The Cypress House(47)

She stepped back and struck him.

Her slap caught him high on the left side of his face. He stood where he was and stared as she hissed, “That’s what you want? Is that all you want?”

She moved away from him in a rush, went around the bar and through the swinging door into the kitchen, and then he was alone with the imprint of her slap stinging on his cheek.





20


HE COULDN’T SAY why he’d done it. Hadn’t been thought-out, planned. No, he’d just been looking at her face and seeing those lips and… hell, what a mistake.

He went outside and stared at the wires coming out of the generator and knew damn well that he wouldn’t make any progress without Paul there. He walked down to the dock and set to work tearing some of the damaged planking free and stacking it on the shore. He worked hard and angry, frustrated and embarrassed with himself for what had happened. What would the boy have thought if he’d seen it?

While he was working, he thought he heard a boat. A faint sound, but he’d have bet money it was the creaking of a set of oars working in their oarlocks. He straightened and stared up the inlet, but it curled away from him, and the trees with their draperies of Spanish moss screened what lay beyond. He waited for a time and didn’t see anything, and then he returned to work.

It was more than an hour before Paul and Thomas Barrett made it back. The panel van had been replaced by an old pickup that was so loaded with lumber, it flattened the tires.

“Enough for the dock and the generator shed,” Barrett told Arlen when he walked up to join them. “Won’t be enough for the boathouse, but it’ll do the rest.”

“That’s a start. Hey, Paul? Why don’t you look at that generator while I get this unloaded. I couldn’t make heads or tails out of that.”

“Your back’s feeling better?”

“Yeah,” Arlen said. Rebecca had come out on the porch to watch them, and he didn’t look her way.

Paul went off to the generator, and Barrett hung around to help Arlen with the boards. They unloaded the lumber and carried it down to the boathouse. By the time they got back from the last load, the generator was running again, and Rebecca Cady stood on the porch with a rare smile on her face.

“I’ll be able to use some eggs and milk tomorrow,” she told Barrett. “I can finally keep them cool again. He actually got it to work.”

Barrett left then, promising to return with the perishables the next day, and Arlen and Paul got to work rebuilding the enclosure for the generator. Paul insisted on making it wider than the original, which made sense because it allowed you to move around and access the thing if there were problems. He’d gotten the timing adjusted, and the cylinders were firing smoothly and accurately. Arlen watched it hammer away and thought there weren’t many men in the world who could put a thing like that back together without any training or experience with engines—hell, without so much as an instruction or a diagram. Looking at the generator, Arlen realized he was feeling a small surge of pride. That was undeserved—he couldn’t take any credit for the kid’s success. It was there all the same, though. He was proud of him.

At sunset they joined Rebecca on the back porch and ate dinner, Arlen sipping a cold beer.

“First I can really appreciate of the boy’s contributions,” he said to Rebecca. “Beer sure does taste better once it’s been chilled.”

Paul frowned when he said that, and Arlen assumed it was related in some way to drinking, but a few minutes later when Rebecca had gone inside in search of salt, Paul said, “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t call me that in front of her.”

Arlen stared at him. “Call you what?”

“The boy.”

Arlen raised his eyebrows and gave a little nod.

“That’s not how I want her to think of me,” Paul said. “Understand?”

“Sure,” Arlen said. “Won’t happen again.”

He was starting to worry about Paul’s infatuation, though. It was none of his business, but he didn’t for a minute believe Rebecca Cady did—or would—think of him as a man, let alone as a romantic interest. She treated him with affection, yes, but it wasn’t in the way the kid was hoping.

Rebecca had just stepped back out with saltshaker in hand when they heard a car pulling in. Arlen looked up at her and saw a shadow pass across her face. She set the salt down and went back inside but hadn’t even made it across the barroom when the front door opened and two men stepped through. What was left of the sun was shining off the windows and it was impossible to look through and see them clearly, but Arlen was certain the one who’d entered first was Solomon Wade, because he could see the outline of the white Panama hat. Wade said something to Rebecca, and then they came back out onto the porch.