Spring in Snow Valley

by Cindy Roland Anderson

  “Will Lily be at class next week?” Cynthia asked before he could act.

  Colby shook his head. “I’ll get her for six weeks starting mid-June, but until then, I only have her every other week.”

  “I’m sorry. It appears we both have some pain in our pasts,” Cynthia murmured.

  “Everyone our age has pain. What matters is how you handle it.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t handle it very well.” She forced a laugh. “And you say our age as if that’s something we share, when we both know I’m a lot older than you.”

  “What? No way. I wouldn’t say a lot.” He honestly had no idea how old she was, but it didn’t really matter.

  “Don’t try and flatter me,” she said with a small smile.

  She’d hardly eaten anything, but now she dipped a French fry into the ketchup and popped it into her mouth. “Speaking of food, how did the bacon-wrapped chicken whatever-it-was you were making the other day turn out?”

  “Bacon-wrapped, almost-crusted chicken,” Colby clarified with a grin. “And it was terrific; you missed out.” Suddenly he felt the need to defend himself. “You might think I’m just a grubby ranch hand, but underneath, I’m a fantastic chef. Ask anyone.” He paused. “Okay, ask Lily. I don’t really cook for anyone but the two of us.”

  “Now that I don’t believe,” Cynthia said.

  “Why not?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. Young single guy like you? I’m sure there are plenty of takers.”

  “You might be surprised.” He shrugged.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, mostly watching Lily on the playground, but the tension had dissipated and Cynthia seemed much more relaxed. Her skin glowed in the sunshine and her hair fell around her shoulders in soft waves. He wanted to run his fingers through it.

  But more than that, he wanted to talk to her. Just ... spend time together, get to know her. “Tell me about growing up in Snow Valley,” he said.

  “There’s not much to tell,” she replied. “Lisa bought our childhood house from my parents when they moved to Arizona. Except for the years in Kennewick, I’ve lived here all my life. We had a typical small-town existence where you know everyone and everyone knows you.”

  “How did you meet Lee?”

  “I don’t remember not knowing Lee. He was just always ... there.”

  “Do you miss him?” Colby asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  Cynthia hesitated. “Not really,” she finally said. “I don’t mean to sound facetious; I missed him a lot at first, but it’s been long enough now that I’m okay.”

  Why did he want to sigh with relief? Maybe because he’d spent long hours while he worked imagining Cynthia as the grieving widow who had lost the love of her life and would never be able to love another man.

  The thought of Cynthia maybe someday loving him made his heart pound.

  “Daddy ... Miss Cynthia! Watch me!” Lily hollered from the playground. They both looked over in time to see her throw herself down the slide on her stomach, face first. Colby barely had time to stand up before she shot out of the end and landed hard on her belly.

  “Lily!” Forgetting everything, Colby raced toward his daughter, his mind already churning through a thousand different ways she could be hurt. “Are you okay?” He scooped her up and cradled her against his chest. His heart was pounding and his hands were clammy.

  Tears stood in Lily’s eyes and she blinked hard to keep them from falling. “I’m okay, Daddy,” she gasped.

  “Can you breathe?” Cynthia rushed to Colby’s side.

  Lily nodded and took a few deep breaths to prove it.

  With a sigh of relief, Colby set her down. “Don’t go doing that again,” he warned his daughter. “You scared me to death.”

  The little girl bit her lip and swallowed hard; Colby knew she was trying not to cry.

  “Why are you trying to fly?” Cynthia knelt down in front of Lily and smoothed the girl’s hair back from her face. “I thought you were a girl, not a bird,” she said in a teasing voice.

  Lily giggled. “I am a girl.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Cynthia pretended to think. “You’re a girl who likes fancy skirts, and dancing and ... chicken nuggets?”

  Lily nodded eagerly.

  “What else?” Cynthia asked.

  “Ice cream!” Lily shouted.

  “What about swinging?” Cynthia suggested, pointing toward the row of swings at the far end of the playground. “Shall I push you?”

  “Yes!” Lily took off at a run while Cynthia and Colby followed behind.

  Colby glanced at Cynthia from the corner of his eye. If Lily had landed off the slide like that with Nicole around, his ex-wife would have insisted they go home immediately. “You totally made her forget about that fall,” he said.

  Cynthia threw him a smile and he had to stop himself from reaching for her hand. Ambling hand-in-hand across the playground with her just seemed so ... right.

  Lily had climbed onto a swing by the time they reached her and Cynthia helped her get settled securely. “Hold on tight,” she instructed and Lily squealed as Cynthia’s push sent her soaring into the air.

  “Want a turn?” Colby gestured to the empty swing by Lily’s side.

  “Absolutely!” Cynthia’s eyes lit up as she hopped into the swing. Colby grabbed the chains just below her hands and pulled back. She was surprisingly light. He let go and sent her soaring, her happy cry mirroring Lily’s.

  Back and forth, back and forth, Colby took turns pushing Lily, then Cynthia, making sure neither of them slowed for long. Each time his hands touched Cynthia’s back for a push, his pulse picked up.

  Her hair was streaming in the wind and she tipped her head back, letting the sun warm her face, laughing.

  “Cynthia Eddington?”

  Colby turned as Cynthia skidded to a stop. Joyce Drake was standing on the sidewalk near the swings. “Is that you, Cynthia?” she said. “I didn’t know you were back.”

  Cynthia gave a quick laugh and jumped from the swing. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to restore order. “Hello, Joyce. How have you been?” she asked.

  Joyce’s eyes darted from Cynthia to Colby and she pressed her lips together in a look that was not quite disapproval, but close enough. “I’m well, thanks,” she said stiffly.

  They stood in silence for a moment, then finally Joyce gave a small wave. “Well, it’s good to see you again,” she said before walking away.

  “You too,” Cynthia called. Once Joyce was out of earshot, she turned to Colby. “Wow, she’s in a good mood today. I wonder why.”

  He snorted.

  “I’m serious!” Cynthia protested, cuffing him lightly on the shoulder. “If my memories are accurate, that was a good mood. You don’t want to see her in a bad mood, trust me.”

  “I believe it,” Colby said. He reached out and caught her hand, his fingers closing over hers, sending heat shooting through his arm.

  Cynthia’s breath caught at his touch and for a moment, neither of them said anything, they just stood staring at each other.

  “Daddy, I need another push!” Lily called.

  Colby grinned and pulled Cynthia with him back toward the swings.

  ***

  Cynthia tugged at the gray hair with her tweezers. It came out with a brief yank, and she stood scowling at it.

  “What are you doing?” Lisa asked, poking her head into the bathroom. “I thought we were going shopping.”

  Cynthia waved the tweezers accusingly at her sister. “Sorry. I came in here for hairspray and got distracted. For every gray hair I pluck, I seem to get three more. And tell me this: why is it I never see them until they’re six inches long, just sticking out there for everyone to see?” She opened the tweezers over the garbage can, letting the hair fall.

  Lisa shrugged. “One of the joys of getting older, sis.”

  “Easy for you to say; you’re not back on the market,” Cynthia said. She tosse
d the tweezers on the counter and picked up the bottle of hairspray.

  “Are you really suggesting the only reason to care about looking good is to get a man?” Lisa asked.

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that. But you know what I mean.” Cynthia gave her hair a few squirts of hairspray and dropped the bottle into her purse. “Come on, let’s go.”

  She followed Lisa outside and climbed into her sister’s tan minivan.

  “Everybody gets older, Cynthia,” Lisa said once they were on the road to Billings. “It’s something we all have to go through. I’m not happy about it either, you know.”

  “I know.” Cynthia sighed. “But it’s different when you’re single.”

  Lisa gave her a long look. “So you’re not twenty-five anymore, so what? You’re still beautiful. The biggest thing is confidence. If you don’t think you’re worth it, the kind of man you want won’t, either.”

  “It just would have been much easier without the wrinkles and gray hair,” Cynthia mumbled. “Not to mention the mommy body.” She put one hand on her stomach self-consciously.

  Lisa rolled her eyes. “Please. You look great. Besides, no one has a perfect body and any man who is going to judge you solely by looks isn’t worth dating. I know you know that.”

  They rode in silence for a while and Cynthia watched the countryside she remembered so well flashing by. There were new houses and stores, but much of Snow Valley looked the same as it had when she was growing up.

  How did time move so fast? Some days she still felt just as unsure, reckless, and passionate as she had at age twenty, only to be reminded with a jolt that she was the grown-up—the one who was supposed to have all the answers. Only she didn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” Lisa finally said. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

  “No,” Cynthia replied. “You’re right. It’s just ... easy to say, harder to do, you know?”

  “Where did this come from all of a sudden? You haven’t told me anything about being ready to date again.”

  “Well, I don’t want to dive into the deep end, but maybe I’m ready to dip my toe in again.”

  She’d been on a few dates in Kennewick, none of which merited telling Lisa about. There’d been the man who’d had too much wine and wanted to talk about his ex-wife all night, and the guy in his late fifties with whom she was hard put to find even a small thread of common ground.

  “That’s good. I think it’s high time you did start dating again,” Lisa said, wrinkling her brow. “I’m trying to think of anyone I know who is single.”

  “Please don’t start matchmaking,” Cynthia cut in quickly. “I’ll find my own dates when I’m ready.” She knew what kind of men her sister would find for her: widowers, all older, all sedate and settled and looking for a woman who would take care of them in their golden years. Maybe that wasn’t fair, but living out the rest of her life as someone’s caretaker was not what she wanted.

  So what did she want?

  The image of Colby Schroder flashed through her mind. Colby, long and lean and graceful, with emerald colored eyes that danced from beneath his cowboy hat. Colby, who sent her pulse pounding and made her feel like he’d finally turned on all the lights in a room.

  “Why the long sigh?” Lisa asked. “I think it’s exciting.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not middle-aged, with kids, and starting from scratch,” Cynthia retorted. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Why?”

  “Everything is so ... complicated. When Lee and I were dating, it was so easy. All I worried about was impressing his parents and siblings. But now, it’s different. Anyone my age is single for a reason, usually a painful one. So there’s baggage. Not to mention a daughter and an ex-wife.”

  “That sounds kind of specific,” Lisa cut in. “Are you thinking of anyone in particular?”

  Cynthia bit her lip, annoyed at herself for being so transparent. Lisa didn’t know about Colby and Cynthia wasn’t ready to share. “When you’re in your twenties, you’ve got much less history,” she plowed ahead. “You’re both kids, so you’re learning together. But when you’re older, suddenly this person has ten or twenty years of adulthood that you know nothing about.”

  “Doesn’t that just give you more to talk about?”

  “I guess, but it also brings more baggage.”

  “You’re getting way too hung up on this. There are lots of single people your age. Life isn’t over because you have a few wrinkles.” Lisa gave her a shrewd look. “What’s going on? You haven’t ever seemed bothered by it before.”

  Cynthia looked out the window. “I’ve never been in this situation before,” she murmured.

  “Well, if you want to talk about it, I’m here,” Lisa offered.

  “Thanks.” Cynthia smiled. “I’m sick of thinking about it, though. Tell me more about this costume.”

  Lisa was making a costume for her daughter, Dannon, to wear to compete in the Miss Snow Valley Rodeo Queen pageant next month. The fabric section at Dove’s was woefully lacking in sequin trim, so Lisa and Cynthia were headed to Billings. Cynthia was not into sewing, but she looked forward to the day away from Snow Valley and the thoughts of Colby Schroder that seemed to invade her daydreams no matter how hard she tried to keep herself in check.

  Chapter 8

  Colby swung his pickup truck onto Cynthia’s street. He’d taken to driving by her house whenever he came into town, just to check on her. Nothing stalkerish—he just wanted to make sure she was okay.

  He pulled off the road in front of the house and frowned. The grass was overgrown, the flowerbeds and garden area were full of weeds, and the trees needed trimming. He knew she worked long hours at the hospital, but that didn’t explain why Jackson and Anoria couldn’t do it. What was their deal, anyway?

  He checked his phone; it was just after eight o’clock in the morning. His chores at the ranch were finished and he didn’t need to be back until evening to milk the goats. The bags of feed he’d come for at IFA were stacked neatly in the back of the truck and he had nowhere else to be today.

  He killed the engine, strode to the front door, and knocked.

  Cynthia answered a few minutes later. She wore scrubs and her hair billowed around her shoulders in a soft cloud. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him.

  “Good morning.” He grinned, wishing he’d thought to bring coffee and bagels. “I was in town and thought I’d come check on you. How are things going?”

  “Fine ... great,” she said. “Do you want to come in?” He stepped inside and she closed the door. “I’m just getting ready to leave for work. Do you want some breakfast? There’s toast.”

  “No thanks,” he replied, following her down the short hallway to the kitchen.

  There was a stack of dirty dishes by the sink and the dishwasher was open. “How’ve you been?” Cynthia asked as she went at the dishes with a flurry of motion, quickly scraping, rinsing, and loading them into the dishwasher.

  Colby folded his long frame onto a barstool. “I’m good. You seem very busy.”

  She brushed her hair from her eyes with the back of a wet hand. “Well, you know how it is, being a single parent. Always something to do.”

  He did know. But Lily was five, not almost fully grown like Anoria and Jackson. “Do you ... don’t the kids help?” he asked in a carefully neutral tone.

  Cynthia’s sapphire eyes clouded and his heart twisted. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  She shook her head. “It’s okay. They do help, some. Not as much as I’d like, but when Lee got sick ... I guess I felt like they’d been through enough and before I knew it, they were all grown up and set in their ways.” Cynthia gave a small self-depreciating laugh. “Funny how time gets away from you.” She grabbed a dishcloth and attacked the counter, scrubbing at the white tiles harder than was probably necessary.

  He reached out and put his hand over hers. She went still. “Can I help you?” he asked quietl
y. Her hand was cold and wet from the dishwater; it felt small and fragile under his.

  She raised her head and met his eyes, held his gaze for a moment, then a moment longer. His throat tightened and he dropped his gaze to her lips, then quickly back to her eyes.

  “What did you have in mind?” Cynthia said.

  What he had in mind was to lean across the counter and kiss her, here and now.

  Okay, Schroder, settle down.

  “When do you have to leave?” he asked.

  “I have to be at the hospital by nine.”

  “How about you go to work and I’ll stay here and rouse the troops?” he offered. “We’ll get the yardwork done while you’re gone, then we can all go bowling or mini-golf or something.”

  She flushed and drew her hand out from under his. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know.” He shrugged. “So which will it be? Bowling or mini-golf?”

  “I’m on a twelve-hour shift,” Cynthia pointed out.

  “Okay, so I’ll do something with the kids this afternoon and you and I can take a rain check on the bowling. How does that sound?”

  She was going to accept, he could feel it ... but at the last instant, she shot a glance toward the hallway and bit her lip. “I can’t.”

  “Cynthia, what are you afraid of?” he asked softly.

  “I’m not afraid,” she protested. “I just ... I need to go to work.” She tossed the dishrag into the sink and reached for a jacket hanging on a hook by the garage door. “I have a lot to do, I’m very busy,” she rambled as she thrust her arms into the jacket and zipped it. “And this is a small town where people talk.”

  “So let them talk,” he cut in. “I’m single, you’re single ... we’re not doing anything wrong. What’s the big deal?”

  She dug a hair elastic out of the pocket of the jacket and began gathering her hair into a ponytail. “I’m a lot older than you are,” she said around the elastic clamped in her teeth.

  “Seven years is not a lot older,” he argued. He’d gotten her age out of Jackson. “Besides, who cares?”