Hope for Tomorrow

by Elizabeth Maddrey

  “How long do the results take?”

  “Four to six weeks. I figure I can hang out here for that. The grandparents are cool with it.” He sent her a questioning look. “That okay? I don’t want to get in the way of you and true love.”

  Her cheeks burned. She’d hoped that since a little over twenty-four hours had passed since he walked in on her kissing Morgan, maybe he wasn’t going to bring it up. No such luck. Morgan had acted like nothing had happened at lunch. Which made sense. It wasn’t like she wanted him to stroll in, take her in his arms, and declare his love in front of everyone. It was a kiss.

  One she’d very much like to repeat.

  “You in there?” Royal snapped his fingers in front of her face.

  “Sorry.”

  “Uh huh. So Morgan, hm? I guess I’m making a new friend.” Royal grinned.

  “Leave it alone, would you? It was just a kiss.” At least that’s how it seemed like Morgan was going to handle it. So that’s how she’d leave it, too. He was fun to talk to, when he wasn’t bristly. She wasn’t hurrying to ruin a friendship just as it started. Time to change the subject. “It’ll be good having you here. Maybe we can take a drive over to Arizona, see Mom and Dad.”

  “What? Why would we do that?” Royal shook his head. “They’re fine. I saw them at Christmas. They like Arizona. And their house, which is weird, but whatever. Once a year is plenty for all of us.”

  Skye laughed. He wasn’t wrong. Her parents were great. She loved them. It was just a lot easier to do from a distance. “We could go see Indigo.”

  “What is with you? You’ve been here a week and you’re already jonesing for a road trip? That’s not like you.” Royal bit his lower lip as he studied her face. “It’s the guy. He’s got you worried.”

  “Please.” Of course her twin saw it. Royal saw everything when he took the time to look.

  “Something else is going on.” He plopped onto the rock and bumped her shoulder with his. “Spill.”

  “The short version? I told you about being dizzy in the morning and my heart racing and nausea.”

  He nodded.

  “It hasn’t gone away.”

  “But you said you’d gone to the doctor.”

  “I did. And then some others. No one is sure what’s going on. Best they can guess is anxiety, but the meds aren’t helping and I used too much sick leave, so I left when they encouraged that decision, and my roommate wanted me out anyway and not having steady income wasn’t helping with making rent, so I figured if I was going to be miserable, I might as well do it where I could meet the grandparents.”

  “Why didn’t you say something? You could’ve come to stay with me.”

  Skye snorted. “Where were you crashing again? Because you’ve never had an actual place to live of your own. I didn’t think couch surfing was really the way to go given the circumstances.”

  “All right. That’s valid. But oh!” He held up the DNA test kits. “Maybe these will tell you something. They have the medical info—I wasn’t sure if we were doing that, too, or just the ancestry, but they’re cool with whatever.”

  “That’s a thought.” One she’d already had. She just hadn’t been planning on telling anyone about it. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone any of it. Now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, she didn’t have to worry about trying to hide it.

  “Then let’s do this.” Royal leapt to his feet and checked the tripod again. He nodded. “We’re good. Ready?”

  “Why not?” Skye angled her chin the way she always did when she took a selfie. Royal said she looked good no matter what, but he was her brother and a guy, so she wasn’t taking his word for it. She smiled and folded her hands in her lap. “Go.”

  Royal tapped record and hopped back to the rock, grinning at the camera as he did his usual intro. He held up the DNA kits, said a little about them, then glanced at Skye. “Ready?”

  “Sure.” Skye opened the box and her eyebrows lifted. “Seriously?”

  “What?” Royal opened his own box and laughed. “Nice.”

  “Ugh. You’re such a little boy.”

  “Hey.” Royal nudged her with his elbow and pulled the container out of its box. “I figured it was a cheek swab. That’s what you always see on TV, right? But this is even cooler. How long do you think it’s going to take to fill this thing with spit?”

  Only her brother could turn something this disgusting into a race. Skye worked up a mouthful of saliva and spit it into the tube. It barely covered the bottom. Looking at it, she fought the urge to gag. “Too long. Way too long.”

  Royal laughed. “Maybe we’ll end up cutting some of it. But for now, let’s get spitting.”

  Was any possible information she got out of this worth it? Skye tried to generate more saliva to put in her tube.

  At least Morgan wasn’t lurking nearby where he’d see. Filling a tube with spit was no way to convince someone they wanted to kiss you again.

  “That’s it, Allie, keep your heels down.”

  The unfamiliar female voice rang out from the exercise ring.

  Skye glanced toward the stables. She’d been ambling this direction, hoping to bump into Morgan and see how his day was going. Maybe see if he wanted to try to talk her into a short ride.

  With a shrug, she changed course and headed toward the ring. It hadn’t sounded like Betsy, but she might not be familiar enough with her grandmother’s voice to say for sure.

  Nope. The woman in the ring was definitely not her grandmother. This woman was young—maybe the same age as Skye—middle twenties at most. But she sure seemed to know her way around horses.

  Skye crept to the ring and leaned on the rails. The little girl up on the horse clearly knew more about horses than Skye did, too. Not that that took a lot of knowledge. More and more she was finding that was something she’d like to change.

  It was just the one woman and the girl, so there were probably horses available if Skye could convince Morgan to go out. The nearly constant nausea that plagued her these days was at a manageable level. As was the dizziness.

  “Can I help you?” The woman came over to where Skye stood, a polite smile on her face.

  “No, sorry. I heard you and came to see what was going on. I’m Skye Hewitt, Wayne and Betsy’s granddaughter.” There wasn’t a convenient way to offer her hand.

  It might have been her last name or the fact that she was a grandchild, but the other woman visibly relaxed. “Sophie Ellison. I give riding lessons and the Hewitts are nice enough to let me use their horses and ring for reasonable fees. I think Morgan mentioned you were here last week.”

  Skye nodded. “I showed up on Monday, so probably. She’s good.”

  Sophie turned so she could watch her student as the girl took the horse on a figure eight path between barrels. “She’s getting there. Her parents have dreams of ribbons and trophies. I’m not sure Allie’s on board with that, but she likes to ride.”

  What would that be like? To have parents who pushed a particular agenda on their kids? In some tiny way, it seemed like it would be nice. At least then, she wouldn’t wonder just how badly she was letting everyone down. Random reception work wasn’t exactly something parents bragged to their friends about. On the flip side, her parents didn’t tend to brag to their friends about any of their kids. But Betsy had mentioned all she did to try and follow her grandkids, and Skye was definitely the least impressive of them all. “At least she likes it.”

  “There’s that. I guess I’ll see you around?”

  “Probably now and then. I’ll let you get back to it.”

  Sophie grinned and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Okay, Allie, let’s trot.”

  “Do I have to?”

  Skye chuckled at the girl’s plea. Morgan had tried to convince her trotting wasn’t terrible. She’d lasted about thirty seconds. No thank you. She turned back toward the stables, her spirits lifting when her gaze landed on Morgan.

  He stopped and dropped a bale
of hay on the ground. “Heya, stranger.”

  She snorted.

  “What? You weren’t at lunch.”

  She warmed through. He’d been looking for her? “Royal talked Betsy into making us a picnic so we could focus on getting his video made.”

  “And did you?”

  “Yeah. It’s gross. Did you know you had to fill a tube with spit for these tests?” She stuck out her tongue.

  Morgan laughed. “I did. How did you not?”

  “I don’t know. Every TV show it’s a cheek swab. Is that not really a thing?”

  “No, it is. But the police aren’t doing a ton of tests usually. It’s more of a matching game, so a smaller sample is fine. I imagine these companies need more than a cotton ball can hold.” He cocked his head to the side. “But you got it done?”

  “Sure. Royal’s an old hat when it comes to videos like this. He’ll probably spend the rest of the week editing it before he gets it online. He was going to take the kits down to the post office in town today, too.” She shrugged. “My part’s done.”

  “So you’re free?”

  “I am.” She should go talk to her grandmother about helping out around the ranch. Or hook a ride into town with Royal and see where there might be a job. The main square had a lot of art galleries and touristy types of shops. She could probably find something there. Hadn’t Azure said there were a couple of galleries that were featuring her work? Would that give her a little bit of an edge?

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Hm? Oh. Nothing. Just thinking. There’s a lot I ought to do.”

  Morgan’s face fell. “So not free.”

  “No. I am.” She huffed out a breath. “None of it is going anywhere.”

  “I need to finish this up, but then would you want to go for a walk or a ride? You haven’t been out to see the official camp, have you? I could show you around. Tommy’s over there today fixing up the lodge to start getting it ready for groups. The first youth retreat is scheduled for early May.”

  “I’d like that. Can we ride?”

  Morgan grinned. “You bet. Give me ten?”

  “Sure.” Skye tucked her hands in her pockets. “Can I help you?”

  He shook his head as he swung the bale of hay back up to his shoulder. “I’ve got it. You could go in my office and grab a couple bottles of water, some snacks.”

  “Okay.” She watched him leave. Was it a saunter? Swagger? Whatever the word, he was well worth studying from behind. Her cheeks heated and she forced herself to turn into the dim stable. It wouldn’t do to be caught ogling him. No matter how much she’d like to try a repeat of their kiss.

  Horses whickered at her as she passed their stalls. She paused to rub whatever noses poked out at her. Skye was becoming more familiar with the horses at the ranch but she still didn’t have their names at a glance.

  Light from Morgan’s office spilled out into the hall. It was neat. Ish. The desk was covered with paper and files, but there was clearly some organization to it. He could probably put his hand on whatever he needed, whenever he needed to, without too much trouble. The top of the half-height refrigerator held a box of granola bars. One corner of a flap had been ripped off, leaving a hand-sized hole. That was one way to open them.

  Skye peered in before reaching for a couple. She didn’t need a snack, wasn’t sure granola bars would stay down if she did, but he’d said snacks, so she’d bring them. She got out two bottles of water and looked around for something to carry everything in.

  “Hey, Morgan—oh. Sorry.” Joaquin backed out of the doorway, then poked his head back in. “Do you know where he is?”

  “He had a bale of hay that he was carrying around the side of the barn. When he’s finished with whatever he’s doing, we were going to take a ride.”

  Joaquin’s smile flashed, revealing deep dimples in both cheeks. “Sounds fun. Can you just let him know I was looking for him? Thought maybe he’d like to set up some game time. They just added a new tier of levels.”

  “He plays video games?” One of the games she and Royal played together online had just added new content. Maybe it was the same one?

  Joaquin nodded. “Him, me, and Tommy will usually spend a few hours each week. Sometimes Wayne even joins in, but he’s terrible.”

  Skye laughed as she tried, and failed, to picture her grandfather with a console controller. “There’s no possible way.”

  Joaquin shrugged.

  Huh. “I’ll let him know. Is the invite open to anyone?”

  Now he raised his eyebrows. “You like first person shooters?”

  She nodded.

  “Set on alien worlds?”

  She nodded again.

  “You any good?”

  “Royal never complains.” The truth was, Skye was a consistently better shot than her brother, but she didn’t need to rub that in just yet.

  “Then I guess it’s fine with me if it’s okay with Morgan and Tommy. I’ll ask. Or you can ask Morgan.”

  “Ask me what?” Morgan slapped Joaquin on the shoulder and edged past him into the tiny office. He snagged a canvas backpack off the hook on the back of the door and tossed it toward Skye with a grin. “You can load that up. I’ll carry it.”

  “I was thinking we needed to get a jump on the new levels sometime soon. Tonight, maybe? This weekend for sure.” Joaquin jerked his thumb at Skye. “She asked if she could join us.”

  “Yeah?” Morgan gaze was considering. “You any good?”

  Skye laughed at the repeat question. “I can hold my own. Royal would probably like to play, too, if there are enough controllers.”

  “We can probably make that happen. Does Cyan play?”

  “You’d think, right? He’s a huge computer nerd, but nope. He gets motion sick just watching.” Skye frowned. She hadn’t done as much gaming since she’d started having her physical symptoms. Would she be able to play? Would she still be any good? Only one way to find out, but she sure didn’t want to look stupid in front of Morgan.

  “Sounds good.” Morgan glanced over at Joaquin. “Touch base with Tommy and see when he’s free and we’ll set it up.”

  Joaquin grinned. “Cool. Have a nice ride.”

  Skye fought a wince. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought Joaquin was making a double entendre, but her grandmother had assured her all the guys on the ranch were believers. Didn’t that mean they wouldn’t joke around like that?

  “You ready?” Morgan glanced at the backpack.

  Skye handed it over. “I didn’t grab much—we’re not going to be gone for long, right?”

  “Shouldn’t be, but it never hurts to be prepared.” He reached into the box and drew out a handful of granola bars and dumped them in the bag. “That should do it. Let’s get the horses.”

  Skye followed behind as he slung the bag over his shoulder and strode back toward the stalls. He made it all look easy—from carrying the backpack to saddling their mounts. Someday, hopefully soon, she’d be able to do simple things without Herculean effort again. Please, Jesus, let that be true.

  With Morgan’s help, Skye settled herself in the saddle, took up the reins, and nodded. He swung onto his horse like he was getting on a bike. She shook her head. There was no point in being jealous. And yet.

  “Here we go.” Morgan flashed a grin and nudged his horse forward.

  Skye waved to Sophie and her student as they walked past the ring. She breathed in the crisp, spring air and felt peace settle over her. “This is nice.”

  “It is. A little calm before the storm.”

  “Storm?”

  “Summer camps.” Morgan wrinkled his nose. “I get that they pay the bills, but they’re a lot of work. A lot of extra people. We’ve got three new families looking to stable with us full time. That’s a good bit of income. But the camps are where the Hewitts’ hearts are.”

  “Why’s that?” Skye didn’t really see how her grandparents kept anything afloat at the ranch. There were little bits of income
here and other bits over there. It obviously added up to enough, but Morgan was right, it seemed like a lot of work. It reminded her of how her dad had kept the family fed. Only he’d moved around to find the bits and pieces and her grandparents brought the bits and pieces to the ranch.

  “It’s a chance for them to share Jesus.”

  Skye was silent. She focused on the horse shifting underneath her as it walked. Sharing Jesus. Her grandparents oozed His love so boldly.

  Why was she scared to do the same?

  10

  Morgan pounded the post hole digger into the ground of the meadow, near the fire pit the Hewitts used for s’mores with any groups that came up to the ranch. There were almost always groups—at Christmas there were sleigh rides and tree cutting excursions, the rest of the year there were hikes or horse rides. And then, of course, the summer camps that would be starting up in the next month.

  He swiped his arm across his forehead. It wasn’t hot, but digging a hole was sweaty work.

  He scooped out the dirt and dumped it in the wheelbarrow he’d brought along before repeating the process. Only about six hundred more times to go. He glanced over at the ten-foot tall wooden cross Wayne had spent several days fashioning. Just in time for Easter tomorrow morning. The youth and young adult groups from several local churches were meeting at the ranch for a sunrise worship service and would then flower the cross before they left.

  It wasn’t a tradition he was used to, but he’d looked it up online and agreed with Wayne that it would be a good addition to the service. It was always good to have a way to be more involved than just sitting in a chair—or on a log, in this case—listening to someone speak.

  At lunch Friday afternoon, there’d been some discussion of the annual pilgrimage so many made to Chimayo. Morgan didn’t believe the mud there had any particular properties that made it special. It was mud. But then, he also didn’t put a lot of stock in people who swore they saw the face of Christ on a tortilla. Maybe it was harmless. If it helped them believe, was it wrong? Seemed like it would be too easy to start believing in the mud instead of Jesus.