Читать книгу The Secrets Between Them - Nikki Benjamin, Nikki Benjamin - Страница 9

Evan took his rain jacket from the backseat of the Jeep and put in on slowly, giving himself a little time to organize his thoughts. Not an easy task, he admitted, considering his current state of confusion.

He had rarely been as disconcerted by anyone’s appearance or behavior as he’d been by that of Hannah James. She hadn’t been anything like the kind of woman Randall James had described to him less than a week ago. With her long, dark hair pulled back in a single, simple, neatly twined braid and not an ounce of makeup on her face, there had been no outer artifice about her at all. And although the jeans, red sweater and low-heeled, ankle-high boots she wore hadn’t been new, they were most certainly neat and clean.

Nor had Hannah acted in any way like the evil, avaricious and unfeeling person her former father-in-law had accused her of being. For someone who had supposedly allowed her husband to die in order to collect money from his life insurance policy, she seemed to live a very simple, very quiet life.

Either Hannah James had magically transformed herself into a warm, kind, honest, loving mother, her home into a serene and orderly haven and her son into a normal, happy, healthy five-year-old, or his client had lied to him point-blank.

Years of working as a police officer and then as a private investigator had honed Evan’s ability to read people. He was successful enough to choose his clients, and he did so based largely on his belief that they were being honest with him.

He rarely missed the signs that someone was lying to him. In fact, he couldn’t recall one time that he’d taken on a new client only to discover that he’d been grossly and very likely intentionally misled.

Granted, there were always two sides to any story. People seldom viewed the same situation in exactly the same way, and when the people involved were also adversaries, there was an even greater chance of disparity between them. Evan had learned that accusations could sometimes be wrapped in exaggeration.

A lonely, insecure wife would paint her friendly, mildly flirtatious, desperate-to-meet-a-deadline-at-the-office husband as a carousing ladies’ man who cheated on her regularly. The owner of a small company, upon seeing an occasionally rabble-rousing employee driving an expensive new car, would assume the employee was stealing from him in some way.

Or a wealthy man who had recently lost his only son would insist without the slightest hesitation that his grandson’s life was being endangered by a scheming, psychotic mother who insisted on forcing the child to live in poverty, isolation and quite possibly even degradation.

Evan had talked to Randall James first by telephone and then face-to-face when he had met with the man at his office in Charlotte. Evan had asked questions and Randall had answered in a seemingly forthright manner, his gaze direct, hands resting quietly on the arms of his chair. Not once had he resorted to histrionics. Yet Randall’s concern had been more than evident, and understandable, as well, to Evan.

Quite understandable, in fact, considering the kind of childhood he’d had, living in debilitating poverty in the so-called care of a mother who had been anything but loving and protective, especially when she was busy drinking herself into oblivion. Rescuing children from similar circumstances involving parental abuse had been a top priority of Evan’s for many years.

But Hannah and her son weren’t living in debilitating poverty. Her home was warm and inviting, as well as sturdy and secure, not some run-down shack barely providing a roof over her head. He wondered if Randall James had ever actually been there, then decided he couldn’t possibly have been and still describe the place in such a derogatory way.

Nor had Evan been able to detect the slightest sign of either scheming or psychosis in Hannah James. She had seemed a little shy, but in an endearing kind of way. And she’d been wary of him, of course, as any woman living on her own with any sense at all would be wary of a strange man, no matter how presentable he appeared to be.

She would have to take some chances in order to find the help she needed, though. That she seemed interested in taking a chance on him certainly worked in his favor.

But if Randall James had lied to him about Hannah, was there really any need for him to sign on with her in the guise of hired help?

Evan still found it hard to believe that he had been fooled so completely by the man. Had his usually sharp and savvy instincts taken a temporary powder during his meeting with Randall James? Or was Hannah James a highly skilled actress, masterfully hiding her conniving and her craziness behind a mask of normalcy edged with sweetness and light?

It would take a huge amount of talent to pull off such a performance for more than a few days—a week at the most. Though why she would feel the need to impress the likes of him Evan couldn’t say. She knew him only as a man in search of a job and a place to live. And forcing a five-year-old child to appear happy when he wasn’t had to be almost impossible to do.

Seeing Hannah, Will and Nellie the dog step out of the house onto the porch, Evan hesitated a moment longer, eyeing the threesome thoughtfully, trying to decide whether to stay or to go. When Hannah caught sight of him, raised her hand and waved to him, he finished fastening the snaps down the front of his jacket, his decision finally made.

He could see no immediate harm in investigating Hannah James a little further. She had been living with the boy in relative isolation, not only according to Randall, but also according to the few people he’d managed to question in Boone, and that did cause Evan some concern. There was also the fact that she wouldn’t be able to hide her true nature from him for long, living in the house with her, as he’d be. It wouldn’t cost him anything except a week of his time, and Randall James was paying him quite handsomely for that already.

Though Evan wasn’t choosing to continue his charade awhile longer out of any sense of duty to the man. Instead he felt a responsibility toward young Will to determine whether he really was a happy, healthy child, safe and secure in his widowed mother’s care.

Pulling up the hood of his jacket to fend off the heavy mist in the mountain air as Hannah and Will had done, Evan joined them at the foot of the porch steps. Nellie wriggled up to him, poked her cold nose into the palm of his hand, snuffled a moment, then loped off along an overgrown stone path that led around the far side of the house. Will took off after her, as well, calling her name to no apparent good.

“It’s pretty wet out here, and muddy, too. Are you sure you want to risk ruining your new boots?” Hannah asked, peering up at him from under the brim of the dark green hood framing her face.

The hesitation Evan heard in her voice coupled with the concern that shadowed her soft brown eyes reminded him anew of how the real Hannah James didn’t jibe with the Hannah James he’d expected to find there. She was considerate almost to a fault, and in a way that spoke to him of caution. It was almost as if she were trying to guess at what might upset or annoy him so as to avoid having it happen.

“They’re meant to be work boots and I was told they’re waterproof. Might as well put them to the test,” he replied.

“All right, then,” she said with obvious relief. “Let’s start with the greenhouses.”

As Hannah turned and headed down the stone path, Evan realized how easily and how naturally she blended into the lush spring landscape. She moved with grace and confidence, head up and shoulders squared, leading him wordlessly into her world. He followed after her with a willingness that had more to do with her womanly allure than his real reason for being there.

Evan had already noted the sturdiness of her cedar-plank house. He had also seen that although her property was situated on the gentle slope of a heavily wooded mountain, the area around the house had been neatly carved into a series of clearings. These clearings led in terraced steps from the main road to the house, then on past the house for a good way before running, once again, into dense forest growth.

Years of hard work had obviously gone into creating this quiet, peaceful place that seemed to him like a hidden jewel. But the neglect Hannah had mentioned was obvious, as well. Barely able to discern the borders of various beds almost hidden by an odd mix of deadfall and new vegetation now running rampant, Evan understood immediately just how desperate she had to be for help.

“It’s really gotten away from me,” she said, gesturing all around her with one hand as she glanced back at him. “But I guess you can see that for yourself.”

“Everything looks very green and lush to me. But I admit I’m not much good at telling weeds from whatever’s worth cultivating,” Evan replied.

“There are perennials coming up under all the stuff that died off over the winter, but there are lots of weeds, too. We’ll have to clear out the dead stuff first, of course, then get rid of the weeds, divide the perennials for replanting as necessary and turn compost into the soil.”

She gestured again at a large, square, wooden box about four feet tall that Evan assumed held her compost heap.

“The vegetable gardens and apple trees are on the slope down from the house,” she continued. “I’ve pruned the trees already, but the vegetable gardens have to be cleared and composted, as well. Then we’ll have to plant the seedlings I’ve started in the greenhouses.”

“Sounds like you’ve done a lot of work already,” Evan acknowledged.

“Actually, I’ve barely scratched the surface,” Hannah admitted with another glance over her shoulder, concern still evident in her eyes. “The really hard work is yet to be done.”

“I’ve never minded hard work,” Evan said, wanting to reassure her.

Too late he realized that he was actually leading her on. He was only there to find out if she was endangering her son in any way, and he wouldn’t likely need more than a week to make that determination. Then he would return to his office in Charlotte, write up a report for Randall James, collect the remainder of his fee and immediately get busy on another case.

He would only be able to help Hannah make a small dent in all the work that needed to be done before he left her on her own again. The thought didn’t sit well with him.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Hannah said.

Once again, her tone held more than a hint of relief, causing Evan to suffer another irksome twinge of conscience. He could try to justify his reasons for deceiving Hannah James, but bottom line, he knew that at the very least he was going to willfully become a source of grave disappointment to her.

Such a probability left him feeling oddly ashamed and apologetic. Still, he had a job to do—one that involved the well-being of a five-year-old child. For Evan, the good of the boy had to come first. Hannah could take care of herself; Will couldn’t.

As they rounded the house, Evan saw the object of his concern waiting patiently for them, along with Nellie, by the door of one of two small, old-fashioned, glass-windowed greenhouses a few yards ahead. He had expected them to be larger, longer and lower like the commercial greenhouses used by wholesale nurseries. Hannah’s were much more picturesque, adding to the landscape in a most charming way.

The buildings sat side by side just beyond the wide, wood-plank deck built onto the back of the house. Not one of the panes of glass was broken, and all appeared to have been recently washed, allowing a clear view of the long tables filled with small pots within the walls. Vents with fans had also been installed to help with temperature control during the summer months that could be surprisingly warm even in the mountains. Despite the tall trees surrounding the area at a good distance, on a sunny day the greenhouses would get the full benefit of several hours of bright sunlight.

“Can I go in the greenhouse, Mommy, and check on our seedlings?” Will asked.

“Let me grab Nellie first,” Hannah replied.

Joining her son by the door, she wrapped a hand around the dog’s collar and held her back as Will slipped into the greenhouse.

“We made the mistake of taking her in the greenhouses with us when she was a puppy. Now she’s like a bull in a china shop,” Hannah explained. “She doesn’t mean to be, but she gets so excited that she wriggles and wags her tail and ends up knocking over a whole shelf of little peat pots before we can stop her.”

“Poor girl,” Evan said, reaching out to scratch the dog’s floppy ears. “You’re just too happy for your own good, aren’t you?”

Nellie gazed up at him and offered a woof in seeming agreement, making Hannah smile along with him.

She urged him to go into the greenhouse, then to the dog she ordered sternly, “Sit, Nellie and stay,” and followed after him.

Though the greenhouse wasn’t very large at all, the interior was laid out in a surprisingly spacious way. The air was warmer inside than outside the glass walls, but the humidity wasn’t as dense as Evan had expected, and smelled of rich, dark soil and green, leafy things.

The rows of tables were chock-full of little pots and trays filled with small, yet obviously healthy plants, all of which looked about the same to him. Will had no trouble telling one from another, though. Standing by the table against the south-facing wall of windows, he pointed here and there with excitement and delight.

“Look, Mommy, look, Mr. Graham—the tomatoes are really starting to grow now. So are the green peppers and the lettuce and the cucumbers and the squash. We’re going to have to start moving them out to the beds really soon.”

“I know,” Hannah agreed, then to Evan she added, “We’ll have to start clearing out the vegetable gardens as soon as the rain lets up—hopefully tomorrow if the latest weather forecast can be trusted. We’re also going to have to move the seedlings outside to get them hardened off for life in the beds.”

“Hardened off?” Evan eyed her quizzically.

“Seedlings started in a greenhouse are sheltered from the wind, strong sun and varying temperatures. They need to develop tougher tissues gradually before they’re planted in the ground. Otherwise they don’t grow and produce as well as they should.”

“I see,” Evan said. “I also see that there is a lot more to gardening than I ever imagined.”

“You have no idea.” Hannah rolled her eyes, then met his gaze, her smile questing. “I hope I’m not scaring you off.”

“Not at all. But…”

Evan hesitated, trying to decide how best to word the questions that had sprung to mind as he’d realized just how labor-intensive it was to grow fruits, vegetables and flowers to sell at the local market. He didn’t want to offend Hannah by appearing to doubt the wisdom of trying to support herself and her son in such a way. Nor did he want to make her unduly suspicious of him by seeming overly interested in her financial situation.

“That but didn’t sound encouraging,” she prompted after a long moment, her smile fading. “Especially since you haven’t even seen the vegetable gardens yet.”

“Not to worry. I’m still interested in the job,” he assured her. “I was just wondering if the return is worth all the work involved.”

“I admit I’ll never get rich selling produce at the market in town. But the gardens helped to provide an income for my parents, and I don’t need a lot of money to get by. I own several hundred acres of land and the house free and clear, and I have savings set aside from my husband’s life insurance policy for Will’s education. I’ve also been thinking about going back to teaching since he’ll be starting kindergarten in the fall. In the meantime, it seems a shame not to use the gardens as they were meant to be.

“There isn’t much of a financial return, all things considered. But the real return for me is in having a hand in producing things that give me pleasure. If you plan to stick around, you’ll see what I mean.”

“Sounds to me like it would be a shame if I didn’t.”

Not an outright lie, but still enough of a prevarication to make Evan look away from her sweet, steady, all-too-hopeful gaze. He wondered why there couldn’t be just one thing about Hannah James that he didn’t like. Yet at the same time, he was grateful that there wasn’t.

“I really should let you reserve judgment until you’ve seen the vegetable gardens.”

“Well, then, let’s take a look at them.”

With Will and Nellie again leading the way, Evan and Hannah followed another meandering path set with stones around the other side of the house and across the gravel drive. The vegetable gardens were more easily discernible than the flower gardens had been because they were built-up and partitioned off with foot-high wooden frames. But they were just as badly overgrown as the flower beds.

From beyond the clearing in a place hidden by the forest growth came the musical sound of water flowing.

“Do you have a creek back there?” Evan asked.

“It runs from a spring up above the house. There are actually several springs on the property, one of which also serves as our major source of water.” Hannah pointed up the slope to where the tree line began. “I have a holding tank up above the house. The water from the spring collects there and then it’s piped into the house. I have a water heater, of course, so hot, as well as cold, running water is always available.”

“That’s good to know.” Evan grinned at her, honestly relieved, then turned his attention back to the vegetable gardens, asking, “Do you have any problems with critters getting into the beds?”

“Chicken wire around the beds will keep out the rabbits and the occasional deer that comes to call, and plastic netting keeps out the birds once the little veggies start to appear.”

“We can make a scarecrow, too,” Will advised, flitting to Hannah’s side, then flitting away again, Nellie loping after him. “Just like the one in my favorite storybook.”

“A real scarecrow?” Evan asked in a teasing tone.

“What can I say? The fun never ends around here.” Hannah turned on the path back to the house. “I can show you the upstairs room now, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much,” Evan agreed.

“Come on, Will. Time to go back to the house,” she called out to her son.

“Okay, Mommy.”

“You said something earlier about pruning your apple trees,” Evan said as he walked along the path beside her.

“I have a very small orchard.” Hannah waved a hand at a dozen trees, limbs bright with new green leaves, in a clearing farther down the drive. “The trees have bloomed and tiny apples are already starting to grow. We’ll have to do some composting down there, too. I also have several walnut trees at the end of the drive. They’re big and old and pretty much take care of themselves.”

“That’s a relief,” Evan quipped.

“Oh, it is,” Hannah agreed.

Again Evan couldn’t help but be taken aback by the sheer amount of physical labor necessary just to prepare for the growing season. He didn’t want to even think about what must be involved in maintenance once the plants had been set in the beds, because that would also entail thinking about Hannah either having to look for help again or having to do it all alone.

Tramping along with her in the mist, breathing in the clear, cold air, the dancing waters of the creek providing background music, Evan told himself that he was there only to confirm Will’s safety in his mother’s care. Yet he couldn’t deny that an odd sense of peace had settled over him.

Years had passed since he’d last spent time enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of the natural world. Cooped up in his office, a rented room or a vehicle, and tied to electronic tools of his trade, his experience of the great outdoors had consisted mainly of viewing it from a window. But that was about to change—at least for a week—and he was looking forward to it with a surprising edge of anticipation.

Leaving Will on the porch to towel off Nellie—a task both boy and dog appeared to enjoy—Hannah and Evan took a moment to dry the soles of their boots on the mat, then headed into the house. At Hannah’s invitation, Evan hung his jacket on one of the pegs next to hers, followed her across the living room and up the steep, narrow, creaking flight of wooden steps that led to the second floor of the house.

At the top of the staircase a short hall led to a doorway that opened into a long, spacious room built under the eaves of the slanting roof. One end held a bed piled with pillows in white, lace-edged cases and covered with a patchwork quilt done in muted shades of blue and rose and green. A nightstand beside the bed held a brass lamp and there was also a small dresser with a mirror against the far wall.

At the opposite end of the room sat a chair and ottoman upholstered in blue-and-white striped fabric. A row of built-in bookcases full of books lined part of the wall, and there was also a small rolltop desk and an expensive-looking, black leather desk chair, out of place enough for Evan to conclude that it must have belonged to Hannah’s husband.

On the polished wood floor were a couple of blue-and-green rag rugs. Banks of wide windows—sans blinds or curtains of any kind—were set shoulder-high in the three outside walls, as well. They not only let in the meager light of the gray day, but also framed views of the woodland treetops that seemed closer when seen from this snug and tranquil aerie.

“The bathroom is over there,” Hannah said, nodding toward a doorway that opened into a small, separate area that held a pedestal-style sink, a toilet and a narrow shower stall.

“It’s very nice,” Evan said with honest appreciation.

“Private, too. You can come up here anytime you want and no one will disturb you,” Hannah advised. “You should be fairly comfortable….”

“I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable,” Evan assured her.

“So…are you still interested?” she asked as she turned to leave the room.

“Yes, I am. I can plan to be here first thing tomorrow morning, if you want to hire me.”

“I’m very interested. I’ll have to check your references, of course—you understand—but why don’t you plan to be here tomorrow morning around eight o’clock?” She paused by the door to the porch, took his jacket from the peg and held it out to him. “I’ll call you at the hotel if there’s a problem.”

“Eight it is, unless I hear from you otherwise,” Evan agreed.

He had given her the name and telephone number of the motel where he was staying when he’d talked to her earlier. As he put on his jacket and prepared to leave, he wondered if she would call there later that evening to tell him not to come back.

Evan doubted it, considering how much help she needed with her gardens. Everyone on his list of references would cover for him, as well. While all were valid friends and business associates, they had been advised in advance of who Hannah James was and why she might be calling them. Still, the fact that she wanted to check him out more thoroughly rather than blindly inviting him to stay in her home only fed his doubts about Randall’s claims.

“Be careful on the drive back to Boone,” she said, opening the door for him.

“I will.”

On the porch, Will was playing tug with Nellie. The dog had one end of the soggy towel gripped in her teeth and was growling playfully, her tail wagging a mile a minute.

“I’m just about done, Mommy,” the boy said, then shrieked as Nellie pulled the towel out of his hands and took off around the side of the porch. “Come back, Nellie, come back!”

“Looks like I’d better get another towel…or two,” Hannah said with a rueful grin, adding to Evan as he walked down the porch steps, “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Unless I hear otherwise,” he confirmed, then climbed into the Jeep, fit his key in the ignition and started the engine as Hannah reached through the open doorway, grabbed her jacket and went off after boy and dog.

Evan didn’t relish the long journey back to Boone on rain-slick, winding mountain roads. But in a strange way he needed to put some distance between himself and Hannah, physically as well as mentally.

Nothing about her appearance or her manner had been intentionally alluring—not that he could deny finding her that way. Nor had he seen any reason to be concerned about leaving her alone with her son. Yet he didn’t want to leave her, and perversely enough that lack of want made the need even more imperative.

Hannah James had put him at ease with her gentleness and her warmth, her consideration and concern. She had seemed so genuine, so open and so honest that as he guided the Jeep down the gravel drive, fighting an urge to glance in the rearview mirror, the pangs of conscience he’d suffered earlier hit him again at a deeper, more visceral level.

Evan could justify going ahead with his deception, lying to her for Will’s sake for a while longer. But he knew he’d be lying to himself if he said that he was only going back there because of the boy. The real draw was Hannah James, herself.

And there was no place in this assignment for that kind of fascination.

Considering all the lies he had already told her, the only way he could spend time with her was to sign on as hired help. He could stay a day, a week, a month, but eventually he would have only two choices—he could abandon her knowing full well how much she needed help, or he could tell her the truth about himself and reveal just how seriously he’d betrayed her trust. Lying to people was a given in his line of work. He had done it before and he would do it again, especially to protect a child. But lying to Hannah James didn’t sit easy with him.

From what he knew of her now, he believed she deserved better than that from him. But the only real alternative he had was never going back to her house at all. And that, Evan Graham acknowledged as he turned onto the main road back to Boone, he simply couldn’t do.