The Comforts of Home (17 page)

“It’s my job.”

Silence lingered between them.

“You heading to the diner to eat?”

She shrugged.

He took a drink. “I’ve seen you walk that way. Border says you always eat alone at the diner. You take the worst table, by the door, and you turn your back to everyone.” Ronel e looked up, not sure she liked anyone watching her.

His dark eyes studied her as if he were trying to figure her out without asking questions. The only sounds came from the crackling of the fire and the tapping against the windows as watery snow turned to ice.

He took a deep breath and said, “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but if you want to eat here, I’ve got plenty. It’l save you marching to the diner and back and by the time you eat, your coat should be dry enough for you to make it to the post office before you turn into a snowman.”

“Snow woman,” she corrected, and was surprised when he smiled.

“Snow woman,” he said. “How does chili sound?”

“Great.”

“I’l check the corn bread if you’l pul the table over here by the fire.”

She watched him disappear before she moved the table. She’d pul ed two chairs up before she realized they’d only need one.

When she stood at the kitchen door, she was surprised at the room before her. Everything, from cabinets to a sink, had been built to accommodate a wheelchair. “This is nice.”

He looked up, then handed her a plate with a bowl and spoon atop. “Yeah, it’s why I rented the place. Only one I could find in this entire town made to fit me that wasn’t in a retirement home.”

“Why here? Why Harmony?” she asked as she held her plate out for a ladle of chili. “Folks say you’re not from around here.”

“Why not? I liked the name,” he answered, then added in a lower tone, “This town was as good a place as any to come to die.”

“You’re dying?”

He looked up at her. “Lady, I’m half dead already.” He must have caught the sorrow in her eyes, because he added, “But looking at you without that bulky coat on reminds me I’m also half alive.”

She lowered her eyes as his gaze moved down her body.

“Stand up straight, would you?” he requested more than ordered.

Without looking at him, she straightened, knowing she’d just added a few inches to her already too-tal frame.

“Much better,” he said, and fil ed the other bowl before handing it to her.

She took both plates while he balanced the corn bread basket on his legs. They made their way to the table by the fire. Neither said anything for a few minutes, and then she whispered, “This is good. Real y good.”

“I can cook,” he said without bragging. “When I lived in Dal as, I got so tired of eating out that I watched the food channels until I could pretty much cook anything I wanted.

What’s your favorite food?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I like the meat loaf at the diner.” She could think of nothing she liked that her mother fixed. It al tasted about the same.

He handed her a piece of corn bread. “I know you like corn bread.”

For a moment she didn’t understand how he knew anything about her, and then she remembered how she’d stolen the slice from the table at the fire station last Saturday.

She couldn’t look at him as a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire spread up her cheeks. She couldn’t tel him that she’d eaten the corn bread so that if the food was poisoned she wouldn’t be alive and alone with her mother.

They were almost finished eating when he asked,

“Would you mind if I cal you Ronny? It seems to fit you.” She looked up at him, thinking that he’d just asked the strangest favor in the world. People didn’t usual y cal her anything. He watched her, obviously waiting for an answer.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “Thank you for the lunch.”

“You’re welcome, Ronny.” He said her new name slowly.

“Wil you come again, next Friday, say? I haven’t had a guest since the accident.”

She didn’t have to think about it, but she wasn’t sure what to say, so she only whispered, “Yes.” He hadn’t been very friendly. Most of the time they were silent, but it was the nicest meal she’d ever had.

He rol ed back, and she knew it was time for her to leave. Standing, she pul ed on her coat and walked toward the door.

He fol owed. When she turned, with one hand on the knob, he said simply, “Thanks for not asking questions, Ronny.”

Without giving it much thought, she did something she hadn’t done to another human being since her father died.

She leaned down and kissed his cheek, then stepped out into the cold before he had time to react.

Al the way back to work, she smiled. Final y, after al these years she’d accidental y bumped into someone like her. Despite al her mother’s efforts, she’d found someone she could cal a friend.

KEPT him busy most of the morning. He’d gone by on Thursday and talked to Alex Matheson about getting Autumn’s car out of lockup.

Alex didn’t think it would be a problem. Though it was registered to a woman in Tennessee, when they’d cal ed her she’d said she didn’t want the Mustang or anything to do with the woman driving it. She said she knew an Autumn Smith five years ago and wasn’t surprised the police were checking up on her. According to the Tennessee woman, Autumn had been wild and good for nothing.

On Friday afternoon, Alex gave Tyler Autumn’s keys and added, “I only talked to her for a few minutes. I’ve heard of folks that don’t have a friend in the world, but until her I don’t think I’ve ever met one. You want to take her the car? She’s getting out of the hospital this afternoon when Dr. Spencer does a final check.”

Tyler nodded. In a bigger town law enforcement would never hand over someone else’s keys, but here in Harmony judgment sometimes overruled procedure. He took the car and had it washed and fil ed with gas. The least he could do for her, he decided.

Most of the clothes in the back looked dirty, so he dropped them off at the laundry and asked if they could have them finished in an hour. Most of the books in the back looked like mysteries. He stopped at the bookstore and bought a few more to add to her col ection.

He felt like he was trespassing on her life when he opened the trunk. More books, an old computer ten years out of date, and a box of dishes and pots. Not enough to stock even a smal kitchen, but enough to survive. Tyler had a feeling these few things were al Autumn owned.

When he got to the hospital, he found her waiting for the final checkout. She wore the jogging suit that had been hanging in the gift shop window a few days ago. It looked too big on her, but at least it was clean and warm. Rick Matheson was sitting in a chair a few seats down from her.

He looked like a kid who was stil growing into his grown-up lawyer suit.

Autumn seemed disappointed when Tyler joined them.

Rick smiled. “Afternoon, Mr. Wright, good to see you.”

“Nice to see you too.” Tyler offered his hand. He didn’t know Rick wel . He remembered the boy, but Rick had been away for years at col ege. “How’s the family?” Asking that one question of any Matheson in town could start a half-hour discussion.

“Fine.” Rick kept it short.

“Your cousin Liz must be due any day.” Tyler thought it better to talk to Rick and give Autumn time to warm up to him. “I hear Gabe Leary is so excited he’s driving everyone nuts. Alex told me he cal ed in an emergency complaint about that bump in the road near the bridge. It’s been there for twenty years, but Gabe thinks it should be removed immediately. Seems it’s on his route from home to the hospital.”

“That’s what love wil do to a guy.” Rick laughed. “First you get married, then the little wife gets pregnant, then you get crazy.”

Autumn stared at them. “Do you two think you could have your little family reunion somewhere else? I’m not interested in hearing it and I’ve already told you twice, Matheson, that I don’t need a lawyer.” She moved her gaze to Tyler. “Or an undertaker.”

Rick frowned as he stood, but not before Tyler saw something in his eyes. Rick was like his cousin Hank, the fire chief; he simply cared about people, al people, and whether Autumn wanted any help or not, the young almost-lawyer wanted to help her.

“I was just tel ing Miss Smith that I’d be happy to take her over to the shelter. She could rest up there until she gets her strength back, but she’s not convinced it’s safe.”

“I know it’s not safe,” she corrected. “I’ve stayed at a few shelters over the years. Fel ow guests wil rob you blind.

The food is no good. Folks who run it try to save you and get you to mend your wicked ways. I can’t afford ways, wicked or otherwise.”

Tyler wanted to remind her that she had nothing worth stealing, the food was good at the Harmony shelter, and as far as he knew, “getting saved” wasn’t painful. But, he didn’t comment. It felt safer to let Rick take the fire.

“I just want to get on down the road. I keep believing like a fool that somewhere else is always going to be better than where I am.” She tried to push her hair out of her face, but like always it just bounced back. “I’ve been a waitress or cook in half the towns on Interstate 40. There’s always a truck stop with a HELP WANTED sign out. I’l find something.”

“I fil ed your car with gas.” Tyler hoped she’d be happy about that, at least.

“I can’t pay you,” she snapped, “but if you’l give me your address, I’l send back money as soon as I land.” Tyler fished in his pocket for his card and handed it to her. He thought of tel ing her to forget it, but he had a feeling he’d hurt her pride.

The nurse came in. Rick took the opportunity to leave.

Tyler couldn’t help but wonder if he’d come on his own or been sent by Liz. The Mathesons, since they were one of the founding families, always thought it was their duty to watch over the town. Tyler couldn’t decide if Rick considered himself part of the welcoming committee or a guardian at the gate.

“Funeral director, not undertaker. I see you’re the big cheese Mr. Wright from Wright Funeral Home,” Autumn said as she held up Tyler’s card. “You hoping to drum up business hanging out at the hospital?”

“No, just delivering your car.”

The nurse pul ed up a wheelchair and said it was policy that Autumn ride out. Tyler fol owed, pul ing the suitcase he’d bought for her.

When they reached the door, he handed over the keys to the Mustang. “If you’l fol ow me a few blocks around to the square I’l take you to the laundry where I left your clothes.”

She didn’t look comfortable saying it, but she thanked him anyway. He walked her to her car, put her suitcase in the trunk, and watched her fol ow him as he drove downtown.

When she parked beside him, Tyler rol ed down his window and told her to wait in the car. He’d get her clothes.

The wind had started to kick up and her jogging suit didn’t look near warm enough.

When he came back out, her Mustang was stil parked beside his Rover, but she had vanished. For a moment he circled, looking for her, and then he spotted her in the bookstore. He walked inside in time to hear her asking if there were any job openings.

The manager shook his head. Tyler watched her shoulders round in defeat.

When she walked back toward the door, he said, “I thought you hated this town. I figured you’d want to be out of here fast.”

“It doesn’t real y matter where I go. I just need a job. One place in hel is as good as any to stop.” Autumn straightened. “But, looks like I wil be moving on. I tried every café, diner, and truck stop around here when I came in. The bookstore was a long shot. I don’t know why I even tried.”

Tyler smiled. “Maybe because you love books.” She glared at him. “How do you know that? Did you rummage through al my stuff?”

Tyler wasn’t in the habit of lying. “Yes.” She looked more defeated than angry. “Wel , I guess you know I’ve nothing worth sel ing and I need money. That tank of gas you loaned me might not last long enough to find a job, and once it’s gone I’l be looking for another place to park.”

“You want to know what else I found out?”

“Sure, why not.”

“I found out you don’t drink . . . no empty bottles. You don’t smoke and the only drugs the sheriff found in the car were vitamins.”

She laughed. “Maybe I can’t afford any.”

“Or, maybe you’re trying to take care of yourself for the baby’s sake.”

“You know about that problem as wel .” She didn’t look surprised that he’d found out about the baby. “I’m not doing a very good job of it, but that’s not your problem. Thanks again for the help, Mr. Wright, but it’s time I hit the road.