A Conard County Courtship. Rachel Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ As she’d sat there, waiting for Tim to return with his son, memories had clamored, and maybe the worst part was that they were so confused.

      So much for thinking she’d dealt with the past and put it away. The house had dug it all up again. It would have been okay if the memories had been bad, but the thing was, they were good memories, which made Bob Higgins’s betrayal all that more difficult to deal with.

      When she stepped outside to follow Tim to his house, the icy air astonished her. The temperature had fallen that fast? She wore what she’d thought would be an adequate wool coat, but it wasn’t enough.

      She hurried to get into her car and out of the wind. Matthew had told his father he wanted to ride with her, but before she could say anything Tim had squashed that. Good. She liked the kid as much as she could, having only just met him, but she was far from being ready to drive him around. Also, she knew next to nothing about children.

      Maybe she should have gone to the motel. The town had only one, it seemed, and the reviews hadn’t been exciting. Truckers and transients? And what if she got snowed in there?

      She shook her head at herself. She wasn’t usually a ditherer, but then she’d never faced a situation quite like this before. Not as an adult making her own decisions.

      A town she had nearly forgotten that held secrets about her family that might cause people to judge her. Her dad had certainly thought so. A house from the man who’d destroyed her family. She couldn’t imagine staying there by herself to deal with the good memories that refused to jibe with later reality. Worse, the bad memories from later were more sharply engraved on her mind. She didn’t want to relive her dad’s deterioration and death. All that bitterness. Her mother’s despair.

      She hoped Bob Higgins had gone to hell, then caught herself. She didn’t wish that on anyone. But that was the problem with being back here. Having thoughts like that. She was going to face a very ugly part of herself until she was able to walk away.

      Tim lived right around the corner. He pulled into a paved driveway that left enough room for her to pull in beside him. She was relieved she wouldn’t be blocking him in or leaving her car on the street to interfere with snowplows.

      From the outside, the two-story house appeared tidy—freshly painted white, black shutters all in good condition. A side door led into a mudroom, and from there into a warmly decorated kitchen, painted yellow with sunflower decals along the soffits. A woman’s touch.

      “Your wife won’t mind?” she asked, a belated concern. It almost embarrassed her that she hadn’t asked earlier.

      “I’m widowed,” Tim said as he bent to give Matthew a friendly pat on his behind and sent him to put his backpack away. “Homework before dinner.”

      “Okay, Dad, but I still haven’t showed Vannie my book.”

      “After the work sheets are done, okay? She’d probably like to put her suitcase in the spare room and settle a bit.”

      Matthew looked at Vanessa and grinned. “I don’t have much homework.”

      “Then I’ll have to hurry my settling in.”

      Matthew dashed off, leaving Tim and Vanessa alone for a moment.

      “He’s cute,” Vanessa offered.

      “He’s also endlessly energetic. Don’t let him bug you too much. Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

      Miserable as she had been by herself at the Higgins house, now she felt a desperate need for a few minutes alone. With her emotions all topsy-turvy, she needed just a little time to let them settle.

      Closing the door behind her in the guest room seemed like a sure way to get that done. Tim brought in her suitcase, told her where to find the facilities, then left her alone in a lovely room.

      She suspected he cherished the memory of his wife, because little enough had been done to erase a woman’s touch. No man had chosen those white ruffled curtains or thought to put an embroidered oval doily on the top of the mirrored dresser. A comforter decorated with forget-me-nots covered the queen-size bed, and matching rugs scattered the polished wood floor.

      Definitely his wife’s choices, she thought, along with the pale lavender paint on the walls.

      So he hadn’t changed a thing. That told her something about his grief. Then she thought of his son, the boy without a mother, and reluctantly her heart went out to them both. The fact that she didn’t make relationships didn’t mean she didn’t care.

      It was the relationships that could frighten her. But for Tim and Matthew...that wasn’t enough to unnerve her. She didn’t intend to be here that long.

      She enjoyed a few minutes by herself, changing out of her traveling clothes into more comfortable green fleece, pants and thick socks. Then she decided it was time to go out and face the world of Tim and Matthew. Hanging around in her room might seem rude to Tim after he’d been awfully nice to invite her to stay here.

      As she passed the dining room, she saw Matthew hunkered over some papers, chewing on a pencil. He flashed her a grin and went back to work.

      She found Tim in the kitchen, washing and patting down a whole chicken. “Can I help?” she offered automatically.

      “No need. Just have a seat at the kitchen table. Coffee?”

      “No, thank you. Maybe some water?”

      “There are bottles in the fridge, and glasses in the cabinet beside it if you want one. I’m a bottle drinker, I’m afraid. Anyway, apologies for not getting it for you, but my hands are covered with chicken.”

      “I don’t expect to be waited on,” she assured him. “It’s kind of you to give me shelter from the storm. Honestly, I didn’t want to stay alone at the house, and Earl’s and your description of the motel made me uneasy.”

      Tim nodded as he placed the chicken in the roasting pan beside the sink. “You’d probably be okay there, but you aren’t going to want to have to cross the highway in a blizzard this cold just to get to the truck stop to eat something. Anyway, with this weather moving in, they’ll be packed...and so will the truck stop diner.” He flashed her a smile. “My house is so much nicer.”

      “It is,” she agreed readily. “Your spare room is beautiful. Your wife?”

      “Yeah.”

      She watched him oil the chicken then wash his hands again, wondering if mention of his wife was off-limits.

      When he was done prepping the chicken, he washed his hands again then leaned back against the counter as he dried them with a towel. “My wife passed six years ago. Pulmonary embolism, if you can believe it. Out of nowhere. Matthew has absolutely no memory of her. I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.”

      “I wouldn’t know,” she said carefully. “I am very sorry for your loss.”

      He tossed the towel to one side. “You get used to the most incredible things. Anyway, yeah, she decorated most of the house. Your room was her pride, though. It wasn’t often she could find everything she wanted that would match.” He rested his palms on the counter behind him. “What about you?”

      “Me?”

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