Secondhand Heart

by Amity Lassiter

  "Come in, sit down."

  Nan always said the same thing, and Finn always did as he was told. Because somewhere in the midst of all the catch-up talk, there were nuggets of wisdom, lines of sage advice he could repeat back to himself when things were hard. He'd hang on every word this woman said, because she'd had at least twice the life experience he had at this point. He took his seat and started to pour the coffee for the two of them.

  "So tell me about the new girl." The woman leaned forward on her elbows.

  He should have been surprised she wanted to talk about Lily, but then nothing Nan said ever surprised him. Nate would have mentioned the reason for his visit, and Nan collected information about people the same way some women collected jewelry. She wasn't the hub of the rumor mill, though; she was the person who sent the unexpected birthday card or dropped by with chicken soup when you weren't feeling well. Her knowledge was always used for good, for making others feel good, and he supposed that was why, even years after Sunny's death, he maintained these Sunday morning visits. Invariably, Nan said the right thing and made him feel good. And maybe he was a little desperate for that today, when he was feeling nearly as bad as he had in the early days.

  It had been a long time since he'd felt so out of sorts. Especially after seeing the way Lily had slid right into his family unit, his family home, and seemed like she belonged there.

  "Well, she isn't supposed to be here."

  "But Nate brought her," Nan supplied.

  "But Nate brought her." Finn sat back with his coffee cup in hand, stretching his long legs out under the table, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. Because Nan wanted to talk about Lily wasn't a good enough reason for Finn to want to.

  "You don't sound pleased."

  "You know I don't like clients hanging around while I'm working with their horses. I mean, the horses I get in are usually rough, sometimes dangerous. Sometimes the owners think I'm being 'mean' and all I'm really doing is saving my hide. And theirs." At least, this had been his line of defense so far. It was easier than admitting his heart rate sped up when he saw her, his mind wandered to her when he didn't want it to, and it was easier if she didn't come around.

  "I know, Finn." Nan smiled knowingly and Finn wanted to curse. Was he that obvious?

  "It's just… it messes up the rhythm of the ranch to have an extra body coming and going as they please."

  "Now you're grasping at straws, darling." The woman sat back with her cup of coffee in hand and watched him over the rim without taking a sip. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe she needs to be at the ranch as much as her horse does?"

  It hadn't occurred to him, not until Emma had cussed him out. Sure, Emma had told him Lily needed some time away from Denver, but the girl seemed sound of body and mind, as far as he could tell.

  He scratched his head and set his coffee mug down. "We don't run a guest ranch."

  The stern look she directed at him told him he hadn't earned points with any of the women in his life today. Damnit.

  "But the Baylors don't turn away folks in need. You've always taken care of your own, but look at Ren and Kerri. Look at how you brought Emma into the fold. And my boys, too.

  "Sometimes, the deepest hurts are invisible on the outside, Finny." When she nodded her head toward him, he knew she wasn't just talking about Lily. "But they're still pretty significant cracks in the foundation of who a person is. I think you know that."

  "Yeah." He swallowed, rotating his coffee cup on the top of the table, his eyes focused on the way the liquid inside stayed rooted even though the world was spinning around it. "Yeah, I do know that."

  "And you know, sometimes the best way to repair the cracks in your own foundation is to help someone else mend theirs."

  He finally looked up, giving her a long, thorough look. He'd always figured himself to be a private kind of man, not the sort to wear his heart on his sleeve, but here Nan was, cutting straight to the crux of the issue when he hadn't even told her about it.

  "I don't know what to do, Nan." Lily's sudden appearance had dredged up feelings and memories he'd long ago buried; pain that hadn't needed to resurface, but told him now that he was in a whole world of trouble. He didn't know what to do with her horse. He didn't know what to do with that girl.

  Maybe he could help her Encore, but he couldn't help her. He'd gone down that road once, doing all the things, and saying all the words that were supposed to make things better. He'd invested himself so deep in trying to make Sunny well that he'd almost forgotten who he was when she died.

  "Here's what you do, love," she continued. "You keep working with that horse. And that girl will tell you what she needs soon enough."

  That was what he was most afraid of.

  —TEN—

  Lily shifted Emma's economy car into park in front of Hinkley's diner. Because she didn't want to shoot everything on the ranch before the first week was over and her hosts were busy with client horses all day, Emma had suggested she take a drive into town. It wasn't a bad idea, if the town was half as friendly as the majority of the Baylor ranch had been, she shouldn't have any problems finding someone to chat with. Plus, the added bonus of clearing her head after the run-in with Finn that morning practically begged for her to get off the ranch. She hadn't expected him to be cruel like that—they were supposed to have a professional relationship—but a long walk out to the West pasture and then a chat with Noah before she'd left the ranch convinced her not to pack her bags then and there. Regardless of how Finn treated her, he really only had to fix her horse. She wasn't paying him for his friendship. It would have been nice to have a working relationship, but it wasn't necessary for the same end result to be achieved.

  Primary businesses huddled together on the short main drag; the diner in a building adjoining the grocery store. Across the street was what looked like a doctor's office, the Baylor general store, and a gas station. Less than a quarter mile back, she'd passed a bar with a few cars already in the lot. The transition from ranches to residential to commercial was gradual and Lily had barely noticed she was in town until she was right there.

  On the passenger seat, her phone buzzed and she picked it up to find a text from Nate.

  Heading out, thought I'd stop by and say bye.

  She tapped in her reply quickly.

  Not at the ranch, I'm at the diner for coffee.

  Great, I'll come by. Be there in 5.

  She slipped the phone into one of the many utility pockets on her camera bag and climbed out of the car, shouldering the bag. She carried it everywhere—when one made their money from taking photos, they couldn't risk missing an opportunity to do so. She assessed the buildings around her for a moment, and then went into the diner.

  "Hey hun!" A red-haired waitress greeted her from behind the counter, where she was refilling a display of donuts. It was a small spot, and most of the booths lining the walls, as well as the stools at the counter were vacant; the breakfast rush gone and too early for the lunch crowd. Tall windows threw long slices of sunlight along the floor. It looked like something straight out of the movies.

  "Good morning," Lily said, smiling, as she decided the town was, indeed, at least half as friendly as the Baylor family, Finn excluded.

  "You go on ahead and seat yourself, I'll be right along. Coffee?"

  "Yes, please."

  She slid onto the warmed vinyl seat of one of the booths, pushing her camera bag in ahead of her. Soon, the waitress appeared with a carafe of coffee and a chipped ceramic mug. She set the mug down and filled it up, then pulled a menu out of the back of her apron and set it in front of Lily.

  "I'm Tina, you just holler for me when you're ready." The bubbly waitress made to leave but then did a double take, narrowing her eyes at Lily. "I don't think I've seen you around. Are you new or just passing through?"

  Lily considered her response for a minute before speaking. "An extended guest, I guess you'd say. I'm staying at the Baylor ranch with Emma and Noah. Fin
n is working with my horse."

  "Oh those Baylors! Isn't Emma just the greatest? She worked here with me before she went to Denver. What a sweet girl. And that Finn, poor soul."

  Smiling at the way the waitress lit up when she talked about Emma, Lily tipped her head. It was none of her business, but she might get some answers here. She didn't think for a second Noah or Emma wouldn't tell her about Finn's wife if she asked, but this seemed like a convenient segue into the conversation she was interested in.

  "Yes, his wife went quickly, didn't she?" It wasn't inappropriate to ask. At least, that's what she told herself, anyway. She'd seen the picture, his vulnerability; there was no existing wife, and he still wore a wedding band—that she'd noticed yesterday morning when she'd been shooting the session.

  "Yes, she did, that poor sweet girl. Cancer. They barely had the diagnosis before she was so sick she couldn't do much. He took care of her right in his house. Hired a nurse to come in when he couldn't look after her. They never even had a chance to make babies." She tutted and shook her head. "High school sweethearts, they were. He used to bring her in here for a milkshake every week."

  Sympathy pushed at her heart, clearing out her own agitation with Finn's behavior this morning quicker than she expected. She could understand someone doing everything they could to keep every unnecessary person out of their lives to protect their heart. In fact, wasn't that sort of what she was doing here in Three Rivers herself?

  "Tina, you do get better looking every time I see you." Nate saved her from the spiral of pity that had started to claim her as he interrupted her thoughts, sweeping the waitress into a playful hug, careful of the half-full carafe of coffee she was still holding.

  "Nate Montgomery." It was half a careful attempt at disapproval and half trying to keep a pleased flush from taking over her fair complexion. "Coffee for you, too?"

  "Yes. And two slices of banana cream pie." Nate slid into the booth opposite Lily and handed the menu she'd been looking at back to Tina, who nodded and headed for the kitchen.

  "It's way too early—" Lily started, but Nate cut her off, holding a finger up.

  "It is never too early for a slice of banana cream pie from Hinkley's. The stuff hasn't changed since I was a kid, and I get a piece every time I'm in town. Ask Emma. There's nothing better."

  Lily wrinkled her nose and slumped back in her seat, clearly having lost the battle before it had even begun.

  "So?" Nate asked, leaning forward on his elbows on the table between them.

  "So, what?"

  "So, am I taking you back to Denver this morning or has Finn softened up a little?"

  She thought of the way he'd gotten all hot under the collar this morning with her. He'd cut straight to the heart of the issue—her fear—with frightening precision, and she suspected he was better at people than everyone, including himself, gave him credit for. Even though he'd been nothing but a perplexing thorn in her side over the last few days, she hesitated to say anything to Nate about it. Especially now that she knew more about the situation with his wife. She'd be prickly, too, if she was dealing with a sudden loss like that. It was terrifying, the idea of loving someone so completely and so endlessly, and then suddenly, and almost without warning, they were taken from you. It was almost enough to put her off of the idea of love completely.

  "Out with it, Lilypad." Nate prompted when she took too long to speak again.

  "It's fine." She hoped she was making it clear there would be no more discussion here, like he hadn't wanted anymore discussion about the pie. And like she'd been summoned, Tina showed up with two dessert plates. On each sat a slice of banana cream pie almost a half foot tall, stacks of real sliced bananas topped with a heap of cream. Maybe he'd been right. Maybe there was no bad time for banana cream pie.

  "If you say so," Nate said as he took up his fork and cut a generous wedge off his piece of pie with the side of it.

  "You are the reason I have never been able to get rid of the weight I gained when I was laid up," she laughed as she stuck a forkful into her mouth. "Hold the phone. This is incredible."

  Her companion wiggled his eyebrows at her with his mouth full. They ate in silence for a few more minutes. Tina came by to refill their coffee mugs, and finally, washing a mouthful of bananas down with the hot black liquid, she pressed her lips together and continued.

  "You didn't tell me his wife died."

  Nate shrugged, spearing another piece of pie without looking up. "I didn't figure it was important, seeing as he's working on your relationship with your horse, not your relationship with him."

  "No, I know." A little niggling in the back of her mind told her it was time to drop it now. She had no right to pry into Finn's life more than she already accidentally-on-purpose had.

  "Unless…" Nate narrowed his eyes at her. Her heart skipped two beats. In another time or place, she might have actively pursued someone like Finn Baylor, but she had bigger fish to fry right now. But she could. He was straight up her alley.

  "Nevermind, Nate. Anyways…how was your time with Nan? You look like you hardly slept since I last saw you."

  It was his turn to dance around her question, and he hesitated, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

  "I had to catch up on the night life."

  "This town has night life?" She asked incredulously, but she wasn't surprised. The opposite of his brother, the straight-laced sheriff of Three Rivers, Nate was always looking for a good time. If there was one to be had, he'd sniff it out quicker than a bloodhound on a scent. She'd seen that a mile away the first time she met him. It had been both the reason she'd declined to go home with him, and the reason she kept him around. Three years later, they made better friends anyway.

  "Well. It has a bar. And a dance hall."

  "And there are enough people to support these things?"

  He shrugged with a secretive smile on his face that suggested to Lily he hadn't spent all of his nights in the bar and the dance hall since she'd last seen him, then polished off his piece of pie. Lily still had half of hers left. He wiped his mouth with the paper napkin then crumpled it and tossed it onto his empty plate as he moved to rise.

  "You're leaving already? You just got here."

  "I ate a piece of pie and had a coffee with you."

  "You inhaled that pie," she said pointedly, but sat back.

  "I've got a horse to pick up an hour out, and they're expecting me…" He glanced at the clock over the counter. "…in about an hour. I just wanted to make sure you didn't need to get out of Dodge."

  She slipped out of the booth when he did, and he bent to wrap her in a big, warm hug. Nate had taken the place of her brother in her life, and for just a second, she thought maybe she should go with him. But she knew she couldn't leave Encore behind. He rubbed his big hand over her back and spoke in her ear.

  "I know you're scared of moving forward, but let these people help you, okay? You deserve it."

  He was right. Two years ago, a doctor's recommendation wouldn't have kept her from riding. Nothing would have. After the accident, she'd waited anxiously for the day she'd be told she could ride again—that was nearly six months ago, now. Instead of the joy and excitement she'd expected, she'd been taken over by the same cold shards of fear she'd known when they'd suggested she may have difficulty walking again. It should have been a triumphant success, but instead it had sparked anxiety and panic.

  "I gotta hit the road, but I wanted to check in with you. You know you can call me anytime." He held her out at arm's length for one appraising minute, then released her. "But I don't think you'll have to."

  "Later Nater."

  He dropped a twenty on the table and she started to stop him, but he winked at her and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. "You got this, Lilypad. I believe in you."

  He swaggered out of the diner, tipping his hat at Tina as he went, and she watched his back for a moment, and then, with renewed butterflies in her stomach, slid back into the booth to finish her pi
e.

  —ELEVEN—

  Lily made her way across the yard carefully the next morning. She hadn't been comfortable on the couch at any point, but now there was pain. Nothing she couldn't handle—as long as she could walk, she would, pain be damned—but enough to shorten her stride and require her to down a couple of painkillers before she'd started the long trek up the driveway.

  She'd have been lying if she said there weren't butterflies banging around in her rib cage as she headed up toward the big house. Dane had given her permission to come and go as she pleased to shoot the ranch. And Finn hadn't said she couldn't shoot his sessions with Encore. The rest of the Baylors felt like her family by now, she'd be damned if she'd let him get away this easy. The least they could do is develop a reasonable, professional relationship when it came to his work with her horse. She was, after all, paying him. And despite his best efforts, she was staying. He'd have to get over it.

  Finn was stripping a young gray mare of her tack in the round pen. As he swung the saddle over the fence rail, the filly folded her knees and dropped into the sand, rolling to rub her itchy sweat marks. Lily smiled as the horse made a complete turn over twice, and then floundered on one side for a few seconds before she jumped to her feet, shook, and made two bucking, farting victory laps around the pen. He shook his head and laughed, and then turned those charcoal eyes on her. She tucked her lower lip between her teeth; this could go either way.

  "'Morning."

  Finn's tone was friendlier than she expected, and her footsteps faltered as she reached the rail. She'd been halfway ready for a fight, and he'd disarmed her in two seconds flat.

  "Good morning." Tentatively, she offered him a smile, and he returned it. She couldn't figure out what any of this meant, so she decided to just tread lightly. Essentially, they were business partners, investing time and energy into the same project—Encore. It was essential they had a civil relationship, at least.