Honorable Rancher

by Barbara White Daille

  He and the kids sat at the table, drinking milk and eating cookies still warm from the oven. Lissa hung around watching as P.J. and Ben played a marathon card game that appeared as though it would last until noon.

  Not a problem for Ben, since P.J. had already made it clear he expected him to stay for their midday Sunday dinner.

  Like the roast and vegetables cooking in the pot on the back burner, mixed emotions simmered inside Dana.

  P.J. had become a different little boy in these past couple of weeks, more outgoing, more easygoing, more tolerant of Lissa and her friends. She couldn’t deny she owed all that to Ben.

  Between that and everything else he had done around the house, she couldn’t begrudge him another meal. Could she?

  Those simmering emotions threatened to boil over.

  At the breakfast bar, she transferred cookies from the cooling racks to her largest cookie jar. He rose from the table and came toward her.

  Tensing, she tightened her hold on the spatula. She wasn’t going to take the chance of having another tool slip into an inconvenient spot, the way his wrench had fallen behind the washer last night. She wasn’t going to risk allowing her true feelings to show again, either.

  He reached around her, attempting to grab a cookie.

  Pretending playfulness she didn’t feel, she pushed his arm away. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

  “Well, you know how it is. You get one taste and you just want more. Besides, it’s not like I get to have your homemade cookies all the time. The kids’ll tell you that—right, kids?”

  “Right!” Lissa and P.J. exclaimed.

  She forced a laugh. “And they’ll tell you just what I tell them. No more, or you’ll ruin your dinner.”

  “That’s right, too,” P.J. said, not sounding nearly as enthusiastic this time.

  “You see?” She shifted just as Ben reached around her again. His outstretched hand skimmed her breast.

  His dark eyes held her gaze for several heartbeats.

  He recovered first, dropping his hand to the counter beside her and stepping back.

  Quickly, she glanced over at the kitchen table. P.J. knelt on his chair, scooping up the scattered cards, not glancing their way. Lissa sat watching them, but as her chair was on the far side of the room, she couldn’t have noticed. Not that the innocent collision had meant anything, anyway.

  It was just another taunting reminder of something she couldn’t have.

  “’Scuse me,” Ben mumbled, his breath tickling her ear. As he walked toward the table, he continued in a normal tone, “Since the cookie break is over, maybe I’d best get back to work.”

  “You can’t,” P.J. said matter-of-factly. “We didn’t eat supper yet. And we have to finish our game.”

  “Well,” he said, drawing the word out, “you’re right there, P.J.” He dropped into his seat again. “Always a good thing to finish what you start.”

  Dana stared at him. Though he sat looking at P.J., had he directed his comment to her? Was he really talking about last night, telling her he wanted to be more than just friends, no matter what he had said?

  But friendship was all she could give him. No matter how much she longed for more, too.

  “‘Finish what you start’?” she repeated brightly. “As in, finish fixing the washing machine?”

  “Oh, I got that done already.” He grinned.

  Well, of course he had. Why tell her about it? After all, if she’d known earlier that he’d finished his job, she might have found a way to get him out of her hair—before P.J. had invited him to eat with them.

  This time, one look told her she’d figured out exactly what he was thinking.

  She covered the cookie jar and dropped the spatula into the sink. “Oh, well, thank you so much. I guess now I can go and start a load of laundry.”

  “You sure can,” he said, taking the cards P.J. held out.

  She tried not to run from the kitchen.

  In the utility room a few minutes later, she braced her hands on the edge of the dryer and took a deep breath. She felt as agitated as the load of clothes she had just tossed into the washer.

  Ben made her think things she shouldn’t. Made her wish for things she could never have. Made her weak when she needed to be strong, for so many reasons.

  And just like the clothes in the washer, her guilt and need and obligations tumbled around and around inside her.

  * * *

  AFTER THEIR SUNDAY DINNER, the card game started up again in the living room. Dana cleared off the kitchen table but kept her ears half tuned to the conversation.

  “Can we play all day?” P.J. asked Ben.

  “I doubt that. We’ve still got work to do outside.”

  “Daddy played cards with me all the time,” Lissa said with more than a trace of smugness.

  Sensing trouble, Dana edged toward the doorway.

  “My daddy played cards with me, too,” P.J. said.

  “He did not.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  Over their heads, Ben’s gaze met Dana’s.

  “No, he didn’t,” Lissa insisted. “And besides, you were too little when he was here.”

  “I was not—”

  “You don’t even remember him.”

  “Yes, I do.” As if to prove his point, P.J. reached into his shorts pocket and held up the small photograph of Paul that he kept by his bedside. He slapped the photo on the coffee table. It was crumpled around the edges, as if he’d carried it since he’d brought it down to the kitchen yesterday. “That’s my daddy. He’s a hero.”

  “You only know that because I told you!”

  “Lissa!” Dana said. “P.J. Both of you, stop.”

  “But P.J. doesn’t know—”

  “Lots of people know your daddy’s a hero.” Ben’s voice cut across her words quietly but with such emphasis Lissa and P.J. snapped their mouths shut. “P.J. could have heard it from them. And he definitely heard it from me. Your daddy’s a hero. That’s why he’s wearing those medals in that picture. He’s an army hero.”

  “I know that,” Lissa said.

  He smiled. “There’s something I’ll bet you don’t know. He was a hero in Flagman’s Folly, too.”

  “He was?”

  “Yep. The greatest hero the high school football team ever had. He led them to three state championships in a row. Nobody had ever done that before, and they’ve never done it since.”

  “Wow. Mama never told us that.”

  Ben nodded, in agreement with her or confirmation of his own statement, Dana didn’t know.

  Like a dark cloud, silence hung over the room. Or over her.

  “Your daddy and I were friends for a long, long time,” Ben said. “Your daddy and mama and I have all been friends since we were in kindergarten.”

  “Like me?”

  Dana didn’t have to look to know her son’s eyes had widened in astonishment. She wished she didn’t have to listen to Ben’s response. Yet she couldn’t force herself to step away.

  “Yes, like you. Your daddy and I were best buddies ever since then. And nothing will ever change that.”

  Buddies. Friends.

  Just as they were.

  “Best friends do everything together,” Lissa said, “like me and Nate.”

  “Yep,” he agreed, “just like the two of you. In fact, your daddy and I used to have sleepovers, too. Until the time we let my garter snakes loose in the house.”

  “In the house?” Lissa screeched.

  Again, Dana didn’t have to look to know P.J. would have just the opposite reaction. “You had snakes!”

  “Well, I sure didn’t have them for very long after that. My mama feels the way your mama does. She doesn’t like ’em
a bit.”

  “Ben,” Dana said warningly, “don’t give him any ideas.”

  He laughed. “I’m not.”

  Turning away, she went to Stacey and lifted her from the high chair. She wrapped her arms around the baby and rested her cheek against her hair.

  Maybe she had been wrong about having Ben spend so much time with Lissa and P.J. The expression on her older daughter’s face said she still wasn’t sure how she felt about Ben. P.J.’s feelings, on the other hand, had been evident in the way he looked up adoringly at the man.

  Life had gotten so complicated in the past few weeks.

  No. Life had become complicated long before Paul had died. When she’d started weaving that web of deceit.

  Dana tightened her hold on Stacey and the little girl squirmed. She rocked her gently and looked down at the baby she loved, the baby she had conceived in a mistaken effort to save her marriage.

  She would never regret having Stacey. Still, she knew what her last-born child represented to the townsfolk of Flagman’s Folly—and to Ben Sawyer. Her baby gave them additional proof of Dana’s perfect marriage.

  And gave her yet one more secret to hang on to.

  * * *

  WITH EVERY STORY HE TOLD about Paul, Ben felt worse than ever. How could he have thought about trying to get anywhere with his best friend’s wife?

  Clarice had blasted him with her opinion about that.

  Dana herself had told him to back off the night of the wedding. And she hadn’t changed her mind. He’d seen that in her face just before she’d run from the utility room. The sight had stayed with him all night, and he hadn’t shaken it yet.

  But he’d had years to learn how to cover his feelings.

  “Hey, buddy,” he said easily to P.J., “we’ve got a job to do. How about you run upstairs and get into some work clothes.”

  “Okay.” The boy took off.

  Lissa hadn’t said much while he was telling his stories, but she didn’t seem to want to miss one of them. She sat now on the edge of an ottoman and rubbed at the carpet with the toe of her shoe. He waited, thinking again of how little she resembled her mama as far as jumping into a conversation. But she’d speak up when she got good and ready.

  He looked toward the kitchen. Again, Dana stood in the doorway, this time holding Stacey. In an instant, his jaw tightened.

  If her reaction last night hadn’t told him all he needed to know about ever having a relationship with her, seeing her hugging the baby sure as heck did. Like P.J. keeping track of tacos on his fingers, he could count back the months. He wouldn’t have to go very far to know Paul and Dana had conceived that baby when Paul had come home for his last leave.

  “Ben?”

  He tore his gaze away and looked at Lissa. “Yeah?”

  She stared back. “You were always best friends with Daddy?”

  He nodded. “In grade school and junior high, and all through high school, too. And I was best man at his wedding.”

  “What’s a best man?”

  “When a man gets married, he’s called the groom—”

  “I know that. Like Caleb. And Tess was the bride.”

  “Exactly. The groom’s best friend is called the best man, and he gets to help the groom.”

  “You mean, like Becky’s daddy did?”

  “Yes. The best man stands by the groom in church and holds the wedding ring until the groom puts it on the bride’s finger.”

  “Oh.” She sounded relieved. “Then, the best man doesn’t get married.”

  “Well...no. Not when he’s helping the groom.”

  “That’s good.” She dragged her toe across the carpet again. “Mama says you come here all the time again now because you bought this house and you need to fix it up.”

  The abrupt change in subject made him want to shake his head in confusion. But he didn’t. Obviously, she had something in her head and knew where she was going with it. “Yeah, there’s a lot that needs to be done around here.”

  She nodded. “I know. And now Daddy’s gone, you’re helping Mama. Like a best man, right?”

  “That’s right. I want to help all of you.”

  “Good. But you won’t have to go to church to help Mama. Because she won’t get married again.”

  He swallowed hard and told himself not to look over toward the kitchen. “She won’t?”

  “No.”

  He couldn’t stop himself. When his gaze shot to the doorway, he knew Dana hadn’t missed a word. She stood frozen, almost the way she had last night.

  Before she had run from him.

  He forced himself to focus again on Lissa, who sat shaking her head.

  “Miss Clarice says she can’t get married again, because Mr. Vernon was a hero. And she says nobody can take Daddy’s place because he’s a hero, too.”

  “She’s right. He sure is.” He hesitated, then said, “Is that what’s got you all quiet with me lately? You’re thinking I’m trying to replace your daddy?”

  She shrugged and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Well, don’t worry about that at all. I told you, I was his best friend. And I’m here to help out.”

  She nodded. “Now you told me. Because you’re Mama’s best man.” She looked over toward the kitchen. “Right, Mama?”

  Ben looked that way again, too.

  “Right,” Dana said.

  Smiling now, Lissa went upstairs.

  Dana had disappeared from the doorway.

  He sat there for a moment or two, but when it became clear she didn’t intend to return, he got up and ambled into the kitchen. She stood leaning against the breakfast bar, her arms still wrapped around Stacey. When she saw him, she seemed to stiffen, but he didn’t let it deter him. He headed directly across the room and came to a stop just in front of her.

  “Is that what you’re worried about, too?” he asked. “That I’m here trying to take over? Trying to replace Paul?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, just in case, you heard what I said to Lissa. I’m here to help you and the kids.”

  “Yes, I know. You’ve said that all along.”

  “And you’ve never been happy about it. I can’t say I understand that.” He took a long, calming breath and reached up to stroke Stacey’s hair lightly with one finger. Trying to keep his voice just as gentle, he said, “You know, these are Paul’s kids, too. No matter how you and I feel about everything, maybe we ought to consider what he would have wanted.”

  * * *

  DANA RESTED HER CHIN in her hands and stared down at the tabletop without seeing it. A while ago, Ben and P.J. had left the house to go out into the yard to work. Lissa had gone onto the back porch with a book.

  When Ben had started telling his stories, she had wanted to sink into a puddle and melt into the floor. Like the Wicked Witch of the West in the kids’ favorite movie.

  Oh—and wasn’t that an appropriate comparison! Because she felt wicked. She felt awful. She felt racked with guilt and more. Clarice had seen right through her.

  Wanting her husband’s best friend made her ashamed.

  Ben was so wrong about expecting her to take Paul’s thoughts into consideration, though she could never tell him that.

  Yet he was so right about everything else.

  If she ever again lost herself in daydreams, no doubt he would be the first to remind her they could never come true.

  And everyone in Flagman’s Folly would back him up.

  “Mama!” Lissa yelled from the porch. “P.J.’s hurt!”

  Dana jumped to her feet. After a quick glance at Stacey, safely strapped into her high chair, she rushed across the room.

  Outside, Lissa stood pointing to the opposite end of the yard. “He fell into the hole where Ben w
as digging, but Ben already saved him.”

  Even from this distance, she could see Ben kneeling beside her son, who stood chattering away.

  “It doesn’t seem like he’s hurt. I’ll take a look, though. Please go keep an eye on Stacey.”

  The screen door slapped shut behind Lissa as Dana went down the back steps. She watched Ben check out P.J.’s arms and legs under the guise of brushing loose dirt from his clothing.

  “Everything all right?” Clarice had come outside, too, and rushed in their direction. “My goodness. I was looking out the window and when I saw him fall, I just—”

  “Nothing to worry about,” Ben interrupted. “He’s fine.”

  He clapped his hands on P.J.’s pants legs. A dust cloud rose, sending her son into giggles.

  Clarice took his hand. “Well, he may be fine, but he’s filthy. He can come along with me, and I’ll clean him up a bit. And then maybe he’ll help me make a dent in a gallon of ice cream taking up space in my freezer. How about that, P.J.?”

  “Sure, Miss Clarice. I can do that.”

  Now he could think only of his treat. But without that, and given time to stop and dwell on what had happened, it wouldn’t have taken much to send him into tears. And he did seem fine. Grateful for her neighbor’s quick thinking, Dana mouthed a “thank you” to Clarice.

  The older woman nodded stiffly. She hadn’t forgotten their conversation. Or forgiven. But at least she wasn’t taking her feelings out on the kids.

  As she led P.J. away, he grinned and gave Dana a big wave. She waved back. Then, forcing a smile, she turned to Ben, who looked more upset than P.J. had right after his fall. “None the worse for wear.”

  He finished dusting himself off and shook his head. “I’m glad for that. Scared the hell out of me when I saw him slip. He was too far away for me to catch him.”

  “He’s quick. And with all the time he’s spent with you lately, I’m just amazed you haven’t seen him take a spill before now.”

  “You sound like you expected it.”

  “It’s more like I’m used to it. You remember, he had those stitches from falling off the coffee table when he was three.”

  “Yeah, I do remember. I guess he’s a typical boy, huh?”