Like she didn’t know that. She gave him a pointed look and lifted a spoon of soup to her mouth. After taking a bite she set the spoon down.
“I can handle it, Clint. I know how to pull a calf. I know how to take care of my cows.”
“I was just offering.”
“If I can’t handle it, I have a good vet.” She took in a breath and smiled. “You need to take the boys to the carnival at church. I can handle this.”
He raised his hand and smiled. “Got it.”
Timmy laughed and David looked worried.
“Guys, don’t ever argue with a woman who has her mind made up.” Clint picked up a napkin and wiped grilled cheese crumbs off David’s chin.
Willow smiled, because how could she not? And when she looked up, he winked. Just like that, he undid everything.
Chapter Four
Clint threw another plastic ring around another soda bottle and took the two-liter cola that the girl handed him. The low rumble of a diesel engine caught his attention. He turned and watched as Willow pulled into the parking lot of the church. She backed the red extended cab into a space and cut the engine.
And he smiled. Unexpected. She was obviously a woman who always did the unexpected. He liked that about her. And he liked the fact that she was here, and she had made it pretty clear that this was the last place she wanted to be.
But she was getting out of her truck, and she was smiling. At him. That smile made him want to win big stuffed bears for her and carry cotton candy. It made him want to…
Rescue a woman who didn’t want or need to be rescued.
“Uncle Clint, isn’t that Miss Willow?” Timmy tugged on the sling and Clint grimaced.
“Yeah, buddy, that’s her. You boys stay with Janie, and I’ll bring her over here.”
Because he wanted just a few minutes alone with her. A smile shouldn’t do that to a guy. It shouldn’t make him want to take her off by the creek, alone, for a walk in the dim glow of early evening. A smile shouldn’t do that to a man, but it did.
That smile made him want to forget that she was a princess and he had nothing to offer but a crumbled old farm and a lot of dreams.
She stopped at the edge of the parking lot and waited for him. She was tall and gorgeous, in jeans and a peasant top, her hair in a ponytail.
“Imagine seeing you here.” He grinned and hoped that she would smile again. She did.
“I decided that if the boys could do this, so could I.” She glanced past him to the boys. “They’re really brave.”
“They are.” He started to offer his hand and reconsidered. “Stick with me, it won’t be that bad.”
Had he just said that? From the amused look on her face, he knew he had. He pushed his hat down on his head a little and laughed.
“Stick with you, huh?”
“Something like that. I’ll even hold your hand.”
“I’m a big girl. I won’t get lost.” She looked past him again, and she didn’t take his hand. “The boys are heading this way. I’m really here for them, not you.”
“Ouch, that hurts a guy’s ego.”
She turned to face him, and he knew she hadn’t heard. He repeated and she smiled.
“I think your ego will be fine.”
“You’re probably right.” And on the chance that she would hold his hand, he held it out again, palm up. She took it, her fingers grasping his and he felt like he might be her lifeline.
When they reached the twins, she let go of his hand and reached for the boys. They moved to her, and for a minute it made him really believe they might be okay. He hadn’t expected that she’d be the one to make him feel that way.
“What is there to do around here?” she asked David, always the quiet twin, always seeking assurance.
“I like the pony ride and…”
“The big bouncing castle.” Timmy grabbed her hand.
“Pony ride first.” She put an arm around each and smiled at her aunt. Watching her with the boys, Clint wanted to be four again and small enough for ponies and the moonwalk.
“What about me?” he asked, hurrying to catch up. Willow glanced back at him.
“You’re too big for the moonwalk.”
“I’m not too big.”
“Uh-huh.” Timmy had hold of Willow’s hand. “And you promised us cotton candy.”
“Cotton candy, of course. And I have a pile of prizes I need to put in the truck.”
Willow stopped, still holding on to the boys. “I’ll take them on the pony ride.”
“Sounds good.” He didn’t really want to walk away. He wanted to stay with her, with the boys, because she was easy to be around.
But he had been dismissed, and the boys got to hang out with Willow. He felt a little cheated as he walked off with nothing but stuffed animals and bottles of cola.
Willow lifted David onto the back of a brown-and-white spotted pony. He leaned toward her, his gray eyes big. “I’m afraid of horses.”
She smiled and wanted to tell him that it was okay, that fear sometimes pushed a person to be strong. He was too little to understand. He only knew that he was afraid.
“I’ll stay next to you.”
He nodded and then the horse moved a jolting step forward. Little hands grabbed the saddle horn and his mouth tightened into a serious line. Willow patted his arm and winked.
“Pretend he’s one of those purple horses in front of the grocery store. They bounce, but they don’t move.” She kept hold of his arm. “He can’t go anywhere but in a circle. And if he tries, I’ll grab you.”
“Promise.” His voice was soft and she read his lips.
“Promise.” She wouldn’t let him go.
She searched the crowd for Janie and Clint. Janie had found a group of friends, and they were all sitting under a canopy. She spotted Clint walking in their direction, three sticks of pink cotton candy in his hands.
Even without the cotton candy, he stood out in the crowd. He was a cowboy in faded jeans and a dark-blue polo. His hat shaded his face but didn’t hide the smile that she somehow imagined was just for her.
For a moment she was like David on his pony, not afraid, just enjoying the ride.
But what about tomorrow? What about reality?
How long could she go on, pretending everything was fine? How long could she convince herself that she wasn’t afraid? Who would catch her?
She knew the answer to that. She would catch herself.
“Could we ride again?” Timmy yelled from his horse.
“One more time.” She pulled tickets from her pocket and handed them to John, a neighbor who was donating his time and his ponies for the youth group to raise money for a mission trip.
He took the tickets and said something to each of the boys about being cowboys like their uncle.
Clint walked along the outside of the portable fence that circled the ponies. “Cotton candy?”
He held one out to her. The pony turned his head and nipped, wanting the sugar more than Willow wanted it. David laughed, a real laugh. He hunched, and his shoulders shook. Willow laughed, too, and then Timmy was laughing. The pony didn’t care; she wanted the sugar and the bar that kept her going in her circle clanked as she stretched out her neck.
The boys continued to laugh, and Willow wiped tears from her eyes. When she looked up, Clint was watching, his dimpled grin now familiar.
The ride ended. She helped David down. Timmy hopped to the ground, a little cowboy in his jeans, boots and a plaid shirt. Janie and Clint were waiting for them at the gate. The boys took their cotton candy.
“I’d like to take the boys in to have their pictures taken,” Janie announced. “Sandy is in there with her camera.”
“Sounds like a great idea.” Clint held out the last cotton candy and Willow took it, surprised that it was for her. “Do you mind if I take Willow for a buggy ride?”
Willow swallowed a sticky-sweet bite of cotton candy, remembering why she liked it so much, and also why she hadn’t e
aten it in years. “Clint, I have to leave. I wanted to spend a little time with the boys, but I have to get home to that cow.”
Under the wide brim of his white cowboy hat, his brows arched in question. He didn’t believe her. Of course he didn’t. For a moment, she didn’t believe herself. She had come down here for the boys, and then for other reasons. Maybe because she wanted to walk with a cowboy and eat cotton candy?
“I really do have to go. She’s close to having that calf, and I don’t want to lose either of them.”
“Of course.” He smiled and she remembered that his smile was the reason she’d jumped in her truck and driven down to the church.
She averted her eyes and glanced down at the boys, each holding cotton candy that was nearly gone. “You two have fun.”
They nodded but took another bite of spun sugar. They wouldn’t sleep for a week. She laughed a little and turned to face Janie and Clint.
“I’ll see you all later.” She made her escape. It was definitely an escape, she realized that. She was running from someone who made her feel too much.
And she had more reasons for running than he could possibly know.
Clint woke up at daybreak, the sun just peeking over the flat, Oklahoma horizon. He looked in at the boys, still sound asleep. They’d stayed late at the church, where the boys had played games, throwing rings around soda bottles and darts at balloons. They now had a cabinet full of root beer, and a bag of cheap toys and stuffed animals, all prizes from the games they’d played after Willow left.
At least the cow had been more than just an excuse. The proof was the spindly-legged calf standing next to her momma in the corral next to the barn.
Sometimes he wondered if she gave anyone a chance to really know her. Or was it just about him? He could still remember her peeking through the curtains all those years ago, hiding. Embarrassed?
He put on a pot of coffee and then went to wake the boys. David was already stirring, his eyes blinking open a few times and then catching with Clint’s.
How did he do this? How could he be a parent when he didn’t have any experience, other than having been an older brother? Doubts hung out in the pit of his stomach when he thought about it.
Clint kneeled next to the twin bed and smiled at the little boy, a child with his sister’s dimples. Clint closed his eyes, praying for them to get through the next year, and praying for Jenna to stay safe.
She had to come home to the boys. They all needed her. He included. David leaned on one scraped elbow, his eyes sad. Clint mussed the kid’s hair and tried to pretend they were all okay, and that he knew how to be the parent they needed.
“How about cereal for breakfast?” Clint asked as David sat up, rubbing sleep-filled eyes.
“We like pancakes,” Timmy’s groggy voice said from the other bed.
Clint turned, smiling at the other twin. “I don’t think I have stuff for pancakes, Timmy.”
“Aunt Janie does. She said so. Last night she said,” and he cleared his throat to make the point, “‘you boys come over in the morning, and I’ll whip you up some homemade pancakes.’”
Four years old and a mimic. Clint laughed at the fair imitation.
“Okay, we’ll go to Janie’s for pancakes.” He stood, stiff from squatting, and from too many times landing on a hard-packed dirt arena. “Get dressed, okay?”
“I don’t want pancakes.” David covered his head with the blanket. “I want my mom.”
The words were muffled, but the emotion wasn’t, or the slight sob that followed.
Clint stood at the door, his heart squeezing. “I know, buddy. But she’ll be home as soon as she can get here.”
In a year. One year of her children’s lives, lost. One year of missing milestones. One year of him worrying, and praying she’d be safe.
He smiled at Timmy. “Help your brother get ready.”
One year of life on hold for all of them.
A short time later, he walked out of Janie’s and across the road to the barn. The boys were eating pancakes, and Janie was hugging them, pretending the tears in her eyes were from dust.
He walked through the large double doors at the front of the barn and was greeted by silence. Light poured out from the open door of Willow’s office.
He stopped at the entrance. She stood at the window, looking out over the field. Her forehead rested on the glass of the window and her hands were shoved into the front pockets of her jeans.
After a few minutes, he said her name. She didn’t turn, didn’t even start. There was no indication that she’d noticed his arrival.
So how did he make his presence known, and keep from scaring her? He stepped up into the room and reached for her, but then pulled back. When she turned, she saw him there. She jumped a little and then exhaled.
“How long have you been here?” Her voice was husky, soft.
“A few minutes. I said your name.”
She looked away. He noticed then that the hearing aids she normally wore weren’t in sight. That was the reason for the silence, for the lack of music, and why she hadn’t heard.
WILLOW, ARE YOU OKAY? He signed the words, stepping to block her from walking away.
She smiled. “I’m fine.”
She sat down on the edge of her desk. “Are you okay?”
And that’s how she changed it, making it about him, not her. It wasn’t just deflection on her part. He could see in her eyes that she cared, that she wanted to know that he was okay. He was. It was the boys he wasn’t so sure about.
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t think so.”
HOW DO THEY LIVE FOR A YEAR WITHOUT THEIR MOM? He sat down next to her, signing the words. “Will there come a time when it doesn’t hurt so much, when they don’t cry because they miss her?”
“I don’t know. She’s their mom. I can’t imagine them not missing her all the time.”
Her voice broke and she brushed away a few tears, and he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t fix them all. He was barely holding it together for his nephews, barely making life okay for his dad. He knew that they had to be his priority.
He had a bad habit of trying to take care of people, maybe because he’d been taking care of people his whole life.
Willow didn’t want or need that from him. He had to remember that, and not get confused about what he was feeling for a woman who was a strange mixture of strength and vulnerability.
The boys. He shook his head. “I can’t get David to eat.”
“He’s heartsick. Maybe ice cream? It’s good for fixing a broken heart.”
The low rumble of a truck pulling up out front interrupted his thoughts and stopped him from asking about her broken heart. ARE YOU EXPECTING COMPANY? he signed.
She glanced out the window and groaned. “No, not really.”
“Looks like someone is here bright and early. Do you know who it is?” He spoke as he signed because he knew she read lips.
“Not a clue.”
She ran a hand through long, blond hair. Tall and slim, she looked strong. In faded jeans and a long-sleeved shirt tucked in, she looked like every other cowgirl that he knew.
And then again, she looked a lot like someone trying to pretend.
“It’s probably the man interested in that gray bull. He e-mailed.” She admitted as she rummaged through papers on her desk, “I don’t remember his name.”
“He called yesterday?”
“I asked him to e-mail.” She turned off the coffee pot on the desk. “Can you bring the bull up?”
“Do you need for me to talk to him?”
She bit down on her bottom lip and he hated that he had asked. But when she nodded, he no longer regretted. Sometimes accepting help made a person stronger. He wanted to tell her that, but she was walking away, and he couldn’t say anything.
Chapter Five
Willow walked out of the house, ready to face the man with the truck, and whatever questions he had for her. Janie had smiled as she left, b
ut she’d been too busy with Timmy and David to ask questions.
At the door to the barn, she paused, giving herself a minute to regain her strength and to feel composed. The shadowy interior of the barn, with the smell of hay and animals blending together, did that for her. She loved hiding here, and praying here.
She loved Oklahoma and its wide openness. Growing up in Frankfurt, Germany, where her father had worked for the government, she had been surrounded by buildings, concrete and the smell of exhaust. Cities were exciting and had an energy all their own.
But living here gave Willow energy. This was her home, and it had always felt like it was where she belonged.
Here she could be the person she wanted to be, not the person others expected her to be. This place wasn’t about black-tie dinners, pearls and putting on a smile for society.
At the end of the barn she saw Clint and the owner of the truck. Their stances were casual, but the movement of their hands, the way they faced one another, warned of something less than casual.
Willow approached cautiously, trying to hear their conversation, but the words were lost. Clint turned in her direction, his eyes relayed a warning she didn’t get.
“Hello, I’m Willow Michaels.” She held her hand out to the man who wasn’t a rancher, not in his dark slacks and white button-down shirt.
“Ms. Michaels, I’m with the Midwest Informer. We’re doing a feature on bulls used in bull riding. We’re interested in a woman’s point of view.”
“I’m not sure…” She shot a look in Clint’s direction. His lips had narrowed, and he gave a short shake of his head.
“The article is going to run whether you talk to us or not. We just wanted to give you a fair opportunity to talk about your bulls, and the abuse these animals suffer.”
“Abuse?” She glanced again at Clint. His fingers signed for her to be careful.
And the reporter caught the gesture. She saw the light spark in his eyes and he smiled. “Ms. Michaels, you could be the feature of our article. A woman who raises bucking bulls. A disabled woman.”
“I’m not disabled. And I’m not a feature, Mr….”
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