Читать книгу Child of His Heart - Joan Kilby - Страница 9

SHE MARCHED DOWN the block, head high, the stacked heels of her Versace loafers clicking briskly on the sidewalk. But as she drew nearer to Rosa’s, her palms began to feel damp. This, she reminded herself, pressing her hands to her narrow skirt, was her town.

Entering Rosa’s deli was like dropping into a corner of Italy. Erin breathed in the mouth-watering aromas of prosciutto and sun-dried tomatoes, pungent cheeses and fresh and dried herbs. Strings of garlic and red chili peppers hung from the ceiling alongside whole salamis and cured hams. Behind the counter, Rosa, plump and smiling, and her statuesque daughter, Nina, filled orders for the hungry regulars.

Mrs. Thompson was pointing out to Nina exactly which three slices of Black Forest ham she wanted. Toby Conner, from the gas station, known to Erin’s graduating class as “Tubby” Conner, handed over money for an extra-large container of potato salad. Greta Vogler, fifty-six and never married, asked Rosa for a tuna sandwich, then flirted over her shoulder with Nick Dalton. Perfectly polite, he smiled fixedly, not quite looking Greta in the eye.

Conversation paused as Erin entered. The townspeople she’d known for years greeted her with friendly waves and hellos. Nick Dalton registered Erin’s presence with a slow blink, a subtle double take. His smile widened and became genuine.

“Hi,” she said in a general greeting. She let her gaze rest momentarily on Nick, including him but not singling him out. Very good, she commended herself, friendly without being gushy.

Now for the next step.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said, extending her hand to Nick, cool and collected. At least she hoped she appeared that way. Her heart was beating like a mad thing. “Erin Hanson. I work at the bank.”

His hand, large and warm and strong, wrapped around hers, inspiring a feeling of confidence and security. If she were trapped in a burning building she’d like those hands to be pulling her free.

“Nick Dalton. Nice to meet you—at last.” Amusement colored his low voice, as though he was teasing her with an inside joke.

So he’d noticed her avoidance tactics—how embarrassing. Then she became aware of Toby staring openly at the two of them, and Greta’s sharpened features. “You’ve met my sister Kelly, I believe.”

“She was very helpful with the rental houseboat. In fact, the whole town’s been welcoming. I’ll probably be calling on you soon—”

Erin’s thoughts took flight. How to say no to a date. Dare she say yes?

“—about a home loan.”

“Oh! A home loan. Of course. Anytime.” She laughed.

Mrs. Thompson tucked her package of ham into her string shopping bag, smiled at Erin and left. Toby took his potato salad and roast beef sandwich to one of the stools at the counter along the window. Greta laid a hand on Erin’s forearm and said in a funereal tone, “I was so sorry to hear, my dear.”

“I beg your pardon? Hear what?”

“You know.” Greta’s gaze flicked to Nick and back. “Your breakup. Why you had to leave Seattle. Don’t worry, we’re on your side.”

Erin did a slow burn. Greta Vogler had been teaching English at the high school since the dawn of time and was the nosiest woman in Hainesville. Erin couldn’t begin to imagine what atom of information Greta had gotten hold of, or what monumental work of fiction she’d blown it into. As pleasantly as possible, she replied through gritted teeth, “I came back to take care of Gran.”

“Of course you did,” Greta said, oozing understanding. She picked up her sandwich and swept out of the store in a rustle of shopping bags. “Marriage is highly overrated, or so I’ve been told. We spinsters live longer.”

Rosa scowled after her, then turned to Erin. “For two cents I’d spit in her tuna fish. You want me to put the evil eye on her?”

Erin shook her head. “Somehow she would turn it back on you.”

“Who’s next?” Rosa said, looking from Nick to Erin.

Nick gestured to Erin.

“Oh, no. You were here first.”

“Please. I insist.” He touched her elbow, gently pushing her forward.

“Thank you.” Flustered by the warmth of his fingers on her bare skin, she stepped to the counter. With Nick Dalton blotting coherent thought from her brain, she shouldn’t have been surprised that she blurted out the first thing that came to her—his favorite sandwich. “Pastrami on whole wheat, please.”

Rosa’s eyes opened wide. “That’s amazing! Nick here, he orders pastrami on whole wheat every day.”

Erin felt sick when she realized what she’d done but was too embarrassed to take it back. “Is that right?” she said weakly.

“It’s a fact,” Rosa said with an emphatic shake of her head. “Most people ask for pastrami on rye, roast beef on whole wheat,” she elaborated effusively. “Hardly ever pastrami on whole wheat. First him, now you. Amazing.”

“Astonishing.” Nick had a twinkle in his eye.

“Usually, Erin orders turkey or egg salad. Never pastrami,” Rosa continued, this time to Nick. “Hey, maybe this means you two are meant for each other.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Erin objected. “I…I felt like a change. It’s just a sandwich.”

“Ah, but what a sandwich,” Nick put in. He kissed his fingertips in the deli owner’s direction. “Rosa makes the best pastrami on whole wheat I’ve ever tasted. No wonder Erin wants one, too.”

“You better watch out. He’s a charmer,” Rosa told Erin with a sly smile. “Hot mustard or seeded?”

“I’ll bet she likes it hot,” Nick said with a wink at Rosa.

“Seeded, please,” Erin replied coolly. This wasn’t turning out at all the way she’d planned. She handed over the money in exchange for the wrapped sandwich. “Thank you.” As quickly as she could without appearing to rush, she headed for the exit.

Before she reached it, Nick was there, holding open the door and handing her a paper cup. “Don’t forget your dill pickle.”

Now was the time to snub him, but he spoke with such insouciant goodwill that she couldn’t think of a single dampening comment. With his glittering dark eyes and curving smile, he looked like a cross between a handsome devil and a guardian angel. She’d been mistaken about one thing—there wasn’t a trace of egotism in that sinfully attractive face.

Something inside her melted and she laughed. “Thanks.” She took the pickle and backed out the door. “Nice meeting you. See you…sometime.”

Nick watched her move away down the street. Then he turned to Rosa. “How fast can you make a turkey sandwich?”

“Faster than she can walk back to the bank.” Rosa smiled at him and slapped sliced meat onto bread and piled it with lettuce and tomato. “Erin is a very nice girl. Very pretty.”

“Very.” He grabbed the wrapped sandwich and threw down some money. “Thanks, Rosa. Oh, and two coffees, to go.”

“Sure thing. Erin likes caffe latte.”

Nick grinned. “Make it two.”

By the time he reached the sidewalk Erin had disappeared from sight. He walked in the direction of the bank, glancing into side streets. And then he saw her, strolling down a lane toward the park by the river. He caught up with her just as she was settling onto a wooden bench.

“Well, what do you know? This is my favorite bench, too,” he said, sitting down beside her.

“Are you following me?” she demanded, but a hint of a smile warmed her voice.

“Just another amazing coincidence.” He handed her a foam cup with a wisp of steam curling from the hole in the plastic lid. “Caffe latte?”

“Thank you. Or should I thank Rosa?” She slanted him a sideways glance from under lowered lids, reminding him of the first day he’d seen her.

“You and I are on the same wavelength, can’t you tell?” Nick hoped she wouldn’t think him rude for staring. Her long, gently waving blond hair, parted in the middle, contrasted sexily with her business outfit, but seemed to suit those ultra-long legs, which ended in multicolored suede high heels. He glanced at the still unwrapped sandwich in her lap. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

She smiled ruefully. “This is embarrassing to admit, but I hate pastrami.”

He held out his sandwich. “Trade?”

“Pastrami for pastrami? What’s the point?”

“I’ve got turkey.”

“Why?” she asked, suspicious but obviously tempted.

Smiling, he held her gaze. “Sometimes words just pop out of my mouth. You got me so flustered that before I knew what I was saying, I asked Rosa for turkey on sour dough with lettuce, hold the mayo.”

Laughing, she traded sandwiches with him. “You’re a case.”

“I’m sure you mean that in the nicest possible way,” he said as he unwrapped his sandwich. “You don’t seem like the kind of lady who would insult a virtual stranger.”

Erin took a bite, then pulled off a corner of her crust and threw it onto the grass for the ducks. A mallard family waddled over, quacking hungrily. “The whole town’s talking about you. You’re hardly a stranger anymore.”

“How boring. You already know everything about me.” He peered around her at the paper cup sitting on the bench. “Planning on eating that pickle?”

She handed it to him with a glance hinting of mischief. “Not everything.”

“Oh?” The dill crunched beneath his teeth. “Is there something you’d like to know but don’t?”

Pink suffused her cheeks, bringing out the blue in her eyes, and she laughed silently. “I could win a bet….”

“Just ask. I’ll tell you anything.”

Sobering, she sipped her coffee. “Don’t say that. The local grapevine can be intrusive. People here are genuinely caring, but you have to guard your privacy.”

“I guess you’re right,” he said, remembering the pinched-faced woman in the deli and her snide remarks to Erin.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Across the river, Nick spotted a familiar figure clothed in tight black flares, a midriff-baring white top and clunky red platform sandals ambling toward the footbridge. “Miranda!” he called, and waved.

“Is that your daughter?” Erin asked, starting on the second half of her sandwich.

“Yes. Frankly, I’m surprised to see her outside. All week she’s been slouched in front of the TV.”

Miranda saw him and lifted her hand in a halfhearted wave.

“She’s tall for a twelve-year-old,” Erin remarked.

“She’s a child in a woman’s body.” Familiar worries gnawed his insides. “All she thinks about are boys, clothes and makeup. Although you’d never know about the last two by the awful way she dresses.”

“She’ll grow out of it. I made some unbelievable fashion mistakes when I was a teenager.”

Nick glanced at her suit. He didn’t know much about women’s clothes, but he could tell quality when he saw it. “That seems hard to believe.”

She smiled. “My little sister Geena is a model. Whenever she visits, she goes through my closet and throws things out, then takes me shopping. Sometimes she passes on designer outfits she’s worn once or twice. Our feet are exactly the same size so I really score on shoes.”

To Nick, Erin looked beautiful enough to be a model herself. Her face was long and oval, with wide blue eyes and a slight bump in the middle of her nose. Her full mouth showed a lot of perfect white teeth when she smiled. “You don’t mind her taking over like that?”

“Are you kidding? I love it! I like to wear nice clothes, but I don’t usually have a lot of time to shop. Besides, she’s my sister,” she added, as though that explained everything.

Miranda reached their side of the footbridge and hesitated, as though unable to decide whether to grace them with her presence. Nick waved her over again. To his embarrassment, she simply lifted a hand before taking the path to town. For an instant he saw his daughter through a stranger’s eyes—sullen and unlovely. The thought no sooner crossed his mind than it was replaced by a wave of protective love.

“She’s a good kid,” he said to Erin. “Smart as they come, especially at math. But sometimes she can be a little rude.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Twelve is a tough age.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He took the last bite of his sandwich and chewed in silence.

“I hear you like fishing,” Erin said. He glanced at her, eyebrows raised, and she added with an apologetic smile, “Walt, who owns the sporting goods store, mentioned to Kelly’s husband, Max, that you’d been in to buy some fishing lures.”

Nick crushed his empty foam cup. “I wish Walt were as free with information on fishing spots. He acted awfully cagey when I asked him to recommend some good places.”

“The locals are very protective of their fishing holes.” Her smile turned dreamy. “My sisters and I used to fish with my grandfather. He had a secret spot on the river not even Jonah Haines or the mayor knows about. I caught my first fish there. Granddad used to bring in the biggest steelhead of anyone in these parts.”

“I don’t suppose you’d join me fishing tomorrow morning and show me where it is?” Nick said hopefully. He’d like to find that fishing hole, but more than that, he’d like to get to know Erin better.

Erin was quiet as she tucked her empty sandwich wrapper inside her cup. Finally she said, “I’m pretty busy helping my grandmother.”

She brushed a few crumbs off her skirt, pushed back her hair. Another second, Nick realized, and she’d be getting up to leave. “Would you have dinner with me sometime?”

He felt her retreat even before she got to her feet and tossed her cup into a nearby trash bin. “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Nick rose, too, shaking out the creases in his pants. Damn. They’d gotten along fine until he’d asked to see her again. Maybe she was still hung up on that guy in Seattle, whoever he was. Well, he could be patient. In a town this small it was inevitable they would run into each other again.

When they reached the main street, Erin paused. “I’m going the other way. I want to stop in at Kelly’s office.”

“No explanation necessary,” he said, holding up his hands. “Thanks for your company. I hope now that you’ve gotten to know me a little you won’t be afraid of me.”

Her creamy cheeks turned rosy. “I was never afraid of you.”

Of yourself, then, he thought suddenly. He didn’t say it aloud in case she became more embarrassed or even indignant. But if true, it would confirm what he hoped—that she was attracted to him, too. “See you later, then.”

He’d started walking toward the fire station when she called, “Nick?”

He turned on his heel. “Yes?”

“If you’ve got a minute, come with me to my sister’s office. I’ll show you on a map where Granddad’s fishing hole is.”

He grinned. “Great.”

“On one condition,” she warned. “Don’t tell anyone else.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“YOU AND YOUR CLOCKS,” Gran said, settling into her armless chair by the window in the living room. She dug through her needlework bag while Erin went around the room carefully winding her most prized possessions.

“You don’t mind them, do you, Gran? I’ll turn the chimes off at night if they keep you awake.” She had three mantel clocks and four wall clocks—minus the one she’d taken to the bank and not counting her bedside clock. The grandfather in the hallway made seven at home. Seven sets of chimes ringing through the big house every hour on the hour.

“The chimes don’t bother me, and I find the ticking soothing,” Gran said, pulling out a large square of tapestry with an intricate pattern depicting a stag in a forest. “The two you left behind when you went to New York years ago kept me company and reminded me of you.”

Erin started to sit in one of the overstuffed wing chairs opposite the fireplace. “Did you take your blood pressure medicine after dinner?”

“I don’t need that stuff—”

“Yes, you do.” Erin went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water from the jug in the fridge and grabbed the bottle containing Gran’s medicine from the counter. Back in the living room she handed it to her grandmother and stood over her while she took it. “I came back to take care of you and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Bully,” Gran said mildly, but she swallowed the tablets.

“It’s for your own good.” Erin smiled fondly at her. “How many times did you say that to me when I was growing up?”

“You never liked taking medicine, either. Not even those flavored children’s pain relievers Kelly popped into her mouth like candy.” Gran smiled as she threaded green yarn through a large needle.

“She used to sneak them when you were in the garden.”

“Did she think I didn’t know that? You girls were a handful. There was fourteen months between each of you, but you behaved more like triplets.”

“True,” Erin said. “Whatever one of us did, the others followed. Piano lessons, Girl Scouts, basketball…”

The chiming clocks drowned out her words. It was seven o’clock on a Friday night. If she were in Seattle she’d be getting dressed to go out to dinner with John or to a club with friends. Erin pulled back the lace curtain to gaze out the window at Linden Street. It was one of those golden late-summer evenings when the light fades slowly and children play outside till long past their normal bedtime.

“Why don’t you call up one of your old friends?” Gran said. “Laura Emerson still lives over on Vermont Street.”

Erin heard a tiny meow at her feet and bent to pick up Chloe, rubbing the kitten’s soft fur against her cheek. “Not tonight. I’ve still got the laundry to do. And I’m a little tired.”

She was very tired, in fact. Unusually so. The week had seemed long what with adjusting to her new job and settling in. She wondered what Nick was doing right now. Sitting on his deck on the water enjoying the fine evening? Out on a date? The thought rankled unexpectedly.

“Is Granddad’s fishing gear still in the garage, Gran?”

“I expect it is.” Gran glanced at her with mild curiosity. “Planning on going fishing?”

“Sometime. Maybe.” Part of Erin wished she were going with Nick tomorrow. He made her laugh, and she’d had far too few laughs in recent months. But getting to know him would complicate her relationship with John and distract her from caring for Gran.

“I hear our new fire chief is a keen fisherman.” Gran’s fingers dexterously pushed the needle in and out of the tapestry. “What did Kelly say his name was again?”

“Nick Dalton. I ran into him at Rosa’s the other day. I told him where he could find Granddad’s fishing hole.”

“I see.” The older woman’s mouth curled into a knowing smile.

“It’s not like that, Gran. I was just being neighborly to a newcomer.”

Gran tied off the green and reached for a ball of yellow yarn. “Whatever you say, dear.”

“RISE AND SHINE.” Nick rapped on Miranda’s shut door. “It’s six o’clock.”

A loud groan issued from the bedroom. “I can’t believe you’re making me go fishing.”

“Oh, come on. You love it, you just can’t admit it.” He leaned on the doorjamb and inspected his nails while he waited for the biting reply.

“Yeah, right.”

Nick set his head on one side judiciously. “The contemptuous tone is outstanding, but the verbal display fails to dazzle,” he said, mimicking the patter of a sports commentator. A second later her slipper hit the door. Nick chuckled. It was either laugh or yell, and he disliked yelling, even though sometimes she goaded him into it. The only way to deal with Miranda and emerge sane was to tease her into doing what she was supposed to do. A mention of forthcoming treats never hurt, either. “Fish with me today, and next week we’ll go into Seattle and get you some school clothes.”

“I don’t want to go to school.” Her token grumble sounded muffled beneath her pillow.

“You’re a little old for that line. If you want breakfast before we go you’d better get up now.” Then he walked off before she could make another smart remark. These “discussions” could go on endlessly, and although a little was amusing, too much was not.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” she demanded ten minutes later over the scrambled eggs he’d set before her.

“Must be your charming company—which I miss, by the way.” Nick took his own plate to the sink. Outside the window, beyond the river, the sun had risen above the distant mountains. Water lapped at the edge of the deck from the wake of a passing gillnetter, gulls screeching noisily. “You’ve been on your own all week and this is a chance for us to do something together.”

She scooped some egg onto her fork. “Fishing is boring.”

“You didn’t think so the time you caught a salmon up in British Columbia.” He filled a thermos with freshly brewed coffee and tipped the remainder into his cup.

“I didn’t know any better,” she said. “I was only ten.”

“A mere child,” he agreed. In so many ways she still was. But once again he acknowledged how her heart-shaped face and green eyes were rapidly maturing and her developing bust and hips made her look less like a child every day. Certainly less like his child and more like her mother’s. And once again his stomach constricted as the memory of Janine’s deathbed confession came to mind like a recurring nightmare. Had she told the truth when she’d said their daughter might not be his—or had she only wanted to hurt him?

“What day are we going shopping?” Miranda asked.

“Next Saturday.” He sipped his coffee. “Maybe Erin can suggest some good stores.”

“Who’s Erin? That woman you were with in the park?”

“Yes, and you will be nice to her if and when you happen to meet her.” So far Miranda hadn’t been kind to the few women in his life since Janine had passed away. “Erin works in the bank.” Craftily, he added, “One of her sisters is a fashion model.”

Miranda lifted her head. “A supermodel?”

“Probably.” If Erin was anything to go by.

Thinking of Erin made him lean against the counter with his coffee and zone out. If her grandfather’s fishing hole was all it was cracked up to be, he would be on her doorstep before the day was through, luring her to dinner with the prospect of fresh fish. He had a bottle of white Zinfandel in the fridge. Would candles be too much? Maybe one, in the center of the table.

“Earth to Dad. Come in, Dad.”

He blinked and saw Miranda waving a hand in front of his face, her empty plate in her hand. “A few minutes ago you were dragging me out of bed. Are we going, or what?” she demanded.

“Sorry, I must have been daydreaming.”

“You’ve been acting very weird the last couple of days, you know that?”