Her Small-Town Hero. Arlene James
Читать онлайн книгу.
“All right.”
“Look,” he said, “I’m an old roughneck, and I’m telling you, it’s hard work.”
She turned on him, her face stony. “Okay, I get it. You don’t think I can handle the job.”
“I didn’t say that. I just want you—”
“To know what I’m getting into,” she finished for him, brushing by on her way to the door. “Yeah, yeah.”
Irritated, he caught her by the crook of the elbow. “I just think you should have all the facts before you make your decision.”
She jerked her gaze up at him. “Are you saying that the job is mine if I want it?”
For an instant, he felt as if he might tumble headfirst into those soft gray eyes. Abruptly, he released her and stepped back, clearing his throat. “I’m saying you should be fully informed. The rest is between you and Hap.”
She flicked a doubtful glance over him and walked out into the cold night. He didn’t blame her for not buying that. She, however, didn’t know Hap. If Hap made up his mind to take her on, nothing his grandsons could say would make any difference, not that Holt wouldn’t dig in his heels if he thought he should. He just hadn’t really decided yet whether or not he would.
On one hand, Holt badly wanted the help she could provide. On the other, something wasn’t right about her. Too pretty, too alone, too quiet, she set his every sense on alert.
He wondered, as he fetched the portable crib and hauled it over to her room, just how he might go about running a background check on her. They’d never had to worry about things like background checks before, though Ty had suggested they consider it. Holt would speak with his brother-in-law about it. Meanwhile, he’d keep a close eye on Cara Jane Wynne.
Cara rolled onto her stomach and folded her arm beneath the pillow under her head, listening to the faint whir of the heater and Ace’s easy breathing. He’d objected when she’d belted him into his car seat and moved the car after Holt had gone back into the apartment, but she hadn’t wanted Holt to hear the awful knocking racket that her old car had started making earlier in the day. She couldn’t help feeling foolish for having traded her dependable, almost new minivan for an older, high-mileage car, but she’d desperately needed the cash, which hadn’t gone as far as she’d hoped. She certainly didn’t want to give Holt Jefford a reason to question her good sense, so she’d waited until he’d gone to move the car.
After his bath, Ace had sucked down a bottle of formula then dropped off to sleep in no time, but she had not been able to. A giant clock in the distance seemed to be counting off the minutes—ka-shunk, ka-shunk, ka-shunk—while her mind whirled with the possibility of working for the Jeffords and all it involved. She kept thinking, too, about the kitchenette next door and imagining herself sitting down to that little bar with her son. It would almost be like having their very own place.
Cara thought back to her bitter disappointment upon realizing, on the heels of her husband’s death, that the house in southern California had not belonged to her and Ace. Learning that it had been sold out from under her had sent her into a sharp decline.
Rolling onto her back, Cara cut off that line of thought. She and Ace were together and free of the past, and it was going to stay that way. No matter what she had to do, she would prove herself capable of making a good life for her son.
Provided she could make this job work for them.
Holt worried her. She couldn’t escape the fear that he knew she’d lied. Thankfully the old man seemed more trusting. She’d prefer to concentrate on him, but she sensed that she must convince Holt, too, if she had any chance of staying on here.
Recalling words that Hap had spoken during dinner, she sat up and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. She felt the lonely weight of the darkness, heard the relentless ka-shunk, ka-shunk of an invisible machine and let the curious words wash over her.
“There are mysteries to which none are privy, and greatermysteries revealed to all. We must trust God with the first and thank Him for the last.”
What had he meant by that? She would never understand Addison’s death, but what “greater mystery” had been or would be “revealed to all” and why should anyone give thanks for it? She had never heard her aunt speak of such things, but no doubt the Jeffords could tell her. They seemed to be devout Christians, which only made her dishonesty seem worse, but she had to protect herself and her son.
“We believe that God is in control of our lives, not random luck.”
Had God, she wondered, brought her here? She’d been praying a lot lately, and this certainly seemed the perfect place for her and Ace. For one thing, no one would think to look for them in the Heavenly Arms Motel in Eden, Oklahoma. Plus, this job offered not only a modest salary but shelter and food, as well, and the Jeffords seemed willing to let her keep Ace with her while she worked. If she could convince them to let her and Ace stay in one of the kitchenettes, it would be very nearly perfect, no matter how difficult the job might be.
Besides, she had the feeling that she might find answers here, answers to questions she didn’t even know to ask yet.
If only she had the chance. If Holt would give her the chance.
Laughter filtered in from outside.
Feeling terribly alone, Cara glanced at the clock and saw that the old year had passed. Ka-shunk, ka-shunk, ka-shunk. Closing her eyes, she did what Hap had suggested and said a prayer.
Please let this work out for us. Please let this be the start of a new life, a real life, for us.
Needing reassurance, she leaned far to the side and peered over the edge of the crib at her sleeping son. “Happy New Year, sweetheart,” she whispered.
Ace slept on undisturbed, so innocent, so precious, so deserving of love and protection and all the things that a good parent provided. She would be that good parent, Cara vowed. No matter what anyone else thought or said or believed, she would give her son everything she had never had, things that even his father had not enjoyed.
Somehow.
She settled down to wait for morning, one ka-shunk at a time.
Holt stretched, then sat up in the bed in his sister’s room, the one in which Cara Jane might have slept if she hadn’t been too proud or too wary or something. Thoughts of her had intruded far into the wee hours of the first morning of the new year, he realized as he swung his feet down onto the floor and stood. He had been too tired after the party to drive out to his ranch, and since Cara hadn’t wanted to use this room, he’d figured he might as well.
While pulling on his clothes, he smelled bacon cooking. Hap—or someone—was making breakfast. Holt wondered if they had enough eggs in the house. He felt like he could eat a good dozen himself, despite the dinner and all the goodies he’d consumed last night. Bless Marie Waller anyway.
The pastor’s wife had done her best to make up for Charlotte’s absence these past weeks, sending over one dish or another with her husband, Grover, whenever he came to play at Hap’s domino table, which was almost daily. Unfortunately, Grover suffered from diabetes, so those tidbits rarely included anything sweet, and Holt possessed a powerful sweet tooth. Maybe they’d get pancakes for breakfast if someone happened to be in the kitchen.
Hap happened to be in the kitchen, and by the time Holt got there, he’d burned the bacon.
“Does that look too done to you?” he asked, shoving the plate beneath Holt’s nose.
“We’ve gotta get your glasses checked,” Holt told him, taking the plate and sliding it onto the counter.
Hap grunted and handed over the spatula. “I reckon you better try your hand at the eggs this morning, then.”
“You don’t suppose the Garden’s open, do you?” Holt asked glumly, referring to the café downtown.