Hope for Tomorrow

by Elizabeth Maddrey

  Hope for Tomorrow

  Hope Ranch Book 2

  Elizabeth Maddrey

  Copyright © 2020 by Elizabeth Maddrey

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Scripture quoted by permission. Quotations designated (NIV) are from THE HOLY BIBLE: NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica. All rights reserved worldwide.

  Cover design by Lynnette Bonner

  Published in the United States of America by Elizabeth Maddrey. www.ElizabethMaddrey.com

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by Elizabeth Maddrey

  About the Author

  For everyone who ever needed a little extra hope.

  1

  Skye Hewitt slowed as the road twisted into a hairpin curve up the side of the mountain. No, not mountain, mesa. Learn the lingo. Besides, mountains had pointy tops, right? Mesas were flat. And it didn’t matter. But it was still better than thinking about what sort of reaction she’d encounter when she just showed up at her grandparents’ house. They’d never met her. And unlike Azure and Cyan—two of her siblings—she hadn’t had an ongoing phone and text conversation with them.

  She was banking on them not turning her away.

  If they did? She chewed her lip. She could make it work. She had enough left on her credit card to spring for a hotel for a day or two. Probably. After that, well, what else were credit cards for? She didn’t want to add to the already unhealthy balance on either of her cards, but if that’s what needed to happen, then that’s what she’d do.

  She wasn’t afraid of work. There had to be something she could do on a ranch in the spring. Maybe she could fill in for her brother’s girlfriend doing housekeeper type things while Maria was in New York City visiting Cyan.

  Worst case scenario? She could keep driving west and drop in on her parents.

  Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

  The smooth, British voice of her GPS warned her that her destination was ahead in a quarter of a mile.

  Sure enough, there was a break in the trees and a metal arch spanning what had to be the driveway. Skye hit her turn signal and slowed before pulling off the road and stopping. Rancho de Esperanza in curving letters formed the curve of the arch. Cyan had told her they called it Hope Ranch.

  Worked for her.

  She could use a little hope.

  Now she was stalling. Skye forced herself to shift back into gear and continue down the drive. There wasn’t much to see at first, until a slight curve revealed a low-slung adobe house, several pickup trucks, and a fenced-in area where horses were grazing.

  Skye parked and cut off the engine. She wiped her suddenly damp hands on her jeans and pushed open the car door, pausing to grab her wallet and phone before stepping out. It might be the first of April, but the air was cool and crisp—probably owing to the elevation. The clear sky was a blue that edged into turquoise. She was going to take the sunshine as a wink from God that this was the right place to be.

  A tall, lanky man strode around the corner of the house and stopped, head cocked to the side. “Help you?”

  “I’m looking for Mr. and Mrs. Hewitt.” She walked toward the house. That man was clearly not her grandfather. He was too young to start. Too good looking to finish.

  “Are they expecting you?”

  Skye tried for a bright smile, but it felt fake. “Probably not.”

  His eyebrows shot up but he jerked his head toward the front door. “Come on along. They’ll be sitting down to lunch soon.”

  “I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

  Now he grinned. “I was headed to lunch myself.”

  Fantastic. There was nothing to do but follow. He pushed open the door and held it for her, gesturing for her to go in. Skye glanced surreptitiously at the terra cotta tiles on the floor and bright colors on the walls. There was what she guessed she’d call cowboy art—rustic, wooden frames around southwestern landscapes mixed with horseshoes welded into sculpture. And yet it felt homey.

  “This way.” The man crossed the foyer and turned toward the back of the house.

  Skye followed through a large, high-ceilinged room with comfortable-looking leather couches and chairs and stopped when she saw an older couple seated at a long counter that opened into a sparkling kitchen.

  The woman turned and beamed. “Morgan, you made it. Tommy and Joaquin are in town still, I think. Who’s this?”

  Morgan lifted a shoulder. “Found her out in front of the house. Said she was looking for you. This is Betsy Hewitt and her husband, Wayne. I’ll fix myself a plate.”

  Skye swallowed as nerves made themselves known in her belly. “Hi. Um. I’m Skye.”

  “Nice to meet you, Skye. What brings you out this way?” Wayne swiveled on his stool and offered a friendly smile.

  They didn’t get it. Why would they? She wasn’t the only person named Skye in the world. She’d had three friends at different times in her life who shared the name. She fought back the hysterical laugh that threatened to claw its way out. “You did. Or, rather, I wanted to meet you. Cyan and Azure have gone on and on and . . .”

  Betsy jumped to her feet and opened her arms. “Oh my word. You’re our Skye? Honey, I’m so glad you came.”

  Skye breathed in her grandmother’s warm, spicy scent as the woman wrapped her in a hug. Was it really that easy? She hesitantly returned the hug, stiffening slightly when a second set of arms came around her. She eased back and smiled. “Hi.”

  Wayne stepped back with a grin. “That’s three of you. What a blessing. Can you stay?”

  “I’d like to. I don’t have anywhere I need to be.”

  “I’m so glad. Let me get you a bowl of this stew. You sit and eat—how long was your drive today? You must be exhausted.” Betsy hustled around the counter into the kitchen proper.

  “A little over five hours? I stopped in Amarillo last night. But the motel was so loud I finally gave up and started out around six.” Skye hadn’t been sleeping anyway. Insomnia was a constant companion most nights. She slid onto the stool next to Wayne.

  He beamed at her. “Worked out well. Bets doesn’t make stew all that often anymore. Maria is usually around, shooing us out of what she considers her domain. But she’s in New York visiting your brother again. She and Calvin went out during spring break in March, but Cyan talked her into coming back this weekend and then the two of them will fly back on Wednesday.”

  Skye nodded and watched as the man from the front of the house carried a bowl and plate around the jut of countertop and took a seat on the far side of Wayne. Her brother had mentioned the plan to have Maria out a second time as part of a group text to all the siblings. It had come with pictures
of three different engagement rings. They’d all been lovely, but Azure had convinced him to go with one that had more channel-set diamonds—something about the fact that Maria did a lot with her hands as part of her job, so it was better not to have stones popping up and possibly getting caught. “Did Calvin go, too?”

  “No. He’s at school. You can walk down to the end of the driveway later with me to meet the bus if you like?” Betsy slid a steaming bowl of stew in front of Skye followed by a plate with two thick slices of buttered bread.

  “Sure.” It’d be fun to meet the boy who would become her nephew. She’d planned to head to NYC to hook up with them all while Maria and Calvin were visiting, but she’d ended up in the hospital—again—that week and hadn’t been able to. Skye dipped her spoon into the stew and blew across it before taking a bite. “Mmm.”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Wayne patted her hand and shifted. “You didn’t meet Morgan, officially, did you?”

  Skye shook her head.

  Wayne gestured to the man who taken the seat on his other side. “Morgan, our granddaughter Skye. Morgan’s one of our three indispensible ranch hands. He does most of the work with the horses, but that’s hardly all of it.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Morgan flashed a grin that lit up his blue eyes and caused the breath in Skye’s chest to catch.

  She nodded and lifted her fingers in a wave before returning to her stew.

  “So what brings you out this way?” Morgan scooted his stool so he was facing them and fixed her with a steady gaze.

  “Oh, Morgan, leave it be. It’s enough that she’s here.” Betsy shook her head. “Ignore him if you don’t want to get into it. We’re glad you’re here, no matter what prompted the visit.”

  She should probably say something. The fact was, she didn’t have a lot of other options besides this visit. She’d been sick enough over the last six months that her company had needed to find someone else to do her job. The doctors didn’t have a steady handle on what, exactly, was going on with her, but suggested that a change of scene and lower stress environment would only help. Mostly they wanted to call what was wrong with her anxiety, but if that was the case, shouldn’t the medications help? Still, Skye was hesitant to get into all of that right off the bat. Even her siblings didn’t know all of what was going on. She shrugged. “Combination of a lot of things. Curiosity, certainly. Change of scene.”

  “There’s certainly scenery around here.” Morgan nodded and returned his attention to his food.

  Skye spooned up another bite, pausing before eating it. “Should I have called first?”

  “No, honey.” Betsy covered Skye’s free hand with her own. “Our door is always open whenever and for however long you need it.”

  “You’re different than I expected.”

  Wayne chuckled. “If your expectations were based on your dad, I’m glad to hear it. But haven’t you’ve talked to Azure and Cyan?”

  “Yeah, but they can be on the optimistic side of things.”

  “I’m not sure I would have categorized them that way, but okay.” Betsy scooped a bite of her stew. “Still I’m glad you decided to find out for yourself. I’m surprised Cyan didn’t give us a clue. We talked to him last night after he proposed to Maria.”

  So he had asked. “She said yes, right?”

  Wayne’s eyes sparkled. “Oh absolutely. I think she was a little upset that Calvin wasn’t there to be part of it, but your brother had talked to Cal when they were out over spring break. That put her mind at ease. It’ll be nice to see them together knowing they’ll be a family soon. But that doesn’t excuse him not letting us know you were on the way.”

  “He didn’t know. Doesn’t know. I wasn’t completely sure I’d end up here—the thought occurred that I should go visit Mom and Dad.” Skye stared down at the bowl of food and fought a sigh. She probably should go home, especially now that her parents had an honest to goodness house and not the converted school bus her family had lived in growing up. But she just . . . couldn’t.

  “Well then, it’s a nice surprise for everyone.” Skye looked up and caught the look that Wayne sent to Betsy before her grandfather turned to Morgan and continued as if it had always been his plan to change topics. “How are the horses today?”

  Conversation shifted to horses and ranch chores. Skye listened with half an ear as she tried to eat. Fatigue settled on her shoulders and worked its way into her muscles until lifting the spoon seemed like entirely too much effort.

  “You okay, hon?” Betsy touched Skye’s shoulder.

  “Oh, sure. Just tired.”

  Betsy held her gaze for the space of several heartbeats before nodding. She spoke with a bright smile in her voice, “Must be that drive catching up with you. Why don’t we get you settled—you’ll stay here in the house with us for a bit, won’t you?”

  Skye nodded.

  “Wonderful. We’ll get you settled and you can grab a nap.”

  A nap would be perfect. If she could keep it to a reasonable space of time. Once exhaustion hit, there was no telling how long she’d sleep. Since she could barely keep her eyes open, she wasn’t going to worry about that now. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. Give Morgan your keys. He can grab your bags from the car, right Morgan? I’ll take you on back and you can choose a room.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to—”

  “Nonsense. You’re asleep on your feet.”

  There was no arguing with Betsy, that much was obvious. Skye dug her keys out of her pocket and set them on the counter. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Morgan stood and scooped up the keys.

  “There’s no rush. You can finish your lunch. And honestly, I don’t need anything—it could wait until I can do it.”

  Morgan offered a tiny smile and shook his head.

  “Skye honey, come choose a room.” Betsy linked her arm through Skye’s and led her through the family room and down a hallway.

  Skye peered in the first door Betsy gestured to and nodded. She wasn’t particular and the room had a bed—that was the key detail right now. “This is fine. More than fine. Thank you.”

  “Of course. Bathroom’s through that door on the left—it’s shared with the bedroom on the other side, but we don’t have anyone else staying here, so it’s all yours. I’ll come check on you in a bit. Holler if you need something.” Betsy gave Skye a gentle nudge toward the bed and pulled the bedroom door closed as she disappeared into the hallway.

  Skye toed off her shoes and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She was so tired of this! Awake for days with her heart racing and then wham! Flattened. She peeled back the quilt—was it handmade?—and fell onto the bed. Her last thought was another plea for God to do something—anything—to heal her body.

  2

  Morgan considered the woman’s car. It was about as nondescript as a car could be—middle of the road sedan with some years on it. She took good care of it, judging from the state of the exterior. That was something.

  He unlocked the trunk and frowned. How much of this was he supposed to bring in? The space was jammed with boxes and loose stuff shoved in any available space. Pots and pans? A mixer? Just how long was she planning to stay?

  Morgan stomped to the side of the car and peered in the windows. The back seat was also full—it held a backpack and two suitcases. That seemed more likely to be useful than a trunk full of household goods. He went back to the trunk and slammed the lid then came around to the front and unlocked those doors.

  Her car smelled like lavender.

  He’d gotten a whiff of that same scent when she’d passed him going into the Hewitt’s house. Normally he associated the smell with laundry—crisp sheets and pillowcases—but somehow it seemed like a really, really bad idea to think about bed linens and Skye Hewitt at the same time.

  Morgan swallowed and pulled his mind back to the task at hand: get the suitcases, drop them off, and get back to the barn where everyth
ing made sense. Or at least more sense than yet another Hewitt grandchild showing up on their doorstep. And that was probably unfair, except he’d been here long enough to see overtures made and rejected over the years. Each time, it tore an almost visible hole in Wayne and Betsy.

  And okay, sure, so far the ones who had showed up hadn’t caused problems. Cyan was making plans to live here permanently once his on-site contract was up. The guy seemed nice. Maria loved him—and that went a long way toward a seal of approval, because she was a tough sell. So what was Morgan’s problem?

  He sighed and reached into the back seat. He slung the backpack over his shoulder and grabbed the suitcases. The bags were heavy, but he carried them the short distance to the house without much effort. From the looks of the rest of the car, she’d packed everything she owned. It made the weight less of a surprise.

  “Oh, good. Thanks, Morgan. I know it’s over and above.” Betsy patted his arm. “She’s in the first bedroom on the right.”

  “Family helps. Isn’t that what you’re always saying?”

  “It is. And you are.” She tipped her head to the side. “You’re not upset about another one of our grandchildren coming, are you?”

  Yes. “No, ma’am. Of course not. It’s good to see God answering your prayers like this.”

  She studied him another moment before shaking her head. “Go put those bags down. Can you come for supper?”

  “No, that’s fine. I appreciate the offer. I have a steak I was going to throw on the grill. You spend time with your family.” He headed down the hall with his load, though Betsy’s sharp intake of breath suggested that conversation was going to come up again at some point. He tapped on the closed bedroom door and frowned when there was no answer. He tapped again and shifted the weight of the bags he was holding. Maybe she was in the adjoining bathroom.