Page 36 of Silent Heart

“Hi, Mr. Jefferson,” I called out, from the front door as I slid out of my boots.

“Just getting home, Harley?” the accountant responded from the living room.

The toast turned into a pit deep in my stomach. “Been out running around this morning, Mr. Jefferson.”

“You’re such a busy little bee, Harley,” he laughed.

I laughed with him, before darting upstairs to find my scrubs and finish getting ready. Their voices carried to the landing between the hall bath and my bedroom. As I gathered my things, enough of the information trickled from below to spark my attention.Not this again.With a groan, I padded to the railing and leaned over to hear better.

“Just call the developer. The sale would cover the back taxes, Rodger,” Mr. Jefferson insisted.

My grandpa hmphed. “I’m not selling, Phil. I’ve told you once, I’ve told you twice.”

“Yeah, I know it,” the accountant sighed.

“Come, let me walk you out,” Grandpa insisted.

“Convince him, Marta. It might be your only way out of this,” Jefferson said as his parting shot.

The front door clapped behind him. I sagged against the railing. While offers to buy the land were frequent enough, there’d been no indication that we were behind on taxes. But it wasn’t like my family talked about such things. Oh, no! We kept a brave face, pretended all was normal, and kept anything that could be construed as a problem to ourselves.

Blowing out a short breath through my nose, I trotted downstairs. As badly as I needed a shower, this came first. My grandma looked up expectantly from where she fiddled with the end table and a dust rag.

“What did Mr. Jefferson need?” I hedged, fiddling with my scrubs.

“Just dropped by for a cup of coffee,” my grandma said with a smile. “Want something to eat?”

Knowing it was futile, I rounded the banister, intent on returning to my morning routine.

“Where were you last night?” Grandpa called out, banging back into the house. “There was a big storm, and your car was gone. Why'd you leave?”

Behind him, a fresh band of summer storms rumbled across the heavens. It mirrored the frustration bubbling inside. We didn’t talk. There were never deep conversations around the dinner table. Everything was always some big secret, so why the hell should I reveal mine? And just like that, the need to explain and defend myself vanished.

“I went for a drive after being cornered last night. Now I’m off to work.” I pounded up the stairs.

“Cornered? You weren’tcornered,” he protested.

I sighed, not wanting to get into it. This was the remorse he felt after a few too many. “It’s okay, Grandpa,” I called over the banister. “I’m fine! Everything’s fine.”

Gathering my things, I looked longingly at the shower once more. I hadn’t washed the restaurant or the nocturnal jaunt from my body. And this morning? That was going to linger on me the whole day.

Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to mind.

I skipped down the stairs. Snatching my leather cowgirl boots for later, I opted to wear my waterproof muck boots since another steady downpour had arrived.

“Do you believe the things she accuses me of?” Grandpa rasped, anger boiling his words hot. “Out all night? And blames me? I’m just worried about her! That’s all.”

“You were rather hard on her,” my grandma insisted.

“Do I dare ask where you were, young lady?” My grandfather crossed his arms over his barreled chest, looking like a thundercloud.

Remembering that he was from a different generation, I chose my response carefully. “I was just cooling off. I was tired and needed fresh air.”

“You were with someone.”

Oh, Lanta!“Not in the way you think. Besides, that’s the problem here. Your full-growngranddaughter wants to talk about the fact that we owe back taxes. Care to explain that?”

Grandpa’s gaze thinned. “You never asked. You’re too busy hoarding your pennies to run away for a fool’s dream.”

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