Then why did she feel as if she were testing an injury every time she saw him?
“I do wonder why you hired my brother,” Noah said.
“What?” If she meant nothing to him, why did he care? “Was I supposed to ask you before I hired him?”
“Answer me.”
She tried to see it through his eyes. “You think I might be using Owen to get at you?”
“Your father must have told you about Owen’s drinking. You came back for your dad’s wedding and Nan’s funeral. You must have heard about my brother.”
She rubbed the back of her neck as she remembered avoiding Noah at Nan’s service. She’d wanted to thank him for coming, but she hadn’t trusted herself. Her mother’s constant hunger for the next man had made her afraid Noah was her drug. There hadn’t been anyone as serious as him since she’d left.
“It’s an old habit,” he said, “trying to get my attention.”
Because he’d rarely focused it on her. “So you think I realized, after four years, I couldn’t possibly live without you, and then chose the one contractor who’d drag you to my home.”
“I just need to make sure you know that won’t work.” He looked straight at her, the kindness he’d shown Owen just as evident for her.
“Noah, I broke up with you, and I didn’t come back dying to worship at your arrogant feet.” Only, he wasn’t being arrogant. He was trying to let her down easy, just in case she needed letting down. The three years of their relationship had been an exercise in frustration she wouldn’t repeat for any reason. “I hired Owen to repair the termite damage to my house because his estimate was the one I could afford, and he has good references.”
Noah straightened the tie that seemed to be giving him so much trouble and drank from his coffee cup. “And we’re not getting involved again.”
“I only give my time now to people who deserve me,” she said. It would be true if any other man had mattered to her as much as Noah.
She had acquaintances, colleagues, clients in her website design business. No one who made her want to love again.
Noah took his mug to the porcelain sink she’d bleached to glowing perfection only that morning. “I should get out of here,” he said. “Why are you spring cleaning? Are you planning to sell?”
“It’s crossed my mind, but no. Nan just wouldn’t want me to neglect her belongings.”
“Yours now.”
“They’re still hers, but she’d hate the dust and grime.”
Owen, carrying a load of new pickets for the porch, stopped outside the open window and looked in. She shook her head, slightly.
Noah didn’t even look back. “Owen’s checking on you?”
“He’s still my friend.” Owen had always been like a brother to her. When she’d come back to town, they’d continued their friendship as if they’d been interrupted in midconversation. “You and I will have to work at being friends, but nothing’s changed between Owen and me.”
“Of course everything’s changed between us, Emma. You left, and you told me I could either come with you or we were through.”
“I thought we weren’t discussing this.”
“You need to know the truth. You’re obviously still hurt.”
“You give yourself too much credit.”
“I make a living out of seeing when people are in pain,” he said. “I never blamed you for leaving. I wanted to go with you. That night, I wanted to go more than you can imagine.”
For an instant she believed him, but instinctive insecurity took over and made her wary. Noah had pulled the mat from beneath her too many times.
“When my father shoved you down those stairs, I wanted to kill him. Instead, I had to drive him to another state and make peace with my mother for doing it. She was still in thrall to the abuse that went on in that house.”
His raw voice cut her. “Don’t,” she said.
Emma stared up at the iron chandelier. She’d wanted to go to the police once after Noah had picked her up, and she’d seen his black eye and a grazed jaw. But Noah had said they would take his brothers and sister and scatter them to different foster homes. He’d said at least he could hold his father off.
“When you left, Celia was only fifteen and Chad was thirteen. I couldn’t leave them. My mother was...” He brought himself up short, his survivor’s reticence taking over again. “She couldn’t handle her own life then.”
“You were almost out the door,” Emma said. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You’re right about settling the past between us. If we do it now, then no matter when you return from now on, we won’t have to rake up these old coals.”
It was the right answer, but it still hurt, and she resented him for that. “I only came back to fix the house.”
Emma started toward the front door, but she didn’t have to urge Noah to leave. He was ahead of her by several steps. Memories rolled through her mind. Kisses stolen in this hall, his mouth eager, his hands gentle. Whispers broken off as they’d reached the foyer and the range of Nan’s acute hearing.
Now she watched as Noah gave a last look around the large, square foyer, at the crystal drop chandelier, the Sheraton console tables on which two Tiffany lamps flanked a bowl that held her keys and notes she’d written herself, the folder that contained Owen’s estimate.
Noah obviously knew he’d never see the inside of her home again. He reached for the glass knob on the front door.
Movement shadowed the long window beside the door, and he glanced through the beveled panes that scattered prisms of rainbow light on the wide-planked maple floor. Owen walked past, maneuvering another armload of white-painted pickets.
Noah nodded at his brother. “Let’s say he can’t get this work done right. Can you afford to have it redone?”
“He won’t let me down,” she said, instantly feeling guilty and foolish for the bitter words.
“I didn’t let you down. I took care of the people who needed me.” He dropped his hand from the doorknob. “I finished training, which meant that I could keep my family from starving or sleeping in the cold.”
Another series of images, imagined ones, shot through her thoughts. Noah’s mother cowering as his father hit her, Noah pushing between her and his enraged dad and the other terrified children. He’d made the correct choice.
“You’re right,” she said. “You never let me down.” She moved closer, ready to shut the door as soon as he went out.
Noah’s head jerked back, as if she’d surprised him. But he didn’t linger. He was out the door and crossing the porch before she knew it. She watched through the glass beside the door as he crossed the porch, then took the stairs with the athlete’s grace that had drawn her to him years ago. Opening his car door, he climbed in, gunned the engine and sped down the drive, his tires spewing gravel and dust.
Emma flattened her palms against the cool window. Her breath fogged the pane. Alone and confused in Nan’s safe, warm house, Emma shivered as if Noah had brought all the cold she’d ever known inside and left it behind.
“I APPRECIATE YOUR coming tonight,” Noah said to the rain-dampened group who’d arrived to hear him speak about the new clinic. “I