Seeing Daylight (10 page)

“I mean it, Rachel. Peggy took him for the kids. Which means I got nobody at home waiting for me. Drifter could keep my toes warm at night. I could walk him, keep my sorry leg exercised. Get stronger.”

Rachel wanted to smile but Jace seemed dead serious. “Jace, I can't deny dogs are a big part of one's life. But your kids love Drifter. He's part of their lives, too. Why not start over with another dog? The shelter in Promise is full of wonderful pets who need a home.”

“Maybe you could go help me pick one out?” Jace's eyebrows rose hopefully.

Then she got it.
This was the lamest pickup line ever.
“Ah, Jace, you really don't want your dog back, do you?”

“Well, yeah. 'Course I do.” He shuffled his feet. “But mostly I wanted to see you.”

Rachel couldn't help feeling flattered. Two handsome cowboys in two days. Old times revved up inside her head. At least she and Jace had a history and wouldn't have to start fresh. Same as getting an older, broken-in dog. You didn't have to deal with all the unknowns.

Halt the chemistry or whatever it was with Brayton. Keep him at bay.

She nodded. “You know, a visit to the shelter just might work. I could look into a dog for my little boy.”

“Thought you had dogs running all over the place at the ranch.”

“We do. Working dogs. I'm thinking along the lines of a house pet. I'll likely move us into a condo at Woodside Meadows.”

“Ought to get a cat then.” Jace wrinkled his nose. “Dogs need a yard. Well, set me a time then. In the meantime, wanna get some Joe at the Coffee Corral?” His cheeks colored again. “My ma set up my bachelor kitchen with some kind of fancy coffee pot I haven't figured out yet.”

“And I can't imagine you've spent one single second reading the directions, either,” she said drily, glancing at her watch as she stood up. “Sure. I've got about forty five minutes before I pick up Matty at preschool. Let me get my jacket.”

 

 

 

 

10

 

Brayton's heart hummed along with the nameless tune coming from between his lips, and his boots kept time as they clattered along the plank sidewalks of Mountain Cove. God really did provide. The mercantile had had one official middle school sweatshirt left in Addie's size. She'd declared with great drama that she
needed
one.

Satisfaction laved him. She'd taken to the idea of a move and a new school like flint to fire. They'd come in from Red Hill first thing this morning to enroll her. Then he'd booked two comfy rooms at the Gingham Grove Bed and Breakfast Inn while the transition to the Woodside Meadows townhouse was carried out. Empty, cold, and never lived in, the place needed everything from the ground up. He didn't have much confidence in his personal taste beyond a leather coach and big-screen TV—he'd had an interior designer in L.A., and that stuff had filled up the Red Hill house just fine.

A girl could figure things out, although at this point in her life, Addie's preferences ran heavily toward hot pink and lavender. He grinned. This coming weekend, after her riding lesson, they would trek to Denver overnight, hit department and discount stores for every stick of furniture and utensil imaginable and get them delivered quickly as possible.

Thoughts turned to Rachel. In a perfect world, she'd be giving the riding lesson again. But if she didn't, and he were desperate, he could always seek her out for decorating advice. Today, certainly, would be the day to tell her about his plan to move. Yesterday's seriousness, and the fact that he hadn't yet told Addie, had deemed the sharing of such news intrusive, forced. Way too convenient. And truth to tell, she'd kind of avoided him after she popped the mac and cheese into the oven. Maybe his attempt at a kiss had turned her off. Then Rodeo College had kept him out of her way, and she'd been nowhere around when he and Addie had packed up to leave for their Red Hill Ranch in River Ridge.

Driving off without a goodbye had hurt. Hurt big time.

Women
. His heart tugged a tad in disappointment.

As she walked out of his thoughts, Rachel stepped right in his way in front of the Butterbean Café. He stumbled, but not because he lost his footing. It was seeing her arm hooked into that of a sturdy cowboy. He breathed deep to control his pounding heart.

“Excuse me, man,” said the guy as he drew Rachel out of the line of fire. “Sorry 'bout that.”

Well, it had been Brayton's fault, too distracted to watch where he walked, but Rachel's cinnamon scent on the air made it worth it. Blood ran quick in his veins. But what was she doing, all cozy with this guy when she'd made it clear she wasn't ready for romance?

“Brayton!” She sounded as shocked as he felt. “I…thought you were back in River Ridge?”

He wiggled the shopping bag as he steadied his voice, tried not to think of the weekend at Hearts Crossing Ranch with both its highs and its lows.

“Hmmm. Last night Addie and I had a long talk on the way back to the Red Hill. I've been homeschooling her, but we both decided it would be good for her to go to middle school. So we came in first thing to sign her up.” To lighten the awkwardness, to smooth the line between Rachel's eyebrows, he opened the bag and held up his purchase. “Finding a ‘Mustang' sweatshirt was my order for the day.”

Rachel's feet stirred restlessly, and she didn't smile. “Sign her up? But Brayton, this can't possibly be her district. Besides, the drive from River Ridge is horrible in wintertime. There's certainly no bus route that far out.”

It was time now, come what may. “I, um, we'll be moving here.”

“Leaving the Red Hill?” The furrow deepened. He thought he understood her chagrin. Why would a born cowboy rediscovering his country roots move back into a town, no matter how small, and leave behind the ranch he'd just acquired?

He nodded. “It's better for Addie. She needs people. I'm keeping the Red Hill. I've got a great foreman to run things. And, of course, we'll get back there often. But it's pretty remote. I'm readying a condo at Woodside Meadows.”

Rachel's beautiful mouth opened, displaying perfect white teeth. “What? And you didn't think to mention it when we were at the chapel there yesterday? When I told you I had my eye on moving there myself?”

“Time didn't seem right.”

“Hmmm.” Confusion drew a roadmap on her forehead again. “Well, I'm happy for you. Just surprised, I guess. So we might become neighbors. Good for us.”

But she didn't much sound like she meant it. Then she found her manners, gave one of her dazzler smiles to the cowpoke next to her. “My heavens, guys. Forgive me, Jace, for ignoring you. Brayton. Please meet Jace Bennett. Jace, Brayton Metcalf. His daughter is taking riding lessons at Hearts Crossing.”

Jace extended a hearty right hand, dislodging Rachel's arm for a split second. Then it snaked its way across his forearm again, and Brayton bit back a distinct flash of jealousy, barely returning the shake. He knew the name. And of course, the face.

“Jace Bennett? Champion bull rider.”

Rachel seemed to relax and Brayton's mood improved when she wiggled away from Bennett's arm. “Brayton rode saddle broncs in his college days.”

He almost didn't hear her. Anybody following the sport would recall the bruising champ named Dancer that had dashed Jace's career into the dust. “I watched you win the buckle in Las Vegas once upon a time.”

“Yeah. Once upon a time, now.” Jace peered down at his feet for a second before showing Brayton a weak grin. “That's a fact. Hey, you wanna join us for a cup of coffee and catch up?” Jace looked at Rachel as if for permission. Brayton's spirit lightened. Obviously, this wasn't a date.

“Sure.” Her cheeks pinked, and Brayton remembered yesterday. Better not.

Not yet.

“Thanks, but I've got some other things to see to. Enjoyed meeting you, Jace. Bye now, Rachel.” He touched his brim and moved out of their way.

“See ya around then,” Jace yelled as he and Rachel headed down the street.

Refusing the invitation didn't do Brayton any good. He longed for Rachel's scent, her nearness, and coffee sounded great. But when she didn't say a word or repeat Jace's invitation, Brayton took it as a snub. A jolt of caffeine was just what he needed to halt the headache starting to throb behind his eyebrows.

He headed inside the Butterbean Café, the next best place for a good cup of coffee. But he hesitated soon as he breeched the entry way. He'd met Kelley yesterday at Hearts Crossing and the last person he needed to run in to was a Martin. He breathed in relief as a waitress definitely not Kelley greeted him and seated him in a cowhide-upholstered booth. As he relaxed against it, he idly wondered if Addie would go for the look in their new kitchen.

“Welcome to the Butterbean, cowboy.” The waitress's nametag read Carol, and her smile showed interest.

“How do you do?” he returned politely as she handed him a menu.

“You're a tad early for lunch, but things are heating up just fine. In addition to the menu, you got a choice of Sloppy Joe's, regular style, or vegetarian Sloppy Josephines.”

He wasn't quite that hungry. After he'd checked in, breakfast at the inn had been massive. Local steak, eggs picked this morning, steel cut oatmeal and blueberry compote. “Not a meal, but something that's good with a hot cup of coffee. What do you recommend?”

Carol stood, hands on hips, and pretended to think hard. “Banana bread with cream cheese,” she said with a wink. “Or better yet, biscuits with homemade raspberry butter. They're like swallowing clouds, let me tell you.”

He swallowed hard, forcing happy memories of his Gram Adelaide's banana bread for a second before Rachel started up a stew of mixed emotions.

“Banana bread,” he said, wondering if his forehead looked as tight as his gut felt. For a while, he ripped open a packet of artificial sweetener while waiting for his order, and thought things through. Reminded himself of the vicar's words yesterday.

God knows what is going to happen tomorrow, next week. Next month, next year. And no matter the outcome, He will care for us.

Words that likely would have held no significance at all a week ago. They were so important now. God did work in mysterious ways.

In front of him, Carol set down a steaming cup of fresh coffee and a slice of banana bread on a white saucer painted with horseshoes. She smiled, lips full and appealing, definitely a striking woman, but with Rachel inside his head, no other female had anything to inspire him. Still, he returned a grin as he poured the sweetener into his coffee although he normally disliked the stuff. Today, though, he didn't want to waste it. Little things like that added up quick for a small business owner. And Rachel's sister owned this one.

“You're new around here.” She stated, not asked.

“Yeah. I'm Brayton.” He tossed a nod. “I got my daughter enrolled in school this morning. Staying at the B and B while I think things through.”

“Carol. Nice town, nice folks around here.” She set down the check.

“True enough.”

“Hope you settle in fine.”

Brayton didn't just hope so. He started to believe it
. No matter the outcome, He will care for us.
“Thanks.”

Unwilling to hole up at the inn, he settled against his roost in the quiet café. With Addie busy at school and his foreman taking charge at the Red Hill, Brayton realized the time had come to get the memorial art gallery up and running. Warmed by coffee, he made a phone call he'd been ignoring. Now he had the strength to bear it, to move on.

Sandy Lind, head of the art history department at Pac Arts, answered her own phone, and he quickly explained his plan for an art gallery in his late wife's memory.

“I can't believe the timing, Mr. Metcalf, and I remember Marianne well. Her thesis on subjugated female artists in the Renaissance set a gold standard. God rest her soul.” Her voice quieted for a second then gushed with enthusiasm. “Just this past summer we moved the student gallery to our new campus center. The old gallery is empty, but we might be on to something. It's sorely in need of a revamp, though….”

After some quick mental calculations, he spoke a sum, and could almost touch Ms. Lind's excitement over the miles.

“Mr. Metcalf, of course I need to present this…opportunity to the administration, but this very generous gift wouldn't go unrewarded. Let me put the proper parties in touch with you.”

“The only thing…” Brayton hesitated. “I'm wondering if the dedication show might feature a primitive Western artist…whose works I admire.”

“I'll put it to committee, of course,” Ms. Lind assured him. “Send us more information, some sample art, and we'll try our best to accommodate you.”

Brayton's heart so grew with elation and confidence that he held back running to the Coffee Corral to ask Rachel on a ride. But as he pocketed his smartphone, Kelley Martin Easterday approached from the kitchen, trim in her white chef's coat. Her braids and freckles had him smiling.

“Howdy, Brayton. What's up? You seem to be liking my banana bread?” She set her hand on her hips in a way that reminded him of her mother, despite Kelley's tall, reed-thin form.

“I've loved everything I've tasted that comes from the folks of Hearts Crossing.” He grinned, remembered making Elaine's mac and cheese while standing close to Rachel. His heart took a tumble. “You and your mother are very talented in the kitchen.” He motioned across the booth for her to take the bench across from him. “Can you sit for a minute?”

“Sure. Busy day for you?”

“Yeah.” He straightened his shoulders, Sandra Lind's enthusiastic conversation fresh in his mind.

“Then the Butterbean is the best place to take a load off.” Kelley beamed bright as her yellow curtains.