Читать книгу Reclaiming His Past - Karen Kirst - Страница 15

Chapter Six

For a while there, Grant thought he might get stabbed a second time. Or shot. Or, at the very least, punched.

Jessica’s relatives were not pleased she and her mother had taken him in. The scarred one especially looked as if roughing Grant up a bit would make him feel better. Alice O’Malley’s presence dictated they be polite. Still, the unspoken strain in the crowded living room was palpable.

Although he tried not to appear fixated on his perplexing young hostess, his gaze insisted on sliding in her direction against his will. Seated on a low cushioned stool beside the unlit fireplace, Jessica held a delicate china teacup in her hands, the saucer on the stool beside her. She’d served up the cobbler for everyone except herself and him. His excuse? He’d probably cast up his accounts if he attempted to eat anything more. As for hers, he wondered if she was too nervous to eat, concerned about maintaining her waistline or the kind of person who enjoyed the act of cooking more than actually sampling the fare. He found himself wondering a lot of things. Such as why she’d come to his rescue outside when he’d obviously messed up by mentioning her private grief.

The brief excursion outside his bedroom had winded him. While he longed to recline in his borrowed bed, doing so would impart the notion he was either weak or hiding something. Instead, he’d sunk into the closest wingback chair, the soft, worn cushions like a gentle hug. Focusing on the conversation flowing around him took his mind off his body’s state of perpetual soreness.

There was talk of extended family members, both young and old, as well as the state of Josh’s furniture business in town. Sophie, who they’d explained was Will’s sister, was expecting twins. From the way Nathan’s expression lit up, Grant surmised the proud father-to-be wasn’t daunted by the prospect of caring for two infants at once.

Ensconced in the chair nearest his, Alice beamed. “Grant, Sophie practically raised Will, what with her pa off roaming the country and her ma dead. Her grandfather helped as much as he could. I miss that gentle soul.”

On the other side of the coffee table, the three O’Malley brothers sat side by side on the sofa. Their collective focus shifted to him.

He gripped the mug’s handle tighter. “Congratulations.”

Nathan considered him. “Thank you.”

Caleb leaned over and set his empty bowl on the walnut table with a clatter. “What about you, Parker? You remember having any children?”

Jessica gasped. The silence that followed could’ve suffocated him. Or was that the panic that refused to leave him entirely, crouching in the shadows and waiting for a chance to pounce?

To cover his anxiety, he lifted his mug and sipped the aromatic brew.

“Caleb, I don’t believe that’s appropriate.” Dabbing her mouth with a napkin, Alice frowned at her nephew.

“I’m simply curious.”

“No, you’re trying to evoke a reaction,” Jessica retorted, her eyes full of fire. “It’s rude.” Shooting to her feet, she started collecting the discarded dishes. “Now that you’ve all met Grant, it’s time for you to go. Ma and I have ten bushels of apples to turn into apple butter by day’s end.”

To his surprise, Alice didn’t refute her daughter. “Yes, we do have a busy day ahead of us.”

Grant nestled the mug against his thigh. “I don’t mind answering the question.”

Everyone in the room stared at him.

“I don’t know if I have children. Or a wife. For all I know, I could have a family out there waiting for me to come home.” The words sounded like a foreign language to his ears. He rubbed his thumb over his left ring finger. It was bare. There wasn’t an indentation or sun line indicating he’d ever worn a ring. He couldn’t fathom having a wife, let alone children. “I may not have my memories, but I have a sound mind and enough good sense to know that these ladies are well-loved in this community and by your family. I wouldn’t dare repay their generosity with ill-treatment.”

Josh slapped on his hat and stood. “Let’s hope you’re telling the truth, because we won’t tolerate anything less than gentlemanly behavior. Not only do we know every square mile of these mountains, we’ve had plenty of practice hunting down criminals. It’d be in your best interest not to cross us.”

His brothers stood as well, their expressions no less cautionary.

“Understood.”

Alice ushered them to the door like a mother hen with her chicks. The affection the older widow harbored for them was written in her lined countenance. Made him lonely for something he wasn’t sure he’d ever had.

Drawing on all his strength, Grant leveraged himself out of the comfy chair and relieved Jessica of the bowls. She didn’t protest. In the warm, sunlit kitchen, she emptied the mugs’ leftover contents into a scrap pail one by one. He leaned his hip against the wooden counter. The tangy scent of ripe apples teased his nose. Baskets brimming with the bright red and green fruit lined three walls.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“They’re your family,” he said. “They care about you.”

“I care about them, too,” she said drily. “Doesn’t mean they aren’t annoying sometimes.”

“Be thankful you have someone to annoy you.”

Her luminous gaze sought his as she lowered the last cup into the dry sink. “You may not have been married, but you do have a mother and father. Possibly even siblings.”

He studied the cheery yellow curtains, the pie safe shelves crowded with baked goods, the burlap rug at the door boasting a rooster pattern. He hadn’t been hatched in a coop. He’d been born to parents and raised in a home. What sort of parents he’d had and what sort of home life he’d experienced were questions he could add to the growing list of unknowns.

“The family tree page in the Bible was left blank. I could be an orphan.”

She toyed with one of her ear bobs. “Or...your folks couldn’t read or write.”

Impatience dogged him. Edging around her, he went to the basket beneath the window and, choosing an apple, brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. He wasn’t sure which foods he favored and which he avoided.

“What variety are these?”

“Macintosh.”

“How does one go about making apple butter?”

Jessica explained the process. Once all the apples were quartered, they’d start three fires out in the yard. One to boil down cider, another to heat the quartered apples and a third to turn cider into a sugar-like substance. Once that first batch of cider was half its original amount, they’d add the apples and sugar, along with cinnamon and nutmeg. This process would take the entire day.

He glanced at the dirty dishes piled in the dry sink, the bowl of bread dough rising on the stove. His presence was adding to their already considerable load of chores.

“I’ll help you.”

“You look as if one flick of my finger could knock you over.” Her expression was dubious. “You should be in bed resting.”

Pointing to the table, he said, “I can sit there and peel apples while I rest.”

“You’ll regret pushing yourself too hard.”

Her concern appeared to center around his health this time and not on how his arrival had disrupted her life.

“Before I leave, I’m going to find a way to repay my debt. I don’t have any money.” The tips of his ears burned. “What I can offer you is physical labor. I can do chores. Tend the animals. Fix whatever needs fixing around the farm.”

A wave of light-headedness washed over him, and his hand shot to the window ledge. Jessica’s washcloth slipped to the floor unheeded. Striding over, she dipped beneath his arm and sidled close against his side.

“Let’s get you to your room before you fall flat on your face.” Her palm was warm on his lower back.

“I’ll go crazy staring at those four walls.” He switched course and headed for the table. “I just need to sit down for a few minutes.”

She accommodated him without a word. When he was seated, she perched on the table corner and crossed her arms. “I can’t help but wonder what sort of skills you have.”

Taken aback, he raised his brows in question.

One delicate shoulder lifted. “You offered to tend the animals, but how do we know you have experience with them? You might’ve grown up in a crowded city.”

Grant searched hard for a silver lining. “I might’ve been a newspaperman. Or a wealthy shipping magnate.”

The tiniest of smiles played about her mouth. “You were so wealthy you resided in a seaside mansion with dozens of servants and indoor plumbing.”

“I like the sound of that.” Stroking his light beard, he said, “On the other hand, I could’ve been a poor but happy traveling circus performer.”

Her eyes widened. Her lips curved into a full-on smile that dazzled him. When a husky chuckle bubbled up her throat, Grant couldn’t help but share in her amusement.

“Perhaps you’d like to juggle a few of those apples to test that theory.”

Smiling, he shook his head. “Maybe when I’m in top form.”

They continued the silly game for several minutes, each of them proposing more and more outlandish professions. By the time Alice joined them, Jessica had been transformed. Her eyes sparkled with good humor. Her teeth flashed white with each spurt of laughter. The glimpse of tiny dimples charmed him.

Splaying a hand against her middle, she panted, “My stomach hurts from laughing.”

Her mother stopped beside the pie safe looking both pleased and confounded. “It’s good to hear you laugh again, dear.”

Pushing off the table, Jessica moved to retrieve the towel from the floor. “Yes, well, Grant has quite the imagination. He’s convinced he was either a stage actor or a patent medicine salesman.”

Alice’s jowls quivered with laughter. “There are endless possibilities, to be sure. Now, young man, it’s time to change out that bandage. I’m sure you’d appreciate a shave, as well.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As he shuffled into the living room, leaving Jessica to her work, Grant wished the lighthearted moments didn’t have to end.

* * *

Jessica heard movement in Grant’s room and sat up. She’d come to bed over an hour ago, weary to the bone yet unable to sleep. Her shoulders and the muscles of her upper back ached from the constant stirring required to ensure the apple butter didn’t scorch. Her hair and skin smelled like a mixture of cloves and cinnamon.

His door latch clicked. Seconds later, the floor creaked. What was he up to?

Wide-awake, she pushed the thick quilt off her legs and, after lighting the lamp on her bedside table, shrugged on the housecoat that covered her from chin to toes and went in search of him. No light came from the kitchen. Will’s obnoxious snoring sliced through the darkness. Jessica jiggled his feet hanging off the end cushion, and he shifted onto his side, thankfully cutting off the noise.

The scrape of wood across floorboards drew her to the nearest window. She could make out Grant’s shadowy form in the rocking chair. Taking care to be quiet, she slipped outside.

His head snapped up. The lamp’s muted glow fell on his face, highlighting his freshly shaven jaw and glinting in his clean locks.

He’s handsome. So what? Gatlinburg has dozens of attractive men.

“Did I wake you?” His husky voice cut through the frogs’ song echoing through the woods. Soon it would become too cold for the creatures.

“I’d have to be asleep for you to do that.” Choosing the rocker on the other side of the door, she set the lamp near her feet and folded her hands in her lap. “Have you ever pushed through exhaustion until you’re not sleepy anymore?”

“I’m not sure.” Wearing a rueful grin, he pushed the chair into motion with his foot. “I have an excuse to be awake. I had a long nap after lunch. You, on the other hand, didn’t stop moving the entire day. I expected you to be snoring right about now.”

“Will was doing enough of that for the both of us.”

His laugh was soft, affectionate. “I heard.”

Jessica reached for her ponytail out of habit, only to remember she’d left her hair unbound. Grant caught the movement. His gaze sharpened. In the dimness, she couldn’t decipher his expression. Uncharacteristic self-consciousness seized her.

“You have beautiful hair.” His voice deepened. “Like a flame. Or a sunset.” Scraping a hand over his face, he grimaced. “That sounded better in my head.”

She couldn’t help smiling. Funny, she’d done more of that in the past twelve hours than in the past twelve months. “I believe we can rule out poet.”

“I believe so.” Turning his attention to the sky visible beyond the overhang, he said, “Did you know the constellations are different in summer and winter?”

“I didn’t. Where did you learn that?”

“In a book maybe. Sailors need to be familiar with the stars’ patterns, right?” His mood seemed to shift. “Enough guessing for one day. Tell me about Gatlinburg. Tell me about yourself. Your family.”

Jessica complied. While living in a small town had its disadvantages—there was no hiding one’s mistakes, no secrets—she loved the mountains, the lush forests and sparkling streams, the diverse wildlife. She described the heart of town and the businesses established there, two of which were owned by her family members. Her sister Nicole had married the mercantile owner. And Josh and Kate operated a combination furniture store and photography studio. Grant asked questions from time to time. He possessed a keen intelligence, and she tempered her admiration with the reminder that not all criminals were dumb. Some were geniuses. Some were adept at deceiving those closest to them...

Stop it. You can’t live the rest of your life thinking the worst of people.

A small shadow emerged from the barn and trotted across the yard. As the black cat neared, the lamplight glinted off its golden eyes. Cinders hopped onto the porch and, bypassing Jessica, went over and sniffed Grant’s socks and pant legs.

“Who’s this?” He stretched out his fingers.

“Her name’s Cinders. Careful, she’s not all that friendly.”

Belying her words, the black feline butted her head into Grant’s palm, eager for affection. Then she promptly leaped onto his lap.

“You were saying?” Grinning, he slid her a sideways glance.

Jessica watched Cinders lap up his attention. “I’ve never seen her do that.”

“So you named her that because of her coloring?”

“Jane named her. Our older sister Megan used to entertain us with stories. For me, the scarier the better. Jane’s the opposite—she hates to be frightened. One night, after a particularly harrowing tale, this kitten hopped out of the shadows and pounced on poor Jane. Her fur was streaked with ashes. I’m not sure how she got so filthy.”

Grant sneezed. “You don’t know where she came from?”

“We searched the woods for her mother and came up empty. Cinders didn’t make it easy for us to care for her, but we managed. I get the impression she regards us as necessary but annoying.”

His tanned, capable-looking hands gently stroked her sleek fur. He sneezed again. Dipping his head, he murmured, “You and I have something in common, don’t we, Cinders?”

Another sneeze overtook him, and he winced. Either his head or his side was paining him. Maybe both. Her mother had applied fresh ointment and gauze that morning and told her it looked the same as yesterday. Taking in his profile, Jessica worried over the possibility of infection.

Only because he’d be forced to stay here longer, she reassured herself. Her focus must be on her own life, her own problems. Not someone passing through their lives. They would do their Christian duty and send him off with warm wishes.

Jessica frowned. “Grant, I think you may have a sensitivity to cats.”

“I can put up with itchy eyes and a runny nose for my newfound friend. After all, she’s the first one I’ve made here in Tennessee.”

“You and I aren’t friends?” she said partly in jest, the tiniest bit hurt that he’d discounted her.

In the intimate closeness the serene, dark forest imparted, he lifted his head to regard her with eyes that had deepened to a navy hue. “That’s a question only you can answer, Jessica. Friends trust each other. They don’t suspect them of deceit and ill intent.”

There was no condemnation in his tone. He’d spoken frankly, but there was understanding there, too. As if he identified with her misgivings.

“In that case, the answer is yes.”

The slow arrival of gratitude, then relief and finally happiness passing over his clean-shaven features did serious damage to her defenses. Bolting to her feet, she bid him a brief good-night and reentered the house, seeking sanctuary in her room.

She couldn’t allow herself to like Grant Parker. Empathy was acceptable. Concern for his health was natural. But opening herself up to a man, even for something as innocent as friendship, could very well be the first step to disaster.