Sunrise Point

She stared straight ahead. “You didn’t want to hire me. Your grandmother made you. And you weren’t all that friendly. I figured you’d just fire me.”

“For hurt hands and sore muscles? Jesus. Do I really seem like that kind of brute?”

“You said you didn’t think I was up to the job. I didn’t want to prove you right.”

“Listen to me—you got the job and I can see that you do your best.” She shot him a glare. “Okay, you do pretty well,” he added. “But it’s dangerous to walk around a farm or orchard with injuries that go untended. You have to pay attention to that. You’re a mother, right? You wouldn’t let your child walk around with a wound that could get infected if left untreated. Would you?”

“I know medical people in town,” she said. “If I thought there was an infection, I would have talked to someone.”

“At that point, you might’ve waited too long. That would be bad for both of us. Now let’s agree, you and I, that from now on you’ll let me know when you have a problem.”

That would be very hard to do, she acknowledged privately. But to him she said, “Okay.”

He pulled up to his back porch. “Come into the kitchen,” he said, not waiting for her to follow. He was up the porch steps and into the house before she was even out of the truck. By the time she joined him in the kitchen, he had opened a cupboard and was emptying supplies onto the counter. “Just sit at the table, right there.”

She took a seat and waited tensely.

Tom filled a silver mixing bowl with warm, soapy water. He spread a towel over her lap, put the basin on her knees and said, “I know it stings, but I want you to soak your hands for a minute, get them very clean. Just grit your teeth and do it, please.”

She’d be damned if she’d let an ounce of discomfort show on her face. She plunged her hands into the water and bit her lower lip against a wince. She couldn’t keep her eyes from filling with tears from the sting. He didn’t notice; his back was turned while he put out his first-aid supplies. Then he began transferring the stuff to the table. There was an old-fashioned-looking tin can, a tube of something or other, some gauze, another towel, a small bowl and spoon, latex gloves. He scrubbed and dried his hands as if he’d be performing surgery. And then he pulled a chair toward her, his long legs spread so that her knees were between his.

“We don’t know each other, so let me explain a couple of things. I don’t have much use for excuses, but hiding real issues from me isn’t good. If you’re going to work for me, you have to be honest about stuff like this. Got that?”

“I don’t make excuses, I’m always honest and I need the job,” she said, insulted and defensive. “I have just as much of a family to support as the men.”

“Fair enough. But the men have been working in lumber and agriculture for a long time. Their hands are rough and callused. Tough as leather. And their muscles are strong now.” He showed her his own calluses but thankfully didn’t flex anything. Then he picked up a towel and gestured to the bowl. “Let me see the right hand.”

“They’re just blisters,” she said, not mentioning that the joints in her fingers were so stiff she hated to bend them.

“Left untended, they won’t heal for a long time. I can help with that.” He held out the towel. She lifted it and he very gently patted it dry. It wasn’t too bad—a couple of blisters and two cuts from the rough wooden edge of an apple crate. Then he asked for the left and she put that one in the towel. The basin went away when he placed it on the table.

“Let your hands dry a little more, palms up on the towel,” he instructed. Then he went about the business of mixing up some goop from the tin can and the tube. “This is bag balm and an ointment that vets use sometimes…” She visibly withdrew and he chuckled. “Maxie swears by it, especially for arthritis, and I’ve seen it work wonders.”

When his concoction was mixed, he gently smoothed some of the salve over the sore places on her palms. He dipped his fingertips into the mixture and his touch was so gentle, it sent shivers through her. She had expected it to hurt, but it was sweet and light; she let her eyes fall closed and just enjoyed his ministrations. He didn’t talk, thank God. She stayed quiet also. She hadn’t been touched in this way in so long, she couldn’t remember the last time. And how bizarre, it should come from someone she hated.

Well, maybe she didn’t hate him, but she didn’t like him much. He’d been either hostile or completely ignored her.

He wrapped gauze around her hands, then slid them into the latex gloves. Right about that moment, Maxie walked into the kitchen, the yellow dog at her side. She smiled as she obviously recognized the procedure. “Want me to take over, Tom?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he said. He shook a couple of pills into his palm and handed them to Nora. “You need to take this for muscle pain,” he said. “It’s just over-the-counter anti-inflammatory and pain relief, but I’m giving you a bottle to take home. I’m afraid you’re going to have to skip the overtime this weekend, you have to heal or you’ll make things worse. I’ll give you balm, salve, gauze, ice pack, extra latex gloves, analgesic, everything you need. Sleep in the gloves. Wear them when you come back to work. Keep salve on your hands—change the gauze wrap and apply new salve mornings and evenings. Take the pills every four hours—your muscles will recover.”

Then he put a little cream from the tube on his fingertips and slid them under the back collar of her shirt. Without the least hint of embarrassment, he slid her thin bra strap down over her shoulder and began to massage the cream into her shoulder and scapula.

“Oh, that’s going to help you so much,” Maxie said. “When my hands get bad, I use that liniment—it’s miraculous.”

His big, callused hands on her shoulder and upper back were so firm, so gentle, so wonderful. Slow, circular strokes with the tips of his fingers—pure luxury. It only took him a few minutes to rub it in. After he pulled out his hand, he went to the freezer to withdraw a cold pack, placing it gently over her shoulder.

“And now ice. You’ll be good as new,” he said. “And when you come back to work on Monday, wear work gloves. I’ll give you a pair.” A glass of water appeared for her to take her pills. “How are your feet? Blisters?”

“My feet are fine.” They were sore and there were blisters, but she wasn’t going to have him touching her feet. Although the thought had merit—his roughened hands gently smoothing salve on her sore feet could be heaven.

When he had a small brown bag stocked with everything from salve to gloves, he handed it to her. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

She stood up. “I can walk just fine.”

He gave a smirk. “I’m headed for town, Nora. I’ll give you a lift. And it might be a good idea to ask around if anyone is going your way, hitch a ride. You could meet Buddy—he’d be more than happy to—”

“We shouldn’t encourage Buddy. And I don’t mind walking,” she insisted. “I make good time.”

He held the back door open for her. “If you run into a mountain lion, you’ll make even better time, too.”

She stopped in her tracks and looked up at him. “Funny.”

He just lifted one brow and smiled.

“See you Monday, Maxie,” she said.

“Have a nice weekend, Nora,” the woman returned.

Chapter Three

Nora hated to part with overtime pay by taking the weekend off. Overtime sounded delicious—her budget was beyond tight. But she took her girls to the gym set at the elementary school, pushed Fay in the baby swing while Berry played on the slide and rings. She consoled herself that there would be more overtime coming her way when she was healed enough to take it without crippling herself for life.

It was so early that she was surprised to see Noah Kincaid coming her way. “Hey,” she said. “Out for a morning walk?”

“Kind of,” he answered, flashing her that handsome grin. “I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

“Maxie called me this morning—she’s an early riser. She said they were picking this weekend and you’d been refused overtime because of job related injuries. She suggested I might check on you, see how you’re doing.”

She sat on a swing next to the baby swing. She stopped pushing the baby and gave a little laugh and held out her gloved hands. “It’s true. And as much as I hate to admit this, Tom Cavanaugh probably did the right thing. My hands are sore. I’m nursing some blisters from doing work I’ve never done before, not to mention sore muscles from picking for hours. My right shoulder was on fire. Don’t you dare tell him this, but the blisters on my feet were probably even worse than on my hands, but that stuff he gave me for my hands, that goop, wow. I’m almost as good as new.” She turned her hands over a couple of times so he could see the latex over gauze. “This is a pretty amazing cure.”

“The shoulder?”

“Better. Ice packs, anti-inflammatory and a little downtime does the trick.” She tsked. “It killed me to give up the money.”

Noah leaned against the side of the jungle gym next to Fay, belted in and safe between them. Berry ran around crazily, up the stairs on the slide, down the slide, a swing on the ropes, singing and talking to herself the whole time. But Berry was not the least bit interested in Noah. She was a little on the antisocial side, Nora feared.

“We started to talk about this a couple of times before,” Noah said. “Do you have family who would be available to help you get over this rough patch? I mean any family at all?”

“We didn’t get far on that subject because there were too many immediate issues, like the fact that a few months ago my drug-crazed ex-boyfriend showed up here looking for money, attacked me and everyone who was trying to protect me. And that was a situation I got myself into at the age of nineteen.”

“Well, he’s in jail and out of the picture, thankfully. Family?” Noah asked again.

“There’s no one,” she said.

“As in…no one? Or no one you’re not too proud to call on?”