“It’s like I thought you were all grownups or something.” Tori glared at Garret.
“What? Grownups eat chips. I don’t know what your problem is. James gets it, right, bud? What are we eating on your watch?”
“I, uh, brought steak and foil-wrapped potatoes. Might’ve tossed a whole cucumber in the saddlebag to slice up in lieu of salad.”
“You’re actually cooking?” Garret’s voice echoed in disbelief.
“I kind of like to eat.” James said it like an apology, as though he’d broken some kind of man-code. “And it’s not like I have an imagination or anything. It’s just going to be bacon and eggs and hash browns on my breakfast. I’m baking extra potatoes for that.”
“Sounds great.” Lauren took a swig from her water bottle, wishing it were a diet cola. “There’s nothing better than steak cooked over a fire.”
Tori and Denae both shook their heads at the chips as Garret offered them another time. Denae picked the scrawny scrap of limp lettuce out of the mayo and ate it while Tori balled up her plastic wrap and shoved it in the bag the subs had been in.
James angled a glance at the sun. “We should get going. Anyone need a bathroom break first? Girls that way, guys this way.” He pointed as he spoke.
Denae gulped, and Lauren felt a flash of pity as she slung an arm over her friend’s slim shoulder. “You’re not in a motorhome anymore, Toto. Come on.”
* * *
Camping with the gang hadn’t been this much trouble when they were all eighteen or twenty. Telling everyone what meals they were responsible for had once been enough. No one cared what it was back then, but now, some of them had grown up and some of them hadn’t.
James didn’t even want to know what Garret had brought for his other meal, and a swarm of dread flooded his gut when he thought of Denae cooking for hungry campers. Hopefully she didn’t think they all ate like grasshoppers. At least Tori and Lauren could be counted upon.
He sat staring into the fire as darkness and chill sifted over him. How had his sister talked him into this, anyway? It wasn’t the same as before with Lauren, Kade, Cheri and some of their childhood friends, most of whom had gone off to college and never returned. And back then, things had been easy with Lauren. They’d been friends. What were they now? He wasn’t sure.
Lauren sat on a downed log across from him, firelight flickering on her pretty face and dancing off the tangled curls peeking out from her hoodie. She laughed at something Denae said.
James’s heart ached. Back then, he’d been so sure that it was only a matter of time before Lauren would see him the way he saw her. She’d dated some in college, but he’d still held out hope. She’d returned to Saddle Springs and taken over her dad’s half of the veterinary clinic. They’d still hung out, though she was definitely a lot busier. So was he, taking over more and more of the responsibility of running the Flying Horseshoe as the reality of his own father’s limitations sank in.
Here they were, less than two months to thirty, and they’d drifted so far apart it was physically painful. For the first time in nearly fourteen years, he had to wonder if the pact would stand. What if she didn’t love him? What if she’d rather stay single or hold out for someone who’d sweep her off her feet?
Garret shifted around in the shadows, assembling his flute on the makeshift camp table. A moment later, he ran through his scales then into the haunting melody of Be Thou My Vision.
Tori began to sing softly.
James closed his eyes and let the words wash over him. Thou my best Thought, by day or by night; waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light. He’d gotten hung up on thoughts of Lauren — again — when his focus needed to stay on Jesus.
Lauren’s alto joined Tori’s then a third voice lifted in a clear descant. Denae?
He looked across the fire and found Lauren’s gaze on him but, before he could react, she turned away. What was she thinking?
Thou and Thou only, put first in my heart — High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.
James knew all the words to every verse. He and Garret had led worship with this old hymn enough times. Practiced it dozens more. They liked to mix things up, newer worship songs with the classics. That way no one complained... except Lauren’s mom, who inexplicably thought seventies-style choruses were the only way to go. But Dora Yanovich whined about everything, usually on high volume. How had Lauren turned out so well?
True to form, Garret shifted into a contemporary, Trust in You. James listened to the haunting music for a few bars before starting in on the lyrics. Why did it feel so much stranger singing these words at a campfire with Lauren across from him than in the sanctuary? He sang of letting go of his dreams and laying them in front of Jesus, crying out to Him, but trusting. Always trusting.
In reality, it was hard to hold onto wholehearted faith. No, he’d never faced the kinds of struggles some people had. No poverty, no broken home, no nights on the streets, no drugs. It should be easy for him to trust God when he’d never experienced true hardship.
Tori nudged another log into the flames. The fire crackled and hissed, popping sparks into the air. Wasn’t it Job who said, yet man is born to trouble as surely as sparks fly upward? Yeah, no matter the circumstances, a guy’s heart struggled.
Garret ran through the song again while the words echoed in James’s mind. The last notes faded away.
“I like that one,” Denae said softly. “Anyone else feel that way? Like you have all these questions you’re asking God, and He doesn’t seem to answer?”
Tori poked a long stick into the fire, shuffling the logs. “I think we all do, sometimes.”
“That’s why this song is popular.” Garret laid the flute across his knees. “It describes a universal struggle, where we fight and push and try to win the battles on our own when what we really need to do is remember God’s got it covered and trust Him.”
“Then why do I feel so alone sometimes?” Denae picked up a small branch and began snapping it into pieces with her fingers. “I mean, I believe you. It makes sense, but that doesn’t change my feelings.”
Tori shifted on the log. “It’s that whole divide-and-conquer thing. Satan wants us to feel alone, like no one else could possibly understand because they’re all so much more spiritual than we are. We feel like we missed something simple and obvious, so we sit on it silently, hoping to figure it out before anyone else notices how depraved we are. While they are probably doing the same thing.”
Bam. Welcome to the inner world of James Carmichael’s thoughts. His sister had nailed it in one.
“If that’s really true...” Denae’s voice trailed off. “Then why don’t we get over it? Really share our struggles with those close to us?”
“You first,” quipped Garret.
James peeked a glance at Lauren. She leaned forward, staring into the fire with her hands stuffed into her kangaroo pocket. What was she thinking? He’d rarely had to wonder in years gone by, because she announced her thoughts to everyone. Not lately, though. She’d pulled in.
He had, too. Oh, he’d never been as extroverted as Lauren, but his friendships had been... easier. He knew what had changed in him, that ever-increasing awareness that his time was running out with Lauren. What had changed in her?
His heart skipped a beat. Was it the same thing? Remembering his promise on her sweet sixteenth? But there was no return spark that he could discern so, if that’s what it was, her pull-back must be from dread.
Why hadn’t he just gone for it a year or two ago, before the pressure mounted?
Chapter Twelve
“What’s it like, being so close to thirty?”
Lauren opened one eye to see Tori watching her through the steam of the tarp-lined hot pool. Nearby, Denae sat on a rock at the edge with only her legs in the water. She wore a white bikini that showed off her ribs, with her long hair wound around her head in a braid to keep it out of the water.
Why couldn’t Tori ask pointed questions of someone else?
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“When I was a kid, I thought thirty-year-olds were decrepit old people with one foot in the grave.” Tori laughed. “And now I’m only five years out, and I’m not feeling quite so ancient. So, I’m curious if you have any regrets. Any advice.”
Lauren had only one question for James’s sister, but she couldn’t ask it. Did Tori know about the pact? She’d have been eleven when it happened, so it was unlikely... unless James had told her. Which was also unlikely, considering he’d stepped back the very next day and never mentioned it again to the best of Lauren’s knowledge.
Denae swished her legs, rippling the surface of the little pool. “Yes, do tell.”
The men had taken the packhorses back into the forest to haul in a few dead trees to buck up for the fire. The whine of the chainsaw could be heard in the distance, so Lauren knew James wouldn’t overhear if she confided. It was slightly tempting, but no way.
She looked over at Denae. “Like I’m so much older than you.”
“A year and a half.” Denae sighed. “I’ve always wanted to be married before I’m thirty.”
“Is that why you moved back to Saddle Springs?” Tori wanted to know. “Because you didn’t see any prospects in Missoula?”
“Is it dumb? I edit romance novels every day, and I just can’t help but believe in the dream. If all those characters can overcome the obstacles in their path and find their happily-ever-afters, why can’t I?”
Lauren fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Because they’re not real people? There aren’t that many perfect guys out there.” Even James wasn’t perfect. Quite.
“So that’s what happens when you’re almost thirty.” Tori laughed. “You turn all cynical.”
“Don’t you want to get married, Lauren?” asked Denae. “Is being a veterinarian all you ever dreamed of?”
She’d dodge the first half of that, thanks. “You make it sound like a nightmare instead of a dream.”
“That’s not what I meant. For my dad, all he ever wanted was to be an attorney. He didn’t want to be saddled with my mom and me when I was a baby. He did manage to find time to fall in love with Michelle later, and she was the one who wanted to buy the ranch.” Denae grimaced. “Dad only lasted a few years before he needed to be back in the city, back in the thick of things. He still works way too much. I know Michelle misses the ranch a lot.”
“Somehow it’s always been more acceptable for a man to be consumed by his career than for a woman,” Tori observed. “That’s one of the things I like about my parents owning a ranch. They share a career and work together.”
“My parents didn’t work together on anything.” Lauren thought back to all the fighting. “The more Mom nagged, the longer hours Dad worked. He often took me with him, which made Mom even more upset.”
“And then he died,” Tori said softly. “I’m sorry if I’m dredging up bad memories.”
Lauren shook her head. “It’s okay. I guess that’s one reason I’ve never bought into the dream, though. Sure, if the right guy came along...” And his name was James Carmichael. She blinked. “But I wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps, not sit around waiting for a man to make my life complete.” Especially not a guy who only sorry for her lot in life, like Conor.
“It’s only Jesus who can fill those empty spots, anyway, like we talked about last night at the campfire.” Tori slid further into the pool, the water covering her shoulders.
“I think we can have those dreams and still be a good Christian.” Denae’s voice had an edge to it. “Wanting a husband and family isn’t anti-spiritual.”
“I didn’t say it was.” Lauren closed her eyes. “It’s just not every woman’s dream, like not everyone wants to be a vet. We’re all individuals.”
“Anyway, there seem to be a lot of single guys around Saddle Springs.” Denae slid into the pool and gasped. “This is hot.”
“Only 103.” Tori nudged the floating thermometer in Denae’s direction.
Now or never. “We even brought two of them on this trail ride,” Lauren put in, eyes still closed. “Garret and James are both eligible. Both men who are seeking after God.”
“Also pleasant on the eyes.” Denae giggled.
“I’ve seen worse,” Lauren agreed.
“I don’t get why you haven’t made a play for one of them yourself.”
“Oh, Garret’s too young for me.” Lauren kicked herself mentally. Hard. Now she’d left herself wide open.
“How much does that really matter when you’re out of school? It’s not like he’s eighteen.”
“My brother isn’t too young for you. You two share a birthday, right?”
“Um... yes.”
“I didn’t know! How romantic is that? If you two got married, he’d never forget your birthday.”
“We’re not getting married, so it doesn’t much matter.” Lauren got to her feet, swaying in the waist-deep water. “I should probably get lunch started. I haven’t heard the chainsaw in a while, and the guys are sure to come back starving.”
“But I just made it all the way in.” Denae’s lips pulled into a pout.
“Up to your waist isn’t the same as all the way in.” Tori sent a small wave toward Denae. “If you want love, girl, you have to dive in headfirst, no holding back. Right, Lauren?”
“How would I know?” Lauren clambered out and reached for her towel. “I’m sure the romance editor knows more than I do about how many different ways it happens for people.”
“Oh, that’s so true! It’s one of the things I love about editing. Some characters do dive in, but of course there are always obstacles under the water when they do, because love doesn’t come easy—”
“In stories,” Tori interrupted. “Because readers read for the journey, not the destination.”
“I think it’s true in real life, too. Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy. Anyway, as I was saying, other personalities wade in slowly — that’s more my style — and love finds them anyway. Still others get rolled over by a tsunami when they least expect it.” Denae sighed. “Whichever way it happens, it’s so romantic.”
Lauren wrapped the towel around her waist and headed for the tent to get dressed before James had to see her in a swimsuit in broad daylight. No wonder she avoided girl talk anymore. Did James really deserve Denae’s shiny-eyed views on love? Maybe.
And maybe not.
* * *
James had done everything in his power to stay clear of Lauren all weekend, even if it meant dragging Garret into the woods to gather more firewood than they could possibly use in a week of thirty below. He justified it by reminding Tori this was a good spot to bring experienced ranch guests on trail rides over the summer. Now a neat row of chest-high split logs blocked the passage between two trees, further separating the guys’ camping spot from the women’s tent. They’d created a nice stash for upcoming campfires. His future self would thank him.
Tori and Denae cleaned up from their second last meal of the trip — his sister had cooked cornbread over the fire to go with the chili she’d brought frozen from home — and they’d break camp after breakfast in the morning. It couldn’t come soon enough. Watching Lauren studiously avoid him felt like a hoof to the gut.
Tori packed the plates into the kit bag while Denae tossed the wash water into nearby shrubbery. Garret played the flute beyond the campfire, but tonight no one began to sing. Lauren seemed unbelievably enthralled with the flames.
James shifted, a knot on the log suddenly seeming to bite into his rear. Lauren glanced up, and their gazes locked. Something besides firelight seemed to flicker there for a few heartbeats, then her expression blanked. What had he done to turn her so completely away? The night of Rosebud’s birth, he’d really thought they’d reconnected, that the chill of the past year or two had dispelled.
There’d been definite heat that night. Either that, or he had the world’s best imagination. Which was laughably untrue. Not after listening to Denae’s incessant chatter all weekend, and she was at
it again. He tuned in, fully expecting it to be full of nonsense as usual but, hey, a guy could live in hope that she had real thoughts occasionally escaping that bubblehead.
“Is it ever okay to go back on your word? I know we’re not to break vows to God, but we say all kinds of things in passing to other people that we don’t really mean.” Denae looked around the small group as she took a seat. “Or is that only me?”
“Not sure what you’re getting at.” Tori clipped the dishcloth and tea towel to the paracord James had strung between two trees. “My parents drilled into us kids that our word is our bond. If we say we’re going to do something, we’d better do it, come hell or high water.”
James closed his eyes. This was not a conversation he wished to participate in.
“But what if it was said in a moment of weakness, or as a prank, but the other person believed it?”
No. No, no, no.
“I guess it would depend on how it was said. Like if it was clearly a joke.” Tori looked around. “Come on, guys, help me out.”
Lauren shrugged as she picked up a twig and tossed it in the flame. “I’ve got nothing here.”
Did that mean she didn’t believe in keeping promises? James knew she did. He couldn’t think of a single time she’d said she’d do something but didn’t. She was dependable.
Garret disassembled his flute. “Keeping our word is important. I guess I’d need more context as to why you think there might be times it isn’t.”
“Well, honestly, it’s because of this story I was editing.”
James dared to let out a breath. If Denae was in a fictional realm, everything was fine.
“Oh?” Garret rubbed a section of his instrument with a cloth.
“Yeah, the hero whispered promises to the heroine when he thought she was asleep, but she was only pretending to be sleeping, and she heard him. So, is he bound by them?”
The Cowboy’s Mixed-Up Matchmaker Page 9