by Tanya Hanson
Amazing how quiet it was. Massive organ pipes hunkered above both sides of the altar, and she could almost feel the vibrations of an organ going full-stop. True, no church-goer, but she’d gone to her share of classical performances. Another of Olga’s attempts to shove culture down her throat and Paul’s.
Matty dozed. The men, now sitting together in a pew, had hands clasped and heads bowed in prayer. She didn’t dare disrupt their meditation, and she sure didn’t mean to snoop or eavesdrop, but somehow the stroller refused to move away.
“I know, Pastor.” Bragg spoke finally. “But forgiveness is just…so hard. Especially when the other person’s wrong.”
“I know, son.” Pastor Hale laid his hand on Bragg’s shoulders. “But not as hard as hanging on a cross to give it to us. Christ was sin-free, but He forgave us wrong-doers willingly. Remember the words of Hebrews 12:15.” He pulled a Bible from the pew tray and ran his thumb across the cover. “It says to look after each other, so everybody receives God's grace, and don't let the poisonous root of bitterness grow in your heart because it just ruins you. We just can’t let unforgiveness control our lives, Bragg. We must learn to forgive and remember we are forgiven as well.”
Bragg sighed, but Tiffany heard peace. “Sure thing.” He stood up to stretch just then, waggling a dust rag, and caught her eye. “Everything OK?”
Somehow, everything was.
Don't let the poisonous root of bitterness grow in your heart.
“Yeah.” Tiffany tried to control her shaking voice.”Now, you walk our boy. It’s my turn to do some polishing.”
“Oh, and guess what?” Bragg said, gesturing to Pastor Hale.
“Pastor’s loaned us his car. Complete with that fancy baby car seat. So we can go retrieve your car as soon as I check when the highway is plowed. And if it is…” He paused dramatically.
“If it is, what?”
“I’ll take you home for a home-cooked meal. That soggy pizza last night didn’t do anybody’s body any good.”
“Sounds like a date.” Tiffany said, and then bit her lip. “I meant, like a plan.”
5
The day was turning out perfect with Tiffany at his side. Well, not that it was a date or anything, but maybe he could crack that shell of hers. He drove safe and sure, liking her next to him. The highway was always plowed quick in case of emergencies, and they might get to Hearts Crossing in time for a late lunch. Pastor’s wife Joanne, oozing with grandma capability and supplies, had taken Matty in hand when Tiffany accepted Bragg’s offer to rescue her car. No need to take the baby out.
He missed Matty, though, and could only imagine how bereft Rachel might feel, stuck in Rustic Canyon.
As his truck blew past the rolling ranchland, the hills and gullies all covered in snow had become a winter-time dream. Although he’d seen all a million times before, the scenes outside the dashboard gave him pause and shortened breath.
From the sounds coming from the city girl next to him, she was feeling it, too. Denver was surrounded enough by the Rockies to consider itself far from totally urban. But there was nothing quite like the open range.
Stuck here and there were ranchers digging out and cattle heaving through snow. Just another day in Paradise. Pastor’s prayers had brought Bragg peace, and the Scripture passage had rooted in his brain.
He’d take care of his problem with Tony once and for all. However, he couldn’t help a smidge of relief that the swimming coach job wasn’t yet Tony’s.
Don't let the poisonous root of bitterness grow in your heart
Shame stumbled through him. He should be casting off the enmity, wishing Tony well. Bragg had security, responsibilities he enjoyed at the ranch he loved, an accounting business he was good at. Maybe…maybe the job at the Bar R was the only smidge of hope in Tony’s world.
As for Bragg’s world, all was right in it. Phones were working, roads plowed.
“That was nice, meeting Pastor Hale and his wife,” Tiffany mentioned suddenly, after many comments about the terrain.
“Yep. They’re good people. Hope you’ll take up his invitation about attending services tomorrow. The choir’s going to perform a couple of Gregorian advent chants.”
Tiffany perked up a bit. “Maybe so. I like good music. Depends, though. I’m not much of a church person.”
The statement all but broke Bragg’s heart. Of course he was sorry to hear that. Whatever was going wrong in her life sure could use a fix from the Heavenly Father. But he wasn’t much of a preacher. Leave that to Pastor Hale. Despite his wrangle with Tony, and he did mean to tend to it soon, he might find some good words now, words from the heart.
“Well, it might help you feel better.”
She bit her lip. “I can’t deny that Scripture verse back there, about not letting bitterness take root or something like that, sounded good. But real life is more than some ancient words. Then again, I’m pretty much at the bottom of the well, right now. Something’s got to give.”
“That something could be God,” Bragg said, casual as he could.
From the corner of his eye, he watched her stiffen on the seat next to him. “Bragg…”
“Sorry, Tiffany.” Heat flashed, more than what belched from the heater. He ached to open the window a notch to let in the fresh outside. Heaters always stifled him. “I can’t help it. My family, well, we’ve been through a lot and whenever stuff happens, we seek Him. Even when we’re stuck, even when we resist,” he hesitated just a tad, as Tony’s head reared in his mind. “He always pulls us through.”
“I know.” Tiffany held her left hand like she wanted to touch him, but she didn’t, and disappointment flooded him.
“Rachel’s told me a little. About your father passing from cancer. About Hooper surviving it. Mallie’s brain tumor. Money troubles and corrupt financial planners and all the wonderful extras you all do to keep the ranch afloat. All while raising cattle, too.”
Ah, yeah. Bragg’s heart warmed at the active outdoor life that filled his days and years. City-slicker wagon trains in the summers, hands-on training for amateurs in workshops for rodeo skills and cowboy techniques. Guest rooms and amenities for tourists wanting a glimpse of western life and the cowboy code. All going on alongside the working ranch, and soon, destination wedding excursions to a pretty grotto out by a small stream-fed lake.
Around here the headwaters of the Platte River kept things flowing and grass green. And all because of God’s love. How could he get Tiffany to feel that love? Maybe putting into words.
“All because of God’s love.”
She hesitated, and her pain seeped into the air. “A loving God who lets bad things happen.”
“To test us. To get us to turn into His strength. But sometimes…” He hated to go there, but her problem, like his, seemed to be laid upon the actions of humans, not God. Folks who apparently acted before they thought, prayed, or trusted. “God doesn’t make mistakes. It’s humans who make the bad thing happen.” He clicked his tongue. “I know that first-hand. Then they need to lean on Him to lead them out of the mess.”
He was leaning hard, truth was. And he was getting closer than ever to doing the right thing.
“Hmmm.” She stayed quiet for a long time. He reckoned her car was a half mile or so ahead. “Do you think my car’s OK?” she asked, as if reading his thoughts.
“If it was off the road, yeah. The snowplow’s got marker posts to stay center.”
“Oh, it was. Tony made sure of it.”
Tony again. Bragg’s forehead tightened as he recalled the date she’d made. A childish urge had him gun the gas pedal, and he regretted it when the truck fishtailed a bit and Tiffany’s hands gripped her knees hard.
“Sorry,” he grumbled. “Must have hit some ice.”
“I left it unlocked, keys in it. You know, just in case somebody had to move it. Tony said that was best.”
Bragg shrugged. “Likely was. No known felons around here.”
“I made the mess,” Tiffa
ny said suddenly.
He glanced at her quick, but she stared out the truck window. Sure the Hakes had a good-looking ranch, but he knew that wasn’t what held her interest. Not sure what to say, he took his hand off the steering wheel long enough to touch her shoulder.
“I’m a good listener,” he said, “but Pastor Hale’s a ton better. Don’t feel compelled.”
“No. It’s OK. I’ve already told Rachel, and you and I…”
You and I what? He held his breath.
She tossed a glance, her cheeks blushing. “Well, you and I are getting to be friends. Isn’t that what friends do?”
Yeah, except he’d like to be more than that. Or maybe not. His eventual woman would have to be one grounded in faith. One who turned to God in times of trouble, especially when she had doubts or guilt.
“Yep. They do,” he said, hoping she made it quick. The long white road ahead of them would catch up to Shield Nickel crossroads soon, and then they’d be busy excavating her car from the drifts.
“My mom, my real mom, died when I was a baby. Dad never said much about it, so I don’t know how or why, or even who she was. He married quick, only to get killed in a car accident when I was seven, and my brother Paul was twelve.” She rustled, restless, on the bench seat.” They never had kids of their own. Olga took over, and I know she loved us. She tried hard to make everything up to the poor orphans left behind.” He could see her grip her fingers tight together. “I know she loved me. But our real mom’s death hit Paul hard. I was too little to remember anything, but I guess she really helped him through the loss. Because of that, they had a different bond than she and I ever did. She loved being needed.”
Her hand skittered across her cheek, and she breathed deep. “Then, after Dad died and left her alone, she needed Paul. He became the man in her life. I realized early on he could do no wrong.”
About a quarter mile of snow-covered silence crept by them. He felt he should ease her discomfort. “It’s OK, Tiffany. Really. It’s none of my mix, friend or not.”
“Well, I think you need to know. You might understand then why I can’t trust or lean or pray.”
“All right then. But I still think a talk with Pastor Hale would be good for you.” Today’s had already started working wonders on him. “We have singles Bible study on Tuesday nights. This week we’re going caroling after.” He patted her hand. “Everybody’s welcome.”
She gave a watery smile. “Thanks. But back to M-m-mom. I’ve kind of stopped calling her that. But stepmother always sounds so wicked. And when we were little, well, she did try hard. But when Paul got serious about Diana, she let it all hang out. How it was an awful match, how Diana wasn’t good enough, blah, blah, blah. This was one time she didn’t let Paul have his way.” Atop her knees, Tiffany’s fists clenched, and she tossed him a quick peek. “But Paul wasn’t a kid. He was in love. And Diana was all right. Truth is, Olga wouldn’t have liked anybody he picked.
“Well, their first crime was eloping, because Olga-Mom—just couldn’t accept them getting married, and they were tired of her yapping. Things got better when they had Connor. She really liked being a grandma. Still does. But the older he got, the more she harped to me that he didn’t look a thing like Paul. Or Diana, really, other than he has Diana’s eyes. She just wouldn’t shut up.” Tiffany swiped a strand of hair from her forehead and Bragg read tension in the gesture.
He took his hand off the wheel to touch hers, and with a quick peek, he watched her swallow hard, like she just might have something stuck there.“I work, I mean, I worked, at a family law firm, then.” She cleared her throat and tightened her fingers around his. “Olga knew our firm’s clients often do a home DNA paternity test for custody issues before going to a lawyer. She pressured me into getting Connor’s DNA tested. Without telling anybody else. Of course, I knew better than to follow along. She didn’t hold a knife to my throat or anything. But I just wanted to have some leverage to get her to pipe down. To assure her of Connor’s parentage before she said something mean to Diana.” Her hand squeezed his again, hard. “Bragg, I had no doubts whatsoever about my brother and sister-in-law’s faithfulness. I was so certain of the results I didn’t hesitate. I just wanted Olga to leave it all alone.” Tears streaked her bleak eyes before he watched the road again.
Bragg chewed on the new information. It did almost seem mean. He’d lived first-hand the harm done by keeping secrets. “Hmmmmm. So your brother didn’t know? About the test, I mean? Didn’t he need his cheek swabbed or something?”
She pulled her hand away and turned to look out the window. “It can be done that way, of course. Everybody sees that on TV. But DNA can be tested from hair follicles. Not the strand itself. That has no DNA. So it was easy for me to get samples. I knew exactly what to send back to the lab in an at-home test kit.”
“Wow. I had no idea it can be done that easily.”
She shrugged but it was a weak, sad gesture. “Yeah. People can get private DNA tests done for lots of reasons. Genealogy. Inheritance. Infidelity, even.” Her lips twisted. “Things like that. In our case, the results weren’t needed for anything legal, so there was no requirement for a chain of custody.” Her voice wisped away like a dying breeze.
“What’s that?”
Another sigh. “When you have to have permission to get a sample, and integrity from sample to result. This means when a sample in taken in a controlled environment by a neutral professional at a lab so the results can stand up in a court of law. Like we’d need for a judge so nothing can be faked. So yeah. I did it all without telling my brother.”
Bragg cleared his throat, rumbling with unease. Unsure what to say. He knew all about faked tests, had done it plenty during his steroid days. He hoped taking her hand again said enough.
“I guess all along, Olga wanted to discredit Diana somehow. And she was right.” Tiffany wailed. “Paul isn’t Connor’s biological father.”
Bragg’s skin crawled. It was a confession so personal, so full of pain and guilt, that he pulled the truck over to the piled snow and held her close. Her scent filled him with its deliciousness. His brain told him he shouldn’t, but his heart said in his arms was just where Tiffany belonged.
“Tiffany, honey.” The word slipped out so easy and seemed to fit so well. “It’s OK. Let it out.” Her sobs shuddered against his shoulder. “There’s got to be a good explanation. Some couples use, ahem, donors if…things can’t work the natural way.”
“Oh, don’t you think I tried to convince her of that? That it wasn’t our business, anyway?” She curled closer against him. “Connor’s so wonderful, what matter how he got here? But Olga couldn’t wait to blab to Paul, of course.
“To make a long story short, Paul blames me. He said above all, I should have known better. That I abused the fiduciary principles of my profession. Well, I can’t deny he’s got a point. And me, well, I can’t deny it. Because I did do it.” Her voice broke.
“But didn’t your brother think you had some good reason to do it?” Wind wept outside the windows.
“He didn’t need a reason. All he needed to know is I just shouldn’t have done it. And Olga, well, she plain lied to him. Piled it all on me. No way would she ever want Paul to think she did something bad. So his happy home is in tatters, and he needs to blame somebody for his pain. Me”
“But who’s, you know, Connor’s dad?”
Even in his warm embrace, Tiffany shrugged, weary and painfully like an old person. “Apparently Diana had a one-night fling with a high school sweetheart during a reunion. Had too much to drink, got flattered by his attentions. Enjoyed reliving the past. Thing is.” Tiffany’s laugh was bitter. “Diana doesn’t even drink. The one night she tries it…all these years, Paul never knew, or even suspected. And without me sticking my nose in, he never would have. Diana did love him. And they were happy. Except for me, their life wouldn’t have changed.”
Ah, he knew well how temptation could change things. He held her close, hoping her
pain could seep into him and he’d share it.
“Diana packed up and left.”
“She left her baby behind?” Bragg wanted to be surprised, but he wasn’t. He’d had a sister-in-law who had abandoned Ella.
“Yeah. Without a fight. She said…all these years, she hoped Paul was the daddy, believed he was. One good thing, Paul’s never taken it out on Connor. That little boy is his life. His son. No matter what. I have to give him credit for that.”
Bragg couldn’t help but consider the other man in the picture. “What about the real dad?”
“Paul is Connor’s real dad.” Tiffany bristled against him.
“I mean, the biological one.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t been in touch with Diana since…since it all happened in September.”
Her fingers tightened at his shoulders. “Bragg, I’ve apologized to my brother until my voice ran out. I’ve begged for forgiveness. I’ve promised to do whatever it takes. But he blames me. Olga does, too. She denies her involvement to Paul, but to me, she claims I should have stopped her.” Her shoulders shook before she straightened against the seat. “And maybe I should have. I had no choice but to leave. There was nothing left. When I saw Rachel’s ad, I knew it was meant to be.”
Bragg realized this might be the right time. “Did you ever think that ad was God leading you here? To Him, maybe?”
“Into Hearts Crossing’s perfect little world? Where everybody believes God makes it better if you hit your knees? No.” Her strangled voice wounded him. “Not for a second, Bragg. It was coincidence. Fate. Karma. Something happening at the right time, for once. I am fully qualified for both my roles.”
“Of course you are. A nanny and paralegal.” He took a stab. “Won’t you just consider for a second that it might be the Almighty’s hand in your life?”
“Why me?”
“Because God is love.”
She shook her head as she wiped her eyes with her knitted scarf. “Let’s get going.”
“All righty.” Bragg said no more as he squeezed her hand one last time. Of course, God was love. But He had rules, and Bragg sure wasn’t the one to be handing out advice. As soon as his truck rounded the bend at the Leaning H, his own hypocrisy smacked him once again. Tony O’Neal, knee deep in snow, was busily digging out Tiffany’s car.