Country Wishes

by RaeAnne Hadley

  It didn’t make any more sense to me than Hailey wanting to be a singer, but I saw no reason to dash a kid’s hopes.

  With the horse blankets hung, we washed up before heading to the ice cream shop. She stopped her song long enough to keep tabs on me. “Don’t forget you have to pick up whipped cream on the way. I’ll open up.”

  “Thanks, what would I do without you?” I should have been prepared for her to answer in the form of a song, but my mind was racing through the cattle I had to move after I made sure Hailey got the store opened. She’d begged me to let her take over and this was the first time she was opening on her own, with me only checking in.

  MELODY

  Kale chips didn’t exist in the wild west, or at least not in the Hopeful, Colorado grocery store. Guess my worries over whether I preferred the wasabi or ranch flavor would have to wait until I returned to the city. Lite popcorn would have to suffice.

  I found the flavored waters but kept my expectations to a minimum. Scanning the shelves, I spied one bottle of cranberry on the bottom shelf. Redemption. I grabbed it and squatted to search for more behind the other bottles. To my delight, some had gotten shoved to the back. On my knees, practically in Child’s Pose, I reached to the back of the shelf, pulled two out, and stretched up to put them in my cart. Out of fear they wouldn’t get stocked again any time soon, I decided I better buy all of them.

  A strange clinking sound caught my attention before I went back for the next two. It came closer. I watched the end of the aisle a few feet away. It wasn’t a bum cart, more like someone walking but with some sort of jingle. Christmas was only a week away.

  My breath hitched when jeans clad legs walked into view at the end of my aisle. Boots. Spurs. Holy crap. Spurs in the grocery store. The final clink sounded as he stopped and turned my direction. My heart raced. I had a thing for cowboys, but it had been a movie fantasy until I decided to teach in rural BFE for a semester.

  Starched shirt and cowboy hat, shit. If I’d wanted to avoid making a spectacle of myself, I should have gone back to fishing my drinks off the bottom shelf, but I couldn’t.

  “You okay, ma’am?” His low drawl, oh my god. My palms sweated. I’d never survive a semester teaching if the kids had cowboys for dads. Why had that not occurred to me.

  Meeting his eyes, I was captive to his dark brown stare.

  He extended a hand.

  “I’m fine.” I popped up too fast and bumped into my cart, knocking my phone to the floor. “Ouch.” Bending to grab it, I had my butt pointed at him. I tried to turn which made me appear even less coordinated than I’d already proven to be. Standing again, I used the cart to steady myself.

  He stepped closer, his had still extended. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Every bit of me wanted to grab his hand, but touching him would be too much since I couldn’t even deal with looking at him. His other hand held whipping cream. The spray type. Breathe. I had to get my mind out of the gutter. When I gathered myself, I met his eyes again, having to crane my neck. He had to be six and a half feet tall minimum, a solid foot taller than me.

  His friendly smile seemed to be holding back a laugh.

  “I’m fine.” Not really. I was in full swoon over his dark beard and mustache, and slightly longer hair in the back that curled under his cowboy hat. My cheeks flushed at how well he filled out his shirt, lean but muscular. The only thing better than a well-fitted starched shirt over toned muscles was a starched shirt on the floor next to a well-toned man. With any luck he’d assume my flush was because I embarrassed myself.

  He lingered for a moment and his eyes held as many questions for me as I did for him, one of which I answered by noticing he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

  “Have a good day.” He tipped his head and walked past the aisle.

  He fit every sexy cowboy stereotype and then some. I suspected that nothing about him was for show except I could enjoy watching anything he did. If he wouldn’t have minded standing there a while longer, I could have opened the popcorn in my cart and stared at him. I mentally shook myself and opted for the checkout. Shopping when he wasn’t around would be safer. Popcorn and cranberry water could sustain me for a day or two.

  Unloading my items and my shopping bag at the cash register, I was thankful the cashier was an eighty something year old woman and not another cowboy.

  “Hello again, ma’am,” his low voice said from behind me.

  “Hi Brandt, that girl of yours was out after curfew again last night,” the cashier said.

  “Thanks, Betty. I’ll talk to her.” His tone dropped as if this ongoing problem was a sore point.

  My gaze had drifted between the two of them. Of course, they knew each other. Hopeful, Colorado was a small enough town news would travel fast. And I suspected Betty would might be the center of gossip.

  Betty pulled my items across the scanner slowly while Brandt continued, “You better keep an eye on this one. She was having a hell of a time with her shopping cart.”

  “Did you get the one with the bum wheel?” she asked.

  “No ma’am. I…bumped into it.” Now I was doing the ma’am thing. Maybe it would help me fit in.

  “Don’t call me ma’am.” She pointed to her name tag. “Betty.”

  “Sorry.” My effort not to be presumptuous and use her first name didn’t win any points. But seriously, wasn’t she a ma’am?

  She fussed with opening my reusable bag and loaded it. “You going to tell me your name, or do I have to guess?”

  “Sorry, it’s Melody.”

  “There’s no need to be sorry. So I guess that makes you the new music teacher.”

  “Sor—” I smiled and ran my card. “Yes, I’m here for the semester while the other teacher is on maternity leave.”

  Betty motioned between Brandt and me. “You two already hooked up?”

  “She’s not with me,” Brandt blurted and his cheeks blushed as much as mine seemed to.

  “Hmm, why were you two making eyes at each other then?”

  Card approved flashed on the screen. I ripped my card out, grabbed my bag, and rushed for the door.

  I made a mental note about Betty’s perceptiveness as I walked home. The fresh air invigorated me. Mountain air. I’d never lived in the mountains before and I was shocked that a couple of layers were enough to keep me warm as long as I wasn’t going to be outside long. The heat Brandt sent through my body was enough I didn’t even need the hoodie but I left it on.

  Small town life was going to be interesting. The line at the grocery store hadn’t been high on my list of difficult things to get used to, but I was mentally rearranging my list as I walked the couple blocks to my house.

  I’d passed an ice cream shop on the way home and noticed their banner advertising hot chocolate. It sounded way better than sitting at home alone or setting up my classroom. My boxes of teaching supplies and choir related posters wasn’t going anywhere, and I was thankful I’d bought the items before moving because the nearest real store was over thirty minutes away.

  After putting my scant selection of groceries away, I headed to Hopeful Scoops. A bubbly teen girl greeted me as I entered the ice cream shop, “Hello, don’t forget it’s Singing Saturday.”

  She had my interest. Singing was my thing. I hadn’t done well socializing at the grocery store, maybe I could do a better job singing. If I didn’t, my semester as the high school choir teacher was going to be painful. “What’s Singing Saturday?”

  “Sing something and you get thirty percent off one item.” She had a sweet rural innocence.

  “Anything?”

  She motioned behind her. “Anything on the menu.”

  “I mean, sing anything I want?”

  Her face lit up. How many people took her up on the deal?

  I glanced at the couple of people enjoying their treats. Had they sung? What if this was a joke on the newbie? Unlikely. And a discount was welcomed while I tried to live on a budget. I went for it, cleared my t
hroat, and belted out Take me Home, Country Roads, my absolute favorite song, and it seemed oddly appropriate for a country town even if it was the wrong state.

  Her eyes widened and I quieted my voice, contemplating stopping but she joined in. We sang a couple verses but wrapped it up after the chorus when the bells alerted us to a large group of customers entering. Applause rejuvenated my soul after my earlier mishaps.

  “Dad, I’m going to need some help,” she called to the back then said to me, “Where did you learn to sing like that?”

  “Eastman. It’s what I do for a living. I should ask the same of you, that’s quite a voice.” Having a classroom full of kids like her would be a dream. I’d have to make sure she was in my choir class.

  “I like singing.” Her words trailed off. She took my order and got my hot chocolate. “Are you a professional? Should I know who you are?”

  I laughed at the compliment. “No, but I’ve lived off my voice the last two years. I’m Melody, the…”

  My train of though got stampeded by Brandt’s low voice. “What’s going on out there? I heard the singing.” He stepped out of the back room and my heart raced.

  She’d said Dad. Betty had mentioned Brandt’s daughter. Crap. How small was this town?

  He stopped in his tracks. “Was that you?”

  “Isn’t she amazing, Dad. She deserves fifty percent off.” She handed me the cup.

  “Even better. It’s on the house.”

  “You doing freebies today, Brandt?” a guy behind me asked but it sounded more like a heckle.

  “Only if you can sing like her.”

  “It’s not her singing you’re giving the discount for.” The group of guys cracked up.

  Brandt blushed but didn’t refute their claim.

  I sipped the cocoa to relieve the sudden dryness of my mouth. They shouldn’t make jokes like that in front of his daughter, or me. No political correctness in Smallville.

  She wouldn’t take my money so I stuck it in the tip jar and headed for the door. “Thank you.”

  “Come back next Saturday with a new song,” she said.

  “Sure thing.”

  She’d started helping the next group but Brandt’s eyes were on me, making my insides flutter. Even if my assessment that he wasn’t married was correct, I didn’t need to play house with a student’s dad.

  Chapter Two

  MELODY

  Without the ambient city light, darkness set on early and hard. I snuggled up by my front window and watched the park across the street. A couple lamp posts illuminated patches of the town center and park.

  I’d learned to build a fire in the safety of the fireplace, and it added flickering light and intermittent pops and crackles to my lonely evening.

  Staring into the bottom of my empty cup of hot chocolate, the second one of the day, I decided if all I did was sit alone drinking cocoa, I’d end up fat before the semester ended. Bundling up in my warmest coat and gloves, I braved the evening for a walk. The stark temperature drop after sunset amazed me. The city hadn’t fluctuated more than ten degrees most days.

  The saying that a town rolled up its sidewalks after dark had always cracked me up, but the joke was on me since I’d apparently moved to a town that did. A few cars drove past, and a few people walked their dogs, but there was a serenity I’d never experienced in the city. Too much of it and I might lose my mind, but once school started, I’d likely look forward to the calm.

  The crisp air with no hint of pollution energized me as I circled the park and a few blocks through the neighborhood. The black sky had caught my attention but I couldn’t fully appreciate it while I walked because the roads weren’t in the best shape.

  Back at the park, I sat on the slide at the playground and leaned back to admire the stars. The Milky Way was a white mass stretching against the crisp black sky. The stars were brighter than I’d ever seen. I could get used to that.

  A truck pulled up and a man in a cowboy hat got out. He had the same walk that I couldn’t quite put a finger on what was so sexy about it, but it stirred my woman parts. Maybe boots forced guys to walk like that. It reminded me of the way Brandt walked through the grocery store in his spurs.

  The glow of a shooting star caught my attention as it shot across the sky. I’d seen a couple growing up in Houston but nothing this bright. I made a wish to get through the semester without losing my self-respect amongst the cowboys.

  Curious to see if my wish had taken effect, I returned my gaze to the cowboy. Nope. The things that swagger made me want to do would put me in danger of appearing to have no self-respect.

  He stopped at the cute wishing well, paused, kissed something and tossed it in. Giddiness washed over me. A grown man making a wish in the town well. There was something sweet about it. What would he wish for?

  The realtor had proudly mentioned the well having magical properties but I figured it was nothing more than gossip. Watching a local seek help from the well filled me with wonder. Had anyone recorded the well’s success rate?

  Silliness, like me wishing on a shooting star.

  How creepy was it I was invading his private moment? I stood, deciding I should go back home, but the well might end up being cheap entertainment. I could make up stories or songs about the different people who made wishes at it. Other than getting used to living on a budget and creating a savings for myself, I anticipated a few lessons would stick with me from my stint in rural America.

  A car rounded the corner and its headlights blinded me for a second until it made its way past.

  “Melody?” Brandt’s unforgettable voice called from the wishing well, curious and happy.

  Shit. Had I seen Brandt make a wish? He was handsome, owned the ice cream shop, had a talented daughter, and had the townsfolk looking out for him if I could judge by Betty’s comment. What more could he want? There was only one piece missing from the puzzle. A wife.

  Note to self. Brandt was one cowboy who might have a different reason to hang on for more than eight seconds. Check him off. No husband desired, plus the whole probable school conflict.

  “Melody?” he asked again, louder.

  “Hi Brandt. What are you doing out here?” Vocal training had taught me to control my voice but I wasn’t sure it was the right kind of training needed to hide embarrassment over observing someone’s private moment. Against my better judgement to go home, I detoured to where he was standing at the well.

  “Had to have a chat with the old wishing well.”

  “I heard about the well. Does it work?” Nice cover for wanting to ask him what he wished for.

  “Everyone says so.”

  “Has it ever worked for you?”

  He pursed his lips and looked away.

  Between my eyes getting used to the dark, and the light from the moon, I could easily make out Brandt’s rugged features as I drew closer, even under the faint shadow cast by his cowboy hat. My shooting star needed to get working on my wish. How fast did light travel? Maybe it hadn’t had time to process yet. I’d have to control myself around the cowboys with or without the star’s help.

  My fingers had itched to caress his facial hair this morning in the artificial light of the grocery store, and that was nothing compared to what I wanted to do to him under the moonlight. The moon always got to me. I tried to deny it had anything to do with being a Cancer, but it emboldened me.

  He took a deep breath, looked back toward me, and leaned against the circular brick body of the well. “It’s been a long time, but I guess it depends how you defined worked.”

  “Let’s start with the simplest version. You asked for something. Did it happen?” I positioned myself facing him and leaned against the well. There was something romantic in the air, leaning on wishing well in the moonlight, talking to a handsome stranger who happened to be a cowboy with a hat, jeans, drawl…the whole package. This moment would go into the song about his wish for sure. It would be a huge hit back in the city. Those people ate stuff like this
up, but they’d never believe me if I told them it was real.

  “Yes, ma’am. It happened.”

  “As much as I love hearing that in your accent, call me Melody.” I instinctively reached to touch his hand as I corrected him, but my fingers suffered a moment of shock as my glove kept them from making contact with his skin. Take it as a sign, but what was he doing out here with no gloves on? And since I was noticing things, he wore more of a jacket than a coat, yet he didn’t appear cold.

  He brought my gloved hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss. “Nice to meet you, Melody.”

  My heart raced and I prayed he didn’t notice I stopped breathing. I couldn’t imagine what would have happened if he’d kissed my bare skin. I fought my hormones to regroup. The shooting star was failing me. “Likewise, Brandt.”

  He returned my hand to the edge of the wishing well but kept his around mine. “Yes, Melody, my wish came true.”

  I reminded myself he was talking about his wish from long ago, not the one he just made, not implying that I fulfilled his wish. No. Because that would be crazy on multiple levels.

  “If it came true, why aren’t you sure the wishing well worked?”

  “What I asked for came true, but it didn’t work out quite like I had planned.” He stared into my eyes longer than normal conversation dictated then abruptly lowered them. “But it was a long time ago, and kids don’t always understand what’s best for them.”

  “When I was in fourth grade, I saw a shooting star and made a wish,” I offered.

  “Fourth grade, is that the only time you’ve seen one?”

  “One other time.”

  “They’re nearly a dime a dozen out here.”

  “We barely saw any stars in the city, nothing like here.”

  “Did your wish come true?”

  I laughed. “Thankfully, no. I wished I’d get married to a boy named Thad. Short for Thaddeus. But you’re right, kids don’t have the best foresight.”

  “What happened to poor Thaddeus?”

  “I had a crush on him because he wore a watch with hands and could tell time on it, but by the time he hit high school, he was dealing drugs. Not nearly appealing as being able to tell time without a digital readout.”