4

Late the next morning, Mary Grace rested her head against the passenger side of Scott’s truck as stands of fir and spruce blurred around her, and aspens blowing in the wind quaked off their leaves. For a second, she chuckled silently to herself. Eagle Ridge pass wasn’t as fearsome as Mrs. Martin had stressed. A woman happy with a new beau, no doubt eager to pair off her last remaining son, was likely to have a nose for matchmaking. Last night’s food and family in front of the fireplace, a cozy night’s rest in the patchwork guestroom now covered Mary Grace with a contentment that was almost frighteningly new. With Creighton out of her everyday life in the best way possible, was it the time, the place to search out something more for herself?

Lounging across the backseat of the stretch cab, the Cowboy snored happily. As the mountain air chilled with their ascent, Scott rolled up the windows, forcing the pup to draw in his head.

“Getting your fill of doggy breath?” Scott teased.

Mary Grace laughed. “No. Oh, I love him. I haven’t been around a dog for quite a while.”

Grant had “won” custody of their loving yellow lab; she’d had her hands too full with Creighton to protest. And there had never been enough time to devote to another family dog. But her heart panged now, thinking back on Tawny, her caring sweet nature and eagerness to please. In remembrance, Mary Grace reached back for a quick pat of the dog’s wiry fur.

“I’m not getting you carsick, am I?” Scott asked next, hands firm on the wheel, his driving competent and confident both. Eyes never off the road in front of him yet still engaged in conversation with her. He nosed the truck up a twist in the road. Down below, gleamed a sliver of river.—North Platte maybe?

She shook her head. Her tummy was full from a delicious brunch, but the tumbles it was taking had nothing to do with the curvy mountain road. Scott himself made her topsy-turvy enough as it was. “Nope,” she said aloud. “Don’t forget. I’ve driven this myself. But…thanks for driving me today.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it.” He tossed her a quick glance now, eyes full of flirtation. “Thanks for letting me.”

They both grinned at the same time, and she got the amusement they’d shared. Somehow he’d managed to wear her down, too.

No, there was no somehow about it. She knew right away what had caused her to melt. His affection for Heather and his interest in helping other developmentally challenged children. That had made all the difference in her world.

“I hope to meet Creighton someday. And I’m looking forward to meeting your parents. Now, don’t take that wrong,” he said, almost as if he’d read her thoughts.

“I don’t.” She laughed back to assure him he wasn’t getting cocky about the date. For once, Creighton was the safer subject. The way she felt right now, it wouldn’t be long before she introduced them. It just wouldn’t be today. Maybe next Saturday for the weekly visit at the group home, having switched the usual Friday.

No. Next Saturday for certain. She’d have all week to tell Scott depending, of course, how the week went. Today didn’t seem the day. After all, she’d only convinced him to ask her out last night. Take things slow. Ease into them.

“I think Creighton might be…might be available next weekend,” she said finally.

“Awesome.”

Scott fiddled with a country CD and soon, her favorite Brad Paisley song filled the car. With an incredible comfort between then, she relaxed even more against the seat.

This morning, arriving for Sunday services on Scott’s arm had sure raised some eyebrows, but the interior of Mountain Cove church had so taken her breath away the curious eyes hadn’t mattered. The whole front wall behind the altar, made entirely of glass, framed the rangeland and Rocky Mountain backdrop in a landscape so spectacular the artist in her got chills again just recalling it. Pastor Hale, kind and vaguely familiar from her life here long ago, had welcomed her warmly and invited her to singles Bible study on Tuesday night.

And brunch at the Butterbean had been as mouthwatering as any big city eatery.

But the best was the hour to Lost Canyon, and another hour back, with Scott Martin at her side.

“I hope you can go with me to Bible study on Tuesday night,” Scott mentioned as one song halted for a moment before segueing into another. “Pastor Hale always has something good to say. About Scripture, about relationships of all kinds.”

“I enjoyed his sermon so much. I’ll try. I really will.” Oh, and she would. It wasn’t exactly another date, but she’d get to be with Scott. The hard reality intruded; her real reason for being at Hearts Crossing. “I’ll have to see how much prep I have for the next day. What papers I might have to grade.”

“Kenn’s really putting you to work, eh?” Scott tossed her another quick grin.

“Well, not essays or short answers. He’s doing those. But I can do the true/false quizzes, vocab tests. Check pass or fail on whether they’ve finished filling in their study guides. Things like that.”

“Gotcha. But Bible study is a good bunch of people. Hope you can make it. With me.” His hand left the wheel for a flash, almost as if it was reaching for hers, and her heart pounded in glorious anticipation. Then in disappointment as he laid it back on the wheel to pump a drumbeat in synch with a guitar riff.

Marveling, Mary Grace realized she’d just been asked to a Bible study. Nothing like that had ever happened with the cynical Grant. And in those days, she hadn’t cared much. Her folks had raised her devout, but university had opened so many avenues of thought. Later on, though, after Grant left and Creighton’s syndrome seemed so hopeless, she couldn’t have gotten through her complicated life without God.

She rustled her feet against the floorboards, almost restless with remembrance of days gone by. Days both good and bad. Those first years with Grant, God had been the furthest Being from her mind. Parties, photo-ops. The glamorous car and perfect house. Credit cards with no limits. Sundays full of pre-game brunches before the fifty-yard line front-row seat. A nanny for the baby. Until Grant had said goodbye, and Mary Grace could no longer put her wounded little boy in somebody else’s hands.

God had held her up, held her hand. Given her the power of prayer and the privilege of grace. And with Scott at her side right now, something that she’d have deemed inconceivable the day before, she had to reckon His Hand was leading her. He had a purpose when He guided her to Mountain Cove again. Maybe she’d come full circle. From a faithless man with no dedication to one with deep down roots and conviction.

“He’s got an interesting name, your boy,” Scott mentioned.

Happier times claimed her memory. “It’s the name of a private university in Omaha. We drove by one day while we were in college. Grant and I both liked the name.”

“I like it, too.”

The warmth in Scott’s voice almost made her cave. But she couldn’t, not yet. It went against her vows to herself, her precautions. He might like little Heather and he might be eager to set up an equine therapy program at Hearts Crossing, but doubts assailed her. Those scenarios were far different from Scott having a disabled child as part of his life.

When he had a choice about it.

No. With all she had on her mind about starting school tomorrow, she deserved a day of simple peace in the company of a handsome man. That’s all it was. One date. No reason to read more into it than it was.

Even if, so far, this was one of the best days she’d had.

Around her, massive pines stabbed fat white clouds scuttling through the bright sky, and a small rivulet, leftover from last night’s shower, trickled down the roadside. Boulders bigger than cars hunkered up the mountainside. As a child, she’d feared they’d come tumbling down on her. Her dad had comforted her then.

Her Father comforted her now.

A weathered sign proclaimed Tall John’s Landing ahead in a half mile. Food. Gas. Hunting Supplies. Her heart tweaked at the last activity, but this was mountain man country, after all. But it reminded her.

“I want to pay for your gas today.”

“Not on your life.” Scott’s eyes narrowed beneath his brim even though he didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Yes. It’s the least I can do, with today’s insane gas prices.”

In response, he tossed her a glare she entirely expected.

“Well, at least let me get you a huckleberry shake at the Landing. Besides, the Cowboy could use a leg-stretch. We’re not in that big of a hurry are we?”

His face softened, and he rolled his eyes. “Now, that’s something we can do.”

The tiny humble store, little more than a shanty, was nonetheless some pretty significant real estate, with views of rows of mountains on the left and Lost Canyon’s ranches and rangeland on the right down below.

Scott had barely stopped the truck in the minuscule parking area when Space Cowboy streaked off, and Scott was at Mary Grace’s side, opening the door to help her out. His gallantry thrilled her through, so she had to make it clear. “This is my treat. There’s nothing like these milkshakes. Even if they have to use frozen berries this time of year.”

The cold mountain air rushed across her face, hiding the heat of pleasure at Scott’s nearness. His hand at her lower back propelled her into the store. It wasn’t a romantic touch at all, but her blood raced anyway.

He whistled for the dog, who did his business and then promptly stood guard on the rickety porch.

A sullen teenager rustled up their shakes, and as Mary Grace paid for them, she grabbed a package of turkey jerky.

“A little something for the Cowboy,” she told Scott.

He grinned, his hand on a brown knit cap with braided yarn pulling down the ear flaps. “OK, but only if I can get a little something for Creighton.” His cheekbones flushed. “Not that I’m putting your boy in the same company as my dog.”

“He’d be honored,” Mary Grace said, touched, thinking of the cold months on the way, seeing Creighton’s head, slightly flattened from the syndrome, warmed by the cute cozy hat. “He’ll love those snowflakes knitted in it. It’ll be a darling Christmas card picture. Thanks.”

Content with their purchases, they hurried out from the stuffy little place and rejoined the dog outside. This time, Scott did take her hand, and his skin touching hers brought her heart into her throat to compete with the delicious drink. He led her up a path behind the store, the Cowboy a few steps ahead and in sniffing glory.

The view didn’t need words. And despite the height and chill, Mary Grace had never felt so warm and safe. It wasn’t just Scott at her side; she knew God was there, too.

“‘I will lift mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help,’” she mused.

“What’s that?” Scott asked after swallowing a slurp.

“Oh, it’s a verse from a Psalm. One hundred twenty-one, I think. I always think of it whenever I see Colorado. Oh, I’m so glad I came back.” She squeezed his hand, thrilled at his own pressure in return.

“I’m glad, too. But that verse, well, it’s pretty special.”

She didn’t reply and waited for his response.

“Don’t know if you know yet, but Hoop battled cancer, testicular cancer, summer before last. Said looking out his window and up to the mountains helped get him through.”

Surprise frizzed the back of her neck. “Wow. He sure looks good now.” She’d never have expected such after meeting the strong, stalwart ranch foreman. “That must have been a pretty terrifying time.”

“Yep. It’s amazing how God gets you through something like that. Hoop got a good cure rate, God be thanked,” Scott said. “Now, Hoop’s like any of us. Heaven is our home. But he sure wants to watch Ella grow up. Same as you want Creighton, you know.”

“Of course.” She choked down some of the cold soft ice cream concoction, berries big as grapes coming up the wide straw, glad to have a reason not to speak. Creighton’s life expectancy was normal, and he’d long outlive her. Her heart sank like a stone despite the pleasure of the day. Who would be there to love him?

She merely nodded, and they walked along the path for a while, simply enjoying the moment, the here and now. Fresh air whisking her face, an adorable dog padding at her side, a handsome man next to her.

****

Scott didn’t put any importance on it, Mary Grace taking him home to meet her parents. He, with Ma’s backing, had insisted on driving her to gather up some gear for the week. It had been impossible not to want to spend those hours at her side. Taking the Cowboy alongside had been icing on the cake.

He slowed down as they neared Hearts Crossing just before three-thirty that afternoon.

Just in time for the later-than-usual Sunday dinner planned for the day. Normally Ma liked to serve it mid-day, shortly after church. He grinned, noticing Doyle Calhoun’s helicopter. Ahead of him, the ranch, its outbuildings, busy corrals and bustling pastures hitched his breath like Hearts Crossing always did. All their tourists claimed it was something out of a story book, but for Scott, it was everyday life, and he loved it. Scott wondered if it hurt Mary Grace’s pa to give up his land.

“I liked your folks,” he said, meaning it. Friendly down-home folks offering strong coffee and a quick home-baked snack. Their place had been small, simple. No real room for a kid. “Wish we didn’t have to rush off.”

“They’re wonderful. I…” Her eyes cast a faraway look for just a flash. “They understood. They know I need the job. And they need their space. I’ll be getting a place of my own soon.”

Scott nodded even as he recalled them holding her close in a warm good-bye embrace. Recalled Creighton’s portrait on the mantelpiece. Cute boy. Wide grin. Big teeth. “I do hope you get more work. You’re thinking about teaching full time again then.”

“Yes. I need to build my résumé and work on my Colorado certification. Mr. Scovell said substitute teaching was a good way to get back in the fold.”

“You’ll do great.” He slowed as he turned up the long Hearts Crossing drive. “And Kenn’ll be close by.”

As if smelling home, Space Cowboy rustled up from the back seat and lolled his head over Mary Grace’s shoulder. She kissed his nose and rubbed his head.

“More jerky some other time,” she crooned. “Oh, I love this dog.”

“After that jerky, you’re his friend for life now.” Scott patted the mutt’s head, too.

“I will admit. I’m getting dreadfully nervous. I haven’t faced down a swarm of high school students since, well, since you were one of them!” Nerves or not, she laughed out loud.

Holding back a flush, Scott gave her a real smile. Their past relationship no longer seemed to matter. “Two things to tell you here: Kenn’s already said his classes this year are decent kids. And second, Principal Scovell doesn’t take any nonsense from students. He supports his teachers 100 percent. And that includes subs.”

“Well, that sounds mighty good. Because the closer it gets, the scared-ier I get.”

“Scared-ier?” Scott’s guffaw was so real the Cowboy whined. “What kind of word is that for an English teacher?”

“One who’s scared to death!”

“Now, you know Who to turn to?” His right hand left the wheel just as they drove under the Hearts Crossing gate and gave her fingers a squeeze meant to encourage her.

She grabbed hold like she was sinking. “I do. And I’m sure He’ll pull me through. But right now, I feel like I’m sinking a bit. More than a bit.”

He braked by the barn, the Cowboy hurtling out from behind him, and dashed to her door to help her out. But mostly to hold her close, in comfort sure, but with plenty man-woman feeling mixed in. Her spicy scent wafted around him, her pulse coursing at her neck where his fingers rested.

“No. Don’t sink. You can hang onto me. Everything will work out. You’ll see. Everything will work out as it’s meant to be.”

His words mumbled against her hair as she ran her arms under his to hold him close at the waist.

“I know,” she murmured into his chest.

For a long delicious moment, he reveled in her nearness and wished it could last forever. Sounds of horses’ hooves rustling in the corral and wind kicking leaves across the ground ran through his ears almost like a hymn. The beautiful woman in his arms would be close at hand for at least another week. Earlier, she’d proudly displayed headshots of her boy and talked about them getting together soon. So they had a future for another seven days.

Scents of Sunday dinner radiated from the house, and the Cowboy hunched patiently at the back door. Right now, Scott Martin’s world was perfect.

“Come on. I’ll get your bag.” Reluctantly, he pulled away from Mary Grace, heart in flight as she held firm for a second longer. “Everything will be all right.”

She nodded, cheeks bright from the tight pressure of his chest. “I know. It always is.”

Her words sounded resolute, as if she knew that for certain.

“Let me get your stuff to your room.”

“OK.” She grabbed her laptop, purse and several reusable shopping bags crammed with stuff. He grinned. For a woman who’d made it through last night with literally just the clothes on her back, she had packed a remarkable collection of necessities for the next week.

He pulled a big wheeled suitcase from the truck bed. As if reading his mind, she said, “The sweater is Rachel’s. And your mother did outfit me with other goodies.”

“Well, it’s pretty. Matches your eyes. And glad everything else worked out.”

“Yep. Hotel-size shampoo and lotion. Toothbrush. Cowgirl lingerie from the gift shop. And a new pair of socks with a horseshoe knitted motif.”

“Why, I unpacked those just yesterday. Which reminds me…” He grinned. “I better work up the Christmas collection on the website before Ma sets herself on a rampage. I keep telling her it’s only October…”

“There are plenty of early shoppers out there. I am one of them, so you better hustle. I’ll be busy this evening preparing for tomorrow anyway.”

Holding open the big front door, he gave a loud halloo to anybody who might be around. Peeking into the main dining room across the huge front room, he saw the table set with Ma’s good dishes.

Kenn called out their names from his perch near the fireplace, hooked up as he was with the tubes that circulated ice water around his wounds.

“Good timing, y’all. Hoop’s had brisket smoking all day, and Kelley will be here on her lunch break. Ma’ll be ringing the dinner bell in a few minutes.”

It was tradition on Sunday to be with Ma. Didn’t always work out, but Scott and his siblings tried their hardest.

“All that’s missing is Christy.” Scott grinned even as he recalled his big secret: Pike and Daisy’s baby. “Her Award Ceremony is tonight, right?”

“Yep. She’ll be calling right after. I’m sorry to miss it, but she’s having somebody videotape everything. Her presentation is Tuesday. Hey there, Mary Grace? You settling in OK?” Kenn asked.

She nodded, coming up next to Scott, arms full. “When I left, my folks told me to break a leg,” she said with dry humor.

“That would sure be something.” Scott had to laugh, too, as he headed up the stairs. “Both our English teachers down with busted legs.”

****

Happiness slipped around Mary Grace’s school-teaching nerves as she settled next to Scott on the couch in the study after supper. The vibrant Navajo print fit the rustic room, and well-worn cushions cradled the two of them.

Tummy stuffed, she’d been unable to stop devouring the best macaroni and cheese she’d ever eaten. All hopes to remain ladylike in front of Scott vanished like mist.

All around the house, familial love bustled as the Martins joked, teased and laughed, and Doyle Calhoun openly flirted with their mother. The sweet vision of an older couple in the blushes of love touched her heart. Of course, it was far too soon to imagine she could ever be a part of the pack, but a girl could dream, couldn’t she? If any group gave off vibes of acceptance and compassion—she was thinking of Creighton—this was the bunch. Seeing Kenn’s wheelchair pushed to the table, Mary Grace had another flash, this time of the future, of Creighton sitting among these people some day in his chair. She was learning dreams did come true, prayers did get answered.

As she grew more and more acquainted with the rollicking family, she saw right off that nobody stood much on ceremony around here. Any and everybody would help her with her boy. Truth was, in her mind’s eye she could clearly see her dad chatting it up with Doyle, her mama concocting biscuits to rival Kelley’s alongside Mrs. Martin in the kitchen. Annette, her geologist sister, had married a well-off Texas oilman, but she’d never forsaken her down-home roots, never passed up a trail ride, and cooked vegetarian like Kelley.

Scott smiled at Mary Grace over his laptop. “You want to practice your lecture? I’d be happy to listen.”

“Oh, no!” She burst out in horror and waggled her handful of papers. “I don’t do well in front of my peers. Parent Nights were dreadful.”

“Well, if you want a PowerPoint presentation, I can help you get one ready.”

She considered. “Now that does have potential. But I think I’ll be OK tomorrow. What are you working on?”

“I sent an e-mail to CETR and downloaded their brochure on certification.”

“Seater?”

“Children’s Equine Therapy Riding. I’m checking things out now. Hmm...”

While he did some investigating, Mary Grace looked over the assignments and handouts Kenn had prepared for her. She couldn’t deny her nerves hopped, but things didn’t seem so fearsome here, in the comfortable arms of Hearts Crossing. In the company of a fine-looking cowboy who, if she had her wish, might be holding her in his arms one day.

“Hmmm.” He mumbled again

“What? I am interested, you know.” Now almost seemed a time to share Creighton with him, but he rushed on with enthusiasm.

“First I’ll get certified as a first-level instructor. According to this brochure, I’ve got a lot of the requirements down already. CPR, First Aid…the helmet I got for Heather is an approved model. I know horse breeds, horse behavior…vices such as wood chewing and kicking. I understand feed requirements such as salt and minerals… I know TPR.”

“You mean CPR?”

“No. Temperature, pulse, respiration. It’s hard not to live on a ranch, especially with my brother Pike, a large animal vet, and not know this.” He pointed at a downloaded page. “Also, I can identify and use correctly all grooming tools including hoof pick and sweat scraper. I know how to fit riders with appropriate tack. And Peachy is on her way as a therapy horse. She already accepts mounting ramps and blocks, a leader and a sidewalker. When our program really gets going, we’ll need game equipment like balls, cones and rings.”

His eyes shone. “I can register for a workshop in Broken Bow and do some of the coursework interactively online.”

Broken Bow. Where Creighton lived. “Nice!”

Suddenly the moment changed.

“Mary Grace.” Kelley knocked at the open door, then coyly swiveled her head between the two of them together on the couch, Scott with his laptop and Mary Grace with her schoolwork. “Oooh, I sure don’t want to intrude.”

“Come on in.” Mary Grace laughed. “I’m rehearsing my lecture notes one last time, and Scott is fact-checking how to start up a therapy riding program.”

“Awesome. Well, I won’t be long, seeing’s you both are so hard at work.”

“Why don’t you do something with Jason and leave us be?” Scott grumbled good-naturedly.

Kelley ignored her brother and balanced on the arm of the sofa. “Mary Grace, I hate to put you on the spot, but then again, I really don’t.” Her smile could blast lava off a crater.

Mary Grace smiled back even as Scott grumped. “What’s going on?”

“Well, thanks to my future mother-in-law whom I haven’t even met yet since she’s somewhere called Moldova, I have gotten the opportunity of a lifetime.” Kelley shone more than ever. “A cookbook all my own. And I hear my brother”—she growled the word with affection and pointed a pen at Scott— “is too busy to help me with the graphics and digital photography. Now, would you mind taking me on? It’s not a freebie, by the way. Or a favor.” Kelley batted eyelashes over greenish eyes with brown flecks that matched her freckles. “I pay fair and square and need somebody good.”

Another job? “Well, of course I’ll help. Wow.” Mary Grace’s mind flashed back. “It’s been a long time, though. I might need some software updates not only in my laptop but also in my head.”

“Well, you didn’t say you’re getting Mary Grace to help.” Scott tossed back playfully. “If she’s on board with this project, then so am I.” In front of his sister, he stroked her arm, and Mary Grace didn’t mind a bit.

“OK then. You can’t believe how excited I am, Mary Grace.” Kelley squeezed her hand and stood up. “Now, I know you’re all busy and nerve-wracked about starting school, so I’ll hip-hop out of here and find my beloved.” She chortled. “There’s an X-Box somewhere around here with Jason’s name on it. We’ll get together on this soon.”

“You bet!”

“Bye now.” Kelley grinned, her long braid twitching down her back as she ran out.

Scott started to lay his laptop on an old milk can acting like an end table. “Fire’s dying out. I’ll toss on another log.”

“No. Let me.” Mary Grace got up. Even as she hated leaving his side, she loved a cozy fire. “Sure beats the fake switch-on fireplace I had once upon a time. Nothing like the real thing.”

“The real thing. Now, you got that right.” His gaze flirted, just for a second, before a handsome red colored his cheekbones and he delved back into his keyboard.

A large oil painting over the fireplace struck Mary Grace almost with a physical hand after she placed a new log and stood up. She’d taken a half-dozen art history classes and never seen anything like it. Western landscape of snowy mountains and red rock formations backdropped Jesus, tan and rugged in the foreground. Wearing a fringed buckskin robe and cuddling a baby Bighorn sheep. Not the tender fluffy lamb of an Easter card with robes of pure white flowing to His feet.

“Wow.” Ineffective, childish, but the only sound she could manage.

Scott’s voice came low, gentle, over the crackling flames. “My Grim-Gram was something of a primitive Western artist. She did regular stuff, too, but a lot of her work is kind of—unexpected. She’d depict a traditional Bible story in a really un-typical way. She wanted to take traditional faith and expand on it, you know? Show how the Lord is with us everywhere. All the time. No matter who you are or where you find yourself. You like it?”

“I love it.” For a few more long, wonderful seconds, she beheld the painting. It’s message and Scott’s words resonated through each pore. Untypical. Expanding on the traditional. Holding close something unexpected yet no less special.

Like her precious imperfect son.

Shaken, she settled her heaving breath and turned back to Scott. “I now see that your artistic talent runs in the family.

His face flushed, handsome and manly, one more time. “That reminds me.” Scott’s forehead crinkled a little. “I’m starting a new venture designing video trailers for a local author’s books. Seems like something you’d like to dip your artsy fingers in, too.”

“You asking me for help, cowboy?”

“That I am. And for a bit more.”

“What’s that?”

“This.” His arms wrapped her close, and the sweet kiss warmed her far better than any fire.