Home to Eden by Dallas Schulze Read Free Book Online

"It wouldn't have killed you to take time out from your busy schedule to call now and again."
    "No, ma'am."
    "Your parents worried about you." She set the bacon on a plate and buttered toast with brisk efficiency, turning to the stove in time to slide the eggs out at exactly the right moment. "As little as we heard from you, you'd think that you were in Outer Mongolia or someplace where they'd never heard of a telephone or decent mail service."
    "Yes, ma'am."
    She set the plate in front of him with a thump and fixed him with a stem look. "Don't 'ma'am' me, Nicholas James Blackthorne. You deserve a good scold and you know it."
    "Yes, Dilly." He spoiled the meekness of his response by sliding one arm around her waist and pulling her close enough for him to kiss her cheek again. "I've missed you like hell."
    For just an instant, her thin arms hugged him fiercely tight. Then she pulled away, smoothing her hands over her apron. "Don't curse," she told him briskly. "And eat your breakfast before it gets cold."
    "Yes, ma'am."
    "Wretched boy." The tenderness in her voice made the words a compliment, and she couldn't resist brushing a thick lock of dark hair from his forehead. She returned Nick's smile and then turned away before he could see the foolish brightness in her eyes. "I've got some fresh orange juice."
    When she came to work for the Blackthornes, she'd been newly widowed and childless. Gareth had been ten, past the age where he could simply open his heart to every newcomer. But Nick and Brian had been perfectly willing to accept her as one of the family, welcoming her with the easy affection of the very young. She'd loved them both but, in her secret heart, she admitted to loving Nick best.
    She'd spent the last thirty years watching him grow from boy to man. She'd watched him lose his brother and a part of himself at the same time. She'd seen him deal with the changes that had come into his life after Brian's death, had worried when he fell in love with a woman as fragile as fine crystal and had grieved for him when he lost both wife and child. She'd understood, better dian anyone else, his need to get away. But she'd never thought he'd stay away so long, and she hadn't expected him to come back with the emptiness still in his eyes.
    "Your mother said you got home in the middle of dinner last night," she said as she set a glass of orange juice in front of him.
    "I planned on being here earlier but I got distracted in Vegas."
    "Gambling, I suppose." She tried to look disapproving but then spoiled it by asking if he'd won.
    "A bit," he admitted. "But I got back on the road later than I'd intended."
    What he didn't mention was that the closer he'd come to the California state line, the more doubts he'd had about coming back here. But then, he wouldn't be surprised if she'd already guessed as much. Dilly had always known him much too well.
    "I don't think anyone minded having their dinner interrupted," she said as she poured herself a cup of coffee—her fourth of the day—and added a generous splash of cream. "Your parents were delighted to have you home."
    "They said as much." Their open pleasure had made him painfully conscious of his ambivalence. "It was good to see them. And Gareth. I met his fiancee.
    He wasn't sure what prompted him to add the last comment. His brother's fiancee was the last thing he wanted to discuss with Dilly. But the words were out and couldn't be taken back.
    "Miss Moran." Dilly nodded. "She's a pretty young woman."
    Nick murmured a bland agreement and concentrated on his breakfast.
    "Pleasant spoken enough," she added. Something in her tone brought his head up. He knew her well enough to read the reservation in her voice.
    "You don't like her?"
    "I didn't say anything of the kind," she protested, genuinely horrified. "She seems to be a very nice young woman."
    ''But?"
    "But nothing. Gareth seems very happy."
    "But?" he prodded again. He couldn't have said why he was pushing the issue. Common sense