Moving to the window, she inhaled the familiar scents of fine leather and horse, and the fainter scents of hay and pine sawdust bedding that had drifted in from the barn aisle when Jess left through that door.
Enjoy this while you can, a small voice whispered through her thoughts.
She braced her hands on the granite counter installed under the length of the window and watched Jess work a young paint gelding with his usual patience.
The colt moved with a jog so slow it was nearly a walk, his head low and relaxed as he moved in smaller and smaller figure eights, then circles. Then a larger circle in an easy lope nearly as slow as his jog. A rollback. Off in the opposite direction in the correct lead.
Nicely done. Very nice.
Once upon a time it had been her in the saddle, bringing two-year-olds from gangly awkwardness to polished show horses.
A wave of nostalgia and regret over all the years she’d lost slid through her.
After Jess abruptly walked away from their relationship, she’d been heartbroken. Bereft was a better word—it had been like he’d ripped out her heart, and she’d felt an overwhelming emptiness.
But Alan had been there for her then—kind, steady Alan, who had stepped forward with a comforting shoulder, but none of the intense, passionate emotions that she’d felt for Jess.
And so she’d married Alan and moved to Chicago. Knowing that she couldn’t bear ever seeing Jess again with his arm around someone else. Loving someone else.
But agreeing to a life with Alan had been shortsighted. Alan deserved better and she had, too.
The irony was that now Alan had found someone he loved deeply, and she was done taking chances. She’d decided she would rather be alone than ever go through that pain again.
Yet being around Jess—and being back in this world again—was starting to make her rethink her life...
Chapter Eight
After long hours of outside chores, Jess nearly fell asleep Saturday evening while reading princess storybooks to the girls at bedtime—much to their amusement, judging by their giggles and tickles.
Sure, he could’ve turned the bedtime stories over to Abby, but the request had died on his lips. How could he give up such precious minutes with them?
Fresh from their bath and dressed in warm, footed pajamas and matching purple robes, they smelled of soap and baby shampoo, and when they cuddled up on either side of him, it felt like the most important part of the day.
He never ceased to wonder how Lindsey could have left her girls in Montana as if they didn’t matter. Didn’t she realize how fragile life could be? What a huge blessing they were, and what a great responsibility she had for these girls?
Then again, maybe she’d found them overwhelming, and dropping them off had been an easy way to regain her freedom. She’d become the mother of twins as a young teenager. At twenty-one, maybe she’d come to the end of her rope.
Or something could have happened to her.
But surely she would have been found by now, he thought, firmly shoving that persistent voice aside. The police would have found something.
Once the girls were tucked in and their night-light switched on, he knocked softly on Betty’s door and wished her good-night, then headed for his office, where he knew his stack of paperwork was growing taller every day.
His office. After almost a year since Dad died, those words still sounded strange.
Jess shook his head ruefully as he sauntered into the room and sat behind the massive oak desk. It all still seemed like Dad’s. Little had changed beyond a better desk chair and a new computer.
The old landline phones were still connected, though, as well as the answering machine blinking impatiently on the desk.
Jess tapped the button and began listening to messages.
A nurse from Betty’s doctor’s office, checking on how she was adjusting being back home. The rehab office wanting Betty to reschedule her PT appointment.
At a soft knock on the door frame, he looked up to see Abby standing in the doorway. He waved her in, toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. He pushed a tax form across the desk for her to fill out.
He continued listening, jotting notes and erasing the messages.
Two prospective clients. One of Betty’s friends from church. Maura’s sultry voice, asking about the girls and Betty and wondering if he was ready to talk about redecorating his office.
He hit Erase.
“Uh...Jess?”
He froze at the sound of the familiar voice, his heart in his throat.
“This is Lindsey. I’m gonna...um...pick up the girls.”
Not my girls or Bella and Sophie but the girls, as if they were simply property. No warmth, no loving eagerness.
The girls.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as she continued.
“This is a borrowed phone, so you can’t call me back.” Her voice trembled. “I’m coming by Christmas, for sure. Or sooner. Things are...um...better. A lot better. I promise.”
Reeling, he leaned back in his chair. It was such an unbelievably short message after all this time. There was so was much she didn’t say. And then all that she did say—as if trying to convince herself that everything was fine.
He didn’t believe it for a minute.
From across the desk Abby’s luminous blue eyes filled with concern. “Do you think she’ll come?”
“Hold on a minute.” He went to check on the girls to make sure they were fast asleep. The last thing he wanted was for Sophie and Bella to hear about their mother’s message and then imagine she was on her way.
If she didn’t show up, it would break their hearts.
If she did, it would break his.
Back in his office, he shut the door behind him and returned to his desk chair, then replayed Lindsey’s message.
“Anything I can do?” Abby asked quietly.
“Don’t say anything to the girls. Not yet.” He flipped open his planner and marked the date of her call on his calendar. “What kind of life can she give them if she’s still with that boyfriend? There was definitely something off in her message. It just didn’t feel right.”
He’d longed to hear from her someday, hoping he could help her get her life in order. But he’d also feared this moment since the day the girls arrived at the ranch. “Since she doesn’t have a phone of her own, she probably doesn’t have a job or a permanent place to stay. And from what the social worker in California said, she seems to run with bad company.”
“Maybe she’s trying to start over and wants to be a better mom this time,” Abby ventured after a long pause, though it sounded like she didn’t believe her own words any more than he did. “She’s had almost a year to grow up.”
Jess pushed away from his desk and started pacing the floor, too stressed to stand still. “The girls love their lacy, ruffled dresses. Sparkles on everything. Ribbons in their hair. Poofy and Lollipops and Grandma Betty. But when they arrived here, they didn’t have a single change of clothes. They were dirty—as if they hadn’t had a bath in several days. And there were faint bruises on their arms—like fingerprints, where Lindsey or her boyfriend might have grabbed them too roughly.”
Abby’s eyes shimmered. “If that boyfriend was abusive, he’d better not be around any longer.”
“I sure hope not.”
“Did you talk to the sheriff about what could be done? A lawyer?”
“Of course I did.” He remembered the frustrations of those conversations all too well. “The sheriff was pushing seventy and about to retire, and he blew it all off. My former lawyer wasn’t optimistic about any intervention either. He said that a mother holds all the cards unless there’s obvious abuse.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’d welcome Lindsey with open arms if she needs
a home. But she’d better not show up with a dangerous boyfriend in tow.”
Abby raised an eyebrow. “You probably feel like locking the ranch gates and barring the door.”
“I’m not sure that would be any help, but it’s an idea.” He gave her a rueful half smile. “I’ll tell Betty so she’s prepared in case Lindsey suddenly appears. But like I said, I don’t want the girls to know unless Lindsey is coming for sure.”
“Of course not.”
Jess felt like an anvil was pressing down on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. “The courts would say Lindsey is plenty old enough to be married and responsible for a family. But the big question is whether or not she’s even capable and can provide a safe home. If she intends to take her girls, I’ll do everything I can legally to stand in her way, unless both of those answers are yes.”
* * *
Late Sunday morning the county grader finally cleared the drifts on the rural highway running past the ranch, and Abby needed to go on a grocery run.
“Are you girls ready?” she asked for the third time.
They’d been romping around the house with the puppy for the last half hour, but their smiles turned to sulky frowns at her request. Though their level of cooperation had improved somewhat, Abby knew the trip to town might include tantrums in the grocery store or refusal to stay at her side, and the trip was already making her feel weary.
Please, Lord—help me find a way to get through to them, so everything will go better.
It took fifteen minutes to get the puppy into his kennel and get the girls dressed in their winter gear, and another ten minutes to round them up from the tack room when she went out to the barn to tell Jess they were leaving.
By the time they got to town Abby had a headache pounding behind her temples that promised to last for hours.
She pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the only grocery store in town, switched off the ignition and prepared to do something she’d once promised herself she’d never do if she ever had kids of her own.
Bribe them.
“Here’s the deal, girls. This won’t take long if you stay close to me and behave. If you cooperate I’ll get you each a treat. If you don’t, no treat. Okay?”
Their expressions already promising trouble, Bella and Sophie unbuckled their car seats and hopped out of the SUV when Abbie opened their door.
An icy wind from the north was blowing steadily, kicking up clouds of snow underfoot. Abby took each girl by a mittened hand as she navigated the poorly cleared parking lot. Once inside, she helped them take off their mittens and hats.
She was barely halfway down the produce aisle, trying to gain the girls’ cooperation with choosing apples and oranges, when she heard a gasp and looked up to see her new stepmother pushing a cart in the opposite direction with a teenager at her side.
Stunned, she stared—unable to find her voice.
From the woman’s rhinestone-studded silver leather jacket to her black leggings, silver-spangled knee-high boots and long fringe on her buckskin gloves—hardly warm enough for a Montana winter—it appeared that she’d purchased the entire outfit during her Las Vegas honeymoon.
Already spending Dad’s money, Abby thought, before she silently reprimanded herself for being unkind. Maybe the woman had always been this...creative with her wardrobe.
“You’re still in town?” The woman’s viperish tone had not changed since they first met at Dad’s ranch a week ago, nor had the oversize platinum blonde updo and heavy makeup. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”
Who talked like that to a veritable stranger? To her new husband’s daughter?
Taken aback, Abby struggled for a cordial answer. “I...I’m working at the Langford ranch.” Just to test the situation, she decided to throw down a gauntlet. “But I plan to visit Dad as much as I can while I’m here.”
The woman blanched, and Abby’s suspicions about her intentions escalated.
Dad had never been one for flash and sparkle. He was a hardworking rancher who had simple tastes and very conservative views about money. So how had he ended up married to someone who dressed like a 1970s country singer? Was it possible that he was developing dementia and no longer himself?
Sophie tugged on Abby’s hand. “She’s pretty,” she whispered loudly. “Like a cartoon princess!”
Abby gave Sophie’s hand a reassuring squeeze, then lifted her gaze. “It’s...nice to see you again, Diana.”
“Darla.” The woman paused, then exhaled heavily, as if giving in to the unpleasant situation. “This is my daughter, Lanna.”
The girl—who was in her late teens, probably—wore black from head to toe, with long dark hair and a bored expression on her face.
With a flicker of shock, Abby realized that the girl was her new...stepsister?
Abby offered her hand. “So nice to meet you, Lanna. I’m Abby, Don’s daughter. I hope we can get to know each other.”
Lanna spared her a brief glance. “I’m not staying around here. This place sucks.”
Darla sent her daughter a withering look, then turned back to Abby with an icy smile. “We’re not sure about that yet. It’s all been so...” Her eyes flared wide, as if she knew she’d said too much. “We’re still deciding what’s best.”
With that, she shoved her empty cart to one side and headed for the exit with her sullen daughter in tow.
“Wow,” Abby murmured to herself. So the marriage had been sudden. What had Dad gotten himself into?
But Bella and Sophie watched Darla’s departure with expressions of pure awe.
“She’s so pretty and sparkly,” Sophie breathed.
“And she’s married to your daddy.” Bella’s face scrunched up as she tried to sort this out with her five-year-old logic. She finally looked up at Abby in confusion. “Then she’s your momma. But she’s younger than you!”
Older, Abby guessed, but not by much. Mid-to-late thirties, probably. Which still put her at almost forty years younger than Dad.
Tomorrow afternoon Abby was going to go to her father’s ranch and try to find out what was going on.
Chapter Nine
The skies were clear but the winds had picked up again on Sunday night, sending drifts across the highways and making travel too risky to try driving into town for church.
But by mid-Monday morning, the winds had calmed and the sun shone bright. The day seemed even brighter when Jess came in from morning chores and noticed two messages on the answering machine.
When he returned the first call and learned the only job applicant thus far for the ranch hand wouldn’t be coming out for an interview this afternoon. He’d already been hired elsewhere. Apparently there were plenty of jobs around and far too few ranch hands to fill them.
Jess leaned back in his desk chair and spun it around to look out at the snowy landscape. Today the pine-covered foothills were visible, and beyond them the rugged peaks of the Rockies.
Even sleepy little Pine Bend was starting to show an increase in business because of the number of year-round tourists traveling through town on their way to the mountains.
The Millers, an Amish family with a ranch on the other side of town, had just opened the Amish Market & Café, which always seemed to have plenty of cars in its parking lot. And next to them, Maura’s shop. Even with the increase in tourist traffic, most business owners had to diversify in such a small town surrounded by vast cattle ranches.
He could personally attest to that evolution. In just the past three weeks, he’d received several letters asking if he’d sell his ranch to developers.
Those letters had promptly disappeared in the shredder by his desk.
He turned back to his answering machine and listened to the next message. It was a woman asking about the housekeeping position. She hoped it did not involve any childcare, cooking or heavy cleaning. He r
olled his eyes and hit the Erase button.
His ads clearly listed cooking, childcare and housework, forty hours a week, paid holidays and vacations. He’d tried to avoid misleading anyone, yet the few respondents had all taken issue with some aspect of the job.
After Betty broke her hip, he’d realized more than ever just how much hard work Grandma Betty had taken on when she moved in after Mom died. Life had quieted considerably after all three Langford boys had grown, but when the twins came she’d taken it all on once again—in her late seventies—without a word of complaint.
He was so grateful that Abby was here.
The thought popped up out of the blue and made him shake his head in wonder.
Never in a thousand years would he have imagined that he’d ever see her again—much less that she’d be working at the ranch. Living here. He felt as if he’d stepped back in time whenever he saw the familiar, mischievous twinkle in her eye or heard her laugh...or saw her sweet, gentle patience with the girls.
It was a blessing, and it was a temptation.
Would that long blond hair still be as silky if he sifted his fingertips through those waves? Would she still taste as sweet if he were to kiss her in the moonlight?
He wasn’t going to find out.
He pushed away from his desk and found Betty at the kitchen table with her walker parked to one side, peeling and slicing apples. She looked up at him with a tired smile. “I feel like making apple crisp today. What do you think?”
He leaned down to kiss her temple. “I thought you were supposed to be taking it easy.”
“This is taking it easy. Abby is busy with housework and the girls. I love making desserts. I need something productive to do. Anyway, Mondays are too quiet with the girls back in school. Even Poofy thinks so.”
The puppy, curled up on the rug in front of the sink, flicked his tail in a half-hearted wag at the sound of his name, then dropped his muzzle back down on his paws with a deep sigh.
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