Big Man for Christmas - Penny Wylder Page 0,32
hide my smile because Mrs. Farrell looks like she’s about to have a fit but can’t because I’m company. But I’m grateful she tried to stop Carley. If she hadn’t, she might have said no. Now I have a chance.
Carley grabs her coat and we head outside to my truck. It’s already loaded with the firewood for my deliveries. I did that this morning.
“Ready for an adventure?” I ask her with a grin.
“I’m ready to get the hell out of here for a while.”
I nod. “I kind of figured.”
“Where are we going?” she asks when we’re fully out of the driveway.
“Wood delivery,” I say, jerking my thumb toward the back of the truck. “I don’t even remember how it started really. But I was in the habit of dropping off some wood to the older folks around town when it got cold, and then more and more people started asking me to do it and offering to pay. So I do it.”
“You split all the wood? That’s a lot of time.”
I smile. “It’s okay. I like it. Gives me a decent workout.”
“I don’t think you need more of that,” she says, finally smiling a little. “If you work out anymore, your muscles will simply take over the world.”
Pulling onto the highway, I head toward the town center and we sit in contented silence for a moment. “Do I want to ask why you weren’t in my bed when I woke up?”
Carley clears her throat. “I was worried—I didn’t want to get asked a lot of questions about why I was out if I came back after people already woke up.”
Her hands fidget in her lap, and though I can’t look over at her fully, I feel like there’s more to her answer than that. But given what I just saw at lunch, I don’t blame her for not wanting to get interrogated. It’s likely that Jessica and Mrs. Farrell would have been ruthless, even if she’d only said that she’d been out for a walk.
Our first stop is Mrs. Harlowe. She’s a sweet woman who pays me more in food than she does in money, but I’ve never minded. The woman makes the best cookies in this damn town.
She comes out onto the porch and waves. And then lights up when she sees Carley. “Oh my goodness, Carley Farrell. I heard you were back in town, but I didn’t think I’d see you till the fireworks.”
“Hi, Mrs. Harlowe.”
“Come here, let me look at you.”
Carley goes over to chat while I grab the wood from the back of the truck and stack it in the little shed by the wood stove that Mrs. Harlowe uses to heat her house.
“That city life must have done you good if you look like this,” I hear her say, and I glance at Carley to catch her turning pink.
“It’s good to be back home for a while.”
“Well give me a minute. I made something for Casey, but you make sure to take at least one for you, okay?”
She gives us an absolutely giant box of her cookies. The sugar kind with frosting that are legendary around Elgin. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Harlowe.”
“Not a problem at all,” she says, looking between the two of us. I see the glint in her eye. “How long are you staying in Elgin, Carley?”
“Oh, I’m not sure yet.”
I will not smile. I will not smile. I will not smile. She doesn’t realize that for the gossip mill, she just gave the absolutely worst answer. Mrs. Harlow just looks at us with a knowing smile. “Well you two have a good day. Enjoy the cookies and I’ll see you both at the fireworks.”
We do enjoy the cookies in the truck on the way to the next house, and I turn on the radio, music flickering through the static, but still good. Rock and a mix of other things.
Suddenly a pop song comes on and Carley’s face lights up. “I love this song!” Leaning over, she turns up the music and starts to sing with abandon and huge smile on her face. She has a beautiful voice, but it’s the joy that makes it hard for me to keep my eyes on the road. During lunch today, she looked small. Hunched over and drawn into herself. This person sitting next to me is completely different.
She’s free and alive and sparkling. This is the version of herself that she should always be without question. The feelings in my chest listening to her