Protecting the Widow's Heart. Lorraine Beatty
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to her ear, bat at the ready. “This is Mrs.... Uh, I need help at the cabin at the lake. The one next door to the Coopers. There’s an intruder.”
Ty held back the smile that found its way to his lips. That should bring the local law enforcement running. The ache in his side forced him up out of the chair. There was no place comfortable. He needed to stretch out on the bed. Fast. “Look, lady...”
A loud knock on the door interrupted him.
“Ty. Is that you?” Nelson Cooper peeked in the door, quickly coming inside when he saw what was happening. “Whoa. Mrs. Sloan, it’s okay. Ty owns this cabin.” Nels held up his hands, placing himself between them. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you.”
Ty watched the fear in the woman’s eyes fade as she lowered the bat, clutching the phone in her other hand. “I came home on a whim. Sorry. I didn’t expect guests.”
Nels shook Ty’s hand, then moved to the woman, gently touching her arm. “This is Ginger Sloan. Her car broke down tonight, and she needed a place to stay. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Normally I wouldn’t. But I’m afraid we’ll have to make other arrangements.” The woman’s eyes, which he saw now were a dark green and covered with thick lashes, widened with worry. No. Desperation. Before he could speak, a small boy hurried toward them from the back, stopping at his mother’s side, his eyes peeking over her protective arm.
“Mom?” His simple word held a boatload of questions.
“It’s all right, Elliot. Don’t worry.”
“Do we have to leave? I like it here.”
Ty glanced at his watch. It was nearly midnight, too late to make other arrangements. But he needed sleep. “Look, this is all a misunderstanding that we can sort out in the morning.”
“We can sleep in the car.” The woman raised her chin and met his gaze full-on.
He frowned. Did she think he was going to throw them out? “No need. You stay put. I’ll bunk down at the boathouse. We’ll talk tomorrow after we’re all rested and calmer.” He glanced at the boy, who he guessed to be a little older than his six-year-old nephew, Kenny. “Are you sleeping in the fish room?” A smiled moved the child’s lips, bringing a light to his dark eyes. He nodded. “Good choice. That was always my favorite room. Watch out for Barney, though.”
“Who’s Barney?”
“Barney Brim. He’s that fish on a stick sitting on the dresser. He likes to wander around the cabin sometimes. I can’t keep him in one place.” The boy eyed him a moment, then smiled timidly. Picking up his duffel, Ty started for the door. Nelson spoke quietly to the woman.
“I’m so sorry for the confusion, Mrs. Sloan. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine in the morning. You have my word.”
Ty waited until Nels stepped outside before facing the woman again. “Don’t worry about any further intrusions. I’ll be down at the boathouse, and I promise I won’t bother you. You’re safe here.”
For whatever reason, the woman’s eyes lightened. “Thank you.”
He started to leave, then turned back. “Uh, you wouldn’t happen to have anything to eat in the house, would you?”
She nodded. “Nels and Mae brought enough food to feed an army. Take what you need.”
Her expression had softened, but her defensive stance hadn’t. She still held her son close to her side, as if protecting him from danger. Ty pulled a drink and a package of bologna from the fridge, then grabbed a bag of chips and the loaf of bread. “I’ll bring this back in the morning.”
At the door he stopped, taking one last look at the woman and her child. Those wide green eyes still held a wary shadow, but the boy wiggled his fingers and smiled.
By the time he said good-night to Nels and crossed the yard to the boathouse at the water’s edge, he’d collected enough questions to keep him up all night. What was the woman’s story? Why was she so frightened? And why had he wanted to pull her and the child into his arms and comfort them? Fatigue. It was the only explanation.
After a change into his sweats, he ate a quick bite, downed his meds and went to bed.
Lord, I need rest. I need peace. I can’t have strangers in my life right now.
Closing his eyes, he drifted off, only to find a pair of pretty green eyes filled with worry and fear chasing him into sleep.
Chapter Two
The smell of fresh coffee permeated the cabin. Ginger had awakened rested and fortified to face the day ahead. It had been a long time since she’d had a good night’s sleep, but last night she’d slept like a log, waking way later than her normal time. Maybe it was the profound quiet of the lakeside cabin, free from sirens and backfiring cars and all the unknown sounds that came with living in a low-rent apartment complex.
She poured a cup of coffee and spooned in a little cream and sugar. Elliot was still asleep, which gave her a rare and welcome quiet time to think and plan her next move. Moving to the expansive windows, she gazed out at the lake, now sparkling with sunlight. The old oak trees with their gnarled limbs, heavy with Spanish moss, painted a picture of serenity that beckoned her weary soul.
Grabbing a throw from the sofa, she headed out to the deck, removed the plastic covers from the wooden rockers and curled up, draping the throw across her lap. The air was chilly, but the knitted cover provided plenty of warmth. January in Mississippi was something she could get used to.
Another sip of coffee relaxed her enough to let go of her worries for a moment and take in the view. Below the deck the lawn sloped down to the water’s edge. A long, sturdy pier stretched out into the lake. Trees hid the Coopers’ cabin from view on one side. It was easy to imagine she was all alone on the lake. As her gaze traveled to the opposite side of the property, she saw the covered boat slip and the small shed attached. Was that the boathouse the owner had mentioned? It was tiny, too small to house a bed, she was sure.
The man—Durrant—was a good six feet tall. He must have been cramped in the little shed. He’d be eager to sleep in his own bed tonight, and she couldn’t blame him. She and Elliot would have to find another place to go. Someplace cheap. But that still left the question of car repairs. She hoped it would be something simple like a battery or fan belt. Anything more she couldn’t afford. Her gaze drifted back to the view, allowing her worries to slip into the back of her mind once more. Her soul craved peace like a thirsty sponge. She needed to fill up while she had the opportunity.
Movement near the water’s edge drew her attention. Mr. Durrant was seated in one of the Adirondack chairs tucked between the trees. He stood, rolling his shoulders backward a couple of times, then reaching down to rub the side of one leg. Picking up a thick book from the arm of the chair, he started up the yard toward the cabin. He moved with a fluid, athletic grace, his long stride propelling him forward, but with a slight limp that piqued her curiosity and her compassion.
She was struck once again by his height. Perhaps the limp was due to sleeping in the small boathouse. The least she could do was offer him a fresh cup of coffee. He’d been generous about letting them remain in the cabin last night. He could easily have ordered them out. She stood and moved to the railing, hoping to draw his attention. He stopped and glanced up at her with an expectant expression.
She hadn’t realized what an attractive man he was last night. Her first impression hadn’t been good. He’d been a tall, angry man threatening her world. Today he looked friendly and approachable. “I have coffee made, if you’d like a cup.”
A small smile moved his lips. “I’ll be right up.”
She was pulling a clean mug from the cupboard when he tapped on the door. She motioned him in.
“That smells great. I tried to make coffee in the boathouse, but the pot is useless. Looks like some