by Lois Richer
“Am I bothering you?” Heddy demanded.
“Not at all. Come in. I’ve just made a fresh pot of coffee.” Jaclyn led the way to the kitchen. She reached out to scoop her purchases back into the bag.
“What’s all this?” Heddy asked.
“Just some things I bought for Casey’s party.” Her face grew warm at Heddy’s knowing look. “When we were there on Sunday I thought the kitchen could use some color. It must be hard for Kent to keep coming back into that stark room.” She was babbling. “It was just an idea.”
“A very kind one.” Heddy accepted the coffee. “I must confess I’ve never given Kent’s kitchen much thought. Except that it’s useful for things like the potluck on Sunday and your birthday idea. I approve.”
“Really?” Jaclyn sat down across from her. “I’ve been regretting that idea. Kent’s always going out of his way for everyone. He does so much for the town and he’s trying to get the clinic up and running. What am I adding to his load by suggesting he host a birthday party? It’s presumptuous.”
“On the contrary,” Heddy reassured her. “Most of us in Hope take Kent for granted. He’s the kind of mayor every town should have. He’s caring, committed and he doesn’t mind challenging us. But it’s only since you came, Jaclyn, that I’ve started to wonder how many times he’s put his life on hold for something we needed.”
“I’m sure he took the job because he loves Hope and its people.” Jaclyn glanced at the clock. Heddy was clearly bothered by something—she could hardly just hurry her on her way.
“His parents were so thrilled to adopt him. Mary once told me Kent was everything a son should be.” Heddy stared into the distance. “When they moved to the ranch Kent was little. He was so polite, so quiet. Stan and Mary had to coax a smile. They found out later he was worried they’d send him away.”
“I’ve known Kent since I moved here in junior high.” Jaclyn shook her head in disbelief. “I never knew he was adopted.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. Stan and Mary didn’t talk about it. Kent never does,” Heddy told her. “He was their child. Period. He idolized them. Mary once told me Kent almost didn’t take his vet’s training.”
“Why?” Kent had never talked of anything but veterinary training when they were in high school.
“Apparently Stan tended to go on and on about the ranch being his legacy. Kent felt that leaving would let down his father. I supposed he felt indebted. He even tried to hide his college acceptance but our postmistress knew every piece of mail that came into town and she clued Mary in. Mary read Kent the riot act and Kent went off to college. Then he married Lisa. Everything was wonderful until Stan and Mary died.”
“And then Kent came back.” Given this new perspective, Jaclyn now better understood Kent’s reluctance to get rid of his father’s cattle.
Heddy’s round face filled with sadness. “After Lisa died, Kent was like a walking ghost. He just existed.”
“So how did he become mayor?” Jaclyn asked.
“A child was hit running across Main Street. Kent happened on the scene moments later. When the stop signs he lobbied council for didn’t happen, he ran for mayor. Got in by acclamation.”
“And his mission to help Hope began.” Jaclyn understood. Kent put aside his own dreams because he felt they weren’t important. Somehow she had to show him that was not true.
“Heddy, don’t be offended but I have to cut our coffee time short.” Jaclyn smiled to soften the words. “I have some things to prepare for the party.”
“I’m not offended.” Heddy rose, dumped the rest of her coffee in the sink and stored her cup in the dishwasher. “Will you be offended if I purchase some materials to get you started on your needlework project?”
“No, but the truth is, Heddy, I don’t know where I’ll find the time to do needlework. I want to do it,” she reassured. “But I’m so busy.”
“You are. Sort of like Kent. Running around trying to make everyone else happy.” Heddy leaned near, her voice very soft. “I often wonder when the two of you find time to lean on God and hear His direction. Nobody can fix all the world’s ills, Jaclyn. Not even a wonderful doctor like you.”
She patted Jaclyn’s shoulder then let herself out.
Jaclyn considered her words. She wasn’t being frivolous; she had a purpose in joining so many things. She already had a few new clients because people were beginning to get to know her. But to make Jessica’s clinic viable, Jaclyn needed many more patients.
Jessica’s clinic had to succeed, even if her parents didn’t believe it would. Even if it meant she got only a few hours of sleep per night.
Yawning, Jaclyn grabbed the bag and headed for the door.
Today she’d try to help Kent. But after this party she’d draw the line between them. He was a business associate and that’s all he could be, regardless of her silly heart. Her focus had to be on the clinic. Letting her emotions get control of her would only derail her goal.
Jaclyn was determined not to let that happen.
Chapter Eight
“Thank you, God, for sunshine.”
Kent took a few moments to pray as he savored his coffee at sunrise. At least he called it praying. The gap between him and heaven had never seemed wider, nor had he ever felt more alone.
In a few hours the children would be here. He’d spent last evening mowing the yard and weeding the flower beds. He had groomed the animals, too, figuring that if they ran out of games, the children might like to see them.
Everything was ready.
She would be here.
Kent had pushed away thoughts of Jaclyn ever since the church potluck last weekend. He’d avoided her all week after insisting she be at the birthday party out of frustration that she’d volunteered his ranch. The potluck had been a special favor to the pastor, but this party—Kent sighed and admitted the truth.
He’d been avoiding her because he was embarrassed he’d revealed his stupid childish dream. He’d long ago accepted that animal sanctuaries and petting zoos were not going to be his lot in life. So why were those dreams still hanging around in the periphery of his mind?
Because they made the shambles of his life tolerable.
Behind him, someone coughed.
“Hey, Boss. I’m moving the herd higher up into the hills today. We’re overgrazing on the lower levels. We might as well take advantage of the grass and water that’s sitting up there free. It’ll be gone once the heat hits.” Gordon, his ranch manager, scuffed his toe against the pea gravel path.
Kent’s dad had hired Gordon when he bought the ranch because of his vast knowledge. The herd had almost doubled since Stan’s death. Several times the handyman had said the longhorns needed more grazing land than made up the ranch, but Kent ignored it because he didn’t have the funds to expand and he couldn’t bring himself to sell off his dad’s prized animals.
“Okay.” When Gordon didn’t move, Kent frowned. “Something else on your mind?”
“I bought that land up against your southwest quarter. The price was right.” Gordon coughed. “If you want to cut down on your herd, I’d sure like to buy some. Me and Stan talked a lot about when the herd got big. I have an itch to try out some of his ideas. He had some good plans.”
And you—his son, his heir—don’t.
Gordon knew more about the ranch than Kent. He certainly knew more about the animals. But the dream had been his dad’s and Kent couldn’t just sell it out.
“I’m not looking to sell any stock, Gordon.”
“I know you’re not ready yet. Thought if and when the time comes, you’d know I’m interested.” He clamped his Stetson back on his head. “Time to git.” He turned.
“Gordon?” Kent rose. “If I’m ever ready to sell Dad’s herd, you’ll be the first one I talk to, I promise. And co
ngratulations on your land.”
“Thanks.” They shook hands.
Kent watched the older man walk away realizing Gordon might one day leave here to run his own herd. For a few moments Kent imagined the ranch without the longhorns. Surprised by a sudden giddiness, he let the feeling linger until reality returned. He owed his father, for not being the son Stan expected.
“I aim to make the McCloy name the top one when it comes to longhorns.” Kent could still hear the pride in those words. “I love the law, but it takes second place when you look out the window and see your own cattle multiplying. Someday you’ll feel the same, son.”
Only Kent never had felt that way about his father’s beloved cattle.
“Good morning.”
He turned and gulped at the beauty before him.
“Bad time?” Jaclyn paused, a frown marring the smoothness of her pale forehead. “Should I go and come again?”
“Of course not. I was just—” He didn’t finish, mesmerized by the sight of her. She reached into her car. Out came bags and bags of things. “Must be planning a whale of a party.” He moved forward to take them from her.
“I hope so.” She wrestled out a bunch of colorful balloons and grinned at him. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”
“Yeah.” Lovely now, especially. Her smile turned him into a blithering idiot. And he liked it. “Where do you want these?” he asked, juggling his load.
“The kitchen.” She followed him, her jumble of balloons bumping him in the back.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” She instructed him to tie balloons all around the yard. “And we’ll need a table out here. Actually two.”
There was nothing in Jaclyn’s voice to suggest she was still angry at him for trying to tell her how to treat Joey or for conscripting her into this party, but Kent felt that the doctor was maintaining a barrier between them. His fault.
“Jaclyn, can I talk to you a minute?”
“Sure.” She looked at him, poker-faced.
“I want to apologize again for asking you to back off Joey. It wasn’t my call and I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”
“No problem.” She turned away and continued fastening little curly ribbons to lawn chairs, planters, everything.
“That’s it?” He’d expected something more.
“I don’t hold grudges, Kent.” Jaclyn straightened and faced him. “Besides, I finally realized that this thing you have about protecting everyone and everything in Hope was at the root of your meddling. You want the best for everyone and I threatened that so you stood up to me.” She shrugged. “When you get to know me better you’ll realize that the way you feel about Hope is the way I feel about my patients. Nothing will stop me from helping a child.”
He gulped down his surprise that she was willing to let it go so easily.
“Now, let’s focus on the party. We’re going to need some benches by those tables.”
The minute he filled one request, she found another, darting in and out of the house with stuff like a bird feathering its nest. By the time Carissa arrived with a van load of kids, his yard looked like party central.
“Everything is so pretty.” Casey enveloped her pediatrician in a hug. She did the same to Kent. “This is the best birthday ever.”
Kent watched as Casey opened her gift from Jaclyn. Soon the kids were chasing iridescent bubbles Casey was creating from a weird arrangement of pipes and hoops. The freshening breeze picked up the shimmering circles and tossed them around the yard.
“Great gift,” he told her.
“Thanks.” She slid sunglasses over her eyes. “What did you get for her?”
Kent grinned. “You’ll see. Later.”
Kent had been planning to disappear but both Carissa and Jaclyn insisted they needed a hand. The sound of children’s squeals and giggles made the whole courtyard come alive with laughter. This was how he’d thought the ranch would one day sound when he’d first moved back here. He became so caught up in their joy, he blinked in surprise when a raindrop plopped onto his nose.
A moment later jagged lightning pierced the sky.
“I’m sorry, Kent.” Jaclyn watched Carissa shepherd the children into the kitchen. “We’ll have to hold the rest of the party inside.” She grimaced. “When I suggested the ranch, I never meant we’d all be inside your house.”
“It’s not a problem.” Kent hurried Jaclyn. The kids’ laughter was gone. Big eyes brimmed with fear as another spear of lightening pierced the sky, its boom following a few seconds later. The festive party atmosphere had evaporated. Nobody was celebrating now. Except Jaclyn.
She handed everyone a red hat.
Kent blinked. Red pot mitts dangled from the oven door. There were red-and-white striped towels on the counter and two big white dishes with red polka dots that held what looked like party favor bags. Jaclyn struggled to fasten a Happy Birthday banner across the stainless-steel range hood. When he lent a hand, she smiled.
“You don’t mind?”
“No.” It was true. He didn’t mind the extra touches, including the cherry-red pitcher on the counter and matching glasses. The room looked like a kitchen should—friendly, warm and welcoming. “I’ll light a fire to take the chill off,” he told her and soon had flames licking up the dry tinder and twigs in the adjoining eating area.
“We need some balloons for the last game.” Jaclyn frowned. “Anyone interested in running outside to get them?” she asked loudly.
“Not me,” the kids yelled en masse.
Jaclyn winked at him. “Anyone?” she said.
“Jaclyn, we don’t need another game. Kent’s done enough just letting us use his place.” Carissa protested.
“I’ll go,” he volunteered. He raced outside to gather three bunches of balloons. Raindrops spattered his shirt, falling faster as the storm approached. He shoved the balloons into Jaclyn’s arm and panted, “Gotta get the gifts,” before returning to rescue the brightly colored packages and bags they’d forgotten.
When he had retrieved the last of them, he turned to leave the kitchen again.
“Kent, you don’t need to get anything else,” Jaclyn said quietly. “You’ll get soaked.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he promised.
“But you’ll miss watching Casey open her gifts.”
Kent lifted a hand to acknowledge he’d heard, but kept going. Inside his tool shed, he shook off the rain and fought to block out Jaclyn’s effect on him. But he couldn’t forget the image of her dashing across the grass in bare feet to avoid becoming “it” in a game of tag. He couldn’t stop hearing the warming sound of her laughter when she’d been seriously splashed by a water gun. Nor could he rid his mind of the memory of her comforting a girl who’d slipped and skinned a knee.
Jaclyn pitched in whenever help was needed. Surely Hope-ites would soon not only accept her, but embrace her. Why, even Heddy had phoned this morning and apologized for asking him to intervene on Joey’s behalf.
Kent hurried back to the house, surprised by his eagerness to rejoin the festivities. For so long he’d kept on the fringes of life, but Jaclyn and this silly party were reawakening feelings he’d thought long dead. It was dangerous to get involved—but suddenly Kent didn’t care.
He left his box on the porch and went inside. Satisfaction filled him at the sight of kids gathered round the fireplace, laughing and talking as Casey opened the last of her gifts. The room was messy and happy and full of life.
Kent waited until Casey had finished thanking her friends for her birthday gifts. Then he carried in his and set it down in front of her.
“This is for you. Happy Birthday.”
Casey’s eyes gaped. She froze for a minute in disbelief, then reached out one finger an
d touched Kent’s surprise.
“A puppy! Oh, Mommy, it’s a puppy.” She hugged the furry little body to her chest and burbled with laughter when a tiny pink tongue peeked out to lick her face. “Can I really keep it?”
“Yes, Casey. Kent asked me and I agreed that you could have it. But you’re going to have to take care of it. A puppy is a big responsibility.” Carissa smiled at him.
Jaclyn’s gaze held admiration. Life is good, Kent thought, basking in the warmth of her smile.
“I promise I will take very good care of him.” Casey put the dog down and let it walk around the circle of kids, sniffing as it went. “What’s his name, Mr. Kent?”
“Her, and the name is for you to decide.” He glanced at Carissa. “As soon as you’ve chosen a name, I’ll register her. She’s a purebred Springer spaniel so you might as well have the papers.”
“It’s very kind of you, Kent. I know you usually sell your dogs. I appreciate you trusting Casey with one.” Tears sparkled on the tips of Carissa’s lashes as she watched her daughter roll on the floor with the puppy.
“What are you going to call her, Casey?” Jaclyn asked.
Casey thought for a moment then declared, “Marjorie Rose, that’s her name. Only sometimes I’ll call her Marj. Or maybe Rosie.”
The dog had been well admired by the time Carissa called the children to the table. Kent intervened before Casey could feed Marjorie tidbits and explained the dog could have only puppy food.
“You mean she can’t have any birthday cake?” Casey wailed.
“No.” He hunkered down next to her. “Marjorie Rose can never have treats like yours. They will make her sick. You don’t want to hurt her, do you?”
“No.” Casey was adamant. She’d been sick so long that she had no desire to inflict that on anyone or anything else. “But what can she eat?”
“Her own food. And once in a while doggie treats.” He pulled a sample from his pocket, winked at Jaclyn then set the treat on the floor. The dog careened over to it in a crazy bumbling scramble, wolfed down the biscuit then sneezed.
The kids erupted into roars of laughter.