SUSANNAH ARRIVED for work the next morning shortly after Ryan got back from putting Nia on the bus. He figured she must’ve been watching for him out her window.
“Hey,” she said, yawning.
“Hey, sleepyhead. I picked up biscuits if you’re hungry. There’s also coffee.”
“Coffee would be great.” She opened the lid on one of the foam cups and took a sip. “Mmm, that’s good.”
Her hair was still a bit tousled and she hadn’t tried to hide the splattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose as she’d done last night. Some women, like Carla, improved with makeup. This one had an appealing earthiness, a natural beauty that didn’t need it.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked.
“Like a log. I zonked out immediately. I had a terrible time waking up.”
“The mountain air will do that to you.”
“I guess that was it.”
“Hopefully it wasn’t the after-dinner conversation.”
“Don’t be silly. I had a great time.”
“I was afraid I bored you talking about Carla.”
“No, I’m glad you told me. Knowing helps me understand Nia better. I wouldn’t want to do or say anything out of ignorance that might make her grief worse.”
“I appreciate that, Susannah. She could use a friend right now.”
“How was she this morning?”
“Good.”
“Any bad dreams?”
“No, she slept okay.”
She’d wet her bed, something she hadn’t done in a while, but Ryan wasn’t too concerned about it.
He emptied cream and two sugars into his coffee and stirred it. “Last night you said you understood about people not being compatible. You looked sad. Were you speaking from experience?”
“That’s a big question to ask me so early in the morning.”
“Hey, I told you my story. It’s only fair you tell me yours.”
“There’s not much to tell. I was engaged. He dumped me.”
“Who was he?”
“An attorney.”
“One of your bosses?”
“Heavens, I wasn’t that crazy.” She yawned again. “He worked for another firm.”
“What happened? Why did the relationship go sour?”
“He couldn’t cope with my family responsibilities. Mother was in the late stages of her disease at the time. He broke it off and asked me to give back his ring.”
“Jerk.”
“I’d argue, but you’re right. I’m at least thankful he realized he didn’t want to marry me before we walked down the aisle.”
“Is he one of the reasons you decided to hit the road?”
“I guess he was part of it. I needed a change in my life. Everything around me was a reminder of the sickness and heartache the past several years had brought me. I also regretted that I’d never done anything important or exciting.”
“But you can’t ramble forever.”
“True. When the money runs out, I’ll have to find a place to settle and start fresh. But I can hold out a year longer, even two if I’m careful. And maybe by then I’ll have done enough of the things on my list that I won’t feel like I’ve wasted my life.”
“The infamous list,” he said with a chuckle.
“It’s not that infamous,” she said, chuckling too. “Most of my goals are pretty tame. You just happened to see one of the, uh, racier items.”
“One? You mean there’s something that beats sex with a stranger?”
“Of course. Number 14. Or Number 27. Ooh, Number 33 is really hot.”
“Okay, okay, I deserved that for teasing you the other day.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Seriously, Susannah, I can understand your desire to change your life, but did you have to completely give up the old one?”
“There wasn’t really anything left to give up.”
“What about the friends you left behind?”
“Friends? What friends? By the end of my mother’s illness everyone had stopped coming by. They didn’t want to sit down in the same room with a woman who poured vinegar on her cornflakes and had a reputation for walking around in nothing but her birthday suit.”
“You’re serious?”
“Those were good days. She could get away from me and out of the house before I knew what had happened. At night she’d wander off in her nightgown. And she grew increasingly paranoid—she believed I was hurting her or stealing from her. Once I thought she was asleep but she’d somehow managed to crawl out the window. The police found her miles away. When they brought her home she told them I’d tried to kill her.”
“Her own daughter?”
“She didn’t know what she was saying or who I was most of the time. Sometimes she’d recognize me. The next hour she’d think I was her nurse. For a while she believed I was her mother.” His expression made her shake her head. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Ryan. I had a lot of good years with her before she got sick.”
“I’m thankful Nana Sipsey hasn’t had those problems. She complains of arthritis in one hip and her hands, but her mind is good. She’s still full of spit and fire.”
“Maybe she’ll stay that way.”
“Maybe. With luck.” He finished off his biscuit and dusted the crumbs from his shirt. “You ready to get to work?”
“Sure. Tell me where you want me to start.”
“Look over what I have on the computer and in the files and begin setting up a workable system for record keeping. Remember, I’m a dummy.”
“I’ll make it simple, dummy.”
He playfully tweaked her nose.
“We’ll drive down to the center later, and I’ll show you where the mural’s going. After lunch I’ll give you your first lesson.”
“Okay.”
They worked separately for a few hours, he on the design for the mosque, Susannah on the computer. Every now and then she asked a question about a file, but for the most part she left him alone, which he appreciated.
Not that he wasn’t aware of her. A man would have to be dead not to be affected by the sexual heat the woman generated.
He knew each time she shifted in her chair or chewed on the end of her pen. The soft sigh she let out when she encountered some crazy thing he’d done raced down his body and settled in his groin.
Other than that, he couldn’t complain, at least not about her work. Only once did he have to stop and talk to a customer directly. All the other calls she handled, either taking messages or finding out what the person needed. They had a productive morning.
Close to eleven, Joe ambled in and blew that all to hell. Ryan had asked him to make more shipping crates, and his brother had promised to stop by and get measurements.
Joe grinned widely when he got a good look at Susannah. He ignored Ryan and went straight for her.
“You must be Susannah. I’m Joe.”
“Oh, hi!”
“I’m the handsome brother.”
Susannah giggled and Ryan shook his head. Ten seconds and the kid had charmed her. Amazing.
Had Ryan been so cocky at Joe’s age? He didn’t think so. Then again, he didn’t have Joe’s looks or his easygoing way with people.
“Thanks so much for what you did at the cabin yesterday,” Susannah told him.
“Glad to help. I’ve got some firewood for you on the truck. I’ll drop it off on my way out. Let me know when you need more.”
“Aren’t you sweet.”
Ryan snorted. Sweet. That was a new one.
“Morning, big brother,” Joe called over his shoulder without turning.
“Morning, little brother.”
“You didn’t tell me Susannah was such a beauty.”
“Because I didn’t want you over here all the time bothering her.”
“Ignore him,” Joe said. “Pretend like he’s not even here.” He took Susannah’s hand. “Have dinner with me tonight and we’ll go out dancing after.”
“And just how old are you?” she asked.
“Twenty-seven.”
“Twenty-two,” Ryan corrected.
Joe turned and looked at him. “Do you mind? I’m trying to have a conversation with the lady.”
“Court on your own time and in your own age bracket, squirt. I need you to look at those pieces and I don’t have all day.”
Joe sighed. “Duty calls. Don’t you go away, sweet thing. I’ll be right back.”
RYAN’S BROTHER was funny. The two of them together were a riot. Their good-natured bantering as they discussed crates and wrote down measurements amused Susannah. They obviously had a close relationship.
Physically, Joe was a younger, more perfect version of Ryan, at least in the face. He was softer-looking, his features less chiseled. But she couldn’t agree he was handsomer. Ryan’s maturity added a quality Joe didn’t have.
He was shorter and thinner than Ryan, not as well built. He also didn’t have his older brother’s beautiful hands.
When the two of them were finished, Ryan went back to his worktable, but Joe sat down on the corner of her desk and continued to flirt outrageously.
“Is it true what they say about redheads?” he asked.
“I don’t know. What do they say?”
“That you’re all fire and heat.”
Ryan made a noise deep in his throat.
“Did you say something?” Susannah asked.
“No.”
“So what about dinner?” Joe pressed again.
“Sorry. You’re a smidgen too young for me.”
“Aw.” He clasped his chest with both hands. “Don’t reject me.”
“I suspect you won’t be sitting at home tonight crying.”
“Well, probably not,” he admitted, grinning. That smile had probably thrown many a female heart into palpitations.
“I’m sure there’s some sweet young thing out there who’d love to have you call her up. More than one.”
“That’s a fact, but I’d rather be with you. I can think of a lot of ways we could entertain each other.”
“I’ll just bet you can.”
Ryan mumbled a remark she couldn’t decipher, put down his straight-edge ruler and walked over. “Okay, Romeo, time for you to go.” He grabbed him by the collar and lifted him easily to his feet. “Say goodbye.”
“Bye, Susannah.”
“Bye, Joe.”
SUSANNAH LIKED her work, and the day seemed to race by. Around one they picked up sandwiches at Taylor’s, the country store. Ryan had a key to the community center, but they didn’t need it. A group of women were inside weaving baskets.
Ryan explained they were part of an arts cooperative whose members made native crafts to take to the reservation and sell to tourists during the summer months.
The money raised bought more supplies and helped fund community projects like the ballet class Nia attended, equipment for the volunteer fire station and expansion of the center.
He introduced her, but they didn’t linger. He wanted to get back and work a while longer before he had to pick up Nia.
They entered a larger room under construction to the rear. Ryan had brought sketches to show her. She’d already seen three of the five panels back at the workshop, but as he explained where each would go and held up the drawings, she began to understand his vision more clearly.
The mountains were the background and were being done in broken tile of irregular shapes and sizes. Similar tonal values gave them depth and perspective.
A horizontal band about twenty-four inches in height ran midway through each panel. These sections would feature a series of vignettes. Because the subjects included faces and figures, he was putting this part together in what he called micromosaic tile. Some of the pieces were smaller than the head of a pin and had to be laid with tweezers.
“Do you see?” he asked. “The people are the heart of the community and will be the heart of the mural. Each person will be represented in a way that others are accustomed to seeing them. Here’s the store with Bitsy at the counter and her husband running the cash register. Here are the old men who play dominoes there every afternoon.”
As he went through the sketches, he told stories about some of the people. Mrs. McCaffrey, who’d taught school for thirty-five years, would be holding schoolbooks and an apple in the mural. “Doc” Summerfield, a bird watcher, would be shown with his binoculars.
“Ryan, it’s wonderful! Do you really know all these people personally?”
“Every one of them.”
“How are you handling deaths?”
“All the people living here as of last January when we drew up the construction plans are included, even if they’ve since died. We’ve only lost two in that time. We haven’t had a birth yet—Helen will be the first this year. Her baby will be our eighty-fifth resident.”
“These insets have to be time-consuming to make with pieces of tiles that tiny.”
“I’ve been working on them for ten months in my spare time. Here’s the palette of colors I’m using and this—” he unfolded a watercolor rendering “—is basically what it’ll look like when it’s finished, with a few adjustments. The first panel goes over there and then they progress down that wall, around the corner and across the back.”
The watercolor itself was so beautiful it could have been framed and hanging in a gallery, but the finished mosaic would be stunning.
“I’m overwhelmed,” she told him. “This will be incredible.”
“I hope so. One thing I ask. You can’t tell anybody what it looks like. A committee approved the general design, but no one will actually see the finished panels until I unveil them at the dedication.”
“I won’t give the secret away.”
“When I begin installing, I’ll have to keep this inner door locked, but I’m not at that stage yet. The construction crew still has a few things left to finish.”
“What part will I be able to tile?”
“Some of these background areas. They have random pieces you can nip with hand cutters and not have to use the wet saw. I’ll show you what I mean when it’s time. You need to practice first.”
“I’m excited. I’ve never been part of anything so beautiful.”
“Hold on to that enthusiasm. You’re going to need it over the next few weeks working with me.”
THAT AFTERNOON she got her first lesson in grouting, great fun, but harder than she’d imagined. The movement didn’t hurt her broken wrist, although she had to hold the little scraper thing just right to get enough of the thick mixture of cement and fine sand to press down between the tiles. She found it easier to push into place with her hands.
Ryan had put together a practice piece so she wouldn’t mess anything up.
“Where the hell are your rubber gloves?” he barked, making her jump. He’d been in the back room for the past hour setting up to test-fire some tiles over the weekend and she hadn’t heard him approach.
“I can’t work with them on. They’re too big. The fingers are three inches longer than mine.”
“Then you should’ve said something. You don’t want direct contact with grout or any of the adhesives. They all have chemicals in them and they’ll eat up your skin.”
“Did you explain that?”
“I didn’t think I had to. Giving you the gloves and telling you to put them on should’ve been enough.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
He wiped her fingers with a clean rag until he’d gotten rid of all the excess. Pulling her off her stool to the sink, he doused her hands liberally with vinegar and made her scrub them.
“Being so fair, I’ll bet you have sensitive skin, too,” he grumbled, handing her a towel. “Some people even have allergic reactions.”
She didn’t say anything. What could she say? She’d done something stupid, and on her very first day of work, too.
The excitement she’d felt only hours earlier dwindled.
Her changed mood must have shown in her face because Ryan’s tone softened. He told her not to worry; he’d get her gloves that fit. He had cream that would help if her skin broke out.
“No Powerpuff Girls for you for a week,” he teased, smiling tentatively.
Susannah smiled back. “Sorry I screwed up.”
“You didn’t know any better. Let’s clean up and call it a day. I have to go get Nia and you’ve probably had enough of my foul temper, anyway. Sorry I barked. I’m bad about that.”
“That’s okay.”
“I’m used to working alone. When other people are around, I forget they don’t know the fundamentals.”
“Or are too stupid to follow directions…”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve been a big help today.”
His praise made her feel better.
She cleaned her tools and put the grout in a plastic holding bucket under Ryan’s watchful eye. Periodically, he said, once the cement settled to the bottom, he poured away the water and bagged up the residue for disposal. He did the same with the resin-based grouts and adhesives so as not to mess up the plumbing.
She tidied the workbench.
“I meant to ask if I could take some photographs while we’re working. I’ve been documenting my travels and posting photos on my Web site. I’d love to include shots of you, along with some of the finished pieces.”
“I don’t know about me, but I have no problem with your shooting the mosaics. Are you any good? I wouldn’t mind having copies.”
“Very good. Actually it’s the camera that’s good, a very high resolution five megapixel that gives quality comparable to a 35 mm SLR.”
“I have no idea what you just said.”
“Any dummy can take a clear, brilliant photo with it.”
“Now you’re speaking my language.”
“The images are digital, meaning we can plug the camera into your computer or mine and import them for dropping into Web pages, brochures to send out, business cards. Everything’s instantaneous. No film to develop.”
“I know nothing about this stuff.”
“The technology today is amazing. Have you considered setting up a Web site to advertise?”
“Joe’s tried to get me to do it. He has one for the furniture he makes. But I already have too many contracts and my business is nearly all word of mouth, anyway. I’m not sure a Web site would help me much.”
“You may be right. To hire someone to set up and maintain it can get expensive. But you wouldn’t need anything complicated—only simple informational pages to highlight your work and let potential customers know how to contact you. Those aren’t difficult to design yourself if you have the right program. It’s all wizzie wig.”
“Remember who you’re talking to.”
“W-Y-S-I-W-Y-G. What You See Is What You Get. The program has a graphical interface. You design the page the way you want it to look, and the program automatically generates the HTML code, or language, needed to display it to visitors.”
“If you say so.”
“You’re technologically challenged now, but by the time I get through with you, you’re going to be a different man.”
“Don’t count on it. I can’t even figure out how to set the answering machine to catch my calls.”
“I know, but I fixed that already. I recorded a message and set it to pick up after six rings.”
“Are you always so efficient?”
“Yes, or so I’m told. I have one of those structured minds that thrives on order. Being able to file and categorize today—I’ve been in heaven.”
“I’m the opposite. Anything orderly frightens me.”
“We should make a good team, then. You create the chaos and I’ll have fun cleaning it up.”
They both laughed.
He followed her out and locked the door.
“Friday is usually pizza night for me and Nia,” he said. “Come with us.”
“I’d like to, but I need to buy groceries and wash clothes. I thought I’d go to town now before it gets dark.”
“We can stop and pick up your groceries while we’re out. And you can use the washer and dryer upstairs any time. No use paying a laundry. Throw them in when we get back.”
“Okay, but only if you promise to let me buy the pizza, since you cooked last night.”
“I’ll flip you for it at the restaurant.”
“IF YOU WIN, you shouldn’t have to pay,” Susannah argued, picking up the bill from the table.
“Because I won, I get the right to choose.” Ryan reached across and snatched the slip of paper from her hand. “I choose to pay.”
“I’ve never played the game like that.”
“Then you haven’t been doing it right.”
Next to Susannah in the booth, Nia giggled.
“What’s so funny?” Susannah asked. She tickled the child’s side. “You sure do have a bad case of the sillies tonight.”
“You and Daddy are funny. You fuss all the time.”
“He’s the funny one. Look how his head is all lopsided. And his nose sticks out so far we might have to put a flag on the end so cars won’t run into it.”
Nia giggled again. “Nah-ah. My daddy is beautiful.”
“Beautiful? You think so?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, let’s see.” She studied Ryan’s face. His eyebrows lifted in question, waiting for her response. “You know, I think you’re right. He is beautiful in a weird, lopsided, long-nosed kind of way.”
“Thanks a lot,” he said.
Nia yanked on her sleeve.
“I know a secret about Daddy’s quarter.”
“What kind of secret?”
Nia looked at him. He shook his head.
“I can’t tell.”
“Oh, I get it. He tricked me somehow, didn’t he?”
“Uh-huh, it’s got a man on both—” Nia slapped her hands over her mouth, realizing she’d almost given away what she knew.
Susannah pretended to be mad at him. She held out her palm. “Okay, buster, show me the quarter.”
“Not on your life.”
“You don’t play fair.”
“As fair as you.”
“You flipped the coin and you called first.”
“So?”
“So that’s not how you do it.”
“Next time we’ll use your quarter and I’ll call first.”
“Okay,” she said, then realized he’d tricked her again and sputtered, “Wait a minute, that’s not right.”
“You already agreed. Too late.”
They argued again at the grocery store when Ryan tried to pay for a pair of rubber gloves she bought for work. The man had a streak of hardheadedness in him. This time, he gave in because she threatened to slug him.
Her hands were a little dry and itchy from the exposure to the grout. She didn’t tell Ryan, only added a bottle of moisturizing cream to her basket.
They checked out, and he loaded her groceries into the truck’s back seat with Nia. “Do you need anything else while we’re in town?” he asked, getting in.
“I got everything.”
“Anyplace you want to stop?”
“Can’t think of one.”
Robbinsville was a sweet place, nestled in a valley among the mountains, but Susannah couldn’t see much to do after dark. During the quick tour Ryan gave her, she admired the courthouse made of native stone. Ryan showed her the sheriff’s office where Bass worked.
The surrounding “downtown” of a handful of streets was quaint and had some interesting antique and period clothing shops, but all were closed now. Tomorrow she’d drive back and have a better look around in daylight, maybe see if she could find another pair of jeans.
The only road with any traffic was a one-street “bypass” with a few fast-food restaurants, a couple of motels and a convenience store. Ryan stopped at the store and pulled up to the pumps to get gas.
While he was inside paying, Nia took off her seat belt and leaned over to talk to Susannah.
“When are we going to make the brownies?” she asked. Susannah had bought a boxed mix at the store.
“Maybe this weekend, but first we have to see if your grandmother will let us borrow a pan. Your daddy isn’t sure he has one that’ll work.”
“My friend Mary is making banana splits at her sleep-over party tomorrow.”
“Then we should wait to make brownies another time. Eating brownies and banana splits on the same day wouldn’t be good.”
“Daddy says I don’t have to go to the party if I don’t want to.”
“But you want to go, don’t you?” Nia didn’t seem too sure. “You’re not too young to start spending the night away from home. And sleep-overs are great fun. I went to a lot of them when I was a little girl.”
“But what happens if you miss your daddy?”
“You’ll be playing so many games and laughing so much, you won’t have time to miss him. But if you were to miss him, you could always call.”
“I could come home?”
“If you really, really felt you had to, I guess he could drive over and get you, but I don’t think you’d want to leave.”
“What if I got sick?”
“Of course you could come home if you got sick, but you’re feeling okay now, aren’t you?” She said she was. “Then I wouldn’t worry.”
“Susannah?” Nia’s demeanor turned more serious. She obviously had something else to ask, but seemed reluctant to continue.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“If Daddy doesn’t want me anymore and gives me away, can I come live with you?”
“Doesn’t want…?” The question stunned her. If ever a child was doted on and loved, it was this one. Her father adored her. That was obvious to anyone who saw them together.
“Nia, that’s not something you ever have to worry about. Your daddy loves you very much. He’d never give you away.”
“But if he did, would you let me be your little girl?”
Susannah had no idea how to answer.
SHE DEBATED whether she should tell Ryan about her conversation with his daughter. Nia had seemed genuinely worried about her father giving her away. Yet all young children had fears about being unwanted, didn’t they?
She could remember feeling that way herself a few times as a child. Once she’d gotten in trouble for coloring on the wall of the freshly painted living room. Convinced her mother wouldn’t want her anymore, she’d run away—as far as the neighbor’s back porch.
The child had no reason to worry. Ryan loved her. Still…something didn’t seem quite right in the Whitepath household.
Nia didn’t go to her party Saturday night and she also backed out of baking brownies. She didn’t feel good, she said, but her complaints were vague. First it was her head, then her stomach, then both her head and her stomach.
Ryan said not to be concerned. She did this sometimes.
“I think she was afraid she’d get homesick at the sleep-over and embarrass herself in front of her friends,” he said.
Susannah decided that was reasonable, but it didn’t explain why Nia didn’t want to be around her.
She felt she’d handled her answer to the child’s question poorly. As much as she’d love Nia to be her little girl, she’d told the child, she wasn’t planning on ever being a mommy.
Nia was herself again on Sunday morning when Susannah joined the family for church. Later, during dinner at Ryan’s mother’s house, Joe and Nia told jokes to each other and laughed throughout the meal, making Nana Sipsey threaten to take a switch to both of them. Nia seemed completely recovered.
“Annie, this roast is delicious,” Susannah told her.
Everyone echoed the sentiment.
“Thank you. How did you enjoy the service? Was it very different from what you’re used to?”
“A little different, but interesting.” A few of the hymns were the same, sung in Cherokee or English. The program had provided a translation of the Cherokee prayers.
The best part, though, was seeing Ryan dressed in a suit.
“Daddy has Susannah’s underpants in his pocket,” Nia suddenly announced.
Ryan nearly choked on his food.
Every person at the table stopped eating and stared at him.
“Do tell,” Joe said with a grin.
“Uh, I found them in the dryer,” Ryan explained when he’d stopped coughing. His face had turned crimson. Susannah imagined her face was the same lovely shade. “She washed her clothes over at our place the other night.”
“That’s a good one, brother,” Joe told him.
“Joseph!” His mother warned him to behave.
Susannah was mortified, especially when Ryan later took the silky scrap of red fabric from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to her.
“Nice color,” was all he said.