by Irene Hannon
“This hand was not made for heavy labor. I’m sorry if you think that’s a sexist remark, but it’s the truth. You have a very delicate bone structure, and it wouldn’t take much to crush these fingers. That’s a medical fact, and I don’t want to be paying any house calls to my new neighbor. Okay?”
Clare could manage only a one-word response. “Okay.”
He held her hand for a moment longer, than slowly released it.
“I’m ready.”
With an apparent effort, Adam looked over to his daughter. “I’ll be right with you.” Then he turned back to Clare. “If you’ll give me the receipts for your expenses, I’ll write you a check.”
She was glad to focus her attention on something besides the quivery feelings that Adam’s touch had ignited in her. “They’re on the table.” She moved toward the kitchen and picked up an envelope, turning to hand it to him as he followed her into the room. “That should be everything. I did an itemized list of the expenses, and the receipts are attached.”
Adam withdrew the single sheet of paper, quickly scanned it, then frowned. “This is the total?”
Nervously she brushed back a stray strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. “Well, I can pay for the rocking chair if you like. I didn’t really need that. And…”
“Whoa!” He held up his hand. “I’m not complaining, Clare. It’s far less than I expected. You did all this—” he gestured around the room “—for this amount?”
She drew a relieved breath. “Elbow grease doesn’t cost much. And I know how to live frugally. You can find some great buys at discount stores,” she said with a grin.
Adam glanced again at the sum. His late wife, Elaine, would have spent far more than that on a new handbag. And she wouldn’t have been caught dead shopping at discount stores. Nor would she have handled such a reversal of fortune so well.
Clare, on the other hand, seemed to have accepted whatever blow life had dealt her with grace and character. She had obviously once lived a far more luxurious lifestyle, if the Gucci purse and designer clothes were any indication. Yet she had adapted to her reduced financial status. And he hadn’t heard her complain once. Not about the Evergreen Motel, nor about the dismal state of this apartment. And there had been plenty to complain about in both cases.
She was a remarkable woman, he acknowledged. And while he’d questioned her physical strength, he had no doubt that she could hold her own with anyone when it came to inner strength.
As they said their goodbyes and Adam followed Nicole down the steps and out into the chilly night air, he glanced back up at the warm glow emanating from the windows of the garage apartment. And he made another surprising discovery.
The warm glow wasn’t only in the windows; for the first time in many years, it was also in his heart.
Chapter Four
“Clare’s going to Mrs. Malone’s tomorrow for dinner, too. Why don’t we give her a ride?”
Adam looked up from the file he’d been studying. Nicole hovered in the doorway to his office, hands in her pockets, shoulders tense, her expression defiant—as it always was in his presence. He wished he knew how to make her relax around him, to elicit her laughter, to evoke even a trace of warmth, as Clare had. Already their new nanny had connected with his daughter as he never had. He was glad for Nicole’s sake, of course. She needed a friend. But it only made him realize how miserably he had failed.
“You can come in, Nicole,” he said gently.
She shrugged. “I have homework to do. I just wanted to ask about Clare.”
Since they’d moved to Hope Creek, Adam couldn’t recall a single instance when Nicole had come into his office. And she obviously didn’t intend to start tonight. But she had sought him out and initiated this conversation. He considered that a good sign.
He focused on Nicole’s question. Clare’s invitation was news to him. But it didn’t surprise him. Adele Malone had told him once that no one should be alone on a holiday, and she always made an effort to ensure that everyone within the circle of her acquaintance had a place to spend the day. Obviously the older woman had taken Clare under her wing.
“So can we give her a ride?” Nicole repeated impatiently as the silence lengthened.
Adam couldn’t think of a reason to say no. At least not any reason that made sense. There was no way to put into words the vague concern that fluttered along the edges of his consciousness, a subtle caution sign about crossing the line between a professional and personal relationship with his new nanny. He couldn’t explain his trepidation to Nicole. Or even to himself. So he was left with no alternative. “Sure. I’ll walk over later and ask her.”
“I can do it.”
“I thought you had homework.”
Nicole glared at him. “I can take a break for a couple of minutes.”
To talk to Clare, but not to him. The message was clear, even if the words were unspoken. “Okay. Let me know what she says.”
A half hour passed before Adam heard the back door slam, signaling Nicole’s return. A moment later she appeared at his doorway.
“She said she’d go with us. And to say thanks. Here.”
Nicole stepped across the threshhold into his office and set down a plate containing four chocolate chip cookies.
“What’s this?”
“Clare made some cookies. I stayed to have a couple. That’s why I was gone so long. She asked me to bring you these. I gotta get back to my homework,” she said, backing out of the room even as she spoke.
Adam looked down at the homemade cookies, still fresh from the oven, oozing chocolate chips. He reached for one and weighed it in his hand for a moment as the just-baked cookie warmed his palm. Then he closed his eyes and bit into it, letting the sweetness dissolve on his tongue.
It had been a long time since he’d had such a treat. Even though some of his patients had given him homemade cookies last Christmas, he’d been so new to his practice that he’d had no faces to associate with the gifts. But he definitely had a face to associate with these cookies. And more.
As Adam reached for a second cookie, he pictured Clare as he’d seen her earlier in the evening, when he’d stopped in to check on her progress with the apartment. She might be close to forty, but she looked about twenty with her hair pulled back into that ponytail, her face makeup free. Only the sadness that hovered in the depths of her eyes hinted that she’d lived longer than twenty years. Long enough to have experienced—and survived—some terrible tragedy.
Adam hadn’t had time to analyze his doubts when Nicole had suggested that they give Clare a ride to Adele’s. But now he realized that they stemmed from fear. There was something about Clare that attracted him. Big-time. But it was way too soon for him to have those kind of feelings. He hardly knew her. Besides, she’d come here for one reason and one reason only—to fulfill the stipulation in her aunt’s will so that she could claim her inheritance. She had no personal interest in him or Nicole. This was a job. When the six months were over, she’d leave.
In the meantime, he needed to keep his own feelings in check and take pains to encourage nothing more than friendship between them. Because Adam clearly knew his own shortcomings when it came to establishing and maintaining emotional intimacy. He’d failed miserably with both his wife and daughter. He just couldn’t give the women in his life what they needed. And he had a feeling that Clare had already experienced enough hurt to last a lifetime. He wasn’t going to add to her pain.
Reaching toward the plate, Adam discovered that he’d eaten all four cookies. Clare’s gesture had been considerate, and he was touched by her kindness. But he suspected that thinking of others was just part of her nature. As it had been part of Jo’s. Though she would only be with them for six months, Adam resolved to savor and appreciate such gestures. Because those small kindnesses, which added so much to life, had been long absent from his.
Adam glanced toward the blue-rimmed crockery dish and suddenly realized something startling. The plate m
ight be empty. But oddly enough, his heart wasn’t.
“Reverend Nichols, would you please say the blessing?”
Adele took her seat at the large, lace-covered mahogany table, and the dozen people sitting around it joined hands. Clare reached for Nicole’s hand on one side and the young minister’s on the other, then bowed her head.
“Lord, we thank You for this food and for the generous hospitality of our hosts, who have taken us into their home for this special holiday. We pray today for those who are not so fortunate, who are experiencing hunger or homelessness or who are alone. We ask You to always help us follow the example You set, and which our hosts so admirably demonstrate today, of offering the hand of friendship to those most in need. Give us the courage and stamina and grace to do Your work and to follow Your call, wherever that may lead us.
“Finally, Lord, we ask that You give solace to those who are troubled in spirit. As we have been welcomed into this home today, please help those who are lost know that You wait to welcome them, and help them find the path home to You. May they feel Your healing presence and know that even when things seem darkest, they are never alone. Amen.”
For a long moment after the prayer ended, Clare kept her head bowed. The young minister’s words had touched her deeply. It was almost as if they had been spoken directly to her. She had been feeling spiritually lost for months, going through the motions of her faith, but failing to connect on a deeper level with the Lord. She hoped that Reverend Nichols’s prayer would be heard, and answered, for everyone at the table. And she added her own brief silent prayer at the end. Lord, show me the way back to You.
When she finally raised her gaze, it collided with Adam’s. He was sitting directly across from her, and for the briefest moment, before he shuttered his eyes, there was an odd, unreadable expression in them. Clare sensed that the minister’s words had resonated in some way with him, as well. Adam’s faith seemed strong, so she doubted that he felt estranged from God. But perhaps the part about being alone had touched him. Because the more she saw of Adam, the more she was convinced that he was deeply lonely. From what Adele had said, he had little family. Just a brother, who was married and lived several hours away. His marriage had fallen apart. His relationship with Nicole was strained and tense. He obviously worked long hours, which probably precluded any sort of social life. When Clare got lonely or needed to hear a friendly, caring voice, at least she could pick up the phone and call A.J. or Morgan. Who did Adam have?
The young minister spoke to her then, and she made an effort to put aside that troubling question about Adam and focus on the conversation. Reverend Nichols kept her engaged in a lively discussion, and she was pleased to discover that he would be taking over as pastor of the congregation when the elderly minister retired at the beginning of the New Year. She didn’t discover the answer to her question about Adam, of course. But she suspected she knew it, anyway. Adam didn’t have anyone.
And even though she had come into his life on a professional basis, as a nanny for his daughter, for some reason that answer bothered her on a personal level. She didn’t know why. And she didn’t want to know.
Because she was afraid the answer might scare her.
Something smelled good. Really good.
Adam paused in the mudroom, sniffing appreciatively as his salivary glands went into overdrive. He’d worked through lunch, and he was so hungry that he’d even been looking forward to a microwave dinner. But this didn’t smell like any microwave dinner he’d ever eaten.
He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a peg beside the door, then strode toward the kitchen. When he appeared in the doorway, Clare looked up from setting the table and a slight flush warmed her cheeks. Though her hair was pulled back in its customary chignon, she was dressed casually in jeans and a sweater.
“Hi.” Her voice was soft and a bit uncertain.
“Hi.” He glanced at the table, which had a large bouquet of chrysanthemums in the middle, then at the stove, where several pots simmered. “What’s all this?”
“Dinner.”
“I figured that. But cooking isn’t in your job description.”
She shrugged. “I don’t mind. I like to be busy.” Which was true. Since the accident, she’d purposely packed her days full so that she had less time for reflection. Besides, nonstop activity helped fill the empty place in her life…though not in her heart or soul, she acknowledged. “I just used what I could find in the pantry and the fridge. But there wasn’t much to work with. I hope it’s okay.”
“If that aroma is any indication, it’s more than okay. But I already feel guilty for taking your services as a nanny for free. I don’t expect you to cook, too.”
“I like to cook. Besides, you’d better reserve your judgment. I haven’t spent much time in the kitchen the past couple of years, so I’m afraid my skills are a little rusty.”
“Rusty skills are better than no skills, which is what I have,” Adam said with a grin.
The corners of her mouth teased up. “I hope you don’t eat those words.”
“I’d rather eat that food. How did your first day with Nicole go?”
“Fine. I made sure she had something to eat before she left for school, and fixed her a lunch. I was here when she got home, and we worked on her math homework for a while. She’s writing an English composition now. I’ll work with her a little more after dinner. You can just send her over to the apartment when you’re finished.”
Adam frowned and glanced toward the table, noting for the first time that only two places were set. “Aren’t you eating with us?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to infringe on your time together.”
“Trust me, you’re not infringing. Meals are pretty silent affairs around here. Besides, the only way I’ll even consider letting you cook for us is if you stay for dinner.”
For a moment he thought she was going to argue, but in the end she capitulated. “Okay. Assuming the offer still stands after you’ve tasted my efforts,” she added with a smile. “I’ll put everything out while you get Nicole.”
By the time he returned, she’d set a third place and arranged the food on the table. There was a large bowl of rice, what appeared to be a chicken stir-fry of some kind, biscuits and a platter of fresh fruit.
“Wow!” Nicole said.
“I second that,” Adam added as they took their seats.
Adam gave a brief blessing, and almost before he finished, Nicole was helping herself to a healthy serving of rice. She ate heartily and chatted amiably with Clare, who made a concerted effort to draw Adam into the conversation whenever possible. He appreciated her attempts to include him, but tonight he was content mostly to observe and listen to his daughter’s animated voice. For the first time since they’d moved into the house a year ago, their evening meal was something to be enjoyed rather then endured. And he was savoring it. As well as the delicious food. He took two helpings of everything, and Nicole wasn’t far behind.
Only later, as Clare rose to clear the table, did he notice that much of her food remained untouched. He also realized that she had grown more subdued as the meal progressed, letting Nicole do most of the talking. And in the brief moment before she turned away, he saw a suspicious glimmer of moisture in her eyes.
Adam had no idea what had distressed her. He thought the dinner had been a great success. He glanced toward the sink and studied Clare’s back. For a moment he thought he detected the faintest droop in her shoulders, but even as he watched, she straightened them. And when she turned to put a plate of brownies on the table, her smile was back in place.
“I hope you both left room for dessert.”
“Wow!” Nicole said, repeating her earlier comment even as she reached for a brownie. “We never have stuff like this!”
“The meal was delicious, Clare. Thank you.”
Short of ignoring his comments, Clare had no choice but to look at Adam. She glued her smile firmly in place, then glanced his way. And alm
ost lost her composure. There was caring and concern and empathy in his eyes. So he’d picked up on her mood after all, despite her best efforts to keep her feelings at bay.
Resolutely, Clare fought down another wave of melancholy. She hadn’t expected a simple dinner to affect her so deeply. But as the meal had progressed, she’d felt more and more overwhelmed by the scene, so reminiscent of the family dinners she had once known, filled with laughter and sharing and warmth. It had all served as a stark reminder that those good times were gone forever. Her powerful, painful reaction had thrown her, and long-suppressed emotions had bubbled to the surface. She desperately needed a few minutes alone to regain her equilibrium.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.” She pushed her chair in and reached for the sweater she’d draped behind it. “Whenever you’re ready, let me know and we’ll go over the English composition,” she told Nicole.
“Aren’t you going to have a brownie?” Nicole asked, reaching for a second one.
“Not tonight.”
She turned to go, but Adam’s voice stopped her.
“I’ll definitely take you up on your offer of making dinner in the future, assuming you share it with us,” he said. “That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”
It was too late to take back her offer. But it would be easier next time, Clare consoled herself. She’d be better prepared to deal with the memories—and the regrets. Summoning up a smile, she looked at him. “Thanks. I’ll be happy to do it.”
“Just get what you need. I have an account at the local grocery store.”
“Okay.”
Again she turned to go. And again his voice stopped her.
“Clare…is everything all right?”
The caring quality in his voice almost undid her. This time she didn’t turn back. “Yes. Everything’s fine.”
She was lying. He could tell by the slight tremor in her voice. But he had no idea how to help her. With his patients, he could ask them where it hurt, and then use his medical training to fix the problem. But that training did him no good in matters of the heart. Dealing with those kinds of problems required a whole different set of skills, which he was woefully lacking. He’d learned that with Elaine. And Nicole.