Wayfaring Stranger (Holland Family Saga 1)

“You’re not causing grief,” she said. “Not to me.”

She felt his arm tighten around her back. “I wish we’d met earlier.”

“What are you saying? I’m confused. What do you mean? Are you here to tell me you shouldn’t be here?”

He stepped back from her and removed the needle from the record and replaced the record in its jacket. He picked up the champagne bottle from the coffee table. “Drink a glass with me.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Do you like Weldon?” he asked.

“Sometimes I do. I don’t think he likes me.”

“He’s going to get hurt. When that happens, he’ll need his friends.”

“You’re saying I’m not one of them? You’re here about Weldon Holland?”

“I’m telling you that you’re swimming among a school of piranhas. I don’t want to add to your burden.”

He popped the cork on the champagne bottle and filled two glasses. The door to her bedroom was open, and through it she could see the mix of pinks and blues that resembled a child’s playroom.

“Call me again if you have trouble with Valentine or anyone else,” he said.

“You’re going?”

He touched her hair and cheek in a way that reminded her of how she had touched the sleeve of the policeman who drove her home in Los Angeles. “You’re a beautiful woman,” he said. “Keep being who you are, Linda Gail. Be true to thine own self.” He set down his glass and opened the front door, then looked back at her. “I can’t wait to see your first film.”

He eased the door shut, letting the lock click quietly into place, as though not wanting to disturb the solemnity normally associated with a church. She could not remember when she had felt so foolish.

NOW HE WAS at her house again, this time without invitation or a phone call. When she opened the door, she couldn’t believe what she was looking at. He was carrying his clothes and wearing only boxing trunks and a jersey that was dark and soggy with sweat. “Do you have room for a wayfaring stranger?” he asked.

“You look like you were hit by a manure truck. Is that blood on you?”

“I went a round or two with a fellow at a gym. It’s nothing. Is Hershel home?”

“He’s out of town.”

“Do you mind if I use the hose in your backyard?”

“No, you cannot. What happened?”

“This fellow was rude and things got a bit out of hand. I’m sorry to be a bother.”

“What fellow?”

“He was in prison. I thought I’d go a few rounds with him. Weldon was there. I could have gone to his house, but I didn’t want to upset his wife.”

“I hate to ask this question, but why don’t you go to your own house?”

“Because I have a problem and I need to talk to somebody about it. I don’t trust many people. You’re the exception.”

“Where are you trying to take us, Roy? What are you trying to do to me?”

“If you want me to leave, I will. Let me be honest. I saw your husband’s pickup was gone. It was also gone yesterday. So I came here and knocked on your door.”

“You’ve been spying on my house?”

“I’ll see you another time.”