Читать книгу Still Waters - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 8

Jake watched her go, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It surprised him a little, the pulling of muscles and crinkling of eyes, the spontaneous response to simple pleasure. The past year had been short on smiles. Those that had graced Jake’s face felt forced and unnatural.

Now he was close to grinning thanks to Tiffany Anderson and her rambling, embarrassed banter. Not to mention her shuffling run as she moved across the parking lot, the sleeves of his jacket falling down over her hands. He’d thought her hair to be brown, but now realized he’d been wrong. It was red—a bouncing, shouting array of gold and fire.

He wondered if she had a temper to match, then forced his mind away from the question. He didn’t want to know about Tiffany. Didn’t want to find out who she was, what made her tick, or why she would risk her life for a dog.

He’d done it once—searched for the answers to a woman’s heart. The result had been two years of bitter feuds and cutting silences. In the end, he and Sheila had divorced. He’d thrown himself into his work. She’d thrown herself into the bottle. Jake had blamed himself. Now he avoided relationships, preferring a life of solitude to a life of regret.

Jake ran a hand through his hair and eyed the closed door of the diner. Too much time had passed. Tiffany should have returned by now. The dog whined as if he, too, were growing impatient. Determined to get on with his day, Jake stepped out of the truck and checked on the dog, who lay panting loudly in the morning heat. No doubt he was thirsty.

Jake figured he could get the dog some water in the diner. Then he’d find Tiffany Anderson and politely ask her to remove the mutt from the back of his truck.

If he could find Tiffany. If she hadn’t scooted out the back of the diner and left the dog to him. Jake winced at his own cynicism. Ten years patrolling the most squalid areas of Washington, D.C., had taught him everything he needed to know about human nature. Not that he’d had much to learn. He’d cut his teeth on lies and faithlessness. Where Jake grew up, a promise made was a promise broken and the only person he could trust was himself.

Forcing his mind away from the past, Jake pushed open the door of the diner and walked into warmth and chaos. The sun shone through huge storefront windows, bathing the room with light. Jukebox music and eager conversation filled the dining area as waitresses shuffled order pads and balanced food-laden trays. The heady aroma of bacon and sausage wafted through the room and Jake’s stomach rumbled in response. Once he found Tiffany and got rid of the dog, Jake figured he might just start his vacation with a stack of pancakes and a side of home fried potatoes. Taking a seat at the counter, he gazed around the room searching for a head full of rioting curls.

“Looking for Tiffy?”

Jake turned to greet Doris Williams, the current owner of Becky’s Diner. “Tiffy?”

“Tiffany Anderson. She said you brought her here from the lake. I thought maybe you were looking for her.”

“Yeah. She leave?”

“She’s in the bathroom. Crying, I’d say. Not that she’s the mopey kind, mind you. But a girl counts on her man being there for her when she’s down. When he’s not, it’s disappointing.”

Jake’s mind spun at the turn in the conversation but he nodded anyway. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“No supposin’ about it.” Short and thin, with wiry salt-and-pepper hair and skin the color of toasted pecans, Doris was known for her harsh tongue and soft heart. She would go to her grave denying it, swore she’d never committed a charitable act, but the residents of Lakeview knew the truth and loved Doris for it.

Jake had been hearing stories of her timely interventions since the day he’d moved to town. In the twelve months since then, he’d seen for himself the extent to which Doris would go to make a single mother feel comfortable taking leftovers from the diner’s kitchen, or to talk an out-of-work father into accepting free meals for his children. He’d also seen that when Doris needed a hand with something, the townspeople were quick to go to her aid. Jake wasn’t about to break with tradition.

Which he supposed was good, as it seemed Doris wanted something from him. Shifting in his chair, Jake met Doris’s watchful gaze and tried not to fidget beneath her scrutiny.

“Well?” Coal-black eyes flashed as short-nailed fingers beat a tattoo against the counter.

Jake cleared his throat. “Well, what?”

“What are you going to do about Tiffany? Dr. Brian has gone off to the men’s prayer meeting and left her here. Someone’s got to give her a ride home.”

The tone of Doris’s voice left little doubt that the someone was going to be Jake. Pushing aside his exasperation, Jake resigned himself to the task. “You said she was in the bathroom?”

“Yes. Drying her shirt, she said. But I know better. Knock on the door loud and get me if she doesn’t come out. I’ll fetch her for you.”

“Right.” With a last wistful look at a tray of pancakes being carried to the dining room, Jake headed for the rest rooms. His belly could wait. Duty called.

“Pull yourself together!” The whispered words did little to stanch the tears that dripped down Tiffany’s cheeks. She mopped at the offending moisture with a wad of toilet tissue, blinked hard and sniffed. It wasn’t far to her house and any other morning she would have enjoyed the walk. But Tiffany was tired. She was wet. The hair she’d so carefully braided that morning fell around her face in straggly curls.

And Brian had left her to fend for herself.

Not that she could blame him. After all, he was leading the prayer meeting and it wouldn’t do for him to be late. Still, it would have been nice if he’d come looking for her. Or barring that, waited until she’d shown up. Tiffany didn’t think it was too much to ask that Brian be as concerned about her well-being as he was about his meeting. Unfortunately, if she’d had to count on him to rescue her, Tiffany would still be floundering in the lake.

The thought brought fresh tears and Tiffany grabbed another handful of tissue, rubbing hard at red-rimmed eyes. The tissue broke apart and dotted her face with tiny bits of white. Irritated, she used the sleeve of Jake’s jacket to rub the residue away. Walking back through the dining room looking like the before ad for allergy relief medication would be embarrassing enough; she didn’t need toilet paper stuck to her face as well.

Sniffing hard, Tiffany forced back more tears and reached for her purse. The one blessing in the whole fiasco was that Brian had remembered to leave it with Doris. Rifling through its contents Tiffany pushed aside car keys, house keys, lip balm and a pack of gum before she realized she’d left her wallet at home. She didn’t have enough change in the bottom of her bag to get the diet soda she wanted. With the kind of day she’d been having, the knowledge didn’t surprise her. Nor did it surprise Tiffany when someone knocked on the bathroom door. Having a few extra minutes to compose herself would have made the day just a little too easy.

“Just a minute.” A last swipe with the tissue, a quick hand through hopelessly tangled hair and Tiffany was ready to face the world.

The corridor she stepped into seemed dark compared to the bright light in the bathroom and she didn’t see the person standing against the wall until he spoke. “Doris told me you needed a ride home.”

Praying the corridor was dark enough to hide her tear-ravaged face, Tiffany turned to face Jake Reed. “Not really. My house isn’t far. I can walk.”

“I don’t mind giving you a ride home. Besides, how else are you going to get the dog there? I think he’s too tired to walk.”

Tiffany’s heart clenched as she pictured the pitiful mountain of black fur and soulful dark eyes. She’d forgotten about the dog. “Is he doing okay?”

“He seems fine. Just tired. I came in to get him some water. It’s getting hot out there.”

“Yeah, and he has been through a lot. I doubt walking a mile in the heat would be good for him. Maybe I’ll take you up on that ride after all.” Tiffany seized upon the excuse Jake offered her.

“Good. Why don’t you go out the back door there?” Jake gestured to a door at the end of the hall. “I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes.”

Tiffany attempted to smile her gratefulness, but knew her expression fell short of the mark. “All right. Thank you.”

Jake watched her go and tried hard to convince himself he didn’t care that she’d been crying; tried even harder not to notice the proud tilt of her curl-covered head or the unconscious grace with which she moved.

Dr. Brian was an idiot.

A flash of light illuminated the hall as Tiffany disappeared into the morning sunshine. The back door had been a good idea. Even the dim light of the corridor hadn’t hidden the downcast turn of Tiffany’s eyes or the dejected slump of her shoulders. Jake figured she was as uncomfortable with her tears as he was. He was glad she didn’t have to show them to the world.

Not that she’d slunk away like a coward. She’d left with her head high and her chin lifted. Jake admired her grit. Turning away, he headed back to the dining room.

Doris was waiting.

“She still locked in the ladies’ room? Got myself a key around here somewhere. Just hold on a minute and I’ll get it.”

“No need for that, Miss Doris. Tiffany went out the back way. She’s waiting in the truck.”

Doris stared hard, as if trying to ascertain the truthfulness of Jake’s statement. Jake stared back, wishing he didn’t feel like a school kid sitting in the principal’s office. A moment passed with neither speaking. Then, apparently satisfied with what she saw, Doris nodded regally and stepped away. “Good. I figured I could count on you.”

She reached behind the counter and grabbed a brown bag and a cup carrier, thrusting them both toward Jake, “Wrapped this up while you were fetching Tiff. The drink with the straw is diet. That’s what Tiffany always orders. Now get outta here and get that girl home.”

Before Jake could utter a word of thanks, Doris rushed away, weaving between tables and around customers with an ease born of years waiting tables for a living. She was a force to be reckoned with, a strong woman who had worked hard for a small piece of the American dream.

Pulling a soggy wallet out of his pocket, Jake took out several bills and placed them next to the cash register. Doris would complain later, but for now she was too busy to notice the money he’d left. Replacing his wallet, Jake moved toward the door. He needed to get Tiffany Anderson and the mutt home. Then, since he was up and about already, he’d see what he could find out about the morning’s events.

There’d been a slew of misdemeanor offenses this summer—a bit of graffiti, stolen merchandise in a few main street shops, loud music in the early hours of the morning. Jake had a good idea the same teens causing the summer’s mischief were responsible for throwing the dog into the lake. He’d ask a few questions, file a report at the office, and then, finally, he could begin his vacation.

The meteorologists were saying it would be a record-breaking day. Tiffany believed it. Already heat shimmered up from the pavement in waves of silver and black. The damp clothes she wore warmed quickly, the moisture evaporating as she waited for Jake to emerge from the diner. Part of her wanted to leap from the cab of the truck and run for home before he returned. The other part didn’t have the energy to move.

She felt like a fool twice over. First for trying to save the dog and almost drowning herself in the process and second for expecting Brian to be waiting for her, only to find he had gone. Tiffany had been hard-pressed to face the sheriff in the shadowy hallway of the diner. Facing him in the bright sun would be even worse. She could feel her face reddening at the thought.

“Here. Doris sent this for you.” Jake’s voice startled Tiffany from her thoughts and she turned, reaching for a carryout cup being thrust through the open window.

“Thanks.” Tiffany took a sip from the straw, smiling as the cool freshness of the soda hit her tongue.

“She sent these, too.” A brown bag followed the cup through the window. “Go ahead and eat one. I’m going to give the dog some water before we take off.”

Tiffany tried to ignore the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon that wafted through the truck as he moved away. Instead she concentrated on Jake, watching as he walked back to the diner and returned a few moments later with a plastic bowl. He smiled at someone who called his name, waved at someone else. All in all, the picture of an affable law officer.

But Tiffany sensed something else, a tension that lay behind the smile, a hardness around his mouth and jaw that warned of things better left hidden. Jake Reed played the part well, but Tiffany doubted his heart was that of a small-town sheriff. She’d heard rumors. Heard that he was a city cop. A man used to violent crime and hardened criminals. She’d heard he was ethical, tough-minded and fair.

What she hadn’t heard was what had brought him to Lakeview.

“All right. We’re set. Where to?” Jake slid into the driver’s seat, casting a glance in Tiffany’s direction.

“I live on Monroe Street.”

Jake turned the key in the ignition and the Chevy sprang to life. “Mind if I have one of those?” He reached over and grabbed the bag out of Tiffany’s hand, opening it up and lifting out a pastry.

Tiffany’s mouth watered and she turned her eyes away from temptation.

“Want one?” Jake held the bag out toward her.

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” The loud rumble of Tiffany’s stomach belied her words. Jake lifted an eyebrow, his bland expression replaced for a moment by a flicker of something else. Amusement, no doubt.

“You sure?”

Tiffany nodded and turned away before she changed her mind.

“All right then. Let’s get you home. You cool enough?”

“Pardon?” Tiffany had been so intent on ignoring the heavenly aroma still wafting through the truck that she missed Jake’s question.

“Do you want me to turn on the air? It’s warming up out here.”

“No, thanks. I’m used to the heat.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“Did you grow up around here?” Tiffany seized on Jake’s words. Anything to get her mind off the bag of pastries sitting on the seat between her and the sheriff.

“No. I grew up in D.C. It’s hot and humid there in the summer. Here on the lake the air doesn’t seem quite so heavy.”

“I visited D.C. my senior year of high school. It’s a busy place. And you’re right, the air did seem heavier.”

“Probably pollution. Which way?”

Tiffany blinked trying to follow the turn in conversation.

“Left or right onto Monroe?”

“Oh, sorry. Left. I live near the old Sheffield place.”

“I know where that is. Shouldn’t take more than a minute to get there.”

It took three. Tiffany watched the dashboard clock and counted every one, wishing away the gnawing hunger in her stomach. A pulse beat of pain worked its way behind her eye and she rubbed her forehead wishing the ache away. While she was at it she wished away the morning’s disappointments, too.

Tiffany had prayed for years that God would bring her a life partner who shared her faith, understood her human frailties, saw her for who she was and loved her anyway. She’d believed, really believed, that God would bring that person into her life and that when He did, there would be no doubt in her mind that he was the one God intended her to spend her life with.

That wasn’t how it happened. Oh, she figured Brian was The One. He met all the requirements she’d listed in her diary—he loved God, was faithful to His call, was smart, cared about others. The only question was, how much did he care about her?

The fact that Brian had not waited or worried when she failed to return to the diner said a lot to Tiffany. And none of it good. Though too practical to list it, Tiffany had always hoped that Mr. Right would be the knight-in-shining-armor type. The kind of man quick to step in when she needed a hand. Instead, it seemed Brian had more important things to do with his time.

Forcing her mind to stop such rambling thoughts, Tiffany tried to focus on the positive. Brian might not always run to her aid but that was because he knew Tiffany to be a competent self-reliant woman. He trusted her to take care of herself and that was a good thing. Right?

Later, when he called, Tiffany would explain to Brian how disappointed she had been to find him gone. He’d apologize and explain how important the men’s prayer breakfast was to him. Tiffany had accepted months ago that Brian had high standards and rigid priorities. Though he loved her, Tiffany would never be first on Brian’s to-do list. And that was okay.

Fantasies were fine as long as a person was willing to put them aside and face reality. And, in Tiffany’s case, reality was a silent ride home with a stranger and a big black dog.

Stealing a glance at the grim-faced man beside her, Tiffany sighed. Reality was lonely.