by Mary Leo
Maggie shook her head and walked inside. “That’s just crazy. What about killers or crazy people?”
Blake didn’t move. “It’s a small town. Not too many of those folks live around here. They usually go for the anonymity of bigger cities.”
Maggie wasn’t buying it. At least, not in her tired state. “Are you coming in?”
“I’m feeling better so I think I’m gonna head on home. You’ve got enough going on in this house without me adding to the fuss.”
Maggie wanted to tell him to stay. That, if anything, he seemed to keep her calm. Besides, she had no idea how to handle Esther Abernathy…if she could handle Esther Abernathy. At the moment, it seemed highly unlikely. “If you’re sure.”
He nodded, smiled and tipped his hat. “I’m sure. You have a good night, Maggie. Don’t worry about a thing. Kitty couldn’t be in better hands. I’ll see you later, then.”
Blake hesitated for a second, and Maggie thought he had changed his mind and would come in. Instead, he turned and walked off. She didn’t move until she heard the engine on his truck rev up and the sound of the tires on the pea gravel of the driveway, and saw the red taillights disappear into the night.
Maggie suddenly felt wide-awake, and knew the one thing she had to do was email Tim. Once in Kitty’s room, her eyes immediately welled up, but she pushed the emotions away with a childhood mantra she and Kitty had made up whenever they didn’t want to cry.
“Tuna fish, tuna fish, tuna fish, tuna fish, tuna fish,” she said out loud, and it worked. The tears subsided and she sat down in front of the white laptop and brought it to life. She quickly found Tim’s email address and began writing, assuring him that although Kitty had had a bit of a scare, she was now being cared for by Nurse Cori, and his great-aunt Mrs. Abernathy, two women who seemed more than capable of getting Kitty and the babies through this temporary blip. Then she typed in her personal email address, wondering why she had never thought to correspond with him before, and ran the spell-checker.
“Tuna fish, tuna fish, tuna fish, tuna fish.”
As soon as she had corrected her typos, Maggie let out a sigh, and hit Send.
Had she been that busy with her career and her affair with her boss that she couldn’t take the time to send her own brother-in-law an email?
Apparently so.
Maggie decided she couldn’t sleep in Kitty’s bed. Way too emotional for her. So she made her way back to the living room while reflecting on the tuna fish mantra.
It was Kitty who had decided that neither one of them could cry when they were thinking about tuna fish. They both hated tuna, especially canned tuna, because for about two years straight it was practically all their mother served them. Money was tight, and Mom had made it her protein of choice, even adding it to mac-and-cheese and pasta sauce.
The thought made Maggie cringe.
Once in the living room, she remembered that Mrs. Abernathy had warned her about sleeping on the green sofa, and she knew that sleeping in the nursery would be even worse than Kitty’s bedroom. Instead, Maggie switched off the light, grabbed the quilted throw off the sofa, stepped out onto the front porch and decided it was time to sit on that swing.
She approached it slowly, wondering if this was a smart move. Then, without allowing herself to dwell on the past and what might happen in her future, she merely sat down, tucked Kitty’s decorative pillows under her back and head, and wrapped the blanket around her, forming a barrier between herself and the cool night air. The moon gave everything a soft white sheen, and the complete silence seemed almost surreal to her. No car horns, no sirens blaring in the distance, no foot traffic, just an occasional cricket and the gentle flutter of the breeze hitting the tall trees that surrounded the house.
She figured the neighbors across the street and next door must still be sleeping. Their homes were dark. Everyone in this neighborhood lived on an acre or two of land, so even if they were awake and busy with their mornings, Maggie wouldn’t be able to hear them.
When she had first moved in with her sister, a little over a week ago, she didn’t like the feeling of being so separated from other people, but as the days slipped by Maggie had begun to appreciate the distance. It gave her a sense of peace, a sense of privacy that she was starting to value.
Maggie sat back and felt the tension drain from her body. Ever since her first night in Idaho, the night sky had dazzled her. She never imagined there were that many stars in the entire universe, let alone in the sky over Briggs. She could now see why Kitty loved it here so much. Sitting out on the swing, in the quiet of the night, Maggie felt connected, a part of the world around her.
As if she belonged.
But as soon as the thought whisked through her mind, another one popped in. How was that feeling even remotely possible? She was a true city girl to her core. She didn’t know the first thing about country living, about snakes, and mice or the bigger critters that roamed this part of the world.
And she especially didn’t know the first thing about Doctor Blake Granger, a cowboy turned dentist.
She slipped down on the swing, gave herself a tiny push, then propped her head on a cushy pillow and closed her eyes. She had the feeling daylight was about to slip over the mountains at any moment, but she wasn’t even remotely ready for its arrival, not to mention what the day had in store for her.
Chapter Five
When Blake finally opened his eyes sometime around ten-thirty in the morning, he felt as if he’d been hit with a John Deere tractor then dragged for twenty feet. It didn’t help that Scout had the need to jump on his back while Suzy nuzzled and licked his face.
“Time to wake up, Daddy. Grandpa says the kitchen’s going to close in ten minutes, and if you want breakfast you’d better hurry up.”
Blake pulled his pillow over his head, causing Suzy to be more determined to get at him. Then Mush jumped up on the bed, barking and tripping over Blake’s legs.
“Wake up, Daddy. Wake up.”
Blake rolled over and took the blankets with him. Scout slipped off his back. Then he rolled again, and landed on the floor with a thump.
That did it. He was awake now.
He could hear Dodge’s voice growling from the stairway, “Stop horsin’ ’round and git down here. I got more important things to do than cook for a lazy son who stays out half the night wooin’ the new girl.”
Blake didn’t have to think twice about how Dodge already knew he had been with Maggie last night. Someone from the hospital probably phoned him at dawn giving him the scoop. Might have even been Cori herself. She and Dodge were buddies.
Mush licked his face in one great big wet swipe. Blake pushed him away as Scout jumped on Blake’s belly. It was enough to make a man scream in pain. “I’m up. I’m up.” He looked at his smiling daughter as she sat contentedly on his T-shirt–clad chest.
“Then get up, Daddy. Grandpa said he’d give me another flapjack if I brought you downstairs, and I want that flapjack real bad. It has blueberries in it and I love blueberries.”
Scout was still clad in her Sheriff Woody pj’s, hair in its usual whirl of curls and knots, and a thin smear of berry jam on her left cheek. If he loved his child any more than he already did, he’d burst. “Then we’d better hop to it, baby. You run downstairs and tell your grandpa to stop his bellyaching. I’ll be right there.”
Scout jumped up with a squeal of delight and headed out the door, the dogs following close behind, while Blake contemplated
the roller-coaster of emotions he’d gone through the previous night. First up was his strong desire to keep Maggie right there in Briggs…like that was going to be an easy task. The woman couldn’t see what was as clear as a new moon shining down on fresh snow. She had a Country heart, and there was no amount of city that was ever going to change that.
“You better make it soon, son,” Dodge yelled up the steps. “Your wooin’ gal just pulled up in a fancy car, and looks as if she’s loaded for bear.”
Maggie had arrived way too early, and what was even worse, he wasn’t nearly ready to see her again.
Blake jumped up, went over to the bank of windows in his bedroom that overlooked the front of the house and carefully opened the shutters to take a peek. Sure enough, Maggie Daniels, clad in casual business clothes and cowboy boots, had parked her fancy car and was now walking toward the house.
“Darn it all,” Blake mumbled to himself. “That woman has a willful mind.”
He hurried into the bathroom to take a quick shower. He couldn’t possibly let her see him when he felt so lousy. A shower was a necessity, especially if he wanted to be able to think straight.
He could only hope Dodge, the dogs and Scout didn’t scare her away.
* * *
MAGGIE TOOK A deep breath and slowly let it out as she climbed the front stairs of Blake’s porch. The ranch house was bigger than she had expected, and much more civilized-looking than her imagination had conjured up. Old Westerns hadn’t prepared her for this kind of rugged charm.
Sure, the redwood logs needed staining, and the floorboards should be refinished, but the structure of the house, with its solid wood and hard tile roof put it right up there with some of her favorite architecture of all time. Not to mention the location of the house itself.
It had a three-sixty view of the entire valley from the wraparound porch. Plus, she could see the majestic Teton mountain range in the distance. A cool fall breeze rushed around her, bringing on a pleasant shiver. She loved this time of year more than any other and if she wasn’t such a city girl, she could totally get how Kitty might have been swept away by the beauty of it all.
The butterflies in her stomach only added to the tension she was already feeling about her first day. Or maybe it wasn’t the job that was making her so shaky.
Maybe it was seeing Doc Blake again.
Maggie had given him a lot of thought the previous night, mostly smoldering bedroom thoughts that had made her heart race and kept her from falling asleep until dawn touched the sky.
Mrs. Abernathy had awakened her at seven-thirty that morning with a cup of real, honest-to-goodness coffee and a raisin-bran muffin from Holey Rollers. The coffee was strong and the muffin was delicious, especially warmed and spread with fresh butter. As far as Maggie was concerned, the woman was a saint, and giving up the guest room was the least she could do for her.
An hour after indulging in three cups of coffee, calculating she was going to need it, Maggie and Esther—they were on a first-name basis now—took off for the hospital to visit Kitty.
Much to Maggie’s relief, Kitty was sitting up in bed eating a breakfast of poached eggs, raw spinach and quinoa—a tasteless, high-protein grain—courtesy of a vegan neighbor.
An hour after that, Esther chased Maggie out of the room so Kitty could catch up on her sleep.
Maggie didn’t want to drive back to Kitty’s for fear she’d fall asleep on that swing again and miss her start time at the office. So she drove directly to Doc Blake’s ranch and there she stood, on his front porch, an hour early, with butterflies in her stomach and wondering if she was in the right place.
The front door opened and a gruff-looking older man, with shaggy strawberry-blond hair and a crooked smile, stood in its frame. She noticed right off that he had kind eyes and looked an awful lot like an aging Doc Blake.
“Well, come on in, honey. You ain’t gonna get nothin’ but cold out there.”
“Thanks, but maybe I’m not in the right place. I’m Maggie Daniels, Kitty’s sister and—”
“Honey, there ain’t no doubt in my head that you and Kitty are kin. It’s all over you like clothes on a line. Now you come on in here. I’m Dodge, Blake’s dad on his good days, and a pain in his butt on bad days. I was just about to put breakfast on for that son of mine who can’t seem to git hisself outta bed on such a fine mornin’. But, I’m thinkin’ now that you’re here, he’ll be high-tailin’ it down those stairs any minute now. How ’bout a nice cup’a coffee? You look like you could use one.”
Maggie didn’t hesitate. Coffee could lure her into a lion’s den. “That would be perfect,” she told him as she walked inside. The house smelled of bacon and maple syrup, two culinary delights she would give her left arm for…well, maybe not her left arm, but her Coach purse could easily be swapped.
She followed him through the living room, a rich blend of dark woods, comfortable-looking chairs and sofas, red blankets and decorative pillows. A massive two-story stone fireplace anchored the room, and bookshelves loaded down with hard-back books covered three walls. What she didn’t see was any taxidermied wildlife, a relief if ever there was one.
An adorable little boy with a mess of strawberry-blond curls sat at the table swinging his legs, totally focused on what he’d just finished eating. His hair caressed his cherub face in a long tangle of curls, and she noticed he wore Sheriff Woody pj’s.
“Scout, where’s your manners?” Dodge asked. “This here’s Kitty’s sister. You be nice to her and say hello.”
“That’s okay. I can see he’s busy eating,” Maggie said.
Scout chuckled and looked over at Maggie. “I’m not a boy. I’m a girl. My hair’s too long to be a boy. I want to get it cut, but my daddy won’t let me.”
Dodge pulled out a chair for Maggie.
“My mistake. Sorry.” She winced at her gender blunder, then sat one chair away from Scout and set her purse under the chair. “Why would you want to cut your hair when it’s so pretty?”
“It gets in my eyes when I’m playing with my cousins.”
Maggie picked up her purse off the floor, opened it and dug around for her pouch of hair accessories. “I have just the thing to help with that.” Maybe if she came to the little girl’s hair rescue, it might minimize mistaking her for a boy, which was a pretty embarrassing first meeting. As usual, she never said the right things around kids.
Scout put her fork down, slid off the chair, walked over to Maggie and peeked inside her purse. “Wow, you have a lot of things in there.”
Dodge placed a blue mug of steaming coffee and an empty plate down in front of Maggie. “Black or the works?”
“The works, thanks,” Maggie said. She pulled out three tiny pink clips, a lavender band and a small dragonfly barrette and laid them on the table. As she placed everything in a neat row, she asked, “Which do you like best?”
Scout studied the assortment for a long time. Then she said, “Do I have to choose? I like all of them.”
She should have known better than to ask a child to choose. “Okay, then we’ll use them all.” She pulled out a brush, and some tangle spray. Maggie was nothing if not prepared for hair emergencies. “Let’s go into the bathroom, so we don’t get any hair on the table.”
Scout took Maggie’s hand and led her to the bathroom. Maggie felt thrilled that this little girl seemed to like her, but apprehensive, as well. Never had any child been so sweet. She warned herself not to get too happy over
it. No way could it ever last. Children were impossible to understand, and their behavior never made sense to her.
Still, she liked the way Scout’s warm hand felt in hers, almost as if it were a natural kind of event that she could get very used to.
Within a few minutes Maggie had Scout’s hair combed and styled with a small braid that draped down the side of her head. Pink clips held the top in place and the dragonfly barrette decorated the bottom of the braid. Then she took a clean hand towel, wet it in the sink and washed the jam off Scout’s cheek, along with any other food that was stuck to her sweet face.
When she finished, Maggie turned Scout toward the mirror over the vanity so she could see herself. “What do you think? Too much?”
Scout stepped up on a pink plastic stool to get a better look. She took a deep breath, twisted her head from side to side to assess the do, then said, “Now it won’t get in my eyes. My mamma used to fix my hair when we lived in L.A. Daddy says she’s too far away to do it now, but when she comes to visit she promised to fix it every day. Could you show her how? I really like all the clips and the barrette. A lot.”
She turned back to face Maggie, and without thinking Maggie bent over and they hugged. It was the first real hug Maggie had ever received from a child, and perhaps the best hug she’d ever experienced, especially now when she was so worried about Kitty. It was almost as if Scout knew she needed a bit of loving and hugged Maggie extra-tight.
* * *
“WELL, DON’T YOU look like a little princess,” Blake said to Scout as she and Maggie walked hand-in-hand back to the table. He couldn’t believe the difference in his child with just a bit of hair care. She looked like a delicate little girl, not the scruffy tomboy who usually ran around the house, despite her boyish pj’s.
“Maggie fixed my hair. Isn’t it beautiful?” Scout twirled to give him the full effect.
