She had scrounged the courage to talk to him, only to have the telephone repair crew put in their appearance. Jacob had asked her to wait in his apartment since he wanted to talk to her, too. She would bet good money his topic would be less upsetting.
The barnlike room echoed with silence. Located off the Lodge’s lobby, it held the basics, a sofa and oversize recliner. The roof angled up over a bed across the room tucked in a loft. Her gaze skittered away and back to the living area. Given the masculine air, she imagined his father must have lived here. From her time cleaning, she now knew that Emily lived in two hotel rooms with connecting doors, located beside this apartment. Emily and her baby.
Dee swallowed hard. The scar on her stomach itched.
How could a mother simply cease to exist? She must have hired a babysitter if she’d planned to meet with “Mr. Smith.” Or her child could be with his or her father.
Her ring finger was bare, no cheater-mark tan line in sight to show she’d worn a ring recently. While not proof positive, it reassured her somewhat.
Dee refused to believe she might be an unfaithful spouse. Regardless, she must be late with pickup or a phone call, or would be soon. Someone would report her missing.
Him or her? A son or a daughter? How awful not to know even that much. Not knowing didn’t make the urge to protect any less powerful.
Of course, having a C-section scar didn’t necessarily mean she’d kept the child. Maybe she’d been in a situation like Emily’s and chose to give her newborn up for adoption?
Another possibility speared her. Heaven forbid, the baby might have died.
All maybes aside, she had to operate on the assumption that she did have a live child out there somewhere, and that meant enlisting Jacob’s help.
His heavy tread sounded in the hall just before Jacob ducked through the doorway. “Sorry you had to wait. Phone lines are in working order again.”
“Good.” Nerves bubbled in her throat like a foaming soda. She’d been ready to tell him and now the words wouldn’t come.
“I checked in with the dispatcher, and the tour bus is an hour away. So I have some downtime for a late supper.” He opened the refrigerator and shoved aside a gallon of milk, unveiling a covered pot. “Pickings are pretty sparse around here. Good thing Emily ate with Chase’s family before coming home.”
He walked with ease around the minuscule kitchen, maneuvering with a lanky-limbed grace to pull out stoneware bowls, turn on the stove, place the pot on the burner. He didn’t do anything quickly, but with steady purpose, opening and closing drawers as he worked. “Marge’s Diner serves up good country cooking, but I don’t want to leave Emily here alone to deal with all those tourists.”
Jacob stirred the stew. “Rockfish isn’t large, but it’s a tight-knit community. Emily will have already told Chase’s mom about you, which is the same as putting an ad in the Rockfish Weekly, but faster since it comes with daily updates. By Sunday, you’ll be the hot topic at church potlucks along with the latest Jell-O mold recipe.”
Dee let him talk without interrupting. His bass tones washed over her, instilling a peace she hadn’t felt since she’d awakened, peace she desperately needed now more than ever. Had she always been attracted to this sort of man? Or had her episode with Mr. Smith rattled her into an awareness of men who wore honor on their sleeves?
Or in Jacob’s case, a worn Air Force T-shirt.
“We might as well preempt them with a trip to Marge’s tomorrow and introduce you around. You can meet almost everyone there. The roads should open up for regular traffic by supper tomorrow.” Jacob lounged a lazy hip against the counter. “What do you say?”
She stared at him until his words registered. He couldn’t be asking her out to eat. Could he? The roof seemed to lower, shrinking the room. Beside Jacob Stone, everything seemed small. He probably had plenty of women bringing him Jell-O molds.
Of course he wasn’t asking her out. She’d taken a long look at herself, and she didn’t find the final product all that impressive. She seemed more like a regular robin with plenty of beige and brown, splashed with that garish red dress across her middle.
Dee gripped the can to quell her shaking. “Sure. I should meet everyone and dispel rumors. I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”
“I’m not worried about that.” He rubbed a thumb along his forehead, then turned back to the counter. “First, we have to take care of food now. Is there anything you can’t eat? Any allergies I should know of?”
She thought of the EpiPen she kept close. This seemed like the perfect opening. “I don’t know.”
Jacob glanced over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t know if I’m allergic to anything.”
“Okay.” His brows met for a moment before he shrugged. “Then it’s leftover stew. Any problems with that?”
“I don’t know.”
He pivoted on one heel to face her, a tic starting in the corner of one eye. “Don’t feel obligated to stay for dinner if you’re too hung over from your night out.”
This wasn’t going well at all. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then feel free to explain what you did mean.”