A Conard County Courtship Page 8

  He chuckled. “All right. We’ll go room by room and make a list. If you really want to gut this place, though, the first thing we need to do is get the furnishings out. It’ll make the rest of the work easier. But still, we need to spend a few hours checking it all out to see what’s worth donating and what just needs a one-way trip to the county dump.”

  “Fair enough.” Mentally she rolled up her sleeves. “I should have brought a way to mark things or list them.”

  “I’ve got stuff I left in the kitchen.” He paused. “Or we can hold a sale on Saturday, let folks come by and browse and buy anything they want for a dollar or two. That might get you a little money to add to the kitty for cleaning this place out.”

  “You think anyone would want this stuff?”

  He shrugged. “The mattresses wouldn’t attract any interest. But a bed frame? Maybe that dining room table? The wood still appears to be in good shape. Anyway, some of it might appeal to people. Then we go through what’s left and decide what might make a good donation. It could save you moving and haulage costs, if nothing else.”

  That sounded good to her. “But won’t it hold up progress if we leave the furnishings until the weekend?”

  “I suggest we move most of it into one or two rooms. Then we can work on the rest.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “Let me see if I can get a couple of my buddies over to help out.”

  As she stood looking at the big, heavy sofa that was probably almost a hundred years old, she thought that was a great idea.

  * * *

  Vanessa was amazed by how fast things happened. Four of Tim’s friends showed up, one of them with a big box truck, and soon furniture was moving. Some of the items went right into the box truck for a trip to the dump. The rest wound up gathered in the living and dining rooms, with a bit of spillover into the hallway.

  When Bob’s wife had left, she must have taken every item of real value from the house, while leaving the furniture behind. A move on the cheap. They did, however, run across a closet and dresser full of a man’s clothes.

  “Donate,” argued Tim. “Plenty of people truly need clothes in decent condition. They won’t know it’s Bob’s stuff.”

  “Probably not,” she agreed. The clothes were fairly nondescript and could have been owned by anyone. “They need to be washed, though. The cigar smell is strong.”

  “There’s a washer in the basement. I think it still works. Shall we find out?”

  With the moving done, they were once again alone in the house together, and the afternoon had begun to fade into the season’s early twilight.

  “Your friends really helped a lot,” she remarked as she and Tim put the clothes in plastic trash bags to carry downstairs. “They should send me a bill.”

  “They won’t. It’s the kind of thing friends do.”

  She’d never tested her friendships that far. If the thought had ever crossed her mind, she’d have been sure no one would have time or want to. Interesting. Maybe she needed to think about what that meant about her, not her friends.

  * * *

  Tim sensed that Vanessa was experiencing some kind of inner turmoil beyond being expected to deal with a house she’d never wanted to see again. Since she didn’t bring it up, however, he let it rest. How could he ask, anyway? He hardly knew her and didn’t have the right.

  Since it was time for Matthew to be coming home from school, he suggested they leave the laundry for morning. She was agreeable and appeared eager to see Matthew again.

  Ha, he thought with silent laughter. His son had a better way with the ladies than he did.

  The circle in front of the school was filled up with parents’ cars, while the bus circle at the side was beginning to move out. Matthew came running toward them as they eased into the circle, but he was not alone. Tim recognized Ashley McLaren, the fourth-grade teacher, and right behind her Julie Archer, the kindergarten teacher. Since Matthew was quite definitely in the second grade, Tim waited to see what they had to say. “I wonder if Matthew got into something he shouldn’t have. Why else would two teachers from other grades be coming with him?”

  “I...” Vanessa’s tentative answer broke off as Matthew opened the front door on her side and said, “Ms. Archer and Ms. McLaren know you, Vannie.”

  Tim’s gaze leaped to Vanessa’s face, and he saw huge uncertainty there. Also a passing urge to flee.

  “Vannie!” exclaimed Julie. “My gosh, it’s been years. You remember us? Julie Ardlow and Ashley Granger? We used to hang together a whole lot at school.”

  For a few seconds Vanessa appeared totally at a loss, then she summoned a smile. “I remember you,” she said. “Sort of. It’s been so long.”

  “It’s been way too long. So when we found out you were in town from Matthew...”

  The boy was already climbing behind her into the crew seat.

  “We decided,” Ashley interrupted Julie, “that we’ve got to get together. Just for coffee if you don’t have time for more. Or maybe lunch. And I’ve got an additional request. Matthew says you work with dinosaur bones at a museum. If I beg nicely, will you come talk to my class? I’m sure they’d love it.”

  Tim almost smiled, but smothered the expression. He could sense both Vanessa’s shock and her reluctance, but there were two bright-faced women from her past making friendly overtures. She was going to get reeled in by simple courtesy, and he couldn’t help but think that would be good for her.

  Then he started wondering what else Matthew had been talking about. It might be time to teach the boy that what happened at home stayed at home. He’d never felt the need before, but Vanessa’s privacy had been pierced without her permission. For all he knew, she might be furious about this by the time they drove away.

  But for now she was smiling, assuring Julie and Ashley that she’d love to meet for coffee, but she’d have to figure out when she could. “I’m clearing out the old Higgins house,” she offered by way of explanation.

  “I heard that man deeded his house to you,” Ashley said. “I didn’t know whether to be indignant. I thought for sure you’d just sell it without even looking at it.”

  “Earl Carter said I had some things to do first.”

  “I guess he’d know.” Julie shrugged. “Anyway, give me a call when you can find an hour or so. Or if you want help dealing with the house, I’m sure we could find some time.”

  “We’re freezing these folks,” Ashley said. “The inside of that truck must feel like a meat locker. We’ll let you go, but we’re not hard to find. And let me know about talking to my class, okay?”

  Tim felt the silence almost acutely as they at last eased from the circle and headed toward his home. “Sorry about that,” he said after a few seconds.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Matthew asked, apparently rediscovering his ability to chatter. “I was just talking about Vannie and how she works with dinosaur bones. Everyone was jealous that I get to talk to her. That was all.”

  “From little seeds big things grow,” remarked Tim. “Did you ask Vanessa if it was okay to talk about her?”

  Matthew grew uncharacteristically silent. Then, “Wasn’t it? Is it some kind of secret?”

  Oh, man, Tim thought. How was he going to explain the difference between secrets and confidentiality? About not talking about people without their permission? Especially when the person in question had a job that fascinated him.

  “It’s okay,” Vanessa said. “It’s okay. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  But maybe he had, Tim thought, shooting her another glance as he cornered into his driveway. Vanessa had lost her peppy look and appeared to have begun brooding. Well, when he could get Matt off to bed, he was going to ask her about her reaction.

  But something else happened first. Vanessa climbed out into ankle-deep snow. Matthew tumbled out a
fter her. All of a sudden she gasped.

  “What?” Tim hurried out from behind the wheel and around the front of his truck.

  Vanessa had bent over and was scooping snow into her bare hands. “You little brat. I didn’t bring gloves.”

  But just as his heart froze with shock, he realized she had begun to laugh. A round circle of snow powdered her jeans, and a second later she had hurled a snowball back at Matt. Shrieking with laughter, the boy ducked and ran.

  Tim leaned against the side of his truck to watch and see how far this went. It couldn’t last long, given Vanessa was making snowballs with her bare hands, but it lasted for a few minutes, anyway. Snowballs flew back and forth, with Matthew giggling like mad and Vanessa laughing.

  But at last Vanessa held up both her hands. “You win, Matthew. My hands are frozen now.”

  He came hurrying over, still grinning. “I’m sorry. That was fun. Maybe you should get some gloves.”

  “I have some, but not on me. Warn me beforehand next time.”

  Tim walked with the two of them into the house and immediately turned on the hot water tap. “Try to thaw your hands,” he suggested to Vanessa as she pulled off her jacket. “Man, your fingers are red.”

  “My own fault,” she said cheerfully. “I could have called quits sooner. But that was fun. Thanks, Matthew.”

  Tim began boiling water for hot chocolate and sent Matt to change into play clothes and to get ready to do his homework.

  “I’m sorry,” he remarked.

  “For what?”

  “Matt inadvertently put you on the spot. Maybe you didn’t mind running into Ashley and Julie, but to be asked to give a presentation on dinosaurs?”

  “He didn’t put me on that spot. Ashley did.” She turned off the hot water and dried her hands on the nearby kitchen towel. “That feels better.”

  “I’m sure Ashley would understand if you tell her you can’t give a presentation.”

  She sat at the table and put her chin in her hand. “It’s weird.”

  “What is?” He waited, hoping he was about to learn more about this complex woman. Behind him, he heard the quiet vibration as the pot began to simmer.

  “I didn’t want to see anyone when I came back to this town. I was afraid of the judgment. I think I told you. Anyway, I just ran into two of my oldest friends. They were friendly. I survived. But I can barely remember them.”

  He nodded. It wasn’t surprising, considering she’d left at the age of seven. If he hadn’t lived here his entire life, there were loads of people he’d probably have trouble remembering. For that matter, except for Matthew, he doubted Ashley and Julie would have recognized Vanessa. “I think you could walk these streets in almost perfect anonymity if you want. As long as Matthew zips his lip.”

  She shook her head a bit. “He really didn’t do anything wrong. He was excited about dinosaurs or he probably wouldn’t have said much. I get it.”

  “But where does that leave you?” he asked. Damn, this felt awkward. His son had blurted something totally innocent, but in the process had exposed this woman to something she’d been trying to avoid. The fact that it had gone well didn’t mean it was okay. Vanessa hadn’t planned to stay more than a couple of days, now she was talking about giving up her vacation to erase every sign of Bob Higgins from that house, then into her life had walked two people when she’d been trying to avoid facing anyone in this county.

  Because of a fear she really didn’t need to feel. How could anyone blame a little girl for any of what had happened? But her father had turned the area into a bugaboo for her, making her expect horrible reactions.

  He poured hot water into cocoa mix in three mugs. One he placed in front of her before taking a second into the dining room, where Matt was pulling papers and a workbook out of his backpack.

  “Did I do something wrong, Daddy?” he asked as he slid onto the chair in front of his homework. The mug of hot chocolate went onto a corner of the place mat.

  “Not a thing,” Tim said after a moment. Really, was this the kind of issue he wanted to use to demonstrate that families had to have some privacy? In this town, unless you kept your mouth shut, it wasn’t long before everyone knew everything that was going on in your life. Since little of it needed to be secret, that was okay. But there were always things people wanted to keep private, from personal disagreements to the size of their bank accounts. Matthew would have to learn, but maybe not today.

  Vanessa had been shocked, but she didn’t seem overly disturbed that two old friends had found her. Maybe, when she got used to the idea, it would even make her feel more comfortable here.

  He wanted that. He was surprised how much he wanted that. Mentally it put him back on his heels. There was no way she would stay here, he wasn’t in a position to move to another state and try to find construction work, and he didn’t want to uproot Matthew anyway. So of all possible women he could get truly interested in after all these years, he might be picking exactly the wrong one.

  If he was. He smothered a sigh as he went back to the kitchen to start dinner. He didn’t want Vanessa to hear it and ask if something was wrong. He was drawn to her. Sexually, of course, but it was more than that. In the short time he had known her, he’d sensed a kernel of true sorrow inside her, hidden behind the walls she seemed to erect against the rest of the world. But he didn’t know her well enough to judge even that.

  He just knew that she was fascinatingly complex, like a puzzle he wanted to solve, and that he sensed she was withdrawn in some truly important ways. Why?

  And why did he care? She was just passing through.

  At least today might have taught her she had nothing to dread in this town.

  Chapter Five

  When he reached the kitchen, Vanessa was still sitting there, cradling her cup of hot chocolate with both hands. Her face revealed nothing at all, smooth as an unused canvas although a pretty heart shape, until she noticed he was there. Then a smile sprang to her lips. “Woolgathering,” she said.

  “Sometimes a productive thing to do. Anything useful?”

  “Maybe.” She paused, and he didn’t question her while he sat with his own cocoa. He waited silently, giving her any time or space she needed, room to follow a different line of thought if she chose.

  A few minutes later, however, she surprised him. “I’m beginning to wonder how bent I still am because of my upbringing.”

  “I’m sorry? What do you mean?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. My dad filling me with anger, for one thing. I thought I’d left that behind. His alcoholism. But I don’t think that’s even the worst of it. We moved constantly because he drank. He lost one job after another, and I wound up always being the new girl wherever we went. I never made real friends, first because I didn’t have time, and second because I figured I’d be gone in a few months. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m still living that way.”

  There was no answer for that, of course. At least not from him. Impulsively, he reached across the table and rested his fingertips on the back of her hand. She didn’t pull away, much to his relief, but the almost physical jolt of electricity he felt when he touched her warned him that his desire for her was growing rapidly. Dangerous ground, he reminded himself. She’d showed no interest in him, maybe because she didn’t feel the attraction, or maybe because of what she had just been talking about.

  She’d made herself sound as if she were living behind high emotional walls because of the way she had grown up. Maybe so. He doubted she was sure herself, merely questioning if something in her had been irrevocably changed by her past.

  But wasn’t everyone affected by their past? He knew he was. The loss of his wife had seared grief deep into his soul, had left him with a loneliness that nothing could erase. His life was full—he had his son, whom he dearly loved—but he no longer had Cl
aire. She’d been a bright and shining spot, and her death had left a blackened crater in her place.

  He dated rarely; he pursued no relationship with any woman. Why? Because he was afraid? Or because he felt it would be some kind of betrayal of Claire? Or maybe both. If he couldn’t sort that out, how could Vanessa sort out all the things her childhood had done to her?

  Did it have to be sorted out? As the thought occurred to him, he spoke it. “Why are you wondering? Does it matter if you’re content?”

  “I’m wondering if I’m content.” She surprised him by turning her hand over and clasping his fingers. “Let me ask you. You were terribly wounded by the loss of your wife, I’m sure. Are you content with the way things are?”

  What a devil of a question, he thought, staring at their clasped hands. Content? In a way he supposed he was. But that was a long way from what he’d had before. He and Claire hadn’t been deliriously happy all the time, or even much of the time. Life didn’t allow that. But he’d been happier than he was now. More content. “It’s not the same,” he said finally.

  “I’m sure it isn’t,” she admitted. She squeezed his hand almost gently, then withdrew hers. “I’m just wondering how it is that I manage to avoid feeling deeply for anyone. I’ve been at the museum for a few years now. I ought to be settled. I ought to have a crowd. But there’s a part of me that never connects beyond the surface. As if I’m guarded all the time. Is that normal? I somehow doubt it.”

  He frowned. “Not everyone’s the same. Some people are introverts. Maybe that’s all it is for you. Are you thinking you’re not normal?”

  “I’m thinking that maybe I don’t know what normal is.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure there is one.” He was beginning to ache for her again, sensing some kind of sorrow in her that she was struggling to come to grips with. He hadn’t the faintest idea how to help. No words of wisdom. Life for him was a constant round of just getting by and being grateful for what he did have. If it wasn’t enough, then too bad. The feeling would pass.