Inheritance of Love

by Linda Ford

  He saw the challenge and curiosity in Darcy's look.

  "New life, new hope, new beginnings." She spoke softly, her musical voice reminding him of the meadowlark's song. "The Lord's mercies are new every morning," she said. "I never feel it more true than on a fine spring day like this."

  To disagree seemed heretical after that. He bent and let Amy place the yellow crown on his head then sat on the corner of the blanket. Again he met Darcy's look. "I'm not doubting what you say about new life...or God's new mercies, but..." He struggled to find the words to explain a fragile thought just out of his reach. Slowly, he formed it into words. "New doesn't mean you're free of the past."

  She looked toward the bird, singing his heart out. "Look at him. He's sitting on an old, splintered post surrounded by a mud puddle. But his surroundings haven't quenched his spirit or muted his song."

  "I guess not. Is that your philosophy? Ignore the past. Sing and dance and pretend it doesn't exist?"

  She twirled a limp dandelion for a moment then met his gaze.

  He allowed himself a fleeting sense of disappointment that the warmth and fun in her eyes had fled, replaced by cool detachment, cautious defense.

  "Some things a person can change. Others you just have to accept and move on or—" She paused. "—or let them destroy you. I don't believe in letting the past and things I can't change or control rob me of the joy of the present." Her gaze turned to Amy.

  Blake did not like the possessive look in her eyes.

  She jerked back to face him. "Are we so different, really? Don't you have to move on from your loss and dare I say, disappointment? Don't you have to choose to trust God for both the past and the future?"

  He hadn't known she was a Christian and despite himself, he again fell into her gaze knowing a click of instant connection based on their shared faith. He nodded slowly, his tongue thick and uncooperative. "I daily choose to trust God."

  "Me too." Her voice was soft as the dandelion Amy brushed against his chin.

  She smiled and he smiled back. A sense of something sweet and wonderful passed between them.

  Amy hugged him, practically throttled him. "This is the happiest day of my life." She spun around and gave Darcy an equally exuberant hug.

  Blake wanted to grab the child and hold her on his lap. He wanted to keep her from Darcy. Keep her from being hurt. Yet he also wanted to capture the joy of this moment and lock it inside Amy's heart where she could pull it out after Darcy left and find comfort in it.

  He stared at the green blades of grass poling up through the straw carpet of winter. He couldn't trust moments like this. They were too soon replaced by sorrow, loss, and regret. He pushed to his feet. "Come on, Amy. It's time to go home."

  "Aww," Amy protested.

  "You can come back anytime," Darcy assured her, and obviously cheered by that thought, Amy raced across the yard.

  Blake felt Darcy's gaze on his back as he strode away. He felt as if he had been on a wild bull ride of emotions. For a brief exciting moment, he'd let himself feel things he hadn't allowed in a long time—joy, connection, anticipation. But reality was the thump when the bull landed on all four feet, the thud jarring up his spine into the base of his head. Reality was the workload that threatened to become a living avalanche, the care of Amy, and protecting her from further hurt.

  Amy waited for him at the house. He swiped at the yellow dandelion butter on her cheeks. "You'll have to scrub really good to get that off."

  She nodded. "I don't mind."

  "Amy—" How did he voice his fears without robbing her of the temporary joy? "Amy, remember. Two weeks and then she's gone."

  Amy sighed dramatically. "She's the best sister in the whole world."

  Blake's neck spasmed. Amy was going to be heartbroken. And he seemed powerless to prevent it

  Darcy pulled on her running shorts and a wicking tee shirt. She laced up her runners and headed out. She pounded down the dirt trail. So far she'd run three directions from the ranch. To the north, she'd discovered a field of pale purple crocuses. South, she passed three home sites. One with a beautiful cedar log house, one with a sprawling ranch style house, and the third with a tiny two-story box of a house badly in need of painting with a rusting collection of machinery filling the yard.

  Today she ran west and found a wide river. She dipped her fingers in the water and discovered it icy cold from the spring thaw.

  She turned down the road toward the ranch and laughed again at the sign over the gate. Bar T Ranch. Did anyone stop to think it sounded like “party”? And no one here seemed to know how to have fun. Work was the defining quality as far as she could tell. She ran early in the morning so she could spend the rest of the day with Amy. Despite being nineteen years older, Darcy couldn't remember ever knowing such joy in another person. Daily she thanked God for bringing this child into her life.

  But no matter how early she went for her run, she saw Blake either out in the fields, or hurrying across the corrals in long strides as if he had no time to waste. She looked around. Yup. There he was. Climbing into a tractor. Already hard at work.

  He saw her and waved her over.

  She hesitated. She didn't have to be overly brilliant to realize he'd been avoiding her the past few days—since the day he'd found her and Amy making dandelion wreaths. And to think she'd felt there had been a little connection between them, had been certain they'd shared something warm and sweet. A touching of the spirit and soul. Acknowledgement of a similar faith.

  But it just showed how wrong she could be. About all they shared were his dark looks. She'd had her fill of his scowling at her or watching her like he expected her to steal the land out from under his feet. She could pretend she hadn't seen him, but he waved again and called something. No way she could escape. She changed direction and jogged across the field toward him.

  "Can you drive a truck?" he asked as soon as she was close enough to hear him.

  "Sure. Why?"

  "With standard transmission?"

  "I've done it a time or two. Not very often," she hastily added, in case he thought she was an expert.

  "Would you mind helping me?"

  She blinked and suddenly grinned. "Me?" She pressed her palm to her chest. "You're asking me—the girl most likely to annoy you—to do you a favor?" She laughed at the expressions of frustration and resignation crossing his face and wondered at the incredible lightening of her heart that he should turn to her for help. "Clearly you wouldn’t be asking if you weren't stuck but still, it feels good." She gave a wide look around. "You sure there isn't someone else you'd rather ask?" It was a lot of fun to tease him especially when he rolled his eyes and looked pained. And incredibly handsome framed against the sun-bright sky, his brown hair haloed with sunshine. He wore faded blue jeans and a white tee shirt.

  "Rub it in. But I'm stuck."

  She planted her fists on her hips and grinned widely. "I will be so pleased to help you." She knew her tone conveyed just how happy she was to have him at her mercy—if only briefly.

  "Why do I get the feeling you're enjoying this way too much?" He stood on the tractor step, grinning down at her.

  "It's just nice to be needed." She stared up at him, caught by the warmth in his dark eyes. He enjoyed the teasing as much as she! She realized how long they'd been grinning at each other and jerked her gaze away. "What do you want me to do?"

  "Can you follow me in the truck? I have to bring home some bales."

  "Done." She jogged over to the vehicle and started the motor. She managed to remember how to clutch. She found the gear and jackrabbited forward.

  Blake sat behind the steering wheel of the tractor shaking his head and grinning.

  She flashed him an okay sign, then followed him across the field and along a muddy trail until they reached a field with big round bales on it. He stopped the tractor and held up his hands to signal her to stop, pretending to be afraid. At least, she thought he was pretending. Yup. He grinned as she jerked to a s
top and leaned back.

  He jumped down and pulled her door open. "Been awhile, has it?" His voice rolled with mirth.

  "You have no idea." She jumped out and gratefully climbed into the passenger side while he slid behind the wheel.

  Just then his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his breast pocket, flipped it open and said, "Hello." Darcy could hear a shrill voice. "Hey, squirt. What's wrong?"

  Amy. Even from across the cab of the truck, she sounded upset. Darcy shamelessly listened to the conversation. Like she had a choice. She couldn't make out the words but obviously Amy didn't like something.

  "Amy, just do what she says."

  More shrill sounds from the phone.

  "You know you can't do that. Behave yourself." He listened, murmuring, "Un huh" several times.

  The shrill sounds diminished so Darcy heard only a drone.

  "I can't come home right now. You be good, and I'll see you later." He broke the connection.

  "Problems?" Darcy asked.

  He kept his attention on the trail as they bounced back to the farm. At first, she thought he wasn't going to answer then he sighed deeply and rubbed his palm along the steering wheel. "Amy doesn't like obeying Aunt Betty. It's been hard on her having so many changes in her life."

  "I—" She'd been about to suggest she could take over more of her care. But as he said, Amy had dealt with enough changes. She could understand his concern about how her visit would impact Amy. How could she assure him it wouldn't when it was a fear she shared? How could she ever say good-bye to her little sister? Yet she didn't belong here. She wouldn't be able to stay once her holidays were over. "I've enjoyed getting to know her," she said instead. "She's a spunky little thing."

  Blake laughed. "She's been like that from day one. Maybe even before. She came two weeks late. Mom said we should have known then she would do things her own way in her own time."

  Darcy leaned back, watching the pleasure on Blake's face and wishing she could have been part of this charming little girl's life from the beginning. She chomped down on the bitterness rising in her throat. It was pointless to blame people now dead. She knew the past could destroy her enjoyment of the present if she let it. And she wasn't going to.

  Blake slanted her a look full of warmth and humor. She knew it was because his thoughts were on Amy but still, she enjoyed the way it made her feel part of something special. "When she was too young to talk, she still made us all understand she had her likes and dislikes. The bottle had to be just the right temperature or she'd give us an annoyed look and refuse it." He shook his head and laughed. "She was never afraid to try things. She was so determined to walk she was fearless. No matter how hard she fell, up she got and right back at it. She had bruises from head to toe. We used to worry someone would report us to the authorities."

  "You sound like you were very involved with her from the beginning."

  His smile fled. "Mom was sick. She didn't know until after she got pregnant that her heart wasn't up to it. I guess she'd had some sort of virus infection that damaged it."

  Darcy felt him stiffen and knew he was dealing with his private pain.

  "She never recovered from having Amy. Yeah, I was there a lot trying to make things easier for her."

  Darcy stared out the window trying not to imagine an attentive, supportive Blake. Trying not to think how her life had been the opposite. She'd learned early to stand on her own two feet and not expect anyone to be there to help her. Her mom was too busy working, too restless.

  They moved so often she had no close friends.

  Her father had conveniently forgotten her. She had no siblings. Except now she did. She had Amy.

  Blake sighed deeply. "Rob once said Amy reminded him of you. He said you were ornery as child too."

  As a child. He remembered her as a little girl but he didn't know her as an adolescent, an adult. And now he never would.

  They stopped beside the machinery shed. He leaned his left arm on the steering wheel and studied her, his expression faintly annoyed. "I guess I should have been prepared that you would resist everything I suggested."

  She ducked her head, unable to face his look without feeling disorientated. She didn't know if it was regret, unfulfilled wishes, or something else, but a deep longing created a hole in her thoughts. "I hope I've learned to pick my battles," she murmured.

  Blake laughed and she looked up to see his face creased with amusement. "I think you mean that to sound mature and reassuring, but I get the feeling it could also be a warning. If you want something bad enough, you're prepared to fight for it. Right?"

  Surprised by the approval in his eyes, she could only nod.

  He squeezed her shoulder. "You and Amy are a lot alike."

  Her lungs tightened at the warmth of his big, work worn hand on her. Blood pulsed in her cheeks. Just when she thought she'd pass out from lack of oxygen, he pulled his hand away.

  "Thanks for your help." He jumped from the truck and headed around to her side.

  She shoved the door open and slid out before he could help. With a muttered good-bye, she headed for her safe little house.

  6

  Blake watched Darcy jog across the yard. The first time he'd glanced her running, he thought it was an animal. He'd stared at her loping across the landscape as smooth and graceful as any deer he'd seen. Her long legs ate up the miles. He tried to calculate how far she went every morning but it didn't seem possible she ran more than five miles before breakfast. But right now he didn't have time to watch Darcy. He had a ton of work to do. Some of it should have been done last fall but with Rob sick and. . . Well, it just hadn't gotten done, and now he was playing catch up.

  He hooked up the flat deck and drove back to the tractor. He spent the morning loading bales and hauling them home. Normally, he lost himself in the rhythm of work, finding a soothing release from worries and concerns, but not today. Each time he drove into the yard he glimpsed Darcy.

  First, washing the windows of the old house, polishing the place like a diamond. Didn't she realize it would probably be left uninhabited when she left? Unless he rented it out. Might not be a bad idea.

  Next trip, she sprawled on a new chaise lounge, a small table at her elbow, a book propped in her hands. The life of luxury. A word he hardly recognized. She disappeared from his line of vision and he pushed away the weary ache behind his eyes.

  Next time he passed, Amy sat beside her. They seemed to be busy looking at Amy's feet. Had she hurt herself? He almost braked. But then the sisters looked at each other and laughed. What were they up to? He wanted to stop and see but he'd never get these bales home if he didn't keep at it. He studied Darcy's face. She always looked so happy, so cheerful. Even when he came down hard on her, she maintained her sense of humor. Driving by, he suddenly felt old and sour. Where was the mindless calm he usually got from working?

  His stomach rumbled as the noon hour approached. But he didn't have time to stop for a regular meal. He snorted. When was the last time he'd enjoyed such a thing? He grabbed his cell phone.

  "Aunt Betty. I'll just pick up a couple of sandwiches when I go through the yard."

  She didn't offer any opinion about his decision. Probably busy taking care of that ragged old cat of hers. The poor thing should have been put out of its misery years ago but Aunt Betty nursed it along, giving it regular shots for diabetes and fixing it a special diet. The cat got fed better than he and Amy. Small wonder Amy hated the animal.

  He blew out his lips. Life used to be so easy. Do his work. Enjoy his little sister. Enjoy meals his mom cooked or the ones he cooked his own in the house Darcy now owned.

  He stopped to pick up his lunch. Darcy and Amy sat under the sprawling elm tree where Amy liked to play. A circle of stuffed animals surrounded them, and they giggled as Darcy made a tiny bear dance and talk.

  Amy saw him and raced to his side. "Blake, see how pretty my toes are." She rocked back on her heels and tipped her toes upward, every nail painted a different
color.

  Blake laughed. "Rainbow feet."

  "Yup. And now we're having a tea party with my animals."

  "So I see. Have you eaten?"

  She nodded solemnly. "Every bite."

  "What was it today—tomato or vegetable?"

  "Tomato." She raced back to Darcy and plunked down cross-legged in front of her. "Make Tiny Tim again."

  Hesitating, Darcy shot Blake a wary look.

  "Go ahead. I'd like to see Tiny Tim."

  She snorted. "You just want to mock me."

  He pressed his hand to his chest. "Me? I promise I won't mock you. A Tiny Tim imitation is quite a challenge."

  She raised her eyebrows then turned and picked up a red, loose-limbed bear. Her voice high and quivering, she swayed the animal back and forth and sang, "Tip Toe through the Tulips."

  Amy giggled and held up a brown bear.

  "What's wrong with your voice?" she said in her best gruff bear voice.

  Tiny Tim stopped dancing and squeaked, "What's wrong with your voice? Can't you talk normal, like me?"

  Amy struggled to control her giggles then moved her bear face to face with Tiny Tim. "You're very sick. You should see a doctor."

  Darcy laughed and ruffled Amy's hair. "You're way too smart for Tiny Tim. He doesn't know what to say about that." Her eyes glistening with amusement, she shot a look toward Blake.

  Grinning back, he felt a jolt of shared enjoyment of Amy.

  Amy scooted over and climbed into Darcy's lap. "Was Tiny Tim really real?"

  "He sure was. My mom used to sing his song when she was happy."

  Blake needed to get back to work but he couldn't tear himself from this cozy scene. Much as he hated to admit it, Darcy was good with Amy. Perhaps even good for Amy. The child had stopped moping about the house complaining she had nothing to do. Of course, Darcy kept her amused with painting toenails and playing make-believe. But even he, despite his reluctance, could see the two shared a special connection. He spun away.

  "What made her happy?" Amy's question stopped him. He wanted to hear Darcy's answer. He wanted to know why her expression had suddenly grown sad.