The Guardian's Honor

“Maybe not a salesman,” she conceded. “But you haven’t explained what you’re doing on a private road.” She sent a quick, maybe worried glance toward the peeling white farmhouse that seemed to doze in the afternoon heat. “Mr. Hawkins doesn’t like visitors.”

Mr. Hawkins. The formal address might mean she wasn’t a relative. A caregiver, maybe?

“Actually, I’m looking for someone. A man named Ned Bodine. Edward Bodine, to be exact.” He studied her as he said the words, looking for any sign of recognition.

The woman took the ball cap off, frowning as she wiped her forehead with the sleeve of the plaid shirt, leaving a streak of dirt she probably hadn’t intended. Her eyes were light, as he’d supposed, neither blue nor green but hazel. That heart-shaped face might have been pretty if not for whatever it was that tightened it—worry, maybe, or just plain dislike of nosy strangers.

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard the name. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She gestured toward the garden.

“You’re sure?” Of course she might not know, even if she were a relative of his great-uncle. Ned Bodine had stayed missing for sixty-some years, which meant he probably kept his secrets well.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” She snapped the words at him, picking up the basket as if it were a shield.

So much for getting anything out of her. “In that case, I’d like to speak to Mr. Theodore Hawkins.”

She gave him a wary, suspicious stare. “Why?”

“Look, I don’t blame you for being cautious, Ms….”

“Mrs.,” she corrected. “Mrs. Norwood.” She bit off the words, as if regretting giving him that much.

The name wasn’t the same, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be related. She could be…let’s see, what was it? Second or third cousin, maybe?

“I know it seems odd, having a perfect stranger coming along and asking questions, but I do need to talk with Mr. Hawkins.”

“He’s resting right now. He always takes a rest in the afternoon. He’s not to be disturbed.”

The way she phrased that made it sound as it she took orders from the man. Probably not a relative, then, so he had to be stingy with what he told her. Gossip flew fast in country places, even though there wasn’t another house in sight.

“Look, I think he’d probably be willing to talk with me.” Doubt assailed him as he said the words. What made him think Ned Bodine wanted to be found after all these years? Still, all he could do was try. “Just tell him Adam Bodine wants to see him. Please.”

He glanced toward the house, hoping to see some sign of life. Nothing, but he noticed something he hadn’t before. A child played under the shade of a tall pine near the corner of the porch, running toy cars in the dirt.

“Your little boy?” he asked. Maybe an expression of interest in her child would ease the ice between them.

His words seemed to have the opposite effect. She moved, putting herself into position to block his view of the child.

“I told you. Mr. Hawkins is resting. He wouldn’t be able to help you, anyway.”

“We won’t know that until we ask him, will we?” He put a little steel into the words. Obviously this Mrs. Norwood wasn’t going to fall victim to the notorious Bodine charm. “When can I see him?”

She clamped her lips together for a long moment. She could either give in, or she could threaten to call the sheriff on him. Which would it be?

Finally she gave a curt nod. “All right. Come back tonight around six.” She gave a pointed look from him to his car.

Nobody would say he couldn’t take a hint. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be back at six.”

She didn’t respond, bending again to her tomato plants as if he weren’t there.

He gave the sleeping house a final glance. He’d be back. With any luck, this long search would end here.

Cathy cleared the supper dishes quickly, half her attention on the clock. Somehow she hadn’t managed to tell her grandfather yet about the visitor, and the man would be here in minutes.

She slanted a glance at her grandfather. He was whittling a soft piece of pine, turning it into a boat for her son. Six-year-old Jamie sat next to him, elbows on the table, his blue eyes fixed on the boat as it emerged from the wood.

A smile softened her lips. Grandpa had done the same for her as a child, creating fanciful animals and even small dolls. She’d been as close to him then as Jamie was now, and she’d never have dreamed that could change.

But it had. Her mind winced away from the bitter memory.

Grandpa and Jamie were the only family she had, but her willfulness had created a seemingly unbreakable wall between her and her stepgrandfather.

As for Jamie—her heart swelled with love for her son. Jamie needed so much, more than she could possibly provide unless things changed.

Her mind went round and round, back on the familiar track. She had to take care of her grandfather. She had to provide the surgery and therapy her son needed. How? How would she do that?

She suddenly realized that Jamie’s prattle about the game he’d been playing with his toy cars had turned in a new direction.

“…and he drove a silver car, and Mama said he should come back to talk to you.”

Grandpa’s gaze swiveled to hers, his bushy white brows drawing down over his eyes. “What’s all this, then, Cathleen? Who was here? Somebody selling something?”

She wiped her hands on the dish towel. “He said he was looking for information about someone. Someone he thought you might know, apparently. A man named Edward Bodine.”

Grandpa’s hand slipped on the carving, and the half-finished boat dropped to the floor. For an instant silence seemed to freeze the old farmhouse kitchen.

Then he shoved himself to his feet, grabbing his cane. “I won’t see him.” His face reddened. “You know how I feel about strangers. Tell him to go away.”

She quaked inside at the anger in his tone, but then her own temper rose. She wouldn’t let him bully her. She glanced past him, out the kitchen window.

“You can tell him yourself. He’s just pulled up.” She touched her son’s shoulder. “Jamie, you go play in your room for a bit.”

Without waiting for a response, she walked away, reaching the door as she heard the man’s footsteps on the creaky porch. She opened the door before the knock could sound.

Bodine looked a little startled, but he recovered quickly. Not the sort to be rattled easily, she’d think. Tall, with a bearing that said military and the kind of strong-boned face that would compel obedience.

For just an instant she thought she glimpsed something bleak behind the brown eyes, and then his face relaxed in an easy, open smile.

“Mrs. Norwood. I hope I’m not too early.”

“It’s fine.” At least, she hoped it was. It was hard to tell how rude her grandfather intended to be. On the other hand, this man looked capable of handling just about anything Grandpa could throw at him. “Please, come in.”

Adam Bodine stepped into the house, wiping his feet on the threadbare rug by the door. “Thank you for seeing me.”

He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he stared over her shoulder at her grandfather with an expression in his eyes she couldn’t quite make out. It was almost a look of recognition.

“This is Theodore Hawkins,” she said.

“Adam Bodine.” He held out his hand, smiling.