The Heart of a Stranger Read Online Free

man. Stubborn woman. Will you lie down with me? Will you kiss me?
    She finished her coffee and spooned oatmeal into a bowl. “Is it all right to bring him some juice?”
    Cáco looked up. “You’re feeding him?”
    Not literally, she hoped. “You’re busy. I don’t mind helping out.”
    â€œGive him fruit instead.”
    â€œCanned peaches?” Her daughters liked them in the morning. Maybe he would, too.
    â€œThat’s fine. Don’t dawdle. Your own breakfast is almost ready.”
    With an indignant sniff, Lourdes prepared his tray. “I never dawdle.”
    Cáco sniffed, too. “You haven’t been in the company of a handsome man in a long time.”
    She wouldn’t let the old woman rile her. Not now.Not while her heart had picked up speed at the prospect of seeing him. “He’s handsome? I hadn’t noticed. It’s a little hard to tell through all those bruises.”
    â€œYou’re a bad liar.” Her surrogate grandmother almost smiled, then added a napkin to the tray. “And I suppose your breakfast will keep.”
    Okay, so she’d been found out. But hey, she had the right to look, didn’t she?
    Yes, but not too closely, she decided as she ventured down the hall with his breakfast. He could be married. Not all married men wore wedding bands. She’d do well to remember that. To keep reminding herself that she knew absolutely nothing about him.
    Lourdes found him sitting up in bed, staring into space.
    â€œHi.” She moved closer. “I brought you some food.”
    He shifted his gaze, looked at her. “Where am I?”
    â€œYou’re in Texas, on the outskirts of Mission Creek.” Not knowing what else to do, she placed the tray in front of him and sat on the edge of his bed. “At a horse farm. We’re taking care of you until you feel better.”
    â€œI’m not a horse.”
    She almost smiled. “No, of course not.” Adjusting the tray, she centered it over his lap. She wanted to comfort him. To ease his confusion. “Do you remember me? My name is Lourdes.”
    He measured her, the way he’d done last night. “The girl from France. From my dream.”
    â€œIt wasn’t a dream, and I’m not from France. But my father was.” She caught sight of the silver cross. Her father’s necklace, the one he’d given her mothera month before he’d died. “Do you like oatmeal? Cáco added milk and sugar to it.”
    â€œCáco?”
    â€œMy surrogate grandmother. She helped raise me.” When Lourdes was a child, Cáco had been hired as a cook and housekeeper, but somewhere along the way, she’d become family.
    â€œThe gray-haired lady?”
    â€œYes. It’s okay to think of her as an old woman. She’s Comanche, and they recognize five age groups.” Or at least Cáco did. “Old men and women are one of the age groups.”
    â€œShe made me drink that awful tea. I don’t like tea.”
    Now Lourdes did smile. “Coral root is a plant that grows around the roots of trees in dry, wooded areas. It’s rather scarce. Some people call it fever root because it’s an effective fever remedy.”
    He reached for his spoon and tasted the oatmeal. Then alternated to the peaches and back again. She poured him a glass of fresh water. He put his cut-and-swollen mouth around the straw and sipped.
    Will you kiss me?
    Your lip is split.
    â€œCáco is helping me raise my daughters,” she said, filling the awkward silence.
    â€œYou have children?”
    â€œYes. Twins. They’re four. Very smart and very pretty.”
    â€œYou’re pretty,” he told her. “I don’t think I’ve ever dreamed about a girl from France before.”
    â€œI’m not from France,” she reminded him again, flattered that he thought she was pretty and uncomfortable that he still considered her a