Somebody's Hero. Marilyn Pappano
Well, next time, ask and I’ll show you a less painful way to do it.”
She smiled thinly as she moved experimentally, then quickly became still again. “That’s a good idea. But let’s pretend there won’t be a next time. Hell, let’s pretend there wasn’t a this time. Okay?”
Pretend that she hadn’t fallen. That he hadn’t helped her up. Hadn’t held her hand in his.
“Okay,” he agreed.
Yeah. Sure. Like he was going to forget it.
Jayne hurt—from the bump on her head all the way down to her little toes. Small-town living wasn’t supposed to be hazardous to her health. She was going to be black-and-blue tomorrow, to go along with all the muscle aches from yesterday. She’d be lucky if she could sit at the computer long enough to do anything besides check her e-mail.
She shifted position, and a tiny moan escaped her, enough to make Tyler, finishing up with the step, look her way. His expression was mixed—some concern but mostly discomfort. “Do you need to see a doctor?” he asked after hammering in the last nail.
“No, I’m fine. Just a little sore.”
“You hit your head.”
She raised her hand to the lump there and winced. “Yeah, but I didn’t lose consciousness. I’m fine.” It was true, too, except for the headache that was starting to throb. And the tender place right across her middle in back where the rail cap had broken her fall. She was convinced she could feel it swelling and purpling even as she sat there.
“There’s one of those twenty-four-hour clinics about thirty miles from here.”
She smiled and stood up. “Really, I’m all right.” It was nothing a few aspirin tablets and a hot bath wouldn’t cure.
He was watching her, gaze narrowed, as if he didn’t quite believe her. Of course, distrust went with the tortured past of a dark, brooding hero. Fortunately, before he could pursue the subject further, Lucy came bursting out of the house.
Stopping at the top of the steps, she planted her hands on her hips. “You finished without me! I was gonna hold the nails for you!”
Jayne took a few cautious steps away from the porch. When she didn’t trip, sway or feel even the slightest dizziness, she bent to pick up the railing section. Long nails protruded from one end, top and bottom, curving outward in an oddly graceful way. Only one nail remained at the other end, rusted and bent only near the tip, while the wood where the top nail should have been was gone.
“Do you really want steps here?”
She looked up to find Tyler standing a few feet away. Her daughter stood behind him, feet planted as his were, hand on her hip, other hand resting on the porch floor, as his were, even though the porch floor was level with her nose. Jayne smiled faintly at the sight. Lucy liked role models. For two years she’d pounded away on a toy computer while Jayne wrote, and whenever she visited her grandparents, she wore an apron around the house and said things like “Mercy me” and “Goodness gracious.” The one person she’d never mimicked was Greg. But then, she’d always copied adults.
“Well?” Tyler prompted.
With a blink, Jayne refocused on the section of railing in her hands. “Can I just stick this railing back up there?” she asked.
He shook his head. “This is rotted and it’s split here and here. You’d have to replace both these pieces. You can buy a premade section and put that up or…” He gazed away, his jaw tight, before finishing. “Or we can do new steps if it’s what you really want. It’s not a big job.”
She hesitantly said, “I can pay you for your time.”
Something crossed his face, then disappeared. “No, you can’t,” he said shortly. “Do you want the steps or not?”
“Yes, please.” Her voice was small. She took a breath to strengthen it. “I can help you.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw an instant before he said, “Lucy will help. Won’t you, Lucy?”
Her daughter’s head bobbed.
Tyler glanced at his watch. “I’ll get my truck and load those rugs, drop them off, then stop by the feed store—they sell lumber, too. They should be finished by this evening.”
Jayne nodded, but he was already walking back to the front steps to gather his tools. Lucy matched him stride for stride, then stood on the new step and watched as he left. As Jayne climbed the steps, she caught her daughter’s hand and pulled her, backward, into the house with her. “Did you do everything I asked you to?”
“I got dressed. And I put on shoes.” Lucy stuck one foot into the air to show a pink sneaker with elastic laces. “And I brushed my hair.” Grabbing handfuls of it, she lifted it into the air, then let go. Some of it stayed up.
“And did you brush your teeth?”
Clamping her lips together, Lucy garbled an answer.
“Go brush your teeth.” Jayne gave her a push toward the bathroom, then went into the kitchen to take some aspirin. The muscle aches were getting better the more she moved. She hoped the headache would improve, as well. Otherwise, she was in for a fun day with Tyler hammering and Lucy helping. Not that she would complain even if her head exploded.
Tyler was the most responsible man she would come across, according to Rebecca. That was proving to be true, and it was such a novelty that Jayne wasn’t quite sure what to think. Greg had broken plenty of stuff, but he’d never fixed a thing. He’d never offered his time or his help without the expectation of something substantial in return. He’d never put in a full day at work, which explained why he’d been fired from as many jobs as he’d quit. He’d never accepted responsibility for anything.
A responsible man in her life other than her father…quite a novelty indeed.
By the time Tyler returned in his truck, Jayne had pulled on a pair of work gloves and walked out to meet him. He glanced at her as he slid his hands into his own pair of well-worn gloves. “I can handle this.”
“I can help.”
Instead of arguing, he shrugged and picked up one end of the nearest rug. She bent, too, with a quiet intake of breath as the movement pulled the bruised skin on her back, and gathered the other end in her hands. Immediately moisture soaked through her cotton gloves. “Eww, it’s wet.”
The snowmelt had turned the dirt that permeated the fibers into mud, as well as given life to a smell words couldn’t do justice to. It was enough to make her shudder all over.
They heaved the rug into the bed of the truck, then picked up the others. As soon as the last rug left her hands, Jayne stripped off the gloves. She was tempted to toss them into the truck bed, too, but why waste them? They could go into the laundry with all the filthy towels and cloths she’d used in cleaning.
Tyler held his gloves in one hand. “I’ll be back in a few hours—”
“Could we go with you?”
The question surprised her as much as him. There was still plenty for her to do here. Laundry, last night’s dinner dishes, a little research for the next scene she would be writing.
“I’d like to see where the dump is,” she went on when he didn’t speak. “My furniture’s arriving next week, and I’ll be getting rid of some of Edna’s stuff. That way I’ll know where to take it.”
He still didn’t say anything.
“I can pay for the stuff for the steps, too. And I’d like to get some paint samples. I really want to paint the house, both inside and out. I’m guessing they sell paint there, too. I mean, what’s the use of lumber without paint to put on it? Well, that’s a dumb question. We’re living in a pile of lumber with very little paint. But anyway—”
He