by Emma Woods
“Is she okay?” I whispered.
His brown eyes crinkled. “I have a feeling she wants us to have time alone. She insisted we buy this tablecloth. She said it was romantic.”
I giggled and reached for the sign. It read “Martinelli’s” in her best printing. Suddenly, it all clicked together for me. “You said that you showed her the old ‘Parent Trap,’ right?”
Understanding lit Tom’s eyes. “Oh, no, she didn’t.”
“Oh, yes, she did. This is straight out of the movie.”
It seemed as though Tom was suddenly embarrassed. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I knew she’d picked someone she wanted me to be dating, I just didn’t know who. I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable.”
His embarrassment made me feel awkward. Shouldn’t we be laughing over this? I was reminded in a flash of all the times I thought I’d read something in his eyes.
“I’m flattered. I’m glad Sophie likes me so much.” I tried to sound casual.
“Since she’s in her room, how are you doing?” he asked in a hushed voice.
“Honestly, I’m feeling a little stupid. I can’t think why we stayed together so long. I’ve known that I didn’t really want to marry him for a long time now, and I couldn’t admit it to myself.” I shook my head in disbelief.
“I’m glad you’re not hurting too much,” he said.
I looked up and read such caring in his brown eyes that I forgot to chew for a moment. Tom was attractive in so many ways. He wasn’t handsome like a movie star or a model or—well, Marco. But every word and movement was filled with gentle caring, and it took my breath away sometimes.
“How old are you?” I asked him, needing to change the subject.
He gave me a questioning look. “Thirty-five. Why?”
I shrugged sheepishly. “I was wondering. You’re sort of ageless.”
“Well, you aren’t thirty yet.”
He said it with such certainty that a sassy reply leapt to my tongue. “Oh, yeah?”
Tom considered me. “No way are you thirty. I’d guess twenty-five.”
“I suppose I should take that as a compliment.” I sat up straighter and pretended to preen a little. “I turned twenty-six in August. Gosh, I had no idea you were so ancient. Should I speak up so you can hear me better?” I teased.
His eyes glinted with good humor. “Don’t mess with me. I have gained great wisdom in all my long years.”
“That’s true. I have benefited from your wisdom. You should write a book. You could call it, ‘Brilliant Advice for Lovelorn Women.’”
Tom laughed heartily, and our conversation rolled out easily. By the time we’d finished our slices of the fancy pizza, I knew he’d grown up in Washington, was allergic to cats, and had more than a dozen scars from various boyhood adventures. I’d shared about my childhood in Arizona and some of the better moments of my life with Dad and Ashley. We stayed on light-hearted topics, never straying to anything too serious.
Cleaning up was simple. I loaded the dishwasher while Tom went in search of Sophie, who was feeling well enough to attempt to eat a piece of pizza. Tom suggested that we play a board game, and Sophie’s pretense of illness fell away quickly. We spread out the board and they explained the rules to me. After Tom won the first round, we dished up the ice cream I’d brought and played a second time. Sophie won and was a very gracious winner.
“Time for bed,” Tom told her once we’d congratulated her.
“I should be going,” I said. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“We need to do it again sometime,” my host said, his eyes soft.
“I would love to,” I answered and hoped he wouldn’t read too much into my response.
I hugged Sophie goodnight and headed to my car. Tom stood at the door watching until I was safely inside and backing out the driveway.
That night I dreamed that I was sitting on a porch with Tom, watching Sophie play with two other younger children who I knew with dream surety were her siblings. Tom turned to me and kissed me, and I awoke feeling like I’d had the sweetest dream in all creation.
The feeling followed me to church, and I knew the smile I gave him when they came in the door was more tender than it had ever been before. I couldn’t tell if I had any real feelings for Tom, or if I just loved the idea of being a part of the Jerretts’ family. It was entirely possible that I was delighted with Sophie and liked imagining what being a part of their family would be like. Besides, it was too soon after breaking up with Marco to consider dating anyone else. That would be a big mistake.
Tom sat next to me in Sunday School and I felt the warmth of his arm next to mine. It made it hard to pay attention to the discussion, and I found myself recalling the dream several times.
Of course, Elizabeth noticed that my engagement ring was gone. As soon as Mike prayed and dismissed us, she hissed in my ear, “What happened?”
“We broke up,” I said with a shrug. “We should have done it a long time ago.” I rubbed at the indentation where the ring had settled over its long residency.
“Well, if you need to move on, I think you should pick Tom.” She gave him a look across the room that was full of appreciation.
I felt my cheeks growing warmer. “I think I should take some time to get my head straight first.”
“You don’t mind if I give it a shot, then?” Elizabeth’s smile turned predatory.
“Nope,” I squeaked.
She gave me a wicked smile and moved across the room. I hurried upstairs to Granddad. I didn’t want to watch Tom with another woman.
15
If anything happened between Tom and Elizabeth, I didn’t know about it. He was his usual self at the ranch on Wednesday. On Thursday, he sauntered over and asked if I had plans for Saturday afternoon.
“I’m avoiding doing laundry,” I retorted. “What are your plans?”
“Sophie and I were thinking of going for a hike. Want to come?”
“That sounds great! The weather should be perfect.”
And that’s how I found myself in my oldest jeans and hiking boots, riding on the bench of Tom’s truck with Sophie between us just two days later.
Sure enough, the weather was gorgeous. Early October was in its glory. Trees were showing off their autumn colors. The sunlight had lost its harshness and was a bit gentler. The sky was a beautiful blue, and a few distant clouds were streaked here and there.
“Where are we going?” I asked as we jostled along.
Tom’s truck was not a luxury vehicle by any stretch of the imagination. There was a tape deck. Stuffing peeked out of rips in the upholstery. It smelled like it had worked hard for a long time. Yet, it was comfortable and relaxed. Sophie sang along with a song on the radio, and Tom had his arm across the back of the seat as he drove, his daughter snuggled up to his side.
“It’s not far. I think the whole thing is technically part of the Triple Star property.”
And, sure enough, he pulled over before too long. I climbed out and then gave Sophie a hand down. We put on our backpacks and observed the hills and trees around us.
“Is there an actual marked trail around here?” I wondered. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Tom’s sense of direction, but I was an inexperienced hiker and had no idea what to expect.
His eyes crinkled at me. “Yup. The Donovans often have guests up at the ranch who do the trail as part of their corporate bonding events. This is just a small section of it, but it has the best view. Ready, Soph?”
“Yeah, Dad,” she called from where she was crouched down examining an ant hill.
We took off into the woods and found the clearly marked trail in no time, which made me feel better about the whole adventure. I had been fighting off images of Tom lying injured and me having to find a way back to civilization before it was too late. If we ended up in those dire circumstances, we would probably be better off just giving up. I was no nature girl.
Sophie, though, was like a junior mountain goat. She
led the way, her backpack firmly in place and her dark ponytails swinging. Tom and I followed behind her, and the sound of her voice as she chattered away kept us entertained for almost an hour.
“Do the two of you do a lot of hiking?” I asked when the little girl got far enough ahead that she was mostly out of earshot of our conversation.
“We don’t get out as often as we’d like. Back after Kara left, we did a lot of walking together. It was a nice way to be together without having to say anything. We stumbled on some local hiking trails after awhile. We never go for more than an hour or two.” Tom reached back and took my hand, helping me climb up and over a log lying across the trail. Sophie had clambered over it with no difficulty, but I was grateful for the help.
My phone buzzed, and I reached for it.
“I’m surprised your phone works out here,” Tom said. “Reception is always pretty spotty on this side of the ranch.”
I read my text and groaned. “It’s from my stepmom. I was supposed to tell her if Marco and I are going to spend Thanksgiving skiing with them.”
Without considering it, I slid the phone back in my pocket. I would need to call Ashley and let her know that we’d broken up. It wasn’t a call I was looking forward to. Well, at least I could be off the hook for skiing in Colorado. I would have to look at it as one more benefit of our breakup. When I got back home, I’d call her and tell her that I was hiking and reception was bad. It was good to have an excuse to put that call off a little while longer.
“I’ll call her later,” I told Tom.
“Do you think you’ll go skiing for Thanksgiving?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. Marco wanted to go, but I would rather stay here.”
“You’re welcome to spend Thanksgiving with us,” Tom offered.
“Thanks. I’ll let you know,” I replied quickly.
We were coming up to the hardest part of the trail. Our conversation waned as we maneuvered around the narrow path and some steep, rocky terrain.
I was glad for the chance to think. Spending Thanksgiving with Tom and Sophie sounded wonderful. I could just imagine how fun it would be to cook the meal together in their little kitchen. Sophie and I could decorate the table. We could have a board game marathon all afternoon.
And, as much as I tried to tell myself I wanted to go because of Sophie, I was coming to realize that it was Tom I wanted to spend the day with. I pictured us in the kitchen, working together. My face heated at the thought of working in such a small space. I remembered how he’d smiled at me at supper the week before, and I had to admit that I wanted to be back at that table with his undivided attention.
We reached the spot Tom and Sophie had picked for our picnic stop before I could analyze my thoughts any further. There was a wide, grassy spot with a clear view of the ranch beyond. It was beautiful, to be sure, and we enjoyed looking at it as we ate our sandwiches and grapes.
“This is our secret spot,” Sophie told me seriously. “You can’t tell anyone about it.”
I held up my hand. “I won’t. I promise.”
Sophie laughed. “It’s not that serious. It’s a secret, but it’s not a super-secret.”
Tom’s eyes lit up as he listened to his daughter. I loved the way that he loved her. It was one of the first things that drew me to this little family. Tom delighted in Sophie. He talked to her gently and listened to her answers.
It reminded me of my dad back when it was just the two of us. Maybe I was remembering wrong. When I remembered those early days, I always imagined my dad caring for me this way, too. Things changed a bit when he married Ashley, but she’d been loving and attentive to me for a few years. It wasn’t until Kyle was born that all that stopped. Suddenly, the baby needed them, and I was supposed to be a big girl.
The food in my mouth turned to sawdust. I looked at Tom and Sophie and realized that I’d almost broken a promise I’d made to myself when I was a girl.
I was instantly back to being thirteen. I’d gone to a friend’s house for a sleepover, and her older brother had brought over some friends. Their parents were out, for some reason, and the brother and his gang of smelly teenagers were passing around a bottle of tequila. I knew things were getting out of control, and I’d called my dad and asked him to come pick me up. I told him that my friend’s parents were out and I didn’t feel safe.
Dad had told me that he and Ashley were getting their pictures taken with the boys. It was an expensive appointment. Was I really in danger, or was I just imagining it? I told him I would be fine and hung up. I then went to the upstairs bathroom and locked myself in. I spent the next few hours sitting on the edge of the bathtub, waiting for the drunken noise to die down so I could go to my friend’s room, where she was passed out on the bed.
As I sat there, scared and angry, I had sworn that I would never marry a man who already had kids. I would never become a stepmother. And if something ever happened to my husband, I would never marry again and make my kids have a stepdad.
I looked up at Tom, who was listening intently to Sophie describe the plot of a book she was reading. How had I forgotten that promise? I’d actually begun contemplating what it would be like to marry Tom and be a part of their family. What if I married him and then we had another child, and Sophie began to feel as abandoned as I had? I would never forgive myself for that. If my dad could get so tied up with his sons that he forgot his daughter, I feared that the same could happen even to someone as great as Tom.
I was quiet as we packed up and headed back down to the truck. From the worried looks he kept shooting me, I knew Tom noticed that something was wrong.
“Are you okay?” he asked and tried to take my hand to help me down a steep section of the trail.
“Just tired,” I said and pretended I didn’t see his hand. When I slid and almost lost my balance, I had no one to blame but myself.
We got to the truck and trundled back to Bumblebee House.
“Can Miss Kent come over for supper?” Sophie wheedled.
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you, but Rosemarie and I have to do laundry.” For the first time in my life, I was glad that I had that chore to do.
“I’m going to walk Miss Kent to the door,” Tom said and was out of the truck before I could tell him it wasn’t necessary.
He lifted my backpack down from the bed of the truck, and I led the way up to the porch in silence.
“Thanks for inviting me. I had a really good time,” I said with a forced smile.
“What’s wrong?” Tom asked with his usual astute sensitivity.
“I was thinking about my stepmom. I’m not looking forward to calling her.” It was a half-truth, and I hoped he didn’t see the lie in it.
Tom’s eyes were watchful. “I hope it goes well for you. If you ever want to talk, just call.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
For the first time, I wondered what it would be like if he leaned forward and kissed me. He was so rough and manly. I found myself breaking out in goosebumps at the thought of it.
But then I caught a glimpse of Sophie waving in the truck, and I pushed the idea aside as hard as I could. I would not let myself hurt Sophie like that. Besides, I’d just broken up with my fiancé. Surely these feelings weren’t real. They were all about wanting to not be alone and my fear of no one loving me. That’s all.
“Bye, then,” Tom said and strode back to the truck.
I gathered up my bag and hurried inside, not even allowing myself to watch them drive away.
16
I was a mopey mess. Rosemarie and I went to the movies instead of doing laundry, but I couldn’t focus on the characters. Their romance seemed forced and their comedy was not particularly funny. On the other hand, Rosemarie said she’d thought it was great. Considering the fact that my attention hadn’t stayed on the plot for more than a minute, I supposed I might not be in a good place to judge.
The sermon on Sunday was all about how God is a good father to us. Pastor Carl pointed out h
ow God meets our needs and is always there for us. I swung between pointing out all the ways my own father did not do these things and admiring the way Tom did. I wimped out and hid in the church’s small library during Sunday School. I did enjoy reading the novel I found, but I was being a coward. The minute I heard people moving around, I dashed upstairs, collected Granddad, and escaped to my car.
Sophie kept looking at me over the next few days as though she was trying to figure out what was going on. I hoped that I wasn’t acting oddly around my students. No one else seemed to notice anything. Yet, every time I looked up, she was examining me with a thoughtful look on her face.
On Wednesday and Thursday, I avoided Tom as much as I could. Just the sight of him in his dusty jeans and faded work shirts made my heart flip. Obviously, I couldn’t trust myself around him with that sort of reaction. Fortunately, one of our students was suddenly skittish and needed someone to walk next to him on the trail ride, and I volunteered to do it. This meant that Tom, in all his dangerously attractive glory, couldn’t come and ask me what was going on in that annoyingly kind and sensitive way of his.
He caught me by the fence on Thursday, though. “Hey,” he said.
I tried not to look like a tiny animal caught in a trap, but I’m pretty sure I failed. “Oh, hey,” I said, breathless without a good reason for it. “I, uh, need to go check on the kids.”
Tom scrutinized me. “What’s going on, Jill? Are you avoiding me?”
Yes. “Of course, not! Don’t be silly. I think the kids need me.” And I dashed away with Tom back on the fence, looking confused and a little hurt.
So then I had guilt to add into everything else. I was sure that part of my weird mix of emotions was the unreal feeling of breaking up with Marco. On top of that, I was processing my thoughts about why my dad had been so quick to give his attention to his new kids and what I could do to repair that relationship. Images of me living blissfully with Tom and Sophie in happy harmony would change into visions of Sophie alone and sad, while Tom and I poured out our love on a new baby.