NIGHTSONG
Karen Toller Whittenburg
Chapter One
He was staring at her again.
Even though he was seated one table over and two tables behind her, she could feel the cool assessment of his gaze. She had noticed him, of course, when she’d first entered the diner, but it had been little more than a glance, a polite exchange of smiles before she had turned her back, took off her coat, and slipped into her usual place.
Elleny added cream to her already-sweetened coffee and stirred, trying to ignore the unsettling awareness. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had watched her with such thoroughness, nor could she recall the last time she’d noticed the innate attraction of a masculine smile.
Putting the spoon on the table, she watched a drop of coffee stain the paper napkin. The busy clatter of utensils muffled the rather strident conversation coming from within the kitchen. Dan and Dora Honeycutt, proprietors of Dan’s Cafe, were discussing last night’s town council meeting. Elleny knew that without actually hearing a word. It was a safe assumption. Practically everyone in town would be talking about the meeting before the day was over.
With a glance at her watch—only a little after nine A.M.—Elleny shook her head ... and felt his eyes on the slow swing of dark hair against her shoulders. A persistent impulse to return his stare nudged her chin up, and she allowed herself a half-turn and a glance from the corner of her eye. No luck. She was going to have to turn completely around in order to see him in detail. And she wasn’t about to do that. Yet.
The kitchen door swung outward, and Dora whisked into the room, the towel in her hand making a clean sweep along the countertop as she moved to the coffee maker. In a smooth rush of coordination, she tucked one end of the towel into the waistband of her apron, lifted the half-full decanter, slipped her index finger around the handle of a mug, and pivoted toward Elleny’s booth.
“More coffee?” Dora’s gray curls bobbed in abject denial of ever having befriended a comb. Coffee splashed to the rim of Elleny’s cup before she could answer.
“Thanks, Dora. Why don’t you join me?”
“Wish I could, but Dan’s wanting coffee, and he isn’t in the best of humor this morning. After last night’s meeting, I’m not about to withhold his caffeine.” Fine wrinkles fanned a sparkling pair of September-blue eyes. “You should have stayed till the end, Elleny. Honestly, the things grown men and women say in heated moments....” With a glance around the room, Dora moved past Elleny to the man seated two tables away.
“More coffee?”
With the sound of Dora’s question, Elleny sat very still, waiting to hear the timbre of his voice. It came, too deep, too soft to distinguish, and she was tempted—very tempted—to turn and look at him. He was a stranger, of course. Dora only used that tone with people she couldn’t immediately categorize as someone she knew or someone she didn’t care to know. Any customer who didn’t respond to her welcome by voluntarily stating their name, age, and social security number was designated a stranger until such time as Dora could decide which category fit.
“Can I get you anything else?” It was Dora’s best waitress voice, and Elleny leaned against the cushioned booth, listening.
“Thank you, no. Everything was very good.”
The throaty rumble of a non-midwestern accent rewarded her efforts at eavesdropping, and as she absently sipped her coffee, Elleny tried to identify the trace of brogue.
“Unless ...” His voice took on a questioning hesitance. “Do you happen to know of a vacant apartment in town?”
He said it so casually that Elleny’s coffee cup met the saucer with a clatter of surprise. There was a second of suspended quiet before Dora began a somewhat roundabout recital of possible vacancies in the area, her tone warming with curiosity.
Elleny let her thoughts drift into speculation. An apartment? Then he couldn’t be just a traveler passing through Cedar Springs on his way from Joplin to Kansas City or vice versa. Running a fingertip along a scratch on the Formica tabletop, she wished she hadn’t been so preoccupied when she’d first entered the diner. She should have taken a closer look at his intriguing smile.
“Kessler. Phillip Kessler.”
The crisp pronunciation caught her attention, and she couldn’t help turning the name over in her mind. Phillip. Leave it to Dora to be the first in town to ferret out such vital information. Phillip. Elleny had always liked that name, had even thought once about suggesting it to Mark before the baby was born. But of course, Damon family tradition had decreed that her son would bear the names of his grandfather and great-grandfather.
Dora began giving directions with unusual enthusiasm, and Elleny couldn’t resist temptation any longer. She shifted in the booth, wondering if she could manage to stare without being obvious. At least he wasn’t paying any attention to her at the moment, Elleny thought as her gaze took in the pleasing contrast of light brown hair and thick, dark eyelashes. She couldn’t determine the exact color of his eyes, but she recognized the subtle seduction of humor in their fine network of laugh lines. His profile had the same uneven quality as his smile, with the same disquieting effect. She wondered if his brows always curved in that quizzical expression or if he was actually trying to keep up with Dora’s runaway information.
Elleny lingered for a moment on the crisp angles of his chin before she watched a question shape the contours of his mouth. He was really a most attractive man, and she felt a definite spark of interest—the first she’d experienced in a very long time. Her gaze slid downward to shoulders that were muscular and broad beneath the maroon sweater he wore, then down one arm to the hand that he rested easily on the tabletop.
He had a large hand with long sinewy fingers that somehow made her think of all the sculptors who over the centuries had tried to capture the strength and texture of a man’s hand on canvas or in clay ... and had never quite succeeded. His fingers flexed beneath her stare, and a whispery pleasure made a slow circle in her stomach.
Elleny turned away, unwilling to admit that for a moment she had wondered how recently that hand, those fingers, had caressed a woman with tenderness and loving. She lifted her cup with a slight tremor and took a deep swallow. The coffee wasn’t hot enough to scald, but it went a long way toward burning her errant speculations.
The man was a stranger ... even if he had smiled at her. It was none of her business who he was or why he wanted an apartment. Dora had matters well in hand and Phillip didn’t need her help.
Phillip. It really was a good, solid name, and after all, Cedar Springs wasn’t a very big town. Maybe she would see him again. Maybe he would come into the store—The store. Elleny checked her watch, took a last swallow of coffee, and gathered her coat and purse into her arms before sliding from the booth.
“What does a man have to do to get some coffee around here? Annex every coffee bean from here to the state line?” The burly rumble preceded Dan Honeycutt into the room. With a sharp look around the diner, he walked to where the coffee pot should have been, cast a frown on the world in general, and turned to retrace his steps. “Morning, Elleny,” he grumbled, before he sent the kitchen door winging inward and stalked out of sight.
“Good morning,” she answered softly, amusement a slow curve on her lips as she turned to share a smile with Dora. But the eyes that caught and held her silent laughter were a deep, rich brown. Not precisely friendly and yet warm. Just as the hint of appreciation tucked into the corner of his mouth was warm.
Elleny recognized the sensation curling inside her as a reflection of his interest. But it was more than a reflection; it had an element of understanding, an inexplicable harmony ... a quiet knowing. She wanted to break the visual exchange but was lost in the mystery of her very femin
ine response to his masculine admiration.
“You just let me know if you have any problems, Phillip,” Dora said, as she began walking toward the kitchen, obliviously unaware that she was intruding on a private, if silent, conversation. When she reached the counter, she turned while moving, making an almost graceful pivot. “You leaving, Elleny? See ya tomorrow.”
Elleny watched Dora’s exit, glad of a focus and anxious to regroup her thoughts.
With the inner sense that dark eyes were concentrated on her movements, she walked to the register and paid her tab by dropping some loose change into a container marked “Coffee: Pay What You Can.” Then she began to slip the sleeves of her coat over her arms. She wouldn’t look at him again. If she did, she might discover her imagination had shaded that brief moment with warmth. And it had been such a long time since she’d felt so interested—or interesting—simply because of a look in a man’s eyes.
“May I help?”
Her heart jerked to a stop, and an unsettling tension closed over her throat. She felt the weight of her coat lifted and adjusted to fit across her shoulders. Her fingers worked a button through its corresponding loop as she made a hesitant pirouette to face him. He wasn’t quite as tall as she’d thought he would be, but his features were even more attractive at closer range. And his eyes. Elleny had never seen eyes so piercingly dark.
“Thank you.” The murmur faded as she became conscious of her breathiness and then strengthened with the smile she wasn’t able to prevent.
“I couldn’t help overhearing. You’re Elleny—?”
“Damon,” she supplied, a little embarrassed by her own eagerness.
“I’m Phillip Kessler,” he said with a corresponding smile.
“Yes, I know.” Laughter lent a lilting softness to her voice. “Dora should have warned you that Cedar Springs residents are notorious eavesdroppers.”
“Then I should fit right in. When Dora was talking to you, I was listening intently.”
City accent. City charm. Elleny threaded a discreet caution into her welcome. “If I’d known that, I might have said something worth eavesdropping on.”
“Don’t disillusion me. I thought you did.” He glanced toward the kitchen. The noise level behind the closed door rose and fell in intermittent waves, “Is there a cashier, or does this cafe operate on the honor system?”
Hmmm, Elleny thought, her brows lifting a bare fraction of an inch. A touch of city impatience as well. “Dora will be out in a minute or two. You won’t have to wait long.”
His pensive look swept the nearly empty diner before he reached for his wallet, took out a crisp twenty-dollar bill and laid it on top of his check. “That should take care of it.”
Her brows rose a little higher. A tip like that would more than take care of it. Phillip might not know it, but he had just secured a treasured spot in Dora’s heart.
He turned to Elleny with an easy smile. “My car is parked outside. May I offer you a ride somewhere?”
She felt her own smile slip to a more realistic slant. Her heart wasn’t so quickly impressed. “No, thanks. I’m on my way to work, and it’s only a few blocks away. I’ll walk.”
As she moved away from him, Elleny knew he watched her. She ran a finger under the ribbed cuff at her wrist and paused before opening the front door. “It was-nice to meet you,” she said, glancing back to where he stood. “Welcome to Cedar Springs.”
“Elleny, wait.” He got his coat on as he crossed the room to reach her. “I’ll walk with you.”
Even for a man from the city, he was moving a little too fast. She shook her head politely but firmly. “Maybe another day.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Phillip raised a hand as if to touch her arm, but apparently thought better of it and thrust it into his coat pocket instead. “I’d like to talk to you. About Mark.”
Her stomach tightened into sudden stillness, and the soft ache of memories whispered inside her. “Are you ... were you a friend of Mark’s?”
A shadow of hesitation passed over Phillip’s expression and was gone. “Yes. He invited me to stop and see him if I was ever in the area.” The ensuing pause was both regretful and reluctant. “It seems I waited too long.”
Elleny decided that Phillip must not have been a very close friend of her husband’s. Mark had been dead for almost three years, a long time to let pass before offering condolence. But then, maybe there simply hadn’t been an opportunity.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Phillip’s tone was one of husky sincerity.
Her smile was slow and quiet and tinged with the acknowledgment that she had loved her husband and with the acceptance that she had lost him. Life went on, and it was always nice to meet someone who’d known Mark. “Where did you meet him?”
The door behind her opened, cutting off her words with a swirl of chilly air. Three men entered the diner, each talking to the other two and paying little attention to anything else. “Hello, Elleny,” the first man said. “Did you hear about the meeting last night?” His greeting was quickly echoed and followed with the same question from the other two.
“I was there, Jim.” She mentally assessed her chance of escape. “You need to talk to Dan. He’s in favor of annexing every coffee bean from here to Joplin.” In unison, the men turned a suspicious look toward the kitchen, and Elleny seized the opportunity to slip out the door, motioning Phillip to follow.
Outside, the weather was typical of late January. Gray and cold with a brisk wind that stung color to her face within seconds. She pulled up the hood of her jacket and waited for Phillip to reach her side.
“I think we made a clean getaway.”
At his teasing comment Elleny looked up into richly dark eyes and forgave herself for wanting to talk to him without benefit of a distracting audience. “I apologize for not introducing you to three of Cedar Spring’s more prominent citizens, but you see, there’s a small dispute about expanding the city limits and….”
He lifted a hand to still further explanation. “Politics,” he said with a nod of understanding. “It happens in the best of communities. I think I’d prefer to meet the townspeople after the feuding has died down a bit.”
“You’ll have to take sides if you plan to stay here very long.” She took a couple of steps along the sidewalk, expecting him to walk with her. When she realized that he wasn’t, she turned. “I have to hurry or I’ll be late opening my store today.”
“Is that an invitation to walk with you as far as the store?”
Her cheeks were suddenly heated despite the wind. “I didn’t mean to be rude earlier, but you were a stranger. I didn’t realize you were a friend of Mark’s.”
“And that makes a difference?”
“Of course.”
He pursed his lips in a puzzled line, and his eyes narrowed in consideration. “You’re very trusting, Elleny Damon.”
“Would you like to come with me?” she answered simply. “Once I get the morning routine under way, we’ll have a chance to talk.”
“You must not be planning on doing a brisk business.”
Elleny watched as he closed the gap between them, noting for the first time the cut and style of his coat and the way it shaped his shoulders without appearing bulky or cumbersome. Custom-tailoring, she concluded, although she had no basis for such an assumption. She turned her steps to lead the way along the sidewalk. “The bookstore business is never brisk. At least not in Cedar Springs in January.”
“I’d have thought this would be the best time. There can’t be much to do in this town in the winter.”
Her gaze slid to him in a wry, sidelong sweep. “No. Basically we spend a lot of time waiting for a stranger to come into town and start looking for an apartment. The ‘No-Vacancy Runaround’ rates as high as Trivial Pursuit when it comes to parlor games.”
His grimace was quick and might have seemed sheepish on any other man. “Sorry. Guess my small-town prejudice is showing.”
The sidewalk stopped at
the intersection, and Elleny halted at the curb. “If that’s the way you feel, why are you here?”
“Cedar Springs has something I want.”
An odd little shiver slipped down her back at his elusive tone, and she couldn’t hide her sudden curiosity. “Something?”
His gaze met hers for a dark, intense moment and then skipped away with the easy grin that touched his mouth. “A lot of things, actually.” He placed his hand against the ribbed waist of her jacket and guided her from the curb onto the pavement. “Why are you here, Elleny?”
“This is my home.” She felt suddenly defensive, as if there had been some secret meaning in his casual question. “I have a house and a business.” She paused, considering. “And a son.”
Phillip smiled easily. “I know. Andrew Jesse, better known as A.J. How old is he?”
“Almost five.” Elleny filled in the blank, surprised even that he knew, much less remembered, her son’s full name.
With a nod Phillip stepped up from the street to the sidewalk and placed his hand at her elbow in an unnecessary assist. “That must be nice for you.”
“Nice?” A soft maternal affection smoothed the skeptical edge from her voice. “You obviously do not have a four-year-old.”
“No,” he admitted. “But my car is three and a half. Does that count?”
“Only with a mechanic.” Her gaze encountered his and held for a laughing moment. The sound of a cold, reluctant motor whirred and coughed in the street beside them, and Elleny, of sudden inexplicable necessity, turned her attention to putting one foot in front of the other. “I am curious, though, about how and when you knew Mark.”
Phillip shortened his stride to accommodate her slower pace. “We met at an art exhibit in Oklahoma several years ago, discovered some common interests, and corresponded for a while. He stopped writing about three years ago, but I didn’t think much about it at the time. I was busy developing my career, and I assumed Mark was busy, too. I didn’t learn about his death until recently.”
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