He touched me! He brushed back my hair, stroked my face with his fingertips, ran his hands up and down my arms. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. He smelled sweaty and clean at the same time. His eyes were worried. And from that close, his mouth is just amazing. I was hoping for a kiss.
Well, that didn’t happen. But he took my hand and led me back to the bottom of the bleachers. “You shouldn’t go back there by yourself,” he said. “Take at least one friend with you. More would be better.”
I couldn’t say a word, but I nodded. He smiled again, patted my cheek and then walked away.
I don’t care what anybody says—Noah Blake is a hero. I knew it in my heart, and now I’ve seen him in action. I won’t believe the gossip ever again. Noah is one of the good guys.
April 17, 1986
Dear Diary,
Mom and Dad told me the news tonight. She’s sick, something called primary pulmonary hypertension. Her lungs aren’t working right. She’ll be taking medicine, and she won’t be at the diner anymore—she has to rest. They’re putting her on the list for a lung transplant, in case the medicines don’t work. But there’s no guarantee a transplant would work either. She might die.
That’s not the way it’s supposed to be.
ONCE SHE GOT OVER the surprise of seeing Noah, Abby insisted on feeding him something besides cake and ice cream. He sat between Dixon and Adam, so she couldn’t actually talk to him while everybody else was still there. But she kept an eye on him from her chair at the other end of the table and made sure he didn’t have to ask for anything at all.
Joey started getting fussy about eight o’clock, so Pete and Mary Rose went home, followed shortly by Dixon and Kate.
“That little Joey is a handful,” Phoebe commented, as she and Adam began to put on their coats. “Mary Rose was telling me he climbs everything in sight.”
“Is that envy I hear in your voice?” Abby put her arm around Phoebe’s shoulders and gave her friend a hug.
“Well, maybe. Adam and I have talked about it a little. But with so many kids already in the world needing good homes, I’m wondering if we should think about adoption. Or even fostering children.”
“First horses, then children.” Adam grinned at Noah, who looked confused. “Phoebe takes in problem cases. Abused horses, dogs, cats, a stuttering husband—” He dodged as his wife punched him in the shoulder. “And maybe a child or two. In the last couple of years, we’ve added three dogs, two cats and three horses to the menagerie she had before we got married.”
“Several of those were your choice,” Phoebe reminded him. “You brought Bo home, and Sandy Cat. He rescued a snake from the side of the road one day and wanted me to take care of it.”
Noah gave her his adorable grin. “You didn’t?”
“I have to draw the line somewhere, actually. No mice, rats, hamsters, guinea pigs, Komodo dragons or black snakes. I let the snake loose and he does a lovely job keeping the mice out of the barn.”
“How is your panel for the dance coming?” Abby walked with Phoebe and Adam to the door. Noah followed, and she was afraid that meant he would be leaving, too.
“We were supposed to work on it tonight, after we had dinner here,” Adam said. “But then the Bells and the Mitchells came in, and now it’s probably too late.” He looked at his wife, who confirmed his decision with a nod. “Tomorrow, though, I think we can get started. No meetings for me. Phoebe?”
She winced. “I do have a staff meeting, but I can be done by five. Really, I can.” They bickered lovingly on the way to their separate vehicles—Phoebe drove a lime-green VW bug and Adam drove a truck with his company name on the door. Each honked as they left the parking lot. Abby waved, and then backed inside…only to bump into Noah, standing right behind her.
“Oh.” His hands grasped her shoulders, and didn’t let go when she turned around. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were there.” She wouldn’t have changed anything if she had known.
“It’s okay.”
He loosened his hands slowly and took a step back. “Are you ready to close up?”
“I think so. It’s after nine.” She began to clear the table but stopped when Noah started picking up dishes. “You don’t have to do that.”
He frowned at her. “I don’t think I’ll just stand here watching while you work.”
She wasn’t going to suggest that he leave. “Okay. How was work today?”
“Pretty good.” He told her about the mop dog who’d bitten Rob but left Noah alone. “Once the dog accepted us, Mrs. O’Brien settled down.”
Abby, hearing what he didn’t say, hurried to reassure him. “Mrs. O’Brien is the really nervous type. She depended on her husband totally, and when he passed away, she didn’t have any idea what to do. Mary Rose spent some time helping her with the finances, and still checks up to be sure everything is running smoothly. Rob’s mom is hoping to convince Mrs. O’Brien to take a trip one day, just up to Raleigh, or maybe Asheville, to get her out of the house and into the mainstream of life again. It hasn’t worked so far.”
“She doesn’t have kids to take care of her?”
“No. It was just the two of them.”
“I’m sorry.” Again, she thought she understood more than just the words.
“You’re here now.” She patted his hand as he extended a plate for her to load in the dishwasher. “You’ll do right by your mom.”
He sighed. “It’s about time.”
They finished up in silence. Abby played no games putting on her coat tonight, and waited until Noah joined her at the front door before turning out the lights.
“Thanks,” he said with a grin. “I’ve still got a bruise on my hip from the last time.”
“You deserved it.” He went out ahead of her and Abby locked the door. The weather had warmed up this week, with nighttime temperatures in the mid-fifties, almost too warm for a coat. “At least you won’t freeze riding home.”
“Nope. It’s colder in Atlanta than here. I forgot how warm December can be.”
“And we’re painting a snow scene. Can we work on it tomorrow night?”
“I don’t see why not.” He faced her across a wide expanse of gravel. “I’ll expect to see you about nine o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.” The idea of Noah expecting her was just about the most thrilling, exciting thing that had ever happened to her.
Except for Noah kissing her.
“Stay safe,” he said, lifting his hand.
“You, too.” She shut herself in the car, tempted to sit and just enjoy the moment. But Noah was waiting for her to leave, so she drove herself home with a smile hovering on her face.
She actually understood for the first time what it felt like to have your heart sing.
WHEN NOAH CAME TO WORK on Wednesday, Rob had not arrived. “Ginny’s got a doctor’s appointment this morning,” Trent told him. “He’ll be here as soon as he gets her back home. Dad’s out on a call—somebody locked their keys in the car.”
“No problem. I can spend the time studying, unless you’ve got a job for me around here. Want me to do some cleanup?”
Trent looked around the work area. “I guess things are a pretty big mess, aren’t they? It drives Rob crazy, but the old man and I are sloppy. Yeah, some organization might be a good thing. Yell if you’ve got any questions.”
Noah worked for more than an hour, setting tools back in their places, filling several plastic bags with rubbish, using a broom and dust cloth to get the shelves cleaned off. Trent turned on the radio and they worked with a comfortable background of country music and traffic reports.
“Hard to believe they call this rush hour,” Noah commented as he walked by the bench where Trent was assembling a computerized lock. “Atlanta at five o’clock, with six lanes of bumper-to-bumper cars stretched for ten miles—now that’s rush hour.”
“Yeah, New Skye’s not exactly a metropolis. At least we do have traffic lights, even if we don’t need them much. I remember when I w
ent to school in Chapel Hill, the traffic there seemed incredible, especially on game days.” Trent shook his head. “Man, I was the proverbial yokel from the country, come to visit the bright lights. I learned to handle myself in the city eventually, for all the good it did me.”
“You were headed for professional ball, last I heard. Did you change your mind?”
“In a manner of speaking. I planted a foot wrong, felt this explosion in my knee…and that was it for the NFL.”
“That’s too bad.”
Trent heaved a sigh. “Yeah, it was. I wish I’d at least seen a big-time stadium before I lost it all. You ever go to a game in Atlanta?”
“A couple. Now, there’s a team that could use a decent quarterback. Maybe you’d still qualify.”
“Twenty years and twenty extra pounds later? Doubtful.”
The 9:00 a.m. news came on in the silence following their conversation, including a report on last night’s robbery. The announcer mentioned that a bystander had reported seeing a child left unsupervised in a white Toyota outside the bar, but police had not been able to find the vehicle or connect the car with the robbery.
Mike Warren walked in through the back door and crossed the room. “Now, that’s interesting, don’t you think?”
Trent looked up from his work. “What are you talking about, Dad?”
“An ex-con shows up in town, and suddenly we start having this rash of robberies. Kind of a funny coincidence, if you ask me.”
Noah didn’t try to defend himself, because it wouldn’t do any good. The oldest Warren heard what he wanted to hear and ignored the rest.
But Mr. Warren didn’t want to be ignored. “What have you got to say for yourself, Blake? Isn’t that a coincidence?”
“I guess so. I know I’m the guy who saw the car with the kid locked inside.”
“Or maybe you’re just the guy who wants people to think there’s somebody else doing these crimes to divert attention away from yourself. This wouldn’t be the first time a criminal lied in self-protection.”
“Cut it out, Dad.” Rob strolled in, his long, lanky body silhouetted against the light coming through the door from outside. “Noah’s not a thief. You know it and I know it.”
“I don’t know anything of the sort. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t rob us blind by the end of the week.”
“No, sir,” Noah said. “I don’t steal. Just kill.”
Rob cuffed him on the shoulder as he walked by. “Don’t encourage him,” he said. “The two of you should leave each other alone. We’ve got an estimate to do this afternoon—go read up on the system again and we can talk about what you learn as I’m writing up the bid.”
Noah followed Rob into the office, but not before he heard Mike Warren mutter to Trent, “Damn convict thinks he runs the place.” Trent just rolled his eyes and gave Noah a scornful grin.
After lunch, Noah headed out with Rob to work on the estimate for a recently completed home in one of the town’s newest neighborhoods. The area was being developed by L. T. LaRue—Kate Bell’s ex-husband, Rob told him, and Trace and Kelsey’s dad.
“He’s a jerk, but sometimes you have to work with that kind. Adam’s already agreed to let us install security systems in all his new construction, so we’re not taking anything away from him by hoping to get LaRue business, too.”
Noah looked around as they turned in between fancy brick walls at the front of the development. “I remember this was all farmland. Tobacco, mostly.” The new streets were lined with large houses fronted by small trees. “It’s gonna take a long time to get any shade in these yards.”
Rob stopped the van in the driveway of the biggest house Noah had seen so far. The doors of the three-car garage stood open, revealing a Mercedes sedan, a Cadillac SUV and a big Harley cruiser. “How do you suppose he decides what to drive each day?” Rob murmured as they waited for someone to answer the ring of the doorbell.
When the door swung open, they confronted a very short, very pudgy man, with heavy black brows and a balding head. “Can I help you?”
Rob extended a card. “You asked for an estimate on a security system, Mr. Marino. I’m Rob Warren, and this is my associate Noah Blake.”
Those black brows drew together. “Yeah, that’s right. Come on in.” His accent was not Southern, unless it was southern New Jersey. He left the door open and walked down the entry hall ahead of them. Noah shut the door and followed, gazing around with a strong urge to laugh. The house resembled pictures he’d seen of Italian villas—columns in the openings between rooms, fountains in the corners, and niches containing painted statues on the walls. The main room Marino led them to looked like the set for a Roman orgy, with lots of armless couches, big pillows and low tables scattered around. Grapevine garlands were draped on the walls. The man must have a Caesar complex.
“When you called, we talked about what kind of security you’re looking for,” Rob said. Marino had gone to stand by the floor-to-ceiling marble fireplace. He didn’t ask them to sit down. “So today we’ll survey the house and yard, take measurements and figure out just what we need. Then we can come back as early as next week to install the system. Does that sound good?”
Marino had fixed his gaze on Noah. “You said his name is Blake? Noah Blake?”
Rob’s easy stance stiffened. “Yes, sir.”
“He’s that ex-con who just came into town. A killer.”
“That won’t be a problem, Mr. Marino. I stand behind every one of my employees and Noah is no exception. You don’t have to worry a single second.”
“So you say.” The short man clenched his fists at his sides. “But I’ve got daughters. A beautiful wife. The last thing I want is some reprobate prowling through their bedrooms, casing the place for a break-in.” He dragged in a breath and glanced at Noah. “Or rape.”
“You little—” Noah felt Rob’s grip on his arm before he realized he’d moved.
“That’s completely uncalled for,” Rob said. “You know there’s no question of anything like that.”
“The hell I do. I’m not having an ex-con work on my house. Get him out of here, and we’ll talk.”
Rob stood still for a second, staring at Marino. Noah ignored the twist in his gut and stepped back. “I’ll wait outside.”
“Not necessary.” Rob walked across to Marino and jerked his business card out of the other man’s fingers. “We’re both finished here. Let’s go.”
“What about my security system?” Marino followed them to the front door. “You’re the only business in town. How am I going to protect my house?”
“Get a Rottweiler,” Rob said, without looking back. He chuckled as the door slammed shut behind them. “Or a sign that reads Beware of Human.” He characterized Marino with a foul word Noah had never heard him use.
In the van, Noah tackled the real issue. “This isn’t going to work, Rob.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play innocent. Having me on the job will lose you more business than you can afford. I quit.”
“Not an option.” As they sat at a red light, though, Rob turned to look at him. “I can’t make you show up for work.”
“Right.”
“I can’t pay you if you don’t.”
Noah waved the issue away. “No problem.”
“But I would like to know one thing.” The light changed. Rob turned his gaze to the road ahead and stepped on the gas. “When will you get tired of running away?”
Noah had no idea how to answer that question.
So he said nothing at all.
AS SOON AS SHE WALKED into the garage Wednesday evening, Abby could tell something had happened. Noah’s eyes were shadowed, and his face had lost the open expression she’d loved last night.
She unwrapped her scarf with one hand. “What’s wrong?”
He glanced up from the paint he was stirring, but his gaze didn’t linger long. “Nothing. Ready to get started?”
“Sure. I brought some
smaller brushes for the tiny details. And…” She held up a can. “Silver paint.”
Finally, he smiled. “Terrific. I didn’t want to paint all the nice chrome on the cars plain gray.”
“I didn’t think you would.” Hands on her hips, she surveyed the big panel. “Where do we start?”
Noah came to stand beside her. “I could start on one end while you take the other. Then we won’t get in each other’s way until we’re almost finished.”
Abby looked up at him. “You’ve really planned this job out, haven’t you?”
“I like to know what’s happening ahead of time.”
“I’m the opposite—I like surprises.” She took a risk. “Like the surprise of you coming back home.”
From the side, she saw the corner of his mouth lift. “Believe me, I’d been planning the trip for a long time. It takes more than a year to get the paperwork done for parole transfers.” The smile faded and he shrugged. “But then, I didn’t have much else to worry about.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Let’s paint.”
They worked for two solid hours, collaborating on colors and brushstrokes, admiring each other’s accomplishments. Noah was clearly the better artist, and when he added a new dimension to a ribbon she’d painted with a single stroke of his black-tipped brush, Abby stomped her foot.
“Why didn’t you do something with this talent of yours? Didn’t anybody in school realize how good you are? Who was that art teacher…Mr.—Mr…”
“Delaney,” Noah supplied.
“Right. Why didn’t Mr. Delaney snap you up for art classes?”
“I don’t think I was interested in art. Besides, who would have wanted a troublemaker like me in a free-form class like art?”
“Would you have been such a troublemaker if you’d been doing something you really enjoyed?”
Crouched at the bottom of the panel to paint in some snow, Noah rested his elbows on his knees to consider. “Yeah, probably. I liked school okay—hell, I got a meal there, and a quiet place to sit sometimes. But—”
Finally, they were getting to the question she wanted to ask. “Then why burn up the senior class records?”
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