On Saturday morning, Anna had settled on the couch with a sad, reheated cup of coffee from the Coffee Hut—she'd bought a thermos when she'd been in town yesterday since no kitchen meant no coffeemaker—watching cartoons with the kids when the sound of an electric drill shocked her into spilling coffee onto her shirt.
"Mr. Kelly!" Mikey shot off the couch, cartoon forgotten. Gina was glued to the TV.
With a sigh, Anna called after her son, "Stay out of Kelly's way."
She was on her way to the stairs when Mikey yelled, "Mom!" and she detoured into the dining room, heart pounding.
The drill had gone silent. Had Mikey been hurt?
But he stood in the dining room, bouncing on the balls of his feet and his eyes alight. Kelly was behind him, in the doorway, holding the plastic sheeting away.
She became instantly conscious of the coffee stain that was spreading and the fact that the shirt it was spreading across was one of her rattiest ones. Ted had worn it when they'd first been married. She was still in her pajama bottoms. There were dirty dishes—the remnants of their breakfast—still strung across the dining table.
Because it was Saturday.
And he wasn't supposed to be here.
Kelly's lips twitched, but he didn't say anything as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"It's the weekend," she said inanely.
He nodded, expression serious. "So it is."
"Mr. Kelly said I can work with him today as long as you said it was okay, so is it okay, Mom?"
Her eyes cut between man and boy. Mikey's hopeful puppy-dog expression reminded her so much of Ted.
"Puleease?"
"I don't think we need to be in Kelly's way while he's working."
She knew just how much of a distraction Mikey could be and couldn't imagine Kelly wanting his help.
"It'll be fine," Kelly said easily.
"But what about...?" The other guy. Tim. She didn't know anything about the young man and wasn't sure she wanted Mikey around him. What if he were a bad influence?
She tried to glance past Kelly, but his broad shoulders filled the doorway, and the plastic sheeting behind his head make it impossible to see.
Kelly seemed to read her thoughts, as usual. "I gave Tim the day off, so I could really use the extra help."
Sure he could.
Mikey went on his tiptoes, eyes pleading, as if he could sense her wavering.
"I guess it couldn't hurt—"
"Yes!" Mikey pumped a fist in the air. "Thanks, mom. You're the best!" He rushed forward and threw his arms around her.
She met Kelly's eyes over Mikey's head, trying to warn him silently that if anything happened to her baby she would not be happy.
His eyes darkened, but he smiled when Mikey quickly turned back to him.
The plastic descended, and she felt a pang as if more than just a thin piece of see-through curtain separated them.
Mikey was growing up, and she couldn't help that, but this was more.
Did Mikey gravitate toward Kelly because he missed his dad? Needed a man in his life?
She'd been wrapped up in her own grief after Ted's death and then focused on raising the kids and surviving their day-to-day lives as a single mom.
Did Mikey have an unfulfilled need that she'd ignored?
It hurt to think it might be so. Panged when she heard the rumble of Kelly's voice—though she couldn't make out his words—and Mikey's answering chatter.
There were no answers to be found staring at the plastic where man and boy had disappeared. She made herself go upstairs and change into her favorite pair of fitted jeans and a checked button-up shirt.
Even if she felt muddled about Kelly's presence and Mikey's pull toward him, she could look decent.
She wasn't dressing to draw Kelly's notice.
She wasn't.
"And this is the rope ladder..."
Kelly sat next to Mikey, their feet dangling off the back porch as the boy showed him a detailed sketch of his dream treehouse.
In the distance, a cow lowed. Other than that and some bugs chirping, there was silence. No traffic. It was peaceful, especially with the bright blue sky overhead.
The boy had obviously spent hours on the drawing, as evidenced by the details of each board and even leaves on the tree branches as Kelly bent his head to look.
"A rope ladder might be kind of wobbly if your sister wanted to climb up."
Mikey pulled a face, and Kelly was hard-pressed to keep a smile off his face.
"I want the tree house to be boys only. Just for me and my friends."
He might think girls had cooties now, but wait until he got older.
"Hmm." Kelly thought about it for a minute. "But sisters can be fun sometimes, right? Plus, you've got to be real careful on a rope ladder. What if you're in a hurry to get up into your tree house? A regular old board ladder would be much faster."
Mikey kept his head down, looking at the picture, his index finger tracing the ladder he'd drawn. "I guess."
"Mikey?" Anna's voice carried through the open door to the kitchen.
"Out here!" Kelly called back.
Mikey jumped up and ran to meet his mom. He disappeared into the kitchen, but Kelly could clearly hear him. "Lookit! Mr. Kelly let me unscrew all the handles from the drawers and all the cabinet doors." Though he couldn't see past a few feet inside, Kelly could easily imagine Mikey pointing to the careful rows of screws, kitchen hardware and cabinet doors Mikey had stacked along one wall inside. The boy liked to organize.
"Oh, wow. That must have been a lot of turns on the screwdriver."
"I used the drill."
He felt more than saw her moving toward him, and then she appeared in the doorway, looking adorable in jeans tucked into her cowgirl boots. Scowling.
"You let him use the drill?"
She was riled. And it shouldn't make him want to smile, but it did.
"He's almost nine. Plenty old enough."
He could almost see the steam releasing out her ears, saw the wheels of her mind working behind her eyes. "But what if—?"
"I was watching him the whole time. He was careful." More careful than Kelly would have been at that age. Somebody needed to rough up the kid a little, teach him how to get good and dirty.
"But what about the cabinets? What if the drilled slipped?"
He shrugged. "Then I'd fix it when I sanded off the old lacquer."
She'd run out of arguments, but her frown remained.
Mikey and Gina tromped loudly through the kitchen, finally pushing mom gently out of the way. They both shoved each other, and then Mikey jumped off the porch.
Gina moved to follow, and Kelly found himself stretching out his arm to catch her even as Anna swooped behind and stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.
"Stairs, young lady."
"Aww, mom." But Gina quickly obeyed and joined her brother in the grass. She took off to the barn, but Mikey turned back.
"Mr. Kelly, wanna come see my horse?"
He shouldn't. He knew Anna wanted him to stay in the kitchen and finish the job, but he'd been working hard for two and a half days, and a few minutes in the barn wouldn't hurt anything.
He found himself on his feet and trailing the boy toward the large red structure across the grassy yard.
Anna muttered as she took up the rear.
A short-furred dog ambled out to meet them as they neared the barn.
"That's Otis," Mikey said. "He's been mom's dog since before I was born."
The dog's tongue lolled out in a doggie smile as Kelly dropped a pat on its head and followed Mikey into the barn.
The interior was cool and shadowed, sunlight filtering in through the double doors thrown wide. The scents of hay and horses had his nose twitching, but he managed to ward off a sneeze.
Mikey gestured him closer to a stall door.
"This is Samson."
A huge brown head came over the stall door, and the horse lipped Mikey's shoulder.
"Wow. He's big."
Bigger than Kelly had expected. He'd seen Mikey riding that first morning when the cows had blocked him, but he hadn't realized how big the horse was compared to Mikey.
The horse snuffled Mikey's hair, and the boy laughed, ducking away from the animal. It swung its head toward Kelly, making a sort of whuffle sound.
He couldn't help it, he stepped back.
Mikey looked at him with wide eyes. "You scared of him?"
He hated to admit to the sweat trickling down the back of his T-shirt, but it seemed too late to hide his reaction.
"Kelly was a city boy back when I knew him before. You've still never ridden?"
He glanced over his shoulder to where Anna was fiddling with a latch on a stall across the barn aisle. Gina sat in an empty stall nearby, playing with a doll and singing to herself.
"No. I've never ridden."
"He won't hurt ya," Mikey said, and darn if he wasn't wearing that hopeful look he'd given his mother just this morning.
Kelly wanted to tell him thanks, but no thanks, but the boy had been earnest and funny all morning. And made Kelly feel stirrings he hadn't felt in a long time.
So he found himself stepping forward under Mikey's guidance and rubbing along the horse's smooth nose, just under the tuft of hair falling over its forehead.
The animal made another of those whuffle noises, but this time Kelly didn't step back. Even though he wanted to.
"He likes you." Mikey seemed happy about it, which made one of them.
Kelly glanced back to see Anna still struggling with the latch. She grunted and finally it popped free.
"I could look at that for you," he said.
She shook her head, not really answering.
"I got a great idea!" Mikey exclaimed.
He was almost afraid to ask.
"I could teach you to ride. Every cowboy needs to know how to ride."
He opened his mouth to explain that he wasn't a cowboy, but Mikey had moved further into the barn. "C'mon, the tack room is down here."
"I don't think—" How was a boy going to teach a grown man to ride?
"Mom can help. Won't you, mom?" Mikey turned his charm to his mother again, but when Kelly looked, Anna's gaze was on him.
And she looked to be stifling a smile, her lips pinched together.
His stomach flip-flopped just seeing the mirth in her eyes—even if it was directed at him.
He shook his head in silent beseechment, opening his palms toward her to show he didn't know how to deny her son.
"I'll help." She stood with her hands casually on her hips. Her eyes hadn't left him this whole time. "If you promise to really get on the horse."
Then the horse nudged him in the back with its nose, propelling him forward a step.
It seemed everyone thought he should do it.
Anna hadn't thought this through.
She'd seen Kelly standing there with a help me look on his face, frazzled, and she'd been so glad to have their roles reversed that she'd spoken up—agreed to Mikey's plan—without really thinking about it.
Hadn't thought about having to dust off Ted's old saddle, because Kelly's bum wouldn't fit on Mikey's child-sized one.
Hadn't thought about standing close, heads bent together as she showed him the reins.
Hadn't thought about their fingers tangling or the zing that traveled up her spine and down every nerve ending.
She clearly hadn't thought about being eye-level with his muscled thighs or adjusting the stirrups for each of his feet. Touching him again, even if this time it was through layers of denim and leather boots. It was too intimate.
She blamed her son and the charm he'd inherited from his father.
While Gina played with her doll in the shadow of the barn, Mikey rattled off instructions on how to tell the horse what you wanted it to do, how to turn it, and even more, so much information than Kelly wouldn't possibly be able to remember.
When she stepped back, Kelly shifted in the saddle. Probably out of nerves, but it sent the horse forward a step, and, unprepared for the movement, Kelly weaved in the saddle.
"Whoa, boy," Mikey said, stepping in and taking hold of the bridle. Samson stilled, though his skin quivered.
She should have had Mikey take him out for a ride first to get some of his pent-up energy out. Although he was gentle, the horse liked to move, and he'd been cooped up in the stall since morning.
Kelly looked a little green.
"You okay, cowboy?" she asked. If he fell, he could be hurt, and what would that mean for finishing her kitchen?
"Fine," he said tightly.
But he wasn't the usual easygoing Kelly.
"You ain't afraid of heights, are you?" Mikey asked, intuitive as ever.
"Only a little," Kelly admitted.
And now she did have to stifle a laugh. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, but the motion didn't hide anything from Kelly, whose eye's flicked to her, then narrowed.
"You'll be fine, cowboy. You're only five feet off the ground."
She patted his leg and turned to go back to the barn. She had intended to take one of the other two mounts out for an afternoon ride before she'd gotten distracted by Mikey's idea.
She took Gina along with her as she circled the big field, keeping one eye on Kelly as he rode in stops and starts, Mikey trailing on the ground.
She couldn't hear him from this distance, but no doubt her son was chattering away.
She left them to it, confident that Samson would behave himself and that Mikey was horseman enough to keep Kelly from falling off.
She wrapped one arm around Gina sitting in front of her and let the mare have its head. Wind whipped through her hair, and Gina laughed with joy as the horse galloped over the property. Anna laughed with her.
They took their time, the movement and freedom a release that Anna definitely needed after having Kelly around the past few days.
But her mind kept circling to his nervousness around the horse, those moments of uncertainty. That he hadn't blustered his way through it, pretending confidence, surprised her. The old Kelly would've.
Ted had been a city boy, too. After college and their wedding, they'd come back to Redbud Trails, were she'd grown up. Her dad had passed the year before Mikey was born and had left them the farm. Because there weren't that many jobs in Redbud Trails, they'd been thinking of looking for work in Oklahoma City, about two hours away.
But when Dad had passed, it had made sense to stay.
Plus, she'd loved it here from her earliest memories.
They didn't have enough land for a huge herd, and the cattle didn't make that much money, but she was able to supplement most years with a large garden that provided fresh vegetables, and she did some marketing freelance work on the side.
They'd done okay, but Ted had chafed under the pressures of running the farm. Not knowing if the weather would hold to provide a good crop through the growing season. Late nights during calving season when they might have to pull a calf.
She loved the lifestyle, loved the outdoors, but Ted had never really acclimated.
She hadn't seriously thought about remarriage since Ted's death two and a half years ago, but if she was thinking about it, she knew she didn't want another city boy for a husband.
It might take all her effort to run this place and take care of the kids, and sure she didn't have time for every job—like the fence that was falling down along the south side of the property—but she loved it.
If she were looking, she'd be looking for someone to partner with here, on the farm.
Good thing she wasn't looking.
Anna returned to the yard at a slower pace. Gina, having been lulled by the ride, had fallen asleep against her. Her arm had started to ache, holding the little girl steady, but she knew she wouldn't have many more moments like this. Both kids were growing up too fast—Mikey was already outgrowing the nicer jeans she'd bought him to wear to church on Sundays—and soon Gina would be riding on her own.
She was surprised to see Mikey on Pepper, the older gray mare that had been in her stall when Anna had taken off on her ride. He and Kelly ambled along, their mounts dallying across the field.
She could see Mikey's mouth moving, still chattering, though she imagined Kelly would be tired of it by now. She was surprised he hadn't taken off. What about his normal Saturday plans? Surely they hadn't included hanging out with a bright eight-year-old.
She reined in near the pair, noticing that Kelly's nose was a little pink from being in the sun. And his seat was more relaxed now. He looked more natural in the saddle, his thighs flexing. She averted her eyes, but her thoughts weren't as quick to follow.
She was just in time to hear Mikey expounding on the merits of a sturdy oak at the edge of the woods.
Still talking about his treehouse.
A lump rose to her throat. It was the last conversation he'd had with Ted before her husband had died unexpectedly of a brain aneurism.
She'd thought he'd forgotten about it until recently, when he'd learned Kelly was a builder. And now he seemed fixated on it.
If she had money to burn, she'd hire someone to build him a treehouse.
"I think you're right about that being the one," Kelly agreed. "The trunk is nice and wide and would support a structure like the one you want."
Mikey pushed his cowboy hat back on his head. "Do you think you could help me build it?"
"Mikey," she warned.
He knew better than to ask for something as huge as that.
But Kelly waved off her warning. "I'll build you one."
She gasped, his words like a punch to her solar plexus.
"Promise?" Mikey's jaw had firmed, and his tone spoke of his intensity in the request.
"I promise."
She wheeled her mount and headed back to the barn. She left her horse tied off for a few moments while she took the still-sleeping Gina inside and laid her on the couch. Then she returned to the barn to remove her horse's saddle and brush it down.
When Mikey and Kelly came in minutes later on foot and guiding their horses by the reins, she took the reins and sent Mikey inside to wash up.
She was too worked up to say a kind goodbye to Kelly, but, apparently, it was too much to ask for him to get in his truck and go home, because he came up beside her as she hauled Samson's saddle off.
The heavy weight strained the muscles of her arms as she turned to lug it to the small closet they used to store the tack.
Kelly was in her way.
"I can help," he said.
She brushed past him. "You've helped enough."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he called after her.
She ducked into the tack room and deposited the saddle on its pommel, stopping to take a moment and breathe through the ache in her chest.
She didn't want to say something she'd regret, but when she returned to the barn proper, words spewed out before she could temper them.
"You shouldn't have promised Mikey you'd build a treehouse," she snapped.
He looked so earnestly confused that for a moment, a completely different pain took her heart.
"You don't want me to build him a treehouse," he repeated slowly. "But you're letting me reno your kitchen...?"
His words trailed off in a question.
"If you stick around to finish it."
Her barb struck true. She saw the light dim in his eyes. "You still think I'm going to flake out," he said flatly.
She shrugged and crossed her arms across her middle, looking past him. She still needed to brush both horses and put them away with grain and water, but she couldn't do that with him here.
"I can't make you believe me, but I will finish this job," he said. The warmth had gone out of his voice, replaced by something else she couldn't identify. "And that tree house is important to him."
"I know it is!" Without meaning to, she was almost shouting the words at him, and she was surprised to find her vision blurred by tears.
Of course the treehouse was important to Mikey. It was a link to his dad. But she didn't want Kelly to be the one to give it to him.
Kelly slammed into his truck, shaking and unable to catch his breath.
He'd followed Anna into the barn, hoping that with the way she'd opened up today—she'd even smiled at him once!—she would be receptive to hearing him out and maybe start working on the forgiveness he craved.
Instead she was angry and tearful about the promise he'd made to Mikey. He didn't understand where her emotions were coming from, but he was smart enough to realize he'd stepped in something.
He should've found a different way to make amends. Should have just sat her down and said what he needed to say.
And not tried to prove anything to her.
That was his big mistake here, wanting her to see, to believe he'd changed. That and letting his heart engage.
He liked Mikey. He hadn't interacted much with Gina, who seemed content to play in her own little world, but Mikey had welcomed him. Made him feel wanted. Kid had even invited Kelly to the church picnic tomorrow.
And if that didn't open up old wounds...
He drove back to the tiny motel in Redbud Trails, mulling it over in his head.
His was still the only vehicle in the parking lot. Probably the only room rented.
He showered away the day's grime and thought about walking down Main Street to the diner, but he wasn't hungry.
He let his hands run down his face.
He wasn't hungry, he was hung up on Anna.
Again.
And she—still—didn't want him around.