Moonlight in the Morning Read online

  The last time she was home she’d tried to get Joey back to performing. But Sheila had declared the show “undignified,” so he didn’t do it anymore.

  Now, looking at the chainsaw pieces covering the dining table made Jecca smile. The sight had good memories for her—and it made her miss her dad and Joey. If they were there they’d put the thing back together in about nine and a half minutes.

  “Be careful,” Roan said as he came in carrying a load of wood. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

  She took a moment before turning around. She’d heard that tone at least once a week all her childhood. It said, “You’re a girl. You couldn’t possibly know anything about tools.” Over the years she’d wiped many of those smug little smiles off men’s faces.

  When she turned to look at Roan, she was smiling.

  Tris was behind him. “Jecca’s dad—” he began, but cut off at her look.

  “Did you take it apart?” she asked, wide-eyed, innocent-sounding. It was the tone and expression she’d used on any man who assumed she didn’t know how to use a power tool. Their regulars, especially the contractors, loved to hear that tone. They knew what was coming. Jecca was going to show some MCP exactly what she did know asheng at tbout tools.

  Some of the contractors used Jecca to test new employees. They wanted to see how he’d react to being bested by a girl. When she did outsmart them, some men got angry—Joey’d slammed a left hook into the belly of one of them—but most men laughed at themselves.

  “Yeah,” Roan said in a gruff voice, “but it’s worn out. I need a new one.”

  Jecca knew that particular make and model of chainsaw, and it was less than a year old. It was her guess that Roan—college professor that he was—didn’t know how to use it. He’d probably tried to saw through a fence post but hadn’t detached the fence. If that was so, he was lucky to still have all his limbs.

  Roan turned to Tris. “I’ll have to drive into town tomorrow and get a new saw. I need to get the wood cut for the winter. It’ll be cold up here.”

  Tris was looking behind Roan at Jecca. He had an idea she was up to something, but he didn’t know what. He gave her a smile that let her know that whatever she did was all right with him.

  Fifteen

  Jecca couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the fact that she’d slept until eleven that morning, or maybe it was because Tris was so close but so far away. It wasn’t possible, but after just one night together, she missed him beside her.

  But then, her sleeplessness could have been caused by Tris’s cousin Roan. All through dinner he’d been quiet. She didn’t have to be told that silence wasn’t usual for the man. What college professor didn’t love to talk?

  She glanced across to the other bed, at Nell sleeping peacefully. Moonlight came in through the window and shone on the child’s pretty face. In spite of her nap in the car, she had been so tired she’d nearly fallen asleep at the table.

  Tris had carried her to bed, Jecca got her into pajamas, and they’d both kissed her good night. By the time Jecca got back to the living room, Roan had cleared the plates away and put them in the rickety old dishwasher.

  It should have been a time for the adults to sit around a fire and get to know each other, but that didn’t happen. Roan’s silence made Jecca feel awkward and that she wished she hadn’t come. After all, it was his house, and he had a right to choose his visitors. Maybe tomorrow she’d return to Mrs. Wingate’s and work on Kim’s ads.

  Not long after Roan excused himself to go to bed, so did Jecca. She gave Tris a quick kiss, then slipped into the bedroom with Nell. She quickly undressed, pulled on flannel pajamas, then lay there, staring at the ceiling.

  At midnight she gave up trying to sleep. That chainsaw on the dining table was haunting her. She put on her robe and slippers and tiptoed out into the living room.

  She didn’t want to turn on an overhead light for fear of waking anyone, but she did manage to pull an old floor lamp—circa 1952—near the table.

  For once she was glashengne, d that a do-it-yourselfer had tried to repair a machine, because Roan had left his toolbox at the end of the table. Opening it, she saw that the tools were basic, all of them bought in sets, so most of what he had was useless. But there was enough that she could do the job.

  One thing she’d taught herself was that when she was doing her artwork she couldn’t think bad thoughts. She’d learned that the hard way. Years ago, the day after one of the worst fights of the Sheila War, Jecca had done six watercolors, her homework.

  On Monday when her paintings had been critiqued by her drawing teacher, she’d been shocked to see that all her anger had gone into her work. If they’d been good she would have said seeing her father dueling with his daughter-in-law had been worth it. But the paintings were truly bad, the worst she’d ever done.

  As she started to reassemble the chainsaw, she tried to come up with ideas for Kim’s ad campaign. The familiarity of washers and screwdrivers and even the motor relaxed her, and she soon fell into a routine.

  “I use my orchids,” she heard and wasn’t surprised to see Tristan standing at the end of the table. He had on sweatpants and nothing else. They hung very, very low on his hips.

  “Use your orchids for what?” she managed to say.

  “When I want to calm myself down, I go to them.” He sat down across the table from her.

  “Why does your cousin dislike me?”

  “He thinks you’re going to break my heart.”

  “You told him that I’m going to leave?”

  “No,” Tris said. “He could see that you’re a city girl and they don’t stay in Edilean.”

  Jecca held up a crescent wrench and a bolt. “What part of me looks city?”

  “Maybe it was your jacket.”

  Smiling, Jecca told how Andrea had dropped a curling iron on it and singed the leather. Of course she couldn’t wear it again, so she tossed it to Jecca. “She was letting me know that she was too good to wear damaged goods, but I wasn’t. So that’s Roan’s problem?”

  “Yes.” Tris handed Jecca a short screwdriver when she reached for it. “He knows I wouldn’t bring anyone up here unless I was serious about her, so he’s concerned.”

  “You know I really can’t—”

  “Don’t say it,” Tris said. “I’ve heard it too many times. Would you like to go fishing tomorrow? And by that I mean I fish while you and Nell do art things.”

  She had the chain in her hands as she looked at him. “Not a bad idea. The lures could be yellow sapphires.”

  “Think they’ll catch more fish?”

  “More customers,” Jecca said.

  “Any chance you’ll get that thing put together before dawn?” he asked in a low voice as he stood up. It didn’t seem possible set="0em" but his sweatpants had fallen even lower on his hips.

  She knew what he meant by his question, and her eyes were riveted by his bare torso.

  “You know that first night when you felt my face?” he asked softly.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “That felt so good that I thought maybe we could go into the moonlight and I could, well, feel your entire body.”

  She looked up at him. In the light of the single floor lamp, his eyes were like a blue fire.

  “Hold this!” she said, handing him one end of the heavy chain. “I’m going to beat Joey’s time.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but I like your tone.”

  She finished putting the chainsaw together in just under four minutes. Maybe someday she’d brag to her brother that she’d at last beat his time. Except that she wouldn’t be able to tell him the circumstances of her speed.

  Tristan came around the table in an instant and pulled her into his arms. “Outside,” he murmured. There were too many people inside and they didn’t want to disturb them.

  Jecca was kissing his shoulders, his bare chest.

  He took her hand and led her to the front door, then outside. “Come on,” he whispered. “I