by Tanya Hanson
“Welcome, Daisy,” Pastor said in his kindly voice.
“Sorry I’m late, Pastor. We had a…bit of drama in the stables. So sorry.” She sighed. Freckles’s sore eye didn’t appear to need emergency attention, but a new shame glazed over her. After meeting up with Pike this morning and getting frustrated, she’d ridden Freckles too fast, too careless through the thickets of Fortress Creek and had somehow scratched his eye. She knew better!
She always knew better!
But always did something stupid anyway.
She felt Pike’s unspoken question as he rustled next to her, so she turned her face to give him a smile of all’s OK. But just a quick glimpse of his face turned her bones to water. There couldn’t be a more handsome man anywhere else on the planet. Then he moved away, deliberately, and she felt chill where she’d had warmth.
Of course. Why would she consult with him about any problem in the stables? She’d already let him know she didn’t trust him.
She shut her eyes tight. Mercy me, she had a lot to fix.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Pastor said kindly, his sweet smile easing her pain before he acknowledged Pete Andreska waving his hand across the circle of chairs. Nice guy. He worked genetics and artificial insemination at the C.C. Rider Ranch outside Promise, and he and Pops often consulted.
“That Scripture speaks to me,” Pete said. “If I don’t let God help me in my decisions, y’all know what I wreck I am. I been down on my knees begging Him, and somehow, He always answers me. What mistakes I made, whatever I did wrong, has taught me a good lesson in His name.” Pete’s face flushed sheepishly. “Can’t say I always agree with how long it takes Him, but in the long run, He’s always been right.”
Daisy the latecomer wasn’t sure of the gist of the conversation, but she thought about Pete’s response for a bit while discussion flowed around her. Maybe it was time to start letting the Lord she’d grown up with have a hand in her grown-up life. It’d make Mom happy, Pops, too. Maybe even herself. Might as well give it a try. She had little else.
She bowed her head. Lord, forgive all the months, make that years, I haven’t bothered with You. If You want, could You lighten my load? Strengthen my weaknesses? Teach me from my mistakes? What’s that song? Jesus, take the wheel. I can’t do this on my own.
Well, I can’t.
“Let’s call it a night,” Pastor Hale was saying when she lifted her head. “My Joanne has sent along some of her oatmeal cranberry delights, and I think Kelley from the Hearts Crossing baked up some sort of streusel before she left. But first, let’s join hands in benediction.”
Pike’s hand was so close, but still she hesitated until he grabbed her fingers, resolute. Prayer or not, his touch sparked all the way to the tips of her boots.
“May the Lord bless thee and keep thee…” She recited the lovely words from memory, amazed, because she hadn’t thought them in years.
“Oh, before we dismiss.” Pastor Hale lowered his hands and cleared his throat. “Y’all remember the custom saddlery over in River Ridge closed last winter?”
Everybody nodded. Even Daisy knew the neighboring small town had taken a dreadful economic hit when its main employer had folded.
“While they’re waiting on a new buyer for the company, things are downright hard for some of those folks. Their work is so specialized to begin with, and there’s the recession to boot.” Pastor took out a pad and pen. “Well, our church council is hosting a meal over there at our sister congregation. Saturday night after their praise service. We need volunteers.”
“You mean, like a soup kitchen?” Maria Alomar asked with a smile that was more a sneer, and Daisy’s skin prickled. She recalled hard times when hope was too far away to feel even an inkling.
“Just some Christian fellowship,” Pastor said patiently. “I realize this is late notice, but I need servers and dishwashers, yes. But mostly I need somebody who can cook for a crowd. Again…” He went to explaining earlier-set plans that had somehow gone awry, but Daisy didn’t care. Somebody who could cook for a crowd? Had the Lord answered her prayer already? She could do this. She’d spent a whole Saturday doing just this for her culinary curriculum and supervised the hot lunch program at the church school where she’d taught in Fort Collins. Was the Lord really at work here? She could prove to Pike she was qualified to start earning money at Hearts Crossing.
“Why, I love to cook, Pastor Hale. I’d love to do it.” She straightened her back against her chair, eager to please, eager to start. The Lord indeed worked in mysterious ways. “I’m completely qualified.”
Pastor Hale beamed. “Thank you, young lady. You’re on. Now, how about the rest of you all?”
Saturday nights in Mountain Cove were slow, so Daisy couldn’t believe nobody else jumped at the chance to help. Awkwardness almost smothered her. Maybe…maybe nobody wanted to help out because of her. The group shuffled feet nervously and didn’t look her away, avoiding her eyes. Heat flamed beneath her skin, and her heart thudded slowly like it was dying. And Pastor Hale’s forehead furrowed like a plowed field.
Finally Tim Lewis cleared his throat. “Sorry, Rev. Some other time, sure, but no can do this Saturday. It’s my, um, my engagement party.”
At that, the crowd came alive, nodding and agreeing to some other time because they were all going to the party. Daisy’s spirits sank to her boot heels. A party. And she hadn’t been included. Not that she knew Tim well. About Pike’s age, he’d run with an older group during their youth. But around here, everybody was invited to everything.
Tim caught Daisy’s eye, his tanned cheeks turning red. “I, uh, I didn’t have your e-mail addy for an Evite, so if you write it down for me, I’ll, you know…”
Daisy nodded, unable to speak. If he’d wanted her there, he could have sent a message through Facebook or even snail-mail. Even left a note at her mom’s shop. He didn’t, and she didn’t blame him, but she ached anyway. As self-pity swamped her, Pike laid his left hand over hers, and she almost jumped out of her skin before her skin lay warm over her bones, heated from his touch.
“I’ll help Daisy, Pastor Hale. Tim?” Pike addressed his friend. “I’ll get to the party late, OK?”
His was the same gentle tone and touch as the hoedown, sweetness she’d ached to feel again, and her heart melted. She’d never truly fallen in love before, but as his fingers tightened around hers in reassurance, she knew without a doubt that’s how and where she fell right now.
****
As everybody stood, Pike hated to let go of her hand. The heat of her skin, the scent of roses crashed like a lightning bolt from his nose to his feet. All delicious, but he gnashed his teeth, too. Why did it touch him down so deep, her being left out of the party? Why did her pain seep into his soul? Why did it matter? He clenched his jaw. Would anybody with a brain trust her as a guest after what happened at the hoedown?
And what on earth had gotten into him now? This was the woman who had messed with Kenn. Martins stuck together. But truth was, he liked standing here next to her and didn’t care who saw and didn’t care that confusion racked him. Besides, if Daisy and Kenn had hooked up together…where did that leave Kenn’s love story with Christy, his bride-to-be?
He breathed out hard behind gritted teeth.
The crowd foraged around the refreshment table, and the fragrance of fresh coffee whiffed across the room. When he saw Maria Alomar march toward them, he grabbed Daisy’s hand again and sought a quiet corner. There was something snarky in Maria’s smile. Soup kitchen? Like that was something beneath her.
“Everything all right with your horses?” Pike asked Daisy, unable to think of something else. Then he almost bit his tongue as bitterness intruded. Even if there was, this was the woman who didn’t trust his professional diagnoses.
Pike didn’t dare let himself get accused again by Daisy that he was about to sabotage an animal out of revenge. Grinding his teeth in a different way now, he dropped her hand. Her distrust and lack of faith in hi
m still smarted. The warm thoughts of moments ago—yes, he had to admit, even of tempered desire—vanished into another wave of anger.
He watched her eyes fill with tears and mentally kicked himself as her pain swirled in his own brain. All he could think to do was to raise his finger and touch her cheek. Their flesh sparked, her breath caught the same time as his, and he never wanted to move his hand. On their own accord, the rest of his fingers followed to cup her pretty cheek.
“Yeah.” She looked at him with eyes so bright he saw himself in them, and the word came from her lovely mouth in a shaky voice. Well, no denying. He hoped he was the reason for her wobbly words and smiled. Not a grudging smile, but one he meant all the way. Apparently she wasn’t having any kind of emergency needing his veterinary services, and relief surged. Joel Densmore trained cutting horses and stabled some fine horseflesh and knew a ton about them. Hopefully he’d resolved whatever issue had made her late tonight.
“Or not,” she said with a sort of downward smile.
“What do you mean?” He frowned.
She blushed, a beautiful color he’d remember forever. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“Bother me? It’s what I do.” He reminded her but couldn’t help reminding them both. “Sorry. I remember you called another vet about…about Elway. It’s all right.”
“No, no. I cancelled that appointment. When I got home with Mom.” She looked down at her feet. “I was wrong to doubt you. It’s just…Elway’s still so pretty.”
When she raised her face this time, the brightness in her eyes was unshed tears. And his heart swelled. She’d cancelled the appointment. That had to mean something
“Come on. Let’s go outside. It’s so noisy in here.”
“OK. Pike, I’m sorry. About…about that. Sorry for so much. For Kenn. For…so much.”
Alone under the floodlight, his heart told him to draw her close. It felt so right, their hearts beating in synch, her trembles easing against his warmth. “I know,” he managed, so low and slow he wondered if she’d even heard.
She mumbled into his chest. “Freckles got an eye scratched…earlier today. My fault.”
Pike didn’t say anything, reckoning she’d raced Freckles bent for tomorrow and back again after their squabble at Fortress Creek this morning. Like with most everything she did, she likely regretted it full stop now.
“Right eye’s running,” she said. “Goopy with mucous. But he isn’t in any distress.”
“Might be a corneal ulcer from a scratch. Your dad can probably deal with staining the eye and seeing how serious it is before calling me in.”
Daisy shook her head. “Can’t. He’s in Parachute at my grandma’s for a couple of days.”
The way she said the last word brought up something sad in his mind. Her grandma having nothing to do with her. His arms tightened, but practicality intruded. The horde inside would be dispersing any second, and whatever this was blossoming between them, neither of them deserved to be observed together now and begetting new gossip.
“Well, I came with Scott but could ride home with you and take a look. Likely Freckles needs an antibiotic or other medication, so you could pick it up when you run me back to Hearts Crossing. That...that is, if…if you don…don’t mind.”
Pike found himself stammering like a school kid and felt as confident as one, too. Although…she hadn’t pulled away, staying swaddled inside his arms as if she belonged there.
“You mean, if you don’t mind.” She raised her face and smiled. “Thanks, Pike. I think I would feel better. Nights get so long with a sick critter. And my dad’s so far away.”
I’m not, he said inside his head, but spoke aloud. “All righty, then. I’ll just grab my jacket and tell Scott to head home without me.
But neither of them let go for another delectable second.
“Aw, forget the jacket,” Pike muttered against her hair, unwilling to bear the many pairs of watchful, curious eyes inside, most importantly Tim’s and Scott’s. “I’ll just text him.”
They held hands all the way to the Mustang, fortunately a nice long stroll as she was the last car parked in the lot.
“You wanna drive?” she asked, waggling the keys at him after she unlocked the classic.
“Me, a chick’s car?” He guffawed, but answered, truly. This car had muscles. “I’d love to. At your service, milady.” As he settled her in the shotgun bucket seat, he frowned. “You need shoulder seatbelts.”
“Only lapbelts were standard in ’68,” She defended.
“You need a better seat belt,” he insisted, wishing against anything he could drop a kiss on her forehead, just a little protective one, for emphasis. He winked instead. “I’ve seen the way you drive.”
He watched her face pink with what he hoped was pleasure at his take-charge attitude. Not all women liked macho posturing though, so he amended, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Thanks for sticking up for me back inside there,” Daisy said quietly. “It was so awkward.”
Again, her almost-palpable pain roiled through the darkness.
“Not a problem.” He took his hand off the steering wheel long enough to squeeze her fingers. For a second, he considered joking about Saturday night in River Ridge getting to be a real-time, real-life reference for her cooking skills until he realized it wasn’t right to make a joke of her job aspirations at Hearts Crossing. What he wanted to tell her was how she inspired him to be there for her when she needed someone. But the words seemed sappy, heavy handed somehow. Some other time.
Some other time. Why not Saturday night?
“Would you like to be my date for Tim’s party?” he asked quickly before he lost courage as they pulled out of the parking lot. “After we work the barbeque in River Ridge?”
“Pike, I don’t think I’m welcome.”
Her words and the pain in them stabbed his heart. Pike shook his head as the car charged through the deepening shadows of the hills. Atop them, pines sketched like a line graph against the gray sky. “Tim’s a good guy, believe me.”
He could hear her shrug inside her blue sweater, but it took her so long to talk he reckoned she’d be saying no. “Wouldn’t it bother you, dating a divorced woman?”
The question almost took his breath away. She’d been many things that bothered him, but never that. “No. Who am I to judge?” He left off letting her know Kelley had hinted at the terrible things Daisy had endured.
“It wasn’t much of a marriage,” Daisy said, and he heard her efforts to lighten her tone. “I like to think I’ll pick better next time.”
A thrill ran through Pike’s veins.
“And I’ll be asking Kenn for forgiveness soon as he’s back from California.” Then she clapped her hand over her mouth like a child emitting a bad word. “Oh, goodness, Pike. I didn’t mean…about picking better. I didn’t mean…”
As if to thwart any awkwardness, Pike swerved to avoid a pothole, making a big deal about concentrating hard on the dark road up the hill to her dad’s ranch. Leaving the main highway with its bright center-line reflectors, this winding, gravel country road was a challenge, shrouded as it was in deep blackness on the moonless night. Daisy would completely understand his silence, his concentration. The narrow road followed Carter’s Creek on the right, and the gully was deep, the hillside tall on the left. He had to be careful.
Pike’s cell phone rang and they both jumped.
“Here.” He tossed it at her. “I don’t like the distraction while I’m driving. Especially on this road.” Maybe the trusty little gesture would ease some of her pain of rejection.
“Hello, Doc Martin’s phone…What? Calm down. No. No. Your jennet? Labor…Well, dripping milk is totally normal for the last day or two. Nothing’s wrong, Amy. Trust me. Oh, it’s Daisy Densmore.”
Pike wanted to find somewhere to pull over and grab the phone, but Daisy intrigued him. He let her go on.
“Yes, it’s normal,” Daisy went on, “her o
ff by herself, even acting a bit unfriendly. And it’s totally OK she looks thinner. Her baby has dropped underneath her to get in the right position for foaling.”
Her sweet yet authoritative conversational tone had to be comforting the other party, who he guessed was Amy Gonzales, whose little donkey was expecting.
“Going off her feed is normal, too. Listen, Amy. Doc’s driving. Let him pull over, and I’ll give him to you. Hang tight. Everything’s fine. Yes, I promise.”
She covered the phone as Pike drove a bit further for a turnout, careful of the gully and the darkness. Even though any oncoming headlights, or any from behind, would bisect the night for miles, his nature was safety and rules.
“Amy Gonzales. She’s pretty frantic. Her donkey is in labor, too early she thinks, and her folks are gone on vacation…”
“Settle her down. I think I see a turnout in the high beams.”
Daisy’s soft but firm voice would have comforted a statue. “Hi, Amy, hold on. Doc’s getting right to you. Yes, I know that, too. Yes, donkeys average twelve months gestation. But she’s OK even though it’s been eleven months. Even ten-and-a-half is OK. Yes, I’m certain.” Her words lay on the air like a lullaby, comforting and calm. “All the way to fourteen can be normal. Is she in distress?”
Throughout the car, Pike could hear Amy’s sob. He braked into a turnout, and Daisy handed him the phone, her face bleak in the dashboard lights.
“All right, Amy. We can get to your place in fifteen, twenty minutes or so—I’ve got to stop by Hearts Crossing for some gear. Yeah, I do remember.” His heart tweaked. Bonnet’s last foal had been stillborn, but as Daisy said, things sounded pretty OK. “Just hang in. We’re on our way.”