Wife Wanted in Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Well, it was a mistake.” When Katrina saw the final picture, she was appalled. The camera had caught her emotions too well. “I never thought about all those people looking at me. All month long. It’s strange.”

      “I can understand that,” he said.

      He stood and looked over her shoulder at the tractor.

      “I didn’t mean I don’t like people to look at me in person.” She wondered how neurotic he thought she was.

      “Oh.” He looked back at her. This time he smiled. “Good.”

      He shuffled his feet. “If you need anything, let me know.”

      “I could use some juice,” Katrina said. Every time she saw that calendar she got thirsty. “For the boys when they wake up. They’ve been sleeping a long time. Is there a place I can get some?”

      “There’s a vending machine in the back.” He motioned to the far corner of the garage. “It has some boxes of apple juice. If you need some quarters, let me know.”

      She looked and saw the bright blue machine with the red stripes along the rear wall of his shop.

      “I’ve got plenty of change in my purse,” Katrina said. She’d left her purse in the car and when she turned in that direction she saw a small head in the window.

      “Looks like they’re waking up,” Conrad said as he followed her gaze and waved at Ryan. “Do they sleep in the car like this often?”

      “I don’t know. I haven’t taken them anywhere before.”

      His face went white. “But they’re yours, right?”

      She shook her head. “They’re used to the car, though. They probably sleep in it all the time so they’re fine.”

      He was silent. Maybe even stunned. He certainly didn’t have that friendly expression on his face anymore.

      Just then she heard the side door open to the garage. She looked up and a gray-haired man stepped inside holding a coffee cup. Short and a little stout, he had a red shirt on his back and his hair was puffed up around him like he’d been in a windstorm. Even his cheeks were rosy.

      “Maybe you should go back and get another cup,” Conrad said to the old man as he stood in the doorway with the cup held out. “Tell Elmer he might be right about everything. That’s ev-ery-thing.”

      Conrad’s voice was funny. Each word was spoken clearly before the other word came out of his mouth. Maybe his uncle had trouble hearing.

      “Oh,” the old man said as he looked into the garage like he was trying to find something.

      Through the open door, Katrina could see that the sky was darker than when she’d seen it last. It was probably going to rain or snow before long. There were no more beams of sunlight sneaking through.

      “Let me just give the coffee to your friend here. No point in taking it back,” the older man said as he stepped into the garage and looked straight at Katrina. “Hello. I’m Charley Nelson.”

      She moved closer to save him some steps. It was brave of him to meet new people when he obviously had challenges.

      “Let—me—help—you,” she said carefully and a bit louder than Conrad. Then she reached out to take the cup. “Thank you for bringing me some coffee. I’m Katrina Britton.”

      The older man seemed startled, but he gave her the cup. Then he stood there grinning.

      Conrad spoke up then. “It seems the boys aren’t hers. I’m guessing the car might not be, either.”

      She turned and saw he looked upset.

      “Well, not everyone has children,” she protested. She didn’t know what business that was of Conrad’s. And who cared about the car? “That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy being around someone else’s children. I was just taking them for a ride.”

      The old man must have agreed, because he didn’t even talk about children when he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know if you liked cream or sugar so I just brought it black.”

      He probably hadn’t heard Conrad, she concluded. The poor man. It must be hard to carry on a conversation.

      “Black—is—fine,” she said loudly and took the cup. Then she pointed to her ear. “I—understand.”

      That seemed to delight him.

      “My uncle Charley hears fine,” Conrad said from behind her. “He’s just being stubborn.”

      “How can you say that? He brought me coffee in a beautiful mug.” She looked down at the red cup she held. It had a white heart and a winged figure. “Why it’s a cupid mug!”

      “Love is always in the air around here.” The older man stepped closer to her, still grinning.

      “Love isn’t all that’s in the air,” Conrad muttered. He didn’t sound too happy. “Bonnie and Clyde were in love. That didn’t mean you’d want them to come to your town. Or take your children for rides in your car.”

      Katrina took a sip of the coffee. It was good and strong.

      “We’re known for our love matches in this town,” Charley continued, not looking at his nephew. “We even have a stop sign that’s shaped like a heart up the road a bit. It got bent like that years ago when a couple of teenagers—one of them my son, actually—had an accident while they were eloping. It’s our main tourist attraction.”

      “We don’t have any tourists,” Conrad protested.

      Katrina certainly could believe that. “You need to put on Shakespearean plays or something. Or build a water park. They’re popular.”

      “We’re a good, decent town. That should be enough,” Conrad said.

      Then it struck her. She turned to the old man. “You have a stop sign shaped like a heart?”

      “Well, half a heart,” he admitted. “It’s where the fender of my old pickup hit it.”

      She set her cup of coffee on the roof of her sister’s car.

      “That’d be perfect.” She used her hands to try and picture that sign. Maybe she wasn’t out of the running to supply photos for that Romance Across America calendar after all. She’d already used most of her savings hiring those models for the photos she’d sent. She’d had beautiful blonde women and men with teeth so white they gleamed. But maybe she could find a couple of models that would work for some kind of future payment. She had her camera in the trunk. She had film. If she could get strong enough natural daylight, she’d have a chance.

      “Do you have any blondes here?” she continued. “You know, young women in their twenties who’d like to take a chance at modeling. Pretty, of course, and curvy—”

      Well, maybe not too many curves, she thought. Her boyfriend had been swayed by the curves of one of the models as much as he had been by Katrina’s СКАЧАТЬ