Sweet Tomorrows by Debbie Macomber Read Free Book Online Page B

“A handyman?”
    “That’s right.”
    The shock of it appeared to cause him to go speechless. After a short hesitation, he added, “You said he was a friend?”
    “Yes.” I wasn’t about to reveal anything more than I already had.
    He hesitated and then asked, “You care for him?”
    I didn’t reply.
    “Clearly you do,” he said, answering the question for me. “Listen, Jo Marie, if I could share any information I would. What I can tell you is that this is big, bigger than you realize. I’m on my way to Washington for a meeting. When I return, you and I are going to have a face-to-face, and at that time you
will
tell me what you know. Do we understand each other?”
    I wasn’t given the opportunity to answer, as the line was disconnected.

The girl was there again, on his property, running through the orchard. Nick stood at the second-story bedroom window and watched her cut through the fruit trees. She was graceful and sleek, her dark hair pulled away from her face and captured at the base of her neck. She wore a sleeveless top and shorts. She had the body of an athlete; her arms and legs were tanned, her calf muscles defined.
    Elvis was the one who’d alerted him to her presence. He’d sent the German shepherd out that first day, thinking the dog would scare her off his property. Instead, after the shock of happening upon the guard dog, she’d knelt down on one knee and talked to him as if he were a family pet.
    Nick wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t personally seen it happen. Elvis was a guard dog, and he’d been trained to fend off intruders. Instead the canine had welcomed this runner as if she’d raised him from a puppy and rewarded him with a T-bone steak.
    Every morning since that first encounter, Nick had let Elvis out, thinking that one of these days the dog would return to his training. His brother had raised this dog, and Brad had been an expert instructor. Immediately he felt a sharp sense of loss at the memory of his only sibling. Grief and guilt mixed in a cocktail of personal agony. Tearing his thoughts away, he focused his attention on Elvis before his grief led to another debilitating panic attack. He didn’t understand what it was about this woman that turned the dog away from what had been carefully drilled into him from the time he was a puppy.
    The woman had come to the house twice in the last week, knocked, and waited for a response. Nick hadn’t answered. It’d been a bad day today and he wasn’t up to seeing anyone, let alone making polite conversation. He hadn’t slept well, but then he rarely did these days.
    Earlier that morning he’d had another panic attack and was dizzy and shaken. Afterward, he’d sat in the dark. The lack of light soothed him, and he suspected it came from the sense that he was invisible. Ever since the accident, he had trouble sleeping. These days he rarely slept more than three or four hours at a time, often waking to nightmares that tormented him and sent adrenaline shooting through his system. It was after these dreams that he walked until he was exhausted enough to sleep again.
    No, he definitely wasn’t up to company. Not her or that other woman who’d shown up unexpectedly on his doorstep recently. Whatever they wanted, he wasn’t buying. He didn’t want to be neighborly, nor was he looking to make friends.
    Staring out the window watching her run, Nick felt like a voyeur. He had to admit it wasn’t everyone who would take it upon themselves to open a gate and cross someone else’s property.
    To complicate matters, he’d recently dreamed about her. Involuntarily, she’d jogged across his mind, confusing and unsettling him. He’d seen her only from a distance, and in his dream he’d been stunned by her beauty. Her hair had been loose, with the wind fluttering the thick strands across her face. When she saw him, she’d stopped and smiled as if they were longtime friends. Then slowly, against his will, he’d walked toward her.