Montana Love Letter. Charlotte Carter

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ And he’d never given it another thought.

      Fool! He should have asked Hailey to tell him what the letter said. A reading lesson, he should have said.

      Staring down at the typed words, the letters swam before his eyes. He rubbed his forehead. Slowly. Laboriously, his finger moving from one word to the next, he read. NOTICE. UNPAID. TAXES. LIEN.

      But he’d paid his taxes. It had taken him days, but he’d filled out the forms. Every one of them. Just like Lisa had always done.

      You filled ’em out wrong, guitar boy!

      Panic gripped him and sweat beaded his forehead. A lien on his bank accounts could mean he’d lose his business. The business his dad started forty years ago and had trusted Adam to run.

      He’d have to talk to the IRS in Missoula. Figure out the mistake he’d made on the tax forms.

      Admit that he’d messed up because he couldn’t read. A secret that shamed him. A secret that he’d never shared with anyone outside of his parents, except for Lisa, his wife. She’d understood. And had loved him anyway.

      All these years he’d been an expert at covering up his problem. Making adjustments. Working around the words he couldn’t read. Joking to get past the awkward moments. Keeping his secret.

      Now they’d all learn the truth.

      Memories of his childhood, his humiliating school experiences, the jeers of his classmates washed over him in a hot lava flow of pain.

      Adam Hunter is stupid!

      He balled his hands into fists. He wasn’t stupid!

      He could tell by the sound of an engine if a valve tappet was about to go bad. With one press of a throttle he knew if the fuel mixture was off or the fan belt was too dry and ready to crack. The guys who had given him such a hard time in school now brought their cars to him. He could run rings around any other mechanic in western Montana and Idaho combined.

      But he couldn’t run rings around the IRS.

      * * *

      Sitting on the dock beneath the shade of a cedar tree, Janelle watched Hailey teach Raeanne to skip stones across the water. Most plopped into the lake with a splash. But now and then a stone flew across the surface in two or three skips, and Raeanne lit up as if she’d won an Olympic medal. She’d been so engaged in rock skipping, she’d even left her beloved Ruff in Janelle’s care.

      The air was so pleasant and filled with the scent of the woods, Janelle hated to move. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this relaxed.

      She checked the time. After six o’clock. Adam must be busy on a repair job.

      “Hailey,” she called. “If you know what your dad plans for dinner, I could get started cooking.”

      “It’s Friday night,” the child called back. “That means it’s spaghetti night.”

      “Perfect.” Standing, Janelle brushed the back of her slacks off. “You two stay close and don’t go in the water. I’ll start dinner.” She didn’t like Raeanne to eat too late or she wouldn’t get to bed on time. Besides, Janelle was getting hungry herself.

      While the kitchen appliances weren’t new, they appeared functional, and the oak-stained cupboards made the room cozy, a place where a family would want to gather around the oak table. Colorful print pillows covered the seats of the matching chairs.

      This was certainly not the kitchen of a typical bachelor, but one whose wife had lent the home her feminine touch. Janelle wondered if Adam still grieved for his wife, and thought he probably did.

      Before opening the refrigerator door, she noted Hailey’s third-grade report card held there by a flower magnet. Straight A’s. She smiled. One smart young lady.

      She found some ground meat on the top shelf of the refrigerator, a bag of lettuce in the vegetable bin along with two tomatoes. After opening several cupboards, she located a box of angel-hair pasta in a small pantry along with a jar of pasta sauce next to several boxes of cereal. A heavy iron skillet was stored under the counter.

      Raeanne threw open the sliding glass door and blasted into the house, racing down the hall to the bathroom.

      Janelle smiled at Hailey, who followed at a more dignified pace.

      “Raeanne sure is quiet. Is she, like, slow?” Hailey’s hesitant question held no negative judgment but rather concerned curiosity.

      “Not at all. In fact, she’s quite intelligent and used to jabber constantly. She just sort of forgot how to talk.” Pressing her lips together, Janelle wondered how much she should reveal about her daughter’s situation, and her own.

      Hailey’s forehead puckered into a frown. “Do you think she’ll ever talk again?”

      “Oh, yes. Given enough time she’ll find her voice.” Janelle prayed every night and every morning that her daughter would let go of the pain and fear and be whole again. She desperately wished she had the skill to “fix” whatever had broken in her little girl’s heart and head when she’d witnessed the sudden death of her father.

      “Can I help her? I’m pretty good with little kids. I always wanted a little sister, but Mom got so sick she couldn’t have any more babies.”

      A surge of affection and sympathy for this young, outgoing, motherless child touched Janelle’s heart. “Just play with her and act natural. That’s the best medicine you can give her.”

      Raeanne skipped back into the living room. She gestured for Hailey to go back outside with her.

      “Why don’t you two settle down and find something on television to watch?” Janelle suggested. “Dinner won’t be too long.”

      “I’ve got some board games we could play,” Hailey volunteered.

      With Raeanne’s silent approval, the two of them raced off toward Hailey’s bedroom again. Janelle had no doubt that Raeanne would sleep well tonight with all the exercise and fresh air she was enjoying.

      Struck by how comfortable she felt in this house, almost as if she’d always lived here, Janelle put the meat on to brown.

      But she didn’t live here, she sternly reminded herself. She and her daughter were guests staying in Grandma’s cottage, nothing more, and only for one night. Tomorrow they’d find another temporary place to stay. Then they’d start some serious house hunting so they’d have a home of their own.

      * * *

      Adam had spent the past two hours laboriously going over his tax forms. They made less sense to him now than when he’d filled them out in April.

      He should’ve hired someone to do his taxes. But his receipts and invoices were all crammed in a box. He could barely make out what was what. Anybody else would’ve laughed himself silly over his record-keeping and walked away in disgust—or asked far too many questions that Adam would’ve had trouble answering.

      Lisa, his late wife, had wanted them to keep his problem to themselves. She was afraid he’d lose business if others knew he couldn’t СКАЧАТЬ