“This was a dry goods store when I was a kid growing up in town,” Jack told her. “My mom would bring me here to buy shoes. She would buy cloth for sewing.”
“Those are good memories,” Rebecca agreed.
She had memories, too. Of gardening with her mother, helping her father clean the church. But senior year of high school everything had changed. She’d met Greg. And she’d learned that her father preached forgiveness to his congregation, but his daughter was exempt from his mercy.
The bell over the shop’s door chimed. Isaac entered, looking more himself. He pushed his hat back and glanced around the bright, clean room.
“Will this building have the water you need for a salon?” he asked.
“I’ll see that it does,” Jack responded. He headed to the back corner of the room. “There’s a restroom behind here, with water pipes. We’ll have to run lines along this inside wall.”
“I’m hoping to have four stations, for four stylists. I know that sounds ambitious,” Rebecca said.
Isaac glanced around the store. The front had floor-to-ceiling windows, with an area to the right of the door where hair product displays might be located. The other exterior wall had two large windows that overlooked the lake, a short distance away.
“I think it’s good to be ambitious,” Jack told her. “I’ll have them install five. Why not dream big. And what else will you have in this front area?”
“I think a couple of stations for manicures and pedicures, and possibly a small boutique in the back corner. Of course, it’s going to happen in stages. I have the money to get the salon started. I’ll need chairs, sinks, equipment.”
“This is why I picked you, Rebecca.” Jack sat on a folding chair in the corner. “I like that you’re ambitious, but you know how to take things in stages.”
She stood in the center of the room, picturing it all in her mind. Her dream. She wanted this, for herself and for her daughter. They would have stability here. They might still be two against the world, but the world around them would be smaller and they would at least feel less alone.
She didn’t allow herself to think about having people to depend on. She’d believed she had that in Arizona and she’d been fooled. She’d made the disastrous choice to trust Robert Larkin as a business partner. She’d never expected the longtime friend of her aunt to embezzle money from the salon and disappear. His crime had become her failure. This time she wouldn’t lose. She wouldn’t let herself or Allie down.
“You okay?” Isaac asked. He hadn’t sneaked up on her and yet his presence at her side took her by surprise. She smiled at him, noticing again the scar that zigzagged along his cheek and ended somewhere beneath the black cowboy hat.
“I’m good. Just daydreaming.”
“Was it a nightmare? You looked pretty intense.” He said it with a teasing grin that revealed a dimple in his right cheek.
“No, just a thought,” she said as she walked away. His hand caught hold of her arm.
Still grasping her arm, he stepped in front of her. His carefree look had disappeared and those steel-gray eyes held her captive. She watched the slow flick of dark lashes over them, and drew in a breath.
“Since we’re going to be around each other, you might need to know that I’m deaf in my left ear. I don’t want you to think I’m walking off without answering you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“And that’s why I’m telling you.” He removed his hand from her arm, slowly, as if just realizing he’d had ahold of her. As if he didn’t want to let go.
Something crazy was happening. It felt as if she was in a vortex, spinning ever so slowly, and he was in the middle of it with her. Looking into his eyes, she couldn’t catch her breath. He felt it, too. He had to. The intensity of his gaze as he searched her face made it clear. She had to swim her way to the surface and break free.
“I need to go,” she said. And then she glanced beyond him. “Allie!”
She pushed past him and ran to her daughter, catching her just as she fell. She should have been paying attention. She should have seen the distress in her daughter’s eyes. With trembling hands Rebecca eased Allie onto her side as the seizure shook her small body.
Isaac knelt next to her. “Jack is calling Carson,” he whispered.
“I don’t know why this is happening.” She shook her head. “That isn’t true, I do know. It’s the move. She had to leave her home, her school, her friends...”
“Don’t blame yourself. You made the move because you thought in the long run it would be the best thing for her.”
“Right. I thought my parents would...”
“What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
Jack appeared, his eyes full of concern as he studied her now-silent daughter.
“Carson said to bring her to his office so he can do a thorough examination.”
Rebecca nodded and started to reach for her Allie. Isaac gently pushed her aside and lifted her daughter with care, holding her close. The tender look in his eyes almost undid Rebecca’s composure. It wasn’t fair that her child had to deal with this pain, with this illness.
As much as Rebecca knew it wasn’t her fault, her father’s words of accusation still taunted her, telling her that Allie suffered for her mother’s sins.
“She’s going to be okay,” Isaac assured her as they headed for the door.
She nodded, unable to speak for fear tears would begin to fall and never stop. She’d been alone for so long. Her aunt had been ill for several years before her death. And afterward it had been easier to make it just her and Allie against the world.
After only a day in Hope, she was beginning to see how wrong she’d been. They did need people in their lives. They needed more than the safety net of knowing her parents were nearby.
She didn’t need Isaac West, she just needed people. Maybe that would be her reason for staying in Hope. She and Allie would no longer be alone. They would have a community that surrounded them and cared for them.
But for some reason, that thought made her feel all the more lonely.
Chapter Five
Monday morning, a full week after her arrival in Hope, Rebecca sat in a chair in the center of what would soon be her salon. She’d dropped Allie off at school, made a stop at the feed store, where she’d found a good selection of interior paints, and then she’d called her parents.
Or tried to. Her mother had answered, sounding somewhat relieved to hear from her, and then she’d abruptly ended the call. Not before Rebecca had heard her father ask who was on the phone.
A wrong number, her mother had said as she hung up.
For years she’d been trying to convince herself it didn’t hurt. But it did. And it never got easier.
She picked up the paint for her color scheme in the salon. A pale shell beige that would be warm and inviting with the wood floors and the brick back wall, and splashes of color to brighten it all.
The front door opened and she managed to stifle a groan. Isaac entered, removing his hat as he walked through the room. His gaze landed on the paint cans, brushes, rollers and pans. He grinned a little, spun on his heel and headed for the door he’d just come through.
She didn’t know what to say. “Leaving so soon?”
He stopped, but didn’t make a move to return. She couldn’t help but smile.
“When I see a paintbrush I break out in hives. I’d rather crawl through a pigpen.”
“That’s a little extreme,” she countered.
He settled his hat back on his head and looked at her, shooting her that trademark grin of his. He seemed to use it to charm, and to fool, people into thinking he was just fine. As he stood there watching her, he reached for a toothpick in his shirt pocket. Cinnamon. They were always cinnamon. The scent was strong as he pulled it from the pac
kage.
After only a week she already felt as if she knew him better than people she’d known for years. Of course, she’d felt she’d known Ryan Conners, the man she dated for six months. She’d even allowed him to meet Allie. After months of dating, she’d felt comfortable letting him into that part of her life.
She’d never guessed that the whole time they were dating he was busy planning his wedding to someone else. Obviously, she didn’t read people as well as she thought she did.
“I won’t ask you to paint.” She pried a can open and stirred, ignoring the voice in her head that told her to tread softly with this man.
“I won’t offer.” He returned to her side, grabbing a folding chair to sit down in. “I did come here for a reason.”
“Okay.” She glanced up, meeting his warm gray eyes. He didn’t smile, but his expression eased the tension that had been building in her since the failed phone call to her mother.
“We have a dog. Her name is Jersey, because I kind of think she has the eyes of a big old Jersey cow.”
“I don’t need a dog. I don’t even know where I’m going to live.”
“I assumed you were staying at the ranch.”
“It’s a ranch for wounded veterans. I’m not a veteran and I don’t want to take space from those who might need it.”
He sat there for a minute, his long, jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him, the toothpick sticking out of his teeth. After a minute he shifted it to the corner of his mouth and took the stir stick from her hand.
“I think you’ve been through some battles and you qualify as a wounded warrior.”
“Don’t give me that kind of credit. There’s a huge difference between being a single mother and being willing to go to war.”
“I joined the army because Jack told me I couldn’t.”
“But you went. I think you gave up a lot for your country.” She stood, glancing around the room and noting the massive amount of work that needed to be done.
Plumbers had been there earlier that morning, discussing the best way to bring water to the areas where the sinks and pedicure stations would be, and the areas in the back that would later serve as a spa.
She’d found the chairs she wanted for her stylists. They were expensive, but she’d saved enough money to cover getting the salon up and running, as well as living expenses for several months.
“Let me help you paint,” Isaac said.
“You said it gives you hives.”
He pushed his hat back an inch and gave her a steady, dimpled look. “Yeah, well, I can take something for the hives. But I don’t want to feel guilty, leaving a woman to do all of this painting alone. And we still have to discuss the dog.”
“Jersey...” She repeated the name. “And why do you think we need a pet?”
“I didn’t say she was a pet.”
Now he seemed to be talking in riddles and Rebecca didn’t have a clue what he meant. “Okay, so Jersey’s not a pet?”
“She’s a service animal.”
“I don’t understand.”
He slipped an apron over his head to protect his shirt, grabbed a roller and glanced around the salon. She bit back a grin when he faced her, a cowboy in jeans, a button-up shirt, cowboy hat and flowery apron.
“Where do we start painting?”
“This wall where my sinks will be located.” She pointed with a paintbrush.
“Gotcha.” He stumbled a bit and she reached to help him, but then drew her hand back.
“Don’t worry, I won’t fall. I might wobble from time to time but it’s a lot better than it was a few years ago. And that’s an answer to prayer.”
“Is it?” She immediately regretted the question. It sounded curious and skeptical. She didn’t want to discuss faith. Not with this cowboy who wore a silver cross on a chain around his neck.
“Doubting Thomas,” he said. “Yes, I believe in answered prayers. No, I’m not one hundred percent healthy, but I’m still here after a pretty serious head injury. I have headaches, an occasional struggle with balance and I can’t hear out of my left ear. But I’m healthy and I’m alive.”
She watched as he adjusted his expression. Yes, he was alive. And she knew it wasn’t as easy as he wanted everyone to believe.
“About the dog,” she said, changing the subject.
One dark brow arched. He knew what she was doing. She didn’t care.
“Jersey is a sweetheart of a girl. She’s been trained for soldiers with PTSD. I think she could help Allie.”
“The soldiers are the ones who should have her. They need her. She can’t stop my daughter from having a seizure.”
“No, but she could do other things for Allie. If she happened to be alone, a dog could get help, retrieve medication or even comfort her and help her up afterward.”
Rebecca knew all that. She had also read that after spending time with its owner, a service dog could sometimes predict the advent of a seizure.
“I can’t afford an animal like that,” she told him.
“Jersey isn’t for sale.”
“Then why tell me about her?”
“I talked to Jack and we both think that Jersey would make an excellent dog for Allie. We want to give you a dog that might make a difference in your daughter’s life.”
“Why?” The word came out strangled, frightened. She shook off the tidal wave of emotion that threatened to swamp her as his offer became clear.
People took from her. Other than Aunt Evelyn, no one ever gave to her. No one supported her or offered a shoulder to lean on.
“Because we can,” Isaac replied quietly, gazing at her with eyes that saw too much. He reached for a roll of paper towels, tore a section off and handed it to her.
She swiped at tears, telling herself she shouldn’t cry. She couldn’t lose her composure. But more tears continued to fall even as she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the flow. Suddenly she felt strong arms around her and her head was tucked against a shoulder.
“You’re just about the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. You even fight tears.”
She sniffled and laughed a little at the reprimand.
The front door opened. She quickly backed out of his embrace and turned to tell the person entering that the salon wasn’t open yet. But the words didn’t make it out. She stood watching as the woman who’d come in glanced around and then made eye contact.
“Rebecca,” she said softly. Her brown hair had grayed and soft lines had etched the passage of time into her face.
Rebecca took a step back and shook her head. “Mother, what are you doing here?”
Isaac headed for the door. Rebecca moved quickly to his right side. “Stay.”
He shook his head.
“It won’t take long.” She was trembling inside and hoped neither of them noticed. Her attention again moved to her mother. “Why are you here?”
Her mom closed the distance between them. “I wanted to see you. I’d like to meet my granddaughter.”
“Her name is Allie and she’s nine. Nine years old. It’s been ten years since you sent me away.”
“We didn’t know what else to do.” Her mother’s voice broke as she made the excuse.
They were her parents. At eighteen, Rebecca had made a mistake and been sent away. They had told her that in time she would understand. But time had passed, she was a mother now and she understood even less. She couldn’t imagine a transgression that would make her send Allie away.
“You could have loved me,” she said. Her heart shattered a little at the knowledge that they hadn’t loved her enough. They’d tried to wrap their rejection in love, telling her that their concern for her forced them to do this. For her own good.
“We did. We do love you.”
“It doesn’t feel like love.”
Her mother’s gaz
e dropped to the floor. “Why are you here?”
Rebecca nearly laughed. That was a good question. Why was she here?
“I’m not really sure. Maybe because I wanted to be close to home, close to you all. But I’m not ready to bring you into my daughter’s life yet. I won’t allow you to hurt her.”
Alice Barnes’s face crumpled. “I’m so sorry, Rebecca. Truly sorry. I hope in time you’ll forgive me. And believe me when I tell you I have regretted every day of the past ten years.”
“So have I.”
Her mother sighed. “I also want to warn you to be careful. Don’t let Greg back into your life.”
Rebecca didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. It hurt to think her mother thought so poorly of her. But then, Alice Barnes didn’t really know her daughter.
“I have no intention of allowing him in my life or near my daughter. I was eighteen, Mother. I was a child who made a horrible mistake. I regret it. I wish there was forgiveness, the same mercy that my father preaches from his pulpit each week. But I want you to understand, my daughter is beautiful. I can’t imagine my life without her.”
Alice cried. “I hope you never have to experience life without her. I’ll leave, but I hope in time we can see each other and that one day you’ll allow me to know Allie.”
Silent but still the gentleman, Isaac walked her mother to the door and opened it for her. After she left, Rebecca sat in one of the folding chairs before her legs decided to give out.
Isaac faced her, his expression grim. She should have let him leave. He shouldn’t have been forced to witness a family reunion that held only pain and anger.
She’d been weak, needing a friend to support her during that first encounter. She hadn’t realized how devastating it would be to see her mother after so much time had passed.
Isaac pulled the other chair up and sat next to her. Slowly, he reached over, taking her hand in his.
* * *
Isaac didn’t know what to say to the woman sitting next to him, devastated but still wearing that stoic facade of hers. He wanted to tell her she needed to scream. She needed to cry. She needed to do something other than sit there holding on to the pain.
The Rancher's Christmas Match Page 5