Sweet Blessings (Love Inspired) Page 7

  It was infectious, and she couldn’t help smiling in return. That was dangerous, no doubt about it. She’d learned the hard way men can’t be trusted. Of course, there were a few shining exceptions in the world like Pastor Bill and Uncle Pete and her brother, but this dark loner with his guarded stance and his discontent definitely looked like trouble.

  He looked like the kind of man who, no matter how good, was always moving on. The kind who left devastation in his wake.

  “I don’t think you’re right for the position.” She hated being so terse, but it was the truth. Judging by the way he kept staring at the door, he was already as good as gone. “There’s no way I want to train someone who’s got to be somewhere else by the end of the week. Sorry.”

  “Who said I had someplace else to be?”

  “Well, you were driving through town, remember? I assume you had a destination in mind.”

  “I’ve got nothing important ahead of me.”

  It was the way he said it—as if it was no big deal, a take it or leave it kind of a way. Amy wasn’t fooled. In the silence that stretched between them, as she set the two plates oozing with big juicy sandwiches and mountains of fries under the warmer, she felt the seconds lengthen and stretch.

  And she saw the edges of his shoes, scuffed and worn and patched with duct tape and shoe polish over the tape to disguise it. He’d done a good job, but she recognized the same technique she used on her shoes when times were lean.

  I’ve never seen a sadder-looking man. People got all kinds of heartaches, we both know that, but it just sort of clung to him like an aftershave or something. Just so much sadness. Jodi’s words came back to her as bold as a touch from heaven above, and Amy shivered down deep, not from the cold but from the simple truth that he was in need.

  She knew exactly how that felt. “That chiliburger smells good. Would you like to have one with me? And don’t get all worked up when I tell you it’s free. You work a shift, you get a free meal. It isn’t charity, it’s our policy.”

  He had the grace to blush a little. “I was a jerk, and I’m sorry for it. The truth is, I don’t like charity. I can make my own way through life.”

  “Sure, but we all need a little help from time to time. Even us strong stoic types.”

  Her words rubbed him wrong, and if her tone had been less friendly and less matter-of-fact, it would have set him off again. He still had his pride—he’d about lost everything else.

  But Amy was already slapping beef patties on the grill, and the truth was, he’d worked in enough restaurants to know a free meal with a work shift was policy in a lot of places. It had nothing to do with her thinking he needed charity.

  Besides, he had no right getting mad at her. She ran a good business. She treated her waitstaff well—he’d have to be blind not to see it. And she looked exhausted. While she came across as energetic and competent, he could see the telltale signs of the tiredness she was covering up. The slight droop of her shoulders. The pale tint to her face. The dark smudges that bruised the delicate skin beneath her eyes.

  He respected anyone who worked so hard. Maybe it was simple good luck that he’d come back. A job? Here? He thought it over as he looked around for something needing done—the garbage bin was full—and he tied off the sack, hefted it out of the plastic container and blew through the screen door.

  Stay here? Why not? The warm sunshine seemed to embrace him and the gentle breeze felt like a caress against his forehead. The familiar urban smell of sun-warmed blacktop was softened by the scent of ripening grasses from the fields visible at the end of the long block, where town ended and the country began. The scent of fresh lilacs reminded him of his grandmother’s house as he hefted the sack into the Dumpster.

  Feeling lighter somehow, he gazed up at the small second story, which was visible from the back of the building. He hadn’t noticed it before. A row of windows sparkled and glinted in the light, and he spotted a row of stairs rising along the far side of the building. The deputy had mentioned an apartment. Was anyone living there now? There was no sign that someone was.

  “Hey, quite an afternoon, ain’t it?” The grizzled clerk from the hotel crossed the alley. Nearly bald, what little hair he had was white as snow, and he walked with a stoop and a limp. He was a lean man, nearly skin and bones, but he had spryness to his step. “You workin’ for the girls?”

  “Thinking about it.”

  “You couldn’t find nicer people. It’s heartening how those girls have worked to make a go of this. They could use some help after that cook they hired just ran off. Got a notion to see North Dakota and left them shorthanded. You a good cook?”

  “I’m passable.”

  “Good. Okay, then. See ya around.”

  Heath chuckled, watching the man limping down the alley to where the sidewalk led around the corner of the building.

  “If you pass Joe’s muster, I guess you’ve got yourself a job.”

  It was Amy, nothing more than a shadow behind the mesh of the screen door. She was hard to see as she reached for the door, and then the squeaking hinges gave way to the flare of sunlight. Her hair gleamed like polished gold, her red T-shirt glowed like a ruby and her white flowered apron ruffled in the breeze. She smiled, holding the door open for him.

  If that wasn’t a sign he ought to stay, then he didn’t know what was. He was down on his luck, had been for a long while, but that didn’t mean he was without luck. It was amazing how fate stepped in at the last moment with a job or something to help him get by. He used to chalk it up to the Lord, when he’d been naive, when he’d believed there was good in the world and someone wise and compassionate in charge of the universe.

  He knew better now, but he did long for those simpler times. Simpler because he’d had faith, because the world had been friendlier and less cold when he’d truly believed. Life since had been complicated and everything seemed a little nicer here, in this small town where people smiled as they went about their business.

  Yeah, this might be a real nice place to stay for a while.

  He caught the edge of the screen door. Her smile fading, she turned away from him and moved farther into the kitchen. Moving easily, she handed him a platter. She’d given him an enormous helping, but he decided not to complain or take it the wrong way.

  He’d work the rest of the day, that would make things a little more even. “I can see you need help around here. Your cook took off on you, right? And now you think I might do the same.”

  “I need help, don’t get me wrong. I’d love to hire someone to deal with the grill—cooking isn’t my favorite thing, not that I’m complaining. It’s just…how long would you be interested in staying?”

  “So, you meant what you said. You’ll hire me?”

  “Something like that. You didn’t answer my question.” She pushed through the doors and led the way.

  “Oh, hire him, Amy!” One of the teenage waitresses called across the dining room, where she sat near the front door with her identical sister.

  “Yeah, you’ve been working here totally too long every day. That’s not good for you. You need time for exercise and rest and stuff.”

  Amy slid her plate on the edge of a small table. A table for two, and Heath had the distinct impression that she didn’t want him eating with her or cooking in her kitchen.

  “Sit down, get comfortable, help yourself to a soda.” She gestured to the empty tables, leaving it clear. She hadn’t forgotten how he’d treated her. And he didn’t blame her, because forgiving was one thing, but she clearly was a woman who didn’t trust easily.

  I’m the same way, he thought with relief. He chose a booth near the window, so he could look out while he ate. His stomach growled, and his mouth watered. The scent of the burger alone was incredible. Amy had made him a big sandwich. It took both hands to hold it and it was all he could do to take a bite. Cheese dripped, chili oozed and the beef tasted good—fresh, not like it had been overprocessed and frozen and shipped across a continent.
He’d bet the supplier was local. She probably bought straight from the local butcher.

  It was the tastiest food he’d had in a long time.

  He turned his attention out the window, where a lazy Saturday afternoon shone like a dream. He had the feeling the town hadn’t changed much in fifty years. A few cars ambled past. A pair of boys raced by on their bikes. Beyond the park and railroad tracks he spotted black-and-white cows grazing in a field, and the sharp blast of a horn said the train would be coming through at any moment.

  He’d been a boy the last time he’d sat and really watched a train, and he felt the thrill of anticipation as the horn tooted, announcing its imminent arrival. The earth would rumble, or at the very least it would seem that way if he were close enough, as the huge black engine charged into sight. Heath counted three engines hitched together, capably drawing the long snake of the freight cars behind. His grandfather had loved trains. He’d given Heath a real Lionel railroad set—a collector’s item now, but who knew what had become of it?

  If Granddad were here, he’d have liked this place. He would have said no town could be half bad if it had a train going through it. His grandfather had always longed to travel, and maybe that was what trains always meant to him, but he’d been a farmer with his feet rooted firmly in Texas soil.

  This cozy rural town reminded Heath of his summer trips to stay with his grandparents. Not the terrain—there was no mistaking Montana with her mountains and lush rolling valleys for the dry brown flat expanse of central Iowa. But this place, too, was a one-street town, where folks went just a little bit slower, were kinder, and knew their neighbors. In that way, it felt familiar—not like home, no, never that, but a good place to stay for a while.

  The phone rang somewhere up near the cash register. Down the aisle, Amy hopped up, chewing on a long French fry, and jogged to catch it. She told the twins to relax as she skirted the counter, reached down and popped up with a handheld receiver. She brightened like creek water when sunlight hits it and turned her back, her voice a warm melody.

  He ate everything on his plate—he was hungrier than he’d thought. He polished off a tall glass of frothy root beer and considered. The waitresses had given him a fair cut of the tips. He had cash enough, added with what he’d had in his wallet, to see him through the rest of the week or so, if he was careful. He wasn’t in a bad position, not bad at all.

  There was no reason to accept Amy’s job offer. This place, while it reminded him of better times in his life, had too many families. Too many friendly people. He’d leave, it was the best decision.

  Still, it was with regret that he pushed out of the chair and took his plate back to the kitchen. He would have liked working here.

  Amy shouldered through the doors and took his plate from him before he could add it to the stack Jodi, the other waitress, was rinsing.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Amy looked friendly enough, he decided, but there was a hard set to her face. She slipped a key into his palm.

  He stared at it, confused. “A key? What for?”

  “To the room upstairs. I thought—I mean Rachel and I thought—that you might want to stay there. You did want the job, right?”

  Amy watched, heart racing, trepidation rushing through her bloodstream. Heath studied the plain, ordinary key, as if she’d offered him a handful of radioactive waste.

  Maybe he thought this was charity, too, since he was touchy on the subject. “The apartment can be part of your pay, if you want it. It isn’t much, but it’s clean and furnished. Why don’t you go take a look at it and decide it you want to stay there, even just for the night instead of in another motel room.”

  “You seem pretty sure of this. You were worried about me running off and leaving you shorthanded.”

  “It’s still a concern of mine, but Rachel has faith in you. She said she liked the cut of your character, helping us out the way you did last night, and stepping in today when others wouldn’t have. Besides, she also pointed out that we’re shorthanded now, that’s the problem. We’ll solve it by hiring you. Do we have a deal?”

  He looked around, took his time before he answered. “I know I made a donkey’s behind of myself when we first met, and I’m sorry for the way I acted. I won’t do it again. If you can put the way I treated you behind us, then I’d like to work here.”

  Should she be surprised that he’d apologized again? She didn’t have a lot of experience with an honest apology from a man—well, those from her brother didn’t count, and brothers were brothers. She knew she could trust him. But what about Heath—could she trust him?

  She studied him, trying to see more than what he appeared to be. With the slant of the sun through the door, burnishing his powerful frame with vivid light, he was startling. He was a big man—not bulky with thick muscles, but not lean either. There was a latent power that seemed to burn in him, leashed and waiting.

  His hair wasn’t black, as it had appeared last night in the dark, but a rich bitter-chocolate-brown. His high forehead and strong cheekbones were not harsh, but intelligent and well-defined. Although he was handsome, his features were set in an unmistakable expression that said, “Keep away.” He was a private man and a self-sufficient one.

  “I can put it behind us.” Amy understood, too, having pride. “Go check out the room. Let one of us know if you need anything, all right?”

  He was already shaking his head, already pushing through the door. “I don’t need anything. When did you want me to start?”

  “How about you come in around four? Rachel’s in the kitchen tonight, and she’ll walk you through the prep and train you on the grill. Is that all right?”

  “Yep.” His mouth compressed into a tight thin line. Serious, sincere, he met her gaze. The impact of their eyes meeting felt like a jolt of lightning to her soul.

  “I don’t want you to worry about me,” he assured her. “I work hard. I do my best. I don’t want to cause anyone any harm or grief. I just want to be left alone.”

  His words weren’t harsh, but they were definite. Don’t get too friendly, he was saying.

  Well, good, because that was her motto, too. She was close to her family and her friends, but that was it. At least this was something she and the loner agreed on—distance. Maybe he knew, too, it was the only way to keep safe.

  “Rachel will be waiting for you at four,” she said in agreement.

  As if he understood, he gave her a curt nod and disappeared from her sight.

  Heath didn’t set his hopes high as he fit the key into the decades-old knob. From the outside, he wasn’t expecting the place to be much at all. He turned the key until the lock released. No dead bolt, he noticed. Then again, there probably wasn’t much crime in a town like this.

  The door swung open, giving in to gravity when Heath released the knob and it shuddered to a stop against the wall. He saw only dim shadows, the outline of lemony light ebbing around the pull-down blinds at the windows and noticed the mildew and dust odor of a room long unused.

  He decided to leave the door open. Maybe some fresh air would improve the place. It was a good thing he’d known not to expect too much. There’d been a time in his life when he’d gotten so much, he came to take it for granted. His old self, the man he used to be, would have been disappointed for sure over this room where the floorboards beneath his feet groaned and creaked.

  He yanked the first blind and it slipped out of his fingers, rolling up with a bang. Bright afternoon light filtered through the screened wood-framed window. Since he wanted fresh air, he tried to open it, but it was stuck. The old paint had gotten damp and tacky. He used a little muscle and the wooden frame began to give. Sunshine seemed to welcome him as he let the fragrant fresh breezes slide past him and into the apartment.

  His jaw dropped. Now that he had some light to see better, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The front room was bigger than he’d expected. There were the shadows of bricks at the inside wall and the hollow of a fireplace. In front of that
sat a living-room set. Two couches and a chair had to be second-hand, because the style was several decades old, but the furniture was clean and the tan upholstery looked like new. He sat on the nearest couch to test it out, and a little cloud of dust rose from the impact of his weight. But what was a little dust?

  The cushions were comfortable. There was a small coffee table if he wanted to put up his feet, and, wait…was that a TV remote? He leaned forward and reached out. Yeah, it was. So, were was the TV?

  He hit the power button and in front of him, propped on the end table between the couches was a color thirteen-inch screen. An old Western movie flashed the bright pictures of a cattle round-up. The volume was on low, so it was more of a humming drone in the silence.

  It wasn’t half-bad, he decided as he scoped out the rest of the room. There were two doors in the end wall, the bedroom and bathroom, he figured. And, behind him on the inside wall near the front door was a dark archway that led into what was probably the kitchen. Amy was right, it was clean and comfortable.

  Yeah, he could live here. It was a far better place than anywhere he’d stayed in the recent past, which he thought of as his second life. The old life was gone—he was never going back. He couldn’t.

  His chest began to seize with pain and he carefully wiped even the mention of his past from his mind. It was some time before his chest relaxed and he could breathe normally again—before the silence surrounding him held no traces of memory.

  Outside he heard the rasp of tires on the alley’s pocked blacktop and the purr of an engine coming closer. A car door snapped shut, echoing. He listened to the tap of a woman’s shoes as she hurried to the back kitchen door, directly beneath his open window. The rasp of the screen-door hinges was preceded by a woman calling out.

  “Amy! Amy!” It sounded like the other sister’s voice, Rachel, the quieter one. “Help, quick! Emergency!”

  Adrenaline shot into his veins—it was a call to action. Like a soldier jumping for his weapon, he was on his feet and had his hand on the doorknob. His attention focused so intently that the outside stimulus fell away. He was ready to roll. The sister needed help.