Soul Dreams (7 page)

The blank screen stared back at her.

Maybe he’s not even up yet
.

Nearly two minutes passed with no response. She nibbled on a fingernail while trying to decide if she should close down and try again later. Then the
ding
of the IM bell sounded, alerting her to an incoming message.

Blake:
You’re early today. I hope there’s no problem with the books you’re bringing.

Booklady:
No, not at all. I wanted to let you know I’ll be later than usual tonight.

Blake:
???????????

Ah, he wanted to know why.

Booklady:
I’m staying after the store closes to put up Christmas decorations.

Blake:
Oh.

Booklady:
Want to come in and help me?

She tried to be patient as she waited for his answer.

Blake:
I’ll pass. I don’t decorate for Christmas anymore.

Anymore? Did he use to? And what happened to make such a change in his life?

Booklady:
How sad. Would you like me to bring you a wreath for your door?

Another long pause. Nina bit her lower lip. Why couldn’t she leave it alone? What was making her so perverse about this?

Blake:
Wreaths are for funerals. What time will you be by?

Funerals
?
Not Christmas
? She swallowed a sigh. Apparently, mention of the holiday had cured him of any more chitchat today. She wanted to smack herself.

Booklady:
About eight thirty. Work for you?

Blake:
I’ll let Grange know.

She thought for a moment then decided to see exactly how much she’d irritated him.

Booklady:
Would you rather have Grange pick them up instead?

Blake:
NO!

His answer had came back quickly and in capital letters.

Why does he even care? He never comes to the door
.

Booklady:
All right then.

She hovered the cursor over the symbol to shut down when another message came through.

Blake:
Will it be too late to talk tonight?

Nina swallow a hysterical laugh. Only she and the mysterious Blake Massie could call what they were doing “talking” by any stretch of the imagination.

Booklady:
No. I’ll be ready about an hour after I drop off the books.

Blake:
Good.

His icon disappeared from the message box, signaling he’d signed off, abrupt as usual. Nina closed the program and poured a mug of fresh coffee for herself. What had her life become when the sum of her social activities, except for public events, had been reduced to an Instant Messenger relationship with a man she’d yet to meet?

One way or another I’m going to get into his house and make him introduce himself. I might bring an end to our electronic relationship, but I have an itch where he’s concerned I need to scratch. Badly.

***

Blake stared at the computer screen. So, Nina was decorating her store tonight. He supposed like everyone else in the world, Christmas was a big deal to her. As it once had been to him. For a brief painful moment, he tried to imagine how Jennie and Holt were celebrating the holidays. Did they decorate, or were they still upset about what had happened?

He shook his head. They needed to get on with their lives. Jennie sent him the ranch business reports every month, and Grange insisted he read them. Blake was proud of the way his sister had stepped up to handle the records and accounting. And Holt had begun attending seminars geared to helping him with the business of running the ranch and making decisions on cattle and feed. They were doing fine without him. They didn’t need to constantly be reminded of the physical wreck he was.

If he had any regrets, it was he could never have a chance to take his Internet relationship with Nina Foster any further. He was reduced to staring at her picture on the Books and More website nearly every day and rereading all their Instant Messages. What a pathetic idiot he was. Sometimes he wished he’d died in the fire rather than live like this.

Boots on the floor behind him signaled the approach of Grange.

“Breakfast. Get your ass downstairs and eat.”

“And if I said I’m not hungry?”

Grange barked a laugh. “I’d say I don’t give a shit. I made good food, and you’ll eat it if I have to tote you downstairs myself.”

“Yeah? You think you can take me?”

Grange folded his arms. “You wanna give it a try?”

Blake shook his head. “I’m coming. By the way, Nina sent me a message. She’ll be late delivering the books tonight.”

Grange raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s Nina now? Getting cozy, are we?”

“No, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Well. Suit yourself, but tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. I don’t know what she’s doing, but I baked an extra pie, and I’m gonna ask her in and give it to her.”

Blake clenched his jaw. “Hand it to her at the door. Don’t make a big deal out of it and give her ideas.”

“Don’t be telling me what I can and can’t do. She’s a damn nice lady bringing your books right to the house for you. I’m gonna show her a little courtesy even if you don’t.”

I’d like to show her some courtesy…and a lot more
.

“Fine.” Blake threw up his hands. “But not one foot beyond the front hall. And I’m not open to negotiation.”

Grange twisted his lips in a half-smile. “What if we could find a way for her to visit with you without seeing you? Would you go for that? You need to have contact with someone besides me for a change.”

Blake almost blurted out he’d been exchanging nightly Instant Messages with the lovely Nina for two weeks and having erotic dreams about her, but he bit his tongue.

“I’ll put my mind to it,” he said, his voice filled with sarcasm. “Meanwhile, I’d better get to the breakfast you’re so hot for me to eat.”

But as he made his painful way downstairs, a kernel of an idea rattled around in his mind. Was the lovely Nina into any kind of games—somewhat
erotic
games? Did he dare broach the subject with her? He mentally shrugged. He’d either chase her off or intrigue her. So, was it worth the risk?

***

Nina was tired by the time she finally drove through the gate at Blake’s house and up to the front porch, but very satisfied. The store looked great. Hawk had sent one of his deputies over to help her with the heavy stuff and anything high up on the walls. She’d given him the leftover cookies to take back to the station, and for a minute, she thought he might kiss her. Now, she had to make this one drop and she could go home. And figure out what she would have for dinner tomorrow.

She had refused invitations for dinner from people she’d formed acquaintanceships with, happy they thought of her. But she’d lost the holiday spirit long ago and couldn’t seem to get it back. Hawk was having Wyoming Eats cater a full dinner for the deputies and their wives or whatevers. The meal would be held at the station, so those on duty could participate. Riley had insisted she join them, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be surrounded by such an abundance of joy. When her parents were killed in an auto accident, she had isolated herself emotionally. Oh, sure, she was active in the community, but as Nina the bookstore owner, not Nina the person.

“You need to get past this,” Riley insisted. “You’ve actually let some stupid schmuck steal five years of your life. Don’t you think it’s a long time to lock yourself away because of some idiot? You’re a lot smarter than that, and you aren’t the young girl you used to be. It’s time to give yourself a break.”

Nina chewed on her bottom lip. “I keep trying to remind myself I had no idea how to handle the humiliation at the time. Then my parents were killed and….” She shrugged. “You know the rest.”

“I know it’s time for you to move forward. You’ve carved out this niche for yourself and can’t seem to move out of it.” She smiled. “I really wish you the same happiness I’ve found with Hawk. And I was sure the odds of me finding it were slim to none.”

“I know, I know.” Nina hugged her friend. “Maybe Santa will bring me someone for Christmas.”

“I wish.”

Maybe Santa will bring Blake Massie to my door in person for Christmas. I wish I could at least hear his voice. Find out what his story is. If he never leaves his house, he has to be even more distanced from people than I am
.

She grabbed the shopping bag from the store with the latest order of books and climbed the steps to the front door. When Grange answered as usual, she handed him the books and waited for him to thank her and close the door.

“Would you come in a minute, Miss Foster?”

“Excuse me?” She wasn’t sure she heard him right.

He shifted his feet, obviously uncomfortable. “If you could come in for a moment, I—that is,
we
—have something for you. For Thanksgiving.”

Nina couldn’t imagine what he and/or Blake had to give her, but she stepped into the small front hall.

“Could you wait right here, please? Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Obviously, this was as far as she was permitted. While Grange walked toward the back of the house, she took the opportunity to take in the surroundings. The floors were a dark hardwood and polished to a high gloss. Nina tried to figure out whose elbow grease was responsible. Was this how Blake passed his days?

The walls were a soft cream color, but all the molding matched the hardwood on the floor. Impressive. Someone had spent a lot of time restoring this house, bringing out the best in the aged wood. Of course, they could have hired someone to do it. But then there would have been talk around the town, and she’d heard nothing.

The light hanging from the ceiling had an old-fashioned appearance to it and bathed the little hall with a warm glow. But Nina noticed an absence of any pictures or other decoration. The rooms on either side of the hall were dark. If the house was anything like others she’d seen in town, they were the living room and dining room. Did anyone use them? Did people ever, even come here? Not according to the Freewill gossip line.

A stairway with a polished banister led to the second floor. She couldn’t help staring up there, hoping she’d catch a glimpse of the elusive Blake. But there was only a faint light showing upstairs and no sound at all.

She shifted her gaze down the hallway when Grange’s boots on the floor signaled his approach. He held a plastic container of some kind in his hands. As he drew closer, she realized it was a cake container. He appeared almost embarrassed when he handed it to her.

“I got carried away with my baking,” he said. “Ended up with an extra pie. I—
we
—thought maybe you’d like to have it.”

The container was warm when she took it, and the tantalizing scent of apple and cinnamon drifted out from beneath the lid. For a moment words failed her. She glanced up the stairs once more then back at Grange.

“Thank you. Both of you. I’ll enjoy this tomorrow.”

“I hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving.”

Dandy. Brutus and I will pig out on frozen pizza, but this pie will cheer me up. Especially because it’s a gift
.

“Same to you,” she said, and fled the house.

All the way home, the mouthwatering aroma of the pie tempted her senses. If she ever got to meet him would Blake Massie tempt her senses as well? What would it be like to have him next to her instead of the pie?

Idiot. What are you doing? Stupidly daydreaming again about a man you haven’t met or even spoken to. What a mess you’ve made of your life
.

***

“Well?”

Blake stood at the top of the stairs, staring at Grange. He’d stayed at the window until Nina pulled away, watching until she drove through the gate and made the turn onto the road.

“Well, what?” Grange asked.

“Did you give her the pie?”

“You know damn well I did. You saw her carry it out.” He frowned. “Woulda been nice if you came downstairs to wish her a Happy Thanksgiving, nice as she’s been to you.”

“First of all, Thanksgiving stopped being happy for me two years ago. And once she got a look at me, she’d probably stop being nice.”

Grange planted one booted foot on the bottom step and leaned an elbow on his knee. “It’s a miracle
I’m
even nice to you, grouchy as you are. Blake, I know how you feel, but somehow you’ve got to get past all this. You could do something about this situation if you wanted to.”

“We’ve been through this again and again. Even if I could get to the hospital, there’d be a lot of pain with no guarantee. You know I’m right.”

“I didn’t realize you were a coward as well. Maybe I should go back to the ranch and leave you by yourself. I guess it’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

Fear seized him for a moment. Without Grange, he’d be lost. The old man did practically everything for him, and what did he do to show his gratitude? Bitch at him all the time and hide in his room. Maybe he could at least throw a kernel his way. What would it hurt? He didn’t give anything much chance for success, anyway. Maybe if he got his leg in shape….

You think fixing the leg would make up for the scars on your face
? The devil in his brain asked.
Your body
?
You think she’d like you if you walked better
?

Shut up. It probably won’t work anyway
.

“Listen. Do you still have those exercises they gave us at the hospital? And the equipment you bought? You didn’t sell it or anything, did you?”

Grange stared at him in stupefaction. “Am I hearing right?”

“Don’t make such a big deal out of it, old man, or I’ll change my mind. But I was thinking if nothing else, we could work on this leg. See if we can get it anywhere near back in shape.”

“Well.” The man rubbed his forehead. “It’s been almost two years. Don’t know how much damage is permanent and how much can be fixed with some therapy. But if you’re willing to put up with the routine and not give me any shit, I think we’d best try it.” He stared up at Blake. “Before you get any older and any crankier.”

Blake started to snap back but held his tongue. He realized Grange had been moved by this sudden effort but tried not to show it. He also didn’t want Blake to have false hopes after all this time.