Love's Returning Hope (Love's Texas Homecoming Book 2; First Street Church #15)

by Sharon Hughson

  They passed the food, and Ron asked his wife about her day. “Is the pain worse? You seem quiet.”

  “I might be trying to do too much.”

  Her father gave Jaz the side-eye. “That’s why your daughter is here, so you won’t do too much.”

  “I’m tired of sitting around.”

  He squeezed her hand. “You need to heal, darling. Let us take care of you for a change.”

  The sounds of scraping forks and clinking silver on glass filled the room. Jaz relaxed, savoring the spice of the pork and the crunch of the slaw. Her mind drifted to the letter, and she wondered if she should mention it. Maybe she’d tell her mother tomorrow.

  Mom picked at her food. When she shifted, she gasped in pain.

  Ron bolted to her side, massaging her shoulders. “What is it? What hurts?”

  Jaz’s fork dropped to her plate. The sumptuous meal hardened to marble in her gut.

  “I tried to stand at the counter. I fell.”

  “You fell?” His voice roared over the hum of the refrigerator and gentle whoosh of the ceiling fan in the family room. “Where were you?” His glare pinned Jaz in place.

  Reading Drew’s letter. Crying about Bailey. But none of that would matter to her father. Her mother’s gaze held a million apologies.

  “I was just coming through the door. I caught her before she hit the floor.”

  “You shouldn’t have left her alone.”

  He was right. When Billy dropped Jaz off, Mom had been visiting with Tabitha. Jaz had slipped into her room to read Drew’s letter. She’d heard Tabitha leave, but by then she was on the phone with Bailey. His coldness made her forget all about her mother.

  Her father stomped his way over to the bottles of pills beside the sink. His fingers fumbled with them, and he grunted while depressing the childproof cap. He was back in a minute, holding the caplets out toward his wife.

  “You volunteered for this, daughter. Is it too much to expect you to stay with your mother?”

  Geraldine coughed. She’d chased the pills with tea, and her eyes widened as her hand went to her throat. Ron slid closer, leaning her forward, and reaching toward her abdomen. She shook her head, finally catching her breath.

  “Okay?” His tone dropped from the railing to a near whisper.

  Her mother nodded and squeezed his hand, her mouth opening and closing. A boa constrictor slithered up Jaz’s spine and wrapped around her lungs until every breath took a concerted effort.

  “How often has this happened? You’re so busy with your work, you can’t look after your mother.” He sat stiffly in his chair, throwing daggers at Jaz with his narrowed eyes. “Why say you’ll take care of her if you don’t?”

  Jaz gritted her teeth. “I’ve been taking care of her for weeks. She’s fine, better every day. I thought…” But she hadn’t been thinking about her mother at all. The rat of guilt gnawed at her stomach.

  “You didn’t think.” His fork stilled beside a half-eaten lump of beans.

  “Something happened today.” Her heart dropped. She hadn’t meant to share anything with him.

  “Yeah, you let your mother fall.” His square jaw was a brick.

  Why was she even trying to explain? He never listened to her.

  “It was my fault.” Her mother’s soft words cut across the tension. “I thought I had set the brakes. If Jaz hadn’t come into the kitchen when she did, I would have spilled to the floor.”

  Her father reached for her mother’s arm, and his gaze softened. “It’s not your fault. She should have been with you.”

  “I—I’m sorry.”

  “She should apologize.” Her father quirked a bushy eyebrow at Jaz, daring her to argue.

  It was too much. The stress of being a caregiver and the argument with Bailey collided inside her. Never mind the shock of hearing from her dead brother.

  Jaz leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms. “The list of what I should apologize for is so long, where should I start?”

  A scowl twisted her father’s pale lips, dousing the ember of irritation inside Jaz with fuel. Fury flared to life, hot and unstoppable.

  “I’m sorry I’m not ladylike, Daddy.” The supposed endearment dripped with venom. “I’m sorry I would rather play softball than the piano. I apologize for being everything you didn’t want in a daughter.”

  “Jaz—” The word was a plea from her mother.

  Jaz mowed over it. “I’m sorry my scholarship was for something useless like playing ball. I’m sorry for dropping out before I became something respectable.”

  “Are you really sorry?” His jaw flinched, and his eyes bored into her.

  “Actually, no. I’m not sorry for any of that. But I am sorry that Mom nearly got hurt today. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t live up to Drew’s example.” Her throat closed, and tears stung her eyes.

  No. She would not cry in front of him. She didn’t care enough about what he thought to reveal her vulnerability.

  Her father crossed his arms over his chest, matching Jaz’s pose. “Tears won’t work on me.”

  Jaz threw up her hands. “This is why I avoided coming here for years. You act like everything I do is to manipulate or irritate you. But guess what, Daddy: it’s not about you.” She sprang up and her thigh slammed the table, jangling the silverware and sloshing the tea. “After Drew died, there was nothing here for me. Sorry, Mom.” She glanced at her mother, and the tears bubbled up again. “I love you, but you’ve got someone who worships you like a goddess, and I have never been able to measure up to that.”

  She twirled toward the doorway. Spots danced around the room.

  “Run away, Jazlyn. That’s what you know how to do.”

  His words froze her. Molten emotions long suppressed bubbled up from her soul. She whirled to face him, slamming her hands on her hips.

  “Shows what you don’t know. I tried for years to win a drop of approval from you. If it weren’t for Drew, I would have given up long ago.” Her shoulders shuddered. “I’ve spent the past seven years trying to live up to what Drew would want, because he’s the only one who ever loved me. I wasn’t running away; I was striving toward the standard he set.” She clenched her teeth. “Of course, I didn’t measure up to that either. Just like you always thought, I’m not good enough.”

  Her feet slapped against the wooden floor. She rushed into her room, snatched up her phone and handbag, and slammed out the front door.

  She was to the turn onto Armstrong Road before she realized Bailey was angry with her.

  Really, Lord? What else can go wrong?

  “Forget I asked.” She whipped a U-turn in the next driveway and drove toward Mill Creek Park. Her fingers sought out the crumpled paper in her pocket.

  Jaz needed her brother’s words more than ever, but she doubted they could fix her shattered heart.

  9

  The hammer’s pounding reverberated through his bones until his elbow tingled. Sweat trickled down his cheek and glued his shirt to his back. Bailey missed this honest exertion. His designing job challenged his mind and awakened his creativity and logic, but the strain of his muscles during the simplest of ranch chores fueled something else.

  Or maybe it burned the emotions he couldn’t seem to exorcise any other way.

  Have you prayed? MaryAnn chided in his head.

  She’d asked him the same question every time he’d ever groused about his problems. By the time he was in high school, he’d stopped saying anything that sounded like a complaint in her presence. Back then, he was praying.

  Did it help?

  He drove another nail into the partition between the two stalls. Sweet straw scented the air, overpowering the other barn odors. Mucking stalls had always been a favorite chore. Once finished, no matter how much his shoulders and lower back burned, or his boots stunk, Bailey’s accomplishment stared him in the face.

  With the claw end of the hammer, he rattled the boards, working his way clockwise around the stall. Gray and white
hairs clung to the post at the corner. Shamgar did like a good scratch. Once everything was tidy and secure, Bailey strode out the back door and into the paddock.

  Earlier he’d shoveled manure and spread a thin layer of wood chips in the soggy spots. He glanced toward the sky. The sun hadn’t climbed much beyond its zenith.

  Poppet rolled to her feet, ducking beneath the fence to trot in his direction. She’d been glued to his side since he’d walked in the door on Friday. If he owned his place in the city, he’d take her with him. He shook his head. She probably wouldn’t be any happier there than he was.

  Or maybe she would. Anywhere was bearable when you were with someone you loved.

  The gaping wound in his chest ached. Without Jaz, he doubted he’d be able to endure the separation from everything familiar. She’d been right to tell him the ranch was in his blood.

  Shamgar side-stepped as Bailey came within arm’s reach. He muttered and ran his palm across the gelding’s speckled rump. The horse continued ripping grass from the base of the post on the pasture side of the corral. Likely he remembered Bailey’s empty pockets from his last couple attempts to nuzzle his way to a treat.

  Bailey fingered the snarls from his horse’s mane. Rhythmic chomping played a lullaby. He patted the sleek neck until Shamgar raised his head and stared at him with an unblinking brown eye. Bailey’s fingers worked under the black halter, scratching at the base of the gelding’s ears.

  Maybe it was the connection with the animals he missed. Shamgar snorted at him and bobbed his head before returning his attention to grazing.

  Bailey rested his arms across the horse’s back, recalling a time when the backbone jutted up and he could count the ribs. The gelding wouldn’t endure any human touch in those days, but Bailey’s patience earned the horse’s trust.

  He stared across the fields. Wasn’t that what he’d promised Jaz? That he would go slowly and earn her trust.

  The scene from the school flashed into his mind. She’d said the guy was from her brother’s platoon, not the ex she’d been emotionally battered by when she’d stopped in Sweet Grove a few months ago. It was an innocent hug. A thank you for delivering an overdue goodbye from Drew.

  Am I overreacting?

  Poppet snuffled around his boots. Shamgar’s teeth ground together on the grass. Aromas of horse sweat and cedar mingled into his nostrils.

  God, if You could offer a little guidance, that’d be great.

  But the echoing hollowness between Bailey’s heart and soul couldn’t muster an ounce of faith. God had made it clear years ago that Bailey was on probation. If he worked hard and stayed out of trouble, things would go fine.

  Bailey’s immediate assumption that Jaz had reunited with an old flame answered the real question. Did he deserve her love? Nope. If he couldn’t trust her, he couldn’t love her.

  His stomach clenched. Okay, he loved her. Too much. Like he’d loved MaryAnn and Fritz too much after his blood relatives couldn’t be bothered with his care.

  Hadn’t he stood on the other side of this paddock and told her to go to Austin and have a happy life? But then he’d let Tess convince him to chase her. And once he caught her, he treated her with the same understanding and persistence as he had all the wounded animals he’d helped.

  Maybe now that she was healed from her mistrust, it was time to let her go.

  Dust pooled and spun as a car turned in at the gate. Shamgar’s head swung up, and he stopped munching for a moment as he eyed the dust. His ears flicked toward the rumbling motor.

  Bailey patted the horse and eased his hat lower. The red-brown flurry dissipated, and a red car stopped behind his old truck.

  A dance of anticipation stirred in his chest. Somewhere in the abyss where he’d tried to bury it, his heart pounded, a horse galloping to food.

  Poppet growled, and Shamgar stomped one foot. Jaz stepped from the car. The dog’s brown and white tail slapped Bailey’s boots before she loped toward the visitor.

  A vision in jeans, Jaz strode toward the paddock, arriving at the fence at the same moment as Poppet. The woman bent down to ruffle his dog’s fur. Poppet yipped, her joy clanging into the pit of his chest.

  It was no use trying to avoid her. Jaz wouldn’t leave until she’d had her say. But then, maybe she would go, and he could try to find his life without her. He’d lived it for thirty years, so it seemed feasible he could do it for longer.

  Shamgar nudged his shoulder. Bailey patted the horse’s lean neck and shrugged his shoulders back.

  As he swaggered across the corral, his boots sent up puffs of dust. Her eyes locked on him, and he dropped his gaze so she wouldn’t snare him with the turbulence he knew he’d find in the sage depths.

  “Can we talk?” She lifted her chin, turning the question rhetorical.

  Bailey ducked his head, focusing on the fence in front of her. He curled his hands around the white rails and dug his short nails in. Don’t look at her face. Don’t touch her.

  She jabbed a ragged looking envelope under his nose. “This is what was delivered to me yesterday.”

  “Okay.” He gripped the rail tighter.

  “Read it. I want you to know what sort of emotional state I was in when you were grunting at me and accusing me of…of…whatever.” Her voice rose in pitch, and Poppet whined.

  He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

  Her sigh could have been a blustery east wind. She stepped closer and reached for his hand. Bailey sidled backward.

  Her mouth dropped open and then shut with an audible snap. “What’s really going on, Bailey?”

  “I realized I shouldn’t have chased you to Austin. That I belong here. That you…should…” But he didn’t believe it. He wanted her to love him and stay with him.

  She tossed her hands in the air and shoved the letter into her back pocket. He tried not to think of her backside or holding her hands or wiping away the tension on her face with a kiss. He shoved his hands into his hip pockets and gritted his teeth.

  “Since you saw me with another guy, it made you realize that I should be with someone—” She gasped. “Black. Is this because Billy is black?”

  Bailey jerked back like she’d slapped him. The sight of the dark-skinned arms so near the deep brown neck had appeared right to him. He’d immediately assumed she would be better with that guy. But because of that?

  Jaz pressed against the fence and reached for him with an open palm. He shuffled backward again.

  “I can’t deal with this.” She huffed out a sigh. “My dad came unglued on me last night.” She choked to a stop.

  Bailey peeked under the brim of his hat. Tears turned her eyes into a stormy sea. She pressed her hand to them. She hated crying.

  His fingers twitched toward her. He wanted to comfort her. A groan caught in his throat as he stared at the ground.

  “It was great to read Drew’s letter and hear his voice again.” She swallowed. “And it helps to know how he died.”

  She’d learned the truth of the so-called training accident? Bailey shuffled his feet but then stiffened his knees. He would let her talk. Then she would leave, and he could find something else to pound nails into.

  She slammed her fist into the fence. Poppet shied away, and Bailey’s heart thudded in surprise.

  “We’re past all this. No more one-sided conversations.”

  Before he could react, she stepped onto the middle rail and climbed over the fence, dropping a foot away from him. He balked, but her hands locked onto his wrists. She glared at him as she shoved the hat higher on his head, and his hiding place disappeared.

  “What. Is. Going. On?”

  His skin tingled at the contact, and his shuttered heart banged into his breastbone. He couldn’t look away from her penetrating stare. He didn’t want to. He’d rather close his eyes and kiss her until the sting of betrayal was forgotten.

  He pressed his lips together. “I didn’t think it was…his skin. But maybe that’s part of it.” H
e swallowed hard. “I was sure it was the guy who broke your heart. It looked like a reunion.”

  “It was a sister thanking a stranger for delivering her brother’s last request. If Captain Clayton—” She ground her teeth. “Showed up, I’d slap him across the face like I should have done when he gave me that line about ruining his career and not fitting the Virginia mold.” She tugged on his arms and tried to place his hands on her waist.

  Bailey curled his fingers into fists. He wanted to touch her and hold her, but if he did, his resistance would fail. Even now her hands burned his skin, sending a trail of fire straight to his empty chest.

  “I’m done with lies.” She pursed her lips, and he couldn’t stop staring at them. “My family is driving me crazy, and I probably burned the last bridge to my father. I need you.”

  It dawned on him then—he didn’t have any strength to offer her. The moments he saw her in another man’s arms, he was ten years old and shivering in a courtroom. He was the skinny kid with a bloody nose who everyone picked on. She deserved someone who was truly strong, not someone who’d been faking strength his entire life.

  Bailey shook his head. Words jumbled in his mind, but he couldn’t make his mouth form them. She wouldn’t understand. As much as she fought with her dad, she didn’t know what it meant to be worthless. It was one thing for your family not to appreciate your accomplishments, but when they kicked you out because it was too much trouble to keep you, that told a different story.

  “I don’t have what you need.” I am nothing.

  Her hands slid up his arms. A host of sensation chased them. He ground his teeth until his jaw ached.

  “You are what I need.” Her eyes proclaimed it. “Right now. Exactly as you are.”

  He closed his eyes. His heart strained toward her, wanting to believe, wanting it to be true.

  “My grandmother called it when I was a kid. I’m too much trouble. I’ve never had the backbone to fight for anyone or anything.”

  “You fought for the ranch.”

  Bailey shrugged away her touch. He gripped her shoulders, shaking her a little. He had to make her understand.