Читать книгу Wanted: A Real Family - Karen Rose Smith - Страница 8

After his shower, Jase paced his suite in the main house Saturday morning. Sara would be here soon, as well as The Mommy Club volunteers. He just hoped his decision to invite Sara and her daughter to Raintree hadn’t been a mistake.

The only mistake he’d made up to this point in his life had been getting involved with Dana. She’d been tempting, exciting and energized with enthusiasm for her career. He hadn’t seen beyond the curves and sex appeal. He’d begun dreaming of a life they could share. But Dana had latched on to another man as if he’d been a lifeline away from Jase, what had happened to him, his injuries and an uncertain recovery. She’d bailed in the most damaging of ways and Jase still stung from her betrayal and her attitude about it.

For the past two years, Jase had poured every waking moment into making Raintree the most successful vineyard in California. There had been no time for women or their machinations.

He grabbed a pair of clean jeans from the closet and dressed. The problem was—he didn’t categorize Sara with other women. Because of her, he had full use of his shoulder. Because of her, his strength had slowly returned, his muscle tone had increased and his attitude about his life had done a one-eighty.

Honesty made him admit he’d been attracted to her when he’d been her patient, but he’d seen that ring on her finger. He’d heard her tenderly talk about her two-year-old daughter. He would have never messed with that.

The devil on his shoulder seemed to whisper, She’s a widow now.

Maybe so. But she was a homeless, vulnerable widow and he’d never take advantage of that. Besides, he’d given up on white picket fences and vows that lasted forever. Nothing good lasted forever—not in his experience. And the truth of it was he didn’t believe he could ever trust a woman again.

Had he made the right decision asking Sara to Raintree? His father was on edge. And Jase himself wasn’t sure how this situation would play out.

It was temporary. It would play out … and life as he’d come to know it would go on.

Grateful didn’t even begin to describe how Sara felt as Jase helped one of The Mommy Club volunteers carry a sofa in a pretty mauve-and-green-flowered slipcover into the cottage. This was moving day. She still didn’t know if she’d made the right decision coming to Raintree Winery, but watching Amy coloring under a live oak, the sun-dappled blanket around her, she was surer today than she had been for the past week.

Jase stood in the doorway and beckoned to her. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. His broad shoulders filled the space and she couldn’t see behind him. He’d been careful this morning not to get too close. She’d been careful about proximity, too.

When Sara glanced toward Amy, Jase assured her, “She’s fine. She knows exactly where you are.” He motioned to his assistant, Marissa, who was dropping another pack of markers beside Amy. “Will you keep an eye on her?” he called.

Marissa smiled and nodded.

“Marissa’s the one who knew all about The Mommy Club and gave me Kaitlyn’s number. Apparently the organization helped her when she was pregnant.”

Then, glancing inside the cottage, he changed the subject back to the situation at hand. “You need to tell us which wall would be the best backing for the sofa.”

Sara hadn’t seen Jase since the day she’d visited Raintree to decide about the cottage. She’d spoken to him on the phone a few times to make arrangements for today, and each time, the sound of his voice had lingered long after the call.

She glanced up at the hummingbird feeder he’d hung on the porch and had to smile. When he stood aside to let her enter, she was aware of his aftershave and trying not to be.

The sofa sat crosswise in the living room. Her attention was focused more on Jase than on the furniture. Still, she eyed the space instead of his gray eyes.

“Let’s not put it against a wall,” she said. “Let’s move it in front of the fireplace. Amy and I can curl up there on cool nights. We can put that wing chair by the window and Amy can watch TV from there.”

“Don’t you watch TV?”

“Not so much. If I do settle down on the sofa at night after Amy goes to bed, I usually conk out.” Or she sat in the silence and worried about how she was going to pay the bills. But Jase didn’t need to know that. If she confided in him about Conrad and about the debts, she’d be opening the door to confidences she didn’t know she was ready to share … didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for again.

Steering the subject away from her personal life, Sara commented, “I wonder where all this furniture came from. If it was used, it’s been repainted and repaired like new.”

“I did a little digging and found out there are a lot of guardian angels in The Mommy Club, from someone depositing funds in a never-ending account, to all the volunteers who lend a helping hand.”

Kaitlyn Foster slipped into the small cottage. She was a striking woman, with blond hair and green eyes, who could make any woman envious of her. But her personality as a compassionate pediatrician was as striking as her good looks. That compassion seemed to extend to all areas of her life. She’d been so kind to Sara after the fire and so good with Amy.

Now she was carrying a small bedside lamp in pink and white, perfect for a little girl’s room. “I just have to plug this in and Amy’s room is ready. The sheets are on the bed if you want to make it.”

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay The Mommy Club. Is there anything I can do to help kids or a family who needs it?”

Kaitlyn said, “We have a food drive coming up, as well as a summer program for kids and parents. We provide lunches and food baskets for families who are down on their luck and kids who are hungry. All of it makes a difference. Even if lunch is just a sandwich with an apple, the kids act like it’s a gourmet meal. We can always use help. After you get settled in, we can talk about it more.”

Jase suddenly said, “I’d like to help, too.”

Both women stared at him.

“What? A man can’t help The Mommy Club? I can donate funds and a little time. Sure, I’m as busy as the next guy, but helping kids—that used to be my life’s goal.”

Again some of the pictures Jase had taken and stories he’d written ran through Sara’s mind. She knew precisely what had happened to change his life’s goal. What exactly was his goal now? Did he miss his old life?

After Kaitlyn said again she’d be in touch about the food drive and headed toward Amy’s room, Jase moved away from Sara, took one end of the sofa and pushed it where she wanted it in front of the fireplace. “How’s that?”

“Perfect. If you ever tire of making wine, you can move furniture,” she joked.

He gazed straight out the window to the winery. When his gaze met hers again, she thought she saw a bit of longing in his eyes. Just what did Jase Cramer long for?

He studied her and then came closer, his voice low and a bit husky. He said, “The only reason I can push that sofa around is the physical therapy you gave me.”

“Jase—”

“Don’t tell me it isn’t so.”

“Any therapist who took you on as a patient could have strengthened your arm and shoulder and put you on an exercise regimen to make you healthy again.”

“I don’t know if I believe that. It was your caring and your positive outlook that made me see I could have a future here, that photojournalism wasn’t the be-all and end-all. You provided more than physical therapy, Sara. I imagine you do with all your patients.”

She felt herself blushing, a condition she’d had since childhood that affected her when she was nervous or upset. Now she was neither of them, but she was blushing anyway.

As she looked into Jase’s face and saw he really meant what he said, her heart raced. At the V-neck of his T-shirt, black hair curled against his tan skin. She remembered the scars on his shoulder, the line across his stomach where bullets had almost been the death of him. A field doctor at the refugee camp had done emergency surgery and saved his life under awful conditions. Yes, Jase was lucky to be alive. She knew what the experience had cost him—the notes were in his medical records.

Amy suddenly came running in and wrapped her arms around Sara’s legs. It was a relief to take her attention away from Jase and give it to her daughter. Her first and foremost concern always had to be Amy. “What’s up, Bitsy Bug?”

“I’m not a bitsy bug. I’m Amy.”

Sara hugged her daughter. “Did you get lonely out there?”

“I want to see my room.”

“We can do that. It’s not completely ready yet. Maybe you can help me make the bed.”

“Can Mr. Jase help, too?” Amy looked up at Jase with a wide smile, obviously accepting him into her world. That sweet roll had gone a long way, but his attitude had, too. He didn’t just tolerate Amy, he conversed with her. He got down on her level. A kid could smell a phony a mile away and Jase was no phony.

“I’m sure Mr. Cramer has so many more things to do than help make your bed.”

Jase shrugged. “I took the morning to help. Let’s go see what your room looks like.” He held out his hand to Amy.

Her daughter didn’t hesitate to take it. Jase was so tall, and Amy, so small. Living on the Raintree Winery property, just how often would they see him?

There was a single bed in Amy’s room with a white wood headboard. The short dresser had a child-sized mirror hanging above it. Beside the bed, someone had unfolded a latch-hook rug with adorable kittens scampering on it. A sealed package of new pink sheets, a soft pink blanket and a pink-and-white gingham spread with ruffles lay at the foot of the bed.

“I like pink,” Amy said as if wondering why her mother was hesitating. The truth was, Sara’s throat felt thick and her chest a little tight. Someone had done this for her daughter and she was so thankful for that.

Without her saying a word, Jase seemed to understand. He unfolded the spread and laid it over the wooden rocking chair by the side of the bed. Patting the mattress, he said to Amy, “Try it out. See what you think. You shouldn’t jump on it, but you can bounce a little.”

Forgetting her mom for the moment, Amy crawled up onto the bed and bounced up and down. “It’s soft.”

Jase had already ripped open the package of sheets. He flipped the pillowcase to Amy. “See if you can put the pillow in that. It will be a big help.”

After Amy jumped off the bed, Sara helped her daughter stuff the pillow into the fabric. By then, Jase had the bottom sheet spread on the bed and tucked in.

“Do this often?” Sara teased.

But he said casually, “I’m used to setting up camp. This isn’t all that different. It’s sort of like riding a bike. You never forget how.”

“When you were a kid and living here, I bet you didn’t have to make your own bed.”

A shadow crossed Jase’s face. She’d seen those shadows before when he was remembering something he didn’t want to remember. She could understand that with regard to his injuries and his broken engagement, but with regard to his childhood?

“The housekeeper took care of that.”

“Does your father have help with the house now?” Certainly, he must.

“We have a cook who comes in three times a week. She prepares food and makes sure the refrigerator’s stocked. A cleaning lady also comes in once a week. As I said, my father didn’t particularly like someone else around all the time.”

“But he agreed to let me stay here because it’s temporary.”

“Something like that.”

She laid the pillow on the bed, then lightly touched his forearm. “Because you convinced him.”

“I don’t want you to worry about what my father thinks.”

“But I do.”

“My father dislikes any change, so don’t take his attitude personally. He’s used to Liam coming and going over the winery. He’ll get used to you and Amy, too. He’s a solitary man, Sara. He has a couple of close friends but everyone else is a business contact.”

She wondered what Jase was trying to tell her, but Amy was tugging on her arm and she knew her daughter would soon be needing lunch.

“Can I have some juice? I’m thirsty.”

“I think I saw some boxes of apple juice in one of the bags. How about one of them?” Jase asked. “Come on, let’s go get one while your mom finishes the bed.”

Whatever Jase had been trying to tell her, the moment was gone now. If she knew more about Ethan Cramer, maybe she and Amy wouldn’t have to tiptoe around him.

As Jase and Amy left the room and Sara picked up the spread, she realized she wanted to know more about Jase. But curiosity could get her into deep trouble.

Jase stepped out of the storage shed beside the winery the next day, toolbox in one hand, a toy store bag in the other. Earlier, he had seen Sara leave with Amy and guessed she was going to church first thing on a Sunday morning. She’d returned a little while ago and he had some repairs to make on the cottage, a few details he hadn’t noticed before she’d moved in.

He should stay away from her … he really should. Her husband had only been gone a year and she was vulnerable now, after losing her home. But there was something about Sara that made him want to be around her. Chemistry? Sure, that was part of it. He wasn’t in denial. She turned him on. A woman hadn’t done that in a long time. But there was something else, too. Something to do with the way she looked at the world.

Still, he was going to keep his distance. That was best for both of them. When he knocked on the door to the cottage and Sara opened it, she looked surprised. “Jase, hi. We just got back from church and changed clothes.”

Uh-huh, he’d been right. She’d changed into a flowered blouse and yellow shorts that complemented it. She’d braided her hair at both temples and looked more like a teenager than a thirty-year-old physical therapist.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything. Yesterday I noticed the screen door is off center a bit and the windows in the bedroom won’t open without a lot of effort. Do you mind if I fix them while I have the time?”

“No, I don’t mind. I did have trouble opening Amy’s window this morning. Come on in. We’re still trying to make it our own.” She pointed to Amy who was coloring on the coffee table. “She’s drawing some pictures to hang in her room. If that’s okay. I can get those sticky things for the walls so I don’t make holes.”

“Make all the holes you want. They can be patched.” He glanced at the bag in his other hand, leaned close to Sara and said in a low voice, “I have something for Amy. I know she lost most of her toys. Do you mind if I give it to her?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I want to. I bought it last week after I knew you were going to move in.”

There was something close to admiration in Sara’s eyes, and he was surprised how that filled him with a sense of satisfaction.

“Can you come here a minute?” Sara called to her daughter.

Amy looked up, saw Jase and smiled shyly.

“I found a friend for you,” he said to her. “He barked at me when I passed him in the store.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “He did?”

Most kids were innocent. They could believe so easily. “Reach into the bag and see if he’ll come out and play.”

Amy checked with Sara. “Can I?”

“Go ahead.”

Amy reached into the bag and drew out a mop of a stuffed dog with black-and-white fur that fell down into his eyes.

“Do you like him?” Jase asked.

“Is he mine?”

“He can be if you name him.”

“He looks like Mom’s mop. Can I name him Moppy?”

“That works for me. I bet he can help you color.”

Amy ran over to the coffee table once more and set him there, right on her drawing. But Sara called her back. “What do you say to Mr. Jase?”

Amy glanced at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“I doubt if she’ll go anywhere without him. Someone donated a doll with a baby carriage, but she does love stuffed toys.” Sara came a little closer to him and whispered, “She lost her favorite in the fire—a teddy bear.”

Sara was close enough to touch, almost close enough to kiss. Absolutely crazy thought. That’s not why he was here. That’s definitely not why he’d asked her to stay. He had a debt to repay to her for giving him back his life. But she smelled so damn good, too. When he’d seen her for physical therapy, he’d figured out she must use some kind of strawberry shampoo or conditioner on her hair because it was her hair that smelled so good.

Backing away, he said, “I don’t want to interrupt whatever you were doing. I’ll work on Amy’s bedroom window first.” He picked up his toolbox and went to the smaller of the two bedrooms, unable to shake the image of him running his fingers through Sara’s hair.

Ten minutes later, Jase had finished with the windows in the two bedrooms. He noticed Sara sitting at the kitchen table, several sheaves of paper in front of her. But he didn’t ask what they were. They were none of his business.

“I’m going to have to take the screen door off its hinges and plane the bottom section. The wood just warped. I could have an aluminum door put on if you’d rather have that.”

“I like the wooden one. I like the old-fashioned look of it. That’s what’s so welcoming about this cottage, the fact that it’s not a cookie-cutter image of all others.”

“I suppose you like the ivy, too? Dad’s been wanting the gardener to tear it all down for a while. They always have an argument about it.”

“I like the ivy, too.” She began mounding the papers and inserting them into an accordion file.

When his gaze fell on it, she explained, “This file of documents and receipts was in my car so it survived the fire. I was going to make copies. It’s ironic I was having trouble with my garage door opener so my car was parked in front of the house. Otherwise, that might have gone up in flames, too.”

“I guess that’s what optimists call a silver lining.” He went to the screen door and began loosening the hinges.

“I was just about to make lunch. Along with the clothes and furniture the volunteers brought, they stocked my refrigerator and freezer. Do you like stir-fry? You’re welcome to stay, unless you and your dad eat Sunday dinner together.”

Jase hesitated before answering and Sara took that the wrong way. Her face flushed a little. “It’s okay if you’d rather not.”

Glancing at Amy, seeing she was lost in what she was doing and not paying any attention to them, he said, “Most of the folks in Fawn Grove who have lived here all of their lives know my history with Raintree Winery.”

“Your history?” Plainly, Sara didn’t understand.

He didn’t confide in many people. He didn’t relive what he’d rather forget. That was true for childhood as well as some of his photojournalistic experiences. But Sara was living here and she might as well know the truth. It might make her feel better about Ethan’s attitude.

“As I mentioned, Ethan Cramer’s not my biological father. I was twelve and in the foster care system when he adopted me.”

Sara was looking up at him now, her golden-brown eyes compassionate, her attitude completely attentive.

Her understanding gaze and silent concentration on him urged him to go on. “My father and I have never been that … close. Maybe I was too old when I came to live here. Maybe he was too set in his ways. We’ve never really talked about it. But we also never had a normal father-son bond.”

“Is that the reason when you came back here two years ago that you didn’t know if you could find a life here?”

“That was a big part of it. The vineyard itself I’d always been drawn to. I started working with the grapes soon after I arrived. My father would show me what to do and I’d do it. Pruning and tying the vines weren’t just chores, because the whole process fascinated me. I learned quickly and easily about the varieties of grapes, the soil, the process of wine-making. My father and I found common ground with what he did here. But other than that— I don’t know if I was completely closed off or if he was. Maybe taking on a twelve-year-old was more than he bargained for. But anyway, since I’ve been back, except for the vineyard, we’ve had separate lives.”

“That’s a shame,” Sara said. “You’re living here together. You should be able to retrace some steps and find understanding.”

“Maybe that’s what neither of us wants.”

“But you should.”

“Sara,” he said with a warning note in his voice.

“Jase, I have no family, except for Amy. Do you think for a minute I’d ever let anything come between us?”

“You’re a good mom, Sara. Of course you believe that. But I wasn’t an innocent kid with no baggage when I arrived here.” He saw the questions in her eyes, but he wasn’t going to answer them.

“No matter what baggage you had, every child just wants to be loved. Heck, every adult just wants to be loved.”

When she said the words, she looked a bit embarrassed. Was she looking for love again? “You’d get married again?”

“Oh, no.”

The way she said it, Jase had a feeling her marriage hadn’t been everything she’d wanted it to be. “Do you want to elaborate a bit?”

“Not really.”

Of course she didn’t. He was treading into private territory and he knew it. “Want to rescind your offer of dinner?”

She looked tempted but shook her head. “No, we’ll just make a pact not to discuss anything too … personal.”

They’d already discussed some things that were personal when he was in physical therapy. After all, Dana’s infidelity had been a huge part of his pessimistic attitude when he’d returned home. “I’d like to stay. It will be a nice break before I head back to the office for the afternoon.”

“Working on a Sunday?”

“A vineyard is similar to a farm. Anything that grows doesn’t take a vacation, and neither does the work that piles up because of it. I have a meeting with Liam later to go over a new organic process. Have you met him yet?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“He’s a friendly guy, sometimes too friendly with the ladies. He dates someone new every weekend.”

“How old is he?”

“Older than I am—forty-five.”

“And you’re thirty-six.”

“You remember?”

“Therapists never forget some of their patients.”

Her words made his heart thump louder and that was silly. She could just mean his condition had been worse than most. She could just mean his emotional scars from the attack and his split with Dana had been more extensive than most. Or she could mean that she’d remembered him as he’d remembered her.

He stepped away. “I should be finished with this door by the time it takes you to make a stir-fry. We could have a race.”

“Or we could take our time and not worry about who finishes first,” she suggested.

Yep, he liked this woman’s positive vision of the world. He just wondered when, exactly, he’d lost his.

During lunch, Jase kept the conversation light, mostly answering questions Sara had about the vineyard and the types of wine it produced. After Amy finished, she scrambled from her chair and curled up with her new stuffed toy, paging through a picture book.

“So she’s in The Mommy Club’s day care program while you work?” Jase asked.

“Yes, she is. The staff are wonderful.”

“I didn’t realize until after a discussion with Marissa that she takes her little boy, Jordan, there, too.” His assistant had told him The Mommy Club day care program allowed for a sliding scale according to a parent’s income. “Marissa doesn’t seem to worry with Jordan there.”

“I think Kaitlyn was involved in hiring the staff,” Sara explained. “What I like is that I can stop in on my lunch hour. In the fall, Amy will be in kindergarten and I’ll have to figure out what to do when she gets off school.”

“Being a parent is never easy, is it? And being a single parent has to be doubly tough.”

Sara didn’t seem to want to comment on that and he wondered if she ever openly discussed her marriage. Her husband had been the manager of a home improvement store, but Jase didn’t know more than that about him. Sara didn’t seem to be in the mood to confide. In a flash, he remembered Dana and her penchant for keeping feelings and motives and even her life on assignments to herself. Most of all, he remembered her betrayal and easy desertion. He really should stay far away from Sara and her marriage and her past. His own past had forged who he was. Maybe everyone had secrets and stories they didn’t want to tell.

Picking up his plate, he stood and said, “I’ll help you clean up.”

But Sara stood, too. “No, of course not. You fixed my windows and screen door and I don’t want to keep you from the rest of your day.”

Subtext: she was ready for him to leave.

He did carry his plate to the sink and set it there. With a glance at Amy, he noticed she’d fallen asleep, Moppy tucked under her arm, the picture book open beside her on the sofa.

“Does she still take naps?” he asked.

“Only when they catch her unaware.”

He smiled. “That would make a wonderful photograph. Almost makes me want to get out my camera again.”

“You don’t take photos anymore? You’re so good at it!”

He gave her a wry look. “I haven’t since I came home. Too many memories about the last ones I took.” Those photos had been shot in the refugee camp the day of the attack.

“You can’t let what happened take away your gift.”

That was one way of looking at it, he supposed.

“I’ll walk you out,” Sara suggested.

She followed him as he opened the screen door, which now hung correctly on its hinges. Outside the cottage, with the scent of roses climbing on a trellis beside the house redolent, he stared down at her, the desire to kiss her so strong he could taste it.

But instead he did the best thing for both of them. He picked up the toolbox he’d left outside the door and said, “Goodbye, Sara.” He could feel her gaze on his back as he walked away.