Made for Mistletoe, page 9
Harper blinked, then examined the images she’d been working on to make sure she hadn’t accidentally brushed paint where it shouldn’t be. “It’s okay. What’s up?”
She looked up and realized he wasn’t alone. In fact, he had three other men with him—all of whom were clearly Walkers. The family resemblance was almost creepy.
Cam gave her a tentative smile. “My brother, Joe”—he pointed to a tall, brown-haired man closest to him and then to the other two crowded in behind them—“my cousins, Eli and Jack.” He extended his hand toward Harper. “Guys, Harper Gaines, artist extraordinaire.”
This time Harper did drop the paintbrush as heat suffused her cheeks. She bent down to pick it up at the same time Cam bent over and they bumped heads with a loud thwack. All the men groaned.
“That’s gotta hurt,” Joe said, grimacing.
Cam popped up, clutching the brush. “Oh, crap. Harp, I’m so sorry.” He reached out a hand to touch her head where they’d bumped but drew it back again just as quickly. “You okay?”
Harper wasn’t exactly seeing stars, but she’d sure felt the bump as she rubbed the spot under her bangs. “I’m fine.” Except now she was truly embarrassed as Cam’s family crowded around them both.
“You two need to take this act on the road,” Eli said with a snicker once they’d established that both she and Cam weren’t suffering. “But it’d be funnier with more paint.” He pointed to Harper’s face and handed her a clean, dry handkerchief. “You’ve got a spot right there.”
Harper waved the offer away and pulled a rag out of the back pocket of her overalls. “It’s nice to meet you all.” She narrowed her eyes at Cam. “You might have given me some warning.”
As the others walked around the dower chest, he merely grinned and shrugged.
Jack Walker, whose blond good looks were as off the charts as Cam’s, stooped to peer at the intricate stylized images she’d painted on the sides of dower chest. “These are incredible.”
The others mimicked his actions, examining each panel of the chest, pointing but careful not to touch. She’d been working on the top medallions that morning, so the paint on the chest box was dry. But she appreciated their caution.
“Mom’s going to love this,” Joe said and the others nodded.
“Thank you,” she murmured, standing back against the workbench and feeling a little overwhelmed at the four big men taking up all the air in the small garage.
“We came to take you to lunch,” Cam announced after they’d oohed and ahhed for a few minutes. “Mac’s special today is meatloaf sandwiches and fried potatoes with green beans. You don’t want to miss it.”
“I have lunch here, thanks.”
“Save it for tomorrow.” Cam took the recalcitrant brush from her fingers, dropped it in the bucket of soapy water, and grabbed her jacket off the brass hook, while Joe pressed the lid back on the can of paint she’d been using.
Harper stood her ground, resisting his attempt to slip her coat around her shoulders. “What if I don’t like meatloaf sandwiches?”
All four of them looked at her as if she’d said, what if I don’t like kittens and puppies? Eli recovered first. “You don’t?” The wonder in his voice was almost laughable.
The others, now halfway to the door, turned to wait for her response. And there was Cam, holding out her jacket with that aw-shucks-come-on grin and mischief twinkling in his eyes.
Her stomach fluttered. The thought of going to lunch with four men was daunting to say the least. But she hadn’t been back to the diner since her first meal with Cam and meatloaf sandwiches sounded better than pastry. She offered a feeble, “I’m not really dressed to go out to eat.”
“You’re overdressed for Mac’s,” Joe said with a wink. “C’mon.”
“Fine,” she grumbled and grabbed her coat from Cam. “But I’m paying for my own lunch.”
Cam laughed as he pulled the door shut behind them, making sure it was locked. “Hell, woman, with what I’m paying you, you can treat us all to lunch.”
*
Later that night, dressed in leggings, a tank top, and an oversized MSU sweatshirt her sister had sent her ages ago, Harper stood at the bottom of the stairs that led to Tierney Flaherty’s yoga studio. She wasn’t at all sure she was up for this, but she’d promised the aunts, and she had met several of the women from the class earlier that day at lunch with Cam. They’d practically threatened her if she didn’t show up to class.
She could hear them up there, chattering and laughing while they stretched, even as she lingered at the bottom of the stairs awash in trepidation. With a mental shake, she reminded herself that it was just yoga—no different from the yoga class she’d attended with Theo and her other friends every Tuesday and Thursday back in Michigan. Afterward, they’d all gone out for ice cream. Heck, maybe these woman had a similar tradition. She might as well go up or go back to her apartment—it was damn cold out there.
Shifting restlessly in the chill night air, she slowly put one foot on the bottom step just as a tall, leggy blonde flew past her on the steps with a “Sorry, ’scuse me. I’m late!”
But then the woman stopped within three steps and stared down at her, her blue eyes alight with curiosity. “Are you coming up?”
“Thinking about it.”
The blonde tipped her head toward the door to the studio. “Well stop thinking, and let’s go. Class starts in three minutes, and Tee is hard over about getting into that quiet meditative state before we begin our practice.” She raised one perfect brow. “Come on then.”
Jolted into action by the woman’s warm smile and matter-of-fact tone, Harper scurried up the stairs behind her.
The woman glanced over her shoulder. “I’m Annabelle Walker, by the way, Anna to my friends.”
“Harper Gaines.”
Anna’s smile grew bigger. “Ah, Cam’s Harper?”
The words nearly sent Harper back down the stairs. Cam’s Harper? No, Drew’s Harper. Her throat thickened and she swallowed hard as Anna opened the door to the studio. By then it was too late to respond, too late to back out, so she stiffened her spine and followed Anna in.
Among the dozen or so women in the vast, high-ceilinged room, she recognized Tierney Flaherty, the instructor, as the EMT from the morning of her aunts’ intervention. Also present were Jazz, Maddie Ross and Kara Sudbury, whom she’d met at lunch, and Carly from the diner. Tierney gave her a wave and a welcoming smile, as she pointed to a pile of yoga mats. “Pick one and let’s get started.”
The class was an hour of gentle yoga stretches and poses, most of which Harper knew from her classes in Michigan. Tierney talked them through each movement with precise instruction, occasionally coming to someone’s mat to assist. The class both energized and exhausted Harper, and she was more than ready to relax into resting meditation pose and listen to the soft flute music that signaled the end of class.
Lying flat on her back between Anna and Jazz, who had greeted her earlier with a warm smile, Harper tried to clear her mind. She’d done it. To focus on Tierney’s sing-song instructions and concentrate on the breath, deep inhale through the nose, long exhale from the mouth—a sigh to release all the tensions of the day. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. But suddenly, her heart pounded, rising to her throat so that she felt as if she were going to choke. Another deep breath and tears pooled in the corners of her closed eyes. One more and the tears rolled down her temples, dampening her hair.
Her next breath was shaky and she blinked, gazing at the huge pendant lights hanging from the ceiling. A movement in the corner of the room caught her eye. He was here. Drew. Right there, leaning against a stack of chairs, arms crossed over his chest, smiling that inscrutable smile that always made her heart speed up. She gasped and sat up, staring at the corner, but saw nothing there except a stack of chairs.
“Harper, you okay?” Tierney interrupted her slow instructions with the question.
“I-I…” Harper’s pulse increased even further and she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her forehead on her knees as panic rose in her. A gentle touch on her shoulder and then Tierney’s voice above her.
“Hey now, deep breaths, Harp.” She tugged on Harper’s shoulder. “Lie back down.”
Harper did, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I-I … I’m s-so s-sorry. I don’t know what happened, I just—” She gulped, choking a little as her throat tightened. “Then I-I saw him… He … he was here!”
“Shh… You’re all good.” Tierney’s soft voice soothed as Harper tried to relax back into meditation pose.
She closed her eyes and deep shuddering sobs shook her. She’d done the whole class, only to lose it and God, am I going completely crazy? Hallucinating?
Tierney stroked her hands down Harper’s arm—a touch so light that at first she thought she imagined it. But then she felt Tierney’s fingers on her thigh, her calf, and the tops of her bare feet. Then there was a touch on her other side, and when she opened her eyes briefly, Jazz was beside her, too, stroking just like Tierney and murmuring small comforts.
Tierney turned to the class. “Come join us. Let’s circle Harper. Sit in Sukasana—easy pose—and focus all your energy on her.”
Harper’s first instinct was to jump up and flee, but Tierney’s relaxed manner, her soft voice and Jazz’s ministering fingers kept her on the mat. She took in deep swallows of air, allowing her breathing to go back to normal.
“Who’d you see, Harper?” Tierney asked quietly as she ran her hands over Harper’s forehead.
“My … my dead husband.” She closed her eyes again, trying to stop her racing thoughts. “God, I’m crazy, aren’t I?”
“What was he doing?”
Tierney’s question took her off-guard. “Smiling.” Abruptly, she sat up. “God, he was smiling. Like he … he was glad to see me here.”
“No doubt he is.” Jazz placed a hand between Harper’s shoulders and rubbed. “You came here tonight because you want to move on with your life, right?”
Harper nodded, closed her eyes, and leaned into Jazz’s massage. “Yes. I do.”
Somehow her new friend’s calm acceptance of what she believed she saw reassured Harper more than her own common sense trying to convince her that he was a hallucination bred from her grief.
Jazz’s voice was quiet but firm. “He’d want you to. If he loved you, he’d want you to find your life.”
Harper opened her eyes and looked around—the other women sat leg-crossed around her, their open palms on their knees. Some were nodding encouragingly, others merely offering kind smiles of support. She swallowed and sniffled, accepting a tissue from the box that Maddie Ross had magically produced. “He would. I want to try.”
“You’re here. You’re working your art. You’ve got your own place. Feels like a good start to me.” Annabelle Walker spoke up with a smile.
The whole group nodded agreement, and Tierney patted her shoulder and rose. Casually, she dusted her hands together as if someone falling apart was a regular occurrence in her yoga class. “Okay then, great class, everyone. See y’all next time.”
“I think we all need wine,” Maddie Ross said as she rolled up her mat. “Whaddya say, Harper?”
Harper took a deep breath as she stood and rolled up her mat. “Is there any place to get ice cream?”
Tierney looked at her watch. “Hey, I think that new place over on the corner at Harrison is open late.”
Maddie grinned. “What’s the Scoop! Don’t you love that name? I think they’re open ’til nine.”
Enthusiastic murmurs of yeah and oh, they have good ice cream from the rest of the class was all it took for Harper to raise her arms above her head in a cheering gesture. “Okay!” She dropped her arms just as quickly as the muscles in her triceps burned. “I’m going to be sore tomorrow, aren’t I?”
Tierney chuckled. “A little. But a few more classes and you’ll feel relaxed and calm after. Let’s go get some ice cream, ladies.”
Chapter Ten
Since it was snowing Saturday morning, Harper made a cup of coffee and took it back to bed, basking in the luxury of a quiet apartment and the hush of the falling snow outside. She sipped the hot brew and perused through Cam’s book about Pennsylvania Dutch designs, looking for ideas for the ends of the dower chest that would blend with the rest of the scheme she’d already painted. It was good to simply relax in bed and be peaceful.
She’d spent Friday evening with the aunts. Dot had made eggplant parmesan and was thrilled that Harper ate two pieces and garlic bread. “We’re happy to see you coming around, Harp,” she’d said as they sat around the kitchen table sipping the chianti Mary had opened to go with their casserole. “You seem … more peaceful.”
Harper nodded and raised her glass to Aunt Mary. “I’m better. You were right to get me involved with Cam Walker’s project. I’m having a great time.”
“He’s a good man.” Dot’s tone had a suggestive note that made Harper wary.
“Don’t go getting ideas, Dorothy Higgins. We’re friends … barely. If anything, he’s more like a big brother.”
“What?” Dot’s eyes widened innocently. “All I said was he’s a good man.”
“He is,” Mary agreed and topped off all three of their glasses.
“Look you two, I’m fine. I love my apartment, I’ve applied for the nursery school job, I’ve got this gig with Cameron to get me through the holidays. See? I’m all good.” The very last thing she needed was the aunts matchmaking.
The small changes she accomplished each day absorbed all her emotional energy. There was nothing left for romance, and certainly not for Cameron Walker. She’d shuddered inwardly, remembering him in the camo when he’d first stopped by Seams Pieceful looking for her. Never another soldier. Not even a reservist.
She quickly switched the conversation to the quilt shop and the special sale that was going on Saturday, checking whether they would need her help. Dot assured her that they had plenty of support with their current staff and a couple of high school girls they were bringing in for the event. “You should go do something fun—check out the Christmas parade. The high school band plays, there are fun floats, and Santa arrives on an antique fire truck.”
That all sounded nice, but her warm bed, the aroma of fresh coffee, and Cam’s book were all she needed this Saturday morning. She set her mug on the night stand and burrowed deeper under the teal-and-red coverlet and flannel sheets. Maybe she’d go back to sleep for a little while … but then, the doorbell pealed.
Who the heck? She threw back the covers, grabbed her zipper sweatshirt off the chair by the bedroom door, and shrugged it over her PJs as she padded into the living room. Her heart rose in her throat. What if something had happened to one of the aunts? Surely she would’ve gotten a call. She peered out the frost-covered eight-pane window in the door, but only saw a navy blue knit hat, bouncing up and down and sprinkled with snowflakes, so she opened the door a crack as she held her sweatshirt closed.
Cam fidgeted on the small landing and grinned as she opened the door a little wider. “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking you to get a Christmas tree. The farm opens at nine, so we need to hurry.”
“I don’t need a Christmas tree.”
Cam’s eyes grew huge and he clutched his chest. If he’d been wearing pearls, they’d have been scattered all over the deck. “Are you kidding? Everyone needs a Christmas tree.” His gaze raked over her PJs and sweatshirt. “Get dressed. I’ll wait out here,” he said with a shiver.
She gaped at him. God, the man was totally bonkers and nervy as heck. He shivered again, so she opened the door wider with a resigned sigh. “Come in.”
He brushed the snow off his jacket and, with a devilish smile, sashayed into her apartment. “Got any coffee?”
Harper rubbed her face and thrust her fingers through her hair. “Really, Cam?”
Cam took her shoulder in his gloved hands and turned her toward the bedroom. “Go. Dress warm. It’s snowing.”
She tipped her head back, scowling at him over her shoulder. “No kidding.” She dragged herself back to the bedroom, even though his enthusiasm and the snow and the crisp air that had come in with him was creating a little twinge of anticipation in her. But she wasn’t about to show it to him. All the big dope needed was one more opportunity to be proven right. She’d never hear the end of it.
She dressed hurriedly in jeans, a long-sleeved waffle-knit Henley, and a bulky fisherman’s sweater, pulled on thick socks, and ran a brush through her hair. Gazing in the bathroom mirror, she debated makeup. Pfft. Moisturizer and a quick dab of lip gloss would work fine. She carried her mug of coffee out to the kitchen where Cam was stirring half-and-half into one of the myriad travel mugs from her cabinet.
He reached for her cup. “Here, give me that. I’ll pour it into one of these”—he pointed to the thermal mug collection—“warm it up, and we can be off.” He did exactly that, chattering the whole time she added sugar and cream to her to-go mug. “Beekman’s will get busy pretty quick so if we get there right as they open, we can get your tree and mine. We’ll get them set up, maybe get lights on them before the parade, and after the parade, we can start decorating them. First yours, then mine. Where are your decor—” He stopped when she held up one hand. “What?”
“What makes you think you can just storm my house—my life—in the middle of a Saturday morning?” She gave him a scowl. “What if I was planning on going in to work on your dower chest this morning?”
“Were you?”
She hadn’t but she wasn’t going to admit that. “Maybe.”
His teeth worried his lower lip for a few seconds before giving her a cheeky grin. “I can’t afford to pay you time and a half, so no work today. You may as well come out and play with me.”
She snapped the lid on her cup. “You always have an answer, don’t you?”
He turned the dimples on full force. “Usually. It’s a Walker trait that’s served me well.”
