Finding Home (14 page)

“I can clean this up.” His words came out gruff as she knelt on one knee and began to wipe the shards of glass into a pile. “I don’t want you to cut yourself.”

“I’d like to help.” With more than spilled coffee. But this was the only assistance she could offer at the moment. In silence, she continued to gather up the broken pieces.

Once the coffee was sopped up and all the remnants of the shattered mug were collected, he retrieved a dustpan from the utility closet, swept up the shards and deposited them in the trash.

Cindy went back to her seat at the table, giving him back his space for the conclusion of his story.

To her surprise, however, he closed the distance between them and stopped behind his chair, gripping the back with his fingers.

“So here’s the bottom line. After that experience, I vowed never again to get involved with a woman who had young children. It was bad enough to hurt Angela, but it tore me up inside to hurt Leah. I wouldn’t want to inflict that kind of pain on Jarrod if we began dating and things didn’t work out. He’s been through more than his share of bad stuff in the past year and a half. He doesn’t need to start counting on somebody who might not be around in six months—and you don’t either.”

As Cindy digested all he’d said, she came to two conclusions.

Scott was right to proceed with caution—for everyone’s sake. Even if she found herself wishing he wasn’t.

And not many men would make—and keep—a vow to protect the hearts of others at the expense of their own happiness.

Which only made the man standing across from her even more appealing.

She swiped at a smudge of icing on the table as she collected her thoughts. “I appreciate your candor—and your principles.”

“Not to mention my flattery.” He gave her a smile that seemed a bit strained.

“That, too.” She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. Might as well be honest. “Too bad things couldn’t be different.”

“Yeah.”

“I hope we can at least be friends.”

“I hope so, too.”

But she heard a touch of uncertainty in his words. Steve had told her once that when a man had romantic feelings toward a woman, all hope of simple friendship was gone. She suspected Scott felt the same way.

The back door opened, and Jarrod stuck his head in. “Is my ten minutes up yet?”

“More than.” Cindy rose, snagged her purse from the back of her chair and slung it over her shoulder. “Let’s put the pedal to the metal.”

Jarrod blinked at her, then broke into a grin as he gave Toby a final pat. “That’s what Dad always said when it was time to go.”

She frowned. Yeah, it was. How odd. She’d never used the expression before. Why now? Was her subconscious reminding her that Steve hadn’t been gone that long? That it was too soon for a new romance anyway?

“Why don’t you take the cupcakes home, Jarrod?” Scott snapped the lid shut, slid the container back in the plastic bag and handed it to her son. “I don’t need the calories.”

“Is that okay, Mom?”

“Sure.” Fishing in her purse for her keys, she moved toward the door.

Scott beat her to it, opening it as they approached.

“Thanks again for dinner, Mr. Walsh. And for letting me play with Toby. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

Over Jarrod’s head, Scott looked at her, as if to say,
That could be dangerous. Jarrod could get hurt.

Hearing the unspoken message, she stepped in. “We’re all busy, honey, and this is a long drive. It probably won’t happen very often.”

Her son’s face fell. “I guess not. I had fun tonight, though.” He trudged toward the car.

“Here’s the house key.” Scott held it out to her. Their fingers brushed as she took it, and her heart skipped a beat. “Come by whenever it’s convenient. I don’t usually get home until after seven.”

“Okay. Thanks.” The words came out breathless. Telling. “I’ll bring my camera tomorrow and take a few shots of your grandmother’s paintings, too, if that’s all right.”

“No problem.”

She took a step back. “Well...I guess we’ll be off.”

“Drive safely.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. As if he was fighting the temptation to reach out to her.

“Good night.” Turning, she strode toward the car.

Once inside, she fitted the key in the ignition. A long streak of dried icing on her finger caught her attention, and pushing worries about germs aside, she licked it off.

The taste was sweet on her tongue.

But as she put the car in gear and allowed herself one last peek at the tall man standing in the doorway watching them leave, she couldn’t help thinking that Scott’s kiss would have been even sweeter.

Chapter Eight

S
cott stopped at the door to Gram’s room and narrowed his eyes.

Something was different.

The view, that was it. Gram always kept the blinds drawn. Tonight, they were open. The sky was washed with gold from the setting sun, and the newly planted flower box outside her window was bursting with spring color.

What was up?

Venturing into the room, he looked over at the bed.

Another first.

Gram was reading one of the paperback novels that had been gathering dust for months.

Cindy’s good news had apparently had the positive impact he’d hoped it would.

As he approached the bed, Gram peered at him over the top of her glasses. “You’re late.”

“Hello to you, too.” He pulled one of the chairs closer to the bed, gestured outside and sat. “Nice view.”

“Very. I’ve always liked the light at the end of the day. So warm and comforting.” She set her book down and changed the subject. “Did you get delayed at work?”

“Yeah. It was a bear of a day. Make that a bear of a week. And it’s only Wednesday. We’ve had one glitch after another.” He stifled a yawn and circled back to the more important topic. “What’s with the book? And the blinds?”

She gave a dismissive wave, but bright spots of color bloomed on her cheeks. “You spent hard-earned money on those books. Figured I ought to read a few. And you’re paying for the view. Might as well enjoy it.”

“Glad to hear I’m finally getting my money’s worth. Did Cindy call you?” He knew she had. She’d left a message yesterday on his home answering machine saying she would.

“Yes. Charming girl. I’m delighted your great-great-grandparents’ chests have helped her out with her exhibit.”

“They didn’t just help her out. They’re the foundation for it.”

“It’s about time they proved useful to someone after taking up storage space in my attic all these years. She’s going to bring a few things over for me to see in a day or two. You know about the paintings, I assume?”

“Yes. Cindy included that news in her voice mail. Sounds as if Janice is quite taken with your work.”

Gram squinted at him, clearly disgruntled. “Voice mail? You mean you haven’t talked with her?”

“No. She’s a busy woman.”

“Hmph.” She creased the edge of the blanket with her fingers. “So what do you think of this painting business?”

“I think it’s great. I predict Janice will sell every one you send.” A proceed-with-caution warning flashed in his mind, reminding him to temper his enthusiasm. Subtle encouragement was okay, but pushing would be a mistake. “Too bad there’s a limited supply.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Gram adjusted her glasses and rested her hands on the book. “I expect I might have time to do another piece or two before the Lord calls me home. And I still have all my supplies. They’re in the basement.”

“Yes. I saw them. I could bring some over if you’d like. The light’s not too bad in here.”

“No, it’s not.” She surveyed the view from her window. “I suppose I might do a little dabbling. It would help pass the days. Why don’t you gather up a few brushes and my paints and a couple of canvases? There are plenty of blank ones down there.”

Thank You, God!

“Sure. I’ll root around tonight.”

“Don’t go to any trouble on my account.”

“It’s no trouble, Gram.”

“Well, don’t put yourself out.” She leaned back. “Have you heard from Devon lately?”

“No. I’ve left two messages since I sent the money, but she hasn’t called me back. Have you talked with her?”

“This morning. She didn’t get that part she was after, and she lost her waitress job because she kept canceling at the last minute to go to auditions. I bet you can guess where this is heading.”

“She needs a few bucks to tide her over until she gets another waitress gig.”

“Give the boy a gold star. She knows better than to ask me, though. I’m tapped out. I told her not to ask you either, but I expect that fell on deaf ears.” Gram sighed and shook her head. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, as they say. We were too soft on her after the accident. Never made her stand on her own two feet. I love that girl with all my heart, but she needs to grow up and accept responsibility for her own welfare. As for you—” she pointed a finger at him “—you need to stop enabling her.”

“Enabling?” Scott’s lips twitched. “Where did you pick up that lingo? Have you been watching
Dr. Phil?
”

She scowled at him. “I may be old, but I keep up with things. And I’m right about this.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“But it’s hard to say no. I know.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “Well, you work on that. And while you’re at it, work on your love life, too.”

Vintage Gram. Feisty and outspoken and interested in life. The very thing he’d been praying for.

But he’d have to keep his diversionary skills in tip-top shape from now on.

Standing, he stretched, then retrieved her walker. “In the meantime, let’s take a stroll.”

Much to his surprise, instead of arguing she put the book aside, threw back the blanket and slid her legs over the side of the bed. Without his help.

“I believe I’d like to get a few of those Hersey’s Kisses at the nurses’ station. Let’s go there first.”

“No argument from me.”

As she took off with more energy and speed than usual, Scott sent another silent thank-you to the Lord. The prognosis was definitely looking up for the woman who’d played such an important role in his past.

Too bad the same couldn’t be said about the role of a lovely single mom in his future.

* * *

“What a night!” Cindy pushed through the door to the Mercantile and tossed the remark to Lindsey, who was seated on a stool behind the counter. “Between the Friday-night traffic and the fog, the drive up from Eureka was the pits.”

“I’ll bet. No one’s going very far in this tonight, that’s for sure.” The other woman swiveled around to peruse the swirling fog outside the window. “Not that I want to discourage business, but I hope you don’t have much shopping to do. You need to get home as fast as you can and hunker down.”

“I’m with you. Just eggs and orange juice for tomorrow morning. Jarrod always looks forward to a big breakfast on Saturday, and I hate to disappoint him. I’ll be out of here in three minutes.”

With a flip of her hand, she hurried toward the refrigerated case at the back of the store—and almost ran into Scott as she turned the corner of the aisle.

“Whoa!” He grabbed her arm with one hand to steady her and juggled a deli sandwich and soft-drink can in the other.

“Sorry.” She caught her balance, backed up a step—and tried to convince herself the sudden uptick in her pulse was because of the close call rather than the man standing in front of her.

“No harm done.” Scott dropped his hand from her arm and moved aside for her to pass in the narrow aisle.

Steeling herself, she squeezed past, trying to ignore his muscled chest, the five-o’clock shadow darkening his jaw, and the distinctive scent of his aftershave.

No luck. Her pulse continued to misbehave.

“By the way, thanks for the message you left about Gram’s paintings and the stuff in the trunks. Sounds like things are working out all around. Gram’s spirits have taken a definite upswing.”

Cindy kept moving until she was a safe distance away. “I know. I stopped by after work tonight. She’d asked for a photocopy of Elijah’s journal, and when I dropped it off she was sitting by the window, sorting through her paints. There was a new sparkle in her eyes.”

“Thanks to you.”

Cindy lifted one shoulder, trying not to take his praise too personally. “Let’s give God the credit for inspiring me to show her paintings to Janice.” The old-fashioned clock in the Mercantile bonged, marking half past seven, and as the time registered she wrinkled her brow. “Aren’t you here awfully late?”

“Tough week.”

That explained the fine lines of weariness radiating from the corners of his eyes.

“But you can’t drive back in the fog. Visibility is close to zero.”

“I know. I got the last room at the Orchid. But I missed the sisters’ grilled salmon.” He hefted the items in his hand and grinned. “A poor substitute, but I’ll live.”