The Comforts of Home (9 page)

Now he was worried about Wil amina and what it would be like to cook his own meals, do his own laundry, clean his own kitchen. He could easily survive the weekends alone or even a week now and then, but eighty-three days?

He decided the only thing to do was forget about it until Kate left. Wil amina had threatened to quit every time he asked her to make liver and onions. Surely she hadn’t gotten mad when he interrupted her soap opera on Wednesday? Or maybe he’d left everything out on the counter when he made Kate a sandwich? At Wil amina’s age, it wasn’t likely that she ran off with a man, so everything would probably be back to normal in a few weeks. Nothing real y ever changed in his life.

“You worried about something?” Kate interrupted his thoughts when she noticed that everyone, except him, had moved to the living room with their coffee and dessert.

“No, just thinking.”

She laughed, that laugh he loved. “Wel , stop thinking and give a hand with the dishes.”

He did, thinking about how he might be washing dishes at home soon. Maybe he should buy paper plates and cups to weather Wil amina’s absence. Who knows, maybe the woman had planned her escape for years. For al he knew she was dancing on some island right now with nothing on but a grass skirt.

Final y, everyone left and the dishes were done. Martha Q climbed the stairs to her bed and Mrs. Biggs went to her room beyond the kitchen.

Tyler knew it was late, but he poured two glasses of wine and sat down on the couch. He tried to hide his disappointment when Kate joined him and took the chair to his right. He smiled and passed her one of the glasses.

“That was a wonderful meal,” he said for the fourth time.

“Friends made it so,” she said, then took a sip. “I never get to cook like that when I’m working. Never in a place long enough to settle in and buy the groceries.”

“But you have friends?”

She shook her head. “Not like I do here. They see me as this dumpy middle-aged woman who’s an expert on arson fires. If we do share a meal, it’s usual y to talk about a case.” She ran a hand through her short graying hair, and it al fel softly back into place as if perfectly trained.

“You’re not dumpy,” he said, thinking she made him feel tal . “And you’re not middle-aged. You’re stil young, Kate, barely out of your thirties.”

She shook her head, then smiled. “That’s why I love being here with you. You make me feel like who I am inside and not just what I do.”

He didn’t know how to direct the conversation to where he wanted to go, so he just jumped in. “Kate, I liked holding you while you slept.”

The parlor lights were too low to tel if she blushed. He didn’t know if he should say more, so he waited.

Final y, after she took another drink, she lifted her chin slightly and whispered, “I’m sorry about the way I came in.

I’d been sleeping on planes and in airports for three days. I was exhausted and hadn’t had time to shove al I saw at the last site out of my head. I cal ed you to come get me when I laid over an hour in New York because I knew I didn’t have the strength left to drive.” She stared at her glass, then added, “I should have taken the time to sleep a few days before . . .”

“No,” he said. “You did the right thing. You came here.”

“Wel , thanks for picking me up.”

“Any time,” he said, wishing he’d said
Every time
.

She leaned over and patted his knee. “It’s late. I’d better turn in.”

“Walk me to the porch steps,” he said as he stood.

He bundled in his coat and she wrapped a shawl that Martha Q kept by the door around her shoulders. They walked out, hand in hand, onto the porch. The air was damp and crisp. A low wind crackled in the bare branches surrounding the inn. For Tyler the place was beautiful and lonely at the same time. The old house stood in the middle of town but had the feel of being alone. He’d felt like that most of his life.

“Good night,” he said as he raised his arms.

She moved into them and for a long while they just hugged.

When she pul ed away, he tried to keep his voice casual as he said, “You can come over to my house for a nap any time, Kate.”

“And you’l make me soup and ham sandwiches?”

“I don’t have to. We didn’t eat the other ones. They’re stil in the fridge.”

She made a face and he kissed her on the nose.

Something he was sure no one ever did to the major.

She smiled and rushed inside, saying she was freezing.

On his way home he stopped by the cemetery. He rarely asked anyone to lock the cemetery at dusk for him, and even though he knew Calvin or one of the groundsmen would have, he liked to be the one who made the final check. It was his responsibility. It had been since his father handed him the keys to his first car.

The old Ford Mustang was parked by the back gate again. In the dark he couldn’t even tel the color. Dark blue?

Black? Tyler decided it was far too cold to walk across the cemetery to check it out tonight, and the back road was too muddy to risk getting stuck.

He’d come back tomorrow morning before he took Kate back to Amaril o to catch her flight. She didn’t go to work until Monday, but she’d explained that she needed a day to unpack. He didn’t much like the idea that unpacking ranked above spending an extra day with him, but he told himself he understood.

REAGAN TRUMAN’S CELL PHONE CLAMORED IN

THE DARKNESS. It took several rings for her to find it.

“Hel o,” she mumbled, hoping she didn’t wake her uncle in the next room.

“Rea, this is Noah.”

“It’s late, Noah.” She pul ed the string on an old Tiffany-style lamp that was probably five times her age. Something was wrong; not even Noah cal ed this late.

“I know, Rea, but I need to talk to you.”

She shoved her hair out of her face and tried to force sleep away. “Al right, what’s up?”

“I’m in the hospital, Rea. I was hurt tonight in Memphis.”

“How bad?” She laughed nervously. She’d almost asked if he was stil alive.

There was a long pause on the line. “I don’t know. Bad.

Broken arm, two ribs, but it’s my back that has me worried.” He didn’t speak for a moment. When he began again, he sounded more like a frightened boy than a man of twenty.

“I’m hurt bad enough to maybe kick me off the circuit. When I hit the dirt, I was out cold. They said I kept yel ing your name in the ambulance, but I don’t remember. Al I remember is the pain.”

“Noah, what can I do? Do you want me to go over to your folks’ house? I think they’re in town. I could cal your sister, Alex.”

“No, I don’t want them to worry. I know Mom. She’l freak out and Dad wil start lecturing me like I’m stil a kid. I don’t want them to know anything until I know how serious it is.

They’re not tel ing me much yet.” He paused, and she knew he was fighting to keep his voice calm. “Rea, I got to face this before I ask them to. If it’s nothing, they don’t even need to know. If it’s crippling, I got to have a plan.” She understood. Noah had always been their positive, sunny child. The McAl ens had already lost one son eight years ago. She’d seen the panic in their eyes once when Noah had been admitted to the hospital after an accident.

She understood why he’d want to save them pain. “What can I do?”

He was silent for a moment, and then he said simply,

“Come get me. No matter how bad it is, I want you near when I find out.”

She slid out of bed and paced to the window. He was asking her to leave her uncle. Noah was alone in a place without friends or family. “I’l try,” she whispered. “Cal me tomorrow.”

Rea fought back tears. She felt she couldn’t go and she couldn’t stay.

The light came on across the hal way in the parlor that had become her uncle’s room since his last heart attack.

Reagan scrubbed her cheek with her palm before checking on him.

Jeremiah pul ed himself up in bed and looked like he was waiting for a report when she walked in. The harsh frown he always greeted everyone with hadn’t frightened her since the day she met him. “Wel , girl, something’s upset you. Might as wel talk about it. I’m as awake as I’l ever be.”

“I got a cal from Noah. He was hurt at the rodeo tonight.” She didn’t bother with details. Her uncle saw life as clean cut, without emotion.

“If he cal ed, I’m guessing he’s not dead. If he cal ed you, I’m thinking he doesn’t want his folks to know.”

“He wants me to bring him home here to recover, but it’s a long way to Memphis. I’d have to leave you.” Jeremiah raised one eyebrow and studied her a moment before snorting and saying, “Go get that boy and bring him here to heal. Hel , the place is turning into a hospital anyway.”

“But . . .”

“No
but
s about it. You care about him, don’t you?

“Yes, but I care about you.”

The old man smiled. “I know you do, but before long I’l be part of your past. That boy, he’s part of your future.” Reagan lowered her head onto the covers of his bed and cried.

The old man placed his hand on her hair and patted lightly. “You’re the best thing that ever came along in my life, kid, and you’l probably be the best thing in his, but you should know that I plan to be around for a while to remind him.”

Reagan raised her head. “But . . . we’re just friends.” He smiled as if he knew a secret and patted her head one more time before he pul ed away. “I know, girl. Now pack your bags and go get your friend. Foster and Cindy wil be here to watch over me.”

Reagan kissed his cheek as he tried, not too hard, to wave her away.

DALLAS LOGAN SAW IT AS HER CIVIC DUTY TO

ATTEND every public function in Harmony even if no one else seemed to want her there. In Ronel e’s mother’s opinion, the town would go to hel in a hatbox if she, and her daughter, weren’t present.

Ronel e had no more luck persuading her mother to stay home or go alone than she did at correcting the mixed metaphor. As far as Dal as was concerned, if her daughter wasn’t at the post office working, she should be by her side.

So, Saturday morning, they were off to the meeting at the fire station. Of course, Dal as drove; she saw no reason for Ronel e to even learn. After al , Ronel e was young; she could walk anywhere she needed to go—the post office, the store, or the diner. As long as Dal as held the keys, she held the power, and they both knew it.

The paper stated that the talk would center on how the county was going to afford another fire truck. No one seemed to have an answer, but that wouldn’t stop them from hashing it over in great detail.

Ronel e hated town meetings. She never said a word. In fact, she usual y took her crossword puzzle books and timed herself to see how many she could get done in an hour.

They arrived later than her mother would have liked.

Dal as didn’t get to talk to anyone because the meeting was being cal ed to order. They also had to take a seat near the back, and nothing bothered Dal as Logan more than not being seen.

Ronel e lost interest in the meeting within minutes. She slid down in her chair and began a crossword puzzle.

Halfway through it, she heard a familiar voice. A voice she’d never forget. Marty Winslow.

Looking between the two overweight women in front of her, she watched as Marty presented a plan. He sat in his wheelchair, his black hair pul ed back, almost making him look like he’d cut it. He rattled off numbers while someone flipped charts behind him.