Page 5 of The Way Back Home

“She’s taking it kind of hard, huh?”

“Her parents just died. What do you think?” August pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, and then he turns his rigid body toward me. “Come on upstairs. I ain’t much good at cookin’, and I guess that’s what was included in your board. I’ll happily refund that money and you can feel free to use the kitchen. I could run you into town tomorrow to pick up some supplies, though nothing’s opened but the diner and the gas station, and even then, they’ll be shuttin’ up shop at midday.”

I don’t know what to make of his generosity. I feel terrible that I judged him so harshly, and I don’t like that either one of us are in this situation. “That’s kind of you to offer, but I don’t mind walking.”

I really do mind. I can’t think of anything worse, but I don’t want to burden him anymore than I already am.

“Well, suit yourself,” he all but grunts as he picks up my bags and I follow him up the stairs and into the huge plantation house. It’s as gorgeous inside as it is out, with antique furniture and heavy damask silk curtains in robin’s egg blue. The sweeping staircase greets us, and off to the right there’s a formal dining room, and a sitting room off to the left. My greedy gaze catalogs everything, and I’m disappointed when August makes a gesture toward the staircase, indicating I should go first. I always loved these old antebellum houses; that’s what drew me to Tanglewood in the first place. With another glance at the ever-impatient Marine, I decide not to push my luck and I climb the stairs ahead of him.

I don’t turn to look back at him as he ascends the steps a few beats later, because I figure that will only make him uncomfortable. Stairs can be difficult at the best of times for amputees, but I guess he’d be used to these by now, given that he probably grew up here.

“Obviously, the bed isn’t made up, so I’ll need a few minutes to do that for you.” He moves ahead of me and stops outside of a room with a polished oak canopy bed with pink linens and upholstered chairs. There’s an antique dresser in the corner and French doors that lead out onto a balcony that wraps around the entire house.

“Oh, I don’t ... are you sure this is the right room?”

“What? It’s not big enough? Sorry, princess, we’re fresh out of presidential suites this week.”

I frown. “I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it sounded. I just meant, I don’t need anything this fancy—just a bed and a locking door.”

He tilts his chin toward the bed and then reaches around and flips the lock on the back of the door, with a smirk on his infuriatingly handsome face.Smartass.

I set the case down on the floor and walk over to the French doors, peering out through lace curtains onto the balcony. Beyond that sits a huge yard, surrounded by trees. While I can’t see the whole porch, I’m secretly hoping that there’s a place to sit with my morning coffee and take in the view of the grounds. Assuming August doesn’t chase me off the property before the morning, that is.

When I turn around, he’s struggling to fold the heavy silk bedcover. Like everything in this house, it has an old-world charm and is indicative of the period in which this house was built. I’d bet good money that August’s bedding isn’t as complicated at this.

“I’m capable of making my own bed,” I say, watching him struggle some more with the four different panels. “Been doing it the last twenty-five years or so.”

All I get in response to that is a chin lift and a nod. No grunt this time, but no conversation either. August leaves the duvet cover on the bed and heads for the door. “Bathroom across the hall is mine, but I’ll share Bett’s.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the only bathroom with a tub.” It’s my turn to nod, and I stare at August who stares stoically back. “All I ask is that you keep it free from five until six; that’s when Bettina has her bath, and the people at child services told me to keep to her regular routine as much as I could.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll get you some sheets, but towels are in the linen closet down the hall. Use as many as you want.”

“Thanks.” Another nod and then he’s gone, out the door as it closes behind him with a soft snick. I sit down heavily on the bed, wincing as it squeaks beneath my weight. I kick off my shoes and lie back on the soft mattress and just breathe. What I wouldn’t give for a warm bath with bubbles and a pound of Birthday Cake Oreos right now. Oh, and a map to figuring out the angry Marine would be good too.

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