by Loree Lough
When dusting and vacuuming didn’t put the question to rest, she focused her concentration on chopping potatoes, carrots, beans and beef for the stew pot. She was half in, half out of the fridge, clearing a shelf for formula and jars of baby food, when the whistled notes of “Texas, Our Texas” warned her of Lamont’s approach.
“Something smells mighty good in here,” he said, sniffing his way into the room. “I just had a huge breakfast in town, so I hope that isn’t lunch.”
“Oh? In town with whom?”
Lamont grabbed an apple from the basket on the counter and bit into it. “Macintosh,” he said as he chewed. “My favorite.”
Had he made a conscious decision not to tell her where or with whom he’d been? Or had his blasé manner simply made it seem that way? Caring for him and his house might well be wifely work, but since he hadn’t yet dragged her to the pastor’s office, as Cammi had suggested, what business was it of hers? The word yet ricocheted from her head to her heart and back again, making her more aware than ever that if she didn’t put some serious effort into tamping down her feelings for him, she was in for a world of hurt. “Cammi and Reid are dropping the baby off in a few minutes. Isn’t that great? She gets to spend the whole night with her granddad!”
He gave her a look that made her blood ran cold.
“You’re joking.”
Nadine added dry mustard to the stew, and gave it a good stir. “One of Reid’s buddies is getting married,” she explained, “and he asked Reid to be an usher. Cammi says they never expected this guy—Tommy, I think that was his name—to settle down, so—”
Lamont stepped up beside her, one hand on the counter, palmed his apple in the other. His grim expression and stiff-backed stance made it clear that he hoped she was, indeed, joking, either about Tommy finally making a commitment or Rosie’s overnight visit.
“The kids haven’t been out alone in months,” she continued. “I used my cell phone to call yours while she and I were talking, but after three tries, I gave up. I didn’t know if you’d turned yours off or if you were out of range.” She sounded so much like a nagging housewife, even to herself, that she snapped her mouth shut. “You did get my message, didn’t you?”
The taut line of his lips relaxed—but only slightly—as he processed the information. “Never gave a thought to check voice mail, since the phone never rang.” Frowning, he unpocketed it and snapped it open. “Well, I’ll be,” he said, “there it is, plain as day.”
She’d heard that tone before, it was the one that warned her when Ernest was about to give her the third degree. “I couldn’t imagine you’d turn Cammi down,” she said defensively, “so I agreed to keep the baby. Besides, remember how just the other day you were saying how much you miss spending time with her?”
What was going on in that head of his? And why was he standing there, glaring as if she’d just backed his pickup into the side of the house? “Mi casa, su casa,” he’d said on the day she moved in. Until now, it seemed he’d meant it. But what if, instead, it had been one of those “Do as you please…once it meets with my approval” offers? “Rosie won’t be a bother,” she said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
“I adore that li’l gal, and you’re right, it kills me that I don’t get to see a whole lot more of her.” He tossed the apple core into the trash can and began to pace, slant-heeled boots thudding across the hardwood. He stopped not two feet from where she stood. “It’s just that I’m concerned for her safety.”
“For Rosie’s safety?” she repeated. “You’re worried that I’d let something happen to her?”
He slapped a hand to the back of his neck and thundered, “Of course not.” Then, softening his tone a mite, Lamont attempted a smile—though it never quite reached those glittering gray orbs. “For cryin’ out loud, Nadine, quit looking so terrified. I’d never hurt you, not for any reason or in any way. If you don’t know that by now, we’re both in a heap o’ trouble.”
She believed him—or wanted to, anyway. “Sorry,” she admitted. “I never should have said yes to such a thing without talking to you first. Cammi’s your daughter and this is your house. I had no right to—”
“You think I was lying?”
“About what?”
“When I said this is your home, too, for as long as you need it to be.”
She shook her head and, summoning a sliver of courage, met his eyes. “I don’t get it.”
“There’s nothing to get. Maybe I’m an idiot, thinking there’s a chance that what happened at your house could happen here, while my li’l granddaughter is upstairs, asleep.”
So Lamont didn’t mind risking his own skin to save her life, to make a home for her and her kids, but he drew the line at putting anyone else in jeopardy. And who could blame him. “Oh, Lamont,” she said, “I’m sorry, so sorry! I’m the one who’s an idiot!” If she ever figured out what she’d done in her trifling life to deserve a friend like him, Nadine would do it over and again, to ensure he’d always be part of her life. Unadulterated affection merged with gratitude. If only she could show him how much she appreciated everything he’d done, and everything he was.
The back door opened with a whoosh, and Cammi and Reid breezed into the kitchen. As Rosie reached for her grandfather, Nadine started a pot of coffee.
She didn’t share Marcus’s opinion that the fire at her house had been set on purpose, but what if she was wrong?
Nadine intended to stay awake until Lamont’s daughter and her family were snug in their own home, just in case.
Chapter Ten
Alone in Cammi’s old bedroom, Nadine continued rocking Rosie, even though she’d finished her bottle and burped half an hour ago. Facing the big window seat, shards of the moon’s brilliant white light slanted though the French doors, where gauzy curtains fluttered in the early June breeze.
Holding a baby in her arms again felt good, so good that it inspired a contented sigh. Nadine leaned against the chair’s pillowy backrest and studied the long eyelashes that dusted Rosie’s pink cheeks. She’d have freckles before she was Amy’s age, Nadine thought, picturing Cammi at that age—a tinier, chubbier version of the beautiful young woman she’d become.
“I don’t know why Dad doesn’t just carry you off and make you marry him,” Cammi had said. At the time, Nadine hadn’t given it much thought, but now, under the tranquil influence of soft baby breaths and the mellow gleam of the strawberry moon, she smiled. Since the fire, she’d pretty much run his house single-handedly. How much different could it be as his wife?
With the child safely settled in her portacrib, Nadine picked up the baby monitor’s receiver and tiptoed into the hall, leaving the door slightly ajar. Lamont always turned in by ten, and after a full day of caring for her dogs and goats and everything related to River Valley Ranch, she wasn’t usually long behind him.
Tonight, though, Nadine didn’t feel the least bit sleepy and decided to get into her pajamas and join Adam and Julie in the family room. On the way, she looked in on her granddaughter. Always a fitful sleeper, Amy had kicked off her covers and dropped her favorite teddy bear on the floor. Smiling, Nadine tucked the sheets under the girl’s chin and lay the stuffed bear beside her. “Now I lay you down to sleep,” Nadine whispered, bending to kiss the girl’s forehead, “and pray the Lord your soul to keep, while His angels watch you through the night, and keep you in their blessed sight, Amen.” After a last glance, Nadine slipped from the room.
As she made her way down the hall, Nadine noticed that Adam and Julie’s door was shut tight, and not even a glimmer of light shone from beneath it. They’d said at dinner that they might turn in early and, evidently, they’d done just that. A tiny thrill went through her, because she couldn’t remember the last time she had an hour all to herself. She’d brew herself a cup of herbal tea, then find an upbeat old movie on cable.
Ten minutes later, Nadine padded into the family room on white-socked feet, a steaming mug of tea in one hand, the baby monitor�
��s receiver in the other, all ready to settle in for a little peace and quiet. The sight of Lamont, slouched in his buttery leather recliner, stopped her in her tracks and she nearly slopped hot tea onto her hand.
“I thought you’d gone to bed an hour ago.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He gave a nod toward her cup. “Whatcha got there?”
“Mandarin orange tea.” She held out the mug. “Here, you take this one. The water’s still hot. I’ll fix myself another cup.”
While waiting for the kettle to whistle, she sliced cheese and apples onto a plate and pictured him, slumped in front of the TV in his maroon “Fightin’ Aggie” sweatpants and matching T-shirt. And if her eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on her, the slippers bore his alma mater’s logo, too. Funny, but he looked every bit as dashing as he had in his tux at Lily’s wedding.
“What’s this?” he said, sitting up when she carried the plate into the room.
“I noticed that you didn’t eat much at supper tonight, so I thought you might like a little something to tide you over until breakfast.” She handed him the platter, then stood the baby monitor’s receiver atop a stack of coloring books. “How’s your tea?” she asked, curling up on the end of the sofa. “Sweet enough?”
He took a sip and said, “Perfect.” Then he got to his feet, and in one giant step, climbed over the coffee table. “Nothin’ worse than snacking alone.” After constructing a tower of cheese and crackers, he grinned. “Du-wu-shush,” he said around the mouthful. “Shumpree du-wu-shush.”
Laughing, Nadine said, “Didn’t your mother teach you that it isn’t polite to talk with your mouth full?”
Licking his lips, he began assembling another stack. “Yeah,” he said with a wink, “as a matter of fact, she did.” He punctuated the admission with a merry wink.
“Oh, but I’ll bet you were a handful as a boy!”
“Let’s just say she got plenty of exercise, chasing me with that old wooden spoon of hers.”
He’d never talked about his childhood before. Which was curious, since he knew so much about her life. And her son’s. Nadine pressed for more information. “Did she ever use it? The spoon, I mean.”
“Just once.” He took a sip of tea. “She’d invited a bunch of her friends over—somebody’s baby shower, as I recall—and covered every flat space in the kitchen with cookies and pies and cakes.”
“And you ate something without permission?”
“Couple of somethings, actually, but that isn’t what earned me a whippin’.” He leaned back on the cushion beside her. “See, I’d clean forgot about her party, and after baseball practice, I invited the team over for a snack.” Leaning forward, he assembled another stack. “I tell you, the boys, they laid into just about every pastry they could get their grimy hands on. So by the time Mama and her gal pals came in to serve up those tasty treats…” He chuckled as he popped an apple slice into his mouth. “Let’s just say she wasn’t very happy…”
“Good grief,” Nadine said, laughing. “I can almost picture that, from the boys’ perspective, and your poor mother’s, too.”
He began creating a third tower. “Sounded like a henhouse in there, and those kids ran off so fast, they left heelprints on the seat of their pants!”
“Guess you had a hard time sitting on yours once all the ladies went home.”
Eyes wide, Lamont nodded. “Talk about your under-statements!”
He held the last cheese-and-crackers stack between thumb and forefinger, turning it right, then left. It wasn’t until he narrowed his eyes and smirked that she understood what he aimed to do with it. “Don’t even think about it, mister.”
One hand resting on the sofa’s back, the other elbow pressing into the back cushion, Lamont effectively trapped Nadine. “I noticed that you didn’t eat much at supper tonight, either.” He waved the food under her nose.
By the tender age of eight, Nadine had learned that the best way to discourage worm-toting boys on the playground was to pretend she liked worms and bugs. They quickly grew bored with the girl who wasn’t afraid of slimy things, and found other girls to torment. If the idea worked then, why wouldn’t it work now?
She opened her mouth wide to accept the treat, and the instant his handiwork disappeared, he returned to his spot on the couch. “Aw,” he said, chuckling as she munched away, “you’re no fun at all.”
“Sorry.”
He turned slightly and, for the longest time, just sat there, gawking at her. Finally she said, “What?”
A slow, easy grin spread across his face. “Can’t a guy just take a minute to thank God for all that’s good in his life?”
Nadine had no time to formulate an answer, for he pulled her to him and tenderly held her face in his hands. She’d seen many expressions on his handsome face, but this? She hadn’t seen this one before. What inspired the glint in those gray orbs, the lift of his brows, the odd angle of his grin? Most striking of all, she noticed a slight tremor in his usually steady hands.
One question stood out among the rest: Did he truly believe she’d started that fire? It was bad enough, knowing that Marcus and others down at City Hall thought she’d burned down her own house, but the idea that Lamont might agree? Well, it saddened her to the point of tears.
Pressing both palms against his chest, Nadine tried to break free of his embrace. “I need to—”
“Shh,” he said, laying a callused finger over her lips.
His words and actions sometimes brought back disturbing memories of her years with Ernest, but oddly enough, Lamont made her feel safe and cared for, too. Made her feel more like a woman than she’d ever felt. Surely those were good signs, signs that he could be trusted with her heart.
His arms encircled her and she closed her eyes, trying not to think about the fact that she carried more emotional baggage than the suitcase handlers at the airport. Did he realize what a colossal mistake it would be, linking himself to her?
Cammi’s words echoed in her head yet again, “Why doesn’t Dad just marry you?”
Letting herself fall for him had been crazy. Hoping he felt the same way, well, that was crazier still. But the craziest thought of all? That if Lamont were to pop the question, she’d say yes, even though she felt one hundred percent certain of how unfair it would be to saddle him with her problems and predicaments.
If she truly cared for him, wouldn’t she send him packing—for his own good?
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Nadine didn’t trust herself to talk.
The clock gonged the half hour. “There’s a movie about the life of C. S. Lewis starting right now.”
“But it’s eleven-thirty, and you have to get up early tomorrow.”
“So do you. Besides, I never promised to stay awake while you watch it.”
Grinning despite her dark thoughts, Nadine reached for her mug. “You’re out of your mind, you know.”
“Yeah,” he said, snuggling up beside her, “I know.”
Lamont didn’t fall asleep, and neither did Nadine. While the movie flickered silently on the TV screen, they talked. Then moved to the kitchen to make sandwiches and more tea, and talked some more. They might have talked until the sun came up if a nightmare hadn’t roused Amy, who shuffled sleepy-eyed into the room and climbed into Nadine’s lap.
Chapter Eleven
He didn’t like looking at the empty chair where she’d sat, so Lamont sneaked upstairs to see what was taking so long.
Even before reaching the baby’s bedroom door, he heard her, softly humming a tune he recognized but couldn’t quite place. Lamont froze in his tracks, not wanting to risk that his heavy footfalls would set off that annoying creak in the floor. When his own girls were small, he’d promised Rose that he’d fix it, and by the time they reached their teens, he thanked the good Lord that he hadn’t, because it never failed to signal him when they stayed out past their curfew.
“I believe in miracles,” she sang. “I’ve seen a
soul set free, miraculous the change in one redeemed through Calvary…I’ve seen the lily push its way through stubborn sod, I believe in miracles, for I believe in God…”
When he was a boy, his mother had sung it to him, and whether thunderstorms or scary dreams or monsters under his bed were the cause of his fears, the song never failed to calm him. He held his breath, hoping Nadine would sing the next verse, and the next. But he only heard the quiet creak of the rocking chair.
He’d intended to catch a peek, then go back downstairs. But when he poked his head around the doorframe and saw her sitting there, silhouetted by the amber radiance of the nightlight, Lamont felt as if somebody had nailed his boots to the floor.
Eyes closed, she cradled his precious, peacefully sleeping grandchild in her arms. For many lonesome years, Lamont had loved Nadine from afar, but never more than at this moment. He knew that for certain now, though it wasn’t likely he’d live long enough to puzzle out why it had taken him so long to acknowledge it—but never more than at this moment.
“What’s going on in that handsome head of yours, cowboy?”
He walked softly into the room and crouched beside the chair. He must have reached too quickly to tuck a curl behind Rosie’s ear, because Nadine shrank back, eyes shut tight and one hand up, as if to defend herself from a slap, or worse.
Instinct made him want to pummel the man who, even after years in the grave, could still inspire such a reaction in her. “Nadine, darlin’,” he said, voice raspy from holding back the sob her fear had induced, “remember when I said I’d never hurt you?”
Instantly, Nadine assumed her “Everything is fine” expression. “Don’t mind me,” she whispered, grinning. “Sometimes I’m as jumpy as a grasshopper. I should probably quit drinking caffeinated coffee.”