Читать книгу Tidings of Joy - Margaret Daley - Страница 10

For a brief moment Chance thought of his daughter. He remembered Haley making a comment a few days before she’d been killed about how she would just die if she didn’t get to go to a friend’s party. Haley never made it to the birthday party. He turned away, aware that Crystal had clasped his arm while her service dog licked his hand.

“Are you okay, Chance?”

The alarm in her voice swung his gaze to Crystal. He forced a grin that was an effort to maintain. “I’m fine. I had a daughter. She would have been near your age if she’d lived.” He couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. He didn’t talk about Haley—he couldn’t without—

“Oh, I’m so sorry. What happened?”

Gone were Crystal’s problems as she leaned toward him, wanting to offer comfort. Most of the time he could handle it. Coming to Sweetwater had for some reason revived all those memories. Probably because Crystal was so close in age to Haley. There was only a year between them.

“She was killed.” He scooted forward in the chair. “But I don’t want to talk about me. Tell me about this guy you have a crush on.”

Crystal started to say something but decided not to. Instead, she shrugged. “There’s nothing to say. He’s popular. I’m not.” She put her hand on her service dog, stroking her Lab’s black fur. “He’s on the basketball team. Even though he’s a freshman, he plays varsity because he’s so good. The season will start in six weeks. I try to go to every game.”

“You like basketball,” he said, sensing Crystal steering the conversation away from the guy she cared about.

Her face lit. “Yes. I’ve even tried to play some with Sean. He’s my best friend.”

“Are you any good?”

Laughter invaded her features. “Are you kidding? I can’t even hit the backboard now. I use to be able to before the accident. But I can still dribble.”

“Maybe all you need is practice. I could fix you up a basketball hoop and backboard if you want.”

“Really?”

He nodded, her enthusiasm contagious. “If it’s okay with your mom.”

“What’s okay with me?”

The screen door banged closed, and Tanya strolled toward him. Her smile of greeting, reaching deep into her eyes, soothed some of the tension knotting his stomach. He came to his feet, facing Tanya, who was only a few inches shorter than his own six foot plus height.

“I offered to put up a basketball hoop for Crystal.”

Her mahogany eyes grew dull. She ran her hand through her short brown hair, brushing back her wispy bangs. “I don’t want—I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure you have better things to do.”

He grinned, wanting to tease the smile back into her eyes, needing to lighten the mood. “Nope. I don’t have anything to do except shop for some new clothes between now and Wednesday. So I’m pretty much a man of leisure in need of a project.”

“Mom?”

Tanya glanced at her daughter. Eagerness replaced her earlier sadness. For the past three years Tanya had constantly depended on others to make it through. Each day she felt herself growing stronger. And with that, she had determined she would learn to stand on her own two feet. She didn’t want to become any more beholden to Chance Taylor than she was. She’d already regretted asking him to help her with her budget. But how could she turn her daughter down? Basketball and drawing were the two things Crystal loved the most.

“Fine. But only if you let me help you. And I’m paying for the materials.” Somehow she would come up with the money for the hoop, backboard and wood to secure it to the garage.

“Good. See you two later.”

Tanya watched Chance stroll away, his hair damp from exercise, a fine sheen of sweat covering his face. He must have gone for a long run. He’d been gone over an hour. She should do more exercise. I wonder if he would like a running partner, she thought, realizing she’d probably never go jogging unless she did it with someone.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Crystal’s voice dragged her from her musings. “You’re welcome. Next time, honey, say something to me first. I could have figured out how to put one up.”

Her daughter giggled. “This from the woman who until recently didn’t know what a Phillips head screwdriver was?”

“But I do now. I’m getting quite handy around the house, if I do say so myself.”

“I didn’t ask him, Mom. He volunteered when we were talking about basketball. Did you know he had a daughter? She died.”

“Really! That’s horrible.” Tanya peered toward the apartment over her garage, beginning to see why there was such a look of vulnerability about Chance Taylor. Losing a child was the worst thing she could imagine. She remembered when Crystal had first been taken to the hospital almost four years ago. The feeling of devastation had thrown her life into a tailspin that slowly she had managed to right, but not without a lot of heartache along the way.

“Do you think that’s why he wants to help me out?”

“Possibly, honey.” Then Tanya grinned. “But more likely because you’re such a sweet child.”

Crystal screwed up her face into a pout. “I’m not a child anymore, Mom, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Her daughter’s fervent words wiped the smile from Tanya’s face. “Oh, ba—Crystal, I’ve noticed what a beautiful young lady you’re growing up to be.”

“Then you’re the only one,” Crystal mumbled and wheeled herself into the house.

Stunned at the despondency in her daughter’s voice, Tanya quickly followed Crystal inside only to find the door to her room closed with her Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the knob. She knocked.

“Go away.”

“Crystal, we need to talk.”

“I don’t have anything else to say,” her daughter said right before the sound of loud music blasted through the air.

Tanya stared at the door, trying to decide whether to ignore her child’s request or wait for another time when she would be more willing to talk. Lord, help me here. What do I do?

The music grew even louder, silently giving Tanya her answer. Nothing would be accomplished this evening finding out what was at the root of her daughter’s unhappiness.

“I noticed you’ve owned this house for ten years. Why don’t you take out a second mortgage on it?” Chance asked Tanya later that evening.

“Well…” She didn’t have an answer for him. Sitting at her kitchen table with all her finances spread out before her, she stared at the total figure of her debt, in large black numbers on the paper before her. “I didn’t want another bill to pay.”

“You could use it to pay off some of these bills and consolidate them into one payment. That’ll be easier for you to keep track of rather than these seven different places.” He waved his hand over the pile.

“That might work.”

Chance wrote down some numbers. “I think you could comfortably handle this much a month in a payment.”

“Only as long as I have a tenant for the apartment.”

He looked up from the paper he was figuring on. “Since I’ve taken a job with Blackburn Industries, I’ll be here for a while.”

Why had that simple declaration sent her heart racing as though she had just finished running alongside him earlier this afternoon? “It’s gonna be more than a while until I can pay this off.”

“You can always declare bankruptcy.”

“No! Never! I’ll pay my debts even if it takes me years.” The memory of her father skipping out on her mother and her when she was a little girl materialized in her mind. The gambling debts he’d left behind had been overwhelming until her mother had nearly collapsed under their weight. But it had been a matter of pride to her mother that she didn’t declare bankruptcy, sometimes the only thing that had kept her going.

“Then a second mortgage is the best way to go. I’ve written down a budget that should help you stay on track.” He slid the paper across the table to her.

She picked it up and studied it. One large, long-term debt versus many smaller ones. She liked the idea. “I can check into it at the bank on Monday. This way I can finish paying the law—” She pressed her lips shut, wanting to snatch her last sentence back. She slanted a look at Chance to see his reaction.

He calmly stacked the sheets into a nice pile as though she hadn’t spoken. “Legal fees can be staggering.”

When she didn’t get the question about what kind of legal fees, she relaxed back in the chair, inhaling several, calming breaths. “I can also pay a lot of the hospital bill, too. Of course, it’ll depend on how much I can get as a second mortgage. I wish I was better with money.” She leaned toward him and got a whiff of the soap he must have used when taking a shower. She thought of a green hillside in the spring and for a second forgot what she was going to say.

His gaze connected with hers. The beating of her heart echoed in her ears as she became lost in the sky blue of his eyes.

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “How long have you been a teller?”

“Almost two years. Don’t tell the bank manager what I said about handling money. It can be our little secret.”

“My lips are sealed.”

A twinkle danced in his eyes, and she lowered her regard to those lips he mentioned. All she could focus on was the way they curved slightly at the end in that smile she had decided was lethal.

She slid her gaze away and took the stack of papers, then stuffed them into the manila envelopes she kept them in. Her hands shook, and she nearly dropped all of them. She scooted her chair back. The scraping sound across the tile echoed through the kitchen. After she rose, she walked to the desk by the phone and crammed them in the top drawer.

“There. Out of sight, out of mind, at least for the rest of the evening.”

“Money worries can be very hard on a person.”

“You speak as though you’ve had firsthand knowledge.” She lounged back on the desk with her hands digging into the wooden edge and braced herself for him to either ignore her or shut the topic down.

He stared out the window that afforded him a view of Crystal on the deck with her service dog. “I’ve helped many clients in the past come up with a plan to get out of debt. Some make it. Others don’t.”

There was more to it than that, but his evasive look alerted her to the fact she wouldn’t get an answer from him until he was ready. Had he been like one of those clients, in debt, struggling to make ends meet? For some reason she didn’t think that was it, even though he had few possessions that she knew of and he had arrived in town on a bus.

Tanya pushed herself away from the desk. “I intend to be one of your success stories.”

“Good.” He stood. “I’d better go. It’s getting late.” His glance strayed again to the window that overlooked the deck. “Is something wrong with Crystal? She hardly said two words tonight.”

“You know how moody teenage girls can be. She’s upset with me and even ate her dinner in her room before going outside on the deck.”

“Yes, I know what…” His voice trailed off into the silence.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Crystal told me you had a daughter who died.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then when he opened them again, there was a raw look in their blue depths that turned them the color of the lake right before a storm. “I lost both my wife and daughter a few years back.”

“I’m so sorry. My husband died last spring, so I understand what you must have gone through.”

An expression full of doubt flickered across his face for a few seconds before he managed to mask it. He walked to the back door and thrust it open, then disappeared quickly. Tanya heard him say something to her daughter. She observed the exchange, saw Crystal’s features coming alive while she spoke to Chance. She even laughed, which thrilled Tanya. Her daughter hadn’t laughed much lately—ever since the start of high school six weeks before.

Chance sensed Tanya’s gaze on him and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. In prison he’d gotten used to being watched all the time, but that didn’t mean he liked the feeling. It made him think of a bug under a microscope, every movement noted and analyzed.

“May I pet your dog?” he asked Crystal, the hairs on his nape prickling.

“Sure. Charlie loves people.”

“He’s a beauty.” Chance stroked the length of the black Lab’s back. “So what are you writing about?”

“About the prejudice in the book To Kill a Mockingbird.”

“How far have you gotten?”

“I’m almost finished with the rough draft. We’re supposed to compare and contrast it to the prejudice in our society today.”

“How’s that coming?” Chance asked, having experienced his own kind of prejudice when he had been released from prison three weeks ago. Although his conviction had been overturned, people still looked at him strangely, and he could see the question of his innocence lurking in their gazes.

“The comparing and contrasting has been the easiest part. You know, not all prejudice is racial.”

“True. People can be prejudiced against anyone, an overweight person or someone who stutters. There’s all kinds.”

“I know.”

Chance studied Crystal’s solemn expression, illuminated in the light by the door. “Is something going on at school?”

Her gaze slid away from his, her head dropping until her chin nearly touched her chest.

“Crystal? What’s happening?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

He knelt and leaned close because he’d barely heard her reply. “Is someone bothering you?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Crystal?” Something was wrong. Tension oscillated in waves from the teenager.

“It’s really nothing. I can handle it.”

He bent down farther until he caught her gaze and held it. “You’ll tell someone if you can’t?”

She lifted her head, visibly swallowed and nodded. She shivered. “It’s getting cold. I’d better go in. Night.” She guided her wheelchair toward the back door and waited for Charlie to open it for her.

Chance didn’t leave the deck until the teenager had disappeared inside. Through the open blinds he saw Tanya say something to her daughter, following Crystal out of the room. He’d speak to Tanya tomorrow about what her daughter had implied. If someone was harassing Crystal, it needed to stop, especially with her earlier comment about the guy she was attempting to draw. Was he the one bothering her?

Chance hurried up the stairs two at a time and entered his apartment. Tom had been there for him in prison. He would be there for Tom’s daughter. He owed the man his life.

Having no books, radio or television, he decided to go to bed early. He intended to start the basketball hoop for Crystal early the next morning if he could find a store open on Sunday that sold lumber and the other supplies he would need. He wanted to give the teenager something to smile about.

In the dark he stretched out on the double bed with his arms folded behind his head. Staring up at the ceiling, he reviewed the day’s activities. He had a job. Only time would tell whether it was the best one for him. He’d assisted Tanya with her budget and he knew now how to help Crystal. Not too bad.

“I’ll protect them, Tom,” he whispered into the blackness, his eyelids growing heavy with sleep….

Three men with exaggerated grins and taunting voices surrounded him. Chance glanced from one to the other. When his gaze finally settled on the ringleader, tall and thin but with arms like steel clubs, Chance’s heart thudded against his chest. The instigator of this little impromptu meeting clenched his fist around a homemade knife, the blade long—three, exaggerated feet—and sharp. His cackles chilled the air in the cell as though a blizzard had swept through the prison, freezing everything but them.

Trapped, with his back against the bars, Chance didn’t have to look around to know he wouldn’t be able to walk away from them without a fight. He prepared himself, bracing his feet apart, balling his hands.

The ringleader charged, letting out a blood-curdling scream that plunged the temperature in the cell even colder. Suddenly from out of nowhere, Tom flew between him and the tall, thin man, planting himself in front of the long, long knife. The inmate brought the weapon back and shoved it toward Tom and him. The blade went through Tom’s chest to skewer Chance.

Chance bolted up in bed, rivers of sweat running off him as he tried to draw in a decent breath. His lungs hurt as though he really had been pierced by a knife. He couldn’t seem to inhale enough air. The pounding of his heart thundered in his ears, the nightmare relived yet again. When would it ever go away? Would Tom’s death haunt him forever? He dug his fingers into the bedding, trying to focus on the pain emanating from them rather than his heart.

He knew one thing. He had to tell Tanya where he’d been for the past few years. He didn’t want her to find out from someone else. He owed her that much.

Tanya pulled into her driveway after church, stopped at the side of her house and stared at the scene before her. Shock trembled through her. Chance was painting a basketball backboard bright yellow. The color glittered in the bright sunlight.

“I didn’t think he would do it today,” Tanya murmured, amazed at how fast Chance had managed to put the hoop up. She and Crystal had only been gone three hours.

“Do what, Mom?” Crystal asked from the back of the van where her wheelchair was locked into place.

“Chance has already put up that basketball hoop for you.”

“He has?” Her daughter’s own astonishment sounded in her voice. “I want to see.”