“You’re welcome. Have you sung outside the church?”
“Yes. A lifetime ago. Nothing I care to do again.”
Her answer tweaked him. He started to delve, then stopped himself. The conversation seemed to unnerve her, and if they were going to spend hours shopping for wheels, he shouldn’t make her uncomfortable. He opted for a change of subject. “You must have gotten a chance to talk to Ashley about the marijuana. She started shooting me killer looks the minute she saw me walk into the church.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. Her choice, not yours. Maybe we can get through to her before she graduates to harder stuff. If I could wipe drugs off the planet,” he added in a tone that sounded gruff, even to him, “I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“I expect you would.”
Time for another change of subject. Talking about drugs for the next forty minutes of the drive wasn’t going to do either of them any good because he wasn’t exactly open-minded about the topic. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Me? Do you a favor? As in?”
She sounded skeptical, as if her doing something for him was a preposterous notion. “Stop doubting; it’s easy enough. I need you to write me a list of things you’d like fixed around your place. I want your goals to be my goals for the next few weeks. Okay?”
“Listen, I’ve been thinking about that. It’s not really necessary…”
It was, but he pretended to listen.
“And you’ve probably got things to do at the Double S.”
“Not until some other unforeseen catastrophe occurs, and hopefully that won’t happen. If they need me, they’ll know where I am. Right next door.”
“And the kids will get in the way, and then I’ll get worried, and then—”
“Lucy.”
She paused, still looking straight ahead, her hands lightly dancing in her lap.
“Will it help if we change my name for the duration?”
Color darkened her cheeks. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Possibly.” He smiled because teasing her made him want to smile. “If we call me Hank the Handyman, would that make it easier? Because Hank’s a great name.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Whereas”—he made the turn toward Wenatchee—“I’d say sensible. You feel weird having Trey Walker hanging around, climbing ladders, and pounding nails. But if Hank comes by because he was commissioned by the evil land baron next door, that’s got to make it better. Right?”
“It almost does.” She grumbled the words as he pulled into the car lot. “Listen, Hank.”
“There you go.” He smiled his approval and that made her laugh. And blush. He decided he liked both.
“You were right yesterday. If your father wants to make amends, I’d be wrong to stand in the way after whining about it for years.”
“We’ll make a no-whining pact. You and me. Sound good?”
She looked up at him once she climbed out of the SUV. Then she stuck her hand out and shook his. “It sounds fine, Hank.”
He didn’t want to let go of her hand. He stood there, looking down at her, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if their hands were one. Her palm, soft but firm, toughened by work. Her fingers, smooth and small, connected with his.
It felt good.
Then she tugged her hand free and turned away, leaving his hand empty.
She was right to break the connection. A single mom, working to make ends meet, didn’t need distractions, and he’d be underfoot for a while.
Still…The touch of her hand to his. The feel of her calloused palm, a working woman’s hand. Her life was so different from his. A daily struggle.
As a saleswoman approached, he mentally pledged to make Lucy’s reality easier by the end of summer. That was a promise he could live with.
“Can I help you?” The saleswoman looked up at Trey, recognized him, and then seemed to make the decision to treat him just like any other customer.
That made him downright happy and ready to spend money, because every now and again, he liked being a regular guy. “The lady needs a van. Hers met with an untimely swim yesterday.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The saleswoman gave Lucy a sympathetic smile. “Are you all right?”
“Dented pride and a bunch of messed-up plants that were riding in the van. But personally, I’m fine.”
“Are you local?” the woman asked. “Will you be driving Central Washington roads in winter and spring?”
“Yes.”
“Then have you considered one of our bigger SUVs instead of a van?” She moved toward the right-hand lot. “They’ll give you better traction and maneuverability in the snow, or along icy or slushy roads.”
“I—” Lucy looked suddenly flustered, so Trey stepped in.
“Can you show us the difference?”
“I’m happy to.” The woman reached out and shook their hands in turn. “I’m Winnie Bidlington. I’ve been here for nearly fifteen years. Let’s head this way while you tell me a little about yourself, ma’am. Kids?”
“Four.”
“Hence the van.” Winnie smiled. She keyed a modern-style walkie-talkie and asked someone to bring several sets of keys to the lot. She walked them up and down two double rows of upscale SUVs, citing the positives of each. And when Lucy eyed the price tags posted in the windows, she went positively pale.
“Listen.” She stopped Winnie as another sales associate came their way with more keys. “I won’t get a whole lot back for my van, and these are gorgeous, but they’re way out of my league. Do you have a used car lot here?”
“We do.”
“But we don’t need it.” Trey pointed to a decked-out Ford Explorer. “Let’s try this first. See how it rides.”
“Trey.”
“It’s on me, Lucy. Go big or go home, right?”
“Then let’s go back to Gray’s Glen. Sal can hook me up with a decent used van. He’s got connections.”
“So do I, and my connections say it would be a shame not to try one of these big, safe, well-equipped family vehicles when you’re driving four kids and your livelihood around. Doesn’t that make sense from a mother’s point of view?”
—
It did, and his offer went right along with the Cinderella feeling of the day, but she wasn’t a stupid, stranded princess. She was a financially strapped single mother of three, with an extra teen thrown in.
She couldn’t afford gas for one of these sweet rides, much less insurance and registration and maintenance. And no matter how cute or rich Trey Walker was, she couldn’t be bought. Wouldn’t be bought.
“It can’t hurt to test-drive and get a feel for it, right?” He moved in front of her, coaxing. “We don’t have to walk away today with a vehicle, but we came all this way and it would be silly not to check things out. We’ve got a busy week ahead.”
Okay, good point, and she had to start somewhere, but driving one of these beautiful vehicles would make her scoff at lesser offerings.
Winnie handed her the key to a brand-new Explorer. “You don’t know if you don’t try.”
“All right.” Lucy climbed into the driver’s seat and pretended the thick, cushioned captain’s chair wasn’t about the nicest thing she’d ever sat on.
Trey climbed in the other side, and instead of coming along, the woman waved them off. “Take this one out, and I’ll get another one ready for you. Do you have any favorite colors, Lucy?”
“Green.”
“Like the Double S fleet,” Trey noted.
Buy a car to match the rich collection next door? Not in this lifetime. She shot him a cool look and said, “Make that red. Deep red.”
Winnie nodded as Trey grinned. “I will.”
She took the SUV onto the road, then curved left to head uphill. “You can tell better how an engine responds if you’re going uphill.”
“Good point.” He sat back, his cowboy hat mashed a little against the seat, and he didn
’t seem annoyed to have a woman driving.
Chase had never let her drive when they went somewhere together. He had to be behind the wheel. That became a war zone when he was drinking, a battle that ended when she refused to go with him. She’d called for a ride numerous times, making him spitting mad because he wouldn’t relinquish the keys. And in the end, it had cost him his life.
“This is sweet,” she whispered as she took in the rise and fall of the mountainous terrain. “You’d never know you were going uphill.”
“It’s got plenty of power, for sure.”
“And so much room. And it smells good. And handles like a dream. I can barely hear the engine.”
“Old vehicles get louder as parts age. It’s a big difference when you climb into one with the newest engineering.”
“I’ll say.”
He grinned as she came to a stop sign outside of town. “You like it.”
“That’s a given. But Trey.”
“Hank.”
She smiled because it was kind of fun to call him Hank. “Hank. You’re a working-class guy, just like me. The insurance and gas and tires and repairs on something like this are out of budget.”
“Not so.” Trey shook his head. “How many repairs did you have for the van this past year?”
Too many, for certain. “A couple.”
“Totaling?”
“Over a thousand dollars together.”
“So if you’re driving something that doesn’t need repair for a hundred thousand miles, that’s a big annual savings.”
It was.
“And sure, the insurance will be higher, but again, that should be offset by the lack of repair bills. How’s your driving record?”
“Good. Solid. No problems in years.”
“There you go. You’re a woman with a great driving record and that makes you low risk.”
“I have to think about this. And maybe pray about it because my head is screaming ‘Take the car!’ while my gut is clenching in fear.”
“Take all the time you need, Lucy. I’m here for a while, and you can use my car in the meantime. There’s a bigger model that might give you more cargo room for the plants. Should we test-drive that one too? You’ve still got a bunch of things in the greenhouse to sell.”
Her remaining summer inventory should be going to market this coming Saturday, and that would be it until her mums were ready for the September market. “I can’t imagine filling a gorgeous vehicle like this with all those plants and baskets. I’d get it dirty.”
“It’s washable.” He sat back against the seat and got quiet, letting her think.
He’d made good points. A lot of them. And she knew he could afford it. He’d made great money singing, and he’d landed a gig on a network talent show three years back as one of the coaches. She’d seen the contract figures in one of the weeklies. If the reporting was accurate, Trey Walker was rich, but that shouldn’t matter. Her van was worth a tenth of the cost of this vehicle and that made the whole thing wrong. “I know you’re trying to be nice.”
He shrugged that off as if nice was a given. Lucy knew it wasn’t.
“And you have the means to do this.”
“Yes.”
“And it’s a very generous offer, but I can’t possibly accept it.” She rushed the refusal, afraid she might cave.
“Can’t or won’t?”
Candid but pointed. She respected that so she replied in kind. “Both. I don’t want to be indebted to you. Or to anyone. Ever. And taking something like this to replace a beat-up, patched-together nine-year-old van would make me indebted to you, so it can’t happen.”
“Lucy. Pull off in that lot over there for just a minute.”
And this is where the nice guy puts not-so-nice pressure on you to do things his way. Why was she surprised? “So you can talk me into this?”
“No.” He pointed up. “So we don’t spook those two moose. That’s a sight I never get to see in the South.”
She glanced up.
A pair of huge moose grazed thick green grass along a curved mountain knoll. They moved along easy and content, unworried. Unhassled. Unbothered by lack of finances, rotting porch supports, and leaking pipes. “They’re magnificent.”
“I miss sights like this. I didn’t realize how much until right now.”
He focused on the sight with such a look of longing it made her ache to see it. How could someone with so much still yearn? It made no sense in one way and perfect sense in another because contentment had little to do with things and everything to do with faith. She knew that, but as her finances dwindled and her farm fell into deep disrepair, it had been hard to believe at times.
She kept still until Trey made a quiet observation as the big animals lolled their way across the upper range. “This is part of me. Being here, in the valley. Being part of all this.”
That seemed like a fairly easy problem to solve when you have a huge bankroll at your disposal. She kept it simple on purpose. “Then come back.”
He grimaced. “You know my family. My father.”
Oh, she did. Too well. And it irked her no end that she felt some sympathy for Sam’s current plight after all he’d done to hurt so many people, including her. He’d let alcohol and ambition rule his life and left a whole lot of emotional debris to fester along the way. Her late husband had been foolish enough to buy their small farm when Sam Stafford wanted to access it for the Double S. They’d had a good laugh, as if they’d pulled something over on the rich man next door, but Sam wasn’t amused.
He didn’t like being thwarted and wasn’t afraid to make people pay for getting in his way. She’d learned a valuable lesson at a young age: if you mess with the bull, you’ll have to deal with the horns. Sam Stafford had power and money on his side of her falling-down fence. Chase’s idea of “sticking it to the man” had gotten her nothing but grief and hardship, year after year. “I know your father, all right.” She let her tone underscore their adversarial relationship.
“Then you know it’s not that easy.”
“Who said easy was best? Life gets difficult sometimes. Then we fix it as best we’re able.”
He shifted his attention to her, and she plowed on.
“It’s all about options, isn’t it? We go through life with lots of everyday choices and a few of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. On a scale, the everyday choices outweigh the others by sheer number. But the once-in-a-lifetime moments can build us or break us. You could have a place here, be close to family, and fly out of Yakima to work. Why be a whole country away from people you love if you don’t have to be?”
He grunted, staring at the moose, then slanted her a sideways look. “Family’s a weird thing.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” She sounded cryptic purposely. “It’s hard to see the big picture when you’re young, with limited experience. So mistakes get repeated.” She knew that firsthand. Years of foolish choices had piled on to put her in her current predicament. Some were hers; some were foisted on her by others. She wouldn’t trade her kids for the world, but she could have been a whole lot smarter as a teen. Maybe then…
“They sure do,” he agreed. He’d leaned back against the door, watching her, but more importantly, listening to her as if her simplistic high-school-educated views made sense.
“At some point we have to readjust,” Lucy continued, speaking to herself as much as to Trey. “If I prune a tree properly, the new growth will fill in and branch out. In a few years, I have a gorgeous, salable tree that folks will love. But if I don’t do my job or animals browse the tender buds, the tree’s shape is messed up. The tree has no choice; it grows as it’s shaped. But God gives us all kinds of choices. Once we’re old enough to see that, it’s up to us. But it also becomes our responsibility, and that’s the scary part. Because then there’s no one else to blame.”
—
Her words hit home.
Did taking the blame for his troubled marriage and his wife’s de
ath help anything? Or was it just another downward spiral with no end in sight?
“We should get back.” Lucy’s quick return to practicality didn’t give him time to dwell. “Winnie will think we’ve taken off with the car.”
“Either that or they’re tracking us via satellite and wondering why a young couple pulled off the road into a farm lot.”
“Oh for pity’s sake, that’s all I need are crazy rumors about me and the handyman.” She made a scolding face as she steered the SUV back onto the road.
The face made him smile, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because she was easy to talk to? Because she seemed so unabashedly normal? “It doesn’t take much to feed the rumor mills these days. I stay away from newspapers, grocery checkout lanes, and social media, while meeting the public daily.” He tapped his left hand against the center console in a syncopated beat, the kind he liked to back-swell in refrains. “But the trade-off is doing what I love. Writing and singing music. So that’s a mighty fine blessing right there.”
“You must have people who do that stuff for you, right? Shopping. Cooking. Organizing your life.”
“I hire some stuff done because there’s not a lot of time, but if I could just go shopping and not create a disturbance, I’d hire less. And maybe that’s what I miss most about being here. I can just walk through town, stop at Ham’s or the coffee shop or Sal’s, and they treat me normal. There are days when I miss plain, old normal, Lucy.”
“You’re a Stafford, Trey.” She shot him a quick look while she waited for a traffic light. “The normal ship sailed a lot of years back. You weren’t on it.”
That was truer than she’d ever know. Than anyone would ever know, because in a normal situation a mother would love her child. A wife would respect her vows. No one’s life should be riddled with this much death and grief, should it? He’d kept his silence about Cathy to protect her memory. He’d taken a lot of flak to do it, and now he wasn’t one bit sure why he’d felt the need. Had he failed her? Or had she failed herself, like his therapist believed, and taken him along on the ride?
Lucy pulled into the dealership, parked the vehicle, then climbed out before he could get around the car.
Peace in the Valley Page 7