Ben laughed. “I would believe it.”
Pamela placed her hands on her hips. “Ben Jacobs, this is not funny. Summer is starting, and you know how much work Mom and I have to do at the bed-and-breakfast and the café.”
“It’ll be fine. Callie’s here.” Ben grabbed a paper towel from the picnic table and used it to pull a wad of bubble gum off the seat. “Maybe this will make Mom slow down a bit. She works too hard.”
Kirk exchanged glances with Pamela. They both knew Ben was right. Mom battled high blood pressure, and she’d been more stressed the past few months. The only reason Kirk could figure was because Ben had decided to attend the University of Tennessee this fall, which meant he was the first of her kids to move a couple hours away. Since Callie’s return, Mom had been concerned about her, too. Though he would have never asked for his mom to break her ankle, maybe it would settle her down.
Pamela shrugged. “Might even slow Dad down a bit.”
Emmy tugged on Kirk’s shirt. “Are we gonna go see Grandma?”
He picked her up and tapped her nose with his fingertip. “Yes, we are. As soon as we get everything cleaned up and Emma gets off the bus.”
“Is Grandma okay?”
“Of course she is.” He put her back on the ground. “Help clean up so we can go see her faster.”
Kirk and Ben tended the animals while Pamela and Emmy finished cleaning up the play area. Knowing guests were scheduled to stay at the B and B the following day, he hoped they had everything they needed at the main house. I’m sure Mom will tell us if we need to get anything. She’s probably driving Callie crazy.
He imagined Callie scribbling a list of needed items on a hospital notepad. If his dad had arrived, he’d be giving her an earful, as well. But Callie would take it in stride. Always willing to help and take care of people; it was one of the things he’d loved about her.
Pamela walked up beside him. “Do you recognize this number?”
He looked down at her cell phone and then shook his head.
“Me neither. I’ve gotten a call from it three times this week.”
“Call it back and see who it is.”
“I have. No one answers and no voice mail.”
“Block it.”
“I would—”
“But you think it might be Jack.” Kirk grabbed his sister’s hand. “You’re better off without him.”
“I know that.” Pamela frowned. “But he’s still the girls’ dad.”
“He’s never been a dad to those girls. He’s never even seen Emmy. I’m glad he’s gone.”
Pamela glanced down at the ground. “I know.”
Kirk bit back a growl. His sister still pined after a man who drank more than he worked and who ran out on her and the girls. And yet Kirk had been good to Callie all the years they’d dated. Sure, he’d experienced a couple months of panic, but he couldn’t get her to consider him again.
Emma’s bus pulled in front of the house. He grabbed Pamela’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go to the hospital and see about Mom.”
* * *
“I still can’t believe Mom broke her ankle just stepping off the porch.” Ben took a bite of his hot fudge sundae.
Callie rocked on the front porch swing. She breathed in the cool spring evening air and smiled at the conversation between Kirk, Pamela and Ben. With Kirk’s parents and the girls tucked soundly in bed, it had been a long time since Callie enjoyed the crescent moon and a sky full of stars. Despite the busyness of the day, she relished the simplicity of Bloom Hollow.
“I can believe it,” Pamela said. “She’s constantly getting bruises from running into one thing or another.”
“That doesn’t mean broken bones,” said Ben.
“Might as well,” said Pamela. “She did it this time, didn’t she?”
“What are you thinking about over there?”
The sound of Kirk’s voice drew her from her reverie, and she realized all three of them were looking at her. Releasing a deep sigh, she said, “Just how much I missed this place.”
Kirk’s gaze drew her, and she knew he wanted to know more. She looked at Ben and Pamela. “And how much I missed you all and listening to you talk with each other.”
“We missed you, too,” whispered Pamela.
“Yeah, and I didn’t have a date to the senior prom. Remember you promised to go with me?”
Ben stuck out his bottom lip, and Callie chuckled. “I stood you up, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”
She sneaked a peek at Kirk. He still studied her. “How was it as a hospice nurse?”
“Hard and good.” She stared past the porch at the mountain range. “My last client, Frank, was a sixty-five-year-old widower with four kids, five grandkids and suffering with pancreatic cancer. He loved to tease that he and I would have had a fling if he were forty years younger, and if I wasn’t younger than two of his grandchildren.” She smiled, remembering his toothless grin and bushy eyebrows. “When he died, I knew I had to take a break for a while.”
Pamela wrapped the afghan higher around her shoulders. “I bet you were a terrific nurse. You have such a caring nature.”
She glanced at Kirk again. He didn’t say anything, simply watched her. Tonight, she didn’t mind. Maybe it was exhaustion or maybe she was beginning to heal. Whatever it was, she simply didn’t mind. “I enjoyed it. I’ll do it again one day. Just not yet.”
Silence wrapped itself around them, and Callie sucked in more of the clean Tennessee air. She should go to bed. Tammie had given them all a list of chores to accomplish before the guests arrived tomorrow afternoon. They needed their rest, and yet the evening felt so nice.
“It’s nights like these I miss Jack.”
“Oh, Pamela.”
“I can’t help it, Ben.” Pamela sat up straighter in the wicker chair. “I know you and Kirk and Mom and Dad don’t approve, but it wasn’t always bad with him. We had good moments. When he wasn’t drinking, we had lots of them.” She folded her hands in her lap. “We loved to sit outside together on nice spring evenings.”
“What happened?” Callie looked at each of the brothers when she asked the question, unsure if they would be mad at her question. Both remained quiet, though, obviously perturbed.
“Alcohol. That’s what happened. Jack couldn’t stop drinking, and when he drank he was mean.” She raised her hand. “He never hit me or Emma, but he did scare me real good the last time. I told him to leave. He did, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
Ben growled. “That’s ’cause he’s a no-good—”
“I thought I’d never see my dad again,” Callie said.
Ben hushed at her words. Callie looked at Kirk. He watched her, his gaze begging her to continue. And why shouldn’t she tell them. She’d said the words aloud to God so many times, and He had healed her. Maybe saying them to someone else would help her to stop taking the pain back. “That was why Bill came. To tell me Dad was dying. Pancreatic cancer. Just like Frank.”
“And you went to him.”
The comment came from Kirk, and she looked at him. “Yes, and I should have come to the farm and told you all.” She clasped her hands. “At the time, I felt angry and numb. It’s hard to explain. I went to help him out of duty. I tried to forgive him. Begged God to help me forgive him for leaving Mom and me.”
“But you couldn’t,” said Pamela.
“I think I did.” Callie shrugged. “There’s always something else, though. Life never stays easy. Guess that’s why we have to stay dependent on God.”
“Very true,” said Pamela.
Callie stood. “I’m starting to get tired. I think I’ll head to the cabin.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
Before Callie could protest, Kirk was beside her, holding her elbow in his hand.
He didn’t talk as they made the short trek to the cabin. Callie’s heart pounded in her chest at the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability. She felt weak tonight, in need of physical comfort. A hug. A kiss. She focused on the crunching of the grass beneath their feet and the crickets that chirped all around them.
They stopped in front of the door, and Callie reached in her front jeans pocket for the key. She avoided Kirk’s gaze as she unlocked the door. “Thanks for walking me back.”
Kirk grabbed her hand. “Wait. There’s more. What else happened?”
Callie couldn’t look up at his face. She stared at his chest or beyond him. “I think watching your mom and your dad die battling cancer is enough, don’t you?”
“Absolutely.” He cupped her chin, and she had to gaze up into his truth-seeking eyes. “But there is more.”
“It’s selfish. And embarrassing.”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
Callie exhaled a deep breath. Her defenses were down. She was tired of putting on a facade of strength. She wanted understanding. Comfort.
Gazing down at her feet, she whispered, “My dad left everything in his will to my uncle and cousin Bill. Nothing to me.”
She shook her head. “It’s ridiculous that it bothers me so much. I didn’t need his money or his house or his car. I made a good salary as a nurse. But I thought we’d bonded again. I was with him when he died, but when the lawyer read the will...” She swatted the air. “See what I mean. Totally selfish of me.”
“That’s not selfish, Cals.”
She peered up at him. Ben had called her the old nickname often since she returned, but Kirk hadn’t. Hearing it from his lips sent a shiver down her spine. Strong fingers raked through her hair until he held the back of her head in his palms. “I love...”
He couldn’t say it. She wasn’t ready to hear the words slip from lips she’d dreamed about practically every night as a teenager. And as a young woman. Even when she tried to forget him, his lips haunted her.
She had to stop him. Standing on tiptoe, she grabbed his head in her hands and pulled him down to her. Capturing his lips with hers, she gasped at the emotion that welled inside her at kissing him again.
She tried to back away from him, but Kirk grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. She relished his embrace. Drank in the musky scent of his cologne, the soft urgency of his lips against hers. It felt so good to be in his arms again.
But she wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to be vulnerable. If she didn’t love, she didn’t lose. Pulling away from his embrace, she nodded and opened the door. “Good night, Kirk.”
Kirk opened his mouth, but Callie slipped into the house and shut the door. After turning the lock, she leaned against it. Stopping him from saying I love you by laying a big one on him might not have been the wisest of choices. He’ll definitely have the wrong impression now.
She touched her lips. She was torturing herself, as well. It took years to push his kiss to the back of my mind. Now, I’ll never forget.
Chapter 8
“God, I love her.” Kirk couldn’t keep the smile from his lips as he hopped into the tractor. Truth be told, he didn’t even want to. It had been years since he’d felt Callie’s sweet mouth pressed against his. He’d missed the pleasure.
The sun shone bright over God’s creation, and Kirk’s chest swelled at the blossoming orchard, apple and peach trees that lined his family’s land for acres. Past the barn, he knew the strawberry plants bore their fruit while the blackberry bushes grew in preparation of their later harvest time.
Two older couples were already set up in the B and B. Knowing Callie was there caring for his mother and ensuring their guests enjoyed a nice lunch made him dizzy with contentment.
He had all a man wanted in life. A job. A home. And a good woman.
And of course, You, Lord. Having a relationship with You makes my life complete.
He started up the tractor. Normally, he used earphones and listened to a western novel on CD. Today, he couldn’t stifle the worship bubbling up in his heart and mind. Despite warring with the tractor for volume, in a deep baritone voice he bellowed, “‘When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll.’”
He shifted gears on the tractor and turned to see the Smoky Mountains rising and falling as the backdrop to his home. Peace wrapped around him. “‘Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, it is well. It is well with my soul.’”
* * *
He finished the chores then shut the barn door. Anxious to get back to the main house, he wanted to see Callie, to help her with their guests, to work with her. He’d always believed they worked well together. She’d had such a bubbly, caring nature. True, he hadn’t seen the bubbly side of her since she’d returned. And he’d noticed she seemed to shut off her caring side when she helped Timmy and even his mom with their injuries.
But that would change once she’d been home a little while. Dealing with her mom’s and then her dad’s deaths. Then working with death day in and day out. Well, it was enough to make anyone a bit solemn. The clean, fresh country air would change that. After being with him, as she allowed him to love her again, she’d go back to her old self.
“Kirk, can you help me a minute?”
He looked at his sister who stood at the front door of the café and gift shop. She had a paintbrush in one hand and motioned for him with the other. His chest fell. He knew Pamela had been trying to finish whitewashing the café’s walls before the crowds started when school let out next week.
Walking toward her, he took off his ball cap and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Sure, sis. What do you need?”
“We have some new inventory to put in the shop. Sue’s quilt and crochet pieces. And Terri brought over some new jewelry she made. They need to be set up.” She lifted the paint can. “You want to paint or inventory?”
“Did you even need to ask?”
Pamela giggled. “Nope.” She handed him the brush and can. “Just thought I’d give you the option.”
“I don’t know what to do with all that girly stuff.”
“But you’re a fantastic painter.” She punched his arm. “So hop to it.”
He dipped the brush in the paint, pressed the excess off on the side of the can then formed even strokes along the edge of the baseboard. “Where are the girls?”
“Helping Callie and Dad make lunch. I hope they’re not driving her crazy.”
He put down the brush and wiped his hands. “I’ll go check. I’ll send Dad out here to help. He paints better than me, anyway.”
“First off,” Pamela said, “you know Dad’s not going to leave Mom alone after just breaking her ankle yesterday. And second, you need to give Callie some time. You’re pressuring her too much.”
“She kissed me.”
He bit the inside of his lip as soon as the words left his mouth. It wasn’t Pamela’s business. He didn’t want her snooping around in his affairs, and he didn’t need to endure all her advice.
“She kissed you?”
He tried to ignore her question. Picked up the brush and started on the wall again.
Pamela didn’t back off. “Wonder why? Were you pestering her to death? Trying to get her to open up about everything in her life?”
Frustration welled within him, but his mind replayed the night before. Was she just trying to get him to stop talking? He shook his head. No. That wasn’t what happened. “Now listen, Pamela—”
Pamela’s phone rang, and she plucked it from her pocket. Grimacing, she showed him the screen. “It’s that number again. It’s called three times today.”
Kirk frowned and grabbed the phone from her hand. He pushed the talk button. “Hello. Who is this?”
“Who is this?” a man answered.
Anger washed over him as he recognized the voice. “I suggest you stop calling this number.”
Before the guy could respond, Kirk ended the call. “You need to block that number from your phone.”
“It’s Jack, isn’t it?”
Aggravation with his sister warred with the anger streaming through his veins. “If you knew it was him, why didn’t you block the number before?”
Pamela shrugged. “I suppose because of the girls.”
“He sounded drunk, sis.”
“Just then?”
Kirk nodded.
“Guess I’m not surprised.”
Kirk’s feelings deflated at the wounded expression on her face. He wrapped his arms around her. “You gotta let him go.”
“I have, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”
“Why don’t we both go to the house and check on how Callie and Dad are doing with lunch? I’ll come help you afterward.”
Pamela nodded, and he guided her out the door. His own words replayed in his mind. He’d told Pamela to let Jack go. His sister and parents kept telling him to give Callie time to heal, to let her go until she was ready.
But that didn’t apply now. Callie had come back. She’d opened up to him and his siblings last night. She’d kissed him with the same fervency he remembered from years ago. Somehow, last night tasted sweeter, and he couldn’t wait for a replay tonight.
He followed Pamela into the house. Spying Callie at the sink washing strawberries, he made his way to her. He tweaked the tip of her ponytail. “Hey.”
She pulled her hair from his grasp. “Hi.”
He frowned. Her reception seemed a bit gruffer than he’d anticipated. Probably because she was busy trying to get lunch on the table. “Can I help?”
“Wash your hands and set the table.”
Dread niggled at his chest. She seemed more than gruff. She was distancing herself again. But why? What did the woman want? For him to proclaim his dying love for her? He’d do it if that was what she needed. The next time they were alone, he’d tell her exactly how he felt.
A Heart Healed Page 6