by Jill Lynn
Hunter had gone back to sorting supplies, but Rachel was having a hard time letting go of the float concept. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the Fourth of July.” Though there were a number of flags and handmade red, white and blue decorations drawn in along the sides. “Did you see the other sketches on Sunday?”
No answer. Hunter just kept digging in the bin for something. Rachel felt pesky—like the moths that would descend on Colorado in the summer, invading every nook and cranny and driving everyone crazy.
Just when she was starting to doubt he’d even heard her, he glanced up and answered. “Yeah, I did.”
“So you know there was one that actually had an Independence Day theme? With an immigrant family arriving in the United States. And the Statue of Liberty. And a small church replica with a Welcome sign hung across the door.”
“I saw the same thing as you.”
“That should be the float we build.”
“I agree.” Hunter shot her a pointed look. “But someone told the kids that whichever float got the most votes at church would be the winner. No arguing.”
A sigh escaped. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Yep. You’re kind of bossy, in case you didn’t know it.”
“That’s because I know more than you when it comes to dealing with teenagers. If the kids hadn’t agreed to that, they’d be fighting about it right now.”
“Like you are?” He stood. “Aaand, good to know you’re humble.”
Laughter bubbled from her throat. Strangely enough, being teased by Hunter felt good. Only it didn’t last. His smile fell quickly, much like it had been doing since she arrived. Her counselor instinct told her something was off, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.
Hunter nodded toward the growing group of kids. “We should probably get started.”
“Okay.” Rachel wasn’t used to an all-business Hunter. Was he upset about something? Did it have to do with her? He’d fought for a friendship between them, but now she couldn’t help wondering if he regretted that.
He walked toward the kids and she followed. There were more teens than last week. A good thing, since they had a lot to do. Maybe Hunter just wanted to get things rolling. She could understand that.
“Hey, guys, listen up.” Conversations slowly trickled to a stop, and the teens faced them. “We’re going to form teams to work on different sections of the float.” Hunter pointed to the right side of the group. “The netting to go under the trailer...” Then he pointed to the middle. “The goalposts and grass...” Finally, he motioned to the left. “And red, white and blue decorations and flags. Rachel found directions online for most everything and they’re posted by each station. Some things we’ll have to improvise, so let us know if you have questions.”
Most of the kids split off. Hunter called out to two girls standing a few yards away who were talking and hadn’t moved toward a project yet. They glanced in his direction, looking as though walking over to Hunter—and Rachel, since she was right next to him—equaled cleaning up manure. After a moment’s hesitation, the girls approached.
“This is Rachel Maddox.” Hunter motioned to her, then to each girl. “Bree.” Strawberry blonde, Rachel noted, committing her name to memory. “And Hannah.” Dark hair. Equally pretty. Rachel didn’t remember seeing either of them the week before.
“I’ve known these two since they were up to here.” His hand sank to around hip level. “Bree’s dad and I were in a men’s Bible study together.”
Bree folded her arms, stance somewhere between wary and downright irritated, and Rachel recognized a bit of herself from high school. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at the girl’s obvious annoyance.
“So, what part of the float are you girls thinking about doing?”
“We’re going to work on the red, white and blue decorations.” Bree raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow toward her expertly highlighted hairline. She probably meant to come off strong and aloof, but the hurt radiating from her overpowered her attempt. Rachel tucked away that knowledge to dissect later. Bree’s partner in crime had remained quiet, but both sported looks that shouted bored. Old people alert.
Had Rachel really acted this way when she was younger? Sigh. Double sigh. She’d so been these girls. And she’d had the same snarky attitude toward Olivia when she’d first moved to Texas.
Rachel would have to apologize to her—again—when she saw her tomorrow.
She asked a few questions in an attempt to get to know them. Hannah answered, but Bree only gave stilted responses. After the third one-syllable reply from Bree, Rachel gave up.
“It was nice to meet you girls.” They took her comment as the dismissal they’d been waiting for, turned in unison and bent their heads together as they crossed the barn.
“They were...sweet.” Actually, Hannah had been fine. Just on the quiet side.
Hunter watched their departure, concern pulling on his mouth. “Bree’s parents are getting divorced, and she’s been a mess lately. I’m sorry for her rudeness.”
Now the hurt/brave act made sense. “I’m not offended. I was her in high school.”
His warm caramel-brown eyes crinkled at the corners. “You were never that bad.”
Rachel simply raised an eyebrow in response, then laughed when she realized she’d just imitated Bree’s facial expression. But Hunter didn’t join in her amusement or say anything further. His gaze had already drifted over her shoulder, unfocused, lost in some thought she wasn’t privy to. Something was going on with him, but flipping through options of what it could be wasn’t getting her anywhere.
“I’ll go check on the guys doing the goalposts.” Hunter nodded toward the group. “They look confused.”
“Okay, I’ll just—”
He was already gone, long strides taking him across the barn. He wore a heather-brown T-shirt tonight, the fabric worn yet still intact. Jeans that looked as though they’d lightened with washing and sun and time. Boots, of course. It was like a uniform with him, and she didn’t have any complaints. It fit his normally casual, laid-back vibe, which had been squashed by something tonight.
“Check on these kids.” Rachel spoke to herself and wandered over to a group, only realizing at the last minute it was where Bree and Hannah had migrated to. Oy. Well, she knew how to speak teenager, didn’t she?
“Do you guys have any questions?”
Bree barely glanced in her direction. “Nope.” The word crackled with tension. “We’ve got it.”
Rachel decided not to push. To give the girl some space. She backed up a step. “I’ll be over here if you need anything.” Good thing the school she wanted to work at couldn’t see her now. Leadership skills with teens? Absolutely none. Ability to communicate with students? Nope.
The kids would accept her eventually, she assumed. Once they warmed up to her. And that’s about when she would be leaving.
“Hey, Rachel, how’s it going?”
At the sound of a woman’s voice, she turned. Hunter’s sister, Autumn, approached, wearing jeans, cowboy boots and a yellow V-neck maternity T-shirt that had ample room for her round tummy. Her light brown hair was twisted into a no-nonsense braid.
“It’s going.” Rachel waved a hand in the direction of the kids closest to her. “They love me, obviously.” She added some Bree sass to her voice, and Autumn’s face wreathed with humor.
“They’ll come around.”
“That’s what I’m hoping.” She asked Autumn about her pregnancy and her daughter Kinsley, then finally voiced the question weighing on her mind. “Is Hunter...okay? He’s not acting like himself today.”
“You noticed that, did you?”
Rachel nodded.
Autumn seemed to contemplate her words, studying her brother across the space with a pinched brow.
“This was the week our mom
left.”
The quiet words detonated like a bomb, and Rachel’s throat constricted.
“He always gets this way. Quiet. Not himself. Hunkers down for the week, and then he comes back. I guess I’d be more concerned if he didn’t turn into himself again after, but he always does. I’ve tried to help him process before, but nothing I do makes any difference. I just have to let him work through it.”
“I’m sorry.” Rachel hated this for them. “Are you okay?” It wasn’t just Hunter whose mom had scrammed. Rachel’s stomach twisted at what they’d both been through.
“No.” A sad smile accompanied the answer. “Yes and no.” Her hand etched over her pregnant belly. “I just can’t imagine leaving them. Being a mom makes it seem all the more impossible.”
“You guys ever hear from her anymore?”
“Sometimes. But it’s few and far between. She sends birthday cards some years. Very occasionally there’s a phone call.” She gave a disgruntled laugh. “I’m actually amazed she remembers the dates.”
A rendition of “My Girl” blared to life, and Autumn snagged her phone from her back pocket, glancing at the screen. “I need to take this. I was going to ask Hunter something but I’ll just do it later.” She swiped to answer and waved goodbye to Rachel as she walked toward the barn doors.
Rachel scanned the room, finding Hunter still stationed across the barn. He was working on the goalposts with a small group, but he didn’t seem to be conversing much. Definitely not joking around like he normally would. It physically pained her to think of how much he’d been hurt when his mother left. She wanted to hunt the woman down and confront her.
Rachel might not be able to do that, but she could be there for Hunter. He’d been good to her. A true friend.
Now it was time for her to do the same thing for him.
* * *
On Thursday evening, Hunter wrenched off his boots in the mudroom located at the front of his house, tossing them with more force than necessary toward the spot they usually sat.
He headed straight for the shower, intent on washing off the long day. It was almost eight o’clock, and he hadn’t eaten dinner. A recipe for disaster with him. Not that he’d needed anything to push him into a bad mood. He’d handled that all by himself, and he’d been nursing it all week.
When he’d popped into the main house to grab something for lunch today, Autumn had called him crabtastic. But her bark was way worse than her bite. She was just concerned about him. He’d told her he was fine, but his sister had a habit of not listening to anything he said.
After showering, he threw on a clean pair of jeans, fresh socks and a green T-shirt emblazoned with the name of Kinsley’s preschool—Kid Kapers—along with the name of the orphanage they’d sold the T-shirts to help support. Which explained why Hunter had another two just like it in his drawer. He’d just walked into the kitchen, planning to scrounge for some dinner, when someone knocked.
Autumn. She seriously could not leave well enough alone. What did he have to do to convince her that, yes, he was okay, and no, he did not need a pint of ice cream and a chick flick to make him feel better? That was Autumn’s comfort cure, not his.
He twisted the knob and wrenched the door open. “Autumn, you’re driving me—”
Rachel stood on the landing, wearing a simple white top, a casual navy skirt that landed above the knee and yellow sandals. “Crazy?”
“I was going to say nuts. But that works.”
“Siblings will do that to you.” No explanation followed for why she was at his house, but something brewed in her striking green eyes.
Did he even want to know? “Come in.” Maybe he could eat while she spilled whatever was on her mind.
She didn’t budge. “Actually, I need you to put your shoes on.”
His head cocked to the side. “Something wrong?”
“No.”
He stood stock-still. Somehow he was missing something.
“What’s going on?”
“I need you to put your boots on.” She stretched out every word as though talking to a mischievous two-year-old. What in the world? The temper that rarely ignited in him turned up a notch.
“Listen, Rach, I’m not sure—”
She grabbed his arm and yanked him over to the mudroom bench, then shoved him down. The combination of surprise and curiosity took the fight out of him, and he sank to the seat. She pointed to his clean boots, and after one long breath, he obliged.
Women. Would he ever understand them?
“Did my sister send you over here?” He slid on one then the other, adjusting his jeans over the tops.
“No.” She tugged him off the bench, then out the front door. “Your sister has no idea I’m here.” After shutting the door behind them, she paused. “Do we need to lock it?”
“Nah.”
Rachel still had hold of his hand, sending an electrical current up his arm. She pulled him across the gravel drive to where her Jeep was parked.
“Is this the same Jeep you had in high school?”
“Yep.” She opened the passenger door and motioned for him to get in. “Still runs, so no reason to give it up.”
She went around to the driver’s side as he got in, climbed inside and started it up.
“It smells good.” He sniffed toward the backseat. “Like Italian.”
“If you’re a good boy, you might get some of that.”
His stomach rumbled in agreement, and she took off down the drive, the tires kicking up dust. She’d left the top off the Jeep, and the wind toyed with pieces of her hair that had come loose. She paused at the end of the drive to redo it, twisting the light locks into a low bun that whispered against her neck before turning for town.
“Did you cook?”
“Puh-lease. You really think I’ve changed that much? I can only handle meals with four ingredients or less.”
If she wanted to feed him, she could have just dropped off food. Wasn’t that what most people did? And why in the world did she want to feed him?
They reached town, and Rachel parked the Jeep near Marktplatz. Hunter could hear the twang of a country band performing, and the memories of the two of them doing this very thing flooded him. Back when they’d dated, they used to park near whoever had live music playing, sometimes grabbing food or ice cream, and listen to the band play in the background while they sat in her Jeep or his truck and talked.
She dug into a bag in the backseat and handed him a Styrofoam to-go box and a set of plastic utensils while the warm summer air surrounded them, heavy with traces of humidity and the simplicity of the past.
“I assume you haven’t eaten, or if you have, that you’ll eat again.”
Both true statements. He wasn’t one to turn down food. Especially Italian.
She pulled out the same-sized container for herself. His held lasagna and a piece of warm bread, hers manicotti. The tantalizing scent of baked garlic and cheese made his taste buds kick into high gear. Hunter was so hungry, he didn’t even bother asking what was going on. He just dug in. They ate in silence as the day edged into night and music drifted toward them.
Using the last bit of bread to sop up the remaining sauce, Hunter popped the morsel into his mouth. He gave a contented sigh and closed the box. That had almost been worth it. But he’d still rather be home than here.
“You going to tell me what’s going on now?” He tossed the container and trash back into the paper bag still in the backseat, then shifted forward again, eyes up and taking in the first twinkling lights appearing against the gray sky.
How many nights had he and Rachel done this very thing? Stared up at the stars and talked. He’d wished on the shooting ones with everything in him.
Those hopes and prayers hadn’t come true, though.
Rachel tossed her container into the bag, too. It took her a minute
to meet his gaze and speak. “Autumn told me this week is the anniversary of your mom leaving. I don’t think I ever knew the exact timing of—”
“Her disappearance?”
She nodded.
“Gotta love my sister.”
“It wasn’t her fault. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with you. You were acting so strange. She was just answering my question.”
“Which she didn’t have to answer.” Wasn’t Autumn supposed to be on his side? Hadn’t she been worried about Rachel hurting him again? So much for the brother-sister bond.
“True. She didn’t. But I’m glad she did.” Rachel looked up through the open roof. “You don’t have to talk about it. I just didn’t want you to be alone with the memories.”
He covertly studied her profile while she stared at the sky. This was why he’d missed her. Why he’d been so mad at her for leaving. Rachel had an incredibly soft side that so many people never got to see. Not that she wasn’t nice and kind and all of that—she was, whether she thought so or not. But this...this was why it had been so easy to love her.
But his mom’s unhappiness and discontentment were the very things that reminded Hunter not to want Rachel to stay when she didn’t desire to be here.
“The week before my mom left, she was happy.”
Concern wrinkled the skin around Rachel’s eyes, the usually bright green fading to evergreen in the darkness. She reached out and squeezed his arm. He knew she was being there for him purely as a friend, but he still gave himself a quick mental warning before continuing.
“It was the most peaceful I’d ever seen her.” Unwanted emotion pricked behind his eyes, but Hunter fought against it. Cleared his throat. “She was up early instead of sleeping late, the sadness and dark circles gone from her face. Everything about her was different. Even the way she made eye contact. I remember coming home to find cookies baked one night. I thought...” The disappointment of that week choked him, and he had to swallow before continuing. “I thought she’d finally come around. That she was feeling better, or something good had happened. That she was actually going to be happy with us. I felt so hopeful. I thought my prayers had been answered.”