Wishmakers (32 page)

The expression on her face hurt him deep inside. She had lowered her lashes and bitten her bottom lip, a sure sign of distress. Had her ex-husband rejected her for another woman? Was she still in love with him? It was amazing how disturbing the thought was; he didn't want her upset by anything or anyone.

Jack followed her out the door and through the office to the kitchen. There was evidence that Gary and Dwight had eaten at the kitchen table, although they had put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

“There's roast and potatoes.” Gloria stood before the open refrigerator. “Sit down and I'll warm them up for you.”

“No. You sit down and I'll fix something for you.”

He was standing behind her, his hands lightly grazing her arms. A shiver of pure physical awareness ran down her spine. She was blatantly aware that this was the first time in her life she had ever experienced such primitive sexual feelings for a man. She resisted the urge to lean back, rest against him, and take comfort in his strength.

“You've done so much. The least I can do is feed—”

His hand slid beneath her arms and he casually lifted her out of the way. “Sit, Glory, before I put you in that chair and tie you there with a dish towel,” he commanded gently.

She sat down, propped her elbows on the table, and rested her chin in her palms. Fatigue washed over her. The thoughts in her mind tumbled over each other in riotous confusion.

“Nothing is for sure, is it?” she said wearily. “I thought I had the tangles in my life sorted out. Now I feel like I've been run over with a steamroller.” She hadn't realized she had spoken aloud until Jack answered her.

“You've just had an especially bad day. Had Ethel said anything to you about not feeling well?”

“No. But I knew she didn't, so I mentioned that she should go to the doctor for a checkup; but she was reluctant to go. I was going to try to get her there when I took Peter in for shots. What are you doing?”

“I'm making a cup of chocolate for you to drink while I fix you the best hot beef sandwich you ever ate. Just wait until—” He stopped when he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. She was crying soundlessly. “Glory, Glory…”

Great sobs welled up from her throat and shuddered through her. His thoughtful concern had been the final blow to the protective shield she had wrapped around herself.

Jack came to the table, set the steaming cup in front of her, and knelt down. With a soft groan he slid his fingers into her hair and pulled her head against him. He caressed the nape of her neck with gentle fingertips.

“Let it out, honey. Let it all out. Cry, my sweet, and then we'll talk about it.” He held her close, waiting for the storm of tears to run itself dry.

“It's just hit. me, Jack. Aunt Ethel will never come back to this kitchen.”

“You're thinking the worst, Glory, Glory.” Her cheek was pressed to his denim shirt and she pressed her face against him.

“All I can give her is my love, my support. She has no one but me.” Her voice was muffled.

“She has you and Gary, and I'll…be around.”

“I don't know if I can do it, Jack. I just don't know,” she blurted.

“You don't know what, Glory?”

“I don't know if I can keep this place running. She'll need money if she goes to a nursing home.”

“Don't borrow trouble, pretty girl. She may have insurance and a nice little nest egg laid away.”

“She doesn't,” she said stubbornly.

“Don't worry about it now. Drink the chocolate while 1 fix a sandwich. Then you're off to bed. I'll sleep on Ethel's couch tonight.”

“You can't. You're too…big. Take one of the rooms.”

“We'll see. C'mon. Drink up.”

Gloria drank from the cup, waging a constant battle with tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. She was suddenly aware of how she had let herself go in front of this man and how comfortable she felt leaning against him and confessing her fears. In all the five years she had been married to Marvin she had never allowed him to see her shed one tear.

Jack talked while he prepared the meal. “I'll get Gary to help me drag some dead trees down out of the hills, and I'll tackle that woodpile. You'll need fireplace wood and—”

“Aunt Ethel said the chain saw was broken.”

“I'll bring mine down. I saw some downed oak out back. Oak makes the best firewood. Burns longer.” He took toast from the toaster and put it on a plate. “I'll check the water pipes and be sure the heat tapes are working. We don't want a freeze-up.”

“Heat tapes? What's that? There's so much I don't know about running this place that it scares me.”

“Don't worry about it. What I don't know, Gary will.” He set a plate in front of her and picked up her empty cup. “How about more chocolate?”

“No, thank you.”

He fixed a plate for himself and they ate in silence. When they had finished, Jack put the dishes in the dishwasher and started the machine.

“Go to bed, Glory. I'll bunk down here on the couch, and in the morning we'll go back to the hospital.”

“You don't have to go. I can take the pickup.”

“We'll talk about it in the morning,” he said, and gave her a gentle push toward her room. “Go to bed.”

During the week that followed, Jack spent every day at the motel and every night that Gary was not there. He fixed Gloria's car so she didn't have to drive the truck, and stayed with Peter while she went to the hospital to visit her aunt. He took care of winterizing the motel, things Gloria didn't even know about, cut up a supply of wood, put on the storm windows, and cleaned out the eave troughs. If she was late getting back to the motel, he started the evening meal.

Gloria was grateful for his help, but scolded herself when she realized how much she had come to depend upon him. She shouldn't allow herself to rely on this man, or any man, she told herself crossly; he would come to expect something in return.
But,
she reasoned,
he hasn't as much as touched my hand since the night we came back from the hospital.

The doctors assured Gloria that Ethel's condition was not life threatening at the moment, although she was paralyzed on the right side and could not speak.

“We're not getting many tourists,” she told her aunt one day. “Jack says people are afraid to venture off the beaten track in case the weather turns bad. He said for me to tell you he drained the water pipes going to the campground and to the end units at the motel; he turned off the heat and the electricity to those units. Jack's been a big help; I don't know what I'd have done without him. Peter thinks he gets up every morning and hangs out the sun,” she said with a small laugh.

“Gary would like for his girlfriend Janet to come out and stay with me for a while,” she contrived. “He says she's between jobs. I said I'd have to ask you. Is it okay?” Ethel squeezed her hand. “You've met her? And liked her? I'm glad. Gary seems to think a lot of her. He said she's a teacher, but she lost her contract when the school system had to cut back due to less federal aid.”

At the end of the second week Gloria was told by the doctors that her aunt could be moved to a nursing home. She returned to the motel with a long face.

“Oh, Jack. I wish I could take care of her here. She cried when the doctor told her she couldn't come home.”

“She needs therapy you can't give her, pretty girl. Maybe in a few months she'll be well enough to come home.” Jack was sitting in the rocking chair in front of the fireplace with Peter on his lap. The weather had turned surprisingly cold, and Gloria stood with her hands behind her and her back to the fire.

“I know, but I wish I could take care of her. I promised her I'd come to see her as often as I can.”

“You can't make the trip alone when the weather gets bad. Your car is too light; you could slide off the road. Peter and I will take you in my four-wheel drive, won't we, Pete?”

“Gary said Janet will move out here tomorrow. She'll be here to stay with Peter.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Gloria wondered what he was thinking. At times he pulled a mask over his emotions, and she had the feeling he was about to walk out and never come back. The thought ravaged her, sending a shiver of dread down her spine. A feeling of misery and loneliness washed over her. She stared into his eyes and asked herself how things could have developed to such a point that she would care if she ever saw him again or not. Where was her painfully acquired resolve to not get emotionally involved with any man, much less a man like Jack Evans?

Peter moved up in Jack's arms and combed his short, stubby fingers through his beard. “I'm gonna stay with Jack. I love Jack.”

Small arms wrapped themselves around Jack's neck and he looked up at Gloria, his eyes not veiled anymore. She saw such pain, anxiety, love, tenderness, and compassion in those deep, beautiful green eyes that she had an almost uncontrollable impulse to hold his shaggy head to her breast and comfort him. He held her with his eyes. She stood clenching her hands behind her while her cheeks reddened under his steady gaze. A bewildering complex of thoughts, each fleeting, merging into one another, filled her mind until one managed to stick.
Peter was becoming too attached to him.
Peter? Oh, God! What about herself? Her heart shook with apprehension. She was dangerously tempting fate. She knew it, but she couldn't do a thing about it.

“We'll have two truckers for dinner tonight. I put a meat loaf in the oven,” Jack said, breaking her train of thought. “I found a recipe in Ethel's cookbook.”

“I could smell it the minute I came in. I'll put some potatoes in the microwave.” Anxious to break the connection that pulsed so powerfully between them, Gloria escaped to the kitchen.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Y
OU THINK THE
boy is getting too attached to me.”

Gloria glanced over her shoulder as she placed the plates in the dishwasher. Jack was standing beside the kitchen table, his hands on the knobs of the high-backed chair.

After the meal Peter had insisted that Jack put him to bed. Gloria, with a small frown creasing her brows, had watched him sweep the small boy up into his arms. The frown hadn't escaped Jack's watchful eyes.

“I…don't want him disappointed.”

“Do you think I'd do that?”

“Not intentionally.” Gloria rinsed the silverware in the sink and arranged it in the basket in the dishwasher. “He doesn't understand—”

“That I'm not a permanent fixture in his life.”

“Something like that.”

“Do you want me to stay away from the boy?”

“No!” The cry of protest came straight from her heart. She was on the verge of tears and blinked rapidly. “It…would break his heart. He looks forward to each day because of you.”

“I don't want you to worry about me ever doing anything to upset you…or Peter. He's a smart little fellow, a fine boy—a boy any man would be proud of,” he said softly.

Not
any
man. The words were a silent scream filling her mind. Gloria swallowed hard, fighting back the tears. Marvin wasn't proud of Peter. Marvin couldn't stand to look at him; he thought of him as a stray to be fed and patted on the head occasionally, not a real person with feelings. But that was in the past. She didn't want to think about it and hurried to rally her thoughts.

“He's been happy here. It's mostly because of you.”

“What about you, Glory? Have you been happy here?”

She made herself look him directly in the eyes. Hers were wet, her vision blurred. “Yes. It's such a relief to be able to be…myself.”

They stared at each other for a moment that was so still, it was as though time had stopped moving. Then, slowly and haltingly, Jack came to her and stood towering over her. He held out his hand. The gesture caught her off guard, and she looked at him searchingly before putting her hand in his.

“I know the feeling.” The words came out as if it was a relief to say them. Still holding her hand, he reached for the light switch and shut it off, plunging the room into semidarkness. “Come sit with me for a while,” he invited softly. He steered her to the couch; she would have preferred the rocking chair. “Shall we see what's on?” He knelt down in front of the television and turned it on. The movie that came on was an old John Wayne Western she'd seen several times before.

“Is this okay?”

“Fine.”

He sat down beside her, reached for her hand, and engulfed it in his. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, his head resting on the back of the couch.

“This is nice.” He let out a half sigh, half yawn. “I like the peace and quiet, the companionship, the…just being here with you. I didn't realize how lonely my life had become until I met you and Peter.”

She glanced at him. His head was turned toward her and his green eyes held hers like a magnet. There was a sense of unreality in having him here, sharing in the preparation of the meal, taking Peter to bed together, sitting with him during the quiet of the evening. The careful way he had pushed her down onto the couch, his soft, sincere words, the touch of his hand holding hers, called out to something deep inside of her, brought her emotions to the brink of exploding. Ten seconds passed while Gloria drew a shallow breath, followed by a deeper one. She shook her head as if in answer to a question.

“You think I want to make love to you. Is that it?” The question was delivered suddenly.

“No, I just think…” She continued to shake her head. Her heart began to beat heavily.

“You're wrong. I want to…very much. I've wanted to since the first time I saw you. Since the very first,” he whispered once more, his face near hers, his hands drawing her to him. “I doubt if there's a man alive who wouldn't want to make love to you if he were here with you like this.”

Oh, yes, there is,
she thought.
But a man like you wouldn't understand that. He looks tired,
she thought;
he has shadows beneath his eyes. Has he been working too hard, not sleeping well?
She felt warmth sweeping over her.
Oh, God! What if he can read my mind?
Her breath caught in the back of her throat, but when she spoke, she chose her tone carefully.