Soul Dreams (9 page)

“Good. Get out those sheets the physical therapy guy gave you. I want to start first thing tomorrow.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Blake took another swallow of coffee. “And one more thing.”

“You sure are demanding today.” But Grange’s voice didn’t sound quite as crabby. “What else do you want?”

“I think it would be very nice if you fixed a care package for Ni—um, Miss Foster and took it over to her. I don’t think she has anyone to cook for her, and your food’s really good.”

Grange spun around, astonishment plain on his face. “Did I hear you right? You’re wanting to do something nice for someone?”

“If you don’t shut up, old man, I’ll change my mind. And while you’re doing stuff anyway, how about we have a nice fire in the fireplace today? If you haul in the wood, I’ll take care of building it.”

Grange stared at him, downright stupefied. “Did you fall on your head getting out of bed this morning.”

Blake finished his coffee and got up to refill his mug. “Get the damn wood and deliver the damn food, okay? And let it be.”

***

Nina peeked out the window when her doorbell rang, checking to see who it was. Hawk’s official SUV sat in her driveway. She opened the door and waved him inside.

“Hurry,” she told him. “It’s freezing out there.”

“But beautiful,” he said. “Besides, the cold keeps the criminals inside.”

She would have said the county was an unlikely place for many criminals but two years ago they’d had murders, illegal terrorists, and kidnapping. Riley’s ex-husband had been right in the middle of it, which was why she’d been running from him and how she’d coincidentally ended up in Freewill. Of course, it had been pretty quiet since then, except for the usual spate of malicious mischief.

Brutus had rushed to the door, excited to see company, and was running in and out between Hawk’s legs.

“So, what brings you out my way?”

“Checking on you to make sure you’re okay,” he told her. “Riley would have my ass if I didn’t.”

“You tell Riley she needs to worry about the baby in her tummy and quit fussing over me. I’m fine. Can I offer you coffee?”

“No, thanks. I need to get going. Like I said, I stopped to check on you and deliver this.” He lifted the box he was carrying.

“What have you got?”

He handed it to her. “Double fudge chocolate cake. Riley’s special recipe.”

Nina laughed. “Everyone must think I’m too skinny, with all the fattening things I’m getting.

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Who else has been playing Good Samaritan?”

“Believe it or not, when I delivered Blake Massie’s books to him last night, Grange handed me a fresh baked pie.”

Hawk stared at her, amazement written on his face. “Are you kidding me?”

She shook her head. “Nope. He was very nice about it, too.”

“So, satisfy my curiosity or Riley will never let me hear the end of it. What’s the house like inside?”

She described it—as much as she’d seen, anyway. “It seems to be well-cared for. The wood inside is absolutely beautiful.”

“Maybe the guy has nothing to do all day except work on the house.”

Nina shook her head. “No. I didn’t see any sign of that. Or of him, come to think of it.”

“No? He didn’t come down to see you?”

“All I saw was Grange. Oh, and I got a great apple pie out of it.”

Hawk lifted an eyebrow. “Apple pie? Next you’ll be breaking bread with our mysterious resident.”

“As if.” She snorted in disgust. “You’d better get going.”

“You’re right.” Hawk bent down to kiss her cheek. “You take care. And if you change your mind about dinner, I’ll send someone to pick you up.”

“I’m good,” she assured him.

But an hour after he left, she wasn’t quite so sure. In the living room, she poked at the pitiful blaze in her fireplace. In ten years, she still hadn’t learned to build a good fire. She should probably have asked Hawk for some help when he stopped by, but she’d gotten used to doing everything on her own. By this time, she ought to be willing to open herself up to other people, make more friends. But the tear in her heart had never quite healed, and over the years, she’d grown more and more obsessive about protecting it.

Will I spend the rest of my life doing exactly what I’m doing now
?
Running the bookstore
?
Getting a little older and a little more shriveled each year
?
Living alone with Brutus and taking pleasure only in watching other people’s lives play out
?

She was wallowing in her misery when the doorbell rang again.

Brutus jumped up at the sound.

“Wow, we’re really busy today, aren’t we, guy?”

She was stunned when she peeked out the window to see Grange on the porch. Curious as to what had brought him to her porch, she opened her door and was hit by a blast of cold air. Like Hawk, he was carrying a package, only his was a large grocery bag.

“Come in. Please. Get out of the cold.” She rubbed her arms briskly, the chill biting into her, and stepped back so he could enter. Brutus danced around her legs, barking a cheerful greeting. “He’s harmless,” she assured him.

“Oh, yeah.” He grinned. So I can see.” Gripping the grocery bag with the other, he held a hand down for the dog to sniff and lick. “From what Blake said, I was expecting a snarling beast.”

Nina blinked then remembered the picture she’d sent and laughed. “I use the picture as my cover story when people ask if I live alone. Although I think Brutus would actually get mad if he saw someone trying to hurt me.”

Grange cleared his throat. “I—that is,
we
—I mean—” He thrust the bag at her. “I always cook way too much for two people, so I brought some for you.”

Nina was stupefied. He’d brought her food? Did everyone think she was incapable of feeding herself? Then she realized what a truly kind gesture this was. Had bringing her the food been his idea or Blake’s? Well, no matter. And everything smelled divine.

“Thank you. What a nice thing to do.”

“It was Blake’s idea,” he hurried to say. “He thought of it all on his own.”

As if he never did things for people
?

“Here. Let me take this from you. I have some fresh hot coffee. Can I interest you in a cup in exchange?”

He frowned. “Oh, I don’t know. I’d probably best be getting back.”

“Please.” She smiled at him. “A friend brought me a delicious double fudge chocolate cake. It’s probably supposed to be for dinner, but I can’t wait to bite into it. Shall we be adventurous and have dessert in the morning?”

“Well, when you put it that way…okay. Sure. I guess.” He took off his hat. “Thanks.”

“Will Mr. Massie be okay while you’re here?”

Grange barked a short laugh. “He’ll be fine. And I’d love to have coffee with you.”

“Good. Come on back to the kitchen.” As they passed through the living room, she caught him glancing at the fireplace. “You’d think after all this time, I’d have learned to build a proper fire, but I guess I don’t have the knack.”

“I could take care of it real quick. No problem,” he assured her as she started to object. “Do you have more wood?”

“Yes. On the back porch. I have someone deliver a full cord every year before the winter starts. I have more newspaper, too.”

“Then let me take care of this while you put away the food. It should go into the fridge until you’re ready to heat it.”

Nina pointed to the backdoor then put the grocery bag on the counter. Inside the paper tote were a variety of plastic containers. As she opened each one she grinned, feeling like a child at Christmas. Since there was no one but her, she’d gotten in the habit of buying a frozen dinner for Thanksgiving and sharing it with Brutus. But here was turkey, gravy, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, dressing, and a vegetable casserole. Her mouth was already watering.

The back door slammed shut, and Grange clumped through the kitchen carrying an armload of firewood. While he stacked what he’d brought in and worked on her fire, she filled two mugs with coffee and cut two thick slices of Riley’s mouthwatering cake. She had finished setting everything on the table when he came back into the room.

“I got a pretty good blaze going for you,” he told her. “You ought to throw another log on it every so often during the day, but let it die down before you go to bed.” A faraway look came into his eyes, one filled with despair. “Fire can be a dangerous thing when it gets out of control.”

Had he experienced a bad fire? Did it hold the secret to the reclusive man who never left the house and only talked via the Internet? Then the look vanished and he glanced at the table.

“Sit down. Please.”

They sat across from each other, sipping coffee. Grange took a big bite of the cake and smiled when he’d swallowed it.

“This is some damn fine cake. I don’t suppose you’d share the recipe.”

Nina laughed. “It’s not mine. I can barely bake biscuits from a can. My friend Riley made it, but I’m sure she’d be happy to pass the info along.”

He frowned. “You don’t cook?”

“Only whatever Brutus and I need. A lot of times I get takeout from Wyoming Eats before I go home. Or the pizza place.” She shrugged. “Cooking for one hardly seems worth the effort.”

He glanced at her over the next bite of cake on his fork. “Sometimes cooking can be a pleasure by itself.”

“Is it for you? I know it’s you and Bl—um, Mr. Massie all alone there, yet here you’ve cooked an entire Thanksgiving dinner. And it smells absolutely divine.”

He chewed his cake thoughtfully. “Blake’s not much of one for celebrating anything any more,” he said slowly. “But there’s not a whole lot to do around the house, and I’m used to cooking. Gives me pleasure, anyway.”

“But what does he do all day?”

“Reads those books you bring him and plays with his computer. By this time, he should be an expert on Western history.”

Nina chewed her bottom lip nervously, trying to work up the courage to ask some of the questions plaguing her. “Can you tell me why Bl—I mean, Mr. Massie and you live alone there? Doesn’t he have any family? Don’t you? Don’t you go crazy with no one but the two of you rattling around there?” She shook her head. “Never mind. It’s really none of my business.”

Grange took a swallow of his coffee. “First of all, you’d better call him Blake. After all these book deliveries, I think the two of you have gotten past the Mister stage. Secondly, I really don’t know how to answer you. Blake’s pretty adamant about keeping his business to himself.”

“Oh.” She fiddled with her mug. “I wouldn’t want you to break any confidences.”

“It’s not that.” He stared at his plate, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Besides, maybe it’s time he stopped hiding from the world. Lord knows he’s about to drive me crazy.”

“You must have known him a long time.”

Grange nodded. “Worked for his daddy on their ranch back in Texas and stayed on when the boys and their sister took over the reins. It’s the only real home I’ve ever had.”

Nina’s eyebrows lifted. “He owns a ranch? He has family?”

“A brother, Holt, and a sister, Jennie.”

She took a bite of cake to give herself time to process the information. “Then why doesn’t he live at the ranch with them? Doesn’t he like it there?”

“Oh, he likes it fine. Except….”

“Doesn’t he get along with his sister and brother?”

Grange snorted. “Let’s say not as good these days as he used to.”

Nina knew she was pushing when she shouldn’t, but her curiosity was running full tilt. “Again, none of my business, but did they have a falling out? I think family is so important.” She missed her own with a constant pain.

“You got that right.” He held up his mug. “Could I trouble you for a little more of your fine brew? You sure know how to make it.”

“Absolutely.” She refilled his mug and sat back down, waiting.

He took a swallow, his forehead creased. “There was an…incident two years ago. It broke up the family. Blake’s never been home since then.”

“Ohmigod!” Nina stared at him. “Did they have a big fight? How awful for him.”

Grange shook his head. “No. At least not the way you think. Holt and Jennie would love nothing better than for him to come back. It’s his choice.” He swallowed more coffee. “He don’t like me to give out details, so I won’t. But I’ll tell you, Miss Foster—”

“Nina, please.”

He nodded. “Nina. Okay. He needs to find a way to get past all this. I know you don’t do more than pick out books for him, but he seems to have taken some kind of shine to you. At least for him it is. Maybe when the two of you are talking about what books he wants, you can ask him about himself. Get him to talk.”

Actually, we’ve been IMing every night for almost three weeks. We’ve talked about nearly every topic. Except the really personal ones, of course
. But lately they’d even been edging in that direction.

“Oh, Grange, I don’t know. We’ve never even met.”

“And aren’t likely to if he don’t get the burr out of his ass,” the man spat out then set his mug down. “Sorry. I spoke out of turn. Forget it.”

“No, no. Please. I’m not sure I can do what you want, but maybe. Did you know he and I send Instant Messages back and forth to each other? I mean besides the book orders?”

“No.” Grange’s eyebrows flew up. “Damn! That’s good. Well, it gives you a leg up on everyone else.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but I promise nothing.” She rose and cleared their plates and mugs. “Thank you for spending some time with me.”

“Don’t seem to me like you’ve got anyone, either,” he commented. “Blake mentioned you’ve had the book store for five years. At least it says so on your website. Seems to me you’d have a whole group of friends by this time.”

She turned away. “We each have our own set of problems. Maybe sometime I’ll tell you about mine.” She forced a smile. “I insist on sending some of this cake back with you. I’ll never eat it all, and you see how good it is.”

As if realizing she needed to give him something, he nodded his acceptance. She cut a large piece and sealed it in a plastic container.

“Enjoy.” She dug out words still hard for her to say. “Happy Thanksgiving.”