AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Thinking of losing any of that put a weight in the pit of his stomach. In order to ease that discomfort, he focused instead on the foliage. Between this property and the next, he could take note of the trees, bushes, wildflowers, and anything else that bothered to sprout up along the trail. If Agatha hadn’t lost her whole world, she might have enjoyed this scenic trip. He found himself racking his brain for anything he might be able to do to make her feel better.
And he couldn’t figure out why that was.
Agatha was a stranger. They didn’t know each other well enough for him to do something like that for her. What was she to him but just a neighbor?
Her hands tightened around his middle when they went over a bump, and even over the engine, he heard a quick intake of breath. Zeke fought a smile. He shouldn’t be enjoying this ride. The poor woman had lost everything and could barely stand him. He needed to get his head on straight.
Just as they came over the ridge of a hill, the charred remains of the back side of the house rose into view.
Another gasp ripped from Agatha’s lips just behind his ear. Her body tensed, clinging to him as if he were the only thing that stood between her and the heartache she was experiencing. When he pulled the vehicle to a stop, she clambered off and strode toward the building as if pushed by a force that was not her own—straight for the back entrance.
Zeke shut off the engine and charged after her. He grasped onto her wrist and pulled her to a sudden stop. “What in tarnation do you think you’re doing?”
She stared at him, not quite seeing him. Then clarity flooded her gaze and she threw her finger toward the building. “I’m going in there to see if there’s anything I can salvage.”
He shook his head. “There’s nothing you can do. Even if something wasn’t burned, it’s bound to be damaged by the smoke or the water. That place was lit up like the Fourth of July.”
“I don’t care,” she stammered, her eyes shifting to the building. “If there’s anything in there—”
“It’s not safe.” His voice was harder than he anticipated, evidenced by the way she stared at him like he’d nearly bitten her head off.
“You can’t tell me what to do on my own property,” she snapped back, yanking her arm away from him. “If I want to go inside, I’m going to do it.”
He blocked her path, glowering at her. “I told you I’d bring you up here, but I won’t allow you to go and get yourself hurt. I’m not going to be held liable for you choosing feelings over smarts.”
Her mouth fell open, then quickly shifted into disdain. “Fine. You can leave and it won’t be your fault. My property. My body. My problem.”
He let out a growl. “Stay here.” Zeke spun around, marching toward the back door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
He stopped, faced her, then tossed his phone at her. “Insurance. Contractor.”
Agatha caught the device, and he hurried up the steps into her house.
The walls were blackened from the ceiling down. Zeke pulled his shirt collar up to his nose, but it didn’t ward off the heavy scent of smoke in the air. The kitchen was in terrible shape. Cabinets hung open, charred and lopsided where the fire had ripped through them. Broken dishes lay on the floor. A plastic container was half melted onto the countertop. Overhead there was one gaping hole in the ceiling up to the second floor but no way to tell what room it was.
He stepped over shattered glass, careful not to disturb too much. He made it to the stairs, but they were in worse shape than he’d thought. If he even tried to climb them, he’d fall through. Instead, he continued on the main floor until he reached the front of the house. Besides the evidence of smoke damage, the room appeared normal.
A couch, a loveseat, and a few chairs surrounded a coffee table. On the couch a throw blanket had been tossed in such a way it had probably been laid there by a designer. Zeke rolled his eyes. Agatha was probably the kind of person who liked to stage things to look haphazard.
His boot snagged on the throw, dragging it from the couch and onto the floor when he wandered past. A large leather-bound book had been hidden beneath it. That was the kind of book that contained the exact thing Agatha had been so heartbroken over losing.
Zeke backtracked and stared at the book, then up at the door he’d come through. If this was what he thought it was, then he might have just found something that could jumpstart her healing process.
Slowly reaching for the book as if at any moment it might take the form of a snake and launch at him, he inched closer. His fingers wrapped around it, and he pulled the bulky object into his hands. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped it open, finding exactly what he thought it would contain.
The photos in the front were older, much older than Agatha could have been. They were yellowed and faded, showing stern faces of people who could only be her relatives. Zeke snapped the book shut and strode toward the front entrance, opting not to traipse through the rubble in the kitchen. He headed out onto the porch, stopping suddenly as he came across Agatha pacing while on the phone once again.
“Nine months? How on earth can you be nine months out?” Her eyes darted toward Zeke and away so quickly she definitely hadn’t seen the book he carried. “I have called other contractors. You’re telling me you can’t start on a rebuild for nearly a year. What do you—” She stopped herself, smoothing her voice until it sounded like a shell of what it was. “Thank you for your time. Yes, I understand.”
Agatha got off the phone and let out a ferocious growl that would have put a cougar to shame.
Maybe she really could handle herself with the wolves and coyotes.
Her eyes landed on him and she let out an exasperated breath. “No one can help me rebuild. There are no other places where I can live. The only people who are cooperating with me were the ones I thought I might have to fight.”
“The insurance folks?”
