Dream a Little Dream (17 page)

“S
o how's the weather up there?” Bob said, as he halted Clyde with the simple touch of his hand to the big horse's forehead. Molly had done very well. She had a natural seat in the saddle, which made learning to ride that much easier.

But she was already beat-up enough from the calves. He didn't want her not to be able to walk tomorrow because her first lesson had gone on too long.

Still, he was reluctant to end the lesson. They'd relaxed and things were flowing easily between them again. For the moment. He wasn't certain why he'd even offered the lesson. Who was he kidding—he hadn't offered it—he'd talked her into taking the lessons. But while he'd been burning those letters, all he could think about was how much she would enjoy learning more about his way of life.

“I love it! I really do think I could grow to love this.”

Leading Clyde to the stall, Bob moved to help her dismount. “Like I told you—”

“I know, I know,” Molly cut in, grinning. “This cowboy life can be addictive.”

“Out of the mouth of babes comes the truth.”

She made a face at him but made no move to dismount. “Bob, could I write about learning to ride and also about the wild experience of feeding Baby One and Baby Two? I wouldn't have to mention your name if you don't want me to. I can just mention a really wonderful cowboy who helped me.”

Looking up at her, he figured in that moment, with the happiness written all over her face, he'd have said yes to anything. “Actually, I look forward to reading what you have to say on both subjects.” Truth of the matter was her articles had actually done something nice for him. He'd meant it when he'd told her that he was glad he'd had the chance to enjoy her company.

“Awesome. Thank you. I really think my readers will get a kick out of it. Just like I have.”

He watched as she swung her leg over Clyde's back and stepped down, holding on to the saddle horn for stability. “It shows. Look at how well you did that. I thought you hadn't ridden before.”

She bit her lip and looked disarmingly sheepish. “I watch television and they always do it that way.”

“Oh yeah. The good ol' TV. What would we do without it?”

“I think we would probably do very well.”

“I agree,” he said. “Just think what kids are missing.”

“You want lots of children, don't you?” She reached to help him lift the saddle from Clyde.

He picked up a grooming brush. “I do. I can't help
myself. I want kids. I want little girls and I want little boys. Just thinking about them makes good things happen in my heart.” He paused, brushing Clyde's coat down, and looked at Molly. She was watching him with an expression he couldn't read. “I believe God equips us for the task that He puts before us. I think being a lonely kid basically without parents has equipped me to be a great parent and husband. Because I want it so much, family is something I'll never take for granted.” He let the brush run down Clyde's flank, thinking hard about all that had transpired during the course of the day.

“You'll be a great father.”

Molly's quiet assurance meant a lot to him. He met her gaze.

“You would be a great mother.” It was sad that she didn't want kids. Sad in more ways than one, sad that they had such different outlooks on life. He wished…

Molly shook her head. “I don't think I have it in me.”

“Sure you do.”

“No.”

Her reaction surprised him. He'd thought she didn't want children because of her career choice. Could it be she really believed she wouldn't be a good mother? “Molly, you were ferociously determined to take care of Baby One and Two. I mean, sweetheart, you did not take failure as an option. And then you bonded with them. Now I know they aren't children, but they do show how strong the mothering instinct is inside of you. And now you want to brag to the world about what fun you had doing it. I think that's wonderful.”

His smile was meant to encourage her. She looked
away from him, but not before he saw what looked suspiciously like longing.

“It's strange,” she said hesitantly, lifting her hand to rub Clyde's neck. “In many ways our childhoods were similar. I mean, you were raised in a boarding school without your parents and I was raised at home with both my parents there, yet I was just as alone as you. Do you see that?”

He nodded. From what she'd told him she'd lived a very isolated life. She still lived an isolated life. He wondered if she realized the kind of lifestyle she was aiming for. Always the observer, rarely the participant. It wasn't good for her. He'd enjoyed pulling her away from that solitude. It would be his pleasure to continue to draw her out. But if she truly had wanderlust in her blood, as his father'd had, nothing would hold her back. He had been struggling to understand God's reasoning for what had been happening in his life over the past week. He'd run the gamut of emotional feelings. He was at a point of no return, something he wasn't ready to look straight in the eye. But he was praying that the Lord would lead. For both of them.

Molly let her hand drop from Clyde's neck and walked away.

“Good boy,” he whispered to Clyde. He patted his horse on the rump, watched him trot out into the round pen, and only then did he dare trust himself to follow Molly.

She was standing at the entrance of the barn staring out toward his house. Framed in the double door opening of the barn, she looked small and starkly alone. His chest ached for her, and it had nothing to do with his broken ribs. He limped to stand behind her, fighting
off the urge to reach out to her, something he'd wanted to do all afternoon. But he kept his hands away, tucking them into his pockets instead.

“Molly, what are you afraid of?”

“Making the wrong choice.” She reached to twine her fingers in the chain around her neck, a movement as natural to her as sticking the pen behind her ear each morning, but instead she let her hand fall back to her side.

Her revelation stunned him. “I thought you knew exactly what you wanted out of life,” he blurted out, stepping closer to her.

She shook her head. “Not anymore. Honestly, I'm so confused, I…”

Bob's heart kicked up, and before he could stop himself he took her arm gently and tugged her around to look at him. The emotion in her eyes spoke to a hope inside him.

“Molly,” he started, not certain what words were forming in his mind, which was still reeling from the sudden impact of her admission.

“Don't.” She lifted her hand to his lips, shook her head then hurried away.

He let her go. His heart was pounding the chant that he should stop her. Yet his mind was listing alphabetically the reasons why the hope in his heart wouldn't work.

 

Fear. That's what she felt. Sheer, get-me-out-of-this-tight-space kind of fear. Her heart was pounding as if she'd just dropped fifty stories in an elevator without cables. When Bob had talked about kids, something inside of her had charged to life. She'd never let herself
think about kids. Her life as a child hadn't given her any maternal instincts. Nothing had. She admitted that honestly. Lilly and Cort's baby, Joshua, was the cutest little boy she'd ever laid eyes on—and she even enjoyed holding him for about two whole minutes—but to actually be a parent hadn't crossed her mind. Mostly because, one, she figured she'd be lousy at it and, two, she was scared of it. What if she didn't have the instinct? Her parents hadn't had the natural instinct. Either that, or they just didn't care about it. Things were genetic. What if she was like them?

And what about travel? She would never do to her child what Bob's dad had done to him. Poor Bob. To have lost his mother at a young age, through death, and then to lose his dad to a career choice. It was horrible, but it happened every day.

Molly chose not to have children if she couldn't commit to them. What was she saying—she'd chosen not to have a husband, either.

Her hands were shaking when she started her car and drove away from Bob. She could see him in her rearview watching her until she drove over the hill that protected his house and barn from view of the road. She'd run away. Like a child!

She crossed the cattle guard, and turned toward Mule Hollow and sanity. Maybe. In her mind she backtracked, trying to come to some kind of determination of what was happening to her.

She had only begun to feel the love of a father after coming to know the Lord as her personal Savior. Things had been changing since that day in Lacy's salon where
she gave her life to Christ. Feelings that had been locked inside her heart were coming out, and sometimes she didn't handle them well. Sometimes she didn't know what to do with them. Like reservations about her dreams. Dreams she'd had since childhood. Dreams that had sustained her through disappointments and sorrows. Doubts that she'd continually denied, pushed back into the shadows.

She'd spent her entire life meeting one goal after the other, which would eventually lead her to the far-away places she'd dreamed of. The streets of Brazil. The jungles of Africa. Dreams that would take her to the stories she wanted to tell.

Or were they dreams that would simply help her escape?

She needed to seek the Lord in prayer. Needed His holy guidance. There was a tug-of-war going on in her heart and she knew only God could lead her to still waters. She just had to trust Him. And hear His words when He spoke.

It was nine o'clock when she walked into her apartment and dropped her backpack on the couch. Her head was still spinning as she walked through the small, dark living room and into the kitchen. Turning on the light above the stove, she filled a small pan with water, then went to her room and made quick work of showering off the smell of horse, cows and dirt. Not very glamorous, but so completely satisfying.

The water was boiling in the pan when she made it back to the kitchen. She sighed, pouring it over the bag of green tea she'd placed in the bottom of her cup. The
room was quiet as she methodically took the string and let the tea bag swim in the cup. The clock seemed to pound out the passing seconds as Molly glanced around the tiny apartment softly lit by the glow of the single bulb above the stove. She was struck emphatically by the aloneness and isolation that surrounded her. She'd been isolated all her life. Was this really the life she wanted?

Right now the only thing she was certain of was that she wanted to go to the auction with Bob tomorrow. And it had nothing at all to do with writing research.

She was taking a sip of tea when she noticed the blinking light on her answering machine.

 

Bob pretty much held his breath waiting to see if Molly was going to show up to go to the auction. When her yellow car topped the hill, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He'd wanted her to come. It was good for her to be getting out and experiencing new things. Any other reasons he had for being glad to see her he pushed away as secondary and not up for debate. Today was about getting Molly involved in something other than what she could create with her fingers and a computer. No analyzing, no thinking about why and why not. He simply wanted to spend the day with Molly. He
needed
to spend the day with Molly.

She pulled to a halt beside the truck and smiled when he opened the door for her.

“I'm glad you came,” he said, happy when she took the hand he offered her. Her eyes met his and she hesitated, then gave him a wavering smile. She had on jeans and a soft green shirt that set off her eyes. As usual her beauty
tugged at him, especially since he'd come to know the person behind the beauty was so undeniably wonderful.

“I couldn't pass up a chance like this,” she said. “But what about Baby One and Two? Do I need to feed them before we go?”

And she thought she wouldn't make a great mother. “I rigged them a stationary feeder, so you don't have to get dirty before we go.”

“Oh.”

He was surprised by her reply. “But you can feed them this evening.” That got him a smile. He wondered if something more was bothering her. She seemed unsettled.

“I'd like that,” she half laughed. “I've grown attached to the little monsters.”

“I do believe, Miss Popp, that we can make a cowgirl out of you yet.” He opened the door of the truck for her then closed it behind her. By the time he made it around and had climbed into the driver's seat, the truck interior already smelled of the soft scent of flowers that he'd come to associate with Molly.

“You don't even act like your leg hurts. That amazes me.”

Maybe he'd just imagined that something was bothering her, he thought as he checked his mirrors then pulled out of the yard. “Believe me, compared to the way my ribs felt in the beginning, the leg doesn't hurt at all. The boot is pretty cool, it takes all the weight. Problem is, I haven't figured out how to get a spur on it.”

Molly laughed and Bob had never felt more right. He knew if he could spend the rest of his life making Molly laugh, his life would be perfect.

Today was going to be all about showing Molly his world. Of course it had been nagging at him ever since he'd asked her to come what he thought he was going to accomplish by this. She would be leaving and he would be heading down a road to heartbreak.

The jolt of the cattle guard made his ribs feel as if they were grinding together, but one look at Molly and he didn't feel a thing. He would take what he could get.

As they sped down the road toward Ranger, Molly seemed distracted. He chalked it up to her writing and the way her mind worked. He told himself she was thinking about a story. After all, he'd witnessed her nearly bump into walls during all the months he'd watched her scribbling in that pad she kept in her back pocket. Her everpresent stories…

He was jealous. He admitted it.

He wanted a wife who was into him and the children they would have. So what was all this about? Was it so wrong that he'd wanted the day to be about Molly and getting her involved in something other than writing? Not that she hadn't been completely upfront about why she'd come.