Wyatt grasped Rachel’s hand and her fingers wrapped tight around his. It was easier to think about riding than to think about the lost look on her face when she walked out of the house. She had looked pretty close to shell-shocked.
“Put your foot in the stirrup.” He moved his left foot and she slid her foot into the stirrup. “And up you go.”
He pulled and she swung her right leg up and over, landing behind him. The horse sidestepped and then settled. Her foot was out of the stirrup. He slid his foot back into place and glanced back at her.
“Ready?”
She nodded but didn’t say anything. Three minutes in the house shouldn’t have done this to her. Maybe she’d had a day like his?
Gatsby headed down the road at an easy clip, his gait smooth, his long stride eating up the ground and putting distance between them and the parsonage. Rachel was stiff behind him, holding the saddle rather than wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Where are we going?” Her voice trembled a little. She was close to his back but didn’t touch him.
“Nowhere, just riding. I haven’t done this in years. Since Violet is at the house I decided to get out and clear my head.”
He was taking steps. The girls were with Violet. They were fine. He was fine. Rachel Waters was sitting behind him, and he thought he could hear a quiet sob as the horse’s hooves pounded the pavement.
“We’ve got land down here. I’m going to cut across the field and hit a dirt road that will take us back to your place.”
She didn’t answer.
The gate was open and he rode Gatsby through the entrance. They hadn’t put livestock on this place since last fall. The grass was growing up and in a month or so they’d cut it for hay.
The moon was almost full and the silver light that shone down on the field was bright. The grass blew and the moonlight caught the blades, turning them silvery green. Wyatt slowed the horse to an easy walk. Behind him, Rachel sighed. He hoped she’d relaxed a little.
They rode through the field. Wyatt felt the presence of the woman behind him, even though she hadn’t touched him. He’d been impulsive in his life, but this one had him questioning what in the world he’d done. He’d planned on taking a ride and clearing his head. It wasn’t often that he had a few minutes alone. Instead of being alone, he had Rachel Waters on the back of his horse.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of something running through the grass. The horse must have seen it at the same time. The animal jumped a little, knocking Rachel forward. Wyatt held the reins steady and tightened his legs around the animal’s middle.
“Easy there, Gats. It’s a nice night for a ride, but I’m not looking for a big run.”
Rachel’s arms were now tight around his waist. He smiled and remembered high school, pretending a car had died or run out of gas on a back road. He kind of figured he could spur Gatsby just little and send the animal running across the field, and keep Rachel Waters holding tight.
Instead he eased up on the reins but kept the horse at a steady walk. “He’s fine, just startled. I think that was a coyote.”
“I think so, too.” Rachel’s cheek brushed his back and then was gone. But her hands were still at his waist.
“So what happened back at the house?” He eased into the conversation the same way he eased his way into the saddle of a green broke horse.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened with your mother-in-law?”
He glanced back and then refocused on the trail that was overgrown from years of neglected riding. Rachel readjusted behind him. Her arms slipped from his middle and her hands grabbed the sides of his shirt.
“Okay, rock, paper, scissors.” He turned sideways in the saddle and held his hand out.
She shook her head but she smiled and held her hand out.
“Fine. One, two, three.” She cut his paper with scissors.
He groaned. “Me first. Great. My mother-in-law isn’t positive I’m fit to be a parent right now.”
She didn’t respond.
“You still back there?” He glanced back, pushing his hat up a little to get a better look at the woman behind him.
“I’m here.” And then a sweet pause with her hands on his waist. “She’s wrong.”
“Thanks.” He spurred Gatsby a little and the horse picked up his pace. “He’ll be a good horse when we’re done breaking him.”
“Done breaking him!”
“Yeah, he hasn’t ridden double before tonight. In a few weeks we’re going to start him on roping.”
“Great, I’m practice.”
No, not practice, he wanted to tell her. But she was a soft, easy way to slip back into life. He hadn’t thought about dating too much, about any other woman taking Wendy’s place. It still wasn’t the direction he planned to take, but life was pulling him back in.
“You’re not practice. You’re helping me.” He assured her, smiling as the words slipped out, meaning more than she would understand.
“Oh, so I can add horse trainer to my résumé?”
That’s right, they were talking about the horse being broke to ride double, not about his dating life.
“Yeah, and since I spilled it, I think it’s your turn to talk.”
No answer. They rode for a few minutes in total silence. No, not total silence, tree frogs sang and a few night birds screeched. Her arms slid around his waist again. Her chin brushed his shoulder.
“I really can’t talk about it. It has to do with my dad and the church.”
The years in Florida doing youth ministry weren’t that far behind him. He got that she couldn’t talk. But whatever had happened, it’d upset her. He leaned back a little, turning his head. It caught him by surprise, that she was so close. His cheek brushed hers and she moved back.
A Justin McBride song filled the night air. Wyatt groaned and reached into his pocket for his phone. It was Violet. He answered and in the background he could hear Molly crying. He’d been wrong, to take off like this, to leave them.
“I’ll be home in five minutes.” He spoke softly to his mother-in-law, offered more assurances and slid the phone back into his pocket. “Mind going back to my place?”
She shook her head, but he wondered. If he was her, he’d probably mind. Man, even he wasn’t crazy about going back. It wasn’t about his girls. It was about not wanting to face Violet, not with Rachel on the back of his horse.
* * *
It took less than five minutes to get from the field to the dirt road and back to Wyatt’s house. Rachel held tight as the horse covered the ground in an easy lope. She tried hard not to think about falling off at the pace they were going.
Falling off or facing Wyatt’s mother-in-law? She had to wonder a little about which one would be worse. Falling off would leave more marks. She wasn’t that stupid.
“You okay back there?” Wyatt’s voice was raspy and way too sexy.
“I’m good.” Ugh, she was horrible.
He chuckled, his sides vibrating under her arms. “Of course you are. I promise, Violet isn’t dangerous. She’s overprotective of the girls. I guess I am, too. Maybe that’s why we clash on a regular basis.”
“They’re your girls, of course you’re protective. I don’t think you’re over...” She sighed.
“I’m overprotective.” He glanced back at her. “It’s okay, I can handle it. There are reasons, Rachel.”
“But sometimes...”
“No, not sometimes.” He reined in the horse. “Okay, sometimes. I know Molly needs to be able to separate from me. The hour or so a week that she’s in the nursery has helped.”
“I can see that she’s doing better.” Without knowing all of the reasons why Molly was afraid, it was hard to help her.
She held on as he cut through a ditch and up the driveway to his house. It looked as if every light in the house was on.
Nerves twisted a funny dance in her stomach as he pulled the horse to a quick stop next to the back door. He didn’t wait for her to slide off. Instead he swung his right leg over the horse’s neck and jumped off, leaving her sitting on the back of the saddle.
The door opened as she was sliding forward into the saddle, grabbing the reins as the horse started to sidestep. He calmed the minute she held the reins. Wyatt took the steps two at a time and met his mother-in-law and Molly as they walked out the back door. Molly held her arms out to him, no longer crying, just sobbing and hiccupping a little into his shoulder.
“I’m here.” He spoke softly to his daughter.
“She woke up and you were gone.” Violet, a woman with soft features and hair that framed a face that was still young.
“I shouldn’t have left.”
His mother-in-law shook her head. “Wyatt, there are going to be times that you have to leave.”
Rachel sat on the horse, waiting for them to remember her. She didn’t want to be the witness to their pain. She didn’t want to be the bystander who got in the way. Violet remembered her presence and turned to stare.
Emotions flickered across the woman’s face. Anger, sorrow, it was difficult to tell exactly what Violet thought about Rachel’s presence.
“I should go.” She didn’t really mean to say it out loud. She slid to the ground, still holding the reins. “It isn’t far. I can walk.”
Wyatt, still holding Molly, came down the steps. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll drive you home, Rachel. Molly and I can drive you home.”
“Rachel?” Violet walked to the edge of the porch. “Are you the Rachel that my granddaughters talk about nonstop?”
“I’m Rachel.”
“Wyatt said you cleaned his home last week. Are you interested in the job on a permanent basis?”
Rachel shot Wyatt a look and she wondered if that was what this night ride had been about. Had his mother-in-law put him on the spot and he’d used Rachel as his get-out-of-jail card because she had cleaned one time?
“She makes the house smell good,” said Molly, suddenly talkative. Rachel smiled at the little girl.
“Well, that sounds perfect to me.” Violet smiled at her granddaughter. “Do you cook?”
Rachel nodded because she had no idea what to say. She avoided looking at Wyatt because he probably looked cornered. She knew that she felt pretty cornered. Cleaning Wyatt’s house once did not make her a housekeeper and nanny.
“Perfect.” Violet looked from Rachel to Wyatt. “When do you want her to start?”
“Violet, this is something Rachel and I need to discuss.”
“Well, the two of you talk and I’ll go check on Kat.”
Rachel thought about reminding them that she was still there, still a grown-up who could make her own decisions, but the conversation ended and Violet went inside looking like a woman who had solved a national crisis.
* * *
“That went well.” He walked down the steps, still holding Molly, toward Rachel. Wyatt took the leather reins from Rachel. “Let me unsaddle him and I’ll drive you home.”
“I can walk. Or call my dad.” She hugged herself tight, holding her jacket closed against the sudden coolness in the wind.
Wyatt turned, pushing his hat back. He shook his head. “You aren’t walking. You’re not calling your dad. I’m driving you home. Right, Mol?”
Molly nodded against his shoulder. She looked so tiny in her pink pajamas and her dark hair tangled around her face. The security light caught her in its glow and her little eyes were open, a few stray tears still trickling down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry that Violet put you on the spot.”
“I understand.” She stepped closer. “Do you want me to take her while you unsaddle Gatsby?”
He dropped a kiss on his daughter’s brow and nodded. Molly held out her arms. Rachel didn’t know why it mattered so much to her, but it did. In her heart it mattered that this little girl would reach out to her. It changed everything.
It even changed that truck ride home, sitting with Molly between them and the stereo playing softly. It changed the way she felt when Wyatt said goodbye and then waited until she was in the house before he backed out of the driveway, the headlights flashing across the side of the house.
And then she refocused because her parents were still up, still discussing something that could change her life forever.
* * *
Wyatt turned up the radio as he headed down the drive and back to his house. Molly was in the seat next to him, curled over against his side. Her breathing had settled into a heavy pattern that meant she’d fallen back to sleep.
When he pulled up his driveway he could see Violet in the living room, watching for him to come back. His house. His life. His kids. Violet was their grandmother. As much as he cared for her, he didn’t care for facing off with her tonight.
He definitely didn’t like her trying to make decisions for him. Decisions such as hiring Rachel Waters to be his housekeeper. There were plenty of women out there who could do the job. Women with loose housedresses and heavy shoes. That seemed pretty close to perfect.
He stopped the truck and got out, lifting Molly into his arms and carrying her up the back steps. Violet met him. She pushed the door open and he stepped into the laundry room, kicking off his boots, still holding his daughter tight.
“You’re dating her?” Violet followed him through the kitchen.
Man, he needed peace and quiet, not this. He needed to put his daughter to bed and think before he got hit with twenty questions. He wasn’t dating.
He’d gone for a ride to clear his head and for whatever reason he’d let that ride take him straight to Rachel. It wasn’t like he’d planned it.
“I’m going to put my daughter in bed, Violet.”
He glanced back and she stood in the hallway, her eyes damp with tears but she wasn’t angry. He let out a sigh and walked up the stairs to the room Molly and Kat shared. Twin beds painted white, pastel quilts with flowers and butterflies. It was the perfect room for little girls to grow up in. Until they started fighting like barn cats and needed their own space.
That wasn’t something he wanted to think about, their growing up. He hoped they would always be close. He didn’t want to think about them in their twenties, having one major fight and pulling away until...
He didn’t want to go back and he wasn’t going to let his girls be him and Ryder.
He put his daughter in her bed and pulled the quilt up to her chin. She opened her eyes and smiled softly, raising a hand to touch his cheek. Sleepy eyes drifted closed again and he kissed her cheek. “Love you, Molly.”
“Love you, Daddy.” She smiled but her eyes didn’t open.
“I’m downstairs if you need me.” He walked to the door. “I’m not going anywhere.”
As he walked downstairs, he felt as if he was about to face the judge. Violet was waiting in the den. The TV was turned off. She put down her book, a book he knew she hadn’t opened. He took off his hat and shoved a hand through his hair. And he stood there in the middle of the living room, unsure.
“What’s going on, Wyatt?”
“There’s nothing going on, Violet. I’m being a dad to my daughters and I’m raising horses with Ryder.” He sat down on the couch and rubbed a hand over his face because he was a grown man and he really didn’t feel the need to answer her questions. But he owed her something. “I’m not dating Rachel Waters. She’s the pastor’s daughter and she takes care of the girls when they’re in the church nursery. She teaches their preschool Sunday school class.”
“I see. Well, she’s very pretty.”
“Right.” Was that a trick statement?
“Wyatt, someday you’ll want to date again. You’ll move on. That’s okay.”
He closed his eyes because it seemed like a real good way to avoid this discussion. Instead he got smacked upside the head with a vision of Rachel Waters. Facing Violet was easier than facing the image taunting him behind closed eyes.
Never in his wildest dreams would Violet have been the person telling him to move on.
“Hire her, Wyatt. She’d be perfect for the girls. They need someone like her in their lives.”
“They have me.” He twisted the gold band on his finger. Someday he would have to take it off. “No one can replace Wendy.”
“She was my daughter, Wyatt. I think I know that no one can replace her. But I lost a husband once and I do know that we can’t stop living.”
“I haven’t stopped living.” Okay, maybe he had for a while.
He hadn’t expected it to hurt when the grief started to fade and life started to feel like something he wanted to live again. Moving on felt like cheating.
“Wyatt, you’re a good dad. You were a good husband.”
He had wondered for a long time and never been able to ask if she blamed him. He sure blamed himself. He still couldn’t ask.
“It’s the hardest thing in the world, moving forward. But...” What else could he say? Moving forward meant accepting.
She leaned and patted his arm. “Don’t beat yourself up too much for having good days.”
She had lost her husband years ago. Wendy’s dad had died at work. A sudden heart attack that took them all by surprise. A few years ago Violet had remarried. He admired her strength, even if she did try to run his life from time to time.
“If you don’t hire Rachel, do you have any thoughts on who you would like to hire?” Violet picked up her purse and dug through it, pulling out a small tablet and pen.
“Someone capable.” He pictured Rachel and brushed the thought aside to replace it with a more suitable image. “Someone older.”
Violet laughed a little and wrote down something about unattractive older woman. Now she was starting to get it.