Read Online The Waterfall by Carla Neggers - Free Book Online Page B

soothing. “Lucy, you can bring J.T. inside. Madison and I will meet you.”
    She shrank back, her eyes widening.
    Lucy said, “It’s okay, Madison.”
    Sebastian frowned, as if he couldn’t fathom what about him would be a cause for concern—a dusty man in an isolated cabin with three dogs and no running water. He started down the steps. Madison took a breath and followed, glancing back at Lucy and mouthing, “Unabomber.”
    Lucy got J.T. inside. The prosaic exterior did not deceive. In addition to no running water, there was no electricity. It was like being catapulted back a century to the frontier.
    â€œIt’s just a nosebleed,” J.T. said, stuffing the paper napkin up his nose. “I’m fine.”
    Lucy grabbed a ragged dish towel from a hook above a wooden counter. The kitchen. There was oatmeal, cornmeal, coffee, cans of beans, jars of salsa and, incongruously, a jug of pure Vermont maple syrup.
    In a few minutes, Madison came through the back door with a pitted aluminum pitcher of water. Lucy dipped in the towel. “I think you’ve stopped bleeding, J.T. Let’s just get you cleaned up, okay?” She glanced at her daughter. “Where’s Sebastian?”
    â€œOut taming wild horses or hunting buffalo, I don’t know. Mom. He doesn’t even have a bathroom.”
    â€œThis place is pretty rustic.”
    Madison groaned. “Clint Eastwood, Unforgiven. I told you.”
    Sebastian walked in from the front porch. “What’s she doing watching R-rated movies? She’s not seventeen.”
    â€œThat’s without a parent or parental permission.” Lucy stifled an urge to tell him to mind his own damn business, but since he hadn’t invited her to come out here, she kept her mouth shut. “Madison’s a student of film history. I watched Unforgiven with her because it’s so violent.”
    He frowned at her. “I’m not violent.”
    Lucy had always considered him a man of controlled violence in a violent profession, but before she could say anything, Madison jumped in. “But you live like Eastwood in that opening scene with his two children—”
    â€œNo, I don’t. I don’t have hogs.”
    That obviously settled it as far as he was concerned. Lucy shook her head at Madison to keep her from arguing her point. For once, her daughter took the hint.
    â€œHow’s J.T.?” Sebastian asked.
    â€œHe’s better,” Lucy said. “Thanks for your help.” J.T. kept the wet towel pressed to his nose. “It doesn’t hurt.”
    â€œGood.” Sebastian didn’t seem particularly worried. “You two kids can go down to the barn and look at the horses while I talk to your mother. Dogs’ll go with you.”
    â€œCome on, J.T.,” Madison said, playing the protective big sister for a change. “The barn can’t be any worse than this place.”
    She and her brother retreated, both getting dirtier with every passing minute. If the dry air, dust and altitude bothered Madison, she’d never admit it.
    Sebastian grunted. “Kid has a mouth on her.”
    â€œThey’re both great kids,” Lucy said.
    He turned to her. She was intensely aware of the silence. No hum of fans or air-conditioning, no cars, not even a bird twittering. “I’m sure they are.”
    â€œPlato said you were on some kind of sabbatical.”
    â€œSabbatical? So that’s what he’s saying now. Hell. I have to remember his mother’s a professor.”
    â€œYou’re not—”
    Something in his eyes stopped her. Lucy could count on one hand the times she’d actually seen Sebastian Redwing, but she remembered his unnerving capacity to make her think he could see into her soul. She expected it was a skill that helped him in his work. She wondered if it was part of why he was living out here. Perhaps he’d seen too much. Most