by Kathy Ivan
Finishing his coffee, he spotted his father walking toward the barn, his stride purposeful, his ever-present cowboy hat pulled low over his brow. The sight evoked a memory from early days, when he’d first come to live at the Big House. While Douglas owned and ran a large and extremely successful construction company, he was as much a part of the working ranch as the dirt beneath his boots. He’d lost count of the times he’d seen the man working alongside the ranch hands, setting posts and mending fences, doing his fair share to keep their homestead running.
Douglas Boudreau held a special place in Brody’s heart, had from the day he’d met him. Bigger than life, tall and strong, to a small eight-year-old boy the mountain of a man engendered an imposing and intimidating sight, yet he’d quickly learned Douglas was one of the gentlest men Brody ever met. With a heart as big as Texas, Douglas and Ms. Patti welcomed him into their home and into their hearts, with an ease he found remarkable to this day. He couldn’t put into words the special place in his heart these two remarkable people held, helping him bridge the painful gap of heartbreak and loss at a tender age. Some days he could feel Ms. Patti’s loving arms wrapped around him while he’d mourned, sharing his grief, his young mind unable to accept the devastating loss and changes, the yawning despair threatening to swallow him whole.
Shaking his head, he rinsed his cup, put it in the dishwasher, and headed out to the barn. Maybe a little strenuous exercise might help clear his head, make sense of the jumbled thoughts rolling around inside his brain.
While he’d tried in vain to sleep, all he’d thought about, fantasized about, was Beth Stewart. Beautiful, headstrong, and independent, she’d moved halfway across the country to make a clean break with painful memories and a messy divorce. She was making a new life for her and her daughter in a new town under strained and stressful circumstances. Though she’d been welcomed as part of the Boudreau family, he didn’t feel anything close to familial about the feisty woman who kept him fantasizing about a future which could never be.
When Brody walked into the barn, Douglas sat atop a wooden stool holding a bridle, studying it with the same intensity he did everything else. The worn leather looked tiny within his father’s big, work-roughened hands. His dad looked up when Brody walked in, his face a study of lines and angles, tanned from working outdoors his entire life. Years in the military as an Army Ranger trained and disciplined him into a strong man, one with a compassionate heart and an easy smile. Hands toughened and scarred from construction work, as well as daily life on the ranch, their touch could yield a gentleness belied by his size, or a swat to a backside when deserved.
“Morning, son. Heard you had a tough night.”
“That it was, Dad. Blaze at the Summers’ place. A bad one. Thankfully, we caught it in time before it spread too far.”
“It’s a shame, place lying abandoned. It’s a good piece of property. Any idea what caused it?”
Brody hesitated, not wanting to make any unfounded assumptions, but his father knew the lay of the land when it came to things happening in and around Shiloh Springs. He’d spent most of his adult life here after leaving the military, and was well respected by everyone in their small community. He also had a good head on his shoulders when it came to people. Soft spoken and not given to saying much, when he did offer his opinion, people listened. Douglas sometimes reminded him of a throwback to a different time, when a man’s word meant something. His father was a fair man, one who he trusted implicitly, and knew whatever he told Douglas would be kept between them.
“I don’t have any proof yet, but I think the fire was deliberately set.”
His father stiffened almost imperceptivity, before turning his attention back to the bridle. “You’re thinking arson?”
“The burn pattern outside the barn indicated that possibility. I’ll know more once I can investigate further. I hope I’m wrong, but my gut says otherwise. What I can’t figure out is why. There’s no motive. The place is abandoned, has been for ages. The Summers have had it on the market forever. Who’d want to torch the old barn?”
Douglas laid the bridle down on the ground by his feet and stood. “Ben Summers wants to sell the place, but he’s asking too much. Your momma hasn’t been able to convince the family they’re overpriced. Sometimes sentimental attachments color people’s judgment. Don’t know if they’re hurting for money. I do know it was a hard decision when Sandra took sick, and the doctors told him she needed to be in a warmer climate. Living in Florida ain’t cheap.”
“Part of the investigation will be looking at the owners. It’s routine. With any insurance payout, it almost always focuses on whether or not arson is suspected.”
“I don’t think Ben’s carried insurance on the place for the last couple of years, son. Doubt it, to be honest. Last he told me, if he wasn’t gonna live there, he wasn’t concerned about it falling down. Their son doesn’t want it. He lives in San Antonio and couldn’t care less about running a farm, which is why Ben put it on the market in the first place. Doubt they’ll ever come back to Shiloh Springs.”
“It’s a real shame, because with some hard work and a little money, it could be a beautiful farm again. The barn’s gone now, but the house was far enough away there wasn’t any damage. I imagine for the right price, it would be snatched up in a heartbeat.”
“Your momma’s gotten more than a few nibbles, but Ben’s hardheaded, and don’t want to give the place away for a penny less than what he thinks it’s worth. Stubborn old goat.”
Brody sighed before moving to stand beside his father. He reached out and scratched Tootsie behind the ear. Tootsie had been around almost as long as he’d been living on the ranch, and though she couldn’t do much heavy labor anymore, she was spoiled rotten by all the Boudreaus. She butted her head against his hand when he stopped scratching, and he resumed again with a chuckle. Yep, spoiled rotten.
“Something else bothering you, son?” His father leaned against the stall door, his back against the worn wood, ankles crossed, completely relaxed and in his element.
“Nothing. I mean—it’s not important.”
Douglas straightened to his full height, and caught Brody’s shoulders in his strong grip. “You know you can tell me anything, and it stays right here, between us. If it’s important to you, then it’s important to me. You can talk to me about anything.”
The tightness in his chest nearly choked him, the emotional support from the man he admired most in the world threatening to bring him to his knees. His father had been a bulwark in his childhood, an example of how a man should live and treat those around him throughout Brody’s teen years, the perfect example of a man who wasn’t afraid to love a woman with all his heart, and not be ashamed or embarrassed about who he was or the choices he made as an adult. If anybody would understand his dilemma, it was Douglas Boudreau.
“I’ve got a problem, Dad.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
Brody nodded. “I think I’m falling for Beth Stewart. I know it’s wrong, but—”
“Why’s it wrong?” His father seemed genuinely surprised at Brody’s admission.
“She’s Tessa’s sister. Tessa, the woman who’s engaged to Rafe. The woman who’s soon going to be my sister-in-law.”
“And?”
“What do you mean ‘and’? Beth is going to be part of this family through her sister. What happens if things don’t work out between us? I can’t do that to Rafe or Tessa. Tessa and Beth are sisters, close ones. I don’t want to cause a problem, do anything that might drive a wedge between them, or worse between Beth and Rafe.”
Douglas studied him with an intensity Brody felt all the way to his bones, his stare not judgmental or condemning, but tinged with compassion and understanding. A tiny glimmer of hope started growing deep inside.
“I think you’re looking at this all wrong, son. Rafe and Tessa love each other and they’re deliriously happy. They’re getting married soon, and your wanting to date Tessa’s sister isn’t
going to stop their nuptials. The only person who might have a problem with you dating Beth is—Beth. She’s been through the wringer over this whole episode with her ex-husband. It can’t have been easy having her life thrown into turmoil.”
“I know. Thinking about what she’s been through is another reason I’ve kept my distance.”
Douglas leaned back against the stall, once again relaxed and at ease. “Beth strikes me as a strong woman. Independent and sensible. She has to be, raising her daughter on her own.”
Brody smiled thinking about Beth’s little girl. “She’s doing an amazing job with Jamie.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. She’s a precious mite. Plus Jamie loves you, so that’s not an issue.”
Brody ran his hand along his jawline, scratching at the stubble. He’d grabbed a shower before falling into bed, but hadn’t bothered to shave. Another thing he had to take care of before heading back into town.
“I don’t want to make a mistake. It’d be different if I only had to worry about me getting hurt. But there are too many people whose lives could be affected if I screw things up.”
“Son, take a seat. I’m gonna tell you something I haven’t talked about since I was about your age.”
Brody slid down to sit on the barn’s floor, and leaned back against the wall. The look on his father’s face, the seriousness reflected in his expression, told Brody more than words whatever his dad wanted to talk about wasn’t something he shared lightly.
“You know I was in the Army.”
“The Rangers. Momma’s got your medals in that shadowbox above the mantle in the parlor.”
“I was stationed overseas a year after I enlisted. This was before I met your momma. Anyway, I came back to the States on leave, and decided to spend some time with my brother.”
“Which one?”
“Etienne—your Uncle Gator. He’d moved to New Orleans by then. Left the military, and was doing some contract work.”
At his father’s pause, Brody nodded. He’d heard stories about his uncle’s extracurricular activities after he came back from Vietnam, though there were some folks who said he’d started working behind the scenes while still enlisted and serving in ’Nam. It was all very hush-hush, and nobody had ever been able to prove exactly what Gator Boudreau did or didn’t do. He’d simply disappear for days or weeks at a time, and then show back up to his wife and family.
“I was a brash youngster back then. I worked hard and I played hard. I also made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I was twenty years old, and raring to have as much fun as I could cram into a few weeks’ leave. I spent days with your uncle out in the bayou, fishing and drinking. Then one day, he simply wasn’t there. Left me a note, said he’d try and get back before I had to ship out back to Germany, and that was it.”
Brody watched his father pick up the bridle he’d been repairing earlier, and start smoothing over the leather, as if he needed something in his hands to anchor him. It didn’t seem like a nervous action; it was more like it comforted him to have something substantial in his hands.
“I headed into New Orleans, determined to spend what time I had left with a pretty girl and all the excitement I could dig up in the city. That’s where I met Elizabeth.”
Brody started at the name. He recognized the name, though he’d never been fortunate enough to meet the woman in person. The knot in the pit of his stomach grew, because he had a feeling he knew where his father’s story was heading.
“Dad—”
“Elizabeth was everything I was looking for. Beautiful, compassionate, headstrong. Ready to have fun in the French Quarter. We both knew we wouldn’t have a lot of time together. I was upfront from the start I had to head back to Germany. She had plans to start college classes at the beginning of the semester. The time I spent with Elizabeth became the highlight of my trip, and I found myself falling for her. Head over heels. I thought she felt the same, and I think she did—until she laid eyes on Gator.”
Well, crap.
“I never stood a chance. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Gator didn’t come back to New Orleans thinking he was going to meet the girl of his dreams. Elizabeth didn’t set out to hurt me, either. I won’t say it didn’t sting my heart, but I think it was more a slap to my pride. I found the girl first; I should have won her heart. But sometimes it’s not meant to be. Elizabeth and Gator? They were meant to be. Their attraction was palpable, so strong you could almost see their hearts beating as one. I know it sounds all girly and romantic and stuff, but doesn’t change the fact it happened. I could have let it drive a wedge between me and my brother. Instead, I got to see a man I admire more than anyone find the happiness he deserved, with a woman who loved him until the day she died.”
“So you think Rafe will understand how I feel about Beth?”
Douglas nodded. “He probably already knows how you feel. I hate to break it to you, son, but I doubt there’s anybody in this family who doesn’t know you’ve got feelings for Beth. If it concerns you, talk to your brother. Let him know how you feel. Yeah, I know it’s not manly to talk about feelings. Don’t let stupid stereotypes and fools make you believe for one second your feelings, your emotions, don’t count. That’s a sure path to unhappiness.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Brody stood up and brushed the loose pieces of hay off his jeans. “I have to ask. Things between you and Uncle Gator, did they change after he met Elizabeth?”
Douglas shrugged, and walked beside Brody toward the open barn door. “At first there was some awkwardness. I had to go back to Germany. Gator stuck around New Orleans. A couple of weeks after I left, I got a call from him. He and Elizabeth got married in a quiet little ceremony. I was the first person they called, because they didn’t want them being together to keep me and my brother apart. Gotta admit, I was hurt. Said some things I wished I could take back the moment they left my mouth, but I was a stubborn fool, and shoved my foot so far down my throat, I figured there was no turning back from it. Took me a couple of weeks to figure out it wasn’t my heart getting broke that bothered me. It was my pride. Once I came to terms with being a big, fat jerk, I wrote to Gator and Elizabeth, let them know I regretted how I’d reacted, and I was sorry for the things I’d said.”
“They forgave you?”
Douglas chuckled. “They named their son after me. Jean-Luc Douglas Boudreau. When he went into the service, he got the nickname ‘Ranger’ after me too. We made things right, me and Gator, by not being stubborn and letting our pride blind us to the fact we’re family.”
Brody hugged his father, feeling his father’s arms wrap around him, enveloping him in the warmth of family he’d felt from the day he’d moved in with Douglas. As usual, his father was right, which was why he’d come to him for advice. He’d talk to Rafe, let him know about his feelings for Beth.
“Thanks, Dad. For everything.”
“Any time, Brody. I’m always here for you. Always.”
He headed back toward the house, a lightness inside that had been missing for far too long. Things were finally looking up.
CHAPTER THREE
Jamie raced through the front door of the cottage, her trilling laughter filling the air. Beth stood behind on the front porch and watched her daughter spin in circles on the hardwood floor, her excitement matching Jamie’s, but she reined it in, knowing she had to keep Jamie calm during the move. The rest of the Boudreau clan would be along any minute with the remainder of her things, and she needed that time to simply breathe. Though she loved Shiloh Springs, the whole ordeal with Evan, the move, and then finding out she was broker than broke—well, that tended to put a damper on everything. But she wasn’t about to spoil Jamie’s excitement. Maybe some of her infectious enthusiasm would rub off.
“Sweetheart, what you think of the new place?”
“Mommy,” Jamie raced up and flung her arms around her mother’s waist, “do we really get to live here?”
“Yes, honey, we really get to live here. Your Aunt Te
ssa is going to live at the Boudreau house with Douglas and Ms. Patti until she marries Uncle Rafe, and she’s going to let us stay here. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” Beth was pretty sure Jamie’s excited shouts could be heard down the entire block, but before she could shush her, the sound of a car pulling into the drive had her spinning around, her heartbeat ticking up. Brody’s pickup stopped behind her small sedan, dwarfing it on the gravel driveway. She crossed her arms over her chest, and drew in a deep breath. Something about Brody Boudreau pulled to her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever. She shoved the feeling down deep, unwilling to even entertain the thought of exploring any attraction to Brody. The ink was barely dry on her divorce decree, because Evan had fought tooth and nail to keep the divorce from happening, even from behind bars. She’d yet to figure out why he’d fought so hard to stay married, because the idiot had to realize once she knew the truth about his despicable actions, there wasn’t a chance in hades she’d stay married to him. He’d planned to kill her. Murder her for money. A chill raced down her spine at the thought. How could she have been so wrong about the man she thought she loved?
Giving a mental shake, she started down the steps, headed for Brody’s truck. She watched his tall frame unfold from the driver’s seat, and her breath caught at the sight of sunlight glinting off his sandy-brown hair before he placed his black Stetson atop his head. His quick grin caused a fluttering in her stomach, and she placed her hand against it, silently willing the feeling to go away.
Not going there, nu-uh. Brody Boudreau is off the menu, no matter how delicious he looks.
“Uncle Brody!” A whirling dervish of skinny legs and flying ponytails raced past Beth, and dove straight at Brody. Her daughter’s giggles increased when Brody swung her up in the air and caught her, spinning her around. The breath caught in her throat with the realization Jamie’s father had never done that with their little girl. Then again, there were a lot of things Evan had never done. In hindsight, the marriage she’d thought picture perfect turned out to be little more than paper posies, easily tossed aside when the lure of something new and shiny came along.