by Myra Johnson
Church—Kent had nearly forgotten. Except now he had an abandoned calf to feed. So much for his promise to Pastor Terry, and to himself. Watching the vet drive away, Kent wondered if God gave credit for good intentions. On the other hand, he remembered enough about his Bible to know God didn’t operate on the credit system. In fact, God’s bookkeeping didn’t make any kind of human sense at all, a good thing since Kent couldn’t repay in a hundred lifetimes everything God had done for him in this one.
He’d sure counted on seeing Erin again today, though. As he mixed a batch of formula, he wondered if Erin would be watching for him to walk through the church doors. Avery, too, the cutie. Remembering how protective Erin’s daughter had acted at first, Kent could hardly believe how she’d warmed up to him. He’d make sure Erin brought her out soon to see the calf.
An hour later, with the fuzzy little guy fed and nestled in a mound of clean straw, Kent went to the house to clean up and fill his own grumbling belly with the bowl of cereal he hadn’t had time for until now. He’d just started out to the barn for another check on the cow and calf when Erin’s dark blue sedan sped up the driveway.
She tumbled from the car, nearly tripping in her long paisley skirt and dressy white sandals. “Kent, I was so worried! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Confused by her panic, he hurried over. “Would have called, but things got busy quick this morning.”
Erin’s gaze traveled from his face to his boot toes and back again. Her chest rose and fell in noisy gasps. “Then—then you’re not hurt?”
“No,” he assured her with a puzzled laugh. “What ever gave you that idea?”
By now, Avery had clambered from the back seat. She slid her hand into her mother’s. “Mommy heard people talking about you at church.”
“Diana Willoughby’s husband,” Erin supplied, still catching her breath. “And another man I thought was a doctor. It sounded like you’d been trampled by a cow and had to call for help.”
“Uh, not exactly.” Kent could no longer keep his laughter in check. “You do know Tripp Willoughby is a veterinarian, right? The other guy must have been Robert Ingram, Tripp’s partner. I called Doc Ingram out early this morning for a high-strung heifer about to give birth.”
Groaning, Erin covered her face. “A veterinarian. Now I feel like an absolute idiot.”
Avery stepped closer and tugged on Kent’s sleeve. “Is there a baby cow?”
“Sure is.” Ignoring the whole “cows are girls and bulls are boys” explanation, he tweaked her earlobe. “Wanna see?”
“Oh, yes! Mommy, can I?”
Taking another gulp of air, Erin gave a weak nod.
“He’s in the barn,” Kent said, “around the corner to the left. Be real quiet, okay? And stay outside the stall. Your mom and I will be along in a minute.”
While Avery skipped toward the barn, Kent stooped for a closer look at Erin, relieved to see some of her color returning. An auburn curl had fallen across her cheek, and he tucked it tenderly behind her ear. “You were really that worried about me?”
“If I weren’t such a dunce, I’d have asked for more details before rushing out.” She swiveled just out of reach. “Besides, if you really had been in an accident, they might have taken you to the hospital and you wouldn’t even have been here and—” Her voice broke.
“Erin, it’s okay. I’m okay.” Kent tucked her beneath his arm, pulling her close. She fitted so perfectly against his side—too perfectly. Her hair smelled of flowers and coconut, and he couldn’t resist dropping a feathery kiss atop her head.
She relaxed slightly and pivoted to face him, her slim, delicate fingers resting on his chest. When she smiled up at him, it felt like a thousand arrows twanging through his heart. He was milliseconds away from kissing her, so close it would take wild horses and a herd of stampeding cattle to keep this from happening—
“Mom, you gotta come see!”
Or a precocious seven-year-old with the worst timing ever.
“Coming, honey.” Erin’s voice sounded an octave higher than normal. Shrugging out of Kent’s embrace, she gave him a “this can’t happen” look and strode purposefully toward her daughter.
Kent took a couple of jerky breaths while he brought his runaway emotions under control. Maybe the kid’s timing wasn’t so lousy after all. Hadn’t Erin reminded him only days ago she couldn’t let herself get involved with a man who didn’t have his act together with the Lord? Kent might be making progress in that direction, but doubts and questions still ran rampant.
In the meantime, he had a bottle-fed calf and a half-finished house-painting job to worry about. Mashing his Resistol firmly on his head, he marched into the barn.
Around the corner, he came upon Erin and Avery gazing in wonder at the critter on the other side of the stall gate. Erin glanced his way, her gaze rapturous. “He’s adorable. But shouldn’t he be with his mother?”
“It’d be too dangerous.” Kent explained how sometimes a cow just didn’t take to her newborn and they had to be separated.
Chin resting on her folded arms, Avery nodded solemnly. “That’s why my mom and I don’t live with my dad anymore.”
Kent’s gut tightened. He cast Erin a searching look. “Did he ever—”
“No,” she stated firmly. Sidling over to Kent, she kept her voice low. “Payne’s abuse was always directed at me. I thank God every day for protecting Avery—and for getting us out of there before things got any worse.”
When Erin turned away for another look at the calf, Kent let his imagination run wild with everything he’d like to do to Erin’s ex. Men like Payne Dearborn ought to be locked up for life. But there’d never been any mention about pressing charges. Erin had only said she’d left him and filed for divorce. Maybe one day, when the time felt right and little ears weren’t close by, he’d ask her more about it.
* * *
There were times, like just now, when Erin marveled at her young daughter’s insight. She’d diligently tried to prevent Avery from witnessing Payne’s abuse, but the aftereffects weren’t so easily disguised. When Erin was so bruised and sore that she could barely endure holding her little girl in her lap, Avery always wanted to kiss away Mommy’s “boo-boos.” Even as a toddler, she’d snuggle in close with Erin and pat her back while she cried silent tears of pain and self-recrimination into her pillow. What a fool Erin had been to hope Payne would ever change.
Shaking off the memories, she called to Avery, “We should let the little guy rest, honey.”
“But he’s so cute, Mom.” Avery cast Kent a hopeful smile. “Do you think I could help you feed him sometime?”
“If it’s okay with your mom. But I don’t think you want to be wearing your Sunday best.”
Anticipation lit Avery’s eyes. “We could go home and change clothes and then come back. When will he be hungry again?”
“Avery...” Erin shook her head.
“He’ll need to eat every few hours for the first couple of days,” Kent said, “and then twice a day after that until he’s big enough to be weaned. So there’ll be plenty of chances for you to give him a bottle.”
“But when today?” Avery pressed.
Laughing, he winked at Erin, then glanced at his watch. “He should be ready for another bottle in an hour or two.”
“See, honey,” Erin said. “We have plenty of time to go home for lunch and change clothes.”
Brows wiggling meaningfully, Avery grabbed Erin’s wrist. “Or we could stay here and eat lunch with Mr. Ritter.”
“Avery Dearborn.” Erin gave an embarrassed huff. “You know it isn’t polite to invite yourself to someone else’s home for a meal.”
“I don’t mind,” Kent murmured near Erin’s ear, making her shiver. “But I have to warn you, it’s pretty slim pickin’s.”
Trying hard to ignore her daughter’s puppy-d
og stare, Erin turned to Kent. “Are you sure?”
His gaze warmed. “If you’re okay with BLTs and corn chips, I don’t rightly see how I can say no to this pretty little lady.”
“Yay!” Avery whisper-screamed the word while jumping up and down and silently clapping her hands.
“Good girl,” Kent said. “Thanks for not waking our baby. Now, who’s hungry?”
When Kent took Avery’s hand and started out of the barn, Erin’s eyes welled. This, she thought, following behind them, is how a dad should treat his little girl. Then Kent reached back for Erin’s hand, his smile so tenderly reassuring, and her heart climbed into her throat. This is how a good man treats the woman he cares for.
Her thoughts returned to those moments before Avery had called to her from the barn. Kent had been about to kiss her, she was certain, and she would have let him. But once they crossed that bridge, it would be next to impossible to keep the promise she’d made to herself about staying uninvolved.
Her heart was telling her a different story, though, one with the happy ending she’d always dreamed of, even after Payne Dearborn had crushed her fantasies of a happily-ever-after with him. All she wanted now was to forget her first marriage had ever happened—except for the blessing of Avery that had come from it—and find out what God had in store in this new life He’d prepared for her.
Kent’s big yellow dog bounding out the back door returned Erin’s thoughts to the present. Skip headed straight for Avery and showered the girl with wet doggy kisses.
“Hey, boy! Are you so glad to see me? I missed you, too.” Avery giggled and sank her fingers deep into the dog’s ruff.
“Looks like y’all are gonna need a puppy soon,” Kent teased as he motioned Erin into the kitchen.
Erin scoffed. “A puppy is way down my list of priorities at the moment.” She paused to look around and saw that Kent had started painting the baseboards and window frames. The fresh coat of white made a perfect complement to the yellow walls. “You’re nearly finished in here. Now I’m even more anxious to get the curtains done.”
“Looks almost like a brand-new kitchen, doesn’t it?” Kent patted the countertop. “At least the tiles are in pretty good shape. Replacing counters would be a bigger job than I have the time or the money for.”
“These are fine. They may not be original to the house, but they’re retro enough to lend some character.”
Kent nodded and opened the fridge. “Guess we should get going with those BLTs.”
While he fried the bacon, Erin sliced tomatoes and separated lettuce leaves. Kent put Avery in charge of making toast. Soon, they sat down to lunch, and the moment they finished, Avery started asking when it would be time to feed the calf again.
“And you have to name him, too,” she insisted.
Kent didn’t do a very good job of hiding his grimace, and Erin could guess why. She touched Avery’s shoulder. “Honey, ranchers tend not to name the cows they’re going to sell.”
Avery’s pale brows drew together. “You mean you aren’t going to keep him?”
“For a while, yes,” Kent began. “But when he grows up—I mean, the time will come when—” He cast Erin a look of desperation.
She smiled her understanding and told her daughter they’d talk more about it later. After the dishes were washed and put away, Kent said he should probably check on the calf again and prepare another bottle.
“Can I help this time?” Avery pleaded.
Erin bit her lip. “We’re still in our church clothes, honey.”
“I have an idea,” Kent volunteered. “You could wear one of my old T-shirts over your Sunday dress to keep it clean.”
When Erin agreed, Kent went to his room and brought back a faded orange shirt with the local feed store logo on the back. Avery pulled it on over her head, and it easily covered her down to her knees.
“But what about my Sunday shoes?” Avery pointed to her white patent leather sandals.
“Thought of that, too.” Kent produced a pair of dingy tube socks with holes in the toes. “These were going in the trash anyway, so you can slip ’em on over your shoes.”
Avery plopped down on the floor to pull on the socks. She looked up at Erin. “Mommy, what about you?”
“I’ll just watch this time.” Which was perfectly fine with her.
Not that she wouldn’t have enjoyed helping, but for the present, she took great joy in watching the interaction between her daughter and Kent—his patience as he explained to Avery how he mixed the formula, his gentle guidance as he showed her how to hold the bottle at just the right angle while he steadied the calf.
“Mom,” Avery cheered as she fed the calf. “I’m doing it!”
Peering over the stall gate, Erin beamed. “Yes, you are, honey. Good job.”
“I wish we lived on a ranch. It would be so fun to pet the animals every day.”
Kent grunted as the calf squirmed in his arms. “Ranching’s hard work, Avery. Animals need tending day in and day out, even when you’re tired or sick.”
Avery grew quiet for a moment while the calf nursed, but the wheels were obviously turning in her seven-year-old brain. Lips puckering, she studied Kent. “But you live all alone. Who takes care of Skip and the horses and cows if you get sick?”
“Well, the good news is I don’t get sick very often. But when I do, or if I need to be out of town for a couple of days, I have some real nice neighbors who don’t mind pitching in.”
The calf finished the bottle, and Kent led Avery out of the stall and latched the gate. Turning back for another peek, Avery said, “I still think he needs a name.”
Kent shared a what-can-you-do look with Erin. “Then I think you should give him one.”
“Let’s see...” Avery placed a finger to her lips. “I think his name should be...Prince.”
Erin laughed, “Prince? Why did you pick that name, honey?”
“Because he’s a boy and because princes have servants and always get treated really special.”
“Sounds like the perfect name to me.” Kent bowed toward Avery. “Guess that means I should start calling you Princess.”
“She certainly is that,” Erin agreed. “Waited on hand and foot by her adoring mother, treated with extra special attention every day of her life.”
Avery looked up with a winsome, wide-eyed gaze to rival the little calf’s. “I wish you had someone to treat you special like a princess,” she murmured, then added in a whisper, “like Mr. Ritter.”
Erin’s heart thudded. If Kent had overheard, he didn’t acknowledge it, but headed to the workstation with the empty formula bottle.
“Honey,” Erin said, dropping to one knee to better address her daughter, “you mustn’t say things like that, especially around Mr. Ritter.”
“Why not? He’s nice to us, and I like him.”
“I like him, too, but—” Erin made sure Kent was still busy with cleanup. “Such talk is very embarrassing to grown-ups, that’s all. Now, I think it’s time we say our goodbyes.”
“Leaving already?” Kent stood a few steps away, his shirt and jeans spattered with soapy water.
Pushing to her feet, Erin dusted off her knee. She forced a casual smile. “I still have more work to do on the knitting lady’s basket, plus those curtains to sew.”
“You’re not taking on too much, are you?” Kent frowned with concern.
“I like keeping busy, especially with things I enjoy.” Erin had Avery raise her arms so she could tug off Kent’s T-shirt. “This afternoon was fun, though, and I’m glad we got to see the calf.”
“Prince,” Avery corrected. She handed Kent the grimy tube socks. “I hope we can visit him again soon.”
“I hope so, too.” Kent’s gaze locked with Erin’s, and he winked. “I think that would be very special.”
Certain her face must b
e turning a million shades of red, Erin sent Avery to the house for her purse. Waiting at the car, she tried to look anywhere but at Kent—until he reached for her hand, and then she forgot how to breathe.
“You deserve to be treated like a princess,” he said. “Always.”
Avery’s return rescued Erin from having to come up with anything more than a grateful nod in reply, since her brain seemed to have completely disconnected from her lips. “Well, bye,” she managed, digging through her purse for her keys. “Thanks again for lunch. I—I’ll call you when the curtains are ready.”
* * *
Kent couldn’t decide whether he wanted Erin to hurry up with the curtains or take her time. She’d no sooner driven away than he ached to see her again. On the other hand, he didn’t exactly have his head on straight anytime they were together, and the last thing he wanted was to make a mistake. He’d meant every word when he told Erin she deserved to be treated like a princess.
He was no prince, but if he could ride in on his white steed—or black, actually, in Jasmine’s case—and bring Erin a little happiness, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
In the meantime, he had plenty to distract him from such fanciful thoughts. Over the rest of Sunday afternoon and into the first part of the week, he finished painting the kitchen and living room, kept the calf fed, tended his horses and cattle, and put in his hours at the hardware store.
Passing Wanda’s Wonders on his way home after his Wednesday morning shift, he couldn’t resist stopping. He and Erin had spoken on the phone a couple of times since Sunday, but he’d been missing those sparkling blue eyes. Besides, he wanted to tell her he’d finished painting the downstairs woodwork last night and was ready to get started on the bedrooms.
As he ambled into the shop, he spotted Erin and a woman he didn’t recognize deep in conversation near the counter, and neither of them looked happy. Protective instincts kicking in, he fought the urge to march to Erin’s defense against what appeared to be a dissatisfied customer.
