17
Amy stepped back and eyed the placement of the stained glass art piece with a critical eye.
“This is exactly where AJ hung it.” Brett held the frame against the window. “I can see the nail hole.”
“No, you can’t.” She sidled to the left then to the right. “I spackled all the holes before I painted. Besides, AJ hung it crooked.”
“Dani didn’t complain when she lived here.”
“I live here now, and I want it perfect.”
“You need to make up your mind because this thing is heavy. If I drop it . . .”
“Don’t move.” She ascended the stepladder, held up the chain, and marked where to drill the holes for the anchors.
Brett set the art piece on the floor while Amy installed the two decorative hooks above the window. “That should do it,” she said. “Cross your fingers.”
“I suppose you want me to pick this thing up again,” Brett said.
“Please.” While he held the stained glass against the window, Amy settled its chain over the hooks. “All done. But be careful.”
Brett lowered the frame until the chain held its weight, then released his hold. Stepping back, he admired the vibrant colors of the glass. Amy descended the ladder and joined him.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s perfect.” Colorful wildflowers, sheltered by the branches of a large tree, grew along the bank of a broad stream. When the sun’s rays gleamed through the glass, the reds, greens, yellows, and blues wavered on the cottage’s painted floor. “This is where it belongs. I’m glad AJ didn’t take it with him.”
“He bought it because it reminded him of Glade Creek.”
“Had Meghan ever been here?”
“I don’t think so.”
Amy dusted the frame and pretended to wipe at a speck on the glass. “I never understood why he tracked her down.”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
Something in Brett’s tone caught her attention. “That sounds mysterious.”
“I thought it was odd when he told me.” He slipped his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts and rocked back on his heels. “Now I understand.”
“So are you going to tell me?”
“It’s his story. Not mine.”
“Do you wish he hadn’t? Found her, I mean.”
“Maybe at first, but not anymore.” His dimples deepened with the width of his smile. “I’m crazy about that kid.”
“He’s changed you.”
“I hope so.” Brett pulled out his phone, checked the screen for messages, then tapped it against his leg, rotated it, and tapped it again. “I’ll tell you something if you promise not to sneer.”
“I promise.”
He stared at her, as if weighing her sincerity, then took a deep breath. “Once upon a time, nothing was more important to me than my business. Making deals and making money. But God has given me a second chance.”
“To do life right.” He rotated the phone again, then pocketed it. “He gave me Jonah and then he gave me Dani. We’re a family, a loving and happy family. Something I never thought I’d have. Nothing else in this world is more important.”
What about me? She tamped down the question and asked another one instead. “What about Meghan?”
“We’ll never be best friends, if that’s what you mean. But she’s giving me a chance too. Besides, we both want what’s best for Jonah.”
Amy concentrated again on the nonexistent speck on the glass. Brett didn’t need to spell it out for her. If Somers Investments, Inc., went belly up tomorrow, he’d still have what he valued most. His wife and his son.
And money. He’d still have money.
He stood beside her and slung his arm over her shoulder. “You can have a second chance too, you know. All you have to do is take it.”
So easy for him to say. He’d always made his own rules. Even when his life went sideways, he stayed in control. Eventually Meghan gave in and let him see Jonah. When Dani ran away from him, he flew—actually flew on a plane, something none of them ever did—to Boise to bring her back home.
When Amy didn’t say anything, Brett kissed her temple. “Anything else you need help with?”
You want to help me? You’ve left me.
“Not right now,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Like you said, that piece belongs here.”
“Who knew AJ had such great taste?” she said, forcing lightness into her tone. Her thoughts had turned too gloomy, and she didn’t want to spend the rest of the day in a foul mood. She wanted to imbue the cottage with cheer and light, not sadness and self-pity.
“He’d be surprised to hear you say it.” As they neared the front door, Brett pointed to the room that AJ had used as an office. She’d painted the walls the palest pink she could find before adding the mirrors, lighted vanity, and portable wardrobe racks. “I just hope I’m here to see his face when he sees that.”
“What did you expect me to do with all my clothes? The bedroom has one closet. One. And it’s no bigger than a . . . than a . . .”
“Than a what?” The bemused tone in Brett’s voice was oh so irritating.
“It was made for a hobbit.”
“It couldn’t be that you have too many clothes?”
“Don’t even start with me. I’ve seen your wardrobe. All those suits and shirts and—”
“Okay, okay.” Brett laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “Why don’t you come over for supper? It’s Tex-Mex Thursday at our house.”
She hid her exasperation beneath a warm smile. “Thanks, but now that all the painting’s done, I have a few more boxes to unpack.”
“Sure you don’t need my help?”
“I can manage.”
“The offer stands in case you change your mind.”
“Brett.” She no longer hid her annoyance. “Leave.”
He grinned, flashing those dimples that caused even sensible women to swoon. Being his sister had one advantage—she was immune to his charm.
After closing the door after him, she went through her dressing room to the cottage’s only bedroom. Once she unpacked these last boxes, the cottage would be, well, maybe not home. But as close as she could get.
She settled on the bed with one of the smaller boxes, then reached inside. First she unwrapped a crystal bud vase that had belonged to Gran, then a glass box she kept on her dresser to hold odds and ends.
The next item was encased in tissue paper and bubble wrap. She carefully unwrapped the ceramic figurine and placed it in the palm of her hand. Tiny white flowers adorned the rounded body of the delicate bluebird and gave it a cheery look. Two words appeared on the wing: Be brave.
She’d seen it in a gift shop in Richmond. Picked it up, delighted in the whimsical touches, then returned it to the shelf. But as she turned to leave, a still voice whispered, “Take it. It’s for you.”
Nothing like that had ever happened to her before. Dazed by the moment, she immediately purchased the little bird. Throughout her weeks at the treatment center, it perched on her nightstand. When she returned to her apartment, it resided near her favorite books. Now she needed to find the perfect place here at the cottage. A place where she could be reminded of the message meant for her.
She carried the bird into the long room and looked around. The cabinetry beneath the windows held a few potted plants, a large porcelain bowl, and an arrangement of candles and silver-framed photos. If she put a shelf above the stained glass . . . a clear shelf so that the ceramic bird appeared to be floating . . . Perfect.
Except then everyone who came into the cottage would see it and they’d read the two little words. What would they think of her for needing something like this? That she was a coward? Weak? That couldn’t happen, so she’d have to think of something else.
She cupped the bird in one hand and traced the black lettering with her fingertip, then wrapped it again in the bubble wrap.
Be brave.
If she heeded the message, she’d have to tell Gabe the truth and face the consequences. He’d be upset that she’d lied. He’d want an explanation, one she could hardly give him since she didn’t quite understand it herself.
Except he had no idea the power he had to hurt her. Because she couldn’t bear his disapproval, his rejection, she couldn’t let him know that she’d never loved anyone else but him. The memory pressed into her brain, and for once she couldn’t hold it back.
After the memorial service and lost in her grief, Amy could only stare at the headstone engraved with her parents’ names as her grandparents accepted condolences. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to hear “I’m sorry” one more time, and hardly knew how to put one foot in front of the other.
Then Gabe appeared at her side, his eyes rimmed in red. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. When their hands touched and she wrapped her fingers around the arrowhead he gave her, their hearts had entwined. His strength and his comfort gave her the only peace she experienced during that aching, lonely time.
As the nose of the black Lexus edged through the gap in the hedges, Gabe pulled back on the reins. “Whoa there, boys,” he said. “Don’t risk getting mauled by that beast.”
The Lexus pulled out a few more feet then stopped. A car door slammed, and a couple seconds later Brett appeared on the road.
“Hey, pardner,” he called up to Gabe. “If you’re looking for the Oregon Trail, you’ve got a mighty long way to go.”
“Just takin’ this here stagecoach over to Misty Willow,” Gabe said in the same cowboy twang. “Heard tell they’re planning a shindig there on Saturday.”
Brett patted Abner’s sloping shoulder as he walked past, then grasped the steel rim of the wheel. “Seriously, where did you get this?”
“Tess had it in one of her barns. She mentioned it to Shelby, and I got enlisted to take it over for the Heritage Celebration.”
Brett shook the wheel, then opened the door and peered inside. “Is it safe to ride in?”
“Safe enough on the road. But the pasture’s too rough to take folks back to the creek. We’re using the hay wagon for that.”
“So you got drafted into doing the hayrides? I thought that might happen.”
“Better that than docent duty. What do they have you doing?”
“Docent duty.”
Gabe grimaced. “Sorry, man.”
“It won’t be so bad. I get to spend the day with my bride while she talks about the history of the place.”
Gabe took off his Stetson and passed his forearm over his temple. “I still think I got the better job.”
“Gotta say, I’m a little jealous.” Brett looked admiringly at the coach. “Mind if I ride over with you?”
“Climb aboard.”
Brett grabbed the rail to pull himself up, then stopped. “How about we ask Amy?”
Gabe glanced at Brett and looked toward the hedges. The cottage stood behind that thick green barrier, and inside its walls lived the woman who had haunted him since they were teens. She’d changed since then. Grown hard from devastating grief. But he had to believe that beneath her tough veneer, she was still the adventurous, vulnerable, tenderhearted girl he once knew.
“I think the horses would make her nervous.”
“Amy? She loves horses. She used to take lessons from your aunt when she was a kid.”
“I remember.” Gabe shifted his gaze back to Brett. “When’s the last time she’s ridden?”
Brett thought a moment, then shook his head. “I couldn’t say. Guess it’s been . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“She told me about that place in Richmond.”
“Did she? I’m surprised.”
“She’s still hurting,” Gabe said. “Isn’t she?”
“I suppose. The last year, year-and-a-half, has been tough. On all of us.”
“We rode together a few times. That summer before your parents died.” Gabe slightly shook his head. “She says she doesn’t remember me, but I never forgot her.”
Brett stared up at him. “Do you have a thing for my sister?”
Gabe had stepped in it now. He wouldn’t lie, but he didn’t care to admit the truth either. “I thought it’d be fun to ride together again. She doesn’t seem interested.”
Apparently that wasn’t enough to convince Brett. “Amy’s private about the men she dates,” he said. “But they’re not good to her.”
Brett’s words caused a slow burn to wend its way through Gabe’s gut. “How do you mean?”
Brett didn’t answer, and his jaw tensed. Finally he focused on Gabe as if appraising him. “She’s fragile. Tread carefully.”
“I’d never hurt her.”
“No, I don’t think you would.” Brett backed away and held up his hand. “Wait right there.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get Amy.” He turned around and jogged back toward the gap in the hedge.
“Don’t.” Gabe set the brake and hurriedly dismounted. “Brett, hold on a minute.”
Too late. He had disappeared behind the hedge.
Gabe trudged to Abner’s head and stroked the gelding’s long nose. Casper nudged him, and he absentmindedly patted him too.
Hopefully Brett had enough sense not to repeat what Gabe had said. Though what did it matter? He was an ex-con without a home, without a future. He had a long road to travel before asking anyone to walk it with him.