Читать книгу His Second-Chance Family - RaeAnne Thayne - Страница 8

Chapter Three

Sage and Anna apparently had a new tenant.

Will slowed his pickup down as he passed Brambleberry House coming from the south. He couldn’t miss the U-Haul trailer hulking in the driveway and he could see Sage heading into the house, her arms stacked high with boxes. Anna was loading her arms with a few more while Julia’s children played on the grass not far away with Conan. Even from here he could see the dog’s glee at having new playmates.

Damn. This is the price he paid for his inaction. He should have stopped by a day or two earlier and at least tried to dissuade Anna and Sage from taking her on as a tenant.

It probably wouldn’t have done any good, he acknowledged. Both of Abigail’s heirs could be as stubborn as crooked nails when they had their minds made up about something. Still, he should have at least made the attempt.

But what could he have said, really, that wouldn’t have made him sound like a raving lunatic?

Yeah, she seems nice enough and I sure was crazy about her when I was sixteen. But I don’t want her around anymore because I don’t like being reminded I’m still alive.

He sighed and turned off his truck. He wanted nothing more than to drive past the house and hide out at his place down the beach until she moved on but there was no way on earth his blasted conscience would let him leave three women and two kids to do all that heavy lifting on their own.

He climbed out of his pickup and headed to the trailer. He reached it just as the top box on Anna’s stack started to slide.

He lunged for it and plucked the wobbly top box just before it would have hit the ground, earning a surprised look from Anna over the next-highest box.

“Wow! Good catch,” she said, a smile lifting her studious features. “Lucky you were here.”

“Rule of thumb—your stack of boxes probably shouldn’t exceed your own height.”

She smiled. “Good advice. I’m afraid I can get a little impatient sometimes.”

“Is that it? I thought you just like to bite off more than you can chew.”

She made a wry face at him. “That, too. How did you know we needed help?”

He shrugged. “I was driving past and saw your leaning tower and thought you might be able to use another set of arms.”

“We’ve got plenty of arms. We just need some arms with muscle. Thanks for stopping.”

“Glad to help.” It was a blatant lie but he decided she didn’t need to know that.

She turned and headed up the stairs and he grabbed several boxes from inside the truck and followed her, trying to ignore the curious mingle of dread and anticipation in his gut.

He didn’t want to see Julia again. He had already dreamed about her the last two nights in a row. More contact would only wedge her more firmly into his head.

At the same time, part of him—maybe the part that was still sixteen years old somewhere deep inside—couldn’t help wondering how the years might have changed her.

Anna was breathing hard by the time they reached the middle floor of the house, where the door to the apartment had been propped open with a small stack of books.

“I could have taken another one of your boxes,” he said to Anna.

She made a face. “Show-off. Are you even working up a sweat?”

“I’m sweating on the inside,” he answered, which was nothing less than the truth.

The source of his trepidation spoke to Anna an instant later.

“Thanks so much,” Julia Blair said in her low, sexy voice. “Those go in Simon’s bedroom.”

Will lowered his boxes so he could see over them and found her standing in the middle of the living room directing traffic. She wore capris and a stretchy yellow T-shirt. With her hair pulled back into a ponytail, she looked fresh and beautiful and not much older than she’d been that last summer together.

He didn’t miss the shock in her eyes when she spied him behind the boxes. “Will! What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, uncomfortable at her obvious shock. Why shouldn’t he be here helping? It was the neighborly thing to do. Had he really been such a complete jerk the other day that she find his small gesture of assistance now so stunning?

“Do these go into the same room?”

She looked flustered, her cheeks slightly pink. “Um, no. Those are my things. They go in my bedroom, the big one overlooking the ocean.”

He headed in the direction she pointed, noting again no sign of a Mr. Blair. On some instinctive level, he had subconsciously picked up the fact that she wore no wedding ring when he had seen her the other day and she had spoken only of herself and her children needing an apartment. Was she widowed, divorced, or never married?

He only wondered out of mild curiosity about the road she might have traveled in the years since he had seen her. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

In her bedroom, he found stacks of boxes, some of them open and overflowing with books. The queen-size bed was already made up with a cozy-looking comforter in soft blue tones, with piles of pillows against the headboard.

An image flashed in his head of her tousled and welcoming, her auburn hair spread out on those pillows and a soft, aroused smile teasing the edges of those lovely features.

He dropped the boxes so abruptly he barely missed his toe.

Whoa. Where the hell did that come from?

He had no business thinking about her at all, forget about in some kind of sultry, welcoming pose.

When he returned to the living room, her cheeks were still flushed and she didn’t meet his gaze, as if she were embarrassed about something. It was a damn good thing she couldn’t know the inappropriate direction of his thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” She fidgeted with a stack of books in her hand. “I probably sounded terribly ungracious when you first came in. I just didn’t expect you to show up and start hauling my boxes inside.”

“No problem.”

He started to head toward the door, but she apparently wasn’t content with his short response. “Why, again, are you helping me move in?”

He shrugged. What did it matter? He was here, wasn’t he? Did they really have to analyze the reasons why? “I was heading home after a job south of here and saw your U-Haul out front. I figured you could use a hand.”

“How…neighborly of you.”

“Around here we look out for each other.” It was nothing less than the truth.

“I remember.” She smiled a little. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come back to Cannon Beach. I remembered that sense of community with great affection.”

She set the stack of books down on the coffee table, then turned a searching gaze toward him. “Forgive me, Will, but…for some reason I had the impression you weren’t exactly overjoyed to see me the other day.”

And he thought he’d been so careful at hiding his reaction. He shifted his weight, not sure how to answer. Any apology would only lead to explanations he was eager to avoid at all costs.

“You took me by surprise, that’s all,” he finally said.

“A mysterious stranger emerging from your distant past?”

“Something like that. Sixteen seems like a long, long time ago.”

She nodded solemnly but said nothing. After an awkward moment, he headed for the door again.

“Anyway, I’m sorry if I seemed less than welcoming.” It needed to be said, he decided. Apparently, she was going to be his neighbor and he disliked the idea of this uneasiness around her continuing. That didn’t make the words any easier to get out. “You caught me at a bad moment, that’s all. But I’m sorry if I gave you the impression I didn’t want you here. It was nothing personal.”

“I must say, that’s a relief to hear.”

She smiled, warm and sincere, and for just an instant he was blinded by it, remembering the surge of his blood every time he had been anywhere close to her that last summer.

Before he could make his brain work again, Sage walked up carrying one bulky box.

“What do you have in these, for Pete’s sake? Did you pack along every brick from your old place?”

Julia laughed, a light, happy sound that stirred the hair on the back of his neck.

“Not bricks, but close, I’m afraid. Books. I left a lot in storage back in Boise but I couldn’t bear to leave them all behind.”

So that hadn’t changed about her. When she was a kid, she always seemed to have her nose in a book. He and her brother used to tease her unmercifully about being a bookworm.

That last summer, he had been relentless in his efforts to drag her attention away from whatever book she was reading so she would finally notice him….

He dragged his mind away from the past and the dumb, self-absorbed jerk he’d been. He didn’t want to remember those times. What was the damn point? That stupid, eager, infatuated kid was gone, buried under the weight of the years and pain that had piled up since then.

Instead, he left Sage and Julia to talk about books and headed back down the sweeping Brambleberry House stairs. On the way, he passed Anna heading back up, carrying a suitcase in each hand. He tried to take them from her but she shook him off.

“I’ve got these. There are some bulkier things in the U-Haul you could bring up, though.”

“Sure,” he answered.

In the entryway on the ground floor, he heard music coming from inside Anna’s apartment. Through the open doorway, he caught a glimpse of her television set where a Disney DVD was just starting up.

Julia’s twins must have finished playing and come inside. He spotted Julia’s boy on the floor in front of the TV, his arm slung across Conan’s back. Both of them sensed Will’s presence and looked up. He started to greet them but the boy put a finger to his mouth and pointed to Abigail’s favorite armchair.

Will followed his gaze and found the girl—Maddie—curled up there, fast asleep.

She looked small and fragile, with her too-pale skin and thin wrists. There was something going on with her, but he was pretty sure he was better off not knowing.

He waved to the boy, then headed down the porch steps to the waiting U-Haul.

It was nearly empty now except for perhaps a half- dozen more boxes, a finely crafted Mission-style rocking chair and something way in the back, a bulky- looking item wrapped in an old blanket that had been secured with twine.

He went for the rocking chair first. Might as well get the tough stuff out of the way. It was harder to carry than he expected—wide and solid, made of solid oak—but more awkward than really heavy.

He made it without any trouble up the porch steps and was trying to squeeze it through the narrow front door without bunging up the doorframe moldings when Sage came down the stairs.

“Okay, Superman. Let me help you with that.”

“I can handle it.”

“Only because of your freakish strength, maybe.”

He felt his mouth quirk. Sage always managed to remind him he still had the ability to smile.

“I had my can of spinach just an hour ago so I think I’ve got this covered. There are a few more boxes in the U-Haul. Those ought to keep you busy and out of trouble.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he smiled at the childish gesture, with a sudden, profound gratitude for the friendship of those few people around him who had sustained him through the wrenching pain of the last two years.

“Which is it? Are you Popeye or Superman?”

“Take your pick.”

“Or just a stubborn male, like the rest of your gender?” She lifted the front end of the chair. “Even Popeye and Superman need help once in awhile. Besides, we wouldn’t want you to throw your back out. Then how would all our work get done around here?”

He knew when he was defeated. With a sigh, he picked up the other end. They had another minor tussle about who should walk backward up the stairs but he won that one simply by turning around and starting up.

She didn’t let him gloat for long. “I understand you know our new tenant.”

His gaze flashed to hers. Uh-oh. Here comes the inquisition, he thought. “Knew. Past tense. A long time ago.”

The words were becoming like a mantra since she showed up again in Cannon Beach. A long time ago. But not nearly long enough. Like a riptide, the memories just seemed to keep grabbing him out of nowhere and sucking him under.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Sage pressed as they hit the halfway mark on the stairs. “And those kids of hers are adorable. I can’t wait until Eben and Chloe finish up their trip to Europe in a few weeks. Chloe’s going to be over the moon at having two new friends.”

“How are the wedding plans?” he asked at her mention of her fiancé and his eight-year-old daughter. The question was aimed more at diverting her attention than out of much genuine interest to hear about her upcoming nuptials, but it seemed to work.

Sage made a face. “You know I’m not good at that kind of thing. If I had my way, I would happy with something simple on the beach, just Eben and me and Chloe and the preacher.”

“I guess when you marry a gazillionaire hotel magnate, sometimes you have to make sacrifices.”

“It’s still going to be small, just a few friends at the ceremony than a reception later at the Sea Urchin. I’m leaving all the details to Jade and Stanley Wu.”

“Smart woman.”

She went on about wedding plans and he listened with half an ear.

In a million years, he never would have expected a hippie-chick like Sage to fall for a California businessman like Eben Spencer but somehow they seemed to fit together.

Sage was more at peace than he’d ever known her, settled in a way he couldn’t explain.

She was one of his closest friends and had been since she moved to town five years ago and found herself immediately drawn into Abigail’s orbit. He loved her as a little sister and he knew she deserved whatever joy she could find.

He wanted to be happy for her—and most of the time he was—but every once in awhile, seeing the love and happiness that seemed to surround her and Eben when they were together was like a slow, relentless trickle of acid on an open wound.

Despite knowing Julia was inside, he was relieved as hell when they reached the top of the stairs and turned into the apartment.

“Oh, my Stickley! We bought that when I was pregnant with the twins. I know the apartment is furnished but I couldn’t bear to leave it behind. Thank you so much for carrying that heavy thing all that way! That goes right here by the window so I can sit in it at night and watch the moonlight shining on the ocean.”

He set it down, his mind on the rocking chair he had made Robin when she was pregnant with Cara. It was still sitting in the nursery along with the toddler bed he had made, gathering dust.

He really ought to do something with the furniture. Sage would probably know somebody who could use it….

Not today, he thought abruptly. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

He turned on his heel and headed back down the stairs to retrieve that mysterious blanket-wrapped item. When he reached the U-Haul, he stood for a moment studying it, trying to figure out what it might be—and how best to carry it up the Brambleberry House stairs—when the enticing scent of cherry blossoms swirled around him.

“It’s a dollhouse.” Julia spoke beside him in a low voice and he automatically squared his shoulders, though what he was bracing for, he wasn’t quite sure.

“My father made it for me years ago. My…late husband tried to fix it up a little for Maddie but I’m afraid it’s still falling apart. I really hope it survived the trip.”

So she was a widow. They had that in common, then. He cleared his throat. “Should we take the blanket off?”

She shrugged, which he took for assent. He unwrapped the cord and heard a crunching kind of thud inside. Uh-oh. Not a good sign. With a careful look at her and a growing sense of trepidation, he pulled the blanket away and winced as Julia gasped.

Despite her obvious efforts to protect the dollhouse, the piece hadn’t traveled well. The construction looked flimsy to begin with and the roof had collapsed.

One entire support wall had come loose as well and the whole thing looked like it was ready to implode.

“I’m sorry,” he said, though the words seemed grossly inadequate.

“It’s not your fault. I was afraid it wouldn’t survive the trip. Oh, this is going to break Maddie’s heart. She loved that little house.”

“So did you,” he guessed.

She nodded. “For a lot of reasons.” She tilted her head, studying the wreckage. “You’re the carpentry expert. I don’t suppose there’s any way I can fix this, is there?”

He gazed down at her, at the fading rays of the sun that caught gold strands in her hair, at the sorrow marring those lovely features for a lost treasure.

He gave an inward groan. Dammit, he didn’t want to do this. But he was such a sucker for a woman in distress. How could he just walk away?

He cleared his throat. “If you want, I could take a look at it. See what I can do.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t ask,” he said gruffly.

She sent him a swift look. “No. I didn’t.”

“I’m kind of slammed with projects right now. It might take me awhile to get to it. And even then, I can’t make any guarantees. That’s some major damage there. You might be better just starting over.”

She forced a smile, though he could see the sadness lingering in her eyes. Her father had made it for her, she had said. He didn’t remember much about her father from their summers in Cannon Beach, mostly that the man always seemed impatient and abrupt.

“I can’t make any promises,” he repeated. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful. Thank you so much, Will.”

Together, they gathered up the shattered pieces of the dollhouse and carried them to his truck, where he set them carefully in the back between his toolbox and ladder.

“I’m happy to pay you for your time and trouble.”

As if he would ever accept her money. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s see if I can fix it first.”

She nodded and looked as if she wanted to say something more. To his vast relief, after a moment, she closed her mouth, then returned to the U-Haul for the last few boxes.