Written on Her Heart (10 page)

“What’s new?” Dr. Kennedy tipped back in her brown office chair and smiled. “You look like you have news for me.”

“No.”

“No?”

She had ways of extracting information. He couldn’t compete with her voodoo. “There’s a girl in town I run into a lot.”

“The girl with the camera?”

“Yes.” He didn’t remember telling her about Emma. “I talked with her this morning, and I’m taking Mavis over to have her portrait done.”

“Clever.”

He nodded, appreciating the approval. Approaching a beautiful woman wasn’t easy, especially in a town where everyone would know if she shot you down.

“What’d you talk about?”

“I saw her reading, but she didn’t tell me what. Then she showed me a picture she’d taken, and it undid me. I don’t know her, but I feel like she knows me. She summed up who I am with one picture, and she doesn’t have a clue she did it.”

“She’s a photographer-photographer?” Dr. Kennedy scratched something into her notebook.

“More than that. She’s an artist. I draw sometimes, but my attempts never come close to what she accomplishes. You know she fishes too?”

“I didn’t.” She rested her chin in her hands. “Go on.”

“She loves my town, our town,” he corrected. “She loves the lake, the outdoors, books, life.” He sounded like an idiot. Part of him wanted to say ‘how about those Buckeyes,’ but Dr. Kennedy wouldn’t put up with that.

“You didn’t ask her out.” She knew him well.

He looked away. “I saw her having dinner with a new guy the other night.”

“Do you know him? Is he nice?”

“I haven’t met him. He’s the new second grade teacher. He’s from Akron. Doesn’t fish or hunt. Drives a car.” He shook his head.

“Did some research, I see.”

One side of his mouth ticked up in answer. “I asked around.”

“What have you learned about her then? We know she reads and is a photographer.” She circled something in her notes and tapped the paper.

He let out a long breath. “She was a cheerleader in high school, ran track, worked on the school paper and hung with a group of jerky people. It’s hard to believe they were ever friends.”

“In high school?”

“I borrowed her yearbook from a friend’s little sister.”

“Resourceful. Go on.”

“After that, she went to Ohio State. She was four years behind me and got a degree in photography. She came home early and finished with correspondence courses. Rumor has it she was kicked out or arrested. I guess she used to raise a little hell. Excuse me.” He waved a hand between them in apology.

Her eyes stretched wide. She cleared her throat and waved for him to continue.

“That’s it. Now she’s in Honey Creek. She keeps to herself, but everyone loves her. I never see her with the kids she hung around in school. She’s happy and sweet and real.” The last word lay heavy on his tongue.

The doctor seemed to need a minute. She shifted in her chair and her eyes moved from her paper to him and back. She took a sip from the mug on her desk. “So what’s next? Have you filled this week’s calendar with busyness and good deeds?”

He hadn’t. An unfamiliar sensation heated his chest. Not once had he looked for something to keep him busy of late. His torturous mind had a single focus all week. The only thing he’d thought about for days was five-foot nothing with wild red hair and eyes that disturbed his sleep.

“May I give you some advice, as a friend?” Dr. Kennedy stared hard into his face.

Nicholas frowned at her. Those were new words in her plain brown office. The photo on the wall grabbed his attention again. But things change. He nodded.

“Find out what she was reading.”

Chapter Nine

Nicholas’ shiny charcoal Ford pulled into the drive right on time. Emma ducked out of sight, dropping the curtain to pretend she hadn’t been watching for him. They’d talked a couple times, but having a man over to her house intimidated her. She’d never had anyone she didn’t consider family inside since she bought the place two years back. Meeting clients in the barn looked more professional on her part. The office looked stellar thanks to Jackson’s keen eye and craftsmanship. Nicholas didn’t know he was the first man inside, so why tell him?

After the way he lingered over her photograph of the fisherman, she wanted to watch his reaction to her home. Would he appreciate the restoration of stained glass and woodwork? Did he know how excited she was he wanted to see her again? On the out chance he really wanted photos of Mavis, she set up the studio before she made sweet tea, salad, cornbread, and coffee.

The truck door slammed shut, and her heart took off like a filly. When he knocked, she froze. A little snuffle from Mavis brought reality in. He did want his dog photographed. Defeated, she pulled open the door with the best smile she could muster.

“Miss Emma.” He held out a bouquet of wildflowers. A twinkle in his eye brought a smile to her lips.

“Why, thank you.”

Emma stepped aside, taking the flowers and holding the door wide for her guests to enter. “I’m going to put these in some water. Can I get you something to drink?” She moved to her kitchen, aware they didn’t follow. She fished her favorite leaded glass vase from under the sink and gave it a good rinsing then arranged the flowers inside. Still no followers.

“Hello?” Tucking the vase in the crook of her arm, she went to look for her company. Nicholas stood admiring her fireplace.

“Your folks?” He pointed to the initials carved into the weathered oak mantle.

“Yep. He proposed to her right there and carved their initials in the bark when she said yes. A tornado tore up that part of the woods when I was small, but when we were out clearing the damage, this part of the tree still stood. Daddy cut it down and hauled it home.”

He nodded.

She wanted to hear what he thought. The story choked her up every time she told it.

Nicholas stood in silence, running long tanned fingers over the carvings. “I always wanted to do that.”

“Make a mantle from an oak tree?”

“Nah.” He turned around expressionless. “I forgot to bring her a hat. I’ve got a ball cap in my truck.” He looked toward the porch.

“Mavis.” She crouched, and the dog sauntered her way. Emma covered her long floppy hound ears and looked sternly in Nicholas’ direction. “Mavis is a princess. She doesn’t want to wear your old ball cap.” She
tsked
her tongue against her teeth. Rubbing the hound’s head she said, “Come on, let’s get you gussied up.”

Out in the barn, Nicholas hefted Mavis onto the set. A crisp white sheet draped over the table. Mavis looked less than interested. Emma turned the lights on and positioned the reflective canopies overhead. Certain her subject was more likely to fall asleep than run away, she went to look in her dress up chest.

“Where do you get all these costumes?” Nicholas spun on his heels wielding finger guns and wearing a child’s cowboy hat.

“They’re props, and I get them everywhere. Flea markets, thrift stores, yard sales, online sometimes.”

“People just come on over here and dress up in your barn?”

“That’s the idea. Yeah.”

“And let you take their picture?”

“Yeah.”

When he turned around again, his fingers worked at the tiny buckle of the kiddie holster on his hip. Emma snapped his picture. Shock crossed his face before he laughed deep and hard. Then he locked his thumbs inside the loops of his belt and pursed his lips.

“Uh oh.” Emma looked over her shoulder for help. Mavis snored softly on the sheet behind her. “Hey now,” she warned. “This camera could break if you do anything crazy.”

Nicholas took a step forward. She shuffled backwards into a set of tiny stairs. Without intent, her knees buckled, and she landed on her backside. Before she could right herself, a cloud of purple feathers blocked her sight. A seven-foot boa swarmed around her neck and something landed on her head. With a snap beneath her chin, it was over.

She stood to find Nicholas still in costume. A lopsided grin told her where the boa came from. She pushed the feathers off her chin and spat a few away from her lips. A giggle rose in her throat. She suppressed it. This was war. Nicholas moved, and her muscles went rigid. The mirror he’d blocked revealed her current situation. The boa covered most of her clothes, leaving her looking naked underneath. A tiny pointed hat sat cockeyed on her head, sparkling in the lamps above her.

“You look
perty
.”

“You’re awful.”

He moseyed over and slung one long arm around her shoulder, then reached for her camera with the other. She marveled at the way he managed it in one giant paw. It took both her hands to steady and capture the image of them, shoulder to shoulder.

Click.

She looked at him, smiling into the camera outstretched before them. Click. Click. Click. She stuck her tongue out at him. Rolled her eyes. Held her nose. Click. Click. Click. In an instant she flew around the studio grabbing things. Mavis got a set of angel wings and a crown. Nicholas stuck the end of a wand between her paw and one jowl. They laughed until Emma’s side hurt.

“You’re kind of silly,” he said, watching her pant and rub her side. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for silly.”

“Touché.” She hadn’t felt silly in a long time. The session was over, but she didn’t want him to leave. “Can I get you something to drink now?”

He nodded.

Emma slid the stairs over to the platform where Mavis slept and led the way back to the house. Her tummy growled. “Can you stay for a bite to eat too?”

They slipped into her kitchen before he responded. Nicholas leaned in her doorway, looking huge. He braced his hands easily on the woodwork above him and stared. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“Not at all.” She turned away, knowing her face would match her hair soon. She walked a slippery line. Her hand rose to her collar and tugged.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?” Emma removed some chicken fillets and veggies from the refrigerator.

“When you’re nervous you tug on your collar.”

“I’m not nervous.” Her hand flew to and from her collar. Darn it. She willed it to stay at her side. “I’m not.”

“I hope not.” The expression on his face softened her. He looked too vulnerable to fill her door the way he did. His arms were taunt and sinewy with muscle. Her eyes wandered to his shoulders, the hollow of his collarbone, thickness of his neck. The almost invisible stubble on his chin told her he’d shaved before coming to see her. What did that mean?

“Can I help?”

Help her what? Cook? She cleared her throat and pulled her eyes from the shape of his lips. Dragged them from the square line of his jaw. “Sure?”

Nicholas washed his hands and forearms at the sink like a doctor before turning to her. “Did you used to wear a special necklace?” he motioned to her collar. “You lost it, and now you miss it?”

“No. Do you want to light the grill? I’ll toss a salad.”

His jaw worked side to side. He nodded and ducked out the back door.

Her hand jumped to her collar. Darn it! She straightened her shirt and tried to steady her breaths. She had no reason to be nervous. None. Even less reason to visualize how her face might feel tucked into the hollow of his neck and shoulder. It didn’t matter if he smelled like fresh cut grass, musk and something spicy. Her mind wandered over the scent, unable to name it.