Silver Thaw (8 page)

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

She jerked as if he’d poked her with a pin and gave him a startled look that soon morphed into suspicion.
Great move, Sterling. You sure blew that all to hell
.

“I know how beautiful I’m not.” Her words were clipped. “I do own a mirror.”

Jeb wished he could call back the words. She’d begun to let down her guard, and his big mouth had shot it back ten feet in the air. “Uh, can you cook?”

“Cook?” Her tone told him she hadn’t been expecting this. “Well . . . yes, it’s the only thing I do halfway well.”

“Would you mind fixing me some hot food? It’ll be a long day, and after I’m done tending to animals, I won’t have time to fix anything.” He thought of the man who’d fallen yesterday. “I hauled in enough wood to last the night for the old guy who bruised his hip, but by now, he might be running low.”

“You must hurry then.” She wound tape over the gauze. As she returned the first-aid supplies to the case, she asked, “What would you like for breakfast?”

A taste of your mouth
. Aloud Jeb said, “Some bacon, eggs over easy, and a couple of pieces of toast will do me. Lots of bacon, four eggs.”

She moved toward the bathroom to put the kit away. “I’ll have it ready.”

Jeb put Bozo’s boots on him, and together they went out to care for the critters.
The only thing she does halfway well?
The lady needed a large dose of self-confidence.
When she looked in a mirror, she didn’t see the same woman he did.

When Jeb returned to the house, he sat down to perfect eggs. A lot of people broke the yolks of eggs over easy. She’d added fried potatoes and gravy to his order.

When he glanced up, she shrugged. “They’ll stick to your ribs better than only toast.”

She seemed tense as he took a bite. Flavor burst over his tongue, and he closed his eyes in appreciation. “This is fabulous, Amanda. Thank you.”

“It’s just plain fare.” She walked to the sink to begin cleaning up. “I can’t stay here without earning our keep. I need to pay my own way.”

Jeb understood that. “If I could come home for a hot lunch, I’d be a happy man.”

She turned with a dishcloth in her slender hand. “What would you like?”

“Think freezing cold and weak with hunger. By noon, I’ll be starving.”

She looked at him with a plea in her eyes. “Can you give me some hints?”

He thought fast. “I’d love a hearty beef stew, lots of spuds, celery, onion, and carrots with tender meat in a thick tomato and broth sauce.”

She nodded, looking relieved to have some direction. “If you have all the ingredients, the stew will be waiting for you.”

Jeb finished his breakfast and stuck his plate and utensils in the dishwasher. Then he gave Amanda a tour of his larder, cupboards, and chest freezer. She flinched when he gestured with his hands. She said that she and Chloe shouldn’t impose on him another night. Jeb prayed
he wouldn’t come home to find lunch ready but her and the child gone. The very thought nearly gave him a heart attack.

“When bad weather hits, neighbors help neighbors,” he said. “If you feel like you’re running up a debt, you’re right. When the next storm strikes, I’ll be glad if you show up to lend me a hand. That’s what we call paybacks. It’s about helping out, and being there for each other. That’s one advantage of living in a small town.”

She nodded, but Jeb wasn’t sure she really got it. Glancing at his watch, he knew he couldn’t waste more time trying to reassure her. “Okay, I’m off to the races.”

Standing by the table, she knotted her hands together and held them at her waist. “Take care.”

“I will.” Jeb wished he could ease her mind. He regretted asking her to fix lunch. She clearly feared that he might dislike what she made.
Shit
. He’d hoped to make her feel welcome, not give her more to worry about. He remembered that he needed to get his chain saw and chose to exit by the back door. As he pulled the door closed behind him, heading Bozo off at the pass with the angle of his leg, he yelled, “The downstairs bathroom could use a good cleaning.”
Why the hell did I say that?
He poked his head back inside. “Only if you have the time. No big deal if you can’t get to it. And Bozo is a beggar while I cook. He can’t have garlic or onions, but other vegetables are fine.”

*   *   *

After a shower, Amanda threw on clothes and the wool socks, and hurried back downstairs, intent on preparing Jeb a lunch that would keep him going until dusk. She hoped he liked what she fixed. Mark had sneered at her meals so often that she couldn’t help worrying. She
considered using the microwave thaw cycle, but in the past, she’d ended up with rubbery meat. So she decided to put the beef chunks in a Baggie floating in hot water while she threw together a batch of homemade bread. Not the proper way to thaw meat, she knew, but she’d never heard of anyone getting sick from it. She was elbow-deep in dough when Chloe appeared. Amanda washed up, served the child the extra breakfast she’d made, and resumed work. If lunch wasn’t ready when Jeb got back, she had no idea how he might react.

After eating, Chloe went back upstairs to dress, and then wanted to help. Since leaving Mark, Amanda had been allowing Chloe to assist in the kitchen. That meant it took twice as long to prepare a meal, but Amanda enjoyed the one-on-one time. That wasn’t the case now. Chloe’s
help
would slow her down.

Thinking fast, she said, “Would you like to clean the bathroom?”

Chloe clapped her hands. She’d never been allowed to clean the bathroom before. Amanda found squirt bottles of antiseptic and glass cleaner, which she felt the girl could do no harm using, gave Chloe a roll of paper towels, and lined her up for an hour of squeezing the trigger and polishing. While giving Chloe instructions, she fretted over the bread dough. What if it started to rise and fell flat while it baked? All she’d be able to do was hide the evidence. Jeb hadn’t asked for homemade bread. She needn’t reveal that she’d wasted some of his flour and yeast, a criminal offense in Mark’s household.

Amanda had just checked on Chloe’s progress, covered the loaves to let them rise, and was about to start the stew when she noticed Bozo pacing by the back door. She called to tell Chloe she’d be on the rear porch
while the dog did his business. But then the canine looked up at her as if he expected something more.

“What?” She felt silly for asking the question.

Bozo loped to the laundry room, waited for her to catch up, and then bumped a cupboard with his muzzle.

“Okay.” Amanda opened the door. “And just what will I find in here?”

A set of red canine boots lay on one shelf. She’d seen pictures of the things but had no clue how they went on. Bozo lifted a front paw. The boots were all shaped the same, so she tugged one of them onto his foot and fastened it. The others were a snap.

“You are one lucky boy,” she told him.

After bundling up, she stood on the porch, teeth chattering, while the mastiff toured the backyard.
Please, God, don’t let him wander off.
Jeb would not be pleased if he came home to find Bozo gone.

The mastiff behaved well, going only a little way from the steps and then returning. She wondered if he always displayed such eagerness to end his potty runs, or if it was just too cold for him. Her flimsy jacket provided little protection, and back inside, she was shaking as she removed Bozo’s boots.

The stew
. If she didn’t get it started soon, the meat wouldn’t be tender by the time Jeb got back. Amanda was at the sink, peeling potatoes and carrots and tossing Bozo treats over her shoulder, when she heard Chloe sniffling behind her. She turned to see that the child’s face was puffy and red from crying.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Chloe said, wringing her small hands. “It said on the can that the bubbles would do all the work.”

Amanda glanced toward the bathroom. “What bubbles, sweetie?”

“I found them under the sink. I wanted the bubbles to do the work so I could hurry back to help you cook.”

With mounting dread, Amanda hurried to the bathroom. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the mess Chloe had made. It looked as if a snowstorm had swept through. The large mirror was sprayed with foam and then had been smeared at one lower corner, presumably by Chloe in an attempt to clean up. The granite countertops, slate shower, toilet, and even the vanity cupboards now wore a layer of drippy white. It would take Amanda ages to undo the damage, and that was time she couldn’t spare if she meant to have a noon meal waiting for Jeb.

“It’s all right,” she assured her daughter, hugging her close.
This is my fault. I should have supervised her cleaning efforts
. “I don’t think any permanent damage is done. When lunch is over, I’ll come in and clean it up.”

“But then Mr. Jeb will be here. He’ll be mad at me when he sees what I did.”

Amanda couldn’t argue the point. Jeb had no children and didn’t understand how interesting life could sometimes be as a parent.

Amanda closed the bathroom door. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t see it.”

“He’ll want to go potty and wash his hands.” Chloe’s lower lip quivered.

Thinking quickly, Amanda said, “I’ll encourage him to wash at the kitchen sink!”

She just prayed the foamy spray hadn’t damaged the walnut finish on the vanity. The rest she felt sure she
could restore to its original condition, leaving no sign that the “working bubbles” incident had ever happened.

*   *   *

By nine, Jeb had run low on emergency supplies and was back at the sporting goods store, filling a cart. Charlie was nearly sold out of some things. When Jeb entered the outerwear department and saw fine-quality stuff for both adults and children, he got an idea. Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed Myrna Bradley’s home number. She answered on the second ring. Jeb said hello and asked how she was doing, then got to the point. “Do you believe it’s okay to tell a little white lie if someone needs help and won’t accept it?”

“Absolutely. That’s why they’re called little white lies.”

Jeb grinned. “Remember that lady you talked with yesterday? She and her little girl need some decent outerwear. They don’t even have gloves, mufflers, or caps, so far as I’ve seen. The little girl’s parka is okay, but her snow boots leak. The mother has one pair of shoes, a thin jacket, and nothing else. I’d like to buy them some stuff, but if I call home to ask for their sizes, I’m afraid her pride will get in the way. She doesn’t like being indebted to me.”

“Hmm. Are you at a store right now?” Myrna asked. When Jeb affirmed that he was, she said, “Stick tight. She’ll hear me on the answering machine. Right?”

“I’d think so.”

“I’ll get back to you in five.”

Jeb started to ask about her plan, but she hung up. He pocketed his phone and continued shopping. True to her word, Myrna called him back in about three minutes.

“You got a pen and paper?”

Jeb grinned, went to the end of the aisle, put Myrna
on speaker, and opened a cell-phone notes application. “I’m ready. Shoot.”

After Myrna had given him the sizes, she said, “Okay, here’s the white lie. My kids come to visit with their young’uns, and they always forget to bring snow clothes, so they buy more and leave it with us. Now that the kids have outgrown everything, Tony’s been bitching at me to clean out our closet, and with the bad weather, I tackled that chore. I meant to take everything to Good as New, but as I was tossing stuff in a bag, I thought of her and her little girl and decided to ask if they needed anything. She took a minute to say yes, but then she volunteered their sizes.”

“You’re an angel, Myrna.”

“I’m a good liar when I need to be. So here’s what you do. I told her I’d have you stop by here to pick up the clothes. Since she may watch from a window, you’ll leave here with a garbage bag stuffed with newspaper. Act like it’s heavy. Once back in your truck, do the switch, replacing the newspaper with the clothes. And for God’s sake, don’t forget to remove the tags and stickers. Tony doesn’t when he gives me gifts.”

“Got it,” Jeb said, grinning so broadly his cheeks ached. “And God love you, Myrna. You’ve got a heart of gold.”

Still smiling after he broke the connection, Jeb finished shopping and returned to the clothing section. For Amanda, he found a blue down-filled parka with a hood trimmed in fake fur. He also got her some matching snow pants and boots, plus a pair of pull-on, low-cut shoes that were waterproof. For Chloe, he chose pink all the way. He forgot gloves, hats, and mufflers, causing him to make a U-turn.
Tags and stickers
. He had to remove those. They’d be a dead giveaway.

The older lady running one of the registers had dyed black hair swirled up into a stiff cone atop her head. Face slathered with makeup, she looked like an alien. When she saw Jeb using his knife to remove the tags from his purchases, she said, “Oh, darling, let me help.”

Darling?
Jeb gave her a study and realized, with a lurch of his stomach, that she was coming on to him.
Shit
. She was older than his mother. She went to work with a small pair of scissors, her long scarlet nails flashing.

Kate Rush, a twentysomething blonde whose sister, Misty Baker, owned the Cherokee Rose florist shop on Seven Curves Road, caught Jeb’s gaze and winked at him, a telltale sign that he wasn’t the only man this older gal had victimized.

“Are these gifts?”

Jeb jerked his attention back to the man hunter. When she smiled, her caked cheeks creased with more lines than a road map. “Yes, ma’am.”

She flapped a hand. “Don’t call me ma’am, you handsome thing. My name is Bernice Kaley, Bernie to my friends, and I’d love to count you as one.”

Jeb was afraid she’d give him her phone number next. She studied his credit card before swiping it.

“Jebediah Sterling. Now
that
is a masculine name if ever I’ve heard one.”

Jeb made his escape as fast as possible. Circling the store to the parking lot, he threw all his purchases onto the truck’s backseat and then walked across the icy asphalt to Flagg’s Market, where he could buy cases of bottled water.