“Lulu’s about the sweetest, kindest person on the planet.”
“I know. It’s a problem, for sure. And while no one wants to interfere with her life, there’s a twelve-year-old—Cord’s goddaughter—who is at risk if Lulu’s going downhill. No easy answers, Liv, but maybe if your grandmother was aware of his wanderings—”
“She knows he wanders,” Liv interrupted him with a grimace. “I was careless about not closing the front gate. If I had, he might not have slipped out of the yard so easily. But I feel dreadful, locking him in. It’s not right, Jack.”
“Would you feel that way if it was a kid?”
She looked up, surprised. “To keep a little one out of the road? Of course not.”
Jack shrugged. “Same thing, different generation. Your grandpa’s reasoning isn’t what it used to be. He can’t keep himself safe, so it’s up to us to do it for him. Just like having a child who can’t discern right from wrong yet.”
“But it’s demeaning. Isn’t it?”
“Not in the least. It’s respecting this illness for what it is, a rough disease that robs an older generation of reason. But that’s where we come in.” He stood and pulled her up with him. “We can keep him safe, Liv. You, your parents, Grandma and the town. But only if we look at this realistically and understand his limits.”
Tears filled her eyes. For Grandpa? For Grandma? For the whole wretched situation of watching someone you love slowly succumb to a mind-numbing illness?
A mix, most likely, but no matter. He pulled her into his arms, holding her, hugging her, letting her tears wet his shirtfront, wishing he could make this all go away. He couldn’t, but he might be able to make things easier by helping out. “Liv, I—”
He drew back and tipped her tear-streaked face up.
His heart melted. His pulse paused, then thrummed as his eyes met hers. The feel of her chin against his fingers, the scent of her hair, sugar and spice, the track of tears slipping down her cheeks.
He didn’t ask permission. He didn’t want permission, he simply wanted to know if kissing Livvie Franklin would be as perfect as it had been before he messed everything up, and so he dipped his head to find out.
Better, he decided, losing himself in the kiss he’d been missing for far too long. Definitely better.
* * *
She should pull back, stop this kiss, apply the brakes to the wave of emotion sweeping over her. She’d come to town with her guard up, force fields firmly in place, but now—oh, now—with the feel of Jack’s lips on hers, the perfect cradle of his arms supporting her, the cowboy-rancher scent of him, clean and rugged... If there was a scale for kisses, this one...?
Immeasurable.
Her heart rhythm jumped into overdrive. Her head followed suit, not wanting to think or reason, and all because she was kissing Jack McGuire again. Common sense fled the moment his mouth touched hers, and the sensible woman she thought she was disappeared with it. Right now, kissing her former fiancé put her in mind of all things good and right in the world, a feeling she’d love to grasp and hold forever.
A horse neighed from the near paddock. Little Dill, wondering where his nighttime feed was, already becoming a creature of habit.
“Liv.”
The moment Jack pulled back, sensibility returned.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she told him.
“And yet, it did.” He planted a soft kiss to her forehead, her cheek. “And I’m not opposed to it happening again, Liv. Like now.” He smiled as he glanced from her eyes to her lips and back.
She stepped back and indicated the paddock. “He’s calling me.”
Jack sighed, rubbed his right hand to the nape of his neck and grabbed her hand in his left. “He’s calling us,” he corrected her, and the sound of “us” made her heart trip and fall harder. But how could there be an “us” when the mistakes of the past loomed close? How could she trust her heart—and Jack—to consider any kind of commitment?
“You’re overthinking things, Liv.”
She pulled back and scowled at him. “Nothing wrong with thinking, cowboy. Most of us do it on a regular basis.”
He reclasped her hand and tugged her closer as they walked. “Not what I mean and you know it. The minute we stopped kissing, you started putting up mental fence posts and barbed wire.”
“My track record says caution is a smart move on my part,” she reminded him. “I have an ex-husband who cheated on me for over a year, is now married to that woman and expecting the baby he didn’t want to have with me. I’d say I have reason to be cautious, Jack.”
“The guy’s a fool,” Jack muttered. “The thought of having your love and not taking care of it? Listen, take it from a guy who blew that once—Billy Margulies married the most amazing woman in the world and didn’t realize it. Having made that mistake myself, Liv? Letting you go because I was a jerk?” He stopped and turned her to face him as Little Dill paced the edge of the near paddock. “It’s a lesson I’ve never forgotten and I’ll never make again. And that’s a promise I can keep.”
Was it?
Looking into his eyes, she read sincerity and warmth. And love?
Yes.
But that look told her more about herself than it did about Jack. It told her that she’d never felt like this, looking at Billy. She’d never had her heart stampede the way it did during that kiss. She’d never—
Realization clutched from within.
She’d been Billy’s wife for over three years, and had never enjoyed the wealth of emotions stirred by kissing Jack again.
What kind of woman was she? Had she buried herself in books and work to avoid Billy? Or did she never really, truly love him and married him because she longed for a happy, comfortable ending?
How’d that work out for you? Not so well, I’m thinking.
Little Dill nickered again. She shoved her thoughts aside, knowing there would be time to examine them more closely without tall, lanky Jack McGuire at her side, whistling softly while they nurtured the cast-off horse together.
She’d think about Little Dill and Grandpa, both in need of warmth and affection. If she focused on them, she might be able to see her choices with greater clarity. Stay or go?
Her heart claimed “stay” and declared itself the winner.
Her head?
She filled the water trough, ignoring the flecks of cold water dotting her legs.
Her very logical head reminded her that assistant professorships in history weren’t exactly a dime a dozen and if Montana State offered her a contract—which she expected they would because they’d been nudged into a time-crunch situation by a professor’s sudden and long-term illness—she’d be foolish to say no. And a single woman with no job didn’t have the luxury to be foolish.
Chapter Eleven
“You survived.” Coach Randolph made the cryptic comment as he and Jack loaded baseball gear into the back of the coach’s van after practice the following night. “No scars, either. Good job.”
“I almost didn’t come,” Jack confessed, and the look on Coach’s face said Jack’s admission was no big surprise. “Then I realized that if I’m really moving forward, it was time to take charge again. And it was good.” He let his gaze wander the Ennis baseball diamond as he tossed a ball into the air. “You’ve got a couple of nice prospects, Coach.” He directed his attention to a group of players nearby.
“Three that stand out, although that Munoz kid could be a dark-horse contender. If we can keep his head in the game.”
“And that’s tough when you’re working two jobs to help your mother make ends meet.”
“He does not take kindly to handouts, either.”
Jack understood the quiet message. Coach Randolph was in a position to offer
help from time to time, but Sonny Munoz wore pride like a cushioned saddle blanket. Jack knew the good and bad points of that, but the kid intrigued him. “He makes it to practice regularly?”
“Always. And then goes to work, catches some sleep and off to school when it’s in session. And two little sisters who look up to him.”
“And I suspect the ancient car is a daily dilemma.”
“Yup. Will it start? Will it make it where they’re going?” Coach sighed. “We take simple things for granted. Decent wheels, a roof over our heads, plenty of eats. Kids like Sonny? For them, nothing’s a given, everything’s a trade-off and time gets short. Real short.”
“Like Pete Daniels?” The former Legion ballplayer’s tough-guy attitude hadn’t served him well on the field or off in his Bobcat-playing days. A talented second baseman, Pete’s rude mouth and bad attitude labeled him with the umpires early on, and no amount of coaching changed his attitude. Now, past his prime and angry at the world, the twentysomething minimum-wage worker was always trying to show others up. Pete’s sour take on life blemished a God-given talent.
The coach snorted. “No. Pete’s never had it easy, but he wants it easy and that’s a big difference. His attitude trips him up and I think that’s why he never made it into the minors. The baggage he carries made him an unlikely pick. If you’re the next Derek Jeter, a coach might overlook some tough-guy attitude.”
“If you’re the next Derek Jeter, your coach wouldn’t need to,” Jack supposed. His words made Coach grin.
“Jeter’s one of a kind, a born leader. But Pete, well.” Coach rubbed his jaw, then shrugged one shoulder. “You have to want things badly enough to work for them, and if you want them badly enough, it shouldn’t seem like work.”
Jack believed that, too. If you loved what you were doing, you welcomed the work. He’d done that with baseball. And he’d done that with the ranch. In Chicago, sitting at a desk, orchestrating financial futures?
No.
The realization made him pause as Coach waved goodbye.
He’d done an excellent job for Reiger, Stauff and Mitchellson. He’d hit bonus after bonus, tucking away money at a time when there wasn’t a lot of leverage in the markets. But had he loved it?
Not in the least.
He climbed into the truck, but didn’t turn the key right away. A light dawned in the back of his somewhat dusty, trail-riding brain.
He worked hard and did well, regardless. And he’d always thought he came home because his mother was ill. She needed him, and this was where he should be.
But he stayed in the aftermath, grieving. Working. Riding herd, mending fence, weaning bawling calves from anxious mothers.
The mental illumination stretched brighter and longer. The lights of the baseball diamond flashed on as a team arrived for a late-day game, but Jack’s newfound clarity had nothing to do with the game or the banks of lights.
It was totally about him. He thought he’d stayed out of duty, to help his father, to be a working partner with his mother gone.
A smile softened his jaw. His shoulders relaxed.
Yeah, he’d stayed to help his dad, but mostly he’d stayed because this was where he belonged. Jasper Gulch was more than a little town bent on celebrating its roots. It was an experience to be lived. Loved. Cherished.
Sonny Munoz’s face came to mind. A great kid, hardworking, applying muscle to the task at hand. Unlike Pete, Sonny appreciated everything he worked for.
Jack started the truck, cranked the wheel and headed back to the Double M as a seedling of a plan glimmered in his brain. He’d talk to his father, see if they could take on another hand. If they put their heads together, they might be able to make a difference in a young man’s life, a kid with great potential. A kid like Jack had been, thirteen years before.
He drove home, ready to take another step forward. He’d survived practice, hadn’t looked stupid, didn’t cave when he walked into that batter’s box to help the elite young athletes with their field workout.
He’d made it through and enjoyed the experience, which made him realize he’d been a jerk for way too long.
But no more.
* * *
“Jack. Got a minute?”
Jack was aiming left out of the Jasper Gulch Grocery the next day, but turned right when the mayor’s voice hailed him. “I do, but just a minute. I’ve got to get this cold stuff home. Ice cream doesn’t do well in this heat.”
“Me neither,” the mayor agreed. He pulled out a white hankie and swiped it across his brow. “I’m hoping this hot spell breaks before your big game.”
Funny. The words big game had taken on a whole new meaning these past few weeks. He’d started out thinking of the Old-timers’ Baseball Game in less complimentary terms.
Now? The term big game fit the occasion. “Can’t change the weather, Mayor. No matter. We’ll have fun.” He directed his look to the bags containing frozen food, a silent reminder of his limited time. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m a little worried,” the mayor confessed, and from the look on Jackson Shaw’s face, Jack believed him.
“About?”
“The stuff that’s been happening. We don’t need trouble around here, we don’t need a lot of outsiders coming in and telling us how to do things, and I don’t want the rest of our celebration upset in any way. Our centennial has taken months of planning, countless hours of implementation and a lot of resources. We can’t take that lightly, Jack.”
Jack mused the list. Chauncey Hardman had inspired the hundred-year celebration, the committee had devoted long hours to the planning and success. The mayor, personally?
Jackson Shaw had delegated responsibility and then took the credit himself, but Jack refused to let the mayor’s self-centeredness spoil his own growing anticipation for a great day of baseball. “Cal Calloway is playing that day, so we’ll have a deputy sheriff on hand. But I’ve also asked the sheriff’s department to send extra patrols around because of the influx of people. And with Hutch Garrison here signing autographs and chatting with folks, we don’t want anything to threaten a new Major League Baseball player’s career.”
Jackson paled. “I hadn’t thought about that. What if something happens to him? What if he gets hurt? Can we take that responsibility? Can we afford to take it?” He stressed the financial qualifier and Jack shrugged.
“He’s not playing, his MLB contract wouldn’t allow that. He’s here to greet people and sign his name. He’ll be fine. I’ve also got the volunteer ambulance crew on standby, just in case. If the weather stays hot and humid, a long day in the sun can be as dangerous as a broken bat or foul ball.”
“I appreciate how you’re taking this seriously.” Once again the mayor swiped his brow, but he didn’t look as reassured as he should, and that made Jack wonder why. “This is big stuff for Jasper Gulch. Big stuff.”
“I hear you.” Jack raised the bags in his hand and moved toward the truck. “I’ll do what I can, Mayor. Gotta go.”
“Of course. Good talking to you.”
Jack mulled over the conversation on the drive home.
Was Jackson unduly worried? Maybe not, considering the vandalism at the rodeo. Or was it the disappearance of the settlers’ time capsule that had him in a tizzy?
Jackson Shaw was a lot of things, and he wasn’t one of Jack’s favorite people on the planet by any means, but he wasn’t a worrier. So what had him worried now?
“Jack! Jack! Come see what we brought over!”
He climbed out of the truck, grinning. Brian Landry’s excitement erased all thoughts of the mayor’s angst as the boy bounced up and down. “I’ll be right there, bud. Gotta put this stuff on ice.”
“Okay!”
When Jack returned to the yard, he tipped hi
s hat back on his head and whistled. “Brian Landry, whatcha got there?”
“A puppy.” Brian breathed the words like the funny little pup was a thing of highest regard, and the expression on the boy’s face said he was. “His name’s Blue.”
“Good name,” Jack remarked, hiding a smile.
“It’s a real good name for a blue heeler,” Brian agreed in a most serious voice. “Your dad talked to my mom and they said I could have him if I keep him here because there’s no one at my house to take care of him during the day.”
“Did they now?” Jack raised an amused look to his father as he reached out a hand to the mottled-fur pup.
Mick scrubbed a hand to his neck, looking a mite uncomfortable, then he nodded. “Kids and dogs go together. And old Molly could use some company until we get this little boy trained up right to run herd.”
“Molly’s a cow.” Brian peered up at Mick from the ground. “Why does a cow need company?”
“Everybody needs company,” Mick told him, and the way he smiled at Carrie when he said it said his father was growing serious about Carrie Landry. Jack glanced her way as she twined her right hand with Mick’s left.
“They sure do.” She smiled at Mick, and Jack was surprised when his father bent and swept a quick kiss to her mouth.
His father. Falling in love. Two sweet kids, fatherless. A little puppy, just taken from his mother, needing a home. And Livvie, caught between two worlds, wondering what to do. Where to go. Couldn’t she see the perfection of this scenario? Staying here, staying with him, building a new life together? He squatted low and reached out both hands. “May I hold him, Bri?”
“Well, sure!”
Here, Jack decided as he stood upright, the pup in his arms. He wanted Liv here, on the Double M, completing the circle of family renewed. Looking at Carrie’s and Mick’s smiling faces, he knew Liv’s journey wasn’t easy at present. She’d made that clear.
Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2 Page 13