Читать книгу Sugarplum Homecoming - Линда Гуднайт, Линда Гуднайт - Страница 13

Chapter Three

Beware of really handsome men bearing gifts.

These random thoughts ran through Lana’s head as she tried to find a clean place in her filthy, run-down, pathetic kitchen to put two foil-covered plates.

Davis Turner was every bit as nice as she remembered. He’d brought food. Something she had not yet bothered to think about. Her stomach rumbled at the spicy, warm smells coming from the dishes. When was the last time she’d eaten anything healthy, much less homemade lasagna? She’d fed Sydney burgers and breakfast burritos on the road but had been too uptight to eat since yesterday.

“Sorry everything is a mess. The house is worse than I’d expected.” A lot, lot worse. Apparently, Mother had let the place go and the years of sitting empty had taken a worse toll.

“You’ve got your work cut out.”

“Don’t I know it? I didn’t expect it to be this bad.” She grimaced. “Or to have graffiti on the living room walls.”

“Is the living room the only place that bad?”

“Seems to be. I guess vandals haven’t gotten much farther than the front of the house. Hopefully, a good cleaning will make a big difference.”

“What about the holes?”

“Not sure yet. Put something over them, I guess. Sydney and I decided sleeping quarters were number one, so we started on her bedroom first. We can camp there for a while.” She didn’t add that she’d camped in worse.

The three kids bumped around inside the small kitchen. Pixielike Paige, the oldest and clearly the leader, said, “Sydney wants to show us the upstairs. Can we go?”

“Lana may not want a bunch of kids traipsing through her house.”

Lana gave a wry laugh. “Nothing they can hurt. Let them go.”

At a wave of Davis’s hand, the three kids took off in a rush, pounding up the wooden steps. Sydney was eager to share her room, such as it was, and Lana suspected the other two wanted to explore the “haunted house.” She didn’t hold it against them. She’d have done the same thing as a kid.

“Are the stairs secure?” Davis glanced toward the front of the house, though the entry stairwell was invisible from here. The kitchen was an add-on to the 1910 dwelling and as such, ran lengthwise across the back of the house where it met with the back porch. Long, narrow and inconveniently arranged, the kitchen could use some serious modernizing. Someday.

“We’ve been up and down quite a few times and I’ve not noticed any loose boards or weak areas.”

“Good. Stairs can be an issue in older homes.”

“These are sturdy oak, I think. Anyway, that’s what I remember.” Not that she’d paid much attention to the house other than her attempts to get out of it as often as possible.

“The place appears to have good bones. Old houses usually have better construction materials than newer ones unless there’s dry rot.”

“I hope that’s true in this case.” She shoved a bundle of old newspapers, yellowed with age, off a bar stool and onto the floor. “Have a seat?” she asked, not altogether sure he’d want to.

“Sure.” To her relief he didn’t seem all that bothered by the dirt and grime. Truth was she’d lived in worse. So had Sydney, bless her sweet, accepting soul. At least here in Whisper Falls they had a roof over their heads that no one could take away. Eventually, things under that roof would be clean and tidy and hopefully, free of the past.

“I’m glad you came over. Really glad,” she started, twisting her hands on the back rung of a wooden chair. She was still amazed he’d returned after learning her identity. “I’ve been thinking about you.” Her face heated. “I meant I was reconsidering your offer.”

During the past few hours of bagging trash and scrubbing, she’d thought about Davis Turner. Beyond the fact that her skin sizzled when he’d smiled and her blood had hummed when she’d opened the door and found him standing there again. She wasn’t too happy about noticing him so much, but she did need his help.

“I could use your expertise. I have a little money put aside. Not a lot but enough to address the most important needs of the house.” She bunched her shoulders, aware of the knot forming at the base of her neck. She’d have a doozy of a muscle spasm if she wasn’t careful. “Other than covering the holes in some of the walls, I don’t know what those are.”

“I can look around, make a list, give you some advice if you think that would help.”

“Would you?”

“Sure. No problem. Got a pencil and paper handy?”

“Now?”

“No time like the present. That is, if now works for you.”

“Of course. Thank you. Now is perfect.” If she could find a piece of paper.

Feet pounded on the floor above their heads. Both adults raised their eyes toward the ceiling.

Lana was poignantly aware of the oddity of having Davis Turner in her house. He wouldn’t have been caught dead here as a teenager. He’d been a Christian, raised in church, the boy teachers and parents put on a pedestal as the way all teens should behave.

Lana Ross had been his antithesis.

“What are they doing?” Lana asked.

“Don’t know but that floor is solid or we’d be covered in ceiling plaster.” He flashed that smile, lighting up the dim room.

The man had a killer smile. And two kids. It suddenly occurred to her that he’d never mentioned a wife. But then, half the world was divorced. She supposed he was, too, or his wife would have accompanied him on this neighborly expedition.

Lana rummaged around in the kitchen drawers, not surprised to find a dusty pad and a scattering of stubby, round-point pencils. Mother had always kept them there.

Davis took the writing materials and rose. He was considerably taller than her, even in her high-heeled boots, and filled the narrow kitchen with his masculine presence. Her awareness factor elevated. Above the kitchen’s dust and must, he smelled of men’s spice—just the faintest whiff but enough for her foolish female nose to enjoy.

Focus on the mission. Think of Sydney.

Even if she hadn’t had a date in two years, Davis Turner was way out of her league.

They started through the house talking about the structure and basic needs, as well as noting cosmetic needs. After a bit, the kids came thundering down the stairs, a breathless chattering group that made Lana’s heart glad. Sydney’s happy face said it all. She’d made friends. Being back in this awful house just got easier.

“Can we go out in the backyard?” Paige asked. “Sydney said there was a cellar.”

The cellar. Like a giant vacuum, the word sucked the pleasure from the room. “Stay out of that cellar.”

Her sharp tone stopped the children in their happy tracks. “Why?” Nathan’s eyes widened. “Is it haunted?”

Lana rubbed her suddenly cold arms. She hated that cellar, hated the darkness, the damp musty odor and the creepy crawlies inside. “I haven’t cleaned it yet. Spiders, snakes, who knows what could be in there?”

“Eww. I don’t like spiders.” Paige shivered. “Can we go outside and play in the yard? Sydney said there’s an apple tree.”

Lana nodded. “Go on. Have fun but watch out for anything broken or dangerous. I haven’t explored out there yet.”

“Okay.”

With youthful energy, voices excited, the trio zipped out the back door, leaving it standing open, spilling the sunshine and cool, clean air of Indian summer inside. Lana didn’t bother to close it. She wanted to keep a watch on Sydney. Airing the house while the weather was favorable wasn’t a bad thing either.

“Your children are really sweet.”

“Thanks, so is yours. They’re great kids, though they can be a handful at times. Paige has, shall we say, ideas that sometimes lead her and her brother into trouble.”

Lana didn’t bother to correct his mistake. It was better for everyone if he and the town assumed Sydney was her child. “But Paige seems like such a nice little girl.”

“She is. I don’t mean that.” He hunkered down to look up into the fireplace. “Don’t light this until it’s been inspected and cleaned.”

“Okay. I heard noises up there. Probably birds.”

“Or bats,” he said with male matter-of-factness.

Lana crossed her arms as she gave the fireplace an uncertain look. “You would have to mention bats.”

“Bats won’t hurt you.”

“Remind me you said that when I’m in traction with a broken leg from running out of the room.”

He laughed at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling upward. “Tough Lana Ross afraid of a bat?”

He had no idea what he was talking about. She’d never been tough. She’d only pretended to be. “Don’t tell Sydney, okay? She thinks I’m fearless.”

He dusted his hands together. Dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming in from the window next to the big, old-fashioned brick fireplace. “My kids are the same. Nathan told one of his buddies I could pick up a house.”

“So what happened? Did the kid come over and ask for proof?”

“Naturally.”

“What did you do?”

“What else could I do?” His hands thrust out to each side. “I picked up the house.”

The silliness made her laugh. This was the Davis she remembered. Self-effacing, warm, kind to anyone. Even her. “Be glad he didn’t go for the ‘my dad can beat up your dad scenario.’”

“I remember saying that when I was in elementary school.”

“Like father like son?”

“Absolutely. But Paige is the same. Between the two of them, they slay me sometimes.” He leaned the notepad against the fireplace brick and scribbled something on the paper. “A few weeks ago, the kids and I went up to Whisper Falls on a picnic. I made the mistake of falling asleep.”

“What happened? Did they tie you to a tree? Douse you with water? Cover you with mayo?”

“Nothing that simple for those two. They climbed Whisper Falls.”

“No way!” Lana glanced out the grimy window at the two Turner children running across the thick brown grass. Whisper Falls was a long, slippery climb, especially for two small children. She should know. She’d climbed it plenty, usually on some stupid dare or when she’d had too much beer to be walking, much less climbing. “Why would they do that?”

“Paige says they went up there to pray. I suppose you’ve heard the rumor about praying behind the falls.”

“The moment I hit town, but it must be a new thing. No one said that when I lived here before. What started it?”

“I’m not sure. Some say Digger and Evelyn Parsons made up the story. Others say they’ve actually had prayers answered after going up there. Someone got the city council on board and they changed the name of the town to match the waterfall. Next thing we knew, tourists started making pilgrimages up the mountain.”

“Do you believe it’s true?” Because if it was, she was climbing those falls again. This time without a party—and stone cold sober.

“A rumor of that caliber is good PR, but I don’t think God needs a waterfall to answer prayers, do you?”

So, he was still a Christian.

“I agree, but maybe your daughter doesn’t.”

“Paige.” He huffed out a sound that was half frustration and half affection. “My daughter’s faith is kind of hard to explain. Sometimes she’s scary in the mature things she says about God. Other times she’s a goofy kid, like that day. My heart stopped when I looked up and saw Nathan clinging like a spider monkey to the side of the mountain.”

“What did you do?”

“What else could I do? I climbed up after them. Once we were on the ground, I hugged them, told them how scared I was and how much I loved them. Then I grounded them both from TV for a full week.”

Lana laughed. “You are a cruel father.”

“They thought so.” He stuck the stubby pencil in his shirt pocket and started across the room. His long legs ate up the floor, even though the parlor was large. “All the while, Nathan kept saying the oddest things.”

Lana followed his lead, taking a left down a dim hallway. “Such as?”

“Nothing specific. Random things about brown hair.” He tapped on the paneling, made a note of loose trim and a cracked light fixture.

“Sydney once asked me to dye her hair green, but that was for a costume party.” Lana opened the door to the downstairs bathroom, a small space with an old claw-foot tub.

“Nice.” Davis ran a hand along the rounded edge. He didn’t seem to mind that it was filthy. “Do you know what these sell for in today’s market?”

“If it’s more than a new one, this one is for sale.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve had old stuff all my life, Davis. All these antique fixtures can go for all I care.”

“I’ll check around. You might be able to make some money. Lots of people like authentic vintage.”

The idea heartened her. She and Sydney would make it here. She would find a way to turn this house into a home.

“Tell me about yourself, Lana,” he said, tapping the wall above the bathroom sink with his knuckles. “What happened to your singing career in Nashville?”

“You knew I lived there?”

“This is Whisper Falls. We hear everything. Usually, about five minutes after it happens.”

He was right, and the memory of a small, gossipy town was not a comfort. People would remember her teen years. People would gossip. All she could do was pray the talk didn’t harm Sydney. There would be enough speculation about her as it was.

“So what about Nashville?” He leaned forward to inspect the hot water tank. Other than being coated in dust and cobwebs, it worked. She knew that already.

“The usual, I guess. I thought I was a better singer than I am. But I had some great experiences.” Some lousy ones, too. “I sang for my supper, met some famous stars.” Usually at the hotel where she’d cleaned rooms, though she’d once encountered Faith Hill and Tim McGraw coming out of Banana Republic with their kids.

“I remember when you and your sister used to sing the national anthem at the football games. You were good. Where’s Tess living now?”

That was anyone’s guess. Under a bridge. In a crack house. But hopefully, in the same mission that had brought Lana to Christ. “She’s still in Nashville.”

The conversation was beginning to take an uncomfortable turn. Lana didn’t want to discuss Tess or Nashville for that matter.

“You’ve lived a glamorous life. Why come back to Whisper Falls?”

Glamorous? “Time to settle down. Sydney needs to be settled in one place, one school, and the music industry is not always a stable lifestyle. Anyway, it wasn’t for me.”

“I get that. My kids are everything. I’d walk on fire for them.”

“Or climb Whisper Falls?” Lana asked, surprised at the easy joke.

“Exactly.”

He opened the vanity cabinet. A dead mouse smell rushed out.

“Eww.” Lana grabbed her nose and backed out of the small space into the hallway. Davis, more resourceful, leaned over the tub to shove open a tiny window. Fresh air, spurred by the breeze, swirled inside, but the stench remained. Outside, an overgrown pine scraped against the screen, dropping pine needles without enough scent to matter.

Davis followed her out into the hall, pulling the door behind him. “Let that air a while.”

“Good idea. Maybe for a year.”

“If you’ve got a plastic bag, I’ll see if I can find and remove the source.”

In the narrow hallway, they were crowded. If either moved more than a few inches they would be touching. Rather, she’d be touching that work-muscled chest of his. A man who carried boxes of tile and grouting mud had to be strong.

“You’d do that?”

Davis didn’t seem to notice her discomfiture. He tilted his head, looking down at her while she looked up. “I work in remodels. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I find behind walls and under old cabinets.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and shivered in pretend horror, though the ploy was more to get her mind off him than true repugnance. “I don’t think I want to know.”

After he had dispatched the mouse carcass, for which she would forever be grateful, they made their way on through the house. Lana watched in dismay as his list of repairs grew longer and longer.

By the time they’d worked the way back to the kitchen, the kids came flying through the back door, faces red and sweaty.

“We’re thirsty,” Sydney said. “I wish we had some pop.”

“Sorry, peanut. Water will have to do. It’s all we have.”

None of the trio looked all that thrilled with ordinary water but Lana scrubbed three glasses and filled them. They gulped it down and wiped hands across their faces.

Nathan, who was too cute for words, plunked his empty glass on the counter. Cheeks as red as a slap, he looked from Lana to Davis and said, “This is nice.”

Paige grabbed his arm. “Let’s go, Nathan.”

“Why? I want to see if Daddy and Lana are having fun, too.”

The little boy’s comment amused and touched her, too. He was having fun. He wanted his daddy to have a good time, too.

“Nathan,” Paige said urgently. “Let God do the work.” She put her fingers to her lips and twisted in the classic gesture of turning a key in a lock. Whatever the boy was about to say, his sister wanted him to be quiet.

Nathan opened his mouth as if to protest but then closed it again. “Okay.”

“Last one to the apple tree is a monkey’s uncle,” Paige said. And away they flew.

Lana cocked her head. “I wonder what that was all about.”

“With those two, don’t even ask.”

“I think they’re enjoying themselves,” she said. Thank you, Lord. Seeing Sydney carefree made the sacrifice of coming back to this town worth it.

“I wouldn’t mind a glass of that water myself.” Davis stuck his hands beneath the faucet and scrubbed. “I can wash my own glass.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Too late.” He stuck a glass beneath the spray and scrubbed. Then he filled and drank. With his hips leaning against the sink, he faced her. She could see he had something on his mind.

“Am I crazy for trying to live in this run-down old house?” she asked. “Is that what you’re about to say?”

“What? No. Most of this is cosmetic.” He waved a hand around in the air. “Structure is sound, plumbing is old but sturdy. Electrical box looks fairly new. Lots of work and a fair expenditure of money but livable.”

Lana drew a deep breath through her nose. The knot in her neck eased. As much as she wanted to do this on her own, she couldn’t. If she was alone, she wouldn’t care where she lived. But Sydney mattered. “You’re hired.”

“Don’t rush into anything. I’m pretty booked up right now with the holidays on the horizon, but I’ll run some figures for you, work up an estimate, talk to other contractors. Then we’ll need to talk budget.”

“Small.” She eased into a chair. “I want to do most of the work myself, but some of these things...” She shrugged.

“There you go, then. Start there. Take this list.” He handed her the tablet. “Figure out what you want to do yourself. Then sub out the rest to the experts. I can give you a list of those, too.”

“You’ve been a lot of help.”

“That’s what neighbors do.”

Neighbors? Really? Then where had they been years ago when she and Tess had needed them?