An Accidental Family (7 page)

Suddenly, Nadine felt uncomfortable, having his hands on her, having him this close. Lamont must have sensed her tension, because he stepped back and gingerly wiped his oily palms on a tissue, plucked from the box on her bedside table.

She knew why he was being so careful with his hands, and felt horrible for comparing him to Ernest, especially when she could plainly see that the fire had
turned his face sunburn red, how tiny pocks of the exploding windowpanes had dotted his cheeks, forearms and knuckles. He’d risked his life to save hers.

“Want me to check with the nurses’ station?” he asked, tossing the tissue into the trash can. “See what’s holding up your release?”

Unable to meet his eyes, Nadine shook her head. Once they left the hospital, there’d be the long ride home, and a stopover at the salon next door to Georgia’s Diner. She needed to collect her thoughts, stiffen her resolve before spending that much time alone with Lamont. She’d made a promise to herself, and she aimed to keep it. She had no business entertaining romantic feelings for him because, fair or not, he too often reminded her of Ernest. She couldn’t,
wouldn’t
go back to hiding cuts and bruises, not even for the man who’d saved her life.

But wasn’t she putting the cart before the horse? Because what made her think Lamont was interested in anything more than continuing their friendship?

Then she remembered the way he’d held her, how tenderly he’d looked at her after her party, just before Julie had called out. He would have kissed her, if not for the interruption.

That shouldn’t change a thing. She was still the dirt-poor widow who’d just lost everything in a fire. He had a ranch of his own to run and surely he didn’t need another burden to bear.

So why was he standing there, looking like a pup who’d just had his nose whacked with a rolled-up newspaper? He reminded her of Adam as a boy, when she’d said, “No cookies before dinner” or “You can’t spend the night at Timmy’s house.” What stirred in her heart right now couldn’t begin to compare with what she’d
felt when her son wore that hangdog look. Moments ago, she’d accused Lamont of being confused when, in truth, it was
she
who had no explanation for the emotions warring within her.

Perhaps it was the concussion, or knowing she’d lost the house and everything in it, or the fact that Adam and Julie and Amy were homeless now, too, that made her want hide in Lamont’s big, warm embrace, recapture the sensation of utter safety she’d felt when he’d held her after the fire. How strange it had been, feeling soothed by a man’s hands after years of torture from Ernest’s. Stranger still, feeling protected—even for a moment—in the arms of a man whose behavior occasionally raised ugly memories…

Had it been his deep, soothing voice, promising that everything would be all right, that started this battle between her sensible head and her romantic heart? Or that
way
he had of looking at her, reminding her that she was still a woman, despite having lived alone for years?

As he stared at the toes of his boots, the ceiling lights glinted from the silver strands peppering his dark hair. Nadine wondered if it would feel as think and soft as it looked.

He looked up just then and caught her staring. She tried…tried to pretend he wasn’t standing there, boring into her with those long-lashed glittering gray eyes of his. Tried to ignore the captivating smile.

One thing was sure: It would be definitely be a long ride home.

F
rom her vantage point in the big mirror at Kaye Turner’s salon, Nadine had a perfect view of Lamont. At first he’d paced near the wide window at the front of the shop. Now, a mini-traffic snarl outside captured his attention, and as he stopped to watch it, Nadine watched him. Something her Irish grandmother once said popped into her head. A year or so before the old woman died, she’d visited Nadine and, after being introduced to Lamont, fanned herself with a lacy hanky. “Ooo-eee!” she’d said. “Ye’d be smart not to let that one get away, Deenie. Why, he could star in a Hollywood movie, all tall, dark and handsome like he is.” Winking, she’d added, “Yes indeedie, he’s a…he’s a fine fig’re of a man!”

Thankfully, Lamont had been too far away to hear. “Gamma O’Riley, Sunday services are barely over!”

Winking one blue eye, she’d said, “God knows I’m right.” She’d nodded toward the parking lot, where Lamont was climbing into his pickup. To this day, Nadine didn’t know what made him look up just then, but he had, and when he’d waved, her heart did a little
flip. “I might be an old woman, Deenie, but I know what I see, and that boy is moony-eyed for you.”

Now, just as he had all those years ago, Lamont looked up again, this time meeting her eyes in the mirror. And, just as it had all those years ago, her heart did a little flip.
If anybody’s moony-eyed,
she thought, pretending Kaye’s movements had distracted her,
it’s
me.

“You know I think the world of you,” the stylist said, interrupting her reverie, “’cause I’d never open my shop on a Sunday for just anybody.”

“You’re a peach to do it.”

“Well, when I heard about the fire and all, how could I
not?
”

Nadine patted the woman’s red-taloned hand. “Thanks, Kaye. You’re terrific.”

“And so are you, kiddo.”

He smirked. “This meeting of the mutual admiration society is now in session…”

Kaye clucked her tongue. “You’re just jealous.”

He chuckled. “Of what?”

She rested a fist on one plump hip, and pointed at him with the rattail of her black plastic comb. “That you’re not a member of the club.”

His merry laugh echoed in the nearly empty shop. Nadine loved the sound of it, rich and full-bodied, starting somewhere deep in his chest and resonating upward.

“Only one who admires me is Obnoxious.”

“That poor mutt,” Kaye huffed. “Anybody named me ‘Obnoxious,’ I’d bite him.” And without missing a beat, she pinched a few strands of Nadine’s freshly shampooed hair between thumb and forefinger. “Mmm-
mmm-mmm,” she said, crimson lips pulled back in a teasing smile, “it’d be easier to shave you bald than try to clean up this mess.”

“Which isn’t out of the question,” Lamont said, “considering who’s wielding the shears.” Another shrug. “But that’s just my opinion.”

He sat in one of the chairs under the window and began leafing through a fashion magazine. His body posture and facial expressions made it clear that he’d never set foot in a beauty parlor before. Still, he’d readily agreed to make the stop, and though Nadine suggested that he pass the time over a mug of coffee at Georgia’s, he’d insisted on waiting for her here.

As Kaye’s scissors flashed, Nadine tried to imagine a circumstance that would prompt Ernest to do something as kindhearted and understanding as this. When none came to mind, she sighed. And shrugged, unable to figure out why one minute she felt drawn to Lamont, the next, apprehensive.

“Nadine, honey, you’re gonna look adorable with short hair,” Kaye said as blond strands floated to the floor.

“Nadine, honey,” Lamont echoed, “you’d look adorable bald.”

Blinking, she looked into the mirror, hoping to get a glimpse of that same warm expression she’d seen moments ago. Unfortunately, Kaye blocked her view.

“If you think half-baked flattery will get you into the mutual admiration society,” the hairdresser said, “you’ve got another think coming.”

Nadine heard Lamont feign an exaggerated yawn as he went back to turning the pages of the magazine. Thankfully, Kaye’s position hid the blush his
compliment had caused. Since she couldn’t thank the hairdresser out loud for unwittingly protecting her, Nadine decided to show her appreciation later with a generous tip.

But how could she do that when she didn’t have a penny to her name? Her purse, with her wallet and checkbook inside, had gone up in flames, along with everything else in the house. Not that her bank book would’ve been much help, because she’d been running a zero balance for months. Not only couldn’t she tip Kaye, she couldn’t rent a place in town big enough for herself, Adam, Julie and Amy. What would become of her herd dogs and goats, and Julie’s cat, Peepers?

Kaye’s scissors click-clacked around her face, as bristly flaxen strands piled up on the polished linoleum. She closed her eyes, hoping the new shorter hairdo would be flattering. Her hair grew slowly and it had taken months to get it to shoulder length. Then, feeling like a feeble-minded twit for even having such a vain thought amid all the mayhem, Nadine sighed again.

As the blow dryer hummed, she forced herself to think positive thoughts. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they’d seemed, and she and the kids could live in the basement until repairs could be made. But even if that wasn’t possible, and things were every bit as bad as they looked, the Lord would pull her through. He always had in the past.

“There y’go,” Kaye said, spinning the chair to face the mirror. “What do you think?”

Nadine turned right, then left. She’d never worn her hair this short, but she’d get used to it. With God’s help, she’d adjust to an apartment in the city and life without her critters, too.

“All the dead stuff’s gone,” Kaye added, ruffling Nadine’s bouncy curls. “Nothing left but healthy, shining waves!” She whipped the pink smock from her client’s shoulders. “You’re gonna love having wash ’n’ wear hair.”

Good point, Nadine thought. With all she had to do in the next weeks, easy-care hair would be a blessing. “I’ll have to pay you next time,” she said. “My wallet was lost in the—”

“It’s all taken care of, my dear.” Kaye winked at Lamont, whose fire-reddened cheeks darkened with a blush.

In place of an explanation, he held open the door. “We’d better skedaddle if we want to get back in time to have supper with the kids.”

Kaye draped a pearl-buttoned sweater over Nadine’s shoulders. “Put this on,” she said, shoving her friend toward Lamont.

Too much had happened in too short a time, and Nadine was having trouble taking it all in. Blinking back tears of gratitude and helplessness, Nadine said, “I’ll return the sweater soon as—”

“Honey, don’t you worry your pretty head about it. I have three more just like it upstairs.” She gave Nadine a bear hug and bussed her cheek. “You need anything,” Kaye said, holding her at arm’s length, “anything at all, you call, hear?”

Nodding, Nadine followed Lamont to his pickup. They rode in silence for a few minutes before he reached across the seat to pat her hand. “Kaye was right.”

“About?”

“You look adorable with short hair.”

Her heart skipped a beat. A simple “thank you” would have sufficed. But she didn’t want him comparing
her to the women he’d so often joked with her about, who, in his words, “live and breathe to hear a man tell ’em they’re purty.”

“So do you,” she said instead.

Both brows rose high on his forehead as Lamont met her gaze. “Uh, I, ah—”

The compliment rattled him, which only made him look more adorable. “I read a poll in a ladies’ magazine once that said scars make a man look handsome.”

Eyes on the road again, he huffed, shook his head. But she could see that he was grinning.

“Harrumph,” he said, scrubbing a palm over his face. “If this mess turns into scars,” he joked, “I might just give ol’ Brad Pitt a run for his money.”

She gave in to an urge and gently grazed his right cheek with her knuckles. “‘Ol’ Brad’ only plays heroes in the movies, but you’re a hero in real life.”

Lamont swallowed, cleared his throat. “So…nice day we’re having, don’t you think?”

Yes, he was at least as uncomfortable with compliments as she’d always been. “Thank you, Lamont,” she blurted, “for pulling me out of the fire, and putting the kids up for the night, and picking me up at the hospital and—”

“It was my pleasure. All of it.” He held up a hand to silence her. “I’ve had the feeling ever since we left the hospital that you wanted to ask me something.” He glanced over at her. “And I’m pretty sure I know what it is.”

“Is that so?” she asked, daring him to read her mind, yet again.

“You want to stop off at your place on the way to River Valley, have a look around.”

Amazed, she nodded.

“That’s okay with me, if you think you’re up to it.”

The question caught her off guard, and she bristled slightly. “’Course I’m up to it. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, the doc made it pretty clear. You’re supposed to take it easy these next few days, because of the concussion and smoke inhalation.”

As if on cue, she coughed. “Looking won’t expend any energy.” Unless, she thought, the sight was so horrible that—

“Isn’t gonna be easy, looking at what’s left.”

No, she didn’t suppose it would be. “I can take it. And if I can’t, you’ll be right there to rescue me.”

He tucked in one corner of his mouth and shrugged, and she took that to mean he didn’t know what to make of her snappish tone. Nadine felt horrible, particularly considering all he’d done for her and the kids. “Sorry,” she said, meaning it. “That was uncalled for.”

“I’ll just blame the headache.”

She frowned. “How’d you know I have a headache?” The doctor had given her pain pills, but the throbbing hadn’t started up in earnest until her head was hanging in Kaye’s shampoo sink.

“I’ve taken a few whacks to the head in my day,” he said, patting her hand, “so I know from personal experience that the so-called pain relievers the docs dole out don’t come close to easing the pain.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold your cantankerousness against you.”

Before she could respond, he turned into her driveway. Almost immediately, the acrid scent of charred lumber assailed her nostrils. When the remains of the farmhouse came into view, she tried to stifle a gasp behind her hands. Nadine had seen the aftermath of house fires before, so what had she expected?

Certainly not this, Nadine thought. Certainly not nothing left at all.

Things had happened fast last night, too fast. As she’d fought to remain conscious, she hadn’t been able to distinguish between flames and the strobes of emergency vehicles. Men shouted, but she hadn’t understood a word. Only Lamont’s voice, low and soothing, reached her: “Everything’s gonna be okay, pretty lady. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

That bump on the head must have caused a disconnect between her brain and her mouth, because, hard as she’d tried, Nadine couldn’t reassure him by saying, “Thanks” or “I know.” The inability to communicate had scared her. Was it permanent? How would she read to Amy, or sing in the choir? To keep him from seeing fear in her eyes, she’d closed them. Well, that, and because during those moments in his arms, she’d read the concern on his face, and hadn’t wanted to add to his worries. She remembered how cold and alone she’d felt, despite being surrounded by experienced paramedics. Remembered, too, how helpless and troubled he’d looked as they took her from his arms. Nadine remembered all that, but she didn’t recall seeing the house ablaze.

Now, heart knocking against her ribs, she blinked back tears and held her breath. Thin wisps of smoke still spiraled from spongy, sooty ashes amid jagged black spikes—some no more than three feet tall—that had supported the walls and roof of her two-story home.

She opened the passenger door and stepped onto grass, still wet from fire hoses. The doctor had said to expect headaches and light-headedness. He hadn’t mentioned ringing in the ears, or the sweaty-yet-cold-all-over sensation that now prickled her skin.

Lamont’s strong arm slid around her waist. How he’d reached her so quickly she didn’t know, but Nadine said a little prayer of thanks. Had he pulled her close, or had dizziness made her lean into his hard, lean body? He stepped in front of her, gently gripped her biceps and, bending his knees, peered into her face. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Drawing her into a comforting hug, he kissed the top of her head. “Aw, darlin’, whatever for?”

For behaving like a child, she thought. For getting weak-kneed and teary-eyed. Nadine pressed both palms against the soft fabric of his white shirt, then took a step back.

Nerves twitching, she plodded ahead, until she stood ankle-deep in the debris. Heat seeped through the soles of her shoes, even after all these hours and the hundreds of gallons of water that sogged the ashes. What could have caused a fire that burned so incredibly hot and fast?

Everything, it seemed, had turned to cinders—photographs, the Mothers’ Day clay palmprint Adam had made in first grade, the framed copy of Amy’s newborn footprint, her collection of wolf figurines, Gamma O’Riley’s lace tablecloth, her mother’s favorite soup tureen—gone, all gone.

She was about to turn away from the hideous sight when she stepped on something. “Oh no,” she wailed quietly, digging it out. “It’s Peeper’s collar.” There on her knees in the still-warm coals, she hugged it to her cheek. Was Julie’s devoted feline gone, too?

“I’ll bet she made it out alive,” Lamont said, one big hand on her shoulder. “Cats are resourceful. Peeper could be anywhere, hiding until she thinks it’s safe to come out.”

“Maybe,” she whispered. “I hope…”

In her prayer position, reality hit hard. Silent sobs shook her as she pressed the cat’s collar to her chest. Peeper had spent every night of her five years in Amy’s bed. The child would be heartbroken.

On his knees beside her, Lamont gathered her in his arms. “Shhh,” he breathed into her hair, “don’t give up hope just yet.”

His kind, reassuring words, the comforting warmth of his strong arms around her, loosed a floodgate of hot tears.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Get it all out now, so you can be strong for the kids.”