by Liz Isaacson
She didn’t miss the parties. She was getting too old for them anyway, and she liked her beauty rest.
She didn’t really even miss her friends. She’d left town a week ago and spent a few days in Salt Lake City before coming east to Brush Creek. None of them had called or texted.
She missed her parents. Her job, though it was meaningless. She got to wear her cute skirts and shoes, and she always got a long lunch and was home by five. And if she were being honest, being here with Ted had eased the loneliness that had been prevalent since Liam had moved out of their apartment.
That’s why you touched him, she thought. It was a human connection she craved. She just hadn’t expected to want it with such a handsome man, even if he was a cowboy. April watched him pack all their food in a single backpack and load up several bottles of water too. He shouldered the pack and turned toward her.
“Ready?”
“I’m not what you would call outdoorsy,” she said.
“The path is easy to find and follow.” He glanced at her shoes. “You’re wearing good footwear. You’ll be fine. We’ll go slow.” His eyes landed on her belly and stayed for a single breath before returning to her eyes. “Do you know if the baby is a boy or a girl?”
“No,” she said. “And I’m not going to find out.”
“No?”
She shook her head, a tidal wave of sadness cascading upon her unexpectedly. “No…if I decide not to keep the baby, I don’t want to know what it is.”
He stood so still, it was almost unnerving. “Do you really think you can give your baby up for adoption?”
She didn’t like the way his eyes had captured hers, hooked them and wouldn’t let go. Didn’t like the compassion she found there. She didn’t want his pity. Didn’t deserve it.
“I don’t know,” she said.
He extended his hand toward her, like she’d move forward and slip her fingers through his and they’d go walking up the mountain hand-in-hand. She wanted to do that. Wanted it so badly, a lump formed in the back of her throat.
So she did, and the calloused nature of his hand also brought with it the warmth and comfort and connection she’d hoped for.
Chapter Seven
Ted felt like he was on a roller coaster he wanted to get off. Up one moment, swooping toward the sky, the track nowhere in sight. Then plummeting toward the ground, a scream ripping from his throat.
The high was holding April’s hand. He wasn’t sure why he’d offered his hand to her, and he was even more surprised when she took it. He sensed her loneliness like a scent on the air, though, and he wanted to ease her suffering if he could. He squeezed her hand and nodded his cowboy hat toward the path up ahead. “See it?”
“If you mean that thin ribbon of brown dirt, yeah, I see it.” She glanced up at him and brushed her hair under her hat with her free hand. “We’re not going to fit on it side-by-side.”
“You can go first.” Ted paused and indicated she go in front of him.
She gave a brief guffaw. “I don’t think so. You go.”
Ted stepped in front of her, regretting the loss of her hand in his. Something gnawed at him, and he let the thought of giving a baby up for adoption roll around in his head. It never settled down, and it started to seethe and take on a pulse of its own.
The lone tree on the path stood up ahead, offering the only shade, and he stopped in it. He fished out two bottles of water and handed one to April. “I don’t think I could do it,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Give my kid up for adoption.”
“Well.” She took a long drink of water. “It’s not your kid.” She glared at him, and dang, if Ted’s blood didn’t run a little faster because of her speared look. “And not your decision.”
“I know, I know.” Ted drained the rest of his water. “But what if you meet someone in the future? Someone who could love your kid, and love you?”
Her anger softened and a faraway look entered her eyes as she faced the path they’d already climbed, taking in the view before them.
“Sometimes I imagine I can see the homestead from here,” Ted said, switching the subject. “But you have to go all the way to the top for that. It sits down in a little valley you can’t see from here.”
April shielded her eyes and continued staring at something in the beyond. Only the wind whispered between them, and a measure of peace infected Ted’s soul. He offered up a quick prayer to know what to say to help April, but nothing came immediately to his mind.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” she finally said.
“What?” he asked.
She faced him. “Give up the baby.” Her eyes seemed enormous, and Ted noticed that she wore a touch of makeup. Her soul, wounded and tired as it was, called to him, and he reached his arm around her waist and pulled her into an embrace.
“You’ll know what to do,” he said into her ear. “When it’s time.”
“Some days, I’m so angry,” she whispered into his chest, her hot tears burning through the fabric of his shirt. “That I don’t think I can ever love the baby. Other days, I’m already in love with him.”
“Or her,” Ted said. “I think women always refer to their babies with a male pronoun—at least until they know if it’s a girl or a boy.” He had no idea if that was true or not, though the only woman he’d known to be pregnant in the past five years—Megan—had. He chuckled, glad when April did too.
He took a big breath, filled his big chest, and said, “Let’s keep going. I think you’ll really like the view from the top.”
It took an extra twenty minutes to reach the vista of the butte, because April’s steps got slower and slower as time went on. Ted had suggested they stop and turn back, but April wouldn’t have it. She wanted to make it to the top for some reason.
She stood on the edge of the butte facing away from the ranch, her arms wrapped around her middle protectively. Ted watched her more than he gazed at the horizon, a new development for him he didn’t quite know how to deal with.
He thought about his family, and his desire to have a wife and children of his own roared forward again. The past day and a half had almost been torture as this new wound had opened in his life. It felt like a round hole, and April a square peg, and yet, Ted couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to hold her, kiss her, feel her unborn child kick against his hand.
Surprised at the intimate nature of his thoughts, he twisted away from her. He removed his cowboy hat and let the wind cool his sweat. He drank another bottle of water, trying to lower his internal temperature, not all of which came from the blazing sun.
He couldn’t make the two halves of himself line up, and he spent several minutes trying to make his feelings align. The fact was, his life had changed the moment he’d laid eyes on April Nox. Everything he’d been content with then no longer brought him the same level of satisfaction.
“Hey, are we going to eat up here?” April appeared at his side, and Ted let his eyes slide from her toes to her eyes.
“There’s no shade. We can go down the path a bit, and sit on some rocks we passed coming up.” He smiled at her, unsure of how the gesture sat on his face. He hadn’t flirted with a woman in a long time. “Are you ready to go?”
She grinned up at him. “Yeah, coffee only lasts so long.”
He picked up the backpack and draped it over one shoulder. “Let’s go then. I don’t need a pregnant woman fainting on me.”
She punched him lightly on the bicep and he captured her hand in his. “I like you, April-May.” He kicked a quick half-smile in her direction.
Her eyes danced with amusement. “My middle name isn’t May.”
“No? What is it?”
“I don’t have one.”
“No middle name? Then April-May fits just fine.”
They started down the path, and it was wide enough up here at the top for them to remain side-by-side. “I don’t hate it,” she said.
Ted laughed. “I’ll take tha
t as a compliment.” He had to move in front of her then, leading her down and back the way they’d come until he came to the shady spot where several large boulders provided some seating. The butte itself provided the shade, but not for much longer as the sun continued its arc through the sky. When it reached its zenith, Ted wanted to be nearly back to the cabin, ready to take his midday siesta.
He passed out the food, and April took hers but didn’t move to open it. “So…do you go to church every week?”
“Sure do.” He bit into his sandwich, the words he’d prayed for earlier suddenly there. “You want to come with me? It’s not bad. The pastor says really good things, and it’s nice to get down into town.” He fished an apple out of his pack. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the ranch. The wide open sky.”
He gazed into that sky now, overcome with gratitude for his life, this place. “But sometimes, it’s good to know there are people around too.” He gave her a smile and went back to his lunch, hoping she’d pick up the conversation where he’d left it.
“I’m generally trying to avoid people,” she said.
“Let’s just go to church then. We can sneak out during the closing hymn.” He had a flash of being a teenager and telling his dad that he’d gone to church when he’d only shown up for the first ten minutes. A wry smile marred his face with the memory. He still hadn’t called his father, and he told himself not to forget when he got back to the ranch.
“I guess I can go to church if we sneak out early.”
Relief and excitement filled Ted in equal parts. “Great,” he said cheerfully.
April pinched off a piece of her sandwich and tossed it in his direction. “Are you always this happy?”
“Yep,” he said, unapologetic about that, at least.
Chapter Eight
April had never been so happy to see a log cabin in all her life. But the luxury log cabins that came into view back at the ranch had Internet service. Hot water. Electricity. Air conditioning. Comfortable beds.
“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” Ted said, swinging off his horse to help her down. He practically lifted her into his arms this time, and she didn’t blame him. He took the reins of both horses loosely in his hands and continued around the homestead.
April watched him go, once again marveling at the strength and power in him—and not just physically. Ted Caldwell possessed a lot more than muscles of iron and a very kissable mouth. And if she couldn’t touch his beard soon…. The temptation to manhandle him had run through her mind a lot on the horseback ride home.
“Hey!” Megan met her just inside the front door. “There you are. How was it?” She peeked out the door and closed it, her eyes bright and her skin smelling like a perfumy beach.
“It was…fun.”
“Really?” Megan peered at her like she’d just said the sun wasn’t yellow.
A slow smile spread across April’s face. “Really. I’m going to go shower and get ready for church.” She’d taken one step when Megan’s hand landed on her arm. April turned back to her. “What?”
“Church? You’re going to go to church?”
April felt wicked when she leaned toward her friend and said, “Ted invited me. I said yes.” She added a bounce to her step that hurt her bruised tailbone just for Megan’s benefit. She tossed her a laugh when she reached the top of the stairs.
“April,” Megan said, giggling.
“You got your wish, my fairy godmother. You wanted me to spend some quality time with Ted? Don’t even try to deny it.”
“I did not,” Megan said anyway, taking the baby as Landon handed him to her. She beamed down at the infant, and April paused for real now, watching Megan with fascination. Would she look at her baby like that? Would the love just come gushing out of her the way it did Megan, even if the infant had Liam’s eyes, or nose, or chin?
Her hand went to her belly, as it had more and more often lately, and she once again wondered if she could go through with her plan to give her baby away. Pushing her circular thoughts away, she went down the steps and hurried into the shower.
Forty-five minutes later, she waited in a chair on the front porch, her eyes trained on the cabins across the street. Ted hadn’t specified which one he lived in, but she watched another cowboy and a blonde woman climb into a truck after two tween boys exploded out of the house and ran screaming across the lawn.
When Ted emerged from the cabin way down at the end of the line, April stood, her heart beating with the reverberations of a gong. He glanced toward the homestead, and April left the safety of the porch so he’d see her. She realized he was holding a couple of fluffy little dogs in his arms.
She stopped and stared. Sure, he’d mentioned his dogs and how much he enjoyed having them around, but she’d imagined them to be big, brutish things who slobbered on her best pair of jeans. But Ted held puff balls. Puff balls who licked his face before he set them gently back in the cabin. He turned toward the homestead and caught her eye. A smile danced across his face and he strode toward her.
April told herself not to skip and squeal like a schoolgirl. She was too old to be acting like that now. Too mature. Too pregnant.
Still, it looked like Ted might sweep her off her feet and twirl her around when they met. To save herself the humiliation of him not being able to lift her, she said, “What kind of dogs were those?” when he was still several paces away.
“Pomeranians.”
April tipped her face skyward and laughed. “I so didn’t peg you for a puffy dog type of guy.”
Ted waited with his hand in his pockets until she quieted. He gazed at her with something she hadn’t seen on a man’s face in a long time. Adoration.
April had been in enough bars to recognize interest, flirtation, lust. But she hadn’t had anyone adore her—not even Liam—in years. She sobered, especially when he said, “I like the way you laugh.” He turned and offered her his elbow. “Shall we?”
“You probably drive a great big truck, right?”
“Guilty.”
The truck parked to the side of the last cabin was indeed great, and big, and so white it looked like it hadn’t been driven before. The gray leather interior seemed freshly polished, and the scent of oranges permeated the cab.
“Do you actually drive this truck anywhere?”
“Remember how I said it was nice to get down to town every week? That’s about how often I drive it.” He turned on the air conditioning and started down the canyon. “Sometimes I have to go to Texas, or Colorado, or wherever, for a client. But that’s not very often. They come to the ranch too.”
The music filling the truck had the definitive twang of pure country, and April reached for the radio. “Mind if I change this?”
“Not a country fan?”
“I like the pop version of country.”
“Ah, one of those.” His fingers flexed on the wheel.
April rolled down her window and let the wind blow her hair back. The air entered her nose and lungs like a breath of heaven, and April released some of her pent-up negativity. At the same time, she felt a little bit closer to the Lord than she had in years. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, relieved that her mother had been right.
She hadn’t done something she couldn’t come back from. She didn’t expect it to be easy, but until that moment, she also hadn’t thought it possible.
The feeling of forgiveness and peace fled, though, when Ted pulled into the parking lot of a red brick church. The building seemed tall and narrow and obviously old.
“They built this church brick by brick, using the post office. They mailed every brick from Salt Lake City. Almost bankrupted the postal service.” Ted chuckled as he got out of the truck and gazed at the building with fondness.
“Ah, so you’re a history buff too.” April joined him on the sidewalk.
“Brush Creek does have some fascinating history,” he said. “After you, April-May.”
April wasn’t sure she could get her feet to take he
r inside a church. She gave it a valiant effort and made it three steps before her shoes stuck to the sidewalk. She spun back to Ted, pure panic pouring through her. Wave after wave of it crashed against her lungs, and she gasped for breath. Again, and then again.
“I—can’t—”
Ted swooped up to her, sliding one arm around her waist and looping the other through her elbow. “Sure you can. One step at a time.” The spicy, minty smell of him did nothing to calm her pulse. “Come on now, April. It’s just church. Take a deep breath with me, okay?” His chest inflated, and she forced hers to go with it.
The increased oxygen cleared her head slightly. Enough for her to get her legs moving again. She climbed the four steps, crossed the threshold from cement to wood floor, breathed in the familiar scent of old paper and candle wax. Familiar, but a unique smell she hadn’t experienced in a long while.
Ted parked her on the back row of the chapel, boxing her into the pew with his large body. He kept one arm around her shoulders, and his low voice kept a constant stream of words going into her ear. She couldn’t distinguish what he said, only that it made the icy waves of panic recede.
The organ began playing, further calming her. Her favorite part of church as a child had been the music. Her father had played the organ every other week for as long as she could remember, and she’d sang in the children’s choir for six years before graduating high school and moving across town.
She took a deep breath and laid her head against Ted’s chest. “I’m okay,” she whispered, and he fell silent. The choir sang the opening hymn, and the pastor, a man who had to be close to retirement with white hair and crinkling, kind eyes, stood at the podium. He thanked everyone for coming and then turned the time back over to the choir.
April basked in the spirit of the music, letting the notes and words and feelings of happiness and love flow through her. She hadn’t felt this comfortable inside her own skin since the day she met Liam. Maybe longer. Maybe since she’d dropped out of college and taken the secretarial job at the law firm.