The Hero's Redemption. Janice Kay Johnson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      A smile wanted to break across Cole’s face. Erin Parrish might be a little strange, but what the hell?

      His stomach growled.

      * * *

      ERIN BACKED HER Jeep Grand Cherokee up to the garage, never so glad she’d bought it last year instead of the Mustang she’d had her eye on. Back then, she’d told herself she wanted a burly vehicle, with a powerful engine. Hauling anything but a new piece of furniture had been the last thing on her mind.

      She sneaked a sidelong look at the man beside her. There’d been a time when she thought through every decision before acting. The old Erin Parrish was the antonym of impulsive, but that woman no longer existed.

      She knew what had triggered this impulse. It wasn’t so much that he’d been turned down for a job he obviously needed desperately or even the reason he was rejected that got to her. No, she’d been watching his face, assuming she’d see disappointment, shame, perhaps anger. Instead, she’d seen only resignation. He hadn’t expected to be hired. She’d found herself wondering if this man expected anything good from anybody.

      And then she’d heard herself say, “Will you ring up my stuff? I’ll be right back,” and had gone racing after him.

      When she approached him on the sidewalk, his head was hanging so low she couldn’t see his expression, but his body spoke of despair. She’d been conscious of how powerful that body was, noticed the tattoo peeking out above the collar of his white undershirt. When he whirled, prepared to fight, wariness finally kicked in, but then she saw how gaunt his bony face was, that his shirt was wrinkled, his boots worn. His brown hair was cut brutally short, and his expressionless eyes were an icy blue. She had the kind of thought that would once have appalled her.

      He could be a murderer. Maybe he’d kill her.

      I should be dead. If he corrected that little mistake, so be it.

      Here she was at Nanna’s house. Me and the ex-con. Nanna had to be shuddering, wherever she was.

      She turned off the engine and set the emergency brake. “Home, sweet home.” They were the first words out of her mouth—or his—since she’d determined that he had no transportation of his own.

      He nodded and got out, going to the rear and waiting until the hatch door rose. When she started muscling the garage door up, he moved fast, taking over before she even heard him coming.

      In the garage, he walked a slow circle. “I see why you needed the tools. Although—” he picked up an ax “—some of these can be salvaged with some steel wool and oil.”

      Me and the ex-con, who is now holding an ax. She cleared her throat. “Really? They’re so corroded.”

      “Just rusty.” He set it down. “I’ll unload.”

      Of course she helped. They leaned the old rake and shovel and whatever else against the wall and used the hooks and nails to hold the new tools. The smaller tools hung above the workbench.

      “Okay,” she said, “let me show you around.”

      He followed silently, his expression no more readable. She was slightly unnerved to notice he carried a screwdriver. When they reached the front porch steps, he stabbed the screwdriver into the wood, which made a squishy sound. He removed it, straightened and looked at her. “Your foot’ll go right through.”

      “I have been worrying about that. The back steps aren’t so good, either.”

      He shook his head, poked at the porch apron, then gingerly climbed to the porch itself, where he did some more stabbing.

      His verdict? “Whole porch should be rebuilt.”

      Her shoulders sagged. “Can you do that?”

      “Sure.”

      “Well, then.” Gosh, buying lumber might have been a smart thing to do. She’d bought a circular saw with the vague idea that she could use it for small projects. Was that what he’d need?

      “Can you drive?” she asked.

      Not wasting even one word, he shook his head.

      “Then I guess I should go to the lumberyard.”

      “Did you buy a measuring tape?”

      Oops. “I’ll...go see if I can find one inside.”

      “I’ll check the workbench. If you can get a pencil and piece of paper...”

      Feeling awkward, she went inside, aware that he’d disappeared into the garage. The best she found was an old wooden yardstick. But she stepped out onto the porch to find him crouched, a metal measuring tape already extended across the porch steps. “I can do the writing,” she offered.

      He reeled off dimensions and what kind of board was needed. Two-by-four. Four-by-four. Two-by-two. Nails. Primer. Brushes. He asked if she’d bought paint for the house yet. No.

      “Might be good to decide what colors you want,” he suggested. “Then I can paint the porch as I go, while the weather holds.”

      She could do that.

      He said he hadn’t seen a ladder. She told him she had a stepladder inside. A faintly condescending expression crept over his impassive face. Three steps wouldn’t get him very high on the side of the house, he pointed out. Um, no, they wouldn’t.

      “Tell you what,” he said finally. “If you want to run to the lumberyard, I’ll get the clippers and start cutting back the growth that’s crowding the house. Can’t scrape it if I can’t get to it.”

      “Will you recognize the lilac and...there used to be a big climbing rose to the right of the porch?” she asked, remembering the garden in bloom so many years ago. “Oh, and some rhododendrons.”

      “I’ll recognize them.”

      They agreed she could pick up paint chips today and think overnight about what colors she wanted for the house. When she left, clutching the piece of paper with the materials list, she told him the front door was unlocked if he needed the bathroom. But she saw his face. He wouldn’t be going in.

      Now was a fine time to wonder whether she’d crossed the line to crazy.

       CHAPTER TWO

      COLE SWUNG THE machete in a smooth rhythm, glad Erin had thought to buy one. The sharp blade sliced through blackberry canes, salmonberries, fireweed and other nuisance weeds, baring the foundation and clapboard siding of the old house. He used the ancient clothesline he’d found in the garage to pull salvageable shrubs away from the house.

      When he heard the Jeep turn into the driveway, he walked around the corner of the house to meet her.

      The first thing he noticed was the aluminum extension ladder tied to the roof. Lumber was piled in the back of the Jeep, extending beyond the bumper. A strip of red cloth dangled from the end of the longest board.

СКАЧАТЬ