by Leigh Riker
Jenna tucked some hair behind her ear. “But they’ll all be in school this year. The next best thing to an empty nest. Your time will be your own most of the day. Just like this summer.” She tapped one finger against her chin. “If you’d be interested, I heard Olivia could use help with her shop here and her women’s cooperative overseas.”
Elizabeth hadn’t expected that. “I know that’s become wildly successful, but didn’t she already hire someone? And I’m hardly in a position to jet off halfway around the world to buy handmade rugs in Kedar. The Himalayas?” Her house might be empty, but it was probably far more comfortable than the medical clinic Olivia’s husband ran in those mountains, and it was home. “That would be worse than working for Harry. I couldn’t leave my kids.”
Jenna sent her a look. “Come on. Like you, Olivia has...children, two of them, and that’s not all her co-op does now. It’s expanded to include help for the women there, like microloans to foster their start-up businesses. Whenever she’s away, which she’s going to be again soon, maybe you could manage the shop. Fill the online orders. You wouldn’t need to travel.”
Elizabeth felt herself weakening. “The rugs they make—that she sells—are beautiful. Certainly, the co-op’s a worthy cause...” Elizabeth felt a burst of enthusiasm. Working for Olivia shouldn’t have such a steep learning curve as planning a rodeo might. “But Jenna, I’m no expert on antiques.”
“You’ll learn. Are you trying to talk yourself out of a job at Olivia McCord Antiques?”
“No.” That job could be exactly what Elizabeth needed to help support her family, and it wouldn’t cause gossip as organizing the rodeo might. She and Dallas had shared one pleasant meal. He’d celebrated his good news about his job at the McMann ranch, and she’d apologized for her rudeness before. He’d seemed empathetic about her mother. They’d even briefly talked about their one afternoon together. But to help with his event when she’d just gotten out of the spotlight? Again, no.
And lucky for me, Elizabeth told herself, there’d been no need to put Dallas in his place the night of their dinner. He hadn’t tried to kiss her. He’d asked her to walk him to the door, touched her shoulder, then strolled off into the darkness, saying, “See you, Lizzie.”
“I’ll talk to Olivia,” she said to Jenna. “Thanks.” She mentally crossed her fingers. At least for now, the fatigue she’d been feeling every day had lifted from her shoulders.
With a job, she’d no longer be alone in her empty house. The antiques shop suited her far better than a rodeo, and no one else need ever know she’d lost her head, once, with Dallas.
CHAPTER FIVE
DALLAS WAS HALFWAY along Main Street when he spied Lizzie’s car parked in front of the building that housed Jenna Smith’s firm, Fantastic Designs. He’d already spent a frustrating hour at the small complex in Barren that contained the mayor’s office, that of the town council, the library and the senior citizens’ meeting space, but he still didn’t have the name of the person he needed to see about a permit for the rodeo. As he whipped his truck on impulse into the angled slot beside Lizzie’s sedan, he saw her step from the building onto the sidewalk. He supposed he was about to get another polite brush-off from his neighbor, but he hoped she could help him this once.
“Oh. Dallas,” she said on her way to her car, keys in hand.
“Got a minute? Sorry to be a pest, but I have a problem.”
She glanced toward Jenna’s office building. “With your lawn mower?”
Obviously, she’d seen him struggling earlier with the old machine that looked as if it had been in his rented garage for the better part of a century. Before the grass grew as knee-high as a cornfield by the Fourth of July, he’d been heading for Earl’s Hardware when he spotted Lizzie’s car. “Not only the mower,” he said, but she didn’t stop walking.
Her shuttered expression said that even these few seconds had tried her patience. Since dinner that one night, he’d had the feeling she’d been avoiding him again. Now, apparently, she couldn’t wait to get away from him.
“This is about the rodeo—and I’m not going to twist your arm.” Dallas used his best coaxing tone. “I promise, all I need is a name.”
She cracked a faint smile and a weak joke. “You already have one—two, in fact. Your brother’s wife told me you were once called Smith, just like Hadley.”
“That was before I got adopted.” He crossed his arms, unwilling to explain any further. Dallas didn’t like to dwell on his years in foster care or the estrangement from his brother. He was a Maguire now, and that other life—the deprivation he’d suffered then—was behind him. “Have a heart, Lizzie. This afternoon I ran into a brick wall at city hall, trying to find the permit person for the rodeo.” He added, “Is there a public works department somewhere?”
Lizzie actually snickered. “No, but there’s a guy who maintains the lawn, trims the bushes, strings up the Christmas lights the Friday after Thanksgiving. He handles local events too, and maybe the county fair as well. We’re not very organized here in Barren.” She studied a passing car, then waved at its driver. Everyone knew everyone else in this town. Dallas might be a cowboy, but rodeo was big business today and one-horse burgs and lesser events like his here were normally a thing of his past. A small-town girl, a guy whose playground was in nationwide arenas? One more difference between them.
“I tried your town’s website, but it isn’t user-friendly. They still have Harry listed as mayor.”
She winced. “Barren’s website has been a dead space for years. They tried, but then the boy who set it up left for college and never came back. Nobody offered to take it over.” Her gaze returned to his reluctantly. “I don’t mean to rain on your parade, Dallas, but there are also other issues to consider, like insurance against liability for injuries...” Her eyes held his. “This event won’t be as simple as you think. You’d be using town facilities. That brings up all sorts of complications—and I’m not involved,” she insisted.
Dallas fought an urge to grit his teeth. “Lizzie—Elizabeth—I’m not trying to drag you into the rodeo. All I’d like you to do is get me that guy’s name and number, a start, then I’ll take it from there.”
She slipped into her car. “I can try, but people talk, you know they do—my neighbor Bernice, for example. She might have seen you leave my house the other night—”
His mouth hardened. “There was nothing wrong with us having a meal together.”
She started the engine. “That may be fine for you, but I have to live among these people. I’d really like to hold my head up again.”
“And I’d like to do something for this town—for charity.”
“Then I hope you will.”
She moved to put the car in Reverse, but Dallas laid a hand on the open window. “Why are you rushing off? Is it me? I realize I invited myself over and convinced you to watch PBR, but it couldn’t have been that bad, could it? What’s changed?”
“I told you what changed.”
His grip tightened on the window. He glanced at the street, the few people who were walking on either side between stores and one cowboy in fancy lizard-skin boots dyed red who went into Earl’s Hardware. “One neighbor gets nosy, and that’s it?”
“It’s not just Bernice. Jenna told me she’d heard from her sister, who heard from their mother, who’d heard from Jack Hancock about our dinner. They’re harmless enough, but...” She looked at her hands. “You see what I mean?”
“Not really.” A muscle jerked in his cheek. He eased away from the car. “Is this about that afternoon in May? If you’re still peeved, Elizabeth—”
“No, but I have been wondering...” She averted her face. Her voice sounded tight and the question finally came as if she’d opened her purse and the contents had spilled out all over the street. “When you ordered the food from the Bon Appetit, did you tell Jack you were planning to eat with me?”
Now he was getting mad. “Why would you even ask me that?” So, this was what had been on her mind. “I didn’t say a word. I’m not one of your town gossips. The only thing on my mind is to pull off my rodeo—without your help—then take off for the circuit before I lose what’s left of my career!”
She merely nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
But she’d just had to know. Dallas didn’t respond. He started toward his truck and on his way made a split-second decision. Not that he was doing so just to get away from Barren. “In case anyone’s looking at my house and sees my truck there for the next few days, you can tell them I’m not here anyway, okay? You have my permission. I’m going to fly to visit my parents.”
“Dallas.” He could barely hear her calling out. Her car hadn’t moved before he was in his truck, slamming the door. “I really will try to get you that number.”
* * *
“YOU’RE HOME!” HIS FATHER bellowed the instant Dallas walked into the house where his parents lived in a neat suburb of Denver. After talking with Liz—Elizabeth—yesterday and letting his temper get the best of him, he’d welcomed this quick getaway to see his parents again.
“Surprise,” Dallas said. But then, enfolded in his dad’s familiar bear hug, instead of grinning he couldn’t help but frown. Never a small man, sandy-haired with gray-blue eyes, his adoptive father felt lighter, less substantial in Dallas’s arms. Had he lost weight?
Dad kissed his cheek. Joe Maguire was the most demonstrative person Dallas had ever known, always ready with a comforting hand on a shoulder, a kind word. He’d rarely raised his voice to Dallas, even when he’d probably deserved a tongue-lashing as a kid. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? Call beforehand? We would have rolled out the red carpet.”
Why? Because he’d wanted to see for himself, not hear some spin over his cell, what their true situation was without giving them the opportunity to prepare. “I decided spur of the moment.”
His mom hurried from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. And huffing, he noticed, with every breath. Millie pushed Joe aside to pull Dallas into her arms. “Welcome, honey. We don’t see you enough.”
Their hug went on until Dallas finally eased away to look into her eyes. He wiped a lone tear from her face. She wore a soulful expression. “You doing all right, Mom? Really?” His father hovered nearby, likely prepared to cover for her as he had on the phone.
She looked down. “Of course. I told you. I hope you haven’t been worrying.”
He grinned. “That’ll be the day.” Dallas dropped his duffel bag in the front hall, then moved on into the living room, which looked the same as the first day he’d stepped inside this house. A skinny boy carrying the sum total of his worldly belongings in a plastic trash bag. A boy who’d been torn away from his brother, fearing he’d never see him again, that Hadley might stay forever in that detention facility. Dallas barely took in the well-remembered gray chenille sofa and chair, the navy-blue-and-white area rug that anchored the furniture in front of the fireplace. He never stopped worrying.
Or had he merely exchanged one frustration for another? He wasn’t sure Lizzie would supply that name and number he’d asked for. He’d let that—and his still simmering anger—lie for the next few days. While he was gone, he didn’t have to see her coming and going next door. He didn’t have to think about her accusation. Did you tell Jack?
He continued on to the kitchen, then dropped into his usual chair at the table. His parents took the end seats. The family routine should have comforted him. It didn’t. His mother’s face had a gray cast, and there were dark circles under her eyes, their normally merry brown missing their golden glints. When she pushed a plate of brownies toward him, he saw her fingers were swollen.
“Mom, talk to me.”
She pursed her lips, stared at the tabletop. “What’s new, you mean? Not much except—you’ll remember Mrs. Thackeray, your fifth-grade teacher? Well, she—finally—met a man.” A faint tinge of color rose in her cheeks. “Can you believe? If I ever knew a confirmed spinster, that was her. Still, you never know, do you? She actually fell in love with the geometry teacher at the high school—”
“And eloped,” his father finished, jumping up to pour coffee for everyone. “He was a widower, been alone for some time.” He plunked mugs in front of Dallas and Millie before taking his seat again. “It’s the talk of the town since Christmas. What do you think of that?”
An obvious smokescreen. “I think it’s fine to learn what everyone’s doing, but you’re avoiding the real subject.”
His mother couldn’t seem to meet his gaze. “Don’t be silly, Dallas. If the only reason you left Kansas was to check on us, you wasted the long drive. And I’d be very disappointed.”
“I flew,” he corrected her. “I didn’t want to leave my job for too long, so I cut out the drive. Hadley’s a hard taskmaster but a fair one. He gave me some days off to see you.”
“We’re not children.” Dad scowled. “If your mother tells you she’s fine, then she’s fine. And I’m telling you again, she is. I hope you won’t spoil this visit by probing for some truth that doesn’t exist. Now, try that coffee. There’s a new shop in town. I bought their latest arabica today while your mother was taking her daily walk.”
As if his mom were training for some Olympic track event. Dallas had seen her version of exercise, a lone spin around the block at a snail’s pace. He’d have to go with her while he was here. Gauge for himself how bad the heart failure was. Maybe speak to her doctor himself.
For now, Dallas knew better than to press the issue. He’d only end up making them mad, and even more defensive, and he wouldn’t learn a thing. “By the way, Hadley sends his regards,” he said.
Mom brightened. “We can’t wait to meet him and those darling babies. His new bride too, of course.” Until last December, all four of them had been lost to Dallas. If Hadley hadn’t finally located him through Dallas’s website, he’d never have seen him again either. “Maybe we’ll drive down to meet everyone later this summer.”
“Sure. If you’re up to the trip,” he said.
His dad shook his head. “A wife and family. That’s a far cry from way back when.” He looked at Dallas, who looked away. “I can only imagine what your brother went through—”
Dallas murmured, as he had with Lizzie, “Let’s not talk about this, okay?”
The bad memories threatened to crowd in again, to take him under. All those foster homes, the cold ones and the hot ones, where every day was a threat...and Joe already knew what had happened to Hadley, to Dallas.
He’d begun to sweat. Stop thinking about all that. But Millie didn’t agree.
She laid a hand over his, her eyes steady on him. “Honey, you should talk. It’s not healthy to bottle things up.”
“You’re telling me?” He eased his hand back to fiddle with his spoon. “You’ve spent half this visit so far avoiding your own health issue.”
“That’s not an issue,” she insisted. “As we get older, who doesn’t need a few medications to keep going?” She paused. “But Dallas, you’re young. Turning thirty-one this year—where does the time go?—and still unmarried.” Her features grew wistful. “Without the grandbabies I’d like to have, I might add. Sometimes, even now, I can’t help but see that frightened little boy who’s still inside you. The child who’d lived too long in foster care and came to us so damaged, so afraid.” Her voice had quavered.
“You were beaten, neglected, even starved in that last place,” his father said. “You watched Hadley being taken away.”
Yes, he thought. Because of me.
“What does that kind of thing do to a child? To both of you?” Millie’s eyes had filled. “I don’t mean to upset you, but some things need to be reexamined. There are times when I think you chose that rough-and-tumble career of yours not to be vulne
rable like that again to anyone. We’re proud of you, Dallas, but maybe you’re standing in your own way.”
“That’s enough.” He pushed his chair back, then left the kitchen, unable to sit there another second. Inside, he was shaking, cowering as if expecting another blow. His brother had been his protector. Hadley, don’t leave! After he’d gone to detention, Dallas had finally found solace with the Maguires, and a boyhood that had been denied him until then. His parents—not his birth mother and father, who’d left their two kids to the state—had saved him. Millie and Joe were a united pair, and he loved them with all his heart. But they also drove him up a wall.
He’d watch his parents closely while he was here, then decide for himself how they were really doing. Unfortunately, safeguarding them wouldn’t keep those old memories at bay. That night Dallas lay awake for hours, remembering. The first thing he’d done in this house, in his new room, was to ask Joe to please remove the lock from his door.
* * *
IN THE MIDDLE of the night Elizabeth roamed her too-quiet house. Without her children, these rooms echoed. Exhausted, she still couldn’t sleep for worrying about the three of them while grieving the heart-wrenching memory of another who’d never been born. Trying to distract herself, she wiped sticky peanut butter off the underside of a kitchen counter, which she’d missed seeing before, then laundered Stella’s comforter again because the remnants of a blueberry stain hadn’t come out the first time. From attic to basement, the house looked spotless and, in the kids’ absence, stayed that way.
Upstairs, she looked into each of their abandoned rooms. Then she stood in the doorway of the spare bedroom—the loneliest room of all. Arms around her waist, she hugged herself; on this still-warm evening, she felt cold. Last November, little more than half a year ago, she’d been glowing, shopping for baby clothes, trying to think where she’d stored the beautiful crocheted blanket her grandmother had made for Jordan, used by each of her own babies in turn.
