Sing Me Back Home (13 page)

“What in the h—world did you do to this coffee?”

“Nothing. I did just like you told me.”

Cautiously she tried another sip.
Oh, good Lord
. “Did you use a filter?”

“You didn’t tell me to. I did just like you said,” Carmen repeated smugly. “You never said anything about a filter.”

Technically, she hadn’t. She still wanted to bang her head against the steering wheel, but since her head already ached, she refrained.

“What are you doing?” Carmen asked a couple of minutes later. “This isn’t the way to school.”

“It is if you go to the Java Cafe first.”

“But Mom—”

“Don’t even. I. Am. Getting. Coffee. Period.”

“You don’t have to be mean,” Carmen said, and her voice wavered.

Maya felt like a worm. As she should. She reached over and patted her daughter’s knee. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m tired and I really do need coffee, but I shouldn’t have been short with you.”

Carmen shrugged. “That’s okay. I guess it’s kinda sorta my fault, since you said I forgot to tell you.” She shot Maya a mischievous glance. “Except, I did tell you,” she added, sotto voce.

Maya laughed. “Whatever you say, honey.”

The day could only get better, right?

‡

“A
ll right, everybody.
Listen up,” Tamara Casey said.

They had gathered in the gym, but the custodian had forgotten, or never known, to pull out any stands to sit on, so everyone at the meeting was standing around. By the time it occurred to anyone that they could pull out the bleachers themselves, the meeting was halfway over.

At least, Maya hoped it was.

“There are still donuts and coffee,” Tamara continued, waving a hand at a table set up along the wall. “Be sure to get all you want before you leave. We still don’t have a firm date for the sale, since we want to collect as much inventory as possible to make as much money as possible. As you know, this money will have a dual purpose. It’s earmarked in part for sports uniforms. Not football uniforms, but uniforms for some of the other sports.” She smiled. “Yes, we do play other sports at Marietta High.” Everyone laughed and she went on. “The other part of the money will be used to start a fund to help critically ill Marietta High School students and their families. It will be an emergency fund to be accessed according to need and how much we have in it, of course. It’s going to take several weekends to organize it for maximum benefit.”

A woman raised her hand. “Where are we keeping all this stuff?”

“The sale will be in the gym and the high school has given us a couple of empty rooms to utilize.”

Tamara was good at this sort of thing, Maya thought. Now she was glad Carmen had volunteered her services, since it was for such a good cause. Someone else asked another question and Maya allowed her mind to wander.

Not for long, though. Her gaze settled on Jack, who she thought looked ridiculously good for this early on a Saturday morning. But he was used to early rising. When he had patients in the hospital, he made rounds daily and from what she gathered, they were often early. He wore a dark tan and brown plaid shirt, along with jeans and running shoes. He
should have
just looked like a normal guy. Unfortunately, he looked good enough to eat.

But that was sure as shooting not in her plans.

Thinking about those plans, Maya only half heard the rest of Tamara’s spiel about how to categorize the donations. She started paying attention again just in time to hear hers and Jack’s names read off, as one of the pairs picking up items. Anxious to see how he was taking it, she glanced at him to see him giving her that damn sexy smile she kept dreaming about.

Remember the plan
, she told herself.
Throwing yourself at him is not part of it.

*

Jack glanced at
Maya, sitting beside him on the passenger side of his SUV. While she wasn’t hugging the window, neither was she leaning toward him. She looked different from her usual persona. Whether it was her hair hanging straight down her back, her obvious lack of make up, or her clothes, he wasn’t sure. She often wore jeans but these jeans had seen better days, and he didn’t think the holes in them were a fashion statement. Ditto her sweater, which while it was pretty, was not exactly new. But the kicker was that instead of a pair of those man killer boots she liked to wear, or even a good pair of cowboy boots, she wore running shoes. Running shoes with a hole in one toe.

Today, Maya looked nothing like a model. Not that she looked bad. Being Maya, she couldn’t look bad if she tried, but she wasn’t the usual put-together professional he was accustomed to seeing.

He liked her this way. She was a woman of many moods, and recently, she’d ranged from mad as hell, to totally indifferent, to maddeningly offhand. He had discovered that her moods fascinated him. With the exception of the ‘mad at him and wanted to kick his ass’ one, that is. As far as he could tell, her current mood was a cross between grumpy and grumpier.

He made a couple of comments to make sure he was gauging her mood correctly. Judging by her responses—a grunt, nothing, and another grunt—grumpy was spot on.

He gave her space and tried to decide what his next move should be.

After a mostly sleepless night, he’d known that he had to do something to put things right with Maya. His feelings for her weren’t a fluke, and the way he felt wasn’t because of her undeniable beauty, or even the great sex. In the pre-dawn hours of the morning, he had finally admitted he loved her. He still felt uneasy about the two of them. But not uneasy enough to “talk” about it.

Unfortunately, she wouldn’t go for anything less.

“What a coincidence, huh?” he said, breaking the long silence.

She gave him a look that would have withered a lesser man. “I’m tired, I’ve had too much coffee and I don’t want to be here. Must you talk?”

“How about that Tamara putting the two of us together?” he continued, ignoring her complaints. The two of them being together was in no way a coincidence. Early that morning, long before the meeting started, Jack had called Tamara and asked her to make sure he and Maya worked together for the pick up detail. After worming part of the story of their break up out of him, she’d agreed. Needless to say, he hadn’t told her much, but he’d thrown himself on her mercy, and softhearted Tamara had quickly approved.

When Maya didn’t respond he said, “I was surprised when she called our names. I guess Tamara hasn’t heard about your new man.”

“What new”—Maya broke off, catching herself, though not in time.

Jack smiled.
Too late, sweetheart,
he thought.
You gave yourself away with that one
. “Ralph, wasn’t it?”

“No, it was Rolf.”

“Ah, yes. Rolf. How are things going with him?”

“Not too well. I’m not sure we’re going to work out,” she said airily.

“That makes sense. With him being imaginary and all.”

“He’s not imaginary,” she said indignantly. “Whatever gave you that idea? He’s quite real.”

“Oh? My mistake.”

He said no more until after they’d finished at the next house. “Isn’t it funny how things happen for a reason?” he said, chuckling. “You and I breaking things off, you and Rolf getting together, and now you and I working together.”

“I’d hardly call it working together,” she said to the window. “We’re driving around picking up other people’s junk.”

“One man’s junk is another man’s treasure,” he said, as if he’d thought up the saying himself.

“That’s what I like about you, Jack. You have such a fascinating way of repeating platitudes.”

He grinned and pulled up to the first house on the list. They loaded up a cane-bottomed chair badly in need of re-caning and refinishing, assorted clothes, and a plastic box full of what appeared to be McDonald’s Happy Meal toys. The next house was only a few minutes away from the first. There, they picked up more clothes, more broken down furniture, and a dorm-room sized refrigerator. As they loaded it into the back of his SUV the door fell open, and Maya turned away hastily, coughing and choking. He couldn’t blame her. The smell was overwhelmingly noxious. The people had simply left everything on the curb for them to pick up at their convenience, so he didn’t have to worry about offending them. “Charity or the dump?” he asked Maya.

“For the refrigerator? The dump. No one could get that dead animal smell out of it.”

“No argument here.” He drove to the dump before their next pick up, since he really didn’t want his vehicle to take on such a disgusting smell. He couldn’t guarantee the refrigerator door would stay shut, and besides, he imagined the smell would continue to seep out even if it did.

“Where to next?” he asked Maya, who was looking over the list.

“Since we’re out here at the dump, we might as well continue on out of town and pick up from that direction, working our way back toward town.” She read off an address and he headed that way.

In the fall, the countryside around Marietta was just turning from hues of green to hues of gold and golden brown. Harvest was nearing and the fields were thick with the season’s yield. This time of year, Jack often thought he’d like ranching as well as his brothers did. But then winter would hit and he’d be very grateful he didn’t have to be up before dawn breaking the ice on the frozen water troughs, forking out hay to feed the cattle, taking care of the horses, and everything else running a successful ranching or horse breeding operation required. At those times, he was really glad he worked in town at the hospital or his office. He still had to get up at the crack of dawn sometimes, but there was a lot to be said for a warmer environment.

At the next house, an ancient farmhouse far out in the country, the old rancher and his wife had totally forgotten about promising items for the sale. They wouldn’t hear of them leaving without anything, so Jack and Maya not only had to wait on them to scramble around gathering up what could only be called junk, they also had to listen to the garrulous old rancher’s monologue on what was wrong with the current generation’s morals, manners and addiction to electronics.

The minute they got back in the SUV and Jack had driven part way down the dirt drive, Maya succumbed to the giggles she’d been trying to hold back during the old man’s tirade. Jack grinned and kept driving. “Do you get the feeling he’s mad at their kids?”

“Ya think?” She wiped her eyes. “The best part was when he kept talking about ‘my damn kids and their damn electronics.’”

Jack laughed too. “Yeah, did you notice the satellite dish on his roof? Do you suppose he doesn’t consider that electronics?”

“I doubt it. Anything to do with the TV is different, I’m sure.” A few minutes later, she said, “You’re going the wrong way.”

“No, I’m not.”

“The next house is south of here. You’re heading west.”

“I know. I intended to.”

“Why?”

He turned off the dirt road and drove around a fallow field, until he reached a big oak tree in another field, this one planted with winter grass. He parked, rolled down the windows, got out and reached in the back to pick up an old blanket before going around to open Maya’s door. She didn’t move but stared at him perplexed, until he reached in and unbuckled her seatbelt.

“What are you doing?” He stood at the open door waiting for her to get out.

“It’s time we talked,” Jack said. “I’m not fighting
eau de
stinky dead animal, while we do.”

‡