Instructions for Love Page 7

  What could he show her? Tilly had done a great job of making the floor shine and keeping dust off the furniture, but not lately. Not since she’d taken ill. Before that, she had cooked some great meals.

  “Look here.” He yanked open the refrigerator’s freezer door. Shoving aside the pail of Rocky Road ice cream, he moved thin packs of okra and grabbed the package that revealed rice. “Jambalaya. Tilly made too much a few weeks back, so she froze some.”

  Taking the swollen freezer bag from him, Erin held it in both hands. The way she gazed at the package made Dane feel as if he was in a sacred space.

  “Thank you,” Erin said. She replaced the pack in the freezer. “Maybe we can eat it tonight.”

  He hadn’t planned to have her around by this evening. But she’d gotten so sad and needed something that might wipe away her unhappiness. A dish prepared by her aunt might give her great satisfaction. It would probably be too much trouble for her to fly the package of jambalaya home.

  And back home, she might share it with that guy Trevor.

  No, a dish Tilly cooked on his stove should remain here.

  “We’ll have that jambalaya for supper,” he said, making a smile brighten Erin’s face.

  He really should just give her keys to Tilly’s cottage and send her on her way there. But she didn’t seem so unpleasant to be around today. With her not talking as much as she’d done yesterday, even her movements had slowed. He liked seeing her body’s moves in slower motion.

  He wrenched his eyes away from her. His interest, he determined with a jolt ramming through his belly, stemmed from not entertaining company in some time.

  “I looked through some of the rooms,” she said.

  “You didn’t check out the whole house?” This place had become only that, a big wooden shell filled with rooms. Two years ago, when the heart defect they hadn’t known existed took Anna, the building they stood in abruptly lost its feel of being a home. Still, a small piece of him felt proud of it. Of course not as proud as he was of his fields. And Erin had already gone into Anna’s garments in their bedroom. No problem now with her seeing everything else. “C’mon, let’s see what you missed.”

  He only went with her through the house because he had hurt her with his fierce reaction to her cutting the roses. And the woman walking beside him had all kinds of sadness to carry already while she discovered for certain, after a time, that she would no longer see Tilly.

  What a heart-wrenching lesson, having the truth sink in. You’d never again be near your loved one.

  Feeling as if a hand tightened around his throat, Dane forced away former thoughts and stepped through the doorway ahead of her. “This was a dining room.”

  Erin had crossed through this room before, and she’d sat at that small table to use the telephone, which she’d been hoping would ring. Trevor should have called back by now. He’d been so unreasonable. If he really cared for her work as much as he said he did, why wouldn’t he understand that she had to follow her aunt’s instructions, even if they seemed strange? She needed to stay down here.

  “That’s the table.” Dane shoved one of the six chairs against the magnificent mahogany piece that now collected unopened packages, stacks of mail, and a tarnished silver tea set. “And other stuff,” he said, giving his head a toss toward other fine furniture like the cupboard with wavy glass doors. The diamond-shaped window above it was the largest yet in the house. Amber panes outlined the clear ones within, all thick wavy glass that silhouetted the branches and leaves of the trees outside. Framed photographs of single roses, probably taken in the garden, enhanced the feel that this space had once held more life.

  Erin imagined eating in this room. Lots of guests would gather around the table when it sparkled. Airy curtains might replace the worn blinds on the door to the veranda. Joyous laughter might fill this room.

  Dane strode ahead, guiding her to another one, this space darker. “The living room.” He stopped in front of a walnut-trimmed parlor set. A newspaper lay open on its coffee table. An antique loveseat, small television, recliner, and tasseled lamps filled in the furnishings. Pale green wallpaper coated the walls. Bottoms of the heavy drapes that closed over the windows lay pooled on the floor.

  “It’s dark in here.” Erin’s voice sounded like it broke into a hollow silence.

  He flicked on a standing lamp. “There.”

  Erin noticed the wall she stood near. “What a beautiful fireplace.” She ran her hand over the mantle’s smooth dark finish. Empty vases stood on both ends. The trim surrounding the area for the charred wood appeared to be made of porcelain, white with traces of deep blue, providing the instinct that this room could feel cozy.

  Dane stomped on ahead of her.

  She caught up with him in the foyer. “I noticed that many of the rooms have fireplaces. Of course I know that back when this place was built, there weren’t central heaters or air conditioning. But does it ever get cold enough around here to light any of those fires?”

  They stood at least a foot apart, yet Erin felt his gaze drawing them even closer. She swallowed, blinking.

  Only his eyes seemed to speak, but she heard the sound of his deep voice. “We don’t do it often, but we do light fires.”

  She forced her head into a nod. “I see.”

  This time Erin took over the lead. She trotted through the office, barely giving a glance to the stairwell. “I already saw this room,” she said, not turning back to the man whose steps fell hard behind her, “and I went on that small porch.” Veering to the right, she stepped into the first bedroom. “This is pretty, an attractive fireplace. I like the washstand with the bowl and pitcher.”

  Dane stared at the furnishings. “I guess it’s all right.”

  Erin sped through the open door to the next room. “Nice mosquito netting over this bed. It’s probably for decoration, but I imagine you might sometimes have to use it.” She smiled at him. Dane slept in this room. Maybe he sometimes shared it with another person.

  “I didn’t go in here,” she said, wishing she could keep up the chattering she’d done yesterday. But he kept walking too close behind. Of course women might flock to him. The man could’ve been the model for masculinity. “Oh, this is adorable.”

  “The bathroom?”

  She hadn’t meant to enter his bathroom, but that’s where the open door led.

  He stepped in right behind her.

  “That tiny window’s perfect for this room which is only big enough for one person,” she said. “There’s no design in the window to clutter this small space, and its diamond shape right behind the angled ceiling appeals to the eye.”

  Dane stared up at the window. He looked down at her. “Did you study architecture?”

  She released a nervous laugh. “I wished I would have. Sometimes anything would seem better than the job I have.”

  His raised eyebrow made her stop thinking of all the unpleasant aspects of creating storylines for a cast of people who were often unpleasant. But maybe her job had lost its appeal when her boss spoke so brusquely on the phone and then hung up on her.

  Dane’s honey-brown eyes studied her. His presence seemed to fill the room.

  Erin forgot her boss, forgot about her job. “And that’s the cutest tub I’ve ever seen,” she said, scooting away from him and closer to it. The tub was short, its sides extra high. “Do you know the names of all these antique pieces?”

  “No.”

  “I’d like to know them.”

  “When you learn, you can teach them to me.”

  The idea of sharing knowledge with this man sent a spark of delight through her. She shifted her gaze away from his chest, its broad width not hidden by the denim shirt. “You must have to scrunch up to fit inside this tub.”

  He snorted. “It isn’t a pretty sight.”

  She laughed. “I can just picture you sitting in here.” Heat struck her cheeks. “No, I can’t.”

  He smiled, watching her cheeks turn red. Dane shook his h
ead. She was certainly an unusual woman, but in a nice way.

  Her hands fluttered around her face and the tub like the butterflies that garnished his garden. Sure, she was almost like a foreigner, coming from such a different part of the country. But, he decided at that moment, he liked her.

  Her hands stopped their motion. She stared into the tub.

  “I should’ve picked these up,” Dane said, grabbing the wet face towel he’d left in the tub’s bottom, his hip brushing against Erin when he leaned over. She backed up and stared at him. He yanked up the fluffy towel he’d dried himself with that still lay damp on the floor.

  Erin took off, shoving the next door open and heading through it.

  Dane glanced around the bathroom. Nope, no place to put the towels in this guest bathroom. He tossed them both into the tub and followed Erin out.

  She had stopped. Her head twisted back a little when he stepped up close behind her. “I’ve already been in here,” she said. “This is the master bedroom.”

  “Yep, it’s a bedroom.”

  She moved out ahead of him, scampering through the door that opened to the office like a chased rabbit. “And I’ve been through here.” She paused, her gaze swinging up to the stairwell. Her face looked expectant when she stared at him.

  “Junk rooms up there,” he reminded. “You don’t want to see that.”

  Her expression told him otherwise, but he didn’t care. There was no way he would bring a stranger up there.

  “Well Aunt Tilly wanted me to view this place. I guess I’ve seen everything—” Her forehead creased and the moss-gray eyes narrowed. “—that I’m supposed to see.”

  Right when he was deciding this woman appealed to him, she made him change his mind. She just wouldn’t give up. She wanted to go in the attic. But she wouldn’t.

  “How about back here?” Dane said, wanting to get rid of her accusing stare. He liked her face much more when it was smiling. And he needed to quit noticing how good she looked.

  “What’s here that I haven’t seen before?” she asked, coming up close behind while he led her back through the kitchen, that light scent of new jasmine staying with her.

  He glanced at the roses, still fresh on the table. He liked the smell of many of the roses and the banana magnolias. But his favorite fragrance came from those jasmines that grew wild with other vines along the edge of the woods. “I know you walked through here,” he said, stopping in the hall that led from the kitchen to the back door.

  Erin glanced at the old cypress walls he’d decided not to change. She stared at the small alcove that now held only a coat stand with a couple of his jackets on it left over from spring. Her eyes swung to the shoe rack near it that held his dirty tennis shoes.

  “This is the room I didn’t think you’d seen.” He opened the door to the storage room. A musty smell reached out. He flipped the switch to light the bare hanging bulb and let Erin go inside first.

  “I thought this was a closet,” she said. Her gaze swung around to all the cypress shelves, almost every space on them filled with tools and other items that had probably been used by the original owners of this plantation. “I feel like I’ve stepped back in time.”

  The same feeling overwhelmed Dane each time he entered the space. He hadn’t come in here for so long, hadn’t even opened the door.

  Erin lifted a black piece. “An iron. It’s so heavy.” She looked at Dane, her eyes bright even in this small dimly lit space. “Long ago some woman heated this in a fireplace before she even could start ironing all of her family’s clothes.” With the same reverence her tone suggested, she set the iron back on its shelf.

  Dane checked out other items alongside her, not bothered by her presence like he had been moments ago in the small bathroom. He tinkered with the tools, the folding draw knife, the box scraper, dowel jig, and huge Yankee screwdriver.

  “These things from the past,” Erin said, holding an antique thermometer, “seem so foreign.” She turned the silver piece in her hand. “Not only because they’re so old. They all give the impression that a family lived here and struggled to survive… together.” Biting her bottom lip, she looked away.

  Discomfort swelled in Dane’s chest, giving him the antsy instinct to dash out. He’d rather eat live snails than discuss feelings.

  She put the thermometer down on a low shelf. “My father left my mother right after he learned she was pregnant for me.”

  Poor kid. She’d said her mom kept looking for guys with money and marrying them. With Erin’s lack of permanent family ties, it was no wonder she’d grown so close to warm, caring Tilly.

  Dane shifted his weight on his feet, unsettled feelings jabbing at his gut. What should he do now? Say he was sorry? Sure, he was sorry she’d had such jerks for parents, but he didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, he might give in to the temptation growing stronger and wrap his arms around her. He stared at the tips of his new boots, giving his head a shake. If he held onto this woman, he might not want to let her go. And that would be a huge mistake. He couldn’t cling to another woman, couldn’t risk having his heart ripped out of him again.

  “I’m sure Aunt Tilly didn’t use this, since it’s back here,” Erin said, “but I can almost imagine her handling this in the kitchen.” She held up a small item.

  “A leather cutter?” he said.

  She stared at the wooden handle and spiky round head. “I thought this was a pizza cutter.”

  Laughter floated up from Dane’s throat, and Erin broke into a wide open smile.

  “But yes, I could envision little Tilly using that on a pizza,” he said. “Just a few weeks ago I heard her saying she’d sprayed her hair and then noticed her can held starch.”

  Erin laughed the happiest laugh he’d heard coming from her, and more of his own mirth erupted. She bent toward him while chuckling, the happy sounds from both of them loud in the small room.

  She stopped. Erin lifted her head, her face close to his. The bare bulb above dropped light on her forehead and shadowed her eyes. Her high cheekbones and pert nose stood out, her lips less visible. But he could see those shapely lips slightly open, the sounds of her deep breaths coming from them.

  His gaze ran back up to her eyes. They were holding on his.

  Erin’s eyebrows lifted and creased. “I might be missing a phone call,” she said.

  Dane’s breathing slowed. “Phone call?”

  Her gaze rounded his face, held on his mouth, and returned to his eyes. She looked away. “Trevor might have called back. He’ll want to know when I’ll get home.”

  Dane stepped out the doorway and she came behind. When he shut the door, a sensation came over him that part of him had been left behind, closed off in that room.

  No, that couldn’t be right. He trailed behind as Erin rushed toward the back door, the distance between them widening. That storage room had never meant much to him.

  “Of course I’ve been through here,” Erin said, coming to a standstill inside the back door.

  Dane glanced around the room. He shouldn’t have allowed it to become so junky. He had removed most of the old furniture so this room could become Anna’s next project. Probably, he decided, gloom sinking in, that’s why he let it get so messy.

  “Parts of this house seem to have been redecorated,” Erin said, “while other rooms haven’t.” She glanced at him, seeming to want affirmation of her statement.

  Receiving none, she shoved out the back door.

  He stood watching her through the screen.

  From the top step, she peered one way and then another across the yard, which showed little now with night’s blackness draping everything. “I’ve seen all this,” she said, facing back through the screen. Her gaze found his and then swung away. “But those vegetable,” she said, pointing to the filled boxes behind him. “I didn’t see where they came from.”

  “The vegetable garden,” he said, forehead pressed against the screen.

  She studied his eyes, focused on her
s.

  “Yes, that garden.” Her voice held a breathy sound. “Would you show it me?”

  He shoved out the door as she scooted down steps, heading for his truck. “You wouldn’t get to see much. It’s too dark,” he said to her backside.

  She climbed into the passenger seat. “Don’t you have headlights?”

  Chapter Nine

  “What is that?” Erin said immediately after Dane parked.

  He’d lowered the windows, turned toward her and leaned over the seat to reach for something in the rear. He sat again. On his head, Dane put his retrieved item—a wide stretch band that circled the crown of his hair, a metal circle in front with a wire from it attached to a battery. He touched a switch. A spotlight gleamed from the center of his forehead.

  He moved his head, making the light sweep across her. “It’s a bull eye.”

  She grinned. “What’s it for, inspecting gardens and people at night?”

  He aimed the light at her face, stopping it just off center of her eyes so it no longer blinded her. “Some guys use them to hunt rabbits in the dark.”

  “Do you do that?”

  “Hunting them at night is illegal. And it’s not fair.”

  Her admiration of this man climbed a notch. “So you don’t hunt?”

  In the dark, his teeth became visible with his smile. “Only when I’m hungry for game.”

  “Oh.” Erin used a hand to shield her face from the spotlight, and he swung it aside. “But you don’t hunt at night.”

  His face remained dark. “No.” He flicked off the switch. Night swallowed their surroundings.

  She became aware of the intense darkness inside his truck.

  “But,” he said, reaching up, again lighting his bull eye, “I do use this to get frogs.”

  “Frogs?”

  “Yeah, bullfrogs. Did you ever eat them?”

  The concept made her stomach queasy. “I haven’t noticed too many hopping around Manhattan.”

  She couldn’t see his face beyond the light but could tell by his tone that he smiled. “The season for them is open now,” Dane said. “You take a pirogue or other small boat in a bayou and aim this light at the banks. When you spot a big frog, you grab him and shove him with others in a sack.”