ERIN HAD JUST pried open a can of paint the next morning when she heard a car in the driveway. Who on earth could it be? Somebody using her driveway to turn around? Certainly, nobody had dropped in for a visit since she’d moved to West Fork. She’d hoped that by judiciously responding to friends’ and her aunt’s emails, she’d head them off from tracking her down. Outside, she heard a car door slam. She straightened and went toward the front of the house.
A dark-haired man in a rumpled suit had climbed out of the blue sedan and was looking at the house. With a sinking feeling, Erin suspected she knew who he was.
She opened the front door and went out on the porch. “Can I help you?”
“Would you be Ms. Parrish?”
“I am.”
He mounted the steps. “I’m Enrique Ramirez, Cole Meacham’s parole officer. I should have visited before now, but I’ve been swamped.”
“How do you do?” she said politely, accepting his handshake. Cole would hate having the man show up here. Had he known parole officers did this? Seeing no option, she invited him in and offered him coffee, which he accepted with apparent pleasure. Just sugar, he said.
“Is Mr. Meacham here?” he asked.
Pouring from the carafe, she said, “He’s at a neighbors’. I still have some small jobs for him to do, but he’s currently building a wheelchair ramp for the elderly people across the street.”
“A wheelchair ramp?” He looked startled. “Has he ever done anything like that before?”
“I don’t think so, but he studied plans online and says he’s good at math.” She grimaced as she put a mug on the table in front of him, sitting down with her own. “Which I’m not, so I didn’t totally understand his calculations. The ramp can’t be too steep, for obvious reasons. His father is a contractor. Cole worked for him at one time and had some construction jobs later, too.” He’d barely mentioned those, but she had the impression he’d been trying to get out from under his father’s thumb.
“I see.” After dumping a couple of teaspoons of sugar in his coffee and stirring, he studied her from tired brown eyes. Gray threaded the dark hair, and the beginnings of seams in his face put him in his forties or early fifties. “Is he still living here?”
“Yes, as I told you, in the apartment over the garage.”
“You’ve had no problems with him?”
“None at all,” she said firmly. “He’s done wonders with this house. The front and back porches were rotting, and so was some of the siding. The staircase up to the apartment was rotting, too. My grandmother had really let things go. Cole’s done all the work on the exterior, including the paint job on both the house and the garage. His latest job was whacking the weeds and blackberries down.”
“And personally?”
Offended on Cole’s behalf by all these questions, Erin did understand that the man had to do his job. Would he leave without seeing Cole? She wished.
“He’s polite, a hard worker, patient and kind. I wouldn’t have offered him a place to stay if he hadn’t been. He started mowing the neighbors’ lawn across the street without asking for pay. Mr. Zatloka looks about ninety, and was still trying to do it himself. In fact, Cole was willing to build the ramp for nothing if the Zatlokas would cover the materials, but they insisted on paying him.”
A shrewdness and skepticism in his eyes made her uneasy. Did he suspect she was falling for Cole, and therefore didn’t believe what she was saying? Her annoyance was tinged with embarrassment, because, of course, Mr. Ramirez was right. She was falling—had fallen—for Cole, although she didn’t think she’d have been willing to lie for him. No, if she’d had to lie, he wouldn’t be the man she thought he was.
So she stubbornly kept her mouth shut instead of continuing to babble.
“Has he made friends? Found a girlfriend?” His pause had the same delicate quality as his earlier question. “Or is he sticking close by?”
“You’ll have to ask him about friends and women. I don’t know. I don’t keep track of him. I’ve seen him head out in the evening sometimes. Mostly to the library, I think. I often see him coming or going with an armful of books.”
“Are you aware he has no driver’s license?”
“Yes. He has a permit now and is about to take the test to get a license. He’s a good driver.”
He kept asking questions, trying, she thought, to trip her up, but since she was answering honestly, there wasn’t a thing he could do. The temptation to ask him what Cole had done to end up with such a long prison term was huge, but she wouldn’t let herself. Either Cole would tell her, or he wouldn’t.
At last the parole officer finished his coffee, thanked her for her time and asked where he could find “Mr. Meacham.” Walking him to the door, she said, “The neighbors don’t know he’s an ex-con, Mr. Ramirez. I hope you can avoid telling them.”
This glance was sharp. “You don’t think they should have known before they employed him?”
“No, I don’t. They’re quite elderly, and probably easily frightened. If I thought he was a danger to them in any way, I wouldn’t have recommended him—or at least would’ve made sure they knew. As it is, he’s something of a hero to them. Mr. Zatloka collapsed in his yard a few days ago. Cole is the one who noticed him. He ran over to see if he could provide first aid. Once the ambulance arrived, we both accompanied Mrs. Zatloka to the hospital. Her difficulty in getting around was why the idea of a ramp came up.”
“I see.” That seemed to be his go-to, noncommittal remark. “Again, thank you. I may stop by from time to time.”
“You’re welcome to leave the car here while you talk to him, if you’d like.”
“I appreciate that.”
Erin stayed on the porch longer than she should have, watching him go down her driveway and cross the street. A knot had formed in her stomach. A mere call from Mr. Ramirez had been enough to cause Cole to retreat for days. What effect would an in-person appearance have?
She hoped the parole officer understood how destructive it would be if Cole lost a job that had him so engaged.
* * *
KNEELING ON THE lawn behind the house, Cole set aside the drill and reached for the screw and his screwdriver. At this stage, he was being extracareful, measuring and then measuring again before cutting or putting anything in place.
Hearing someone behind him, he turned his head, expecting Mr. Zatloka. When he saw Ramirez, he stiffened. Son of a bitch. What if he’d already introduced himself to Mr. Zatloka? Or intended to?
“Ramirez,” he said flatly.
“Cole.” He nodded. “Ms. Parrish told me about your project. I was curious to see it.”
The back door opened, and Cole gripped the handle of the screwdriver so hard his knuckles ached. He had trouble loosening his jaw enough to speak. “Mr. Zatloka.”
“Oh, I thought it might be Erin here.” The old man peered at Cole’s parole officer.
Ramirez stepped forward and offered his hand. “Enrique Ramirez. I was just talking to, er, Erin, and she mentioned what Cole was up to over here. I hope you don’t mind. I’m being nosy.”
Zatloka beamed. “We’ve been admiring Cole’s work on Erin’s house and are real happy he could take on this job, too.” Clutching the iron railing beside the concrete stoop, he said, “My wife uses a walker now, and that with difficulty. We have to plan for the future.”
“Erin’s house looks really good,” Ramirez agreed, a hint of surprise in his voice. “I didn’t see the ‘before,’ but I gather it wasn’t in great shape.”
“No, her grandmother and my Laureen were friends. Once she was widowed, I’d have liked to help more, but I’m getting to an age when keeping up one house and yard is about all I can handle.”
Getting to an age? Under other circumstances, Cole might have been amused.
“Perfectly understandable,” Ramirez said. “Well, I just stopped by to say hello.” He smiled at Cole. “Any chance you’d take a minute and walk me back to my car?”
“Sure.” Like he had a choice, he thought bleakly. Had Erin known what she was doing, sending the guy over here? He stood, realized he still gripped the screwdriver like a weapon and hastily bent over to set it beside the drill. Then he nodded at Mr. Zatloka. “Be right back.”
The two men walked around the house, down the driveway and across the street. Only then did Ramirez say, “Ms. Parrish gave a good report on you.”
A report. The knowledge that she could screw him over royally with a bad report ate at his stomach like acid. She was his employer and his landlady, damn it. Apparently, he needed the reminder.
He had to say something. “I was lucky when she hired me.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how did that happen?”
Cole did mind him asking, but Ramirez could grind him under his heel if he felt so inclined. He hadn’t been this aware of how little power he held since he’d walked out of prison.
“I was applying for a job at the hardware store in town. The minute the manager saw I’d been convicted of a crime, he tossed my application. She heard what was said and followed me outside. I guess she hadn’t seen any notices for handymen, and preferred that route to hiring a contractor.”
“Pretty gutsy of her.” Ramirez sounded thoughtful.
Not able to argue, Cole gritted his teeth again.
“She’s been giving you a chance to drive, too, she says.”
“She has. I need a little practice on the freeway, but then I’m ready to take the test.” He hesitated. “I hope having a license will help with job applications.”
“You planning to stick to construction?”
He shrugged. “It’s all I know.”
Ramirez studied him. “According to what I read, you have a knack for small-engine repair and even automobile repair.”
“Both are necessary on a job site, but I’d rather not be stuck on my back under a car all day. There’s more variety in construction.”
“I assume Ms. Parrish will give you a recommendation when you finish everything she needs you to do.”
“I haven’t asked, but I assume so.”
“You plan to stay in this apartment?” The parole officer nodded toward the garage.
“If I can get a job here in town.” The idea of leaving, not being able to see Erin... Not something he wanted to think about. “I promised to do some work on it in lieu of rent, and I’ve barely started.”
“You been in touch with family?”
He hesitated again. “No, beyond letting my sister know I wasn’t coming to her place.” Guilt bit hard. She’d supported him all along. She was the only one who had. “I keep meaning to buy a phone, but I haven’t yet,” he concluded, ashamed.
“Might want to do that. You have any other plans?”
God, he wanted to get this man off his back. Out of his life. Would it help to sound ambitious?
“Once I have a car and I can afford to, I’d like to take some college classes.”
Ramirez’s bushy eyebrows rose. “You have a start already.”
He did have some credits. He’d have had a lot more if Washington state taxpayers hadn’t decided not to fund education for prison inmates. “I want to get a four-year degree eventually.”
“In what field?” The guy leaned a hip against his car. He sounded curious versus demanding.
Cole shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Don’t know yet.” That wasn’t quite true, but was he willing to admit to something that might prove to be out of his reach? But Erin had been teaching him not to be quite so closemouthed. Gruffly, he said, “Engineering.”
The eyebrows rose even higher this time. “I seem to remember you having high test scores, particularly in math.”
Despite letting his grades sink his senior year of high school, Cole knew he might still have been able to get academic as well as athletic scholarships if he hadn’t had his head up his ass.
“I’d better get back to work,” he said.
Ramirez nodded and surprised Cole by holding out his hand. “I’ll be calling, and I’ll probably stop by again, but I’ve got to say, I’m really pleased with how you’re doing. You look a hell of a lot better than the first time we met, and you have people in your corner. I don’t usually say this so early on, but I think you’re going to make it, Cole.”
“Thank you for not telling Mr. Zatloka about my background.”
“Didn’t seem any need. You keep up the good work, son.”
They shook hands and Ramirez got into his car.
Cole started down the driveway, making himself nod when the car came even with him. He was glad to have an excuse not to see Erin for a while. This supervisory visit brought up a lot of conflicted feelings. He needed to think about those emotions, come to terms with them. But he wasn’t as angry as he’d expected to be. In fact, among all the negative shit he was feeling, there was a small warm spot. It had something to do with saying aloud where he wanted to go with his life, but also with Ramirez sounding up front when he said what he had. I think you’re going to make it, Cole.
Damn straight, he was.
He needed to call his sister. Say Hi, say I’m doing okay. Tonight, even if it meant borrowing Erin’s phone.
* * *
ERIN CAUGHT HERSELF glancing out the window way more often than she should have as she watched for Cole to come home. It truly was a coincidence, though, that she’d gone out to get something from the Jeep when she turned her head to see him striding up the driveway.
Would he think she’d been lying in wait for him?
Weren’t you?
“Hi. Um, I left some paint samples in the car.”
His expression remained impassive. No telling whether he was mad, depressed, had been fired or had put Ramirez’s visit out of his mind.
Oh, to heck with it. “I was wondering if you’d join me for dinner. The house smells like fresh paint, but if you don’t mind that...”
His answer hung in the balance. She could almost see the gears spinning. Finally, he said, “Thanks. Let me get cleaned up first.”
“Okay. Good.” She was about to race for the house to accelerate meal preparations, but then she remembered those paint samples. She did want to make a decision tonight.
Five minutes later, he showed up, for once not knocking. The first she knew, he’d opened the door and called, “Erin?”
“In the kitchen.” When she heard his footsteps, she said, “It’s spaghetti again. I hope you liked it.”
“It was great. Anything I can do?”
He always asked. She had him pour drinks and get the garlic bread out of the oven while she dumped the spaghetti into a colander and dodged the steam that leaped up.
Not until they sat down did she say, “So, how’d it go with Ramirez?”
He gave her another of his unreadable looks from those cool blue eyes. “Okay.” Pause as he ladled sauce over his spaghetti. “Probably thanks to you.”
Which he no doubt loved. She shrugged, as if unaware of how he must feel about her involvement, and said, “I told him the truth. You’ve done a great job. You’re a nice man. You haven’t held any wild parties.”
“Did you ask him not to tell the Zatlokas I’m an ex-con?”
“Yes.” And what was wrong with that?
He nodded and started eating.
Erin didn’t even pick up her fork.
After a minute, he paused with a bite halfway to his mouth. “You want to know what he said?”
“Yes!” She subsided. “Well, if it was important. I mean, was he satisfied?”
Some expression flickered in his eyes. “Yeah. He seemed...pleased.”
“He should be!”
Cole’s face relaxed almost into a smile. “Did you chew him out for doubting me?”
“You’re making fun of me.”
He gave a quiet chuckle. “Yeah, a little.”
“Oh.” His smile made her skin feel tight and tingly. And warm, too, which undoubtedly meant she was blushing.
“Thank you.” He was suddenly serious. “I mean that.”
Her cheeks were downright hot now. “You’re welcome. You’ve done amazing things around here.” Hating the huskiness in her voice, she said, “I feel lucky to have found you.”
He shook his head in automatic repudiation, but didn’t actually argue. Instead, they looked at each other, neither taking a bite. The air felt electric, and his eyes were a brighter blue than usual. All she heard was the rush of her heartbeat.
What if I asked... There was so much she wanted to ask him, but she knew she couldn’t. She didn’t always understand male pride, but she did know that he had to make the choice to come to her, and that would happen only if he overcame the obstacles he kept tripping over.
She wasn’t sure who looked away first. Maybe they both did at the same moment. They resumed eating but in silence, until she couldn’t stand it for another minute.
“How is the ramp coming along?”
“Good. I think my plan will work.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “It might be easier if the old guy wasn’t hanging over my shoulder all the time. He’s obviously overdue for some excitement in his life.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Wasn’t collapsing and getting taken off to the hospital in an ambulance enough excitement?”
“Not the fun kind. He wants to hold boards for me when I saw. If I stop to calculate, he ponders right along with me.”
Erin laughed. “He’ll probably tell the neighbors he did half the work.”
Cole actually smiled again. “He’s okay.”
They talked about how far she’d gotten with the paint job, and he mentioned a book he’d just finished that she had loved. He had more doubts about the central argument, so they had the kind of debate she loved. The kind she’d once encouraged in her classroom and enjoyed with friends. Since he’d relaxed and was, for him, chatty, she asked what else he’d been reading, and was surprised anew by the range of subjects that interested him. They’d already talked about The Good Soldiers, a powerful look at one unit in the Iraq war. Now he mentioned Five Days at Memorial, about the horror in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, and he had just begun All the Single Ladies, about unmarried women and the trend toward independence.
Erin blinked at that one, coming from him.
“The world’s changed,” he said seriously.
“You feel like Rip Van Winkle.” She’d known that, on one level, without realizing how profoundly those ten lost years had impacted him.
A nerve ticked in his cheek, and she wondered if he’d answer. But he started talking, slowly at first, then more naturally.
“Incarcerated, you watch some television, and you can get books and magazines from the library. Sports are the most popular on TV. The selection of books isn’t all that current. Even if it was...reading about something isn’t the same as experiencing it.” He went quiet.
He’d never said this much before. The fact that he had...felt like an odd kind of gift. Trust.
But then he surprised her even more by going on. “I took a bus from Walla Walla to downtown Seattle. I was just about paralyzed when I stood on the sidewalk and watched all those cars jockeying to get in the right lane, lights and movement everywhere, people shouting—” He shuddered, although Erin wasn’t sure he knew he had. “Things I wouldn’t have given a thought to ten years ago made me feel as if I’d been skinned and all my nerves were exposed. I needed someplace slower.”
“To dip your foot in the water.”
“Instead of cannonballing in? Yeah, you could say that.”
“Were you at all tempted to go home while you were in Seattle?”
His lashes veiled his eyes. “No.”
That was all. No. Erin wished she hadn’t asked. He’d already told her his father hadn’t once visited him. Why would Cole want to go home?
Because we all do, she thought sadly. Selling the house where she’d grown up, after her father’s death, had been so hard. Driving away the last time, seeing it in the rearview mirror just before she turned the corner, knowing she’d never be back... Even the memory cramped her heart. And how much more painful would that have been if her father still lived in the house—but she knew he’d never welcome her again? She wondered if his father was still in Cole’s childhood home.
If Cole’s dad ever showed up on her doorstep, she thought she might punch him.