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He was telling the story without a trace of self-pity. She realized she was smiling.
He went on. “One day, when we were all grown up, Mark, Rachel and I were sitting in a restaurant trying to top each other with terrible stories of our childhood.” He went to the sink to fill the pot with water. “There were no terrible stories, but there were two empty bottles of good Merlot on the table, which made the exercise worthy. I told them my worst memory was the year I had to take my lunch to school wrapped in newspaper, because Mom decided newspaper was cheaper than buying lunch bags.”
“And this reminded you to go out and buy a hundred lunch boxes?”
“No, but for Christmas Mark and Rachel each bought me one. In one fell swoop I got Pac-Man and The Empire Strikes Back.” He glanced at her and smiled a little. “You have no idea how badly I wanted Pac-Man when I was in first grade.”
He poured the water into the coffeemaker and replaced the pot before he turned it on. “The joke spread. Pretty soon everybody was giving me lunch boxes. I still get them. I’d be buried in them, except that I use them as prizes in Sunday school.”
She was entranced. “Prizes?”
“Every year we have a lunch contest on the last Sunday in June. All the children bring the strangest lunch they can think of. But it has to be something they’ll eat. Six winners get their choice of lunch boxes, at least the ones I have on display. Pac-Man’s off limits.”
Elisa laughed. “This is a church school?”
He lounged against the counter as the coffee began to brew. “Actually, I tell them the lunch box story, pretty much the way I told it to you. Then I tell them how much sweeter it is for me to have these lunch boxes now, that waiting for them made them that much more special. The kids get the message. Sometimes you can’t have everything you want the minute you want it, so you have to wait. And when you do?” He shrugged. “It means more.”
She wondered if, when the kids became teenagers, Sam’s story made them pause in the race to explore their sexuality. If so, it was certainly a novel approach to sex education.
“I use a different box every day,” he finished. “In case one of the kids happens to be around.” He allowed himself a grin. “Actually, I’m lying. I use them because they’re fun. And Mom would not approve of me having anything I don’t use.”
She liked his memories. She liked his parents and his sister and brother. She was increasingly sure she liked Sam. She was just as sure that she needed to keep her distance. He would be an easy man to confide in.
“Cream? Sugar?” he asked.
“Nothing. The darker the better.”
“I’ve never quite acquired the taste.”
“That’s probably because what passes for coffee in this country is the cheapest beans badly roasted and stored too long.”
“You’re lucky. I thought about serving you instant.”
She watched as he reached for mugs and poured milk from the refrigerator in his. Then he added coffee and took the mugs into the family room.
The walls here, as in the other rooms, were covered. But here the artwork was clearly that of children, fastened on the walls with plastic pushpins. She suspected the Sunday school children again, or perhaps nieces and nephews. This was a man, like Diego, who loved kids.
Sam set the coffee on the low table in front of a comfortable-looking ultrasuede sofa. “I’ve told you about me. Why don’t you tell me a little about you?”
She joined him and lifted her mug for a sip while she settled on a story. “My father was a teacher. In fact, he taught English, but there was illness and bad luck.” She shrugged. “I set off to find my own way in the world to relieve my parents of their burdens.”
“Wednesday night you mentioned El Paso?”
She was surprised that with everything else that had been going on, Sam had caught, much less remembered, that. She had nearly forgotten it herself. She would need to be careful. “I have covered a lot of ground.”
“I gather you’re not married?”
She paused to consider what else to say. She decided not to elaborate. “No.”
He went on. “We give two weeks paid vacation, hopefully to be taken when the schedule’s not too busy. You would have enough time to fly home and be with your family.”
She sipped her coffee and nodded.
“I’m offering you the job,” he said.
She set her mug on the table, relieved. “Thank you.” She started to say he wouldn’t be sorry, but she knew that might well be a lie. When she left without a word, he would feel betrayed.
“There’s one condition,” he said.
When a woman was poor and clearly in need of a job, there usually was. At least this time she doubted she would be asked to sleep with her boss. “If I can meet your condition,” she said carefully, “I will.”
“Good. Because I want to throw a car into the bargain.”
This was so different from anything she’d expected that she didn’t know what to say.
He filled the silence. “I have two cars. The SUV I drove this morning, and a Honda Civic with about 80,000 miles. I didn’t want to buy the SUV, but the roads around here can be pretty grim. Last winter I got stuck twice trying to visit shut-ins. And one Sunday I had to walk to church for services because the snow was so deep. I don’t need two cars, but I’m sentimentally attached to the Honda, and I couldn’t make myself get rid of it. So I want you to use it while you’re working at Community Church. Consider it a bonus, because we’re not paying as much as we should.”
“I don’t see how I can accept that. It’s too generous.”
“Elisa, you can’t do the sexton’s job without a car, even if you make a superhuman effort. This makes it feasible, and it also relieves me of the guilt of owning two vehicles.”
When he needed it, he had the most disarming grin. Judging by the warmth and goodwill in his eyes, she could almost believe she would be doing him a favor. She considered a moment, but the possibilities were too tempting. This was a huge gift, much more than he could possibly know.
“Yes, all right,” she said at last. “But I have a condition, too. I’ll clean La Casa thoroughly for you each week. That will be my job, not yours. The car will be payment.”
“You’ll have time?”
“In the time it would take me to walk back and forth to the church, I could clean it from roof to cellar.”
“Excellent.” He picked up his mug and swung it in toast. “Then it’s all set.”
Elisa clanked mugs, then peeked at her watch. “I’m sure you’re tired. If you’re going to drive me back—”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll give you the keys to the Civic now, and you can take possession. It’s nothing fancy, but it will get you anywhere you need to go.”
She needed to go many places. She was thrilled.
She got to her feet, and he followed. The dogs, who were now taking up most of the floor between the family room and kitchen, wagged their tails but didn’t rise. She stepped carefully around them and followed Sam—who had taken a better route—to the door, dropping off her mug in the kitchen first.
The car was parked at the side of the house. It was a white hatchback, and it looked to be in good condition for all the miles it had traveled. Sam opened the door and fished under the seat. He got out and held up a keychain with matching keys, and handed it to her. “Most of my neighbors leave their keys in the ignition. You have a license?”
“Yes. Sometimes I drive Adoncia’s car. Will I need insurance?”
“I called my agent. We discussed it. I’ll call her tomorrow and tell her to be sure everything’s in place. You probably shouldn’t go far tonight, just in case.”
“You’re very kind.” She couldn’t help the next words. “And trusting. I’m really just a stranger to you.”
“I’m a good judge of character.”
She didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t as good as he thought.
“Is there a place at your house for another car?” he asked.
“On the side, yes. Diego always parks there. But I won’t be living with Adoncia much longer. Diego wants to move in, and he can’t as long as I’m there. So I’m looking for something else.” She held up the keys. “Now I can look a little farther away.”
“How soon do you want to move?”
“Yesterday?”
“Helen Henry needs somebody to stay with her. She’s had a young couple with a baby living in her house, but they’re moving to Phoenix for several months. Zeke is going to school, and Cissy and Reese are going, too.”
Elisa had only needed minutes to see that Helen Henry was not a woman to be railroaded. “Helen wants somebody to move in?”
“Well, so far she’s said no to every plan, but Tessa and her mother are convinced somebody needs to be there in case of emergency. So there’s a stalemate. I’ll warn you. Helen might say no to you, as well, but it’s worth a try. I’m sure your room would be rent free.”
Elisa had not been able to save more than a few hundred dollars. Now she saw the possibilities. Two jobs, a car and a house she didn’t have to pay for. She would have money to make discreet inquiries by telephone, to follow new leads if any came her way.
“You’re interested?” Sam asked.
“Yes, if she wants me. Adoncia needs the bedroom for her children.”
“Then I’ll check. We can go out there tomorrow afternoon if you have the time? It’s my day off, and I can pick you up.”
“Right now I have nothing but time, Sam.”
“I sense that.”
The conversation had gone from impersonal to personal in the space of seconds. They weren’t touching. Indeed she thought that if one of them had brushed the other accidentally, they would have jumped apart. But Sam’s gaze was concerned, and very intimate.
“You’ve only told me the barest bones about your life,” he said. “And I suspect you didn’t want to say that much. I’m not going to press you, Elisa. But if you ever need to talk, I’ll be here waiting.”
She couldn’t tell him that talk might bring her world crashing around her ears, or that talk might leave him with a moral dilemma even a man of God would find troubling.
“You’re very kind,” she murmured. “But you’ve already done too much for me.”
They could not seem to look away from each other. Seconds passed. She was the one who managed it first. She gazed down at the key in her hand. “Thank you.”
“Drive safely.” He was gone before she unlocked the car door.
Chapter Six
AT FIRST GLANCE Helen Henry’s farmhouse seemed to bask contentedly in the sleepy late summer sun. But that peaceful snapshot was only a ruse.
“She don’t normally take to strangers,” Cissy Claiborne told Elisa after Elisa scooped Cissy’s baby daughter into her arms and settled her on one hip.
Chubby Teresa Nancy Helen Claiborne was just one year old, with a full head of pale cotton-candy hair. In the space of moments, Elisa had already learned this rosy-cheeked cherub went by two nicknames, Reese on good days, Hellion on not-so-good. With the encroaching move and changes to her schedule, these days she was answering to Hellion.
The baby had toddled down Helen Henry’s walkway directly to Elisa and lifted her arms, the way Fernando always did. She smelled like baby shampoo and powder, and immediately nestled in Elisa’s arms as if being there was part of her daily routine. Elisa felt a surge of maternal affection.
She saw from Cissy’s expression that there was no rivalry here, that, in fact, Cissy was grateful someone else was holding the little girl for a change. “I’m not sure why, but I seem to attract babies.”
“Babies know who to trust,” Sam said.
“Maybe they just know how much I like them.”
“She fussed all day from the minute she got up. This is the first time she’s taken a break.” Cissy held out her hand. “Cissy Claiborne, Reese’s mama.”
“Elisa Martinez, Reese’s nanny—as long as she’ll let me hold her.”
“You ever try to pack up just about everything you own with a baby in your arms?” Cissy was young, younger than Elisa had been prepared for, but she said the words with good humor. She had a pretty face, pale golden hair and peach-toned skin, topped off with a friendly smile.
“I can only imagine,” Elisa said. “I’m sure she knows something is changing.”
“She’ll like it in Phoenix. Zeke says our apartment has a baby playground just down the street. And just as soon as it cools off a little there, we can go for walks.”
Elisa had met Sam in the church parking lot so they could drive together. On the trip over, she had learned that Zeke was studying the construction and repair of guitars and other stringed instruments, with the ultimate goal of opening his own shop one day. She could hear all the questions in the young mother’s voice. Surely a move this far away was going to be stressful for everybody, not just the baby.
“You’re worried about Helen, aren’t you?” Sam asked.
Cissy lowered her voice. “Well, you know, Ms. Henry shouldn’t really be alone. She thinks she’s taking care of us and all, but truth is, Reverend Sam, she needs some looking after. I do the cooking most of the time and keep up with the housework, but most of all I keep her company. She just plain gets lonely.”
“I’m going to try to talk her into letting Elisa stay here while you’re away. Nancy and Tessa are all for it. Elisa’s working at the church now.” He turned to Elisa. “Nancy is Helen’s daughter, Tessa’s mother.”
“That’s great,” Cissy told Elisa. “Reverend Sam’s the kind of boss everybody wants.”
“Don’t tell her that. I won’t get a lick of work out of her,” Sam said.
Cissy sobered quickly. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I don’t think Ms. Henry’s going to agree. Doesn’t matter how nice you are, she’s just a stubborn woman. Nancy’s brought half a dozen ladies by in the last two months, and Ms. Henry’s sent every one of them back out the door faster than a jackrabbit.”
“Well, we’ll give it a try.” Sam put his hand on Elisa’s back to urge her toward the front door. For a moment she was all too aware how long it had been since a man had touched her. She and Sam had not said one personal word to each other since he’d ushered her into his car fifteen minutes ago, but she had been only too aware of him.
Cissy led them inside. No one was downstairs, but judging from the sound of voices, the second floor was occupied.
“She’ll cry when I leave to get Ms. Henry,” Cissy warned.
“I’ll come and find you if it gets too bad,” Elisa promised.
Cissy took off as if she couldn’t get away fast enough.
“She’s a good mother,” Sam said in a low voice. “Conscientious, thoughtful, patient. But this is a lot for a young woman her age to handle. I hope she finds friends in Phoenix to make her feel at home. Reese isn’t much for conversation yet.”
Elisa murmured endearments to the little girl in Spanish. Reese cooed right back. “See?” Elisa said. “No one’s spoken to her in the right language. She just told me she prefers enchiladas to mashed peas.”
She smiled at Sam when he laughed. His eyes were warm, and he reached out to fluff Reese’s hair.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Could you live here comfortably?”
She’d only had a chance to glance around, but she nodded. “It’s a lovely house, filled with character.”
