The Hero's Redemption

by Janice Kay Johnson

  He had more questions. How long did she expect to employ Cole? She guessed at least a month. Yes, he was welcome to stay in the apartment after that, provided he did the work on it. She verified the address. West Fork was not in Whatcom County, where Mr. Meacham was supposed to go. Did she know why that hadn’t worked out? No, she had no idea.

  Yes, this was her phone. She didn’t mind if Ramirez called from time to time. She walked into the garage and scribbled his phone number on a sheet of notepaper, below the list Cole had come up with for her next lumberyard run.

  When she pocketed the phone again, she went out to find Cole swinging the hammer with short, violent motions. Wham. Wham.

  “I’ll come up with a rental agreement,” she said to his back. He quit hammering but didn’t turn. “That way, you can show it anywhere you need to.”

  He nodded. Wham. Wham.

  O-kay.

  An hour later, he barely glanced at her when she told him she was heading out. When she returned, she showed him the two different kinds of roofing nails she’d bought because she hadn’t been sure which was the right one.

  “These,” he said, taking the bag.

  That was the extent of their conversation for the rest of the afternoon.

  Erin knew she shouldn’t feel hurt. She understood why he detested needing help and how he must’ve struggled with himself to accept her offer of the apartment and then have to ask her to vouch for him. Friendship wasn’t part of their deal. He hadn’t really even been rude, just withdrawn.

  But it was as if she’d become invisible. She had felt more alive since she brought Cole home with her, more purposeful, less isolated. Now she had to retreat. She excused herself early and went inside, taking a hot shower that didn’t warm her at all, not where it counted.

  Rationally, she knew she had friends, if she didn’t shut them out. Aunt Susan left an occasional phone message and emailed daily, her worry obvious. Erin’s mother had died of breast cancer, her father in an accident, both way too young. Maybe they could have anchored her to the present, if they were still alive. As it was, the people who had died felt more real to her than the ones still living. Especially the girls. It was as if nothing but a semitransparent veil separated them from her. In this mood, she imagined they were waiting for her to step through the veil to their side. They couldn’t go on without her.

  Erin lay on her bed, curled on her side, gazing at the square of bright light that was her window. She stopped hearing the hammering or the occasional scrape of a handsaw. Napping now would be a mistake; she’d never get to sleep tonight. But that was okay. It had been a couple of weeks since she’d gone for a drive.

  Tonight, she thought, and closed her eyes.

  * * *

  COLE HAD TAUGHT himself to sleep lightly, to awaken at the slightest sound that was out of the ordinary.

  He snapped to awareness when he heard a car door close with deliberate softness. Lying rigid, he listened. The digital clock Erin had put at the bedside said 2:33. Anyone coming or going in the middle of the night wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbors. Especially if that person was stealing a vehicle.

  When the engine started, he knew it was Erin’s Jeep. Shit. He jumped out of bed, reaching the front window just before the dome light went off. In that fraction of an instant, he saw her. While he watched, she reversed, then drove down the driveway. Brake lights flickered before she turned onto the street.

  He didn’t welcome the uneasiness he felt as he stared out at the dark yard and dimly lit street. The closest lamp was half a block away. Where was she was going? Wouldn’t she have awakened him if she had some kind of emergency?

  His mouth tightened. Why would she? What was he but her charity project, after all?

  She might have been restless. Or she’d started her period and gone out for supplies. Or a friend had called and needed her. There were plenty of logical explanations. He was projecting if he thought that whatever ghost haunted her and shadowed her eyes had sent her into the night.

  And, damn it, Cole didn’t want to feel any responsibility for another human being. Any real connection. Even so, he knew with icy certainty that he wouldn’t sleep again until she came home.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “YARD WASTE BINS are full.” Stopping at the foot of what would be the porch steps, Erin peeled off her gloves. “The rest will have to wait until Thursday.” Astonished at how much progress Cole had made, she asked, “Did you do this kind of work in prison?”

  Kneeling on the porch proper, he’d paused at the sight of her and straightened. For the past hour, the rhythmic sound of his hammer striking nails had begun to remind her of a heart beating.

  “No.” He watched her warily.

  She knew he didn’t like her asking questions, but this seemed innocuous enough. “Then...how do you know what to do?”

  “My father’s a contractor. I worked for him some.”

  “Oh. That makes sense.”

  He didn’t say a word. An eyebrow might have twitched at what was, admittedly, an inane comment.

  “Um, did you have jobs while you were serving time?”

  He lowered his head.

  She waited.

  He rolled his shoulders. “Different ones.” Pause. “Machine shop.”

  “You mean, you can fix mechanical things, too?”

  “Probably.”

  “Have you ever done wiring or plumbing?”

  “I could do simple jobs. Replace an electrical outlet or a light fixture. Same for plumbing. If you need the house completely rewired or the plumbing replaced, you’d be better off hiring an expert.”

  “I don’t think I do.” She hoped. “But my shower drips and plugs are too loose in some of the outlets. Plus, the light in the pantry doesn’t work. I tried different new bulbs.”

  “I can take a look.” He moved as if preparing to stand up.

  “Not now. There’s no urgency. Just something to get to later.”

  He studied her, nodded and, after a decent interval, reached for a nail.

  Wham. Wham.

  She’d been forgotten.

  Except Erin knew that wasn’t true. She suspected Cole was hyperaware, not only of where she was and what she was doing, but also his surroundings in general. She’d seen his head turn before she heard the sound of an approaching car. An elderly neighbor walked her slow-moving pug several times a day. Cole always turned to look. She wondered if his caution would slowly abate, or whether in ten years it had become part of his makeup. Cops were probably the same—although Cole might not like the comparison.

  They didn’t exchange another word until their lunch break. After yesterday, she didn’t offer him anything, just went inside, aware that he was heading toward the garage. But as she peeled a carrot, she saw him coming down the stairs from the apartment with a can of pop and what looked like a sandwich. So she carried her plate outside, too.

  Most of the porch boards were laid. Cole sat at the top of what would be the steps, his lower legs dangling. His sweat-dampened T-shirt clung to a broad back and shoulders. A screwdriver poked out of a pocket of his jeans, drawing her gaze to his muscular butt. Feeling a little shy, she joined him, seeing him glance at her lunch.

  “You don’t eat much,” he said after a minute.

  A carrot and a serving of cottage cheese were more than she’d had for a midday meal a month ago. Taking a page from his book, she merely shrugged.

  After finishing the cottage cheese, she said, “This porch is going up fast.”

  “Long way to go.” The supports were in place, but he hadn’t started on the roof.

  It occurred to her that getting heavy sheets of plywood up there wouldn’t be easy. Could they do it, just the two of them?

  Cole seemed to be assessing the work still to be done wh
en he said, “Heard you leave last night.”

  She’d hoped to be quiet enough that he’d sleep through her departure, but wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t. She chose not to answer.

  Now he looked directly at her. “Thought someone might be stealing your car.”

  Of course, that was exactly what would leap to mind, given his background. Had he stolen cars? That was a more bearable possibility than some she’d considered, although a ten-year sentence for car theft seemed extreme.

  “Or you’d had an emergency,” he added.

  Astonished, Erin studied him in profile. Had he been worried about her? How unexpected. Unless, she reminded herself, he’d been concerned about his employment and not her personally.

  “I just went for a drive.” She would have been ticketed if the state patrolman had caught her. She’d managed to turn off the highway and quickly disappear down a driveway leading to a rural property, killing her engine and headlights before the patrol car went by. Stomach clenched, she’d driven home at a sedate pace. Her need to speed, to lure death, warred with the law-abiding good girl still in her. Unwilling to talk about what she barely understood, she scooted back from the edge of the porch, stood and went into the house, where she dropped her half-eaten carrot in the trash.

  Her emotional health was nothing to brag about, but she was getting better. Wasn’t she?

  * * *

  BEING NOSY HAD gone over about as well as it would have in the pen. Cole couldn’t imagine what had gotten into him to ask that kind of question.

  He finished his lunch and went back to work, half expecting Erin not to reappear until she came out to pay him. He heard her scraping the siding again, but around the corner where he couldn’t see her. It was all he could do not to go and see, to reassure himself that she was working from the ground, not teetering on top of the ladder.

  None of my business. Why did he have to keep reminding himself?

  Being unsure of the answer made him uncomfortable. Something was eating at the woman, and he didn’t like not knowing what. Self-preservation, he told himself. Hiring him had been odd behavior to start with. He’d give a lot to know why she had.

  But he made himself keep working, just the way he did when she walked by and he couldn’t help noticing the sway of her hips or her breasts beneath a T-shirt that should be baggy but wasn’t.

  When she paid him at the end of the day without comment, Cole nodded his thanks and stuffed the bills in his pocket, the way he always did. But in his head, he tallied the total, feeling a subtle relaxation that worried him. Yeah, he was making money, but she wouldn’t need him for more than a month or six weeks at most, unless the inside of the house was a disaster demanding another few weeks. Once she cut him loose, he’d face the same odds he had while job-hunting.

  A recommendation from her might help. The idea of asking for one tasted bitter, but he had a suspicion he wouldn’t have to ask. He remembered that she’d offered a rental contract; he wouldn’t have thought of needing one, but it would open some doors.

  Since it wasn’t raining, after dinner he walked the mile to the library, answered the library clerk’s questions and got a card that he placed carefully in his wallet. The one awkward moment had been when she asked for his phone number, and he had to say, “I don’t have a phone.”

  After, as he browsed books, she seemed to be watching him. Did she think he was going to steal a book? Maybe he just made her nervous. A few patrons, from a stout older woman to a huddle of teenagers, kept watching him, too.

  He gritted his teeth, pretended he didn’t notice and checked out several books. On his way out, a bulletin board in the foyer caught his eye. Cole studied the various postings, from scraps of paper to glossy notices about upcoming community events. Nobody seemed to be looking for help, but garage sales were being advertised. There was a bike for sale, too. He would’ve preferred a motorcycle, but as long as he stayed in West Fork, he could get around pretty well on a bike. He borrowed a pen from the nervous clerk and jotted down that phone number. Maybe it was time he got a phone, too. The ones he’d studied at Safeway didn’t cost much, and he couldn’t imagine he’d use a lot of minutes. Other than the obligatory calls to his parole officer, who would he want to talk to?

  Not his father. Dad had abandoned him, and Dani’s claim that Dad had changed his tune didn’t ease his resentment.

  Dani, sure. Cole could just hang up if his sister’s husband or one of the kids answered. She’d want to know he was doing okay. On the other hand, what was the hurry?

  Now that it was dark, he was happier walking back to Erin’s house than he’d been going. He made people working out in their yards anxious when he went by. Even passing drivers stared. He regretted not growing his hair a little longer before he got out. Would that make a difference? Different clothes might help, too. Cargo pants, like he saw the men here wearing, instead of his tattered jeans? Maybe. Cole made a mental note to find out if there was a thrift store in town. He hated to part with a cent he didn’t have to. He looked back now with disgust at the time when he’d spent money as fast as he could earn it.

  Erin’s Jeep was still parked in front of the garage, and lights were on inside the house. He wondered what she’d do if he rang her doorbell. Would she invite him in?

  Good thing he wasn’t dumb enough to do anything like that.

  Having missed the early news, Cole decided to read rather than turn on the TV. Most of what the other inmates watched had seemed stupid to him, so he’d ignored the TV except when news or sports came on. Baseball was his least favorite sport to watch, though, and the first exhibition football games weren’t until late summer.

  Clasping his hands behind his head and staring into space, Cole decided that, come fall, he’d go to some of the high school football games wherever he was. He’d loved playing. He’d even been recruited by college scouts. Not by any of the big names—Alabama or USC or the University of Washington—but he could have accepted a scholarship to play for any other state school and gotten an education while he was at it.

  Turning them all down—well, that was stupid. He’d paid and kept paying for that mistake.

  Cole shook off the darker memories. Next time he went to the library, he’d use the computer. Nobody would notice if he struggled to figure out the internet. Patrons were limited to fifteen-minute segments if anyone was waiting, which was fair, since there were only eight computers, and half stayed available so people could use the library catalog. Still, if he could manage a search, even fifteen minutes would be long enough to look up his father’s construction company and get an idea of how it was doing, and how his dad was doing, too. Dani hadn’t said in her occasional letters or visits. Cole wasn’t 100 percent sure why he cared, considering that after his conviction, his father had said he no longer had a son and walked away. Cole wanted to think that all he felt was curiosity, nothing more, but he knew better.

  Putting his father out of his mind, he decided he’d figure out how to set up an email address. Cole couldn’t help feeling renewed frustration. If he’d been allowed to learn this stuff as an inmate, transitioning to the outside would have been a lot smoother.

  Since he had only Dani to exchange emails with, he felt no great urgency. But down the line, who knew?

  If he could get to garage sales, he might look for a cheap stereo system, too. Right now, he didn’t feel the lack; one of the greatest gifts Erin had given him was this silence, the closest thing to peace he’d had in ten years.

  Lying on the lumpy couch, he opened the first of his books, a mystery called Bitter River. He felt an odd tingle, as if something inside him had opened along with the book cover. He’d read the first chapter before he identified that feeling. Anticipation.

  * * *

  ERIN DIPPED HER brush into the peach-colored paint she’d selected for some of the trim on the house. It would
be accented by a much deeper coordinating color. She smiled, remembering Cole’s reaction.

  “That’s pink.” He’d looked stupefied.

  Naturally, she’d argued. “It’s not. Anyway, it’ll be perfect.” She thought. Since she’d never owned a house, only a condo, she’d never had one painted, either. But he was currently spray-painting the clapboards a warm, midbrown, and she could already see that the trim colors worked.

  He’d finished building the front porch and the smaller back stoop. Yes, getting those heavy pieces of plywood high enough off the ground had been a job and a half. She didn’t tell him how much her arms, neck and back had ached the next day. They should’ve found someone with more muscle to help him, but Erin didn’t know anyone in town except for elderly neighbors, and Cole didn’t know anybody but her.

  Well, they’d managed, and she loved her new front porch. She’d resolved to buy a couple of Adirondack chairs and a porch swing, too. Cole was confident the beam would support one.

  At the sound of a soft footstep behind her, Erin realized she hadn’t heard the sprayer for several minutes. She finished the swipe of the brush she’d begun, then set it on the paint can and turned to look down from the ladder.

  Open amusement and even a glint of white teeth as Cole grinned made her heart seize up. In the ten days he’d worked for her, she had yet to see more than a faint twitch at the corners of his very sexy mouth.

  His grin faded at whatever he saw on her face.

  No, no.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked, pretending deep suspicion.

  Another curve of his mouth betrayed him. “You look like you have chicken pox.”

  “I can hardly wait to see myself in the mirror.”

  He laughed, a low, rusty sound that seemed to startle him as much as it did her.

  To keep him from retreating, she said hastily, “You’ve sprayed yourself, too, you know. Except around your eyes. You have the raccoon thing going.”

  He shrugged. “It’s latex paint. It ought to wash off.”