The Missionary's Purpose

by Kat Brookes

  The look on Dimples’s face was part desperation, part gratitude. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking, I’m offering.”

  But the crinkle across her brow didn’t ease. “How much for the hose, do you think?”

  A hose at cost was fifteen bucks, maybe twenty. He had a couple of tens tucked in his wallet he could use. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” The word started as a squeak, then rose three octaves.

  Dimples’s sister pinched her arm. “Don’t mind her. We’re from the city. My sister’s naturally suspicious of anyone who smiles more than an hour a day. Offer to help someone for free and you’re probably on the FBI’s most-wanted list.”

  Dimples glared at her. “I don’t think you’re on the FBI’s most-wanted list.”

  Ty’s lips curved up. He glanced at the little girl. “Don’t worry, the only list I’m on is Santa’s nice list.”

  The kid blinked and said nothing.

  “She’s just shy.” Dimples ran a hand through the girl’s hair.

  “Sure. Lots of kids are, I guess.”

  An old Ford pickup pulled up to the pump next to theirs. Ty tried not to bite his tongue as Liam Kendrick stepped out. He was alone today. No Mia. No trouble. Not unless Ty caused it.

  For two seconds Ty thought about walking over there and telling Liam off. He knew the conversation by heart. He’d written it the day Mia left and had played it over and over in his head since then. Words like cheater and liar were peppered heavily throughout. He’d even managed to work in pettifogger. Ty’d had to look that one up. It meant a lawyer who uses unethical methods to get what he wants. Liam was no lawyer, but he’d certainly gotten what he wanted. Mia was his, and Ty was alone.

  But the kid was watching, and Ty wasn’t about to scare her just to let off some steam. He offered Liam a polite nod. Liam turned away.

  Clock. Ticking.

  Right. Liam wasn’t the problem right now. There was a new challenge—get home before the party showed up.

  “I’ll get that hose for you.” Ty went into the station, and when he came back out, Liam was gone. Good. He tossed a couple of candy bars into his truck and checked the message coming in from Dillon. Where are you?

  Ty returned his brother’s text. On my way. Get the plane ready.

  It took fifteen minutes to get the hose changed and test it out.

  He gave Dimples a warning. “It’s still pretty hot under the hood. I’d grab a bite at the diner next door and let her cool down for an hour or so. They have the best banana cream pie in Sweetheart, and it’s half-priced on Sundays.”

  The sister smiled at him. “Why don’t you join us? We’ll buy you a slice. As a thank-you.”

  It was tempting, especially when Dimples seconded the idea. “You should. We owe you that much at least.”

  When was the last time he’d had pie with a pretty girl? Not since Mia. And look how that had turned out. Better to avoid temptation.

  Dimples pushed a strand of hair out of her face, and a wedding ring caught his eye. How had he missed that? The kid was hanging off her now, and a lightbulb flashed on. She’s married. With a kid.

  A tiny flicker of disappointment rolled over him. “Thanks, but I’m already late.” The candy bars would have to do till dinner, but at least the three of them wouldn’t be stuck here all day.

  Dimples took her daughter’s hand. “Thanks for your help.”

  Ty smiled. “Sure thing. Enjoy your time in Sweetheart.”

  Nikki held her phone toward the roof of the car, waving it around, trying to get her signal back. She looked at the screen. “Nothing.”

  Camille’s spine stiffened. “It’s around here somewhere.” She slowed Buffy down as they came to a side road. A sign out front read Buggeroo Ranch.

  “We passed that already,” said Nikki. “Twice.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “With a name like Buggeroo?”

  Camille arched one eyebrow. “Maybe the next one.” A soft breeze blew a handful of dust into her car and she pushed the up button on her window. It didn’t budge.

  “We should’ve asked that guy for directions,” said Nikki. “And his name.”

  Camille looked at her. “What for?”

  “He was cute.”

  “So?”

  “Seriously? I have to explain cute?” Nikki shook her head and made tsking sounds.

  “We’re not staying in Sweetheart forever.”

  “Yeah, but you’re allowed to date.”

  She shot Nikki a warning look, letting her know she was about to cross a serious line. “I’m not here to date. We’re selling the house and paying off the b-a-n-k.”

  Nikki rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure Evie can spell bank.” But she must’ve taken the hint because she stopped talking and started waving her phone again. At least they wouldn’t starve on their search. That really had been the best banana cream pie ever.

  “That was it.” Nikki’s back went straight as her head swiveled to the right and she pointed one finger toward a stretch of road they’d just passed.

  Buffy’s brakes squeaked as Camille turned her head. “What? Where? I didn’t see anything.”

  “That sign back there said Sweet Dreams Ranch.”

  “What sign?”

  “Just turn around.”

  Camille did an about-face and this time caught the weathered sign with a red arrow pointing down a dirt road. She turned the corner. Tires crunched over the gravel. Everywhere around her was mixed-grass prairie stretched over what looked like miles of sand dunes.

  They passed a tree with spiky branches and a thick trunk that looked older than the Earth. Wesley had pointed it out to her the one time she’d visited, right after they were married. He’d said his great-great-grandfather planted that tree.

  There was a bend in the road ahead, curving up a gent­ly sloping hill that made Buffy sputter. A house came into view, and Nikki’s mouth dropped open. Evie pressed her face against the back window, and Camille leaned forward in her seat.

  “That’s not it,” said Nikki. “It can’t be. That’s a mansion.”

  It wasn’t a mansion, but it might as well have been compared to the bread box they were coming from. Five bedrooms, one for each of them plus extra. Two full bathrooms. A kitchen she could cook a Thanksgiving feast in, if she ever learned how to cook.

  Nikki gave a low whistle. “The pictures didn’t do this place justice. Are you sure you want to sell?”

  Camille gave her sister a practiced mom look. Don’t press it.

  Nikki shrugged. “I had to ask.”

  George had taken such good care of the place it could have passed for new instead of rounding up its hundredth anniversary. They pulled up to a patch of greenish-sandy grass that was all the rage out here and got out just in time for Buffy’s engine to let out a final wheeze. She’d be okay again in the morning, but this was her nap time.

  Another ranch stood in the distance, maybe a quarter mile down the road. They had a pretty clear view of it from here even with the trees. Before he died, George had always spoken very highly of his neighbors. It was another good sign, just like the impending rain.

  “Keys?” Nikki held her hands out, and Camille tossed them to her. A friendly rabbit hopped over to say hello. It wiggled its nose at them. Evie turned away and went up the porch steps.

  Nothing changes, does it? Thanks, God, big help You are. At least they’d have a few weeks of fresh air.

  Nikki had the keys in the door. “The first showing’s at eleven tomorrow, and I can’t reschedule. So just shove things into closets and spread blankets over anything dusty. I’m up for—”

  Her words stopped so suddenly Camille got nervous. She hurried inside, afraid the floor had sunk in or the roof was missing. Another one of God’s little
jokes. But everything was fine. A little dusty, maybe, but in good shape.

  “It’s like something out of Town and Country.” Nikki moved farther into the house. “I can sell this in a week.”

  “Good. Maybe we can leave early.”

  Nikki looked at her cross-eyed. “I already took the month off. It’s summer in the country. This is like a dream. Do you really want to go back to Chicago?”

  “It’s too quiet here.”

  Nikki shook her head and looked at Evie. “You like it, right?”

  Evie shrugged and went to look at the kitchen.

  “Why don’t you get your decorator’s brain working and figure out how to stage this?” Nikki was already fluffing pillows.

  “I’m an event decorator.”

  “Like houses are so different? I saw pictures from that anniversary party you did. Wasn’t that in a house?”

  True. It wasn’t Camille’s decorating ideas that had caused her career to flop the last few months. That was stress, stress and more stress. Maybe a little decorating would ease the pressure.

  The furniture here was old, but some fresh linen and pillows would make it look antiquey instead of ancient. Move the sofa away from the window and let in some light; it wouldn’t take much to spruce things up.

  Camille’s phone started buzzing. She pulled it from her pocket as missed-call notifications flooded in. “I picked up a signal.”

  Nikki looked at her phone. “Really? I’ve still got nothing.” She waved her phone over her head, then opened the front door and stepped out on the porch.

  Camille’s stomach did a somersault. Ten missed calls. All the same number. She dialed Ben and his secretary answered.

  “Attorney King’s office.”

  “Hi, this is Camille Bellamy. I’m returning—”

  “Oh, Camille. I’m glad you called. He’s been going absolutely bonkers here. Hold on, I’ll connect you.”

  A minute later her lawyer came on the line. “Camille? I tried calling you a dozen times.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. The reception here is nonexistent.”

  “Listen, we’ve got a prob—”

  His voice cut off. “Ben…?” Silence. The signal had bleeped out of existence again. Goodie. There had to be a house phone around here. George always kept a landline.

  A fly buzzed somewhere, irritating her already prickly nerves. She ignored it as she looked for the phone, but it got louder and louder. And closer. Camille stopped looking and stared at the open door. The sound was coming from outside.

  Nikki looked around from the porch. “Is that thunder?”

  “I don’t think so.” Evie followed Camille outside. They looked toward the gray clouds growing in the sky.

  Oh, boy.

  A plane’s engine rumbled overhead. It was one of those personal aircrafts, the kind only rich celebrities could afford. It circled over their heads, then nosedived toward the ground like it was going to crash.

  Camille let out an earsplitting shriek and grabbed hold of Evie, covering her with her body. The plane righted itself a second later, then did a full upside-down circle in the air and zigzagged between some clouds. Camille finally got it.

  Tricks. The pilot was doing stunts. Over her house.

  The pilot flew away, circled the neighboring ranch, then landed his plane on a grassy runway Camille hadn’t noticed at first glance.

  “Oh, no,” said Nikki. “Is that an airstrip? Next door?” Her eyes were big. “No one’s gonna want to live next to an airfield. I won’t sell this place in a million years.”

  “Get Evie inside.” Camille was already moving toward the neighbor’s house.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To make sure that never happens again.”

  Ty Spencer loved flying. Nothing could change that. Not even crashing into the Pacific four years ago. Every time the wings of his plane touched the clouds, he felt a little bit closer to God. It was the thing he’d loved most about being a naval flight officer.

  He let the plane’s propellers come to a complete stop before turning to the redhead beside him. She still had her hands over her eyes. “You can look now.”

  She spread two manicured fingernails and peered through the windshield to her friends waiting at the end of the runway—four city women jumping up and down in six-inch heels that had no place on a ranch let alone the copilot seat of his Cessna 172.

  The redhead looked at him with bright, hopeful eyes. She laid one hand on his forearm. “How’d I do?”

  That made the thousandth time since opening Sky High Ranch he’d been asked that question. He gently pulled her hand off him and set it on the armrest. “You did great for a first-timer.”

  Ruby lips beamed at him as sparkly stilettos hopped out of the plane. Dillon was there to make sure she didn’t fall and break an ankle. Her friends rushed her, talking over each other and stressing every couple of words.

  “Oh, wow that was amazing!”

  “I can’t believe you flew so high!”

  The redhead bounced happily in the center of them, her birthday tiara slipping sideways. “Did you see me? I flew with a Green Angel!”

  “Blue Angel,” Ty said, correcting her. “Retired.”

  “Whatever.” The redhead stood, posing for pictures in front of the plane.

  Dillon swatted the back of Ty’s neck. “She likes you. Why don’t you ask her to dinner?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Since Mia left, Ty’s younger brother had made it his mission to finagle love back into Ty’s life. According to Dill, twenty-nine was too old for hurt feelings and bitter memories. Just because Mia had walked out on him right when Ty needed her most was no reason to avoid love forever. Time to move on. But then Dill hadn’t been the one who’d buried his best friend and lost his girlfriend in less than a year.

  Dillon was still talking about the redhead. He looked for someone to back up his dinner idea. “Emmitt! Hey, come here a second.”

  Emmitt Wilder looked over from the bench where he’d been sitting and watching the clouds. A frown etched itself across his face. Dillon called to him again, offering a wide grin and a friendly wave. Emmitt rose and walked away.

  The redhead’s friends were demanding their turns now, suddenly fearless of climbing thousands of feet in the air without a safety net.

  Ty looked at the clouds. They probably had a half hour of flight time left unless the winds came in early. If he wanted to get the entire group up before the rain started, he and Dillon would have to split them in two. Dillon could take the second Cessna and they’d be back on the ground before the first drop fell.

  “We’d better get moving.” Ty started giving instructions.

  A loose swag of blond hair caught his attention coming over the grassy hill. The woman it belonged to pushed past the birthday party and stopped when she saw him. Dimples creased the corners of her mouth and surprise registered on her face. “You.”

  Seeing the woman from the gas station caught Ty off guard, and he was never caught off guard. She stared at him a moment, then rolled her shoulders back.

  “Are you the pilot?”

  He nodded.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  A nail bitten down to the quick wagged so close to him it almost bumped his nose. Soft pink lips formed a snarl that didn’t fit her face.

  “I’m in the middle of a lesson.” Any of the waitresses at the diner could have told her where to find him, but thanking him again really wasn’t necessary. “Look, don’t worry about before. I was happy to help.”

  Dimples’s mouth dropped open and eyes like the Mariana Trench spit blue fire at him. “I’m not here to thank you.”

  The birthday girl turned a peeved expression on him. “She can’t cut. We were here first.” Ty assured her cutting was not allow
ed.

  Dillon motioned toward the sky. The clouds were getting thicker, and closer. Dimples was staring at him with an irate look Ty didn’t totally understand. “Did you want to talk to someone about lessons? Let me get one of my guys.” He looked around for Emmitt.

  Hands went to her hips and sat there. “I don’t want a lesson. I want you to stop flying your plane.” She did a slow three-sixty, taking in the barn slash makeshift hangar where the second Cessna and the Piper Cub were holed up. “All of them.”

  Was she giving orders? “This is my ranch. I’m pretty sure that means I can do what I want.”

  A slender finger pointed toward the Sweet Dreams Ranch a half mile out. “But that’s my house you were buzzing over. I’m pretty sure that means I get a say in things.”

  Her house? Ty’s brow crinkled. “Are you Camille?”

  Long dark lashes fluttered their surprise. “How…?”

  “George talked about you all the time. I’m Ty Spencer. This is my brother, Dillon.” Dillon waved hello, then started telling jokes to the birthday crowd, trying to ease their irritation. It didn’t work.

  A flustered look ran across Camille’s face. “You’re Ty? George mentioned you. A lot, actually. Nothing about planes though.”

  Ty could take a couple guesses why, but he didn’t think bringing up her husband’s plane crash would help the situation any. “Look, I’m sorry if the plane scared you. George never minded.”

  A defiant glare rolled off her face. “I wasn’t scared. But I’ve got a showing tomorrow at eleven, and no one’s gonna buy a house next to an airport.”

  A jackhammer started pounding on Ty’s head. “A showing?”

  Camille’s lips pressed into each other. “I’m selling the house.”

  Dillon nudged him. “Ty, the rain.”

  Ty held up one finger, keeping his eyes on Camille. “George didn’t want his house sold.”

  A flicker of guilt crossed her face. “It’s my decision.”

  God sure did like His little surprises, didn’t He? “Don’t you think we should talk about this first?”

  Dillon nudged him harder. “Ty.”