Learning to Trust

by Ruth Logan Herne

  Tug had been a cop for a decade and a half. He’d seen a lot of wretched situations. “Desperate people do desperate things.”

  “I was so angry when my mother made Marta leave because I loved her. She was like a sister to me, and I didn’t trust my mother’s judgment. Clearly she was right all along and I made Mom’s life miserable because I was so angry. I can’t defend my actions then, and I certainly can’t defend Marta’s now. So what does this mean, Tug? For Jonah? The courts won’t give him to his uncle, will they?”

  “Absolutely not,” he assured her. “This is from Mark Adams, a writ of release asking the courts to give you full rights of guardianship and adoption if you so choose.”

  She stared at him. Her eyes went wide. Then they filled with tears as she looked to the paper, then him again. “I get to keep him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, Tug.” She hugged him then. Hugged him tight, and that gesture opened a window of hope within him. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “It was all Renzo,” he told her, but he didn’t refuse the hug. In fact, he drew her closer and wrapped his arms around her. “I had to stay away from the investigation because I had a conflict of interest, but Renzo followed through one hundred percent. He should be getting the hug,” he went on. “But I’m happy to stand in for him.”

  She started to pull back.

  He didn’t let her. He put his lips against her soft hair and whispered, “So can we talk about us now?”

  She did pull back then. “There is no us,” she told him.

  She swiped happy tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands until he reached around her to the tissue box and grabbed a handful. He thrust them at her. “These work better. And why isn’t there an us? Because I acted like a jerk? Because I jumped to conclusions and didn’t give you a chance to explain?”

  “All of the above?” she countered. She wiped her eyes and nose before she went on, and even with tear-filled eyes, she was absolutely downright beautiful. “I’m sorry I wasn’t up-front with you about my past, but it’s not exactly the first thing you blurt out to people,” she scolded with more of her usual sass. “But I should have told you, because when you have feelings for someone—”

  “I do like the sound of that,” he whispered and managed to nuzzle her ear softly. “Because I’ve got some pretty strong feelings myself, darling.”

  “So now I’m your darling?” She wasn’t giving him much slack, but that was his fault. Not hers.

  “You were always my darling. I should have chopped wood before I came to see you. It was a stupid decision I will never make again. So...” He set his forehead against hers lightly. Her breath mingled with his. Her hair—her dark pretty hair—smelled of little kid soap and sweet apples. A perfect scent for a Washington November. “Let’s fix it. I’m sorry I reacted badly and stomped off. I was wrong to do that.”

  She pulled back slightly so he could meet her gaze. Search those beautiful dark brown eyes. “You had every right to be upset.”

  “I did.” His quick agreement made her frown reappear. Possibly deeper than it had been. “But a just man reasons things out, and the minute I walked away I thought about all the kids I talk with on the internet. The mistakes they make, the choices that get them into and out of trouble. And I realized that if I found it so easy to encourage and forgive children I don’t even know, how could I justify my reaction to your story?”

  “It was justified because I should have told you,” she answered softly.

  “Those were my thoughts,” he admitted, “but then someone reminded me that we’d only known each other for seven weeks, and that most couples don’t bare their souls in that length of time. He also mentioned that I was stupid.”

  “Renzo.”

  “Good old Renzo. So here it is.” He straightened and faced her. “I want to get to know you. To court you. To spend time with you and the boys and have you spend more time with Nathan and Evangeline. This whole thing started with Vangie’s quest for a wife for me. Vangie meant well, but kids don’t see the whole picture. It’s not just about romance when you’re a single parent, although I might add I feel ridiculously romantic whenever I’m near you.” He kissed her cheek gently. “Or hear your voice.” Now his lips kissed the other cheek. “Or just think about you at any place, at any time of day. So we’ve got that part covered.” He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, then pulled back. He sighed. “It’s about family, and stepping into a stepparent role isn’t easy. She thinks I haven’t dated because I don’t make time for it. She’s wrong,” he went on. “I haven’t dated because I can’t risk messing up my kids any more than I already have.”

  “Your kids are amazing. They are not messed up at all,” she corrected him.

  “Hadley died of ovarian cancer,” he told her. “She’d had weird symptoms for nearly a year. We were busy and she brushed the discomforts off as if they were no big deal, and I let her do it. And even when she went to the doctor, they gave her meds for a troubled stomach and left it at that. If I had pushed harder, if I hadn’t been so busy with work and helping kids, maybe we could have gotten her in for treatment sooner. But I didn’t push, and when she was gone, it was like this layer of guilt just descended over me.”

  “Guilt is a tough thing to handle. But if we start blaming ourselves for things that are out of our control, then who are we helping?” she asked. “No one.”

  “My father reminded me of that. He said no matter how strong you think you are, God’s timing takes precedence. And he was right.” He tugged her back into the curve of his arm, tucked against his shoulder and his chest. “So can we try this again? I want a chance to convince the most wonderful woman in the world that I won’t ever be a jerk again. Because that would make me real happy right now.”

  “Even if you don’t win the election?” she asked, teasing.

  He smiled against her hair, then wrapped her in a hug. A hug that felt so good he didn’t want to let go. Ever. But he did. “Even if. I should head over to the offices. I’m meeting Mom and Dad and the kids there. Just in case.” He kissed her one more time, then stood up. “And if we win, let’s have a family celebration dinner on Friday night. All eight of us. We could go to someplace fancy—”

  “Or we order Chinese and play games at your parents’ house,” she cut in.

  “And then we get a babysitter and go out on our own on Saturday night,” he suggested. “Like a date. A real one. Just you and me.” And when she smiled and leaned up for another kiss, he knew he’d made his point. “Gotta go.”

  She reached for the TV remote. “I’ll be watching.”

  “And I’ll text you the minute I know.”

  She hugged him and watched him go out the door.

  He trotted to his car, and when he swung it around, there she was, waving from the side door.

  No matter what the rest of the night brought, he could already count today as a success. Jonah and Jeremy would be safe and beloved in Christa’s care and he’d managed to fall in love again—for the last time in his life.

  Sure, a victory would top things off, but he’d learned a hard lesson years before. Life wasn’t about winning or losing. It was about loving and learning, and he’d done his share of that.

  Epilogue

  “How are we doing with the party stuff, my love?” Christa looked up at Tug as she began marking off a checklist the following August.

  “Water balloons are filled and ready, helium balloons are hung on the mailbox and every possible place you can imagine.”

  She laughed as a soft breeze sent the balloons bobbing and weaving around her. “It looks perfect! And the coolers are filled with ice and juice boxes?”

  “Yes and yes. And when Renzo and I finish this banner, we’ll run the streamers from the garage to the house like we planned.” Tug stretched to affix the top and bottom tie-downs of the big ba
nner while Renzo held the far side of the banner steady. “I’m set here,” he told Renzo. “Wait for the boss to make sure we’ve got this right,” he added with a grin down to his wife.

  Christa didn’t take the bait. She moved across the driveway, then gave them a firm thumbs-up. “It’s perfect. I want the boys to get here and be absolutely over the moon to see this Adoption Day party is all about them.”

  Vangie was helping Glenn set up chairs. “What time do we have to be in court?” she asked.

  “Ninety minutes. Just enough time to make this yard a celebration of love,” Christa told her. “And I’m so glad to have your help, Vangie.”

  “Grandma’s got the tough job,” Vangie replied as she moved a folding table into place with her grandfather. “Keeping three boys clean before we meet with the judge. Helping Gramps is super easy compared to that.”

  “There’s significant truth to her words,” muttered Tug from the ladder. Then he paused and smiled down at Christa. “Are you as excited as I am?”

  “I felt like this day would never come, and now that it has, I keep wondering if I’m good enough to be their mom,” she confessed in a softer voice. “But then I realize they’re going to have a really cool sheriff for a dad—”

  Renzo snorted as Tug puffed out his chest. “I’m pretty sure their job will be to keep you humble,” Renzo reminded him.

  “Says the guy helping his mother with triplets,” Tug shot back. “Are you helping her get the girls over here for the party?”

  “Me, who’s never worried about a car seat in the back of my muscle car, now have two installed, so the answer is yes. And this is the reason our mothers get along so well,” he continued with a well-placed sigh. “They’re not afraid to tackle things. Mostly because they know we can be shamed into helping as needed.”

  Christa laughed. “I don’t expect there’s a lot of shaming going on. But three preschoolers on a cattle farm is a lot, isn’t it?”

  “Shift work,” Renzo told her as he climbed down the ladder. He lifted it and began moving toward the garage. “It’s all in the scheduling, according to my mother.”

  By the time the yard was set they had just a half hour to get changed and make it to the courthouse.

  Darla and the three boys were waiting in the air-conditioned entry when they arrived.

  All three raced for Christa and Tug. Nathan, such a funny, sincere little boy who’d lost his beloved mother too soon, and Jeremy and Jonah, two abandoned children who would never be cast off again.

  “Can’t we just be like always?” Jeremy asked as Tug lifted him into his arms. “Do we have to go in there and see this guy again?”

  “This guy is a judge and he’s very nice,” Christa reminded him. “And, yes, if we want this adoption to proceed, we have to do exactly that. Let’s go see what he has to say, okay?” She sprinkled kisses on Jeremy’s cheeks until he laughed, and when the judge’s door opened, she took a deep breath.

  “We’ve got this.” Tug bent slightly to whisper the soft encouragement into her ear. “No worries. When God is with us, who can be against us?”

  His words helped. Having him by her side helped even more. They weren’t entering this new normal with blinders on. They were moving forward with faith, hope and love, just the way she prayed it would be.

  The judge gave his approval a quarter hour later and officially signed Jonah and Jeremy over to Terrence and Christa Moyer.

  He shook their hands. Then he posed for Adoption Day pictures and even hugged the boys. And when they pulled into the driveway of Tug’s home—their home now—the boys’ eyes grew wide.

  “Is this a party?” Jeremy sought Christa’s hand, and when he grabbed hold, he held on tight. “Like a birthday party?”

  “It’s the birthday of our new family,” Christa told him.

  Jonah didn’t hold back. He whooped and hollered and dashed for one of the bouncy houses Renzo had set up in the backyard. He was all boy, in his element, loving life.

  Jeremy lifted his more cautious gaze to Christa and Tug. “There are presents.”

  “For you and Jonah,” Tug replied. He squatted low. “We’re celebrating being a family because today that judge made it official. Auntie Christa will be your mom. And I get to be your dad, just like we talked about. Okay?”

  “Do I have to call you Mom?”

  An old ache touched Christa’s heart. “You can call me whatever you want, Jeremy. It’s fine.”

  “It’s just... I still miss my mom.” He looked embarrassed to admit that, as if he shouldn’t love his late mother. “Just a little.”

  Tug reached out and hugged the boy. “When our moms go to Heaven we always miss them, honey. But God says it’s okay to love other people, too. He made our hearts extra big that way.”

  “Jemmie! Look how high I can jump! I’m like an astronaut guy,” Jonah squealed as he and five or six other kids rocked the red, yellow and blue bouncy castle.

  Jeremy turned to look. His brother’s joy seemed to ease his concerns. “I’m coming, Jonah! We can be astronauts together!”

  He raced off as Tug slipped an arm around Christa’s shoulders. “He’ll be fine, honey.”

  “I know. It’s just hard to think of all these guys have been through.” She leaned against him as friends put out refreshments while others organized a table laden with gifts. “So now I won’t think of that,” she told him. “I’m going to focus on our future. Not the past. And if God were to hold a little surprise in our future for next spring, what would my beloved husband say?”

  Tug pulled her into one of the hugs she loved so much. He held her there and dropped his mouth to her ear. “He’d say he’s the most blessed man on the face of the earth. And that he better have someone get going on that addition we talked about.” He pulled back just enough to kiss her. “Because it seems like we’re going to be needing it real soon. And I couldn’t be happier, wife.”

  She kissed him back, then turned slightly to see the kids all running, bouncing and having the time of their lives. “Me, either.”

  * * *

  If you loved this story,

  be sure to pick up the first book in

  Ruth Logan Herne’s Golden Grove miniseries

  A Hopeful Harvest

  And check out the titles from her previous series

  Shepherd’s Crossing

  Her Cowboy Reunion

  A Cowboy in Shepherd’s Crossing

  Healing the Cowboy’s Heart

  Available now from Love Inspired!

  Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Hill Country Redemption by Shannon Taylor Vannatter.

  Dear Reader,

  Oh, how I loved writing this story. Having grown up poor, I know the downsides of being marginalized, but I’m also a big fan of teachers and cops that go the extra distance for kids and that’s why I picked two such wonderful champions for this story. For Tug and Christa, God’s perfect timing was put to the test and emerged triumphant.

  Grown-ups have such influence on kids. We don’t always see it, and we don’t necessarily witness the fruits of our labors, but that love and support for kids of all ages can make a huge difference. Kindness and truthfulness and busy hands are a perfect combination!

  I love to hear from readers. It’s like my favorite thing! Feel free to email me at loganherne@gmail.com, friend me on Facebook, visit my website, ruthloganherne.com, or swing by the Yankee-Belle Café at yankeebellecafe.blogspot.com to chat with authors there about life, love and food! And thank you so much for reading this beautiful story!

  With love,

  Ruthy

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  Hill Country Redemption

  by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

  Chapter One

  The debit amounts blurred into one hemorrhaging red total, making Larae Collins’s stomach clench. She closed the leather-bound ledger and handed it back to Denny as the porch swing’s chains groaned. “I don’t understand why Dad didn’t tell me.”

  Her best friend’s father, who’d been her dad’s ranch foreman since forever, shook his head. “I reckon he didn’t want to worry you.”

  A mixture of cattle lowing, bawling and stamping serenaded her. The sounds of home were so unlike her condo in Dallas with its constant traffic noise. This should have been the perfect spring break vacation she’d planned. Instead, she’d learned the property wasn’t solvent. She needed to sell her childhood ranch—not get attached.

  The buyer’s low offer made sense now. And with her job downsized into history, what choice did she have?

  “Mommy, I’m riding a pony!” Jayda, Larae’s seven-year-old daughter, waved from astride Beans as a trusted ranch hand, who didn’t know she’d been riding since was three, led the duo around the arena. The white-and-brown-splotched pinto pony had entertained children at the ranch for as long as Larae could remember.

  “You’re doing an excellent job!” Even on the pony, Jayda was tiny and had to keep pushing up the brim of the huge cowboy hat she wore to protect her from the relentless sun in Medina, Texas. Even though it was only the second week of March, it was almost eighty degrees.

  Jayda resembled Larae and was small for her age, appearing to be younger than her seven years, which suited Larae. When Larae had left the ranch eight years ago, no one had known she was pregnant. Not even Jayda’s father. All she had to do was accept the low offer for the ranch, then slip back to Dallas with her secret intact.