by Glynna Kaye
“I’m hungry.”
“I’ll fix you something as soon as we get home.”
Grady lowered his voice. “I can stop to pick something up for her.”
“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I think because it gets dark earlier now, she thinks it’s later than it actually is. She had a late lunch, and a big one at that. Those church-related gatherings sure know how to put on a potluck.”
“So you went to church in Canyon Springs? I didn’t see you at Christ’s Church this morning.” Should he have admitted that? Did it sound like he’d been looking for her?
“No, not Canyon Springs. A church on the White Mountain Apache reservation.” Sunshine held out her hands to the heating vent to warm them. “I’ve gotten involved there since moving to Hunter Ridge. But with Tessa starting school, I realize she needs to get to bed early on Sunday nights. So this was our last full day there until next summer.”
He slowed the vehicle as they approached the turnoff to Hunter Ridge, then headed down a steep, forested descent to the bridge over Hunter Creek. On the other side, the twisting road again led upward to the little community he’d always called home. It could be a mean route to negotiate after a snowfall. Sunshine would definitely need four-wheel drive if she intended to keep living here in the winter months.
By the time he pulled in front of the Hunter Ridge Artists’ Cooperative, the rain had slackened to a drizzle. Sunshine helped Tessa from the vehicle, and he snared the booster seat, then met them under the awning, where Sunshine ushered her daughter inside.
“Keys, please.” He held out his hand.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
She disengaged the car key from her key chain and handed it to him. “I don’t know what we’d have done without you tonight. I wish there was some way I could repay you.”
“No need.”
She scowled, obviously not satisfied with his answer. Then her gaze swept the dimly lit gallery, her eyes brightening. “I know! I can display some of your wildlife photos here. As a guest artist. I’ll prove to you that your work can be a moneymaker.”
He stepped back, shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
Why not? Because he couldn’t afford to be labeled as an “artist” in this town. Couldn’t afford to have his friends and family snickering behind his back or criticizing him for what might be interpreted as joining the very people in the community that had a candidate running against his mother.
“I’m not ready to go there, but thanks for offering.”
Disappointment colored her eyes, but she didn’t argue. Merely thanked him again and watched from the doorway as he returned to his vehicle. He called a local towing service, then headed out to meet the guy at his garage.
Sunshine’s offer to display his photos had been unexpected. A flattering boost to his ego. Tempting, too, even if the offer had been made out of a sense of indebtedness. Unfortunately, for many reasons it wasn’t something he could afford to take her up on. Including the fact he had no desire to discover—in such a public forum—that no one wanted to buy his photographs.
Chapter Six
Thankfully, Grady had turned down her offer to display his wildlife photographs. Sunshine had already nixed the idea earlier, but overwhelmed with gratitude that night, she’d wanted to demonstrate how much she appreciated what he’d done for her and Tessa.
Now, four days later, looking lovingly at her daughter across the breakfast table, that sense of appreciation overflowed. If it hadn’t been for Grady, who knows how long they’d have sat out there on the dark, rainy road? Or who else might have pulled over to offer assistance?
“So the problem turned out to be something haywire with the fuel pump?” Tori rose from her chair and started clearing dishes.
“Right.” The mechanic at the shop the Hunters had long done business with was able to fix it—and she suspected the bill she’d paid was considerably reduced because of the connection to the prominent local family. “The guy at the garage says I should find a replacement vehicle before winter sets in. As if that’s going to happen.”
Right about now she could sure use that dreamed-of settlement from the property her great-great-grandparents had lost to the Hunters. Allegedly lost, as Tori always reminded. Tessa needed new snow boots, car and health insurance were coming due and annual dental and doctor appointments couldn’t be put off much longer. Once she proved her grandma’s tale held substance, would the Hunters feel obligated to compensate her?
“You know, you’re always welcome,” Tori said as she rinsed a plate, “to use my car for as long as I’m here.”
“I may have to take you up on that.” As Tessa scurried off to her room, Sunshine joined her friend in the kitchen. “But I need to figure out a solution for the long run. Right now money is tight.”
“At least that Hunter guy was in the right place at the right time.” Tori handed her a plate, which Sunshine placed in the dishwasher. “Does it seem weird to be seeing so much of him lately? You know, since you’re running against his mother and want to prove his family cheated yours.”
“It’s awkward sometimes.” She loaded two more plates and a handful of utensils. “At other times I forget about that and we just, you know, talk as if those barriers don’t exist.”
Which was a danger zone she needed to be on guard against.
“He seems nice. Cute, too.” Tori’s tone held a probing note.
“Don’t get any ideas on my behalf.” Sunshine gave her friend a warning look. “He’s too much like Jerrel. The easygoing, charming, never-knows-a-stranger type. You’ve noticed, haven’t you, how the single gals flock around him at church on Sunday mornings? Yep, too much like Jerrel.”
“Jerrel didn’t go to church, though.”
“I didn’t go, either, remember?”
In fact, she’d never graced the door of a church until after Tessa had been born and her husband—the lead vocalist in a promising regional country band—had decided a child cramped his style. That was when she’d met Tori—at a storefront church in Jerome shortly after Jerrel filed for divorce.
“So what’s on your agenda for today, Sunshine?”
To her relief, Tori didn’t pursue further talk of Grady Hunter. “I thought I’d take Tessa to the park for a while before I open the gallery.”
“When you get back, I’ll pull out my sewing machine, and that should keep us busy for the rest of the morning. Tessa wants to make a tote bag, and since my mother started me on simple things like that when I was her age, I think she can handle it. We’ll begin with the safety-first basics.”
Quilting was Tori’s gift to the world, her artistic contribution. A labor of love. Tessa couldn’t have a better teacher.
When they reached the park and Tessa had made a beeline for the swings, Sunshine was glad they’d worn light jackets. Although the sun filtered down through overhanging pine branches, it was still a cool, fallish morning. From somewhere above came the skitter of a squirrel’s claws on roughened bark, and a chorus of sparrows chirping a cheerful song.
The park had only a handful of kid-friendly amenities. Swings, a merry-go-round and a trio of slides in varying sizes—of which Tessa had proudly graduated to the middlemost. But the park was treed, spacious and nestled in the heart of Hunter Ridge’s business district. It was for this location that last spring she’d requested a permit approval for a series of art-in-the-park events. But she’d been turned down.
Maybe next year, if she was elected to the town council?
“Hey! How is everybody this morning?”
Her heart inexplicably lifting at the sound of the familiar voice, Sunshine turned to see Grady striding toward them with that distinctive masculine gait, his impossibly broad shoulders clad in a windbreaker.
“Grady!” To Sunshine’s surprise, her daughter let out a cry of welcome and abandoned the swing to run toward him, her oversize jacket flapping around her.
Tessa loved the variations of the cotton jacket’s purple color, so Sunshine had given in and bought it from the sale table at the bargain store. She hadn’t intended for Tessa to wear it until she’d grown into it in a few years, but this morning Tessa had spied it in the back of the coat closet and insisted on wearing it.
When Tessa reached Grady, she grabbed his hand and gazed happily up at him. “Now you can see how high I can swing.”
He glanced at Sunshine, looking slightly taken aback at Tessa’s grip on his hand. “I can do that.”
Willingly, he allowed her to pull him forward to stand next to her mother.
“Okay. Now watch.” Tessa dashed for the swings.
“I’m watching.” A grin lit his face at the little girl’s enthusiasm. “Do you need a push?”
She shook her head as she lowered herself onto the seat and grasped the swing chains, proud that she didn’t need assistance. In a flash, she had herself moving.
“Wow,” he said in an aside to Sunshine. “To have that much energy.”
She laughed. “I know.”
“Do you think her jacket’s big enough?” Humor lit his eyes.
He would notice. “Obviously you don’t fully comprehend the persuasive abilities of a five-year-old.”
He folded his arms and slanted her a look. “I have a fairly good idea. Nieces and nephews, you know.”
“Are you watching?” a demanding voice called.
“We’re watching!” they yelled in unison, then exchanged a glance and laughed.
The kindergartner was pumping herself higher and higher, a determined look on her little face.
“You’re doing great, Tessa!” With Grady’s words of encouragement impelling her to pump harder, a triumphant smile widened.
Sunshine’s heart swelled with love. And regret. Seeing how her daughter openly craved the attention of Grady acutely reminded her of her own absentee father. The longing for a dad’s attention. A male role model. As much as she’d hated having a father who wasn’t around, here she was repeating history with her own child. The last thing she’d ever intended to have happen.
“Thank you again, Grady, for the rescue Sunday night.”
“You’re welcome.
“I—” Sunshine tensed as from across the street she glimpsed Gideon Edlow, who’d paused to stare at her and Grady. He was frowning, as though it was any of his business who she talked to. He’d been cantankerous at last night’s Co-op meeting. That wasn’t anything new, but it was growing increasingly tiresome. Worrisome, as well. With effort, she refocused her attention on Grady, silently willing Gideon to move on.
“Thanks, too, for getting my SUV to someone who not only knows what he’s doing, but didn’t request I turn over my firstborn for payment.”
He looked pleased. “So you have wheels again?”
“I do. But he’s of the same mind as you—that I should find a replacement before winter.”
Grady’s eyes grew thoughtful. “Do you have today off?”
Why did he want to know that? Surely he didn’t intend to go car shopping with her. “No, I have to open the gallery at ten. But we thought we’d get some sunshine while we can. Winter is just around the corner.”
“It is.”
“But even with summer basically over, I have plenty to do at the Co-op as well as campaign-related things—” She caught his eye apologetically. After all, she was his mother’s opponent. “And I have plans to expand the Co-op’s offerings. While anyone—as your sister-in-law Delaney has done—can take private lessons with an artist-mentor, I’d like to see classes geared to those in middle and high school.”
“Provide them with more hands-on exposure to the arts?”
“Exactly. Maybe painting, jewelry making, pottery and—” She tilted her head to look up at him. “Have you ever given thought to teaching photography?”
* * *
“Me?”
His expression must have looked as strained as his voice sounded, because Sunshine laughed. “Sure. Every kid in town has a camera these days, even if only the one on their cell phone.”
He didn’t want to lie. If he ever got his plans off the ground, she’d hear that the Hideaway had branched into wildlife photography. “Actually, that’s something I’ve given thought to.”
“Really?”
He had her full attention now. “Years ago, when I was in my late teens, I thought it would be a great idea if Hunter’s Hideaway offered guided treks for aspiring wildlife photographers. You know, with workshops on the side.”
“That’s a wonderful idea.”
He shrugged, his smile somewhat wry. “It wasn’t well received by my family at the time.”
“How come?”
“Well, to quote my uncle Doug... ‘Look, boy, we specialize in helping hunters pack out an elk for the freezer, not take purty pictures of it.’”
He could still hear his uncle’s laughter and that of Dad and Uncle Mac joining in. Even now he could clearly recall the wave of heat that had coursed up his neck and how his reddening face had egged Uncle Doug to more laughter. It had been a humiliating moment and he’d not brought up the subject of wildlife photography since then.
“That was a long time ago, Grady. Things change. I think you should do it.”
“I’d like to.” He let his gaze momentarily wander to where Tessa was now dragging her tennis-shoe-clad feet in the dirt, slowing herself down to a gradual stop. “But Hunter Enterprises is a family-run business, so I have to get buy-in. I’ll have to prove it would attract enough business to make it worthwhile. Be a moneymaker.”
“Of course it would be.” She focused intently on him. “It’s not as though you’re suggesting the entire operation switch its emphasis solely to photography. It would be another revenue path, like the trail rides, cross-country skiing and training for high-elevation endurance riders.”
“That was my thinking, too, but...” It was more complicated than she made it sound. As an adult, he now understood that better than he had as a teen. Many decisions had to be made. Youth or adult sessions or both? Weeklong or select weekends? Which seasons? How best to advertise? And he’d have to work the program around the scheduling of the cabins and property use. You couldn’t have preoccupied photographers wandering during the various hunting seasons.
“Do it, Grady.”
Looking into her excited eyes, a spark of determination flared in him. “So you don’t think it’s a far-fetched idea?”
“I think it’s a great idea.”
But was it one that his family wouldn’t reject the moment he opened his mouth? Sunshine was right, though. With the advent of digitals, it seemed everyone had a camera and wanted to share photos with others, even if only on Facebook or Instagram.
“I admit this past summer I’ve given serious thought to developing a proposal. You know, to formally present to Hunter Enterprises. I’ve been researching and calculating how much we’d have to charge to make it profitable.”
“I love it.” Then the delight in her eyes dimmed. “But I’m disappointed that if you do this, you won’t be available to teach youth classes at the Co-op. That is, if I could manage to sweet-talk you into that.”
Sweet talk, hmm? What might that entail?
“Mommy! Grady! I’m on the slide now!”
Exchanging a guilty glance for having gotten engrossed in conversation, they turned to where Tessa had reached the top of a towering slide—the largest of the three—poised to push off. Gutsy little gal.
“Tessa! No! Your sleeve!”
At the terror in Sunshine’s voice, his eyes locked on Tessa. But her mother’s warning had
come too late, for as Tessa pushed off, her laughing squeal turned to a horrified scream. The upper part of the loose jacket sleeve had snagged at the top of the slide and torn, jerking her roughly and pulling her over the edge.
Dangling.
He took off, thundering past the swings. Breath ragged. Heart pounding. His gaze never wavering from the child. But what appeared a short distance seemed to stretch into miles.
Please, God. Please.
“Mommy!”
The tearful whimper tore at his heart. And then he was suddenly there. Below her. His hands stretching high above his head in hopes of keeping her from falling should the sleeve tear free. The fabric of the buttoned jacket strained across Tessa’s chest, but it wasn’t choking her. Didn’t inhibit her breathing.
Nevertheless, she was out of reach. “Hang on, Tessa. I’m here.”
Lips trembling, she nodded as she looked down at him. And at that exact moment, seeing the unwavering trust in her eyes, something deep inside him split apart. Shaken, he looked to Sunshine, who was now at his side, offering soothing words to her daughter suspended above their heads.
“Can you climb up there, Sunshine? See if you can get the sleeve loose? Then I can catch her.” He glanced down at his windbreaker. “There’s a knife in that pocket. Take it in case you can’t get her sleeve free.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. She dipped her hand into the pocket and grasped the pocketknife. Then before he’d barely taken another breath, she was climbing the steep slide steps to the ringing sound of metal underfoot.
“Mommy?”
“Your mommy’s going to get you loose, Tessa.” He smiled encouragingly up at her. “Then I’m going to catch you, okay?”
“’Kay.” She nodded, her eyes still filled with faith in him.
Please, Lord, let me catch her.
“I can’t get it out.” Sunshine’s strained voice came from above him. “It’s caught tight.”
“Then, cut it.”
But before she could get the knife pulled from its sheath, the sound of ripping fabric rent the air.
The sleeve tore loose—Tessa screaming as she dropped.