Читать книгу Heaven Sent and His Hometown Girl - Jillian Hart - Страница 13

“Is that Matthew’s truck?” Nanna leaned toward the edge of the bed, fighting to see out the window.

“Hey, careful.” Hope gently caught Nanna’s elbow. “All we need for you is to fall and break another bone.”

“I may have broken my leg, but I’m not fragile.” Nanna nodded with satisfaction as Matthew’s dark red pickup gleamed in the sun in the driveway below. “At least, not anymore. This bone will heal, or else. I’ve lost nearly a week in this room, and it’s time to get a move on.”

“Just remember what your doctor said, Nanna.” Hope reached for the hairbrush and knelt on the floor, gently swiping the smooth-bristled brush through Nanna’s soft cloud of gray hair. “Want me to braid this for you?”

“I’d love it, dear heart. I’m in a festive mood, as long as young Matthew Sheridan can get my cabinets right.”

Hope bit her lip so she wouldn’t smile. Fretting over the cabinetry work might give Nanna something to think about other than her injury. “I don’t know if I’d trust Matthew. He’s one of the only carpenters in town. Without much competition, how good can he be?”

Nanna’s eyes sparkled. “So, you like him, do you?”

“Keep dreaming.”

“A girl’s got to try.” Nanna fell silent, allowing Hope to part and braid her hair, then finish the thick French braid with a cheerful pink bow.

As Hope pulled a comfortable pair of clean pajamas from the bottom bureau drawer, the sound of a second vehicle coming up the driveway drew their attention.

Nanna tipped sideways again. “Goodness, that looks like—”

“Harold.” Hope couldn’t believe her eyes as she watched the distinguished-looking older man climb from a restored 1950s forest-green pickup. A carpenter’s belt hung at his waist as he headed for the back door, his deep voice carrying as he greeted Matthew.

Was this what Matthew had tried to tell her on the phone the night she’d been so abrupt with him? Hope leaned against the window frame and felt the sun warm her face. In the yard below, Matthew and Harold appeared, talking jovially as they unloaded the heavy wood pieces from the back of Matthew’s truck.

The sun gilded Matthew’s powerful frame and heaven knew, she shouldn’t be noticing. A tingle zinged down her spine, and a yearning she’d never felt before opened wide in her heart.

“There’s no way I’m going downstairs in these.” Nanna’s two-piece cotton pajamas landed with a thunk on the end of the bed.

Hope turned from the window. “Nanna, have you ever thought about falling in love again?”

“Goodness, child, a woman my age doesn’t waste what’s left of her days wishing for romance. You have the greatest happiness life has to offer ahead of you. Marriage and children. Now don’t lie to me, you have to want children.”

Hope felt the warmth inside her wither and fade at the word marriage. Her stomach burned at the memory of exactly what that word meant to her, the old ulcer always remembering. Endless battles, bitter unhappiness and her parents’ habitual neglect of her.

She tried to put the memory aside of the unhappy child hiding in the dark hallway, listening to the hurtful words her parents hurled at each other as if they were grenades. Fearful that this argument would be the one to drive Dad away.

And it reminded her of her own attempt at marriage, ended before it began. And her stomach felt as if it had caught fire. No, she wouldn’t think about the time she was foolish enough to think that love could be real for her.

Determined to distract herself, Hope paced the sunny room. “Where’s the shorts set I bought for you when we took that cruise last summer?”

“Try the drawer chest, second to the bottom.”

Sure enough, the soft blue-and-pink print knit shorts and top were folded amid Nanna’s summer wear, surrounded by sachets of sweet honeysuckle. As she helped her grandmother into the clothes, she wished Matthew had told her he’d invited Harold over.

Kirby tapped down the hall and into the room and together they carried Nanna downstairs. “No, the garden,” she insisted when they tried to situate her in the living room. “I need to feel the warmth of the sun on these old bones.”

“Let me help.” Matthew strode into the room like a myth—all power, steel and hero. He lifted Nanna into his strong arms, cradling her against his chest. “Nora, it’s been a long time since I’ve held such a beautiful woman in my arms.”

“That’s a line you ought to use on my granddaughter, not on an old woman like me.”

“I’m partial to older women.”

Now I’m going to have to like him. Really, really like him, Hope thought as she held open the wooden framed screen door for Matthew. I’ve run completely out of excuses.

There was no turning back her feelings, especially when he set Nanna onto the shaded, wrought-iron bench with the same care he showed his sons. Tender, gentle, kind, he grabbed one of the matching chairs and drew it close. Watching him made that tingle zing down Hope’s spine again.

No doubt about it, she was in trouble now. As she accepted the pillows Kirby had thought to fetch, she tried not to look at him, but he drew her attention like dawn to the sun.

“Are you going to give me that last pillow?” His mouth curved into a one-sided grin as she handed it over. “I’ll have you ladies know that this service is entirely free. It won’t show up on the bill.”

“You’re a real bargain.” Hope tried to sound light but failed as he laid the pillow on the seat of a chair and lifted Nanna’s leg into place.

Their gazes met and Hope heard the morning breezes loud in her ears. Awareness shot down her spine again.

His slow grin broadened. “I’ve been told that before. I never overcharge.” He stood, towering over her, casting her in shadow. “But I do accept tips. Cash or baked goods.”

He was kidding, but Hope couldn’t smile. Kirby arrived with Nanna’s Bible, reading glasses and the cordless phone.

They were shooed away by the old woman who thought she was matchmaking by sending them off to be together. “Take your time, Matthew. I don’t need the cabinets today.”

Hope shook her head, taking the lead down the garden path. “Sure, she’s been fretting over the cabinets all week.”

“That’s all right, we’ll fix her.” Matthew’s feet tapped on the flagstones behind her. “I brought Harold.”

“I noticed. I thought he was interested in Helen.”

“Helen is interested in him.” Matthew caught her arm, stopping her before she could reach the back porch. “He avoided the subject when I asked him how he felt. All he would say is that he hardly knew Helen, that’s all. I figure, until it’s decided for sure, we might as well put him and Nora together and see what happens.”

“Great idea, but you could have warned me.”

“Harold didn’t make up his mind until the last minute.” Matthew’s hand flew to his jeans pocket and withdrew a black pager, vibrating in his open palm. “It’s Mom. Can I use your phone?”

“For a fee.”

His grin was slow and stunning, and he darted past her, taking the porch steps in one stride, leaving her breathless.

She wasn’t interested in Matthew Sheridan and he wasn’t looking for marriage, but she couldn’t help but wonder for the first time in her life what it would feel like to spend time with a man like him. To know the shelter of his arms and the tenderness of his kiss.

Gentle warmth spilled through her at the thought. What was wrong with her? Why on earth was she feeling this way? Hadn’t she failed miserably at her one attempt to open her heart and hadn’t she learned her lesson? That it was better to live alone and safe than give a man control of her heart?

Matthew reappeared, frowning, his hair disheveled as if he’d been raking one hand through it. “The job’s off for this morning. Harold can’t do the heavy work alone because of his bad back, and I’ve got to go. I can rearrange things for tomorrow afternoon. How about it?”

“What happened? Is something wrong with your boys?”

“No, not with the triplets.” Matthew’s frown deepened. “My mom’s sick. She didn’t look so good this morning, but she insisted she was fine enough to baby-sit.”

“Of course, you need to check on her.” Hope followed him down the path. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah, find me a real good baby-sitter. One who isn’t afraid of three little boys.”

“That shouldn’t be hard.” Nanna spoke up from her serene bench in the shade. “Is something wrong, Matthew?”

“Mom’s allergies are acting up and she isn’t up to handling the boys.” Matthew’s brow frowned with concern.

Hope’s heart twisted. He was a good man, one who cared for his family genuinely and selflessly. She tried to imagine her own father setting aside work for any reason, especially his family. “I hired extra nurses. If your mom needs any care—”

“No.” Matthew dug in his pocket for his keys, loping down the path and onto the gravel. “It’s nothing like that. Appreciate it, though. Her new medication is making her drowsy, and she’s just not up to chasing after the boys.”

Hope stepped after him, wanting to soothe away the worry on his face and the lines of hardship bracketing his eyes. “If you need someone to look after your sons for the day, I could do it. You could bring them here. Nora now has two nurses to take care of her and hardly needs me. I wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on them.”

“Nora needs peace and quiet.”

“Let me go ask her. I—”

“Don’t mind a bit,” Nanna’s voice called clear as a bell through the foliage that separated the driveway from the garden. “Doesn’t Proverbs say that a cheerful heart is good medicine? Watching those boys of yours play will be all the cheer I need.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Matthew yanked open his truck door. “Hope, it’s a nice offer, but you don’t want to look after my sons.”

“Why not? Ian and I struck up a friendship in the café, and I’m sure I can charm the other two.”

“No. You’re a…” He looked at her from head to toe and blushed. “You’re a beautiful woman, and I can’t see you getting down and dirty with three energetic little boys. You don’t know what you’d be getting yourself into.”

“I saw them in action at Sunday brunch. They move fast, but I’m faster. Besides, Nanna needs some joy in her life, and something tells me your sons will keep her laughing.”

“You don’t want to take care of these kids, trust me.”

But he was weakening, she could see it, and so she went in for the kill. “Nanna really wants her cabinets finished.”

“Nora’s been ailing. She wouldn’t be able to get any rest.”

“She’s listening to every word we’re saying, so she’d speak up if that were true. Besides, I owe you a favor for all the wonderful things you’ve done for my grandmother and me. So consider this payback, got it? After this we’re even.”

“It’s a bad idea, Hope.” Matthew raked one hand through his hair, leaving more dark strands standing up on end to ruffle in the breeze.

Hope fought the urge to reach out and smooth down those strands. Her hand tingled at the thought of touching him that way.

“You’re not used to one kid, let alone three.”

“We have certified registered nurses on the premises. What could go wrong?”

Laugh lines crinkled around his eyes. “You’ll be sorry you said that, just wait and see.”

“Then it’s decided.”

“Well…it would help me out. If you’re sure.”

“Absolutely.”

Doubt lingered in his eyes, but his grin came easily. “Fine. We’ll just see how the morning goes first, then we’ll see if you’ve changed your mind.”

Long after he’d driven off, Hope still felt the tingle in her spine and warmth in her heart.

Kneeling in dirt in what would soon be Nanna’s vegetable garden, Hope looked up as Matthew strolled onto the back porch looking as though he’d been working hard. His T-shirt and jeans were smudged with sawdust, and the carpenter’s belt cinched at his hips was missing a few tools.

He squinted in her direction, his amusement as bright as spring. “You look exhausted. Are you sorry yet?”

“Give me ten more minutes, then I might be.” Laughing, Hope ducked as a handful of dirt came flying her way. “Hey, Kale, I saw that. Lower that hand right now. Right now.”

As the boy reluctantly complied, tossing a look of warning to his older brother, whom he was aiming for, Matthew’s chuckle rang out, effecting her from her head to her toes. “Boys, I told you no fighting.”

“It’s Josh’s fault.” Kale spoke up, always ready to pass the blame. “He’s throwing.”

“Nope, I’m talking to you, buddy.” Matthew loped down the steps and moved a potted tomato plant out of the way. Then he crouched down, his gaze meeting Hope’s across the span of freshly turned dirt. “I didn’t know dump trucks and graders were useful in a garden.”

“Of vital importance. Look how busy it’s keeping them. For now.” Hope laughed as Josh made a truck engine sound, content on leveling out the far end of Nanna’s unplanted garden. “How’s the work coming?”

“The cabinet’s in. I talked Harold into fetching Nora. Figured she’d want to see what I’d done before he starts the finishing work.”

“I thought you two were going to do that work together.”

“We were, until I lost Mom as a baby-sitter. I just called her and she’s feeling better, but not well enough to take the boys.”

“They can stay the rest of the afternoon, don’t worry. You’re not putting me out, and Nanna’s getting a kick out of watching them. Ian took a worm he found over for her to praise, and she’s still glowing. Over a worm.”

“She’s pining for great grandchildren.”

“Count on it. She figures I’m her only hope.” Longing speared her sharp as a new blade. Really, she didn’t need a family. She didn’t need a man in her life trying to dominate her and belittle her. Isn’t that what most marriages were?

Ian dashed through the fragile rows of newly planted vegetables, carrying a bright yellow tractor. “Daddy, come see right now.”

“Over here, Daddy.” Kale hollered as he scooted a bright yellow dump truck into a rock with a clang. “Come see the big hole we dug.”

“It’s a huge one, Matthew, so be careful not to fall into it.” Hope winked as she grabbed a six-pack of tomato plants.

Matthew watched her hands gently break apart the dirt and ease the first sprout into the rich earth. Her touch was gentle as she patted the dirt around the roots, and for one brief second he wondered what it would feel like to take her hand in his. Not in a quick touch to steady her on the barn roof or help her from the ladder, but to hold her hand, her palm to his, their fingers entwined.

He felt ashamed for even thinking of it. He was a man, he was human, and the Good Lord knew he was lonely, but this was the first time since Kathy’s death he thought about another woman. Guilt cinched hard around his heart, leaving him confused.

Then Hope reached past him, brushing his knee with the edge of her glove as she grabbed one of the last tomato plants.

“You look at home here in the garden.” Matthew couldn’t seem to take his eyes from her. “There’s dirt smudges on your face.”

“Probably.” She swiped her forearm across her brow and left another. “I’m a mess. Why is it that whenever you come over, I look like I’ve rolled out of a drainage ditch?”

“Lucky for you, it’s a look I like. Especially the leaf in your hair.”

“Oh, dear.” She tore off one glove, revealing slender fingers stained with dirt.

“Here, let me.” It was a simple thing, reaching forward and lifting the green half of a tomato leaf from her hair, but it felt as natural as if he’d been this close to Hope all his life. Already the floral scents of her skin and shampoo felt like a memory, and he knew, if he lowered his hand just a few inches to brush the side of her face, her skin would feel like warm silk against his callused fingers.

Guilt pounded through him with renewed force, and he let the leaf blow away in the wind.

“Daddy!” Ian stomped his foot, his voice hard with indignation. “Listen.”

Oh, boy, how long had the kid been trying to get his attention? And how could he not hear his own son? “I’m coming, buddy.”

He climbed to his feet, and Ian’s small gritty fingers curled around his and held on with viselike force. He watched as Ian shot a jealous look at Hope. A lot of women who’d sacrificed their morning to watch over someone else’s children might have taken offense, but Hope merely shrugged, her mouth soft with amusement.

It was there on her face, radiant and sincere, and he couldn’t get it out of his head as he knelt in front of a small pit to praise the boys’ busywork. She liked his boys, and he couldn’t fault her for that.

“Matthew, look.” Her whispered words as gentle as a spring breeze tingled over him and, at the look of hope in her eyes, his heart skipped a beat.

Harold was carrying Nora in his arms from the garden to the back porch. It was one of the sweetest things he’d ever seen.

“Daddy.” Josh let go of his grader, and the truck tumbled to the ground with a clang. “I’m real hungry.”

“Me, too!” the other boys chimed.

“You’ve got to be kidding. It’s ten-thirty in the morning. Nope, no food. I’m starving you three from here on out.”

The triplets started demanding hamburgers, and Matthew watched Hope climb to her feet, brushing the dirt off her clothes.

“It will be after eleven by the time we get to town.” She lifted her chin in challenge. “We can get take-out hamburgers and they’ll be fueled up for the rest of the afternoon.”

“No way. I’m not imposing on you like that. You have Nora to look after.”

“She’s a soft spot in my heart, and I let her stay up too long this morning. She’s going to be napping all afternoon, believe me, so I’ll have plenty of free time.” Hope rubbed a smudge of dirt from her cheek with her hands, leaving another bigger smudge. “Besides, I have it on good authority that Nanna loves cheeseburgers. Even older women need their protein.”

“Hamburgers, hamburgers,” the triplets chanted.

“All right, boys, you win. Let’s get you in the truck. And you. Stop encouraging them.” He shot a gaze at Hope, who was carefully treading through the rows of vulnerable new plants.

“Hey, I wanted hamburgers, too.” The wind tousled the dark strands that framed her face.

His chest cinched tight, and he wished he could stop noticing how the sunlight sheened on her velvet hair and caressed the silken curve of her cheek.

But most of all, it was her hands that caught his attention, slim but capable-looking, sensitive but strong. Hands that had helped care for her ailing grandmother, hands that could coax beauty from a camera and hands that he wanted to take in his own.

But that was because he missed Kathy. That was the only explanation. The longing in his heart for a woman’s touch was really the longing for Kathy’s touch, forever lost to him. It wasn’t an attraction to Hope.

“I’ll help get the boys buckled in,” she offered, following the triplets to the truck.

His heart cinched. A part of him knew that it wasn’t Kathy he wanted to touch right now, and as Hope trotted away, offering to race the boys, he wondered what his feelings meant.

He’d asked the Lord to show him the way. Surely these feelings for Hope weren’t God’s answer to his prayers.

“I tried to seat them together,” Matthew whispered as he climbed onto the picnic bench beside her, his breath warm against the outer shell of her ear. “Harold was stubborn.”

“And look at Nanna, she’s talking to Josh and completely ignoring Harold.” Hope snatched an onion ring from one of the waxed paper boxes in the middle of the old weatherworn table. “We’re dismal failures as matchmakers.”

“Good thing we’re not done yet.”

“I’m glad you’re not easily defeated, because neither am I.” Not now that she realized how much her grandmother needed someone in her life, someone to love. And that’s what she would concentrate on. “I know Nanna’s interested in him, but you wouldn’t know it to look at them.”

“Kale, throw that fry and you won’t get more,” Matthew interrupted as one dark-haired little boy held a ketchup-tipped curly French fry in midair, contemplating the merits of lobbing it at Ian and losing his fry privilege completely.

Ian solved the dilemma by flinging a fry at Kale instead and splattering ketchup across the table.

“That’s it, you boys have sat long enough.” Matthew leaped up to prevent any more throwing. “Get up and run off that energy. And stay where I can see you.”

Two identical little boys hopped off the bench, legs pumping, sneakers pounding, tearing through the grass field behind the house. A small plane cut through the wispy white clouds in the blue sky above, and the boys spread their arms like wings, making plane engine noises.

“My, I’d forgotten what fun they are at that age. And so much energy!” Nanna beamed with delight as she watched them. “My son was just like that, always on the go, always thinking. About ran me ragged, he did. How you manage with three of them, I’ll never know. It would take a special woman to be a stepmother to three three-year-olds.”

“Nanna, I think it’s time for you to go upstairs.” Hope snatched another onion ring from the basket and shared a conspiratorial smile with Matthew. He looked ready to set Nanna straight, ready to come to Hope’s aid if she needed him.

Not that she needed him.

Matthew stood alongside her, scooped Josh from the bench and set him on the ground. The little boy raced off to join his brothers, arms spread, soaring through the fresh young grass waving in the wind. “Harold, if you keep an eye on my sons, I’ll carry Nora upstairs.”

“Sure thing.” The older man nodded, pride at his great grandsons alight on his handsome face, before nodding politely to Nanna. “You take care, Nora.”

“Oh, my granddaughter will see to that.” There was no want, no coveting in Nanna’s clear eyes as she smiled.

Hope ached for her grandmother. Harold seemed as if he liked Nanna, and Hope fought disappointment as she took Nanna’s hand.

“She looks too tired.” Matthew appeared at Hope’s side, his strong warm presence unmistakable. “Nora, come lean on me.”

So it was with gratitude that she followed Matthew up the stairs as he cradled Nanna in his arms. The bedroom windows were open to the sun, and the lace curtains fluttered in cadence with the wind. The distant sounds of small boys’ laughter and the hum of engines sounded merry and seemed to fill the lonely old house with a welcome joy.

Hope tugged down the top sheet and stepped back so Matthew could lower Nanna onto the mattress with tender care. Hope’s chest swelled with more than gratefulness and she turned away as a warmth that had nothing to do with appreciation spilled into her veins.

“Bless you, Matthew.” Easing back into her pillows, Nanna pressed her lips together to hide a moan of pain. Kirby rushed in with noontime medication and a glass of water to wash down the collection of pills.

Matthew took the older woman’s aged hand in his and squeezed gently. “You take it easy now and rest. I can’t thank you enough for allowing my boys to stay.”

Nanna’s eyes glistened. “They made this place feel happy, like it used to when my children were young. I can’t tell you what it did for this old heart of mine.”

Matthew eased back to give Kirby room to work, and Hope followed him into the narrow hallway, which was warm from the heat of the day. Feelings she couldn’t name fought for recognition in her heart as she struggled with the locked window at the end of the hall. It wouldn’t budge.

“Let me.” Matthew’s arm brushed hers as he took over, efficiently manhandling the stubborn old lock and lifting the equally obstinate wooden window.

The heat from his brief touch lingered on the outside of her arm and didn’t go away, even when she stepped farther back, even when she rubbed at the spot on her arm. Was it her loneliness making her feel this way? She didn’t like it, not one bit.

“Harold’s going to go ahead with the finishing work. He’s excellent at it.” As if he felt it, too, Matthew backed away, creating distance between them, and his gaze locked on hers, warm and intimate.

Way too intimate. Panic leaped to life inside her. “I’m glad you’re leaving the boys for the rest of the afternoon.”

“It looks like you’re managing.” He caught hold of the banister and hesitated. “I’d like to stop by and check on my mom.”

“Why don’t you give her a call from here, and if she’s still under the weather, I’ll send home some food for her, so she doesn’t have to cook tonight. The refrigerator is packed, thanks to your thoughtful words to the pastor.”

“That’s what friends are for.” He tossed her a slow grin, one that lit up the hazel twinkles in his eyes.

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

“Why not, it’s better than being enemies, or adversaries or afraid of the matchmaking women in our lives.”

The confusion coiled in her chest eased. Yes, they were friends. And there was nothing she would like more. Friends were safe. Friends didn’t demand a vulnerable part of your heart.

“Speaking of our matchmaking relatives, I’m going to need your help.” She swept past him, careful not to brush against him, and skipped down the stairs. “I’m going to make a list of all the eligible men in your mom’s age group. I don’t know what to do about Harold. I know Nanna is still interested in him, but Helen is her best friend. That’s the way Nanna is, and I love her for it. So we’ll have to find her someone as nice.”

“That’s going to be hard.” Matthew’s step echoed in the kitchen behind her. “Look.”

Hope eased the screen door open to get a better view of Harold running in the calf-high grass, arms spread, making airplane noises with his three great grandsons.

“I think we should leave it up to the Lord.” Matthew’s grin broadened, and he was handsome enough to make Hope’s senses spin.

Somehow she managed to speak. “What about Helen?”

“’And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love Him.’” Matthew splayed both hands on the porch rail and squinted through the sun to watch Harold dive-bomb Ian, then pretend to have engine trouble and drop to the ground. The boys giggled. “We’ll let Him work it out. Whatever’s meant to happen will. I have a suggestion, though.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“I think Nora might be happy if Harold refinished every last one of her cabinets. Think how shiny and new they’d look.”

“I like the way you think.” Let Harold and Nanna spend time alone in this house, and if they were meant to be together, then the Lord would work it out in His own way. “Consider refinished cabinets my treat to Nanna. How about new linoleum and countertops?”

“I’m miraculously booked up, but I bet Harold might do it.”

“Then we have a deal.” She sidled up next to him at the porch rail, leaving enough space so their elbows wouldn’t brush, and it felt good having a friend in Matthew.

She felt different, better than she could ever remember feeling.