The Unknown Malone

Reluctantly she filed away the pain and surveyed her surroundings with a more objective eye. Someone’s little boy had actually lived here. Of that she was certain. But why? What a strange place to raise a child. As with the swing outside, Nicole wished these walls could talk. Or did she? Would she want to store another sad story?

Heavyhearted, she hiked her duffel atop the bed and found places for her meager belongings in the lone dresser—save for one item, a small photo album. She debated between the nightstand drawer and the small desk by the window, finally deciding on the desk. A less likely place for one to look.

She opened the drawer slowly. Inside was a pad of construction paper, all the colors of the rainbow, and her heart was in her throat once again. Quickly she hid her album at the back and closed the drawer. More than anything, she longed to study her precious photos, but the day had been long and dizzying enough. She shed her clothes and headed for the shower, taking her time as the refreshing spray washed away the dust from her hair and limbs, until finally she felt the soothing comfort of optimism return.

Silently she offered up a prayer of thanksgiving. She had found a safe harbor. And with God’s help, maybe more.

Of the few calls Michael had received, none had panned out. Building materials loomed at the end of the walk, challenging him to begin alone. He could do it if he had to. And he would. But not today. He looked at his watch: it was time to leave for Taylor’s.

He grabbed the keys to his work van, then remembered the bottle of wine chilling in the refrigerator. Backtracking to the kitchen he stopped short when Nicole entered the living room. Her wet hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. If he didn’t know better, he’d think someone new had taken her place. Also missing was the attitude, when she crossed the room toward him.

“What time would you like supper?” she asked, almost shyly.

“Uh, well, I’m eating out tonight.” And the refrigerator was pretty bare. He should have thought of this before.

“Oh.” Suddenly she didn’t seem to know where to look.

“I’d say ‘help yourself tonight’ but there’s not much here. Just a few things I picked up on my way through Joeville. The previous owners left staples, baking stuff, but the freezer is empty.” He thought a second and came up with an idea. “I could give you some money and you could do some shopping in town.”

Her gaze flitted to her car in the drive. “Um, could I wait till tomorrow and use your car?” Then she added hastily, “A lot more bags would fit it yours.”

“Not really. The back’s full of tools and—”

She lowered her eyes. “I’m not sure I have enough gas.”

He watched embarrassment tinge her freshly scrubbed cheeks, and the urge to comfort her flared. The cocky, confident woman of earlier had been much easier to deal with. This one smelled of trouble. The kind he couldn’t afford.

“Look, Ms. Bedder—”

“Would you mind calling me Nicole?”

Michael ran a hand through his hair and hid his frustration the best he could. “Nicole...I’m just going to my sister’s, the farm next door. Why don’t you come along? We’ll worry about groceries and gas tomorrow.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

He crossed to her and tugged at her elbow. “I insist. It will be okay.” He glanced down at her and met her doelike brown eyes. “Trust me.”

Three

Nicole’s fears about being the uninvited guest were quickly dispelled when Taylor and Josh welcomed her. She’d heard plenty about the Malone dynasty—the fact that Max Malone was a legendary surgeon and that his three sons, their wives and children all lived on the sprawling miles of ranch and farmland in the shadows of the MoJoe Mountains. It just never occurred to her that the Purple Palace was next door, or that there would be a connection between the owners.

It seemed there was much to be learned about Michael Phillips, a thought that both intrigued and frightened her.

While Josh got Michael a beer, Taylor gave Nicole a quick tour of the house. Had she not known how wealthy the family was, she never would have guessed. There was nothing pretentious about their warm home.

The women were just descending the stairs to the living room when two little ones ran in from the kitchen. The toddler, trying to keep up with her big brother, tripped and fell face first on the bearskin rug in front of the open hearth.

Instinctively, Nicole ran to her, knelt down and nghted the child, who seemed startled at seeing a stranger’s face so close to hers. When her bottom lip started quivering, Nicole sat cross-legged and pulled the little girl onto her lap.

“My name’s Nicole. What’s your name?” She tucked a stray blond curl behind the little one’s ear, smiled down at her and waited patiently for a reply. Shyly the toddler held up one hand and pulled down all but two fingers.

“You’re two years old!” Nicole feigned surprise. “You’re so big for two.”

A wide smile exposed perfect little new teeth. Her eyes were big and blue like her mother’s, and Nicole knew she was hooked, the sweet scent of baby shampoo making it nearly impossible not to squeeze the child closer.

“Em—a—lee,” the little girl said, tilting her chin higher.

“Your name is Emily?”

She nodded so hard she nearly toppled over again. Nicole steadied her. “Emily is a beautiful name.”

Big brother joined them on the floor. “My name is John. My grandpa’s name was John, but he’s dead now.”

Nicole held back a chuckle. The candor of kids always amazed and delighted her. God, how she missed this. She watched John dash for the bookshelf, and she swallowed hard. Was this a blessing or a curse? Could these little ones help ease the pain? Or would they simply keep the wound open and aching?

John handed her a book and she stopped analyzing. With a smile she watched their eager faces and turned to page one.

Michael couldn’t take his eyes off Nicole. Who was this suddenly wholesome-looking woman who played so easily with children, a woman whose supposed profession seemed at the opposite spectrum from motherhood? Emily settled deeper in Nicole’s lap, resting her head against Nicole’s chest, while John allowed a gentle arm to slip around his small shoulders.

Michael leaned into the doorjamb and swigged from a bottle. Perhaps she wasn’t part of the world’s oldest profession after all. But then why look for work at the Purple Palace? He was certain she hadn’t come with remodeling in mind.

A few tendrils of hair had escaped her ponytail and fell softly down her delicate jawline, thinly veiling the dark brown eyes that seemed almost too large for her small face. He remembered how they looked when she stared at him in surprise as he’d carried her into the house, the weightless feel of her in his arms, the sense of total vulnerability, both hers and—

“She’s a natural, isn’t she?” Taylor whispered.

Michael turned with a start at the sound of his sister’s voice. “Yes. Seems she is.”

“I’m surprised at you, little bro.” Taylor smiled teasingly.

“Surprised at what?”

“That you’d hire a woman for your helper.”

Michael turned Taylor around and herded her into the kitchen. “Whoa. Wait a minute. I said she came about the job. I didn’t say I was hiring her for it.”

Taylor slanted him a doubtful look.

“Really. She’s broke and hungry. I said she could cook and help out, but she’ll be gone in a few days.”

“Uh-huh. We’ll see.”

“Yes, you will.”

But his sister had to have the last word. “I still can’t believe it—my brother, the cynic, a man who thinks all women lie as easily as they breathe.”

Michael caught her wrist as she started to turn. “Not all women.” He winked at her playfully. “I don’t think you do.”

Taylor’s expression grew more serious. “And neither did Mom.”