Dreaming of Home. Glynna Kaye

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ body to acclimate, but boy did he love running in Arizona’s White Mountains. Racing along winding dirt trails. Sun filtering through long-needled ponderosa pine boughs to warm his skin. A sky so blue it boggled his mind. God even threw in an extra treat this morning—two does and a fawn. This was a way of life he could get into.

      Ironic, wasn’t it, how his perspective on the old hometown changed since he was a teen?

      The banging of the screen door behind him interrupted his reverie as Davy shot out onto the deck and headed down the wooden steps.

      “Hey, where you going in such a hurry, bud?”

      Davy either didn’t hear him or—as Joe suspected—ignored him. Bill stepped out the door, and Joe turned.

      “Where’s he going?”

      “Meg’s.”

      Meg’s? He took a ragged breath that had nothing to do with his morning exertion. If she was targeting his job, he had even more reason to keep Davy away from her.

      “Dad, I asked you last night not to encourage the two of them. You could at least respect my wishes, even if you don’t agree with them.”

      “This has nothing to do with you or Davy. It’s about doing unto others.”

      Joe raised a brow. “Come again?”

      “Gasoline isn’t free. She’s on a tight budget. Only makes sense to offer a ride to church.”

      “Yeah, but—”

      “You were too young to remember,” his dad continued, staring into the forest at Davy’s retreating back. “But there was a time when an offered ride would have been money in the bank to your mother and me.”

      Caught off-guard, Joe studied his father a long moment, but the man’s thoughts remained focused elsewhere. Then he returned, without further comment, to the house. Interesting. Dad seldom, if ever, mentioned his ex-wife. Then again, he himself rarely talked about his mother either.

      By the time he settled into a lawn chair and removed his shoes and socks, he saw Meg heading toward the house, Davy scampering at her side. In spite of himself, his eyes lingered in appreciation as Meg covered the uneven ground in a smooth, flowing stride. A calf-length, gauzy black skirt and curve-hugging denim jacket accentuated a mesmerizing sway.

      Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed the well-worn Bible on a table where he intended to read after his run. In an abrupt move, he pushed back in his chair, picked up the Sunday paper and attempted to focus on the latest world disasters. They didn’t hold a candle to the one he could see brewing right here in his own backyard if he didn’t keep his mind on business.

      A few minutes later, at the sound of Meg’s laugh and Davy stomping up the stairs, he lifted his gaze again. Davy hurried back into the house, leaving Meg behind. She stepped onto the deck, looking even better close up than she had from a distance. She didn’t appear to harbor underhanded intentions beneath that sunny countenance, but from here on out he’d be on his guard.

      “G’morning, Miss Meg.”

      “Good morning, Davy’s Dad.” She smiled, her eyes assessing his sweat-stained “Go Navy” tank shirt, shorts and bare feet. The scruffed-up hair.

      He guessed it was clear enough he wouldn’t be joining the churchgoers. “So, you’re hitchin’ a ride, huh?”

      She set down an overstuffed canvas bag against the deck railing. “Your son made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

      “What can I say?” He shrugged as he flashed her a grin. “He’s the ladies’ man of the kindergarten set.”

      “No foolin’.”

      He tossed the newspaper aside. “Hey, thanks again for hosting a dessert night for Davy. That’s all he could talk about at breakfast this morning. That blue fish was a hit.”

      “I had fun, too. I miss my nieces and nephew. Regular little chatterboxes.”

      He narrowed his eyes. Could his son have said anything last night, in his innocence, to further corroborate his dad’s ill-advised admissions to the engaging woman?

      “I hope Davy didn’t fill you too full of tall tales.”

      “Oh, I probably have enough goods on you and Bill now,” Meg said, tilting her head as an impish smile surfaced, “to make for a comfortable retirement.”

      “Oh, great.”

      Her smile widened, and against his will he drank it in like a thirst-parched man in the desert. He stretched out his legs and folded his hands across his midsection, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “You know, don’t you—”

      His dad poked his head out the door and set Davy’s backpack on the deck. “Be out in a minute, Meg. Meet ya at the truck.”

      “Okay.” She glanced at Joe. “You were saying?”

      What was with him, anyway? Every time he was around her he wanted to draw out the conversation. Make her smile. Laugh. What he really needed to be doing was setting her straight on this job thing. Or at least figuring out where she stood on it.

      He waved her off. “Can’t remember. Was probably a lie.”

      To his satisfaction, she rewarded him with that light, joy-filled laugh he’d already come to associate with her.

      Still smiling, she turned to the deck stairs. “See you later, Joe.”

      She’d reached the bottom of the steps when Davy dashed out the door, something flat and rectangular gripped tightly in his hands.

      “Hey, mister.” Joe reached out to snag his son’s arm, but missed. “Whatcha got there?”

      The boy paused for an uncertain moment, his eyes searching Joe’s. Then with a shy smile, he surrendered the object. An eight-by-ten picture frame.

      Joe’s breath caught as he turned it toward him. A family portrait. Mom. Dad. Davy. Recovering, he gave his son a reassuring smile and handed back the frame. “Good lookin’ daddy you have there, kid.”

      Davy rolled his eyes and hugged the picture to his chest. Then he turned and squatted to unzip his backpack.

      “You don’t need to take that to church with you, bud.”

      The boy stiffened and looked back at him. “It’s to show Miss Meg.”

      “Yeah?” Joe looked around for her, but she’d moved off toward the driveway, out of earshot. Still, he lowered his voice. “You know, she may not want to see that.”

      “Yes, she does.” Davy’s brows lowered as he turned again to the backpack and stuffed the frame inside. With a defiant glance over his shoulder, he snatched up the pack and dashed from the deck. “And you can’t stop me.”

      Temper rising, he stood. “David—”

      “Let it go, Joe.” Bill’s quiet voice came from the doorway.

      Joe СКАЧАТЬ