Lizette worried there was something wrong with her. She thought she had been working through the grief of her mother’s death, but maybe she was wrong. After all, she hadn’t had that much experience with mourning, and the chaplain at the hospital had talked about going through different stages of grief.
Lizette wondered if one of those stages of grief was twitching.
Here she was wrapping up the day’s dance lesson, and her mind wasn’t concentrated on the three people who were her students or the five more students she needed if she was going to pull off even a modified version of the Nutcracker ballet. Instead, she was all jumpy inside, and her gaze kept going to the window, where she could see Judd sitting on the steps of her school and looking out to the street with a scowl on his face.
If she didn’t get a firm hold on herself, she’d be actually twitching when she looked at that man.
Lizette had had three days of lessons now, and for the better part of all of those days Judd had had his back turned toward her and the students. The first day she didn’t notice his silence and his scowls. The second day she noticed, but she didn’t feel the need to do anything about it. Today, she felt obsessed by the man.
She kept fighting the urge to go out and talk to him—and that was after she’d already been outside five times today to ask him questions. She didn’t have much to talk about either, except for the weather, and how many times could she ask if it looked like it was going to snow? He’d think she was dim-witted. There wasn’t even a cloud in the sky anymore.
She kept expecting each time she went out and asked the man a question that she would then be able to move on with her lessons with a focused mind.
She was still waiting for that to happen.
The really odd thing was that nothing had changed in those three days.
She didn’t need to see his face to know he wore the same scowl he’d worn every day so far. Every time today she’d found an excuse to slip outside and ask him a question, she’d known he’d have the same fierce look on his face even before she opened the door.
Lizette wondered if Judd thought his look would keep strange cars off the street in front of the school. Actually, he might be right about that one. That scowl of his would stop an army tank from approaching him.
With all of the frowning, Lizette knew there was no sane reason she should feel drawn to go up and talk to him. But she was.
She thought it might be his shoulders. For as hard as his face scowled, his shoulders told a different story. It wasn’t anger he was feeling, but worry. Anxiety hung on his shoulders. It was there in the way he angled his head when he heard a sound and the way he stood to take a look down the road every half hour or so.
Judd was taking his duty seriously, and he was worried.
That’s it, Lizette thought to herself in relief. She found him compelling because he was protecting the children. She’d just lost her mother, and the man was obviously doing everything he could to guard the children in his care. That made him an unconscious picture to her of her mother, she told herself. She’d be as attracted to a chicken if it sat there guarding its eggs. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was a man. He was simply a concerned parent.
Lizette felt better having figured that out. Not that she would have been opposed to finding the man attractive as a man, she just didn’t have time for that kind of distraction right now. She only had three students—Amanda, Bobby and Charley. She needed to worry about getting more students instead of thinking about some man’s shoulders.
And, yet, she let herself walk over to the doorway. Bobby and Amanda were sitting on the wooden floor untying their dance shoes. Since Charley wore socks instead of dance shoes, he didn’t have to worry about ties. Instead, he was pulling in his stomach and admiring himself in the mirror she’d hung behind the exercise bar. None of her students needed her immediate attention.
“They’re almost done,” Lizette said as she walked out on the porch and crossed her arms in the chill. At least she wasn’t asking about snow this time, even though the air felt cold enough for it. She always wore black tights and a black wrap-around dress when she practiced. Unfortunately, the dress was sleeveless. “Aren’t you cold out here waiting for the kids?”
Judd looked up at Lizette and forgot to frown. He almost forgot to breathe. She was standing in front of the sun, and although the temperature was low enough outside to make his fingers ache if he didn’t keep them in his pockets, the sun was shining brightly and she looked as though she was rimmed with gold. Her black hair was pulled back into a bun, and the smooth lines of her head made him think of an exotic princess. Her face was smooth and, even without lipstick, she looked like a picture he’d once seen of Cleopatra. The flimsy black thing she had draped over her made her look as if she was in constant motion. No wonder there had been so many wars fought back in Cleopatra’s day.
Judd was outclassed and he had sense enough to know it. All he asked was that he not embarrass himself around her. “It’s not that cold. Forty-six, last I checked.”
“Yes, well.” Lizette smiled.
“And no snow,” Judd added.
He’d already figured out that it wasn’t snow she was worried about. The few clouds that had been in the sky this morning were long gone. No, it was the kids’ father she was fretting about. She didn’t know Judd well enough to know that she didn’t have to worry about him leaving his post.
Not that he minded her coming out to check on him. He knew he hadn’t been around many women in his life, but he didn’t remember women being this naturally beautiful. He almost smiled in return. “So the kids are almost finished? Did they do all right?”
Lizette smiled even wider. “You do make a good mother.”
“What?” Judd choked on the smile that didn’t happen. Had he heard her right? She thought he made a good mother? A mother?
“I mean with all of your concern and all,” Lizette continued.
Judd grunted. He’d known he was out of her class, but he hadn’t realized he was that far out of it. A man didn’t get further away from date material than having a woman think of him as a mother.
“I used to ride rodeo.” Judd thought he owed it to himself to speak up. “Won my share of ribbons, too. Bronc riding and steer wrestling. They’re not easy events. I placed first in 2003 in bronc riding at the state fair in Great Falls.”
“Is that where you got your scar?”
Judd had forgotten he had a scar on the right side of his forehead. The scar hadn’t made any difference to his life, and he no longer even really saw it when he shaved. “No, I got that in a fight.”
Judd didn’t add that it had been a snowball fight when he was eight years old. He’d been dodging a snowball and hadn’t seen the low-hanging branch of the tree. He wasn’t going to admit he had got the scar playing, however—not when he was talking to a woman who thought of him as a mother.
“I’ll bet you’re strong,” Lizette said, and almost shook herself. That was the most obvious come-hither line a woman had ever uttered, and she felt foolish saying it. Unfortunately, it either wasn’t obvious enough for Judd, or he was just not interested. It didn’t even make his scowl go away. “I mean, of course you’re strong. You’d have to be with the way you swing Amanda around.”
Lizette had watched the way Amanda ran to Judd after classes. The little girl would run straight at him, and he’d bend down to scoop her up. While Amanda giggled, he’d gently toss her up in the air.
“You don’t need to worry about Amanda and Bobby’s father. I can take him in a fight if need be,” Judd said. He figured that was what all the talk about how strong he was came from.
Neither one of them heard the two kids come out on the porch.
“He has a gun—my dad does,” Bobby said.
“You don’t need to worry about your father either,” Judd said gently as he put his hand on the boy’s head.
It had taken Judd a full month to calm the nightmares that woke Bobby up. The boy still wanted to sleep in a cot at the bottom of Judd’s bed. Judd had figured he might as well let him, since Amanda was already sleeping on a cot on the right side of his bed. If he wasn’t worried about them rolling out of his bed, Judd would have let the two children share it, and he would have rolled his sleeping bag out on the floor. But the cots were closer to the floor, and the kids seemed to like them.
“But if he has a gun,” Lizette said, “shouldn’t we let the sheriff know?”
“The sheriff already knows.”
Judd had given a complete report. He had even given the sheriff a photo of the kids’ father that had been in one of the suitcases Barbara left with them.
That photo had given Judd many an uneasy moment. The photo was a picture of the two children, Barbara and her husband. He knew it had been taken a couple of years ago because a date was handwritten at the bottom of the picture. It had been one of those pictures from a photo booth like the kind you find in an amusement park. Judd had a feeling the family didn’t have many photos. The fact that Barbara had left it for the kids might mean she knew she wasn’t coming back.
But, right now, the photo was the least of his worries. Judd didn’t like the pale look of both of the kids’ faces. Of course, that might be because they were outside without their mittens on.
“Where’d you put your mittens?” Judd asked them as he stood up and herded the two children back into the warm room. He’d ordered the mittens from the back of the seed catalog, and he’d since wished he’d gotten three pairs for each of them instead of only two.
“I’m afraid that might be my fault,” Lizette said as she followed them inside and closed the door behind herself. “I told them they could have a doughnut after class today.”
“We didn’t want to get our mittens dirty,” Bobby explained. “The doughnuts have sugar on them.”
“You don’t need to give them doughnuts,” Judd said, even though he could smell the doughnuts and didn’t blame the kids for leaving their mittens off. The ballet practice room smelled of home. The only smell they usually had in his kitchen was the aroma of his morning coffee. Everything else was canned or microwaved or put between slices of bread in a sandwich. Judd didn’t know much about cooking, and he’d never met anyone who actually baked. Even Linda at the café didn’t do that kind of baking.
“Of course she needs to give us doughnuts.” Charley joined them from his perch on one of the chairs spaced around a work table. “I had to drive up to the Elkton ranch to borrow that Dutch oven. I would have driven further for homemade doughnuts. I mean to have one if it’s offered.”
“Did anyone see you borrow the Dutch oven?” Jake asked.
“Of course they saw me!” Charley said indignantly. “I didn’t steal it.”
“I mean, did any of the ranch hands see you borrow it? Or did you just talk to the cook?”
“Pete Denning saw me. He told the cook not to give it to me—said I’d be using the thing to soak my feet! I told him we were using it to make doughnuts.”
Jake’s worse fears were confirmed. “I don’t suppose you told him the doughnuts weren’t going to be anything more exciting than flapjacks.”
“Now, why would I do that?”
“To avoid a stampede.”
“Oh,” Charley said as he considered the matter. “I didn’t think of that.”
Both men looked down the road.
“I don’t see anyone though,” Charley said. “Maybe Pete forgot.”
“Not likely.”
“Maybe we should eat our doughnuts now,” Bobby said. He’d been standing beside Judd.
“And I’m sure you don’t need to worry about someone else coming for doughnuts,” Lizette added. “There are plenty of doughnuts to share with a few other people.”
Judd grunted. Maybe they were all right. Maybe he didn’t need to worry about a stampede of cowboys coming for doughnuts. They probably thought Charley was doing the cooking anyway, and Charley wasn’t known for his skills in the kitchen.
Lizette came back with a platter of doughnuts and some white paper napkins. There were powdered doughnuts and maple doughnuts. Twisted cruller doughnuts and apple doughnuts. Even jelly doughnuts.
Lizette tucked a napkin into the neckline of Amanda’s dress and then put one into Bobby’s shirt before spreading white napkins on the table in front of each of them.
“You made these?” Judd asked. He felt as wide-eyed as those cowboys he was worried about. He knew Lizette had said she made doughnuts, but he’d never expected that she could make doughnuts like these. He’d expected something more like biscuits. But these doughnuts were so perfect they glistened.
“I used to work in a bakery,” Lizette said as she held the platter out to Charley. “Part of that time as a baker.”
“There must be two dozen doughnuts here,” the older man marveled as he took a jelly doughnut and eyed the rest longingly. “Maybe three dozen.”
“Well, if you’re making doughnuts, you can’t just make a few.” Lizette passed the platter to the children next. “The recipes all make about five dozen.”
Amanda took an apple doughnut and Bobby took a maple one.
Judd was still standing, but Lizette turned the platter toward him anyway. “I know you’re not a student, but you’re working, too.”
Lizette gave him a small, hopeful smile. Judd would have taken a burnt stick off a platter if she’d offered it to him with that smile. As it was, he picked up the first doughnut he touched—it was a cruller.
“Don’t you need a machine or something to make doughnuts?” Judd said after he ate his first bite of pure heaven. “I didn’t know regular people could even make doughnuts like these.”
Lizette laughed. “All you really need is something to make the holes. Oh, and a Dutch oven, of course, unless you have a deep fryer.”
Charley took a bite out of his doughnut and started to purr. “I could put in an extra practice session this afternoon if you want.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Lizette said. “But if that’s a hint that you’d like a second doughnut, you can have one anyway.”
“Ah, well, then,” Charley said as he took another bite out of his doughnut. “Too bad the boys over at the hardware store don’t know you’re giving these to your students. They’d be signed up in no time.”
Judd stopped eating his doughnut. He’d just looked out the window and had seen several of the ranch hands from the Elkton place go into the hardware store. He supposed it was too optimistic to think they’d come to town to buy nails.
“Well, I could take the tray over to the hardware store,” Lizette said as she looked out the window in her studio and into the big window in the hardware store. “We certainly won’t be able to eat all of these doughnuts, and we do need a few more dancers to do the Nutcracker.”
“Jacob would appreciate a doughnut,” Charley said. “He’s been eating his own cooking for weeks now.”
“Why don’t you go get Jacob and invite him over,” Judd suggested. So far the hardware store door was still shut. Maybe the cowboys really had come in for nails. “Just don’t tell him there’s doughnuts here.”
“I know how to keep a secret,” Charley said as he slowly stood up. “Although the pastor might want a doughnut, too, and I wouldn’t feel right overlooking those two little boys of his if they’re there.”
“Oh, please invite the children,” Lizette said. “I heard the pastor had two boys. I just haven’t had a chance to invite them to ballet class yet.”
“I’m not sure you’ll want them in your class,” Charley said doubtfully. “They have a tendency to be hard on the furniture.”
“That’s perfect then, because I don’t have any furniture—at least not in the practice area,” Lizette said. So far she had just fixed up the main room in her building. The building had been a grocery store years ago, and it had a nice backroom with a kitchen area that she was using as a small apartment for herself. “And if they’re the kind of boys that like to move a lot, I’ll just make them be mice.”
Amanda giggled. “You can’t turn boys into mice.”
“Oh, yes, I can,” Lizette said as she tousled Amanda’s hair. “If I can turn a little girl into the Sugar Plum Fairy, I can turn little boys into mice or snowflakes or flowers.”
“I’d rather be a mouse than a flower,” Bobby said.
“Well, we’ll see,” Lizette said as her hand rested on Bobby’s head, too. “Maybe you can even be something more exciting than either one.”
Judd wasn’t so sure about Lizette’s powers to turn little boys into mice, but watching her casual affection with the children sure turned him into something else.
“I’m surprised you don’t have children,” Judd said. “Of your own, I mean.”
Lizette looked up at him. “I do hope to have children some day.”
Judd could only nod. He didn’t really even have any good reason to feel so disappointed. Of course she wanted children. She had to be ten years younger than him, which would only make her twenty-three or twenty-four. A woman like her would want the whole family thing.
Judd didn’t know where the thought had come from in the past few days that maybe he could marry if he just limited himself to a wife and didn’t think of children. Children were what made a family anyway. He wouldn’t have a clue about how to be a father. Sure, he’d gotten along fine with Bobby and Amanda. But they weren’t like other kids. They’d been frightened so badly that they clung to him for safety. If he hadn’t been there, they would have clung to that stray dog of his as long as the dog defended them from their nightmares.
Other children would expect more. No, a man like him had no business thinking about raising children. Maybe someday he’d meet a woman who didn’t want to have children either, and the two of them could marry.
Suddenly the doughnut Judd was eating didn’t taste so good. It was too bad about Lizette.