Home to Montana Page 5

  “I was worried about you,” Alisa said. “You were late getting home.”

  “I was playing with Rags.”

  “So I gather. Come on in. You can have a snack before you do your homework.”

  “It’s Friday, Mom. I don’t have any homework.”

  “Well, come in anyway, honey. I’ll find you—”

  “I can’t, Mom. Nick said I could help him put sealer on the step.”

  Her gaze dropped pointedly to Nick, who was squatting on the bottom step. “He did?”

  He lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. “The bare wood has to be sealed or it will absorb rain and snow. You’d have to replace the steps all over again in a couple of years.”

  “I know that.”

  Nick grinned. “Of course you do.”

  She glowered at him. Nick figured she didn’t like to be teased, but it was kind of fun anyway, seeing her get all flustered. Her cheeks turned pink with a blush.

  “If he’s going to help,” Nick said, “might be good if he changed into old jeans and a shirt. Sealer can get pretty messy.”

  Greg snatched up his backpack. “Can I, Mom? Can I?”

  She sighed in defeat. “I suppose.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” The boy leaped up the steps and burst in through the door.

  Resting her hand on the railing, she shook her head and frowned. “It’s all right if he helps you some, but I don’t want my son to get...attached to you.”

  A sharp pain of regret stabbed Nick in the chest. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t be around that long.”

  Her gaze skittered away from Nick. “I know. That’s exactly why I don’t want him to get too friendly with you.”

  “Guess your husband would object, too.”

  Her gaze snapped back to him. She bristled. “I don’t have a husband.”

  “I wondered about that.” It didn’t seem right that such a good-looking woman didn’t have a husband. A father for her son. “Guess the guys around here are all blind and half-stupid for not latching on to a good thing when it’s right in front of their noses.”

  She brought herself up to all of her five-feet-five height and lifted her chin. “Mr. Carbini, I’ll have you know I am not the kind of woman who latches on to any man who just happens to be handy. Nor do they latch onto me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see that Greg changes into something appropriate for painting the porch steps.” Doing an abrupt about-face, she marched into the diner.

  Thoughtfully, Nick tilted his head. She was one proud lady. Chances were good all that pride was hiding one giant hurt that hadn’t ever healed.

  If Nick knew for sure who had done the hurting, he’d be happy to take the fellow into the woodshed and do a little attitude correcting on Alisa’s behalf.

  Except chances were also good that she wouldn’t appreciate him being the one standing up for her. Not if she knew about his past.

  Nick got back to work, and it wasn’t long before Greg reappeared at the back porch.

  “I’m ready!” He wore jeans with a tear in them, a faded blue T-shirt and an eager smile.

  “Okay, Greg. Let’s see if your mom has a can of sealer and some paintbrushes in the equipment shed.”

  Nick hadn’t put Rags back on his leash after Greg went inside to change. Now the dog trotted beside the boy, probably in the hope a suitable fetch stick would appear.

  “You know where your mom keeps the paints?”

  “In the back.” The boy dashed ahead, Rags on his heels.

  Nick sauntered after them. Gallon paint containers lined four shelves across half the back wall. Scanning the labels, Nick found what he was looking for, a half-full can of sealer. He pried open the lid.

  “Looks good. Now, how ’bout brushes?”

  Greg picked out a couple of nice, wide brushes, and they carried the paint and brushes back to the steps.

  While Nick was stirring the sealer, Greg said, “Want to hear a joke?”

  Nick lifted his brows. “You sure it’s a good one?”

  “Yeah, everybody laughs. Why did the elephant paint her toenails red?”

  Suppressing a groan, Nick said, “I don’t know, kid. Why did the elephant paint her toenails red?”

  “Because she wanted to hide in a field of strawberries.”

  Nick’s groan escaped, followed by a chuckle. “That’s pretty good. Now, how ’bout we get to work.”

  Starting Greg at one end of the upper step, Nick showed the boy how to brush on the sealer without letting it drip. He started on the other end working toward the middle.

  As he worked, he remembered as a kid he used to tell silly jokes. He was pretty shy, and telling a joke helped him not to feel like a dork.

  “Okay, I’ve got a joke for you,” Nick said, pulling up an old groaner from deep in his memory. “Knock knock.”

  Greg grinned. “Who’s there?”

  “Woo.”

  “Woo who?”

  “Now don’t get so excited. It’s just a knock knock joke.”

  Greg laughed out loud. “That’s a good one, Nick. I’m going to tell that one to Mom.”

  “You do that, son.” Nick smoothed the sealer across the step. He’d like to see Alisa laugh. Her smile would light up the whole Bear Lake valley like the sun rising over the mountains.

  Idly he wondered when he had stopped telling jokes and became a loner instead. Maybe when he and his dad moved away from Bear Lake.

  * * *

  On Friday nights, Alisa let Greg stay up later than on school nights. After he put on his pajamas, he came and plopped down on the couch next to her where she’d been trying to read a book.

  “You wanna hear a joke, Mom? Nick told me a new one.”

  She tensed and closed her book. “Nick told you a joke?”

  “Yeah. While we were painting the steps. I think he likes me.”

  Swallowing hard, she finger-brushed his hair, trying to tame the cowlicks. “Of course he likes you. Everybody likes you.”

  Squirming away, he looked at her with troubled eyes. “If everybody likes me, how come my dad didn’t stick around? How come he left before I was even born?” His chin trembled ever so slightly.

  “Sweetie, your father—” A man she’d come to think of as no more than a sperm donor. “—He didn’t leave because of you. He left because he didn’t want to take responsibility for anyone except himself. He was too selfish to be a good daddy. Because of that, he’s the one who missed out on seeing you grow into such a smart kid. A handsome one, too.”

  Greg wrinkled his nose. “Nick is a responsible man, isn’t he? I mean, he’s fixing the steps for Mama and all.”

  Mentally, she grimaced. Her son was already falling under Nick’s spell. “Greg, honey, Nick is just filling in for Jake. He’ll be gone soon. You know that.”

  “Well, he might stay.” His lower lip pushed out. “If he liked it here a lot, he’d stay, wouldn’t he?”

  Tears burned at the back of her eyes, and she hugged her son. “If he leaves, it won’t be because of you. I promise.” It will be because a drifter can’t stay in one place too long. It’s part of their nature.

  Greg pulled away from her. “So do you want to hear the joke he told me?”

  “Sure. Let me have it, munchkin.”

  To her dismay, it was one of Nick’s old knock knock jokes from their grade-school days. She laughed but her heart wasn’t in it. Hadn’t the man learned anything new in the last twenty years?

  And why did it hurt so much to know he and his silly jokes would be moving on soon?

  * * *

  Alisa had put Greg to bed nearly an hour ago. There was nothing on TV she wanted to watch. The book she’d been reading wasn’t holding her interest, and the jigsaw puzzle s
pread out on the kitchen table wasn’t calling her.

  Mama had already retired for the night. The hum of customers downstairs had quieted to a low murmur. She could go down, see if any locals were around, join them for a cup of coffee and some conversation.

  Unfortunately, she was too restless to even consider that option and it bugged her.

  It was all Nick’s fault! Why on earth had he told Greg that silly knock knock joke? All it did was make her remember him as a boy eager to get the approval of his classmates. He’d already had her approval, which he hadn’t even noticed.

  In spite of her best intentions, she pulled the living room curtain aside to peek outside.

  He was there again, standing out beyond the end of the motel, his back to the diner, doing chin-ups on the bar stuck between two trees.

  “This is ridiculous.” Grabbing a jacket from the closet, she headed downstairs. She’d find out why he was so into muscle building.

  Then she’d be able to sleep without thoughts of Nick Carbini running around in her head.

  Chapter Five

  Alisa walked across the parking lot, approaching Nick quietly. She couldn’t imagine how many chin-ups he’d already done. Still he moved steadily, like a valve in a well tuned engine. With each lift, his biceps flexed. Sweat dampened the back of his shirt.

  The soft sounds he made when he pulled himself up again and again spoke of a determination to never quit.

  As she drew closer, the dog spotted her and alerted.

  Slowly, Nick turned his head toward her. Shadowed by the trees, she couldn’t read his expression as he dropped to the ground.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your routine.” Of course, if she’d been thinking at all, she would have known he’d stop when she invaded his privacy.

  “It’s okay.” He bent at the waist to catch his breath.

  Rags trotted over to greet her. She scratched the top of his head, which got his tail wagging even faster than usual.

  “You work out so hard,” she said. “Are you planning to try out for Mr. America?”

  He coughed what was meant to be a laugh. “Hardly. I try to wear myself out at night so I can sleep better.”

  She tugged the sides of her jacket together, although she wasn’t that cold. “Does it work? There are nights when I could use a little help with that.” Particularly since Nick arrived in town.

  Her comment was greeted with such a long silence, she was about to tell him good-night and get back to where she belonged.

  “Learning to do chin-ups and push-ups isn’t so hard. You start easy. Do what you can, and each time you make yourself do a little more.” He paused for a moment. “I could help you if you want.” His voice was a mere whisper, no louder than the faint breeze in the treetops, and surprisingly intimate.

  Heat prickled her skin. Her heart lurched and skipped a beat. A knot of panic formed in her stomach. She feared that Nick could teach her any number of things she’d be better off not knowing.

  “That’s okay. You’d probably rather do your own thing. Besides, I should go in. Check on Greg.”

  She took a backward step.

  “Another time, then.” In slow, careful steps, he closed the distance between them. “Whenever you’re ready to give it a try.”

  “I, um, I don’t mean to get personal, but I’ve noticed...is there a problem with your leg? It seems like—”

  “My leg’s fine now. Just a little limp sometimes if I’m especially tired and don’t concentrate when I walk. I’ve got a titanium rod in there along with some screws. Plays havoc with the security folks at an airport.”

  She gasped. “How did you—”

  “I took a few chunks of shrapnel in my leg in Afghanistan. It’s better than what happened to some of my buddies.”

  Sympathy welled in her chest. “I’m so sorry, Nick. I had no idea.” Aghast at the thought he’d been wounded in the war, she shook her head. “I really shouldn’t have asked.”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “Of course it’s a big deal. You’re a war hero.”

  “No, Alisa. I’m nobody’s idea of a hero.” A hint of regret slipped into his voice.

  She imagined Greg already thought of Nick as a hero without even knowing about his leg. How sad Nick couldn’t think of himself that way.

  He called his dog to his side. “Time for me to turn in. Some customer tried to run his fist through the wall in room 210.” He gestured toward the motel. “Frank wants me to plaster the hole and paint the wall tomorrow.”

  “That’ll keep you busy.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” He hesitated for one brief second. “Good night, Alisa. See you at breakfast.”

  He turned away from her. Walking without the slightest limp, he reached the motel stairs and climbed to the second floor.

  Foolishly, she waited until the light went on in the last room on the floor. Now when she looked out her living room window, she’d know which room was Nick’s. One small bit of information she’d be better off not knowing.

  * * *

  The next morning, as soon as Greg finished his breakfast of cereal and juice in the family kitchen, he was all set to find Nick.

  “I’m sure he’s busy working today,” Alisa said. Her son’s case of hero worship had certainly flourished in a matter of hours, like a potent virus. “He probably doesn’t want you bothering him all the time.”

  “He liked it when I helped him yesterday.”

  True, Nick hadn’t objected to Greg hanging around him. But that didn’t mean he wanted Greg to become his constant companion. “Instead of helping Nick, why don’t you call one of your friends? Maybe they could come over and play one of your video games and have lunch in the diner.”

  “Nah. That sounds boring.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

  A week ago, playing his new video game had been at the top of Greg’s to-do list. Now Nick had soared ahead on his priority list.

  “I know what I can do!” Greg announced. A big grin creased his cheek. “If Nick’s busy, I bet he’d like me to take Rags for a walk. Don’t you think so, Mom? He’d want Rags to get some exercise, don’t you think?”

  Mentally rolling her eyes, Alisa caressed the back of her son’s blond head. “Yes, I think he might like that. But if he says no, don’t you dare beg or pester him. You understand?”

  “Yeah, sure, Mom. I know that. You don’t want me to bug him too much when he’s working.”

  “That’s right.” She told him where he’d find Nick at the motel.

  “’Kay. I’ll see you later.” With that, Greg dashed for the stairs, thundered down the steps. Alisa heard the back kitchen door slam behind him.

  It wasn’t long before she glanced outside and saw Greg and Rags on a leash running along the path that led behind the diner to the school a couple of blocks away. Greg whooped with excitement. Rags responded with eager barks, his tail waving in the air.

  She sent up a quick prayer that her son wouldn’t feel too brokenhearted when Nick and his dog drifted on to somewhere else.

  Bucking herself up and intentionally putting a spring in her step, she went downstairs to help with the breakfast crowd. September weekends were prime time for fishermen to try their luck on Bear Lake. They liked to start the day with a hearty meal.

  * * *

  Saturday evening, Nick picked a church out of the yellow pages to attend Sunday morning. His family had never been churchgoers, but he’d come to realize over the past few years that he needed a higher power in his life. He still had a lot to learn about faith and the Lord’s message.

  While he was in Bear Lake, the Community Church sounded like a good place to seek answers and find inner peace.

  The church was located a little west of town.
The whitewashed building sat on about an acre of land. Nick pulled his truck into a spot in the gravel parking lot, which was filled with other pickups and SUVs, the preferred means of mountain transportation.

  “Sorry, Rags.” He let the dog out of the truck and hooked up his leash. He hadn’t wanted to leave Rags on his own in the motel room or at the diner. “No dogs allowed in church. I’ll have to tie you up to the bumper. Don’t you worry, though. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Let’s hope the preacher isn’t too long-winded.” He set out a bowl of water and put an old throw rug down for Rags to lay on in the shade of the truck.

  Just as he straightened upright, he heard Greg’s voice.

  “Hey, Mom, look! Nick’s here and he’s got Rags.” Wearing new jeans and a fresh shirt, the boy came running toward him. “Hey, Nick. You’re going to church this morning?”

  Nick’s lips hitched into a smile. “That’s the plan.”

  “Great. You can sit with Mom. I gotta go to Sunday school.” He dropped to his knees to pet Rags.

  Nick met Alisa’s gaze as she approached, then let his slide over her, from her blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders to her toes, the nails painted bright pink peeking out from a pair of leather sandals. Instead of her usual slacks and simple blouse she wore at the diner, she had on a summery dress with a full skirt and short navy blue jacket. Very feminine. And appealing.

  “Good morning,” she said, her voice a little husky.

  “Morning to you.” The blue of her jacket accented the deep blue of her eyes. “Glad Mama lets you have some time off.”

  “Going to church every Sunday has always been a part of my life. Mama’s, too, but she was feeling extra tired this morning.”

  “Sorry to hear Mama’s not feeling so good.”

  “She’ll probably be better later.”

  “I’m kind of new to the church routine,” he admitted.

  Her brows rose slightly, but he didn’t offer any explanation. He doubted she’d be impressed to learn where he had found the Lord—behind bars in a prison chapel that doubled as a recreation room for convicts and featured an all male choir.

  The bell in the church steeple began to ring.