A Family of Her Own. Brenda Novak

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СКАЧАТЬ Katie had been so intent on getting away that she hadn’t given Hatty’s passing much thought. But she knew Hatty’s death must have hit Booker hard.

      “Here,” Booker said, returning with a plush burgundy towel and a pair of sweats. He’d peeled off his own wet shirt and was wearing another simple T-shirt that stretched taut across his wide chest and showed the bottoms of the tattoos on his arms. He hadn’t bothered changing his jeans.

      “I’ve got some sweats of my own,” Katie said when she realized the pair he’d handed her were probably his.

      “I didn’t want to dig through your suitcase. You can give them back to me in the morning.”

      He left her to dry off and went into the kitchen. Katie could hear him moving around, opening cupboards and drawers while she changed. She was still freezing and knew it would take some time to warm up, but she was glad to be out of the storm.

      She entered the kitchen with her hair up in the towel and Booker’s sweats hanging loose on her body, trying to ignore his scent, which lingered on his clothes, and all the pleasant associations attached to it.

      “You hungry?” Booker asked.

      “Not really,” she said because she felt she had no right to impose on him any more than she already was.

      He considered his sweats on her. “Looks as though you could stand to gain a few pounds.”

      “I’m sure I’ll be gaining plenty over the next few months.”

      When he frowned, she knew he’d made the connection to her pregnancy. “Eggs and toast okay?” he asked.

      Secretly grateful for the promise of a meal, Katie nodded. She’d been so afraid she wouldn’t have money for gas that she’d skimped on food. “It’s really nice, you helping me out like this. I appreciate it.”

      She took a seat at the kitchen table, recalling the day Hatty had made Booker varnish it. “The varnish seems to be holding up.”

      Booker looked at her. “The what?”

      “The varnish. We tried to tell Hatty that this set was mostly plastic. But she wouldn’t listen, remember? She wanted you to varnish it, anyway.”

      A ghost of a smile curved Booker’s lips. “I remember. She had me wash the walls before I could paint them, too, and she made me restarch her doilies. I must be the only guy my age who’s ever starched a doily.”

      Katie couldn’t help chuckling. Toward the end of Hatty’s life, Booker did almost anything she asked of him. Some people thought she’d bullied him like everyone else. Others claimed he was afraid of losing his inheritance. Katie had seen Booker and Hatty together often enough to know Booker indulged Hatty for only one reason—he loved her. “The place looks great,” she said.

      “Gran had it in top shape before she died.”

      But she’d been gone more than two years, and while the house hardly seemed different, Booker did. He’d always been a survivor, a man who could take care of himself. But he suddenly seemed so much more…domestic. Maybe it came with owning his own home. “I’ll bet you miss her.”

      He dug through a drawer until he found a spatula. “What’s Andy doing these days?” he asked, changing the subject.

      Andy was partying. But she wasn’t about to tell Booker that. “I’m not sure.”

      He studied her in that way he had of looking right through people. “How long ago did you leave him?”

      “It’s been three days.”

      “And you’ve lost track of him already?”

      Most of the time she hadn’t known what he was doing even when he was in the next room. Because she hadn’t wanted to know. It was rarely something of which she could approve. “I don’t want to talk about Andy.”

      He went to the fridge. “One egg or two?”

      “Two.”

      “When did you eat last?” he asked, setting the egg carton on the counter next to the stove.

      “Today.”

      He paused. “Today?”

      “Yeah, you know, earlier.” She tried to avoid a more specific answer by drawing his attention back to the food. “Anyway, it smells good.”

      He broke the eggs into a frying pan, and Katie listened to them sizzle. As awkward as it was between her and Booker, she was beginning to get warm—and to appreciate the fact that she hadn’t been forced to knock on someone else’s door in the middle of the night.

      When the silence grew to the point of discomfort, however, she asked, “What have you been doing since I left?”

      “Working,” he said simply.

      “Doing what?”

      “He owns Lionel & Sons Auto Repair,” a third voice proudly announced.

      Katie looked up to see Delbert Dibbs standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A rottweiler the size of a small horse sat at his heels.

      “You’re back,” he said, recognizing her immediately. Delbert was wearing a pair of Buzz Lightyear pajamas that weren’t buttoned quite right. Where he’d found such a large size, Katie couldn’t even guess. He was her age. At least five foot eleven, he had to weigh a good hundred and seventy pounds—only about thirty pounds shy of what Booker probably weighed. “I’m so glad,” he added. “I missed you, Katie. I missed you cutting my hair.”

      Katie didn’t have a chance to stand up before Delbert hurried across the kitchen and gathered her tightly in his arms. They’d never been close, but she’d cut his hair every once in a while. They’d also gone to the same elementary school for kindergarten and first grade. By second grade, it had become apparent that he wasn’t developing normally, and he was put in a special school. But she’d still seen him around town. Especially after he dropped out of school altogether and took to rambling up and down Main Street, hanging out at the Arctic Flyer or loitering near the auto repair shop.

      Katie frowned at Booker while Delbert squeezed her with all the exuberance of a child and the dog sniffed her curiously. But Booker neither came to her rescue nor offered any explanation.

      “What—what are you doing here?” Katie asked Delbert when he finally released her and she could draw enough breath.

      “I live here now,” he said, showing crooked teeth in a wide smile. “I live with Bruiser and Booker.”

      Bruiser was obviously the dog, but Katie didn’t get the connection between Booker and Delbert. How did such an unlikely pair wind up as roommates?

      “Since when?” she asked.

      His face clouded as he slumped into the chair next to her. Bruiser went over to Booker and wagged his tail in greeting. “My dad died. Did you know that, Katie? I came home one day, and he was just staring at me. Wouldn’t say a thing.”

      “How СКАЧАТЬ