Count On Me: Baytown Boys

by Maryann Jordan

  Heat began searing through Lizzie’s blood as his words scored through her. Fists planted on her hips, she asked, “Are you seriously implying that my grandfather was considering a business proposal with our farm without talking it over with me? The last thing my grandfather would’ve wanted to do would be to sell this land!”

  Shaking his head in a self-deprecating manner, Paul chuckled lightly. “Now, please don’t get upset, Ms. Weston—”

  Interrupting him once again, she ground out, “Now I know you’re lying through your teeth.” She noticed his face hardened at her words, but, too angry to hold back, she let loose. “You may have talked to my grandfather about some scheme of yours, but I assure you he was not considering it. This land has been in my grandfather’s family for over a century and he would never have gotten rid of it—not to you, not to anyone. Now, Mr. Dugan, you can march yourself right back over to your truck and get off my land. As of right now, I consider you trespassing once again.”

  As angry as she was, she noted his hands gripping his hat tightly, and for the first time ever, she felt a snake of fear slither through her at the vulnerability of being in the country all by herself. Lifting her chin, she held his gaze, refusing to let him see her nervousness.

  With a slight inclination of his head, he said, “I’ll go, Ms. Weston. For now. But I think you’ll find that you’ll soon need help with this place. Good luck finding it. But my offer will still be around when you come to your senses, although the offer may not be as generous as it is now.”

  “Get off my land,” she bit out between gritted teeth.

  He walked back to his truck, and she watched every step that he took, not taking her eyes off of him until he was no longer visible down the road.

  Still shaking from the encounter, her good mood was smashed all to hell. With her fists still on her hips, she dropped her chin and stared at the ground for a long moment, wondering when she was going to catch a break. The image of Scott, a smile on his face, reaching across the table to place his hand gently on hers moved through her mind. I need help, don’t I, Papa Beau? Maybe, just maybe, you knew what I needed.

  The bleating of the goats brought her back to the present, and she called over her shoulder, “Hang on! I’ll be right back!” Jogging into the house, she quickly changed into her old, worn work jeans and a T-shirt that had seen better days. With her feet now shoved into her work boots, she headed back out to the animals. Time to get them put into the barn and milked. Time to feed the goats, pigs, and alpacas. Time to feed the chickens and gather the eggs.

  By evening, she was exhausted but anxious to make as many goat milk products as she could to take to the race next weekend.

  Several hours later, Lizzie stood in her shower, the warm water sluicing over her body, washing away the dirt, sweat, and smell. Scrubbing her scalp, she luxuriated in the feel of the conditioner taming her long hair. Rinsing away all the suds, she turned off the water and stepped onto the bathmat, wrapping a towel around her body and another one around her hair. Using her goat milk lotion, she moisturized her entire body, including her face. As the steam dissipated and she was able to see into the mirror, she stared, wondering what Scott saw when he looked at her.

  Her family had always said she was pretty, but she knew it was more the girl-next-door instead of the drop-dead-gorgeous variety. Still thinking about Scott, she wondered what his typical date was like. Beautiful women dressed in what her romance novels called an LBD for little black dress. Heels that would gain them inches and make their legs look longer. Makeup that included ruby lips and smokey eyes.

  A snort slipped out when she remembered the last time she had smokey eyes, and it had nothing to do with makeup. It was the time that Papa Beau had started a fire in the fireplace, not realizing that an old bird’s nest was blocking the chimney. As she rushed to throw open the windows in midwinter to air the smoke from the living room, she had to blink her watery eyes trying to clear the smoke from her vision.

  Remembering how Papa Beau had sputtered his discontent at the birds in the chimney, she grinned, glad to finally have a memory that did not have her dissolving into tears. Her heart panged with sadness, but she cherished her memories.

  As her thoughts slipped back to Scott, she sighed, deciding that it did not matter what Scott’s typical date was like. His friendship with her grandfather was enough to cause her grandfather to ask for his help and Scott was nice enough to agree.

  Pulling an old, soft T-shirt over her head, she combed her hair and crawled into bed. Bone-weary, she was not sleepy, so as her hair air-dried, she grabbed the romance novel that was on her nightstand and began to read.

  Unfortunately, the words did little to help her sleep, but instead, she tossed and turned, her lust-fevered body dreaming of Scott.

  The sun peeked over the horizon as Scott parked at the fairgrounds the morning of the American Legion charity race. The weather was calm, with gentle winds keeping the temperature perfect for a run. As volunteers were beginning to pull into the fairgrounds, he walked around, checking to make sure the event was on schedule.

  Tents had been set up in rows on one side, ready for vendors to sell their wares. The AL had charged a nominal fee for a vendor to have a tent, and that money would offset the small fee that the North Heron Fairgrounds charged for the event.

  Seeing some of his friends arrive, he walked over to greet them as well as make sure everything was on schedule.

  “Good morning!” Katelyn called out. She was pushing a stroller, Finn gnawing on a plastic giraffe. Next to her was Tori, who tossed her hand up in a wave as she pushed another stroller, Eddie leaning against his restraints, waving his hands as well.

  Heading toward them, he asked, “I was just going over to the children’s area to make sure everyone is ready.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Katelyn assured. “We’ve got it.”

  The fairgrounds included a large fenced area with a track around the edge. Scott deemed it perfect for the children’s fun run. Volunteers would get the children lined up and observe them as they ran. Face painting and other games were available, all supervised by members of the American Legion and the Auxiliary.

  As he continued his walk around the fairgrounds, he observed Zac and other members of the local rescue squads in place as well as the Baytown and Easton police officers and the North Heron Sheriff’s deputies. Quite a few of them would be running as well, but others were on duty or race volunteers.

  As he thought about the volunteers, he smiled. So many of his good friends were already at the fairgrounds or currently pulling into the parking lot. Brogan and Aiden were running in the 10K with him but had already been driving around the roads this morning to make sure everything was ready.

  Ginny, Katelyn, Tori, and Maddie were assisting with the children’s fun run along with others. Belle, Jillian, and Carrie were helping with the vendors and the Auxiliary tent bake sales. Rose was operating a tent, selling her ice cream, having already informed Scott that all of her proceeds were going to the fundraiser.

  Jade, Lia, and Sophia were helping to coordinate the awards at the end of the race. Jason and Joseph were stationed at the intersection where the 5K runners would go in one direction and the 10K runners would continue on down the road.

  “Good morning, Scott,” a soft and now familiar voice sounded nearby.

  Turning, he smiled as Lizzie walked closer. Clad in jeans that fit her hips and legs like a glove, the bottoms shoved down into cowboy boots made her legs appear even longer. She wore a jean jacket over a blue T-shirt, the color emphasizing her eyes. Her hair was loose, the sleek strands flowing down her back while the front was pulled into a clip away from her face.

  His throat was suddenly dry, and he wanted to pull her into his arms and say… what the hell do I say? How do you tell someone that you’re interested in that part of you is missing? How do you face the stare? How do you deal with the questioning—and maybe rejecting—specter that would move through their eyes
? He had faced the results with a few other women, but no one he truly cared about. Jumping as he felt something on his arm, he glanced down and saw that her hand had reached out to him.

  “Are you okay?” She leaned closer with her face turned up toward him. Concern knit her brow.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he rushed. “Just trying to keep track of everything in my head.”

  A slight smile crossed her lips as she nodded. “I think it’s wonderful. I’m really glad that I can help and have a place to get more information out about Weston Farms products.”

  “Need help getting your tent set up?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “No. I’ve got some rolling carts that I’ll put everything in, so I’m fine. You have so much to do, you go ahead, and I’ll see you later.”

  He wanted to stay and talk. He wanted to walk by her side, helping to carry the boxes or pulling the cart. Mostly, he wished he had already explained about his amputation. But he knew he was needed all over the place, so he simply nodded. “I’ll see you later.” He heard the regret in his voice, but as he walked away, she called out, and he turned to see her smiling.

  “Good luck with the race. I’ll be cheering for you.”

  Offering a chin lift, he turned and headed in another direction to check on the latest group of volunteers who had arrived. His heart was heavy, wondering if she would still be cheering when she finally saw him in shorts. Blowing out a breath, he pushed that thought down, heading back to work.

  An hour later, he lined up with others at the starting line for the 10K, his prosthesis now changed to the blade. There were few stares because most of the legionnaires knew he was an amputee, and he wore shorts when coaching the AL ball teams so the kids were used to it as well.

  He grinned at his friends as the starting gun fired and the race began, leading them out of the fairgrounds and onto the road where the deputy’s cars blocked the traffic.

  He pushed off, quickly gaining his balance and momentum as his blade hit the ground, the spring in the carbon fiber matching the calf and ankle of his right leg. As the pack of people dispersed, he easily settled into the speed he was comfortable with, finding several others running at about the same pace.

  His lungs expanded with fresh air as the breeze cooled his body. The occasional white cloud passed over the sun, giving the runners a respite from the sunlight although the temperature was not uncomfortable yet.

  He and Aiden continued running side-by-side, few words passing between them as they each enjoyed the run. Scott was not attempting to win, just the thrill of competition and the beauty of the sport filling his mind.

  Passing the halfway point, they waved to the volunteers who were nearby, offering water and words of encouragement.

  “So, are you going to ask her out?”

  Jerking his head to the side, he watched Aiden’s shit-eating grin slide across his face. “What are you talking about?”

  “Lia said you took Lizzie out to lunch the other day. I just wondered when you were going to properly ask her out.”

  “You’re worse than the girls.”

  “Maybe, but when a friend of mine has a shot at a really good woman, I don’t mind pushing.”

  Chuckling, the two men rounded the bend in the road and continued to run. “I’m working on it,” Scott confessed. “Lizzie has had so much to deal with so I’m having to win her over a bit at a time.”

  “So, she’s coming around?”

  “Well, at least with me helping with the farm. Now I just have to see if I can get her to go out with me when it’s not business.”

  “I remember when I was first interested in Lia,” Aiden said. “We had a rocky start. I thought she was being uppity because she didn’t want Emily to play ball with us. Instead, she was just nervous about Emily’s hearing impairment and how that would work on the ballfield.”

  “What won her over?”

  “Perseverance. And my charming, magnetic personality.”

  Barking out in laughter, Scott said, “I suppose for me, I’m going to have to rely on perseverance.”

  They caught up to a few of the other runners, and Scott estimated they were in the middle of the pack. Running on the blade gave him a sense of freedom, and with the sun beaming down, the wind at his back, good friends all around, and the idea that he could win over Lizzie, he smiled.

  12

  “I haven’t had goat milk lotion in years.”

  Lizzie smiled as the older woman squirted some lotion from her tester bottle and rubbed it onto her hands.

  “Oh, this is rose scented. I remember my mother using this.”

  “Do you make it yourself?” another woman asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, I have goats at the Weston Farms, and I make all the lotion and soaps myself.”

  Business had been amazing that morning and she was selling almost everything she had brought, making four times what she had at the last farmers’ market.

  “Do you ever let anyone come by and visit the farm?” a woman buying some lotion asked as the little girl at her side stared at the picture of the goats Lizzie had placed on the table.

  “Actually, I’m getting ready to open Weston Farms for events. I’d love to have children’s days and parties where people could see the goats and alpacas.”

  “Alpacas?” the little girl repeated, her eyes wide.

  Smiling at her, she said, “Yes, I have alpacas.”

  “Well as soon as you start doing that, please put something in the newspaper,” the young mother said. “I’m always looking for something new and different for my kids to do. They would love to see that.”

  After taking the cash and wrapping up the lotion, she handed it to the young woman. “That’s a good idea. I’ll be sure to do that.”

  Another woman standing nearby said, “You could have people come in and participate in making the lotion. I’d love to do that.”

  Barely having time to listen while smiling and nodding and ringing up the sales, that comment struck Lizzie. I could do that! I could have soap-making days!

  Jillian and Lia walked by, calling out their greetings. “How are sales?”

  Looking down at her table, she laughed. “This is all I have left. I’ve sold everything else that I brought with me today!”

  “Fabulous!” Lia cried, catching Lizzie’s enthusiasm.

  “The 10K race should end fairly soon,” Jillian said. “As soon as you’re ready, come on over to the finish line and we can cheer for everybody coming in.”

  It only took a few more minutes for the last of the lotion and soap products to be sold and bagged. With a wide smile and thanks given out, Lizzie’s heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. In fact, maybe months. Even before Papa Beau died, she had been worried about finances. Slipping the money she had earned that day into her purse, she hung it crosswise over her body. With nothing left on the table, she decided to follow the others to the finish line. She could come back and get her empty wagons later.

  Walking past the other tents, she observed beautiful jewelry displays made with sea glass, booths with paintings, bird carvings, metal art, and every type of homemade item imaginable. Passing by the Auxiliary bake sale tent, she waved toward a few of the women she now recognized. Glancing at their tables, she was pleased to see that they had almost sold out as well.

  At the end of the line of tents, she spied a crowd gathering and headed toward the large sign declaring the finish of the race. Upon arriving, it appeared that most of the people who ran the 5K race had already crossed the finish line, and now the first runners for the 10K race were coming into the home stretch. She did not recognize anyone, but, getting into the spirit of the day, she clapped her encouragement as they passed by.

  Knowing that Scott was running in this longer race, she continued to look down the road, wondering when she would see him.

  Another group of runners had just turned off the road and passed into the fairgrounds, and she began to search their faces. The group was running in a clump
but began to stretch out as they came closer to the finish line. She recognized Brogan, and Aiden, and then Scott. His arms were pumping, his broad chest breathing deeply, and she began jumping up and down screaming his name. As Aiden moved slightly out of her view, she took in all that was Scott.

  Halting in mid-jump, her body jarred as she realized he was missing the lower part of his left leg and a running prosthesis was attached. Shocked, her voice halted in her throat as it slammed into her that he was the man she had seen running along her road. As though a vice was squeezing her heart painfully, she watched as he ran closer, now able to discern not only a look of determination on his face but his beautiful smile.

  It was him. He was the one I saw. The one who made me realize that I have so much to be thankful for.

  Her eyes began to sting, and she blinked back the tears, watching his powerful body move behind Brogan and Aiden approaching the finish line. Suddenly jolted into action, she again began screaming his name, jumping up and down.

  It appeared he heard her because his head twisted, and for a few seconds their eyes locked. Continuing to scream his name, she waved her hands and watched as his smile widened, splitting his face. He crossed the finish line, and she began to push her way through the crowd, wanting to get closer. The runners were now walking through a line of poles with ribbons attached, staying in the chute as the volunteers were checking their times.

  With a final push through the crowd, Lizzie managed to be at the end of the chute just as he walked through. “Scott!”

  He looked over, and she saw uncertainty past through his eyes, so incongruent with the assuredness he normally exuded.

  “That was amazing,” she said, beaming up at him. “I can’t imagine running that far. I’m really proud of you.” Seeing Aiden and Brogan standing nearby, their gazes pinned on her, she added, “Proud of all of you.”

  Scott moved closer, lifting his hand to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ears. “Lizzie, as hard as you work every day, you should be proud of yourself.”