You'll Think of Me

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Got it.”

  “You don’t go into the pasture without my permission. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “And you do exactly as you’re told anytime you are on my property.”

  “Got it,” she answered before he could pose the question a third time. Another smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  One thing for certain, she wasn’t intimidated by Derek.

  “All right, then.” He watched her clamor up to the middle rail of the fence. Her hands gripped the top one.

  “He’s so tall. Are all horses this tall?”

  “Not all of them. Sunny, the mare over there, isn’t nearly as tall. You haven’t been around horses before, have you?”

  “No.” The word came out on a breath laced with wonder. “Nobody had a horse where we lived. No place for ’em. We lived right in the middle of town. We didn’t even have a yard of our own.”

  That was hard for Derek to imagine. He’d never lived anywhere without plenty of wide-open spaces.

  “But there’s a park not too far from our apartment, and my school has a big playground.”

  “Well, maybe you can get a horse, now that you’ve got all that land behind your new home.” The words came out without a hint of bitterness. He was glad of it. It meant he’d made some progress in adjusting his attitude.

  The girl’s eyes widened. “Do you think so? I asked Mom if I could get one, but she said they cost a lot.”

  “Well, she’s right about that.”

  “We’ve never had any kind of pet, like a dog or a cat even.” Alycia leaned forward. “Can I touch him now?”

  “Sure. Just move slow and put your hand on Blue Boy’s back.”

  “Blue Boy. That’s his name?” She followed his instructions. “Hey, Blue Boy.” She patted him. “How you doin’?”

  The gelding huffed into the hay, never lifting his head, and continued to chew.

  Alycia didn’t seem to care that Blue Boy was oblivious to her gentle touch. But at last she straightened and hopped down from the fence. “Thanks, Mr. Johnson.”

  “You’re welcome. Going home now?”

  As if in answer to his question, he heard Brooklyn call her daughter’s name. He looked across the field to the Hallston house and watched as she hurried toward them. Her concern was obvious even before he could read her expression.

  “Alycia Marie, what are you doing over here? Didn’t I tell you not to go anywhere without asking me first? You were supposed to be in the backyard.”

  Marie was Alycia’s middle name? Derek looked at the girl, and his respect for Brooklyn went up another notch. He liked knowing she’d honored Chad’s mom that way, despite being separated from Chad by the time Alycia was born.

  “Sorry, Mom.” Alycia dipped her head. “I saw Mr. Johnson with his horses, and I came over for a closer look.” She glanced up again, a smile blossoming. “Mr. Johnson let me pet the big gray one.”

  Brooklyn tried to maintain her stern expression, but even Derek could see her irritation with her daughter wane. “Just don’t do it again. I need to know where you are. You’re new here. You could get lost.” She looked up and met Derek’s gaze. “And don’t be pestering Mr. Johnson either. Just because we’re neighbors doesn’t mean he wants you dropping over uninvited.”

  “I don’t mind,” he said without thinking. Surprise followed an instant later at the realization there was truth in his words.

  And judging by the look that flashed across Brooklyn’s face, she was surprised too.

  “As long as she gets your permission first,” he added.

  Her expression softened. “That’s kind of you, Derek. Thank you.”

  Maybe it wouldn’t be all that hard to honor Chad’s wishes. Being a father figure didn’t mean actually being a father. He could let her hang out with him now and then, maybe teach her a little about gardening or about the animals on his place. Poor kid said she hadn’t owned a pet before. That was just wrong.

  Brooklyn took hold of Alycia’s hand. “We need to get back to the house.”

  Alycia said, “See you later, Mr. Johnson.”

  Then the pair of them walked away.

  A new thought popped into his head as he watched them leave. Chad had written that he wasn’t going to tell Brooklyn about his request. What would she think if she did know? Would she be glad, or would she hate the idea? Would she think Derek worthy of such a responsibility?

  And the crazy thing was, he wanted her to think him worthy of it.

  The house was too quiet and empty, Brooklyn decided after Ruth and her friends departed. They’d shown up this morning for another work session, filling the house with chatter and soap. And what those women had accomplished on their second day of cleaning seemed even more miraculous than the first.

  Now that the last of them had called it quits, packed up their supplies, and exited with cheery farewells, Brooklyn and Alycia were left exhausted. No, more than exhausted, at least on Brooklyn’s part. She was amazed. Amazed that so many of them had come to help, not just one day but two. Amazed by their friendliness and their laughter and their smiles. The main reason they’d come, she was certain, was because they loved and admired Ruth Johnson. Ruth had asked them to help Brooklyn, and so they had. But it was more than that. Brooklyn had felt their genuine warmth. As if she belonged in their midst. Thunder Creek had never felt like home before. It had been a place to run from. But maybe she and Alycia would fit into this community after all. She hadn’t allowed herself to hope for such a thing, but now she did.

  “What would you think if we stayed in our house tonight?” Brooklyn asked Alycia as they reentered the house.

  “Really? Cool.”

  “Not as nice as Mrs. Johnson’s guest rooms but—”

  “But it’s ours.”

  Brooklyn stopped, leaned down, and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Do you know how wonderful you are? And you’re right. The house is ours. We have a home and acres and acres for you to play on.”

  Home. The word felt good in her heart. She hadn’t expected it to feel that way. At least not this soon.

  Looking at Alycia again, she said, “Let’s go to the grocery store. What would you like to eat tonight? How about spaghetti? That would be fast and easy.”

  “Yeah. Spaghetti!”

  It was lucky for Brooklyn that her daughter wasn’t a picky eater. Because of their limited finances, they had often made do with canned soup or a plate of pasta. Maybe now she would have a chance to improve her culinary skills. After all, if she was going to feed guests at her future B&B, she’d better be able to cook something more than grilled cheese sandwiches, tuna casseroles, or spaghetti.

  But trying out new cuisine wasn’t in their budget just yet. “Let’s go.” She grabbed for her purse. “After we’re done shopping, we’ll get our things from Mrs. Johnson’s house.”

  An hour and a half later, Brooklyn and Alycia carried the last of the grocery bags into their house.

  “I wish you would have stayed with me one more night,” Ruth said from the front porch. “Your phone isn’t working yet and you don’t have a car to drive.”

  “I have a cell phone, Ruth. I don’t need a landline. Not until I actually have a business to run.” Brooklyn set down the plastic shopping bag in the middle of the living room and returned to the porch. “And I spoke with Justin Mathers earlier. He says he’ll have my car up and running by tonight. It wasn’t anything too serious after all.”

  “But there is still so much that needs done here in the house. So many repairs to make. It’s cleaner, of course, but—”

  “All the more reason for us to stay here. We’ll be more aware of what needs work, and we can accomplish things a little at a time.”

  Ruth looked unconvinced.

  Brooklyn hesitated, then gave in to her impulse and gave the older woman a hug. “Thank you for making us feel so welcome. You’ve been so kind, and we appreciate all you’ve done for us. Truly.”

&n
bsp; “Oh pish. Don’t mention it.” Ruth stepped back and lightly patted Brooklyn’s cheek. “You’ve got my number. You call if there’s anything I can do for you. Anything at all.” She motioned to the neighboring property. “And don’t forget that Derek is right next door if you need him.”

  Brooklyn nodded.

  Ruth leaned to one side, looking into the house, and called, “Good-bye, Alycia. Come see me again soon.”

  Alycia ran out of the house a few seconds later. “I will, Mrs. Johnson.” The two exchanged a hug. “Bye.”

  Brooklyn and Alycia stayed on the front porch, waving at Ruth Johnson as she pulled out of the driveway. Then, with a grin at each other, they turned and went inside.

  Late afternoon sunlight spilled through the clean windows into the living room, and a memory, unbidden, washed over Brooklyn. A memory so strong it didn’t seem like a memory so much as that she’d fallen back in time.

  She’d been terrified the summer afternoon Chad had brought her home to meet his parents. She’d been certain she would be rejected, as she’d been rejected by others. And yet Marie Hallston had greeted her—a girl from the proverbial wrong side of the tracks—with a smile as warm as the sunlight that had spilled into the living room, painting everything with a buttery golden glow. Brooklyn had soaked in the acceptance like a dry sponge in a bathtub. That day and every time after that.

  “Mom?”

  The past dissolved around her.

  “Are we gonna eat now?”

  Brooklyn blinked, glanced toward her daughter, and nodded. “Sure. Let’s eat. Spaghetti still sound good?”

  “Yup.”

  She picked up the grocery bag she’d left on the floor earlier, and the pair headed to the kitchen.

  Chapter 7

  Saturday mornings were the busiest day of the week at Sips and Scentimentals. Ruth’s regular customers knew that was the day she made her extraspecial sticky buns. The gift shop always did well then, too, although those customers were mostly visitors to the area—folks driving over to visit the wineries to the west of town or to buy fresh produce in season at one of the farmers’ markets or roadside stands.

  On this particular Saturday morning, the shop was abuzz with conversation. While Ruth’s longtime employee and dearest friend, Camila Diaz, helped customers in the gift shop, Ruth observed her new part-time waitress as the girl delivered pastries and coffee or tea to the tables. Gina was young and inexperienced, but she was also very willing to learn. And she would get better with practice.

  As was true of most things in life.

  The jingle of a bell announced the arrival of another customer, drawing Ruth’s gaze toward the entrance. Surprise widened her eyes as she watched Mac Tompkins escort his wife toward a newly vacated table in the rear corner. To the best of her knowledge, this was Mac’s first visit to her shop. Not his kind of establishment, she was certain. And judging by the expressions on both his and Fran’s faces—his angry, hers tense—neither of them had arrived in the best of moods.

  “I’ll take care of them, Gina,” Ruth said as she picked up an order pad.

  She prayed silently as she walked toward the table and greeted them. “Welcome to Sips and Scentimentals.”

  Mac grunted something.

  Fran whispered, “Thank you.”

  Ruth hovered her pencil over the order pad. “Would either of you care for a sticky bun? They’re fresh out of the oven.”

  “Just coffee for me,” Mac answered. “Black. She’ll have the same.”

  Ruth knew from a few church gatherings that Fran didn’t drink her coffee black. “I’ll bring some cream, just in case.”

  Fran glanced up. Some attempt had been made to hide her black eye with makeup, but the bruise was still obvious to Ruth. It made her blood boil, seeing the purple-rose shadow beneath the concealer.

  Drawing a quick breath first, she forced a pleasant smile. “I’ll have your coffee to you straightaway.”

  Camila met her behind the counter. “You look like you could chew nails,” she said softly.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  Her friend nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “About as obvious as her black eye.” Ruth drew another breath—a slow, deep one this time. “Why does she stay with him?”

  “I don’t know. If Emilio ever hit me, he would get the same with a skillet two seconds before I was out the door for good.”

  This made Ruth’s temper cool, and she smiled at her friend. First, because she knew Camila’s husband was one of the gentlest men ever born; Emilio Diaz wouldn’t hurt anything or anybody, not for any reason. Second, because she knew he adored Camila with every breath in his body. And third, because she knew Camila would indeed take a frying pan to the person who threatened her or anybody she loved.

  “I wish Fran had some of your fire.” Ruth poured coffee into a couple of mugs.

  Her friend glanced across the shop. “We never understand the choices a person makes without walking a mile in their shoes.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “I know. I just wish I could help her.”

  “Ruthie, you would pull every chick in this town under your protective wings if you could. But I believe that’s God’s role, not yours.”

  “Ouch.”

  Camila cocked an eyebrow, as if to say, You know I speak the truth.

  With a nod of agreement, Ruth set the coffee mugs on a tray, along with a small pitcher of cream, and carried it all to the table.

  Brooklyn sat at the kitchen table, a notebook and calculator before her. Off to the side were her checkbook and several sealed and stamped envelopes. These were the last of the bills she’d brought with her from Reno. Her old life was truly and completely a thing of the past now.

  Still, she had to wonder what Chad had been thinking when he left this house to his widow and daughter without also leaving plenty of funds for its upkeep. He should have known what little finances she had. He must have known. If he’d been able to track them down after all those years, if he’d been able to learn what he needed to know in order to leave this place to them in his will, surely he’d known it would be a struggle for Brooklyn to make the necessary repairs and improvements to the house he’d boarded over and left behind. Couldn’t he have left her some necessary funds too?

  That sounded ungrateful, even inside her own head.

  She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, rose from the chair, and walked out to the back porch. A soft breeze carried Alycia’s voice to her. Her daughter sang something to herself as she swung from the thick rope tied to a large tree branch. Seeing Alycia as she leaned back and stretched her feet toward the sky—happy and carefree—made Brooklyn smile.

  How I love her.

  After Chad had walked out, leaving his seventeen-year-old wife pregnant and alone in a strange city, Brooklyn had briefly considered having an abortion. Thank God she hadn’t been able to go through with it. A life without Alycia was unimaginable. She had to blink away tears at the mere idea of it.

  Her happiness is all that matters.

  In the city, surrounded by concrete and bricks more than anything else—not to mention countless strangers—Alycia had been required to stay close to their apartment, except for when the two of them had gone somewhere together. Until this week, Alycia hadn’t known the freedom of a makeshift swing in a big backyard. She had never lived next door to horses, a calf, and a coop full of chickens. She’d never seen the stars when they weren’t competing with the bright lights of the city.

  Perhaps all of that was what Chad had been thinking about when he left the house to them, with or without the proper funds for its upkeep.

  “Hey, Mr. Johnson!” Alycia threw herself off the seat in midswing.

  Brooklyn followed her daughter’s gaze until she found Derek striding across the field, carrying a small basket in one hand. Alycia ran to meet him. They exchanged a few words, Alycia grinning all the while. Then they started toward the house. They looked surprisingly natural together. Almost li
ke—

  Tears sprang back into Brooklyn’s eyes, this time tears of sorrow. For the love she’d never known from her own father. For the love her daughter had never known from Chad.

  Derek held up the basket as they drew closer. “Thought you might enjoy some strawberries.”

  “I don’t know how much cash I have.” She pushed open the screened-porch door. “But I’ll have a look.”

  He shook his head. “No. I didn’t mean for you to buy them. They’re yours. These are about the last of the strawberries for the season. They came on early this year.” He stopped at the bottom of the steps.

  “You grew them?”

  “That’s what I do. Remember? Organic farming.”

  She shrugged, then took the basket from his outstretched arm. “I guess you seem more like a deputy to me than a farmer.”

  “Can’t a man be both?” He grinned. He’d always had a nice smile.

  Disturbed by that thought, Brooklyn motioned with her head for him to follow her inside. In the kitchen she set the basket on the counter near the sink before getting a large bowl from a cupboard.

  “Bill paying, huh?” Derek said.

  She glanced toward the table, not liking the idea that he might discover more about her situation than she chose to tell him. But there was nothing to worry about. Her notebook was closed, as was her checkbook. “Yes.” She dumped the strawberries from basket to bowl.

  “Never seems to end, does it?”

  “I’m sorry?” She looked up.

  “Paying bills.” He shrugged. “Right when you think you’re getting ahead, something comes up. Least that’s how it’s been for me. I do well with a crop, and then an animal gets sick or a piece of machinery breaks down.” He paused before adding, “That’s life, I guess.”

  “I guess.”

  Derek glanced out the doorway. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Then he looked at her again. “Brooklyn, I was wondering what you plan to do with all this property.”

  “Do with it?”

  “Ten acres is a lot of land.”

  Brooklyn looked out the kitchen window. “I haven’t given it any thought. The house is plenty to cope with right now.”