by Mia Ross
Before long, she was so depressed that she went back to sleep just to make it stop.
* * *
Matt had never been so tired in his life.
It was more than fatigue, and his back protested as he reached down to slide his mud-caked boots onto the back porch. He was used to working hard, but it had been balanced with a lot of playtime. In his off hours, he would unwind with his bike, running friends’ ATVs, playing shortstop for a fairly competitive softball team.
Now it seemed that all he did was work. When he had come back for the funeral, the harvest had been behind by several days. Somehow they’d trimmed it to only a couple. If the weather held, by the end of the week they’d actually be on top of things. If that happened, he promised himself, he’d sleep all weekend. The thrilling life of a farmer, he groused as he let the door slam behind him.
Kyle was doing his homework at the kitchen table, while Marianne corrected papers from her own class. Pointing to something in his book, she focused on Kyle while she explained it. He responded, and she smiled, nodding while he wrote the answer on the line.
The cozy scene reminded Matt of a Norman Rockwell drawing, the kind that could soften even the hardest heart. To his surprise, the nasty thoughts whirling through his head vanished, replaced by something he could only describe as pride.
This was his family.
Despite what they’d gone through, they were doing well. He couldn’t quite believe it, but he was glad he’d decided to stay. Not wanting to interrupt the lesson, he grabbed some clean clothes from the basket on the counter and went into the bathroom for a quick shower. When he came out, Kyle looked up.
“Hey, Uncle Matt. How was your day?”
“Fine. How ’bout yours?”
“Not so good.” The poor kid looked absolutely miserable. “I failed my math test.”
Standing, Marianne began to pull dishes from the cupboards. “There’s a makeup tomorrow. He just needs a little tutoring.”
Matt looked over Kyle’s shoulder to see what he was working on. “Looks familiar. Maybe I can help.”
After he’d blurted that out, Matt wondered if he’d overstepped his bounds. Marianne was pretty fussy about the kids, and she might not appreciate his interfering.
“That would be great, Matt. Thanks.” The dryer buzzed on the side porch, and she gave him a smile before heading out to pull the laundry.
It had been a while since he’d done third-grade math, but he was one up on Kyle, so they worked through it together. Matt wasn’t known for his teaching skills, but helping his eager nephew required less patience than he’d anticipated. When the approach clicked, Kyle’s bright grin was all the reward he needed.
“I think I get it,” Kyle said, eyes wide with excitement. “Can we do a couple more to make sure?”
Matt jotted down six fresh problems, and Kyle got them all right.
“Good job,” Matt congratulated him, patting his shoulder. “You’ll ace that makeup test.”
“Thanks, Uncle Matt.”
After a quick hug, Kyle ran outside to his bike, picking up Tucker along the way. With a lot of whooping and barking, they raced past John’s house and over the crest of the hill.
“They’d better be back in time for supper,” Marianne commented as she returned to the kitchen.
When she started spooning some of her homemade chicken soup into a bowl, Matt asked, “What are you doing?”
“Taking this up to Caty. She’s still not feeling well.”
“She was fine when I saw her this morning.”
Marianne set the ladle down and gave him her I’m-worried look. “It’s been four days since the fire. I don’t think it’s physical anymore.”
“Treating her like an invalid won’t help any.” His exhausted muscles protesting, he pushed off from the table and stood. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”
“Matt, that house meant everything to her, and it’ll take her a while to get past what happened. You have to be patient.”
“If that was me up there—” he pointed at the ceiling “—what would you do?”
Her lips crinkled in a smirk that made him think of the smart-aleck little girl she used to be. “Rent a crane and haul you out of bed.”
“Why would you treat her any different?”
“Because she’s Caty.”
“Not right now, she’s not,” he argued on his way out. “But she will be.”
“Be nice!”
Furious with himself for not acting sooner, he ignored her warning. Caty was like a bright red rose, not a shrinking violet. Because he had a soft spot for her, he’d allowed her to drift along, rather than encouraging her to stand on her own two feet and pick up her life where she’d left off. The brooding was over, he vowed as he knocked on his bedroom door.
She didn’t answer. Thinking she might be asleep, he eased the door open and peeked inside.
What he saw just about stopped his heart.
She sat on the wide windowsill, staring out at the fields, tears streaming down her face. Grief-stricken was the word that came to mind. She’d been through so much, managing Ethan’s death, losing her job and now her home. His instinct was to wrap his arms around her and never let anything hurt her again.
But that wouldn’t help her regain her confidence. It wouldn’t bring back the sweet, understanding woman who’d guided him through the worst time in his life. She needed his help, not his pity.
Steeling himself against her tears, he said, “Supper’s ready.”
“Thanks. I’m not hungry.”
When she dropped her forehead on her bent knees, he almost caved. Reminding himself that she needed strength, not coddling, he strode across the room and stood beside her.
“Caty, look at me.”
The sight of her tear-streaked face nearly did him in. He kept to his general plan but changed tactics. Sitting in a chair so they were eye to eye, he waited for her to stop crying. It took longer than he liked, but he knew she wouldn’t keep it up for long. She was too proud for that.
Reaching out, he brushed away the last of her tears. “You need to come downstairs and have supper with the family. It’ll do us all good.”
Her chin trembled, but she didn’t start crying again. “I can’t.”
“You survived all those winters in Boston, didn’t you?”
That got him a flicker of a smile. “Yeah.”
“Then I think you can manage to come have a meal with us.” Standing, he offered his hand. “After that, if you wanna come back up here and blubber, you’re welcome to it.”
She looked at his hand, then up at him. Temper flared in her eyes, a good sign. In his mind, anger was better than feeling nothing at all.
“You’re mean,” she announced, swinging down from the windowsill.
She batted his hand away and strolled past him with her cute little nose in the air. Grinning, he followed her downstairs to enjoy the evening with his family.
* * *
After Marianne and the kids left for the day, Caty wandered aimlessly through the house. She did little jobs here and there, loading the dishwasher, popping a load of towels into the washing machine, things like that. But Marianne was a ruthlessly efficient housekeeper, and there really wasn’t much to do.
Caty was used to long, full days, not hours of nothing to do. She clicked on the TV, but after a half hour of daytime fare she felt her brain starting to get mushy. Marianne had taken her laptop to school, so she couldn’t get online. Ethan’s collection of books was large, but it was all outdated nonfiction about things she wasn’t even remotely interested in.
By nine she was so bored, she actually considered going down to John’s to see if anything needed doing there. Then she thought better of
it. She adored him, but he was a slob. She was restless, not insane.
Maybe some fresh air would help. When the screen door hinges squeaked, Tucker appeared like a bolt from down the lane, tail and tongue wagging hopefully.
“Morning, boy,” she greeted him. “How ’bout a walk?”
Tucker’s version of a leisurely stroll was for Caty to mosey along while he ran ahead and looped back to make sure she was still there. He seemed to enjoy it, though, and she admired the cleared fields being plowed under for the winter.
Matt was keeping his word. He didn’t like farming, but it looked as though he was making it work. Unfortunately, once the Sawyers’ crisis was over, there would be no reason for him to stay in Harland. His heroic rescue of her had driven away the last of her reservations about him, and she couldn’t help wondering what his plans were. Now that she no longer had a place to live, she could go anywhere. If he left, he might ask her to go with him. If he did, what would she say?
Caty was used to making decisions for herself. She didn’t consider anyone else’s opinion, because she didn’t have to. But Matt had become so important to her, she couldn’t imagine being away from him for long. He totally got her, the way her mind worked, what she truly valued. Their last remaining stumbling block was faith, and since their heart-to-heart out at the ridge, she suspected he was coming around on that one.
While she’d been pondering all that, she’d made a full circuit and found herself back at the house. Her MG was tucked into the barn, waiting for the new keys Matt had ordered from some foreign locksmith. She was dying to take it out for a run, but she didn’t know the first thing about hot-wiring a car. With her luck, she’d blow up the engine trying to start it.
A metallic glint caught her eye, and she looked toward it. Matt’s truck was parked in the turnaround, the meticulously polished chrome gleaming in the sunshine. A bold idea jumped into her head. Before she could talk herself out of it, Caty ran inside and snatched the truck’s spare key from the rack by the door.
She was going to see her house. Matt had told her the second floor had caved in, but maybe it wasn’t beyond hope. Some things might have been protected from the fire, and she could salvage some of Gram’s treasures. She should also visit the Fairmans, assure them she was all right. They undoubtedly knew where she was, but they were probably worried all the same.
Even with the running boards, Caty had to stretch to climb into the driver’s seat. Glancing around, she didn’t see anyone, so she quietly closed the door. Then she put the key in and turned it.
The loudest alarm she’d ever heard started shrieking. She tried to remove the key, but it wouldn’t budge. To make matters worse, nothing happened when she turned it to start the truck. Feeling stupid, she reached out to open the door.
It was locked.
She tried to unlock it, but the button didn’t work. That meant she was stuck until the system eventually disarmed itself. Fortunately, the radio still worked, so she had something to listen to while she waited. Resting her head back against the seat, she turned the volume up so she could hear it over the alarm and passed the time by singing along.
Through the windshield, she saw Matt saunter over the top of a small hill. His amused expression only added insult to injury, and she glared back at him. He stopped just short of the truck and dangled his electronic fob for her to see. He didn’t stop the noise, but his meaning was clear enough.
Do you want out?
Folding her arms, she stared out the driver’s window at the house. She couldn’t hear a thing over the alarm and the music, but she knew he was laughing while he strolled over to the driver’s door. She didn’t know how he could stand all that racket, but he stood there with his thumb over the disarm button, head cocked with a questioning look.
After another minute, it was too much for her to take. Grinding her teeth, she mouthed please.
The alarm stopped abruptly, and too late she remembered how loud the stereo was. She jabbed the off button and was startled by the sudden absence of noise. Her ears would be ringing for a week, she groused, as she keyed the window down to take her medicine.
Matt rested his dusty forearms on the open frame and grinned in at her. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Going into town.”
“For?”
“Errands.”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “Not really good at this deception thing, are you?”
“Fine,” she relented with a frustrated sigh. “I’m going to see my house.”
“No.” Suddenly, he was deadly serious. Leaning in, he pinned her with one of those don’t-mess-with-me looks he still thought would intimidate her. “You’re not going there.”
“I want to see my house. Maybe there’s something I can do.”
“Trust me. There’s not.”
“How do you know?” she reasoned. “You said yourself you’re not an expert.”
“Honey, it’s real bad. I’m not sure it’s something you need to see.”
She let the annoying nickname go because she could sense him giving in just a little. Following her lawyer’s training, she pressed the advantage. “Whether I see it or not, it’s still in the same shape. Imagining is much worse than knowing the truth.”
Muttering under his breath, he gave her a look that would have been terrifying if his eyes hadn’t been twinkling that warm blue. “Why do I get the feeling I’m wasting my breath?”
“It’s not my fault you don’t know how to argue.” Inspiration struck, and she said, “But I wouldn’t mind some company.”
“A compromise, counselor?” he teased. “I didn’t think lawyers knew the concept.”
“This one does.”
“Good to know.” After dusting himself off, he opened the driver’s door. When she didn’t move, he scowled at her. “My truck.”
Deciding they’d wrangled enough for one morning, she slid over to the passenger’s seat. “That reminds me, when are my new car keys supposed to get here?”
“Anytime now, I’d think,” he answered as he started the engine. As he pulled out of the driveway, he sent her a sideways grin. “See? No sirens.”
“I can’t believe you armed that thing here in Harland.”
“I didn’t. I forgot to turn it off. Didn’t even think about it till I heard it clanging away. If we were in Charlotte, you’d be in jail.”
“I was just borrowing it,” she argued halfheartedly.
“Without permission. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that makes it stealing.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” With an exasperated sigh, she flung her head back onto the headrest. “I’m just so bored! Even though she’s so busy, Marianne won’t leave me any chores to do. My computer’s toast, and I don’t have a house to work on. The insurance company is sending me a check, but it won’t be enough to build a new house in this century. I still have some savings, but my student-loan payments are eating that up. Maybe I should use the insurance money to pay them off, but I’d still need a place to live. I just don’t know.”
The helplessness that had crept into her voice disgusted her. She wasn’t the kind of girl who laid out her problems for someone else to fix. She handled things herself, in her own way. The trouble was, she had no idea what to do.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”
His confidence eased some of her anxiety, and she swiveled her head to look over at him. He had the same dark good looks she remembered from high school, but there was so much more. Formidable as his appearance was, his greatest strength came from inside. And in that moment, she knew.
She was in love with him.
The last man on earth she’d have considered being serious about, and she was completely lost. Everything he’d done the past few weeks told her he
felt the same way. He just hadn’t said the words. It was hard to be the first one, she knew. You might not hear them back. Worse, you might get that pained look from someone who liked hanging out with you but wasn’t ready to pick out china patterns.
Glancing over, he gave her a smile she’d never seen before. Somehow gentle and powerful at the same time, it burrowed into her heart and warmed her from head to toe. He took her hand and kissed it as he looked forward again. “Everything’s gonna be fine, sweetheart.”
“I really wish you’d think of something else to call me.”
“I’ll work on it,” he promised with a chuckle.
Chapter Twelve
Standing in front of the house she grew up in, Caty waited for reality to settle in. Now she understood why Matt had been so vague about the damage. The charming white cottage was completely gone, replaced by a pile of blackened timber. What was left of the roof rested on top of the debris, as if it was still trying to do its job, even though there was nothing left to protect.
“Disaster doesn’t really cover it, does it?” she joked to hide her dismay. Matt had climbed into all that to save her, and she felt humbled by the risk he’d taken. Out of respect for him, she swallowed her tears and got practical. “My files were in Grandpa’s workroom. Would you mind helping me get the cabinet out?”
“No problem. Why don’t you go see Mrs. Fairman?”
“Okay.”
“I’ve got some errands to run. I’ll meet you over at Ruthy’s.”
“Okay,” she said again, even though she didn’t feel it.
Matt must have heard it in her voice, because he put a strong, comforting arm around her shoulders. “It’ll get better.”
She looked up at him, and he sealed his promise with a you-can-count-on-me smile. It did make things feel less dire, and she gave herself up to the luxury of having someone so willing to shield her. Pecking her on the cheek, he turned her away from the ruin of her house and gave her a gentle shove toward the Fairmans’.
Caty walked over and knocked on her neighbor’s front door. Beaming, Mrs. Fairman hurried down the hallway and whisked her inside.