Читать книгу Making His Way Home - Kathryn Springer - Страница 13

Chapter Four

“I wanna drink, Mama!”

Grace heard the cheerful announcement a split second before a preschool girl popped up on the other side of the beverage table set up in the corner of Daniel Redstone’s barn. A pair of big blue eyes locked on the glass dispenser of ice-cold lemonade that Grace had filled before the square dance started.

“All right.” The girl’s mother repositioned the sleeping infant cradled in her arms and smiled at Grace. “We’ll take one cup, please.”

Grace ladled the lemonade into a plastic cup and the woman reached for it at the exact moment her daughter tugged on the strap of the diaper bag to get her attention. It started a chain reaction. Lemonade sloshed over the side of the cup, soaking the mother’s shirt, and the baby woke up.

The woman’s smile disappeared as a piercing cry rent the air.

“Here, Mama!” The girl snatched a napkin from the stack and the rest of them followed, sliding off the table like a miniature avalanche.

Now the woman looked as if she were about to burst into tears. She tried to bend down to pick up the napkins and the diaper bag bumped a corner of the table.

“Let me help,” Grace said quickly as the tower of plastic cups began to sway. She reached for the diaper bag, but suddenly found herself holding the baby, swaddled in a blue blanket, instead.

“Thank you.” The children’s mother began to blot the moisture from her shirt with one of the napkins as she collected the rest of them from the ground. Once Grace recovered from her initial surprise, she smiled down at the infant in her arms.

“Hey, sweetie,” she whispered. “Do you have a smile for me?”

To Grace’s wonder, he stopped crying immediately and stared up at her, his expression changing from absolute misery to utter delight in the blink of an eye. The scent of baby powder and lotion washed over Grace, sweeter than anything she would find at a perfume counter. The tiny legs pedaled inside the blanket and Grace chuckled.

“How many do you have?”

Grace glanced up and met the woman’s knowing gaze.

“How many?” she repeated.

“Children.”

“I...none.”

“Really?” The look of astonishment on the woman’s face was flattering. “You look like someone who knows her way around babies.”

The compliment wrapped around Grace’s heart like a hug.

“Not yet,” she murmured, reluctantly turning the baby over to his mother.

The woman planted a kiss on her son’s downy head. “Well, you will someday,” she declared. “And trust me, even with all the commotion and chaos, there’s nothing better than being a mom.”

As Grace watched the family make their way over to one of the benches that lined the interior walls of the barn, the secret she’d been keeping stirred in her heart and brought a smile to her face.

In God’s timing, when the adoption agency she’d been working with finally called, she would discover that particular truth for herself....

“Is the lemonade free?”

A pack of adolescent boys jockeyed for position in front of the beverage table and Grace smiled. “Yes, it is.”

When they left five minutes later, Grace had to refill the dispenser and open another package of napkins. She was in the process of filling more cups of lemonade in anticipation of another wave of thirsty dancers when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The temperature rose several degrees, weighting the air and making it difficult to breathe.

Two possibilities collided and neither one would bring the evening to a pleasant conclusion.

Either she was having some kind of allergic reaction to the egg salad or...

Grace slid a cautious, sideways glance at the entrance of the barn. The ladle in her hand tipped sideways, sending a stream of lemonade running down the side of the cup and onto the checkered tablecloth.

What is going on, Lord? If this is some kind of test, I should have had a chance to study for it!

Because Cole was framed between the rough-hewn timbers of the doorway, backlit by the setting sun as if he’d been photoshopped there. A day’s growth of beard shadowed his angular jaw and the strands of dark hair across his forehead were carelessly mussed. The sleeves of his lightweight cotton shirt were rolled back to reveal tanned forearms. Both hands tucked into the front pockets of faded, boot-cut jeans.

It wasn’t fair that the casual look totally worked for him, Grace thought.

The square dance had started less than an hour ago, but if she had a dollar for every time someone had asked her about the “gorgeous guy” who’d bid on her basket, the city council wouldn’t need the money they’d raised at the box social. Grace could have singlehandedly funded the new playground equipment at the park herself.

Not only that, Kate and Abby had ambushed her in the parking lot, anxious to hear all the details about the lunch she and Cole had shared.

Her friends had all become engaged or married over the past few years and for some reason, it wasn’t enough that they’d found their happily ever after. They were committed to making sure that Grace found hers, too.

They weren’t happy to discover that he wasn’t going to be at the dance.

“I don’t understand,” Kate had huffed. “Jenna and Dev were standing right next to Cole during the auction and she said that he looked thrilled when he won your basket. What’s the matter with him?”

Grace remained silent, knowing there probably wasn’t anything wrong with Cole. But based on the way her heart started thumping like a bass drum whenever he smiled, there was definitely something wrong with her.

Because Grace had already been exposed to that smile, you’d think she would have built up, oh, some sort of immunity over the years.

During the short amount of time they’d spent together at the box social, she’d had to remind herself—frequently—that Cole wasn’t her friend. He was the one who’d broken her heart.

But the most disturbing thing was, Grace couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he possessed the power to do it again.

She watched Cole begin to weave his way between the clusters of people. Her gaze skipped ahead of him in a panicked attempt to guess his destination.

And landed on Kate and Abby, taking a break from the dancing on one of the wooden benches that lined the wall.

Her friends looked up as Cole stopped right in front of them.

Don’t be paranoid, Grace chided herself. Just because he hasn’t left town yet, it doesn’t mean he’s looking for you.

Abby and Kate were both laughing now at something that Cole said, as if they’d known him for years. Then they exchanged a knowing look that made Grace’s blood run cold.

Don’t do it! she silently pleaded. Don’t. Do. It.

Two hands lifted. Two fingers pointed in her direction.

And Grace took cover behind the nearest post.

* * *

“That’s strange.” Abby O’Halloran rose to her feet, a frown puckering her forehead. “I just saw Grace behind the beverage table a few seconds ago.”

Cole shifted his weight and tried to see over the heads of the couples that whirled past him. Given the number of people packed in the barn, the entire population of Mirror Lake must have turned out for the event.

The space behind the beverage table was empty. Where had she...

Cole saw a dab of yellow calico peeking out from behind one of the weathered support beams.

“Thanks.” He smiled at Grace’s friends. “I’ll head over there and see if I can find her.”

“I’m glad you changed your mind about escorting Grace to the dance tonight,” Kate said.

Changed his mind?

If it hadn’t been for Candy Sullivan, Cole wouldn’t have known that he was supposed to be Grace’s escort that

evening.

After she’d left him, Cole had finished his lunch and set out to find the elusive Marty Sullivan. The man had managed to elude him all afternoon, but Cole had received a tip—from a guy collecting aluminum cans in the alley—that Candy Sullivan always checked her bid on eBay before she locked up for the day. Cole set up a stakeout at the law office and waited. Sure enough, his informant was right. Candy had shown up sixty seconds before closing time.

“I know this is probably a bad time—” He had followed her inside and flashed what he’d hoped was a charming smile.

Candy hadn’t been charmed.

“Can’t whatever business you have with Marty wait until Monday morning?” She’d glared at him over her computer monitor. “Some things are more important than business, you know.”

Right. Things like box socials, square dances, Pin the Tail on the Donkey and whatever else was in the works for Mirror Lake’s birthday celebration.

Finally acknowledging that resistance was futile, Cole had given in. “When will he have time to meet with me?”

“Monday morning. Nine o’clock.” Candy scooped up a snakeskin purse roughly the size and shape of a bicycle tire from the floor. “Now you better get on over to the Redstones’ place before Grace thinks you stood her up.”

“Stood her up?”

“You won her basket at the box social, you’re her date.”

“For the square dance?”

“For everything.” Before Cole had a chance to ask Candy to clarify that cryptic response, she marched to the door, grumbling. “The last thing a woman needs is a guy who won’t step up to the plate and do the right thing.”

The words had continued to cycle through Cole’s mind on his way to the parking lot.

He had done the right thing.

It was the reason he’d left Mirror Lake.

And Grace.

* * *

When a large, masculine hand curled around the beam a few inches above her head, Grace realized she should have hidden behind something larger. Like a bale of hay. Or the rain barrel.

She dared to look up and found herself neatly trapped in a pair of cedar-green eyes.

“Cole.”

“Grace.” The crooked smile made an appearance, but it wasn’t the boyish one that she remembered. This was a potent, take-no-prisoners grown-up smile. And it packed more of a wallop than Delia Peake’s cane.

She retreated to the beverage table again and poured a glass of lemonade. For herself. Because her mouth had gone as dry as the sawdust scattered on the floor.

Cole propped a hip against the side of the table, clearly in no hurry to leave. “That looks good.”

“Would you like a glass?” Grace asked reluctantly, because as a member of the hospitality committee, it was her duty to be...hospitable.

“No, thanks.” He planted both hands on the table and leaned forward. “But I would like to know why you didn’t tell me that I was supposed to escort you to the square dance tonight.”

In a town the size of Mirror Lake, she should have known someone would spill the beans.

“You told Kate you were leaving.” Grace shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

Cole raked a hand through his hair, disheveling it even more. Grace resisted the urge to smooth a wayward strand back into place, which only proved the theory that those who didn’t learn from history were destined to repeat it.

“I had a few things to take care of and they took longer than I thought.”

Disappointment rattled through her, bumping and bruising everything in its path.

Did you really think he stuck around so he could spend more time with you?

“Don’t worry about it.” Grace moved the pitcher to cover the damp spot on the tablecloth. “I don’t think anyone on the planning committee took into consideration that we might get bids from outsiders today.”

A shadow passed through Cole’s eyes, and she felt a stab of guilt. But, she reminded herself, he was the one who’d chosen to leave.

I love this town, Grace. We could build a cabin near the water...

“There you are!”

Grace inwardly braced herself as Sissy Perkins, the local Realtor, strode up to them. She’d been aware of the curious looks she and Cole had been receiving for past few minutes. She was only surprised that Wes Collins, the editor of the Mirror Lake Register, hadn’t gotten to them first.

“Sissy, this is—”

“My newest client, according to Candy,” Sissy flipped a panel of dark hair over her shoulder and aimed a megawatt, sign-on-the-dotted-line smile at Cole.

“Client?” Grace echoed.

“That’s right.” Sissy nodded. “Sloan Merrick’s place.”

“You’re selling it?”

The words slipped out of Grace’s mouth before she could stop them.

Cole hadn’t explained why he’d come back to Mirror Lake so Grace had assumed that Kate’s letter had somehow prompted the visit. That he’d decided to check things out for himself before allowing people to tour the property.

But no. He’d come back to snip off his last tie with the town like an annoying thread dangling from the pocket of his shirt.

“Grace—” The husky rumble of Cole’s voice reverberated through her.

She forced a smile.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind hearing one,” Sissy declared. “That land has been in your family for years.”

* * *

My grandfather’s family, Cole wanted to say.

Sissy Perkins might be familiar with the town’s history but it was clear she didn’t know anything about his personal history. Sloan had never considered Cole’s mother, Debra, a “true” Merrick.

Cole’s parents had eloped two weeks after graduation and left Mirror Lake for good. Sloan had blamed Cole’s mother for the fracture in their family, but failed to see his own pride had ultimately prevented it from healing.

“If you aren’t interested, I can talk to someone else,” Cole said evenly.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.” Sissy backpedaled so quickly the words practically left skid marks in the air. “How long are you going to be in town?”

“That depends,” Cole hedged.

“On what?”

It was a good question. And he should have known the answer.

Cole watched Grace dab at an invisible stain on the tablecloth and wondered what she was thinking. He used to tease her that she couldn’t keep a secret. Every one of her thoughts—every feeling—had been reflected in her eyes. But not anymore.

On the way to Mirror Lake, he’d spent several hours mentally preparing himself for the moment he walked through the front door of his grandfather’s house. When he would relive those first few weeks following his father’s death.

But nothing had prepared him to see Grace again.

Should he apologize for not saying goodbye? For not contacting her again after he’d left town?

Or would she think he was crazy for bringing it up? Or even worse, that he was arrogant enough to believe that she’d actually thought about him over the years?

“I’m meeting with my grand—Sloan’s—attorney Monday morning at nine o’clock,” he finally said, reluctant to talk business in front of Grace.

Although she, of all people, should understand why he felt no sentimental attachment to the property.

“Then stop by my office at ten.” Sissy poured a glass of lemonade. “I’ll try to take a drive out that way before we meet. Is the place in pretty decent shape?”

“No.”

Cole and Sissy both turned toward Grace. Her eyes widened a little, as if she hadn’t intended to join the conversation. But then she raised her chin, daring him to disagree.

He couldn’t.

“It could use a little TLC.” Cole refused to feel guilty about its run-down state. Forty-eight hours ago, he hadn’t even known the house and land belonged to him.

Sissy’s gaze bounced between him and Grace. “That’s right. You two are neighbors.” She flashed that bright smile again. “I’ve tried for years to convince Grace to sell. She could find a nice little place in town instead of living way out in the woods like that. It isn’t exactly the most practical home. And all those rooms. It’s waaay too big for a single woman. Unless—” Sissy tossed a sly glance in Grace’s direction “—there’s something you aren’t telling us.”

Cole couldn’t help but notice that Grace didn’t deny it. And was she...blushing?

“You look a little flushed, sweetie,” Sissy said. “It is warm in here.” She picked up a paper napkin and fanned herself. “Oops, I told Doug I’d be right back. I better scoot over there before Mayor Dodd draws the names for the competition tomorrow.”

“Competition?”

“The 1800s’ version of Survivor.” The Realtor smiled. “You didn’t hear about that?”

“No.” Cole glanced at Grace, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on something over his shoulder. And every drop of color had drained from her face.

Cole’s emergency response team training kicked in and he was at Grace’s side in an instant. “Do you need some fresh air?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Can you get me some, please?”

“That might be kind of difficult.” In spite of his concern, Cole wrestled down a smile. “Maybe we should go outside.”

“Right. Outside.” Grace lurched toward the door, but the wall of people shifted, effectively blocking her escape. Her frantic gaze bounced from person to person, looking for a space large enough to squeeze through.

“Excuse us.” Cole took a step forward, but a teenaged girl cut them off.

“You can’t leave now.” She flashed a smile and the light reflected off the row of metal braces on her front teeth. “You won’t be here if the mayor calls your name.”

The expression on Grace’s face made Cole wonder if that hadn’t been her plan all along.

“Is there something else you forgot to tell me?” he murmured.

Grace nodded.

“Run.”