Ransom Canyon. Jodi ThomasЧитать онлайн книгу.
it be to count to three?”
She shook her finger at him. “Now, don’t get smart with me. After about eighty years, things like numbers started falling out of the back of my head. I can’t even remember my phone number, much less anyone else’s.”
“Don’t worry about it. Everyone you know is programmed into your phone. All you have to do is flip it open, punch a button and say their name.”
She raised an eyebrow as if she suspected a trick. “So, what is going to happen if one day I’m somewhere lost and lose my phone? Even if I can borrow someone else’s phone, I won’t know a number to call, and the stranger I asked to help probably doesn’t have Aunt Doodles’s number in his phone anyway.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “With my luck, the stranger will be one of them serial killers, just looking for his next victim, and there I’ll be, up a creek without a phone.”
Staten patted her shoulder. Every week she had a new worry. He should keep a list. Eventually she was bound to get around to repeating one. “First of all, you can’t drive. So if you’re lost, you’re still in the county. Anyone you stop will probably know you and be happy to bring you back here. Second, if you do see a serial killer, he probably does know Aunt Doodles. She went to jail several times, remember.”
Granny’s finger started wagging again. “She did not. Not many anyway. And every single time was that dumb husband of hers’ fault, not hers.”
Staten leaned down and whispered, “How do you know? You can’t count to three.”
She slapped his cheek too hard to be a pat. “Stop it, Staten. You remind me of numbers I couldn’t remember, and that reminds me of Mr. Leo and his wrinkled...body. Now, that’s a sight I’d like to unsee.”
All at once laughter erupted from her. Staten enjoyed the sound from the dear old woman who’d loved him every day of his life.
As always, her sweet chuckle was music to Staten’s ears. When he was growing up, his parents were either traveling or fighting. By the time he was in middle school, his father had divorced his mother and found wife number two. Neither of them had seemed to want custody of him in the split. His mother had remarried and moved to England within six months, without leaving a forwarding address.
Staten had spent most of his time with his grandparents on the ranch. He’d loved working the land with his granddad and living in their little place where his granny’s laughter always seemed to fill every nook and cranny. The visits from his father and wife number whatever had grown further apart. Senator Samuel Kirkland showed no interest in the ranch. No one was surprised when Granddad died and left it to Staten, his only grandson.
“Sorry you had to see Old Leo, Granny.” He smiled at his grandmother. “Maybe the new handyman was right about the doors. It must have been a shock for you and Leo when you walked into his house.”
Granny was busy cleaning up the coffee cups. “Not so much. I’ve seen him naked before.” She turned and headed to the tiny kitchen.
Staten had no intention of asking more. He didn’t want to know.
Since it was too early to go to Quinn’s for supper, he dropped by the volunteer fire department’s weekly meeting.
This time of year grass fires were rare, and guys were drinking coffee and talking about how the chamber of commerce was planning something big. The men got their information from their wives, who’d passed it around some. So, no telling how accurate it might be. The leaders in Crossroads were looking for ideas to help the town grow and that meant raising money.
“A fund-raiser to beat all fund-raisers,” Hollis shouted. “We plan to raise enough money to improve both the fire station and the clinic. Ellie could use the space at the clinic, and when she graduates, most folks would like to see her stay in town and run it full-time.”
“That waiting room is too small,” one of the other farmers said. “She’ll be stacking folks in chairs before long. With all the pregnancies lately, she’ll want to add a birthing room. We can handle a doc coming in once a week, but we need a nurse there full-time.”
G.W. Polk, who farmed next to Hollis, shook his head. “There’s a good hospital in Lubbock. I was born in a car headed that way. To my way of thinking, kids should be born the same place they’re conceived.”
Hollis nodded. “My point exactly. You were born in a car and you haven’t been the same since.”
Staten was distracted by thoughts of Quinn and the way she kissed him, but he tried his best to listen. He rarely participated in the town’s problems, but he always sent a check to help out with any fund-raiser. Every year the chamber of commerce thought up a grand plan to improve the town, but nothing ever really changed. Correction, he thought, the dozen reindeer they’d put up at Christmas on all the light posts along Main looked great.
After an hour, he excused himself and told the men that whatever they decided, he was behind the chamber one hundred percent. He took his time leaving. Reason told him he was being a fool worrying about what time he got to Quinn’s house. She was the same shy woman he’d known all his life. Nothing unusual would happen tonight, and he’d be wasting worry to think otherwise.
For the past five years he had never given their unusual relationship much thought. Maybe because it seemed to have grown naturally with neither of them planning it. He never considered finding another woman, though he knew a few who’d welcome him in their bed if he showed up.
Only, they would come with strings. They’d want eventually to become Mrs. Kirkland, and Staten wasn’t sure he ever wanted that again. Being numb most days was far better than hurting.
Maybe he should just be satisfied with what he had with Quinn. It was good. It was enough. She probably felt the same, even if she had asked to be kissed.
He told himself when he got to her house he’d act exactly the same as he always did. Nothing different. Nothing changed. One little kiss didn’t mean anything.
As he pulled up to her place, he noticed her working in the barn, elbow deep in the engine of her old tractor. Even after all his stops, he’d arrived early. He’d said supper. It wasn’t even five o’clock.
Halfway to her barn he remembered the bag of barbecue in the truck. If she hadn’t already waved, he would have turned around. But it was too late. Maybe she’d rather drive over to Bailee and eat hamburgers or maybe even try something at the café in town. They didn’t have to always do everything the same. He could be flexible. The kiss was proof, wasn’t it?
No, going into a café would seem too strange. They never ate out. They both thought it would seem too much like a couple thing.
“Need some help?” he asked when he reached her.
“No. I’ve about got it.” She stepped down to face him. “Where’s the barbecue?”
“In the truck. I brought beer, too. That all right with you?”
He rubbed away a smudge on her cheek with his finger. The touch was casual, but her eyes watched his every movement.
Stepping out of his reach, Quinn moved toward the house. “I’ll clean up while you get the food.” She was almost to the porch when she looked back and added, “I already set the table.”
He watched her until she disappeared. She’d never seemed quite so nervous around him. Suddenly, he wished he could take back the kiss from last week. He wanted everything to stay the same. They had it good and good was enough.
The shower pipes rattled from down the hallway as he set out the food. The paper containers looked out of place amid her china. He hadn’t given it much thought before, but she always set the table with her few pieces of hundred-year-old china and nice flatware. He tossed the plastic cutlery he’d picked up into the trash.
When she finally joined him in the kitchen, he was halfway through his first beer. He offered one to her, but she poured herself a glass of cold tea instead.
She