“It was a tough choice.” Willow grinned. “Sir Loin, or T Bone.”
“Cute.” He didn’t mean the name of the cow, but she didn’t have to know. “Do you mind if the boys stay here with you while I work on my place?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. We’re going to drive down the road to look at the neighbor’s new puppies.”
“New puppies?” He had a bad feeling about this.
“Don’t look so worried. They won’t be weaned for a few weeks.”
“I’m not worried.” But he was. Not about the puppies, but about his sister, his nephews and Willow. “I’ll see you later. I’ll be at the farm if you need me.”
He walked away from Willow and realized that was what bothered him. He was having a hard time walking away from her. How could he let himself be that person in her life when he had twin nephews counting on him for bedtime stories, the right brand of pudding and promises that their mother would come home soon?
As he drove up the drive of the old farmhouse, a shiny new truck pulled in behind him. He parked and the truck parked next to him.
Jason Bradshaw stepped out of the other truck, his grin wide and a pair of work gloves in his hands. Clint met him at the front of his truck, surprised to see the bull rider at his place. Jason, with his strawberry-blond hair and sheepish grin, had lived down the road all of Clint’s life, but the younger man had never really been a friend of his.
“Jason, how are you?”
“Better than you.” Jason shot a pointed look at Clint’s shoulder. “I heard you’re going to need surgery. That’s a tough break.”
“Yeah, but it’ll work itself out. What are you up to today?”
“I called up to Willow’s and she said you were down here working. I thought I could help.”
“You don’t have to.”
“That’s what neighbors do for each other. I just bought the fifty acres next to you. Never know, I might need some help over there someday.”
“Okay, then. I guess the first thing I’m going to do is fix that porch.”
His phone rang as he was pulling the toolbox out of the back of the truck. He flipped it open, smiling when he heard his sister’s voice for the first time in too long. Jason sat down on the tailgate, waiting.
“Sis. How are you?”
A long pause. He wondered if they’d lost their connection. “Jenna?”
“I’m here, sorry, but things are loud. Clint, are the boys okay?”
“Of course they are. They’re with Willow, and Janie is taking them to vacation Bible school tonight. They miss you.” He heard her sob.
“I miss them, too. But I know if I talk to them, it’ll make it worse for them and for me.”
“Jenna, is everything okay?”
“Good as it can be.”
“And you’re eating your vegetables?” He waited for her laughter. This time it was soft, not like her laughter used to be, when she’d been off at college and homesick. That question had always worked on her, a lifetime ago.
“I’m eating my vegetables, but they’re dehydrated, and worse than yours. Are the boys eating?”
“Are Oreos a breakfast food?”
“No, Clint, Oreos aren’t a breakfast food. Buy them instant oatmeal.”
Instant oatmeal. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “Okay, I can do that.”
“Clint, I have to leave now. I won’t be able to call again for a while.”
“Why?”
“Gotta run. I love you.” And then she was gone and he was holding a phone and he didn’t have any way of knowing if she was safe.
“That’s tough.” Jason held his gloves in his hands and didn’t say more. Clint looked at the other man, wondering about his appearance here, and about the past.
Jason had always been the one smiling, the one joking. And Clint knew his life hadn’t been easy. It had just looked easy from the outside.
“Yeah, it’s tough,” Clint said as he slipped on his gloves. “It’s hard to take. I’ve always been able to protect her.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Really?”
Jason Bradshaw, whose smile was as famous as his bull riding, shrugged. But he didn’t smile. “She used to sneak out to meet me. I guess you didn’t know that.”
Clint’s fist drew back, and Jason raised a hand, stopping him. “We didn’t do anything, Clint. I never did more than hold her hand.”
“But she snuck out to meet you?” Anger still simmered as he waited for an explanation.
Jason slipped on the leather work gloves. “Clint, life isn’t always pretty, and it’s good to have friends who understand and who listen. We were never in love. We were just friends, and we talked.”
Clint backed away, no longer wanting to hit the guy. He knew how it felt, to need a friend. Willow flashed to the front of his mind, a friend. Just a friend.
“Well, let’s get to work.” Jason carried the toolbox.
Clint followed, still thinking about his sister, and about misconceptions. He needed more of an explanation from Jason. “When did the two of you meet?”
“At the hospital—years ago. She was there to see a friend. I was there—” he didn’t look at Clint “—to see my mom.”
“I’m sorry, I heard she passed away.”
“She’d been sick a long time.”
“It couldn’t have been easy.”
Jason smiled. “No, it was never easy.” He set the toolbox on the porch. “After meeting Jenna, and realizing we lived pretty close to each other, we started talking. She was only seventeen, and I knew we weren’t going to date, but she was a good friend. We’d sit down there—” he pointed to a tree at the edge of the property, near the pond “—and talk for hours.”
“And I thought she had mono, because she was tired all the time.” Clint laughed and let it go.
It wasn’t as easy to let go of the phone call with Jenna. Pounding nails into wood helped.
Jason Bradshaw handed him more nails, smiling like everything was okay. They were doing all the right things, making life as normal as possible. They were rebuilding a house, and he was taking the boys to vacation Bible school. Normal things that filled normal summer days.
But Jenna was thousands of miles away in Iraq, and her boys were with him. And on top of that, nothing had prepared Clint for the way Willow Michaels would change his life.
It took him by surprise, the need to see her, to talk to her. It had happened a lot lately, that she was the person he thought about when he needed a friend.
At that event in Tulsa, when Janie had reintroduced them, he’d been afraid that Willow would be one of those people he felt a need to fix. And she wasn’t. Maybe he was the one in need.
Bell jumped up from where she’d been sleeping next to the dining room table. She’d crawled into the spot before the boys left with Janie for vacation Bible school. Willow thought that it was because the boys dropped a lot of food when they ate and so Bell received limitless treats off the floor.
Now Bell was jumping and turning in circles, her own way of alerting Willow to a visitor. Willow finished washing the last of the pans from dinner and followed the dog to the door. She watched as Clint’s truck pulled to a stop and he got out. He held his left arm to his side, releasing it when he saw her watching. He rolled his shoulders a few times, and then headed for the house, moving slowly.
Willow opened the door and met him on the porch. He carried a plastic bag from the store. From the look on his face, he’d had a long day. He looked haggard, and his shirt was stained. Dust coated his jeans. She motioned him inside.
“Did you get a lot done?” She sat next to him as he struggled to get his boots unlaced.
“Let me.” She leaned and untied the laces and then pulled his boots off. When she looked up, he was leaning against the back of the bench, his eyes closed.
“Jenna called,” he whispered, not opening his eyes.
“And?”
“She had to go and said she couldn�
��t call for a while. I tried e-mailing her and didn’t get an answer.”
“There’s a logical explanation. She had work to do and just wanted to touch base.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself all day, but it doesn’t feel right. Her conversation didn’t feel right.”
“You have every right to be worried, Clint.”
He opened his eyes. His smile was soft, concerned, tired.
Willow reached, wanting to touch him, but knowing it was the wrong move at the wrong time. They were alone and both lonely. She could see it reflected in his eyes, that he needed to be near someone in the same way she did.
“I have this huge thing of chocolate–peanut butter ice cream.” He held up the bag from the local ice cream parlor. “I thought we could share it.”
“You just happen to have ice cream?”
“I might have driven into town just to buy it, maybe to tempt you into spending time with me.”
“It worked.” She stood, and then she reached for his hand and pulled him to his feet. They were standing face-to-face, and the room suddenly seemed too small and too warm. “I’ll get the bowls.”
“I’ll help.”
He followed her into the kitchen, helping by being in the way each time she turned around. She slid past him to the fridge where she had a nearly full jar of fudge topping. She lifted it, and he nodded.
“We can sit on the porch.” He dug a spoon out of the drawer after she twisted the top off the fudge. “It’s cool, like it might rain.”
“It isn’t going to rain, but the porch would be nice.” She wanted to say something about the worried look in his eyes. She wanted to tell him that she’d sat on the porch after dinner, and she couldn’t hear the crickets.
Instead she handed him a bowl of ice cream and led the way outside. They sat down side by side on the porch swing.
“I wish I could do something to help.” She glanced sideways, and he nodded, but he didn’t answer.
“Good ice cream,” he finally said. But she couldn’t tell that he’d even taken a bite.
He leaned back in the seat and stared off into the night. The sun had set, and the security light flickered on. His face was in shadows, smooth planes and stubble on his cheeks. His chest heaved, and she felt, but didn’t hear, his sigh.
Willow set her bowl down and reached for his hand, his fingers warm and strong. “I’m praying for Jenna, and for you. I know this isn’t easy. But Clint, you’re doing a great job with the boys. And Jenna is going to come home real soon and be their mom again.”
“Thanks, Willow.” He squeezed her hand and smiled. “You’ve been a big help with the boys. I would have burned more than breakfast if you hadn’t showed up when you did.”
“I was happy to help.”
“You’ll be a great mom someday.” He smiled, like the compliment meant everything, and he didn’t know how much it hurt.
She looked away, not wanting to deal with his words, an innocent statement that shouldn’t have hurt so much, not after so many years. Clint leaned forward, his hand still holding hers.
“Willow, are you okay?”
She turned, trying to smile, trying not to cry. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” He stroked her fingers. “I’m not sure what I said…”
She couldn’t stop the tears or the flash of memories that flickered through her mind. She couldn’t stop the images of the accident, and the memory of the pain that followed.
“Willow?” He pulled her close, and she couldn’t stop the tears, the aching emptiness that shouldn’t still hurt so much.
She would never be anyone’s mom. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, trying to undo the moment.
“Willow, I’m sorry.” He held her tight, his hands on her back. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Tell Clint. Let him into her life, and take the chance that someday this decision to share would bring more pain. More pain and someone else walking away.
He was holding her close. And he had never walked away from her in embarrassment. He had used sign language for a Sunday sermon on peace.
“Clint, I can’t have children.” She whispered the words into his neck. He hugged her closer, and his hands stroked her hair.
“I’m sorry.” And this time she knew he was sorry because she couldn’t have children, not because he’d said the wrong thing.
And she was sorry, too.
She had wanted to hold her baby girl, to give her a name, to raise her and love her. And now, because of one moment, one missed traffic signal, a car horn she hadn’t heard, she would never have children.
“Do you want to talk?” He pulled back a little to ask the question and she shook her head, because she wasn’t ready to talk. She wanted to stay in his arms for a few more minutes, before realization hit and he put it all together.
She couldn’t have children. She would never go through the normal process of falling in love, getting married and having babies.
Her husband had walked away from her the day after their daughter was buried. She couldn’t tell Clint, because she didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want to watch another man walk away.
She brushed away the last remnants of her grief, the tears that still trickled out. She had really thought she’d cried her last. But sometimes the grief sneaked up on her, taking her by surprise. And then came the guilt. It ached deep down inside her heart, where God was still helping her to forgive herself.
Clint was waiting for an explanation. After all of those tears, he deserved one.
“I had a car accident when I was six months pregnant.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes and tried to piece it all together again for the man who had held her while she cried. His shirt was still damp from her tears. “When I woke up, my baby was gone, so was my ability to have children, and my marriage was over.”
His eyes closed, and she wondered about his thoughts. She remembered Brad closing his eyes, and then opening them, lashing out in anger and blaming the accident on her hearing. When Clint’s eyes opened she saw that he was sharing her grief, not condemning her.
Her own emotions did something they rarely did; they took her by surprise. She had a sudden need to keep him in her life, to hold on to his friendship.
I’M SORRY, he signed. That one gesture had never meant so much.
Clint reached for Willow’s hand and held it for a long time, not knowing what to say. He knew he couldn’t take away her pain. He didn’t think she was asking that of him. She had shared because…because why?
A weak moment? Or because they were friends? In that moment it felt like more than friendship. It felt like something he had never experienced. It took him back to that moment when Jenna had called, and he could think only of seeing Willow, talking to Willow.
She was strong. He had never met a stronger woman. He thought of her losing her child, and her husband. He thought of her that day at the doctor’s office, stoic, facing whatever was in store for her.
He thought of her prayers for him, for Jenna and for two little boys that missed their mom.
“You’re strong, Willow, stronger than you think.”
“It’s an illusion. At any moment, I could lose it. I could be weak.”
“We’re all weak at some time or other.”
“Maybe so.” She stood, gathering their bowls and not speaking further.
“You’re okay?” He stood next to her, trying to figure out the next step in this process, and not sure if he should take another step.
“I’m fine.” She smiled to prove it. “And you’re strong, too.”
She kissed his cheek. He had to be strong, because he wanted to pull her against him and make promises he probably couldn’t keep. He wanted to kiss her senseless.
He had to leave. He backed away from her, taking the scent of her with him, and remembering the taste of strawberry lip gloss.
She had shared her heartache with him. Now wasn’t the time to share other emotions, or as
k her if he was imagining something between them that might not exist.
Now wasn’t the time. Maybe there wouldn’t be a time, because he could see in her eyes that fear of being hurt again.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” He took another step back. “Do you want me to help you do the dishes?”
She held up the two bowls and smiled, like she knew that he was stalling. “Two bowls, Clint. I think I can manage.”
He nodded. “Okay, I’ll go then.”
“Don’t forget, the boys are spending the night with us.”
“Of course.” And it was time for him to go. He backed off the porch, holding the rail and smiling as he turned to leave.
“See you tomorrow?” she called out after him.
He turned at his truck, surprised to see her still standing on the porch, and looking like a girl who really did want to know if the guy was coming back.
“Of course.”
Chapter Ten
Clint followed Willow out of the house after lunch the next day. The boys were still with Janie, because after a night of movies and popcorn, they weren’t ready for the fun to end. Willow was nearly to the barn when he caught up to her. A hand on her arm, and she turned.
“I’m going to visit my dad, and I’m going to pick up a few things for our next trip. Did you need anything in town, or do you want to ride along?”
“Trip?”
“Austin?” Bull riding, like she didn’t know what he meant.
“Yes, I know what Austin is. You’re not riding.”
“I am riding because this is the last event before the summer break. I know that I need surgery. I also know that I can ride. I’ve been on a few practice bulls.”
She shook her head. “You could do more damage.”
“I could, but I don’t plan on letting that happen. Do you need anything from town?”
“Oh, so you can tell me what to do, but if I try to say anything about your riding, you change the subject.”
He pushed his hat down on his head and dug his heels into the firm dirt, and reality. Willow was staring at him, waiting for a response, and he didn’t have one. He smiled, because she looked about fit to be tied.
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