Stepping as lightly as possible, he moved to his right and slipped into the dining room. Even that rarely used room was a mess. The curtains had been removed and the floor was covered in plastic. The heavy dining table and ten chairs were stacked in a corner, beneath more plastic. The wallpaper was mostly gone, and he wrinkled his nose at the smell of vinegar that filled the air.
In the living room, he found the same conditions, although it was hard to see in the dark. When he flipped the light switch, he discovered the lights weren’t working. After taking a closer look, he saw that the fixtures were gone. Everything was chaos.
He turned to find Glory standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching him. He didn’t doubt that he looked angry. He’d never seen such a disaster in his life, and although something inside him didn’t want to upset her with his quickly growing fury, he knew he’d failed by the fear on her face.
“I know it looks like it’ll never be done, right now,” she said, her voice husky with sleep.
“Yeah, it does” was all he could say. He watched as she lifted her chin, but he didn’t know if it was in pride or defiance. No matter which one it was, he couldn’t tell her it was all right, because it wasn’t.
“I promise it will be better.” Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. “It really will. It’ll only be like this for a few days.”
He winced at the thought of dealing with the mess for much longer. “How many?”
“Well...” She glanced around the room before offering him a weak smile. “The kitchen will probably be the last to be finished.”
“When?”
“Two or three weeks. Maybe four?”
He tried not to let her see how disappointed he was and how angry that made him. He usually had more control, but with Glory, he was learning that control wasn’t always so easy. “I guess it’s too late to change my mind.”
He hadn’t meant for it to sound the way it had come out of his mouth. He’d been half joking. Before he could take it back or explain, she turned and disappeared down the hall. “Glory,” he called, but all he heard was her footsteps on the wood floor.
A moment later, she answered. “It really will be better soon.”
Relief swept through him, but he wasn’t sure why. “Okay, I believe you.” Did he have a choice?
She reappeared in the dining room doorway, having obviously circled around through the kitchen. “Thanks for trying.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are.” She smiled. “It’s all right. I really do understand that it seems like the work will never get done,” she said, waving her arm to encompass the whole house. “But if you’ll just be patient—”
“It’s not—”
“Don’t say it, please,” she begged.
He wasn’t the kind of man who enjoyed hurting someone, and he wouldn’t make her the exception. “It was a shock to see it, that’s all,” he explained when she came into the room. “I’m sure you’ll make it right.”
She settled on what he suspected was the large sofa, hidden beneath a white sheet. “You hope it will be all right.”
“Do I have a choice?”
She leaned her head back against the sofa and laughed. “No, I suppose you don’t, although it’s always a possibility.” Closing her eyes, she sighed and smiled. “Tell me what it was like growing up here in this house.”
Her request surprised him, and he wasn’t sure how to answer. He also wasn’t sure he wanted to take a trip back to a past he’d spent fifteen years trying not to think about. “There’s not much to tell.”
She turned her head and looked at him with wide eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
His answer was a shrug. The way she sat studying him was causing his body to react in ways it shouldn’t have, and he looked away.
“I know you all worked hard. That’s always a given on a farm or a ranch. And you know it wasn’t like that for me. But that’s not what I’m asking about.”
In the silence that followed, he knew she was waiting for him to say something. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Okay.” He heard her take a deep breath. “What’s your best memory of growing up?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I have any.”
“Oh, surely you do!”
He was forced to look at her. “No, really. I don’t remember much.”
She shook her head, her disbelief achingly clear. “All right. I understand that you don’t want to share with me.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just—”
“It’s all right, Dylan,” she said, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin. “I have my own memories.”
She’d grabbed his curiosity, so when she started to stand, he couldn’t let her leave it at that. “Like what?”
“Like that hayride you don’t remember. All the times Tracy— You remember Tracy Billings? She was my best friend. When we weren’t riding horses at her place in the summer, we were hiding under the bleachers at the park to watch you at Little League practice.”
“You’re kidding,” he said, sure they’d done no such thing.
“Not at all.”
“Someone would have seen you.”
Her smile was impish. “You have no idea how sneaky little girls can be when they want to watch little boys they have crushes on.”
“Crushes?” Now she’d snagged his attention and he wanted to hear more. Had he really been one of those crushes?
With an odd smile, she gave him a dismissive wave of her hand and looked away. “Lots of them. A new one every summer. Sometimes.” She turned back toward him. “Baseball was important to you, wasn’t it?”
“More important than breathing.” He’d won an athletic scholarship to college, but he hadn’t taken it. After his parents’ accident, he felt he had to stay and help keep the ranch running. Luke had still been in high school, and Erin had offered to stay and help.
“Those were some of the best times of my life,” she said. “Those times with Tracy when we were kids.”
He was surprised to hear the sadness in her voice, but didn’t ask why. It wasn’t any of his business.
“If it’s all right,” she said, standing, “I’ll straighten up a little and go home. I’m tired.” She walked toward the kitchen, then stopped and looked back at him. “I promise it will get better. Okay?”
He nodded and she disappeared, leaving him with questions and a tiny hole in the wall he’d built around his memories for the past fifteen years. He wondered if she had any idea what that meant to him. He’d forgotten how happy his childhood had been. He just wasn’t sure yet if that was good or bad and hoped he wouldn’t regret it when he learned which one.
* * *
GLORY’S SIGH ECHOED in the upstairs hallways. Once again, she’d forgotten something. This time it was the faceplates for the wall switches. The electrician would arrive soon to put the new light fixtures in the bedrooms, and she’d wanted everything to be ready. Now she’d have to make a trip into town.
“Hey, Miz Andrews?”
She smiled at the luck