by Mindy Neff
“She had to bury her baby boy.” Tears stung Becca’s eyes, and she looked up at Colby.
“What happened to her baby?”
“He died of scarlet fever. She dug the grave by herself because her husband wasn’t there.”
Colby leaned forward and kissed her temple. “See? Now I really don’t know why you’d want to collect stuff like this. It’s sad.”
She smiled at him, her emotions settling. “But it’s interesting, too. Think of that woman’s strength, the steel in her backbone. She didn’t throw herself in the grave with her child or run off to her psychiatrist’s office. She did what had to be done, and then she brought in the corn from the fields.”
Becca closed the journal and ran her fingertip lovingly over the cracks in the leather. “You know, you and I both have ancestors that date back to the Alamo. I’m always looking for connections, long-lost pieces of my family tree.”
“And mine, too.”
She nodded and smiled at him.
“I’m sorry you lost your family, Becca. And I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”
She didn’t really want to talk about this. She’d still been reeling from their breakup when her parents had asked her to go to Las Vegas with the family to celebrate her brother’s birthday.
She’d soon gotten a double whammy—the loss of Colby, and the forever loss of her family.
She shrugged. “Thanks. I know it was a long time ago, but it still feels like yesterday. I miss them every day.”
“Is that why you collect journals?” He toyed with the hair at her nape. “Looking for relatives?”
“Not really. I mean, I like to know where I came from. What my ancestors were like. It’s exciting when you find a connection. Like that watch.” She touched the gold band encircling his wrist. “When I saw D. J. McGee inscribed on the back I just knew this was your great-grandfather’s. I remember you told me once that he was special to you.”
“Yeah. Great-grandpa Dan. I was hardly old enough to remember him, and the fact that I do—so clearly—means he made quite an impression.”
“What about your grandparents?”
“I guess they knew better than to be around my folks. I didn’t see much of them. My great-grandpa Dan made the effort, though. Don’t know why. Can’t ask him now.”
“Oh, don’t be flip.”
“I’m not. But this is all history, sugar pie. I’m a guy who likes to live in the present and future.”
“I do, too. But there’s nothing wrong with revering the ones who came before us, who fought for us and paved the way for the luxuries we now enjoy.” She held up her hand before he could argue.
“Your parents aside. Criminy. Don’t toss out all the apples just because a couple were bad.”
He cupped his hand around the back of her head, drew her forward and kissed her. His lips were dry and warm, and so very clever. They made her forget where she was, her name, even.
The bell over the front door jingled. Instead of releasing her immediately, Colby leisurely finished the kiss, slowly drew back, his gaze holding her as effectively as the hand still at the back of her neck.
“We have a customer,” she whispered, unable to look away from the heat in his hazel eyes.
“Mm-hm. And they can’t see us because we’re behind the shelves.”
“But they’ll find us in a minute.”
He pressed his lips to hers once more.
“Colby!” she whispered against his mouth. “We have to see who it is.”
He grinned against her mouth and gave her one last, quick kiss. Straightening her top—even though he hadn’t made a single attempt to divest her of it—she rounded the bookshelves and pasted a smile on her face.
An older man with gray hair peeking out from beneath his trucker’s hat smiled back.
“Can I help you with something?” Becca asked.
“Naw. Just looking. This your store?”
“Yes. I’m Becca Sue Ellsworth.” She waved her splinted hand as an apology for not offering to shake hands.
“Whoa, had an accident, huh?”
“Mm.” She didn’t want to scare off the customers telling them how she got hurt. She noticed the man was looking at the jewelry by the front counter. She didn’t want to hover—she hated it when salespeople did that to her, especially if she truly were just poking around.
So Becca busied herself behind the coffee bar. “We’ve got coffee and bakery items back here if you’re interested. Holler if you need anything or have questions.”
“Thanks. The wife might like one of these bracelets, but I think I ought to send her in to look for herself. Returns everything I buy for her and exchanges it for something else.”
Becca laughed. “Don’t take it personally. My mother was like that, too. And she loved my daddy to pieces.”
“Glad to hear it. Still...” He abandoned the bracelets and began to browse the greeting cards. Pretty soon, he waved and left the store. She saw him walk next door to the saddle shop. Probably making his way toward Donetta’s where his wife was having her hair done.
Colby had poked his head around the shelf, obviously realized he didn’t know the customer, and had gone back to work putting the journals in chronological order. In that particular area, she appreciated his organizational tendencies.
She’d been meaning to go through all the journals and put them in order, but invariably she got caught up in reading them and ran out of time. Thus, there were stacks of them in all shapes and sizes, and no easy way to tell which were the oldest, or which belonged to the same family.
She thought about his comment of living in the present and future. He certainly did a lot of that. His cell phone had rung more than usual this past week. She’d overheard some of the conversations, a case coming up having to do with an oil company violating EPA restrictions, and a few people calling for representation, only to be told that he was closing up his business.
Every time she turned around there were reminders that he was leaving.
Yet he still hadn’t begun to pack.
She didn’t want him to move, but his lackadaisical attitude on this point was driving her nuts.
Just then, Tink raced around the corner, dragging a stuffed elephant that was almost as big as he was. She noticed that Colby immediately stopped what he was doing to play tug-of-war with him.
Lord, she was as attached to this little dog as if she’d raised it from a pup. And so was Colby, which meant he would no doubt take Tink with him when he left.
No wonder she was so fond of history. This anticipating-the-future stuff was the pits.
She hated knowing what was coming. Because as much as she was prepared for it, she knew it would involve heartache.
12
Colby felt his frustration mounting—both at himself and at the world. The three-week departure date he’d originally settled on had passed a week ago.
Every time he thought about leaving, something would come up that Becca needed help with, and he’d convince himself she couldn’t operate without his help.
He wasn’t normally a man who lied to himself, and he wondered when the hell he’d developed the bad habit.
Steven Wells had been understanding so far. But Colby didn’t imagine the man’s good humor would stretch many more days.
He propped Becca’s cinnamon roll recipe against the flour canister and lined up the ingredients. He’d baked several batches of these suckers over the past few weeks, but they never quite came out the same as when Becca made them.
Miz Lloyd and Trudy Fay Simmons had been kind enough to point that out to him. Bless their little old hearts.
They should come stand here kneading this dough for five long minutes, then sit around for ten minutes waiting for it to rise just so they could flatten it out again, doctor it with goodies, and roll it up in a coil only to wait another twenty minutes for it to rise some more before it could be baked.
Colby glanced at his watch. 8:00 p.m. Man, he was beat. Wa
lking in Becca Sue’s footsteps these past weeks made him truly appreciate her and all that she managed to do—the myriad of details involved in running her store during the day and baking at night, and she still made time for friends. Amazing.
Right now she was chatting on the phone with one of her girlfriends. If he hadn’t been in here doing the baking, he imagined she’d be enjoying the phone call and baking.
That would be beyond his capabilities.
He was also beginning to realize that there was an odd sort of order to Becca Sue’s disorganization. She was an excellent businesswoman—smart, friendly and charming, with an eye for what would appeal to her customers.
He’d found out within a few days that his idea of putting all the china together in one spot didn’t work. He’d made that one sizable sale only because he’d been holding the merchandise when Norah Conway had come in. If it had been grouped with all the rest of the stuff, it would have blended in and possibly been overlooked.
That was Becca’s theory. And maybe she was right. Her placement of her merchandise was based on shrewd business sense, and he was learning to bow to her superior knowledge.
He couldn’t remember ever learning so much about—and from—a woman. Or wanting to. Yet, each day he made new discoveries about Becca, indeed anticipated them.
The more they made love and spent time together, the more Colby feared that seven years ago, he’d let the best thing in his life get away from him.
But damn it, he was still terrified of commitment.
Of failing. And hurting her.
She’d let him off easy all those years ago, still remaining his friend. He’d believed it was because he’d broken things off before something bad could go wrong, before the spats and disagreements turned into an all-out war that would make them hate each other.
Like in his parents’ relationship.
That sort of devastation, the bitterness and utter failure of something that had begun with good intentions, scared him to death.
He glanced again at his watch, which was sprinkled with flour. He’d been kneading this dough for three minutes and already it felt like thirty. He still had to clean up his mess and...
Spying the one-quarter cup of sugar still sitting on the counter, he swore.
“Grandma Lee said you should never swear in the presence of bread dough. Makes it tough.”
He nearly jumped, hadn’t heard Becca come in. “I bet Grandma Lee never forgot to put in the doggone sugar.”
“Mmm. That’ll tend to make a body mad—especially when you get all the way to this stage before you remember.”
“I hate it when I don’t get things right the first time.” He fisted his hands in the dough, needing to strangle something.
“I know. You should loosen up. That attitude’ll send you to an early grave.” She moved up beside him, casually put her hand on his back, stroking, massaging...petting. He didn’t think she even realized what she was doing. It was the sort of gesture a lover would use...or a loved one.
Man, he was turning into a real sap.
“What now?” he asked. “Do I scrap the project and start over?”
“No. We’ll just serve reduced-calorie cinnamon rolls tomorrow. Or you can compensate and add more brown sugar and butter between your layers.”
“If I do that, I can’t mark them as reduced calorie, can I?”
“Probably not.”
“I just know Miz Lloyd’s going to stop by tomorrow. I think she marks on her calendar which days I bake these rolls and only buys them so she can tell me they don’t measure up to yours.”
“Of course she doesn’t. I’m well known in these parts for my cinnamon rolls. You wouldn’t want to steal my thunder.” She snitched one of the raisins he’d measured into a glass dish, and grinned when he shot her a frown.
“That was Sunny on the phone,” she said. “Beau’s barbecuing steaks tomorrow and they want us to come over for supper.” Beau had been the number-one cowboy on Jackson Slade’s ranch for nearly forty years, but these days he spent most of his time in the kitchen, bickering with Cora Harriet over who got to use the stove and take care of the housekeeping chores.
“Sounds good,” Colby said. “Means I don’t have to cook.”
“Oh, you poor thing. You’re so overworked,” she teased. “Linc and Tracy Lynn, and Storm and Donetta are invited, too,” she continued. “After supper we girls are going to fuss with the babies and you guys are supposed to see who can bankrupt the other in a hot and heavy game of poker.”
“Mmm. I always wanted to take some of Linc’s money away from him. Ought to be easy pickings. I’m better at poker than he is.”
She laughed. “Don’t be bragging and telling him that. You guys’ll end up in a pissing contest, and we’ll be there all night.”
He covered the bowl with a clean dish towel and set the dough aside to rise.
It occurred to him that they were talking like a married couple, but he couldn’t seem to work up a decent worry over it. Especially with Becca Sue standing here fresh from a bath, wearing thin summer pajamas and smelling good enough to eat.
“I’ll be subtle.” He scooped her up against his chest. “Right now, though, we’ve got ten minutes. Wanna neck?” He gently closed his teeth over the sensitive area between the side of her neck and shoulder.
She shivered and laughed. “I thought you’d never ask.”
The next evening, Becca walked into Sunny and Jack’s living room, surprised to see all the guys huddled around the game table looking at each other’s cards.
“What kind of poker is this?” she asked. “Did somebody forget how to play and the rest of you are teaching him?”
None of the men answered. They all stared intently at Colby, who was staring at his antique watch—which was on Storm’s wrist.
My gosh. Had Colby bet his watch, an heirloom, and lost it to Storm? Surely Storm wouldn’t keep something that personal. After all, this was supposed to be a friendly game of poker.
Colby flicked out a card and it landed on the table facedown.
“I think it was three longs and a dit on the left side,” Storm said, “and a little dit on the right.”
“King of hearts,” Colby said, then flipped over the card on the table.
King of hearts. Okay, Becca thought. They’ve gone from poker to magic tricks.
He dealt another single card—facedown.
Storm studied the watch.
“Boy, you’re slow as molasses in January,” Beau complained.
Storm shot the older man a silencing look. “I’m trying to figure it out. I’m not as quick at reading code as Colby is. I think that was a dash and a dot on the left, and two dots on the right.”
“Five of diamonds,” Colby said.
He flipped the card over and sure enough, it was the five of diamonds.
“Man, that’s incredible!” Linc said. “A person could make a killing with this at the casinos. How does it work?”
“I’d say there’s some sort of computer chip in there,” Storm said. “It’s mind-boggling what they can program into those tiny chips these days.” He passed the watch back to Colby.
“Could be along the lines of sonar,” Jack added. “Bouncing off the table and onto the card. If you know the code and are fast enough at it—”
“Or like them optical scanners in the grocery stores,” Beau said, shaking his head. “Who in tarnation would come up with something like this?”
“What in the world are y’all talking about?” Becca asked. By then, Donetta, Tracy Lynn and Sunny had joined her.
Colby pulled her down to sit on his thigh, handed her the watch and positioned her fingers against the back of the case, then picked up the deck of cards.
“Keep it low to the table,” he said, then tossed out a card, which arced upward before landing on the table.
Becca nearly dropped the watch. “What in the world? It shocked me.”
“No, it’s not shocking you.” He tossed out
another card.
She felt the sensation again. “It is, too!” She jumped up from his lap and dropped the watch on the table.
“I think it’s more of a vibration-type impulse,” Colby said. He fished a knife from his pocket, flipped over the watch and proceeded to take it apart.
Becca gasped. “What are you doing? That’s an antique heirloom.”
“With a value that’s obviously higher for a certain type of wearer. I thought these things on the back were screws,” he said, prying the case apart. “But apparently they’re nodes that send out a code every time a card is tossed on the table.”
“You mean you’ve been wearing that watch all this time and it’s been shocking you?”
“Not all the time. See this extra stem?” He paused and turned the watch so that everyone at the table could get a look at the side of the case before he flipped it back over and continued his effort to pry off the back.
“I never could figure out what it was for—thought maybe it had to do with setting the second hand and it just didn’t work. I realized tonight that it’s when I mess with the stem or bump it that I feel the sensations. The first time I really noticed it was at the hospital when Sunny was having the baby and y’all were playing cards. I didn’t know what was going on. Tonight it was driving me nuts.”
He probed around with the knife, and the rest of the men leaned forward, all of their heads practically touching as they tried to see what Colby was doing.
“I learned Morse code in military school when I was a kid, and I’ve kept up with it through my years of ham radio use,” he said, clearly for the benefit of the others in the room.
“So this watch is talking to you in Morse code?” Tracy Lynn asked.
“Similar. It’s sending short and long impulses, like dits and dahs. The left node is transmitting the card, ace, two through ten, jack, queen, king. Ace is a dit, two is two dits, three is three, four’s a dah—a longer impulse. Five’s a dah plus a dit, six is a dah and two dits, eight would be two dahs, nine two dahs and a dit, and so on.”
Becca was fairly good at math, but Colby was reeling off the code so quickly she really had to concentrate.