4

 

Thank you, God. Thank you, God.

As Christy sat on the dock wrapped in a blanket, the simple prayer ran through her brain like the refrain of a hymn. She was fine, P.J. was fine, but in the aftermath, she needed strength and peace.

Her waterproof wristwatch said thirty minutes had passed, and she shivered again, amazed. Amazed her first reaction had been to pray. Amazed her long-ago skills had worked. Watching Kenn jog over, her heart tumbled both with pleasure at seeing him and with relief at P.J’s health. He sank down on the planks.

“He’s fine,” he said with a big grin.

Christy smiled back. She’d guessed as much from watching the medical attention on shore, from the grateful waves and kisses Jennie Blake had sent her way. She hadn’t wanted to be underfoot. But Christy doubted she’d ever tire of hearing the words out loud.

Then Kenn’s eyes crinkled in concern. “How about you?”

She nodded to reassure him. “I’m all right. Honest.”

“Where’d you learn life-saving?”

“Girl Scout camp.” In spite of the warm sun and wool blanket, Christy’s teeth threatened to chatter. The water had been snow-cold and, and the shock was just beginning to set in. She liked that Kenn’s presence calmed her down enough to talk. “It had a pretty comprehensive curriculum. Like riding a bike and typing…” she hesitated long enough to look into his eyes, liking the comfort and compassion she saw there. “…..life-saving is apparently something you don’t forget. I’ve never used it until now. Thanks for getting the boat there so quick.”

“Didn’t want P.J. to pull you under in his panic.”

“That’s something we learned to avoid.” Heart pounding, she scanned the camp and then looked back at Kenn. “He is fine, right?”

Kenn’s smile reassured her. He wasn’t wearing his hat, and the sun cast golden highlights across his brown hair. “Pike says the boy’s fine. Belly cramp. Pike’s a vet and also a certified paramedic.”

“For times like this.”

He squeezed her shoulder, and her heartbeats calmed. “For times just like this. I think he’d like to check you. You’ve had a shock, too.”

“I’m fine, really.”

His forehead creased with a twinge of concern. “Well, at least let’s get you changed. You’re cold and damp.”

Instead, she scooted closer to him, needing his warmth. The sun and the blanket worked well but weren’t what she wanted. She didn’t need a paramedic. “I know I should change. I should go see how he is. I should thank Pike. Hug Jennie. But…”

She finished the sentence inside her head, how safe and content she felt, sitting here close to Kenn. All was well in the little wagon train world where she’d spent these last days. God be thanked.

That little refrain again. Was it possible P.J.’s near-tragedy had started up her faith again? Was it the beauty of nature? Or was it the burgeoning love for Kenn…and his possible need of her?

Maybe all three. She’d always been taught the Lord works in mysterious ways.

And likely this was one. Wow. A strange but welcome satisfaction enveloped her.

“Let’s just sit here for a bit while I dry off. Then I’d like to finish that boat ride. Unless…” Christy cast another concerned gaze at the camp where things obviously had settled back to normal. P.J. was loudly arguing with his mom and Christy definitely heard the words tire swing. “Unless you’re needed.”

Kenn shook his head. “We’re staying put at camp. The Blakes have already decided they aren’t cutting the trip short. P.J. honestly is fine. Although he was pretty intrigued when Pike mentioned a helicopter airlift to the hospital if needed.” Kenn looked away and then met her gaze. “We do have a radio and a tower for emergencies on the trail.”

 Christy burst out laughing in genuine joy. Right now there wasn’t much more to want.

“I had a cramp once in my grandma’s pool,” she said, shuddering at the sudden memory. “It hurt so bad, but once it was over, I was good to go. Kids are resilient.”

“Had ’em too. And I agree.”

She glanced shyly at him. “So how about our ride?”

“I’m good to go.” His eyes sparkled at her. “You want anything to eat?”

After another of Kelley’s massive meals at noon, Christy wanted no such thing, but she recalled something about a man’s bottomless stomach. “No thanks. But a hot cup of coffee or tea might be nice.”

“You stay here. I’ll bring something back.” Slowly, as if reluctant, he got up, but touched her fingers before he headed over to the chuck wagon. Her heart thudded again.

A few minutes later, she caved, devouring Kelley’s sugar cookies like a condemned man’s last meal, a tin cup of hot Arbuckle’s resting in the center of her crossed legs. The boat slid through the silver lake, and Christy felt calm at last. The coffee warmed her through and through, but nothing like the heat of Kenn’s presence. His muscles moved again like magic and music, a sight she’d never tire of whether she stayed on for Cowboy College or returned home.

 “Have you thought about staying on?” Kenn asked casually, as if reading her thoughts. “Cowboy College?”

She fought for the correct reply, not wanting to sound eager. Or reluctant. Both emotions scrambled together in her heart. “I can’t deny I’m intrigued. But there’s my job. And my mom.”

“Do you think she’s worried about you? Our no cell phone rule, I mean.”

“Sure.” Christy shrugged, her throat tightening. She hadn’t given Mom much thought for a while, and guilt washed over her. “She worries about everything. And it confuses me so much. She’s supposed to be this strong Christian woman, yet she can’t seem to trust God’s will at all.”

 Kenn sighed, long and loud. “I think I’ve learned faith isn’t some pinnacle you reach where you get to stay forever. There are hills and valleys all over the place.”

 His quick glance stopped her heart before he looked away, as if ready to bare his soul. For a flash, she wondered if he was about to reveal to her the load Kelley had hinted at.

Christy’s voice was soft. “You think you’ll ever reach the pinnacle again? Once you land in a valley?” For some reason, today had her feeling the valley of the shadows might be a thing of the past. Or at least she was on her way upward. It wasn’t mere coincidence or habit, was it, which had her beseech God at the moment she needed Him?

“I don’t know.” Kenn’s forlorn voice touched her heart as their gazes traveled the shoreline to land on Bragg, who was busy showing Mitchell how to cast a fly rod. Maybe God had led her here to Hearts Crossing to find her own peace and to help Kennedy Martin regain his faith. Instinct said his load had something to do with Bragg as much as the woman who had betrayed him. He’d tensed just now. But she’d be sensitive in drawing him out.

“There always seems to be somebody who’s got it worse,” she mentioned casually, dragging her hand in the water. She’d warmed enough in his presence, in the heat of the day, not to feel the shock of cold anymore.

He nodded. “I gotta say I was surprised to hear you launch out a prayer when you dove in. After our talk last night, I mean. When you didn’t want to stay for evening prayer.”

“Surprised me, too,” Christy confessed. “I guess it means my faith is still part of me. God hasn’t left me after all. Maybe I’d left Him because I didn’t like getting knocked off that pinnacle.” She stared down in her cup. “I blamed Him as well as that drunk driver, but I shouldn’t have. It was a decision a man made. Not the hand of God.”

Kenn gave a little sigh but then changed the subject. “I’ll have to use valleys and pinnacles next term, when my students discuss metaphors.”

Still, his eyes were sad, and he didn’t say another word. Christy realized she’d made up her mind in the last few minutes. Her decision might be sudden, but it felt right. It was time to let him know. Since there were no cell-phone restrictions back at the modern ranch, she could call Mom and her office manager with her decision when the wagon train returned from the trail tomorrow.

“Kenn, I’d like to stay on a few more days. For Cowboy College.” At the surprise in his eyes, she nodded, firm. “I can’t think of another degree I’d value more.”

Without his Stetson, his sun-kissed hair crinkled on his forehead as it furrowed in surprise, hopefully a delighted surprise. “Why, I’ll be. Ought to let you know right off. Headmaster Martin doesn’t grade on a curve. Although…” Kenn stopped rowing for a few seconds and drawled, “…I’ve a good mind to have me a teacher’s pet this term.”

She flushed all the way to her toes at the warmth in his eyes. “All right by me, Mr. Headmaster,” she managed to murmur. “As long as said teacher’s pet is me.”

****

What in the whole wide world was he thinking? His feelings were nothing but a loose cannon and the last thing he needed close by was this girl to ignite them. He needed to get away from her quick.

She had put her hat back on, but he could see her face, tranquil finally, eyes closed as she relaxed in the sun. But no way could he get involved. And yet. He had promised himself one perfect day with her.

Surely that wasn’t too much to ask of a loving God. Even if the day had hit a rough patch just now. Glancing quickly on shore, he watched P.J. briefly argue with his mother, then purposefully grab a fishing pole, hale and vigorous the way kids tended to be.

“Kenn, there’s a beach.” Suddenly Christy’s soft, lovely voice roused him from his reverie, and he marveled how she could make a simple sentence sound like a poem. As she pointed to the sandy shore, she asked, “Could you pull up there? My knees have finally stopped shaking. I’d love a walk.”

A walk. Oh, his heart pittered and he was tempted. Strolling close by her side, alone on a pretty shore, fragrant air rustling around them with birdsong and a rippling lake all they’d hear. Even more, slinging his arm across her shoulders, holding her close. Stuff of dreams.

Too bad it was daytime, the time for real life, not misty dreams that would never come true.

He made a big deal about checking out his watch so he didn’t have to meet her eyes. Something about body language; maybe she’d realize he had other things to do. “I guess,” he drawled out. “I guess we got time for a short stroll.”

 Her brow wrinkled a bit under her brim, confused at his businesslike tone. While she pulled boots back on, he beached the rowboat. Shadows rustling on the ground from the wind in the trees seemed ominous somehow. Not that there was danger…unless he counted the hazards to his heart. It was dangerous to be alone with her, to promise her, to promise himself they had more than this one afternoon. But it was her own words the night before that promised they’d never have a future.

He jumped out, then reached to assist her, both hating and loving the way his fingers wrapped perfectly around hers. Unable to help himself, he dropped her hand like it was a hot stone.

“Kenn?” Her boots stopped in three inches of water. “What’s wrong? If you need to go back, say so. I don’t want to monopolize your time.”

Yet that’s exactly what he wanted. “No. I’ve got the afternoon free. I just…have something to sort out.”

Swiveling her head from side to side, she pointed around the lake. “This seems like a good place for contemplation. I can walk around the lake to get back.”

“Nah. That’s not what I meant. I don’t want to bother you with my baggage.” He grumbled out a laugh and took her hand again, treating himself to the exquisite indulgence. “Come on. There’s a path to Posy’s Grave.”

“A grave? Oh, no.” Her eyes widened in horror. “An Indian massacre? A wagon stuck in snow like the Donners?”

He couldn’t help another laugh. “Nope. Old Joe’s mule.”

“His mule?” Christy’s dark eyes shaded to deep mahogany, then crinkled with amusement. “This better be good, Mr. Martin. Let’s see. She brought him over the Rockies?”

“Yep. Even better, saved his life.” Arms swinging between them, he led her up a little knoll to the tree-lined path.

“Then this better be really good.”

“Yep. Supposedly he fell down a ledge—” Kenn paused dramatically. “—while prospecting up Shadow Ridge. He hung onto a shrub for dear life. Ole Posy nosed around in their gear until she found a rope. Held it ‘twixt her teeth,’ so the story goes, and tossed him the other end and dragged him up.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You doubt me?” Kenn winked, then shrugged. “Legend’s been passed down for a hundred and fifty years. And I do believe animals are righteous critters when it comes to helping us humans. But nonetheless, I’m just telling it like I learned it.”

Her laughter was bright. “Well, this grave is something I need to see. Let’s go. Lead on, McDuff.”

“All righty.” Kenn latched tight to his self control and laid his arm gently across her shoulders, drawing her close. She leaned into him as their footfalls echoed across the breeze. For a moment, he felt like they were the only two people in the world, and for another moment, he wished it were so.

“I don’t want to stick my nose in,” Christy said finally, rubbing her hand along a lichen-covered boulder as they passed by. “But I don’t mind at all. You having some baggage, I mean. If it’s Daisy, well. Kelley talked to me last night, said you could use a friend.”

“Kelley?” Kenn stumbled against a root and dropped his arm from her shoulder. Kelley? What was his sister doing, sticking her nose in? And Daisy? What was that all about? He remembered Christy and his sister deep in conversation last night, catching his eye more often than not. A ripple of disappointment coursed across his shoulders. All this time he’d thought Christy had sought Kelley to find out about him. Now it seemed Kelley was the one running interference. Daisy?

For an unwise moment, he opened his mouth, ready to spill it about Bragg, but he just couldn’t. He’d destroy whatever flimsy friendship he and Christy had. Hard to believe the miserable Daisy Densmore was the safer subject.

“I don’t know what my little sister is up to,” Kenn said lightly as he reached for Christy’s hand again and led her down the path he’d hiked a thousand times. “Daisy, well. It’s complicated.”

Christy held tighter to his fingers and giggled. “You sound like every single screenplay that deals with relationships. ‘It’s complicated.’” She laughed harder.

“Yep, but it’s too true.” He might as well reveal some of it but leave off the parts concerning Bragg. “We taught together and dated pretty steadily my first couple of years, and everything seemed great. Not perfect, but great. I had some serious and as yet unresolved issues with a colleague, and lo and behold. He’s the guy she dumped me for.” Kenn shrugged, but remnants of the pain and humiliation still lingered. “It was pretty rough for a while, but neither of them teaches at Mountain Cove High any more. So it’s all good.”

Except he’d heard rumors she’d be coming to the Fourth of July Reunion. He brushed at his crawling skin.

Suddenly the path entered a clearing so beautiful he could understand Christy’s total gasp for air. When he was a kid, he’d felt it himself.

“My heavens,” she breathed like a prayer after she fought for oxygen. “I don’t think I’ve ever literally seen anything that took my breath away.”

Surrounded by oak and ponderosa, the path exploded into a gorgeous grotto, leading up to a waist-high boulder, its boundaries edged by smaller rocks. On each side of the path, the north sides of tree trunks wore moss and lichen like green velvet gloves, and a shaft of sun poked through the tree tops and aimed right for the large boulder. Behind the rock, a small stream flashed silver and sang lullabies as it burbled down the knoll to the lake.

“Supposedly that’s Posy’s gravestone,” Kenn said, almost hating to break the reverent silence. “There’s some weathered scratching on it where folks think Old Joe tried to carve her name.”

 “Why, this is a sacred place for more reasons than that. Kenn, this is like a forest gazebo for a wedding.”

“What?” His nerves rattled a bit at the word. It wasn’t one he thought much about although Ma nagged him plenty about being thirty and single. He gulped. “Wedding?”

Christy stamped her foot to make her point, but it was a delicate, endearing gesture. “I mean, can’t you see a small group of guests gathered here?” she asked. “Underneath the trees? That rock…Posy’s headstone or whatever, could be the altar, a pastor standing in front of it. This...” Her hand waved eagerly over the pine-needle encrusted path, “why, it’s a ready made bridal aisle.”

Kenn didn’t want to burst her balloon, but it was an absurd notion. “Sorry, darlin’. Can’t say I ever thought that. Ma or the girls, either.”

“Well, I see it. I truly do.” She stomped her boot again. “I’ve landscaped plenty of wedding venues. I did one similar to this at a resort in South Lake Tahoe during my studies. It would be perfect.”

“Impossible to get to,” Kenn snorted although he loved the enthusiasm brightening her eyes.

“Not one whit. A destination wedding? That’s hot right now. A bridal party could travel here on the wagon train, have a pioneer wedding when they get here.” She sighed. “A picnic reception in the meadow. Kelley could cater.”

“Sounds lame.”

Christy gave him a delightful glare as if he didn’t know a single thing. “Or come out here quicker in Jeeps and ATV’s. This is absolutely the setting country music-lovin’ suburbanites ache for.” Her boots crunched across fallen leaves and needles. “I’m not kidding, Kenn. This could be another gold mine for Hearts Crossing.” She sing-songed with a twang, “’Wagon Train Weddings.’”

Hmmmmmmm. He kind of liked the sound of that. Hooper and Ma were always looking for more sources of revenue. But he tried to appear off-hand now. “All righty. Guess I could mention it.”

“You do that.” She shoved him playfully. “You’re gonna find out I’m right. It won’t be Posy’s Grave for long. It’ll be Posy’s Grove! The ultimate destination wedding.”

He jostled her lightly in return, letting the reverence of the place fill his spirit. It wouldn’t be his decision about making this a wedding venue. He might have input, but Ma, Rachel, and Hooper called all the shots for Hearts Crossing.

 But whether the spot was the final resting place of any living thing, he didn’t know for sure. Family lore was fun to believe. He’d sure want to do right by Joe Montana when the gelding breathed his last. But now, it was time to talk about Christy again.

 “So what about those studies of yours?” He asked as they both sank down on leaves piled against the boulder. The monument. Christy’s so-called wedding altar. Figuring her still-damp clothes might chill her in the shade of the heavy thicket, he wrapped his arm around and snuggled her close.

 Christy relaxed into the curve. “I got my degree in landscape architecture at Cal Poly. The Lake Tahoe thing was one of my school projects, and I received a design award.” Her cheeks colored lightly even in the shadows of the leaves. “That distinction helped me land a much-envied internship with a very prestigious development firm. In turn, they hired me after graduation to landscape residential projects all around California.”

“But you have your own business now, right?”

 She nodded. “Forrest for the Trees. After a time, I wanted to stay put. Not travel as much. Tranquility Group was delving into commercial development, too, all over the Southwest.”

Tranquility Group? He could hardly believe his ears. To diversify and increase revenue, Rachel and Hooper had recommended selling off two hundred less arable acres to build a planned village of vacation homes complete with mall, gym, community church, restaurants, even a spa and beauty salon. Tranquility had landed the job after easement had been petitioned and obtained.

“I loved working for them, though,” Christy said almost wistfully. “They were awfully good to me.”

A thrill tingled across his spine, and something wild and crazy stewed in his brain. What if Christy came on board to landscape the project?

Something surreal was going on. Was there an almighty Hand trying to get them together? Was Kenn finding a pinnacle after all?

“Would you ever work for Tranquility again?” he asked casually.

She smiled with a shrug that wafted the scent of her sun-warmed skin into his senses. “I don’t know. They headhunt me all the time. When things get hectic at work, I can’t deny that I’ve thought about it.” Stretching her legs, she breathed deeply of the fresh summer air, quiet for a moment as if lost in thought. Her shoulder fit nicely in the notch of his arm.

With a smooth gesture, she combed her fingers through her long hair. He liked her hands, well-kept but no long fake nails. He thought he spied a callus or two.

“Being an independent contractor, owning my own business does have its set of headaches,” she went on. “And I don’t get to work outside as much, with so much administrative and PR work on my mind.” She looked at him straight on, with what he read as a wink and a prayer. “I love Forrest for the Trees. Don’t get me wrong. But I do have a fondness for Tranquility. They gave me my start. Who knows? There might even be a time when I have kids and a husband and a home of my own. Then it might be easier having somebody else in charge.”

Her words sent a spark to the tips of his toes.