by Vivian Arend
She swayed hard enough Trevor reached out a hand instinctively to be sure she didn’t fall off her feet. “Really? Even before my ID arrives?”
“One condition. Do you know your landlord?”
Trevor didn’t think it was a trick question, but by how long Becky paused, it had to be. “A little.”
Steve smiled, the expression lighting his face and eyes. “Get him to send a letter vouching for you. Hope will work it out so you get paid in trade until the paperwork comes through. It’s a little underhanded, but it’s not outright illegal if things get squared away before the end of the year.”
She didn’t seem one hundred percent happy with that demand. “It’ll take me a few days to set something like that in motion.”
“We figured. No rush. In the meantime.” Steve reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, handing over a thin pile of twenties. “Here’s an advance on your wages. You and Hope track your hours, and when it comes time, she’ll make sure it all gets squared away.”
Becky took the money, slipping it into her pocket carefully. “I’m not sure what to say. Thank you.”
Melody caught hold of Steve’s arm. “It’s time we headed home. It’s been good to meet you, Becky. I look forward to seeing you around. If you want to stop by the house, give me a call to make sure I’m home.”
Steve held the reins as Melody mounted up, swinging a leg over his own ride a moment later. The two of them waved farewell as the horses left the yard at a slow walk.
The sky was all sunset yellow and springtime reds, reflecting off the pale siding of the house and setting a warm glow to Becky’s skin as she shuffled back slightly.
“I should head home too,” Trevor admitted, reluctant to make the move, but hanging around any longer would be pushing his luck. “I’ll leave the tractor here, if you don’t mind. If we need it tomorrow, I’ll grab it. If not, you may as well keep it until you’re done.”
“That’s very generous.” Becky caught her arms around herself, face lifted to the mountains for a moment before tossing him another one of those addictive smiles. “Thanks for all your help. I really appreciate it.”
“No prob.”
He wanted to say more. Wanted to offer more, but that was stupid. He’d already made a fool of himself by the way he’d stalked her.
Trevor pulled himself together—tomorrow was another day, and he knew where to find her.
He tipped his hat and offered a wink before strolling to the front and crawling into his truck. She stood beside the rail fence as he left, still there when he glanced back as he hit the road.
The fading light shone around her as Becky changed position. She disappeared for a moment before her head popped up above the solid wood slats—she’d crawled on top of the fence and was staring into the distance, a feminine silhouette against a glowing sky.
So many mysteries—so many things he had yet to discover about Becky Hall.
Trevor could hardly wait.
Chapter Five
Two months earlier, Paradise, Saskatchewan
She lay in the dark, body aching, until he fell sleep, his breathing thickening to a loud, steady snore. The old worn mattress dipped toward his body, and Rebekah held herself rigid to keep from rolling into the hollow formed by the weight of his body. There was a stickiness between her thighs, and a knot of disgust in her throat, and for one horrid second she wondered how difficult it would be to kill herself.
The thought was fleeting, disappearing immediately. The urge to survive was far stronger—she was far stronger—she had to be.
There had to be more to life than what she’d been handed. She knew there was more than this, and she was determined to find it, no matter what the short-term cost. She already knew staying was equal to accepting hell. If she left, there was a glimmer of hope for her future.
So she waited until there was no doubt the heavy body beside her was sound asleep, his snore building to a solid, unmistakable rumble.
Rebekah slid from the bed, feet hitting the icy-cold hardwood boards. She landed like a cat, silent and cautious as she made her way out of the bedroom toward the narrow flight of stairs. A light shone from under the door to her sister’s room, but she ignored it, sliding silently past even as she longed to say goodbye. She pulled on a pair of runners from the back door—not her own—crossing the yard wearing nothing but her thin nightshirt, the threadbare fabric offering little protection against the cold March night.
She hurried without looking as if she was rushing, moving down the packed snow trail to the nearest barn. Only once she was safely out of sight did she kick into high gear, sprinting across the open space to the wooden slats that formed a ladder up the side of the barn wall.
If she were caught now, it would mean the end of more than her dream of a new life.
Up in the hayloft, she hurriedly moved aside the bales until she found the old backpack where she’d hidden her supplies. Rebekah jerked on the clothes, a massive shiver rocking her as she layered up with an assortment of things taken from various members of the community. All of it stolen in dribs and drabs so that no one was aware of the thefts.
She grabbed the backpack and slipped from the warmth of the barn back into the cold night, running past the men’s house down the trail in the snow she knew they had packed all the way to the highway. If she was lucky, everyone would be asleep. If she was lucky, someone would be passing by on the highway who’d pick her up.
If she was lucky she would make it…
…but up till then she hadn’t had much luck.
She didn’t have any reason to expect that to change.
Chapter Six
Rocky Mountain House, present day
Becky stared at the envelope in her hands. The pale pink material had been left behind by the previous tenants, part of the mess of abandoned boxes and possessions scattered around the rental house. The faded paper inside held her request for more help as her future hung in the balance.
None of it belonged to her. Not the paper, not the house—even the stamp she was about to buy would be purchased with borrowed money.
“You ready to mail that?”
She snapped to attention as the woman behind the post office counter thrust forward a hand, already glancing past her to assess the next customer.
Becky handed over her future. “Yes.”
“Express or regular?”
She supposed the message was urgent, but…what if the answer was no? It made no sense to rush to get her feet kicked out from under her. “How much?”
The difference wasn’t outrageous, so Becky handed over the cash, carefully putting away her change. Then she walked out into the morning sunshine and took a deep breath. One more obstacle passed—now she had nothing more to do but wait.
And…possibly make herself so indispensable to Hope that even if her other benefactor didn’t come through again, maybe she wouldn’t be thrown into the street.
The door to the quilt shop was still locked when she got there, which made sense because she’d left extra time to hit the post office before the shop opened. But even after stopping to grab a few needed groceries, she was there ahead of Hope.
So she sat on the bench outside the shop, took a deep breath, and people-watched.
Traffic at nine thirty in the morning on a weekday was slow. Maybe Main Street Rocky Mountain House never got much busier than this, but it was fascinating all the same. The coffee shop across the way had a steady stream of customers passing through their door, most of them older men in worn coveralls and baseball caps. The retired or semi-retired, who’d finished their “chores” and now had time to shoot the breeze with their friends while their kids and grandkids did the real work.
She’d seen it before in the small town near the Paradise Settlement the few times she’d been part of the family who’d gone to town. Rocky didn’t seem that much different at first glance, but it was. Hugely.
Because she was sitting on that bench all by herself, w
aiting for her boss to open the door. Waiting to put in a day of labour that was for her benefit, and no one else’s. Maybe she didn’t own anything now, but she could, possibly, in the future.
The thought made her giddy. The idea of that much freedom forced her to take deep breaths until her trembling hands calmed. The vivid dreams she’d had of the night she’d left Paradise behind had shaken her, waking her with a pounding heart and aching head, but now the truth sank in.
She’d made it this far.
The door swung open, and Hope’s cheerful voice carried on the air. “You’re early. Come on, and we’ll figure out what the plan is for the day.”
Becky tucked her shopping onto the shelf Hope had cleared for her in the back, then joined the other woman in the cozy fabric-filled store. “Stocking shelves?”
“That, and we need to make up some kits for the summer—things for people to do with grandkids who are off school, stuff like that. If you have any ideas.”
Hope pulled out a notepad and together they made a list. Brainstorming for ideas was enjoyable because finding ways to keep young girls busy was something Becky knew how to do.
They moved from that to gathering supplies and laying out fabrics with an ease she hadn’t expected for her second day on the job, except it made sense. She knew what she was doing, at least right now. She might be fumbling and faking it for a whole lot of other things, but this? She knew.
Hope caught it too, laughing as Becky authoritatively pulled one bolt of fabric away from the stash and replaced it with a slightly different one. “I’m not going to argue with you. You’ve got a great eye for colour.”
“Lots of experience,” Becky admitted. “And you have the most amazing stock on hand. It’s easy to make good choices when there’s tons of options.”
The shop opened, and customers came in, and they were busy and the day moved on wonderfully, up until Hope got caught in the middle of organizing a big order and asked Becky to deal with ringing in another customer’s sale.
“No problem.”
Except, there was. The old register wasn’t a register. The metal contraption she’d spotted that was familiar to what she’d seen in the old mercantile near Paradise Settlement was for display only. Tricked out with small sewing notions and a little quilted sign that read My stash is totally legal.
She didn’t get the saying, nor did she see anything that would allow her to tap in prices or numbers on a keyboard. “Umm, Hope?”
Her boss glanced over her shoulder before continuing to measure off fabric. “Oh, right. The iPad is under the counter, and the scanner is next to it.”
Gibberish. Hope was speaking total gibberish.
Still, with a customer waiting on the other side of the counter, there was no use in wishing they’d gone over this before someone got to witness her complete cluelessness.
Becky bent over and spotted books, papers and a lot of things she could identify. And two things she had no idea about—those had to be her targets.
She lifted them onto the counter, the one a rectangular object like a picture frame connected to a power cord, the other, a small plastic gun. She took her time laying them on the counter carefully in the hopes that they’d magically transform into something recognizable.
Nope. No such luck.
Mrs. Jordon cleared her throat softly. “You need a hand?”
Becky made a face. The grandma in front of her probably knew more about this than she did. “Please.”
The older woman nodded before spinning the rectangle halfway around so it faced both of them. “I had to show my husband too—he hates Macs. Always insisted PCs were the way to go, so when my daughter gave him an iPad, I thought he was going to have a bird. Power button is here.”
She slipped her fingers over the top and the thing turned on, a picture of a pretty quilt filling the frame. Then Mrs. Jordon said something about “swiping” and “passwords”, and Becky shook her hands and backed up.
“I’m sorry, I’ll get Hope to help you.”
“I’m here. What’s up?”
She resisted the urge to flee. “I can’t work this.”
Hope rested a hand on Becky’s shoulder. “I should have shown you before—sorry, Mrs. Jordon. Rookie boss on the floor. I didn’t teach Becky how to use our register yet.”
“We all need to learn sometime,” she assured them. “I’m in no rush.”
Hope stepped beside Becky. “Here. Watch me, then you can ring in the next couple things.”
The scanner was the gun, the iPad instantly recording and totaling the information off the price tags. That part was interesting, but when Mrs. Jordon used her finger to sign her name on the screen and sent the receipt to her email—Becky knew this wasn’t something she could fake her way through.
She copied Hope’s moves, and managed to ring in the next order without too much difficulty, but once the customers left and they were alone, she bolted from behind the counter, running for the safety of the fabric stacks. “That was awkward.”
Hope snickered, immediately looking contrite. “Sorry, that wasn’t nice. You tried your best, and I’m sorry I didn’t run you through the system right off the bat.”
“Not your fault I didn’t understand.” So many things that were obviously part of a typical twenty-one-year-old’s vocabulary and life skills, but hadn’t been used much in Paradise. “I’ll do better next time.”
“You will,” Hope encouraged her, and that was that.
The taunting voice inside that sneered at Becky that she had so much to learn was quickly silenced by the truth her ignorance wasn’t her fault. She would learn.
If she had a few fumbles along the way, it would be worth it.
Trevor slowed the tractor, staring at the nearby gravel road until he was certain the RCMP cruiser that had been tracking him was his sister behind the wheel, and not one of the other officers doing a routine check.
Anna pulled over to the side of the road and offered a wave, strolling to the front of her cruiser and leaning against the grill as she waited, tilting her head to let the sun shine on her face.
He left the tractor and hopped the nearby fence, offering her a happy greeting in spite of the strange meeting spot. “You don’t know how good it is seeing you abandon your vehicle and sunglasses. Once that happens I figure I might have a chance of getting out of whatever it is you pulled me over for.”
“Handing out tickets to the Coleman family is the most fun I get,” she teased. “How’re you doing?”
“Working hard,” he said earnestly, “Or at least that’s what I want you to report to Steve if you see him later today.”
She straightened, resting her hands on her hips as she looked him up and down. “So. I have something I have to tell you.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“Oh my God, no. Don’t do that to me.”
“You got a transfer?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re determined to come up with the worst possible scenarios. Shut up and let me tell you before you give me a heart attack.”
“Sorry.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You’re such a brat. You out of all of us Moonshine kids—you’ve always been the biggest pain in my butt.”
“I’m just so talented and creative. Means you had to work harder to stay ahead of me. You should be thankful. I’m the reason you’re such a success.”
Anna made a hacking sound. “And on that note, I hear you’ve taken a fancy to the new renter on the western quarter.”
For fuck’s sake. “What is this? It’s freaky even for Rocky how much everybody’s up in my business about that. Yes, she’s a pretty girl, and I like her. Or I like what I’ve got to see of her so far.”
“I want to let you know…” Anna wrinkled her nose again. “Jeez, I thought this would be easy, but it’s worse than I imagined.”
“Spit it out,” Trevor demanded. “Before I tell Steve it’s your fault I’m not finished on time.”
“First, I he
ard you’ve been trying to find out who owns that section of land, and I want to suggest you lay off.”
Shit. “Don’t tell me you know things too?” He made air quotes around the words.
Anna shrugged. “It’s not up to me who people tell secrets, but once I joined the RCMP, yes, Dad told me some things.”
“But he didn’t tell me or Lee?”
“Or Steve. Not everything.”
This got crazier by the minute. First Steve going all cryptic, and now Anna? Trevor was more annoyed than he’d expected. “I’ve been trying to find out if we could rent that land. You mean you know how to contact whoever owns it? That’s all I need.”
“It’s not my secret to tell,” Anna snapped. “Bottom line, you want more information, you’ve got to convince Dad to let you know. The second thing is if you like Becky, go for it. There’s nothing stopping you, as far as I know.”
Which seemed the exact opposite of what Steve had implied.
What the fuck was going on?
Trevor didn’t bring up Becky’s lack of identification, because he didn’t know for sure Anna knew, and if his sister wanted to get shitty about him later for withholding information, Trevor was fine tossing it’s not my secret to tell back in her face anytime she wanted.
“You’re not making a hell of a lot of sense,” he muttered in frustration.
“I know, but in case you hear…something, and then get to thinking…things, I know enough to be able to say that if you want to date her, it won’t be weird.”
“But this conversation—this is weird,” Trevor drawled.
“Even for us,” Anna admitted.
He shook his head. “Anna—”
“Go talk to Dad,” she insisted. “Other than that, I can’t suggest anything.”
She marched back to the cruiser. Trevor waited until she pulled away before stomping back to the tractor. Maybe he wasn’t the smartest one in the family, but this all seemed more convoluted than it needed to be.
