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A Father for Jesse

Page 5

by Roth, Ann


  Even if the snack part was true, Emmy wasn’t sure about the rest. She was about to explain for the hundredth time that no, she didn’t believe he was quite ready yet, when he brightened.

  “I know. I’ll go to the Rutherfords’. Today Mac and his brothers are framing in the new back wall of the kitchen, putting in the insulation and a bunch of other cool stuff.”

  Mac and his brothers this, Mac and his brothers that. Since yesterday afternoon, Jesse had talked about them almost nonstop. He seemed to really like them. Emmy understood. She liked them, too—especially Mac. But only because he was nice to Jesse.

  While she was grateful to the Struthers men for making her son feel welcome and pleased that he liked these positive role models, she worried they might not want him hanging around when they were busy.

  “You can’t just go over there, Jess. They have a lot to do, and you might get in the way.”

  “I didn’t yesterday. They even let me help carry trash to the Dumpster.”

  “That’s great, but I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. What if they want to leave before I get back from talking with Mrs. Hatcher?”

  “Then like I said, I’ll wait for you here. Please, Mom, don’t make me sit in the school library.”

  While she silently debated whether or not to let Jesse stay here alone, he shoved his chair back and stood.

  “What do you think I’ll do, call Tyrell? I said I wouldn’t.”

  He met her gaze directly and she believed him. He didn’t give her a chance to say so.

  “You don’t trust me!”

  Wasn’t this type of drama supposed to happen with teenagers? Jess was barely a tween, but if his outburst was any indication of the future…Lord, grant me strength.

  Yet the truth was, she didn’t trust her son. Even if he wouldn’t phone Tyrell, his judgments weren’t the best. Just look at what had happened in Oakland. Emmy didn’t want to get into this, not a scant twenty minutes before the bus was due. So she gave him another valid reason.

  “You know what a worrywart I am. I’m just not ready for you to look after yourself.”

  “You’d better get ready, Mom. Because I’m growing up.”

  Emmy sighed. “I know.” A glance at the clock and she, too, stood. “It’s late. Better hurry in the bathroom, but put your dishes in the dishwasher first.”

  “I’ll do that after I brush my teeth.”

  Of course he didn’t, simply pocketed his lunch money, grabbed his jacket and left. No kiss, either.

  “I’ll look for you in the school library,” she reminded him.

  Giving no indication he heard, Jesse slammed the door behind him. Whether from fatigue or hormones—her period was about to start—or worry over her son, Emmy felt like crying.

  Jesse was lonely. He needed a friend, anyone could see that. A scary thought entered her mind. What if he found a gang here and started hanging out with them? As quiet and friendly as Halo Island was, no town was without its troublemakers.

  Chilled, she hoped that he made a friend soon—God willing, a nice, normal boy—and began to enjoy school.

  As she had yesterday, she stood in the living room and peeked through the space between the drapes. What she saw made her heart ache. Jesse’s face was grim, his shoulders hunched and his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. He looked miserable.

  Her protective maternal instincts kicked in. She longed to run outside and fold him in a loving hug. But Jesse wouldn’t like that.

  Lately he didn’t seem to like her. Was that normal? Regardless, it cut deeply. Emmy wished she had a friend here to confide in, someone to give her perspective.

  In that way, she wasn’t so different from her son. They were both alone and lonely in this new place. Tears filled her eyes and trickled freely down her face. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she scolded, swiping at her cheeks. “You’ll make friends when you start work.”

  She pulled a clean tissue from the pocket of her jeans and blew her nose. A few minutes later, the bus picked up Jesse. For some reason, watching him climb the steps cheered her up a little. Not enough to stop the tears, though. She was still standing in front of the window, sniffling and struggling to get hold of herself, when Mac’s van pulled to a stop in front of the Rutherfords’ house.

  Now that stopped the tears. Her heart gave a funny little leap. Emmy compressed her lips. She so did not want to care about Mac. And even if she owed him for putting the light back into Jesse’s eyes for a few hours yesterday, she was still mad at him and not about to thank him. She didn’t intend to speak to him at all today.

  Risk another brush-off? No, thank you.

  Too much to do, anyway. With boxes still to unpack, pictures to hang and a casserole to prepare before this afternoon’s meeting with Mrs. Hatcher, she was far too busy for Mac Struthers.

  So when he slid out of the driver’s seat and glanced at the cottage, Emmy backed away from the window. As she turned toward the kitchen, the phone rang.

  EMMY WAS LOOKING at him. Mac sensed her gaze as surely as he felt the slap of the cold morning air. He squinted at her living-room window, but with only a crack in the drapes and darkness beyond, he couldn’t see her.

  Who knew if she really was watching him? Might be his imagination. Just in case, though, he nodded a hello. He wished she’d come out like she had yesterday, but he also hoped she wouldn’t. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, and it was best for both of them if she stayed away.

  Her lonely son weighed on his mind, too. The way he’d followed Mac like a puppy. The kid wasn’t bad, just needed some male attention and guidance. A job Mac wasn’t about to take on. Been there, done that. Once he finished this remodel, he was a free man, tied to no one.

  Switching his attention away from Emmy and her son, he took the porch steps two at a time, crossed the wood planking and knocked on the Rutherfords’ door.

  Tom opened it without his usual smile.

  “Morning.” Mac wiped his feet and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  Everything in the living room was covered with protective plastic and a fine layer of dust from yesterday’s demolition. The two heaters Mac and his brothers had set up were running, but with only the Visquine separating the kitchen from the great outdoors, the inside temperature was way below normal. Tom was bundled up in thick sweaters. There was no sign of Melinda. Unlike yesterday the couple seemed in no hurry to leave.

  Mac noted the older man’s solemn expression. “Hope you and Melinda weren’t too cold last night. Once we finish clearing out the debris this morning, we’ll put up the framework for the new back wall and add the insulation. That’ll help some, and once we install the new thermal windows, this place will be toasty warm.”

  “We shut our bedroom door and cozied under a down comforter, so we slept fine.”

  “The water will be off for a few more days,” Mac said. “You might be more comfortable at a motel.”

  “We won’t be needing that, not with what’s happened.” Tom scratched the back of his neck. “Something came up. Melinda’s calling Emmy now.”

  Phone in hand, Tom’s wife appeared from the hallway and waved without smiling. Wondering what the deal was, Mac listened to her end of the call.

  “I wasn’t sure if you were dressed at this hour,” she said. “Otherwise, I’d have run over there.” She paused, listening.

  In the brief gap of silence Mac wondered what Emmy slept in. With a son in the house, probably nothing revealing. Flannel pajamas? An oversize T-shirt? Now that appealed to him, and he pictured her in a man’s shirt that hung to mid-thigh and slipped off one shoulder. Her long legs bare, her breasts unbound and the little points where the cotton brushed her nipples. From there it was only a simple jump of the imagination to picture her pulling the shirt over her head…

  Mac swallowed and hoped to God his groin behaved. A surefire way to make certain of that was to stop fantasizing about Emmy Logan and focus on Melinda, who stared solemnly at the floor.
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  “Could you stop by for a minute?” she said into the phone. An instant later she disconnected. “Emmy will be right over.”

  Emmy, coming here? Now? Mac dreaded seeing her. He was also more than curious. What was going on, and why did it involve both him and Emmy? Soon enough, he’d know.

  Seconds later as he stood in the shadows to the side of the door, Emmy knocked. Tom greeted her, and she entered the house breathless and pink-cheeked from the cold. No lipstick. Her hair was tucked behind her ears.

  Nothing suggestive or seductive in those faded jeans and short, wool jacket. Yet Mac’s heart thunked harder in his chest than it had any right to.

  What was it about this woman that had him feeling like a kid with a major crush?

  Her gaze collided with his, then darted away. Not before he noted her red-rimmed eyes. Anyone could see she’d been crying.

  If there was one thing that rattled him, it was a crying woman. Had Jesse hurt her again? If so, Mac would…Stay out of it. Their problems were none of his business, and he wasn’t about to get involved. Yeah, but he still wanted to know.

  “Look at this place,” Emmy said to the room as a whole. “Now I understand what Jess was talking about. It’s certainly…interesting in here.” She shoved her hands in her coat pockets. “And freezing.”

  “We don’t mind the cold or the mess or living without running water,” Tom said. “Because we know the result will be worth the dust and inconvenience.”

  Mac nodded. “Guaranteed.”

  Emmy’s lips thinned. She wouldn’t look at him. After her warm, grateful smile yesterday afternoon, this puzzled him. That and those teary eyes.

  “We’d invite you both to sit down and offer you coffee, but…” Melinda made a helpless gesture at the chaotic room.

  “That’s okay.” Emmy turned her back on Mac. “What’s up?”

  “We just got a call from Valley Hospital in Ellensburg. That’s in central Washington, where Melinda grew up.” Tom placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Early this morning, her uncle Mort suffered a massive heart attack.”

  Melinda’s eyes filled. “He’s almost ninety, the last of his generation on my side of the family. Tom and I are all he has left, and we love him so…” Fiddling with a much-used tissue, she went silent.

  “We’re catching the ten-ten ferry,” Tom continued in a grave voice. “Then driving on to Ellensburg. We’ll be gone at least a week, maybe longer.”

  “What with the kitchen torn apart this is a good time to go.” Melinda dabbed her eyes and tried to smile. “I just wish it wasn’t for such an awful reason.”

  Tom glanced at the floor and cleared his throat.

  Great, now they were crying. At least Mac knew how to deal with grief. “I’m real sorry,” he said.

  Emmy turned toward him, and for about a second held his gaze. Her eyes were filled with sympathy and shiny with unshed tears. She’d damn well better hold it together. Mac tensed.

  “That’s a shame,” she said before she gulped and looked away.

  Caught up in their own wrenching emotions, the Rutherfords didn’t appear to notice Emmy grasping for control. After a moment during which Mac sucked in his breath, she visibly pulled herself together.

  “What would you like me to do?”

  She sounded okay now, calm. Phew. Mac exhaled.

  “If you’d keep the house key and unlock the door for Mac in the morning and dead-bolt it after he leaves at night, we’d appreciate it. It locks by itself, but not the dead bolt. And maybe you could check on the house this weekend to make sure everything’s okay. In return, we’ll waive a month’s rent.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’m only across the road, and it’s really no trouble at all. Nothing a decent neighbor wouldn’t do.”

  “And we appreciate that,” Tom said. “But we’ve made up our minds. You’re painting the inside of the cottage on your own dime. You’re a single mom and haven’t even started your new job, and you came a long way to get here. Since you’ve already paid for this month, you can skip the next one.”

  “If you’re sure.” Emmy bit her lip. “That’s so nice of you. Thanks.”

  Her face was as easy to read as a level, and Mac saw the gratitude. She must be broke, or close to it. Was that the reason for the tears? With women, you never knew. And damn it, he didn’t care.

  Until a thought hit him. What if she was crying because of him? Could be, since she wouldn’t look at him and tensed whenever he spoke. After all, he had been a rude jackass yesterday morning. Maybe he’d misinterpreted that smile yesterday afternoon.

  Well, hell. He could feel her deliberately not looking at him. Yep, that had to be it. Double hell.

  “No, Emmy, thank you,” Tom said. “You’ve only been here a few days and we already feel close to you. Couldn’t have picked a better neighbor if we’d tried.”

  Melinda managed a fleeting smile at Emmy before turning to Mac. “We’ve been over the kitchen plans with you numerous times, and you know exactly what we want. But if you—either of you—have questions about anything, don’t hesitate to call. We’ll keep our cell phones on.”

  Mac nodded. The Rutherfords’ bad news aside, their being gone meant he could work later at night and on Saturday. With any luck he’d finish the job early.

  Trouble was, he and Emmy would see each other every morning and probably every night. Worse, he’d be thinking about her all the time. Now, with her upset at him…it wouldn’t be pleasant. Hopefully she’d get over it. If not, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

  Six weeks and he was out of here. The days couldn’t go by fast enough.

  STANDING ON the half-stripped floor just before noon, Ian squinted at Mac. “You’ve been in a bum mood all morning. If you wanted a key to this place, why didn’t you just ask the Rutherfords?”

  Mac had thought about doing exactly that. Sure would’ve made things easier. “Because they’re giving Emmy a month’s free rent to lock and unlock the door for us, and she needs the money.”

  By the surprised look on both brothers’ faces, the words had come out more harshly than intended.

  “What is your problem?” Brian squinted at him through his safety glasses. “No, let me guess. Emmy’s barely speaking to you and that bugs the hell out of you.”

  Mac nudged the toe of his boot under a square of blue linoleum yet to be removed. “How’d you know that?”

  “What’d I tell ya?” Brian said, trading looks with Ian.

  “You were a jerk yesterday morning,” Ian said. “You need to apologize.”

  “Hey, I showed Jesse around for over an hour yesterday. She appreciated that—I saw it on her face.” Her forgiving smile was still burned into his brain.

  “And that’s good,” Brian said. “But not the same as an actual apology. I’m sorry I was an ass. She needs to hear those words.

  While Mac thought that over, Ian’s stomach growled loudly. “I’m gonna die if I don’t eat soon. Think I’ll head for Island Burgers and pick us up some lunch.” He glanced at Brian and Mac. “What do you two want?”

  “For starters, I could use some air and I want to check my e-mail,” Ian said with a pointed look Mac’s way. “I’ll go with you.”

  Mac slid his wallet from his hip pocket and handed Brian a bill. “Bring me a double cheeseburger, fries and a pop.”

  “Will do. Maybe when we come back you’ll be in a better mood.”

  “There’s only one way that’ll happen,” Ian said. “Walk over to Emmy’s and say you’re sorry.”

  Chapter Five

  Emmy had cried on and off all morning. PMS, she decided as she stood sniffling at the sink at noon, washing the pots and pans she’d dirtied while making tonight’s casserole. That, and anxieties about Jesse, the Rutherfords’ sad news, the gloomy, gray day. And Mac. He’d been decent enough earlier at Tom and Melinda’s, but that didn’t compensate for his unsmiling expression and harsh tone yesterday morning. Infuriating man!

  Certainly
no reason to cry. Yet here she was, leaking more tears. She sniffled then set her jaw. Hormones or not, she was sick and tired of this pity party, which would get her nowhere. Plus if she wanted to look halfway decent for her appointment with Jesse’s teacher—in other words, no red eyes or stuffy nose—she’d better cheer up now.

  She pulled the drain plug. “The crying will stop now,” she announced over the water gurgling down the drain.

  Without even drying her hands she marched into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face and blotted her face dry with a towel. She blew her nose. There, that was better. Even if she did still look a wreck.

  She was reaching for eye makeup and foundation, a girl’s best allies, when someone knocked at the door. Oh, great. Well, it was lunchtime. Probably Brian or Ian, or both, come to get water or wash their hands. She hadn’t seen either of them today.

  Looking forward to their friendly company, she raked her hair with a comb, which given her puffy eyes, didn’t help much. She’d say she was suffering from allergies.

  She headed for the door. Pasted a smile on her face and opened it. To her surprise, Mac stood there. The sleeves of his grimy blue workshirt were rolled halfway up his thick forearms, and his hair stood up in places, as if he’d run his hand through it. Against the gray noon light his eyes looked especially blue.

  No man had the right to be so ruggedly handsome and compelling, not when Emmy was mad at him. Her heart lifted and a dreamy sigh slipped out. Dismayed, she eyed him. “Yes?”

  “Uh, hi,” he said, his breath cloudy in the frigid air. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Mind if I come in?”

  The way she felt right now, lonely, vulnerable and aching, allowing Mac into her home was dangerous. Wishing his brothers were with him so she’d feel safer, Emmy peered around him. The black truck was nowhere in sight.

  “Where are Ian and Brian?”

  “Out picking up lunch.” Mac stamped his feet and rubbed his arms. “It’s cold out here.”

  Of course the man was coatless. That, his pleading look and the fact that Emmy had offered the use of her sink, convinced her to let him in.

 

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