“How do you know there’ll be a next time?”
Scott sighed. “Because your ‘not a ghost’ has been haunting me every night for the last month.”
2
Suzy couldn’t believe she was actually in her Rochester’s arms…and he was carrying her across the forest like a real hero.
Be still my heart.
She tried not to stare. She really did. But he was every inch as gorgeous as she’d imagined. His eyes were hazel, leaning toward the brown side. His chin was just as strong as it had seemed across the clearing. Only now, no dark stubble shadowed it. He’d shaved—and his hair seemed lighter. Surprise flitted through her.
“You cut your hair.”
“Yeah, it was starting to look…Hey, how do you know that?”
Warmth flooded her cheeks, and the one with the scrape tingled. She almost reached for it, but that would only draw attention to her blush. She clamped her fingers shut and looked the other way. “I see you walking all the time. You’re the only one out there…at the same time…every day…with me.”
The minute she’d stumbled through the words, Suzy regretted them. They sounded so personal, almost intimate. She was making a fool of herself.
“Funny. I’ve never seen you before.”
Not so funny
, Suzy thought.
It’s the story of my life. Little Miss Suzy, the “blend in with the landscape” brown mouse.
“Yes, well, this is the first time I’ve seen you with your companion.” Her tone sounded almost accusatory.
Scott paused. “Please don’t tell me that’s why you fell off the side of the trail.”
The look of contrition on his face knocked all of Suzy’s embarrassment right away. “Don’t blame yourself,” she rushed to explain. “I fall a lot. I’m not known for my gracefulness.”
A wry grin tilted those very firm lips. “What are you known for?”
That flash of white teeth made her a little giddy and the word “counting” almost slipped out before Suzy caught herself. She’d keep that little piece of info to herself. He didn’t need to know she was a numbers geek as well as clumsy. TMI. Too much information.
“My name is Suzy Bennett,” she offered instead.
“Scott Lunsford.”
Rochester sounded better. More heroic. Scott sounded like an average, every day guy. But Suzy didn’t share that thought either. In fact, it might be best if she just stopped talking altogether. Now, if she could just stop her mind from rattling on and on.
In spite of the fact that she didn’t “weigh more than a pixie,” Scott was showing wear and tear from their trek across the forest. His breath came in little pants, and Suzy absolutely refused to let her imagination go with that fact. But she couldn’t seem to stop blushing.
OK, girl. You are going absolutely ga-ga. Get control.
Well,
that
was easier said than done, locked against his rock-hard chest the way she was. He radiated heat like a furnace. And he smelled good, too. Like the forest and…man. All Suzy wanted to do was curl up against him and close her eyes.
“I—I think I can walk. My knee’s not that bad. It was just a little tender.”
“It’s better we keep it immobile until we can get some ice on it. Besides we’re almost there.”
Scott stepped out of the forest into a clearing. Across the way stood a large, dilapidated Victorian home. Suzy had passed it many times on the road going home. Abandoned for years now, the place had lost all its window glass to local kids, who used them as targets for their rock-throwing games. Suzy had seen parked cars and lights flashing in the windows late at night, until someone got wise to the local teen hang-out and boarded up the windows and doors. She’d even heard stories about it being haunted.
Suzy caught her lower lip between her teeth to keep from saying the word out loud. She held firmly to her conviction that ghosts do not exist and absolutely refused to repeat the rumor.
“It might not look like it now, but this place was a grand old lady once.” Scott stepped onto the large, wraparound porch and stopped at the entry where light wavered through leaded glass set into the upper portions of a pair of double doors. “I’m going to set you down so I can get the key, but don’t put any pressure on that knee. Keep all your weight on your good leg.”
Suzy obeyed his instructions as he pulled a key out of his pocket. Next thing she knew, he swept her up in his arms again and pushed the door shut with his foot. Warm air rushed over her and the smell of new paint tingled her nose.
They stood inside a foyer that ran the width of the house. In the center of the room, an antique chandelier hung over an oak, claw foot table. The crème-colored, lotus-shaped globes lit the room with a soft, golden glow. Directly across from the door was a large oak staircase. The balustrade with rounded newel posts gleamed in the light, and Suzy breathed a soft, “Oh.”
“Thanks.” A slight smile lifted Scott’s lips. “I just finished this room. Stripping and sanding that wood back to its natural color was a major undertaking, but I thought it would be worth it. You just proved me right.”
He carried her into a room on the left and directly to a large wooden rocker in front of a fireplace. A vintage floor lamp with art deco lines stood beside the rocker, and he flipped the switch. Bright light flowed over Suzy.
“Let’s have a look at that knee.”
Scott knelt and pulled the edges of her torn running suit away. Already, a bruise had started to form on the point of her kneecap. After a few moments of examination, he said, “Not much swelling. That’s a good sign. Any pain?”
“Just from that nasty looking cut,” Suzy said.
“It’s only nasty because it’s dirty. Let me get something to clean it.”
He stepped into the next room and flicked a light switch. Suzy caught a glimpse of stainless steel appliances, copper pots hanging from the ceiling, clean marble counters, white cabinets, and a small breakfast table for two.
A sudden, unwelcome thought chilled her blood. Was her Rochester married? Her heart thudded in her chest and suddenly, she had trouble swallowing.
Returning with medicine bottles, bandages, and a bag of ice, Scott dropped to his knees in front of her. In one hand, he held a small wash basin. “Soak your hands in here to loosen up some of that dirt and gravel.”
He pulled the edges of her pants further apart and probed at her knee with his fingers. After a medical style examination, he began to clean the scratch. When salve and a bandage had been applied, he wrapped a towel over the ice bag and placed it gently on her knee.
“That seemed like a pretty professional job.” Suzy attempted to distract her thoughts from the very deft, suntanned fingers touching her knee. Such beautiful hands and long, strong fingers. Could a man’s hands be beautiful?
“I’m a firefighter and an EMT.” He barely even glanced in her direction. Grasping one wrist, he pulled her dripping fingers out of the wash basin. His tone and attitude made it clear no more information in that arena would be forthcoming, but Suzy had to probe. How else would she know if there was a Mrs. Lunsford?
“Well, all those first aid skills must come in handy when the family needs medical aid.”
He slanted a wry look in her direction.
“Or for accident prone neighbors,” she quickly added, chaffing under his gaze.
“There’s no family. Just me.” He popped the lid back on the antiseptic. “And accident prone neighbors are always welcome to my skills…such as they are.”
Suzy wasn’t sure where that comment had come from or what it meant. All she really understood was the “just me” part.
He carried the medical supplies back to the kitchen, and Suzy released a huge sigh of relief—which quickly turned into a shiver.
“You’re cold. Let me build a fire.”
“Oh, no. I’m sure it’s too much trouble. You’ve already been so much help.”
“It’s no bother.” Wood was already stacked in the fireplace. He bent, pulled a long match from a copper pot on the hearth, struck it, and turned the gas on.
The flame sparked the kindling, and within moments, welcome heat warmed Suzy’s skin. “Wow. I didn’t expect an old house like this to have gas in the fireplace.”
“It didn’t. I had it put in when I re-did the plumbing, the sewer lines, and all the electricity. Had those basics done before I moved in and now I’m tackling the rooms one by one, trying to get them back to their original shape.”
“I’m impressed. I would never have recognized this house’s potential.”
“I didn’t recognize anything. I knew what it could be. The house belonged to my grandparents. I inherited it when my grandmother passed two years ago. My brothers, my sister, and I spent our summers here, running wild in the forest. Grandpa taught us all about the wildlife, and we helped Grandma with a giant garden in the back. Some of my best memories were created in this house.”
His words died out, and Suzy got the impression that some bad memories had been created here as well. Did they have something to do with what they’d both seen in the clearing?
He rose to his feet and reached for her hand. “Let’s check out that knee.” On her feet, Suzy found her knee tender, but better than she had anticipated. “I’m almost good as new.”
Scott shook his head. “We’ll see what you say in the morning. Tomorrow you’re going to be very sore. If there’s any sharp pain or swelling, you’ll need to see a doctor.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that.”
Now that she was on her feet, she couldn’t think of a good excuse to stay. “Well, I’ve imposed on you long enough. I guess I’d better be on my way.”
Was it her imagination, or was Scott hesitant to let her go? Her heart did a little double beat as he gestured to her scraped hands.
“You won’t be much good with those tonight. Why don’t you stick around, and I’ll fix us something to eat?”
“You cook, too?” The admiration in her tone just slipped out. It was impossible to stop it. A firefighter. A whiz with first aid. A body she could look at all day. Grandparents he adored. Handy with tools. Maybe her Rochester
could
jump over buildings with a single bound.
He must have heard the breathiness in her tone because that wry smile slipped over those oh so, perfect lips. “I can manage a vegetable omelet. But don’t expect much more.”
“Veggies. I like veggies.” Suzy hoped she didn’t sound too wistful.
3
Scott walked into the kitchen, smiling, well aware that he was taking advantage of Suzy’s slightly dazed, after-injury state. But he didn’t care. The last thing he wanted was to be alone in the house this evening, especially after what had happened in the clearing.
Up until an hour ago, he thought he was losing his mind. Now, thanks to Suzy, he knew all the strange sounds and images he’d been experiencing weren’t in his head. Suzy had some authoritative-sounding opinions he was anxious to hear.
He pulled zipped bags of chopped veggies from the fridge. Since omelets made up most of his meals, morning, lunch, and dinner, he cut up the ingredients in bulk and kept them handy. In just a few moments the smell of bell peppers and onions filled the kitchen.
“Coffee or cocoa?” He called out as he folded the eggs over.
“Cocoa, please. I’ve already had my quota of coffee for the day. I picked up a pumpkin latte on the way home.
“Ahhh, pumpkin latte. A girl after my own heart.”
He slid the omelet onto a plate and started the next one. As he worked, he heated the milk for the cocoa. In moments, he carried in a tray with the omelets and cocoa with whipped crème on top.
He frowned, certain he’d seen Suzy’s lips moving, almost as if she was silently counting the crockery on his grandmother’s side table. As soon as she saw him though, her lips sealed. He set the tray on the floor in front of the fire.
“It’s not fancy, but it’s hot.”
“I’m sure it will be just fine.” She winced slightly as her hands wrapped around the plate and cup. “See, you were right. I needed help tonight so canned soup would have been fine with me. A fresh omelet is a treat.”
She took her first bite and the smile on her face told Scott she was pleasantly surprised. He could cook up a mean omelet, especially since it was the only thing he made.
After a while, Suzy gestured to the side table. “You have some lovely antiques. Are you a collector?”
“No. These all belonged to my grandmother, and most of them have a family history. For instance, that standing lamp beside you was bought by my great-grandfather for my great-grandmother in 1927, on the occasion of the birth of my grandmother. Twenty years ago, Grandma found it in the attic and had it restored.”
Pointing over his shoulder to a piece behind him he said, “That oak secretary was the first piece of furniture my grandparents bought after they were married in 1948. Grandma found it in a secondhand store and restored it. It’s been in the family ever since.”
“So that’s where you get your talents, from your grandmother.”
“Maybe her restoration talents. I’m good at carpentry and repairs but that’s it. I have no idea what to do with all of this...how to make it look like a home.” Did he sound as sad as the words made him feel? He must have, because Suzy lowered her gaze, away from his.
“I know exactly what I’d do,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yep. I’d take those lovely pieces of brown crockery off that crowded sideboard and put them in the center of the table. Then I’d find some colorful cloth napkins, maybe checked, and fan stack them next to the crockery. It’ll look like a table just waiting for the family to come to dinner.”
“Wow. That’s a great idea. Simple and colorful. But I have no idea where to find those kind of napkins.”
“There’s a little store just behind the supermarket called Country Creations. She’s bound to have something like that.”
“Thanks. I’ll take a look.”
“While you’re at it, look for a crème-colored vase. A fall flower arrangement, maybe mums, would look spectacular on the claw foot table in the entry.”
“I will. Thanks. I remember my grandmother occasionally put flowers on that table.” He smiled at the memory. “It might actually start to look like a home again.”