If the army had Ellyn Sinclair, it wouldn’t need drill sergeants to cut recruits down to size.
Don’t make a bigger deal of this than it is.
That put him in perspective, didn’t it? Grif grimaced as he followed Ellyn’s straight back down the eroded steps.
Well, what had he expected? That she – they – would fall on him like a savior? Just because pulling out of their lives had been like pulling himself off life support didn’t mean it had affected them the same way.
When the four Sinclairs left Washington fifteen months ago, he’d known they’d have support in Far Hills, led by his aunt, Marti Susland. Even when he’d heard about Dale’s death, he’d been certain Ellyn and the kids would be looked after. Still, he’d planned eventually to come to Far Hills to assure himself they were okay, maybe try to pick up some of the threads that had once tied them...when the time was right, when he was sure he was ready.
The time had never been quite right, and he hadn’t been ready.
Then phrases from Marti started to nag at him. Subtle at first, but not for long. Increasingly more pointed phrases about tough times for Ellyn and the kids – tough times emotionally and practically. She’d eventually written it flat out in an email: They needed help.
So it no longer mattered if he was ready.
When he’d seen Ellyn up on the ridge, before she’d noticed him, she’d looked like the sweet eighteen-year-old girl whose image he’d never quite gotten out of his mind, even as he’d become friends with the woman she’d become. Wind whipped her hair into a curly froth, the sun glinting on lighter strands woven among the rich brown. That big shirt alternately molded around her to hint at what lay below and swung free to show the T-shirt that did a lot more than hint. Seeing her like that, he’d found himself praying that Marti was wrong. That he could check on Ellyn and the kids, find out everything was fine, then get himself back to Washington and away from...temptation.
But Marti Susland wasn’t wrong.
As a reconnaissance mission, this was no challenge. The unused dryer, the washing machine so loud it could drown out a tank, the path that needed rebuilding, the evasiveness about insurance, the uncertainty tempering Ellyn’s warm smile, the shadows under her soft brown eyes and, worse, the shadows in them.
He’d been the one responsible for turning those shadows into flashes of pain. Stupid. Why had he brought up his visit to Far Hills after his graduation from West Point? They’d never talked about that incident. Instead they’d gotten past all that a long time ago by ignoring it. Why had he stirred it up now?
To remind himself of the decision he’d made then – the right decision. Or maybe to remind her. It had cooled the warmth in her face from when she’d first seen him. He needed that, because he couldn’t hold up against that warmth.
He had to remember why he’d come.
To help three people who needed his help.
And nothing was going to stop him. Not the U.S. Army. Not the pair of kids he was getting ready to face. Not Ellyn Neal Sinclair. Not even himself.
At The Heart’s Command: Chapter Two
Grif hadn’t said a word as they’d taken the path down to the house.
He’d never been easy to read, now he was impossible. An absolute stranger. They would never recapture the easy adult friendship from Washington, or even the companionship of their childhoods. She should tell him to let bygones be bygones and send him on his way. That would be easier for all them. Him, her, the kids. And –
As always, noise heralded the impending arrival of her children. At least this was limited to voices and a few thuds rather than the crashes and ominous silences a mother dreaded. Plus, it had the benefit of damming her stream of thoughts.
Grif turned toward the door, jaw locked and shoulders tight. He glanced back toward Ellyn. Once she would have laughed at the notion that the Iron Warrior might be scared of an eight- and ten-year-old.
“Are they... They’re okay?”
She didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. The kids had each shown effects from Dale’s death, as each had shown surprising strength. She focused on the strength. “Yes.”
He nodded. “They probably won’t remember me, so – ”
“Of course they’ll remember you.” The rest of his face remained immobile, but she definitely saw worry in his eyes. Her next words came without thinking. “It’ll be all right, Grif. They’ll – ”
The door swung open with a muffled crash, and Ellyn went to meet her children in the small back hall.
“Mom!”
“Ben, honey, I’ve told you, don’t slam the door open that way. You’re going to break it. Is Meg – ”
Ben had halted inside the door to drop his book bag on the floor and toe off his shoes, and Meg stepped past him. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. Meg, Ben, there’s someone here to see you. Someone you haven’t seen in a while.”
Before she could say more, they stepped past her into the main kitchen. Meg, who had adored Grif from babyhood, halted abruptly.
“Oh. It’s you.”
“Meg, don’t be rude.”
Ben’s reaction was entirely different. Showing no sign of the uncharacteristic lethargy she’d noticed last night, he lit up and hurried across the slick floor in his stocking feet. Quick, hot tears pricked at the inside of Ellyn’s eyelids.
“It’s Grif! Hi, Grif!”
“Hey, partner.” He extended his hand, and Ben grinned as he shook it, man to man. “You’re packing more muscle in that pitching arm, these days, Ben.”
“Aw, I play mostly shortstop now. And ride horses.”
“That sounds great. I hope you’ll tell me more about it before – ”
“Before you leave?” interrupted Meg, still standing in the doorway. “How long are you staying before you take off this time?”
Beneath the defiance, Meg’s vulnerability was so apparent to Ellyn that she had to stop herself from wrapping the girl in her arms.
Meg was still so angry at Dale for dying–Ellyn understood that, even shared some of it. Maybe she even understood a little about it spilling over to Grif. So she didn’t have the heart to reprimand her daughter for rudeness again. But she tried to blunt it.
“Meg, you know the army decides where Grif goes and how long he can stay. But Far Hills is his home, and he should be welcomed – ” She gave her daughter a stern look as she took four clean glasses from the cabinet. “ – whenever he can come here.”
“Couldn’t you stay for good?” Ben’s voice skidded up in excitement.
“Not for good,” Meg said, preempting Grif. “You heard Mom – guys in the army don’t stay anywhere for good. They get their clothes for free but they don’t live anywhere long.”
“How would you know, Maggot Meg?”
“I read about it, Ben-jam-head-in.” She twisted his full name with relish. “You know, in books. Or you would know if you could read.”
“Meg – ” Ellyn tried.
“I can read, I just don’t spend all day with my nose stuck in a book, like a Maggot brain.”
“Ben – ”
“Oh, yeah? Well – ”
“Ben, Meg that’s – ”
“Meg’s right, you know,” Grif interrupted quietly. Both children turned to him. “We get uniforms to wear when we’re on duty, but we do have to move around a lot. That’s part of following orders. Like you follow your mother’s orders.”
The faint rebuke in his tone stopped them. Great. Just great. Ellyn pivoted and opened the refrigerator. Grif walked in after more than a year out of their lives and controlled her children better than she did. His habit of command – she used to tease him about that. She grabbed the pitcher of lemonade and started filling the glasses.
“As for how long I’ll be here. I’m on leave, and – ”
“Leave?” Ben echoed plaintively. “But you just got here.”
“Leave’s what the army calls vacation, stupid,” supplied Meg, ducking the frown Ellyn sen
t her.
“Oh.” Ben considered that. “How long a vacation? Like spring vacation – that one’s pretty short? Or Christmas? That’s a couple weeks. Or – ” his eyes brightened “ – like summer vacation? That’s months and months.”
Grif smiled, and rested one large hand on his shoulder. “Somewhere between Christmas and summer.”
“Great! We can – ”
“What does it matter how long?” Meg interrupted. “He’ll leave in the end.”
Ellyn’s lips parted, but no words came out as her gaze met Grif’s. She couldn’t have said how she knew he wanted to – maybe needed to – handle this, because neither his face nor his eyes held a readable expression. But she knew it. And that was enough to both silence and unsettle her.
She also knew Meg had meant the words to hurt, and they had.
She pivoted to finish pouring the lemonade and to keep herself from interceding, leaving a silence at her back.
She’d filled the glasses, and had handed Ben his before Grif cleared his throat and spoke. “You’re right, Meggie, I – ”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not a baby anymore.”
“Okay.” His words were slow, precise, like the steps of someone traveling through a live minefield. “I will be leaving in the end. And I guess you could say everybody does leave eventually when they die.” Meg flinched, then glared at him. He pretended not to notice. “But I don’t think you mean that. I think you mean about me going back to duty. And you’re right. I will go back. I will leave here. In the meantime, we can either worry about when I’ll be leaving or we can have fun while I’m here.”
“Fun?”
Ellyn let out a short sigh. She’d thought kids didn’t get sarcastic until their teens, but Meg was well ahead of schedule.
“Some fun,” Grif amended. He had always been truthful. Even when it would have been easier not to be. “There are some...things I’ll need to do, but I’m certain there’ll be time for fun, too.”
“Yeah, right.”
Ellyn offered him a glass of lemonade. Hoping to catch his attention to give him a bit of encouragement, she held on to the glass even after he’d taken hold of it. But he never looked up. Instead his gaze seemed intent on the glass that for a moment rested in their mutual grasp, though their fingers did no more than brush.
The instant lengthened. Then she heard her son’s next words, and she dropped her hand abruptly.
“Will you stay here with us?”
“Ben, that’s not – ”
“No.” Grif’s answer came in the middle of her longer response.
“Why not?”
“I’m sure Grif will stay up at the main house, Ben.” Ellyn explained. “Marti’s his aunt, and it’s natural for him to stay with his family. Besides, it’s bigger, so he’ll have more room to...ah, be comfortable.”
“Actually I’m staying at Fort Piney,” he said, naming the small army post on the other side of the town of Far Hills. “BOQ.”
“BOQ?” Ben asked.
“Bachelor Officer Quarters, where officers who don’t have families stay.”
Bachelor. How many times in Washington had she confirmed that status for her female friends who had just met Grif? They would first be caught by his smile – that surprisingly sweet smile in a face some would call stern. A little rusty, even a little shy – and that was what got to women. The idea that beneath that severe exterior lived a heart waiting for them to rescue.
But none – not even the ones she’d been sure could have any man they wanted – had succeeded with Grif. At least not to her knowledge.
She’d known he was no monk – if she’d wondered, Dale had made it clear by recounting in envious tones how lucky Grif was to keep finding willing women uninterested in long-term. But when he was around their family Grif rarely brought a date, and none a second time.
But why stay at Piney instead of here at Far Hills Ranch?
“I better get going.” He drained the glass with a long, efficient swallow, then set it on the counter. “As you said, I should let my aunt know I’m here. But I wanted to stop by to – ”
“I’m glad you did, Grif. It’s been great to see you.” She had to make it clear to him and the kids that they had no expectations of him, that they knew they had no claim on him. “We hope you’ll stop by again, but of course family comes first, and – ”
“Do you want to go to dinner?” His blunt words effectively cut through the flow of Ellyn’s politeness. He added more smoothly, “I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight. All of you. You and Meg and Ben.”
“That’s very nice of you, but I’m sure Marti will want to give you dinner at the main house for your first evening at Far Hills.”
“Marti will understand. I thought we’d go into Sheridan.”
“But...” She found it hard to believe Marti would willingly relinquish the right of family to have him around, but his tone told her that arguing that point wouldn’t sway him. “I have laundry to finish. And the kids have homework, so – ”
“So, I’ll leave now, and be back around six. That should be enough time.”
Her lips parted to protest again, but he was too quick. Calling in reinforcements, he turned to her kids and asked, “Will that be enough time to do your homework?”
“Sure,” Ben said without pause.
“Meg?”
Clear as words would have been written across her face, the girl was torn between wanting to give him a negative answer and wanting the promised dinner out. “I suppose.”
“Where’re you taking us?”
“Ben...” Ellyn appealed without much hope.
Grif grinned. Sure, he could be amused. To her it wasn’t so funny. She’d once confided to Grif that she wondered if Ben’s unabashed pursuit of feeding his appetite left people thinking she didn’t feed her son. He’d joshed her out of that concern then. Now, he didn’t even try.
“Anywhere you want, Ben. What do you want to eat?”
“Steak!”
“Ben – ” Ellyn used her most quelling voice.
“Steak it is. And whatever Meg and your mom want, too. We’ll find someplace that serves a variety, okay?”
“Sure, as long as they have steak.”
“Ben! that’s – ”
The blaring ring of the phone overrode Ellyn’s remonstrations. She’d forgotten she’d turned it up loud enough to hear outdoors while she was hanging laundry, and there was no ignoring it now.
With a look at Ben and Grif meant to warn them this discussion was not over, she picked up the receiver. “Ridge House.”
“Ellyn? It’s Fran. Have you heard Grif’s in town?”
Fran Sinclair had become Dale’s stepmother when he was seven years old. Fran and Dale hadn’t always gotten along, but Fran had been a terrific stepmother-in-law to Ellyn and, in her practical, no-nonsense way, she adored the kids. She also had the best connections to the area grapevine of anyone around.
“Yes. But this isn’t a good time, Fran. I’ll have to – ”
Grif took advantage of the interruption to start backing toward the door, with an assumption that he’d be taking them all out to dinner in his pocket.
“So you two get going on that homework,” he was saying to her kids. “And I’m going to the home ranch to see Marti.”
Ellyn covered the mouthpiece. “Grif, we haven’t – ”
“No, no, don’t interrupt your call. I’ll see you at six.”
And he was gone, leaving her to answer Fran’s good-hearted questions. At least the ones she could answer.
“I don’t understand you, Ellyn,” said Fran after she’d been filled in. “Why aren’t you jumping at the chance to go out for a nice dinner?”
“I don’t want to impose on his generosity.” Ellyn looked around, but both kids had disappeared toward their rooms as soon as Grif left.
Fran snorted. “You’re telling me Grif made you feel that way.”
“No,” she admitted. “But doesn’t it
seem odd, his showing up out of the blue and – ”
“Is it his showing up out of the blue that’s bothering you or that you’re scared he’s going to disappear again?”
Count on Fran to hit a nail firmly on its head with a sledgehammer.
Grif had been such a part of their lives in Washington that his disappearance had left a huge hole, especially with all the upsets in their once-staid life, including a move three-quarters of the way across the continent and from one world to another. When Dale’s death followed quickly, the three of them could have crumbled completely. But they hadn’t. They’d rebuilt. At least they’d started. Was she paranoid to feel Grif might pose a risk to that progress?
“The kids and I – ”
“Oh, now don’t go fretting about the kids. They’re doing fine. And the three of you will be all the better for being taken out to dinner. And have dessert!” With that final order, Fran said goodbye and ended the call.
Ellyn could either disappoint her kids and be ungrateful at best and rude at worst by refusing to go out when Grif returned, or she could follow Fran’s advice.
Really, she thought, as she headed back up the ridge with the final basket of laundry, how big a deal is one dinner?
She reached the top of the path and saw that even more of the line was filled.
Grif had obviously made the time and hung up the hand-washed items she’d left wrapped in the towels. Including her underwear.
She stared at the bras, panties and one slip, none new, all in utilitarian beige so they could be worn under any color, but all also embellished with a self-indulgent flourish of lace, and she felt heat rising up her neck.
Worse than that, though, was the knowledge that the heat originated much, much lower than her neck, as her imagination lingered on an image of Grif’s big, competent hands on her underwear. Holding them up, securing them with pins, and reaching down for more with that same twisting motion that had riveted her not so many minutes ago.
Good heavens, what had gotten into her? This was Grif for heaven’s sake. Her friend from childhood. Dale’s best man at their wedding. The godfather of her children.
And an enigma who had evaporated from her life at the moment she had most wished she could lean on him.
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