They resumed walking.
“Sam’s a good kid,” he said after several minutes of silence. “He’ll treat Tara with respect. I promise you that.”
“I believe you. He impresses me as a nice boy. Both of your sons do. But will it complicate things . . . with you as her trainer if . . . if this goes beyond one dance?”
“No. Tara and I will be okay.” Strange, how important it felt to Chet that Kimberly trust him with her daughter. It shouldn’t matter that much, but all of a sudden it did.
Silence enveloped them for another short while before Kimberly said, “It isn’t easy. Being a single parent.”
“No. It isn’t easy.” Chet sent a sideways glance toward her. “But life has a way of handing us the unexpected, and we just do the best we can. Making lemonade out of lemons, like the old saying goes.”
She released a soft laugh. “Lemonade has become my least favorite beverage. But it will get better once Tara and I are able to go back.”
“Back?”
“To Seattle. I much prefer living in the city, and there are so many more opportunities there.”
It wasn’t like this was news to him. She’d said something similar on Easter. But it hadn’t mattered to him then. Now it did, crazy as it seemed. “You plan on going anytime soon?”
“As soon as I can find a job that will support us.”
Chet didn’t care much for the way her words made him feel. Abandoned. Rejected. Left behind. Familiar feelings. Time to change the subject. “How are things going in the cleanup of the cottage?”
“It’s been an interesting few hours. Before I left to take a walk, we uncovered the cradle your grandfather made before your dad was born. Anna said it was your cradle too.”
“Yeah, it was.” Welcome memories flitted through his head. “Haven’t seen that cradle in a month of Sundays. Well, not in almost sixteen years anyway. Pete was the last to use it, and he outgrew it fast.”
“It’s a beautiful example of furniture made by a true craftsman.” She stopped walking once again and gave him a pointed look. “It’s not right to hide it under a sheet. It should be displayed somehow.”
He had no choice but to stop and answer her. “Tara said you have an eye for antiques.”
“I appreciate them. That’s all. I’m not a trained expert. But I used to love decorating our home with antiques.” She swept some loose strands of hair away from her forehead. “A cradle like the one in your guesthouse doesn’t have to be relegated to a bedroom. It could hold silk flowers in a corner of your living room. Maybe drape it with some sheer fabric. You could—”
Kimberly’s suggestions made him laugh.
“Did I say something funny?” She frowned up at him.
“No. I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. Not really. But I don’t think decorating is in the Leonard men’s DNA.”
Her frown eased, replaced slowly by a soft smile.
Mercy, was Kimberly Welch ever pretty when she smiled. Why did he have to notice it now, when he knew her plans were to go back to Seattle as soon as she was able? But knowing that didn’t seem to matter. His mouth went dry and his heart began to thump as he continued to stare at her, unmoving. What was he? Sixteen again? That was how he felt. Tongue-tied and discombobulated. He had to look like an idiot to her.
“Hey, Mom.” Tara’s voice came to Chet’s rescue.
He broke his gaze away from Kimberly, looking toward the barnyard. Tara waved at them.
Kimberly called, “Coming, honey.”
They fell into step once again, their pace a bit faster than it had been before.
Tara hurried forward to meet them. The first thing she did was pat Chet’s horse’s neck. “How you doing, boy?” Then she looked at her mother. “Wait until she sees what we uncovered after you left. An oil painting of Ms. McKenna when she was about my age. Mom, she looked like a movie star back then. I’m not kidding. You won’t believe it.”
Kimberly put an arm around Tara’s shoulders. “I guess we’d best get inside so I can see it.” She glanced at Chet. “Want to see it too?”
There went that odd thump in his chest again. “I’d better put my horse up. I’ll see the portrait later.”
A coward’s retreat, but the wisest course of action to take. So he took it.
KIMBERLY PAUSED AT THE FRONT DOOR TO THE COTTAGE, letting her daughter enter before her. She hesitated long enough to look over her shoulder and watch Chet walk toward the barn.
What was it about the way he looked in those clothes—jeans and boots, T-shirt and hat? What was it about the picture of him leading that horse by the reins that made her feel so peculiar on the inside? What was it that had passed between them a few moments ago? What was it—
“Mom? You coming?”
“Yes.” She gave her head a shake. “Yes, I’m coming.”
The portrait in question had been brought into the living room and leaned against the old upright piano, where light from the window could fall upon it. When she saw it, she stopped still and stared.
When they first met, Kimberly had thought Anna McKenna attractive for a woman her age. If there were beauty pageants for women in their eighties, Anna would surely win. Still, Kimberly hadn’t realized what a real beauty Anna had been in her youth. Unless the portrait painter had lied with his brush, Anna could have been a sister—perhaps a twin—of the actress Maureen O’Hara in her earliest films. The color of her hair. The arch of her brows. The shape of her mouth. The flawless pale complexion.
In the painting, Anna stood near a fence made of lodge pole pine. Beyond the rails stood a bay horse, his coat the exact same dark shade of red as Anna’s hair. The girl smiled as she looked toward the artist, and something about the look in her eyes made Kimberly think of a girl in love, perhaps for the very first time. Who had been the object of that love? The artist? One of the hired hands? A boy at school?
“Hard to believe I ever was that young.” Anna stepped to Kimberly’s side. “I still feel that way sometimes on the inside, but the outside hasn’t looked like that in decades.”
“Who painted it?”
“His name was Miles Stanley. He came to Kings Meadow with an army buddy of his. Gracious. What was his friend’s name?” Anna’s eyes narrowed as she searched her memory. “Oh, yes. Frank Jansen. Frank’s father owned the hardware store in Kings Meadow. Jobs were hard to come by right after the war, so the boys were both glad to get employment in the hardware store. I don’t suppose Mr. Jansen actually needed two clerks working for him. It wasn’t a big store. He hired Miles more out of gratitude, I’m sure. Miles saved Frank’s life in some battle outside of Paris, though I’ve forgotten the details now.”
“He had this kind of talent, and he was working in a hardware store?” Kimberly asked.
Anna stepped away from Kimberly’s side and approached the portrait. With a tender gesture, she reached out and touched the horse on the canvas. “Van Gogh only sold one painting in his lifetime. Did you know that? The other nine hundred some-odd paintings by the master became famous after his death.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Anna smiled over her shoulder as she moved to one side of the painting, opening it to Kimberly’s view again. “I wouldn’t have known it either if Miles hadn’t told me.”
“How old were you in this portrait?”
“Seventeen. Almost eighteen.”
Kimberly took a couple of steps closer to the painting, studying the way the artist had used his oils to create shadow and light, to bring life to the girl and her horse. She had no talent for painting herself, but she had a good eye for the talent of others. This young man had had talent in abundance.
“Miles painted this not long before he left Kings Meadow,” Anna said softly. “He was pursuing an opportunity in California. One that would allow him to paint more, to grow as an artist.”
“I’m surprised I’ve never heard of him.”
“Many artists with talent remain in obscurity. Miles was one of t
hem.”
“You were in love with him, weren’t you?”
Anna nodded, her eyes turned misty.
Kimberly felt her throat thicken in empathy. She suspected this was a tragic love story and that it would be better not to ask the older woman for details. The sadness she’d felt earlier came rushing back. Her own love story hadn’t had a happy ending either. Did she believe it could happen for anyone? For her? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
Anna
1946
IT WAS A COLD JANUARY DAY WHEN ANNA MET FRANK Jansen and Miles Stanley for the first time. She had come to town with Abe in the sleigh to pick up supplies. Their last stop was Jansen’s Hardware Store.
Home from Europe and freshly mustered out of the army, Frank and Miles had close-cropped haircuts and the look of men who’d seen things they would rather forget. Especially Miles. Something about his expression as Mr. Jansen made the introductions tugged at Anna’s heart. She’d never felt anything like it before.
“You look good,” Abe said as he gave Frank’s hand a hearty shake. “Glad to have you back. We lost too many young men.”
“Yes, sir. We did.”
Abe turned to Miles and repeated the handshake. “Welcome to Kings Meadow, young man.”
“Thank you, sir.”
After living with the Leonards for more than a year and a half, Anna knew Abe had a sore spot when it came to the war. A leg injury as a boy had left him with a permanent limp, and when he’d tried to sign up to fight right after Pearl Harbor, he’d been turned down. Not that he hadn’t been able to do a hard day’s work around the ranch—both then and now—but that hadn’t mattered to the army physicians. They still wouldn’t take Abe into their ranks.
Mr. Jansen said, “We’re planning a potluck at the church come Saturday to welcome the boys home. Hope you and your family will be there.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Abe answered. “Long as the weather holds.”
“How’s that baby of yours?”
“Crawling so fast Vi can hardly keep track of him.” Abe beamed with pride. “Richie’s gonna be a handful when he learns to walk.”
Frank and Miles excused themselves and returned to their duties. Anna stopped listening to the two older men as she watched Miles walk to the front of the store where he’d been washing the large window when Abe and Anna arrived. He picked up a rag and continued.
Miles hadn’t really noticed Anna. She was sure of that. Why would he? She wasn’t yet sixteen, and he was a man who’d fought in a war and had seen things in Europe that she couldn’t even imagine. He was in his early twenties, she guessed. Not that many years older than she, but enough he could still think of her as a child.
From somewhere within, she found the courage to try to change that. She followed the same aisle to the front of the store and leaned her back against the wall. “Do you like it here, Mr. Stanley?”
“Sure do.” He glanced at her as his arm continued to make circles on the glass with the rag. “What’s your name again?”
She felt her cheeks grow warm. “Anna.”
“Hi, Anna.” He smiled at her. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Pleasure warmed her more deeply than any fire could have. “Do you plan to stay in Kings Meadow?”
“Not sure. For a while. Maybe a year or two. Jobs aren’t easy to come by right now with all the soldiers coming home again.” His attention returned to the window washing. “I guess I’ll stay until the Jansens are sick of having me around.”
Anna tried to think of something else to say, but nothing seemed right. And Miles was so intent on that silly window that he didn’t seem inclined to come up with something on his own. As the seconds dragged past, she began to feel foolish. She mumbled a good-bye, but he either didn’t hear her or didn’t want to be bothered with her any longer.
It won’t always be like this, Miles Stanley. I’ll make you notice me yet, no matter how long it takes.
Sixteen
WHEN SAM WALKED DOWN THE STAIRS THE FOLLOWING Saturday, dressed in his new suit, Chet remembered the night Rick had taken a girl to the school prom. Marsha had insisted on snapping dozens of photos before Rick left the ranch. Chet didn’t make the same kind of fuss over Sam as Marsha had over Rick, but he did make sure to take a few pictures with his digital camera.
“When you pick up Tara, tell Mrs. Welch that I’d like to get copies of any photos she takes.”
“Sure, Dad. I’ll tell her.”
Anna retrieved the corsage from the refrigerator and handed it to Sam. “You look very handsome, young man. I hope you and Tara have a wonderful evening.”
“Thanks.” He leaned down and kissed Anna’s cheek. “We will.”
Chet cleared his throat. “Be careful. I know you won’t drink or do drugs, but other kids might not behave the same. So watch out on the roads. Keep your mind on your driving.”
The look Sam gave Chet said he’d heard that warning from his father many times. Too many times. But that didn’t matter to Chet. He couldn’t lose another son to the winding Idaho roads.
Anna took Chet by the arm and drew him with her onto the porch, so they could wave as Sam drove away from the house. After the pickup was out of sight, she said, “Maybe you should try talking to Pete again.”
“I doubt it’ll do any good.”
“Try anyway. He’s around back.”
“Practicing his roping again?”
Anna nodded.
Chet drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll give it another go.” He went down the steps and rounded the house in time to see Pete release the lariat. It settled with ease over the dummy steer’s head. “Nice one,” Chet called to him.
Pete acted as if he hadn’t heard his dad as he went to free the rope.
Sometimes parenting was for the birds.
Chet forced himself forward, all the while trying to remember what his father had said to him when he got out of line. But nothing helpful came to mind.
Pete returned to the worn spot in the grass where he liked to stand to toss the lasso. “Is he gone?”
It seemed a dumb question. Pete couldn’t have missed seeing the pickup driving down the lane to the highway. Chet answered anyway. “Yes.”
“I hope he gets a flat tire,” the boy mumbled, the words probably not meant for his dad’s ears.
But Chet heard them. “Not a nice sentiment.”
“I don’t care.” Pete adjusted the lariat in his hand.
“Pete . . .”
“I don’t, Dad.”
“Son.” Chet placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, stopping him from tossing the rope again. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, Pete obeyed. An angry scowl knitted his brows, and defiance sparked in his eyes.
“You can’t go on feeding your resentment the way you have been. It isn’t good for you or for the family. I like Tara. She’s a nice girl. But you’ll like quite a few girls before you graduate from college. For whatever reason, they’ll come and they’ll go in your life until you meet the one you’ll want to marry.” He paused for effect. “But Sam’s the only brother you’ve got. He loves you and you love him.”
“It isn’t fair, Dad.”
“Nobody said life is fair.”
Pete lowered his gaze to the ground. “Why not?”
“Because the world is a broken place, Pete, full of broken people. None of us are perfect. Even the nicest people we know, even the most upstanding Christians, are going to hurt others. That’s just how it is.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Sam was trying to be thoughtful to Tara, not get in your way.”
“That’s what he says.”
“I believe him.”
“Yeah, you would.”
Irritation sparked, and Chet decided to leave well enough alone before he said something he shouldn’t. He’d tried again to make Pete see reason. That was all he could do.
KIMBERLY DIDN’T LIKE TO GET ALL MUSHY AND weepy in front of others. However, as a
woman who cried over certain commercials during the Christmas season and wept during romantic movies, it seemed a foregone conclusion that she would, at the very least, tear up as her daughter prepared to leave on her very first date.
Sam Leonard was almost as tall as his father and easily as handsome. He wore a cowboy hat and a western tie with his suit, and somehow, both looked just right. He even brought Tara a corsage. Kimberly had wondered if boys in the Idaho mountains would do that.
“Okay, you two. Before you go, I need to take some pictures. Stand in front of the fireplace, please.”
Tara looked like a fairy princess in her turquoise dress, all sparkling and shimmering. Tomorrow, no doubt, she would be back into jeans and boots, but tonight she was one hundred percent frilly female. A real girly girl. Kimberly snapped as many photos as the couple could tolerate, then bid them a good night and watched as they went to the truck where Sam opened the passenger door and helped Tara up to the seat.
“Remember our first prom?” Janet asked from nearby.
“Mmm. I sure do.” Almost as if it were yesterday, she envisioned the dress and the hair and the limo that four of the boys had chipped in on for the evening. She remembered—
“My night was a disaster,” Janet interrupted her musing.
Kimberly turned from the door. “It was? I didn’t know that.”
“That’s because I never told you. You were all gaga over your date. He was all you could talk about the next morning. Him and how perfect everything had been.” With a shake of her head, Janet walked from the kitchen into the living room.
Kimberly followed. “How could I not have known? You were right there in the limo with me.” Although it had happened two decades before, she felt a twinge of shame over her failure to notice. What kind of best friend did that?
Janet sat in a chair and picked up her crochet hook and yarn, setting them in her lap. “You know what, Kimmie? I wouldn’t be that age again for a million bucks.”
The Kings Meadow Romance Collection Page 10