Forgotten Hearts: Dunblair Ridge Series Book One

by Sloan Archer

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Cash was still fixating on his unfortunate exchange with Vanessa as he moved the tractor back into the barn. It was an abnormally warm day for that time of year, and the heat on his back, which usually brought him pleasure, felt oppressive and only intensified his chagrin. He was in an irritable mood, and he cursed under his breath as he clipped the doorframe with the tire after cutting a turn too close.

  If I’d gone out of my way to plan the worst possible outcome, he thought with a scowl, our conversation would have gone down exactly the same way.

  Beneath his irritation was concern that left him feeling helpless. What had happened to Vanessa since he’d last seen her that had made her life turn out such a mess—depressed and alone, jobless? He’d seen her crying the night before and again today. Was sadness a regular state of being for her, or was she just going through a rough patch?

  To be fair, he wasn’t exactly in the best position himself to pass judgment on anyone. Barely scraping by each month thanks to his father’s gambling debt had certainly taken a toll on his own sense of well-being. And, if Cash were to be brutally honest with himself, his self-esteem. If he’d learned anything after taking over the Axton Ranch, it was humility. He had no right to make assumptions about anyone, living in his own glass house.

  He thought back to how tough and so full of pride Vanessa had been as a child. She was the same as adult, as far as he could tell. He’d seen how hard she’d struggled earlier to keep a stiff upper lip despite her tears.

  He also remembered how worldly Vanessa had seemed for a little girl, and how green and sheltered he’d felt by comparison. Her childhood hadn’t been easy, which he’d gathered by observing Vanessa’s behavior directly, as well as eavesdropping on his parents’ conversations after they’d thought he’d gone to bed. As much as he’d resented his own upbringing—the early wakeup calls to tend to the animals, the constant half-moon of grime that clung under his fingernails, the small-town suffocation—he’d understood that Vanessa had gotten a far rawer deal. She’d come from a broken home and had never known the simple comfort that a stable residence could provide. She’d been shuffled around from place to place by a temperamental, drug-addicted mother who had more boyfriends than the Sahara had sand.

  Maybe these things had something to do with the mess she now seemed to be in. It was a lot easier to come up in life when you’ve been raised by encouraging parents who’d provided you with the essentials of childhood. And Vanessa’s life might have turned out differently if she’d started on an even playing field, with something as basic as a mother who was sober. But she hadn’t.

  Cash also couldn’t help feeling guilty. If he’d remained a constant in Vanessa’s life, he could have looked after her. Why hadn’t he done a better job at tracking her down after she’d been taken away?

  He shook his head as he remembered: He’d been forbidden by his parents, who’d seen how much their son’s pestering had upset their neighbor, Jeanie. They’d told him that even Jeanie didn’t know where Vanessa was, so he’d better stop asking. Over time, he’d forced himself to forget the summer they’d spent together, since remembering it hurt too much.

  Regardless of the would’ve, should’ve, could’ve scenarios running through his mind, Cash recognized that he still felt an inherent need to protect her. And it wasn’t just because she was a stunner . . .

  But she is, isn’t she? his mind prodded. Stunning?

  Yes, of course she was stunning, but he genuinely wanted to see her happy and living a good life. No matter what might happen between them in the future. He’d lost her long ago, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t try to win her back now.

  But how was he going to do that?

  At minimum, he could provide her friendship, which it seemed she desperately needed. The only problem was that, if adult Vanessa was anything like child Vanessa, she’d balk at the idea of anyone pitying her or offering charity. So, he’d need to play it cool and take things slow until he proved himself true. It was funny, he thought, because even though Vanessa had changed so much, a lot of her had remined exactly the same. It pulled at Cash’s heartstrings, made him nostalgic.

  His heart sank as it occurred to him that she could be married with kids, for all he knew. This seemed very unlikely, though. She probably wouldn’t be in Dunblair Ridge on her own if she was. And she hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring earlier—he’d checked. Divorced, maybe? But what did her relationship status matter, anyway? She clearly had no memory of him or the time they’d spent together as children.

  She also hadn’t seemed too thrilled with what she’d seen of him this morning and had already dismissed him as a sexist backwater hick because he’d kept saying all the wrong things. Standing there half-naked and grinning at her like an idiot, asking if she knew who he was like he was spouting a cheesy bar come-on. Ridiculous, to assume that she’d instantly remember him, especially since he’d forgotten her until only last night.

  What he should have done was introduce himself and then later pretend to recall their childhood together. He’d acted too eager, creeped her out with his assumptions. And that stupid animal! Here was his long-lost friend teetering on a delicate emotional tightrope, and it had been his cow that had come along and knocked her over the edge.

  And, for all of these things, he was sorry. He was sorry that he hadn’t demanded that his parents find out where Vanessa had gone instead of obediently following their commands to just let it go back when he was a kid. He was sorry that he’d allowed himself to forget her. Most of all, he was sorry that Vanessa was hurting and he didn’t know what to do to take her pain away.

  But, sitting around and moping wasn’t going to get him far.

  He thought back to the ancient Chinese proverb a drunken stranger at the Wagoneer had spouted at him many months ago. Despite it being entirely unrelated to what they’d been discussing—fishing—Cash had liked the sound of it. And so he’d kept it tucked away in his mind for times when he needed a little extra encouragement to take on a new challenge.

  The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The second best time is today.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Cash finished up the rest of his chores a little before sundown. With Harrison being away, it had taken him a couple hours more than normal to complete his work, but the alone time had done him some good. He was no longer feeling unsettled and grumpy, as working with his hands had resulted in its usual soul-calming effect.

  He’d been keeping an eye out for Vanessa unconsciously, his gaze drifting across the field every so often, but she never materialized. As he headed toward the mailbox at the foot of his driveway, he considered his next course of action with her. He’d already decided that being friendly was the best way to go, yet he was struggling to figure out how to take the first step after their embarrassing exchange.

  The solution came to him while he sorted through the day’s mail. He’d received a check-up reminder from Dunblair Ridge Dentistry in the form of a post card with a cartoon of a grinning tooth waving a bright red toothbrush: We’ll put a neighborly smile on your face! It was food for thought, but Cash’s mind wasn’t on his upcoming teeth cleaning.

  Neighborly, I can do that, he thought. Okay, so what had he always done with Jeanie that had put a smile on her face? She’d always seemed to enjoy their little gift exchanges, which was easy enough for him to do now.

  Cash went inside to take a shower. His muscles ached from the exertion of manual labor, and the water’s heat soothed them like magic. After he toweled off, he put on one of his nicer pairs of jeans, a snug grey t-shirt that brought out the deep green shade of his eyes (so he’d been told), and a pair of cowboy boots—Cash kept two different types of cowboy boots, dirty ones that he used solely for ranching and nicer clean ones that he used for socializing, which included the times when he was trying to impress a female. These were clean.

  Downstairs, he went into the storage pantry and pulled a bottle of hard cider and a jar e
ach of salsa, green beans, and pickles that he’d canned himself—you can’t call yourself a true Montanan if you don’t can—as well as a carton of free range eggs from the fridge that his chickens had laid. In the garage, he removed a couple frozen steaks from the deepfreeze and then went back inside and carefully put everything into a paper bag.

  Noting that the paper bag looked shoddy, he hunted around for a better container, finally settling on an old wooden fruit box that he’d been using to store excess firewood. He wiped the box clean, lined it with brown butcher paper that he crinkled up—something he suspected Luxury Travel West would call “rustic”—and then placed everything inside.

  Here goes nothing, he murmured. Box in arms, he walked across the field to present his welcome gift to Vanessa.

  This time, Vanessa seemed a lot happier to see him as she stepped onto the porch. Her hair was slicked back in a messy bun and she was wearing some kind of workman’s overalls that drooped on her body like a tent. She’d rolled up both the arms and legs so that they’d fit, and the effect was both comical and endearing.

  Cash saw her inner beauty through the getup. He wouldn’t have believed it possible, but she was even prettier up close. While time eroded some men and women away to shells of their former selves, it had only increased Vanessa’s allure. She was natural and classic, the soft lines at the corners of her eyes only adding character to her lovely face. Despite her earlier meltdown in his barn, she seemed comfortable enough in her own skin, yet she still exuded the same raw, tough vulnerability she had as a child. If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall back in love with her on the spot.

  “Hello,” she smiled and then pointed down at the coveralls. “These belonged to my aunt. I was just trying them on.”

  “They’re, uh, snazzy.”

  “Liar,” Vanessa laughed and then ran a hand over her head to smooth down a few flyaway strands. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “You were?”

  She nodded. “I was trying to think of the best time to go over and apologize for acting like a complete nutcase this morning.”

  Cash shook his head. “Not necessary. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

  “No, it really is. And, no, you shouldn’t. You did absolutely nothing wrong, Cash.”

  So, she had somehow learned his name. Interesting.

  He didn’t dare push it, though, and ask her how. They were still breaking the ice, so he wasn’t about to start quizzing her again. He’d learned his lesson from the first time that he’d made that mistake, thank you very much.

  Vanessa looked down at her feet and shook her head. “I don’t usually act like that, airing my dirty laundry to strangers—I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know what came over me. It must be exhaustion from the trip. I only got here from New York yesterday.” She looked up and met his eyes. “Anyway, there really is no excuse for the way I acted, and I’m really sorry for exploding on you like that.”

  “It’s already forgotten,” Cash smiled. He held the box out to her. “This is for you, by the way.”

  “That’s so nice of you! I can’t believe you did this after how rude I was to you.”

  Vanessa’s gratification was palpable. Cash thought she was going to tear up on him again, but, thankfully, she didn’t. It thrilled him that she was so touched, which only went to show that the greatest gift one could give to a person who is hurting is kindness—well, that and booze, eggs, steaks, and a few canned goods.

  “Honestly, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.” He was fibbing a little. There was no denying that she’d flown off the handle earlier, but everyone deserved a pass from time to time. “I made everything in the basket—well, not the eggs, the chickens made those,” he said and she laughed. “And the steaks come from cattle raised on my ranch.”

  “It’s all so lovely,” she said. “And I like the newspaper—it’s a cute touch. What’s this?” she asked, holding up the bottle of cider. “Alcohol?”

  “Yep. Some people call it apple pie moonshine. You’ll want to be careful with it—it’ll take the paint right off a car.”

  “Noted. Can’t wait to try it.”

  With the gift delivered, Cash didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to leave Vanessa just yet, but he figured it best to quit while he was ahead. “Anyway, if you ever need anything, I’m just across the—”

  “You aren’t leaving, are you?” Vanessa said, sounding panicked. She let out a nervous titter. “Ah! What is wrong with me? It’s like I’ve forgotten how to behave, being alone out here on the farm. And if I’m this crazy after twenty-four hours, imagine what I’ll be like in a couple months!”

  Cash chuckled good-naturedly. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine. And you’ve always got me just a door away.”

  “Would you like to come in? I promise I won’t hold you hostage.”

  “Sure. I’d like that.”

  Cash had a difficult time concealing his surprise as they entered the living room. The place was an absolute wreck—it was like a tornado had twirled through the place, leaving behind a tangle of clutter.

  “I know, it’s a mess.”

  Mess? Cash thought. That would be an improvement. This was domestic anarchy. “What happened in here?”

  “Is it really that bad?” she asked, looking around with a hand on her hip. She sighed and then answered her own question. “Yah, it is. I guess this means that I should get better organized. I’ve been trying to clean out the house so that I can start making repairs, but it’s been slow going. I had all sorts of plans for today, but I’ve been cleaning non-stop since I’ve seen you. Aunt Jeanie was a bit of a collector.”

  “A collector of what?”

  “Everything. Here, why don’t you have a seat while I go and put all this stuff away?” Vanessa moved a couple boxes aside on the sofa so that they’d have someplace to sit. “And thank you, again, for the goodies. I haven’t had the chance to do a grocery shop, so now I’ll have something to eat.”

  When Vanessa returned from the kitchen, she was carrying two fizzing glasses of soda with ice. She’d taken off the coveralls, and Cash could see that she was still wearing the same curve-hugging outfit from earlier. It was difficult not to stare.

  Really difficult.

  “I hope you like Pepsi. I found a couple cans in the fridge. It was all that was in there, other than condiments. But I figured you probably didn’t want to drink mustard.”

  “Pepsi is great,” Cash said, accepting a glass as she took a seat next to him. “So, you’re going to be doing some repairs around here?”

  Vanessa took a sip of her soda, coughing on the carbonation. Cash looked away as she rubbed a hand back and forth across her chest. “That’s the plan. There’s a lot of work that needs to be done around here.”

  “I can imagine. These old farmhouses require a lot of upkeep, which kind of defeats the purpose of simple country living, right?”

  “Exactly!”

  “My place isn’t any better. It’s like the minute I fix one thing something else breaks.”

  Vanessa slowly looked around the living room and flapped a hand. “It makes me cringe just thinking about what I need to get done around here.”

  “What are you planning on doing?”

  “You name it. The floor, parts of the roof, and everything in between.”

  Cash took in Vanessa’s perfectly manicured fingernails and expensively highlighted hair. She seemed a city girl through and through. He tried not to sound too dubious as he asked, “Do you know much about DIY?”

  “Not much,” she admitted. “I know design-type stuff: how to do paint effects, add crown molding, stuff like that. But I’m a little—okay, a lot—inexperienced when it comes to major jobs like laying down flooring. But that’s what the Internet is for, right? I’m sure YouTube will have all the instructional videos I need.”

  “You have to be careful with some of those videos. That’s the problem with the Internet: everyone is an expert. Any Joe Blo
w could throw up a video, but that doesn’t mean Joe knows what he’s doing. There’s a reason construction costs so much.”

  Vanessa chuckled. “Good point.”

  They sat in silence a moment, sipping their drinks. Cash said, “I could do some of the work, if you want.”

  “On the house?”

  “Sure.”

  “Um . . .” Vanessa colored. “That’s nice of you, but I was trying to hold off on hiring labor for as long as possible, to keep costs down. I’ve just been laid off from my job, so money is kind of tight—”

  “No, I wasn’t giving you a sales pitch,” Cash interrupted. “I was offering to help you. For free.”

  Vanessa kept her smile tight, but a look of suspicion narrowed her eyes. “Why would you do that?”

  Poor girl, Cash thought. So unaccustomed to people going out of their way to do nice things for her.

  Then again, she had just come in from the city—New York, no less. Back when he’d lived in Baltimore, he’d had much the same attitude. In a big city, there’s no such thing as a free lunch.

  And, sure, maybe he did have a slight ulterior motive, but it was nothing as sinister as taking advantage of a woman down on her luck. He only wanted to get to know her again through friendship. And that’s what friends do, help each other out.

  Cash shrugged. “Why? There’s no real reason. It’s just the kind of thing people do around here. Small town, Montana hospitality.”

  Vanessa took a sip of her soda, offered him a ghost of a smile. “I’m not sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  Cash studied her face, wondered if she was referring to his desire to rekindle their relationship. But, no, he saw that she was talking about the house. “Of course, I’m not suggesting anything full-time.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I still have my own ranch to look after.”

  “Of course.”

  “But I’ll help when I can. In all honesty, I’d be more than happy to because it’ll give me something to do. Some days I’m done by noon, when I’ve got Harrison—he’s my ranch hand, a really good guy. I’ll introduce you two when he gets back.” Cash realized that he was babbling. “Anyway, it gets kind of boring—” and lonely, very lonely “—sitting in that big farmhouse all on my own. I’d be glad to have the company.”