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She noticed that he was assessing the newest addition to the house as they walked. “Would you like to wander around and look the place over? I don’t mind.”
“I’d love to but I need to get home. I didn’t expect to be gone this long when I left the boys.”
“Boys?” Brianne couldn’t picture him as a scoutmaster leading a camp out or a Sunday school teacher taking his class on a field trip, which left only one other likely probability—fatherhood. The notion of having one man living close by didn’t bother her nearly as much as the idea of his children running rampant all over the hills, whooping and hollering and disturbing the otherwise perfect solitude she’d created in which to work.
“I have two sons,” Mitch said.
“Congratulations.” There was an embarrassing pause before she went on. “I can’t imagine coping with any children, let alone boys.”
“It isn’t easy.” Mitch bent to fill the bucket, not looking at her as he spoke. “Especially alone.”
Curiosity got the better of her. “Oh? Are you divorced?”
“No.” Mitch straightened, his expression guarded. “My wife died recently.”
Open mouth, insert foot, chew thoroughly. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
The hint of a smile lifted one corner of his strong mouth. “It’s no secret that I’m single, if that’s what you want to know. And I’m not grieving. Liz and I had separated long before her accident. I hadn’t seen her in ages.”
“Then what about—?” Brianne broke off and cast a telling glance down the wooded slope in the direction of his cabin. No more questions. She’d already said enough dumb things for one day.
Mitch, however, supplied the answer to her unspoken query. “Liz took the boys away with her when she left me. It took almost three years to track them down.”
The poignancy of his situation touched her heart.
“What an awful thing to go through.”
“Yeah, no kidding. I’ve got my work cut out for me now, that’s for sure, which is why I’d better get a move on. Even kids who are used to living by strict rules can get into trouble, and mine haven’t had much discipline lately. Ryan—he’s eight—says he’s used to looking after his younger brother, but that doesn’t mean they won’t both be swinging from the chandeliers by the time I get home.”
She was incredulous. “Wait a minute. You have no water—but you have chandeliers in your cabin?”
“No, ma’am.” Mitch chuckled. “That was just a figure of speech.” Glancing toward the mansion, he added, “I think you’ve been surrounded by luxury too long. You’re out of touch with how the rest of the world lives.”
She sighed. “I suppose you could be right. I find this whole area very confusing. There aren’t any neighborhoods like I’m used to back home. People just seem to build whatever kind of house they want, wherever they want it, no matter what the places next door look like.” Realizing how that comment had sounded, she pulled a face. “Sorry. No offense meant.”
“Don’t worry about it. You can’t help it if you have more money than good sense.” He followed his comment with a smile so she’d realize he’d been joking.
“Hey, I’m not that wealthy.”
Mitch’s smile grew. “Good. Maybe there’s hope for you yet. Are you famous? Maybe I’ve read something you wrote.”
Delayed reaction but predictable questions? “I doubt that. I write women’s fiction. And I didn’t get rich doing it. My father passed away several years ago, and I inherited a bundle. After that, I left Pennsylvania and moved down here to Arkansas to get away from the sad memories.”
Mitch hefted the heavy bucket with ease and started toward the edge of the lawn where the forest began. “Can’t run from those,” he said wisely. “I ought to know. No matter where you go, your past goes with you, mistakes and all.”
A jolt of uneasiness hit her as she fell into step beside him. “I hope you’re wrong.”
“Not about that. Experience is a great teacher,” he said soberly. “Well, nice to have met you, Ms. Bailey, and thanks for the water. If you ever feel like slumming, just follow this streambed about half a mile. You’ll find us at the bottom of the draw.” He smiled. “Bye. Gotta go.”
She raised her hand tentatively in reply. She’d have done more, but a flock of butterflies had just launched themselves en masse at the sight of his dynamic parting grin, and she was busy wondering if his last glimpse of her was going to feature her keeling over in a dead faint. The notion wasn’t very appealing.
“Phooey. I don’t swoon,” Bree whispered, wresting control of her body from her topsy-turvy emotions. “I’m just a little woozy from the heat and humidity, that’s all. I’ve never fainted and I never will.”
Besides, that poor man is saddled with two little kids, she added, silently reinforcing her growing conviction that Mitch was anything but appealing. Children. Eesh! And the oldest was only eight! What a nightmare!
Bree shivered. As far as she was concerned, the man might as well have confessed to being in league with the devil himself!
By the time Mitch got to his cabin, he’d managed to spill half the contents of the bucket. Considering the rough, overgrown terrain he’d had to cover on his trek down the hill he was surprised to have salvaged that much.
As he approached the cabin, he could hear shouts and squeals of laughter. That might not be a good sign but at least it proved the boys hadn’t mutinied and wandered off in his absence.
The minute he pushed open the door, his children froze in mid-motion, looking as if they were sure they were guilty of some awful crime and expected him to mete out immediate punishment.
Instead, Mitch set the bucket down and paused to assess the mayhem. Ryan had pulled the narrow end of a flat sheet over his shoulders and tied the corners so the fabric draped behind him like a long cape. Bud had apparently been trying to sit on the part that dragged the floor while his big brother pulled him around the room. Bud’s raggedy old teddy bear was perched on the sidelines like an audience at a sporting event.
Judging by the swirls of dust on the wooden flooring and the boys’ grubby faces and hands, they’d been playing their little game for some time. Their expressions were priceless!
Mitch wanted desperately to laugh. They were just typical kids having a good time. He wasn’t about to play the ogre and spoil their fun.
He pointed. “You missed a couple of places.”
“Huh?” Ryan frowned.
“That’s an ingenious way to sweep the floor but it doesn’t do the corners very well. I suggest we use a mop for those.”
“Uh, okay.”
Mitch could tell the boy’s mind was working, struggling to comprehend Mitch’s surprising parental reaction. Finally, Ryan’s thin shoulders relaxed, and he untied his makeshift cape.
“Little kids get bored real easy,” the eight-year-old said. “You have to keep ’em busy or they get into trouble.”
“I can see that.”
For an instant Mitch glimpsed the child behind his eldest son’s tough-guy facade. It couldn’t have been easy for Ryan to act as a pseudo parent while his flaky mother, Liz, ran around doing as she pleased. There was no telling how often she’d gone off on a tangent and left the boys alone much longer than she’d originally intended. Still, that lack of responsibility on her part may have been a blessing in disguise because it had led to them not being with her when she’d had the horrible accident that had taken her life.
“I may need you to help me understand your brother,” Mitch said. “Especially since I haven’t seen either of you for such a long time. I’m not used to having kids around. I’ve really missed you guys.”
“Then why didn’t you come get us?”
Ah, so that was what was eating at Ryan. “Because I didn’t know where your mother had taken you,” Mitch explained. “Even the police couldn’t find you. I spent every cent I could lay my hands on to hire private detectives. I’ll say this for your mom, she hides really good.”
“We moved a lot,” the boy replied, eyes downcast.
“It’s okay. I won’t bug you about it,” Mitch promised. “But if you ever do decide you want to talk about anything that happened while you were gone, I’m willing to listen, okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Mitch would have pursued the subject if there hadn’t been a strange scratching noise at the door. He immediately assumed it was a marauding raccoon or possum, but before he had time to warn the boys, Bud had run to the door and thrown it wide open.
“Don’t!”
Mitch started to shout, then stopped, startled, when he realized their visitor was a puppy. At least he thought it was. There was so much mud and so many leaves and twigs stuck in its dull brown coat that its age wasn’t the only thing in question.
Mitch’s protective instincts came to the fore. “Close the door. You don’t know where that thing has been. It could be sick.”
The advice came too late. Bud was already on his knees beside the pitiful little dog, and Ryan was patting it on the head while it shook and whimpered. Whether Mitch approved or not, it looked like his boys had themselves a pet.
He strode quickly to the doorway and scooped up the skinny pup so he could look it over. Poor thing. He could feel every one of its ribs beneath the matted fur. Chances were good it was covered with fleas, too. If any stray ever needed a home, this one sure did.
“Okay. First things first,” he said firmly. “Ryan, you grab a rag and wipe down all the furniture with clean water from the bucket. Bud, you help him. And do a good job of it, guys, because you’ll only get one chance. As soon as you’re done we’re going to use the rest of the wash water to give this dog a bath.”
Hearing the boys’ mutual intake of breath he added, “That is, if you want it to live inside with us. Of course, if you don’t…”
“We do!” Ryan shouted. Grabbing Bud by the hand, he hurried him off with a breathless command, “Come on,” leaving Mitch and the dog behind.
“You guys found him. What do you want to name him?” Mitch called after them.
Bud grabbed Ryan’s arm and leaned close to whisper in his ear.
Ryan nodded sagely. “Barney.”
Bud agreed, “Yeah!”
At the shrill sound of their voices the little dog’s trembling increased. Mitch felt so sorry for it, he held it closer in spite of its dirty coat. “Shush. You’re scaring him.”
They immediately quieted down, looking at their father with awe. In their eyes, he had apparently become an instant expert on dogs.
Soberly, Mitch gazed at the skinny, quivering ball of filthy fur he was cradling in his arms, hoping with all his heart that he’d be wise enough, caring enough, to salvage all three of the neglected waifs he was now responsible for.
Chapter Two
W ith darkness came a midsummer thunderstorm. Mitch figured out how hard it was raining by listening to the torrent pounding against the peaked tin roof and running off the steep slope to fall in a solid sheet of water along both sides.
Before long, he felt a drop hit him on the head. It didn’t startle him because he was already wide awake. As soon as the thunder and lightning had started, Bud had climbed into his bed with him, stuffed bear and all. That wasn’t so bad until a wide-eyed Ryan showed up carrying a battery-powered lantern and their new dog.
“Barney is scared, too,” the eight-year-old said. “Can we get in bed with you?”
“Sure.” Mitch scooted over as far as he could to make room and promptly fell off the narrow mattress onto the floor with a thump and an ouch.
That brought giggles from the boys.
“Tell you what,” he said, raising himself up to peer over the edge of the bed, “how about we put a couple of these beds together to make one bigger one? Then we can all sleep close without pushing your poor daddy onto the floor.”
No one answered. Mitch got to his feet and took charge. “Okay. Everybody out. The roof is leaking over here, and I don’t know how much worse the rain will get, so the first thing we’re going to do is move my bed to a drier place.” He motioned. “Ryan, you push the foot of the bed in that direction. I’ll get the end with the headboard.”
“I have to go potty,” Bud announced.
“In a minute,” Mitch promised. “Right now we’re getting Daddy’s bed out of the way so it won’t get wet.”
Ryan shot him a knowing look. “That’s not the only thing that’ll be wet if you don’t take him to the bathroom. When he says he has to go, he has to go.”
“Okay, okay.”
It suddenly occurred to Mitch that the facilities were outside and it was pouring. He glanced at Ryan. The boy was sporting a sly grin.
Mitch frowned. “Did you take your brother to the outhouse before dark, like I told you?”
“Yup.” Ryan’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “But he’d never seen one before. He was scared to go in.”
“Why didn’t you go in with him?”
“It was too crowded.” His smile spread from ear to ear. “Guess you’ll have to make the trip, huh?”
Mitch sighed, vowing to add a portable commode to the list of supplies he intended to get the next time he drove into town. He reached for his jeans and pulled them on over his pajamas, then slid his bare feet into his boots. “I guess I will. Help your brother put his shoes on.”
He grabbed a waterproof plastic poncho, slung it over his head and held the front part out of the way while he hoisted his youngest son in his arms and covered him with it.
“I’ll take Bud now. Ryan, you fix the beds while I’m gone. When I come back I’ll help you. Okay?”
Ryan nodded compliantly.
Looking terribly smug, he handed his father a flashlight.
The humidity gathering beneath the plastic gear had already brought up beads of sweat on Mitch’s forehead.
The moment Ryan opened the door for him, the rain gusted in, soaking the floorboards and puddling on the uneven surface. Lightning illuminated the yard as if a floodlight had been turned on. Thunder crashed and rolled, echoing across the hills.
If Mitch hadn’t been obliged to make a mad dash for the outhouse he would have stopped then and there and told his eldest son a few things about following orders in the future. As it was, he figured he would be doing well to keep his balance and get there and back in one piece. Discipline would have to wait.
From her second-story vantage point, Bree could see the recently dug pond that had caused her new neighbor such consternation. Every time there was a flash of lightning the water level looked higher. If this deluge kept up, the creek he’d mentioned was probably going to start flowing again very soon.
“I think I’ll still run a pipe from our well so they’ll have decent drinking water all the time,” she told herself. “That’s only fair.” Besides, doing that would keep the neighbors from disturbing her solitude by hiking up the hill to fetch water day after day. She made a disgusted face. Did having an ulterior motive cancel out the benefits of doing a good deed? “I sure hope not.”
As she watched, the water level in the pond continued to rise, then appeared to stabilize even though the rain was still coming down hard. Her brow furrowed, and she peered into the darkness, hoping for another bright burst so she could see better. When it did finally come, she could have sworn there was less water in the pond than before. How strange.
Puzzled, she watched the anomaly for a few more minutes, then pulled a light cotton robe over her nightgown and went downstairs to make sure her computer was disconnected in case of a lightning strike. There wasn’t much point in going back to bed while the storm raged. She’d never be able to sleep when the flashes were so bright she could see them through her closed eyelids!
Bree got herself a glass of milk and settled into a chair at the kitchen table. She noticed that her hands were trembling slightly. Undue concern during bad weather was a new phenomenon for her. There seemed to be something particularly disconcerting about the ferocity of Arkansas summer storms. Maybe it was the stories her part-time housekeeper, Emma, had told about that kind of weather spawning tornadoes. Or maybe it was simply the fact that Bree was alone in the enormous house with no one to talk to. Most of the time, that was exactly how she wanted it. Tonight, however, she almost wished it was time for Emma to drive out from Serenity and clean the place again.
Thunder rattled the windows. Bree winced. “Guess I’m not much of a country girl,” she murmured. “I’d sure like to ask somebody a few questions right about now.”
Mitch had pulled on his leather boots without lacing them, and they were totally soaked. Thanks to the blowing rain and stifling humidity, the rest of him wasn’t much drier.
Bud had obviously never had to rough it before. Consequently, their foray into the storm had taken far longer than Mitch had anticipated.
By the time he returned Bud to the cabin, Mitch was furious with Ryan. Pulling off his slicker, he glared at the boy. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know it was going to rain,” Ryan answered, acting subdued under his father’s ire. “It’s not my fault this place is a dump. It’s worse than going to camp. At least they had the bathrooms in the same building.”
