Shelter in a Soldier's Arms. Susan Mallery

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Shelter in a Soldier's Arms - Susan Mallery Mills & Boon Vintage Cherish

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and go to the grocery store.”

      She wanted to protest. Surely there was enough for them to get by until she was feeling better. She didn’t want to impose. Impulsively she opened the refrigerator, about to make that point. However, the point went unmade.

      The interior of the gleaming metal refrigerator was empty. Not just echoing with the stereotypical bachelor fare of beer and condiments. It was as empty as a showroom model. Ashley swallowed, then moved to the pantry. Those shelves were neatly papered and just as bare.

      Jeff cleared his throat. “Like I said, I don’t eat here much.”

      “Ever,” she corrected. “How can you not have coffee?”

      Instead of answering, he indicated that they should follow him toward the staircase at the rear of the house. On the landing it split in two directions. He took the stairs on the right.

      “This is the guest wing,” he said. “The two bedrooms share a bathroom.”

      He opened doors, leading the way to well-furnished bedrooms, one larger than the other. The bathroom setup gave them each a vanity and mirror, while they shared the toilet and bath. Maggie hurried to the window seat in the smaller room and knelt on the yellow cushion.

      “I like this,” she said, holding her stuffed cat close to her chest and smiling. “I can see the water.”

      “Good.”

      Ashley hoped her voice sounded pleased. She was having trouble forming the words as her strength faded. She made her way back into the larger of the two rooms. As it had been downstairs, the furniture was exactly right but there were no homey touches. The walls were blank, as were the surfaces of the dresser and nightstands, except for a clock radio silently illuminating the time.

      Ashley found she didn’t care about decorating or empty refrigerators. Exhaustion descended with no warning, sucking up the last of her strength, leaving her shaking and breathless.

      Jeff seemed to figure out her problem. Without saying anything, he drew back the covers on the bed and urged her to sit on the clean sheet.

      “You need sleep,” he said, reaching for her shoes and tugging them off. “I’ll take care of Maggie. Just rest.”

      She started to protest. She had to give her daughter instructions to be good, to listen to Jeff and to come running to her if she was afraid. Even as she stretched out on the bed she thought it might be a good idea to stay awake for a while to make sure everything was all right here in the beautiful house on the hill. She ought to—

      Jeff watched Ashley fight against exhaustion. Slowly her eyes closed and her breathing slowed.

      “We’ll be going out for food,” he murmured as she drifted off to sleep. “We’ll be back soon.”

      She didn’t respond. Maggie bounced into the room, her mouth open to speak. She stopped when she saw her mother asleep, pressing her lips together and then looking at him.

      He walked to the door and motioned for her to follow. When they were out in the hall, he stared down at her, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Food, he thought. They had to get food. He hesitated, not sure if he’d ever gone grocery shopping before. As he’d told Ashley, he ate all his meals at restaurants, or at work. It’s not that he didn’t know how to keep food in the house, he simply didn’t bother. Despite the furniture in the rooms and his clothes in his bedroom closet, this wasn’t his home. It was a place to sleep and work after hours. Nothing more.

      “We’re going shopping,” he announced. “The grocery store.”

      Maggie hesitated before nodding her agreement. She looked so small standing there in her pink jeans and pink-and-white plaid knit sweater. Two tiny clips held her dark curls off her face. Her Cupid’s bow mouth quivered slightly.

      Not knowing what else to do, Jeff crouched in front of the child. “You know your mom is sick, right?”

      “Uh-huh.” Her grip on the battered stuffed cat tightened.

      “She has the flu. Do you know what that is?”

      “It’s what I had last week. I was very sick and I got to watch TV in Mommy’s bed and eat Jell-O whenever I wanted.”

      Was that kid paradise? He didn’t know. “But you’re better now, right?”

      Another nod.

      “So you know your mom is going to be fine in a few days. I don’t want you to worry about her.”

      Maggie gave him an impish smile. “I know you’ll take care of her.”

      He hadn’t thought about his responsibility in quite those terms, but if it made the kid happy to think that, he wouldn’t disagree. “Are you nervous about being with me?”

      Delicate, dark eyebrows drew together. “What’s nerv-nerv-What’s that?”

      “Nervous. Upset. Afraid. Anxious.” His explanation didn’t seem to be helping. He searched his memory for a word a four-year-old could understand. “Scared.”

      This time, instead of smiling, she laughed. “I’m not scared. You like us.”

      She spoke with a conviction he both envied and admired. If only all of life were that simple, he thought as he rose to his full height.

      “Then let’s go to the food store.”

      Maggie trailed after him as they made their way to the car. Jeff hesitated, then decided not to set the alarm in the house. He figured the odds of Ashley opening a door or window were greater than someone breaking in during the short time he would be gone.

      He held the back door open for the little girl, then helped her fasten her seat belt. She gazed at him trustingly as he secured her in the car. She sniffed loudly.

      “Your car smells nice.”

      “It’s the leather. I’ve only had the car a few months.”

      Her eyes widened. “It’s new? You have a new car?”

      Her tone of reverence made him wonder if Ashley had ever had a new car. Based on her current circumstances, he doubted it. At least not in the recent past. There were so many things in his life that he took for granted.

      “I have to call someone I know,” he said as he slid into the driver’s seat. “I need to ask her what to buy to make your mom feel better.”

      “Jell-O,” Maggie said firmly.

      “Okay, but she’ll need other stuff, too.” He was thinking in terms of liquids. Or was that for a cold? His first-aid training ran more in the direction of gunshot wounds or emergency amputations.

      He backed out of the driveway, then touched a button. A mechanical voice asked, “What name?”

      “Brenda,” he replied.

      Maggie stared at him. “The car is talking!”

      He felt himself smile as the sound of a phone ringing came over

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