The Bluebonnet Bride

by Pamela Tracy

  Amy gazed out the window above the sink. "You don't know my mother."

  Daniel took one of her hands. "No, but I know you."

  Chapter Eight

  Sunday evening, Amy cleaned the apartment over the shop. It was one of the nicest places she'd ever lived and the only one that she liked calling home. And it was a home because Aunt Abigail had made it so. Sometimes she felt guilty because she cherished things that were hers by default: the cuckoo clock with a bird whose chirping sounded more like a frog's, an antique desk with a bottom drawer that wouldn't close all the way, a couch with comfortable mismatched cushions. Everything reminded her of Abigail and how it felt to have someone who loved her just because she wanted to, no strings attached, no expectations.

  The shop and apartment were hers now, though she still had to meet with the lawyer next week. Ronald Clark had called and left a message, something about there being a corporation, and her owning more than they originally thought. The last few times they'd met, he'd just taken over his father's office and realized that his dad's Alzheimer's had wreaked havoc on his record keeping. She'd been dealing with grief and disbelief. She'd signed paperwork and nodded at all the jargon, but she'd been distracted by Abigail being gone and how unfair it was. She appreciated the lawyer though. Every month she received a bank statement as well as an accounting from him. Good thing her aunt had the rentals, because Craft Away the Day wasn't making what it used to.

  Amy paused, holding a pillow from the couch and surveying the apartment. It wasn't big, just a living room, two bedrooms, a bath, and a small kitchen. Long ago, someone besides her aunt had painted the paneling white. Her aunt had stenciled bluebonnets, the Texas state flower, as a border. The curtains were the same blue as the stencils. There were throw rugs and lots of afghans. In a basket by the couch were two quilts Amy had started but never finished.

  Shaking her head at the thought of picking up either knitting needles or a crochet hook, Amy headed for the kitchen to bake. She was in a ridiculously good mood. Probably because of a tall cowboy who'd invited her out to dinner last night and who'd sat across from her—eating noodle soup—this afternoon.

  If not for Shirley, she'd have stayed away.

  But, wow, was Daniel getting hit with both guns: first Shirley and now his twin brother. Twice while she'd been there, Daniel had called and been told that Dusty was sleeping and that the doctor would call as soon as he could.

  The good mood ebbed, replaced by melancholy, so at almost midnight, she made cookies, three cakes, and for the first time ever, homemade doughnuts.

  They needed some improvements, so she didn't offer the doughnuts to the ladies the next morning.

  "Nice cake," Lynn said. "Looks professional, tastes like it too. Guess you're still playing with that dream of owning a bakery."

  "Dreams and baking a cake here and there are easy," Amy said. "Putting together a business plan and opening a bakery, not so easy."

  Of course, if thoughts of Daniel kept surfacing, she'd have enough sweets to stock a bakery.

  Michelle huffed. "I didn't know you wanted to open a bakery. Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Because it's not something I'm going to do. Daniel just asked me about my dreams the other day, and he read too much into my response." Amy looked at Carol, who shrugged helplessly.

  "I'm happy managing the shop," Amy said. "I'm just finding my way. I don't need anything new."

  "What Daniel said," Carol persisted, "is that the minute he tasted her cookies, he knew potential when it slammed against his taste buds. His very words."

  "Oh, my," Michelle and Lynn said in unison.

  "Hush," Amy said. "You're making that up. Daniel would never use a phrase like 'slammed against his taste buds.'"

  The Nutty Knitters looked a little guilty. Still, Amy felt pleased that he'd been talking about her. He'd been distracted on the phone this morning, but then he'd been getting Shirley ready for a drive into Texarkana and a doctor's appointment.

  The rest of the morning Amy waited on customers, filled orders, and updated her website while the ladies talked about Dusty's accident and their lack of knowledge about his condition. Then, they switched to stories from Brittney's baby shower and how much she wanted to move back to Pecan, to be near family. This was followed by a critique of the preacher's sermon yesterday. They segued into what was happening on their favorite television shows and finished with the news that Burt intended to ask Daniel Starr to help untangle the church's finances.

  "Sounds like Burt thinks Daniel might be staying," Michelle said. "Shirley will be in the wheelchair quite a while."

  "She's not healing nearly as quickly as they'd hoped," Carol said.

  "As she predicted," Michelle said.

  Carol nodded. "A fall like that..."

  "Good thing Daniel's here. Looks like he's not going anywhere."

  "I never saw Daniel as a rodeoer," Lynn said. "He always thinks too much as he's heading out the chute."

  Amy almost dropped a stack of pattern books. She'd heard Brittney say pretty much the same thing. This year he's made eight seconds more often than not, and all his scores have been above forty. He just thinks too much once the bull leaves the gate.

  "I should have paid more attention to what Brett was doing," she muttered.

  "What?" Carol said.

  "Nothing." Not a chance would Amy share that she'd once dated a bull rider. The Nutty Knitters would want all the details. Luckily, she was saved by the opening of the door.

  "Daniel!" everyone but Amy said. She just smiled.

  "I've got Gramma in the car if you want to go say hi. She doesn't feel like getting out." Looking at Amy, he added, "What she does feel like is continuing your quilting lesson."

  "Really?" Amy was surprised.

  "Yes. And the doctor said he wants her to be more active. Want to come for dinner about seven?"

  "I'll be there."

  Daniel spent a few minutes talking with the Nutty Knitters, assuring them that Gramma's headache had been a migraine, which, according to the doctor, could occur for months after a concussion. Daniel even agreed to go to Michelle's house later in the week to go over an investment she was concerned about.

  Watching him walk out the door, Amy admitted to herself she wasn't sure who she wanted to see more: Shirley or Daniel.

  She settled on both.

  But really, there was just one.

  #

  Daniel helped Gramma to bed when they got home. The new medication made her sleepy. "But, at least I don't have a headache," she said.

  "Good thing, Gramma," Daniel said, just as his phone rang. Checking the screen, he saw Dusty's name.

  Dusty didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I've a one-inch slice in my forehead, stitches, a shattered knee, and broken collarbone."

  "Guess you're not heading to the next rodeo?" Daniel had heard something in Dusty's voice, something that said broken. The tone implied both bone and spirit.

  If not for Gramma, Daniel would head to Jackson, be there for his brother, talk to the doctors.

  While Gramma slept, Daniel checked his email and almost laughed. His brother had sent an account of both their standings, and Dusty had checked out three rodeos he thought Daniel might consider entering. They were close enough he could get there and back in two days.

  Maybe before this bout with Gramma and the migraine.

  He didn't hit send.

  The applications were ready. It would be his first foray into competing without his brother. The timing was all wrong. Still, he saved them and let them linger as icons at the bottom of his Mac. It would take him two seconds to enter if he changed his mind.

  He knew he wouldn't, but in a way it felt like the ending of an era. Gone were the days of living in a motel room, trailer, or someone's bunkhouse. Here were the days of cleaning Pecan Ranch. Amy was coming over this evening, and in addition to cooking, he needed to have the house look halfway presentable.

  Gramma wheeled into the room when h
e was halfway through. "She doesn't care what the house looks like."

  "Did it look like this when she came over to quilt with you?"

  "Well, no."

  Daniel looked around. He'd been fixing things and working outdoors on the yard. Inside had never been his domain, but that was about to change. The floor was a bit grungy, more from the dog's footprints, than from the humans. Mail was piled high on the kitchen table, and dishes filled the sink. Tomorrow, he'd fix the dishwasher. Couldn't be that hard. Today, he needed to sweep, stash, and polish.

  The quilting frame, made of PVC pipe and the size of a card table, was different than the one he remembered from his teenage years. That one had been made of wood and handed down from a long-ago Starr relative. He seemed to remember a story about a horse and Luke building a sled, which was followed by epic destruction.

  That's right. Daniel needed to call Luke's friends again, try to find his brother. But, first he needed to put Gramma on the phone with Dusty, so she'd know his twin would be all right. While they talked, Daniel needed to clear off the kitchen table. The hamburger was thawed, buns were fresh, and surely Amy liked potato chips. Who didn't?

  In the end, Daniel picked up the books, mail, and potato chip bags that were in the living room. He swept the floor. And he cleared the counter in the kitchen so he could cook. Before he could do anything else, his grandmother sent him upstairs to Luke's room, where she'd put some of her sewing supplies.

  "I want the big blue storage box."

  There were three big blue storage boxes, so Daniel had to run back downstairs and ask which one.

  "I want the one with the quilt tops. Amy and I are starting a new one tonight."

  He ran back upstairs. All three boxes had quilt tops. Then, Daniel did what he should have done in the first place. He picked all three boxes up and carried them downstairs.

  Gramma was sitting in her favorite easy chair. She merely smiled as he set them at her feet. She bent over and opened the lid of the first box and went through it, pulling out a few quilt tops. She did the same with the other two boxes until she had quilt tops covering the side of the couch closest to her. Then she combined the remaining so she had two full boxes and one empty. "Go ahead and take these back upstairs."

  He did as she asked and then went back to cleaning. It was a little strange to be the only Starr brother home. Usually Dusty would be working alongside him. Many a day Gramma had had him and his brothers helping her pin a quilt. When Luke was little, he'd even sewed a bit with her. Grandpa said Luke had a gentle soul.

  The house could wait. Soon Gramma was asleep in her chair, so Daniel took out his cell and called a few of Luke's friends.

  Everyone had the same wrong number as Daniel.

  Amy arrived just as Daniel was shaping the hamburger patties. He opened the front door and looking down at her—brownish-blond hair back in a ponytail, red shirt, jeans, and white tennis shoes—he felt a rush of something. How could this woman he'd only known a few weeks make him rethink all the goals he'd made his last year of college?

  He wanted to play for a while, rodeo, see the world. Looking at Amy, he figured maybe his world just got a little more out of control. Nothing was happening as he thought it should. And, in the midst of it all, he was forgetting to strive for what he'd been working toward for so long.

  His goal had changed and was much better smelling.

  "Are you going to invite me in?" she asked.

  He backed up, not far enough, and she had to brush against him to enter. The top of her head was just under his chin. Oranges. That's what she smelled like. Sweet, mouth-watering. He wanted to reach out, touch, tangle his fingers—

  "I'm in the living room," Gramma called.

  "I'll start dinner." He cleared his throat. "You're probably hungry."

  "Want help?"

  "I think Gramma's hoping for your time right now. I've got it covered."

  From the kitchen he watched as Amy gave his grandma a gentle hug and then sat on the side of the couch not covered with quilt tops.

  "Just a little set back with the headaches," Gramma said. "I should be out of this wheelchair next week."

  Gramma had heard only what she wanted to hear. The doctor had said everything takes time to heal. He'd also said that very few women who'd suffered the type of break she had could bounce back after just a few weeks. The doctor had emphasized months. Gramma had heard weeks and started calculating.

  "Gramma, we're not in a hurry," Daniel called.

  "He's right," Amy said. "Besides, why hurry? It's kinda nice having Daniel here."

  "Oh," Gramma said, "I think Daniel will stay for a while. He's pretty happy. And, he's starting to make some contacts in town. He's a financial advisor, you know."

  Daniel knew better than to listen when his grandma got to bragging, so he loaded the patties on to a tray, grabbed the cheese and buns, and headed outside to start the grill.

  It was a perfect evening. He planned to have the meal on the outside table and busied himself getting everything ready. When he finally went back inside, Amy was protesting, "No, really, I couldn't."

  "You're ready to make a whole quilt for yourself. I did these tops a long time ago. Pick the one you want, and we'll get it started tonight."

  "I can always use some of the fabric from my shop. That way, if I mess up, it's not on one that was hand-pieced."

  "We've already talked about mistakes," Gramma said. "Everyone makes them. You learn from them, and later, you look on them and realize that you're a better person because you lived through them."

  Those had always been Grandpa's words. Last time Daniel heard them, he'd been alone in his dorm room. Grandpa had called to tell him that Sean Lang had died on their property.

  Grandpa hadn't lived long enough to help Luke get past his grief.

  He'd had a heart attack that night.

  "I love this one with bluebonnets," Amy said, her gentle voice chasing away the bitter memory. "My aunt painted bluebonnets on the walls of the apartment."

  "She was very talented. As are you."

  Amy gathered the bluebonnet quilt top in her lap. "Then I pick this one."

  "Good. After we eat, you and Daniel can pin it, and we'll get it on the frame and begin."

  "Perfect timing. Everything's ready." Daniel came in the living room and held out a hand to his grandma. He helped her into the wheelchair, took her out front, down the ramp he'd built his second day here, and then pushed her around back. Amy was already waiting, the breeze playing with her hair and a smile on her face.

  "Hank loved eating out here. Especially in spring, when the flowers bloomed on the pecan trees."

  "Yeah, that was my favorite time, too," Daniel said dryly. "A few months before Grandpa had me out there beating the trees with a stick so the nuts would fall."

  "Is that how you do it?" Amy looked intrigued.

  He loaded a hamburger onto a plate and handed it to her, noting that she didn't take any lettuce or tomatoes but seemed really fond of pickles and ketchup.

  Gramma took over, describing what pecan season was like. It wasn't until after dessert that she indicated that she'd like to go inside for a while. When Daniel came back outside, Amy had already gathered the dishes and condiments. Together they washed the dishes and wiped down the counters and table.

  "She's thrilled you're here," Amy told him. "She's half afraid you'll leave soon and half afraid that you're staying because you have to, and she's hurting your career."

  "Bull riding isn't my career."

  Daniel noticed that Amy paused a moment before saying, "That's not what most bull riders think."

  "How do you know?"

  "I've been to a rodeo or two in my day. Usually the number one topic of conversation is where's the next rodeo and what's needed to move up in the ranks."

  "I've had a few other things on my mind. Taking care of Gramma, for one, but she's doing better. I could probably leave her for a few days."

  As if Shirley knew the per
fect opportunity, she called, "Come in the living room. There's plenty of room for you to do the pinning on the floor."

  A minute later, Amy had the blue sheet down for backing, had the batting stretched out perfectly, and lay the quilt top above. She handed Daniel a box of pins and pointed to where he should start.

  "You act like you've done this before," he said.

  "A time or two, both with my aunt and with your grandmother."

  At first, it was more like a quiet Twister game, no words because both of them had pins in their mouths. Beside them was a big poodle who thought he should get to play. Peppermint, the cat, chose to sit in Shirley's lap and watch. As they neared the finish, Daniel said, "I've also been busy working around the house. You should have seen this back yard."

  "I'm sure it's vastly improved."

  "I've been asked to help Burt with some financial stuff. He's the accountant for the church, you know."

  She nodded.

  "I think I'm going to be around for quite a few months. The doctors say Gramma won't be fully mobile for over a year. Both Carol and Lynn called me, wanting me to give them some financial advice. I'm thinking that while I'm here, I might have some work possibilities."

  "And you gave financial advice to Brittney and her husband about the new baby," she said.

  He laughed. "See? I've been too busy to think about the next rodeo."

  "I'm meeting with a lawyer next week. You know anything about how a woman like my aunt might be a corporation?"

  "Yes."

  "Want to come with me? I could use the help."

  "I can do that. Just tell me the date and time." He walked over to a wall calendar his grandma kept and picked up the red marker. Looking at the events already scheduled—doctor's visits, church functions, and someone's anniversary—he hoped the date she'd scheduled was free.

  He really wanted to go.

  It was the first time she'd asked him to do something for her.

  Chapter Nine

  Friday morning, Amy watched as Daniel set up a quilting frame in the corner of Craft Away the Day. He'd made it himself, and it was gorgeous. She'd had to rearrange a few things to make room for it. The Nutty Knitters were full of advice as they watched from their table. A few customers stayed around to enjoy the show—probably Daniel's good looks were more the reason than the beautiful frame—and Amy doubled her usual Friday morning sales.