A Weaver Vow Read online

  “You miss him.”

  Isabella sighed. “Sometimes it feels like I haven’t had a whole lot of time to miss him.” She exhaled again. “I loved him, but there are times I want to scream over his lack of planning.” Only the fact that she and Lucy had been friends for more than a decade allowed her to admit it. “The standard life-insurance policy the department offered? Only once he was gone did I discover that he’d never updated the beneficiary from Murphy’s mother.” Even though, when he’d realized just how serious his situation was, he’d told her he had. If there was anything left after the medical bills, he’d believed she would need it to care for Murphy.

  Lucy was wincing. “Maybe he didn’t have time,” she suggested tactfully. “Considering how fast everything happened. Does anyone even know where she is?”

  Isabella shook her head. “Not since she finished serving her prison sentence. Jimmy had no idea where Kim went after that. Seems horrible to think of one’s life in terms of money, but it would have gone a long way toward the medical bills.”

  “Not to mention paying restitution for Murphy’s stunt.”

  Isabella didn’t deny it. She might not have been named on the life insurance, but she was in charge of settling what was left of Jimmy’s estate. She’d sold off nearly everything, except their clothes and a few other personal possessions, to take care of the debts he’d left. “He always figured he’d die in the line of duty. Not—” Her throat tightened. She shook her head. A firefighter, Jimmy had been larger-than-life. But dealing with the minutiae of real life had not been his forte. Even in the short time they’d had together, she’d realized that. And she hadn’t cared because she was good with real life. She’d had to be since she’d been orphaned as a baby. And she’d loved him.

  When the staph infection had hit after a seemingly simple scrape he’d gotten during a fundraiser for a homeless shelter, there had been nothing any of them could do. Despite Jimmy’s excellent health, every treatment the doctors had tried had failed. In a matter of weeks he’d been gone; the only thing he’d left behind was his trust in her that she’d take care of everything. Most importantly, his son.

  “Well,” Lucy said after a moment, “you give Weaver a chance to work its magic. On both you and Murphy.”

  Chapter Three

  Erik heard the sound of the car approaching long before it arrived.

  He looked at Murphy, who was unenthusiastically pulling nails from a stack of boards. “Your—Isabella is here.”

  Murphy immediately flipped the heavy hammer he’d been using down onto the messy pile of boards. “’Bout freakin’ time.”

  Erik decided to ignore the comment. “Hammer goes back in the barn on the wall with the other tools.”

  The kid gave him a sidelong look. They’d already had about a half dozen of what Erik was kindly considering instructional moments. The first one, over wearing safety goggles while they started the demo, had earned Erik a blue earful of what he could do with his orders.

  Erik had heard the boy out, told him the next time he spoke like that he’d toss him in the water tank and held out the goggles. Murphy had begrudgingly put them on, possibly because he’d noticed the big metal tank was surrounded by a half dozen mama cows that didn’t look particularly eager to share.

  Not that he hadn’t put Erik to the test again soon after. But the second time Murphy had mouthed off, Erik had pitched him headlong into the deep, cold water.

  Hopefully, he’d learned by now that Erik meant what he said.

  Now he just eyed the kid back, waiting for him to make his decision. Fortunately for Murphy, working in the sun had gone a long way to drying out his soaked clothes.

  Grumbling, Murphy pulled off the goggles and picked up the hammer to carry over to the new barn.

  Erik blew out a breath, glad the kid hadn’t pushed him again. He wasn’t sure what he could resort to after the tank, which was a pretty harmless punishment all in all. He didn’t figure Isabella would appreciate his washing the kid’s mouth out with soap, which is what he’d earned once when he was young.

  Leaving his sledgehammer propped against the side of the partially dismantled barn, he started walking toward the house. Isabella was just pulling up next to it in the same spot she’d parked earlier, and he watched her climb out of her car.

  He’d have had to be dead not to admire the sight.

  And he wasn’t close to dead.

  Unlike Murphy’s father, he reminded himself, whose loss still had to be affecting both the boy and Isabella.

  Continuing toward her, he started peeling off his ancient leather gloves. She wasn’t a widow. She and Murphy’s dad hadn’t been married. The boy had told him that. But she was still wearing an engagement ring. He could see it now, casting sparkles as she shaded her eyes with her hand, looking his way.

  “Put your eyes back in your head, dude,” Murphy muttered as he caught up to Erik and passed him by. He aimed straight for the car, not giving Isabella a single word of greeting on his way toward the passenger door. He just yanked it open and sank down on the front seat.

  He saw Isabella’s slender shoulders dip a moment as she watched Murphy, then they straightened as she continued closing the distance between her car and Erik.

  “Did it go well enough to continue again next week?” she asked bluntly, and he felt the impact of her black-brown gaze somewhere in the middle of his stomach.

  “Went fine.” A lie, but what occurred while Murphy was working for him could stay between him and the kid. For now. “How’d your dance classes go?”

  She shot the car another glance, but the smile she gave Erik seemed sincere, even revealing a faint dimple in her cheek that he hadn’t noticed before. “Great. There’s nothing like being in a studio with a bunch of little girls wearing taps on their shoes.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” he said drily.

  She laughed lightly. “Trust me. There’re worse ways to earn a dollar.”

  He thought about Murphy’s outraged face when he’d dumped the kid in the tank. “Probably.” He wondered how long she’d been engaged. And knew that wondering wasn’t one of the more productive ways to spend his time. “Next time you might want to send him with a hat,” he suggested. “He didn’t want to wear one of mine, but the sun’s only gonna get brighter, and he’ll be outside most of the time.”

  “I’ll make sure he brings one.” He easily had a dozen baseball caps, most of them gifts from Jimmy that Isabella had known he would never part with.

  It was much easier looking past Erik’s big body to the land around them than at the man himself. “So what, um, what sort of chores did Murphy do?” She couldn’t even get him to make his bed in the mornings.

  “We’re tearing down that barn over there.” He gestured toward a ramshackle wooden structure that didn’t look like any barn Isabella had ever seen. It was a narrow, long building with half its roof and walls missing. But even partially torn down, it was big.

  “Looks like a huge job. You will tell me if he misbehaves, won’t you?” She’d rather deal with small insurrections along the way than an out-and-out war that might give Erik cause to cancel the entire arrangement.

  “I’ll tell you if something serious occurs,” he said.

  It wasn’t entirely the answer she was looking for, but she had to believe it meant that for now, Murphy’s method of restitution was still a go.

  “It’s pretty obvious he misses his dad.”

  Isabella couldn’t help looking back at Erik. Beneath the shade of his stained cowboy hat, his violet gaze was gentle. And it unnerved her entirely.

  “We both do.” She took a step toward the car. “So same time next week?” She couldn’t help but hold her breath.

  “Actually—”

  She felt her stomach drop.

  “You don’t have to wait until Saturday. Unless he’s busy during the week after school, he could come out here and work.”

  She felt as if her brain was scrambling to
keep up. “You want him to come more often?”

  Erik shrugged. “He’ll just work off the window that much sooner.”

  If Murphy were occupied even one afternoon after school, it would be one less day she needed to worry about him during those hours. But the extra driving would cost time and money for gas. “Would you mind if I think about it? Murphy’s still settling in at school, and—”

  “Think as long as you need to,” he said easily. “You know how to reach me if you want to bring him. Otherwise, I’ll just see you next week. Maybe you’ll allow yourself enough time to get that tour,” he suggested, “if you’re interested in seeing where your boy’s gonna be spending a lot of his time.”

  She was interested. Not entirely because of Murphy. But it was only because of Murphy that she nodded. At least, that was what she told herself. “I will.” A glance told her that the boy had his feet propped on his opened door. It was lunchtime and she imagined he’d be pretty hungry after the way he’d spent the morning. “Thanks, again,” she said, turning to go.

  “It’s going to be all right, Isabella.”

  She paused. “Excuse me?”

  “You and Murph. You’re both going to be all right.”

  Murph. What Jimmy had called him. Deep behind her eyes, she felt a sudden burning. Unable to think of a response, she just nodded jerkily and hurried toward the car, almost as fast as Murphy had done.

  “I want McDonald’s,” Murphy said as soon as she got in beside him.

  “There isn’t one in Weaver.” And she had no interest in finding out where the nearest one was. “I’ll fix you a hamburger at home.”

  He made a wordless sound that clearly conveyed his disgust. “Everything here sucks. Especially El Jailer back there.”

  “Mr. Clay is not your jailer.” He’d probably go ballistic if he thought he’d have less than a week before he had to return. Cowardly or not, she decided it wasn’t the time to bring it up. “And it will continue to suck,” she added evenly, “as long as you keep thinking that way. Get your feet down, close your door and put on your seat belt.”

  He did so, slamming the door with more force than necessary before yanking his belt across his thin body.

  She was much too aware of Erik Clay standing right where she’d left them, witnessing everything. His evident agreeableness aside, he already knew too much about her less-than-stellar parenting attempts. Now he was seeing even more. She started the car. “You were cooperative with Mr. Clay, weren’t you?”

  Murphy shot her wary look. “Why you askin’ me? He prob’ly already ratted me out.”

  She turned the car around, trying not to notice Erik in the rearview mirror. “Ratted you out about what?” Then she frowned, really looking at Murphy. “Are your clothes damp?”

  He just made a face and crossed his arms, ignoring her.

  All systems normal, then.

  She hid another sigh and resolutely kept her gaze on the road. If Erik was still watching them drive away from his house, she did not want to know about it.

  So why did disappointment tug inside her when her gaze flicked to the mirror despite her resolve and she saw nothing but his house?

  * * *

  Erik went over to his folks’ place for Sunday dinner the next afternoon. His dad wasn’t one much for the ranching life he’d been raised with, but they still lived on a spacious property out near the Double-C where he’d grown up. The place was crowded and boisterous. This wasn’t unusual when the Clay family got together, as it did every Sunday, what with uncles and aunts and cousins and their spouses and their kids.

  Erik sometimes showed, sometimes didn’t, depending on how busy he was at the Rocking-C. And while he was keeping a pretty close eye on those mama cows, today he was restless enough to want a change of scene. The fact that Lucy and Beck might be there as well was incidental.

  When they weren’t, though, he just had to lump it. He could have called ahead to find out for sure, but he wasn’t willing to raise any particular questions over why he was so interested. So he tucked into his mom’s tender pot roast, stayed through blueberry cobbler, then headed out with the excuse he wanted to get in a few hours of fishing.

  Because it was one of his favorite ways of relaxing, he figured he wouldn’t arouse his family’s perpetual curiosity. So when he made it all the way out to his truck, he thought he was home free.

  Until his mother, Hope, trotted from around the back of the house, carrying a covered dish and calling his name.

  He waited, knowing there wasn’t much else he could do.

  “I’m so glad I caught you,” she said and held up the dish. “You skedaddled out so quickly.”

  He took the dish from her. She’d wrapped it in a towel, and even through that, it still felt hot. He looked under the lid. Leftover pot roast nestled in mashed potatoes. “Looks like I’ll be eating well this week. Thanks.” He brushed a kiss over her cheek and pulled open the truck door.

  “Honey, you’re not still worried about the church getting that window, are you?”

  He shook his head. He was resigned to contacting Jessica again. He also knew it’d be smart to give her more time to cool down first before he did. “I warned Reverend Stone it’d be a while before they’ll be able to install it.” Since the church hadn’t expected a new stained-glass window until Erik had needed to get rid of one, they’d only gotten as far as calling meetings to discuss where it should be installed. But still, Erik felt honor-bound to deliver one at some point.

  He’d cooled off enough since that ball had flown straight at his truck to appreciate the irony of his situation.

  Behind her stylish eyeglasses, his mother’s gaze was sharp. “Then what’s bothering you?”

  “Nothing, ’cept I got a rainbow waiting on me.”

  She just lifted an eyebrow. “That old trout you keep trying to catch doesn’t bite a lick after seven in the morning and I know you’re not pining away for Jessica. Perfectly nice girl, but you were no more in love with her than you were with Sally Jane Murphy in the tenth grade.”

  And this was what he got for not heading straight to the fishing hole and bypassing dinner altogether. Sally Jane had been the first girl he’d ever slept with. Even then he hadn’t mistaken her definite appeal for something it wasn’t. “That kid who broke my window is named Murphy.”

  She nodded. “I’d heard that.”

  He expected she had. Nothing happened in Weaver without the town’s grapevine buzzing about it. “When’s Justin get home from school?” His little brother was back east getting his master’s degree in something too convoluted for Erik to even understand.

  She cocked her head slightly and her long, brown hair slid over her shoulder. Just like when he’d been a kid trying to hide his broccoli in the napkin on his lap, he wasn’t fooling her, and they both knew it.

  “The kid’s guardian is a friend of Lucy’s,” he added.

  “Heard that, too.” She smiled slightly. “I’m taking Isabella’s yoga class on Tuesday evenings.”

  He nearly choked. “’Cause you’re interested in yoga, or just checking out the newest woman of marrying age to come to town?”

  She merely smiled with as much satisfaction as she had when his guilty conscience made him confess about the broccoli, and patted his cheek. “Enjoy the fishing, honey.” Then she turned on her heel and sauntered away, disappearing around the corner of the house.

  Undoubtedly to spread the word among everyone still inside that her oldest boy was showing interest in the newcomer.

  “Shoulda stayed home with the cows,” he muttered to himself and swung up into his truck. Nothing good ever came out of trying to be subtle around his family.

  He headed toward home, not bothering to maintain the pretense of fishing. His mom was right. He’d been angling for that rainbow longer than he cared to admit, and the damn thing never bothered taunting him unless it was early in the morning.

  The drive home from his folks’ house, though, took him straight
through Weaver and right on past Ruby’s. Being Sunday, it was closed. But that didn’t stop Erik from wondering where Isabella was living. Maybe, like a lot of newcomers, she’d chosen the newer side of town where Cee-Vid was headquartered. There was a Shop-World out that way and apartments and office buildings, all of which Erik privately considered an eyesore despite their convenience. Or maybe she’d chosen to live in the older part of town.

  And wondering at all just made him even more restless.

  He passed Lucy’s dance studio. Nearly the entire front of it was lined with windows, though white curtains hung in them to obscure glimpses inside from passersby. Like Ruby’s, there was no activity.

  He abruptly turned into Colbys’s parking lot next to the studio. There were only a few people inside the bar and grill when he entered and took a stool at one end of the bar.

  “Hey there, Erik,” Jane, the new owner, greeted him from the other end. “Don’t usually see you in here on a Sunday afternoon.” Her gaze went past him toward the door. “You alone?”

  He nodded and folded his arms atop the gleaming wood bar. “Give me something dark from the tap, would you please?”

  She slung a white bar towel over her shoulder and moved to the taps. A moment later, she was sliding a cold pint toward him. “Get you anything else?” She held up the food menu.

  “Just came from dinner at my folks’.” He nodded toward the flat-screen television hanging on the wall to his left. “Mind turning that on?”

  She pulled a remote from beneath the bar, turned on the television and handed the remote to him. “Choice is all yours.” With a smile, she left him in peace.

  Smart lady. Aside from a temporary misstep over thinking to charge for playing pool, which she’d since corrected, he didn’t get why Casey had a bug up his butt about her.

  He turned to ESPN and left the volume low. If there’d been anyone around who looked interested, he’d have picked up a game of pool. But he didn’t feel like shooting a game by himself. Jane was back at the end of the bar chatting with Pam Rasmussen, who was dispatcher over at the sheriff’s office and married to Rob Rasmussen, who taught over at the school. He easily tuned them out as he nursed his beer and watched the tube.