Читать книгу A Cinderella Story - Maureen Child - Страница 14

Five

“Oh, God, look at her with that puppy,” Joy said on a sigh.

Her heart filled and ached as she watched Holly laughing at the black Lab puppy jumping at her legs. How could one little girl mean so much? Joy wondered.

When she’d first found herself pregnant, Joy remembered the rush of pleasure, excitement that she’d felt. It hadn’t mattered to her that she was single and not exactly financially stable. All she’d been able to think was, she would finally have her own family. Her child.

Joy had been living in Boise back then, starting up her virtual assistant business and working with several of the small businesses in town. One of those was Mike’s Bikes, a custom motorcycle shop owned by Mike Davis.

Mike was charming, handsome and had the whole bad-boy thing going for him, and Joy fell hard and fast. Swept off her feet, she gave herself up to her first real love affair and thought it would be forever. It lasted until the day she told Mike she was pregnant, expecting to see the same happiness in him that she was feeling. Mike, though, had no interest in being anyone’s father—or husband, if it came to that. He told her they were through. She was a good time for a while, but the good time was over. He signed a paper relinquishing all future rights to the child he’d created and Joy walked away.

When she was a kid, she’d come to Franklin with a foster family for a long weekend in the woods and she’d never forgotten it. So when she needed a fresh start for her and her baby, Joy had come here, to this tiny mountain town. And here is where she’d made friends, built her family and, at long last, had finally felt as though she belonged.

And of all the things she’d been gifted with since moving here, Deb Casey, her best friend, was at the top of the list.

Deb Casey walked to Joy and looked out the window at the two little girls rolling around on the winter brown grass with a fat black puppy. Their laughter and the puppy’s yips of excitement brought a quick smile. “She’s as crazy about that puppy as my Lizzie.”

“I know.” Joy sighed a little and leaned on her friend’s kitchen counter. “Holly’s telling everyone she’s getting a puppy of her own for Christmas.”

“A white one,” Deb supplied.

Rolling her eyes, Joy shook her head. “I’ve even been into Boise looking for a white puppy, and no one has any. I guess I’m going to have to start preparing her for the fact that Santa can’t always bring you what you want.”

“Oh, I hate that.” Deb turned back to the wide kitchen island and the tray of tiny brownies she was finishing off with swirls of white chocolate icing. “You’ve still got a few weeks till Christmas. You might find one.”

“I’ll keep looking, sure. But,” Joy said, resigned, “she might have to wait.”

“Because kids wait so well,” Deb said with a snort of laughter.

“You’re not helping.”

“Have a brownie. That’s the kind of help you need.”

“Sold.” Joy leaned in and grabbed one of the tiny brownies that was no more than two bites of chocolate heaven.

The brownies, along with miniature lemon meringue pies, tiny chocolate chip cookies and miniscule Napoleons, would be filling the glass cases at Nibbles by this afternoon. The restaurant had been open for only a couple of years, but it had been a hit from the first day. Who wouldn’t love going for lunch where you could try four or five different types of sandwiches—none of them bigger than a bite or two? Gourmet flavors, a fun atmosphere and desserts that could bring a grown woman to tears of joy, Nibbles had it all.

“Oh, God, this should be illegal,” Joy said around a mouthful of amazing brownie.

“Ah, then I couldn’t sell them.” Deb swirled white chocolate on a few more of the brownies. “So, how’s it going up there with the Old Man of the Mountain?”

“He’s not old.”

“No kidding.” Deb grinned. “I saw him sneaking into the gallery last summer, and I couldn’t believe it. It was like catching a glimpse of a unicorn. A gorgeous unicorn, I’ve got to say.”

Joy took another brownie and bit into it. Gorgeous covered it. Of course, there was also intriguing, desirable, fascinating, and as yummy as this brownie. “Yeah, he is.”

“Still.” Deb looked up at Joy. “Could he be more antisocial? I mean, I get why and all, but aren’t you going nuts up there with no one to talk to?”

“I talk to him,” Joy argued.

“Yes, but does he talk back?”

“Not really, though in his defense, I do talk a lot.” Joy shrugged. “Maybe it’s hard for him to get a word in.”

“Not that hard for me.”

“We’re women. Nothing’s that hard for us.”

“Okay, granted.” Deb smiled, put the frosting back down and planted both hands on the counter. “But what’s really going on with you? I notice you’re awful quick to defend him. Your protective streak is coming out.”

That was the only problem with a best friend, Joy thought. Sometimes they saw too much. Deb knew that Joy hadn’t dated anyone in years. That she hadn’t had any interest in sparking a relationship—since her last one had ended so memorably. So of course she would pick up on the fact that Joy was suddenly very interested in one particular man.

“It’s nothing.”

“Sure,” Deb said with a snort of derision. “I believe that.”

“Fine, it’s something,” Joy admitted. “I’m not sure what, though.”

“But he’s so not the kind of guy I would expect you to be interested in. He’s so—cold.”

Oh, there was plenty of heat inside Sam Henry. He just kept it all tamped down. Maybe that’s what drew her to him, Joy thought. The mystery of him. Most men were fairly transparent, but Sam had hidden depths that practically demanded she unearth them. She couldn’t get the image of the shadows in his eyes out of her mind. She wanted to know why he was so shut down. Wanted to know how to open him up.

Smiling now, she said, “Holly keeps telling me he’s not mean, he’s just crabby.”

Deb laughed. “Is he?”

“Oh, definitely. But I don’t know why.”

“I might.”

“What?”

Deb sighed heavily. “Okay, I admit that when you went to stay up there, I was a little worried that maybe he was some crazed weirdo with a closet full of women’s bones or something.”

“I keep telling you, stop watching those horror movies.”

Deb grinned. “Can’t. Love ’em.” She picked up the frosting bag as if she needed to be doing something while she told the story. “Anyway, I spent a lot of time online, researching the local hermit and—”

“What?” And why hadn’t Joy done the same thing? Well, she knew why. It had felt like a major intrusion on his privacy. She’d wanted to get him to actually tell her about himself. Yet here she was now, ready to pump Deb for the information she herself hadn’t wanted to look for.

“You know he used to be a painter.”

“Yes, that much I knew.” Joy took a seat at one of the counter stools and kept her gaze fixed on Deb’s blue eyes.

“He was famous. I mean famous.” She paused for emphasis. “Then about five years ago, he just stopped painting entirely. Walked away from his career and the fame and fortune and moved to the mountains to hide out.”

“You’re not telling me anything I didn’t know so far.”

“I’m getting there.” Sighing, Deb said softly, “His wife and three-year-old son died in a car wreck five years ago.”

Joy felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. The air left her lungs as sympathetic pain tore at her. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to imagine that kind of hell. That kind of devastation. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah, I know,” Deb said with a wince. Laying down the pastry bag, she added, “When I found out, I felt so bad for him.”

Joy did, too. She couldn’t even conceive the level of pain Sam had experienced. Even the thought of such a loss was shattering. Remembering the darkness in his eyes, Joy’s heart hurt for him and ached to somehow ease the grief that even five years later still held him in a tight fist. Now at least she could understand a little better why he’d closed himself off from the world.

He’d hidden himself away on a mountaintop to escape the pain that was stalking him. She saw it in his eyes every time she looked at him. Those shadows that were a part of him were really just reflections of the pain that was in his heart. Of course he was still feeling the soul-crushing pain of losing his family. God, just the thought of losing Holly was enough to bring her to her knees.

Instinctively, she moved to Deb’s kitchen window and looked out at two little girls playing with a puppy. Her gaze locked on her daughter, Joy had to blink a sheen of tears from her eyes. So small. So innocent. To have that...magic winked out like a blown-out match? She couldn’t imagine it. Didn’t want to try.

“God, this explains so much,” she whispered.

Deb walked to her side. “It does. But Joy, before you start riding to the rescue, think about it. It’s been five years since he lost his family, and as far as I know, he’s never talked about it. I don’t think anyone in town even knows about his past.”

“Probably not,” she said, “unless they took the time to do an internet search on him.”

Deb winced again. “Maybe I shouldn’t have. Sort of feels like intruding on his privacy, now that I know.”

“No, I’m glad you did. Glad you told me,” Joy said, with a firm shake of her head. “I just wish I’d thought of doing it myself. Heck, I’m on the internet all the time, just working.”

“That’s why it didn’t occur to you,” Deb told her. “The internet is work for you. For the rest of us, it’s a vast pool of unsubstantiated information.”

She had a point. “Well, then I’m glad I came by today to get your updates for your website.”

As a virtual assistant, Joy designed and managed websites for most of the shops in town, plus the medical clinic, plus she worked for a few mystery authors who lived all over the country. It was the perfect job for her, since she was very good at computer programming and it allowed her to work at home and be with Holly instead of sending the little girl out to day care.

But, because she spent so much time online for her job, she rarely took the time to browse sites for fun. Which was why it hadn’t even occurred to her to look up Sam Henry.

Heart heavy, Joy looked through the window and watched as Holly fell back onto the dry grass, laughing as the puppy lunged up to lavish kisses on her face. Holly. God, Joy thought, now she knew why Sam had demanded she keep her daughter away from him. Seeing another child so close to the age of his lost son must be like a knife to the heart.

And yet...she remembered how kind he’d been with Holly in the workshop that first day. How he’d helped her, how Holly had helped him.

Sam hadn’t thrown Holly out. He’d spent time with her. Made her feel important and gave her the satisfaction of building something. He had closed himself off, true, but there was clearly a part of him looking for a way out.

She just had to help him find it.

Except for her nightly monologues in the great room, Joy had been giving him the space he claimed to want. But now she thought maybe it wasn’t space he needed...but less of it. He’d been alone too long, she thought. He’d wrapped himself up in his pain and had been that way so long now, it probably felt normal to him. So, Joy told herself, if he wouldn’t go into the world, then the world would just have to go to him.

“You’re a born nurturer,” Deb whispered, shaking her head.

Joy looked at her.

“I can see it on your face. You’re going to try to ‘save’ him.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, honey,” Deb said, “you didn’t have to.”

“It’s annoying to be read so easily.”

“Only because I love you.” Deb smiled. “But Joy, before you jump feetfirst into this, maybe you should consider that Sam might not want to be saved.”

She was sure Deb was right. He didn’t want to come out of the darkness. It had become his world. His, in a weird way, comfort zone. That didn’t make it right.

“Even if he doesn’t want it,” Joy murmured, “he needs it.”

“What exactly are you thinking?” Deb asked.

Too many things, Joy realized. Protecting Holly, reaching Sam, preparing for Christmas, keeping up with all of the holiday work she had to do for her clients... Oh, whom was she kidding? At the moment, Sam was uppermost in her mind. She was going to drag him back into the land of the living, and she had the distinct feeling he was going to put up a fight.

“I’m thinking that maybe I’m in way over my head.”

Deb sighed a little. “How deep is the pool?”

“Pretty deep,” Joy mused, thinking about her reaction to him, the late-night talks in the great room where it was just the two of them and the haunted look in his eyes that pulled at her.

Deb bumped her hip against Joy’s. “I see that look in your eyes. You’re already attached.”

She was. Pointless to deny it, especially to Deb of all people, since she could read Joy so easily.

“Yes,” she said and heard the worry in her own voice, “but like I said, it’s pretty deep waters.”

“I’m not worried,” Deb told her with a grin. “You’re a good swimmer.”

* * *

That night, things were different.

When Sam came to dinner in the dining room, Joy and Holly were already seated, waiting for him. Since every other night, the two of them were in the kitchen, he looked thrown for a second. She gave him a smile even as Holly called out, “Hi, Sam!”

If anything, he looked warier than just a moment before. “What’s this?”

“It’s called a communal meal,” Joy told him, serving up a bowl of stew with dumplings. She set the bowl down at his usual seat, poured them both a glass of wine, then checked to make sure Holly was settled beside her.

“Mommy made dumplings. They’re really good,” the little girl said.

“I’m sure.” Reluctantly, he took a seat then looked at Joy. “This is not part of our agreement.”

He looked, she thought, as if he were cornered. Well, good, because he was. Dragging him out of the darkness was going to be a step-by-step journey—and it started now.

“Actually...” she told him, spooning up a bite of her own stew, then sighing dramatically at the taste. Okay, yes she was a good cook, but she was putting it on for his benefit. And it was working. She saw him glance at the steaming bowl in front of his chair, even though he hadn’t taken a bite yet. “...our agreement was that I clean and cook. We never agreed to not eat together.”

“It was implied,” he said tightly.

“Huh.” She tipped her head to one side and studied the ceiling briefly as if looking for an answer there. “I didn’t get that implication at all. But why don’t you eat your dinner and we can talk about it.”

“It’s good, Sam,” Holly said again, reaching for her glass of milk.

He took a breath and exhaled on a sigh. “Fine. But this doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course not,” Joy said, hiding the smile blossoming inside her. “You’re still the crabby man we all know. No worries about your reputation.”

His lips twitched as he tasted the stew. She waited for his reaction and didn’t have to wait long. “It’s good.”

“Told ya!” Holly’s voice was a crow of pleasure.

“Yeah,” he said, flicking the girl an amused glance. “You did.”

Joy saw that quick look and smiled inside at the warmth of it.

“When we went to town today I played with Lizzie’s puppy,” Holly said, taking another bite and wolfing it down so she could keep talking. “He licked me in the face again and I laughed and Lizzie and me ran and he chased us and he made Lizzie fall but she didn’t cry...”

Joy smiled at her daughter, loving how the girl could launch into a conversation that didn’t need a partner, commas or periods. She was so thrilled by life, so eager to experience everything, just watching her made Joy’s life better in every possible way. From the corner of her eye, she stole a look at Sam and saw the flicker of pain in his eyes. It had to be hard for him to listen to a child’s laughter and have to grieve for the loss of his own child. But he couldn’t avoid children forever. He’d end up a miserable old man, and that would be a waste, she told herself.

“And when I get my puppy, Lizzie can come and play with it, too, and it will chase us and mine will be white cuz Lizzie’s is black and it would be fun to have puppies like that...”

“She’s really counting on that puppy,” Joy murmured.

“So?” Sam dipped into his stew steadily as if he was hurrying to finish so he could escape the dining room—and their company.

Deliberately, Joy refilled his bowl over his complaints.

“So, there aren’t any white puppies to be had,” she whispered, her own voice covered by the rattle of Holly’s excited chatter.

“Santa’s going to bring him, remember, Mommy?” Holly asked, proving that her hearing was not affected by the rush of words tumbling from her own mouth.

“That’s right, baby,” Joy said with a wince at Sam’s smirk. “But you know, sometimes Santa can’t bring everything you want—”

“If you’re not a good girl,” Holly said, nodding sharply. “But I am a good girl, right, Mommy?”

“Right, baby.” She was really stuck now. Joy was going to have to go into Boise and look for a puppy or she was going to have a heartbroken daughter on Christmas morning, and that she couldn’t allow.

Too many of Joy’s childhood Christmases had been empty, lonely. She never wanted Holly to feel the kind of disappointment Joy had known all too often.

“I told Lizzie about the fairy house we made, Sam, and she said she has fairies at her house, but I don’t think so cuz you need lots of trees for fairies and there’s not any at Lizzie’s...”

“The kid never shuts up,” Sam said, awe in his voice.

“She’s excited.” Joy shrugged. “Christmas is coming.”

His features froze over and Joy could have kicked herself. Sure, she planned on waking him up to life, but she couldn’t just toss him into the middle of a fire, could she? She had to ease him closer to the warmth a little at a time.

“Yeah.”

“I know you said no decorations or—”

His gaze snapped to hers, cold. Hard. “That’s right.”

“In the great room,” she continued as if he hadn’t said a word, as if she hadn’t gotten a quick chill from the ice in his eyes, “but Holly and I are here for the whole month and a little girl needs Christmas. So we’ll keep the decorations to a minimum.”

His mouth worked as if he wanted to argue and couldn’t find a way to do it without being a complete jerk. “Fine.”

She reached out and gave his forearm a quick pat. Even with removing her hand almost instantly, that swift buzz of something amazing tingled her fingers. Joy took a breath, smiled and said, “Don’t worry, we won’t be too happy around you, either. Wouldn’t want you upset by the holiday spirit.”

He shot her a wry look. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Joy grinned at him. “You have to be careful or you could catch some stray laugh and maybe even try to join in only to have your face break.”

Holly laughed. “Mommy, that’s silly. Faces can’t break, can they, Sam?”

His brown eyes were lit with suppressed laughter, and Joy considered that a win for her. “You’re right, Holly. Faces can’t break.”

“Just freeze?” Joy asked, her lips curving.

“Yeah. I’m good at freezing,” he said, gaze meeting hers in a steady stare.

“That’s cuz it’s cold,” Holly said, then added, “Can I be done now, Mommy?”

Joy tore her gaze from his long enough to check that her daughter had eaten most of her dinner. “Yes, sweetie. Why don’t you go get the pinecones we found today and put them on the kitchen counter? We’ll paint them after I clean up.”

“Okay!” The little girl scooted off the chair, ran around the table and stopped beside Sam. “You wanna paint with me? We got glitter, too, to put on the pinecones and we get to use glue to stick it.”

Joy watched him, saw his eyes soften, then saw him take a deliberate, emotional step back. Her heart hurt, remembering what she now knew about his past. And with the sound of her daughter’s high-pitched, excited voice ringing in the room, Joy wondered again how he’d survived such a tremendous loss. But even as she thought it, Joy realized that he was like a survivor of a disaster.

He’d lived through it but he wasn’t living. He was still existing in that half world of shock and pain, and it looked to her as though he’d been there so long he didn’t have a clue how to get out. And that’s where Joy came in. She wouldn’t leave him in the dark. Couldn’t watch him let his life slide past.

“No, thanks.” Sam gave the little girl a tight smile. “You go ahead. I’ve got some things I’ve got to do.”

Well, at least he didn’t say anything about hating Christmas. “Go ahead, sweetie. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Okay, Mommy. ’Bye, Sam!” Holly waved, turned and raced toward the kitchen, eager to get started on those pinecones.

When they were alone again, Joy looked at the man opposite her and smiled. “Thanks for not popping her Christmas balloon.”

He scowled at her and pushed his empty bowl to one side. “I’m not a monster.”

“No,” she said, thoughtfully. “You’re not.”

He ignored that. “Look, I agreed to you and Holly doing Christmas stuff in your part of the house. Just don’t try to drag me into it. Deal?”

She held out one hand and left it there until he took it in his and gave it a firm shake. Of course, she had no intention of keeping to that “deal.” Instead, she was going to wake him up whether he liked it or not. By the time she was finished, Joy assured herself, he’d be roasting chestnuts in the fireplace and stringing lights on a Christmas tree.

His eyes met hers and in those dark depths she saw...everything. A tingling buzz shot up her arm and ricocheted around in the center of her chest like a Ping-Pong ball in a box. Her heartbeat quickened and her mouth went dry. Those eyes of his gazed into hers, and Joy took a breath and held it. Finally, he let go of her hand and took a single step back as if to keep a measure of safe distance between them.

“Well,” she said when she was sure her voice would work again, “I’m going to straighten out the kitchen then paint pinecones with my daughter.”

“Right.” He scrubbed one hand across his face. “I’ll be in the great room.”

She stood up, gathered the bowls together and said, “Earlier today, Holly and I made some Christmas cookies. I’ll bring you a few with your coffee.”

“Not necessary—”

She held up one hand. “You can call them winter cookies if it makes you feel better.”

He choked off a laugh, shook his head and started out of the room. Before he left, he turned to look back at her. “You don’t stop, do you?”

“Nope.” He took another step and paused when she asked, “The real question is, do you want me to?”

He didn’t speak, just gave her a long look out of thoughtful, chocolate-brown eyes, then left the room. Joy smiled to herself, because that nonanswer told her everything she wanted to know.