Whenever You Come Around

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  She envied him that ability.

  Chapter 14

  WHEN THEY LEFT THE CLEARING NEAR MCHENRY’S cabin, Buck led the way. He chose a trail that was steeper at the beginning, but that opened up after only a quarter mile, allowing him to fall back and ride beside Charity from then on. The more time he had beside her, the better, he’d decided.

  While she might have been content to ride in silence, Buck wanted to keep her talking. It was more than liking the sound of her voice. As much as he’d learned about her over the summer, he hadn’t learned enough. He wanted to know more. And so he asked her a question. Something about her writing to start with. When she reached the end of her answer and fell silent, he asked her something else. Whatever popped into his head. He had no agenda beyond knowing her better.

  Finally, after close to an hour, she reined in and gave him a hard look. “Enough with the Twenty Questions, Mr. Malone.”

  For a moment he thought he’d irritated her, but then he saw the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He raised his hands, palms up, in a I-couldn’t-help-myself shrug.

  A little roll of her eyes said she didn’t believe him.

  They nudged their mounts forward.

  “Your turn,” she said.

  “My turn for what?”

  “Don’t pretend ignorance. I don’t believe you.”

  Why did he feel so good? He couldn’t figure it out. He was almost euphoric.

  “Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know.”

  “Something you don’t know. Hmm.” He rubbed his jaw between thumb and index finger. “I’m kind of an open book. Not sure what that would be.”

  “All right. Answer this: why didn’t you go on to college like everybody expected? I know you said it just didn’t work out, but there must be more to it than that.”

  He shook his head slowly. “You knew my dad died, right?”

  “Two or three years after graduation, wasn’t it?”

  “Two years after, and that whole two years I watched my dad die by degrees. It was tough, helping Mom take care of him, seeing him fight so hard even when there was little hope. Mom couldn’t have taken care of him alone. Not physically or emotionally. And even if she’d been strong enough, I couldn’t have gone to college. The scholarship wouldn’t have paid for everything. What money there was left after the medical bills needed to go to Ken so he could get his master’s degree. He was so close to it by the time Dad passed. Plus Ken was married with kids. He had a lot on his plate.”

  He fell silent for a short while. She didn’t intrude on his thoughts.

  “It took a long time to dig out of the medical debt. The last of it was paid off when Mom sold the house. Then she moved to live with her sister in Arizona. By that time I was working for the outfitter and discovered how much I liked it.”

  When he glanced at Charity again, he saw surprise in her eyes.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t know all of that,” she said softly, her gaze shifting toward a break in the trees. “I suppose I was too preoccupied with my own life to listen if anybody tried to tell me.”

  There it was again, that flicker of pain and sadness. Buck hadn’t seen it since the day of Eddy’s birth, and he’d begun to wonder if it had been a fluke. The times he’d seen her since then, she’d seemed in good spirits.

  “I’m sorry, Buck. I should have known how difficult it was for you.”

  “It’s okay, Charity. You weren’t around, and I’ve never talked about it much. Probably plenty more folks than you don’t know how it was either.”

  She released a soft sigh, then repeated, “I’m sorry, Buck.”

  IT WAS UNPLEASANT, CATCHING A GLIMPSE OF YET another less than noble trait in herself. Buck had been kind, offering her an excuse for her ignorance, but the truth was she’d paid little attention to the trials and tribulations of others for far too long. She’d ignored even those closest to her. Maybe she hadn’t been a close friend of Buck’s, but someone—most likely her own mother or sister—must have shared some of that news about Buck and his family. But Charity hadn’t been listening.

  They continued down the mountainside, silence surrounding them at last. Even Cocoa grew quiet, trotting along nearby, no longer looking for small game to stir from the underbrush. Wondering if she’d spoiled the day for Buck, Charity looked over at him. He didn’t look upset or troubled. Either he wasn’t or he was good at hiding it.

  As the pine trees began to thin, Buck pointed off to the south. “Look. There’s the backside of the Riverton estate.”

  Her gaze followed his outstretched arm. She could see the tall, wrought-iron fence and brick posts. Ponderosa pines mostly obscured the house beyond the fence.

  “Too bad about Jon.”

  Charity’s throat tightened, but she managed to ask, “What do you mean?”

  “He lived large and crashed hard.”

  “Are the two of you still friends?” She held her breath as she waited for the answer.

  “Can’t say that we are.” Buck frowned. “Not since high school. Jon took a path that I wasn’t willing to walk down, and he didn’t have time for anyone who didn’t want to live and think the same way. After he came home from college, I saw a smallness, a meanness, in him that I didn’t recognize when we were younger. Booze and drugs only made it worse, and he was into both. As long as Sinclair was alive, he managed to keep his son a little in check. Once the old man passed, it was a fast slide downhill for Jon. He managed to lose everything his father spent a lifetime building.”

  A shudder passed through Charity. She remembered the meanness. She’d seen it up close.

  “I pray for him when I remember to,” Buck added, his voice low.

  Pray for Jon. That voice in her heart made her breath catch again. Pray for him.

  Never. She could never pray for him. Not after what he’d done to her. Not after what he’d taken from her. If not for him—

  “Charity?” Buck’s hand closed around her horse’s reins, stopping him. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, feeling as though her throat were caught in a vise.

  “You can trust me, you know. I’m your . . . friend.”

  My friend. It felt good to hear him say that.

  “I’d like to help if I could. Even if it’s only listening.”

  She met his gaze and shook her head a second time, unable to speak. The secret was lodged too deep inside. A decade of silence had sealed it there.

  “Okay.” He let go of the reins. “But remember, I’m here if you need me.”

  If he didn’t stop being nice and sensitive and kind, she was going to burst into tears. She clucked to her horse and continued down the trail.

  BUCK WASN’T ANYBODY’S FOOL. HE’D NOTICED THE change that came over her when she’d seen the Riverton estate. Her face had gone white, then flushed. He’d heard the difference in her voice when she’d asked about Jon. Two plus two always made four. And Jon plus a girl? All the way back to high school, that combination had meant trouble.

  What did he do to you?

  Buck wanted to know the answer . . . and dreaded getting one. Both. Equally. At the same moment. But she would have to tell him in her own time and in her own way. If she ever told him.

  He nudged his horse and caught up with her. “We’ll take that cutoff to the left,” he said.

  That hadn’t been his original plan, but the alternate trail would get them out of sight of the Riverton estate faster. That’s what was important to him now. He just wanted to take care of Charity.

  Take care of Charity.

  Not that long ago, Buck had been determined to look out for number one and only number one. So why did taking care of Charity suddenly sound so good to him?

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know that answer either. Because if he acknowledged it, everything would change—including Buck himself.

  Chapter 15

  CHARITY AWAKENED SLOWLY THE NEXT MORNING TO find sunlight pouring through the curtains
of the bedroom window. She hadn’t slept this late or this soundly in ages. Odd, wasn’t it? That she would sleep so well despite the anxiety she’d felt after she and Buck had come near the Riverton estate.

  “You can trust me, you know. I’m your . . . friend.”

  She pulled the pillow over her face, letting Buck’s words echo in her memory again and again, savoring the pleasure it gave her. A person could never have too many friends. Too many true friends. And she knew without doubt that Buck’s would be the true kind of friendship. She would be thankful for it even after she returned home and her life got back to normal.

  Back to normal.

  She pushed the pillow aside and sat on the side of the bed.

  Back to normal.

  The last time she’d spoken to her contractor, everything had been going well. And right now the same could be said for her book. With any luck, both would be finished in another five to six weeks. When she’d arrived in Kings Meadow, staying here for the summer had felt like a prison sentence. Now—

  The telephone rang, surprising her from her thoughts. She picked up the portable handset and pushed the Call button without glancing at the caller ID. “Hello.”

  “Good morning, Charity. Guess who.”

  It took her a couple of heartbeats to recognize the voice. “Nathan?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. Been awhile. How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” She pushed her hair over her shoulder. “You?”

  “I’m good. Real good. Where are you? The message on your mobile phone didn’t say. Just gave this number to call.”

  “I’m at my folks’ house in Kings Meadow for the summer. Cell service isn’t reliable up here.”

  “Oh.”

  What do you want, Nathan?

  As if she’d asked the question aloud, he said, “I was hoping to see you, Charity.”

  A confusion of feelings washed over her, completely mixed together so that she couldn’t identify any of them singly.

  “I could drive up there, if that’s all right,” he added after a lengthy silence.

  “When?”

  “Soon, I hoped. Today. Or tomorrow if that’s better for you. Or next weekend.”

  A tiny, panicked feeling burst through the confusion. Did she want to see Nathan? She had ended things between them because he wanted a different kind of life than she did.

  “Charity?”

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea, Nathan.”

  “Come on, Charity. Just to talk, to catch up. You’ve been on my mind a lot lately.”

  Would it change anything, seeing him? Then again, would it hurt anything? She supposed not. The end of their relationship hadn’t been an ugly one. It had gone out on a whimper, not a roar.

  “What do you say? A few hours. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “All right. I suppose it would be okay. But I’m busy today. Come tomorrow afternoon, if you want. Say around two o’clock.”

  “Great. Thanks, Charity. I was only up there with you the one time, but I think I remember the way.”

  “Don’t count on your memory. The streets around Kings Meadow can be confusing. Better print off a map.” She gave him her parents’ address and a few easy instructions as reminders.

  “Great, Charity. I’ve got it. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

  After pressing the End button, she put the handset back on the nightstand, still not sure how she felt about seeing Nathan again.

  “Well, I guess I’ll find out soon enough,” she said to Cocoa.

  The dog came over to the bed and waited for a pat on the head. Charity leaned down, looking Cocoa straight in the eyes. “You never liked Nathan the way you do Buck. Why is that?”

  That train of thought would get her nowhere.

  She rose and headed for the shower.

  BUCK PUSHED OPEN THE GLASS DOOR AND STEPPED into a world of high-pitched giggles, ponytails, black leotards, and pink tights. Some girls sat on the floor, removing their dance shoes. Others were getting help from their mothers. Many of those same mothers noticed him and stopped what they were doing to stare—as if he were a creature from the dark lagoon. Instinct told him to turn around and leave this feminine domain. Immediately.

  “Hi, Buck.”

  He turned to his left.

  Skye Foster, the local dance teacher, smiled at him, laughter in her eyes. No doubt she knew a duck out of water when she saw one. “What can I do for you?” She walked toward him.

  “Maybe I should come back. Looks busy in here.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I only have one class on Saturdays in the summer, and we just finished up. Everybody’s getting ready to leave. Why don’t you wait in my office?” She pointed toward an open door, amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. “It’s less chaotic in there than out here.”

  With a nod to Skye, he went into the small office. He couldn’t blame her for laughing at him. He must have worn a strange expression. He liked kids and he’d always thought his two nieces hung the moon. But that many little girls in one place? Nerve wracking.

  It didn’t take long for the studio to empty out. When silence reigned again, he stepped into the office doorway. “Safe to come out?”

  Skye laughed aloud this time. “It’s safe. But the gossips will be wondering what a bachelor was doing at my Saturday ballet class.”

  “I did feel out of place.” He chuckled. “I should have called you instead of coming over.”

  Her eyebrows arched in question.

  “I got a harebrained idea this morning. I heard you give dance lessons to adults. Line dancing and swing and such. And I . . . I thought maybe I’d like to take a few lessons.” He shrugged, then added, “It’ll be good exercise for my ankle.”

  His ankle wasn’t the real reason for his interest in lessons, but he wasn’t about to admit it to Skye. The real reason was Charity. He’d watched her dance with other men on the night of the Fourth. He’d seen how much she enjoyed it. She was good at it too. His skills on the dance floor were okay but not great. That hadn’t mattered in the past. It mattered now.

  After yesterday’s ride, he’d realized how much he would like to take Charity dancing. Take her out on a real date. He’d like to hold her in his arms and whirl her around a floor in time to the music. He’d like her to look up at him and smile, the way she’d done to other lucky guys three weeks ago. For Charity, he didn’t want to be “good enough.” He wanted to impress her. Because a woman like her didn’t have to settle for “good enough.” Not in anything.

  Skye said, “I don’t have another adult class starting until September. You could—”

  “How about private lessons? Do you do those?” Man, he sounded desperate. He didn’t care for that. Then again, maybe he was desperate.

  “Sometimes,” she answered. “Is this for a special occasion? Like a wedding. I love to get a couple ready for that first dance as man and wife.”

  At the word wedding, Charity’s image—this time in a cloud of white satin and lace—popped into Buck’s head. He blinked it away. “Uh . . . no. No special occasion.”

  “Too bad.” Something in her gaze said she didn’t believe he was telling the whole truth.

  Buck liked Skye Foster—in a kid-sister kind of way. Five years his junior, she was a petite and slender thing with straight black hair and dark-brown eyes. He’d always thought she resembled that actress Angie Harmon, in every way except height. A little bit of tomboy toughness. Not given to frills or froufrou. Always ready to laugh, but with a serious side as well.

  “I could do an hour on Wednesday evenings at seven, if that would work for you,” she said after a lengthy silence. “When would you like to start?”

  “This coming Wednesday.”

  “This coming Wednesday it is. I’ll see you at seven.”

  CLIPPITY DO-DA, THE BEAUTY SALON LOCATED around the corner from the library, was always a busy place on Saturdays. Midge Foster had opened her salon back in the late seventies, and almost
every woman who lived in or around Kings Meadow eventually came through her door, either to see Midge or one of the two other stylists who worked for her.

  Charity opened that door to Clippity Do-Da a few minutes before her scheduled appointment with Midge. A little bell announced her arrival. Conversations ebbed, all eyes turned in her direction, and then the chatter resumed.

  “Have a seat, Charity,” Midge called to her. “I’ll be finished in a flash.”

  Charity went to one of the chairs by the large plate-glass window. After sitting, she grabbed one of the worn and torn beauty magazines and thumbed through it, not truly interested.

  The bell rang again. Along with the others, Charity’s gaze went to the door. This time the newcomer was Midge’s daughter, Skye.

  “Hi, hon,” Midge said as she removed the cape from around her client’s shoulders. “You done for the day?”

  “Yeah. You’ll never guess who—”

  Midge held up a finger, silently asking for one minute. She went to the small counter, took her client’s check, and booked the woman’s next appointment. Then with swift efficiency, she swept up the hair on the floor around her chair and deposited it in a waste can.

  “Come on over, Charity.” Midge looked at her daughter again. “Sorry, hon. What were you about to tell me?”

  Charity sat in the swivel salon chair, and Midge whipped a fresh cape around her.

  Skye said, “Buck Malone came into the studio just as my class was letting out. He wants some private dance lessons.”

  “Well, good for him,” Midge replied. “Wish more men would do that and save their sweethearts’ toes.”

  “But Buck doesn’t seem the type for lessons. Know what I mean? He gave some lame excuse that it would be good for strengthening his ankle.” Skye lowered her voice. “I think what he really wants is to ask me out.”

  Charity felt a chill, as if the air conditioner was blowing right on her.

  “Would you want him to ask you out?” Even as Midge asked Skye that question, her attention returned to Charity. “What do you want done?” she asked, their gazes meeting in the mirror. “Just a trim?” She raked her fingers through Charity’s hair.