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“Hardly enough for you to risk your life.” She eyed the rip in his jeans. “And you’re not driven by financial interests. You have no responsibilities. No mortgage. No family.”
“You needed help.” He turned back to the wood, smoothing the surface with his hand, his movements slow and sure.
He’d been the same that night. Everything about him had been calm and measured. She’d been terrified, not only by the storm sent by nature but by the one going on inside her, and by the knowledge that the truth was about to be exposed, despite all her efforts. Something about his steadying presence had helped her hold her emotions together.
“You’re kind, but you prefer to let people think you’re moody and a little dangerous. It’s your way of keeping them at a distance.” And she could understand it. There were plenty of people she’d like to keep at a distance. Maybe she should start saying less and scowling more.
She sank onto the chair and saw his quick frown of concern.
There it was again, the kindness he tried to hide.
“We might have to postpone some of the work we were planning. My daughter is arriving soon.” And because there was no one else she could confide in, she confided in him. “I have to tell her the truth. I’ve dreaded this moment. I really hoped it would never come.”
He put down the plane and straightened. “I assume you’re not talking about the state of your window frames.”
“I’m talking about the state of my life. It’s going to be a shock for my daughters, particularly Lauren. She’s been living in England for the past sixteen years.” It made her heart ache to think of what her oldest daughter must be going through right now. “It’s ironic, don’t you think? Just when I think I’ve reached a stage in life where I have no one to worry about but myself, my daughter’s world collapses.”
How much should she tell the girls? How much could she hold back?
The truth came in different sizes, didn’t it? She could tell an extrasmall truth, veracity’s equivalent of a size zero, or she could perhaps offer up a medium. Let’s face it, the whole truth and nothing but the truth—an extralarge truth with a side of blunt—would swamp everyone.
Scott had stopped work and there was a deep furrow in his brow. “How has her world collapsed?”
She sensed she had his full attention and wondered why.
“Her husband died a few weeks ago. It was sudden. And complicated. Turns out he owed a great number of people a large amount of money.” Were they cursed as a family? First she’d been widowed, and now Lauren. How much should she say? What if Lauren didn’t want the whole community knowing her private details? Not that Scott could be described as chatty even at the best of times.
“She’s coming home permanently?” There was a roughness to his tone that hadn’t been there before.
“She needs support.” Should she have insisted on going to the funeral? Lauren had put her off and Nancy hadn’t been able to decide if her presence would make things worse or better. She’d been in an agony of indeci
sion. “She has a child. My granddaughter is sixteen. It’s a terrible age to lose a father.”
His jaw tightened and he seemed about to say something.
She waited, perplexed by his response, but instead of speaking he turned away suddenly, leaving her with the feeling that she’d said the wrong thing.
The problem with not knowing someone well was that you had no idea which subjects to broach and which to avoid.
She knew little about Scott’s family history, although his lifestyle didn’t suggest the presence of a warm, loving family lurking in the wings. She’d heard rumors of foster care and a troubled upbringing.
Maybe he’d lost his father, too. Maybe that was it.
“My daughter is arriving on the ferry this afternoon. Could you give me a ride? I know it’s a lot to ask, but the garage still has my car.” Maybe she was overstepping, but it seemed like the best solution to her. Greg was working and Jenna couldn’t possibly take more time off. “She’ll have luggage and you have room in your pickup. I’ll pay you, obviously. Or maybe I should get a cab—”
“I’ll do it.” He picked up his tool belt. “I don’t want payment.”
“I insist that—”
“I don’t want payment.” Something in his tone stopped her arguing.
“In that case, thank you.”
Once again Scott would be by her side while she tackled something she was dreading.
This time they weren’t sailing into a hurricane, but she knew there was every possibility that the landscape of her life would be entirely altered by what was about to hit.
12
