by Emily March
“What?” Hannah shot Boone an incredulous look.
“Bird droppings,” he said. “She called her nanny Poppins.”
“The plane is raining from the sky!”
“Oh, honey. No.” Hannah pulled Haley against her and hugged her. This was what PTSD looked like in a eight-year-old. She dusted off her professional training in psychology along with her personal mothering experience to deal with the traumatized child as she rocked and crooned soothingly. “No, sweetie. No, sweetie. It’s bird poop. Just icky sticky bird poop.”
“No-o-o-o!” the girl wailed. Her little arms grabbed Hannah hard.
“Yes, it is. I see it. Why don’t you let me wash it out?”
“Yes. Get it out. Get it out, Poppins. Get it all out!”
Hannah looked at Boone. “Do you have a cup or anything I can scoop with?”
“Use this,” Boone said, handing her a water bottle. “The water won’t be as cold. Wouldn’t hurt to rub her hair with sand first. Hold on.” He dipped down and scooped up a handful of sand. “Haley? Is it okay if I touch you now?”
“No! I want Poppins to do it! I want Poppins. I want Poppins. I need Poppins.”
With his mouth set in a grim line, Boone transferred the dirt from his hand to Hannah’s. She offered him a sympathetic smile, then spoke to Haley. “Okay, honeybunch,” she said, gently pulling the girl’s arm from around her waist. “I’m going to tilt your head back, so we keep the water out of your eyes. Okay?”
Tear-filled eyes gazed up at Hannah. Haley quaked like maple leaves in autumn. “Get it all, please? Get all the people from my head!”
Hannah briefly closed her eyes as her heart broke. Boone muttered a soft but vicious curse.
Inserting a level of calm and certainty into her voice, she began to rub Haley’s hair and scalp with the river sand. “Oh, sweetheart, I promise you, this is bird poop. That’s all it is, and I’m getting rid of it right now. Trust me. I know how to get yucky stuff out of young girls’ hair. One of my little girls got saltwater taffy stuck in her hair, and we worked for hours to get it all out.”
“I don’t want to stay here for hours.”
“This won’t take any time at all. Bird poop isn’t anything like taffy. I’ll have it out in a jiffy.”
“It’s gross.”
“Yes, but it’s not as gross as lice. Lice really creeps me out. My other daughter got lice one time, and that was disgusting. We worked on her hair for a long time. Now I’m ready to rinse. Are you ready, Haley?”
Haley nodded. Hannah tipped her head back and started rinsing the gunk from her hair. “Hmm. I think I might just need to use a little water from the stream. It’ll be cold. You okay with that?”
“Yes, please.” Haley’s voice remained strained, but the panic in it had faded. She sucked in a breath when Hannah poured the icy creek water through her hair.
“There. That does it. Good idea about the sand. That helped the situation a lot. Now I’m going to wring the water from your hair, and you should be good to go.” Hannah smoothed back Haley’s hair, then gathered it into one long strand and began to twist.
Haley’s shoulders began to shake. Hannah glanced down and saw tears slip from her eyes. They were the first tears Hannah had seen, and she took it as a good sign.
“You’re not Poppins, are you?” Haley asked.
“No. My name is Hannah. I’m a friend of your … cousin?” She glanced at Boone.
“I’m Uncle B.”
Hannah tenderly touched Haley’s shoulder. “I’m a friend of your uncle’s.”
“A very nice friend whom I owe big time,” Boone added, his expression warm and filled with gratitude as he met Hannah’s gaze before shifting to Haley. “Sugar Bug? You ready to head home?”
Haley’s tears were flowing heavily now. She nodded.
“We’ll get to the car faster if I carry you.”
She nodded again, and Boone wasted no time in swooping her up into his arms. His silver eyes met hers. “Thank you, Hannah.”
“Glad to be of help.”
Haley wrapped her arms around Boone’s neck and buried her head against his chest. As Boone sloshed his way toward the riverbank, Hannah realized for the first time just how wet and cold she was.
Her fishing guide called, “McBride, I’ll get your gear.”
“Thanks.”
Hannah watched them go, her heart heavy, memories a dark cloud on her horizon. Mommy! Mommy! I forgot to swallow my taffy before I took my nap! I’m all stuck. Help me. Help me. Help me. Mommy!
Hannah had been on the scene to help Sophia that day, but not when it truly mattered. Now she heard it in her nightmares. I’m all stuck. Help me. Help me. Help me. Mommy!
“I’m sorry, my loves.” Moving like a woman three times her age, Hannah climbed from the mountain stream and hobbled toward the base of a pine tree. She sat with her back braced against the trunk and waited for her guide’s return, thinking about her girls, thinking about Haley McBride and the song her parents had written and made famous—“Wishes for My Angel.”
“Angels,” she murmured, adding the s to make it plural. Then softly, sadly, she hummed the refrain.
* * *
Boone hurried toward his Land Rover with Haley in his arms. He had experience dealing with traumatized children due to the work he’d done in Fort Worth. He’d witnessed some heartbreaking things. However, watching Haley lose it this morning had left him feeling helpless in a way he had not experienced since Mary died. He’d been unequipped to deal with the child’s distress.
Haley’s screams had intensified when he’d tried to touch her. Talking to her had made no difference whatsoever. She hadn’t heard him. Boone had stood frozen in uncertainty when Hannah Dupree ran to the rescue.
The woman didn’t look anything like Haley’s beloved, deceased nanny, but something about her had clicked with Haley. Hannah couldn’t have played it more perfectly, and Boone’s gratitude knew no bounds.
He had a towel in the back of the Land Rover, which he used to rub Haley’s head as dry as possible. Then he buckled her into her seat, turned on the vehicle, and cranked up the heat. She fell asleep almost immediately. He was grateful for that too.
As much as he hated to interrupt Jackson, who was knee-deep in wedding prep, Boone placed a call to his cousin and detailed the events of the past half hour. Jackson and his fiancée were there to meet them when Boone pulled up to the cabin at the Callahan family’s North Forty compound, where Jackson was staying before to his wedding.
After Caroline had spirited Haley off for a shower and shampoo, Boone filled Jackson in on details he had not shared during the phone call. “Where did the woman come from?”
“Her name is Hannah. She was with Bill Townsend. He’s one of Cam Murphy’s guides, and I’m sure they were fishing on a stretch of the creek around a bend from where Haley and I were. She came over the hill.”
“Is Hannah a local?”
“No.”
“Then did you get her name or where she’s staying? I’d like to thank her personally.”
“You’ll have your chance. She’s my date for your wedding. The rehearsal stuff too.”
“Wait a minute. You hit on a woman while my daughter was screaming in panic?”
“No. I hit on Hannah the day before yesterday when I met her up at Lover’s Leap.” Boone gave Jackson a brief rundown of yesterday’s events and ended by saying, “I recommended Cam’s guide service, which I suspect is why she was fishing where she was this morning.”
“Ah. Well, good timing there, Boot. I owe you.”
“Pay me back by spreading the word for everyone to make her feel extra welcome. I’d like her to hang around town for a while.”
“Oh, yeah?” Interest lit Jackson’s dark-green eyes.
“Yeah.” Boone’s emphasis on the period at the end of the word signaled he wouldn’t listen to any further prying by his cousin about Hannah Dupree. “I’m going to head home. Mom promised to make her cinna
mon rolls this morning, and I imagine it’s just about time for them to be coming out of the oven.”
“Lucky you.” Jackson’s envious grin turned serious as he extended his hand. “Boone, seriously, thank you for taking care of her.”
“Hey, if not for Hannah, Haley and I might still be on that creek.”
“Either way, you did us a solid. This is information her therapist needs.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “Maybe Caroline and I should delay the honeymoon. We could—”
Boone shook his cousin’s hand while saying, “Don’t do it. Her mother will take care of it. A year ago this time, I never thought I’d say this, but Coco is a good mother. And the whole McBride family will have your back when you are gone.”
Jackson nodded. The two men exchanged shoulder slaps, and Boone returned to his Land Rover. On the drive around the lake to his home, he reflected on the events of the morning. “Damned bird,” he muttered. That poor little girl. Haley had come a long way since the accident, but today’s crisis proved that healing was a process.
Thank God for Hannah. She’d known just what to do, known the exact right thing to say. Experience, probably, from being the mother of little girls.
Hope he never had to deal with lice. Good thing about being the father of a boy. Put the clippers on setting one and go to town. Shave it all off.
Wonder if Trace had been born with hair? He should have asked.
The psychological harm aside, he was glad that Haley wouldn’t need to deal with a head-shaving situation right before her father’s wedding. He could only imagine the drama that would entail.
Yep, glad he was the father of a boy. A baby boy.
Oh, holy Moses.
Boone had hit the ground running after his trip to Texas, so he hadn’t had time to dwell or brood or panic. Probably a good thing. He was good about juggling a dozen different things at once, but he couldn’t add a baby into the mix. He needed to compartmentalize his thoughts and feelings about the baby.
After the wedding, once his family left Colorado and Boone was free to return to Fort Worth, he would turn his thoughts toward Trace. “One step at a time, McBride. One step at a time.”
He pulled into the drive leading to his home and saw his twin sisters disappearing into the trees on the trail that led around the lake. Maybe he was too late for warm cinnamon rolls after all. Didn’t matter. If his mother’s cinnamon rolls were a ten right out of the oven, they were still a nine point nine after they’d cooled.
Damn if his mouth didn’t begin to water as he pulled into his parking place and switched off his Land Rover. Moments later, he strode into his kitchen, kissed his mother’s flour-specked cheek, and glanced toward his oven, where the red numerals of the timer read less than a minute. “Do I have impeccable timing or what?”
* * *
The thought echoed through his mind Friday evening when Hannah Dupree responded to his knock on the front door of Serenity Cabbage. “Wow. Hannah, you look fabulous.”
“Thank you. So the outfit is appropriate? I shopped at the boutique you recommended, and the owner helped me pick it out.”
Boone gave her a slow once-over, allowing his appreciation to show. She wore skinny jeans with a long, gauzy purple top, belted at the waist. “Well, I’ll be honest, Hannah. Caroline Carruthers is a beautiful woman, but I’m afraid you might outshine the bride.”
“Do lines like that ever work for you, McBride?”
He shrugged and gave her a roguish grin.”It’s not a line if it’s true.” She rolled her eyes and smirked, then said, “Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely. As were the ones from your cousin.”
“Jackson sent flowers?”
“He did. And a dozen cookies too.”
“Cookies! Shoot, I never thought of cookies. From Fresh?”
“Yes. Those things are everywhere. It’s like you’re all a bunch of cookie pushers—and I’m quickly becoming an addict.”
He escorted her to the car. Then, after sliding into his seat, glanced at her while starting the engine, noting her smile of bemusement. “What?”
“I was trying to remember the last time a man opened the door for me.”
“Uh-oh. Did I just step on your toes by opening your door? Break one of your principles? I grew up in West Texas, and my mama taught me that opening doors for ladies is good manners. It’s a hard habit to break.”
“No. No complaint. It’s nice. So tell me about your mama, and the rest of your family too. They’ll all be here tonight?”
“Yep.” Boone decided to take the long way around the lake to the Callahans’ North Forty, so at the end of his driveway, he turned right onto the road that circled the lake. He began answering her question. “I have two younger sisters, twins, Lara and Frankie—Francesca. My father’s name is Parker, my mother’s Marquetta, but she goes by Quetta. They live on a ranch in West Texas. Lara is a math nerd who works in Silicon Valley, doing something for a tech start-up that is beyond my capability to understand. Frankie is a makeup artist in Hollywood. She’s made some spectacular monsters. You should see the Halloween parties she throws.”
“I scare easily. Probably better that I don’t.”
He gave her a sidelong look. “Scaredy-cat, are you?”
“I am. Monsters give me nightmares. I saw Gremlins in the movie theater and didn’t make it past the thirty-minute mark.”
“What about psychological thrillers?”
“They’re even worse. I am a Hallmark movie girl all the way.”
Boone winced. “Oh, man. I guess I’ll need to keep the engagement ring in my pocket after all. I can’t marry a Hallmark movie girl.”
“Planning the wedding already, were you?” she asked drily.
“Fair warning,” he replied, thinking about his cousin Tucker. “McBride men tend to do that. And hey, I’m taking you to meet my parents on our first date, so it should be obvious.”
“Good thing we know from the first that we’re not compatible. So what’s your favorite movie?”
He rolled his tongue around his mouth and considered it. “That’s a hard one. I can’t say I have a single fav movie. I probably have a top five. The Natural is one. Braveheart. I watch Caddyshack at least once a year. Love Saving Private Ryan and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.”
“All good—wait. Seven Brides? Seriously?”
“Seriously. Good music, beautiful women, and a totally politically incorrect theme. What’s not to love?”
She was gawking at him. Grinning, he explained further. “The twins performed in summer musicals each year. Those girls can really sing. You couldn’t live with them and not learn the songs, so when a lunch buffet of bad enchiladas ran through the cast one day, they recruited my cousins and me to perform for the matinee.”
“You’re a singer too?”
“Not at all. But we did know how to fight. We had a good time. It’s a nice memory, and if you perchance hear one of us call another a lily-livered chicken-hearted lick-spittle, you’ll understand why. That’s a line we’ve never forgotten.” That solicited the laugh he’d expected. He gave her a quick glance and asked, “What about you? Do you sing?”
“Only if I’m trying to scare raccoons away.”
They spent the rest of the drive exchanging what Boone thought of as ordinary first-date, get-to-know-you small talk. Upon their arrival at the North Forty, he met her gaze and said, “Well, Ms. Dupree, ready or not. Prepare to meet the family.”
Chapter Eight
Hannah couldn’t say exactly what she expected upon her arrival at this McBride family event. But being hugged and kissed on the cheek by a Grammy-winning pop-music star wasn’t it. Nevertheless, that’s precisely what happened. Coco was demonstrably grateful for Hannah’s help with Haley.
The singer set the tone.
Boone’s parents, his sisters, his cousins—he had lots of cousins when you included the people named Callahan—all made a point to thank her and make her feel welcome. People came at her so fast
that she didn’t have time to think about being on a date. Not that this was a real date. It was, however, the most social activity she’d had in the past three years.
The rehearsal itself was touching, with her friend from the boutique, Celeste Blessing, making the presentation of official Angel’s Rest blazons to the bride, groom, and flower girl—Haley. Boone was jealous. The music was fabulous. The food, delicious. To Hannah’s complete surprise, she had a very nice time.
Another surprise awaited her when the time came to leave. Rather than take the car he’d driven to the event, Boone led her down to the lake where half a dozen motorboats were docked. “If you’re okay with getting out on the lake, I figured it’d be a nice evening to take the water route home. You up for that?”
Hannah considered the idea. Was she up for a boat ride? She hadn’t been on the water since the girls died, but once upon a time, boating had been one of her favorite pastimes. Was she ready to take a boat ride? That push–pull of the lake.
Well, she’d already crept out on this limb. Might as well toddle on out to the end. “Sure. That sounds nice.”
“Great.” He gestured toward a beautiful wooden runabout, a luxury brand she recognized. “This one is mine.”
“Oh, wow, Boone. One of the doctors on our lake had one of those. I always wanted to take a ride.”
“It’s your lucky day.”
He stepped into the boat and offered her his hand for balance as she stepped into the cockpit. She asked, “What about your car?”
“My folks will drive it home. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about the idea, so I planned options. They drove Escape over here, and now we’ll just switch vehicles. I didn’t want to bring you over here by the water. I grew up with three women in the house. I understand the importance of having good hair the first time you meet people.”
“Smart man,” she observed. “Escape is a good name for a boat.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
“Serenity Cabbage?”
“Careful. You’ll hurt my feelings.”
He took a seat behind the wheel, pulled his phone from his pocket, and sent his text. Then he started the engine and nodded to Hannah’s offer to cast the lines. The engine roared, then purred, and the Escape pulled away from the North Forty dock.