скачать книгу бесплатно
Please, please, please, let me read something uplifting.
When she started reading, though, Dad said, “Not that stuff. Turn to the Invasion of Normandy. All the good stuff, all the turning points happened in the battles.”
“But the good stuff for me is the wonder of the airlift and human interest stories like Uncle Wiggly Wings.”
The stern set of Dad’s mouth eased. “You’ve always been too soft.”
“It’s not just the human interest aspect. I love the politics. The airlift was significant, huge, the beginning of the Cold War.”
“I know, but read about Normandy.” His tone softened. “Please.”
It destroyed Audrey to read about lives lost. They were more than numbers to her. They were all young men like Billy. She missed her brother and his goofy sense of humor. She wished like hell that he’d never joined the army. There wasn’t a man on earth less suited to it than Bill.
Dad had his own way of dealing with his grief. Hearing about war, about the logistics of it, as though he could control it in some odd way by understanding it, seemed to be his way of dealing with the loss of his son.
So, she read to him about battles and casualties.
After retrieving Jerry from his kennel out back, Audrey left the house. Jerry could no longer live indoors with Dad. He’d tripped him one time too many. Not on purpose, but simply because Dad couldn’t see the dog sleeping on the living room floor.
To save everyone’s nerves, she’d started keeping him outside. She didn’t know what she would do once the weather turned cold in the fall.
Jerry sat in the passenger seat, and Audrey rubbed his ears before dropping him off with Noah for the day.
She was late getting to the greenhouses and watering her plants, and even later still getting on the road to Denver
The reason for her trip to the city was twofold. She’d set up interviews with three occupational therapists to take on Dad as a client in September after she’d won the floral competition and that monetary award. It would make a couple of months of in-house occupational therapy affordable. The year’s contract would mean she could finally contribute to the household.
A therapist could teach Dad how to take care of himself, how to cook despite the darkness and the blurriness. How to do his laundry. How to get out of the house. Maybe a stranger could have luck where Audrey hadn’t in persuading Dad to use a white cane. Or not. Audrey could only try. The alternative was to give up, and that was out of the question.
Dad wouldn’t even go outside to walk down the street he’d lived on for nearly forty years.
Eventually, hoping for improvement in his eyesight, they would have an operation to pay for, if only Dad would give in and try it. It would take a miracle to convince him. She was taking a break for a while. Eventually, she would have to broach the subject again.
Audrey had a lot riding on getting that award. Too much. She couldn’t afford to consider that she might not win.
She’d sunk all of her savings into buying the greenhouses, stocking her shop and paying rent on the store. She had yet to make much of a profit. She needed to cast her net wider than just Accord to make enough money to be comfortable.
A win in the competition would sure make that easier.
The second purpose of the trip was to take a look at the area in which she would set up her booth in the competition. She had the dimensions, but it was hard to judge without actually seeing what she had and how to use it to the best effect. She had an appointment with the woman organizing the show.
* * *
JEFF HEARD AUDREY drive away, and leaned over the far side of his armchair to pick up the breakfast he’d hidden there. Audrey fed him healthy pansy food. Egg-white omelets with spinach in them. Yuk. He wanted real food. Bacon and whole eggs.
Careful to avoid the coffee table, he walked toward the hallway with small steps, like a toddler just learning to walk and afraid of falling down. At least a toddler would have excitement mixed in with the fear, the joy of getting up off the floor and really moving.
Jeff was going backward, not gaining but losing—everything—with nothing to look forward to but more darkness and less mobility.
Crap, shit, goddamn. For a man who didn’t like profanity, he sure was using a lot of it lately. He’d never let his children swear when they were growing up, but now he cursed all the time. He had a pansy-assed way of doing it, though. He couldn’t even say them out loud.
He swore a silent blue streak now because it was the only thing that relieved this damn frustration. Momentarily.
Feeling his way along the wall, noticing where the seams of the wallpaper he’d put up well over thirty years ago pulled away from the plaster, he wondered who was going to fix it. Who was going to take care of the things that could go wrong in an old house? Who was going to maintain what he’d spent a lifetime treasuring?
Audrey?
Between the shop, the greenhouses, sewing, cooking...and taking care of him, when would she have time? The girl was already stretched to the limit.
His fingers traced the flocked roses on the walls. Irene had chosen the paper. Too old-fashioned now. Had been even back then, but his wife had been that kind of girl. A romantic.
Like Audrey.
After Irene had died, he’d preferred his son’s humor, his devil-may-care, full-speed-ahead brand of life.
Oh, the laughs they’d had.
Billy.
Jeff shook his head violently. Tears weren’t allowed. They weakened a man.
Billy had understood that. He’d joined the marines. Billy had been a man to admire.
In the kitchen, Jeff dumped the omelet into the garbage and eased his way around the cupboards until he found a frying pan. He was going to make scrambled eggs, and he was going to use the yolks.
He managed to locate the container of margarine in the fridge. Margarine! What the heck was wrong with good old butter? His parents had eaten butter all of their lives and had lived into their eighties.
He cocked his head sideways to use what little peripheral vision he had. Made doing everything hard. He found the eggs, managed to break four of them into a bowl and beat them. He felt them slosh over the edge onto his hand. Careful.
After a fruitless search for the salt, he gave up. What had Audrey done with it? He didn’t recognize his own cupboards, his own groceries anymore.
He placed the pan onto the large front burner. The control knob was the one on the bottom. Right?
He turned it to low.
Opening the margarine, patting his way around the counter because he was a bloody blind man, he scooped a pat of it out with a knife and scraped it on the side of the pan. He heard it sizzle. Good, he’d gotten it inside instead of on the burner.
Resting the bowl on the edge of the pan, he poured the eggs in. They bubbled and spat, and immediately the room filled with the scent of burning eggs and acrid smoke.
What the—?
He grasped the handle of the pan, smoke smothering his nose like a hot blanket, and tossed it into the sink. Only years of living and working in this room made his aim true.
By feel, he turned the burner knob until he thought it was off. He must have turned it on to high instead of to low.
Bugger, his mind screamed. Shit.
He wasn’t a man anymore. If he couldn’t get around, couldn’t even cook his own meals, he was barely half a man.
How many ways was he a failure these days? Too many to count.
* * *
GRAY DRUMMED HIS fingers on the steering wheel of his Dad’s old Volvo and cursed the vehicle from here to eternity.
It had broken down halfway between Accord and Denver. For twenty minutes, he’d been waiting for the tow truck he’d called. Time was passing, and it didn’t look as if he’d make it into Denver today, leaving another day without this blackmail issue settled one way or the other.
Sure, he could wait for the DNA results, but for how long? Since he didn’t trust the woman, he planned to stop at a lab in Denver to pick up a test kit on his way to her home and have her do it in front of him. How she could cheat was beyond him, but he wasn’t taking chances. And, today, he could see her, test her with questions, judge her responses. Maybe denounce her outright and put the issue to bed, so he could move ahead with the other problems in his life.
“Action,” he stated aloud. Life was about action. Business was all about making incisive timely decisions, and here he was sitting on the side of the highway, stymied.
When he noticed his fingers doing their neurotic dance, he grasped the steering wheel to stop them. He couldn’t sit still these days. Ants crawled under his flesh.
Where had his cool, calm manner gone? Where had he gone?
A vehicle pulled to a stop on the shoulder of the highway in front of him. Not a tow truck. A hot-pink Mini.
A woman got out.
Audrey.
Of course, it had to be Audrey. It couldn’t have been someone he liked, or at the very least, someone with whom he wasn’t fighting.
She ran along the shoulder, careful, he noted, to approach on the passenger side away from traffic, calling, “Harrison?” In response to the concern on her face, he immediately rolled down the window. When she saw that it was he who was stranded and not his father, her expression eased.
“Get in,” he said.
She climbed in slowly, as though reluctant to join him.
“What happened?” she asked as she sat next to him, bringing with her a cloud of her gorgeous heady perfume.
A momentary shame, a memory of how he’d left her yesterday, flooded him. In her shop, he’d scared her, and it showed now on her face. Untrusting, she crowded the door.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
At her puzzled frown, he continued, “For frightening you yesterday. I did, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. I hadn’t thought you were that kind of person.”
That shame burned a hot spot in his chest, and he said, “I’m not. I’m under a lot of pressure these days.” He glanced at her and then quickly away. “But that’s no excuse. Sorry.”
“Okay.”
He could feel the lovely heat of her full body warming his right arm even though she was a couple of feet away from him. Her face, though? That was pure, innocent. Did she understand what she did to men? Did she get how sexy that contrast was?
He looked out his window toward the cars streaming past them, counting them, doing anything to distract himself from her as a woman. And God, she was a woman.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Denver.”
Denver. Exactly where he needed to be today.
“For the day or overnight?” he asked.
“Just for a couple of hours. I’m interviewing occupational therapists for my dad.”
“Dad says Jeff’s got macular degeneration.”
“Yes. He has trouble doing anything on his own, and I need someone to come in to train him to take care of himself. I’m trying to build up my business. I’m away from the house hours on end every day.”
Must have been tough to deal with. Gray still had his reservations about paying Jeff a retirement rather than making the man go on disability. He planned to pay Jeff a visit one day soon to determine how severe his vision problem was. No need to share that with Audrey, though. No sense in giving them a warning that he was coming. He needed to know exactly how bad or how good Jeff was. Was the retirement really necessary?
Audrey was going to be in Denver for only a couple of hours, but that was all he would need to determine whether the woman blackmailing Dad was a fake.
If he asked to hitch a ride with Audrey, would she ask what he was doing in Denver? Did it matter? He could always lie.
Despite plotting behind her back to check out her father, he asked, “How would you feel about having company for the drive?”
“You?” He heard the glint of humor in her voice. She had a beautiful smile that lit up the interior of the car. “I don’t mind, but on one condition.”
Gray tensed. “What?”
“No talk about my selling the land. No pressure. No mention of it at all.”
He glanced at her and noted signs of tension around her mouth and eyes, despite the humor. She had issues, too. Worry about her dad, he guessed. If it was more than that, he didn’t want to know. They were on opposite sides of a business battle, and that precluded any and all intimacy, including simple curiosity about her life. Enough said. He ignored the tension on her face.
“No talk of selling.” He’d pushed her yesterday. She’d said no. If the blackmailing woman he talked to today was a fake, some of the pressure would be off. He could take his time persuading Audrey to sell for the future benefit of his parents and Turner Lumber.
“I’m waiting for a tow truck. Are you in a rush?”
“I have an appointment, but I have a little ti—”
At that moment, they heard the truck pull up behind them.
Gray got out to talk to the driver, who popped the Volvo’s hood and looked at the engine.
He tested the battery and it was fine.
“Not sure what your problem is,” he said. “Maybe the alternator.”
“My parents need a newer car.”
“Hey,” the guy responded. “These things happen to all cars. This one’s in good shape. You should see some of the junk I’ve picked up off the roads. This car’s been cherished.”
Yes, Gray knew that. His dad took care of his vehicles, and they lasted forever. Too bad it had to break down today, though.
“Do you want it towed to Denver?” the tow truck driver asked. “My buddy’s got a shop. He does great work.”
