by Lois Richer
“If you’re doing something important, I can always wait in the little coffee shop they have here.” She grinned when his forehead furrowed. “I won’t even have to go outside.”
“Good.” He checked his watch. “So unless you call and tell me otherwise, I’ll be back in two hours. Okay?”
Abby nodded and watched as he sauntered away. He’d left his Stetson in the truck but even without it, anyone would know Cade Lebret was a cowboy. It wasn’t just his long-legged stride of confident assurance, or the way his jeans, though faded and worn, fit him like a second skin. It wasn’t even his battered leather jacket with its sheepskin lining that made her think of the open range.
It was all of those things and something else, some intangible aura that exemplified strength and self-reliance and poise under the most difficult of circumstances. Looking at Cade, having him near, made her relax because she knew she could count on the rancher.
Maybe it was silly, but with Cade she had no worries that he’d suddenly step away from her. Cade wasn’t fighting the same terrors Max had; neither did he seem to need her. Perhaps it was foolish but Abby felt as if Cade was more of a partner.
Abby gave herself a shake and pressed the elevator button. She was spending far too much time thinking about Cade Lebret. As if to emphasize that, as the elevator doors opened, one of the babies kicked her in the side.
“Point taken. But you can’t deny he’s a very good-looking man and ultra nice besides,” she reminded them.
A man tossed her a wary look before stepping into the elevator with her. He stabbed a button before retreating to the farthest corner. Abby suppressed a chuckle. That’s what came of letting yourself daydream about your husband’s best friend.
But the reminder sobered her. Cade was a wonderful friend, a truly decent man who was doing his best for her. But he didn’t know that she’d failed to help Max, that their marriage hadn’t been as carefree as Max made everyone believe. Now that she was having his children, she couldn’t afford to get sidetracked by another romantic dream of love.
No matter how nice a guy he was.
* * *
Cade stepped inside the pawnshop and let his curious gaze rove around the building.
“If she pawned something, this is probably the place,” his friend Serge said sotto voce. “It’s the closest one to where she lived and the owner’s the easiest to deal with of all the people I talked to.”
“Did you ask him about a quilting machine?” Cade finished his survey, then turned his attention back to his old military buddy.
“No. I’d do a lot of things for you, Cade, but asking about quilting isn’t one of them.” Serge ignored Cade’s snicker. “I’m going to look around. Why don’t you do the same? Then you can ask the guy about quilting or sewing or knitting.”
Cade was about to retort when his attention snagged on an old sewing machine, its plastic yellowed, sitting on a table against the far wall. A sign on it said twenty bucks.
“Does this thing work?” he called to the owner, pointing to the sewing machine.
“Guess so. That’s what she said, anyway.” The old man sauntered over and laid a fond hand on the machine. “Should be selling it as an antique,” he muttered. “It’s got to be over forty years old. Bought it from an old lady who was cleaning out her house, getting ready to move into the nursing home.”
“I’ll take it,” Cade told him, somehow certain that Abby would know how to operate the machine. “But if it doesn’t work, I’m bringing it back.”
“For twenty bucks?” The old man snorted. “Cost you more to drive here.”
“Do you have any quilting machines?” Cade figured it was best to just blurt it out. “I think they’re called long-arm.”
“Got one. Over here.” After a speculative glance at Cade, the man led the way to a corner where a big metal machine stood. “You don’t look like no quilter I ever saw.” He chuckled, amusement lighting up his eyes.
“It’s for a friend. She came on some hard times and had to pawn her mother’s quilting machine. Turns out she could really use one now,” Cade explained, his heart dropping when he saw the price tag dangling from the machine.
“You know Abby McDonald?” The man’s eyes lit up when Cade nodded. “How is she? I haven’t seen her for a while. Nothing’s wrong?” he asked anxiously.
Cade explained that Abby was now living on the ranch. Then he shared her idea of making quilts for the adoption agency.
“It’s a relief to know someone’s watching out for her and those babies. Max should have done that but he had too many problems, I guess.”
What problems? Cade wanted to ask but the old man didn’t even pause to take a breath.
“I’m Boris, by the way.” He held out his hand to shake Cade’s. “You give Abby my best. She was a real blessing when my wife was passing. Checked in on her every day for seven months straight. Most of the time she stayed long enough to make some soup or bake some biscuits. Later, when Max went overseas, she’d stop by with what she called leftovers but I knew she’d made them especially for me. She’s a wonderful woman.”
That was Abby, caring for people wherever she went. Cade felt his lips curve in a smile as he imagined her taking Boris and his wife under her wing.
“I hated to see her pawn this machine,” Boris said sadly. “Particularly after she showed me the beautiful things she and her mom had made with it. But I knew she was desperate because she’d already pawned her rings. At least I could give her a good price.”
Cade’s heart took a nosedive. So he would never be able to retrieve the rings Max had chosen for Abby even if he could find the money. I’m sorry, buddy.
“When her husband’s money still didn’t come through—well, she was desperate, begged me to help. There’s not much of a market for this stuff,” he said with a flick of a finger at the quilting machine. “I scraped together all I could to help her out but I figured that cash wouldn’t last long, not with paying for the funeral and everything.” Boris’s eyes narrowed. “You get that money thing fixed for her?”
“Not yet.” Cade shifted under the reproach in that piercing gaze. “I’m working on it.” He slid his fingers over the handles of the quilting machine, his mind sketching a mental image of Abby bent over it. He could see her green eyes shining like emeralds at the return of her precious legacy. “Would you take less for this? I want to buy it back for her.”
“Wish I could,” Boris told him with a rueful shake of his head. “But I’m too invested. Besides, I’ve got a grandson who needs some special surgeries out of country. He’s only six. I’m trying to get enough money to send his mom with him. Provincial health care won’t cover her expenses.” He named the amount he’d accept for the quilting machine. It was way beyond anything Cade could manage.
Cade shook his head ruefully. “Sorry.”
“I have to get at least that much back to recover what I gave Abby and I’m only giving up the commission because it’s for her,” Boris said apologetically.
“I understand.” There was no way Cade could afford to buy the quilting machine. Frustration grew. Abby believed in God, trusted Him for everything. Why couldn’t God do something to get this machine for her? It was for the adoption agency, not for herself. Didn’t God know that?
“Can I at least give you a deposit to hold it, until I can figure a way to buy it for her?” he finally asked.
“Abby’s special to you?” the pawn shop owner asked. The intense look Boris gave him made Cade shift uncomfortably.
“She’s special because she’s the wife of my best friend. I owe it to Max to help Abby,” he said finally.
At least, that’s what Cade kept telling himself—he was doing what he did for Abby for Max’s sake. But that wasn’t the whole truth and he knew it. He struggled on a daily basis with the fact that Abby’s gro
wing importance in his life had less and less to do with the past and more to do with who she was and how she made him feel. Which was?
Cade skittered away from answering that. Once or twice recently he’d fallen into daydreams about Abby in his life. But those dreams had quickly ended because he knew he wasn’t the kind of man Abby needed. He wasn’t strong and dependable like Max had been. He’d be useless as a father because he’d never known the kind of fatherhood he knew Abby wanted for her children.
Feeling Boris’s scrutiny he repeated, “Will you take a deposit?”
“I guess that’d be okay seeing as how I don’t have many requests for a quilting machine, specially a top-of-the-line one like this.” Boris wrote him a receipt for his paltry down payment and added Cade’s cell phone number to his copy. “I’ll give you a call if I have any buyers before you get back.”
“Thanks.” Cade wrote out a check for the deposit. It would drain his account to near zero. He hoped he wasn’t making a big mistake but knowing it was for Abby, how could that be a mistake? He lifted the sewing machine he’d bought and found it substantially heavier than he’d anticipated. “This thing better work,” he muttered as he walked to the door.
“It will. You tell Abby I said hello. Let me know when she has the babies. I have something special for them,” Boris called. “I’m glad you’re there for her. After her trouble with Max and losing her job and all, she deserves some special attention.”
“Yeah,” Cade grunted as he waited for Serge to open the door. Her trouble with Max? “I’ll do that.”
He had no intention of telling Abby he’d been here. Not yet. Not until he could get that quilting machine, but he was going to ask her about Max.
“You’re going to learn to sew now?” Serge asked, brow uplifted, lips twitching in amusement as he watched Cade store the sewing machine in the truck box.
“I already know how to sew. I stitch bridles and saddles and reins by hand. The machine is for Abby.” He’d already told Serge about Abby’s problems with the government. Now he explained about the adoption agency but he left out Boris’s comment about Max. First he needed to learn more.
“Me and the guys were talking about Abby. We want you to give her this.” Serge thrust out a handful of cash. “Max meant a lot to all of us. You take care of her. If she needs more, you let us know and we’ll see what we can do.”
None of his buddies had money to spare. Everyone had their own issues. And yet they’d come together for Max’s wife simply because they’d all loved Max. Cade felt a spurt of emotion build inside. He explained about the long-arm quilting machine.
“It’s very special to her because her mother gave it to her. She was dead broke so she pawned it. I’m trying to get it back. Can I use your gift for that?” he asked Serge, then added, “Actually I’m pretty sure she pawned a lot. When I moved her all she had was two boxes.”
“Use it for whatever you think best,” Serge told him gruffly. “How much more do you need to get this quilting thing?” He whistled when Cade told him the amount. “That’s a lot.”
“I know.” They were both silent for a moment, then Serge said he had to leave for his son’s hockey game. Cade thanked him for his help and watched him walk away. Seeing his friend again hadn’t been as awkward as he’d expected. Maybe Abby was right and he could let other people into his life.
He glanced down at the cash, then walked back into the store and put it on the tab for Abby’s quilting machine. It made a very small dent in a very large number. Cade left the store trying to conjure up a way to find another nine thousand, five hundred dollars. He spent a few moments in his truck surfing the net on his phone to check on prices for a new machine and quickly learned that Boris hadn’t been wrong. Abby’s machine was top-notch for commercial-grade quilters. To replace it would be impossible for her and would cost way more than Boris was asking.
Somehow Cade had to get Abby’s machine back.
God wants to help us in every situation. All He’s waiting for is us to ask Him. Abby’s words from one of the meetings he’d taken her to flickered through his mind.
“Can You help me get her machine back?” he asked hesitantly, feeling awkward and uncomfortable about talking to God. “She deserves it. She’s one of Yours.” He didn’t get any answer but he felt a little better for having left that problem with God.
But Cade couldn’t dislodge his questions about Abby and Max. He needed to figure out what had gone wrong. He puzzled over this while he finished his other errands, then drove to the doctor’s office. Since Abby wasn’t in the coffee shop, he went upstairs to wait for her in the doctor’s office. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he’d missed breakfast. He’d wanted to clean out Liberty’s stall himself this morning, though his hired man was certainly capable enough. But Liberty was special.
And like that the idea hit Cade.
Over the years he’d had lots of offers for his favorite horse. If he sold Liberty, he’d have more than enough to buy Abby’s machine. All he had to do was give up the one living thing that he’d been able to freely love.
Liberty had been part of his heart from the moment she’d been born. In Liberty had rested Cade’s hopes and dreams for the future of the ranch. Liberty’s progeny could bring big dollars if she was sired with the right stallion. In Liberty he clung to the last thread of hope that he could keep the Double L and keep the Lebret legacy alive.
Surely God could find another way to make Abby’s wish come true? Surely He didn’t expect Cade to give up the only thing he had left to love?
Chapter Seven
“Feeding me must be costing you a mint.” Abby leaned back in her chair, replete from the potpie lunch she’d just eaten. “Lately it seems like I’m always hungry.” She glanced around the room, then focused on Cade. “I lived in Calgary for years. How is it I never found this place?”
“Mama’s Diner is owned by the parents of a guy I served with.” Cade’s mouth tightened, then he said in a low, tight voice, “Lanny never made it back from Afghanistan, either.”
“I’m sorry.” Abby reached across the table and covered his fingers with hers. Immediately a rush of warmth spread from her fingers up her arm. She was shocked by the intensity of her reaction and quickly drew her hand away, trying to expunge the flutter of longing to draw Cade into her arms and comfort him.
“Thanks,” he said in the gruff kind of voice he used to hide his emotions.
“You must miss him,” she murmured, glancing around the room. “Is that why you come here, to feel closer to him?”
“Yeah.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “You’re perceptive. I guess a mother has to be. You’ll make a great one. The way you talk about your mother makes me think she was one of those women who are constantly hugging their kids.”
The wistfulness in Cade’s voice surprised Abby as much as his words.
“You think my mom was a hugger?” She laughed heartily when he nodded. “She wasn’t. She was straight to the point, businesslike. She’d tolerate a hug now and then but she wasn’t what you’d call warm and snuggly. And yet everyone loved her.” She fell silent for a moment, thinking. “I guess they loved her honesty. If you were messing up she told you straight out. She didn’t bother to hint when she told you that you needed to do better.”
“You make her sound like a tartar.”
“She sort of was,” Abby told him, smiling as Cade’s eyes grew wide.
“And here I’ve been envying you those childish times I missed, like listening to stories from your mother’s lap,” he grumbled.
“My mom did read to me a lot,” Abby agreed. “But it was a means to an end—she wanted me to learn how to read as soon as possible. She believed reading for yourself was the best way to plant God’s word in your heart. She started teaching me the day after I arrived at their house.”
/> “At three?” Cade blinked his surprise when she nodded.
“She had this idea that a person was better able to judge truth if they were well-read.” Abby smiled. “Don’t look so shocked. She was an amazing woman, but she was not the type of mother about which fairy tales are written. She had a solid code of belief and needed to ensure that I knew and followed it.” Abby paused to sip her tea before continuing. “That’s what I tried to do as a social worker and that’s what I want for the kids who’ll be adopted through our agency. I want those children to have parents who will fight to give them every opportunity they can to make the world better.” The fierce rush of feelings exploding inside surprised her. “That’s the legacy my mom left me,” she murmured.
“Huh.” He thought about that as he ate the last of his lunch.
“Do you ever wonder what your mother was like, Cade?” Abby asked quietly into the silence that had fallen.
“Sure.” He played with the tablecloth. “Dad would never say anything about her and he got mad when anyone else did. After a while I suspected his anger was a habit but I’d faced it too often and soon learned to quit asking.” He shrugged. “Mrs. Swanson has told me little bits now and then, but even she seemed reluctant to talk about my mom.”
“You must have felt cheated,” Abby mused, lost in her thoughts of a lonely little boy, bereft, without a mother to comfort him.
“At first I didn’t realize I had been,” Cade shot back, his lips twisted in a self-mocking smile. “I had Mrs. Swanson. For a long time I didn’t know the difference between her and a mom. She took good care of me, shielded me from Dad when he got angry or depressed. It was only when I went to school and saw and heard what moms did that I realized I was missing out on some things.”
He pushed back from the table and motioned for the check, making it clear that he didn’t want to discuss his childhood anymore. But Abby felt compelled to say something more.
“I probably made my mother sound brisk, even harsh, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love me. She did but she didn’t always know how to say it.” She inhaled and prayed for guidance. “Max was a bit like that. He struggled to express the feelings inside. It was as if he was afraid to give them free rein. Maybe it’s like that with Ed. Maybe he doesn’t know how to express what he is feeling inside.”