“Emily!” A voice came from the trail behind her.
Halfway to her Jeep, Emily stopped and turned around. “Hey, Hector.” She tucked straying tendrils of hair behind her ear and smiled at the brown-skinned boy as he jogged to catch up with her on the path.
He stopped and bent with hands on knees, huffing. “You coming back tomorrow?”
“No, I’m off this weekend. What’s up?”
Hector checked out his shoes, shook his head, and looked up. “Nothin’. Just wondered.”
Emily studied him for a moment. “Family visit weekend?”
He nodded.
“Okay.” She tilted her head for a better look at his face and his nonverbal cues. “Are you worried about it?”
“Naw, nothin’ like that. I just wondered if you wanna meet my grandpa, that’s all.”
Ah. Poor Hector. Even with a mentally unstable mom who’d repeatedly left him with total strangers, no clue if he had a dad, and an uncle who spent more of his time in jail than out, Hector never gave up trying to piece together some kind of a family.
Some would expect him to be hard and angry, yet Hector was one of the sweetest kids she’d ever met. Generous and tenderhearted, he was a boy she wished she could adopt herself, to shield him from further heartache and show him his life mattered.
But she probably shouldn’t make those kinds of promises—to a kid or anyone else.
Hope glistened in Hector’s eyes.
A deep twinge tugged at her chest. “I would like to meet him, Hector, but I’m going to be gone this weekend. There’s something I need to do. I’m really sorry.”
The boy shook his head. “Naw, man, it’s cool. Yeah. You probably got a hot date.”
With a wink, Emily nodded. “Yeah, a really hot date. With a bunch of old people.”
He made a face that looked like he’d just found a slug in his Big Mac.
Emily chuckled. “Actually, my great-aunt is away on a beach retreat with her seniors’ group from church and I need to go hang with them and ... make sure she’s having a good time.” And being safe. And remembering her meds. And not causing herself embarrassment.
“Aw man, you mean you have to keep teenagers and old peoples out of trouble? That’s whack. No wonder you got no boyfriend. A’ight. But if you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.” He started back toward the house, walking backward. “Hey, just so you know, my grandpa’s name is Hector too. I mean too like too, not number two.” He almost tripped on a clump of sagebrush. “I’m Hec Two. Hector Emilio Cuevas the Second. Works two ways. Get it?”
“That’s cool, Hec.” She flashed a double thumbs-up.
“It’s like Hec to the second power.” He emphasized power with both hands splayed down like a rapper. Pretty good for an eleven-year-old.
“Yeah, I totally get it.” Emily laughed. “See you Monday, Hec Two.” She trekked down to the staff parking lot. So many of the kids at Juniper Ranch felt painfully lost and abandoned. Though they were in good care now with Sue Quinn and the other counselors, the loss they’d suffered still pressed in on Emily, making her heart ache.
Lord, being dumped hurts so much. Help these kids get past it. Help me do everything I can to make them feel wanted. Help them know that they matter, in spite of what others have told them. Or not told them.
She dug her phone out of her pocket and checked the recent calls. The last call to her dad was more than a week ago, and he wasn’t any happier to hear from her that time than usual. But she’d promised her dying mother, and a promise was a promise, no matter how long ago she’d made it. Or how difficult it was to carry out.
When she reached the Jeep, she hovered a finger over the redial button. First, though, she needed a moment to bolster her heart and mind. Emily leaned her back against the Jeep’s warm metal, heated by a full day’s sun, and closed her eyes. A gentle breeze blew strands of hair across her cheek, straying from her loosely clipped up-do. She drew in a breath of clean, dry air and let it out slowly, let it carry away the sorrow, the pity. The dread.
He didn’t need to hear any of that in her voice.
Emily opened her eyes and caught her reflection in the side-view mirror. She pulled out the clip and shook down her hair. After searching her bag for lip balm, she smoothed it over her dry lips, then shot a practice smile into the mirror. She stared at her dad’s number again.
So, what to talk about this time? Sorry, Dad. I know you can’t stand the sight of me, and I have no clue why, but I promised Mom I wouldn’t let you pull away after she was gone, so here I am. Again.
She leaned against the Jeep and, with a deep breath, punched the dial button.
Several rings, a click, a mechanical greeting.
Emily cleared her throat and forced a respectful smile that would hopefully come across in her voice. “Hi, Dad. Just calling to check in. I guess you’re not stuck at home grading papers. Hope that means you’re out doing something fun.”
Something besides the tavern.
She bent a jean-clad knee and rested a boot on the door. “My job is going really well. Juniper Ranch is awesome. I love helping the kids build confidence and skills they’ll need to succeed later on their own. It feels good to be a part of that.” She closed her eyes.
Her dad used to be happy. Before her mom died. Before both their worlds went spinning blindly off course.
Aiming for more cheer than she felt, she said, “Aunt Grace is still improving. The doc thinks her recovery is amazing. He said the extra therapy we’re doing at home is making a huge difference.”
A vehicle approached, the cloud of dust stirred in its wake growing closer gradually, as though the car were moving slowly, uncertainly. Which was not unusual. People often got lost and wound up at Juniper Ranch only to be redirected back to the highway.
Emily brightened her smile. “Well, Dad, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you soon.” She gathered her nerve with another deep breath. “Love you.”
A Honda Civic came into view. The little hatchback slowed to a crawl as it passed her and then stopped.
She punched the call off and stuffed the phone in her pocket.
A tall, dark-haired man unfolded himself from the car. He looked at her, then up at the main house, then back at her.
“Hi. Can I help you?” Emily pushed off from the Jeep.
The man approached with long strides. Tall, broad-shouldered, lean. Comfy, worn jeans and an untucked, button-down shirt. As he came near, the questioning look in his dark eyes startled her.
For a second, she forgot to breathe.
Oh. My. Goodness.
“I hope so,” he said. “I’m looking for Grace Clark or Emily Chapman.”
His voice sent a shockwave through her. It may have been the rumbling depth, but more likely, it was the Scottish accent. Stronger than Aunt Grace’s, but similar. A tingle ran along her nerves.
“I went to their home, but no one was there. The postal clerk said to try here.”
Pulse racing, her thoughts whirled. Who was he? What did he want with her and Grace? And why couldn’t she tear her gaze from those intense brown eyes?
A slight frown creased his brow. “Do you know where I can find them?”
“Yes.” Emily lifted her chin and offered a polite smile. “I’m Emily.”
Ian stared at the young woman with the warm smile and sun-spangled hair who stood waiting patiently for him to say something.
There had to be some mistake. She couldn’t possibly be Emily.
His mind raced back to the letters. There were a number of things he had grown to appreciate about his American correspondent. A natural bond had developed between them. A bond that Ian had shared with a stout, tenderhearted spinster on the downhill side of middle-age.
Or so he’d thought.
A small gust of wind blew strands of hair across her face. She tucked them behind her ear.
Ian caught scent of that sweet, familiar fragrance. It took a moment, although it felt like an eternity, to find his voice. “You’re Emily?”
She nodded, her little, arched brows rising slightly. “And you are?”
“I’m ...” At a miserable loss. “Ian—Ian MacLean.” He held out a hand.
“Ian?” Emily’s eyes grew wide. “What a surprise!” She shook his hand, but a hint of confusion crossed her brow. She tilted her head and looked past him to his rented car. “Is she—I mean, is Maggie here too?”
“No, it’s just me. I’ve been in Portland this week. On business.”
“Oh, I see.” Relaxing with a light smile, she nodded. “So how did you like Portland?”
As he answered her questions about his trip, his mind worked frantically to reconcile the Emily he knew from the letters with this woman—this very lovely, young woman—who had apparently been his pen pal for the past two years.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ian. Aunt Grace will be—” Her smile faded. “Um, actually ... she’s not here.”
“At the ranch?”
Emily shook her head. “I mean she’s gone. She went to the beach on a senior’s retreat. They won’t be back until Tuesday. When do you leave for Scotland?”
“Monday.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Frowning, she seemed to be considering how to proceed. “Aunt Grace will be really disappointed she missed you.”
Was that true? Or was this Emily’s graceful way of covering for a difficult, old woman? It didn’t matter. Either way, he needed to see his great-aunt. But while he tried to focus on finding the absent woman, he couldn’t stop staring at the one in front of him. Her hair was most definitely not white, but a rich amber brown that fell in soft, loose waves round her shoulders. Her eyes were the same color, and her mouth—
“We could try calling her,” Emily said.
He cleared his throat. “Actually, Emily ...” Her name suddenly sounded like a foreign word on his lips. “If you don’t mind, I need to see her. How far is it to the beach?”
Emily stared at him for several long seconds. “About a five-hour drive.”
“Five? That’s what they said about the trip here from Portland. Is everything in the States always so far then?”
She nodded. “For Central Oregon anyway. Pretty much everything’s a long drive for us, unless we’re going to Fort Rock or Paisley. Most people think we’re in the middle of—”
“Paisley?”
“Yeah. It’s about fifty miles from here. You’ve heard of it?”
“I grew up in Paisley, the one in Scotland. Near Glasgow. It’s about fifty miles from us as well.”
“Really? What a coincidence.” Her words were soft and polite, but a look of unease brewed in Emily’s dark eyes. She studied his face for a moment until her dainty eyebrows creased into a frown. “You’ve come a long way, so naturally you want to ... visit Aunt Grace.”
“Right.” Visit. And get some answers.
She examined him as though searching for something.
He shifted his focus beyond the silent, rocky terrain to the distant highway that snaked through a broad expanse of sagebrush-dotted land. “So if you would point me in the direction of the beach, I’ll just go—”
“No!”
“Sorry?”
“Um ... what I meant was ... I’m going there tomorrow. To hang out for the weekend. The seniors have an ocean-side lodge all to themselves and I’m sure there’s room for us—” Pink burst through her cheeks. “I mean, if you don’t mind tagging along.”
“So you’re going?”
“Yes.”
Ian scanned the valley again. Half a day’s drive there, a day with Grace, and another long drive back. With her. Emily was attractive. Most definitely. Which was, of course, irrelevant.
And the very last thing he needed.
He drew a deep breath of sage-scented air and exhaled. “Right, then. We can go together.”
“Good. Great.” Emily’s eyes said the idea was neither. “I was planning to leave early in the morning. Is that okay?”
“Aye.”
“I should warn you, they have lots of activities planned. I’m not sure how many chances you’ll get to see her.”
He nodded. One chance was all he needed.