More Than This: Contemporary Christian Romance Novel (42 page)

Authors: Staci Stallings

BOOK: More Than This: Contemporary Christian Romance Novel

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“I’ll bet,” Jaxton said barely disguising the condescension in his voice.

“So, how’s that chow?” his grandfather asked without any indication he was about to change the subject.

“Oh.” Jaxton looked down at the empty plate in front of him. “Excellent. I didn’t know you could cook.”

He reached over and put a second helping on his plate— having never realized just how hungry he actually was. The next two bites were in his mouth before the plate was even on the table again.

“’s not me,” his grandfather said with a smile. “Ami brought it over.”

“Ami?” Jaxton asked absently as he forked another bite into his mouth.

“Yeah. You remember Ami, Hank Martin’s granddaughter. She lives just east of here. You probably passed her place on your way in.”

Instantly the food in Jaxton’s mouth rotted. He dropped his fork and pushed the plate away trying not to look at the food or spit the foul tasting stuff out of his mouth. With Herculean effort he swallowed that bite and took a long drink of water.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember her,” his grandfather continued. “You met her when you were here the last time.”

Jaxton tried to recall the meeting his grandfather was describing, but nothing other than the disgusting plate of food staring back at him from the table was getting through to his brain.

“I wish I had a granddaughter like her,” his grandfather rambled on. “Such a sweet girl.”

Sweet?
Jaxton thought as the rage from the preceding 18 hours crowded back in on him.
I can think of a word for her, and it certainly isn’t sweet
. But he pushed that thought down and smiled what he hoped was politely.

“Not that I’d trade you boys, of course. But sometimes it’d be nice…” His grandfather’s words trailed into silence before he looked back across at Jaxton’s plate. “You full?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jaxton fought to erase the picture of her from his mind. Why was that so hard? “I’ve got some work I need to get done— umm, that is, if you don’t mind.”

“Course I don’t mind.” The old man shrugged. “I’m sure your father’s got you working on all his biggest accounts.”

“Yeah,” Jaxton said half-heartedly feeling sorry for himself again for a split second and then reflexively pushing that down. He had business to do, and he was going to get it done. Putting his hand on the hard sticks of gelled hair, he worked to get the next question out diplomatically. “Umm, I noticed there isn’t a phone line in my room. Where might I find one?”

His grandfather let out a little snort. “Only phone I got ’s right there.” He pointed to the old dial around phone on the wall.

Jaxton’s eyes widened at the thought. “You’re kidding.”

“Only one. But you’re welcome to it,” his grandfather said, reaching for Jaxton’s plate. “You finished with this?”

“Uh. Yeah,” Jaxton said as he tried to figure out how to plug both his laptop and the fax machine into the same outlet. If, in fact, he could actually get to the outlet, he thought getting up to look at the phone more closely. It looked about a hundred years old, and the ingrained dirt on it made it appear brown although Jaxton was sure it had been white at some point.

He wished he could take out his handkerchief to pick up the receiver without his grandfather noticing, but the old man was still standing at the table scraping the food off the plates and watching him intently. Slowly he inspected the phone from as many angles as possible, and then he sighed and looked at his watch. 9:30.

He was too tired to deal with this tonight. Maybe if he went to bed now and gave it a few hours, when he woke up again, this would all be one big nightmare, and he’d be back in Chicago headed in to work.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” he said, trying to keep the sigh out of his voice.

“So soon?” His grandfather took the plates to the sink. “Thought you had work to do.”

“I can do it tomorrow.” Fatigue hit him for real then. “It’s been a long day.”

“I can imagine.” His grandfather nodded with sympathy. “Well, there’s towels in the cabinet in the bathroom upstairs. If they aren’t clean enough, let me know. Nobody’s been up there in a few years, so there’s no telling what it looks like by now.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Jaxton said, wanting only to escape the kitchen and be alone. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah.” His grandfather smiled but never quite met Jaxton’s gaze. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” Jaxton crossed past the old man being careful not to touch him. Once around the corner, he fled up the stairs.

“I just need a nice shower and some sleep.” In his room, he yanked his suitcase from the floor and without thinking, dropped it onto the bed, which immediately sent a noxious dust cloud wafting into the air.

Ugh. Dust. Everything’s in this house is so disgusting.
Clicking the suitcase latches open in frustration, Jaxton yanked his Yale sweats out and slammed it closed again. Instantly he choked on the fresh dust cloud.
Now I know why we never visited. These people should really get a life— and a maid.

He stalked into the bathroom and reached for the light, but nothing to this point had prepared him for the sight of that bathroom. Immediately all-out nausea closed in on him. Moldy rust formed a path down the back of the sink, which rose on a pedestal from the decaying tile floor. As he looked at it, all he wanted to do was run— far and fast. How had he gotten talked into this? Why him? Why not Blake? Or Uncle John? Or his father?

“What did I do to deserve this?” he asked in disgust.

On unsteady legs he forced himself to step into the bathroom knowing what was coming would be even worse. Reluctantly he glanced into the toilet, and the same nasty molded stains stared back at him.

“Ugh.” He covered his nose and backed away. “When was the last time anybody cleaned this place?”

Fearful of what he would find, he squinted at the shower curtain. “Oh, this can’t be good.”

He took a deep breath to steel the churning of his stomach as he reached for the curtain. The sight of the tub— mold crawling up the back wall and sickening green slime covering the portion of the curtain he held in his hand disintegrated the last of his resolve. Without another thought, he dropped the curtain and fled from the bathroom not even bothering to turn off the light.

Ami had spent the entire afternoon trying to forget about the stranger from Chicago. If only she didn’t feel such loyalty to Mr. Snyder, she could’ve easily dismissed him from her mind. But inevitably as he had for the last two months, Mr. Snyder crossed her mind again, and instantly a picture of the shiny shoes flashed through her mind.

What a jerk! What a total, unmitigated jerk! How can anybody be that callous? That calculating?
He could’ve at least waited until the body was cold before moving in to divide the spoils.
She shook her head to clear the intrusive thoughts away, but they weren’t going anywhere.

“I could call,” she said to the empty chair across from her as she sat in the living room, an open, un-read book on her lap. “Just to make sure supper was all right.”

Then she shook her head vehemently. As much as she wanted to check on Mr. S, the last thing she wanted to do was appear interested in the jerk who happened to be his grandson. Tomorrow she would call, or maybe if she biked out past the South Quarter she’d get lucky enough to catch Mr. S there. She needed to bring him another casserole anyway, and she was sure the jerk from the big city would do everything he could to avoid the fields.

She could get the full story then. Now she needed some sleep.

“Dear God,” she prayed silently on her way to her room, “please take care of Mr. S. I think he needs Your help more now than when he was in the hospital. Be by his side and protect him from all evil. Amen.”

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She’s a control freak. He’s a firefighter with a death wish. Watch the sparks fly when these two get together.