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Still, she sensed that there was more to his offer. He had to feel guilty for having wrested Mateo from her arms. “Fine.” She shrugged in agreement. “As long as you realize I won’t be here long. Like I told you, I’m going back to Venezuela this summer.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then you’d better start tutoring tomorrow.”
She consulted her mental calendar. “If you like. What time?”
“As soon as you can make it.”
“Okay.” Her conscience forced her to add, “Listen, I can’t guarantee Simon will be reading before school starts. If he hasn’t gone to kindergarten, he may need to be held back a year.”
The tightening of Amos’s jaw told her the idea did not appeal. “Just do your best.”
“Of course.” She twisted the cap back onto her bottle. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
Amos didn’t step aside like she hoped he would.
She tried again. “Do you have a cell phone number so I can message you when I’m on my way?”
“Sorry, no. I only have a work phone. It’s not for personal use.”
She raised both eyebrows, dumbfounded. “Well,that’sa safety concern.”
“Why?”
“Why? So, you can call 9-1-1 if your child gets hurt! You live on a houseboat, for heaven’s sake.” She gestured out the nearest window. “Does Simon even know how to swim?”
Instead of answering, Amos dragged a hand through his dark hair.
The gesture summoned a pinch of compassion. The man was clearly in over his head. She made to brush past him, her senses on high alert. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He caught her elbow, pulling her up short. “Thank you.”
Before she could wrench free a second time, he pulled her against him in a swift embrace, releasing her so abruptly to open the door she might have imagined his impulsive gesture if an impression of his rock-hard torso hadn’t just been branded into her brain.
Dazed, she let him escort her off his houseboat to the pier, where he bid her goodnight.
As she crossed the gangplank and coursed the pier, Grace collected her scattered thoughts. Reaching dry land, she glanced back at Amos, a dark silhouette against a watery, bronze backdrop. Had his quick embrace meant anything? Her senses clamored for more, but that was because she hadn’t been held in three years.
Without a word or a wave, she plodded up the hill to her car and drove home, rattled by the encounter. She preferred to loathe Amos than to think of him romantically.
* * *
Several states away, Emma Moulton slid her wedding band across the pawnshop counter. Morning sunlight shot through the dusty storefront windows to land on the ring like a spotlight.
“How much can you give me for this?”
Mrs. Pritchard, who owned the shop, lifted the simple gold band and inspected it through her bifocals, which hung from her neck by a chain. Glancing up over the rim of her glasses, she sent Emma a pitying look.
“Where are your boys? Don’t usually see you without ’em.”
“At the Baptist church. It’s mother’s day out.” Once a week, in the summers, Emma got two hours to herself, and all the boys, even the baby, were assured a healthy snack.
“I heard Carl ran off with a stripper leaving you high and dry.”
Emma’s spine stiffened. The grapevine in Mantachie was functioning better than ever. Given the looks and whispers that followed her everywhere, she already knew that. “Cocktail waitress,” she corrected.
“You found a place to live yet?”
Everyone knew about the trailer, too? Emma sent Mrs. Pritchard a short nod. Eddie had let her stay in the trailer one more week, but the title was now his and, unless Emma took both him and Carl to court, she would have to move out.
