“Yep. She’s something.” Hoop agreed, and it was Mallie, not Ella, for once, that sent Hoop’s heart skittering around his chest. Malia Cameron didn’t have a husband. A sweet, gooey expression lightened Mallie’s eyes while she looked at Ella’s picture. Even though his love for Lynn had died when she left and he hadn’t seen her since, he’d prayed for years for some kind of reconciliation with his ex-wife, if for nothing else but Ella’s sake. But the hard-hearted woman hadn’t seen her daughter for years.
Now, with the divorce final and Lynn never in the picture again, he’d been wondering if a woman in his life might react negatively to the presence of another woman’s child.
Obviously, it didn’t matter one single whit to Mallie. Maybe it was God’s will, her agreeing to come to the wedding with Brash—make that Brian—so they could meet. He tingled all over in a way he hadn’t since high school. She was self-proclaimed unattached.
He grinned again at his–and Ma’s—mistake. Even Ma hadn’t realized Brian meant Brash, who would settle up just fine in the bunkhouse. For now, Hoop would start off with a real nice, moseying trail ride. Then he mused some more. It wasn’t mere coincidence, was it, him meeting an intriguing woman the same day he pretty much felt like his old self again? Then again…a twinge of nerves tickled the back of his neck. He hadn’t gone on a date in a real long time.
Date? He all but rolled his eyes as he grinned at her. This was nothing but a trail ride, same as he took with any tourist. He rubbed his hand over the beanie and grimaced.
“Mallie, on second thought let’s get to the house.” He managed to talk normal. “You’ll need a warmer coat, and we got a ton of extras.” More than that, he needed to grab his Stetson. No way he’d ride off wearing this beanie with a girl who announced she loved everything about the cowboy life.
“You betcha.”
Her smile almost knocked him to his knees. This time, the weakness in legs had nothing to do with chemo beating the life out of him. In a polite host way, he caught his breath and offered her the crook of his elbow as they headed back to the house. Polite, yeah, but his ribcage was sure taking a beating from his pounding heart.
At the hall tree in the entryway, they helped themselves, Mallie whooping with delight as she waggled a brown Stetson at him.
He nodded as he plunked it on her head, and his heart rate picked up speed. It looked perfect with that pale blond hair. “It’s Ma’s. You’re welcome to it.” He could hardly find words to speak as she shrugged out of her short, black leather jacket and burrowed into one of the fleece-lined wool coats. Might as well frame a picture of her and stick it on the piano, she looked so much at home.
She struck a runway pose. “Don’t I look official now?”
“Yes, ma’am,” was all he could manage. Hot, too. Her well-worn boot-cut jeans hugged her curves just right; the pink toes of brown leather boots peeked up from the hardwood floor.
Perfect. And sixteen months stable. That had to mean something, too.
Outside, the cool breezes seemed to breathe new life into him. Or maybe…he felt a teenage flush coming. Maybe it was the woman at his side. She stretched her arms high.
“Oh, Hoop. It’s absolutely perfect being here. And to think you get to see this every day. All day.”
He reckoned he understood her feelings. Most first-timers extolled the tidy ranch and rugged scenery as far better than any Western movie. “I am lucky,” he said simply and meant it. This was turning out to be one wonderful day.
“Me, I’ve got a view. Of the St. Bonaventure Hotel. And that’s a selling point!” She chuckled as she followed him into the barn where the horse in the first stall nickered softly and nudged him with her nose.
“Here she is,” he announced then he headed to Alamo, his cantankerous buckskin.
“Ah. My crazy girl. I can’t wait.” Her face glowed as she swiveled her head between him and the horse. “I can saddle her up myself. I remember how.”
Quickly, Hooper readied Alamo and from the corner of his eye, watched Mallie cinch a saddle about her pretty sorrel quarter horse like she’d done it a million times before. Next time he’d finish quicker so he could watch her the whole time.
Hooper knew well there’d be a next time. Just in case, though, he checked her handiwork.
“Awesome.” Pride at her accomplishment swelled in him. “You need the mounting block?” With Mallie’s long legs, he doubted it. She sure showed the chops of a horsewoman, but it was a dutiful question for a greenhorn who might know the ropes but hadn’t ridden in a long time.
“No. I think I got it.”
Liking what he saw, he watched her mount up Crazy Horse just fine. He checked her stirrup length first, and then he swung on Alamo, wincing a bit at the tweaks of pain in his lower right quadrant, around the orchiectomy incision. He didn’t like not feeling the stirrup with his foot or the horn with his hands. But he held on tight anyway and forgot his troubles when Mallie’s face glowed again as they set off.
“How was the trip from L.A.?” he asked.
“Good, but a lot of connections. There is no such thing as a direct flight anywhere close. I feel like a pioneer just getting here.”
“At least our little airport has a shuttle.”
“Oh, Brian rented a car.”
“Well, I’m glad you got here. Mountain Cove is pretty remote. Just how we like it.” He led her out under the gates to Hearts Crossing, where their two-heart brand hung, the cross of Christ obvious where the hearts intersected. “Don’t get any complaints from our visitors.”
“Wow. I can see why.” Mallie stretched tall in her saddle as she looked around, right to left then back again. Foothills of aspen and alder wearing fall colors wrapped around the ranch with peaks from the Rockies’ Northern Front Range looming behind, their top notches already dusted with snow. “I forgot how much I missed being here.”
“You staying on?” Hooper said, casual as he could over the horseshoes clip-clopping against the rocky driveway. “I mean, after the wedding? With your relations?”
“Oh, yeah. Brian’s got to head back to work Sunday, but I’m going to visit Uncle Teddy and Aunt Jeanette for a week. Don’t think we don’t see them, though. They escape the snow and come to California for a month or two every Christmas. They’ve got good people running the flower shop while they’re gone. They say winter isn’t all that busy anyway. It’s summertime with weddings that keep them in the black.”
They cantered down the main road for a bit before turning onto one of the maze of trails carved around the ranch through the range and foothills. Riding ahead, he leaned back as they headed uphill on a narrow trail. Her lemony scent on the breeze, he couldn’t help thinking of her, of a few days more than just the wedding festivities. Promise was only ten miles away.
Sure as shootin’, a woman who was a survivor herself would share his hopes and fears, his faith, his nerves. You couldn’t face such a thing as cancer without the Lord at your side, but even in the warmth of His care and love, doubts and dread slipped inside your head every time a medical test loomed. The words “cancer-free” didn’t mean permanent, and Hoop above all knew one didn’t want to waste time.
Prayer always calmed him down, though, and he said a silent one right now then turned back in his saddle to face her. He’d gotten used to the pose when he led trail rides of tourists, so he could shoot the breeze with them and keep an eye out at the same time.
She gave him another of those knee-dropping smiles before her pretty forehead scrunched. “You’re foot isn’t in your stirrup.”
“What?” He sat upright and fussed with his foot, jabbing it back where it belonged. Then he turned back to her. “Nerve damage. From the chemo. Can’t really feel my feet. Although they burn from the inside sometimes.”
Her eyebrows rose like wings in flight. “Oh, the joys of chemo.” Lids shuttered her eyes for a second. “I’m off it now, which is a good thing of course. But sometimes I feel I’m not doing anything to fight it, you know?” Then she smiled again, waving her hand as if meaning, enough said about that. “Sure is beautiful around here. We don’t get four seasons in Southern California.”
Hoop nodded, taking her lead, reckoning more cancer talk could wait. Right now was just a regular ride between a man and a woman. “Fall’s just about my favorite. Things quiet down after the summer, and we aren’t snowbound yet.”
Mallie barked out a laugh. “Snow. Sometimes I miss it.” At his raised eyebrows, she continued. “I spent four years at Boston University. Lived through many a nor’easter.”
“I reckon we get our share. Reckon we get nor-westers, though.” He gestured in the general direction of the autumn spectacle going on around them. It sure reminded him of just Who was in charge. “The Lord sure knows how to use His paintbrush,” he said almost with a sigh.
She didn’t say anything, so he prodded. “Doesn’t He?”
“Yes, He does. That’s for sure.” Another of those blinding smiles, and Hoop relaxed. It was hard to imagine anybody going through a life-threatening illness without God at her side. Whoever he fell for next would sure be grounded in faith. Oh, he and Lynn had gone through the pre-marriage lessons with Pastor Hale, and she’d seemed on board, but something he’d never understand had derailed her. How could anybody leave behind her own child?
He shoved the ugly thoughts away and turned in his saddle to lead the way downhill. Having observed Mallie, he was convinced she had good riding skills.
On a little turnout, he paused while she caught up and reined in. From here, the view of Hearts Crossing was prettier than any artist’s imagination. After all, God had a huge part in Hearts Crossing. No decisions were ever made without praying for His guidance.
“Oh, my. This is your spread. Hearts Crossing. You are one lucky man.”
“Not me. Ma’s ancestors homesteaded here over a hundred-and-fifty years ago.”
Mallie sighed. “I can’t even wrap my head around that. My folks have lived in their house since I was born, and thirty years is practically a record for suburbia. There’s always a bigger, fancier development going up somewhere. So tell me more.” She pointed. “What’s that big warehouse?”
“We store the covered wagons in there for the winter. The chuck wagon, too. During the summer, we run wagon train trips around the ranch for city slickers.”
“Brian told me about that sideline. I’d love to go on a trip like that.”
“Come on then. We get guests from age four to…last summer, Peggy was eighty-one! We start June first. Snow permitting.” He sent her a grin. It did happen sometimes.
“Goodness.”
“My sister Kelley, the chef, and Pike’s fiancée, Daisy, are chuck cooks, and me and all my brothers take turns as wagon master. Over there…” He pointed now to another corral past some outbuildings. “Those are our draft horses. The black ones are Percherons, and the Belgians are tan. They pull the wagons and in winter, pull sleighs full of tourists through the national forest. There’s an elk herd that overwinters nearby. Folks like to go see them. We have a lot of snow mobilers and Nordic skiing around here.”
“They’re gorgeous.”
“Come on. Wait till you see them up close. Always named in pairs. Pip and Estella. Penelope and Odysseus. Romeo and Juliet.” He grinned at her. “Kenn named them, too.”
“I thought he taught American Lit. Those are definitely Dickens and Homer and, well, Shakespeare.”
“Aw, guess he’s more well-read than any of the rest of us.”
The rocky trail took them down to the western perimeter of the ranch.
“I’m surprised we didn’t meet up with any of the other riders,” Mallie mused abreast of him. “All those taking off when Brian and I arrived.”
“We’ve got some thirty miles of trails around the ranch and through the hills, and we have permits from the national forest.”
“Oh. This is quite a place.”
“Yep.” Pride might be a deadly sin but Hoop felt a huge flash of it. Pa had sure left his family a terrific legacy. “Around 3,000 acres and five to six hundred head of cattle. We just thinned the herd sending about half to market. Happens every October.” His spirits fell. This time around, he’d had to watch from the sidelines. That reminded him, and he checked his boots. This time, his numb foot was doing its thing just right in the stirrup. It might take several years for the nerve damage to clear up, but on a day like this with brisk wind under his brim, warm sun on his back, and a beautiful woman at his side, he didn’t much care.
They cantered along the path adjoining Fortress Creek, and he checked his watch for the time. Rats. Much as he loved Ella, this ride was coming to a close too fast.
“Brian told me Kenn met his bride on one of those wagon trains of yours,” Mallie mentioned with one of her smiles.
“Yep. Christy’s amazing. Kenn said he knew right when he saw her, she was it. How lucky is that?” Hoop all but smacked his mouth. Where had that stupidness come from? This was a girl he’d just set eyes on today. No way he should start feeling things he shouldn’t. He’d fallen for Lynn quick and look where that had gotten him.
“Yeah, some people do get lucky.”
The sudden sadness in Mallie’s voice unnerved him, and he quickly pointed out a stand of apple trees. “There’s Orchard Bluff. Legend has it, our ancestor Old Joe, who first settled here, planted those trees. Get pretty decent apples off ’em.”
Mallie’s lips puckered with a touch of doubt. “Ah, come on. They can’t be that old.” She winked at him.
“Well, whatever. Kelley makes apple cider vinegar from ’em and uses it in her award-winning barbecue sauce. Which you’ll taste tonight at the rehearsal dinner. Nothing like it in this world.”
“I can’t wait. Right now, everything’s so perfect I’m afraid I’ll wake up and it’ll have been a dream.”
Everything perfect? Did that mean him? Hooper felt a happy flush, but sadly, the trail and ride ended too soon. Of course, if Hoop had his way, there would be others. Many others.
****
Mallie pulled ahead, afraid of her emotions. The horses knew their way home and headed right for the corral.
The funny sadness burbled again deep down. Hooper was completely wonderful, everything she might have looked for in a man in her past life. A devoted family man. Successful business operation. A broken heart in there somewhere.
Not to mention everything cowboy.
She had to get rid of the notion quick. Although she had promised herself one weekend of flirtation. That couldn’t be a bad thing, could it? Surely she deserved that much. After she dismounted, her brother Brian came over with the bridegroom to get the horses.
“Any saddle sores, sis? It’s been quite a while.”
She shook her head. “I’m just a bit shaky, but I’ll get my legs back in a sec.” She punched his arm, then turned to Kenn with a tease. “You getting nervous, Kenn?”
Brian had brought Kenn home to California once or twice during their college days, but she didn’t know him well. She did know he was a man of faith and conviction who had helped Brian during her ordeal. She’d said enough prayers to Somebody up there, to be sure. Hard not to do when you’re diagnosed with stage-four cancer. But now, it was hard to accept a God who allowed perfectly decent, innocent people—and their families along with them—to suffer while murderers and drug dealers and other scum of the earth remained unscathed.
She must have frowned, for Kenn gave her a quick hug. “Yep. I never imagined I’d be so nervous about something I’m so sure about.”
“Well, you’re getting harnessed for life.” Brian grunted. She heard a twinge of bitterness in his tone. Although Mallie had seen the breakup coming, it had blindsided him.
“I’m glad you could make it, Mallie,” Kenn told her, and his eyes were kind. After all, she hadn’t quite been invited.
“She only came because Danielle dumped me.” Brian groused then coughed as Hoop’s big hand slapped him between the shoulders in a masculine greeting.
“How’s it going, Brash? I’m Hooper.”
“I see you met up with my sister.” Brian’s eyes narrowed. “You take care of her, ya hear?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ll catch up later. Gotta pick up my daughter now. And you, brother—” Hoop pointed at Kenn and not in a good way. “We need to talk.”
For some reason, Mallie warmed at his words, about agreeing to take care of her. Then she remembered Kenn’s slip of the tongue. And her weekend-only promise.
Hooper followed her toward the house. “Hey, Mallie. Wanna go to town with me and get Ella? I could show you the bustling metropolis of Mountain Cove.” He looked toward his feet like a shy schoolboy. “We could grab a cup of coffee at the Butterbean Café. Harass my baby sister, Chelsea.”
As he said the name, his lips curved in a tender smile. She’d seen the same expression on Brian’s face from time to time even though he was barely a year older. Hoop must be…goodness? How old was he? She knew Kenn was almost thirty-one like Brian…and there was a whole slew of siblings. Hoop did have a child in school.
Well, inquiring minds did want to know. “Sure. I’d love to.”
“I’ll get my keys.” He loped alongside.
“I’ll grab my purse. How are your feet?”
Hoop nodded. “Honestly, I did better than I thought I would. Ma’s been warning me of disaster, so I’m downright glad to prove her wrong.”
On their way to the big ranch house, they passed a small building already decorated with Christmas lights. A closer look, she saw they were chili peppers.
“Used to be our Grim-Gram’s granny flat. Now it’s our new gift shop,” Hoop said. “And it’s doing pretty well, too. Pike’s fiancée, Daisy, and her ma run it for the ranch.”
“So everybody pitches in.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe. Scott runs our online store, too.”
She ran a finger over the “closed” sign. “Hmmm. I’d like to buy some souvenirs for the folks back home.”
Hoop guffawed. “Really? Ma feels it’s grasping to open it right now. Feels wedding guests would be obligated to buy stuff they don’t really want to. If you stick around, I think it’ll be open on Monday.”
Grabbing his keys inside as well as two bottles of cold water, he settled her in a big-cab, bright red pickup truck with a child’s booster seat in the back.
As he drove under the gate with its hanging brand, an odd sort of peace swathed her. The hearts, that cross. It all had to mean something.
“I like the brand.”
“Ma’s design. She said life is all about love and faith. Works for me. In spite of...” His voice trailed off. “Well, truth is. My wife left me when Ella was three months old. I reckon I’m ready to move on. After, you know. Cancer.” His voice slowed at the word as the truck braked to turn onto the main road. “I gotta say. Without my faith, I’d never have gotten through any of it.”
“So sorry about that,” was all she could think of. “But you’ve got a lovely, close family to help you through.”
“That I do.”
“Tell me about it. Them, I mean.”
“I’ll go back to front, bottom to top. Chelsea’s the baby. Freshman at Boulder. She’s home for the wedding, and her boss at her summer job is always happy for some extra help. During the rodeo season, she’s a champion barrel rider.”
“Aw, rodeo.” Mallie’s heart thumped.
“Bragg’s an accountant as well as a wrangler, for the ranch of course, and for folks all around the county. He gets pretty busy at tax time. You see, with eight kids, Pa let us know early on we all had to find ways to contribute. The ranch couldn’t sustain us all.
“Scott wrangles, of course, and runs the online store, and has his own web-design business. Kelley’s chuck cook for the wagons in summer but has started her own restaurant over in Sunset Hills. Then there’s Kenn who you kinda know. Pike is a large-animal vet. Rachel second oldest after me, is an attorney. Nice little practice in town, but she’s on maternity leave right now. Matthew is three months old.”
His mouth tightened a little at his last phrase, and she got it right off. Same age Ella was when her mom bailed. Here was his sister, taking time out of a busy practice to be a mother.
“She’s alone too, though.” His voice softened so much over the tires meeting the rutty road. “Her hubby Nick, our geneticist, got called up to the Middle East last summer and missed Matty’s birth.”
“Oh, no. Will his deployment be over soon?”
“I hope. But I’m talking too much. Tell me about you.” The main road snaked around hills and bordered rangeland studded with cattle. Picture-perfect calendar material.
“Well, I’m the baby. Brian’s fourteen months older, and we’ve always been best friends. Netta is the oldest…she’s a big, bad forty year old with teenagers! I love my nieces Raven and Wren to death.”
He chuckled. “What’s that about? Your sister into birds or something?”
“If you only knew. She’s a bigger tree-hugger than Brian. Lives in a geodesic dome powered solely by solar. Actually, she runs an eco-business called just that: ‘Solely by Solar.’”
“Cool. We go green and sustainable around here as much as we can.”
“The crazy thing is we’re Finnish on Mom’s side. Netta’s named for her. Raven’s blond as dawn.”
He laughed again, a free and easy sound in the cold air. “So what do you do back in California?” Hoop asked.
“My grandfather started a paper and packaging company years ago, and my dad and uncle own and run it now. Tree-hugger Brian is expanding our green products division. After BU, I came on board in Media and Events. I arranged luncheons for clients, in-service for our employees. Conventions for the consortium of other related businesses. Trade shows. That sort of thing.”
He tossed her a glance. “You must be a good organizer.” Then he chuckled. “Not my strength.”
“Well, I was. But Daddy put me in media after…after I got back on my feet. Said it was less stress. So now I get to write and proofread the newsletter. Oh, and send memos.” It wasn’t ever a good thing to dwell on her disappointment. Instead, she concentrated outside the window at the town ahead. “Very pretty. Brick and old trees.”
“Yep.” He raised a finger from the wheel and pointed. “Over there’s the oldest building in town. The jailhouse.”
“What?”
“Now it’s a museum.”
Hooper parked in front of Mountain Cove Elementary School, a two-story brick building that bore the patina of time. Indeed, the date 1938 showed from a carved stone above the big front door. She’d seen picture-perfect buildings like this in movies.
“It killed me when she started school,” Hooper muttered. “Not that I want her home forever, but it’s just the start.”
“The start of what?”
“Of all the goodbyes.”
She heard the longing and above all, the type of goodbye he actually meant. The same goodbye that lingered just this side of her subconscious. Clearing her throat in lieu of replying, she rubbed a brisk mist from her eyes. They had today. Thinking beyond it was, well, unthinkable.
A troop of miniature humans lined up at a gate led by a woman in a sweater appliquéd with felt cut-outs of books, apples, and pencils. Mallie recognized Hooper’s munchkin at once, and in a flash, the pretty little girl ran into his outstretched arms, a little backpack falling to the ground. Mallie’s heart couldn’t help but tingle. A daddy’s girl herself, she’d never have made it without her father’s love and care.
“Daddy! Daddy!” After a hefty hug and several smooches, Hoop set Ella down, and she looked straight at Mallie.
“Daddy, is this your new girlfriend?”
Mallie heard her own intake of breath.
“No, honey girl,” Hooper said quickly. “It’s Miss Mallie.”
“But you want a new mommy for me. Since my old one went away.”
Mallie’s heart panged.
“Yeah, honey girl. But it doesn’t quite work like that.”
“Then who is she?”
Mallie bent down a little. “I’m here for your Uncle Kenn’s wedding. I’m Mallie.
“Hi Mallie. I’m Ella,” the little girl said with dead-on seriousness. Then she peered closely at Mallie as if looking for lint. “My real mamma is gone, but someday I’d like to have another one all my own. It would be fun if she was you.” She announced. “You’re awfully pretty.”
“Oh mercy, Ella. What are you saying?” Hoop’s cheekbones colored attractively like sundown over shadows. “Miss Mallie is our friend. Now, come on. If you’re a real good girl, we can go to the Butterbean Café. You can have ice cream while we big people have coffee.”
“You can call me Mallie, Ella.”
“OK. So let’s go get ice cream from Auntie Chelsea, Daddy.” She peeked again at Mallie. “What do you think?”
Mallie nodded with what she hoped was enthusiasm because her heart pounded with a terrible ache. How could any mom go and leave this angel behind?
But if that was Hoop’s main goal, finding a new mom for his daughter, she was off the hook. Such a goal was way off limits for her. He above all people would understand she couldn’t promise a future to anybody. Therefore, she could enjoy her weekend with them without regret. It might break her heart, but she was a survivor, after all.
After strapping in his daughter, Hoop helped Mallie into the front seat like a true cowboy and gentlemen, and drove into the town.
“There’s our church.” He pointed to a tall spire topped by a cross, then to a charming brick building across the way. “The Gingham Grove Bed and Breakfast filled to capacity with wedding guests. And there…” Hoop indicated a rustic log building with a sign flashing Ricochet Motel in red, white, and blue neon.
She looked around for another church but didn’t see one. “Mountainview Community Church? But the invitation said Woodside Chapel.”
“Yep. Woodside’s a new planned development going up on land we sold. Christy—the bride—is landscape designer for the project, and she and Kenn wanted to be the first couple married at the chapel. It’s just in the framing stage, though. Gonna be interesting. Just got the roof on. At least if it rains nobody’ll get wet. Remember to wear your woolies.” As he stopped at a red light hanging over the street on cables, he turned to give her a heart-melting grin. “It might be cold out, but I’ll be standing up for my brother. Too far away to keep you comfy.”
Thinking of him close and comfy somehow set her pulse to pounding from head to toe.
Hooper parked in front of a Western-style false-front building next to its twin marked Mountain General Mercantile. In the café window, a hand-lettered sign posted the day’s special; chicken-fried steak, green beans with bacon, with Grandma Ida’s home-style potatoes O’Butterbean. Mallie wasn’t quite sure what the last dish was, but her mouth watered at the thought of down-home cooking. Trendy California cuisine with its salads of arugula rather than real lettuce and tacos made every which way but Mexican suddenly seemed far away and unappetizing. Why hadn’t she taken advantage of the big dining table back at the ranch that swarmed with real food? Because she wanted to go riding.
Or to go riding with Hooper. With a secret smile, she knew the answer to that.
Ella burbled with excitement as she caught Hooper’s hand and all but dragged him inside the café. Since Mallie had the distinct feeling the little girl would have grabbed her hand as well, she kept it tight in her pocket just in case. Hands were the first thing somebody gave to another. She’d heard that in a movie one time. And this was weekend only. Little kids didn’t understand concepts of time.
The Butterbean Café was exactly what you would see in a movie about a small town. Yellow gingham curtains with black grosgrain ribbons, cowhide upholstered booths, thick ceramic dishes rimmed with hand-painted horseshoes, and a real soda fountain. A throng of cowboys, relaxing, she guessed, after the October markets, held onto big white mugs at the counter while calling loud halloes to Hoop. From their collective rising sets of eyebrows, Mallie read the interest in their eyes and gave them a hearty wave. After the three of them settled in a booth, an adorable redheaded waitress bounced their way. Chelsea, of course. She had endless red curls and Hooper’s auburn eyes. She half-wondered what Hoop’s own hair was like when full-grown.
“Auntie Chelsea!”
“Hi, punkin. I’ll get you that chocolate-peanut butter sundae I know you like. And for you?” After a polite nod at Mallie, she widened her eyes at her brother, waiting for an introduction.
“This is Mallie Cameron. Her brother is a groomsman. Mallie, my sis Chelsea.”
For a beautiful second, the way Hooper said her name touched her ears as if she’d never heard it before, and all thoughts of food fled her head. “Hmmm. Hot tea with lemon.” It was way too California to ask for herbal.
“Me? I’ll have coffee,” Hoop announced. “Straight up caffeine and black as night.”
Mallie understood at once. The weariness had come upon him. How well she remembered the burning need for rest.
A couple of the seated cowboys ogled Chelsea as she prepared their orders. Mallie, with a secret grin, watched Hoop’s fingers curl in indignation. Right then and there she figured he was already polishing his shotgun to get it ready for Ella’s teenage years.
After Chelsea returned and set their orders on the table, Ella grabbed Hooper’s left hand with her right, reaching for Mallie’s right with her left, then gave a simple order. “Hold Daddy’s hand, Mallie.”
She gave her hand willingly this time but wondered what was going on. Together, Hooper and Ella paraphrased a Bible verse Mallie knew she’d heard sometime in her life.
“This is a day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad.”
Then Ella said, somberly, “I am glad for my ice cream. I am glad for Mrs. Meyer. She’s taking us to the pumpkin patch next week. And I’m glad for Mallie. I hope she stays.”
Both the little girl’s hand and Hooper’s tightened about Mallie’s, and a blush heated her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said grace before eating anything, and most certainly, never in public.
Hoop’s face had pinked a little, too. “I know it’s not the typical blessing. But Ella and I like to make time for other things God gives us, besides food.”
“That was…completely lovely,” Mallie said, squeezing his fingers and meaning every word.
“Daddy, you told me this morning you wanted to ride today. Can I go with you?” A circle of chocolate ringed Ella’s mouth.
Hooper tossed Mallie an eye roll and wry grin. “No, honey girl. When we get back, we’re all taking a hayride to the chapel to decorate it. Unless…you need a nap?” His eyes twinkled.
“Aw, Daddy, I took a nap at school.”
“Well, then, you can help.”
“Can Mallie help too? Oh. Please say yes.”
Hoop nodded at her over his mug. “Sure. If she wants to.”
“Oh, she does. Don’t you, Mallie? Did you know I get to be flower girl at the ’hearsal and the wedding?”
Mallie didn’t have a chance to reply. But whatever was going on, she sure wanted to be a part of it.
“Let’s finish up here so we can get going,” Hooper said, eyes bright. But suddenly, too many thoughts swamped her, all of them involving flower girls and white lace and rehearsals.
All the unthinkables.