Ruin

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Ruin Page 5

by C. J. Scott


  Jane and I surveyed his handiwork. "You've done a great job," she said.

  "Mind if I check around inside the house?" he asked. "I noticed some cracks earlier. Maybe I can patch them up before we lose the light."

  "Do you need anything special for that?" I asked.

  "A sealant should do it for now. It won't have a great finish, but you can do that later. My main priority is to close them."

  "To stop the spiders getting in?" I shivered.

  He grinned. "I can't have them spinning their webs on my watch."

  "I'll run into town and get some sealant before the hardware store closes," Jane said, heading back inside to fetch her keys. "Kate, will you show Ben around?"

  "Gladly." Maybe that came out a bit too eager. He gave me a crooked smile that had my insides flipping.

  Ben replaced the screwdrivers back in the toolbox and picked it up. "Lead the way, Miss Bell."

  We passed Jane in the corridor. "If Gran asks, just tell her I'll be back soon."

  "You haven't told her you're leaving?" I said. "Shouldn't you do that first?"

  "I won't be long." She walked out and the door swung shut behind her. I heard her car start up and pull away.

  Ben chuckled in my ear. "Spiders and old ladies scare you, huh?"

  "No!" But I sighed. Who was I kidding? "Yes."

  He stepped aside so I could walk ahead of him. "Why's Mrs. M so bad?"

  "She's a dragon. That's what I used to think when I was a kid anyway. I hated coming up here. Still do, I guess. Most of the time I meet Jane in town for coffee or lunch, or she comes to my place. Mrs. M has always been a bit intimidating. She has a loud voice and strong opinions, mostly negative ones. Call me a coward, but I don't really like being the object of them."

  "Coward."

  I turned around and he grinned at me. He was in a mighty good mood considering he'd just been subjected to a grilling from my dad.

  "Just wait until you meet her. I'd love to see what she thinks of Ben Parker from somewhere in Minneapolis who's dropped into Winter for no reason that he's willing to share."

  His smile vanished. "I gave your dad my ID. It had my last address on there."

  I bit my lip and winced. "Sorry. That didn't come out right."

  "It's okay, Kate. I just don't want you thinking I'm hiding anything from you for wicked reasons."

  There were other reasons than wicked ones, I wanted to tell him, but didn't. The look on his face when he thought I didn't trust him clawed at my heart. Silly really, when I hardly knew him.

  I was completely overreacting.

  "You do believe I won't hurt you, don't you?" He stopped beneath a crack in the cornice and stood there watching me. His eyes were dark in the poorly lit hallway, and it made his gaze seem more intense. He leaned forward a little, as if my answer were the most important thing to him. "If you don't," he went on softly, "I'll go right now. I'll walk out of Winter and not come back."

  My throat tightened. Heat flared through my body, warming me all over and deep within.

  My good opinion really meant that much to him? He seemed so earnest and sincere. Desperate almost, and I truly believed he would have left if I'd said I didn't trust him. That was the most heady, powerful feeling in the world.

  "You can't," I whispered. "It takes hours to walk from Winter to Riverside."

  He simply shrugged.

  I finally swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Why do you care what I think?"

  He looked up at the crack and heaved a sigh. "You've accepted me into your home. Or Jane has, but you're supporting her. It's important to me that you completely trust me, that you can sleep easy tonight knowing I'm not going to do anything you don't want."

  Anything you don't want. Was it my imagination, or did his breath hitch just before he said those words, and did his hot gaze fleetingly settle on my mouth? It definitely wasn't my imagination the way my skin prickled in anticipation of his kisses skimming over me and his hands delving between my thighs.

  I tried to think of something to say, something that would dispel his concerns but also encourage him to reveal whether he really did want me or if I was imagining it. All I managed was a gurgling noise in the back of my throat.

  A door banged upstairs. We both looked at the ceiling in the direction from which it had come. "Jane!" Mrs. M called out. "Jane, where are you?"

  "I'd better go," I said. I started walking back down the hall toward the large entrance and the staircase, when she called out again. I increased my pace, taking two steps at a time. "Jane's not here right now, Mrs. M," I shouted up to her. "But I am. It's Kate Bell."

  I stopped at the top of the stairs and swallowed. Mrs. Merriweather glared back at me. She hadn't changed since last summer. She was still the small, plump figure who leaned heavily on her cane. Her wiry gray hair was piled up into a bun at the top of her head, and all her wrinkles seemed to run into one another, they were so numerous. She surveyed me with gray eyes so sharp I felt like I was being sliced open and inspected.

  "Kathryn Bell."

  I bristled at hearing my full name. She was the only one who ever called me that. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Merriweather." For fuck's sake, I sounded like I was addressing one of my teachers.

  "Well." Her lips pressed together in a tight little O, making the lines around her mouth constrict. "What are you doing here?"

  "I'm staying the night. Jane already told you that," I couldn't help adding.

  "Hmmm." She tapped her cane on the floorboards. "Where is she?"

  "She's gone to the hardware store."

  One eyebrow arched so high it almost joined her hairline. "Why?"

  "She needs to buy sealant to patch up some cracks."

  "Is she going to patch them up? Or are you, Kathryn Bell?"

  I heard Ben's footsteps up the stairs, and I swallowed hard. Damn. I couldn't believe Jane hadn't explained about Ben and what he was doing here. Unless Mrs. M was playing dumb just to make my life hell. I wouldn't put it past her. She could be sneaky like that.

  "I'm going to do it," he said from behind me. He was so close I could feel the warmth of his body, his breath in my hair. He had my back and I no longer felt afraid of Mrs. M.

  The old dragon squinted hard at him. "Who are you?" she snapped in clipped tones. "And what are you doing in my house?"

  Chapter 4

  Ben stepped around me. He stood for a long time without moving, taking in the formidable form of Mrs. M. She stiffened a little and scrutinized him in return. I don't think she liked what she saw because her facial muscles twitched into a sneer.

  He offered his hand for her to shake, but lowered it again when she merely glared at it. He cleared his throat and flexed his fingers.

  "This is Ben," I said.

  "Hmmm, yes. Jane told me she hired a man named Ben to do some odd jobs around the house." Her voice shook a little with age, but was still strong, commanding. I could imagine her directing entire armies of staff with that voice.

  "Not exactly hired," Ben said.

  "He's just here for today and part of tomorrow," I added quickly. If Mrs. M preferred to believe that Ben was the hired help, then it was best to leave it at that. Easier.

  "Do you have a last name, Ben, or am I supposed to guess it?"

  I smiled, but Ben did not. "It's Parker," he said.

  Mrs. M's nostrils flared. "Parker," she whispered. Her eyes fluttered closed, and I thought she was going to faint on me. I caught her arm and felt a tremble ripple through her.

  It lasted only a moment. She shook me off and settled her shrewd gaze on Ben's face. "Well then, Ben Parker," she said after what felt like an eternity.

  "You have a nice place, Mrs. Merriweather. It's a pleasure to work on it. The views are amazing."

  She grunted. "You've already been hired, young man, there's no need to flatter me now."

  Trust her to take it the wrong way. It was good to see her usual biting sense of humor had returned though. I'd thought she was going
to topple over for a second there.

  "It may be flattery, Mrs. Merriweather, but it's the truth," he said. "I have an interest in historical architecture. I appreciate houses built to a high standard, and I have a soft spot for the more aesthetically pleasing ones."

  Her lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed. I expected her to scold him again, but she must have decided he was being sincere. "It's a little old and tired now," she said. "Like me. But we're both still standing, despite everything."

  It wasn't a 'thank you,' but it was probably all he'd get for his compliments.

  "Jane'll be back soon," I said. "Is there anything you need?"

  "If I need your service, I'll be sure to let you know."

  I wasn't looking at Ben, but I was tuned into him enough that I knew he was trying to smother a smile. It made me see the humor in the exchange, and I abandoned my knee-jerk snippy reply about not being her servant.

  "Sure thing, Mrs. M. Just call out."

  She pulled a face. "Call out? Why would I do that when there is a bell pull?" She walked toward us, her cane making a solid clomp on the floorboards with every step. Ben and I parted before she plowed right through us. She descended the stairs slowly. Ben joined her on the fourth step and offered her his arm. She hesitated then took it.

  Handy with tools and a gentleman. Well, well. Mrs. M seemed impressed too. I'm sure she almost smiled at him.

  I didn't follow them straight away. I headed to the spare room nearest Jane's to see if she'd prepared it. It was a bare room, but large like most of the bedrooms in the house. The ceiling was high, the fireplace clean, and the window had been thrown open to let out the musty, unused smell.

  I was about to leave again when his bag caught my eye. It sat on the made bed. I had a strong urge to open it and look for clues to the secrets Ben Parker was hiding.

  But I held back. I couldn't do it, and I felt sick to my stomach just suspecting him of hiding something for all the wrong reasons. Problem was, I couldn't think of any right reasons to hide anything.

  It's important to me that you completely trust me. That's what he'd said. I did trust him. I trusted that he wouldn't hurt me or Jane or Mrs. M. But I knew he wasn't telling us everything.

  Knew it as deeply as I knew I wanted him.

  Yet I couldn't rummage through his bag. The curiosity might kill me, but I just couldn't do it. I turned to leave.

  And looked straight into the hard blue eyes of Ben. I couldn't move, could only stare back at him. It felt like I was bound up tight in that spider's web. Trapped.

  "Everything all right?" he asked, his voice soft and honey thick.

  "I...I was just checking Jane had prepared it for you." I waved pathetically at the bed and tried to smile breezily and without guilt. I was a crappy liar. I'm sure he could see exactly what I'd been thinking. "It all looks fine."

  "Glad to hear it."

  "I'm sorry I left you alone with Mrs. M."

  "She's okay. I've slayed meaner dragons than her." His lips quirked up, and I was so relieved that I smiled back. He wasn't mad at me, even though he had every right to be. He'd known what I'd wanted to do—it must have been written all over my face—but he hadn't held it against me.

  He held the door for me even though it was capable of staying open on its own. To get past him, I had to get very close. So close, that my arm brushed against his hard abs and solid chest.

  Damn, but the body hidden beneath that shirt was everything I thought it would be. More.

  I wondered how hot tomorrow was going to be and if he'd shed his T-shirt to cool down. A girl could hope, couldn't she?

  It was crazy, but I swear my body hummed for ages after that brief touch.

  We went back down the stairs together. "She's in the drawing room. Or that's what she called it," he said.

  "I'll make her a cup of tea," I said. "Want one?"

  "Sure. Thanks." He headed back to the drawing room, just off the entrance hall. Straight back to the dragon's lair. Maybe he thought she was too old to be left alone, or maybe he was a glutton for punishment.

  I made the tea in the kitchen, not with tea bags, but proper leaves and teapot and everything. I found a plate for Mom's cookies and assembled plate, teapot, cups, saucers, sugar and milk on a tray. I managed to reach the drawing room without anything sliding off. The rattling cups announced my arrival, and Ben turned around. He stood by a sideboard covered with old photos, his hands behind his back as he studied them. He removed the tray from me and set it down on the coffee table in front of Mrs. M.

  She frowned at him, as if it were wrong of him to take over. I don't know why she cared.

  After all, we were both hired help in her eyes. I was amazed we servants were allowed to sit with her in the drawing room.

  I hadn't been in it in years. It was the 'good room,' the one where we couldn't touch anything and had to sit with our knees together and hands folded in our laps while the adults talked. I'd snuck in once, when I was quite small, just to see what it was like, and suffered the wrath of Mrs. M when she found me attempting to play the piano quietly. The piano was long gone, sold off like most of the paintings, but much of the furniture was the same. It was heavy and solid with brocaded cushions and curtains that had worn thin. Not my taste, but it suited the gloomy room.

  The last time I'd legitimately been allowed in the drawing room was after the funeral of Jane's parents, and as such, the room had always felt sad to me. I sighed now as I sat, and wondered how long I had to pretend to be polite to a woman who'd never paid me much attention except to scold me.

  I picked up the teapot and poured the tea into one of the cups.

  "Stop!" Mrs. M cried. She clicked her tongue. "You're doing it wrong, Kathryn Bell. The milk goes in first. Hasn't that mother of yours taught you anything?"

  Ben shot me an encouraging look and picked up the plate of cookies. "Try these, Mrs. Merriweather."

  I poured the milk into the teacups as she nibbled the edge of a cookie. She must have liked it because she took a bigger bite.

  "Sugar?" I asked her.

  "Half a teaspoon." She watched as I scooped enough sugar from the bowl to fill half the teaspoon. "More," she ordered. I filled the spoon three-quarters. "More, Kathryn Bell, for goodness sake." I scooped up a heaped teaspoon's worth of sugar. She nodded approval, and I dropped it into the cup and stirred.

  I handed her the cup and saucer. "Another cookie?"

  "Just one. Did you make these, Kathryn Bell?"

  "No, Mom did."

  "Your mother?"

  "Yes, Mrs. Wendy Bell."

  "I know who your mother is. She hasn't always been a Bell. She was a Wright before she married. The Bells and Wrights have lived in Winter for as long as the Merriweathers and Forsythes. They're good people. Humble. Not grasping or lazy like some."

  God, she was such a snob.

  "Who're the people in those photos?" Ben asked, setting his cup in the saucer. I shot him a grateful smile for taking the heat off me, but he wasn't looking my way. His gaze was firmly locked on Mrs. M.

  "Merriweathers," she said.

  Ben nodded and stared into his cup. His fingers were too big for the small handle, so he held the delicate porcelain cup as if he were warming his hands on it. "The man with the shotgun...is he Mr. Merriweather, your late husband?"

  "Ebenezer, yes. That photo was taken soon after we married."

  "He was an imposing figure."

  "He was."

  I got up to look at the photo. Ben was right. I'd only ever seen Ebenezer Merriweather as an old man, hunched and frail, but in the photo he was tall and handsome with dark hair and broad shoulders.

  "The house looks good in the background," he said.

  Mrs. M nodded and sipped. She didn't seem particularly interested in talking about it.

  "There's a great photo of you and some other ladies sitting on the porch," he said.

  I found the one he was talking about. Mrs. M sat in the front, surrounded by four o
ther ladies. She looked young, pretty, and full of life. There wasn't a hint of hardness in her eyes as she smiled back at the camera. The porch looked different too. It wasn't choked by vines and the tiles weren't cracked. It would be great to see it restored to its former state.

  "And the two little boys?" Ben went on.

  I searched the collection of old black and white photos until I found the one he was referring to. Two boys of about six stood with fishing rods down by the boatshed. They appeared to be the same age. Both had dark hair and matching toothless smiles.

  "That's my son and his friend."

  "Which one's which?" I asked.

  "Peter is on the left."

  "And the other boy? Who is he?"

  "Nobody you know."

  "Did his family leave before I was born?"

  She set the cup down with a clank. "You ask too many questions. Just like all the Bells."

  I pressed my lips together to stop my smile. She probably hadn't meant it as a compliment, but I took it as one anyway.

  Ben asked more questions about the photos. He didn't get up to study them, but seemed to have memorized them all. I sat down again, not particularly interested. I didn't know why Ben was so curious about them. I thought he'd just been trying to make conversation, be polite, but now I wasn't so sure.

  When he finally finished his questions, he stood. "Thanks for the tea, but I better get back to work."

  Just as he said it, the front door opened. "I'm back!" Jane called. "Got the sealant stuff."

  She stopped in the doorway. "Oh, Gran, you're down here." She bit her lip and blinked at the tea things. "Who made tea?"

  "I did," I said.

  She screwed up her nose. "Did you put the milk in first?"

  "Only after Mrs. M kindly told me that was the way it was done."

  "Ah. Right. And did you give Gran half a teaspoon of sugar?"

  "The full half," I said with a wink.

  She lightened up a little at that, but I suspected it was because her grandmother wasn't really listening. Her head was bowed, and I couldn't see if her eyes were open or shut. Maybe she was asleep.

  Ben accepted the sealant and headed out of the drawing room. I gathered the tea things on the tray and followed him, Jane at my heels.

 

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