Indomitable Spirit (2 page)

Once he shook off the utter irritation and delight of the little woman, John went back to filling his cart with things his children would, no doubt, devour before he got home from work the next day.

When he headed toward Gloria to check out, he noticed the dark-haired woman who had stunned his brain with just a few words walk out of the store.

He unloaded his items onto the conveyor as Gloria began to scan the boxes, bags, and cans.

“Where’s your veggies?” she asked, analyzing his purchases.

“Pardon me?”

“Those kids need veggies.”

“Yeah, I’ll get some next time.” That would shut her up for a moment, he hoped. Then he realized he needed information, and if anyone in town had it, it would be Gloria. “Hey, who was that woman that was just in here?”

“Oh, Kym?”

“Kym?”

“Just took over the karate school. Lives above it with her grandfather. Surprised you didn’t know about it.”

He shrugged. “Been busy, I guess.”

“Heard. Fixing up Malory’s bakery?”

“Yeah.”

He wondered if he’d heard about her moving to town. Then again, people were always talking, and he was usually in his own world. There was too much on his plate to worry about town gossip. Until now.

He carried the bags to his truck and tossed them in the back. As he did he saw her, Kym, he reminded himself, dart out of Malory’s bakery with a cup of coffee. No doubt it was one of those fancy blends that she’d brought in just for those who had to have it. He didn’t see the point, but then again John didn’t need anything that was fancy.

Kym hurried to her small Honda and drove away. John stood at the back of his truck and watched her disappear around the curve of the lake and behind the trees. It was a good thing she lived and worked at the same place, he figured. Sooner or later it was going to snow, and that little car wasn’t going to go anywhere.

Wednesday mornings belonged to Kym. Her grandfather had made friends at the local seniors’ center and on Wednesday there was always something for him to do there. That pleased them both. Taking care of him was an honor she did not take lightly. But still, to have the house to herself was priceless.

There were never any classes in her school until afternoon, and there were none on Wednesday. Sunday and Wednesday belonged to her; she saved her bookwork and her curriculum planning for business hours.

As she made breakfast she made a list of the things she wanted to do.

After her trip to the grocery store, she needed to drive into Grand Junction before the snow moved in and buy some loose tea. Her grandfather preferred it that way, though he’d never complain about a tea bag. Kym wanted to please him though and something as little as tea prepared the way he liked it brought her as much joy as it brought to him.

One day she wanted to go to Denver and do some shopping, and at some point, she’d like to make her way to Black Hawk and Central City and try her hand at the slot machines.

For today, she was going to venture around town and stick her head into the local shops. She’d been there a month and met only the parents of her students. More people knew her grandfather than knew her.

As she rose from the table, her cell phone rang and she was disappointed to find that the sign she’d ordered for the school was ready for installation. On a sigh, she realized she’d be giving up her Wednesday to work anyway.

The sign company had delivered her sign to Larson Hardware on Main Street. The owner, John Larson, had been contracted to hang it. However, she’d have to get in touch with him.

Well, she thought, there was no time like the present to stick her head in the door of a local business.

The hardware store was like many she’d been in over the years. Like a karate school, hardware stores had a look to them. Walls of hammers and screwdrivers met her, as well as the scents of paint and wood.

A woman behind the front counter was cutting a key for a man who stood tapping his fingers. He leaned over, rested on his elbows, and when he caught sight of her, he gave her a nod. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, it’s going well, thank you.” She tried to plaster a pleasant smile on her dry lips that the bitter air was trying to ruin.

The woman turned off the noisy machine and slid the keys to the man. “Okay, Mac, all done.” She turned her head toward Kym. “Oh, hi. Sorry, I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

Mac smiled. “Go ahead. I got time to wait.”

“How can I help you?”

Kym stepped up to the counter. “I was told I could find a John Larson here.”

“Sometimes you can.” The woman leaned in near the man she’d called Mac and scanned her eyes over Kym. “He’s on a job right now. Can I help you?”

“I’m Kym O’Bryne. My sign…”

“Oh.” The woman stood up. “The karate gal.”

Again, Kym forced a smile. “Yes, that’s me.”

The man turned full to her and gave her a long study. “O’Bryne? You don’t look Irish.”

“My father is Irish. My mother Korean. I take after her.”

The woman walked around the counter and extended her hand. “I’m Kelley Larson, John’s sister and co-owner of this establishment. This baboon is Mac Stern. Mac here coaches hockey over at the ice rink.”

“It’s nice to meet you both.” She put pleasantness in her voice, as her mother always told her to do.

“John is working over at Malory’s bakery today. I can have him give you a call.”

“You know, I’ll poke my head in there. I’m making my way around town today.”

“I’m glad you stopped in.” Kelley smiled widely. “You just let me know if you ever need anything. If I can’t help you, John certainly can.”

Kym thanked her and went about walking up the street toward the bakery. She looked forward to meeting a man of whom his sister spoke so highly. The wind was calm, but the air was still brisk. She pulled the scarf around her neck tighter and opened the door.

The smell of fresh baked bread and cookies washed over her as she shut the door behind her. The temperature inside was warm from the ovens and the obvious construction that was going on.

Malory’s was one of the businesses Kym had visited every Sunday morning. The vanilla latte that she made was Kym’s indulgence each week.

“Morning, Kym. What a treat to see you. It’s not even Sunday.” Malory Douglas waddled to the counter. Her extremely pregnant belly bulged beneath her apron.

The smile Kym gave Malory was not forced. She liked her and her bakery and was always happy to be there. “Actually I came on business. I’m looking for John Larson.”

At that moment, a string of curses flew from the plastic tarp that was nailed into place and curtained the area between the working part of the bakery and the area Malory was having remodeled.

Kym’s jaw dropped when she saw the man who walked out from the plastic wall. He shook his hand, which he’d obviously hit with a hammer.

“Wil, how about an ice pack?” He turned to Malory, but his eyes rested on Kym’s. “Damn. Hi.”

This time it was Kym that was stunned into silence. She’d spent her morning seeking out the very man she’d spent Sunday cursing for his rudeness. What had she done to deserve that?

“You two have met?” Malory asked.

“Not really. We bumped into each other Sunday morning,” John answered.

“Bumped into each other? If I remember correctly, it was you who slammed into me.”

“Now, I’m sorry about that.”

“Really? I wouldn’t know that. This is the first time I’ve heard you speak.”

John shook his hand again and turned his stare to Malory. “Wil, the ice?”

“Be right back.” Malory hurried off as quickly as her oversized body would let her.

“Do you always talk to women like that?” Kym fisted her hands on her hips.

He lifted a brow. “Like what?”

“Ordering them around and you don’t even call her by her name.”

At that he laughed. “Wil is her name. Her momma gave it to her before she died. Those of us who grew up with her only call her Wil.”

Kym crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head in disgust.

Malory waddled back to them, a bag of ice in her hand. She laid it on his hand and he winced.

He slid a glance at Kym and then back at Malory. “Thank you, Malory.”

“You’re very welcome.” She smiled at Kym and went back to her baking.

“See, was that so hard?” Kym tapped her booted foot.

“Why are you standing here giving me a hard time?” He shifted the bag from his hand and she could see where the bruise was already settling.

“Do you need a doctor?”

“For what? Because I hit my hand? Please. It’s part of my life.”

“That doesn’t set well with me, knowing you’re going to be on a ladder outside my school.”

Kym watched his light blue eyes, hidden by the shadow of a ball cap with the name STANLEY written across the front of it, search for the connection. Then his head rose and his eyes widened. “You’re the sign install?”

“Yes.”

“Figures.” He set the ice on the counter and worked his fingers open and closed.

“Listen, Mr. Larson, if you…”

“John.”

Her arms were throbbing she’d been crossing them so tightly. She finally let them fall. “John, if you don’t need the work, I can call someone else.”

“I’ll be there.” He took off the aged hat and ran his hand over a mop of dark hair then as though expertly fitting it, he adjusted the hat until it sat perfectly back on his head again. “I’ll come by around three. Once I get them settled, go by and get the sign, let’s see—I’ll need the bigger ladder, was it wired? No, no wire.” He continued making his list aloud and Kym stood observing the many faces of John Larson.

The face itself wasn’t unhandsome, though the day’s worth of whiskers made him look tired and drawn. The flannel shirt he wore tucked into a pair of Wranglers and the belt buckle looked like maybe he’d won a rodeo once upon a time. If it weren’t for the crease between his brows at all times, Kym would have thought he was a good-looking man. But his disposition left a haze over any handsome features.

John looked up as though he realized he was talking to himself. “I’ll be there at three.”

“Fine.” Kym turned and left the bakery.

John set the bucket of tools in the back of his pickup. It was no wonder he’d smashed his hand, which still throbbed. His mind certainly hadn’t been on his work for the past few days. It had been on Kym.

Why was it the woman could turn him inside out just by talking to him? Most people let him do what he did best, and that was build things. They didn’t give him manners lessons about saying he was sorry, or how he spoke to people, or the names he called them. They most often left him the hell alone.

How come this Kym person was taking over his mind and time this week? He had better things to do than think about her and those beautiful eyes.

John shook away the thought.

Her eyes and that raven-black hair didn’t mean squat. He had responsibilities and a job to do. Kids to feed. With a push, he closed the tailgate to his pickup, the sign securely placed in the bed, and headed toward the karate school.

When he parked, he could see her inside. There were no students. She was the only one on the blue-and-red rubber-matted floor. Even alone in the school, she wore a red uniform with a single, wide black stripe down each arm and leg. The belt tied around her waist was black with four gold bars embroidered on it. She watched herself in the mirrors that encompassed one wall.

Each series of moves started with her hands in fists before her and then, like a well-rehearsed dance, she’d move. Some moves were methodical and slow. Other moves were sharp and fast as though she were attacking. There were dozens of combinations she went through, and by the time John snapped back into reality he realized he’d watched her for over twenty minutes.

He walked back to his truck, yanked on his tool belt, and pulled the ladder from the metal racks that rose like a cage over the truck bed. He set it up in front of the door and went to work taking down the old sign.

He stopped when he heard the door to the school open below him. When he looked down there she was, barefoot and staring up at him.

Her hair was tied back and her eyes were more brilliant when not shadowed by that cascade of hair. John cleared his throat.

“Kinda cold to be without shoes, isn’t it?”

“I consider it conditioning.”

He nodded. He wasn’t sure he’d met a woman quite as tough as she was, and that decision was made solely on the few times they’d spoken.

“I’ll be up here a bit. You might want to watch for your students and have them go in the side door.”

“I don’t have any students today.”

“Oh, well I saw you…” He stopped talking. The last thing she needed to know was that he was watching her. “I thought since you had on your uniform you were working.”

“I don’t usually work on Wednesdays. This one is an exception, thanks to the sign.”

“The sign? Well I don’t see you out here working on the sign. You could still take your day off.”

Kym crossed her arms over her chest. “If you can’t do the job, I can help you. However, I would think you are skilled in this area. And owning your own business, I would think you’d know you work whenever you please. So, today I chose to work on my curriculum and practice my forms for an extra hour.”

“Extra hour? You’ve already done all of that once today?”

“Of course.”

Her icy glare was telling him to stop talking, but it wasn’t happening. “How often have you used that?” he asked as he twisted a socket wrench to loosen the bolt holding up one corner of the old sign. “I mean, really, do you get attacked a lot?” Just as he said it the wrench fell from his hand. By reflex, he slid down the ladder, even knowing he couldn’t beat the tool to the ground. It was headed right for her head.

But as he landed, his calves and hands aching from the slide down the metal, he stood in astonishment. Kym held the wrench in one hand and had braced to support him should he tumble from the narrow sidewalk.

His heart pounded against his chest uncomfortably and it took him a moment to get his breath back.