Читать книгу The Other Twin - Nan Dixon - Страница 11
ОглавлениеTHIS COULD WORK. Nathan shut off the water and unplugged the trouble light.
He moved into the hallway just as Cheryl’s lock clicked.
She’d been shaking earlier. Fear? He’d heard some of what had happened last year. Her brother-in-law had been stealing her military survivor checks. Instead of stopping him, she’d run away but the asshole had found her at Fitzgerald House. Gray and Abby had protected Cheryl and her kid. He couldn’t imagine such a frightened woman standing up for herself.
But she’d checked on the noises he’d been making. Shoot, this morning she’d actually called the police. That was something.
Once Jed, his site supervisor, showed up, they mapped out the day’s tasks. Then he headed over to the B and B to catch Abby. He might even snag breakfast. Food was a perk of working at Fitzgerald House. Usually Pop or Daniel reaped those benefits.
The Fitzgerald sisters, Abby, Bess and Dolley, were like his sisters. The Foresters and the Fitzgeralds even spent holidays together, so he wanted to make sure Abby’s restaurant was perfect.
Cheryl also spent holidays with the Fitzgeralds, but he couldn’t think of her like a sister. This morning her T-shirt had been worn and nearly transparent. Her nipples had tightened as he’d stared.
He shifted, his jeans growing snug. He had to keep remembering—she had a kid.
But Cheryl’s body rocked.
He peeked in through the kitchen window and spotted Cheryl’s kid sitting on a small sofa, drawing.
The door was open; the scent of sugar and spices had his mouth watering. He grabbed the door handle.
“Did you ever hear noises in the carriage house?” Cheryl asked Abby.
Noises? He paused. Nathan should let them know he was listening, but he didn’t. What was Cheryl up to?
“Lots of creaking,” Abby replied. “Why? Has great-aunt Persephone been trying to scare you?”
Persephone was the mansion’s ghost. Pop had worked on Fitzgerald House for years. When Nathan and Daniel were small, they would come to work with him and try to find the ghost who haunted the old mansion.
“I hope not,” Cheryl replied. “Does she visit the carriage house?”
“No.” Abby laughed. “Are you worried?”
“I...” There was a pause. “The drunk getting into the River Street apartment shook me more than I thought.”
“Gray and I are right next door,” Abby said.
“I guess...it’s nice knowing there’s only Josh and me in the building.” Cheryl’s words gushed out.
What the hell? She was sabotaging his request before he’d even made it. No way! He pushed through the door.
The screen slapped shut and Abby turned. “Hey, Nathan.”
He moved to the counter, narrowing his eyes at Cheryl.
Cheryl’s mouth formed a little O. She slid away from him. “Josh, breakfast.”
The kid tucked his stuff into his backpack and headed to the table, snaking a wide path around Nathan.
“What’s up?” Abby asked him.
“I wanted to ask you something.” He raised his eyebrows at Cheryl.
“Sure.” Abby pulled a pan from the oven. “Can I get you breakfast?”
“I wouldn’t say no.” He leaned against the wall as she cut into the egg casserole. “Smells great in here.”
After dishing him a generous helping, Abby sliced the rest into squares.
Cheryl took the pan and put it on a cart along with other dishes and baskets of muffins. As she backed out the door, she shot Nathan a guilty look. “Josh, eat up. The bus will be here soon.”
Nathan took a bite of the egg dish and moaned. It was a Mexican fiesta in his mouth. “How come Gray isn’t fifty pounds overweight?”
Abby laughed and handed him a cup of coffee. “I won’t let him.”
He took a sip. Time to get down to business before Cheryl returned. Staying on-site was the perfect way for him to work long hours without anyone knowing. “I checked out the other carriage house apartment.”
Abby’s glance shot to Josh as he plowed through his breakfast. “Did Cheryl hear you this morning?”
“Maybe.” Yes. “I want your restaurant to shine. I’d like to be on-site, keeping everything on track. What do you think about me renting the apartment?” The words tumbled out of his mouth. He didn’t even worry that they might not be the right words or in proper order. “I’d be on top of everything.”
That might be a first.
“No one’s stayed there in years.”
“I checked the water. It works.” A little rusty, but that was from lack of use. “I could patch and paint the place for you.”
“You want to live and work on-site?” She picked up a wicked knife and cut melon slices. “In a place that’s been empty for a decade?”
“You live next door in the Carleton carriage house.” He nodded to Josh. “Now Cheryl’s in the Fitzgerald carriage house.”
Josh looked up at the mention of his mother’s name, daggers in his eyes. Or maybe they were lasers. Who knew what weapons kids used nowadays?
“I like the idea.” Abby hacked off the top of a pineapple. “I’ll talk to Dolley and have her work on a lease. Maybe with you next door, Cheryl won’t worry.”
Nathan doubted that. Maybe he should have talked directly to Dolley. She was the sister in charge of contracts. But Cheryl might have sabotaged his request if he’d waited.
A timer dinged. Abby patted his back and moved to the ovens. “Can I interest you in a muffin?”
“Sure.” He checked his watch. “I’ll take it with me.”
Cheryl hustled back into the kitchen. “Almost done?” she asked her son.
“Yup.” Josh scooted off the chair and took his dishes to the dishwasher without anyone reminding him. “Thank you, Miss Abby.”
Abby ruffled his hair. “You’re welcome.”
Cheryl handed him his backpack. As they headed out of the kitchen, Nathan followed. “Got a minute?”
Her back stiffened. “Josh needs to catch his bus.”
“One minute.” He wanted to see her reaction when she heard the news.
“Josh, wait on the porch. I’ll be right there.”
The kid stepped between Nathan and Cheryl. “It’s my first day of summer camp. I don’t want to miss my bus ’cause it’s only for two weeks.”
“You won’t.” Cheryl guided Josh down the hall. Then she turned and crossed her arms. “What can I do for you?”
He almost smiled at her belligerent tone. “I wanted you to be the first to know. I’m your new neighbor.”
Her face went pale. “I...I...”
“You’d hoped your conversation with Abby would keep me from moving in?” He pointed a finger at her. “She thinks you’ll feel more secure with me living there.”
“It wasn’t that.” Her gaze swung away from him. She was lying.
“Nice.” He shook his head. “Guess I won’t be expecting a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ from you. I don’t know what I did to rile you up and I don’t care. I’ll stay out of your way. You and the kid stay out of mine.”
* * *
“THE BUTTHEAD’S MOVING IN,” Josh said under his breath, climbing into his chair.
Cheryl’s eyes went wide. “What did you say?”
Josh looked at her through thick blond eyelashes. “Nothin’.”
“Don’t you use that kind of language. Ever.” She slid a grilled-cheese sandwich on his plate and added celery and carrot sticks. It wasn’t the most creative meal, but now that it was June, the temperatures had skyrocketed.
“I can’t help what he is.” Josh squirted ketchup on his plate.
“Are you looking to lose television privileges?” Again.
What had happened to her compliant boy? She didn’t want him to be afraid anymore, but she didn’t want disrespect, either. Rubbing her temples didn’t stop the headache brewing.
“How was camp?” she asked.
He shrugged.
This wasn’t normal. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.” He swirled a carrot stick in his ketchup.
Yuck. She cut his grilled cheese into four triangles. “Something’s bothering you.”
He slammed his hand on the table. “Zach’s my friend. But he and Dustin ran off together. I didn’t have nobody help me find bugs.”
“Anybody.” She sighed. “Did you ask them both to work with you?”
He shrugged. “Zach didn’t keep his word. He’s a bu—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted. At least she knew why he was in a bad mood.
“Zach and Dustin get to play together after camp ’cause they live next to each other. Why can’t we live in a house?” He smashed his sandwich into the ketchup. “Why do I have to live here? I never play with nobody. I want a dog.”
She took a deep breath, trying for calm. They’d had this conversation. “You can invite a friend over on my next day off.”
“You never get days off. Other guys have moms and dads. They do stuff all the time.” He jabbed his carrot into his sandwich. “I’m stuck here.”
“That’s not true.” Her teeth ground together. “I’m off Monday. You can have a friend come over Sunday night and we’ll do something fun.” Something that didn’t cost money.
“I can?” Josh looked her in the eye.
“Yes.” Was she bribing her son into a good mood?
“I’ll call Zach after dinner.”
The rest of the meal was normal. At least, Josh was happier.
After they cleaned the dishes, Josh took her cell phone into the living room.
She pulled out a basket and added fruit, cheese and some sausage. It already held cookies and banana bread. Tying on a big yellow bow, she smirked. He didn’t expect a “welcome to the neighborhood.” Wouldn’t Nathan Forester be surprised?
Josh was still on the phone with his friend, a big smile on his face.
“I’m taking this next door,” she said.
He nodded, his hands waving as he talked to Zach.
She unlocked the door and hoisted the basket. Time to greet—or irritate—her neighbor.
The banging had stopped. Maybe Nathan was gone and she could leave the basket at his door.
She rounded the corner and found his door wide open. Luck was never with her.
The only time she’d been lucky had been when she’d met Brad. Being with him had made her forget Mama’s drinking. And Josh was her lucky charm. He made her count her blessings every day.
She knocked on the door frame.
“Come on in,” Nathan called.
Boxes filled the hall. In the living room, Nathan sprawled in a recliner, a bottle at his lips. Empty beer bottles, along with a six-pack and a pizza carton, sat on a stack of boxes.
He’d stripped off his T-shirt. Good lord, the man was ripped. A trickle of sweat ran between her breasts.
She lifted the basket. It blocked the view of the six-pack. Both six-packs. “Welcome.”
Nathan grinned. Then shook his head as if he’d gotten water in his ears. “You brought me a basket? With a big bow?”
Since she didn’t see any table space, she set it on the floor. “Enjoy.”
She turned to leave.
Before she could go, he was out of the chair and had grabbed her hand. “Thanks.”
She wrenched herself out of his grasp.
“Sorry. Sorry.” He held up his hands. “I forgot. You don’t like to be touched.”
She scooted back and hit the living room wall.
“Or crowded.” He shoved his hand through his hair. The blond mass looked like he’d been doing that all night. “I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day.”
“It’s...fine.” She straightened, pretending his closeness didn’t bother her. But her chest was so tight she could barely draw a breath.
“It’s not fine. My mom would have my head.” He sighed. “I thought you were trying to get Abby not to rent to me.”
“Oh.” He was right. “I brought a peace offering.”
He pointed at the basket, a grin lighting his face. “What did you bring me?”
“Healthy snacks,” she said primly.
“Healthy?” His smile faded. “Um, thanks.”
She laughed. “And maybe cookies.”
“Cookies.” He crouched at her feet and dug through the contents. “Sausage. Cheese. I can deal with fruit.”
“Like I said, enjoy.” She shuffled sideways but there was nowhere to go. Nathan and the basket had her caged next to the wall.
He looked up. “Do you want a beer?”
She couldn’t hold back a shudder. “I don’t drink.”
“Ever?”
“Maybe once a year.” She’d sipped champagne at Abby’s wedding.
He frowned. “Are you an alcoholic?”
“No!” But based on all the empty bottles, he might be.
This was a bad idea. She’d wanted to show him she was the better person. And, to be truthful, she was feeling guilty. She’d hoped Abby would turn him down. So sue me.
He dug out a cookie and took a bite. His eyes closed and he gave a little moan. “What are these?” he asked, his mouth full.
“Snickerdoodles.” Josh’s favorite.
“Thanks for this.” He stood and his gaze caught hers.
She’d never been this close to him. Golden sparks flickered in his coffee-colored eyes. Her fingers ached to push his unruly sun-kissed hair away from his forehead.
Had to be a mother’s instinct and not the desire to stare into his eyes.
She hadn’t been this close to a man since...since Levi attacked her. Now that she looked closer, his eyes were bloodshot. She inhaled and caught a whiff of the beer.
Just like Levi.
“I’ve got to go.” She pushed past him, brushing against his chest even though she made herself as small as possible.
She hurried down the short hall between their doors and flipped the lock behind her. She and Josh didn’t need the kind of trouble Nathan could bring.
* * *
NATHAN PRESSED THE trowel against the concrete they’d poured a couple of hours ago. “It’s setting up,” he called to Jed.
Jed wiped his arm across his face. “Amazing in this humidity.”
While the crew built the next forms, Nathan moved to the floor next to the exterior wall. In the still-drying concrete, he sketched a steaming cup of coffee and a piece of pie. Then he added his initials below. If anyone spotted it when the job was over, they wouldn’t have a clue who NEF was, but drawing in the concrete had become a tradition on all his jobs.
Maybe the Fitzgeralds would want to do the same thing?
Nathan moved over to Jed. “You got this?” he asked the supervisor.
Jed watched the chute as the concrete spilled into the next section of floor. “Yup.”
“I’ll be right back.” Nathan headed across the courtyard.
He knocked and stepped into the kitchen. “Anyone here?”
“Me.” Abby moved into sight. “What’s up?”
“We’re pouring the restaurant floor. I wondered...” Now the idea sounded stupid, like most everything that came out of his mouth.
She wiped her hands on a towel hanging off her apron. “Wondered what?”
“Do you want to...write something in the concrete?” He let loose a breath. “Your initials?”
She grinned. “I’d love to!”
Maybe his instincts had been right. “Are Bess and Dolley around?”
“I’ll find them.” She nodded. “When do you want us?”
“In about two hours.”
“We’ll be there.” She touched his arm. “I’m glad you asked.” Then she frowned. “How come Daniel didn’t ask me to do the same thing when they poured the floor in my house?”
“Because I’m the nice twin,” he lied. But the tension in his body eased.
“That you are.” She grinned. “You just earned the crew afternoon cookies. What kind do you like?”
He’d devoured the cookies Cheryl had given him a couple of days ago.
The cookie name wouldn’t come. Something about laughing? No. He inhaled. Sometimes a deep breath helped his brain to sort out words. Sneaky? That described him, not a cookie.
“Whatever you bring over would be great.” Because his stupid brain couldn’t remember the name of the best cookie he’d tasted in months.
Tension slammed back into him. “So. Come over in...” He’d just told her how long it took to cure. Now no words would come.
“Two hours?” She checked her watch.
“Yeah. Yeah. Two.”
“See you then.”
In the courtyard he wanted to kick something. Anything. He needed an interpreter between his brain and his mouth.
Thankfully, between pouring the floors and checking the forms, he didn’t have to say much to the crew. Two hours passed more quickly than he expected.
“We’re here.” Abby carried a tray, Bess a thermos and Dolley her camera. Cheryl and Josh carried in a table.
“We brought cookies. Snickerdoodles,” Josh said. “My favorite.”
Snickerdoodles. Nathan shook his head. That was the name he couldn’t dig out of the spaghetti that was his brain.
“We’ll set up,” Abby said.
“There’s lemonade,” added Bess.
The crew honed in on the table like wasps on a Coke can. That was okay. They’d worked hard today.
“Hey, guys, look over here.” Dolley snapped pictures of the crew and space. “Okay if you end up on the website?”
“Sure,” they agreed.
Abby tapped Dolley’s arm. “Let’s get our initials in the concrete before it sets.”
“Follow me.” Nathan led the Fitzgerald sisters back to the kitchen area. “I thought you could do your thing at the service entrance. There won’t be tile here.”
“Come on.” Abby waved to Josh and Cheryl. “You’re part of this, too.”
“Really?” Josh ran over. As he rushed by, he stubbed his toe and went flying.
Nathan lunged and caught the kid before he face-planted in the cement. “Hang on there.”
“Nice catch, Nathan,” Jed called.
Josh squirmed in his arms like an eel. “Let me go.”
Nathan moved away from the concrete and set Josh on his feet. “You can’t run in a construction site.”
“Miss Abby needed me.” There was a stubborn set to the kid’s chin.
“No running. We talked about that two minutes ago.” Cheryl took Josh’s hand, smiling at Nathan.
That was a first. Usually she looked scared.
“No harm done.” He handed out carpenter pencils. “Here.”
“Thanks.” The kid started to run.
Cheryl called, “Slow down.”
Josh huffed out a sigh. “I want to draw a picture.”
“Only if you follow the rules.” Cheryl and the kid knelt, blond heads together.
“I wish Zach had slept over last night instead of Sunday.” Josh grinned up at his mother. “This is cool.”
The sisters knelt on the second drop cloth he’d laid down. Their fiery red Fitzgerald hair gleamed in the harsh work lights.
This was a bigger production than he’d expected. The sisters debated wording, Josh had his tongue tucked in between his teeth as he drew and Cheryl watched.
Might as well get a cookie. Snickerdoodle. Snicker-doodle. Laughing drawing? He’d never remember.
The crew hovered next to the treat table.
“Hope you left me some crumbs,” Nathan joked.
“These are good,” Jed said. “But I wouldn’t let these savages eat them all.”
Jasper, one of the crew members, elbowed Jed in the ribs. “I told you to leave some for Nathan.”
Nathan grabbed the last two cookies and took a bite. As good as he remembered.
“Nathan?” A woman’s voice called from behind him.
He turned, searching for the source.
“Nathan Forester!” A blonde wearing a tight T-shirt waved from the doorway.
He knew her. But the name wouldn’t surface. Was she a high school friend? Acquaintance? From some bar?
“Hey,” he said.
The crew watched with undisguised interest.
He moved to cut the woman off before she entered the work site. “How are you?” Who are you?
Her lips formed a straight line. “I’m Heather.”
“Sorry.” Heather. Right. He shook his head. Wait. They’d dated years ago, when he’d first moved to Atlanta. “How did you find me?”
“I heard you were working for your family. Some lady told me what job site you were at.” This wasn’t the pretty blonde he remembered. Her skin was ashen, her hair lank. She’d loved to party—hard. So had he. It looked like partying had taken its toll.
When they’d been together, her long nails had been her pride and joy. She’d jabbed them into his skin more times than he cared to remember. Now her fingernails were chewed to the quick.
He took Heather’s arm and moved out to the courtyard.
“How long has it been? Three years? Four?” he asked. And why was she here?
“Closer to five.” She shifted on her feet.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Looking for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
She paced the path, the action jerky—nervous. “I’m sorry. Sorry.”
He sniffed. She didn’t smell like she’d been drinking, but he’d always suspected she might have done drugs. “Sorry?”
“I never told you.” She bit her thumb, her gaze darting around. “I didn’t know when I moved and then—” She shook her head.
He rubbed his neck. He needed to get back to work. “What are you—?”
“You’re a father,” she interrupted.
“What?” The word whispered out. His heart stopped. Then started pounding.
“You’re a daddy.”
His knees gave out. He collapsed on a nearby bench. Daddy? He could barely remember being with her. “We used protection. Always.”
“There was that one night.” Tears streaked her cheeks.
Crap. “The condom broke,” he whispered.
“Yeah.” She hiccupped. “Surprise.”
“This isn’t funny,” he snapped. “No way am I a father.”
“You are.” She wiped her face with her hand. “I should have told you, but I’d moved. By the time I knew, I was living with Thad.”
“What do you want? Money?” He pushed off the bench and shifted away.
She laughed, a watery, snotty sound. “No.”
He let his head sink to his chest. “What?”
“I...I have to get away. I mean go away.” She scanned the courtyard. Again. “Um...to treatment.”
He pushed his hand through his hair.
She clutched his hand. “You have to take Bella.”
“Are you crazy?” A kid? This had to be a nightmare. Wake up.
“There’s no one else. You have to.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’ve had her for four years. It’s your turn now.”
He shook her hand away. “I don’t do kids.”
Heather’s eyes narrowed. “Until she came along, neither did I.”
“Why can’t—” words and names jumbled in his head “—whoever the guy you’re living with take care of...her?”
“Her name is Isabella.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Thad’s gone.”
Nathan swore. “I should just take your word this is my kid?”
Her eyes filled with fire. She jabbed him in the chest. “I know who my daughter’s father is.”
“I don’t. I need a...a paternity test.” The words exploded out of him.
Heather waved her hand in a come-here motion.
No. Fucking. Way. She’d brought the kid here? Each breath he took seared his lungs like a welding torch.
“Nathan, turn around,” Heather said.
If he turned around, it would be real. This child would be real. “I can’t.”
“You have to.” Heather tugged on his hand. “Bella has no one else.”
He took in a deep breath, turned and looked down.
The kid had ratty blond hair. Her shirt was streaked with stains and was too small, showing a thin belly. Her shorts were grayish white. Wrapped around her shoulders was a blanket that might once have been pink.
Brown eyes looked into his. Brown eyes just like his. Like Daniel’s. Shit. It was like looking at a picture of himself as a child.
Heather knelt. “Bella, this is Nathan.”
The kid didn’t say a word.
He swore. “I can’t...” He waved his hand, words tangling and looping in his head. “Don’t...”
“You have to.” A metal chair screeched across the stone over by the fountain and Heather jumped. “A little on-the-job training won’t hurt.” She rattled the words out like a nail gun.
It might hurt the kid. What was her name? It wouldn’t work its way through the maze in his mind.
Heather stroked the kid’s hair. “You’ll stay with Nathan. He’s your daddy.”
Tears trickled down the kid’s face.
Heather grabbed two grocery bags and shoved them at him. “Here’s her stuff.”
“You can’t do this.”
“I don’t have a choice,” she hissed.
“But...” Nothing came out past the lump in his throat. Nothing.
“Remember what I told you.” Heather knelt in front of the crying girl, pressed a finger to her lips and kissed her forehead. “Be good for your daddy.”
This couldn’t be happening. His life couldn’t be...this screwed up. “Don’t.”
She pointed at the bags in his arms. “Her birth certificate is in there.”
He shook his head. “I can’t.” He turned to set the bags on the bench.
Scuffling noises sounded behind him. When he spun around, Heather was sprinting to the side gate.
“Stop!” He started to move, almost knocking the kid down. Setting her on the bench next to the bags, he stuck a finger in her face. “Stay.”
Nathan dashed along the courtyard paths. Where was Heather?
Tires squealed on the street. He headed for the noise. She couldn’t leave...the kid with him. No way. Hell, he couldn’t even remember her name.
A truck with blackened windows raced past him. He caught a glimpse of Heather through the cracked windshield just before she turned the corner.
“Wait! Stop! How do I reach you? What’s your phone number?”
His boots pounded on the sidewalk, echoing the hammering of his heart. His lungs burned, his legs ached. She couldn’t do this.
She turned the corner. By the time he got there, she’d vanished.
He swore. If words could form clouds, they’d have been black and thundering above his head.
He trudged back to the courtyard. Each foot weighed a ton. What the hell was he supposed to do with a kid?
The girl sat where he’d left her, staring at him with eerily familiar brown eyes. Tears washed her cheeks, but she didn’t make a sound.
“Kid.” Damn it. What was her name? He dug through the first bag and pulled out a packet of papers. Flipping through them, he found what he assumed was a birth certificate.
His name was in the middle of the page, next to what looked like the word father. What the hell?
He scanned the jumble of letters. Belisala. No. He exhaled and tried again. Isabella. That rang a bell.
He looked at the girl. He couldn’t take care of a kid. Kids were smarter than he was. He shoved his hat off his head. What about work? He needed every hour to make sure he didn’t screw up Abby’s restaurant.
He was too stupid to be a dad.
Mom. Mom would know what to do. Mom could take care of...Isabella.
