by Liz Isaacson
He jerked forward, his knee crashing into the dashboard when he heard Marie say, “Uncle Owen hired this nice lady to watch me.” He whipped his head in her direction, but Marie didn’t seem to notice a problem. “Yeah, she’s real fun. Real pretty. I don’t have to get up so early anymore.”
Owen’s heartbeat settled back to normal as Marie moved on to how Tar Baby had dug up the backyard after the sprinkler mishap. Marie finished, said, “I love you, Grandma,” and handed the phone back to Owen.
He groaned silently as he imagined the questions his mother would ask about the nanny. Sure enough, she said, “So who did you hire to watch Marie?”
“An old friend,” he said evasively, like that would work.
His mother tsk’ed. “Someone I know then.”
“Ma, you know everyone in town.” He suddenly felt too tired, and he hadn’t even called Marie’s other grandparents yet. At least they didn’t know about Natalie. “It’s Natalie Lower,” he said, unwilling to play the charade any longer.
The silence on the other end of the line said it all. “I know, Ma, okay? I know. But she’s great with Marie, and they get along great, and—” He turned toward the window so Marie wouldn’t overhear. “She seemed like she needed the money.” That last part hurt him to say, but say it he did. He wasn’t sure why he felt that way, but he was exceptionally good at reading people, something that came in handy with the boys at Silver Creek.
“Have you talked to her yet?”
“I’ve spoken to her several times, Mom. I didn’t just hire her out of nowhere.”
“Owen.”
“No, Ma. We’re goin’ hiking this morning. I’m hoping to get some things out in the open then.”
You are, he told himself while at the same time he didn’t want to have that conversation ever. He didn’t want to admit to his fear, to the irrational feelings of being trapped, of not being able to fulfill his lifelong dream of going to Nashville if he waited. He still believed he’d made the right decision—look at Natalie, he thought. She never auditioned for the ballet company.
“I need to go,” he said. “We’ll see you at church tomorrow, okay?” He hung up with his mom and dialed Marie’s father’s parents. He did his best to keep them looped in to Marie’s life. They were even older than his parents, Tasha’s husband Henry the youngest of five children. They lived in Idaho Falls, and they too answered after only one ring.
“Owen,” Carol said. “How are you?”
“Doin’ just fine, ma’am. Marie wanted to call this mornin’.” He glanced at the girl and she set aside her tablet in favor of his phone. She told her other grandma all the same things as Natalie started backing out of her garage.
Owen motioned toward her and Marie nodded, so he got out of the truck and went to talk to her. She rolled down her window and peered up at him. “Hey,” he said. “We were early so we thought we’d save you the drive over.” He hooked his thumb toward the truck. “You can just throw your stuff in the back of the truck, and we’ll go.”
She opened the door and stepped out of the car, causing him to fall back a few paces. “How do you know where I live?”
“It’s a small town, Nat.” He didn’t want to tell her of his investigative techniques.
She glanced toward the house like she was embarrassed of it. When she didn’t say anything, he said, “Are you ready? What can I get for you?”
“Is it true that you were engaged when you lived in Nashville?” Her gaze swung back to his, and he felt like everything moved in slow motion. It took an hour to take a breath. A day for him to lift his hand to the back of his neck. He’d rub a rash onto the skin if he didn’t stop with the nervous action.
“Yes,” he managed to say.
“Did you get married?”
“No.”
She cocked her head and frowned. “Are you going to give me more than one word answers today?”
“If you need them.”
She folded her arms and settled her weight onto her back leg. “I need them.”
“Yes, I was engaged. She was my manager. It was a mistake to mix business with pleasure, and things went south, and….” His voice dried up, the same way his heart had when Clarissa had botched his second deal and then broke up with him when he questioned her about it.
Natalie waited, those beautiful eyes filled with compassion. “And you broke up,” she finished for him.
“She still has the ring. Wouldn’t give it back.”
Natalie gasped, her hand fluttering to her throat. “Wow.”
“Yeah.” He exhaled and looked toward Marie in the truck. She still held the phone to her ear. “I sure know how to pick ’em, don’t I?”
She bent into her car and turned off the ignition. When she emerged, she held a paper plate of something that looked and smelled like chocolate.
“Are those brownies?” His mouth watered.
“I said I had some baking to do.” She closed the door, stepped closer to him, and extended the treats toward him. “And I don’t know about how you pick women,” she said. “But I thought we were really good together.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond before turning back to the car and gathering her pack from the backseat. She handed it to him with challenge in her eyes. “Didn’t you?”
“Natalie,” he started. “I—I don’t want to mix business with pleasure again.”
She blinked at him, the realization coming slowly into those gold-flecked eyes. A blush crept into her face and she turned away quickly. “Of course not.”
“I like you.” His voice rang with the lie. He didn’t just like her. He’d always liked her. He’d loved her once, and he thought he probably still did. “Marie adores you. But—” A gust of wind stole the lame explanation and she held up her hand to silence him anyway.
“I don’t need you to explain,” she said.
“I want to.”
She shook her head and pressed her lips together. “Please don’t.”
“It’s just that Marie just lost both of her parents, and we’re still figuring out how we go together, and I don’t—” He cleared his throat as she strode away from him, from his explanation. She pulled open the truck’s door and climbed in with Marie.
Owen stared after her, stunned she’d walked away from him while he was in the middle of a sentence. She’d never done that before.
“No,” he muttered. “You’re the one who’s great at leaving without an explanation.” He followed her, threw her backpack into the bed of his truck, and took a deep breath. She’d said she’d wanted answers. Guess she didn’t like what she heard.
He needed the peace and quiet of the Montana wilderness. Hopefully he’d be able to find the right words, give her the right answers, on their hike. He felt on the wrong side of the universe from her. The space between them felt insurmountable, and his heart cried as if alone and wounded in the wilderness.
He turned his thoughts to the Lord, and prayed for guidance, and strength, and clarity of thought so he wouldn’t say anything to hurt Natalie further. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved to be happy.
So do you. The words came into his mind as if spoken from the atmosphere. He took another breath and braced himself for a hard day.
The memories streaming through Natalie’s head couldn’t be contained. She smelled things she hadn’t thought of in years. The fact that Owen didn’t deviate from his favored brands of coffee and toothpaste and cologne didn’t help. Not only that, but the fresh scent of the pine trees on this particular trail.
When they arrived at the pool, it was dry. The way Owen had tackled her there one spring, shocked her with that cold water, and then spent the afternoon warming her with his kisses paraded through her mind’s eye as if it had happened yesterday.
She swallowed and turned away. She shouldn’t have come on this hike, despite her love of the outdoors. Every step hurt, because she heard Owen tell her over and over again that he wasn’t interested in her.
That’s not what he
said, she told herself with every other step, but she didn’t quite believe herself. Despite holding her hand last night, despite the river of desire she saw in his eyes, despite inviting her on this excursion with a please come, he wasn’t interested.
“C’mon, Marie,” Owen said. “Here’s your lunch.”
Natalie turned away from the gorgeous scenery before her, the bright blue sky that usually calmed her, the green and red and orange trees. She found a rock several feet from where Marie had settled on the ground and pulled her pack off her back. Her shoulders finally relaxed and her leg muscles popped and tingled now that she’d stopped pushing them uphill.
Owen came over to her and sat immediately next to her. “It’s nice up here. Jacket weather, but nice.”
She took a long drink from her water bottle and simply nodded. She’d gotten answers to a couple of her questions just by asking one. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know why he’d left four months before they’d talked about, why he hadn’t married her first. With a jolt of clarity, she realized the answer would be the same one she’d gotten this morning.
He didn’t want her. Wasn’t interested.
She’d never thought Owen was a coward, but now thinking back, she realized he’d left town because he was afraid of telling her he wasn’t interested. At least he hadn’t done it again now.
“Natalie,” he said, his gaze out on the splendid horizon before them. “I’m kind of a mess right now. I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You haven’t.”
He scoffed, turning the sound into a half-hearted chuckle. “I have eyes, Nat, and I can see you in a way not a lot of people can.”
She busied herself by pulling out her lunch so she wouldn’t have to verbally acknowledge the truth in his words. The thought of swallowing the brownies—German chocolate, Owen’s favorite—made her sick.
“So everything I said this morning is going to make no sense when you hear what I’m going to say next.”
“Maybe don’t say it then.” She unwrapped her granola bar and took a bite, the oats and honey making her stomach writhe. Or maybe that was the maddening man next to her.
“I want to say it.” He sure took his time for something he wanted to do. She supposed he always had. He finally turned his body toward her, the weight of his stare an uncomfortable sensation after only two seconds.
“I want to go out with you.”
She’d been planning to stare at a fallen branch ten yards away until he got up and left, but she couldn't help it when her head jerked toward his. She met his eyes, saw the sincerity in them.
“You’re right,” she said calmly, proud of herself for channeling her inner-Owen. “That makes no sense.”
“I know it doesn’t, but it’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about since we left your place this morning.”
“You should focus on building a safe place for Marie.”
He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the sandwich he still hadn’t bitten into. “Will you go out with me?”
“No.”
He nodded, and nodded, and nodded. “All right.” He got up and took his pack and lunch closer to Marie. They spoke in quiet tones and Natalie didn’t know what they said. Everything in her wanted to call Owen back over, withdraw her rejection, go anywhere with him.
Well, most everything inside her. There was a spot right in the middle of her heart that cheered at her negative response. That reminded her she was better off alone, because then she could determine her happiness.
But she wouldn’t ever be whole, and she knew it.
8
Natalie saw Owen and Marie at church, but she didn’t go over and say hello. She sat by her parents and she went over to Stephanie’s in the evening. Another teacher at the studio, Stephanie held a Sunday dinner party for friends every week. Natalie’s job was to supply the vegetable tray, something she did gladly.
When she arrived, she set the relish tray on the kitchen counter and sighed onto a barstool. “Rough week?” Stephanie asked. “Tell me about it before anyone else shows up.” Stephanie had a quick smile, and straight teeth, and the curliest hair Natalie had ever seen. She was also loyal and kind, and if Natalie had to name her best friend, it would be Stephanie.
“I got the nanny job.”
Stephanie paused in the stirring of her famous corn and bacon dip. “That’s great, sweetie. Why do you look like someone ran over your cat?”
“The job’s with Owen Carr.”
Stephanie stared, her mouth turning into an O. “Your ex-boyfriend Owen Carr?”
“The one and the same.” She buried her head in her hands. “What am I going to do?”
Stephanie abandoned her prep work and came around the counter to sit by Natalie. “You need the job, right?”
“More than you know.” A nest of snakes struck in her stomach simultaneously. She really did need the money.
“Then take it. Just do the work. You’ll hardly see him, right?”
Natalie didn’t tell her about the meals she’d enjoyed for several nights in a row. She didn’t have to stay for dinner. She wasn’t getting paid to stay past six o’clock. “Right.”
A timer went off, and Stephanie jumped up to check the lasagna bubbling in the oven. Dissatisfied by something, she pushed the tray back in and set the timer for ten more minutes. “Do you like the little girl?”
“She’s wonderful. I’ll be bringing her to the studio on Tuesday. You’ll get to meet her.”
“She’s the one whose parents were killed in that car accident, right?”
“Right.”
“So sad.” Steph shook her head. “So here’s a question: Why don’t you want to work with Owen? From what you’ve said, you were in love with him.”
She nodded. She had been in love with him. “He’s in a tough spot right now,” she said. “Not looking for a girlfriend.” Which made his invitation to go out downright confusing. “Trying to figure out how to be a dad to an eight-year-old.”
“Well, you can help him with that. You’re so good with kids.”
“He doesn’t want my help.”
“He obviously does, or he wouldn’t have hired you.” She smacked Natalie playfully with the back of a wooden spoon. Someone knocked on the door and voices entered the house.
“Jason and Bea are here,” Natalie said, leaning back and catching sight of the couple. “Don’t say anything. They grew up with Owen.”
“Lips are sealed,” Steph said, glancing toward the foyer to see how close the others were before leaning over the island. “But if you ask me, you should push the girlfriend issue. It’s obvious you still like him.” She straightened and said, “Hey, you two. Are those mint brownies?”
Natalie joined the conversation, laughed with her friends, felt loved and included. But in the back of her mind lingered Owen and his brooding, navy eyes that wouldn’t release her.
Maybe she should do what Steph had suggested and push the girlfriend issue. See what Owen did. It was better than her plan to suffer alone in silence, avoiding him if at all possible, and crying herself to sleep at night. Not that she’d really do that—last night didn’t count.
After a delicious dinner and great conversation, as Natalie rode the high of being with people she cared about, she dialed Owen. He didn’t pick up, and she cursed herself for the after-ten-o’clock phone call. She hung up quickly and waited until she’d pulled all the way into her garage and had put the car in park.
Then she sent him a daring text.
I’d love to go out with you. Call me tomorrow and we can schedule something.
She immediately silenced her phone and entered the house with a small smile riding her lips. She plugged in her phone in the kitchen and set it face-down on the counter. She didn’t want to know his response until she’d gotten a good night’s rest.
And this time, she fell asleep without a single tear, but the hope ba
llooning in her chest was almost as difficult to deal with.
Owen endured Sunday as best as he could. He was up early, as usual, but he left late for church so he wouldn’t have time to talk to his mother before the service began. He couldn’t face her questions, mostly because he had no idea how to answer them.
He felt like a yo-yo, his emotions constantly jerking up and being thrown down. First, he was telling Natalie he didn’t want to mix business with pleasure, and then he was asking her out. He didn’t blame her for being confused, for rejecting him.
He just didn’t know how to explain himself. He didn’t want to mix business with pleasure, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in her. But he hadn’t said that, and he realized that what he had said had implied as much.
He stared into the darkness on Monday morning, wishing he could erase this weekend from his life. Yeah, he’d definitely made things worse with Natalie. When the pastor had announced that the fall class sign-ups were almost full, Owen had decided to register for her pie class.
After the service, he’d taken Marie to the tables by the classrooms, where he found classes from sewing to chess to cooking. Natalie’s pie class was by far the most popular, and he saw she was teaching two throughout the month of October. One in the middle of the day, from ten a.m. to noon, and one in the evenings from seven to nine.
He added his name to slot number fifteen in the evening class, and then he signed Marie up for a kid’s art class on Wednesdays that he’d have to ask Natalie to take her to.
As he thought about his large hands trying to make a delicate pie crust, he smiled. Natalie would definitely have her work cut out to make him a baker. He’d learn to make cherry, apple, pumpkin, and pecan pie, only one of which he even liked. He didn’t care. It was two hours every week that Natalie couldn’t walk away from him, and if she wouldn’t go out with him, the cooking class was the next best thing.