Free The Drifter by Richie Tankersley Cusick Page A

room, and then she glanced over at Nora. During the whole conversation Nora had been slicing that same loaf of bread—sawing the knife slowly back and forth against the cutting board.
    â€œAre you all right, Nora?” Carolyn asked, but the woman’s shoulders remained just as stiff, just as straight.
    The knife made a dull thudding sound as Nora laid it on the counter.
    â€œNora?” Carolyn tried again. “Joss was telling the truth, wasn’t he? There really was someone up there on the walk, and he really did see her.”
    Nora didn’t turn. Her right hand made a quick swipe at her apron, then closed around the knife again.
    The blade sawed once.
    â€œI’ve cut myself,” Nora said.
    Carolyn rushed to her side, seeing the dark red flow over Nora’s wrist. She turned on the faucet and forced Nora’s hand beneath the water, then looked anxiously into the woman’s face.
    It was a perfect mask. No pain … no surprise … nothing.
    â€œClumsy of me,” Nora mumbled.
    â€œNora—”
    â€œIt’s only a scratch. I’ll tend to it in the bathroom.”
    Before Carolyn could answer, Nora turned away and disappeared down the hall. Carolyn heard the bathroom door close, and she leaned against the counter, putting her head in her hands.
    â€œCarolyn!” Mrs. Baxter called.
    â€œYes, it’s almost ready!”
    She could hear them talking as she heated the soup, as she toasted the bread, as she ladled the chowder into bowls and arranged places at the kitchen table. Mom’s voice always got louder when she was happy, and she was certainly happy now.
    â€œIt seemed like such a perfect opportunity when I got this place,” Mrs. Baxter was saying as she and Joss strolled into the kitchen. “I’ve always wanted to open a guest house—and it was a good time for making changes.”
    Carolyn leaned over to check a burner on the stove. She felt Joss pass behind her … felt his body lightly brush against hers. She straightened, a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.
    â€œWell, you’d think with this being our first guest, we could at least eat in the dining room,” Mom teased, waving Joss into a chair.
    â€œThis is fine,” Joss assured her. “Very homey.”
    Carolyn served the soup and bread. “Does anyone need anything else?” she asked politely.
    â€œSit down and join us,” Mom said.
    Reluctantly Carolyn pulled up a chair, but she didn’t feel like eating.
    â€œCarolyn could certainly use a friend,” Mrs. Baxter went on softly. “This move has been especially hard on her. Leaving all her old friends behind—”
    â€œMom,” Carolyn broke in quickly, “I’m sure all our problems are really boring to him—”
    â€œWe’re only getting acquainted.” Mom sounded a little annoyed at the criticism. “And I’m sure Joss must know that awful feeling of having to leave people behind, traveling around like he does.”
    The black eyes shifted to Carolyn’s face.
    â€œI’ve had to leave lots of people behind,” Joss said quietly. “And you could never be boring to me, Carolyn.”
    Carolyn looked away, flustered. What is he doing here? Why is she letting him stay?
    â€œAs a matter of fact,” Joss went on, dropping his eyes, studying his soup spoon, “I feel like I know you already.”
    The room seemed to grow smaller around her—smaller—and smaller still—until there was just her and Joss and the echo of his voice in the silence and the sheen of his hair as it hung dark and loose around his face—and then his eyes lifted again—slowly—and she was caught there—trapped—something foreign and frightening and terribly wonderful fluttering deep, deep in her heart—
    â€œâ€”Carolyn?”
    â€œWh-what?” Carolyn stammered.
    Her cheeks went pink as she realized everyone