Jett leaned back in his seat. “I bet he was good, huh?”
Gran’s brow furrowed again.
“I play the guitar a little. Would you like to hear some music?” The words were out before he could think better of them, but maybe some music would sooth the older woman.
Gran’s smile revealed a full set of perfectly white teeth. “Music is beautiful.”
Jett tapped the table. “Alright then, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
As he left the room he heard Gran murmur. “Is that Dale?”
Salem snorted softly. “No, Gran. His name is Jett.”
“Jet’s not a name. It’s an airplane. Don’t be silly. I think his name is Dale. Dale doesn’t like fat women. Maybe you should skip lunch.”
Jett’s eyes narrowed. So help Dale if he ever called Salem fat within Jett’s hearing. As he lifted his guitar case onto the bed and pulled out his Fender acoustic, he heard Salem respond softly, but couldn’t quite make out what she was saying.
When he got back to the kitchen, Salem was already seated next to Gran, but she’d placed two sandwiches on a plate in front of the chair where he’d been sitting a moment ago. A bag of barbeque chips was open in the middle of the table.
He pulled out the chair, propped his foot on it, and draped his arm over the guitar, pegging the women with a look. “What would you two like to hear?” He plucked a short riff on the strings.
Salem was taking a drink from her milk glass, but she angled Gran a look. Gran picked at her sandwich with a trembling hand. “Howard likes music. He should be here.”
Jett’s heart dropped. He’d hoped to soothe, not agitate.
Salem swiped her tongue over her lips and gave him a reassuring little smile. “I think Gran and I would both enjoy anything you choose to play.” She nudged her grandmother. “Right, Gran?”
Jett had always enjoyed plunking out tunes on the guitar. It had been something that soothed him after stressful games in junior high, before season-hinging games in high school, and just in general when he wanted to relax or think. But now he couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious with Salem watching him with those curious blue eyes of hers.
He dropped his head and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see her looking at him, and set to picking one of his favorite bluegrass tunes.
He heard Gran’s plate clunk against the table, and looked up just long enough to see Salem help Gran take a bite of her sandwich, but then he returned his focus inward where it was just him and the music.
The notes reached deep inside him and seemed to open a portal that released some of his tension. If the media came, he would just deal with them. If he was honest with them, they’d likely leave him alone after a couple boring days taking pictures of him fly fishing in hip waders.
He finished the song and looked up. Both women’s plates were empty, and Salem was helping Gran drink the last of her milk. He must have played for longer than he realized.
Gran picked up the napkin next to her plate and delicately dabbed a drop of milk from her upper lip. Then she turned a look on Salem. “I didn’t know Dale played the guitar.”
Salem cast him an apologetic look.
Jett grinned.
“Come on, Gran. How about we get you upstairs to lay down for a while?” Salem helped her grandmother out of her chair.
“Nonsense. I need to water the garden.”
Panic flicked across Salem’s features.
Jett spoke before he could think better of it. “I’ll water the garden for you.”
That seemed to satisfy Gran, who tottered toward the stairs. “Isn’t that Dale such a nice boy.”
Jett returned his guitar to his room and was just polishing off the last of the two sandwiches when Salem came back into the kitchen.
He lifted the plate. “Thanks. I owe you.”
She waved a hand. “Think nothing of it. That was very nice what you did for Gran with the music.”
Jett took his plate to the sink, then leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “How long has she been…like this?”
A sheen of moisture filled Salem’s eyes before she could even think to resist, and she tucked her lower lip between her teeth.
He pulled a face. “That was insensitive. I’m sorry—”
“No. It’s okay.” She hurried to reassure. “I just haven’t really had anyone to talk with about it, so having you ask is…nice.”
He tilted his head. “I’m listening.”
Salem took the rag from its hook by the sink, rinsed it, and set to wiping down the table. “My parents were both killed in a car crash three years ago. And my grandfather passed away last year. None of us kids realized how bad Gran had gotten.” She rolled the bag of chips closed and sealed it with a clip, then returned to the sink and rinsed the rag again. She hung it on its hook once more.
Jett still looked like he was interested, so she kept going.
“I lived here in town and came to visit Gran each week. At first I just thought she was having a bit of trouble with her memory. But more and more little things were slipping, and my concerns were growing. None of us kids had a good enough job or money to help with her medical needs. I was living with my friend Zaire and working as a substitute at the local elementary, but I started pursuing a job in Seattle and hoped to get her into a top-rated care facility.”
She tore her mind away from that fiasco. Jett didn’t need to hear her whining about the fact that D.I.M.E.S. had seemed so interested in her and then suddenly quit calling after her third interview. The job hadn’t paid a lot considering the hours she would have been asked to put in, but, combined with renting out Gran’s place here in Riversong, it would have been enough for her to keep Gran in a facility and pay her own rent and food.
“Go on,” Jett encouraged.
“When the job…fell through, I wasn’t sure what to do.” Salem returned the chips to the cupboard above the fridge. “But I knew that Gran couldn’t be on her own anymore, and I needed to move in with her permanently.” She gave him a deprecating smile. “I’m trying to see it as a good thing. But I worry about what will come next. Gran’s only going to get worse, and I can’t help but feel she will soon need care from a facility. But…” She shrugged. “I keep reminding myself that God’s in control, and that His plans are to prosper and not to harm. Then I put one foot in front of the other and just keep moving.”
Jett’s brow scrunched into thought-heavy furrows. “Sounds like we are facing a few of the same questions, you and I—what is God doing with our futures. Do you ever find it hard to just keep going?”
Salem huffed. “All the time. And then I fall asleep on my desk, only to be woken by mystified guests who wish they could run for their lives.”
He laughed. “I wasn’t mystified or wanting to run.”
“Oh please. You were eyeing the front door like a penned-up critter planning an escape.”
His laugh softened into a grin. “Maybe just a little.” He held up thumb and finger about an inch apart.
“Told you.” She lifted her brows at him.
His grin faded away, and a serious expression took its place. He rubbed at a vein in the granite countertop. “Me too.”
“Me too, what?”
“I have a hard time just keeping going.”
Salem stilled. There was a world of pain in those few words. Surely he didn’t mean…
He must have seen the thought flash across her face because he held up his hands, palms out. “No. No. I’m not even close to thinking suicide or anything like that. It’s just… Where do I go from here?”
Relief eased the fist of worry that had clamped her heart. Surely a guy who made so much money, and was as popular and good looking as he was, wouldn’t have any trouble finding a place to land. And yet that had been definite discouragement she heard in his voice.
“Losing your career must have been a hard blow.”
He nodded once, but made no other reply.
Salem
wanted to reach out and wrap him in a hug. Take away some of his pain. She settled for squeezing his arm, instead. She didn’t really have any words to offer him that wouldn’t sound trite and contrived.
His face twisted into an apologetic wince. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to spill all that. Maybe you should change the name on the sign out front to Riversong Bed and Breakfast and Therapy.”
She smiled, but searched his eyes. Was he really alright?
He lifted his palms once more, and backed away from her. “I’m going to be fine, honest.”
“Okay.”
“And if it’s any help for you, I’m sure your grandmother truly does appreciate what you are doing for her. She may have lost the ability to express it, but I’m sure it’s there, underneath.”
Salem pondered on that. “Yes. I’m sure you are right.” It would just be nice to hear some appreciation for all my hard work and sacrifice, once in a while. Salem inwardly grimaced at herself. There was no sense in playing the martyr. After her job had fallen through, she’d prayed and honestly felt that maybe God had wanted this different path for her. This was where she was supposed to be. But the constant negativity from Gran, and from Dale whenever he dropped by or called, was starting to wear thin.
She realized she had been staring off into space for who knew how long and Jett had stood quietly beside her.
She brushed the crumbs of bread from the cutting board into her hand. “Gran was never a demeaning person when she was younger. It’s the dementia putting words in her mouth.” She smiled wistfully at the memories. “Dad traveled a lot for his job. We moved often. But Mom always made it a point to bring us here during the summer.” She dusted the crumbs from her palms into the sink. “We would inner tube on the river until our feet and hands were like raisins, and then we would all lie out on the dock to get dry. I don’t remember a single day that Gran didn’t bring us a snack and a drink. Usually Kool-Aid and apples from her tree out back. Sometimes warm cookies, fresh from the oven. And she always had a compliment for each one of us. My brother Sean was always ‘bigger and brawnier’ than the day before, my sister Shiloh and I were always some variation of the ‘most beautiful girls in the universe.’” Salem blinked hard and flipped on the tap to rinse the crumbs down the drain. “I think that’s one reason it’s been so hard for me to listen to Gran’s complaints and putdowns. Has the dementia simply lowered her inhibitions and she’s now saying what she felt all along? Or…” Salem’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. Listen to me go on.”
He grinned. “I told you…Riversong Bed and Breakfast and Therapy.”
She smiled in return. “We do make a pair, don’t we?” Her brows lifted and she darted him a look as she realized he might construe some meaning beyond her intent from those words. “I didn’t mean—”
He held up one hand to silence her. “Everyone needs someone to talk to. And for what it’s worth, I’m sure your grandmother’s compliments over the years were entirely sincere and heartfelt. My grandfather had dementia, and his personality changes were one of the hardest things for all of us to reconcile with.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Some days are just so much harder than others. Either way, I try to remind myself that Gran no longer understands how discouraging some of her comments are.”
Jett watched her with a soft expression in his eyes. “From where I’m standing you are a pretty amazing person to do this for your grandmother.”
She pressed her lips together, unable to look away. He had no idea how much of a balm his affirmative words were. Like sunlight to a plant that had been in a dark closet for weeks. She wanted to lean into him and bask in the warmth of his encouragement. But it only took her a moment to remember that he was likely only hanging around because she’d promised to introduce him to Zaire so he could get warm clothes.
She cleared her throat softly and stepped back. “I sent Zaire a text. She said she’ll stop by on her way home from her shop and bring a few warmer things.” Salem’s gaze skimmed his broad shoulders. She hoped the instruction of “extra-large” that she’d given to Zaire would be sufficient. “Should be around five thirty?”
His chin dipped. “Sounds good.” He tipped his head in the direction of the rooms on this floor. “How about until then you let me help you clean out that spare room?”
She bit her lip, brow furrowing. Had she somehow made him feel like he needed to help? “Oh no. I couldn’t let you do that. You are supposed to be on vacation.”
“But I owe you for lunch. Besides, what guy wouldn’t want to spend time getting to know a beautiful woman on his vacation?” One lid lowered in a quick wink. “Perfect vacationing activity.”
Beautiful woman… More balm to her soul. But she’d been around long enough to know charm when she saw it. He obviously didn’t mean anything by it. A teasing compliment from a guy intent on getting his way. Besides, he was much too far out of her league—even if she had been interested in starting up another relationship right now. Not to mention the fact that he lived on the other side of the continent.
He tilted her a look. “So what do you say? Let me pay for my lunch with a few hours of labor?”
She chuckled. “I gave you two ham sandwiches. That’s probably worth about ten minutes of your time.”
“Good. We’ll start with that.” He sauntered out of the room, and Salem couldn’t help but skim the length of the finely-muscled physique as she followed him to the spare room. Had a pair of worn jeans ever looked quite so good on a guy?
She pulled in a breath. Out of my league. Out of my league. Out of my league.
CHAPTER 7
Salem stood next to her best friend, Zaire Breckinridge.
Zai balanced on her tiptoes, brows arched in assessment, as she studied Jett through the kitchen window. He lifted the heavy boxes of Gran’s old collectibles as though they were filled with pillows. Only the bulge of muscles in his arms revealed the truth. “Did you happen to notice how good looking your first guest is?”
Salem rolled her eyes and turned to carefully place tomorrow morning’s quiche into the fridge. “I may be sworn off of relationships, Zai, but I could have been in a cryogenic coma and still noticed those gray eyes and that chiseled jaw.”
Just as Salem had feared earlier, she hadn’t been able to get Jett to quit helping after her agreed-on ten minutes. He’d come up with one excuse after another to keep working with her, first stating that the exertion was keeping him warm, then stating that hard labor did a thinking man a lot of good.
And to be honest, she’d been more than grateful for his help. Gran had awoken mid-afternoon and while Salem had been upstairs helping her use the bathroom and get to her chair where she could take up her knitting and listen to some more of her book, Jett had moved a couple of the heavy bookcases all on his own.
He’d definitely earned some dinner. The problem was, she hadn’t had time to get to the store yet.
She pinned her friend with her best pleading look. “I know you’ve been at work all day, but I really need to run to the grocery store. Do you think you could stay for forty-five minutes while I head into town and do some shopping?”
“Of course.” Zaire plucked her Kindle out of her purse. “I have a book, as always. And Gran is never any trouble.”
Salem winced and tilted her friend an “I know I’m really pushing it now” look. “How about on Saturday? Could you spare a few hours so I could go to the Costco in Wenatchee?”
Zaire practically bounced over to give her a hug. “Anything for you, and you know it. You deserve the break.”
“You’re the best.” Salem pinched her friend’s cheek.
“And don’t you forget it.” Zaire pinched her cheek back.
From the doorway, Jett cleared his throat. “So you’re the one who has brought blessed warmth, even if it is in the form of Seahawks wear?”
Zaire angled Salem a questioning look.
Salem leaned close and pseudo-whispered, “I think he’s a Tampa Bay Buccaneer
fan. Maybe.” She offered a sly grin to Jett.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “The Buc’s certainly showed Seattle how to play football the last time we played each other.” His mouth slanted into a sly grin.
Zaire’s mouth dropped open in mock shock. “I think he just insulted our team!”
Salem folded her arms and tapped one toe. “I do believe you are correct. What should we do about it?”
“Electric probes in his bed tonight?”
Salem nodded and pooched out her lower lip. “That might do it.”
“Hey now,” Jett chided good naturedly.
Zaire laughed and stretched out her hand to Jett. “Well, we’ll get you sorted around to cheering for the right team soon enough. I’m Zaire, Salem’s best friend since…forever.”
Jett shook her hand and nodded. “Nice to meet you. Jett.”
Zaire stepped back and assessed Jett from head to toe. “Boy, Salem wasn’t wrong about you needing extra-large. What were you in your former life, a body builder?”
Jett scrubbed at one cheek self-consciously, the humor suddenly leaving his features. “Something like that.”
Salem’s heart went out to him. What would it be like to have your entire future forcibly changed in the span of one moment? Out of consideration for the fact that he didn’t want his profession getting around town, Salem withheld comments.
“Well, you are lucky, Mr. I’m-not-a-Seahawks-fan, because I happened to have one Riversong sweatshirt left in extra-large.” Zaire bounded across the kitchen to where she’d left a large shopping bag overflowing with clothes near the refrigerator. “It’s sort of”—Zaire punctuated her speech with effervescent air quotes—“‘hello, I am one with nature’ but it’s masculine.”
Salem had always envied her friend’s ability to be herself in front of total strangers.
From the depths of the bag, Zai withdrew a dark gray sweatshirt imprinted with a large wolf standing in a moonlit meadow, snout stretched toward the sky as it howled. Riversong’s city logo was stitched into one shoulder.
Angel Kisses and Riversong Page 5