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Now he wondered if Robbie Tellchick remembered that night at all.
“I think your oldest boy, especially, could use a break, don’t you?” he said quietly, bringing his thoughts back to what was important in the present. The idea of a twelve-year-old being told to put on his pajamas made Zack cringe. “Maybe seeing me, when he wasn’t expecting it, kind of bothered him, you know?”
She looked down at the white circle the flashlight made on the ground. After a moment she nodded.
“Mrs. Tellchick?” He swallowed. “Robbie?”
She turned her face up to him again.
“I told you this once, but I want to be sure you understand that I really meant it. I want to help you and the boys in any way I can.”
She looked back down to the ground. After a long silence, without looking up at him, she said, “It wasn’t your fault, you know that, don’t you?”
He did know that. And he also now knew some things she didn’t. But that wasn’t the point. Danny Tellchick had died a horrible death, possibly a suspicious one, and now his defenseless family was thrown into turmoil and suffering through no fault of their own. If Zack could only push a giant “undo” button on the whole thing, he would. But he couldn’t change anything. All he could do now was step in, be of some assistance somehow, in some way.
“Could I…would you let me come and fix this window? Tomorrow?” He wanted to add, no strings attached. He wanted to say, I don’t mean anything by offering. No pressure. It has nothing to do with the fact that I had a wild crush on you in high school. I just want to help. But saying all that, with her so recently bereaved and being in her condition, might seem foolish—insulting, even.
Her eyes darted around, obviously tempted by the offer. “I go to work really early. The boys get themselves off to school.”
“What time do you get home?”
“Around two. Then I usually try to get a little something done around here before I feed the boys supper. Sometimes I have to go back for the dinner shift if Nattie Rose needs help.”
“Why don’t I come over here at say, about two thirty? Tomorrow’s my day off from the fire station. I’ll have plenty of time to drop by and measure earlier—I can do that from the outside—and then I can have the glass all ready, so it won’t take much time. I have all the other materials. I own my own carpentry and remodeling business.”
“I…I don’t know when I’d be able to pay you. I mean, we are finally getting a little social security income now, but…” She bit her lip and glanced at the window. “I sure don’t want my landlord to see this.”
Her admission tore at his heart so much that he made an involuntary move toward her and reached out to comfort with his open palm. But she shifted sideways, out of range of his touch, bringing her hands up to grasp the lapels of his jacket, clutching it tightly around her shoulders. She looked so vulnerable with her tummy protruding and her messy hair reflecting the misty yellowed light from the window that it was all Zack could do to keep from turning her toward him and wrapping his arms around her.
“Don’t worry about paying me. A guy like me clears plenty in a town full of historical houses.”
She nodded, then sighed dejectedly. “Okay. I think this time I’m going to just have to accept your kindness. I really appreciate it, Zack.” Clutching the jacket, she bent awkwardly to retrieve the flattened carton of ice cream.
“I’ll finish this. You’d better get out of the wind.”
He hoped his offers of help hadn’t hurt her pride. It occurred to him then that he hadn’t told her what he came to say. Until now, Danny Tellchick’s death certificate had read “under investigation,” but soon the young widow would receive a supplementary certificate of death that revealed the truth. But for now Zack decided that bad news could just wait until a better time. Those boys weren’t the only ones who needed a little mercy around here.
CHAPTER THREE
I WOKE UP at 2 a.m and couldn’t go back to sleep. The wind is rattling the creaky windows of this old house worse than a hurricane.
I switched on the lamp and prowled around this room like a cranky mamma bear who’d been jolted out of hibernation, until I found this journal on the dresser. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to follow my sister’s advice and scribble down a few of my black little thoughts.
Markie wants me to seek counseling. But what’s a counselor going to tell me? Mrs. Tellchick, you’re sad? You have some very bad memories to deal with here? You’ve got another baby on the way, and you get to raise this one by yourself?
All summer Markie kept reminding me that this baby may seem like a burden now, but that he is a real person, who is probably going to grow up to be absolutely wonderful, a blessing. I know that. And that’s not the point.
Markie is all idealistic about having children because she’s recently met her beautiful all-grownup and well-behaved son, Brandon. She forgets I’ve got three that I’ve been raising from scratch, out on a dryland farm where Danny and I barely eked out a living. I don’t have any idealistic illusions about raising babies. Sleepless nights. Health worries. A steady stream of bills.
And then they become little boys, with all their antics. Like that broken window!
I have absolutely no hope of producing a girl. I’m convinced Danny didn’t have any girl genes in him. None. Nada. Zip. He used to joke that we were raising our own little home-grown football team.
I just got tears in my eyes when I wrote that last part. Part of me feels like all of my hopes and dreams died with Danny in that barn. My husband wasn’t perfect, but I’ve been with him since junior high and I don’t know how to be any other way. I sure don’t know how to raise these boys alone!
Seeing Zack Trueblood has got me picturing the fire in my mind all over again. It seemed like it just exploded at one point. One minute I was standing at the kitchen window, thinking I smelled smoke, and the next I was outside staring up at a whole wall of the barn engulfed in flames. I knew when I ran out there, even as I was punching 9-1-1 on the cell phone, that there was no way the fire trucks could make it from town in time. It only took me a couple of minutes to figure out where all the boys were, and that Danny was nowhere to be found.
I feel so guilty now because now I’m thinking about Zack again.
I’m thinking about him following me into the kitchen last night. (Brave man!) That sounded a little sarcastic, even to myself, but I mean that literally. Zack Trueblood is the bravest man I know, bar none. He’s so brave it takes my breath away. I’ll never forget what he tried to do for me and my boys. The man plunged into a burning barn to pull out my husband’s body. I get tears in my eyes every time I think about it. And here they come, right on cue. These late-night weeping sessions have got to stop. My sister’s right. I am exhausting myself. I don’t think I can write any more right now.
THE NEXT DAY a blast of cold Canadian air howled down from the north, making Zack’s job on the window much more of a hassle than it should have been.
“You want something hot to drink?” Robbie called through the pane to him when she could see that he was almost done.
“Sounds good.” His fingers were getting stiff with cold as he smoothed a seam of glazing around the glass. For more than one reason, he was glad he hadn’t delayed getting this window fixed for Robbie. A stiff norther was swooping down off the Edwards plateau. The gray clouds gathering on the northwest horizon promised a cold rain later. The beginning of the fall rains was both a curse and a blessing for local firefighters.
It signaled the end of the grass fire season, but it also gave rise to the inevitable auto incidents in which folks who didn’t understand how to drive the treacherous Hill Country roads after a flash flood got swept off one of the many low water bridges in the area.
While he’d been walking the perimeter of Robbie’s house earlier this afternoon, he’d noticed quite a few more things that needed repair: loose shingles, broken porch rails, a badly bent gutter spout. He was going to have a word with old man Mestor about all of that. In Zack’s opinion, that old boy needed to spend more time over here fixing up his rentals and less time gabbing with his cronies over at the Hungry Aggie.
Zack knew Mestor employed pick-up loads of Mexicans out on his farm, and he could dern well put some of them to work on his shabby rental properties in town.
Zack was all about civic pride. Five Points had all the historical significance and charm of the Hill Country towns surrounding it and capitalizing on its potential was just a matter of getting old guys like Mestor to have a little more vision. Flag waving and decorating Main Street for the odd summer barbecue wasn’t enough. In Zack’s mind, the town’s charm would have to come from more permanent improvements. But sometimes it was like pulling eyeteeth to get people to do things right.
“I hope you don’t mind chamomile tea,” Robbie explained when he poked his head inside the kitchen door and said, “All done.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any coffee,” she went on as she poured steaming water into a teapot. “Ixnay on the caffeine.” She patted her tummy. “Pregnant and paranoid, that’s me,” she said as Zack stepped into the kitchen. “I see a potential threat to my fetus in practically everything I eat, drink, drive, breathe or even think about.” She shot him an arch-browed glance as if he were in the “think about” category.
He chuckled. “Tea will be fine.” He’d never cared for the herbal stuff, but he’d drink kerosene if it meant he got to sit in Robbie Tellchick’s kitchen and listen to her banter—and look at her—while he sipped it.
He held forth the bag he’d forgotten about earlier. “Uh, hope this isn’t too toxic. I guess it’s a good thing this norther blew in since I left it on the front seat of my truck.”
She took the insulated sack and peeked inside. The little smile he was coming to crave played around her lips. “Why thank you, Zack.” She pulled it out. “Ooo. Häagen-Dazs. The good stuff.”
“Ice cream probably seems kind of dumb with this cold weather setting in.”
“Not to me. It’s my one indulgence. And the gallon that boys destroyed was going to be all I could afford this month.” The smile became full-fledged. “It was so nice of you to remember.”
Knowing he’d pleased her gave him a rush of pleasure. One indulgence down, a million more to go, if he had his way.
They settled on comfortable bentwood chairs at a little white spindle-legged table near a high bow win-dow that looked out over an overgrown backyard. The narrow, bare kitchen looked slightly cheerier in the daytime, even though the skies outside were gray and threatening rain. She had lit a candle on the table and she placed the teapot on a brightly patterned quilted hot pad between them.
“And thank you again,” she said, smiling as she poured his tea, “for taking all this time and trouble to fix my window.”
“No trouble.” He studied her in the milky afternoon light. Faint bluish circles under her eyes indicated that she was tired. Her hair was drawn back in the braid she often wore to work. She was wearing a baby blue maternity top with jeans. Watching her perform the simple task, he suddenly realized who it was she favored, at least in his mind. Nicole Kidman. Except Robbie’s hair had streaks of a deeper, purer red. But there was something about the way her full rosy lips contrasted so vividly with her pale skin and her faint freckles. He wondered how she’d react if he told her she looked like the actress.
He realized he was staring at her and turned his gaze out the window. “It really wasn’t any trouble,” he repeated. He stole a glance at her and frowned, finding that he still couldn’t tell her about the autopsy and the fire marshal’s conclusions. Not now.
The heat pattern, the trailers of gasoline on concrete, the pour patterns. It all added up to one thing: arson.
It seemed abrupt to drop a bomb like that on a pregnant woman while they were just sitting here, having tea at her quaint little table. Just the two of them, alone. That’s what really gave him the willies. Being alone with her, pregnant or not, gave rise to all kinds of conflicting emotions in him.
She raised her cup and sipped cautiously, noticing that he was watching her, eyeing him over the rim. She had probably already figured out he hadn’t come to the house on a social call last night, and she was undoubtedly waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. Was that too personal a thing to say to a pregnant woman?
“Fine. This is my fourth, after all. There are no surprises.”
That hit him with a jolt. Here he had been entertaining all these idealistic, quasi-romantic memories about the perky redheaded Robbie McBride last night, when the reality was she was pregnant Robbie Tellchick, experienced mother of three.
He sipped his tea. “This stuff’s pretty good.” He took another sip, stalling, angling for something to say. “So. How’s your new job working out?” He’d been watching her at the café since she started waitressing there. He missed a few days when he’d worked an extra 24-hour shift and then he’d had a hardwood floor to lay for a woman over in Wildhorse. The job had taken him two solid days because the woman, a pretty-enough blonde, kept coming around to chatter. He had wondered if the other guys had tipped Robbie adequately in his absence.
“Fine. Everybody there is so nice to me. The whole town’s nice to me, though I suppose there are some folks that think I’m crazy for going to work as a waitress and moving into this old rattletrap. They probably wonder why I don’t take my boys out to my parents’ farm and stay out there like my mother wants me to.”
“Your mother and dad live out by the river, too, right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a really nice farm out there.”
“Not to me.”
Zack gave her a quizzical look which she didn’t answer. “Still,” he offered sensibly, “that might have been easier on you.” Though a selfish part of him was glad to have her right here in town where he had some hope of seeing her more often. It would be pretty hard to come up with excuses to drive all the way out to the McBride farm on a regular basis, and he had already taken to eating breakfast at the Hungry Aggie as often as possible. Lunch, too. Even dinner if she was doing that shift. Why not? Who was to question the eating habits of a bachelor firefighter?
He was making a regular pest of himself, probably, being too obvious about laying down those huge tips under the saltshaker. Occasionally he’d gotten that pretty smile of hers to emerge. “Why did you move into town, if I may ask? That’s a pretty little farm you’ve got out there, too.” Zack knew the property well. He’d coveted it, truth be told.
“It’s a pretty little place that was falling down around my ears.” She sighed heavily, and Zack didn’t like the sound of it. “It’s a long story. In any case I couldn’t keep the farm up by myself, and there were…ugly circumstances that made it untenable to go live at my mother’s house.”
“Ugly? Like what?” He downed the remainder of his tea, and she filled his cup right away. It seemed like she was enjoying this little break, maybe even his company, he hoped.
“I don’t want to bore a man like you with the McBride family’s dramas.”
A man like him? What did that mean? “I’m interested.” He wanted to add, “in anything having to do with you,” but thought better of it. He smiled at her. Just a couple of minutes more of this, Lord. Please. Just a little more normal conversation.
“Well, you knew my sister just got married?”
“Right. I saw the pictures in the paper. To Justin Kilgore, the congressman’s son, right?”
“Um. Well, she and Justin were…sweethearts as teenagers. And my mother came between them years ago. She lied to them.”
“Oh. That is kind of heavy.”
“Kind of, yes. I still haven’t forgiven my mother for what she did. There’s a lot more to it, but I’m not sure my sister would want me to share the details.”
“I understand. Where is your sister these days, by the way?” Last night Zack had decided that having the sister around when he dropped his bomb might not be a bad idea. Robbie was so vulnerable right now. Markie McBride had seemed really levelheaded the few times Zack had talked to her, and she seemed genuinely concerned about helping Robbie.
“She’s on her honeymoon in Aruba, but she’ll be back in a couple of weeks. She promised to help me get this place in order when she gets home.” The heavy sigh came again. “I have to admit I could sure use the help.”
“I’d be glad to offer mine.” He wondered if he could get the fire marshal to keep his findings away from the media for a little while longer. He wondered if the bad news had to go in the papers at all, in fact. It was a common thing. Losers torched their own worthless barns and outbuildings all the time, then called the fire department when they were ready to put out the fire. He looked Robbie up and down, not liking the look of those shadows under her eyes. How could he make this easier for her? “I mean it. I’ll be glad to help. I thought about talking to your landlord for you, too. He needs to do some repairs around here.”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said.
“I don’t mind. Mestor’s not somebody you should have to even be in the same room with, much less confront.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have to confront him, either.”
Zack smiled. “Oh, but I like to. We’ve had words before. It makes my day. By the way, I meant to check when I was here last night. Has he got smoke detectors installed here?”
Robbie slapped her forehead. “Oh, man. Here I am fretting about mercury in tuna, and I didn’t even think of that.”
“We keep some at the fire station. I’ll bring a couple over right away. And we can get started on those boxes.”
“I’ll take the smoke detectors. But as for the rest of this mess…” Her eyes traveled to a cluster of half-unpacked boxes in the corner. “I just couldn’t ask you to use your time off helping me unpack. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do. Besides, I never knew of a man who could get stuff organized the way women want it, anyway. My sister and I are pretty good at this kind of thing when the two of us get going. We learned it from our mother, who’s so organized it’s scary. I’ll just wait ’til Markie gets back.”
He nodded and smiled. “Whatever makes you the most comfortable.”
Waiting for the sister, both of them. Too bad she was all the way down in Aruba. With Robbie Tell chick working over at the Hungry Aggie, it would be tough to protect her from rumors for long. Still, Zack figured he had to try. He swallowed the last of his tea. “Well, I’d better get going. I don’t want to tire you out. I imagine you want to put your feet up before those boys come home from school.”
“Thank you, again.” She pushed up from the table. He was glad she was sensible enough not to argue about needing her rest. She walked him to the front door. When they got there, she lingered, clutching the knob. “Listen, Zack,” she said. “I’m sorry. I mean, I really wish I could pay you, but—”
Before he could think about it, he clasped a palm around her arm to stop her. “No.” The instant he touched her he knew the feel of her would haunt him. Her skin felt like warm silk. An unbidden vision—running his hands all over her body—assailed him. He dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “Like I told you. I wanted to help.”
“Well, I was going to say I’d love to cook dinner for you sometime. I mean, would you want to maybe come over and have spaghetti with me and the boys sometime?”
“Thank you, but I couldn’t impose.” He wasn’t about to eat this woman’s food when she was barely getting by.
She gave him a little wincing frown. “Zack…you don’t feel…you’re not…” She seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “This isn’t because you’re feeling guilty about what happened to Danny or something?”
Guilt? Because he’d failed to save a man with three kids and another on the way? Because he’d just touched that man’s wife and immediately wanted to do more than touch—a whole lot more? Because he was lusting after a pregnant woman, for crying out loud? Guilt? Guilt was hardly a strong enough word. All of a sudden he found he couldn’t look in her eyes.
Wind gusted into the open doorway and thunder rumbled across the cloudy sky as his eyes fixed on the scarred wood floor of her entry hall, then on the stairs behind her, then traveled up searching, scanning aimlessly. One of the banisters was missing. Not safe. He’d be sure to come back to fix it. He couldn’t answer her question because the truth was, yes, a part of him had felt more than guilt, a gnawing helpless frustration, over his failed attempt to save Danny Tellchick’s life. But that should have changed now, in light of the findings of the fire marshal and medical examiner. That wasn’t why he wanted to help her.
His motives were far less pure, some might say. I’m hopelessly attracted to you, his heart admitted when his eyes finally came back down to meet with hers. Always have been. But under the circumstances, he sure couldn’t tell the woman that, now could he?
“I was a fatherless boy myself, once,” he allowed quietly. It was true, though if he were honest, he’d have to admit that that had little to do with his reasons for helping out these boys, either. “I just want to do whatever I can to make your lives easier right now.”
She smiled, and the sincerity and innocence of it went right through him. “That’s really decent of you. I just…I just wanted to be sure…you know. Well…”
“I’d better get going.” He stepped onto the porch.
“Yes. I’ll let you go before it starts pouring.” The heavy oak door creaked on its hinges as she made to close it.
He flattened a palm on the door to stop it. “Will you be working at the restaurant tomorrow?” he asked.
She nodded. “Bright and early on the breakfast shift.”
“Good.” He smiled. “I’ll see you then.”
