Love and Hope

by Kayla Perrin

  He made a mental note to stop doing it. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  “We had so much fun when we were dating, didn’t we? I was truly crushed when you decided to follow the rodeo circuit after graduation. I’m afraid I foolishly rushed into marriage with Harvey, when I would have been smarter to swallow my pride and run after you.”

  Whoa. He reared back, not liking where this was headed. “I’m sure it all worked out for the best.”

  “But it hasn’t. Not really. From the outside my life probably looks wonderful. Harvey can be sweet at times and he’s a good provider, I’ll give him that. But he’s away a lot. And it’s hard raising a son on my own.”

  “My buddies who are married get the same complaint from their wives. Some of them don’t see their families for months at a time.” He was trying to point out that a relationship with him would have had a lot of the same drawbacks. But she didn’t seem to get it.

  “And when Harvey is home, he’s very possessive. In fact, that’s what’s got me so upset tonight. I just got a text message from him. He said he heard I’d been spending a lot of time with you this weekend and so he’s coming home tomorrow.”

  Blake groaned. This was going from bad to terrible. Last thing he needed to deal with was a jealous husband. “Didn’t you tell him we’re just old friends?”

  “That’s the thing, Blake. Are we? Do you ever wonder if we were wrong to break up?”

  Above the Earth, another icy comet fragment shot across the sky. Two more followed in rapid progression. It was safer to watch the show than to look at Kelli-Jo right now.

  How in the world had he gotten into this mess?

  “If I said anything to lead you on, I’m sorry. You’re a married woman—”

  “Damn right she is,” said a gruff voice from behind them.

  Blake jumped off the table, while Kelli-Jo scrambled to put her boots back on. A large man loomed about ten feet behind them, his husky form silhouetted in the bright lights from the dance hall.

  Shit.

  Blake had no doubt he was looking at Kelli-Jo’s husband.

  Chapter 6

  Kelli-Jo hopped on one foot, trying to slip on her second boot. Blake wanted to help her, but didn’t think touching Harvey’s wife would be a smart idea right now.

  “Harvey,” she huffed. “I thought you said you were coming home tomorrow.”

  “That’s what I wanted you to think. So I could see for myself if the rumors I was hearing were true.” He took a step toward Blake. “And it seems they are.”

  Blake held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, man. Kelli-Jo and I were just talking. I respect the fact that she’s a married woman.”

  “Is that right?” Harvey glanced from Blake to his wife. “Doesn’t look that way to me. Looks like the two of you snuck off for a little alone-time.”

  Boots finally on, Kelli-Jo eased over to her husband’s side. “Don’t make a big deal out of this. The dance hall was noisy and hot so we stepped out for a break.”

  “Your wife is telling the truth.” Blake offered his hand. “Don’t believe we’ve met, officially. I’m Blake Timber.”

  “I know who the hell you are. Didn’t I hook you up with the Marketing Director of True Grit jeans?”

  “You did, and I appreciate that.” Blake kept his hand extended and finally the older man accepted it, giving his fingers a crushing squeeze.

  Up close, Harvey Calhoun looked like a boxer. He had a barrel chest, large head, and thick neck. It was clear that his son Sam had not taken after him in looks.

  “Why don’t we go back inside and grab a drink?” Blake suggested, as a way to diffuse the tension.

  “You go ahead,” Harvey said. “My wife and I are going home now.”

  Kelli-Jo planted her hands on her hips. “Harvey, I’m the organizer. I can’t just leave without saying goodbye.”

  Her husband glared at her long and hard. She returned the look without flinching.

  The guy seemed tough as nails, but when Kelli-Jo didn’t cave to his demands, he finally relented with a sigh.

  “Okay, honey. Do what you’ve got to do. But I’m coming with you.”

  “Sure, Harvey.” She linked her arm with his, then glanced back at Blake.

  There was something pleading about the look, some emotion hidden there that Blake didn’t want to see.

  When she said, “Good luck tomorrow,” he nodded, but didn’t answer, standing his ground as the couple headed back into the dance hall.

  Slowly, his muscles relaxed and he let out a long sigh of relief. When he’d accepted the invitation to be guest of honor at Sheep River Days he’d never guessed Kelli-Jo might have an ulterior motive. He’d have to be especially cautious here on in.

  *

  The next morning Blake awoke to the aroma of cinnamon apple pancakes and fresh coffee. He made quick work of his shower and got dressed.

  “Grams, that has to be the best smell in the world.” He kissed her cheek, then took the spatula out of her hand. “I should be the one cooking you breakfast. Sorry I slept in.”

  “Hardly. It’s only seven. And I’m more than capable of making my favorite grandson his favorite breakfast.” She reclaimed her spatula. “Pour yourself some coffee and top off my herbal tea while you’re at it.”

  He did as she asked, then leaned against the counter to watch as she flipped the golden pancakes onto a platter. The kitchen was so small he could practically reach one end to the other if he stretched out both hands.

  In his mind, he imagined a big country kitchen with a huge gas stove and a big butcher-block island. Man, his grandma would love it. If only he had the time to build it for her right now.

  In the morning light her skin looked almost translucent. He noticed age spots he’d never seen before, new wrinkles imprinted on her cheeks, and a faint tremor in her hands.

  His Grams was getting old.

  It had been years since Blake felt the urge to cry.

  But now a huge lump lodged in his throat as he realized cancer—or no cancer—his Grams wouldn’t be with him forever. His rodeo career couldn’t keep coming first, not anymore.

  He knew better than to share this epiphany, so he just cleared his throat and waited for his emotions to settle before speaking again. “Good coffee.”

  “I bought the expensive brand for you. But I should have let you sleep longer. Sounded like you got in late last night.”

  “Thanks for not getting up and making me play a round of cribbage with you.”

  She gave him a saucy grin. “It may have been a simple strategy. But it worked.”

  “Sure did.” Knowing that no matter what time he got home on the weekends, his grandmother would be waiting up for him had kept Blake from the excesses of alcohol and drugs as a teenager. Not only would Grams be waiting, but rather than let him slink off to his bedroom, she’d made him play a game of cribbage with her first—a game that required a certain level of acuity that could not be faked.

  Back then, he’d complained to his buddies about the cribbage.

  But he hadn’t really minded, especially since his Grams never grilled him about where he’d been or what he’d been doing. Probably because of that fact, he’d often told her himself what he’d been up to.

  And she’d listened without judging.

  Though her lips had always seemed to tighten when he talked about Kelli-Jo. Funny how Grams had seemed to know back then they wouldn’t suit. He wished he’d known that too. He also wished he’d spent more time with Shelby.

  Shelby. Just thinking her name triggered memories of her in his arms last night. When he’d gone back inside he’d looked for her everywhere, but she’d already left. He wanted to see her. Wanted to talk to her …

  “We have enough pancakes now. Let’s sit down and eat before they get cold.”

  Blake did as he was told, noting how little food was on his grandmother’s plate compared to his. Was her lack of appetite a bad sign?

  It wor
ried him, too, that she’d forked out the big bucks for his coffee, when she ought to be spending money on organic food and supplements for herself.

  He tasted his pancakes, gave his grandma a thumbs up, and then proceeded to eat a tall stack of them. When he was finished he insisted on cleaning the kitchen, while she put up her feet.

  As he was hanging the drying cloth he said, “I’ve got a few things I want to buy in Calgary this morning before the rodeo.”

  “Sure you have time? The rodeo starts at twelve-thirty.”

  “I’ll be fast.”

  True to his word he was back by 11:00 a.m., carrying several bags of groceries overflowing with fresh fruits and vegetables, frozen organic chicken breasts and wild-caught salmon filets, plus a loaf of rustic Sourdough.

  He’d also bought his grandma a pretty aloe plant and a top end blender that cost him almost a thousand bucks.

  “Oh, Blake!” Grams brought her hands to her cheeks as she watched him unpack his purchases. “This really isn’t necessary.”

  “Wait until you taste what you can make with this baby.” He washed, rinsed and assembled the new blender and then proceeded to make his grandmother her first green smoothie.

  To a cup of coconut water, he added a handful of baby kale, a scoop of frozen mango, and another of blueberries. Then he pulled out the special nutritional protein powder, he’d purchased at the health food store, and added a tablespoon of that.

  “This stuff has fifty percent of your daily intake of vitamins and minerals, including protein, fiber, omega-3 antioxidants, probiotics and greens.” He hit the power button and the super-charged motor started spinning. In less than a minute he poured the velvety-smooth beverage into a tall glass and handed it to his dubious grandmother.

  “Try it.”

  She wrinkled her nose.

  He wasn’t above goading. “What a role reversal. Twenty years ago, you were the one trying to convince me to eat my greens.” He poured a small amount out for himself, and guzzled it all. “Pretty good stuff,” he assured her.

  “All right. I’ll give it a go.” She took one tiny sip. Then a longer one.

  “Okay,” she conceded. “I like it. But I could have made one almost as smooth with my old blender. I appreciate the thought, Blake. Really I do. But I’d be a lot happier if you washed and repackaged this so you can return it and get your money back.”

  “Oh, Grams.” Physically she might be frail, but she was still tough as nails in the stubborn department. He wanted so much to help her. Why did she fight him, no matter what he did?

  *

  At noon Blake sat in his truck at the far end of the parking lot of the exhibition grounds, seat reclined and hat tipped forward to shade his eyes. He’d already let his grandmother out at the entrance where she had plans to meet Alice and Brenda.

  Right this minute, he ought to be with Kelli-Jo and the others, preparing to participate in the opening ceremonies. But he’d really rather be at the Iron Horse Saloon slinging back whisky shots and playing some pool.

  A knock on the driver side window startled him. He nudged the brim of his hat up a few inches, a slow smile spreading across his face. Shelby Turner. The best sight he’d seen today.

  He raised his seat, settled his hat on properly, and then lowered the window.

  “Not having suicidal thoughts, I hope,” Shelby said.

  Her pink gingham shirt was molded to her slender shape. Faded jeans hugged her long legs all the way down to her well-worn riding boots.

  “Close to it,” he admitted.

  “Then it’s time for an intervention. Hang on.” She trotted to the other side of his truck and climbed into the passenger seat, brushing her hands over the leather seats and eyeing the loaded console. “Nice wheels. You’ve got all the extras, I see.”

  “Seemed worth the splurge given I spend most of my life in here. Or so it seems.”

  “Fair enough. But why are you in here now, when the rodeo is due to start in thirty minutes? Don’t they need you for the Grand Entry?”

  Blake took off his hat and began working his fingers around the brim. There were so many reasons he didn’t want to leave his truck right now, he didn’t know where to start. Facing Kelly-Jo and Harvey after that embarrassing misunderstanding last night was one of them. Fear of underperforming in his event again was another.

  And now there was one more. The fact that Shelby was sitting beside him—so close that all he could think about was kissing her.

  “Are you nervous after your low score yesterday?”

  He sighed. “Yeah. I really sucked.”

  “Must be kind of stressful being back in your hometown. Everyone expects you to be the big hero. It’s a lot of pressure.”

  “That it is.”

  “But it can’t be anything compared to the stress of competing for the World Championship in Nevada.”

  “I was the underdog in that situation. But I get your point.”

  Shelby was silent for a few seconds. “Yet, you’re still not getting out of your truck.”

  “Talk about cowardly, huh? My grandmother has to wake up every morning knowing she has cancer, and I can’t face just one more bucking quarter horse.”

  “This isn’t really about the rodeo, is it?” Shelby shifted so she was facing him. Then she reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

  He couldn’t help but think how nice it felt there. Gentle and warm. He covered her hand with his palm.

  “No. It’s not just the rodeo. It’s everything. People expect me to act like the hometown hero. Makes me feel like a fake.”

  “Why?”

  “Last night at the dance, I realized I don’t belong in Sheep River anymore. Everyone wants to shake my hand and ask how it felt to win at Nationals. But after five minutes, we don’t have anything more to talk about.”

  “That may be true of most people. But it isn’t true of the ones who really matter to you.”

  “That’s a short list, Shelby. My grandmother. You.” He couldn’t stop himself from touching her cheek. God, but her skin was so soft.

  He thought she might pull away, but she didn’t.

  “Feeding me another line, cowboy?”

  “It’s not a line if I mean it. And I do. Of all the friends I had when I left here, you’re the only one that really mattered to me.”

  “What about Kelli-Jo?” Shelby’s voice was so quiet he could hardly hear her.

  “She’s married.”

  “But—what if she wasn’t?”

  Before he could answer, the air was pierced with the sound of someone shouting out his name.

  “Blake Timber? Has anybody out here seen Blake Timber?”

  Blake glanced out the rear window. One of the committee volunteers raced through the parking lot, calling out to everyone in view.

  “We need him ASAP! Blake Timber—where the hell are you?”

  “I guess I can’t put this off any longer.” He hesitated, then shifted forward and kissed Shelby’s lips. It was just a feather of a kiss, enough to drink in her sweet lavender scent, and test the softness of her mouth.

  When he pulled back, her eyes were full of questions.

  “I want to talk to you at the barbecue. Promise you’ll make some time for me?”

  She smiled, but didn’t commit. “Good luck, Blake. I’ll be pulling for you. The whole crowd will. You’re more of a hometown boy than I think you realize.”

  Chapter 7

  The national anthem blared as Shelby raced to the bleachers. She waited until the song was finished before threading through the crowd to reach her friend, Kayla. With the seats packed for the Sunday afternoon rodeo, Shelby was grateful Kayla had snagged them a prime spot, just a few rows up from the bucking chutes.

  “Hey Kayla. Sorry I’m late.”

  Kayla removed her purse from the seat she’d saved. “No problem. Did something happen? You look frazzled.”

  Shelby could still feel the imprint of Blake’s lips on hers. Trying not to smile,
she gave a casual shrug. “Ran into someone I know … So who’s our first cowboy?”

  Kayla passed her the program and Shelby tried to focus on the printed words, but eventually gave up. All she wanted was to see Blake compete but before they could get to the bronc riding event—Blake’s event—there was the Grand Entry to get through, then the tie-down roping, steer wrestling, and barrel racing events. The thrilling rough stock events—riding bucking broncs and bulls—would take place after intermission.

  “Must be ninety degrees out here today.” Kayla removed her hat and fanned her flushed face.

  Kayla had been Shelby’s best friend since grade three—their loyalty to one another cemented when Shelby had shared one of her mother’s amazing pumpkin chocolate-chip muffins and Kayla had reciprocated with a piece of grape bubblegum with the gooey liquid center.

  In the school band, Shelby had struggled with the clarinet, while Kayla mastered the flute with ease. Kayla had gone on to take piano and voice lessons after school, and had studied music at McGill University in Montreal after graduation.

  Over the years their interests had diverged—Kayla focused on her passion for music, Shelby on her love of nature, animals and flowers—but their friendship had survived and grown stronger.

  Now, besides teaching music at the local high school, Kayla also played in a popular local band called Barley & Bach that blended classical with folk and country.

  “So who was it you saw earlier?” Kayla asked before taking a sip of her pink lemonade.

  “Blake. He was still in his truck, in the parking lot, suffering from a case of cold feet.”

  “That guy?” Kayla sniffed. “Yeah, right.”

  When Blake had started working for Shelby’s father, Kayla had taken a dislike to him. Over the years, that hadn’t changed. She was always passing along unfavorable gossip about Blake, usually rumors she’d heard from her cousin Josh who was also doing well on the rodeo circuit. Like Blake, Josh competed in bronc riding and he’d beaten Blake by eight points yesterday, finishing as the top cowboy of the day.

  “Why is it unthinkable that Blake would feel nervous?”

  “He’s in the big leagues now. Our rodeo isn’t even PRCA sanctioned.”