is always a joy to behold.”

Six rows ahead of them, Matthew stood to greet his grandfather-in-law. Patsy was there and ordered the boys to squeeze closer together to make room, and there was enough space on the bench for Helen to settle down beside Harold.

As if he felt her gaze, Matthew turned and found her in the crowd. He wore a dark suit and a white shirt that emphasized his sun-browned, wholesome good looks, the kind a man had when he worked outside for a living.

Her heart gave a strange little flip-flop.

“I’m sorry,” he seemed to say as he shrugged.

She shrugged back. Matchmaking wasn’t as easy as it looked.

Sad for Nanna, Hope wrapped her arm around the old woman’s shoulders and held her tight. They were in God’s house. Surely here of all places He could gaze into the old woman’s heart and see the loneliness—and now the hurt.

Please help her feel young again, Hope prayed. With the days she has left, let her know love one more time.