Читать книгу Man With A Message - Muriel Jensen - Страница 11

THE SECOND MORNING AFTER the deluge, Mariah encouraged her little troupe to finish breakfast so that they could get to school on time. They were rushed this morning. Mariah had overslept—something she never did—and it had taken Ashley’s violent shaking to wake her up.

“I’m sorry I have to hurry you,” she explained, shooing the girls upstairs to brush their teeth. “I know it’s all my fault, but we can still be on time if we put some effort into it.

“We were late yesterday,” Philip said, “and nobody cared.”

“That was because of the excitement the night before. But today it’s our responsibility to be punctual.”

“There’s still no carpet,” Amy complained as she and the other girls started up the stairs.

Mariah nodded. “We have to wait for the wood to dry. It’ll be replaced at the end of the week.”

“So, where do you think the gold is?” Peter asked Brian as the three boys, teeth already brushed, shouldered their backpacks.

Brian considered. “Cam says I have to do more research.”

“Well, where else could it be?” Philip asked.

“I’m thinking maybe in…”

Mariah missed whatever it was he thought as he lowered his voice to a whisper.

Brian had dropped Cam’s name at every opportunity since the flood. The boy had acquired status among the other children because the man who’d rescued Mariah had asked him to help. He was clearly enjoying his popularity.

Mariah tried not to think about that night—or yesterday morning. Her behavior in Cam’s apartment had to have been a result of her embarrassment at discovering that he hadn’t been in danger at all, simply playing with Fred. Added to that was the fact that she hadn’t seen a partially naked man in a long time, and the fact that the hormones she’d been sure had died with her marriage were still very lively. She had to have lost her mind just a bit.

Otherwise, why would she have practically asked him to kiss her?

Why would she have enjoyed it?

Why could she still feel his lips on hers twenty-five hours later?

It didn’t matter, she told herself briskly, pushing chairs up to the kitchen table. Unless there was another plumbing emergency, she wouldn’t have to see him again. And if there was, she could ask one of the Lightfoot sisters to attend to it. They were full of praise for his work—and his charm.

Even Parker had nice things to say about him, though she’d found them in each other’s arms.

“He seems to be a gentleman,” she’d insisted, when Mariah had grumbled in response to her question about what had been going on when she’d walked in on them.

Mariah hadn’t denied it, but wondered why, if he was such a gentleman, he made her feel such un-ladylike things.

The girls bustled down the stairs, dragging backpacks.

Mariah rounded up her little group and led them outside, locking the carriage house door behind her. They went down through a lane of swamp maple to the school playground, where all the day children were gathered, waiting for classes to begin. A lively basketball game was under way, several girls were jumping rope and a coed group competed for daredevil notoriety on the monkey bars.

Janie Florio, a third-grade teacher, waved at Mariah from the basketball hoop, fulfilling her role as playground monitor.

Mariah returned the wave and was about to wish the children a good day, when she realized they’d already dispersed into their playgroups without giving her a second thought.

Little ingrates, she thought good-naturedly as she climbed the stairs to attend a meeting with Letitia Lightfoot.

Letty hadn’t specified the reason for the meeting, but Mariah could only assume it had to do with the flood. A lot of damage had been done in the carriage house, though mercifully it was mostly superficial and covered by insurance. She would probably suggest Mariah be more vigilant, more of an authority figure with the children than the friend she strove to be.

Letitia’s office was clearly not dedicated to the needs of the children. Everywhere else in the building the rooms were cheerfully academic—black-boards, maps all over, alphabets and musical notes running above the picture rails. Here, there were big cozy chairs, frilly lamps, a mantel covered with family photos, lace curtains at the window.

The other Lightfoot sister sat behind a smallish rosewood desk and pointed Mariah to a chair patterned in cabbage roses.

Mariah sat, sinking into the old springs. Letty, she thought, looked severe. She couldn’t have heard about the kiss, could she? Of course not. The only other person who knew, aside from herself and Cam, was Parker, and she wouldn’t have told.

Such behavior had been irresponsible, very inappropriate in a woman hired to guard the safety of young…

“Mariah,” Letitia said without preamble, “we’ve finally decided to close the dormitory at the end of this school year.” She sighed after she spoke, as if making herself say the words had taken a lot of energy. “I’ll be contacting the parents and Ashley’s guardian today to let them know. I’d like you to tell the children.”

Mariah wasn’t shocked; the rumor had circulated for some time. But she was upset at the realization that she’d lose her charges, not just for the summer but forever.

And what about Ashley, whose guardian was ill, and Brian, whose mother was in and out of rehab? What would they do without the stabilizing influence of the Maple Hill Manor School? Public schools were wonderful, of course, but the Manor’s program was set up to take special care of children in their unique situations.

“I don’t want you to worry about your position here,” Letty continued. “We’ve all grown very fond of you. It’s clear you’re destined to work with children and we’ll find another spot for you by September. Lavinia thinks we need an office secretary, but I think your special talents would be wasted behind a desk. We’ll come up with something suitable, if you’d like to stay on as much as we’d like you to.”

Mariah smiled gratefully. “I so appreciate that, Letty. But, you know that I’ve been planning an extended European trip. Maybe this is the time for me to go.”

Letty frowned with maternal displeasure. “Well, I’d hoped you’d gotten over that notion. When you hired on, you told me it would be just for a year, that you had this trip planned to tour Europe and learn about art, but I’d put it down to the dreams of a woman who’d lost so much and wanted to escape. I thought you might feel loved and wanted here and decide that escape wasn’t the answer.”

“I don’t want to escape, Letty,” Mariah denied gently. “I just know now that marriage and family aren’t for me, so I may as well get out there and find out what it is I do want—and try to learn something in the process.”

Letitia leaned her elbows on the desk and smiled benevolently at Mariah. “Marriage with that man wasn’t for you, and neither is having babies in the traditional way. But there’s so much more to marriage and family than what you’ve known.”

Mariah shook her head firmly. “I don’t want that anymore, Letty. I have other plans. And while I appreciate your concern and affection for me, I have to do what I have to do.”

“So you are bent on escape.”

“It’s not escape. It’s exploration.”

Letitia stared at her a moment, then smiled. “Well. When you return from your exploration, we’ll find a place for you if you’d like to work with us again. But until then, we have a lot to do here until the school year’s over. Is your heart still in it?”

“Absolutely,” Mariah replied firmly.

“Good. Then please explain to the children, and we’ll try to spoil them to help cheer them up.”

Mariah nodded. “I’m worried about Ashley. Do you have any idea what Walter Kerwin’s intentions are for her if he should…”

Letitia shook her head. “That isn’t really our business, Mariah. But I’ll be speaking with him today, and if he shares any information about that, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, Letty.”

“Are you going shopping today?”

Mariah nodded. Every Tuesday morning she replenished the dorm’s groceries and picked up special requests for the children.

Letitia delved into a bottom drawer of her desk and surfaced waving a ten-dollar bill. Mariah stood to take it from her. “Would you buy me a quarter pound of raisin clusters? Dark chocolate.”

Chocolate was Letitia’s one indulgence. Mariah had trouble finding fault with that.

“Of course.” Mariah started for the door.

“And about the flood…”

Mariah stopped in her tracks, prepared to take the heat for Brian’s gold-digging fiasco. She turned, shoulders square, “Yes?”

Letitia shook her head. “We had Brian’s grandfather here in the old days and he set the lawn on fire with a magnifying glass. Unfortunately, we’d just mowed, and it caught a bank of raked grass and burned several acres. We had his mother, too, and she had the same problems when she was in high school that she has now. We had to expel her.”

“Mercy.”

“Yes. I know there’s nothing you could have done to prevent what happened, but it was costly, and we must try to make Brian understand that even if he finds the gold, he’ll owe it all to us should he destroy the house.”

Relieved, Mariah nodded. “I’ve already explained that.”

“Good. Then enjoy your day.”

Mariah left Letitia’s office and headed for the cafeteria, hoping to get a quick cup of coffee before she went into town. Because she’d been rushed this morning, she hadn’t put up her hair or taken care with her clothes and she felt sort of unguarded, and therefore unprepared. She felt sure caffeine would help.

The cafeteria was filled with workmen, a circumstance the Manor staff had grown used to and mostly ignored. As she stepped over lumber in the dining area, she could hear saws whine, the staccato beat of hammering and the sound of male laughter. She went behind a long counter where lunch was usually served and into the kitchen.

Though the Manor had made arrangements for the public school to cater lunch at tables now set up in the gym until the renovation was complete, a coffeepot was always going in the kitchen for the staff and the workmen.

She took a thick pottery cup from a tray on the stainless-steel counter and filled it with the steaming brew. She turned to find a quiet corner in which to drink it—and ran right into Cam Trent, who was coming up behind her.

She uttered a little cry of dismay as the coffee sloshed; he danced back a step, and she put a hand to her cup as if to hold the coffee in. The hot brew sloshed all over it and she cried out again.

“Mariah!” Cam took the cup from her, caught her wrist and led her to the sink, where he slapped on the cold water tap and dunked her hand under it. “I’m sorry. I thought you saw me.”

“I had my back to you,” she pointed out, though her brain seemed focused on the touch of his fingertips at her wrist. “How could I have seen you?”

He turned her hand over under the water, his glance at her friendly but unsettlingly sharp. “I sensed you before I saw you,” he said. “I thought it might have been the same for you.”

She ignored that, determined just to get out of there. Her pulse was fluttering.

He shut off the water, dried her hand with the tail of his shirt, then inspected it. The pad of her thumb was red where the hot coffee had burned her.

“Come on. I can take care of that.” Still holding her hand, he drew her with him out the kitchen’s back door.

She pulled against him. “But my coffee…”

He wasn’t listening. In another moment they were in a parking area filled with tradesmen’s trucks. He led her to a green pickup that had seen better days.

He opened the passenger-side door and was immediately assailed by Fred, who kissed Cam’s face and whopped him with a dexterous paw.

“Hey, Fred.” Cam patted the dog’s flank, then reached around him and into the glove compartment. He extracted a first aid kit.

Fred licked Cam’s ear while Cam delved inside. He finally held up a small tube of something. “Hydrocortisone cream,” he said as he placed the kit on the roof of the cab. Holding her injured hand palm up, he squirted a small amount of white cream into it.

He rubbed it in gently.

She tried to think of something else. She’d felt flustered and befuddled this morning, and had put it down to oversleeping and then hurrying to prepare for school. His gentle, circling touch didn’t help. That is, it soothed the burn but did nothing for her flustered feelings.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied. She looked at her thumb and not at him. Then she focused on the dog, who was overwhelmed by her attention. He kissed her cheek, her forehead, her hair.

“Fred, show some manners!” Cam commanded, pushing him back onto the seat he was about to fall off of.

“That’s all right.” Mariah patted the dog and nuzzled him. “My husband got our retriever in the divorce and I miss her a lot.”

CAM, STANDING SLIGHTLY behind Mariah, put the tube back into the first aid kit, studying her, thinking there was something different about her this morning. She seemed a little less controlled. Then he realized that her hair wasn’t scraped back and tied in a knot. It fell to the middle of her back, thick and glossy and the color of walnut. It softened the line of her face, darkened her eyes to midnight. Light rippled in it as she nuzzled Fred. Her hair made Cam feel lustful. He hated being such a cliché, but he couldn’t deny his reaction.

“Have you had breakfast?” he asked.

She stepped aside, giving him more room than he needed.

“No, I overslept. But I don’t really have time. I have to go shopping and then there’s—” A wild rumbling in her stomach interrupted her.

“Sounds like you’d better make time,” he said, pushing Fred to the middle of the bench seat. “Besides, I have something of yours.”

She looked puzzled. “What?”

“I’ll tell you over breakfast,” he said, bargaining, “then I’ll take you wherever you want to go shopping. I have to pick up a few things, too.”

She eyed him doubtfully. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I came in to see if they were ready for me, but they’re ironing out some kind of problem with the plan, and I can’t start until tomorrow. Climb in.” He held the door, waiting for her to comply.

She finally did, giving him a brief but stimulating glimpse of a jeans-clad derriere as she swung into the seat. He pretended detachment, locked her in and closed the door.

He was not only a cliché, he decided as he walked around to his side, but a pubescent cliché.

The Breakfast Barn was everyone’s favorite place to begin the day. When things were starting slowly everywhere else, it was alive with activity—businessmen and -women, morning walkers, gossip groups who’d been getting together for years and solved their own and the world’s problems over scrambled eggs and coffee.

The Barn was a huge room lined with booths and filled with tables in the middle. The walls were covered with photos of the city teams the restaurant had sponsored, of parties held there, of patrons celebrating one success or another. It was home away from home for much of the population of Maple Hill.

Cam spotted an empty booth near a window and pointed Mariah to it. He followed her across the room, weaving in and out of tables, noting the speculating glances of friends and neighbors.

Rita Robidoux, a fixture at the Barn, was upon them immediately with menus and glasses of water. “Coffee?” she asked.

“Please,” Mariah said.

“Regular?”

“Yes, please.”

“Coming right up.” As she turned away from Mariah, she waggled her eyebrows at Cam, a silent comment on the worthiness of his breakfast companion.

He gave her a teasing frown of disapproval. “Do you know Mariah Mercer?” he asked politely for Mariah’s benefit.