Mary Forbes - A Forever Family

Her eyes were blue. A remarkable blue. “I wanted to let you know the employee quarters will be vacant after tomorrow.”

“Where are they?”

He inclined his head toward a tiny whitewashed cabin—once the old homestead place—huddled among the trees.

She examined the dwelling. Something akin to guilt moved through him. The place was cramped, run-down. He hadn’t been inside it since college. Who knew what lurked within its walls?

“Well,” she said after what felt like a full minute. “My moving should make my little brother happy.”

“Oh?” Michael couldn’t hide his interest.

She eyed the cabin with a mixture of sadness and longing. “He’s dying to live on his own. This’ll put him in his glory.”

Her lashes were as long as pine needles. And black…like her eyebrows.

He couldn’t describe the color of her cropped hair; it oscillated between brown and blond. At times, the pale gold streaks in it seemed absurd. He wondered if she was a regular at some beauty salon. Unlikely, considering her surprise at his pay.

“What’s your brother do?” he asked, just to keep her within arm’s reach. That shook him. Women were usually a gamble he avoided.

“He works at Video Stop in town, but he’s attending the University of Washington in the fall.” Proud grin. Eyes lighting. Face like a candle in the dark. “He won’t like having to do his own cooking and cleaning, if you know what I mean.”

He knew exactly what she meant. She might have summed up his own solitary existence. It set his stomach on a low-tide roll. Eating another meal alone tonight, he would remember days he might have sat with Leigh and Bob and Jenni, laughing, joking, sharing conversation—sharing family…God, would the guilt for the should haves never stop?

She regarded him for a moment. “You okay, Doctor?”

“I’m fine.” He dug the check from his shirt pocket. “I think you forgot this.”

“Guess I did.” She smiled sheepishly and looked at the cabin. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll move in on Sunday.”

“I’ll make sure it’s ready.” He’d hire a cleaning woman tomorrow. “Well, then.” He shifted his feet, unwilling to let her go. Unsure why he couldn’t. “That’s it.”

“Great.” She smoothed the check. “I’ll see you in a couple days.”

“It’s secluded out here,” he blurted. “You’ll be alone most of the time. Will that be a problem?”

“My brother is—”

“Yes, I know, but what of others in your family?”

She stiffened. “There’s only my brother.”

“No children? Husband?” None of your concern, Rowan. He saw it in her expression, her posture. She stood as rigid as the trees behind them.

“No.” Her tone cooled. “Does that pose a problem?”

“None. I thought maybe…” Your husband got fired and you were forced to take the first thing that came along.

“I got laid off, Doctor. I didn’t quit or get fired, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Not at all,” he said, unnerved she’d nailed his suspicions. “I’m surprised this is the only job available.” Terrific. Not just nosy, but a pompous jerk to boot. A genuine winner, Rowan.

“Good jobs are at an all-time low around town,” she replied. The tautness in her words warned him to back off.

He didn’t. “But this—”

“It pays.” She fluttered the check. “That’s what counts.”

He let it go. Here he was, offering a woman of her apparent intelligence and, okay, looks, the tugboat instead of the cruise ship. Yes, he knew three thousand inhabitants populated Blue Springs—with dairies, fruit growers, farms and a couple of small ranches shaping the community at large. He simply didn’t like the way the odds fell out of her favor.

“Sorry,” he said, uneasy because she made him feel…something when he’d rather keep his heart walled up.

Her Pacific-colored eyes staked him. “I can do the job.”

“I’ve no doubt whatsoever that you can.” He estimated that the top of her head barely skimmed his Adam’s apple. A little dip and his chin could rest on her hair. “I simply want to know,” he said, irked by the sudden heated pool in his nether quarters, “who I’ve got wandering around this establishment. It’s an expensive operation and I wouldn’t want anything adverse happening because of incompetence.”

She snatched up her knapsack. “I’m not a liar.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You were implying it.”

The fire deserted him. “Ms. McKay—”

“Shanna.”

“Shanna, then. Please, understand. I’m a surgeon. My hours are bizarre most days. That’s why who I hire for this job must be someone I can trust. Implicitly.”

Her expression gentled. Sunshine silvered the danglers in her ears. “Well, Doctor,” she said softly. “You can trust me. Implicitly.”

She turned and walked to her truck, leaving him to vie with his memories—and worries about his future—once more.

“Dangit,” she muttered, clunking her head a second time under the kitchen sink. She’d tried to tighten the drainpipe for a good half hour and still it leaked like a sieve.

At least the cabin was spotless. The kitchen appliances gleamed, and the bathroom fixtures smelled of Lysol. Even the aged planked floor had a coat of wax. And the mattress in the main bedroom was new—a crucial detail when her mornings began at four.

All she required was for him to buy an elbow seal.

Clambering to her feet, she stretched a twinge from the small of her back. Ten-fifteen. The day nearly half gone and the boxes she’d piled into the Chevy’s bed some seven hours ago with a grousing Jason at her heels remained unpacked.

She swiped her stinging eyes. Her baby bro. Nineteen years they had shared. She’d changed his diapers, sent him to first grade, watched him walk across the stage at his high-school graduation. Ah, Jase. You’ll go places, dear heart.

Through a grove of fir, she caught sight of the sorrel stallion. Soldat D’Anton—Soldier of Old—according to Oliver, the barn cleaner, whom she’d met this morning. The name suited the animal.

For a moment, he stood still, chin held high, pin ears erect, tail winging the breeze. Then he pawed the earth and shook his big head.

“Me-o mi-o, but you are some piece of work, buddy.”

Like his owner. Arrogant, strong-headed and extravagantly stunning.

Movement on the cabin’s path caught her eye. A calico cat, its tail flagpole-straight, strutted in front of a little girl. Five or six, the child clutched her yellow daisy-dotted skirt, swishing it side to side as she walked. Dark curls framed rosy cheeks and bounced on tanned shoulders. Shanna smiled. Lost to her own will-o’-the-wisps, this little one.

Shanna’s smile faded. Where was the girl’s mother?

The doctor’s Cherokee sat parked in the driveway next to the farmhouse. Had he brought the child with him?

She was outside in seconds, walking down the path toward the pair. “Hey, kitty.” Shanna hunkered down, offering a hand to the feline. The animal sniffed her fingertips daintily.

Dropping her skirt, the girl pressed her knuckles together and approached Shanna one cautious step at a time. Through the evergreen boughs above, sunlight sifted gold sugar onto the girl’s curls.

The cat butted its sleek mottled head against Shanna’s knee and purred.

“Her name is Silly.”

As if surprised to see someone else, Shanna looked up. “Silly, hm?”

“Uh-huh.” A small giggle escaped. “It was s’pposed to be Sally. But when I was little I couldn’t say Sally. Isn’t that silly?” More giggles escaped. “Ooh.” She clamped a hand over her mouth.