Breaking Away (24 page)

The smell of motor oil leached through the door and triggered the memory of how the scent mingled with the flowers blooming in the drive and the kabobs James was grilling out by the pool. In the next moment, though she hadn’t moved or opened the door, she was there inside the garage. Even with one of the doors raised it had been stuffy. Sweat was beading between her breasts and along the inside of her arms. She gripped the plastic container of pool chemicals James had asked her to fetch. A step behind her drew her attention, and she turned and looked into the dark hole of a gun barrel.

She couldn’t go there. Marsha shook free of the memory.

Tabarek Moussa and his men were dead. Killed by Brett Weaver in a one-man rescue. If only he had come three days earlier.

She looked around the kitchen. This room and the nursery were the only two rooms in the house untainted by the violence. The only two rooms where she hadn’t been touched, hit, or threatened with rape or assault. The only room she hadn’t had to watch her husband being beaten and her child threatened with a gun. Her legs felt shaky and her heart raced so she couldn’t breathe. She pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down.

James could get the empty boxes for her when he got home.

CHAPTER 19

S
am listened to Joy’s chatter. “And Nancy Jane and me—”

“Nancy Jane and I,” Sam corrected her.

“No mommy, Nancy Jane and me. You weren’t there.”

Sam laughed.

“And Ms. Tom-sun said we done good.”

“Mrs. Thompson said you did good.”

“Yeah, she did.”

Sam smiled and shook her head. She’d try to explain later.

If her week had been half as exciting as her daughter’s, she’d be raring to go again tomorrow. Luckily she didn’t have to. Thank God it was Friday.

Answering telephones, typing letters, copying papers and filing were boring, but at least she got paid. The money had been direct deposited into her checking account, so she hadn’t gotten to
see
her first paycheck. But she had experienced the feeling of accomplishment that went along with working and making her own way.

Having a job—making her own money, being independent—was a greater accomplishment than anything she’d ever done…except for Joy. A thought struck her. “How ‘bout we go out for ice cream tonight after dinner, Tumblebug?”

“Hot dogs first, black,” Joy said.

“The grill’s broken, honey. I haven’t figured out how to fix it yet.”

“Mr. Tim can fix it.”

Joy had decided Mr. Tim could make the sun shine and the clouds smile about it. She hadn’t been able to figure out why. But because of Joy’s fascination with him, Sam had avoided him as much as possible. She couldn’t afford to let her daughter grow attached to some random man who would be moving on. And besides, she didn’t know enough about him. She didn’t think he was a pervert or anything, but a mom couldn’t be too careful. And after her reaction when he’d looked into her eyes…it was too soon for her to trust those feelings. “Mr. Tim works a lot and he doesn’t have time to fix the grill. I’ll get it fixed as soon as I can. We can bake the hot dogs under the broiler and they’ll taste just as good.”

Joy remained silent a moment. “’Kay.”

No argument? Sam breathed a sigh. She was so lucky. Joy was so easygoing. But sometimes Sam worried she was too obedient. Was it because she’d learned to be tractable to please her father and keep him from losing his temper? And if she had, how would it affect her later in life?

Would she stand up to a man if he abused her? Had Sam waited too long to leave Will, and thus set a precedent in her daughter’s life?

When she pulled into the driveway ten minutes later she was still wrestling with those questions. She shoved open the car door and the aroma of hot charcoal wafted to her. She glanced at Joy. Her daughter’s lip thrust out. Smoke meandered from around the back side of the garage. Joy jumped out of the car and ran around the side of the building. Sam hissed a word of impatience beneath her breath.

Grabbing her small purse and Joy’s backpack, Sam exited the car and followed the path her daughter had taken around the garage.

Cut off jeans shorts bared Tim’s long, muscular legs. A tank-style t-shirt hugged his torso, outlining firm pectoral muscles and six-pack abs. Stained tennis shoes without socks hugged his feet. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes and prevented her from judging his expression, but when he saw her, an amused smile spread across the lower half of his face.

The fluttering heat of attraction feathered along her nerve endings and her heartbeat quickened. She tried to ignore the response. His physical attractiveness wasn’t the only reason she found him so appealing. His easygoing, patient attitude had a great deal to do with it, too.

“Joy says she likes her dogs burnt black on the outside. How do you like your steak?”

Sam eyed Joy with her sternest mom look. “I’d already told her we’d broil her hot dogs because our grill is torn up.”

“Mine’s working fine.” He motioned to the old-school charcoal grill. The coals are hot and I’m about to throw on a couple of steaks. It’s no trouble to put some dogs on, too.”

She didn’t want to impose. “I don’t want our being neighbors to become a disruption for you.”

“It’s no big deal, Sam. I’d like for the two of you to join me.”

Her attention swung back to Joy and she studied her daughter’s hopeful expression. Darn the little imp. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer. I’ll go get the hot dogs.” She held out the backpack to Joy. “We’re going to have a talk before dinner.”

Joy grabbed the pack and head-down dawdled toward the house.

“Is there anything I can fix to go with the steak?” Sam asked.

“I have potatoes baking and asparagus in butter on the grill. Does Joy like asparagus?”

“Wow. I didn’t think guys liked vegetables.”

He grinned. “I have to have some carbs in my diet. I run every day.”

“I’ve seen you.” Did her admission sound like she’d been watching him? Her face flushed hot. “Joy likes anything green, but I don’t think she’s ever tried asparagus.” Joy’d reached the front porch and was waiting on her. “I’ll herd her this way in a few minutes.”

“You didn’t tell me how you like your steak.”

“Just a little pink when you cut into it.”

He grinned. “Roger that. Bring the hot dogs.”

Roger that? She’d heard the expression before. Where? TV possibly. Wasn’t it military lingo? She studied him for a moment. Getting up every morning at five to run, the precision he used to organize his tools and materials, knowing how to fix and install electronic things could be ingrained by military training. And explained his unflappable calm about moving in next door to a woman with a violent ex-husband.

“Be back in a few minutes.” She crossed the yard to the front porch, unlocked the front door and held it open for Joy.

“Are you mad, Mommy?”

At the anxious expression on Joy’s face, tension curled around the back of Sam’s neck. “No, I’m not mad.”

Sam set her purse on the small table next to the front door and, taking Joy’s backpack, dropped it beneath it. She took Joy’s hand, led her to the couch, and pulled her onto her lap. Joy smelled of baby shampoo, the playground, and kid. For a moment she wished for the tiny baby back. Things had been so much simpler when she’d just needed a diaper change and a bottle.

“I know you like Mr. Tim.”

“He fixed my Big Wheel.”

“He did?” Well that explained how Mr. Tim could fix
everything.
“I’ll have to thank him for doing that.”

She monitored Joy almost constantly when she played in the back yard. But she had to pee now and then, and fix food for them. “You know you’re not allowed to go outside the fence in the backyard, or ride your Big Wheel anywhere but the patio out back.”

“I didn’t, Mommy.”

“How did he know it was torn up?”

“It wouldn’t go.”

Trying to get information from a five year old was like pulling hen’s teeth.

“How did he fix it?”

“He said stay in the yard. He took it for a
long
time.”

A
long
time could be anywhere between five minutes to half an hour.

“It goed good again then.”

Sam smiled. “I’m glad it goes now.”

It had to have been the day he’d been on the ladder putting up the lights. Joy’d been playing out in the yard and watched from the fence. She’d obviously been waiting for him to bring back the Big Wheel. Why hadn’t Sam seen him?

Because she’d been getting ready to take Joy to school, making her breakfast and studying for an exam. She’d learned to take multi-tasking to a whole new level since she’d started the college classes.

“It’s good that Mr. Tim fixed your Big Wheel. I’ll be sure to thank him. But we don’t want to bother him too much.”

“I don’t bother him. He likes me.”

“How do you know?”

“He smiles at me and calls me sweet tart.”

Sam bit her lip to keep from laughing. She gave Joy a squeeze.

Joy’s stomach growled. “My tummy’s mad. It’s hungry.”

“I heard it. How many hot dogs do you want?”

“A ho, ho bunch.”

That usually meant two, one on a bun plain and an extra cut up on a plate. The second one she might or might not eat. She’d urge her to try the asparagus and half a potato. But she’d slice her up an apple too, just in case.

“Take your backpack to your room and I’ll change.”

Joy wiggled free, grabbed her backpack and ran down the hall.

Sam followed at a more sedate pace and went into her bedroom. She changed into shorts, a scoop-necked top and rubber flip-flops. It felt good to get out of the pantyhose and dress she’d worn for work. She padded down the hall to the kitchen. Joy was in the refrigerator and turned with the package of hot dogs in her hand. “I got them, Mommy.”

“Thank you. You can carry those for me. We’ll take the whole package. Mr. Tim might want a dog, too.” Sam put some of the pear salad she’d made the night before in a plastic container for desert, sliced up a couple of apples and put them in another.

Joy wiggled impatiently. “Come on, Mommy.”

“Almost done.” Sam gathered hot dog buns, paper plates, plastic forks, cups, napkins, bottles of water, and a plastic table cloth to cover the dilapidated picnic table behind the garage, and packed them all into a basket.

“All right, go ahead. I’m right behind you.” Joy ran out the back door while Sam paused to flip on the switch to activate the porch light.

By the time she’d made it across the yard and around to the back of the garage, she could hear Joy chatting away to Tim.

My friend Nancy Jane paints real good.”

“I bet you do, too,” Tim said.

“I try real hard.”

Tim chuckled. “The next time you paint a picture will you do one for me? I need something to hang on the wall in the living room.”

Joy’s whole face lit up when she smiled. “All right.”

Sam’s heart turned over. He was so good with her.

But he’d never had a steady diet of five-year-old chatter and the hundred questions she asked a day. Joy wanted—needed—a positive male influence in her life. Was hungry for it. And Tim seemed to have won her daughter’s heart just by fixing her Big Wheel. That thought brought an ache of tears to her throat.

Tim Carnes would only be around until he got his business established. When the money came rolling in, he’d leave. And she didn’t know enough about him to say if he would be a good influence. Or even that she wanted him to be one. She’d made some horrible mistakes in the past and Joy was still paying for them, just as she was. She couldn’t afford to make another by trusting a stranger.

The beat-up picnic table sat behind the garage on the concrete slab that stretched the length of the building. She still remembered the truck coming to pour the concrete for the garage floor and this patio they’d used for barbecuing. The distance from the house was only the width of the drive. She set the basket down on one of the benches and spread the plastic cloth over the tabletop.

“Do you want to help me set the table, Joy?”

“I’ll do it, Mommy.”

Sam stood close by as Joy climbed up on the seat and knelt to delve into the basket. She set the plastic container of pears and apples out, then set out the plastic plates. She positioned them one next to the other on one side of the table.