03_A Family To Call Her Own Read online

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice sounding shaky even to her ears. “But there’s so much to do in the kitchen that—”

  “Nonsense, my dear,” Rose declared briskly, pausing to refill Zach’s coffee cup as she bustled by. “Everything is under control. You sit down and have some coffee with this nice young man. You’ve been on your feet all day.”

  Rebecca looked at Rose in dismay, then turned to find Zach watching her expectantly.

  “I won’t take up much of your time,” he promised with an engaging smile.

  Rebecca sighed. She might as well give in. Rose had invalidated her best excuse to decline his invitation, and nothing else came to mind. “All right. For a few minutes.”

  Rose waved to Frances, who hurried over to place a cup of coffee in front of Rebecca. “Now isn’t this cozy?” she asked with a satisfied smile.

  Rebecca gave the hovering sisters a withering look, but they seemed oblivious.

  “If you need anything else, you just let us know,” Rose told Zach.

  Zach watched them depart, then turned to Rebecca. “They seem very nice,” he remarked, his eyes glinting with amusement.

  “Oh, they are. Just a little too motherly at times,” Rebecca replied wryly. “For two women who have been single all their life, they take an inordinate interest in my—” She started to say “love life,” but caught herself, a flush creeping across her cheeks as she gazed at Zach. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew exactly what she was going to say, but at least he didn’t pursue it.

  “Well, I like them,” he declared. “But I do feel a little guilty. I didn’t mean to railroad you into having coffee with me. I hoped you might want to, but I have a feeling I may have caught you at a bad time.” He paused and stirred his coffee, frowning slightly. “I hope you won’t think I’m being too personal, but you seemed…upset…when I stopped you. I thought maybe you had some bad news from that couple over there.” He nodded toward Nick and Laura.

  “Oh, no, not at all,” Rebecca assured him. “Just the opposite, in fact.” She gazed back at her friends, who seemed oblivious to their surroundings as they sat close together, talking and laughing softly. “I just found out they’re expecting their first child, and I’m very happy for them.”

  “I see.” Zach thought there was more to it than that, but he wasn’t going to push. Rebecca struck him as a very private person who might easily back off if she felt he was encroaching on her turf.

  When her gaze returned to his she found him studying her speculatively, and she dropped her eyes self-consciously, tracing the rim of her coffee cup with one finger. “I’d like to thank you for the flowers,” she said softly. “They were beautiful. But it wasn’t necessary.”

  “I wanted to do it. You took a risk, stopping to help a stranger, and I appreciate that. Besides, I still feel badly about the bruised jaw. Sending flowers was the least I could do.”

  Frances was walking by at just that moment, and she stopped in her tracks. “So those beautiful roses were from you!” she exclaimed. “Rebecca just loved them! She even kept one to dry.”

  “Frances!” Rebecca rebuked the older woman, blushing furiously.

  “Oh, my, I guess I shouldn’t have said anything, should I?” Frances murmured contritely. “You’re always supposed to keep the gentleman guessing, aren’t you? Well, I’ll just leave before I put my foot in my mouth again.”

  Zach chuckled as he watched her hurry off. “I see what you mean about the sisters,” he acknowledged.

  “Listen, I’m really sorry about that,” Rebecca apologized, her face flaming. “Just because a man sends me flowers and then asks me to have coffee, they’re jumping to all sorts of conclusions. Most of which are wrong.”

  Zach took a sip of his coffee, carefully set the cup down and leveled a direct look at her. “Are they?”

  Rebecca stared at him. “What…what do you mean?” she asked, her voice quavering.

  Before she could anticipate his intent he leaned forward and laid his hand over hers. “Exactly what you think I mean,” he said evenly.

  Rebecca swallowed with difficulty. She’d never met a man quite this…frank…about his interest. It was just as she suspected. He was fast moving…and smooth. “Look, Zach, I…I don’t date, if that’s what you’re after.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m after,” he confirmed. “Why don’t you date?”

  For a lot of reasons, she thought silently. None of which she wanted to go into, especially with a man she hardly knew. “I just don’t.”

  “Well, I’m not the kind of guy who gives up easily. Do you mind if I keep trying to convince you to make an exception in my case?”

  Rebecca glanced down at the strong, tanned hand, flecked with dark brown hair, that covered hers. She’d like to get to know him better, actually. There was something about him that she found appealing. But despite the promise she’d made to herself on Valentine’s Day—to allow the possibility of romance into her life—she wasn’t yet ready to deal with someone of Zach’s determination and almost tangible virility. It frightened her. Besides, getting involved with a man who was just passing through wasn’t at all wise. She could be too easily hurt.

  “You’ll be wasting your time,” she told him with a soft sigh, keeping her eyes downcast.

  Zach squeezed her hand, then leaned back and picked up his cup. “Well, I must admit that this isn’t exactly great for my ego. You avoid me whenever I come in for lunch, and you won’t go out with me. Don’t you like me, Rebecca?”

  “You seem nice,” she hedged.

  “‘Seem.’ An interesting choice of words,” he mused. “Do I detect a note of caution in that comment?”

  She shrugged. “You know what they say. A woman can’t be too careful these days.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s true.” He paused and took a sip of his coffee. He sensed there was more behind Rebecca’s wariness than mere caution, and he was determined to get the whole story before he gave up on her. “Well, we could bring along a chaperone. How about Rose or Frances?”

  Rebecca smiled despite herself. “Now that would be something, wouldn’t it?”

  “Hey, if it makes you more comfortable, I’m game.”

  For a minute she was actually tempted. But the fact remained that soon he would be returning to his life in St. Louis, and while St. Genevieve wasn’t that far away in distance, she suspected that once enmeshed in his life in the city, it would seem like another planet to Zach. He would forget the small town—and the woman named Rebecca who had simply provided a pleasant diversion while he was stuck there.

  Regretfully she shook her head. “I don’t think so, Zach.”

  He looked at her, letting a few moments of silence pass before he spoke. “I’d still like to keep trying.”

  “Why?” she asked curiously. The man certainly didn’t discourage easily, she’d give him that.

  “Because I find you attractive. Appealing. Interesting. And very intriguing. And I’d like to get to know you better. So…do you mind if I keep at this for a while?”

  Rebecca couldn’t help but be flattered—and a little overwhelmed—by his compliments and his determination. “Does it matter if I do?” she asked faintly.

  He looked surprised. “Of course. I’m not into harassing women. If you want me out of your life, I’ll be gone. But I think there’s a spark between us. I sure feel it, and I suspect you do, too, whether you’re willing to admit it or not,” he said frankly. “I’d like to see where it leads. And I’d like to keep trying to convince you to do the same.”

  This was her chance. She could just tell him to get lost, and he would. He’d said as much. And she suspected he would honor his promise. She opened her mouth to decline his pursuit, but to her surprise different words came out instead. “I just hope you’re not disappointed.”

  Zach smiled, and though his posture had seemed relaxed throughout their conversation, she could feel an almost palpable easing of tension. “I’ll consider tha
t a green light. And as for being disappointed—well, let’s just say I’m not worried.”

  “Maybe you should consider it a yellow light,” Rebecca countered, “as in ‘proceed with caution.”’

  “Okay, a yellow light then,” he said, laughing.

  Rebecca looked into his warm and insightful eyes, and felt her heart stop, then rush on. Zach said he wasn’t worried. And she believed him. She just wished she could say the same about herself.

  Chapter Three

  Zach turned up his collar and took another sip of steaming coffee from the paper cup. The Red Cross tent offered an oasis of light but only marginal protection from the cold drizzle and bone-chilling wind that sliced through the darkness. It had been raining steadily for the past three days, and the river was rising ominously, edging precariously close to danger levels. An urgent call had gone out two days ago for volunteer sandbaggers, and it seemed just about everyone in town had turned out to help with the hard, messy work. Zach had interviewed a number of volunteers as well as National Guard and Red Cross spokespeople, and he was just about to call it a night.

  But though he was tired and cold, he was also impressed by the spirit of generosity and selflessness he’d discovered during his ten days in the small community. Having dealt for so long with the selfish, unethical side of human nature, he’d almost forgotten there was a generous, moral side. His experience in St. Genevieve had certainly given his faith in humanity a much-needed boost.

  Zach drained his cup, then turned to toss it into a trash container, colliding with a passing volunteer in the process. His hand instinctively shot out to steady the middle-aged man, who was wearing horn-rimmed glasses.

  “Sorry about that,” Zach said contritely.

  The man waved aside the apology. “I’m sure it was my fault. These glasses are so fogged up and wet I can hardly see where I’m going.” He took them off and carefully wiped them on a handkerchief, then reset them on his nose and grinned at Zach. “That’ll help—for about two minutes.”

  Zach’s mouth twisted into a wry smile of acknowledgment. “Nasty night.”

  The man looked out into the darkness and nodded. “It sure is. I just hope we can keep up with the river.” He turned back to Zach and held out his hand. “I’m Phil Carr. English teacher at the high school.”

  Zach returned the man’s firm grip. “Zach Wright from St. Louis. I’m a reporter, here to cover the flood.”

  “Oh, yes, Mark Holt mentioned your name.”

  “You know Mark?”

  Phil smiled. “This is a small town. I know a lot of people. Besides, Mark lives down the street from me.” He hesitated and looked at Zach earnestly. “I was actually hoping I might run into you.”

  Zach’s eyebrows rose quizzically. “Why is that?”

  “Well, I hope you won’t think this is too much of an imposition, and I’ll understand if you can’t do it, but I teach composition and it would be a real treat to have a reporter from St. Louis talk to one of the classes. Do you think you might be able to spare an hour or two before you head back?”

  Zach considered the unexpected invitation thoughtfully. He hadn’t done anything like that for a long time, and his classroom skills were probably pretty rusty. But it might be fun. “Sure. As a matter of fact, I’ve always been interested in teaching. I even double majored in college—journalism and education. I just couldn’t make up my mind between the two. But I got a good newspaper offer when I graduated, so that sealed my fate. It would actually be nice to get into a classroom again,” he mused, warming to the idea as he spoke.

  “Great! I’ll give you a call. Are you staying in town?”

  “Yeah. Let me jot down the information for you.” Zach scribbled the name of his motel, as well as his work number on a piece of paper and handed it to Phil. “If I’m not at the motel, just leave me a voice mail at the office.”

  “I’ll do that. And thanks again. The kids will really enjoy this.” He tucked the slip of paper carefully into his pocket and rubbed his hands together. “Well, back to the trenches,” he said with a smile.

  Zach watched him leave, then turned to survey the scene once more. The ranks were thinning a bit, but it was nine o’clock, after all. Most of these people had put in a full day at work and would have to do the same tomorrow. It was really amazing, he thought. The vast majority of the volunteers weren’t personally threatened by the flood, yet they were still willing to help out, even under these miserable conditions. He almost felt guilty for heading back to his warm, dry motel room. But he did have to put this story together and E-mail it to the paper, so he still had a long night ahead of him.

  Zach stepped out from under the tent and slowly made his way past the line of sandbaggers, shivering despite his sheepskin-lined jacket. The cold rain was already working its way insidiously down his neck, and his boots made loud sucking sounds as he trudged through the mud. He glanced again at the tired faces as he passed. Sandbagging was backbreaking work, as he’d come to learn in the past couple of days, yet people of all ages and sexes were here to help, from high-schoolers to grandfathers to—

  Zach stopped abruptly and stared at a slight figure up ahead in one of the sandbag lines. He could swear that was—

  “Zach!”

  With an effort Zach pulled his gaze away from the figure and turned. “Hi, Mark.”

  “Working late?”

  “Yeah. But I’m about to call it a night. Listen, tell me I’m wrong, but—” he glanced back with a frown toward the figure that had caught his attention “—is that…”

  “Rebecca?” Mark finished. “Yeah. She’s been helping every spare minute since the call went out for sandbaggers. I’ve been trying to convince her to go home for the last hour. I even offered her a ride, but she said she wanted to stay.”

  “How long has she been here?”

  Mark shrugged. “I don’t know. But she was here when I showed up three hours ago.”

  Zach felt a muscle clench in his jaw, and he jammed his hands into his pockets. “She must be frozen. Not to mention exhausted.”

  “Well, why don’t you try to convince her to leave?” Mark suggested. “Maybe you’ll have better luck. I sure didn’t get anywhere. Say, Joe!” he called to a figure in the distance.

  “Wait up! Zach, I’ll see you later.”

  Zach watched Mark disappear into the darkness, then looked back at Rebecca. Her motions were robotlike, as if she was operating on adrenaline and nothing else. Which was probably the case, he thought grimly. She was too delicate for this type of heavy work, anyway. Couldn’t whoever was in charge see that? In sudden decision, without stopping to consider how his actions might be interpreted, he strode over and laid his hand on her shoulder.

  She turned, her eyes dull with fatigue, and frowned up at him in confusion. “Zach?”

  One searching sweep of her face was all it took for Zach to assess her physical condition—absolute exhaustion—and he glanced around, signaling to a passing National Guard member who held a clipboard.

  “Zach, what is it?” Rebecca asked, her voice so scratchy and hoarse it was barely recognizable.

  “Hang on a sec, okay?” he replied curtly.

  The uniformed man joined them, and Zach nodded toward Rebecca. “Do you have someone who can fill in here? She’s had all she can take,” he said tersely.

  The National Guard member gave Rebecca a quick but discerning glance and nodded. “No problem.” He turned and scanned the group on the sidelines, motioning to another uniformed Guard member. “Dave, take over here for a while, okay?” he called.

  Zach took Rebecca’s arm and gently drew her away from the line. Her legs felt stiff and shaky when she tried to walk, and she stumbled, grateful that Zach reached out to steady her, his hands firm on her shoulders. But why was he bothering her, when there was so much urgent work to do? She looked up at him, still frowning. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “You’re going home, Rebecca.”

  She stared
at him, and even through the haze of her fatigue she was aware of the rigid set of his jaw and the steely determination in his eyes. On one hand, she was touched by his concern. More than touched, actually. No man had ever taken such an active interest in her well-being. On the other hand, she wasn’t accustomed to being ordered around. Even if it was for her own good. She straightened her shoulders and glared at him. “Excuse me?”

  Zach saw the sudden, stubborn tilt of her chin, heard the indignant tone in her voice, and sighed. Wrong move, buddy, he admonished himself. Rebecca was not the type to respond to high-handed tactics. And he wasn’t the type to employ them—socially, at least. But for some reason, seeing Rebecca cold and tired and wet had awakened a sort of primal, protective urge in him, and he’d reacted instinctively. And obviously inappropriately. Giving orders was clearly not the way to convince her to go home.

  A sudden harsh gust of wind tugged several strands of wet hair out of Rebecca’s French twist and whipped them across her face, and a visible shudder ran through her body as she reached up to brush them aside. Before she could lower her hand Zach captured it in a firm grip, silently stripping off her wet glove and cocooning her fingers between his palms. Her hand felt like ice, and a spasm once more tightened his jaw. He took a deep, steadying breath, and when he spoke he made an effort to keep his tone gentle and reasonable, though neither of those emotions accurately reflected his mood at the moment.

  “Rebecca, Mark says you’ve been out here at least three hours. You’re chilled to the bone, you’re wet and you’re exhausted. You need to go home where it’s warm and dry and get some rest. You won’t help anyone if you stay here till you get sick.”

  Rebecca looked into Zach’s concerned eyes, and her protest died in her throat. She couldn’t argue with his logic. And he was right about her physical condition. Her legs were shaky, her back was stiff, and her hands and feet were numb with cold. She’d put in a full day at the restaurant, and she had to be up at six tomorrow. It probably made sense for her to call it a night.