Читать книгу Just a Whisper Away - Lauren Nichols - Страница 11

The phone rang Wednesday evening as Abbie lit the tapers on the formal dining room table and called into the family room for her father and Miriam. She’d spent the morning changing her cell phone number and shopping, and the afternoon in the kitchen preparing dinner for the three of them. Now the house was filled with the tangy aromas of baked ham with raisin sauce, yams, chunky homemade applesauce and green beans with slivered almonds. Chocolate mousse was chilling in the refrigerator.

Grumbling that the caller had better not be a telemarketer, her dad veered into the hall, choosing the alternate route to the kitchen phone while Miriam joined Abbie in the Winslows’ dining room.

Miriam Abbot was a tall, attractive widow in her late fifties with fashionably short salt-and-pepper brown hair, brown eyes and a winning smile. Two years ago, she’d moved to Laurel Ridge and opened a travel agency in the building across the street from Morgan Winslow’s bank, and they’d quickly found enough common ground to form a friendship. Today she wore chocolate-brown wool slacks, topped by an off-white cashmere sweater, gold chains and a silky patterned scarf. Small gold hoops glinted at her earlobes.

“Everything looks and smells wonderful,” she said graciously. Her admiring gaze took in the steaming bowls and platters…the fresh flowers and the formal place settings…the gold-edged tea roses on white bone china. “You’ve gone to so much trouble. I just wish you would’ve let me help you.”

“Believe me,” Abbie replied, “I enjoyed being busy.” It had been a relief to concentrate on something other than her troubles in L.A. Though security had assured her that nothing had been disturbed in her apartment, hearing Danny’s voice last night had started an uneasy feeling in Abbie that wouldn’t go away. Meeting Miriam’s eyes, she continued. “Besides, I wanted to do something special for the two of you.”

“Well, thank you,” she returned. “You know, your dad loves having you home. Especially tonight, when you’ve made his favorite meal.”

Scowling, Morgan reentered the spacious dining room and said gruffly, “And I’d prefer to eat that meal while it’s hot.” Crossing one of the long Persian rugs on the gleaming hardwood, he handed the cordless handset to Abbie. “It’s for you,” he said brusquely. “Guess who?”

Feeling a rush of nerves, she accepted it and stepped away from the table. She didn’t have to guess. The red blotches on her father’s cheeks told her that the next voice she heard would be Jace’s low baritone.

“You two go ahead and start,” she murmured. “I’ll be right back.” Then she stepped into the pretty oak kitchen and raised the receiver to her ear. In the background, scattered laughter and conversation mingled with bouncy country music. “Hello?”

“Sorry for interrupting your dinner,” he said, and Abbie knew instantly that he was either put off by something her father had said, or he hadn’t wanted to make the call in the first place. “I won’t keep you long.”

“No problem, we hadn’t started yet.”

“Good. I just called to ask when you’re free to discuss the publicity for the Friends dinner. As you said, Easter isn’t far away.”

Abbie drew a breath, startled by the jittery feeling in her chest. She visited jails on a regular basis, faced criminals in interrogation rooms and held her own against the legal sharks on the other side of the courtroom. Yet maintaining her poise around Jace was becoming a real problem. “I’m free anytime, so we can schedule around your day.”

“Days won’t work. I’m at the business or checking logging sites until after five. But if you’d like to have dinner somewhere or come to my place, I can arrange to be free tomorrow, Saturday after our noon closing or any night next week.”

Abbie moved deeper into the kitchen to lean against the butcher-block work island. Conversation had ceased in the dining room, and she could picture her dad doing a slow burn as he tried to eavesdrop. Not that his opinions swayed her anymore. She loved and respected her father, but she was no longer that eager-to-please, motherless teenager. “Which would you prefer?”

“Doesn’t matter. It would be more convenient if you came to the house. Then I wouldn’t have to drag a folder full of last year’s fliers and lists with me—and you wouldn’t have to squeeze a notebook in between your coffee cup and water glass.” He paused. “But maybe you’d feel more comfortable meeting me somewhere else.”

Abbie silently counted to ten. “You really enjoy baiting me, don’t you?” The truth was, she wouldn’t feel comfortable anywhere with his doubting gray gaze boring into her, but she’d signed on to help and she had no intention of bailing out.

“I’m not baiting you. I’m just trying to arrive at a meeting place, a date and a time.”

“All right,” she replied evenly. “I’ll see you at your place tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. How do I get there?”

Her father’s stern voice came from the dining room. “Abbie, we’d like to say the blessing soon.” But she didn’t answer.

“I’m in the book. It’s a log house outside of town on Maxwell Road. You’ll know it when you see it. There’ll be sap buckets hanging on the maple trees.”

He was gathering sap? For maple syrup? Despite the fact that his work revolved around trees and timber, she wouldn’t have thought he’d be interested in that sort of thing. Or maybe the interest wasn’t his, she thought. Maybe he was gathering it for someone else. Someone female.

An illogical pinch of jealousy bit her and, annoyed, Abbie shook it off. He was entitled to a life. Giving him her virginity fourteen years ago didn’t give her any special hold on him—not that she wanted one. He was too stiff and unyielding. Too…something.

“I’ll find it,” she replied, still curious about the music and noise in the background, still wondering where he was calling from. “I’ll see you at seven.”

When she walked into the dining room a moment later, her father’s cheeks were still red, and Miriam was wearing a wary and confused look. Abbie took her seat, her father said the blessing and she began filling her plate.

Her dad extended the platter of sliced ham. “What did he want?”

Abbie took a slice, then drizzled a bit of raisin sauce over it. “I’m helping with the Friends Without Families Easter dinner.”

“What does that have to do with him?”

“Jace is on the board of the local food bank, and they’re organizing the event.”

Abbie caught the sharp surprise in Miriam’s eyes. She’d wondered if Miriam had been playing matchmaker when she suggested getting involved in the project, because she’d asked about that kiss. But apparently, her stepmother-to-be had been as clueless about Jace’s involvement as Abbie had.

Smiling, but speaking firmly, Abbie glanced at her father again. “We’re working on publicity together. I’m seeing him tomorrow night.”

His eyes went dead and he sent her a long, steady look that was easy to interpret. You’re thirty-three years old, and I can’t tell you what to do anymore. But this does not please me.

Forty minutes later, when her dad had returned to the family room off the formal living room to read the evening paper, and she and Miriam were straightening the kitchen, Miriam sent Abbie a skeptical look. “Want to tell me what’s going on between you and your dad?”

Abbie met her eyes for a moment, then returned the salt and pepper shakers to the cupboard beside the built-in microwave. She wiped a damp dishcloth over the pale blue countertops. “He didn’t tell you about Jace and me?”

“When I asked about the kiss at the Mardi Gras party, he muttered something about ancient history. But from his mood tonight—and that phone call—I’m thinking that it’s not so ancient.” She smiled. “I don’t mean to pry—truly. Your business is your business. I’d just rather not spend my honeymoon with a grumpy bear without knowing why he’s grumpy.”

Abbie rinsed the cloth then draped it over the divider in the stainless double sink. Her dad hadn’t gotten bullheaded and left the table after Jace’s call, and he’d complimented Abbie on the meal. But conversation had been strained despite Miriam’s best efforts to shake her father out of his funk. “It’s a long story,” she murmured.

Miriam smiled. “They’re my favorite kind. I don’t have anything to do for a while, and we both know that in a matter of seconds, your dad will be reading the newspaper through his eyelids.”

Abbie glanced toward the doorway leading to the dining room and the living and family rooms beyond. She wasn’t ashamed of what had happened with Jace all those years ago. And she didn’t mind telling Miriam about it because she was easy to talk to and they’d already begun to form a relationship based on mutual admiration and respect. But now that the tension in the house was ebbing, she didn’t want to be discussing that night in the gazebo if her father came in. This was his home, he’d be getting married in two days and he didn’t need to get all worked up again.

Miriam seemed to read her mind. “Know what? I was about to suggest we have another cup of tea, but I don’t think either of us is all that thirsty.”

Abbie waited through her pause.

“When your dad picked me up after work, he said he’d had a horrific day. I’m going to tell him that you’re driving me home. Unless you’d rather not?”

Abbie knew she meant, unless you’d rather not tell me the story. But at this point, she wanted to talk about it. “I’d like to drive you home. Unless Dad’s not dozing and he’d prefer to do it.”

Miriam grinned. “Oh, he’s dozing, all right.”

Thirty minutes later, Abbie drove west on Maxwell Road beneath an onyx sky and a sparkling canopy of stars. She’d dropped Miriam off in town, and they’d talked the whole way. Though Miriam had given Abbie a few things to think about, she’d consider those things later. Right now she was searching for a log home surrounded by trees dressed in sap buckets. She’d told herself that since he wasn’t at home—and she was out and about, anyway—it wouldn’t hurt to make a dry run past his house so she could find it easily tomorrow.

But, though a sliver of moonlight reflected off a new dusting of snow, it was hard to see into the wooded landscape where leafless trees were interspersed with towering hemlocks and pines.

Two miles outside of town on the left side of the bumpy, unpaved road, she spotted the first sap bucket just inside the tree line. In a moment, several others glinted in the car’s headlights and a rural mailbox appeared.

Rolling to a stop beside his driveway, Abbie lowered her window and peered down the sloping lane. The faint odor of exhaust mingled with the fresh scents of pine and winter, and a faint breeze carried it inside.

Situated in a carved-out section of the woods, his log home stood, its peaked, glass-walled frontage and wide wraparound porch impressive in the glow of roof-and pole-mounted spotlights. Inside, a lamp burned dimly beyond the open drapes, and behind the house and to the right, several outbuildings melted into the trees.

Gripped by curiosity, Abbie continued to stare. They’d gotten a dusting of snow around four o’clock, and Jace’s long, plowed driveway was smooth and white, devoid of tire tracks. Obviously, he hadn’t returned yet. And now that she’d located his home…she had to turn around somewhere, didn’t she?

Shushing the tiny voice that said she was just being nosy, she made a sharp left turn and drove down to the property.

She’d barely reached the wide plowed area around the garage when headlights appeared at the top of the drive and adrenaline jolted through her.

Dammit, dammit, dammit! Couldn’t he have waited five more minutes to come home?

Quickly, Abbie pulled up to the garage door, backed around, straightened her dad’s SUV and shoved it into Park. Then she waited, because there was nothing else she could do.

In a moment, he’d pulled in beside her, their vehicles pointing east and west, driver’s-side windows parallel to each other’s. Jace lowered his window.

Feeling like the intruder she was, Abbie met his gaze across three feet of cool air.

“You’re twenty-two hours early,” he said.

“I know. I had to take my dad’s fiancée home, and as long as I was out, I thought I’d try to locate your house. I was just turning around.”

His brow lined. “Your dad’s fiancée lives on this road?”

Abbie understood his confusion. She’d only seen three houses on the way, and they were all at the far end of Maxwell. Except for the dilapidated barn she’d passed a quarter mile down the road, Jace’s home was the only building on this stretch of road. “No, she lives in town, but it was a pretty night, and I was at loose ends.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m still on Pacific time. Everyone else’s night is winding down, but it feels like mine’s just beginning.” She paused as the realization that there wasn’t another car, home or person in sight made her feel weightless—made her nerve endings dance. Again, she wondered why she’d never felt this way with Collin.

“Your home’s lovely,” she said when he didn’t move to fill the silence. “Living out this far, I’m surprised that you don’t have a gate or a chain across the drive.”

“Why?” he asked, faintly amused. “To keep nosy people from invading my space? Gates and chains only make thieves think there’s something worth stealing inside.”

“Is there?”

“I don’t know. What do you consider valuable?”

Life without fear, Abbie thought instantly, recalling why she was a continent away from her life and her friends. “I think the things we consider valuable change from day to day.”

“I think you’re right.” Then he smiled a little and nodded toward the house. “Would you like to come inside? It’s a little warmer and more comfortable if we’re going to have a philosophical conversation.”

Abbie shook her head. “Thanks, but I can’t. I told Dad I’d be right back. He’ll start thinking I buried his car in a snowdrift if I’m late.”

The mention of her father made Jace’s smile fade, and suddenly Abbie needed to tell him that she knew about her dad’s financial blackballing. “I asked him what he’d done to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. The night of the gala, you said there was more between the two of you than the gazebo incident.”

“It wasn’t an incident, Abbie, we had sex.”

“All right, we had sex. I just want you to know that I asked, and he admitted that he’d turned down your application for a loan—and the rest of it.” She felt a sharp twinge. He hadn’t deserved any of the humiliation her father had dished out. “I’m so sorry for that, Jace. But I really don’t understand why you’d go to him for money. You had to know how he’d react.”

“His bank was advertising low interest on business loans, and I assumed he was a businessman first and a father second. I also assumed I wouldn’t be requesting a loan from the bank president, but from a loan officer.”

Abbie filled in the rest. As soon as her father saw the name on the loan application, he’d called Jace in and put him in his place. Again.

“I’m glad he didn’t derail your plans. The changes I saw when I came by the other day were amazing.”

“We’re growing. With the kilns we put in two years ago, we employ thirty-five people now. I oversee the lumber end of it and Ty handles the logging. He’s turned into a savvy businessman.”

“I suspect Ty’s big brother knows what he’s doing, too,” she returned quietly. “I’m happy for both of you.”

“Thanks. We’re happy for us, too.”

Another uneasy silence stretched between them then, and Abbie dropped her father’s Ford Expedition into gear. When conversation deteriorated into stock replies, it was time to go. But, hopefully, addressing a bit of the past tonight would make tomorrow night easier on both of them.

She glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard, then back at him. “See you in twenty-one hours and forty-five minutes.”

“Yeah. See you then.”

Twenty-one hours and forty-five minutes, she thought, following her tracks back up to the road. That was something lovers might say to each other, lovers eager to relive warm, liquid kisses and shivery touches in the dark. Lovers who knew how to smile at each other and never ran out of things to say.

Abbie pressed down harder on the gas pedal as an old longing welled up inside of her, surprising her with its poignancy. Obviously, some lovers were better at those things than others.

Jace unlocked the front door and stepped inside the house, then shrugged out of his leather jacket, kicked off his boots and wandered into his home office. The light on his answering machine was flashing. The first message was from Ty, saying that he was headed to a local watering hole for a beer and a burger and he’d be at Candy’s Bar if Jace wanted to join him. The second was from their foster mom and dad who were wintering in Florida.

Betty Parrish’s musical laughter spilled from his machine. “Hi, Jacey.”

Jace smiled. He’d been Jacey to her ever since he and Ty had gone to live with Betty and Carl after Jillie Rae cut out.

“I just called to give you a weather update,” she went on. “It’s seventy-four and sunny.” She laughed again. “You know, you and Ty could be enjoying some warmer temps, too, if you’d scoot down here for a few days. Now, the campground’s having a luau next Friday night and I need a head count. Call me back if you can make it, but do it before eight o’clock.” Another laugh. “It’s dollar movie night. We’re seeing an old Doris Day film. Love you! Bye.”

Still smiling, he ambled into the kitchen to fix himself a sandwich. His coupon-clipping foster mom loved a good bargain. Always had. One of the first lessons she’d taught him was, don’t squander your money or your talents. At the time, he didn’t have any money and he doubted he had talent, so the words hadn’t sunk in until at least a decade later.

Jace stared at his reflection in the dark window, his vision blurring as the film strip in his mind rolled back ten years, then twenty…then twenty-four. Images appeared. And suddenly he was twelve years old again and watching nervously for his mother to come back, his hands cupped on another dark window.

Jillie Rae had dropped them off early that morning, saying she was going job hunting and she’d see them around lunchtime. But it was nearly ten o’clock when the phone at old Mrs. Conrad’s place finally rang. Scrambling from the glass, he and Ty had stood in the living room of her neat-as-a-pin trailer like proper soldiers, waiting for word that Jillie was on her way.

Mrs. Conrad’s shocked voice cut like a laser through Jace’s consciousness. “What do you mean, you’re not coming back? I can’t take care of these kids! I have a heart condition!” Then she’d become angry. “Jillie Rae, you get back here right now. Just clean up your act and catch the next bus home. You brought these children into the world, and they’re your responsibility. You need to do right by them!”

Then Ty had started to cry, and Jace had held him and told him it would be okay. Jillie’d come for them. But after Ty finally fell asleep, curled against him on Mrs. Conrad’s studio couch, Jace had cried, too, because he was afraid he’d lied. No matter what kind of mother she’d been, no matter that she sometimes passed herself off as their older sister and she wanted them to call her Jillie Rae, she was all they’d had and they’d loved her.

The next day, they’d met a woman from Children’s Services and a few hours after that, they’d moved into the Parrish’s home on Calendar Street. Betty and Carl had opened their arms to them, and in the process, saved their lives.

They’d never seen Jillie again.

The hum of an engine broke his thoughts. Feeling a quick shot of adrenaline, Jace strode to the front door and looked out. But it wasn’t Abbie’s SUV. It was Ty’s dark gray Silverado. Moments later, his brother was stamping snow from his feet and coming inside.

“Hey,” he called.

“Hey, yourself,” Jace answered stepping back. “Thought you were hanging out at Candy’s tonight. I was there for a few minutes around six, but I didn’t see you.”

“Yeah, I know. I got tied up.”

Jace raised a dubious brow. “A little early in the evening for that sort of thing, isn’t it?”

Blue eyes twinkling, Ty slipped off his gray vest and tossed it through the archway to land on Jace’s brown leather sofa. “It’s never too early. Unfortunately, this kind of tie-up wasn’t that much fun.”

“Oh? Where were you?”

“The hospital. I wanted to talk to Arnie.”

The mood in the room sobered. “Think that was wise?” Jace asked.

“You phoned him,” Ty pointed out.

“A phone call’s not a visit. We’re supposed to steer clear of Arnie. The bloodsucking lawyers are doing the talking.”

“I know, but we’ve known Arnie for a long time, and I wanted to hear what he had to say.” Ty inclined his head toward the kitchen. “Got any coffee made?”

Hoping Ty’s visit hadn’t done more harm than good, Jace started walking. “No, but it’ll only take a minute to make some.”

“Good. Because we need to talk, and I think better with a mug in my hand.”

Minutes later they were standing across from each other at the kitchen bar, ignoring the leather stools, and listening to the spit and splash of coffee brewing on the adjacent countertop.

After height, similar facial structure and the requisite jeans and boots, people had to look hard to see that they were related. Ty’s hair was as thick as Jace’s, but it was medium brown, not black, and his eyes were the deep blue women loved. But then, women loved everything about his little brother, and Ty felt the same about them. Short, tall, blond, brunette, he enjoyed them all. But he’d never had a serious relationship in his life.

Then again, neither had he, Jace admitted. Not one that had been totally reciprocated. In that way, he and Ty were like their mother. All flings, no strings.

“I don’t think this lawsuit is Arnie’s idea,” Ty began. “I think it’s his wife’s. Callie’s a nice woman, but they’ve got four kids and I think she’s worried that Arnie’ll never work again.”

Jace nodded gravely. He and Ty understood the need for security more than most people did. Financial and emotional. “She could be right.” The tree that put Arnie in the hospital had done enough damage to his leg that it would be a minor miracle if he was able to walk again without a cane.

“I’ve been giving that some thought, though,” Jace continued. “If he can’t log anymore, we’ll find something else for him.”

“Not the sawmill. Callie’d never go for that, even with all the safeguards.” Leaving the bar, Ty went to the refrigerator to rummage around. When he returned, he was balancing assorted packages of deli cold cuts, cheese and spicy mustard on his arm. “Want a sandwich?”

“No, you go ahead.” He wasn’t hungry anymore. Now, he just wanted this thing with Arnie Flagg settled in a way that benefited all of them, and he wanted Abbie Winslow to get the hell out of his mind. He could still see her staring through that open window, her hair lifting in the wind and her dark eyes serious.

Ty pulled a loaf of sliced rye from the bread drawer. “By the way, I passed a dark-colored Ford Expedition about a half mile up the road. Looked like our favorite banker’s ride.”

Jace shot a glance at him, wondering if Ty was fishing. “It was.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m not.”

Eyes brimming with interest, Ty pulled a plate from the cupboard. “So, what did Morgan want? Another opportunity to toss around a few insults? A pint of your blood?” He grinned suddenly. “Or did he just drop by to tell you to keep your nasty Rogan lips off his daughter?”

“None of the above,” Jace returned dryly. “It wasn’t him. It was her.”