If the younger man felt any shock at the sight of Lucas’s mottled arms, he held it in. He spared Lucas’s scars only a momentary glance before meeting his gaze head-on.
“Flagg had to have told you about me, didn’t he? About the desertion and the dishonorable and the prison sentence.” He tossed his sweatshirt onto the kitchenette counter. “Well? Didn’t he?”
Noah still watched him, his gaze steady. “He did.”
“All of that is because I didn’t respond to all of this and what caused it”—he held up his arms again—“with any ounce of dignity or maturity. Take it from me, Noah, it’s worth stopping the downward spiral before it picks up speed. That’s what Flagg’s trying to do for you. That’s what I’d really like to do for you if you’d just give me one measly chance.”
Tense, soundless seconds passed.
Until, finally, Noah rose. Slowly and with the first hint at all that there might be some speck of humility in him. “I won’t disappear on you again.”
Lucas let his glare bore into Noah one moment more. To his credit, the guy didn’t flinch.
“All right. Tomorrow we build a new shed.”
9
Jenessa stopped in the middle of the town square, the boisterous noise of the Maple Valley varsity football team drifting from where they gathered in the band shell. How had she managed to remember her camera bag, her notebook, and even a pair of furry cream-colored gloves but not her wallet?
Maybe if she hadn’t spent nearly all day distractedly checking her phone, she might not have been so frazzled as she’d left the newspaper office. But today was Colie’s first day of school and Jenessa was more nervous about it than the girl herself. Colie had stayed after school for her first volleyball practice.
Sam’s tall form leaning against a tree over by the apple cider stand caught her eye. Ah, he could help. She shifted her bag and tossed one end of her knit, mustard yellow scarf over her shoulder. Her fleece-lined, wine-red jacket wrapped her in warmth as she hurried toward Sam.
The auction—one of Maple Valley’s zanier events—was already under way. It was the football team’s annual fundraiser during which they auctioned off, well, themselves and a Saturday’s worth of work. Always amusing, if nothing else, as the football players showed off for the bidders.
“Sam,” she called as she neared her friend. He was out of uniform today. Was he here alone or . . . ? She glanced around the crowded square. No sign of Sam’s daughter. No Mara or Marshall.
Lucas, of course, was back at the house. She’d seen him for just a minute this morning. He seemed pleased with the progress he and Noah had made in the past few days out back. When she’d mentioned needing to cover the auction this afternoon, he’d offered to watch Violet and Cade.
Jenessa nabbed a cup of cider as she passed the stand manned by Kit and Beckett Walker, offering the pair a wave before pouncing on Sam. “I need a loan, Sam. I left my wallet at home and—”
He interrupted her with a scoff. “Don’t tell me you’re actually participating in this nonsense.”
“Technically, I’m on the clock. Need to grab a few pics for next week’s paper. But yeah, I was totally planning to bid on a few guys ’til I left my wallet behind.”
Sam shook his head. “You ever stop to think about how bizarre this town really is? Doesn’t this auction break child labor laws?”
She let her camera bag drop to the grass and lifted her cup of steaming apple cider to her lips. “What’s got you so moody today?”
“Nothing. Tell me why you’re in the market for a football player.”
“Actually, I’m in the market for two or three. Maybe four. I’m going to put them to work in my attic.”
The idea had come to her late last night as she’d been thinking ahead to today’s schedule. She could bid on a few players and have them sort through boxes, pack up things like clothes and shoes and old home decorations. Maybe they could even haul everything to a thrift store. She’d tell them to set aside anything that looked like it might have sentimental value for her to pick through later.
A brilliant plan, if she did say so herself. But to pull it off she needed cash. “Please tell me you’ve got some money on you. I’ll pay you back ASAP. I’ve got my eye on the Meyer kid and oh, who’s number forty-two? He looks stocky and strong.”
Sam pulled out his wallet. “Has it ever occurred to you to just ask your friends to help? I do have days off now and then. And considering how much time you spent helping Mara and Marsh at the Everwood—”
She shook her head. “No way. Mara has already dropped off multiple meals this week. And Lucas practically lives in my backyard now.”
His expression turned to a scowl. “Yeah.”
Mayor Milt’s voice boomed through his megaphone from the band shell, where he was playing auctioneer like always. “What’s that look supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. How much do you need, anyway?”
“I don’t know. What’s a Saturday of work go for these days?”
Before Sam could answer, Leigh Pierce came ambling through the gathered crowd, her gaze set on Jenessa and one hand lifting in a wave. Sam thrust a couple of twenties in her hand, mumbled something about stopping at an ATM for whatever else she needed, and moved off.
She was still watching his retreat when Leigh reached her.
“I was hoping I’d run into you here, Jen. Ever since Tuesday . . .” She paused. “Something wrong?”
Sam disappeared behind the band shell and she shook her head. “I hope not.” But why had Sam seemed so weird today? His grumpiness was nothing unusual, but he’d stiffened at the mention of Lucas. Was something going on between them?
Maybe he was just annoyed that the pair of them had ditched him at the Everwood. But finding three kids in her cottage hadn’t exactly been planned. As for Lucas . . . she still didn’t know what had prompted him to offer to help with her yard or suggest moving into the cottage, but she was more grateful than ever that he had.
Leigh cupped her fingers around her cider. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Apologize for letting you get roped into the gala. The whole thing’s my fault, I’m afraid.”
Jenessa ducked her chin into her scarf. In these first days of October, the last warmth of an Indian summer had given way to the brisk chill of autumn. And she loved it. Loved the tinge of color—burgundy and orange and yellow—ornamenting the trees in the square and the seasonal wreaths on so many of the doors of the small-town businesses that wrapped around the square. Baskets filled with fall mums hung from the old-fashioned lampposts that dotted the downtown.
She loved how the feeling in the air hinted at change and a sparkling sort of newness.
Goodness knew her own life looked completely different today than it had just one week ago. But she’d found something of a rhythm in the past few days. She’d worked only a few hours at the office each morning. She had Paige to thank for that, and her little circle of friends for the fact that she hadn’t needed to bring the kids with her. Mara and Marshall had hung out at the house on Wednesday morning. Sam had stopped by on Thursday. Lucas had insisted on helping today.