Courting the Cowboy

by Carolyne Aarsen

  He and Ella had talked about driving up to Calgary to take the kids to the zoo. The kids had a day off. While Cord had looked forward to another day with his family, he was more excited about being with Ella again. He knew they were both moving to a more serious situation and he had hoped, in the casual atmosphere of the zoo, to talk to her. Feel her out.

  But now?

  He pushed down the question, his mind still mulling over what Ella’s mother had said about this job opportunity.

  And what she had said about Ella’s baby.

  He glanced at the clock, then pulled in a steadying breath.

  “Do you mind watching the kids?” he asked his father.

  “Of course not. You go talk to Ella. Convince her to stay.”

  If he was honest, that was exactly what Cord wanted to do, he also knew that he had learned some hard lessons living with Lisa. He had to tread warily. It wasn’t only his life he was putting on the line, his children’s were also at stake. If Ella was thinking of leaving, he had to make sure he knew as soon as possible.

  “Be praying for you, son,” his dad called out as he strode to the porch.

  He could use it, Cord thought as he dropped onto the deacon’s bench. He slipped on his worn cowboy boots, flashing a weary smile at the sight of the tidy entryway. Ella had brought some much-needed organization and routine to their lives. She had filled so much emptiness.

  His heart clenched in his chest as he pulled open the door, then jogged down the steps. It was all he could do to keep himself from running, knowing that his father was watching.

  He didn’t want to come across as that needy, even though he felt as if so much now hung in the balance.

  Please, Lord, help me do the right thing, he prayed as he knocked on Ella’s door. Say the right thing.

  It opened immediately and Ella stood there, holding on to the door, her expression unreadable.

  “You texted me,” he said. “You said we needed to talk?”

  Ella nodded and gestured for him to come inside.

  Cord wanted to go directly to the matter at hand. Get it out of the way, but he couldn’t. The foreboding that had gripped him ever since he spoke to Ella’s mother had increased with each minute they were separated. And he was afraid that if they went directly to what lay between them, everything he had slowly built would come apart.

  “So how was your visit with your mother?” he asked, starting with small talk.

  “She came to tell me about the potential job offer from Créatifs. But you knew that. She said that she told you, as well.”

  “She did.” Cord shoved his hands in the back pockets of his blue jeans, wishing he could meet her gaze. See what was in her eyes, her soul. “This is quite an opportunity for you, isn’t it?”

  “It was the reason I came here. So I could put together a portfolio of work for that job.”

  He poked his thumb over his shoulder at the paintings he knew were leaning against the wall. “Did you send them those?”

  Ella shook her head. “No. I’ll bring them tomorrow.”

  A heavy silence followed.

  “Is this what you want?” he asked finally, his own heart beating so hard in his chest that he was sure she could hear it.

  Ella crossed her arms over her chest, looking from him to the paintings behind him.

  Still none of Oliver that he could see.

  “I’ve worked toward this for so many years,” she said, her voice quiet. “It’s an opportunity that might never come again.”

  “It’s quite an opportunity,” he hedged, feeling her out. Then he thought of her baby. How she kept that from him and plowed on. “I know your life hasn’t been entirely peaceful.” He paused, wondering if he dared continue down the path he wanted to go. Did it matter if she was leaving?

  “Your mother told me about your baby,” he continued. “I was sorry to hear about it.”

  Ella’s eyes went wide and her face leached of color. “What? When did she tell you that?”

  The shock in her voice was a surprise.

  “When she came to the house before you arrived.”

  “She had no right—”

  “Maybe not, but why didn’t you tell me?”

  Ella looked away, her arms wrapped around herself, and he thought of when she’d cried in his arms. Why hadn’t she told him then?

  For a moment she remained silent, and he regretted bringing it up, but it was out there and he couldn’t walk away from it now.

  “It was too hard to say anything to you.” She looked down, her hair falling around her face. Hiding her features from him. “My baby would have been exactly the same age as Oliver.”

  “So that’s why you’ve always had a hard time with him.”

  All she could do was nod and he wondered if she was crying again. He almost took a step closer to find out. To pull her into his arms.

  But there was too much going on now. Too many important decisions she had to make and he didn’t want to complicate them for her or himself.

  “I thought we were getting somewhere,” he said. “I thought things were moving in a good direction.”

  “They were,” she said, an edge of desperation in her voice. “They are.”

  But her life had suddenly grown complicated and in the light of what he had just found out, maybe it was just as well that he step back. She had this major opportunity and he didn’t want to be second place. He wasn’t going through that again.

  As well the fact she hadn’t told him that huge thing in her life hurt him. At the same time, he wasn’t going to create any potential problems for his son.

  He forced himself to think of Lisa. How she had accused him of holding her back. There was no way he was doing that again. Though every fiber of his being cried out to tell her that he cared for her and wanted her to stay, he also knew that he couldn’t force what he wanted on anyone ever again.

  He had to think of Ella. Had to think of his children. Had to balance both of their needs.

  “I think you should take this opportunity,” he said, fighting down the resistance that blasted through him even as he spoke the words.

  She looked at him, frowning. “You think so?”

  Was that doubt in her expression? Second thoughts?

  “If it’s what you’ve always wanted. If it’s your dream and your passion, then you should do this.”

  “You really feel that way?”

  No. I don’t, he wanted to cry out, but he also knew that voicing his thoughts would only muddy the waters.

  There were shadows between them and he simply didn’t dare take another chance. Not with his children. Not with his heart.

  “Your mother said it’s the opportunity of a lifetime. You need to choose this. You don’t want to regret not taking it.” And he didn’t want to have anyone in his life who would have the myriad of regrets Lisa had. He needed someone who would be there for him and his kids. Someone who was all in.

  “Okay, then,” was all Ella said.

  His heart dropped like a stone at how quickly she had agreed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. Then he walked to the door.

  Each step echoed in the silence, and with each step he prayed she would call him back.

  But she said nothing.

  He closed the door behind him, and paused on the deck, looking out over the ranch. Suddenly the beautiful view looked empty. Lonely.

  The thought of her leaving was like a kick to his stomach, but he knew he had done the right thing.

  Be with her, Lord, he prayed as he trudged across the yard. Help her to find peace. Help her to find comfort.

  Then he walked away, each step taking him farther away from her.

  It was for the best.

  Then why did his heart h
urt so much?

  * * *

  Ella looked at the door that had just closed behind Cord, regret, guilt and sorrow barreling through her, each creating a depth of pain she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  She knew she should have told him about her baby even as the old guilt reared its head.

  Would he have understood?

  And now he was encouraging her to take that job. As if he didn’t want her around. He hadn’t spoken one word of protest. Not one word that maybe she should reconsider. No hint that he wanted her to stay there in Cedar Ridge.

  Not one question about that choice, even though they had shared so much. She assumed it was because she hadn’t told him about the baby.

  But how could she? She was so afraid of what he would think of her.

  Her legs couldn’t hold her up and she sank into a nearby chair. She couldn’t think right now but she had to make a decision. All she wanted to do was climb into her bed, pull the covers over her head and let life slip past her. Burrow into the darkness. Just like she did after her baby died.

  But even as the thought dragged at her, she knew she was past that. She had seen light and life and joy. She couldn’t go back to that horrible place.

  But oh, how it beckoned.

  She bit back a sob as she pushed herself up from her chair. She just had to keep moving. Pack up. Meet her mother at her apartment and see Blanche tomorrow.

  It took her no time to get her things together. She took a few pictures of the paintings she had done and printed them off, adding them to her art case. She walked around the house, trying to decide what to do with the things she had put away only a month ago.

  She would have to come back for them. She couldn’t face the finality of boxing everything back up right now.

  Twenty minutes later she and Pablo were in the car, ready to go. She rested her hands on the steering wheel, her thoughts battling each other as she hesitated.

  You can’t stay.

  Cord said you should leave.

  He didn’t make it sound like he wanted you to stay.

  She wanted to go to the house and demand to know why he thought she should leave.

  But she couldn’t put herself in that uncertain position.

  He cares about you. You know that.

  But do I care enough? Am I good enough? Can I be a good mother to those children with all the darkness in my life?

  All the old questions and uncertainties floated once again through her mind. Again she felt rootless, untethered, which was ironic considering the very goal she had come there for, the driving force for the past few years, was now within reach.

  Why wasn’t she more excited?

  She drew in a deep breath and sent up a short, heartfelt prayer for strength and guidance. Help me, Lord, to do the right thing. Show me, Lord, what I should be doing.

  You once walked in darkness, now you walk in light.

  The passage resonated in her mind as she drove down the driveway.

  She chanced a look in her rearview mirror as she joined the ranch’s driveway. But Cord wasn’t running down the road to stop her. No one was stopping her.

  She was on her own.

  Again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ella stood in front of the large door of the hotel meeting-room and dragged in a long, calming breath, her trembling hands clutching her portfolio case. Old doubts and new regrets wove through her as she hesitated.

  It’s what you’ve always wanted. It’s the perfect job.

  Even Cord thought so.

  It was that final thought that forced her to lift her hand and knock.

  Her mother answered, a huge smile wreathing her face when she saw Ella. “Here you are. And right on time.”

  Ella heard the concern and worry in her voice and gave her an assuring smile. “You always taught me to be punctual,” she said, giving her a light hug.

  Her mother put her arm over Ella’s shoulder and escorted her into the long, narrow room. A set of couches sat at one end and a tall, elegantly clad woman stood, her graying hair pulled back in a loose bun. Blanche. “Welcome, Ella. I’m so excited to meet you at last,” she said, her voice holding the faintest French accent.

  “It’s lovely to meet you too, Madame DuMonde.”

  “Please. Call me Blanche.” She smiled at her. “Your mother and I were talking about future plans.”

  Ella tried not to let the situation and the hovering expectations of her mother and Madame DuMonde overwhelm her.

  “Sit, sit,” Blanche said, glancing at the portfolio Ella held, her eyes bright with anticipation as Ella settled in across from her and Ella’s mother. “So, I suspect that you come carrying gifts for me? Your mother has already brought me a few.” She gestured to the wall where a couple of Ella’s older works were leaning.

  One was a tall rectangular canvas with a single black tree, its branches crooked and menacing. Gray, white and bloodred strips of paper each holding headlines cut from newspapers fluttered loosely from the branches. All spoke of fear and unrest and darkness. The other piece was smaller. The background was entirely black but Ella had laid down layers and layers of gray and white creating an abstract three-dimensional painting that swirled and spun, pulling the viewer into a circle in the top corner of the work. In that circle Ella had painted a tiny child, intricately detailed and perfect, curled up in a conch shell. She remembered all too well how much time she had spent on that one aspect of the painting, getting the iridescent layers of the shell and child exactly right, carefully working the paint up to make the shell stand out.

  Looking at them now, however, Ella keenly felt the desolation she was experiencing when she painted those works. The first one she had done when she felt as if there was no life left in her and there was no way out of a marriage that was growing increasingly bitter and frightening. The second when she discovered she was expecting a child that would be born into that abusive relationship.

  Ella shook off the memories, clinging to the Bible verse that had run through her mind all the way here from the gospel of John where Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

  She had lived in that darkness and had slowly pulled out of it thanks to Cord and the children. Thanks to the church services she had attended in Cedar Ridge, and the comfort and hope she had heard there.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I brought them,” her mother said. “I borrowed them from the people who had purchased them.”

  “No. That’s fine,” Ella said, dragging her gaze away from them as she settled onto the couch across from the two women, shifting the portfolio onto the glass table between them, thinking of the difference between those pieces and what she had taken along. Her mother shot her the faintest of frowns but Ella looked away, fighting down a sudden attack of nerves.

  “Yes. I want to say that the director of the institute and myself were bemused to find out how young you are given the gravitas of your work.” Blanche shook her head as if still surprised. “Very avant-garde. Provocative and yet very, how shall I say, the work pulls you in. Invites introspection.”

  Ella acknowledged her words with a smile and a distracted nod. “When my mother told me you were here to talk about the job,” she said, “I was surprised you were willing to do so without seeing more work of mine.” That was the reason Ella had rented the cabin at the ranch. To create the portfolio the gallery said they wanted.

  “Of course we need to see your most recent work,” Blanche said, giving her a comforting smile. “To see your progression as an artist.”

  “Is that necessary?” her mother asked, leaning forward and resting her hand on the carrier Ella had taken. “If you’ve already decided.”

  “We simply need to deal with this las
t step. The gallery needs to put on its show soon and we can’t wait too long. I would love to see what Ella has been producing on that faraway ranch in the foothills.” She gave Ella a coy look. “Sounds very romantic, no?”

  Romantic, yes, Ella wanted to say, her mind immediately turning back to Cord. But thoughts of him created a puzzling confusion and an ache that dug deep into her heart and soul. Last night, lying in her old bed in her old bedroom she couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, thinking of Cord and how she had messed up with him.

  She knew she should have told him about the loss of her baby sooner, but she could never seem to expose her deepest, darkest self to Cord. Always she compared herself to Lisa. Loving wife and devoted mother to her three children.

  She didn’t know if she could run the risk that he would understand. She wasn’t sure she could make herself that vulnerable again. And yet—

  “So. Can I see your new paintings or sketches?” Madame DuMonde’s question brought her back to the present.

  Ella slowly pulled the portfolio away from her mother’s grasp, her own hands trembling. She looked at her older work, then down at the large black folder holding photographs of her newer paintings, one she hadn’t stretched on a frame yet as well as sketches she was hoping to work from.

  Though she didn’t look at her mother, her disdainful words came too easily back.

  Cartoonish. Simplistic.

  Then she thought of Cord’s encouragement. How the world needs light and joy. That this too is a part of life.

  And how much light and joy had she experienced on the ranch? In spite of the difficulty of being with Oliver, Cord and his children had worked themselves into her heart.

  Cord especially.

  She repressed a sob at the thought of him.

  “I feel like I should give you an explanation,” Ella began, shutting off her thoughts as she held the folder. “As you noted I rented the cabin on the Walsh ranch so that I could reignite my creativity. Find the spark that had been missing from my art. However I found myself desiring to do different work.” She avoided her mother’s look of horror as she opened the portfolio.