That McCloud Woman (10 page)

"If
you're asking me if her husband was an asshole, yeah, he was."

Jack
turned, then grimaced when he saw that Sam had opened up the wound on the cat's
side and was cleaning it. The woman must have a stomach of iron. He swallowed
back the bile that rose to his throat and shifted his gaze to a spot on the
barn wall above her head. "What'd he do to her?"

Sam's
head snapped up, her gaze slamming into his. To Jack, it was like running headfirst
into a steel wall.

"Why
do you ask?" she asked suspiciously.

Jack
shrugged. "Just curious."

Frowning,
she turned her attention back to the cat. "Why don't you ask Alayna?"

He
shrugged again, though she didn't see the uneasy gesture. "Didn't want to embarrass
her."

Sam
tossed the clamp aside with its square of soiled gauze and picked up her
sutures. "Neither do I," she replied tersely, and bent back over her
work.

Jack
was sure that was all she was going to offer on the subject, but then she
glanced up at him, her eyes narrowed, her mouth set in a grim line. "You
ever see a woman who's been physically abused?"

Jack
slowly nodded. "Yeah. Pictures."

"Well,
that's how Alayna looked after her divorce. And he did it without ever laying a
hand on her." She tapped a finger to her head. "Did it here,"
she said. "Played with her mind. Made her think she wasn't much of a
woman." She wagged her head, scowling. "She's one of the smartest,
warmest, most compassionate women I've ever known, and pretty to boot. He had
her convinced she was none of those things."

Jack
worked alone the next day. Although Alayna had left him a note, telling him
that she had business to attend to in town, he suspected that she was avoiding
him.

He
couldn't say that he blamed her. She was probably embarrassed by her actions
the night before. He was still having a hard time believing what Sam had told
him about Alayna's past. Not that he doubted the truth in what she had shared.
It was just difficult for him to believe that a woman like Alayna would fall
prey to emotional abuse—but then he figured it was probably all those wonderful
traits of hers that had made her a prime target. Warm, loving, compassionate.
The whole time her ex was dishing out the abuse, Alayna had probably been
dancing a jig, trying her damnedest to please him.

He
sighed and tossed his hammer aside. It clattered musically against the tin roof
he was mending. Don't let her get to you, Jack, he warned himself. Do your job
and hit the road. Chase that white line.

Pressing
his hands to the small of his back, he straightened his spine, easing out the
kinks. Sweat dampened his shirt beneath his hands, making it stick to his back
as he looked out at the road that led to the Pond House.

In
the distance, he saw a cloud of dust appear, chasing a fast-moving vehicle. Not
a minivan, though, he noted, and tried to ignore the stab of disappointment
that came. It was a truck. School was out. The kids were coming home.

And
Alayna was nowhere in sight.

Which
left Jack in charge. And he didn't want to be in charge, he thought as panic
set in. He didn't want the responsibility, the closeness that required.

He
quickly started gathering his tools, hoping to make it to his cabin before they
arrived, but the truck braked to a dust-churning stop just as he stepped down
from the ladder he'd propped against the roofs edge. The truck's passenger door
swung open, the kids piled out, the door slammed again and the truck made a
wide U-turn, its driver honking as he accelerated in the opposite direction.

Jack
felt the trapdoor slam shut in his face. Like it or not, he was caught.

Molly
raced across the lawn, her cheeks flushed, her pigtails bobbing, that damn bear
of hers tucked tightly under her arm. She skidded to a stop in front of Jack
and peered up at him, her eyes wide and questioning. "Kitty?" she
asked breathlessly.

That
she would approach him, speak directly to him, caught Jack off guard. He nodded
toward a box tucked up by a support post on the front porch, in the shade. She
clambered up the steps, dropped to her knees beside the box, peered inside,
then looked back at Jack over her shoulder. A smile stretched from ear to ear.
"Kitty," she repeated, her voice heavy with relief. She hopped up and
skipped down the steps headed straight for Jack. He stiffened as wafer-thin
arms clamped around his knees. His heart knotted in his chest, his breath
burned in his lungs.

And
Molly clung.

Slowly
he dipped his chin and stared at the halo of blond hair pressed against his
thigh. Slower still, he lifted a hand to cover it. He smoothed his palm across
the top of the child's head, the calluses on his fingers snagging on the fine,
blond strands. "He's going to be fine," he assured her, his voice
husky. "Sam took good care of him."

"Where's
Alayna?" Billy stood about six feet away, scowling.

Jack
carefully unwound Molly's arms from around his legs and set her aside. She
immediately ran back to the box and knelt beside it. "In town," he
replied, picking up his toolbox again.

"She
comin' back?"

Jack
heard the uncertainty in the boy's voice, though his face revealed nothing but
his dislike for Jack. "Yeah. She'll be back."

"When?"

"Don't
know."

Billy
tossed his backpack to the ground and Jack could almost hear the wheels turning
in the kid's head. Freedom. Nobody in charge. He wondered how much trouble the
kid could get himself into before Alayna returned. Plenty, Jack suspected.

Knowing
he was the only adult around to stand between Billy and a full-scale rebellion,
Jack tried to think of what Alayna would do if she were home. "Take your
school things to your room," he said, improvising, "and start on your
homework."

"I
don't have to do what you say."

"Yeah,
you do," Jack returned.

"Why?"

"'Cause
I'm bigger than you."

Billy
eyed Jack a moment as if weighing his options, then shrugged. "Okay."
He stooped and hooked a finger in the loop of his backpack, dragging it from
the ground and to his shoulder. "Come on, Molly."

Jack
watched the two disappear inside the house, and narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
The kid was up to something. What, he wasn't sure. But something. If he wasn't,
Jack figured that the boy would still be standing in the yard debating Jack's
right to give him orders. The kid was that stubborn.

Jack
headed for the ladder again, cussing Alayna for leaving him in the lurch with
one breath and, with the next, praying she'd come home before the kid tried a
fast one on him.

Five

«
^
»

J
ack heard the
back door open and scooted up to the roofs ridge and looked over in time to see
Billy tiptoeing across the flagstone patio below. From his vantage point on the
Pond House's roof, Jack had a bird's-eye view of the grounds and the kid's
every move. He muttered a curse as he watched the boy dart a quick look behind
him before he hightailed it for the barn, then disappeared behind it.

The
kid was up to something. And probably no good, Jack concluded with a frown. He
turned away and picked up a piece of tin, angling it into place on the roof. It
wasn't his problem, he told himself as he worked his hammer free from the loop
on his tool belt. He was a carpenter, hired to do a remodeling job, not a damn
babysitter. He upended a nail over the tin and quickly hammered it into place.

And
glanced in the direction of the barn again.

What
was the kid doing sneaking around, anyway? he wondered irritably. He ought to
be in the house doing his homework, as Jack had instructed.

After
more than a week living a little less than a hundred yards away, Jack knew Alayna's
and the kids' routine by heart. He'd made it his business to know their
schedule so that he could avoid the kids as much as possible. The only time he
saw them was at dinner, and then just long enough for Jack to choke down enough
food to appease Alayna and then split.

According
to the schedule he'd witnessed, the kids should be in their rooms doing their
homework, and Alayna should be in the kitchen preparing their dinner.

But
Alayna wasn't home.

"Damn!"
he muttered under his breath.

He
eased to the ridge of the roof for another look at the barn. His eyebrows shot
up. Was that smoke? He squinted against the sunlight to see better. Damn him
for a blind man, if it wasn't, he cursed silently, recognizing the thin threads
of smoke as they curled around the side of the barn.

Setting
his jaw, he headed for the ladder and quickly climbed down from the roof, then
stalked angrily for the barn. Just before he reached the rear of the building,
he lightened his steps, wanting to take the kid by surprise. He hoped to scared
the hell out of the little brat. Pleased with the image that thought drew, he
eased to the side of the barn and peeked around the corner.

Billy
sat with his back against the weathered wood, a cigarette clamped between his
fingers, blowing smoke through puckered lips. A pack of cigarettes lay on the
ground beside him and a box of kitchen matches lay just beyond.

Jack
stepped around the corner. "Didn't know you smoked."

Billy
was on his feet and had his hand behind his back before Jack took the next
step.

He
lifted his chin and eyed Jack defiantly. "Who said I did?"

Jack
had to choke back a laugh. The kid had balls, that was for sure. With smoke
curling up from behind him, the evidence on the ground at his feet, he
still
wanted to deny his guilt.

Jack
dropped to his haunches, turned his back to the barn wall and sat down,
stretching his legs out in front of him. "Nobody." He picked up the
pack of cigarettes and tossed them in his hand. "Just saw these cigarettes
and figured they were yours."

"I
didn't steal 'em, if that's what you're thinkin'."

Jack
lifted a shoulder. "Didn't say you did."

Billy
eased closer, prepared to run if the situation called for it. "I bought
'em from a kid at school. Used my lunch money."

Jack
looked up at him. "How much did you pay?"

"Three
bucks."

Jack
whistled through his teeth at the hefty price, then lifted the lid on the box
and looked inside. Less than half a pack remained. "You smoked half a
pack, already?"

When
it appeared that Jack wasn't going to whip him or knock him around like the
other men in his life probably had done, Billy sank down onto the ground beside
him, but still kept an arm's length between them. Just in case.

"Nah.
The kid only had half a pack." He held out the half-smoked cigarette for
Jack's inspection and grinned sheepishly. "This is my first one."

Jack
nodded toward the cigarette. "You know those things'll stunt your growth,
don't you?"

Billy
snorted. "Yeah, yeah. That's what you grownups say about everything that's
cool."

Jack
shook out a cigarette from the pack. "Mind if I have one?"

Sensing
a comrade in crime, Billy relaxed a little more. He gave his shoulder a lift,
much like he'd seen Jack do earlier. "Sure, dude. Why not?"

Jack
clamped the cigarette between his teeth, then let it dangle there while he
reached for the matches. He flicked his fingernail across the head of one and a
flame flared to life.

Billy's
eyes widened in awe. "Cool, dude. How'd you do that?"

Cupping
his hands around the flame, Jack touched it to the end of the cigarette, then
stuck the match into the dirt, snuffing it out. "I don't know," he
said with a shrug. "Just a trick I picked up." He took a drag on the
cigarette, but was careful not to inhale. He didn't want to choke in front of
the kid. He had a lesson to teach, one his own father had taught him years ago.

He
shook out another cigarette and offered it to Billy. "Want another
one?"

Billy
eased closer. "Sure, why not?" He poked the cigarette between his
lips and held it steady with fingers no longer than the length of the cigarette
while Jack struck another match and held it to the cigarette's end. Billy
inhaled deeply, then bent double, coughing and choking.

Jack
pounded him on the back. "That one have a bone in it?" he teased.

Billy
sat up, his eyes watering, then grinned. "Yeah. Guess it did."

They
sat for a while, saying nothing, just smoking. Or at least Billy was smoking.
Jack wasn't a smoker. He'd learned his lesson the hard way years ago from his
old man. The same lesson he was about to give Billy. He just let his cigarette
burn, taking a puff now and again just to make himself look as if he was an
active participant.

When
Billy snubbed his cigarette out in the dirt, Jack handed him another one.
Billy's grin was a little weaker this time, and his coloring wasn't quite the
same, but he took the offered cigarette with a "Thanks, dude" and
puffed away.