Anne Winston - Dedicated To Deirdre

Catching the little girl up in a fierce hug, Deirdre felt her eyes welling with tears again. Frannie sat in a rocker in the family room with baby Brooks at her breast. She looked serene and happy as she watched her husband, and Dee couldn’t help but envy her a little bit. “Never forget how lucky you are,” she said, swallowing.

“Lucky to get me,” Jack said from behind her. When both women snorted and rolled their eyes, he clutched at his heart and staggered toward the doorway. “Mortally wounded.” He straightened and headed for the door to the kitchen. “I know it’s a struggle, but if you can bear to be without me, I’m going out to mow the grass.”

“Okay, honey,” Frannie called after him. “If you do a good job, maybe we’ll invite you back later.” She exchanged an amused smile with Deirdre. “So how are you? I haven’t talked to you all week.”

Deirdre shrugged. “Fine. I got another big order from that doll museum in upstate New York. That’ll keep me afloat for a little while.”

“That’s great! This is the third time they’ve used you, isn’t it?” Frannie lifted Brooks to her shoulder and rubbed his back. “Boy, are you a load,” she said to him.

“Just like your daddy,” Deirdre said, nodding in answer to the previous question. It was true. Little Brooks had weighed a whopping ten pounds, two ounces at birth and showed every sign of being as big as his daddy.

Then Deirdre remembered that she really did have some news. “Oh, guess what? I found a tenant for the apartment.”

“Wow!” said Frannie. “That was fast. You just decided to rent it last week. I thought you said it needed some work before it could be rented out.”

“It does. But the man says he’ll do it himself.”

“A man! Do tell.”

“His name is Ronan Sullivan,” Dee told her.

“And...?”

“And nothing.”

“How old?”

“Thirty -five-ish.”

“What’s he look like?” Frannie’s gaze was glued to Dee’s face.

Dee thought for a moment. “He’s not as big as Jack—who is?—but he’s bigger than Nelson. He has dark hair and he seems very nice.” And his hands are warm and gentle.

“I’m sure I’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on that description,” Frannie said drily. “Are you comfortable having a man on the farm?”

“Not completely,” Dee admitted. “But I can’t ignore men for the rest of my life. In case you haven’t noticed, they’re everywhere.”

“Well, it’s a start.” Frannie settled the baby at her other breast. “One of these days you’re going to meet some attractive man and realize you’re still young. You never know, maybe you’ll decide to have a fling with this tenant.”

The words caught her by surprise, sent a rush of purely feminine anticipation through her as Ronan’s lean face loomed in her mind’s eye. And she realized she’d hesitated a bit too long as she looked over at her friend, whose eyes were alive with open speculation.

Two

On Monday morning she was on the front porch shaking out the rugs when Ronan came around the corner from the side of the stable that faced the woods.

“Good morning.” He waved as he altered his path and came toward her.

“Good morning.” Deirdre stopped, not sure what else to say. Was she expected to chit-chat with him every time they met? She’d become used to a degree of solitude in the past year; having someone popping up every time she walked outside her house was going to take some getting used to.

“I took a walk down along the creek.” He was smiling. “It’s really beautiful out here. Very inspiring.”

“Inspiring?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Maybe I should have rented that apartment out to an artist.”

“It was just an expression,” he said as his smile faded. His expression was suddenly guarded, his eyes watchful.

What had she said? She replayed the harmless conversation in her head. Weird. “I’m going to the post office in a few minutes,” she said. “Is there anything you want to mail?”

“No.” He considered. “But I might go by there later today. I’ll have to get directions.”

“Sure. There’s one in Frizzelburg, although I use another one so I won’t be able to pick up your mail for you.”

He nodded. “I guess I’d better fill out some change-of-address cards and get a post office box.”

“No prob—”

“Woof-woof-woof-woof-woof!”

She was interrupted by a deep, loud barking that grew closer as the dog making the noise zeroed in on her location. “Stand still!” she said urgently to Ronan. “He’s not fond of strangers.”

Around the corner of the house charged a big, hairy dog, barreling at them full speed. “Murphy, no! Wait!” Her voice was as rough as a drill sergeant’s and she stepped in front of her tenant, scowling at the black-and-white dog.

To her relief, her dog halted his mad charge. He stopped about five feet from her and braced his legs; the hair on his back stood up and his canines showed as the barking became a steady, low-pitched snarl. “Quit that,” she said, walking over to him. “Sit.”

He did both immediately, and she stroked a hand down his nose as she reached him. “Good boy. Lie down.”

The big dog dropped to his belly and she gave him a command to stay. Then she turned to Ronan again, aware that her pulse was racing. What must his be doing?

“I apologize. He’s usually confined to the house or the fenced area, but the boys must have let him out.” On cue, her two sons came tearing around the corner. They stopped dead when they saw her, then slowed and walked toward her at a distinctly unenthusiastic pace.

“Sorry, Mom.” Lee’s big brown eyes were beseeching. “We just sorta forgot the gate was open.”

She hated to scare them, but they had to learn to think before they acted. “Mr. Sullivan was taking his walk. What do you think Murphy would have done if I hadn’t been out here?”

Tommy’s eyes welled with tears and one dripped down his cheek. “Please, Mommy, don’t let them take him away. We promise to shut the gate next time.”

She was aware that her tenant hadn’t moved a muscle, and she thanked God he had good sense. And though every cell in her body cried out to her to comfort her children, she knew she had to make sure they understood. “There better hadn’t be a next time. You may not use that gate. Go through the door on the other end of the porch, remember?”

Two little heads nodded.

“Should we take him back?” Lee asked, indicating the dog.

“No, I need to introduce him to Mr. Sullivan, anyway. But—” she held up a warning finger as her two little terrors turned to scurry away from Mom’s wrath “—two beds need to be made and I don’t want to find clothes on the floor when I come up to check your rooms.”

As they dashed off, she bent and put a hand in Murphy’s collar. “If you don’t mind,” she said to the tenant, “I’d like to let him sniff you so he knows your scent.”

Ronan nodded. “That might be wise.”

His voice was droll, and she relaxed.

Then, his amber eyes curious, he said, “Why do the boys think someone will take him away if he gets out?”

She couldn’t decide how much to tell him, but since the dog was dangerous, it was only fair that he know it. She led Murphy over to him, praising the dog as he thoroughly investigated Ronan and mentally giving her tenant points for not shrinking away. “Murphy bit a man once. But it wasn’t Murph’s fault. The man was hurting someone and he was only trying to protect me. Anyway, my husband—my ex-husband—called the police and told them Murphy was vicious, that he needed to be put down.” She could hear her voice shaking; she stopped and bent her head over the dog, stroking him to give herself a moment. “The dog warden came and took him away right in front of the boys.”