off from school,” he’d muttered as he’d advanced. “You think they don’t keep track of kids down at that school? You think they don’t notice when some whiny-ass little bastard sneaks out like a damn thief? You’re gonna be sorry, boy, damn sor—”
Pain in Tyler’s hand jerked his attention back to the present. He stared blankly at the pop can he held, crumpled almost flat, and the blood welling where a sharp corner had pierced his palm. Coke dripped from his fingers and puddled on the floor, each plop a reminder of the punishment such a spill had always brought.
An instant of panic spurted through him—Got to get a rag, got to clean it and dry it so no one will notice. He pushed it back with a deep breath and forced his fingers to relax around the battered aluminum. He’d taken only a few steps from the window when the doorbell echoed through the house, accompanied by Diaz’s excited barks and Cameron’s howl from the porch.
He would like to think the dogs were smart enough to ring the bell themselves, but a soft little-girl giggle told him he couldn’t be so lucky. Grimly setting his jaw, he opened the door. The dogs shot in around him, racing through the living room and circling the kitchen island before leaping onto the couch and battling for space. Lucy would have followed them if her mother hadn’t grabbed the hood to rein her in.
Her cheeks pink, Jayne smiled uncertainly. “Hi. I’m sorry to bother you, but I saw your electricity was on, and it reminded me to call and see about getting mine turned on, too.” She gestured toward the porch light that he always left on when he knew he would be home after dark. With no power, he’d forgotten to turn it off this morning, and now it glowed dimly in the bright day.
More than anything he wanted to send her away. He didn’t need her in his house, looking at his things, disturbing his day. But instead he flipped the switch to off, then stepped back to allow her entrance. “The phone’s on the desk,” he said gruffly. “The book’s under it.”
Still holding on to Lucy’s hood, Jayne came inside, steering her daughter toward the desk against one living room wall. She gave the wrestling dogs a wary look, and he spoke sharply. “Diaz. Cameron. Stop.”
Immediately the dogs separated, each taking one end of the couch and watching the three humans curiously.
“Could you teach me how to do that with Lucy?” Jayne asked, wearing that uneasy smile again.
Lucy seemed well enough behaved to him. Though her expression said she was itching to go exploring, she didn’t try to slip out of her mother’s hold. Instead she was satisfied to look at everything, her brown eyes wide with curiosity. When she looked at him, a broad grin spread across her face and she raised one hand and wiggled her index finger in greeting.
With a brusque nod, he went to the kitchen, tossed the can in the trash, then held his hand under cold water, washing away the pop and fresh blood. The puncture wasn’t deep, so instead of a bandage, he balled a napkin in his fist, then went to stare out the back windows. Immediately Diaz joined him, rubbing against his legs for attention. A moment later Lucy came over, as well. Glancing back, Tyler saw her coat hanging by its hood from her mother’s hand.
“I like your house,” she announced.
He grunted. It wasn’t fancy—maybe fourteen hundred square feet, one big living room/dining room/kitchen, two bedrooms and one and a half baths, with a wide front porch and a deck across the back. He’d built it himself, with help from his brothers and sister and his boss, and he’d done everything exactly the way he wanted it. It was his and his alone.
Lucy touched her reflection in the window, then giggled. “Look. I’m having a bad hair day. That’s ’cause I’ve been helping Mom clean. See?” Her fine hair stood on end, and what looked like the remains of a cobweb spread across the wild strands. It was a good look with the smudges of dirt that marked one cheek and her chin before spreading down the front of her shirt.
He couldn’t think of anything to say to her comment, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“You have any kids?” When he shook his head, she frowned, then wistfully asked, “Are there any kids around here?”
He knew everyone who lived along the road by sight, if not personally. He rarely had anything to do with them. He rarely had anything to do with anyone. He saw the Ryans—his boss Daniel, Sarah and their kids—every workday. He saw his own family on Sunday afternoons, and Zachary and Beth Adams and their kids maybe twice a month.
He wasn’t a real sociable person.
“The Trumbulls have some kids, but I don’t know how old they are,” he said at last. “They live about halfway back to town. And Sassie Whitlaw’s grandkids live with her part of the time. There’s a girl about your size.”
The wistfulness disappeared as she giggled again. “What kind of name is Sassie?”
Not much different from Lucy. It was an old name for a young girl.
A strand of hair fell forward to rest on her cheek, and she brushed it back with delicate fingers. “Do you have any animals besides puppies? Like maybe horses?”
“No.” There were cats in the barn, but they were no more sociable than he was. He kept their water dish full and supplemented their field-mouse diet with dry food, but that was the extent of their interaction.
“My dad said I could have a horse when we moved here. He said we’d have a barn and everything. He said we’d have trees filled with apples to give ’em for treats, and I could ride my horse to the store and to school.” Suspicion settled over her features, making her look years beyond five. “There’s no barn at our house. Daddy was little when he came here to see his grandma. I think he didn’t remember very well.”
Was there ever an orchard around here? her mother had asked that morning with the same sort of look, and just before that she’d all but snorted, A great old house. Clearly the Miller home had fallen far short of her expectations. Because her ex had a faulty memory—or a problem with the truth?
Lucy edged closer to the glass. “You have a barn,” she announced. “What’s in it?”
“The tractor. Some tools. A workshop.”
She tilted her head to look at him. “What kind of workshop?”
“You’re awfully nosy today.” Jayne came up to stand on the other side of the kid, combed the spiderwebs from her hair, then tried without success to remove them from her fingers. Her cheeks turned pink as she surreptitiously scrubbed them off on her sweatshirt.
“I’m bein’ neighborly,” Lucy disagreed. “That’s what Grandpa says people do in the country. Isn’t it, Tyler?”
Not me, he almost blurted out, but he just shrugged instead.
“They said we should have power by five,” Jayne said. With her gaze locked on something outside, it was hard to tell whether she was addressing the words to her daughter or him. “Do you think the roads are clear enough to go into town and pick up a few things?”
The snow had been melting steadily all day, leaving great patches of ground showing everywhere that wasn’t in the shade, and the temperature was warm enough for a lightweight jacket. How could the city girl not realize the roads would be clear? “Sure.”
“We’d be happy to give you a ride to your truck on the way.”
He’d
