Just the Man She Needs (22 page)

“I’ll take you to a jazz concert as soon as I can find a suitable one,” he told Teddy.

“What’s suitable, Daddy? Does it mean I have to grow up first?”

He couldn’t help laughing. Teddy thought that all problems were solved by being grown. “No, son. It means I have to find a place where they play jazz.”

“Oh. When are you coming home?”

“I’m not sure, but it won’t be long.” He hung up and reflected upon Teddy’s interest in jazz. The child loved music and had since he was a few months old. And though he loved hearing him play the piano, he hadn’t seemed enraptured by it…or had he? Perhaps he should pay closer attention to Teddy’s musical interest.

He telephoned Felicia, and she entranced him with her account of Teddy’s delight in the jazz CDs that she gave him. “What amazed me,” she said, “was his ability to relate the CDs to the music we heard in the park. They contain the identical kind of music. The saxophonist in the park wasn’t as good as Lester Young, but the style was very similar. No doubt he inherited this passion for music from you.”

“He’s been exposed to it since birth. It’s a part of who he is, but I’m going to pay closer attention to the way in which he reacts to different kinds of music. Sweetheart, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your bringing an extra dimension to Teddy’s and Eartha’s lives. I know their happiness revolves around me, and that’s one reason why I dislike being away from them.”

“When are you coming home? I miss you.”

“You can’t be missing me half as much as I miss you. I’ll be home soon, because…well, I can’t finish the job, and I hate that. The part of the house for which my group and I are responsible will have to wait till next year.”

“Why? Why can’t you finish it?”

“I got careless. As we speak, I’m lying here in this hospital with my left foot in a cast. I dropped a plank on it, and I can’t hobble around there on a crutch. I need my arms.”

“Oh, dear. Ashton, I’m so sorry. Does it hurt badly? I wish I was there with you.”

“I wish you were, too, and I wish I could finish this job.”

“Honey, I don’t know a thing about building houses, but if somebody will show me what to do, I’ll try to finish it for you. Rosalind Carter builds them, and Reba MacIntyre does, too.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course, I am. I haven’t had a vacation in ages, so I can tell Roy I need a couple of weeks, and if I write half a dozen columns between now and Sunday, I could leave here Sunday. Where is it, and how do I get there?”

He couldn’t imagine that beautiful, sophisticated woman building a house, trudging over unpaved roads, negotiating mud puddles and mosquitoes, sleeping in a tent, and sharing a makeshift outhouse and bath with strangers. “I appreciate your offer to help,” he said, “but this isn’t for you.” He described the circumstances in which the volunteers lived and worked on that particular project and added, “It’s totally unglamorous.”

“And you think I can’t exist without a Jacuzzi, a chrome kitchen, a king-size mattress and air conditioning? Is that the kind of woman you think I am?”

“Look, I didn’t say that.” He imagined she’d poked out her chin and raised her feathers like a little Bantam rooster prepared for a fight. “But I know what it’s like down here, and I wanted to protect you from the discomfort.”

“If that’s your only reason for objecting, tell me how I get there.” He gave her the information and added, “I’ll tell the crew leader. Someone will meet you at the airport, and I’ll stay here and give you the benefit of what I know. Be sure and bring thick cotton clothing, mosquito repellent, sunscreen, brogans and a cotton or straw hat. The sun’s merciless. Send me an e-mail to the address I gave you to let me know when you’re coming.”

“You’re not upset that I want to do this?”

“No, I’m not. I’m deeply touched. You astonish me. Kisses.”

“Kisses to you, love.”

He hung up and remembered that he hadn’t told her he loved her. She’d nearly sent him into shock. “I’ll see where it goes. Somehow I can’t envisage those delicate fingers with their perfectly manicured nails laying tile on a floor or, for that matter, banging a sixteen-penny nail into a two-by-four plank. If she manages to do it, this won’t be the first surprise she’s given me.

“What the hell! I’ll soon see her, and right now, that’s what matters most. If she gets into trouble here, I’ll take her home.” He closed his eyes, submitted to the grogginess caused by the sedative, and slept.

If Ashton worried about Felicia’s ability to finish the work he had started and to endure the hardships that faced her, Felicia did not. After remaining up for most of two nights, she completed enough columns that, if interspersed with several old ones, would satisfy her readers for the next ten days. With her editor’s permission and blessings, she left work early and headed to Macy’s where she bought what she needed. For the brogans, she went to a shoe store that catered to men. With her bags packed and her ticket in her pocketbook, she telephoned her brother, Miles, and told him what she planned to do.

“Is there any way that I can dissuade you?” he asked her. “You could kill yourself down there.”

“Ashton won’t let that happen. He’ll show me how to do it. I can bang a nail as well as the next person, and I’m capable of learning how to do anything else that’s needed.”

“Well, hell, Felicia. If the work’s so dangerous that he’s laid up in the hospital, why do you think you’ll just breeze along there like a flower swaying in the wind?”

“I don’t think that, Miles. Anyway, I called because I always want you to know where I am and what I’m up to.”

“Take care, sis. I can’t see how Ashton Underwood allowed you to do this.”

“He tried to dissuade me, but I’d made up my mind. Don’t worry. I’ll be safe.”

She called a taxi, headed for La Guardia airport and, at three-ten that Sunday afternoon stepped off the plane in Jackson, Mississippi. She’d never thought she’d make a footprint in Mississippi, but she was there, and she intended to do her best.

“Is Mr. Underwood out of the hospital yet?” she asked the crew member who met her at the airport.

“Yeah, but his foot’s in a cast. He’s in the car. Ready?”

“I’m ready,” she said, afraid to trust her voice as jolts of anticipation flashed throughout her system. In a few minutes, she’d see him even if he couldn’t wrap her in his arms. She had pulled her hair straight back, braided it and made a small knot of the braid in the back of her head. She had also filed her nails down until they were almost even with her fingers and removed the nail polish. She didn’t wear makeup, but she wondered what Ashton would think of her without lipstick.

“Tough,” she said to herself. “Nobody would wear lipstick in the kind of place he described to me.”

“It’s pretty rough out there, miss. We’re building a new community almost, and it’ll be great when we finish, but right now there aren’t any amenities.”

“I know, but if the rest of you can take it, so can I.”

“Well, we’re sure glad to have you, miss. Losing Underwood was going to mean we didn’t make our quota. There’re a dozen of us, and we work together someplace every year. We’ve gotten to be friends. I’ll get that.” He lifted her bag from the carousel. “All set? The car’s right out there.”

She didn’t know what she had expected, but she’d been unable to envisage Ashton disabled, for he was to her strong and capable both mentally and physically. A man who wore his masculinity the way falcons wore their great wings. They stepped out of the terminal, and she saw him leaning against the car, his arms folded and a grin covering his face. With great effort, she controlled the impulse to run to him. At last she stood in front of him.

“Hi,” she said when she saw that he wouldn’t embrace her in the man’s presence.

“Hi. You are a sight for sore eyes. Do you want the back or the front of the car? I have to sit in the back to rest my foot as much as possible. You’re welcome to join me.”

Before she could say she’d join him and at least get a chance to hold his hand, the crew member who was their driver said, “You might prefer to sit up here, Miss Parker. That way, I can show you all the sights as we go along. We’re going to pass a couple of historic plantations.”

She glanced at Ashton, and noticed his disappointment, but the man was already opening the front passenger’s door, and she saw no choice but to ride in the front. She hardly saw the plantation homes, the endless fields of high cotton or the numerous marshes fed by the Mississippi River. Her thoughts and her focus dwelt on the man sitting behind her as she wondered how long she’d have to wait before she’d be in his arms again.

“You sleepy?” the driver asked her. “To most people from up your way, this region is like a foreign country. I grew up in Alabama, and I’m used to this. Have you always lived in New York?”

“Why, no,” she said, realizing that she must seem unsociable. “I was born in North Carolina, but I grew up in Washington, D.C., and neither is anything like this. I’m…uh…just taking it all in.”

“Why do you want to do this?” the driver asked. He hadn’t bothered to introduce himself.

Apparently he didn’t mind asking personal questions, but she’d answer as she saw fit. “Some very personal reasons,” she said, not bothering to look in his direction. “And my parents raised me to help those who can’t help themselves. I try to do that to the extent that I can.” She turned her back to the door so that she could look at Ashton. “How’s that foot? Does it pain you very much?”

“It’s mean enough, because it’s past time I took the painkiller the doctor prescribed.”

“Then why don’t we stop so you can get some water and take it?”

“We wanted to be back at camp before dark,” the driver said.

“I shouldn’t think five minutes will make an important difference,” she said through her teeth. “Here’s a café. Please stop, and I’ll go in and get a bottle of water.” Maybe he wasn’t accustomed to taking commands from a woman, but she couldn’t care less. If Ashton needed water in order to take a pill, it was the man’s place to stop and get water.

“I’ll get it,” the man said, but she was opening her door, jumped out, turned and looked toward Ashton. “Do you need or want anything else?”

“A bag of popcorn, if you don’t mind. I’m starved.”

She bought three orders of fried chicken, candied sweet potatoes, string beans and sweetened ice tea, got napkins, knives, forks and spoons and a bottle of water and went back to the car.

“That took a little longer than five minutes,” the driver said.

“What’s your name?”

“Matt.”

“Well, Matt, that man in the backseat said he was starving and, being a female, I’m a nurturer. I’m also logical. I have no idea what I’ll find when I get to camp or how long it will be before I get there, and I, too, am hungry. So here’s your food, Matt. She handed him a foam plate, passed one to Ashton and then opened her own. “Let’s eat. We’ll get there when we get there.”

She heard the long breath that Matt released before he said, “I was worried that you might not be up to the job, but I see I wasted my concern. I expect we’ll finish that house after all, Ashton.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me one bit,” Ashton said, and she didn’t miss his amused tone of voice.

Ashton knew all along that Felicia was a determined person, that she set her cap for something and worked hard to achieve her goal. He also knew that she did not allow anyone to trample on her or even to come near it. Matt made the mistake of deciding that a woman wasn’t to be taken too seriously, and Felicia had just taught him that he’d better take
her
seriously.

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this food, Felicia,” Ashton said. “I had hardly any breakfast, and we didn’t have time to stop for lunch. Matt thought you’d panic if you arrived and didn’t find anyone waiting for you. I didn’t bother to tell him that the chances of your panicking about
anything
were practically nil.”

They arrived at camp well before dark, as he’d known they would, but he’d gotten used to Matt’s exaggerated concerns about practically everything, so he hadn’t voiced his thoughts about getting back before dark. Matt parked a few feet from Felicia’s tent, took her bags and bedroll there, and gave her a typed list of rules and instructions.

“We breakfast at six,” he told her. “I hope you won’t have a problem with that. Also, if you’re threatened in any way, ring this bell four times, pause and ring two more times. Each of us has a different ring. You can get supper in the mess tent from six-thirty to seven-thirty and not a minute later. I hope you enjoy your work with us.”

“I’m sure I will, Matt, and thanks for everything.”

Matt got into his car and left them. Ashton leaned against the post at the door of her tent and looked at her, a sweet and lovely vision from another world. “You shortened your nails,” he said, and thought how foolish that must sound to her.

But her smile invited him to say and do whatever he liked. “You said there was nothing glamorous about this work, and I took you at your word. I’d better unpack before dark, so I can set up my lighting system.”

“First, would you please come over here and kiss me?”

“We’d better not do much kissing, hon, because I don’t believe I can think about you and bang nails simultaneously without mashing my fingers. So, don’t pour it on. Oh, Ashton. I missed you terribly.”