The Texan's Return Page 8

  Suddenly she wished he’d kissed her. Long enough to make her forget their past had been cut short. Instead, she made a show of turning to look down the long, gravel road. “Maybe I’ll take a walk instead.” One step away, and then another. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep from flinging herself at him and holding on.

  Instead, she did her best to pretend his touch hadn’t affected her. “Okay, I’ll think about it. I really don’t know what I intended to say, just that I would be there if anyone needed to talk. I guess that’s not necessary now.” Stunned to realize she hovered on the verge of tears, she cleared her throat, praying he didn’t notice. “Anyway, thanks for letting me know.”

  She strode off before he could comment or, worse, she could say or do something she’d regret later. Since she had no actual destination in mind, she took off down the road. She might as well get some exercise. Maybe the simple act of moving would make her feel better.

  Two o’clock snuck up on her, arriving much more quickly than she’d thought it would. Stunned to realize that five hours had already passed, Hailey went outside to look for Mac and remind him that she had to leave.

  She found him on the back side of the barn, shirtless and sweaty and now repairing fence. She watched him silently for a minute, unable to resist marveling at the play of his muscles, aching to reach out and feel them bunch under her hand.

  This man, with his steel-gray eyes and his lean and muscular body... No wonder she hadn’t been able to fall for anyone else. No other man could match him for masculine virility and sex appeal.

  Sex. Her insides hummed at the thought. It had been way too long since she’d even thought of getting physical with a man. Now, with Mac back in town, it seemed that was all she could think about.

  Blinking, she looked away and cleared her throat before glancing back at him. He turned and stared at her, the sun and the shadows changing his dark hair to gold and creating hollows in his handsome face.

  “I’ve got to go.” Suddenly aware she still stared, she looked back at the house. “Your dad’s asleep. He wouldn’t eat much—just a couple of spoonfuls of soup.”

  Mac grimaced. “Yeah. He’s been eating less and less lately. The doctors warned me about this.”

  She knew she should say something, offer a word or two of comfort, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she simply nodded and turned to leave. Then, remembering, she reminded him she wouldn’t be back until Wednesday, since she’d already committed to ironing for the Widow Caribiner.

  “All right.” He’d already returned his attention to the fence. “See you Wednesday.”

  “Right.”

  “Oh, and, Hailey?”

  “Yes?” She waited, willing him to turn around and meet her gaze again.

  Instead, he kept on working. “Make sure you tell her you’ve got a regular job now, okay?”

  Disappointed, she agreed. “Of course.”

  After picking up the kids from school, Hailey willed her life to feel normal, but she kept thinking about Gus, slowly dying, and Mac, doing his best to cope.

  The twins bickered and Eli tried to sneak in a game on their old Xbox, but Hailey redirected him to his homework. “Tara,” she said, motioning at the two boys. “I’ve got to run to the grocery store. Keep an eye on things until I get back, okay?”

  Tara nodded. When she thought Hailey’s back was turned, she stuck out her tongue at her brothers.

  Hailey had never enjoyed grocery shopping, even when she had enough money to buy everything she needed. She especially detested it now with limited funds, yet still tried to plan inexpensive and nutritious meals that the kids would actually eat.

  Impossible. But she had to try. Still, her stomach knotted up on the short drive to the store. She had exactly twelve dollars to feed everyone until she got paid—either from Ms. Caribiner or Mac. She’d managed on less. She had this.

  Pasta featured heavily in her family’s diet. A box of macaroni shells could be stretched to go a long way. Throw in tomato sauce, seasonings and ground beef, and she had a rudimentary spaghetti. Add tuna, a can of peas and mayo, and she’d prepared tuna casserole. The possibilities were endless. Yet Hailey thought if she ate another plate of any kind of pasta, she’d be ill.

  “Hey, there.” Mac’s voice, the husky timbre sending a jolt up her spine.

  Deliberately casual, she turned slowly. “Hey, yourself. I thought you couldn’t leave your dad alone.”

  “I really can’t. But I realized we were out of a few things, so I ran up here. He’s asleep, so I doubt he’ll even notice I’m gone.”

  “Oh.” From down the aisle, she registered Mrs. Darter frowning at her. Ignoring that, she eyed Mac’s cart, trying to hide her envy. “You sure have a lot of vegetables and fruit.”

  He glanced at hers, noting the single head of lettuce and two tiny tomatoes. “I take it you have something against fresh produce?”

  This made her smile. “No. I just can’t afford to buy much of it.” The second she spoke, she wished she could call the words back. Her face heated. “Ignore that,” she said. “I’m not trying to complain.” Or beg. She thought a silent prayer that he wouldn’t offer to buy her anything.

  Thankfully, he didn’t. “The reason I have all this produce is that I’m attempting to get my father to eat as healthy as possible. He’s not real thrilled with the idea. He has very little appetite now, and I’ve been trying juicing. So far, he seems to like what I’ve made.”

  Juicing. The idea of Mac using a juicer made her smile. Tamping down on the thought, she glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go. I still have to make dinner for the kids.”

  “Your mother doesn’t cook?”

  Slowly, she shook her head.

  “Hailey, how long has it been since you’ve taken a day to yourself?” he asked. “No kids, no mom, just you enjoying yourself?”

  She stared blankly. “I have days to myself all the time. I iron for Ms. Carabiner. Sometimes she’s there, but there’s a lot of times she’s not. I walk people’s dogs, mow lawns, get mail and water plants when they’re on vacation. I have a lot more alone time than you’d think.”

  “That’s working.” He chucked her lightly under the chin, the way he’d used to do when they were younger. It took every ounce of willpower to keep from leaning in to his touch.

  “I’m talking about fun,” he continued. “Jumping from the rope swing into the creek, going to a vineyard and sampling wine. Maybe an arts festival or antiques shop. When was the last time you did something like that?”

  When I was with you a decade ago. Aware how pathetic they’d sound, she didn’t say the words out loud. “Look, grocery shopping is bad enough. I don’t need to sit around feeling sorry for myself, too.”

  His brows rose. “That long, eh? How about the two of us pick a day and spend part of it together?”

  Mrs. Darter had moved closer, shooting them disapproving looks. As Hailey hesitated, the other woman loudly cleared her throat.

  “Can I help you?” Mac said, looking directly at the woman.

  “I can’t believe you two.” She spat the words. “You—” glaring at Hailey “—and you...” Her gaze swung around to Mac. “Trolling for slightly older victims, are you?”

  The vileness of her remark made Hailey gasp. “How dare you?” she began, clenching her hands into fists. “I think—no, I know—you owe Mac an apology.”

  Instead, the woman shook her head and pushed her cart away, stomping her sensible shoes with every step she took.

  Mac stood frozen, his expression impassive. Heart sore, Hailey could only imagine what he was thinking. This witch hunt was just like before, when his entire family had been vilified because of his father. Except worse. Because now a few people apparently thought it was him. How many? she wondered. How could people be so quick
to jump to crazy conclusions?

  Mac shook his head, then dragged his hands through his hair, like shaking off bad vibes. “Whew,” he commented.

  “I didn’t know it had gotten this bad,” she quietly said, placing her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.” His silver eyes had gone the color of slate. “People are what they are. I have no say over what they think or do. All I can control is my reaction to it.”

  Wise words. Suddenly, she very much wanted to spend a day with him, not working, just having fun. Or part of a day, at least. The part when the kids were in school.

  Eyeing his shopping cart again, she transferred her gaze to him. “What do you do for a living these days? Or what did you do before you started taking care of your father?”

  “Construction. Easy to pick up anywhere.” He shrugged. “I worked hard and saved my money. That enabled me to take the time off to be with him.”

  Relieved that some of the tension had gone out of his shoulders, she continued asking questions. “Are you planning to go back to work anytime soon?”

  “Maybe. It depends on how things go.”

  “Then how will you be able to leave?”

  He tilted his head. “Hospice comes out three times a week, and you’re there every day. If I coordinate things right, I can arrange for several hours. Plus, I can always do some cabinet-building or such at home. I’ve got tools in the barn.”

  “Good for you. I wish I’d learned some sort of trade, something I could do from home when the kids are in school.” Smiling up at him, she marveled at how she felt. Light. Carefree. Young. Even though she’d just turned twenty-seven, she hadn’t felt young in a long time.

  For the first time, she understood what Eli had meant when he said he’d wanted her to look happy.

  Over by the meat counter, two other women were staring. Hailey glanced over with a big smile plastered on her face and waved. They both instantly looked away.

  “Well played,” Mac murmured, his eyes flashing silver heat. “I see there are some things that haven’t changed in this town.”

  “I’d better go.” Hailey sighed.

  After she got home and put the groceries up, she made spaghetti with small salads. June wandered in just in time to scarf down a plateful of spaghetti, washing it down with a huge glass of red wine. She kept the open bottle next to her. At least this time, she used a glass.

  All four of her children eyed the wine, but no one commented. Hailey hated herself for remaining silent, but past experience had taught her all that would happen was a scene, which would make June drink more.

  No one asked Hailey about her new job, and she didn’t volunteer any info. Truth be told, she didn’t know how June would react to learning who Hailey was taking care of. It’d be a lot simpler if June never found out.

  * * *

  The next morning after her usual ferrying the kids to school, Hailey drove to the middle of town to do the ironing for the Widow Carabiner. The elderly woman lived alone in a huge, perfectly restored Victorian house. She’d taught third grade at Holbrook Elementary for years until she’d finally retired, shortly after the death of her attorney husband. Now, she liked to stay active. She served on the city council and the boards of various charitable organizations, ranging from animal rescue to food pantries.

  She’d been Hailey’s teacher years ago. Mac’s, too. And Brenda’s. Hailey had always liked her. In fact, she suspected Ms. Carabiner came up with the ironing work just to help Hailey earn extra money. That was okay. Hailey needed all she could get. Now that she had a regular, if short-term, job, she hoped Ms. Carabiner wouldn’t mind.

  Ms. Carabiner often liked to chat while Hailey ironed. Ensconced in a dainty Victorian chair, she’d talk about everything from local gossip to what good works the church mission society had organized. Hailey enjoyed these discussions immensely. Despite being in her late seventies, the former teacher had her finger on the pulse of Legacy, and Hailey always learned something new from her.

  When Hailey arrived, she didn’t just get right to the ironing. There were certain rituals involved. First, there would be tea. And some sort of cookies, usually from the bakery in town, though sometimes Ms. Carabiner made them herself.

  Sitting, Hailey waited until the other woman had taken her seat, too. Inhaling, she took a quick sip of her tea and explained about her new job, sticking to basic facts and not elaborating. Ms. Carabiner listened intently, taking small drinks and watching Hailey with a sharp-eyed gaze.

  Finally, Hailey wound down, bracing herself for whatever Ms. Carabiner would say.

  “You’ve found it in your heart to forgive him?”

  “I didn’t say that.” The words escaped her before she had time to consider. “I mean...” Hailey stopped, actually not sure what she meant.

  “I see.” Setting down her teacup, Ms. Carabiner stood. “There’s quite a bit to iron this time.”

  Confused, Hailey got to her feet and followed the former schoolteacher into the sunroom. There, as usual, Ms. C had set up the ironing board, the stack of clothing neatly folded in a large laundry basket. Hailey always appreciated the scenic surroundings, which made such a routine task almost enjoyable.

  Usually, Hailey ironed alone. This time, the elderly woman took a seat in a wicker chair to the side. She sat silently while Hailey plugged in the iron and waited for it to warm up.

  She’d already ironed two blouses and started on a flowing black dress before the elderly woman spoke. “Life is too short to be unhappy.”

  Stomach in knots, Hailey nodded and continued ironing.

  “It’s okay to comment, child,” Ms. Carabiner said, her tone dry.

  Hailey barely looked up. “I’m not sure what it is that you want me to say.”

  Ms. C snorted. “Come on now. There’s no need to pretend with me. You’re taking care of the man who was convicted of killing your sister. That’s got to be difficult.”

  “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Hailey confessed, setting the iron aside. She’d learned at the expense of a skirt what happened it she didn’t focus 100 percent on the task at hand. “Gus is so sick, it’s almost like he’s another person. He’s not at all the way I remember him.”

  “What about Mac?”

  Despite her heart skipping a beat, Hailey shrugged. “What about him?”

  “I remember how you were with that boy. And he with you. Everyone with eyes in their head could see. You can’t tell me that’s changed.”

  While Hailey liked and respected Ms. Carabiner, she had no desire to get into an in-depth discussion of her feelings—or lack of feelings—for Mac Morrison. Especially since everyone knew that gossiping was a vocation for the elderly woman and had been for as long as Hailey could remember.

  “It’s been ten years, Ms. Carabiner,” she said, picking up the iron and getting back to work.

  “That’s not an answer at all.”

  “Maybe not,” Hailey responded. “But it’s all the answer I’m able to give.”

  After she’d finished ironing all the clothing in the basket, Ms. C paid her, refusing change. When Hailey asked when she should come again, the older woman waved her away. “Not anytime soon, honey. You just focus on taking care of Mac’s daddy. When it’s over, you give me a call, okay?”

  Touched despite herself, Hailey slowly nodded. She gave Ms. C a hug and let herself out. She figured this proved that the former teacher had invented an ironing job to help Hailey out. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that. Whether she realized it or not, Ms. Caribiner’s kindness and generosity had enabled Hailey to put food on the table a time or two.

  Now, Hailey would be reliant on her old high school sweetheart.

  The next morning, as Hailey was leaving for work, Trudy Blevins showed up on her doorstep. A
s usual, the reporter chomped gum so fast and hard that her dangly earrings swung in time to the motion.

  Surprised, Hailey stopped short, car keys in hand. Trudy had been a fledgling reporter ten years ago; one of her first assignments had been covering Brenda’s death.

  A shiver of foreboding made her stomach clench. “Trudy, what are you doing here? Please, don’t tell me there’s been another murder.”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that.” Trudy chuckled. “I’m actually doing a human interest story this time. I wondered if you’d mind if I asked you a few questions.”

  “Me?” Glancing at her watch, Hailey had a sinking feeling she knew what this was about. Ms. C had been talking.

  A second later, Trudy confirmed it. “Yes. I wanted a few words from you about what it’s like taking care of the man who murdered your sister.”

  Furious, Hailey opened her mouth, but no words would come. She shook her head and climbed into her car. “No comment,” she managed to say, before closing and locking the door and starting the engine.

  All the way to the Morrison farm, Hailey tried to plan damage control. While she’d known Ms. Caribiner loved to gossip, she somehow hadn’t thought this would go beyond maybe a few of the elderly widow’s close friends. She certainly hadn’t thought the local news would want to do a story.

  Which meant soon, the kids would hear about this at school. And June, either at the bar or one of her cronies would call her. Hailey tried to come up with some sort of damage control. She took care never to let Tom, Tara and Eli realize how close they stayed to poverty. Sure, her siblings understood that money wasn’t plentiful. But Hailey had hoped to spare them from the depths she might have to go to keep the electricity and water on and food on the table.

  All of which should have been June’s job. Instead, Hailey had to make sure her mother never found any of the money Hailey earned. June already drank away every penny of her disability check each month. While Hailey understood June’s alcoholism was an illness, it was hard not to feel resentful from time to time.