by K. N. Casper
“How was your trip?” he asked her father.
“Productive.” Boyd was about to say more when Megan interrupted them.
“Did you feed Birdsong?” she asked Ethan.
He laughed. Her love of that horse raised his spirits. “Sure did, sprite. Mucked out her stall, too. She sends her regards.”
Kayla dragged her daughter away. “Let’s go inside, honey. We don’t want you getting sick again. I think you can trust Ethan to take good care of his horses. You coming inside?” she asked her father.
“I want to take a look at the security system first.”
“I’ll go with you.” Ethan pushed off the side of his truck. “I expected Kayla to call me before the installers left, so we could go over procedures with them.”
“Didn’t she tell you? The system isn’t up yet.” They headed toward the vineyard. “Won’t be ready until tomorrow. They ran into technical problems of some sort. Real inconvenient. My shipment of cuttings will be arriving this evening, and after what happened I sure don’t want to leave them unguarded. I told her I’d spend the night in the barn. Anybody showing up tonight will be looking down the barrel of a twelve-gauge.”
“I’ll spell you,” Ethan said.
“No need for that, but thanks anyway.”
They’d reached the newly installed fence line. Twenty-foot metal poles had been positioned every fifty feet, topped with lights and cameras. Ethan recognized laser sensors as well, though the casual observer might not notice them. An interruption in their signals would result in any of several combinations of responses.
“I don’t mind,” Ethan said. “As I told Kayla, the security of your place is in my own best interest. I want to catch whoever’s messing with you before he messes with me.”
Boyd nodded. “That’s enough to keep anybody awake at night.”
He examined the ground where Kayla had torn out plants and checked the tension of the heavy wires.
“You want the early shift or the late?” Ethan asked.
Boyd considered. “Since I’m still on West Coast time, why don’t I take the early shift. You can relieve me at...three o’clock, all right?”
“Make it two. I’m usually up by six, anyway.”
They turned toward the tin building that served as their warehouse. Inside there was an earthy smell, one that Ethan found invigorating. An old tractor sat forlornly in one corner. Cobwebs laced the rafters, but the hard-packed dirt floor was clear and unobstructed.
“When’s the shipment due?” Ethan asked.
“Kayla said around eight, barring another vehicle breakdown, of course.”
Returning to the house, they told Kayla about their plans for the night. She invited Ethan to stay for supper.
He hesitated. It was clear the invitation was a courtesy rather than a desire for his company. In fact, she seemed downright jittery.
He couldn’t blame her, not after the way he’d treated her on Sunday. She’d made a generous offer for the sake of kids who needed love, and he’d turned it around to make her look thoughtless and incompetent.
“We’re having ham and macaroni and cheese,” Megan informed him gleefully. “Macaroni and cheese is one of my most favorites. You could have had sloppy joes with us if you’d come over last night. We only have them when Grandpa isn’t here, ’cause he doesn’t like them.”
Boyd tucked his tongue in his cheek and grinned sheepishly at Kayla.
“But he likes macaroni and cheese, so we’re having that tonight,” his granddaughter went on.
“Do join us.” This time Kayla sounded sincere.
“Okay, thanks. Then I can help you unload your shipment when it arrives,” he said.
* * *
OVER THE DINNER TABLE Kayla found herself falling once again under Ethan’s spell. He chatted with her father about land and agriculture and asked good questions about grapes and wine making, which impressed the older man immensely. He joked with Megan, elicited stories from her about what she was learning in school and especially about the pageant she was going to star in. Finally, he asked her opinion about the handicapped kids who’d come out to ride, endearing the child by treating her like an adult.
He even raved over Kayla’s macaroni and cheese.
Since she knew he’d seen the box it came out of, she accepted the compliment as a kind of peace offering, a reassurance that they could still be friends. They’d barely cleared the table when they heard the harsh blare of an 18-wheeler’s air horn.
“Time to get to work.” He rose and carried his plate to the counter by the sink as if he were one of the family.
“I’ll be out in a couple of minutes,” she announced, “after I stack the dishwasher.”
She watched him amble out the door behind her father and Megan—who should be going to bed. It amazed her how easily he fit at their table and how comfortable her father and Megan were with him. A family man without a family.
* * *
BOYD LEFT THE BARN shortly after two, and Ethan settled into the worn easy chair they’d brought from the house, opened one of the magazines on viticulture stacked on the wooden crate beside him and adjusted the gooseneck lamp, intent on studying up on an industry he knew very little about.
The first periodical was clearly intended for dedicated professionals. He didn’t even recognize the vocabulary and wasn’t sure he could pronounce half the words. He had no idea what xylem-feeding insects or a phylloxera-resistant rootstock were, but surmised you didn’t want the first but you did want the second. He put the journal aside in favor of a glossy magazine that showed more promise.
He learned that grapevines were self-pollinators, that some could produce for more than a hundred years, though the average lifespan was more like twenty-five. He was marveling that a single vine could yield enough juice for three to six bottles of wine when he thought he heard footsteps outside.
Quietly setting the magazine aside, he rose from the chair, picked up the shotgun leaning against a hay bale and tiptoed to the small portal within the much larger barn door. Regretting that he hadn’t turned off the table lamp, he was nevertheless prepared to yank the door wide, when it creaked open on its own. He waited, unsure what to expect. A gun perhaps?
Kayla.
Ethan let out his breath. “What on earth are you doing here?”
She froze midmotion, one foot in, the other out. “Oh, there you are. I wondered...” She glanced to the empty chair.
He took her arm and helped her the rest of the way in. She was wearing a velvety jumpsuit.
“Kayla, it’s almost three o’clock in the morning.” He closed the door behind her, his mind racing. “What are you doing up...out here?” Relief softened the harshness of his words.
“I couldn’t sleep and thought you might like company.” She lifted the thermos in her left hand but held on to the quilt draped over her right arm. “It’s getting chilly out. Figured you might be cold in this big unheated barn.”
Cold? The sight of her had warmth spreading through him. Besides, the night was unusually mild. He’d been tempted to open the big door, but there wasn’t a breeze stirring, and he didn’t want the exposure.
Here they were, alone in a barn in the middle of the night. He shouldn’t be entertaining thoughts of kissing her again, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
“Coffee,” he said inanely. “Thanks.”
He motioned her to the chair, content to take a prickly hay bale for himself, but she waved the invitation away. Spreading the quilt on the hay, she patted a place beside her for him.
It was late. His mind was fogged by fatigue and longing. She was driving him crazy.
“You want...” He held up the thermos.
“Sure, if you’ll join me.”
He tossed the stale remnants of his mug outside, refilled it and poured hers into the thermos cap.
“I appreciate the coffee—” he nodded to the quilt they were sitting on “—and the creature comforts.” He sipped his steaming
drink. “But what really brought you out here, Kayla?”
She held her cup in both hands and stared into it. “We need to talk.” She spoke in little more than a whisper. “I want to apologize for the other day.”
“What for? I’m the one who should be apologizing for my bad manners.”
She looked at him strangely. “I offended you. I didn’t mean to.”
“I overreacted. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m worried about the children.”
“I know you are. So am I.”
He set their mugs on the small table within arm’s reach and clasped both her hands in his.
“I care very deeply about you, Kayla, more than I ever thought I could care for another person. If I were the marrying kind, you are the only woman I’d want to spend the rest of my life with.”
He leaned forward and gently kissed her on the lips, held it a few too-brief seconds.
“But I’m not the marrying kind. You know why. That’s not going to change, Kayla. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes were staring into his, searching. He wished so much that she could find in him what she wanted, that he could offer her what she deserved.
Climbing to her feet, she placed her hands on his shoulders. This time she initiated a kiss of her own, a kiss that was gentle but insistent.
His breath caught. He couldn’t help responding. Climbing to his feet, their lips still locked, he pulled her against him. He swept his hand over her back and up through her silky hair to cup the back of her head.
Finally he forced himself to pull away.
“I think you’d better go back to the house now,” he said in a strained, husky voice.
She let several heartbeats go by. “Is that what you really want, Ethan?”
He closed his eyes, praying the ache for her would go away, knowing it wouldn’t. “No.”
“Neither do I.” She gazed up at him sadly. “But I suppose you’re right.” She dropped her arms from around his neck and moved slowly toward the exit.
“Good night, Kayla,” he said from behind her.
Without turning she said, “Good night, Ethan,” and stepped through the door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KAYLA WAS TYING UP new vines along the second row of the vineyard Wednesday afternoon, trying very hard not to think about the night before when her cell phone went off. The school nurse was calling.
“Mrs. Price, I’m concerned about Megan. She’s still having trouble breathing. I’ve supervised her use of the inhaler, but I think you ought to come and get her.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Kayla turned off the phone and hurried over to her father who was working several rows away and explained the call.
He straightened stiffly. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“No, I can handle it.”
The twenty-minute drive took fifteen. She found Megan in the school nurse’s office, the nurse sitting next to her, holding her hand. Megan’s breathing was arduous, her skin pale and slightly sweaty.
The woman looked up, clearly worried. “I wasn’t sure if I should call you or 911.”
“I’ll take her home and put her on the nebulizer. She responds better to that. Maybe it’s something around here that’s irritating her.”
“I don’t know what. We don’t have any oleander on the school grounds anymore. I even had them cut down all the cedars that were up against the building,” the nurse said, “but of course the pollen is still in the air.”
“There’s no telling at this point,” Kayla commented as she drew her wheezing daughter to her feet, stroked her arms sympathetically and led her to the door.
“Megan tells me Heather Gibbs and Brad Estes take the school bus to your place on Wednesdays,” the nurse said, following along. “If you don’t want them there today I can have them take their regular bus.”
Kayla considered a moment. She hated to disappoint the two children. “They can still come over. If Megan isn’t better I’ll have my father drive them home.”
The nurse walked with them down the corridor toward the exit to the parking lot. “I’ve heard so many good things about the riding program you’ve started. What you’re doing is really wonderful. Their teachers tell me they’ve seen a marked improvement in Brad’s and Heather’s attitudes and school performance.”
It was nice to hear. Kayla had noticed a change in the two. She only hoped the other children would benefit, as well.
By the time Heather and Brad showed up at Stony Hill an hour and a half later, Megan was much improved, but Kayla wasn’t about to let her go over to Ethan’s place.
“But I miss Birdsong,” the girl complained.
“Birdsong wouldn’t want you to be sick,” Kayla told her. “Let’s wait until you can really enjoy being with her.”
Boyd agreed to drive the other two and then take them home. Kayla gave him the address and directions.
Ten minutes after they left, the phone rang.
“Your dad says Megan’s sick.” Ethan sounded as concerned as she felt. He really cared. This wasn’t just a polite inquiry. “Is she going to be all right?”
He hadn’t stayed for breakfast that morning. When Boyd had gone out to the barn to invite him in, he’d excused himself, saying he had horses to feed.
She’d greeted the news with a mixture of disappointment and relief. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide the way she felt in his presence.
“Springtime is always a challenge. I just have to keep her indoors for a few days. Respiratory problems aren’t fun.”
“Scary, if you ask me. But you’re sure she’ll be okay?”
“We’ve been through this, Ethan. She’ll be fine.”
“Call me if you need anything, anything at all.”
“I will. Thanks.” She hung up feeling better, knowing he was close and willing to help.
By the following morning Megan seemed fully recovered, and Kayla let her go to school, this time with the admonition not to go outside during recess or at lunchtime, but to stay inside where the air-conditioning provided at least some filtration.
But that afternoon she received another call from the nurse. Megan was having trouble breathing again. This was the part Daryl always resented—having to drop whatever he was doing when his daughter needed him, as if she had any choice.
Once more the nebulizer brought relief and by Friday morning Megan was again back to her old self, but Kayla decided to keep her home, anyway.
“M-o-m, we have to practice today,” Megan whined. “Mrs. Franklin will give my part to someone else if I’m not there.”
Kayla knew how much her daughter wanted to be in the pageant, and that she was a handful at home when she was feeling well, but Kayla couldn’t take any chances. The episodes were getting worse, and it seemed obvious there was something in the environment at school that was triggering them.
“I’ll talk to her,” she promised. “I’m sure Mrs. Franklin will let you keep the part.”
“Not if I’m not there!” the girl shouted.
“Megan, please calm down. You know this isn’t good for you.”
“I hate being sick. I don’t want to be sick anymore.”
Kayla’s heart ached. “I know you don’t, honey. I wish you weren’t, too, but it isn’t your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. What we have to do is make sure you stay well, and for today, that means staying at home and staying in the house.”
“You’re mean!” the girl yelled, ran to her room and slammed the door.
Under other circumstances Kayla would have been all over her for her bad behavior, but jumping on her right now would only exacerbate the problem. She’d give her a few minutes to calm down.
At lunchtime, Kayla was able to reach Mrs. Franklin. The teacher was sympathetic and very complimentary about Megan’s performance in her classroom.
“She’s bright, obedient and inquisitive. Keeps me on my toes, I can tell you,” she said with a laugh. “You can assu
re her she’ll still be the star of the pageant.”
Kayla was relieved at the news. “Is there anything Megan can do to keep up with the work she’s missing?”
“I told them yesterday to take their workbooks home. If she has hers, she can do the next exercise or two. Otherwise don’t worry about it. She’s quick. She’ll pick up what she missed.”
After lunch—grilled cheese and tomato soup, another one of Megan’s favorites—encouraged by Mrs. Franklin’s promise of the leading role, Megan went to her room, opened her book bag and set to work on her assignment.
The excitement of the morning had finally taken its toll, though. When Kayla looked in on her a few minutes later, Megan was having trouble breathing again, and Kayla put her on the nebulizer. That seemed to help for a little while, but not nearly as long as it usually did. By the time the school bus dropped Heather and Brad off, Megan’s breathing was dangerously labored.
* * *
“MEGAN HAVING ANOTHER attack?” Ethan asked when he saw Kayla’s father get out of the Toyota with Heather and Brad.
The worry in Boyd’s nod made Ethan wonder just how bad it was this time.
“Do you want me to take the kids home after their lesson?” Ethan asked. “Glad to, if it’ll help.”
Boyd shook off the suggestion. “Thanks, but you’re busy, too.”
The farrier had arrived half an hour ago and was shoeing horses as Ethan and Carter brought them in from the pastures.
“Besides,” Boyd added, “there really isn’t anything I can do that Kayla isn’t. If she needs me, she’ll call.”
Ethan was tempted to phone Kayla, but Boyd was right. There was nothing he could do and he didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself.
The kids saddled their mounts and led them out of the barn to the riding arena. Their confidence and enthusiasm had grown over the past two months. Ethan smiled at the rapt expressions on the youngsters’ faces as they walked their horses to the corral gate.
He checked and tightened cinches, adjusted a neck strap and gave each child a leg up into the saddle. The lesson began with walking, then progressed to a trot.