“I love living in a place where we can walk to church, Mommy!” Dovie swung Jessica’s hand as they strolled up Harrison Street toward the old clapboard-and-stone church.
“Very nice,” she agreed, but something was wrong. There were no cars filtering into the village and parking near the church. There were no other people walking down the street for the nine o’clock service, and yet she was sure that was what the sign had indicated. As they drew close, a burst of wind sent Dovie’s hat flying.
“Eek!” She laughed and clapped her hands over her head while Jessica chased down the errant hat. “That wind is just like Nebraska wind!”
“It sure is, which leaves me to wonder why Aunt Celia couldn’t have fallen in love with a man from, say, Texas? New Mexico? Or a crooner from Tennessee?”
“What’s a crooner?” Dovie wondered, as they climbed the stairs. When Jessica tried the church door and found it locked, Dovie frowned. “Doesn’t anybody else want to go to church, Mommy?” She glanced back and forth, as if hoping someone would show up. “Are we all alone?”
“Of course not, honey, I’m sure there are other people living nearby,” she told her, but now that they’d been here a couple of days, she wasn’t nearly as certain.
The town wasn’t exactly desolate. A few cars had made their way in and out the past couple of days. But just a few.
She was about to start back home when a car pulled up. Then another. And another.
Half a dozen cars rolled in, all coming from the same direction, and when one of the gentlemen proffered a key, Dovie clapped her hands in glee. “We do have a church in this town, Mommy! We do!”
“Running late as usual, but we haven’t had anyone waiting for us before now, so that will push us to be on time.” A dark-skinned older woman came up the stairs and extended her hand. “I am Cora Lee Satterly from Pine Ridge Ranch. It is a most certainly a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Jessica Lambert.” Jessica took her hand and smiled. “That sweet drawl wasn’t at all what I expected,” she added. “You’re Southern.”
“Guilty as charged. But living up north now. And happy to be here,” she finished as several other people came up the steps. The first man—tall, square shouldered and good-looking—put the key in the lock, and when the door swung open, he grinned. “Every week I’m pretty sure that old lock’s going to fail us. And every week we make it in.”
“I’m putting this sweet church on my rehab list,” said a dark-haired young woman holding a blonde baby girl. “Maybe we can find ourselves a pastor that way.”
“There’s no pastor?” Jessica asked, looking around as other folks arrived.
“When ours retired, there was no one to take his place,” said the man with the key. “Heath Caufield,” he continued, introducing himself, then slipped an arm around the woman at his side. “My wife, Lizzie. And our son, Zeke.”
“And a host of other local folks,” said an older gentleman. “We do our own prayer service in the meantime. Kind of nice, actually. It takes us back to when folks first settled these parts, before a town was a town. With God’s blessing and a little time, we’ll make it a town once again.” He patted Dovie on the head and she preened. “Welcome to Shepherd’s Crossing, little lady.”
“Thank you!” She smiled up at him, delighted that more people had come. So was Jessica. But a town with so few people? A town with one untended church?
Before she sank deep roots into this rich Idaho soil, she was going to make sure this was the kind of place to raise a child. A child should have friends to play with. A school to attend. And churches with pealing bells on Sunday morning.
As if on cue, the bell tower began chiming above her. The rich metallic tones called out loud and clear, and the little boy—Zeke, they’d called him—fist punched the air.
“My favorite thing,” he exclaimed, then clamped his hands over his mouth. “Sorry, Dad.” He sent an oops! look to his father. “I forgot to be quiet.”
The bells calmed.
A prayerful silence ensued, and then the older gentleman went forward and read Bible passages. No music. No organ.
You play piano. You could volunteer. There’s an old keyboard right over there.
She didn’t offer. If it was just her, then sure. She could make do.
But this wasn’t just her. It was Dovie’s childhood, Dovie’s memories they were talking about. All she’d ever wanted was for her children to live in a place unclouded by addiction and greed. A place filled with goodness and love. To do for her daughter what her mother had done for her so long ago, before an unexpected heart attack had tugged Mary Lambert from this earth.
She didn’t linger when the service came to a close. She took Dovie’s hand and started down the steps. Maybe she shouldn’t fight losing the house. She was a talented graphic designer. She could work from home anywhere and make enough to get by.
“Jessica?”
She turned. Lizzie Caufield was coming down the steps toward her. “Yes?”
“Where are you living? Are you close by?”
Jessica nodded toward Harrison Street. “The third house in. I inherited it from my late aunt.”
Lizzie’s brow wrinkled slightly, but she didn’t ask questions. “Welcome.” Lizzie offered her a warm smile. “We were rushing earlier, but we’d love to have you come out to Pine Ridge Ranch. Zeke would be over the moon to have a playmate visit and we can show you some old-fashioned Southern hospitality.”
“While we try to find out as much about you as we can,” added another woman. Her honesty made Jessica smile.
“I like women who know how to keep their priorities straight,” she replied.
“We’re all there today if you’re available,” Lizzie said.
Jessica felt funny admitting her car wasn’t running. She shook her head. “I’ve got a freelance book-cover project due tomorrow, so I’ve got to finesse things before it goes out to a client.”
Lizzie’s eyes went wide. “You do graphic design?”
“I love graphics,” she admitted. “I’ve always loved creating things, and computer design has opened up so many doors for me.”
“And you’re living here? You’re not just visiting?” Lizzie Caufield didn’t look simply happy. She looked excited.
The other woman leaned in slightly. “You’re scaring her, Lizzie. Might want to tone it down. I’m Melonie, by the way. Her sister. The sane one.”
Jessica laughed as others came out of the church and gathered around them. “Yes and yes. Are you in need of graphics?”
“If we start a small-town newspaper, I am,” declared Lizzie. “Now you’ve got to come by. I’m all thumbs with layered effects and fonts, but I’ve got a great hand with writing. We’ll talk, all right?”
Jessica nodded. “I’ll look forward to it.” She gave Lizzie her business card, and as quickly as the little town had filled with a few dozen people, it emptied.
She and Dovie walked back to the house down lonely, quiet streets. Too quiet.
They’d just started up the walk when a white Jeep rolled to the curb. Ty Carrington climbed out and came her way. “If you toss me your keys, I’ll see if I can get this car running. It’s a tough place to be caught without transportation, especially with no grocery store on hand.”
“And no church, school, library...”
“Folks have left. But there are new folks in town, and they’ve got hopes to make things better.” He shrugged lightly. “It might be too little, too late. But then again, maybe not.”
Jessica hadn’t bargained on the lack of townspeople. The lack of simple business support. The thought of an emergency with Dovie, and so little around...
She indicated the broken car. “This is kind of you, but it’s not really your worry.”
“Well, ma’am, see, that’s just it.” He sent her a gaze of such sweet sincerity that it was like a welcome home. “If nothing else, we should all be kind. Right?”
“I’m cold, Mommy.”
He moved toward her car. “Toss me those keys and I’ll give this a once-over.”
She didn’t want to take help from him. From anyone, really. But maybe especially from the guy trying to throw her out of her house.
Having said that, she had a child to feed and no way to get food, which meant she needed his help even if she didn’t want to take it. She tossed him the keys and took Dovie inside.
He came to the door about ten minutes later and shook his head. “Nothing I can fix, I’m afraid. It looks like it needs a trip to a well-equipped repair shop, and the closest one is down in Council. We’ve got a tow truck at the ranch. I can come by tomorrow, hook this up and get it down there for you. Save you the cost of a tow.”
“You can’t be expected to do that for free,” she argued, but he shrugged that off.
“It’s our quiet season, there’s help on hand and I’ve got the equipment. Happy to help, ma’am.”
“Jessica.”
He waited.
“Don’t call me ma’am and go all cute cowboy on me. My name is Jessica.”
“A pleasure to meet you again, Jessica.” His quick grin tried to melt her heart. She resisted, but just barely. Someone had once said keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Anyone trying to take her house out from under her fitted the latter, even though he had the sweetest blue eyes she’d ever seen.
“I’ve got a few hours. Plenty of time to make a grocery run. If you need a loan...”
“Money’s not a problem.” She pulled the door open to let him in. “I just didn’t realize that nothing would be available locally and should have stopped along the way. Now I know better.”
“I’ve been dying to go shopping,” Dovie said dramatically to Ty. “I have, like, a whole list of things we need to put in our nice, clean cupboards, so that would be fun, right? If we all go together? If you don’t make my mom mad again,” she added, the frankness of her look underscoring her words.
Ty smiled down at her as if he understood little girls all too well. “I will do my best to keep the peace.” He flashed a smile up to Jessica as he squatted to Dovie’s level. “And a shopping list is truly a wonderful thing.”
Dovie grinned at him.
He grinned back, and Jessica was pretty sure the four-year-old was unabashedly smitten.
She, however, would accept the ride but dodge the attraction. Especially the attraction to a ruggedly handsome cowboy who might possibly be delivering an eviction notice to her in a matter of days.