The Hero's Redemption. Janice Johnson Kay

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СКАЧАТЬ up on the workbench and he sat on a pile of lumber. Instead of pushing him to talk, she reminisced about her grandparents and long-ago visits. He didn’t seem to mind.

      By the time he was ready to call it a day, he’d built the framework of her new porch with pressure-treated beams and four-by-fours resting on the original concrete blocks. He agreed she should make another trip to the lumberyard in the morning.

      “This costing more than you expected?” he asked, not quite casually. He pulled the seat belt around himself.

      Erin started the engine, eager for the heater to kick in. “No, if I’d had to hire a contractor, I’m betting the job would’ve cost a whole lot more,” she said frankly. “In fact, I’m bumping up your pay.”

      He shook his head. “Not when you’re letting me stay here, too.”

      “That’s a separate deal—”

      “No.” Completely inflexible.

      She put the gearshift in Reverse, but kept her foot on the brake. “Has anybody ever told you how stubborn you are?”

      “Could be.”

      “Hmph.”

      Giving him a suspicious, sidelong look, she could swear she saw the corner of his mouth lift. Even the idea that he’d smiled made her heart feel weightless. Which was dangerous territory. Falling for an ex-con because he had gorgeous blue eyes, sculpted cheekbones and awe-inspiring muscles would be incredibly stupid. Always law-abiding, she’d been the quintessential good girl and was now an educated woman, a college professor.

      Had been a college professor. Every time she thought about returning to the classroom, she hit a concrete wall. Couldn’t see through it or around it. She’d had no success imagining what she might do instead, either. To keep her heart from racing and panic from prickling her skin, she reminded herself that there was no hurry. She wasn’t spending any more money working on the house than she would have paying her former mortgage. She could afford a year off before she had to worry about the future and still have investments, thanks to the inheritance from her parents and Nanna’s savings, too. By then... But she hit the same blank wall when she tried to see any future.

      “Where to?” she asked abruptly, refusing to turn her head to meet his scrutiny.

      “County park on the river.” Erin nodded, remembering summer picnics there. Grandpa had taken her fishing, too, an enthusiasm she never came to share. Were his fishing pole, waders and tackle box still in the garage? She hadn’t paid attention to anything that wasn’t immediately useful.

      The drive passed in silence, as so much of her time with Cole did. It was restful, except...she increasingly found herself wondering about him. What had this quiet, hardworking, patient man done that had earned him ten years in prison? Her mind balked when she tried to picture him committing any of the obvious crimes.

      He had her pull into the day-use area at the park, and he disappeared into the mist clinging to the old-growth trees preserved by the county. He returned with a canvas duffel bag, which he deposited behind the seat. Erin opened her mouth but managed to close it before she said something stupid like, That’s all?

      He hadn’t even had a sleeping bag. Horrified, she pictured him lying on the ground. At most he had a blanket of some kind in that bag—but if he did, it meant he didn’t own much of anything else.

      And wouldn’t take anything more from her. She’d have to keep biting her tongue. She’d lose him if she tried to make him an object of charity.

      And no, she wouldn’t let herself examine what she meant by “lose him.”

      “Okay if we stop at the grocery store?” she asked when they were close to town.

      She felt his swift glance. “Sure.”

      He followed her inside and picked up a basket, separating from her right away. Erin tried not to mind as she filled a cart with perishables. When she carried her bags out, he was already waiting with two grocery bags of his own. They stowed them together in the back of the Jeep. During the short drive, she struggled for a conversational opener and came up short. The first words she spoke were when she pulled into the driveway.

      “It would be nice to park in the garage someday.”

      “You might want an automatic opener before you try that.”

      “No kidding. I’d never realized how heavy a garage door could be.”

      “The rails might be rusted,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll take a look.”

      “You’re a handy guy, aren’t you?”

      He grunted and got out. The only other words he had for her were “Good night.”

      * * *

      HE COULDN’T BELIEVE everything she’d done in the apartment. Cole was uneasily aware of how personal it felt, knowing she’d been thinking of him when she cleaned, hung a pair of thick towels in the bathroom and made the bed. Every so often his nose picked up some unidentifiable perfume in the air that had to be hers.

      Earlier, he’d hauled the old TV down to the garbage can. She’d said, “I’ll replace it,” in a tone that told him not to argue. Being able to choose what to watch would be a novelty. Maybe he could pick up a DVD player at a thrift store. Tomorrow night, he might walk to the library. If he couldn’t get a card yet, libraries usually had donated books for sale. He’d start checking out garage sales, too. Erin got the local weekly and the Seattle Times, both of which she recycled. She wouldn’t mind if he took them from the recycling bin. Lying on the lumpy sofa, stockinged feet propped on one of its arms, his head on the other, he thought about going downstairs right now and digging out a few papers, but couldn’t work up enough interest to make the effort. After a meal and a hot shower, he felt too good. Too relaxed. Too safe.

      This is temporary. He shouldn’t have needed the reminder. He’d become accustomed to living one day at a time, not letting himself think even a week ahead. If a man couldn’t live without hope, he didn’t survive a long prison term in his right mind.

      Not that Cole was certain he had.

      Happy just to be clean and comfortable, he dozed for half an hour, rousing to decide he might as well go to bed. He’d been looking forward to that ever since he saw it made up with baby-soft flannel sheets, a wool blanket and a beautiful old quilt. More luxury.

      He turned off lights as he went, brushed his teeth and stared at himself in the mirror. For a second, he almost didn’t recognize the face looking back at him. He still saw a death’s head instead of the face he’d once known, but...less so. Despite the rain, he’d acquired the beginnings of a tan since he got on that bus out of Walla Walla. His hair hadn’t grown very much—he ran a hand over the stubble—but maybe a little.

      It was the eyes, he thought, leaning closer to look. They weren’t empty anymore. Someone was at home in there. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but he felt again, and not only rage and despair. He’d have to watch that, not let his emotions get out of hand.

      Finally, he turned out that light, too, and walked across the dark bedroom to the window that looked toward the house. He could tell from the shiny reflection that Erin had washed the inside glass, and the curtains smelled fresh. With one pulled aside, he found that he could СКАЧАТЬ