Chapter 11
11
Carter
T he small house was bigger on the inside than it looked. The lack of Christmas décor was the first thing Carter had noticed when he’d finally been left alone. There was a comfortable sort of quiet that settled around him as he rested his head on his hands while he laid back on the couch. He was too invigorated to sleep, and every little sound set his teeth right back on edge again.
The thought that it could have been Dirk’s man out roaming Bailey’s property made him feel sick to his stomach. Even when she’d proven she could keep her wits about her, Carter still didn’t like the idea of her being out here alone. It had taken him nearly all day to figure out where she lived. He’d had to ask around and told a few lies—which only served to prove him right that she wasn’t safe.
The people in this town were far too trusting. All Carter had to do was tell them she’d dropped something valuable at the lighting celebration and he just wanted to return it to her.
He shifted in his spot as his eyes swept through the modest living room. She kept it clean, though there were little bits of evidence that she had a kid almost everywhere.
A small cup on the coffee table. A basket of toys by the fireplace. Carter sat up, then immediately regretted it when his head started throbbing again. No sudden movements. Got it.
He gingerly got to his feet and wandered through the dark house. He really shouldn’t be snooping, but who knew what sort of rules she’d lay out tomorrow. Now was his chance to confirm his suspicions about her.
Carter made his way to the refrigerator first. When he opened it, he frowned. A nearly empty gallon of milk. A handful of apples. Condiments, some lunch meat, and an assortment of odds and ends. The cupboards were no better. From the looks of it, this woman was living off macaroni and cheese, pasta, and canned foods. He pulled open a drawer and found a stack of bills, some dated within the last week.
His heart sank as the full realization hit him. He couldn’t even be triumphant in learning the truth. With fresh understanding, he glanced around the house again. Only a handful of Christmas decorations were around the house. No tree. No presents. No lights outside of the house. Why was he getting the distinct feeling that Bailey was scrambling as the holidays quickly approached?
He couldn’t help thinking about Anya and her excitement over the holiday. Yesterday she’d chattered endlessly about Santa and what she hoped he’d get her. It wasn’t even anything big. All she wanted was a new baby doll and stroller set.
Nausea churned in his stomach. If he hadn’t been trying to save up the money for Dirk, he would have gladly given everything he had to make that little girl’s dreams come true.
Carter leaned against the counter, his heart sinking further. He didn’t know the exact dollar amount he had saved so far— but he was getting close. Maybe he could spare some of it for groceries. If he was staying here, he couldn’t exactly take the food out of Anya’s mouth. They needed it more than he did.
Carter placed two brown grocery bags on the counter, then moved immediately to the refrigerator to put what he’d purchased away. The house was still quiet. No one was stirring. Back home, his family would already be halfway through eating breakfast, which was probably another reason he was so wired.
The folks who didn’t have to get up with the farm animals didn’t know how lucky they were.
Bailey’s house was colder than he’d remembered after leaving this morning. Last night he’d gone from preparing to sleep in the shed to having a couch in an insulated house. Now that he’d been up and about, he could tell the difference. His thoughts shifted back to the lack of Christmas decorations and the meager supply of food, and his heart tightened. All the memories from growing up without much of anything came roaring back into his mind.
They were definitely struggling, and he wanted to help.
Carter dug through the cupboards until he found a single frying pan. There were no waffle makers, so pancakes would have to do. He set to work fixing breakfast, certain the smell of the food cooking would get the household moving.
Sure enough, about halfway through his batter, he heard a doorknob click and the squeak of old hinges complaining about being used. He glanced up, expecting to find Bailey, but instead a small girl stood at the edge of the open living space.
Her body was stiff, uncertain. Her eyes, so much like Bailey’s, took him in with a degree of suspicion. She glanced over her shoulder, presumably toward her mother’s room, before swiveling her gaze back to him.
Carter glanced in the direction of the bedrooms as well. Something told him that Bailey wouldn’t take kindly to him trying to explain what he was doing there. She was nothing if not a mama bear. He cleared his throat and flipped the pancake he was working on, keeping an eye on the kid as she approached.
Anya moved closer, her eyes locked on his face, only once glancing toward the food he’d been making. Then she nibbled her lower lip and tilted her head. “What happened to you?” she whispered.
He shot one more desperate look toward the bedrooms before returning his gaze to the kid. “What do you mean?”
She reached up with her hand and touched her forehead just above her eyebrow. “You have stitches.” Then she pointed toward his face. “And a black eye. Are you a bad guy?”
His explanation lodged in his throat, feeling like a heavy stone that shouldn’t be there. She hadn’t seen him get into the fight. Her mother could be thanked for that. Unfortunately, as innocent as her question was, it shredded what little resolve he had left.
Bad guy.
Carter certainly felt like one. Every bad decision came crashing to the surface, threatening to pull him down to the depths of despair. He opened his mouth but didn’t have a chance to speak when Bailey’s voice shattered the early morning quiet.
“Of course not, sweetie.” She all but swooped down beside her daughter, her arms wrapping around the child as if she were shielding Anya from Carter. Her actions were the opposite of her words as her eyes lifted to meet Carter’s with caution. “You remember Carter from the bookstore. He let you get that book, remember?”
“And hot chocolate,” Anya murmured, still watching him. He couldn’t blame her for the look she was giving him. He’d completely forgotten that he looked like he’d been through the wringer. Between the black eyes, split lip, and the haphazard stitches on his forehead, he probably made several people uncomfortable this morning.
“What happened?” Anya asked again. “You’re hurt.”
Carter remained frozen, curious how Bailey would spin this one. He wasn’t about to tell the kid that her own mother was the cause of some of his wounds.
Slowly, Bailey got to her feet. “Sweetie, do you remember when I told you that sometimes things happen to people and we don’t need to talk about it? Sometimes grownups make bad choices, but it doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”
Anya dragged her gaze from Carter to the pan he was holding. “Did you make pancakes?” A smile split her face as if all her worries could be wiped away that easily. Oh, the innocence of youth. What he wouldn’t give to have the ability to wipe away all his own misdeeds and the consequences that continued to lurk around every corner—not to mention the shadows of the town’s tree-lighting celebration.
He cleared his throat and nodded to the kid. “I did.”
She jumped up and down. “Mom, can I have some?”
It was at that point that Bailey seemed to notice there were other items on the counter. “Did you go to the store?”
Anya hurried over to where some of the groceries were still out on the counter. “Mom! There’s apples and peanut butter! Can I have some with breakfast?”
Bailey’s sharp gaze met Carter’s. He didn’t know what that look was for. He’d somehow struck a nerve with his decision to purchase food. She glanced toward her daughter with a smile. “One second, sweetheart.” Then she moved to his side in two steps.
Before she could utter a single complaint, he cut her off. “Don’t even start,” his whispered words were firm and left no room for compromise. “I don’t need to hear that you don’t want my help. I don’t need a lecture about how to spend my money. And I don’t want you making a bigger deal out of this than it is.”
Her gaping mouth shut closed and her eyes narrowed as if she only needed a spark to completely explode.
Carter nodded to her daughter, hoping the kid would be enough to distract her from deciding to kick him out entirely. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have come last night. That’s on me. I definitely shouldn’t have hidden away in your shed, but that’s beside the point. I’m grateful you’re letting me stay, and I wanted to show you that I won’t be a burden. I can pitch in with the groceries and even give you some money for the utilities.”
She started to shake her head, but he stopped her again, praying that she wouldn’t get offended by what he had to say next.
“The fridge was practically empty. The cupboards, too. And this place could use some extra heat.” His eyes drilled into hers meaningfully. “I know you can probably use the help even if you don’t want to admit it.” And if she was willing to let him stay more than a couple of days, he’d be able to keep her safe from the idiot he’d scuffled with on Saturday.
Bailey pressed her lips into a firm line and glanced toward her daughter, who was picking through the apples. He could see several emotions flicker across Bailey’s face as she considered what he was offering her. This was his chance to make a difference—his chance to make up for all the wrong he’d put out into the world. There were going to be a lot of things for him to figure out, but he had to start somewhere.
Her resigned sigh was the only indication that she’d made a decision. Then her eyes darted to meet his, full of fire and warning. “I will not have a drunk or a criminal in my home.”
Bailey’s words stung him more than he cared to admit. All he could do was nod.
“That means no more getting booked into county. If you’re going to be here, under my roof with my daughter, you’re going to be the perfect gentleman.”
Another nod. Her fierce protection of her daughter only added to the ache of guilt he had for how he’d treated his family.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay,” he repeated.
She turned, and as if all she needed to do was flick a switch, she was all smiles. “Did you find a good one, sweetie?”
Anya held up a brightly colored apple with a stem. “This one. It’s perfect.” She ducked around her mother and glanced at Carter. “Do you like peanut butter on your apples, too?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “They’re my favorite.”
Once breakfast was done, they all sat at the table eating the fruit and pancakes he’d purchased. He remained quiet, observing the dynamic between Bailey and Anya. Sundays seemed to be Anya’s favorite because she went to Sunday school, and her mother didn’t have to work.
At that statement, Bailey glanced at Carter, then away.
Anya gasped so suddenly that Bailey jumped and turned wide eyes to her, but Anya was staring at Carter.
He reached up to see if something was on his face, but he didn’t feel anything immediately.
“Mom! Can Carter come to the Christmas concert?”
Carter stiffened, already feeling like the room cooled a couple degrees. He’d already intruded into this family’s life too much.
“Oh, I’m sure Carter has better things to do?—”
“Will you come, Carter?” Anya asked, eyes pleading. “It’s at my school, and it’s the week before Christmas. Since you’re going to be here for a while, you could come and watch.”
Even if Carter wanted to turn the kid down, he knew there was zero chance he could. The girl was an angel, and those eyes—she could have asked him to buy her a pony for Christmas, and he would have figured out a way to do it. He found himself nodding without realizing it.
Anya squealed her delight and hopped down from her seat. “I’m going to go practice some more.”
When they were left alone, Bailey glanced toward Carter, her expression somewhat emotional. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Who could say no to her? Did you even see her eyes?”
Bailey let out a soft laugh, then turned her appreciative smile toward him. “This is the first year she gets to perform. She’s been talking about it nonstop.” The way she said it made him wonder if this was a sore subject. Her late husband, perhaps? “She seems to like you,” Bailey murmured, but it sounded like she was saying it more to herself than to him.
“Yeah… well… hopefully she’ll develop better taste in people.”
Bailey’s head snapped up and the smile she wore fell away. He could see the question in her eyes—the questions she refused to ask him. And he wasn’t about to give her the information that would only make her hate him more.
Carter cleared his throat and got to his feet. “I’ll clean this up. Then I’ve got some errands to run. I’ll be back late.”