“They came in with gusto this year, that’s for sure.”
“They’re beautiful.” Never could she fully express how much she appreciated her mother’s treasures being so meticulously maintained. “Really, you’re doing awesome.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
Hope drew a deep breath, filling her lungs with fragrance and the sensation of happiness, of Emma Jean Pearson, that seemed to waft around her. Mom was definitely here in spirit. “You must fertilize often. They’ve grown so much and the blooms are so plentiful.”
“I keep a compost pile and lay in mulch every spring and fall. Natural is best, I think.”
Hope had no idea but made a mental note to learn. Suddenly, there was no where she’d rather be than on her knees in this garden.
“Roses can get a little complicated but luckily Doug Macintosh left a complete play-by-play. I stick to the schedule and haven’t killed them yet.” Rubbing at that scar encompassed by whiskers, he gave an ironic chuckle. “If you’d have told me five years ago I’d be spending my days keeping flowers, I’d have arrested you.”
“Arrested me? For insulting an officer?” With a smirk, Hope slid back on her sunglasses, it lingering in the back of her thoughts just how much he’d lost. What he’d been reduced to. “I’m afraid that’s not very illegal.”
Did the scar bother him physically? Cause him pain? Or did he just finger it so out of annoyance of its presence?
“Insult, assault. Tomato, tomato.”
“A good guy like you? I can’t believe you were ever a law bender.”
No, he definitely would’ve been one of the good guys. The best at what he did. Strong and honorable.
A real loss to the department. To Texas.
What good had God done, leaving Caleb with that limp? Dulling his hearing? Scarring him forever?
Erasing Hope’s mother, who’d done nothing but wonder and good, from the world?
“Guess you can read me like a book. I was no rule breaker. Not even a rule flexor.” Crouching, he plucked a renegade weed from the mulch. “Doesn’t much matter now though.”
She could hear the ache in his voice, sense it in his body language. The man hurt inside. Felt as though he’d been robbed.
Prayed, it seemed to her, prayers that never came true. Now that she knew a little something about.
The urge to comfort him, to ease his burdens, ignited like a ball of fire in her chest. “Well, your efforts here are appreciated. The gardens were very special to my mom.”
And now, to Hope.
“Glad to be of service,” he murmured, moving several feet down the path to straighten the stones bordering the beds. What Hope heard was, “At least I’m not totally useless.”
Sorry there wasn’t much more she could say, Hope made a mental note to make certain he always felt valued at the ranch.
Pausing for a break from the crutches, she relished the warmth on her back and the sweet fragrance permeating the air. As if it were yesterday, she could still remember coming home from bible school to find Mom, jeans and face smudged with dirt, digging and planting her “Eden”. Smiling and humming so happily.
Besides potted plants, summers had been the only opportunity Mom had to garden. She’d relished every hole she dug and every plant she’d set in.
“Ready to head inside?” Caleb straightened, giving his back a stretch. “If you like, I can come back out and cut a bouquet for a vase.”
“That’d be wonderful.” Catching up to him, she asked, “You may have told me already but how long have you been at the Circle C?”
“About a year, give or take.”
She wondered how long ago his accident had taken place, the extent to his recovery, but didn’t have the heart to bring up the subject.
They reached the back stairs and Hope groaned at the thought of tackling the twelve steps to the deck. The prospect of venturing inside?
It’d been years she’d last visited. Not since her mother’s passing.
Deciding on another short break, she planted her bottom on a step. Just then, between her feet, wriggled a black and white snout, followed by an adorably furry patchwork face and a high-pitched woof.
“Oh, who’s this?” Woof, woof, woof! The sound was so immature it might’ve been mistaken for a squeak toy as her pants legs were tugged and nipped in a flurry of pure puppy. “He’s absolutely adorable!”
A deeper growl followed—from Caleb, not the puppy. “That would be Samson, escapee-extraordinaire.”
“Yours?” Everywhere Samson’s tongue could reach, he licked excitedly.
“Unfortunately. Unless you’d like to claim ownership.”
Gathering the puppy in her arms, she leaned her head back and laughed as Samson clobbered her with kisses. “How can you not adore such a sweet baby?”
At least someone wanted to kiss her.
And ehem, where had that thought stemmed from?
“Easy. He’s a nonstop pain.” Caleb shifted his weight against the rail post. “The mutt would follow me straight off a cliff if I didn’t stop him. Have to lock him in a barn stall just to keep him from leaping in the lake and half-drowning himself or chasing my truck ’til he’s lost. And by the time I arrive home, he’s always found some way to chew or squirm his way out. The barn looks like we own donkeys.”
“Well, why don’t you take him with you then?”
“Because, I repeat, he’s a pain. Chewed through my television cord and one of my favorite boots.”
“Weren’t you watching him? He could’ve been hurt!” Hope snuggled the dog close, enjoying his loving nature until he finally calmed down, quite pleased to be petted and her guess, paid attention to at all. “I was wrong about you, Caleb McBryde. You’re a big meanie…” As if to agree, Samson slapped his tongue across her cheek. “Yes he is!”
“Oh, come now.” Scooping the puppy from her, he ruffled Samson’s head. “What if I tell you I gave this unruly beast a big beef bone only last night? And I let him sleep in my bed. Will that change your opinion of me?”
“Only slightly. You owe him a chew toy as well. And no more locking him in a stall! He can’t help himself.” Rising, she slid her crutches under arm and patted her thigh. “Come on, Samson. Come on with me!”
* * * *
“Suit yourself.” Caleb placed the dog to the ground and quickly changed his mind as Samson pounced and danced up the steps. The last thing this lady needed was a wild puppy under foot. Two near-misses in one morning were two too many—Caleb wasn’t eager to test the age-old adage “third time’s the charm.”
Scooping Samson under arm, he managed the steps alongside her, his hip knotting at the effort stairs brought on. A pain he usually managed to ignore, long since accustomed to its presence, except for the nagging reminder of how slow he’d moved when his response counted. How her pleas for help had fallen on deaf ears.
What if he hadn’t happened to return when he had? Sure, she had on a life preserver but still she could have been hurt.
“Well,” she drew him from his worries. “It’s taken some doing but I’m finally home.”
“I’m afraid since I wasn’t expecting you, the house will need aired out and dusted.” One couldn’t overlook her abrupt and unannounced arrival. “I’ll take care of it this afternoon.”
“That’s okay. Once I’ve rested, it’ll give me something to occupy my mind.”
Never knew when to call it quits, did she? “Nope, sorry ma’am, it won’t. Bed rest for you. Doc’s orders and mine too.”
Tilting her face to reveal big brown eyes above her sunglasses, she cast him a defiant glare that argued otherwise. “Your orders?”
“I am twice your size, Boss.” He shrugged, smiling on the inside even if his face didn’t show it.
“What are you suggesting? You intend to hold me down?”
“Hey, you said it.”
“I’d like to see you try. Thankfully, these have more than one use.” A crutch swiped his direction, poking
at him like an elderly lady’s cane.
The action set her off balance, causing a stumble and Caleb leapt to place a hand at her back. “Careful!”
“I’m fine.” Said as if he’d two heads. As if she couldn’t have knocked herself clear down the stairs.
Samson wriggled and wormed in his arms, fighting for freedom. “Let’s just hurry to safer ground.”
After a harrumph of protest and some steady concentration on her part, they accomplished the task of climbing to the large deck overlooking the lake.
“My favorite spot on the ranch.” The porch, which he often visited in the evenings, easily qualified as a little slice of heaven. “No view in the world compares.”
“Home sweet home,” Hope agreed. A wooden swing, covered in faded yellow cushions, swayed gently in the breeze while wind chimes played a gentle tune amidst the tweets and calls of local birds. Smiling serenely, she gazed out.
What caught Caleb’s eye was not the glimmers mirrored on the rippling water but the surrounding wood line. “Isn’t that amazing?”
Through the trees, suns rays filtered, wide beams of white streaking down.
“God’s fingers.” Or so he’d once heard someone call the natural phenomenon. “Like He’s reaching down to touch you.”
“Hmmm.” The response reeked of indifference as she motioned to her sunglasses. “I guess there’s not much to be said for seeing everything blurred or in shades of gray.”
Including life, he wanted to tell her. How could anyone ignore God, refuse to feel Him, when He was putting on such an awesome display?
Still, she turned from him, swinging on her crutches closer to the door. “What time is it? I’m starving.”
How Caleb wished he could see straight inside her, witness her pain. Make it right. Erase whatever had hardened her heart and transformed her from the girl who’d once wanted to sing in the choir to this one before him.
Troubled, he exhaled and checked his watch.
“Past lunchtime and before dinner.” He set the struggling Samson at his feet and the puppy scampered eagerly ahead as he withdrew his keys to unlock the back door. “Didn’t Doc’s wife feed you breakfast?”
“A banquet but I couldn’t bring myself to eat.”
He held the door for Hope, allowing her to enter as Samson zipped past, eager to check out the new place. “He’s not very well house trained,” he cautioned. “More like he’s a terror to be reckoned with.”
“It’s fine. We’ll put him out soon.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Three steps into the mudroom, she stopped dead in her tracks, the blood draining from her face.
“Hope? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Chapter Five
Flipping into cop mode, Caleb darted to block her as he searched for a visual. “Which direction?”
“Caleb—”
Before she could answer, a muted scrape came from above.
“Shhh!”
A layer of dust coated everything, drop clothes covering the furniture. Sunlight sliced through a crack in the curtains, illuminating the otherwise dim atmosphere. Genuine log walls. An ancient box television. Shelves full of board games. A few cobwebs.
Haunted though it appeared, the doors were dead bolted and windows locked shut. Still, another scrape came from above. “Stay put. I’m going to clear the den and upstairs.”
“No, don’t go!”
Did she fear him incompetent? “I’ll be fine,” he barked. “Just do as I said and wait here.”
“But I didn’t see anything. Really, it’s okay.”
“No?” A clutter followed. He hitched a thumped upwards. “What’s that?”
The corner of her lips quirked. “Samson, remember?”
“Oh.” Really was on his game, wasn’t he? Feeling rather asinine, Caleb gave a sweeping reexamination of the open floor plan. “I thought… So nothing scared you?”
“No. It’s fine, really.”
Then why had she screeched to a halt like she’d seen death itself? “Are you all right?” Had she placed too much weight on her foot? Felt faint?
“Shipshape.” Giving a nervous trill, she sucked in a short breath and let it out in a big whoosh. “It just…it smells.”
That was all? “I’ll open some windows.”
He rushed to task but she caught his arm. “No, leave them, please. It’s not a bad smell. Just…like my parents.” She flashed him a smile that didn’t quite reach her cheeks. “I’d forgotten that scent. It’s good. It’s home.”
“Oh sweetheart…”
Her lower lip gave a quiver and Caleb had never felt more powerless in his life.
God, please don’t let her cry. Anything but that.
Instinctively, he rested a hand to her left shoulder and sent up a silent plea to the Lord above for her.
Let her deny it all she wanted, she needed Christ in her life. Needed Him if she were to find any peace. Happiness. Caleb prayed she found him again and soon.
“Caleb, don’t.” Hope jabbed at his shin with her crutch, her message clear as she gave a sniffle. “I’m fine.”
No, she wasn’t.
Desperately racking his mind for some way to stop an impending breakdown, his eyes landed on the shelf of board games. “How about some Mousetrap?”
“Mousetrap?”
“Or Scrabble?” He’d never played in his life—he and his brothers had been more into cops and robbers than quiet play—but he supposed there was a first for everything. Especially if it cheered her up. Focused her on something else. “Afraid I’ll beat you?”
“Hardly.” At least her smile rang true with that statement. “But uh, how about a rain check? I want to look around.” Taking several more steps inside, she poked at the carpeting with her crutch. “Still pea green. When I got old enough to notice, I used to beg Daddy to let me and Mom redecorate.”
“I’m guessing the television is black and white. If it works at all.”
“I might as well plant flowers in that thing. Daddy didn’t think much of television.” Pausing, she flicked the cover off an ancient orange-upholstered rocking chair in supreme condition. “I think he liked it this way. Reminded him of his younger days.”
“Hey, if it’s not broke, why fix it?”
“Daddy certainly agreed.” Wandering over to the massive fireplace, she lowered herself to sit on the mantel with a ragged sigh. “My favorite spot in the house.” Her fingers roamed over the gray stone adoringly. “Rotten it’s too warm for a fire.”
“I’ll make sure the chimney is cleaned out and plenty of wood chopped for the winter.”
“Are you sure they’re paying you enough?”
“Before I took this job, I’d been downgraded to depending on my parents like some punk kid. Trust me, I’m paid plenty. Just having a place to call my own and something to keep my hands busy is more than I could ask.”
It was better than being branded disabled for life. He got by. Survived just fine.
But that was all he was doing.
From deep within, his soul cried out. Yearned for purpose. Yet he had none. Not anymore.
Samson returned from exploring with an old sock and scrambled into Hope’s lap, tail wagging a mile a minute.
“Silly boy, what are you up to? That was Daddy’s.” Tugging the dirty thing away, she pitched the mock ball through the air. In true sport, Samson yelped and gave chase, igniting her laughter. “Oh, you want to play? Come here!” She pushed her sunglasses into place, clapping. “Bring it here!”
Clearly—and correctly—suspecting the sock would be taken from him again, the puppy yelped and bolted in the opposite direction. Faked her out twice then finally returned, making her fight for the right to once again toss the makeshift toy.
The next time, Samson returned more eagerly, though as interested in playing tug-a-war as he was in fetch.
As they carried on, Caleb sat down beside her and laid his hat to the stone, threading fingers through
his short hair to comb it into some semblance of presentable as he admired her patience with the mutt and racked his brain on how best to approach the topic of Neil. It was in Hope’s best interest he know all the facts so he could protect her.
If he could protect her, all considering his hindrances.
But he must. Despite his self-doubt, the sudden purpose swelling in him was unlike any he’d ever known.
“Hope.”
With a laugh, she glanced up. “Do you know, I never had a puppy? Or even a dog to call my own. Gosh, how I wanted one.”
Lovingly, she ruffled the collie’s nape. Samson, still young and easily exhausted, collapsed in a ball at her side, his little black and white patchwork face resting on her leg.
“That’s a real shame.” If you asked Caleb, every kid had a right to a dog. “Tell me you at least had a cat.”
“No, only a hamster.” Her nose wrinkled, leaving no doubt what she’d thought of that pet. “We didn’t keep him long. Cute can’t cover up the smell.”
“No kidding.” Crossing his ankles, Caleb reached over and stroked the dog he often cursed but whose silly grin and eager kisses he’d grown to anticipate. “Growing up, the family always had passel of mutts around the ranch. Still do, even though the kids are grown and gone.”
“Who’s the softy, Mom or Dad?”
“I think a little of both. Pop raises herding dogs but us kids adopted our fair share of strays as well. Mom never could turn down a pair of big ole sad eyes.”
Caleb either, it seemed.
“You were very lucky.” She studied Samson longingly. “Not that I’m complaining. The grass is always greener on the other side, right? I had a good childhood.”
“I s’pose sometimes I take Samson for granted.” ‘
“I hope that means no more stall.” Her fingers curled and smoothed in soft fur and she leaned forward, nuzzling the dog’s neck. “Yes, that’s what I should’ve done,” she cooed softly, speaking more to Samson than to him. “I should’ve gotten a dog.”
Instead of a boyfriend? A fiancé to fear? Reading into her words tied Caleb’s guts into knots. Stood his hair on end. A lady like her deserved so much more than to be treated badly.
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