A Family Christmas. Carrie Alexander

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      Tess walked to the doorway to the children’s room, checking on Lucy’s progress. She motioned to Evan to wait and disappeared into the room, where he could hear her discussing books with his daughter. He moved off, glancing around the main room to be sure there were no eavesdroppers, then took a chair at one of the more secluded study tables.

      Objectively, his interest in Rose should be curtailed, not fed. But there was his daughter’s welfare to consider, and Lucy had taken to Rose like no other. He’d risk his own involvement in the woman’s life if that meant helping Lucy. Although his heart went out to Rose now that he knew more of her situation, her troubles would have to remain secondary.

      The arousal of his male interest—that was unsettling. The veritable monkey wrench in his plan.

      Especially if Rose was equally attracted to him.

      “Why the scowl?” Tess pulled over a chair and sat beside him. She crossed one leg over the other, tugging on her short red skirt when it rode up.

      “Hmph.” The librarian had great legs, but Evan found himself wondering what Rose would look like in a dress or skirt. She might be pretty if she tried. Not that he expected women to keep themselves turned out like Barbie dolls. There was a certain appeal to Rose’s rakish independence. The intense blue of her eyes, how her wild, wavy hair framed her face…

      Tess put her elbow on the table and tucked her fist beneath her chin. Her shoulders relaxed with a sigh. “Lucy’s rereading one of the Princess Ella books. She never gets tired of them.”

      “Tell me about it. Every night, she wants one as a bedtime story. I know them by heart.”

      “No offense, but you two need a woman in your lives.”

      “We’re doing fine.”

      “Then why the interest in Rose, hmm?”

      “That’s, uh—” Evan slid his spine lower in the chair. “Don’t come at me from a different direction, hoping for a slip-up. I already explained. She’s good for Luce.”

      Tess patted his thigh. “Keep telling yourself that, hon.”

      He glowered, but he wasn’t as miffed with Tess as he pretended. She was only asking the same questions he’d asked himself. She’d probably guessed that he was feeling oddly uncertain.

      Tess had her own fix-it streak and would gladly be the one to push him over the edge into unwelcome territory. For his own good, she’d say. With a twinkle in her eye.

      “So,” he said in a low voice. “Spill the beans.”

      She sighed again. “Most of this is rumor.”

      “I’ll take it with a grain of salt.”

      “You’d be better off talking with Rose herself.”

      “I don’t know that the Spanish Inquisition could make her talk.”

      “She’s not that bad!”

      “Bad enough.”

      “Why do I feel we should have theme music?” Tess said. “The song about not giving a damn about your bad reputation would do. That’s Rose, all right.”

      “You’re wrong. She does care.”

      Tess turned her head on its side, still propped on her fist. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ve looked that closely?”

      He wondered how much he’d given away. “Get on with it, Marian.”

      “What I remember…” Tess looked off across the library. “Rose was a different sort of kid when we were in grade school. Shy and quiet, but also stubborn. Rebellious at times. She didn’t take well to authority, like her older brothers. But it was as if the teachers expected no better. The Robbins were that sort of family.”

      “What sort?”

      “Not…admired,” came the careful answer. “The father was a hunting and fishing guide. Something of a blowhard. A big drinker, arrested at least once for illegal poaching. I don’t know a lot about Maxine, Rose’s mother, except that she stayed close to home. The brothers were hellions.”

      “And Rose?”

      “She wasn’t too friendly, but then she didn’t get much of a chance to be, either. All the ‘good’ mothers warned their kids away from playing with the Robbins. Let’s just say, we sure weren’t having picnics or slumber parties out at Blackbear Road.” Tess ducked her head to press her knuckles beneath her nose. “In retrospect, I feel pretty awful about that. Rose must have been lonely, even if she acted like she didn’t care.”

      Evan pushed down his rising empathy. “If she was this lonely outcast you say, how did she get the reputation?”

      “This is where the rumors begin.” Tess took her voice down another notch. “When we got older, like fifteen, sixteen, the boys started paying more attention to Rose. She was striking—black hair to her waist, slim, tanned. The snobbier girls dismissed her because she didn’t have the right clothes or social graces. But of course the boys didn’t care about that.”

      Evan’s mind drifted, imagining Rose at sixteen. He could see her—a wild rose of the forest, hardy but also beautiful and so fragile.

      Damn. Where was the poetry coming from? Somebody ought to slap him in tights and call him Romeo.

      Tess continued with a shrug. “What mattered to the boys was that she didn’t have a curfew. Or many other rules. The Robbins kids basically ran wild.”

      “I see.”

      “Supposedly, Rose had a few temporary…alliances. And the boys talked. Bragged. You know. So she got this reputation. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was overblown, knowing how gossip balloons in this town.”

      Evan was familiar with the concept. His first year as head coach, he’d suspended several of the team members for drinking and breaking curfew. The incident had expanded into a brouhaha that took over a school board meeting. Some of the more belligerent parents had wanted him reprimanded for overly harsh discipline, but he’d remained calm and kept a firm stance, and wiser heads had prevailed.

      Tess had fallen silent. He prodded her. “And then?”

      “Rose started hanging with a bad crowd. They got into trouble—underage drinking, petty vandalism, that kind of thing. People said she was just like her brothers. Then, I don’t know, there was an incident that was hushed up pretty fast, except that people whispered about it for a long time. They said there was some kind of confrontation between Black Jack Robbin and the Lindstroms. The rumor was that Rose had become involved with Rick Lindstrom—led him into temptation, according to his parents.”

      “Or vice versa.”

      “All I know for sure is that the Lindstroms wouldn’t want their son associating with someone like Rose. Rick’s gone now, died in a forest fire out west, but I remember him well. The golden-boy type—handsome, charming, spoiled and arrogant. I seriously doubt that Rose was the СКАЧАТЬ