“If we don’t learn from the mistakes of the past, we are destined to repeat them.”
“George Santayana in slightly butchered fashion,” Robin said and laughed.
“Well, I’m leaving you ladies and your history and this George guy to do whatever it is you’re doing. Are you taking your grandma to the knitting group tonight?” Jack shifted his gaze down to Liv.
Should her heart speed up like this? Wasn’t a racing pulse dangerous to her health? And the rising warmth meant she was blushing. How ridiculous was that, a thirty-year-old woman blushing? She nodded, unwilling to show her nerves by attempting words.
“Good. I’ll swing by tonight and treat you and your grandmother to ice cream. I bet she’d like that.”
“It’ll be late and you have to get up early.”
“A little sleep loss is no big deal when you get to take a pretty girl out for a cone. Shame on me if I didn’t realize the worth in that trade.”
“Okay.”
For the life of her, she couldn’t put him off, even though that’s exactly what she should do. Part of her wished he wouldn’t leave, while the other struggled for distance. He put one big, broad hand against her cheek, a fleeting touch but strong. Calming. Masculine. Then he nodded to Robin, turned and went out the door. A light whistle sounded as the distance between them increased, a quick-paced tune that sounded grounded, happy and focused all at once.
Kind of like Jack’s father had seemed the week before.
“On a scale of one to ten, one being ho-hum and ten being ‘why-isn’t-he-on-TV?’ gorgeous, your cowboy is a ranking fifteen. And I’m not prone to exaggeration.” Robin’s expression underscored her words. “The guy is to-die-for good-looking, sweet and willing to sacrifice sleep to see you tonight. If you’re not interested, feel free to step aside. I could learn to love ranching like this.” She snapped her fingers, laughed at the look Liv shot her, then raised her hands, palms out. “Okay, okay, I get the message. He’s off-limits, even if you’re not as sure about that as you should be. But what a sweetheart, Liv.”
He was a sweetheart now.
Liv recognized that. But was she smitten because it was Jack and old feelings mushroomed whenever he was around? Or did being recently stung by divorce play into this? And was she mentally and emotionally ready to dive into the waters of romance?
No.
Was that normal?
She sure hoped so, because therapy wasn’t readily available in Jasper Gulch, Montana.
Church bells interrupted her just then, a warm noise, a reminder of times past.
She’d forgotten that Mountainview rang sweet hymns now and then throughout the day. The quaint custom came back to her as she keyed the City Hall Wi-Fi password into her laptop. She’d grown up hearing that carillon tone in grade school, old songs of praise and patriotism. The sound of home, grace, apple pie and dusty trails.
Her heart stretched open, remembering. As she entered the key words for the familiar research site, her email dinged, reminding her of the message she’d received the night before. The possibility of an assistant professorship, sixty minutes away. Closer than she’d been, but not an easy winter’s drive.
She needed a job. She needed a new start. But her mother could use her help right here, in Jasper Gulch. Stay? Go?
How about pray?
She stared at the computer screen, seeing nothing, as the old tune ebbed from the bell tower.
Nothing wrong with praying, is there? You used to pray often. Then you kind of drifted away.
She had drifted. She’d pretty much shrugged off faith and prayer when Jack dumped her. She’d done an abrupt about-face and hadn’t given God much of a chance since.
And then she had the nerve to get mad at God all over again when Billy announced his plans for a quick divorce.
God’s fault? Or free will and human choice?
She sighed inside, beginning to see that maybe she wasn’t innocent in all of this. She’d made choices, too, and maybe her decisions had influenced others.
The chimes softened. Ended. Three sweet notes finished the hymn, pling...pling...pling.
Soft and caring, calling folks back to God, if only they recognized the music’s plea. She drew a deep breath and made a decision that she would take Grandma and Grandpa to church on Sunday with her parents. No matter what happened, she’d be there, because stubborn rejection was getting her nowhere. Maybe a dose of old-fashioned humility would help. She was pretty sure it couldn’t hurt.
Chapter Nine
“Liv, I’m so glad you came. And this is your grandmother?” Mamie Fidler crossed the foyer of her rustic inn before the wooden entry door swung shut. “Trudy?” Mamie stuck out a hand in welcome. “I’m Mamie Fidler, and over here you’ve got Carrie Landry and Chauncey Hardman, some of our more ardent knitters. When Carrie’s not busy saving lives as a nurse practitioner and Chauncey can sneak away from the library, that is.”
The door opened behind them and Mamie smiled over their heads. “And here’s Sandy Wilson, who pretty much runs the show out at the Shaw Ranch. Come in, Trudy. Take a seat. Tell us a bit.”
Liv’s grandmother put out a reluctant hand to accept their welcomes, then sank onto one of the firm, overstuffed, wide-backed chairs that made Mamie’s sitting room a comfortable place to gather. Her gaze roamed the room, came to rest on a preserved elk head and the black bear in the room beyond. She breathed deep, obviously unimpressed, and then sighed disapproval. “This is quite the place.”
Liv’s nerves stretched tight. Grandma wasn’t happy about the move Jane and Dave had fairly forced on her, and while she probably appreciated the help with Grandpa Tom, she’d have preferred to stay in her own house, playing by her rules.
That didn’t happen and her ill humor over the lack of control was readily apparent.
“Thank you.” Mamie sat opposite her, and picked up a gorgeous nubbed ivory shawl. “Has Liv explained what we do here?”
“Just that you guys fill orders for Julie Shaw’s virtual store,” Liv replied. “I wasn’t bitten by the domestic bug that seems to run in my family. My sister Kate got all of that, but she’s in Texas, so here I am.” She ran a hand over the shawl’s edge and met Mamie’s gaze. “This is stunning, Mamie.”
“I love the classics.” Mamie took up her needles and indicated the table of patterns with a dip of her chin. “Trudy, we pretty much do what we’re called to do, and then if Julie needs specifics for special orders, we set things aside and jump in. Do you knit and crochet?”
“I do.”
“Then feel free to work on your own things or join us in producing items for Julie using Shaw wool. We get paid on a piece scale, but we mostly do it for fun.”
“Therapy,” Carrie added, laughing as her fingers nimbly worked through some kind of roundabout stitch as if it was nothing. “No one yells at me here, I’m never accused of being deliberately late and the yarn does what’s it’s told. Most of the time.”
“I was working on this when I had to move.”
Grandma’s bitter tone stopped everyone’s progress as she reached deep into her bag and withdrew a delicate piece. Chauncey recovered first. She set her work aside, moved closer to Trudy and reached a hand of respect to the beautiful rose-toned lace capelet Grandma withdrew from her bag. “Trudy. This is stunning.”
“Grandma, it’s beautiful.”
“Gorgeous.” Sandy Wilson nodded from her seat to their right. “And that color would look simply lovely on Miss Julie, wouldn’t it?”
“The bride-to-be, yes.” Mamie nodded. “It’s the right shade for her, Sandy. Trudy, who are you making this for?”
Grandma’s face showed indecision. “We had a benefit thing at our old church. Every year I’d make pretties and people would bid on
them to raise money.”
“That’s so nice, Trudy.” Sandy leaned closer and warmed the room with her open smile. “Will you send this back to them once it’s finished?”
“It’s gone.”
The women paused, watching her, not understanding. Liv followed suit, because she didn’t have a clue what her grandmother meant.
“The church, I mean. Like so much back home, it fell on hard times and they had to shut the doors two years back. I—” She stared down at the intricate cotton piece in her hands, the delicate lace pattern a tribute to old arts. “There is no more benefit, but I couldn’t stop myself from making things.”
Silence reigned until Chauncey sat forward with a thump. “You kept on, Trudy. When it all fell apart around you, you kept on, and that’s just the kind of person we like here in the Gulch.”
“There’s plenty of truth in that,” agreed Sandy.
“Trudy, the piece is absolutely timeless and lovely. Would it work in wool, do you think? I’m guessing no because the yarn is thicker. The cotton thread is perfect for that crocheted lace.”
“Wool would be too thick and coarse for this one,” Grandma agreed, but then she fumbled into her bag one more time. “I thought this old pattern for a fine wool yarn might be nice.”
“Nice?” Mamie held up the printed sheet with the half-page picture of a woolen shawl and passed it around. “Trudy, are you comfortable working with needles to produce that kind of lace?”
“So far my hands are good.” Trudy raised smooth, straight hands up high. “And my heart and head are working, too. With Tom’s situation, it seems good to keep myself busy while keeping an eye on him. Without him knowing, of course.”
Empathy blanketed the room. The thought of this aging woman, facing her husband’s diagnosis, creating beautiful works of art for a church that no longer existed—Grandma’s devotion heightened the gathered awareness.
“Time and change can be friend or foe, our choice,” declared Chauncey. “Looks to me like you’ve chosen to rise above, Miss Trudy, and that’s an example we all can follow.”
“Yes. Well.” Embarrassment flushed Grandma’s cheeks, much like Liv’s blush that morning. Now she knew where the telltale skin came from. “I can talk and work.” She focused her glasses on the end of her nose, picked up her thin crochet hook and started in.
“Liv, if you’d like to come back around nine?” Sandy caught Trudy’s eye. “Is that too late, Mrs. Mason?”
“Nine’s fine.”
“All right.” Liv took her cue, stood and moved to the door. “I’ll see you ladies later.”
“Thanks, Liv.”
Mamie called the words as Liv pulled the broad front door open, and when she turned back, Mamie’s steadfast expression assured her everything would be fine. Just fine.
Liv wasn’t so sure, but they’d made the first step forward, and if she knew Grandma, the old gal would be trying to run the show before too long.
I couldn’t stop myself from making things.
Grandma’s words painted a picture for Liv, a living room scene of the old couple, alone. Their neighborhood crumbling around them. Chronic change, steady devastation, holed up in their nicely outfitted century-old home while their local world spun out of control. The one constant was Grandma’s fancy work, the work of her hands.
“Livvie Franklin? Are you back for good or for a while?”
Liv turned and came face-to-face with Julie Shaw, Jackson’s youngest daughter, newly engaged. “For a while at least.”
Except, was she? Did Montana State want to offer her a post for the upcoming semester? She’d know next week because that’s when they had scheduled an in-person meeting. “How are you, Julie? I hear congratulations are in order.”
Julie laughed out loud and grabbed Liv’s arm. “Isn’t life the strangest thing?”
Cheated on, newly divorced, out of work and sleeping in her childhood bedroom, Liv couldn’t disagree. “Beyond words.”
“Six weeks ago I was daydreaming about being a wool-spinning spinster, just me and a dog or two, spending my years watching the sheep come and go.”
“Julie. That’s beyond dreadful. And frighteningly similar to my recent thoughts,” Liv admitted as they walked toward Main Street.
“That’s the thing, Liv. I forgot who was in charge. Who forges the paths, the bends in the road, and then all of a sudden, there I am, helping out with the rodeo...”
“A target-rich environment,” Liv interrupted, laughing.
“I’ll say!” Julie laughed with her, but then sighed. “It was like night and day. I caught sight of Ryan, looked into those eyes, and it was like God whispered into my ear, ‘He’s the one.’ Silly, right?”
It wasn’t silly at all, because hadn’t she felt the same way years before? Heard the same soft whisper of recognition? But it hadn’t been about Billy Margulies, the man she married.
The whisper had come about Jack.
Had it been that way all along? That no matter what she felt for Billy initially, he could never be Jack McGuire? Had she undermined her marriage from the beginning because she married the wrong man?
She tamped the thought down and smiled at Julie. “Not silly. Smart. When God and instinct work together, I don’t think you can go wrong.”
“Well, he’ll have to get used to the idea of sheep, and for a cattleman, that allegiance does not come easy. But the idea of sheep and children and ranching and home-cooked meals, once Sandy is able to teach me the ABCs of cooking?” She angled a grin to Livvie. “I think I’ll do all right by Ryan.”
“I’m certain of it. Are you going crazy, planning the wedding?”
“Nope.” Julie shook her head as they neared Great Gulch Grub. “We’re going to get married at the Old Tyme Wedding in October. I figured if my brother is in charge, nothing can go wrong because Cord never messes anything up. And it seems kind of sweet and old-fashioned, doesn’t it?” She nodded toward the café and added, “Want coffee or something while we wait? I brought Sandy in because I needed to get some things and she’s coming back to the ranch tonight to get an early start on tomorrow. We’ve got cattle buyers coming in and she wants everything just so for their arrival.”
“Sandy’s always been like that,” Liv agreed, but as they found a seat, she went back to the topic of Julie’s wedding. “Julie, tell me what you can possibly think is sweet and old-fashioned about a tent wedding at the fairgrounds?”
They ordered coffee and Julie made a face. “Put that way, it’s pretty mundane, but think about those women who came from the East as mail-order brides. Or the big mining rushes that brought so many folks west. They had to wait until a preacher or a circuit judge rode through to get married and they’d all line up together for the ceremony. I think this is the same kind of thing, only we’ve got a great preacher in Ethan, it’s preorganized, which means the event will be nice, and it’s a chance to be part of Jasper Gulch history. You figured me for a princess-style wedding, didn’t you?”
Liv’s expression gave her away, so there was no sense disagreeing. “Absolutely.”
Julie’s laugh made folks around them smile. “The same thing happened with my sheep farm. People thought I couldn’t, wouldn’t and shouldn’t do it, but I rarely listen to people and just figure God’s got my back. Anything else is frosting on the cake.”
God had her back.
Julie’s simple declaration of faith was more than words. It was intrinsic to her. She’d always had a loving, trusting nature, even when she was a little kid, tagging along with her older brothers’ crowd. When they couldn’t ditch her, of course. And despite her delicate look, she had a backbone of tempered steel, because running a big animal enterprise wasn’t for the faint of heart. “You’re amazing, Julie.”
Julie waved th
at off, but her grin widened as she looked beyond Livvie. “Jack, hey. I’m visiting with your girl. How are things at the Double M?”
* * *
His girl.
Liv swung about, color pinking her cheeks again, just like it had that morning. For him or because half a dozen folks heard Julie’s remark?
Both, most likely. He crossed the room, nodding greetings to people he passed, then surprised Liv by claiming the seat in the booth alongside her, nudging her farther in with his hip. From the way her chin dipped and her color rose, he thought he might want to make a habit of surprising Livvie Franklin. The very thought made him feel better about a long day behind him. “You ladies could take up knitting and then you wouldn’t be banished to the diner, you know.”
“Or we can recognize our talents lie in other directions and take that road less traveled we talked about.”
“Point taken.” He slanted a smile up to the young waitress that came by their table, ordered a soda and sat back. “Feels good to perch on something sitting still about now.”
“Long day?”
The caring in Liv’s question stirred a host of feelings in Jack. He pushed them aside and shrugged. “Bad patch of fence up north. Cows found it. Bad scenario.”
“Oh, Jack.” Julie’s face said she understood. Cattle roaming through fencing often found a tragic end. “I’m sorry.”
“Could have been worse and the fence is fixed now, but I feel stupid for not catching it sooner. That ounce of prevention would have been real good in this case.”
“Cord ran into that last month,” Julie told them. “Said it was because of all the centennial nonsense and sitting on the council and how much was one man supposed to juggle? But I think the real reason was that his engagement fell apart and he just wanted to hit something. So when the far pasture had trouble, he needed something to blame. The town centennial took the direct hit.”
Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2 Page 11