Whispers Of The Heart. Ruth Scofield

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СКАЧАТЬ at her with friendly determination as he shed his sport jacket and draped it across the back of the sofa. He then turned to study the project. “Hey, this will give you tons of storage, but you’ll need a ladder to get to the top shelves.”

      “Yes, I suppose so. It’s intended to hold my supplies.” She gave up her protest as he picked up a prefinished board and blew on it to clear it of dust. Josh continued with the power drill, putting the last of the screws into a bracket.

      Autumn didn’t know what to do. Oh, there were things she ought to do—like put away the last of her clothes in her bedroom closet, or arrange the cooking utensils she’d brought from the old house. But she found herself unable to do anything except simply watch Brent concentrate on the job at hand. She had an unfettered view of him.

      While Josh checked the oak shelves, Brent climbed Josh’s ladder, the muscles beneath his brown striped golf shirt stretching as he reached above his head to place the shelves. In his effort to get them just right, his jutting chin struck her as purposeful, his relaxed mouth a model of male beauty. She liked his intense energy, and again thought of how to capture the effect of his movements in clay.

      That was all it was. Simply a fascination from an artist’s soul who saw beauty in many people. This one man in particular. Was that so unusual?

      More than an hour later, the two men stood back to examine their handiwork. Autumn stood beside them. The finished project looked awesome, with more shelves than she’d ever hoped for, or perhaps fill.

      “Is this everything you want, Ms. Barbour?” Josh asked.

      “Yes, it looks wonderful,” she murmured, glancing at all her boxes. Perhaps she’d fill most of it, after all, but there’d be little wall space for pictures. She picked up an architectural drawing she’d done last year, wondering where it should go.

      Brent noticed her tentative move, then glanced at the picture.

      “I recognize that,” he said, giving the piece a nod. “Did you do those projected art drawings of the Genesis Project for Lewis and Blake?”

      “Yes, I did. Why do you ask?”

      “I thought them very well done.”

      “Thank you.”

      “Are you on payroll there?”

      “No, I freelance.” When she had to, she could work commercially. If the circumstances were…right. She never accepted a job unless it met her needs.

      “Great!” He leaned one raised palm against her kitchen table, letting his arm take his weight. His smile spread easily across his face, while his ginger gaze held hers in friendly persuasion. “I’m looking for an on-call artist who does quality work. May I ask your fees?”

      “Um…I’m not sure I’ll take on any more commercial work for a while. It would have to be something very special.”

      “Ah. All right, then.” He seemed disappointed, but straightened, giving ready acceptance to her answer. “Well, stop over and visit our offices sometime. If I’m not there, my top man, John, can show you the kinds of things we do. You might see something that would excite you. And let me know when you’re interested in working again?”

      “Okay. Thank you for, um, offering.”

      “Sure. Glad to. Well, bye again.”

      Chapter Two

      Autumn shook the empty milk carton one last time, standing in the opened refrigerator door. Not a drop was there.

      She wondered forlornly why she couldn’t have bought more than a quart on her last trip to the grocery store, just before Spring left. She didn’t bother to look into the bare cupboard for breakfast; she’d eaten the last of the crackers and cheese last night.

      There was no help for it. She had to go out this morning to buy groceries.

      She wouldn’t panic; she couldn’t. She had to have groceries.

      A quick trip through a convenience store wouldn’t do it, either. Glancing at the wall clock, she decided if she left this moment, she could be at the nearest grocery store by the time it opened. The crowds weren’t heavy this early in the morning. If she didn’t linger, if she kept her purchases to a minimum, she could be in and out in no time.

      She hauled in a deep breath as she found a light sweatshirt to ward off the early spring morning chill. She stiffened her courage as she grabbed her purse and ran down the stairs for the exercise, swung out of the front door and around to the parking lot for her car.

      Five days. It had been five days since she moved into her apartment. Spring had called every night, asking if she’d been out yet. She’d fibbed, knowing her sister knew she fibbed, saying she’d been out walking.

      Well, tonight when Spring called, Autumn could tell her honestly that she’d bought groceries. Managed to face whatever crowds there were to be faced, and come home unscathed. She could take care of herself.

      Her street was yet rather quiet this morning, she gratefully noted. Her small parking lot, too.

      Pausing in her drive before entering the traffic, she spotted a red sedan pulling into the lot across the street. The driver rolled down his window and waved. Brent Hyatt. She returned the wave, but didn’t wait long enough to encourage conversation. She must get her errand done as speedily as possible.

      In the end, it took her longer than she’d planned. She’d forgotten it was Friday, when the grocery stores would begin their weekend rush.

      It was her own fault. She’d waited too long to shop and needed too much. Paper products, canned goods, staples, coconut macaroons. By the time she’d gone through the checkout line, four people were behind her, a mob of shoppers streamed toward her through the doors, and perspiration stood out on her forehead. Her sweatshirt was damp at the neckline and her breathing a little jerky.

      Her bottom lip hurt from biting down while waiting to check out.

      But it wasn’t a full-scale panic, thank goodness. She wasn’t really shaking; not really. Only a mere tremble shook her hands. And in reality, that mob of shoppers only amounted to a dozen or so people.

      In spite of her fears, she’d done it.

      She drove home through the morning rush carefully, and parked in front of her building, needing the shortest distance to carry her grocery bags. She sat a moment to breathe deeply before getting out on unsteady legs. The trembling had almost disappeared.

      She was fine. Just fine. She’d be even better when she had all the groceries lined up in her cupboards.

      Then she got out and walked around to the trunk, eyed the three, filled-to-the-brim bags, and wondered if she dare try carrying all three at once. All she wanted was to get into her apartment and not come out again for a while.

      “Don’t be foolish,” she muttered to herself under her breath.

      “I agree,” Brent spoke just behind her. “Don’t even think you can make it upstairs alone with all three of those bags at once. They’d spill and leave a trail like Gretel’s crumbs. Here, I’ll give you a hand.”

      “Oh!” СКАЧАТЬ