Jess exchanged glances with Abby. “I doubt it will happen.”
“I know we talked about this at the beginning of the school year, and I’ve tried to be noncommittal about it, just as you asked me to. But...” Mrs. Kelley hesitated. “Bella is sure she’ll be here at Christmas. I think she’ll be a very sad little girl if that doesn’t happen.”
“All I can see is a huge disappointment ahead.” Jess leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands. “The girls have been with me since right after Christmas last year, and still she hasn’t come to see them. She hasn’t even called to talk to them on the phone. Can you imagine how heartbroken they’ll be if she doesn’t want to be with them on Christmas?”
Mrs. Kelley reached forward to rest a comforting hand on his forearm. “If that happens, they’ll survive. I know they love you and Grandma Betty very much, and they’re lucky to have you.” She directed a comforting glance at Abby. “And I know you must be wonderful with them, too. They just need a little more time to adjust.”
“Believe me, I know,” Abby said with a soft, sad smile. “They want me to leave, thinking that then their mother will come back to stay. I’m trying to win them over, though.”
“Abby grew up on a ranch nearby and has been a special-education teacher in Chicago,” Jess said. “This fall she plans to go back to graduate school.”
The older woman’s eyes lit up. “Oh my. I wish we’d known about you last spring. Our special-ed teacher got married and left us midterm. It took months to find a replacement.” She reached for a clipboard on the table behind her and scanned a checklist of topics. “Before I forget, I should warn you that the flu is going around school. It’s a bad strain this year—a few of the kids have been out for an entire week. Have the girls been vaccinated?”
Jess nodded.
“Good. And you, too, I hope.” She looked over at Abby.
Abby nodded.
“I suppose we’d better get back to talking about how the girls have been doing in school, right?”
Twenty minutes later, Jess had an armful of manila folders stuffed with art projects, spelling tests and simple math papers for each girl, and his mind was spinning.
“This sure isn’t like the kindergarten I went to,” he said when he and Abby climbed back into the truck.
She shot him an amused glance as she buckled her seat belt. “Times change. In the olden days, kids started learning the basics in kindergarten. Now, most of them have been in pre-K classes.”
He snorted as he started the truck and turned up the heat. “I’ve got a master’s in agricultural economics, but at this rate I worry I won’t be able to help with their homework by the time they hit third grade and—”
The words caught in his throat. There was a good chance the girls wouldn’t still be here if Lindsey did come after them. Just the thought made his heart feel as if it were starting to fracture.
“No matter what happens, you can be really proud of them, Jess,” Abby said quietly. “And proud of what you’ve done for them. You heard their teacher say they were both very advanced for their age, right? And that they constantly need more challenging projects so they won’t be bored?”
“It was a relief to hear that,” he admitted. He shifted the truck into Drive and headed out of the parking lot. “I doubt Lindsey spent much time reading to them. They were barely able to sit still for a single book when they first came to the ranch.”
“And now they want a dozen at a time, so you and Betty have done a great job.” Abby fixed her eyes on the road ahead. “You’ve become a great dad, Jess.”
He swallowed hard. “I can’t stop thinking about Lindsey’s promise to be here by Christmas. If this is the only Christmas the girls spend in Montana, I just want to give them the happiest memories possible. Something they can remember always—no matter what else happens.”
He just wasn’t sure how.
Chapter Eleven
On Wednesday morning, Abby helped Betty out of the car and walked beside her as she navigated her walker over a snowy curb and up the sidewalk. “Are you sure this is all right? I don’t like leaving you here alone.”
Betty hobbled into the rehab clinic with Abby at her side. Once Betty was checked in and her coat hung up, she settled gingerly into one of the waiting-room chairs. “This will work out perfectly, dear. I’ll be here for about an hour of PT, and then Frieda is meeting me right here. We’ll walk down to the Senior Center wing so we can visit over coffee, then we’ll have lunch with our friends.”
“You do have your cell phone, right? In case your plans change? I can come straight back.”
“That’s nice of you, dear. But just be back by three so we can pick up the girls at school.” Betty patted Abby’s hand. “Go on—the sooner you leave, the sooner you can have a nice visit with your father. I haven’t seen him in years, so tell him hello from an old schoolmate.” She leaned forward with a conspiratorial chuckle. “I always thought he was the cutest boy in school. If he’d been five years older, I might’ve asked him out.”
Abby couldn’t hold back her laughter. “Betty! You rascal.”
Her smile wreathed her face in wrinkles, but the sweet beauty of it hadn’t been diminished by the years. “I might’ve thought that, but you know he never had eyes for anyone but your dear mother.”
Abby smiled, and memories of her parents came to mind as she drove south of town to her dad’s Shy Creek Ranch, where she’d grown up.
This morning, she’d tried to play it safe by calling his cell phone. He didn’t pick up, but she recognized his voice on the voice-mail recording so she left a message and then sent a text for good measure.
The house phone was another matter.
If Darla knew when she was coming, would no one be at home? Or would Dad’s gimlet-eyed new bride storm out of the house when Abby arrived?
When she pulled up to the house, she surveyed the barns, wondering where Dad might be. Then she heard his German shepherd barking from inside the machine shed. A moment later Dad appeared, waved at her and then went back inside.
Quite a welcome after three years, but with the windchill hovering around minus ten, she didn’t want to dawdle either.
“Shut the door,” Dad barked from somewhere behind his 4020 John Deere tractor as soon as she stepped into the cavernous building. “Heat’s on, and it’s cold outside.”
“I know, Dad,” she said dryly. “Good to see you, too.”
“Just hold on,” he growled.
She heard a wrench hit the cement floor, her father grumbling, then the screech of metal on metal. A few minutes later he rounded the front of the 1960s tractor, wiping his hands with a dirty rag.
“I see you’ve still got the old girl running,” she said, sliding her hand over its spotless flattop fender.
He snorted. “No use buying new when the old one runs fine.” He tossed the rag into a bucket on the cement floor and took an awkward step forward, as if planning to shake her hand—typical Dad—but stopped and held both greasy hands palm up. “Better not.”
She took him in from head to foot. With so many questions to ask, where did she even start?
He had aged so much—beneath his Pine Bend Grain Elevator ball cap there were short wisps of thin gray hair, and the deep lines in his face were now like ravines that spoke of a hard rancher’s life spent out in the elements.
There was a gimp in his gait that she hadn’t seen before when he motioned to a couple of tractor-seat bar stools in front of his workbench and settled onto the one next to a grimy electric coffee maker. A bad hip, maybe. Or a bum knee? She felt a pang in her heart at the visible evidence of his aging.
The coffee smelled old and bitter, and she shook her head when he offered her a mug before pouring one of his own.
“You’re looking good, Dad,” she ventured.
He shru
gged off her compliment. “What’s this about you divorcing that man and having no job? Maybe you should’ve found a job first.”
She felt a flicker of relief at him remembering the letter she’d sent him, even if to Dad Alan had always been that man, a city slicker he’d never liked. But leave it to Dad to forgo all niceties and get right to the point. “Alan filed for divorce, not me. And I was the only one working. So now...I’m in transition.”
“Unemployed, you mean.”
Abby suddenly felt even more thankful that Jess had hired her. “Actually, I do have a job, on a ranch outside town. And in the fall I hope to be starting on my PhD in Special Education.”
“Hmmph.”
“Then I’ll be a professor, Dad. I want to focus on autism research and make a difference in this world.”
A grudging light of approval lit his eyes.
“So how are things here?” She lifted an eyebrow, hoping to get a rise out of him. “Switched over to Herefords yet?”
He sputtered over a sip of his coffee and shot her a look of disbelief. But then she saw the faintest deepening of the laugh lines framing the corners of his eyes.
“The day this ranch runs anything but Black Angus is the day I’ll be six feet under.”
She’d been worried about his mental status, but he certainly hadn’t forgotten his lifelong prejudice about cattle, and she’d even detected a hint of humor beneath his usual crusty demeanor. All good signs. And for the first time, she wondered if she’d been misreading him all along. “I was wondering—”
The door to the steel building opened and a rush of cold air blew in.
Darla hurried over to Dad and threaded her arm protectively through the crook of his elbow. “Honey, it’s time to go.”
Dad looked at her in surprise.
“Remember? I have to pick up Lanna by three.”
He still looked mystified, but then seemed to catch on to her urgent desire to whisk him away. “Not just yet, Sugar.”
Sugar? Honey? Those words had sure never been in Dad’s lexicon while Abby was growing up.
“No, now,” Darla said plaintively, giving him an imploring look. “Greg is always so angry if I’m late, and I just can’t bear it.”
He covered her hand with his and dutifully slid off his stool. After a moment’s hesitation, he awkwardly patted Abby’s shoulder. “Maybe you can stop by another time, while you’re still in these parts,” he said gruffly.
Abby settled a long, assessing look on Darla, who was tugging at his hand. “I’ll definitely be back, Dad, because I think we have a great deal to talk about. A very great deal.”
* * *
Jess loaded a saddle into the rear tack compartment of his gooseneck horse trailer, then went back into the barn for a couple bales of hay.
Abby pulled her SUV next to his truck just as he was coming out with some extra winter blankets for the two horses he would be hauling to Denver.
“Well, the girls are off to school.” She peered into the tack compartment. “Looks like you’re set for anything.”
“This time of year you can’t be too careful.” He nodded toward the living quarters at the front of the trailer. “I’ve packed extra winter gear for myself and stocked the kitchen, just in case.”
She went to the side door and peeked inside. “Wow—this is really nice, Jess. How many does it sleep?”
“Supposedly eight—if they’re hamsters. Comfortably, probably just three adults. Go on in and take a tour if you’d like.”
She came out a few moments later. “You’ve got everything you could need with that pretty little kitchen and a half bath. What time are you leaving?”
He glanced at his watch. “As soon as I get the horses loaded. Sounds like some bad weather will be moving through Colorado tonight, but if I leave now, I can beat it.”
She bit her lower lip. “The girls are really worried about you leaving. It seems like any change in the status quo makes them nervous.”
“I know.” He slammed the door of the tack compartment shut and locked it. “Are you going to be all right with them while I’m gone overnight? I know they aren’t always easy.”
“They don’t need to be easy.” She met his gaze squarely. “If I was that age and my mom had disappeared, I would feel insecure, too. But their gramma is here, and she’s a familiar face. And I’ll keep them entertained. Everything will be fine.”
His eyes still locked on hers, he stilled, holding himself back from the most natural thing in the world—saying farewell with a quick embrace.
Maybe even with a longer one and a farewell kiss.
She seemed to feel the frozen moment of tension, too, because her eyes widened. Darkened. And then she abruptly stepped back.
“I’d...um...better get back up to the house to check on Betty. Have a wonderful trip.”
She’d gone just a few steps when she pivoted and came back to rest a mittened hand against his chest and brush a swift kiss against his cheek. “Stay safe.”
She was halfway to the house before he could react. But hours later, he still felt the warmth of that innocent kiss.
Chapter Twelve
“Are you sure you aren’t hungry?” Abby finished filling a platter with fried chicken and brought it to the table. “I made this because I thought it was your favorite.”
The twins watched her somberly from their places at the table as she placed a chicken leg on each of their plates, followed by a scoop of homemade mashed potatoes.
“And these are the mixed veggies that you like,” Abby continued. “Aren’t they pretty and bright?”
“Everything looks wonderful,” Betty said loyally as she dished up her own plate. “We’re all so lucky to have a good hot meal like this when there are so many folks who don’t.”
Abby took her place at the table and bowed her head. “Can we all say grace?”
The girls half-heartedly joined in, but then listlessly pushed their food around their plates. By the time Abby and Betty finished, they still hadn’t eaten a bite.
“Hmm... Sophie, can you tell me about the best part of school today? Except lunch and recess.”
“A girl threw up on the teacher,” she said after a long pause. “And Mrs. Kelley had to go home ’cause her dress was yucky. So the principal came and read us stories.”
Poor Mrs. Kelley. Not only dealing with influenza going through the class, but now a stomach virus, as well.
“So aside from that,” Abby said dryly. “How about you, Bella? What was the best part of your day?”
Bella smeared her mashed potatoes across her plate. “Dunno.”
Abby looked closer at the twins. Did they seem a bit pale? Unusually tired? Or were they just unsettled because Jess was gone? She caught Betty’s eye, tipped her head in the twins’ direction and frowned.
Betty nodded. “Do you know what, maybe we should have an earlier bath tonight, so everyone can be warm and snuggly in their pajamas. A good night’s sleep would do everyone good, don’t you think?”
Bella looked up in alarm. “What about stories?”
“Of course, we’ll read stories,” Abby said. “That’s my favorite time of the day. Why don’t you two pick out a nice stack, and I’ll help you with your baths after I straighten up the kitchen.”
The twins dutifully slid off their chairs and disappeared with the puppy at their heels.
“I can take care of the kitchen,” Betty protested, awkwardly rising from her chair. “It’s no bother.”
“But it’s my job, and I don’t mind at all. Why don’t you go enjoy the fire for a while? I got it started before dinner. I can bring you some decaf coffee if you’d like.”
Betty pushed her walker toward the door, then turned back. “Have you heard anything from Jess?”
“No. Why?”
“I tried calling hi
m and he didn’t answer. I didn’t want to say anything with the girls listening, but—” She lowered her voice. “On the news I heard about a bad weather system hitting much of Colorado. A good half inch of ice coating the highways and power lines and heavy snow on its way. Major pileups on the freeways.”
Abby suddenly felt faint.
Jess had been hauling horses since he was a teenager, and she knew he was a safe driver.
But the other cars and trucks on the highway in dangerous conditions like that were always the wild cards if they were reckless, speeding or both.
Anything could happen.
Yet just hours ago she’d been standing with him out in the driveway, talking so casually about his trip. She’d felt his heartbeat beneath her hand when she’d kissed him—something she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about this entire day.
It was meant as a casual kiss between friends wishing each other well. Yet it had conjured up all sorts of feelings she’d been trying to avoid, given this oh-so-temporary situation.
She’d kissed him...then raced off like a scared bunny, not knowing if he’d had any reaction at all.
Abby shook off her thoughts. “H-he didn’t say anything about planning to call tonight, but he did mention the weather. He thought he’d get there in plenty of time to avoid it.”
Betty shook her head. “The newscaster said the weather system took a sharp turn, and the storm hit much earlier. Do let me know if you talk to him, okay? I don’t dare call and distract him if he’s still driving.”
“Me neither.” Abby felt a shiver work its way down her spine. “So I guess all we can do is pray.”
* * *
Bath time, a dozen short storybooks and one declined bedtime snack later, Abby kissed the girls good-night, turned on their night-light and stepped out of their room. The soft glow of the hallway night-light lit her way to the living room, where she found Betty asleep in her favorite chair.
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