Quickly, she looked down at the cell phone in her hand.
“If you need to call someone, I’ll leave you alone.”
She shrugged, loneliness washing through her once more. “No one to call.”
“No friends or family?” His voice was low and gentle as he studied her.
“Nope. Just me and the girls.”
“I assumed when you left Baton Rouge you went back to your family.”
“I did. I went to live with my mother in Jackson, Tennessee. Chrissy was born there. After Mom passed, I went to work for her good friend, Mrs. Forsythe, in Memphis. Now I’m here.”
“I spoke to Mary Ogden this evening. The mayor’s wife. She told me he’ll be home around lunchtime on Monday. She said you should go by his office and speak to him about your job. She feels certain he’ll do what he can.”
She couldn’t see his eyes in the dim light, but she didn’t miss the conciliatory tone in his voice. He was still trying to make up in some way for the past. Something he could never do. “Can he get the library done by Thursday?” Shaw glanced away briefly, clearly stung by her question. She snuffed out the twinge of regret that surfaced.
“No. That’s all on me, but I promise I’ll get it done as quickly as possible. You can count on me.”
She started to remind him that she’d counted on him to keep her husband safe. But as distasteful as it was to rely on Shaw’s help, she couldn’t ignore the truth. If it weren’t for him, she and the girls might have been spending the next few days in a shelter, or living out of her car. He was doing all he could to help, even if his motivation stemmed from his own guilty conscience. She looked up at him and her gaze locked with his. The light had shifted and she could see the distress in his eyes. “I appreciate your help today. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise. I’d do anything for my girls.”
“Including taking help from me?”
Lainie squared her shoulders. “Yes.” The flash of pain that shot through his eyes surprised her.
She opened the door and stepped into her living room. Shutting the door, she inhaled a few deep breaths to ease the anxiety clogging her throat. For the time being, she had no choice but to accept help from Shaw. But as soon as she met with the mayor, she’d convince him to let her start work whether the library was done or not. And the moment she received her new cards, she would find a place for her family to live and put as much distance as possible between herself and Shaw.
But as she lay in bed that night, one image kept reappearing in her mind. The flash of deep pain that had filled Shaw’s eyes. Could the accident have affected him more than she’d thought? The notion disturbed her. If that were true, then her long-held assumptions about Shaw were wrong. And they couldn’t be wrong. She’d placed him in a nice little box. Labeled neatly and precisely. Irresponsible. Not to be trusted. Her world was neat and orderly, and if Shaw wasn’t the man she’d thought he was then that meant changing, and she didn’t like change.
Besides, his whole nice-guy routine was an act calculated to ease his guilt and redeem himself for the past. Well, she had news for him. No amount of help or phony concern could make up for his careless disregard for others.
Shaw pressed the trigger on the nail gun, the kickback reverberating along his arm. The activity helped ease the knot in his chest, which had formed last night when Lainie had stepped onto the porch and stirred his emotions. Her presence was shattering the peaceful life he’d found and unearthing a past he’d fought hard to overcome.
Her thank-you had been frosty, but sincere nonetheless. Truthfully, he couldn’t blame her. He’d feel the same way if he were in her position.
A few more pops and the half-round molding was secured. He picked up the next section and placed it against the paneling, making sure the mitered corners fit snugly. This room was one of two with paneled walls that needed major restoration. He was anxious to complete replacing the wainscoting and trim boxes. Then he could let the painters match the new stain to the old, and he and Russ could get started putting up drywall on the second floor.
The back of his neck tingled and he glanced over his shoulder to see Russ eyeing him curiously. “You need something?”
“Nope. Just wondering why you’re here so early on a Saturday?”
“We’re behind. There’s a lot of work to do.”
“So it doesn’t have anything to do with your guests?”
“Why should it?”
“I thought maybe you were anxious to get out of the house. The lady isn’t happy to be staying with you.”
That was putting it mildly. “Can you blame her?”
“Maybe not. But you need to stop blaming yourself.” Russ strolled away.
Shaw pulled the trigger on the nail gun. Russ was never one for expounding on things. He stated his position and moved on, and he was probably right. Shaw should have paid for rooms at the Dixiana motel and gone on about his business. But he couldn’t. Lainie might never forgive him for the past, but he’d do all he could to make sure she and her daughters were taken care of until the library was done.
Job complete, Shaw shut off the compressor, questions from the past surfacing again as he headed out to his truck. Had he done all he could that day? Or had he shirked his duty because of petty resentments? He’d been a different man then. Not nearly as safety conscious as he was now, or as experienced in dealing with a crew. Over the years, he’d learned how to spot troublemakers, slackers and guys who thought swinging a hammer was a thrill. If he’d known then what he knew now, he’d never have agreed to train Hollings.
What would Lainie say if he told her the whole truth about her husband? Would she forgive him then? Doubtful. The truth would only tarnish her memory of him and make Shaw feel like a heel.
He wanted to make things right somehow. Last night, she’d stepped onto the porch into the moonlight and stolen the breath from his lungs. She was lovely, the kind of woman he’d always hoped to find. The one he could spend his life with. But she wasn’t for him and never would be.
Shaw tossed his hard hat into the truck bed then spread the blueprints on the tailgate. He flipped to the pages showing the lobby layout. He tried to focus on the lines and figures but found Lainie invading his thoughts again.
“Do all the doors have locks?” The panic in her eyes had wounded him. Did she distrust him that much? Or was she feeling vulnerable and scared in the aftermath of being robbed?
She was in a tough spot and he wasn’t sure how to help her. Technically, she wasn’t his problem. But how could he stand by and let her and her girls struggle? He was morally obligated to do whatever he could.
He stared at the blueprints, the web of tiny lines reminding him of his priorities. He needed to stop worrying about Lainie. His future depended on getting this library finished. If the building wasn’t completed, then their personal problems were immaterial.
A silver truck pulled to a stop near his and his cabinetmaker, Jeb West,
