by Mindy Neff
He shifted her slightly as he continued his examples. “Eden and Stony Stratton? They conspired with Stony’s housekeeper to skip town and brought Eden to replace her. Eden had come to have Stony get her pregnant.”
“Did he know?”
Nope. But everybody else in town did. Then came Emily and Cheyenne. You were here when they got together.”
“How was that matchmaking? Emily came to town so Cheyenne could help her once she delivered the twins.”
“Yeah, but she was expecting to rent the place next door to him. Ozzie, our esteemed mayor, leased her a house that had burned down two years ago and accidentally on purpose listed Cheyenne’s address on the papers.”
“Very devious.”
“Mmm. And seeing as how Ozzie and your father are old pals…well, you might as well just go with it.”
“I told you, my father wouldn’t have been party to something like that.”
“Maybe that’s so. Doesn’t mean it’ll stop the meddlers from scheming.”
Nikki Stratton came running up with Ian Malone in tow and took both of Jessica’s hands in hers as though they were ladies greeting each other at a garden-club tea social. Then the little girl included Kimmy in the welcome.
What a darling child, Kelly thought. Sensitive and kind.
“Did Marcy come?” Nikki asked Jessica, her tone both reverent and excited.
Kelly and Chance glanced at each other. The angel.
“She always comes,” Jess said.
“Oh, good. Come on. We get to pick out some songs on the jukebox.” All four kids took off like rabbits racing toward a lettuce patch. Jessica skidded to a halt, glanced back at Kelly.
“Is it okay, Mommy?” she asked belatedly.
“Go on,” Kelly said. She wished she could be as relaxed and social as her children.
What in the world was the matter with her? She’d rubbed elbows with movie stars, attended medical seminars with some of the country’s top physicians, gone to benefits that cost a thousand dollars a plate. Yet she was nervous as a cat over the prospect of walking into a friendly diner with jukebox music and a sign over the bar admonishing folks to watch their language as this was a family establishment.
Why the nerves? she wondered, and immediately knew the answer. These people were genuine. No air kisses here. They gave warm hugs and meant it. These were people who cared, who could easily matter.
What if she didn’t measure up? If she failed? What if they decided she was a bad mother because she couldn’t provide whatever it was Kimmy needed in order to heal?
“You doing okay, Hollywood?”
She glanced up at Chance, snagged by the concern in his eyes and in his voice. She could have evaded the question. She didn’t.
“I guess I’m reliving some old insecurities. As a kid I told myself that it didn’t bother me when everyone stared at me when I came into a room. I was always different. Too young or too brainy. But it did bother me. I was always out of step, isolated.”
He gazed down at her, pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, raising chills on her arms that made her shiver in response. “You’re not alone here, Kelly. And if anyone stares it’s only because you’re so beautiful they can’t help themselves.”
“Oh, I am not.”
He went very still. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“I’m passably pretty, that’s it.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Ozzie Peyton heading their way.
“You gonna monopolize the girl the whole night, Chance, or let the rest of us enjoy her?”
Chance grinned and put his arm around her again. “You go get your own date, Ozzie, and leave mine be.”
Kelly slipped out from beneath Chance’s arm. My gosh, hadn’t they just been discussing this matchmaking business? Why in the world was he encouraging it?
“It appears my boss is suffering delusions—must be that wound on his head—because he seems to forget I’m not his date.” She glanced at Chance. “Remind me to order up some tests for you, perhaps a CAT scan. That short-term memory loss is starting to worry me.”
When she set off across the room, Chance took a breath, puffed out his chest and grinned. “Don’t you just love a woman with sass?”
“You bet,” Ozzie said, all but rubbing his hands together gleefully. Things were going right well, even if he did say so himself. He glanced at Chance, said slyly, “Glad to see you admitting it.”
“Admitting what?” He was still watching Kelly, who was cooing over Emily and Cheyenne’s twins.
“What you just said, boy. That you’re in love with a woman with sass.”
That brought Chance’s attention back. “I didn’t say that. It was a rhetorical statement.”
“Hmm. Must be these old ears gettin’ bad, you bet. Guess I’ll just get on over to the cigar-smokin’ section before Iris closes it on us. It’s roped off so the young’uns don’t stray in, but that don’t seem to please the woman. Lloyd’s gonna have to have a talk with his missus, you bet. You coming?”
“Those cigars are bad for you.”
Now, Doc, we don’t inhale.”
Chance grinned at the man he’d known since he was in diapers. “I’ll pass, thanks. Better keep myself healthy since I’ll likely have to be doctoring you.”
“Humph. I’m strong as an ox and more ornery than a mule. Won’t catch me in the doctor’s office. And you ought to be worrying about your own self. You forgotten all your courtin’ skills?”
“If I thought you were maligning my masculinity, I might have to ask you to step outside.”
Ozzie laughed and slapped him on the back. “Nothing wrong with your manliness. A little slow if you ask me, you bet.”
“I don’t believe anybody did ask you.”
Ozzie’s vivid blue eyes twinkled. “Ever known that to stop me?”
“No, and to tell the truth, it confounds the hell out of me.”
Ozzie laughed again and took himself off to join his buddies in the cigar-smoking section, and Chance walked toward Cheyenne Bodine, who was standing with several of their neighbors.
As usual at these sort of get-togethers, the men gravitated to their own corner—closest to the billiard tables and smoking section—while the women congregated in the other. He noted that the ladies had pulled Kelly right into their fold.
“Evening, Chance.” Wyatt Malone, holding his one-year-old daughter, Meredith, glanced at Chance’s temple where the wound was starting to heal. “You figured out yet which end of the donkey to stay away from?”
“Very funny.”
Emily feels bad,” Cheyenne said. “She’s the one who advertised and turned the production into such a big thing.”
“Tell her to rest easy. Besides, it was the preacher who actually started everything. And Ethan who brought the ill-behaved donkey to begin with.”
Ethan Callahan grinned and wagged his fingers at his daughter, Katie, as she toddled by. “Any fool knows not to stand behind a donkey.”
“I imagine the boy was distracted,” Ozzie said from several feet away. He passed out cigars to his three buddies, Lloyd, Vern and Henry. “What do you think, boys?”
Chance noticed that all his friends were looking at him with a sort of amused compassion, expressions that seemed to say, “Give it up. We happily lost the battle. Now it’s your turn.”
Chance was fairly certain he’d like to give up the battle, but he didn’t like being in the hot seat this way. He’d do things in his own time.
“Did we come here to eat or what? Hey, Madean,” he hollered to the waitress. “You taking orders yet?”
“As soon as you sit your butt down, sugar, I’ll be glad to.”
Over the course of the night, as he visited with his friends and ate burgers and fries with Kimmy in his lap and Jessica racing around with the neighbor kids, he gave Kelly plenty of room.
He could tell she was still a little annoyed with him for telling Ozzie she was his date, but he was confident she�
��d get over it. Too bad there wasn’t a piano handy.
As the music started and couples began to pair off on the dance floor, he watched Kelly from across the room.
Amused, he noted the mix of expressions that crossed her face when Iris and Vera obviously asked her something of a personal nature. He’d seen this reaction before. She was alternately shocked and suspicious, then understanding would dawn and she’d relax her guard.
Just as she did now.
She’d be fine, he thought. People in California were different from folks in a small Montana town. And for all her impressive accomplishments, Kelly’s world had been narrow.
Chance had plans to expand it.
Having held himself back for as long as he could stand it, he crossed the room, catching her alone for the first time that evening.
He stopped in front of her, put his hat on and tugged the brim low, then held out a hand. “Dance, Hollywood?”
He saw the automatic refusal, an endearing distress, the vacillating between want and nerves. He took the decision out of her hands, pulling her up and right into his arms.
A country two-step number was playing on the jukebox, and he slid into the rhythm, his thighs brushing hers until she was forced to step back or trip them up.
“I don’t know how to do this dance,” she said in a fierce whisper.
He pulled her more tightly against him. “Just follow me.”
“Chance—”
“Shhh.” He rested his cheek against her temple, torturing himself by holding her so that their bodies were stuck together tighter than adhesive on a gauze bandage. “Just ease into me, feel me.”
“I’m feeling a little too much of you.”
He chuckled against her hair. “Yeah, but you’re picking up the steps like a pro, aren’t you.” He felt her chest raise against his.
“There is that. You’re going to start more rumors.”
“I can handle it. How’re you doing?”
“With the dance or with tonight?”
“Since I’m sharing the dance, I guess I mean tonight.”
“Well, I think I’m getting the hang of this incessant penchant your neighbors have for giving and receiving personal information.”
“Figured you would.”
“It’s kind of refreshing, you know? People are genuinely interested in me. Nobody’s looking to exploit my children in a newspaper, to snap photos of the child who doesn’t speak, to pounce on and pour over the story of tragedy while they drink their morning coffee.”
“Ah, babe. I can’t begin to imagine how difficult that must have been for you.”
Her hand crept up behind his neck, gave a squeeze as though thanking him for his understanding.
The thing was, he didn’t really understand. He knew very little about that part of her life. She kept it clutched to her like a fist around an heirloom handkerchief.
“I’m surprised you don’t hold it against our local grapevine for passing along tales about the shotgun and possum thing.”
“That’s different. Everyone who mentioned it also offered to give me shooting lessons. I haven’t encountered a single person in this community who doesn’t give three times more than he or she takes.”
He led her into a turn, pleased that she followed effortlessly, hardly aware that she was partnering with him as though they’d been doing this for years, instead of minutes. She felt slight in his arms, his hand practically spanning her back, but he knew she was strong.
The juxtaposition, delicate and strong, excited him.
All the kids were out on the dance floor now, bouncing and bobbing and laughing as only the young could do. Needing a minute to calm his libido, he released Kelly and scooped Kimberly into his arms to dance her around the floor.
Kelly looked momentarily surprised, unsure of what to do now that she was unpartnered on the dance floor. But Nikki and Jessica took care of that in an instant, grabbing her hands and twirling around like exuberant ballerinas, drawing her right into their realm of fun.
“How’s it going, sweet cheeks?” Chance asked Kimberly, and rescued his hat before it fell off. She had her little arms around his neck like a baby boa constrictor.
“You having fun? How about a dip?” He bent forward in an elaborate dip, holding the back of her head. Her round blue eyes lit like twinkling stars, and tiny teeth showed beneath her shy smile.
He brought them back upright and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “I know, you’re thinking I’m an excellent dancer, but you’d just as soon hang with the younger set. I can take a hint. Here we go, we’ll do a smooth switch, and your mama won’t know how we managed it.”
He swung Kimberly down, steadied her on her little feet, then swept Kelly right into another fast two-step, leaving behind a trail of laughter as the kids giggled and hopped in a crazy sort of jumping-bean dance.
“Honestly, Chance. You don’t give a woman time to catch her breath.”
“Hey, if I give you time, you think too much.” He pulled her close to him and she didn’t object. Holding her like this called for a slower step, more romance.
He changed the tempo, brought their linked hands between them, holding hers close to his chest. The brush of her breast against his forearm nearly drove him mad.
It was the most incredible madness he’d ever experienced.
“This is much better.”
She glanced up at him. Her gaze went to the brim of his hat, which nearly touched her forehead, then settled back on his eyes, his mouth.
He groaned and pressed his cheek against hers. He wasn’t made of steel, and if she kept looking at him like that, he was really going to give the folks of Shotgun Ridge something to feed their grapevine.
“Chance?”
“Shh, I’m concentrating.”
She giggled. It was such a foreign sound coming from her, such a surprise, he eased back to look at her.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head, then said, “Thank you for bringing me tonight. I’ve had…fun.”
He smiled, slipped his hand beneath her hair and urged her head to his shoulder again. “That’s a good start, Hollywood. A very good start.”
KELLY WOKE UP with a start. Her heart thumped and for a moment she was disoriented. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she realized someone was in the room.
Kimmy stood next to the bed. Just stood there like a tiny wooden doll. Silently. Staring.
“Oh, honey, what is it? Did you have a bad dream?” She held out her arms. “Want to come in here with me?”
Kimmy climbed into bed and snuggled.
“Brr,” Kelly said, tucking the quilt around both of them. “Cold, huh?” She stroked Kimmy’s forehead and soft hair, soothing.
Please, God, tell me how to break through this silence.
“I wish you could tell me your dream,” she whispered. Her heart pounded as words ran around and around in her head. Could she choose the right ones? Should she even try? What if she made matters worse? Brought up a horror that Kimmy might not even be thinking about?
Snow drifted outside the window. The clock on the maple nightstand ticked so loudly in the silence, the sound seemed to echo off the walls.
“Remember how I taught you to share your toys?” Kimmy nodded and Kelly gently stroked her silky hair. “You’ve always been so good about it. It’s good to share your hurts, too, you know. Sometimes, if you let somebody else have a little bit of the hurt, it won’t be so bad. Maybe it’ll even go away. You can tell Mommy anything,” she whispered.
Kimmy’s only response was to snuggle closer to Kelly’s side.
Kelly wanted to weep. Instead, she pressed a gentle kiss to her daughter’s baby-soft cheek and whispered, “It’s okay, sweetie. You sleep, now. Mommy’s right here.”
She wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter, feeling frustration, and a love so fierce and deep it was a wonder it didn’t seep right out of her body and into her daughter’s.
Tonight Chance h
ad insisted she needed to have fun. And she’d nearly agreed with him. What could she have been thinking? It was Kimmy who should be having fun, frolicking like a four-year-old, shrieking and screaming and giggling.
Kimmy was what Kelly needed to concentrate on.
KIMBERLY SQUEEZED her eyes closed and wished with all her might that the bad thing would go away. But the bad thing kept coming back, snapping at her with big teeth and looking at her with mean eyes. Swish. Swish. Pop.
Kimmy felt a scared whimper way down deep in her tummy, but it wouldn’t come out. She ’membered the bad thing, though. Daddy looked like he was playing. And then he fell down. She should have called for Mommy. Mommy could have fixed him ’cause she was a doctor. She’d told Auntie Candy that.
“Dear, God, Candy! Why didn’t you hit the circuit breaker? Knock him loose? Call for me? I could have done something! Three minutes sooner and I could have saved him!”
Auntie Candy cried and Mommy and her didn’t talk anymore. Mommy was mad at Candy. Kimmy thought Mommy was prob’ly mad at her, too, but Mommy didn’t want to say.
She shouldn’t have waited for Auntie Candy to stop laughing. “Quit joking around, Steve. You’re such a cutup.”
Kimmy had felt scared but didn’t know why. She should’ve talked when Daddy fell down.
Now she couldn’t. If she opened her mouth, nothing came out. She guessed that was prob’ly okay. If she didn’t talk, she couldn’t be guilty ever again. The bad thing couldn’t happen. Nobody could die.
Chapter Eight
Chance watched the efficient way Kelly moved around the clinic, keeping busy, as though afraid to slow down lest some sort of beast catch up to her.
She was clearly avoiding him, and that ticked him off. He’d been sure they’d made more progress last night at Brewer’s. Hell, she’d even admitted she was having fun.
One step forward and three steps back.
Grabbing two cumbersome medical chests—the drug chest and the metal box containing the heart monitor and diagnostic equipment—he strode toward Kelly and stopped at the front desk.