Linda Jones - Wilder Days

Finally, she got to the point of her call. “Can’t I come live with you?”

The tone of her voice was so tender, so fragile, Del had the feeling—no, he knew—that Noelle had asked this question before.

“Just for the rest of summer vacation, maybe,” she said in a lower voice. “Or…a couple of weeks.”

She was definitely breathing now, too hard, as if struggling to stop the tears of rejection.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Maybe I’ll see you then. ’Bye.”

At the moment, Del really wanted to get his hands on Preston Lowell. What a jerk. What a complete and total jackass.

He pushed away from the wall and stepped into the kitchen, stretching his arms over his head, closing his eyes as he yawned to give Noelle a chance to wipe away the tears on her face.

“’Morning, kiddo,” he said as he dropped his arms.

She opened her mouth to argue.

“Noelle,” he corrected himself quickly. “Good morning, Noelle. Did you get up to make me breakfast?”

To look at her, you wouldn’t know she’d been crying just a few seconds ago. Tears were gone, eyes were dry and flinty. The cell phone had been quickly and expertly slipped up the long, baggy sleeve of her black shirt. “No.”

“Then maybe I’ll make you breakfast,” he said, heading for the refrigerator.

“Don’t bother.” She looked angry, as if she wanted to take all her frustration out on him. But she didn’t leave.

“You didn’t eat much last night,” he said. “You must be hungry.”

Noelle’s short cherry-red hair stood on end, and her face…she tried so hard to be tough as nails, unforgiving and obstinate. But there was still a touch of the child in her mouth and her eyes.

“What are you making?” she finally asked.

Shock had equipped the place well, and last night Del had searched all the cabinets, taking stock of their supplies. “Pancakes?”

“Okay.” Noelle slipped out of the room for a moment, while Del took the pancake mix and a bowl from the cabinet. When she returned and took a seat at the round table on the opposite side of the room, he could see that she no longer hid the cell phone up her sleeve. If she hadn’t already been jerked around once this morning, he’d let her know she’d been caught. Best to let her think she’d gotten away with swiping the phone, for now. He imagined conversation of any kind would be unwelcome at the moment, so he whipped up the batter without saying a word. As he dropped the first dollop of pancake batter onto the preheated griddle, Noelle shifted in her chair.

“You’re wasting your time, you know,” she said.

“Making pancakes?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Setting your sights on my mother,” she clarified with a sharp glance.

“What makes you think I’ve set my sights on your mother?”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. I saw you kiss her. You kidnapped me and dragged me to the middle of nowhere for a family vacation. What is it, Grandpa’s money? Hate to disappoint you, but he has it all. Mom pretty much told him to take a hike, years ago, so we don’t exactly share the wealth. If you want to get your hands on the Archard fortune, you’ll have to date Grandpa.”

Del flipped pancakes. One kiss did not a sight-setting make, but it was a simpler explanation than the truth. Still, it had been a great kiss, and if he had his way… “Maybe I like her,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.”

“She has lots of boyfriends,” Noelle said sharply. “All of them better than you.”

With his back to the girl, Del smiled widely. “Is that a fact? How could they possibly be better than me?”

“They have jobs, they wear suits. They cut their hair.”

“I have a job, I own a suit and what’s wrong with my hair?”

He headed to the table with a plate full of small pancakes. Without being asked, Noelle jumped up and went to the refrigerator for syrup and juice. “Nothing,” she said as she returned to the table. “If you actually enjoy looking like a reject from the seventies.”

Del gave her a big grin as he moved a stack of pancakes to his plate.

Annoyed that her plan wasn’t working, Noelle lifted her chin and tried another tactic. “Besides, you don’t want to get involved with my mother. She’s psycho.”

“Psycho?”

Noelle piled her own plate high. “Yep.”

“Can you give me some examples?”

Noelle pursed her lips. “She freaks whenever I mention dating. I can only go out if it’s a special occasion, a double date, and even then I have to go with someone she knows and approves of.”

Del shook his head. “You’re right. Psycho.”

His sarcasm didn’t get past her. “I was born on Christmas Eve and she named me Noelle Eve. Noelle Lowell, can you believe that? Everyone makes it rhyme. But I guess I should consider myself lucky. What if I’d been born on Easter, or Valentine’s Day, or…Thanksgiving?”

“Little Turkey Lowell.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Noelle is a very pretty name,” Del said. “Now, eat your pancakes.”

She did, digging in and dismissing their conversation.

His breakfast finished, Del walked into the living room and collected his cigarettes from the end table. When he returned to the kitchen, Noelle had finished eating and sat there with her eyes on the window and the view beyond. She was, no doubt, thinking about her father and his refusal of her request. Poor kid.

When she saw the cigarettes in his hand, her eyes lit up. “Can I have one?” she asked.

“No.”

Again, she stuck her tongue out at him. “Selfish.”

“I just don’t want your mother to, you know, kill me.” He lit up, and Noelle rolled her eyes. “Besides,” he added, “these things are not good for you.”

“And they’re good for you?”

“Think of me as a bad example.”

Noelle pushed her chair back and gave him a glare that said she wished she could do murder, here and now. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I already do.”

Vic dabbed at the canvas on the easel before her. The light here on the front porch was great, the scene before her was magnificent, but she couldn’t make herself concentrate on painting. Usually painting saved her, took her mind off of anything and everything. Not today. Del Wilder was stronger—pulled more effectively at her heart—than this vocation she’d lost herself in for most of the past fifteen years.

Even if the screen door hadn’t squeaked, she would have known that Del was behind her. He charged the air with his very presence, he set every nerve in her body on alert.

“The kid’s taking a nap,” he said, his voice low. “She didn’t like my suggestion that we take a hike this afternoon, and when I mentioned fishing instead, she told me to…” He took a deep breath. “Well, I think it’s impossible, and even if it was possible it would definitely be unpleasant.”

Vic set down her brush and turned to face Del. “I’m sorry. She knows better….”

“Don’t sweat it.” He flashed her a wide smile. “She’s a good kid. Not at all like you were at that age, all sugar and very little spice, but still a good kid. Likes to stir up trouble, doesn’t she?”

Vic found herself returning Del’s smile. “Oh, yeah.”

It would be so simple, right now, to say, “She’s so much like you.” But she didn’t. Her mind was made up. Del was here, for a little while, but he wasn’t staying. And he wouldn’t have the opportunity to break Noelle’s heart. Vic still wasn’t sure about her own.

He walked closer, took her hand and stared down at the bandages on her fingers. “How are they?”

“Fine.”

His head cocked up, his eyes met hers. “Really?”