The Husband She Can't Forget. Patricia Forsythe

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СКАЧАТЬ and needed to earn money to help out at home. She was pretty in a quiet and earnest way, and willing to work.

      Jay Morton was the son of the mayor of Reston, and he’d been raised to be a hard worker. She knew he liked video games and electronic devices. A couple of times she had caught him playing games on his phone when he should have been sorting and packing produce but, for the most part, he was a good employee.

      Carly smiled as she handed Sheena the clipboard with the paperwork Jay would need. He was eager to get going, finish this job and go on to the next one, while Sheena was fixated on double-checking everything. Carly feared that her own meticulous habits were beginning to affect the girl.

      “Don’t drive too fast,” she said to Jay. “I don’t know where all the extra people have come from, but traffic in town seems heavier than usual.”

      “I know, Carly. I just came from town,” he said, nodding toward the motorcycle he rode everywhere. He shook his head and exchanged looks with Sheena as if he thought their persnickety boss was losing her mind. Sheena smiled back as color rushed into her face.

      “Oh, of course.” Carly gave him the keys.

      As he pulled out, she and Sheena went back to work, picking the remainder of the vegetables they needed to deliver today and getting them ready to go. Carly was grateful for the manual labor that left her too busy to think about yesterday’s encounters with Luke.

      When they took a break, Sheena took a long drink of water from one of the bottles Carly always kept in a cooler in the shed, then poured some into her hand and splashed it on her face. Once she was cooled off, she turned troubled eyes to Carly. “Have you seen Mrs. Salyer lately?”

      Carly paused, trying to remember the last time she’d seen her elderly neighbor. “No, not in a few weeks. Why?”

      “My mom stopped to see her yesterday and she said Mrs. Salyer was in bed. In the middle of the day.”

      “Era wasn’t sewing or gardening or...putting a new roof on her house?”

      “No. Mom said it looks like Mrs. Salyer didn’t even put in a garden this year.”

      “Is she sick?”

      “She said she’s just tired. At least, that’s what she told Mom.”

      “I’d better check on her.” Hearing that Era Salyer was napping instead of working was like learning the sun had decided not to rise one morning. It simply didn’t happen. “Can you finish up here?”

      “Sure.”

      Carly scooped her cell phone out of her pocket and called Era, but there was no answer. She grabbed a basket and filled it with fresh produce.

      Carly hurried to one of the four-wheelers and rode down the highway, being careful to keep her slower vehicle at the edge of the pavement.

      At the mailbox marked Salyer, she turned in and made her way over the rutted lane, which wasn’t in much better shape than her own. She stopped in front of Era’s small house, noting the unaccustomed sight of dry and drooping roses and hydrangeas. At the side of the house, the plot that usually held Era’s lush vegetable garden was choked with weeds.

      Carly hurried to the front door. A scuffling noise followed her knock and, after a pause, Era called out, “Who is it?”

      “It’s Carly Joslin, Mrs. Salyer. I haven’t seen you in a while so I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

      Instead of opening the door wide as was her custom and embracing her, Era opened it only as far as the guard chain would allow and peeped out.

      “Oh, hi, Carly. How are you?”

      “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” Carly tried to look past the older lady, but could see nothing in the dim room—a room whose windows had always been open to light and air. She brought her attention back to Era, noting that her face seemed thinner.

      “I’m fine. Nothing wrong with me, honey. Just a little tired.”

      Carly held up the basket. “I brought you some vegetables and some berries.”

      Era frowned. “Berries? Oh, I thought you already left me some...”

      When her voice trailed off, Carly asked, “Thought I left you what?”

      “Oh, oh, nothing. I...don’t know what I was going to say.” She looked up and smiled. “Thank you, honey. Just leave it on the porch. I don’t want to open the door because... I might have a cold and I don’t want to get you sick, too.”

      Carly blinked and did as the older lady asked, setting down the basket as she said, “Era, please let me know if you need anything. Really, anything at all.”

      “I will, hon. Thank you.”

      Before Carly could say another thing, Era closed the door. The dead bolt clicked into place.

      Puzzled, Carly walked slowly to her four-wheeler.

      “This is so strange,” she whispered. She couldn’t recall a single time when Era had behaved this way. A widow for many years, she had lost her only son to an oilfield accident a few years ago. In spite of those hardships, she had always seemed content with her life. She was hardworking and independent and had been friendly and welcoming to her neighbors.

      Carly couldn’t think of anything that would have caused such a change in her, unless she really was sick.

      She glanced over her shoulder to see that Era was holding back one of the living room curtains to give a reassuring wave and a smile.

      It was as if she didn’t want Carly around but didn’t want her to worry, either.

      Deciding to call again in a few days, or to send someone, Carly drove home and reported the visit to Sheena, who said she would tell her mom about it.

      Jay returned from town with the truck and the three of them were finished by noon. Since Sheena lived on the outskirts of Reston, less than three miles away, she rode home on her bicycle, leaving Carly and Jay to load the last delivery onto the truck.

      When they were done, she said, “Jay, I can take this to the restaurant. I’ve got to go into Toncaville, anyway.”

      He grinned. “Did your favorite secondhand store get a new delivery of beat-up furniture?”

      Teasingly, she narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you’ve been working for me too long. You know me too well.”

      “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I’m pretty sure I deserve a raise.”

      She only laughed and waved him off as he mounted his motorcycle, but he paused before putting on his helmet. “Um, Carly, did you pick any of the blueberries yet?”

      “Only a few to take to Mrs. Salyer. She loves my berries. Why?”

      “I don’t know, just seems like there aren’t as many on the bushes as there were a few days ago.” He rubbed his chin, where he was attempting to grow his scraggly few whiskers into a beard. “’Course, it might be rabbits, СКАЧАТЬ