by Glynna Kaye
An invisible weight settled into Sawyer’s heart just as a cloud passed over the sun, throwing the park below into shadow. The wind picked up, piercing through his cotton T-shirt. How his dad would have loved being out here on a day like this, playing flag football with his sons, Vanessa cheering from the sidelines.
But that would never happen, would it?
He squared his shoulders and shook off the haunting reminder as he instructed Cubby on their next play. The little guy performed like a pro and over the goal line he went, this time officially scoring.
“Tie!” Tori hollered as she gave Landon a hug, then opened her arms to Cubby, who, having tossed the ball to Landon, came running to get one, too.
Maybe he should queue up, as well? Get a victory hug from the cute blonde? Mighty tempting.
With a pang of regret, Sawyer glanced at his watch. Good place to call it a day. “Sorry, guys, but it’s time for me to get back to the Outpost.”
“Awww.” Landon trudged toward him, tossing the football from one hand to the other. “We don’t get a chance to break the tie?”
“Not today.”
“Bummer.” But Cubby’s eyes were still bright from his touchdown.
“Maybe tomorrow if the weather’s good.” For the past week, he’d started eating his lunch later, timing it around Tori and the boys’ postlunch park outing. She didn’t seem to mind the intrusion and he did love time with his brothers. Yeah, being around them still hurt. Worse on some days. But it was great to no longer hold himself back, gnawed by guilt.
He had Tori to thank for this renewed opportunity to bond with his brothers. He enjoyed spending time with her outside the store, too. Often Les or Diego were around when she was there, so they didn’t have that much time to talk in private. At least on days like this when the boys were on the park swings or a slide, he’d snatch a few minutes to chat with her. Find out how her day was going. How the boys were doing.
He’d hoped she’d be more confiding in him about the day-to-day goings-on at the house, but she seemed determined to stick to her original resolution that she’d only tell him of anything she thought might be of a serious enough nature to impact the boys negatively. So far, nothing.
Which meant, as he’d been beginning to suspect, his concerns for the boys’ welfare, his perceptions of their unhappiness in the big old house, were mostly in his imagination—a lingering aftermath of the guilt that had weighed on him since the moment he’d heard the cause of the fire.
Tori abruptly made her presence known as she bumped his arm with hers. “Why so glum? Staring off into space wondering what happened to your victory? A tie isn’t the end of the world, but you thought you could beat us, didn’t you?”
The boys were now chasing each other, making a game of trying to see who could maintain possession of the ball. He gazed down at her and his heartbeat accelerated. She was so pretty, looking up at him with starry-lashed eyes, her face flushed from the exertion of the game. But it wasn’t just how she looked that drew him. He’d known plenty of attractive women. She was special, for want of a better word. Kind. Gentle. Fun.
“With Cubby on your side,” she prodded, “you thought you’d whup us. That kid is a hidden gold mine.”
“He seems to be coming out of hiding more and more, doesn’t he? Not all the time. But more often.”
“He is. Good to see.”
She took a few steps to the picnic table, where she retrieved her jacket. He helped her on with it, sensing that there was something else she wanted to say. He didn’t have long to wait.
“I’ve noticed you’ve made an effort to join the boys on our park outings several times this week.”
“My schedule lent itself to it. It won’t always.”
“Cubby and Landon love it. They’ve talked about it every night at mealtime.”
He shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t like he thought he could keep the time spent with them a secret from their grandparents. That wasn’t his intention, but somehow knowing that the couple was being regaled with stories about him made him uneasy. “How does that go over with Ray and Therese? Probably not real thrilled, right?”
“Why do you say that?”
Why did he say that? Maybe because of the way they both looked at him. As if not quite trusting him. He’d long feared that Dad’s wife might have shared with them the gambling trouble Sawyer had found himself in, the questionable lifestyle, or at least that they’d heard rumors around town about it. But thankfully it appeared they didn’t know the truth of the part he’d played in their daughter’s death.
“I’ve never been convinced they like me much, that maybe they think I’m a bad influence. I mean, here they have these cute grandkids who have this big bad brother a quarter of a century older. Like I said before, for some reason I make them uncomfortable.”
“Have you tried to talk to them about it? Clear the air? Maybe there’s nothing to it.”
Why did he get the feeling Tori thought there might be something to it?
“I hope you don’t mind my asking, Sawyer, but—” okay, here it comes “—why is it you’re overly concerned about the boys living with their grandparents? And pardon me for feeling paranoid, but it seems that you appearing here in the park each day recently is an indication that you don’t trust me to keep my part of our bargain.”
Caught off guard, Sawyer’s breath caught as he stared into her questioning eyes. He couldn’t exactly confess, could he, that in addition to enjoying time with his little brothers...he wanted to spend more time with her, too?
Chapter Twelve
There. She’d said it. Maybe now he’d explain why she kept picking up on half-said things from both the Selbys and Sawyer himself. Confirm that her instincts were spot-on.
He shifted slightly, as if uncomfortable with her questions. “You have that all wrong, Tori. I trust you. Okay, maybe at first I was uncertain when you turned the tables on me. But you’ve proven yourself. More than proven yourself. I’m counting on you.”
Did her uneasiness, then, stem solely from her own guilty feelings? From not running to him with everything that occurred in the Selby household that pricked her conscience? But she’d addressed the issues—the stove-top burner left on, the unsecured meds—so what would be the point in alarming him?
“Okay. But why do I sense this...” How to explain it? “This wall between you and the Selbys? They don’t talk about it. You don’t talk about it. But I’d have to be blind not to see it.”
His gaze drifted to the boys, now joined by a few other children at the swings.
“I can’t tell you what you’re picking up on from the Selbys. But I can admit that while I didn’t recognize it until now—” he looked as if he didn’t relish having to say what he intended to tell her “—maybe it’s more about me than them.”
She tilted her head, not understanding.
“You know my dad was a widower, who later married the Selbys’ daughter. But what you probably don’t know is that his first wife—my mother—died thirteen years before he remarried.”
Tori mentally ran the calculations. “When you were a young boy.”
“Just turning eleven.”
“I had no idea that, like your brothers, you lost your mother at such a young age. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, well, I was older. As in the case with my dad, I have more memories. More to hold on to than those two little fellas do.” He watched them playing, swinging higher and higher, their laughter filling the air. “So I know what it’s like to be motherless. I know how empty I felt for the longest time. Abandoned, even.”
She lightly touched his arm. “So you think you’re transposing your feelings on to your brothers’ situation? Subconsciously attempting to—”
“To hold their grandparents accountable for the less-than-happy days I’d sometimes observed
when seeing the boys around town. I can admit now that maybe my own history is coloring my impressions.”
“Maybe the Selbys sense that.” That could account for them distancing themselves from him. Kind of like when you detect that someone expects the worst of you and you find yourself floundering in the very ways they unfairly presumed you would. Had they pulled back, sensing what they perceived as his disapproval? Therese mentioned not long ago, hadn’t she, that she didn’t need him doubting she was capable of caring for her grandsons?
Looking at it from both perspectives, it made sense. Hurting people hurt others without intending to. But maybe she could somehow bridge the gap between the three adults who shared a common bond with the orphaned brothers.
To her surprise, Sawyer lifted her chin with a gentle finger, his gaze intent. “What’s going on in that head of yours? You look like you’re hatching a plan or something.”
“No plans. But I’m praying.”
He withdrew his hand. “Have at it if it will make you feel better.”
“You don’t believe in the power of prayer? In God?”
“Oh, I believe in God. You can’t spend as much time in the outdoors as I do and not believe there’s a master plan. A Creator. It’s way too complex. There’s too much thought put into it to be an accident.”
“But you don’t pray?”
“I pray. Mostly to give thanks for what God’s given me. But...”
“But what?”
“I’ve called out to God when it really counted. When my mother was suffering from a series of strokes that debilitated her more and more. When I saw how lost my dad was when she died.” He pressed his lips together and drew a breath. “And I prayed until I thought my heart would explode while I stood out in that cold autumn night as my dad and his wife were air-vacced to Show Low, overcome by smoke inhalation. That’s when I learned that while I believe in God, while I gave my life to Him not too long before my mother died...for whatever reason, God doesn’t listen to me much.”
“Oh, Sawyer. He does. He does.”
“Then why are the boys’ mom and dad dead?” Sawyer looked away, swallowing hard as his eyes narrowed in the direction of the twins. “I want to be there for my brothers—whatever age they are—when that same question hits them.”
Her insides went cold. “And what will you tell them?”
He continued to watch the twins play. Silent. Then he turned his head slowly to look down at her, his expression bleak. “I don’t have a clue.”
* * *
“Well, mister,” Sawyer grumbled as he climbed into his truck outside the Echo Ridge Outpost later that evening, “you sure showed Tori what you were made of this afternoon.”
Man, he’d probably come across to her like some petulant child because he didn’t get his way. Or at the least an ungrateful disbeliever. But that wasn’t the way it was with him at all. It was just that, well, life’s lessons taught him not to put too much expectation into asking for things if you didn’t want to be disappointed.
How must that have sounded to Tori? And when he told her he didn’t have a clue what he’d tell the boys when they asked where God had been when their parents died?
She’d said, I’m sorry, Sawyer.
And walked away.
It had been all he could do not to storm after her. To apologize for being such a jerk. Yet he’d returned to work, his heart aching at having disappointed her.
With a growl, he switched on the pickup’s headlights, checked the nonexistent traffic and backed into the road. His stomach gnawed at his backbone. Breakfast had been a bowl of cereal. Dry. He’d forgotten to buy milk this week. Then he’d skipped lunch to spend time at the park, afterward grabbing a bag of pretzels and a soda out of his office stash.
Fast food from a drive-through didn’t appeal, though. Maybe something from the Log Cabin Café. Or Rusty’s Grill. If he’d have been using his noggin, he could have called ahead and they’d have had it waiting for him.
As he drove farther down the main road through town, his driver’s-side window open a slit, the faint smell of burning oak wafted in on the cold night air. Barbecue. Rusty’s it would be. Maybe a sandwich platter with mashed potatoes and a veggie on the side.
Inside the restaurant’s rustic beamed-ceiling space, he placed a take-out order with the hostess, then seated himself in one of the wooden ladder-back chairs arranged in the waiting area. The restaurant was homey, with flickering lanterns anchored to beadboard-paneled walls and the scent of barbecued chicken, pork and beef almost enough to make his mouth water.
As Sawyer attempted to ignore the incessant screaming of a red-faced kid he guessed to be about a year old, the boy’s dad smiled apologetically, bouncing the youngster on his knee, trying to distract him, but with little success.
Boy, did that racket take him back a few years to when the twins were that age. Lungs that wouldn’t quit. Thankfully, Dad survived that phase and got to enjoy them for a few more years before—
“Well, look who’s here—Sawyer Banks,” a female voice called as a handful of young women exited the dining section of the restaurant. “What are you doing out here by your lonesome?”
Delaney Marks—or rather Delaney Hunter now—her wavy blond hair tumbling over her shoulders, came to stand in front of him, any sign of a baby bump hidden under her coat. She was due this coming summer, or so he’d heard. And behind her followed a chatting Jodi Thorpe, Sunshine Carston Hunter, Rio Hunter—and Tori Janner.
He rose to his feet. “Good evening, ladies.”
Delaney folded her arms. “You didn’t answer my question. You’re not here by yourself, are you?”
“Just picking up a take-out order. I assume this band of merry maidens has been enjoying a ladies’ night out?”
“We try to get together every month or two.” Rio, Luke and Grady’s youngest sister, gave him an easy smile. She’d frequented his store for years—and not for his limited supply of feminine accessories like Western-style jewelry and hand-tooled leather handbags. No, at twenty-one, she was already a crack shot and an accomplished horsewoman and hunter. But while those qualifications might be high on his list of what he always thought he’d be looking for in a mate, she’d never given him the time of day. Cute as a button, though.
With parting words, the women filed out the front door, Tori offering a hesitant smile as she passed by. But before she made it to the exit, he impulsively stepped forward to take her arm lightly and draw her to a halt. “Do you have a minute, or are you heading out for a night on the town?”
“Dinner was the extent of our plans.”
“I won’t keep you long.” He glanced around. The baby was only whimpering now, so every eye in the room had turned to him and Tori. He didn’t relish an audience. “Maybe we could step outside?”
She nodded and together they stood in the open air as her friends climbed into their vehicles. As the last one drove away, she turned to him. “So what did you need to see me about?”
“About this afternoon.” He stepped aside as several couples approached the door. “Do you mind if we take a short walk? Get out of the traffic?”
She nodded and he lightly touched her elbow as they headed past a few storefronts, then turned on a side street that led in the direction of the church. He wouldn’t keep her long. But somehow he had to end the day on a better note than where they’d left off.
“How’s your day been?” That seemed a benign enough question to get the ball rolling.
“Good. After we went to the park, I took the boys to the library and let them select books for bedtime reading. Both picked football stories.”
“I guess they had fun with the old pigskin, then?”
“They always have fun with you.” She halted, her gaze in the dim light pinning him. “But you didn’t ask me to take this walk to talk
about football.”
“No.” He scuffed a booted toe on the sidewalk. “I have a confession to make. I wasn’t exactly truthful with you this afternoon when I said I didn’t know why Therese and Ray may not consider me a good influence for the boys.”
She didn’t look surprised.
“I can’t say for sure, and I may be wrong. But I’m guessing it might be that they’re aware of...a gambling problem.”
He heard the soft catch in her breath, saw her eyes widen and immediately regretted broaching the topic.
* * *
With a kick to her gut, Tori’s thoughts flew to snatches of childhood memories. Her parents’ fights about money, her grandmother’s candid explanations regarding their financial struggles, and the subsequent breakup of the family.
Sawyer had a gambling problem. Like her seldom-heard-from parents, who’d had no more commitment to raising a child than they had to preserving their marriage. That explained a lot, though. His overdue bills—she’d seen more than one—and Therese’s and Ray’s cautiousness. She couldn’t brush off the legitimate concerns of the boys’ grandparents.
“It’s not a problem now.” Studying her as though gauging her reaction, his words intruded into her thoughts. “It was at one time. During college and for a while after that. But no more.”
But chronic gambling could be an addiction, couldn’t it? Just like alcohol? An obsession that could raise its ugly head at any time. Or at least that had been the case for her mom and dad, who, Grandma said, were always giving it up only to turn around for one more go, thinking the next time was all it would take to resolve their financial troubles.
“In the past? What about the Vegas circulars in your junk mail basket?”
He looked slightly taken aback that she’d seen those on his kitchen counter, but she hadn’t intended to snoop.
“Have you ever tried to call off the junk once they have you on a mailing list? But those are reminders of where I’ve been and where I don’t want to be again. Nothing more.”
“They’re not a temptation?”