Wrangling the Cowboy's Heart

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “Especially once I hit my teens,” Jodie added. “We butted heads a lot.”

  “So you said.”

  Once again Jodie felt a quiet dismissal of what she had endured, living with her father. The disbelief that she had written about in a song she’d been fooling with.

  The song was a way of saying what no one would hear. A catharsis.

  Aunt Laura picked up Jodie’s hand, turning it so she could see the scar on the back. “He never said anything about how you got hurt, but I know it ate away at him that you missed your audition because of it. He knew what it meant to you.”

  Her comment only added to Jodie’s confusion.

  “I had always hoped you would try again,” Aunt Laura said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Apply again. Audition again.”

  “That was my only chance,” Jodie said, unable to keep the defensive tone out of her voice.

  “Was it?”

  Aunt Laura let the question settle between them and Jodie didn’t like the other questions it raised.

  “Why don’t you try this piece again,” her aunt prompted after a few seconds of silence, changing the subject. “I’ve heard you play many times. You have a gift that I feel you’re stifling. Don’t try to play the songs, try to play the music. Let the words soak in and inspire you, and let them come out in the music. Close your eyes. Close off your memories. Just be here and now. My dearest Jodie, playing a beautiful piece of music the way you know how. Stop trying to be who you think you should be. Just be Jodie.”

  “Trouble is, I don’t know who Jodie is anymore,” she said, sorrow plucking at her with every note she fingered on the keyboard. “Lately I feel as if I’m trying to be someone I’m not.”

  “Is that why you’re wearing this somber getup?” Aunt Laura asked. “Instead of the fun and exciting clothes you always wear?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, this isn’t you, either. And I think you need to know how important it is to accept who you truly are and bring that to the music. Don’t try to edit or stifle yourself, trying to put forth a version that you think everyone will like. Don’t play for me. Or Finn. Or Amy. I want you to know that the gift you’ve been given comes from God. He’s the one you should be playing for. No one else.”

  “But it’s Mandie’s music,” Jodie protested.

  “Yes. But she wrote it for God. To praise Him. And that’s who you should play for.”

  “Trouble is, I don’t feel as though I’m worthy of Him, either.”

  “None of us are,” Laura said. “That’s what grace is all about. As C. S. Lewis says, ‘We don’t believe God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because He loves us.’ And that’s what this song is about. God helping us as we stumble into grace. Making us weak humans good.”

  Jodie placed her hands on the keyboard and found the tune, hesitantly at first, as if blindly feeling her way through a new piece. As if discovering this song anew. The notes took shape and form in her mind, and as she found the music, found the soul of it, she felt the same emotions she had the first time. The heartache, the hungering.

  Jodie imagined her weary footsteps moving toward a God who wanted to make her good. And as she imagined His arms held out to her, the music pulled her toward Him, drawing them together.

  She felt her aunt’s arm around her shoulders and once again felt her unconditional love.

  “It’s not about you,” Aunt Laura said as Jodie played, letting the music pull her along. “It’s about God and about using your gifts to serve Him. To give back to Him what He gave to you. Forget about the people and their expectations. Think of yourself as giving yourself to God. Just Jodie. As you are right now.”

  Jodie breathed in, taking charge of the music and bringing herself into it. Bringing her experiences, her emotions, her needs and wants. And as she played she felt as if the music was finally freed.

  “Just like that,” her aunt said. “Exactly like that.”

  Jodie smiled, and it seemed not only was her aunt’s arm around her shoulder, it was as if God held her closely, as well.

  She wanted to accept it. To let God’s love make her new.

  She thought of Finn and all that might be if she made a choice to do better. To be better.

  But did she dare put herself in that vulnerable position again?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I missed you,” Finn said. “I’m just pulling in to the ranch now. I’ll be at the church as soon as possible.”

  “I missed you, too,” Jodie said, pressing her phone to her ear as she sat down on the bed in her old room, unable to stop smiling at the sound of his voice. It frightened her how much she had missed him after spending such a short time with him.

  Frightened and thrilled her.

  “So I heard that Mandie was happy with how your practice went yesterday. Inspired, in fact.”

  His comment underlined the enthusiasm she had heard from Mandie both in the second half of the rehearsal on Thursday and the dress rehearsal this morning. Somehow, Jodie had figured out how to blank Amy out and keep her mind on her music.

  “I got some help from Aunt Laura.”

  “What did she do?”

  “Encouraged me to be myself.”

  “Best person to be,” Finn said.

  “Something else interesting happened last night.”

  “Tell me,” he urged.

  “When I thought everyone was gone, I was just fooling around, playing one of my compositions, and Mandie came back to get something she forgot. She heard me play and said she wanted to hear more.” Jodie stopped there, still not sure what to make of the singer’s encouragement. In fact, Mandie wanted to add one of her songs to the concert.

  “That’s amazing. I’m so happy that someone else had a chance to see your talent.” Finn’s excitement seemed to solidify the fragile dreams Jodie had harbored the nights she dared play her own music in the bars, knowing that most of the people wouldn’t judge and didn’t care. Dreams that somehow, somewhere, she could do more with this.

  Could this be her opportunity?

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for that myself,” Finn continued, his enthusiasm making her feel whole. “I’m so glad I’ll be seeing you in an hour or so. I’ve got some good news to share, too.”

  And why did her heart start pounding against her chest at that?

  “Sounds mysterious. Any hints?”

  “It’s about our...my future.”

  She didn’t think she imagined that slip of his tongue, but didn’t dare press him on it.

  A future? With her?

  The thought made her heart beat faster with the same mixture of anticipation and fear she had just felt.

  “But I gotta go,” Finn continued. “I promised Brooke I’d help her get everything set up. I’ll see you soon.” His pause made her think he wanted to say something else. But he only said goodbye, then ended the call.

  Jodie stayed on her bed, still holding the phone as if reluctant to break the connection with Finn. The chiming of a clock reminded her that she had to get going. She put on a pair of simple silver hoop earrings, redid her lipstick and gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror.

  She had decided on a simple black dress that she had found in the thrift store in Saddlebank. She had cut off the sleeves, turning it into a basic shift. An elaborately embroidered scarf draped around her shoulders and held in place with a pin in the shape of a musical note was her individual stamp on the outfit.

  She skimmed her hand over her dress, feeling a touch of disloyalty to her old self. She wanted to show Finn that she knew how to adjust. How to blend in.

  Couldn’t you just expect him to love the real you?

  She felt a sudden jolt of f
ear. The real me. Who was that?

  She shook her head and headed down the stairs. In the living room she gathered her music from the piano and tried to fit it into the envelope. But the worn envelope ripped, so she went into her father’s office to find a new one.

  Jodie opened drawers and cupboards, but couldn’t find any. She glanced at the filing cabinet. She hadn’t looked in there yet, unable to get past the idea that by doing so she would invade her father’s last stronghold of privacy.

  But she needed an envelope, and she found a stack in the lower drawer. She took one off the top.

  Then was puzzled when she turned it over to put the sheet music inside. It had her name scribbled on it, but was empty. Puzzled, she turned to the other envelopes. Another one had her name on it, and her grandmother’s address, but again, nothing inside. She went through the stack. Some had Erin’s name, some Lauren’s, all empty. Then, at the bottom of the pile, she found a fat, worn envelope. This one was full of papers.

  Jodie pulled it out of the cabinet and took it to the kitchen, laying it on the island there.

  Just as she did, she caught sight of the clock. Time to go.

  She returned to the office, snatched an empty envelope and shoved her music inside. She’d look at the papers later.

  * * *

  Finn pulled into the church parking lot, glancing at the clock on the dashboard.

  Half an hour until the concert started. He had enough time to give Jodie a little pep talk, help Brooke do some setup in the hall, and then he could relax and, hopefully, enjoy the concert.

  He had spoken with his mother, encouraged her once again to come up to Saddlebank for the concert.

  He had been going nonstop since he’d trailered the horse he had been training up to Great Falls. Finn had spent some time there with his client, going over some of the training he had done, making sure she was comfortable with the horse. Then, as soon as was polite, he’d hurried back to the ranch to drop off the trailer and clean up. But before he did that, he’d stopped at Dr. Wilkinson’s and finalized the deal they had talked about over the phone on his way up to Great Falls.

  He still couldn’t believe he had done it. He was going to be the owner of a piece of property. His own ranch.

  His head still spun, second thoughts chasing third thoughts.

  You were going to do it eventually, he reminded himself.

  You ditched your ten-year plan, another voice told him.

  But somehow, this felt right. As if his life was falling into a good place.

  He had almost told Jodie when he called her, but he wanted to say it in person. And now he was here with enough time to tell her, give her a pep talk and then relax and enjoy the concert.

  He gave himself a once-over in the mirror, noticed a spot that he’d missed shaving, then laughed at himself. Jodie would have to take him as he was.

  As he got out of the truck, he heard the muted notes of a piano. Jodie going over the music. His heart quickened,

  As Finn walked toward the church, he saw his mother waiting for him just outside the door. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun. She wore a gray, flowing dress and pink cardigan.

  “Hey, Mom. You came. Are you coming in?” he asked, holding his arm out to accompany her.

  She bit her lip, looking from him to the entrance of the church, then shrugged. “Maybe. In a bit.”

  He stifled a beat of annoyance at her hesitancy. He was so sure she would come.

  “I just need a few moments,” she said, twisting her hands around each other.

  Finn wanted to give them to her, but he was anxious to see Jodie. He fought down the urgency that grabbed at him. The obligations waiting.

  He sensed his mom had something she wanted to tell him. Experience had taught him to give her time to formulate either her excuses or another apology, or any other reason she couldn’t do whatever she had promised she would do.

  “Do you need to tell me something?” he prompted.

  She nodded. “Yes. Yes I do.” A bit more hand fiddling and then she shot him an apologetic look. “You need to know that I’ve been trying to change things in my life. I wanted to tell you the last time I was here. I didn’t dare.”

  Finn kept quiet, thinking of the fact that Jodie was now playing a concert his mother was supposed to, but had suddenly quit.

  She took a breath and looked up at him. “I’ve been seeing a counselor.”

  Finn just stared at her. This was not what he expected.

  “Really. Why?” Though as soon as he spoke the question he knew he could safely assume it had something to do with her unreliability. “Does this have to do with Dad’s death?”

  It wasn’t until Denise died that he understood, to a small degree, what his mother must have gone through. The loss, the grieving. But he had been grieving, too. And he knew that his disappointments with her were older than that. Her absences were common. They just got worse after his father died.

  “Partly.” She swallowed, her slender fingers, still wearing her wedding ring, worrying at the hem of her sweater. She pulled in another breath. “When I canceled on this concert, I knew I had to do something about my...my problem. I knew I couldn’t handle it on my own anymore. So I started seeing a counselor.” She looked up at him now, her expression holding a plea for understanding. “I’ve been struggling with depression all my life. I managed to keep it from you. Your father had an idea, but he was of the ‘ignore it and it will go away’ camp. We never had...had the best relationship, but he was a good man. I just wasn’t the wife he had hoped I would be. I wanted to go to your school plays and baseball games and all the rest. And each time, I promised myself I would, yet when the time actually came...I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.” She looked as if she was about to apologize again, but stopped herself. “It was the depression. That’s why I never got as far with my music as I should have. I would freeze up when opportunities came along. I never knew when it would happen. I thought I would be able to do this concert, but I was afraid that I would be able to do the rehearsals and then fail you when the time came for the actual performance.”

  “You’ve been struggling with depression?” Finn tried to absorb this. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” As soon as he spoke the words, he regretted them.

  Too much going on, he told himself. Jodie. The concert. Buying the ranch. It made his head tired.

  “It would have made such a difference if I had known,” he continued. “Why did you keep this a secret from me?”

  “I was ashamed to tell you.” She gave him a wavering smile that he knew far too well.

  Please forgive me, it begged.

  He dragged his hand over his face and exhaled, as if trying to find his center in this place his mother had brought him with her confession.

  Depression. It explained so much.

  A flash of anger gripped him at his mother’s...deception? Could he call it that?

  If he had known, would he have been so condemning of her?

  Guilt mingled with frustration flowed through him.

  “You should have told me sooner,” he said quietly.

  A few more vehicles pulled into the parking lot. People were starting to arrive. The music from the auditorium had quit. He had to get going. Brooke was waiting.

  And more important, Jodie.

  “Let’s go inside,” he said. “We can talk more later.”

  His mother’s expression told him that, once again, she was going to disappoint him. “I have to leave after the performance.”

  Of course she did.

  “Well, come into the hall and enjoy the concert. Jodie is an amazing pianist,” he said.

  Christie took his arm, nodding. “I’m glad she got the opportunity. I always thought she had a lot of promise.”

  Finn nodded as t
hey walked into the church together.

  And he was surprised how nice it felt.

  * * *

  Finn sat back, awash in satisfaction as Mandie’s voice reverberated through the auditorium. Weaving in and around it were the notes of the piano, enhancing, building.

  Jodie sat at the keyboard, looking transfixed as her fingers unerringly found the song, putting herself into the music. She had worn her hair loose tonight, flowing over the shoulders of her simple black dress, the pin holding her flamboyant scarf flashing in the overhead lights. The plain dress surprised him, but the scarf and pin were pure Jodie.

  Mandie’s backup singers and the guitar and drums accompanying her were a mere footnote to what happened between Jodie and Mandie. They played off each other, the piano notes and the singer’s voice entwined, as if one.

  Then, her expression rapt, Mandie raised her hands as she delivered the last bars of the final number, singing her song of praise to God. Jodie played a final crescendo, then faded away, leaving Mandie’s clear voice to hold the last of the melody.

  Utter silence followed, and then people surged to their feet, applauding wildly.

  Finn joined them, his mother beside him, clapping as loudly as everyone else. Finn couldn’t stop smiling as Mandie took a bow. Then another. And then reached out for Jodie to come and join her. Jodie got up from the piano and walked to her side, and holding hands, they bowed.

  Finn was so proud. Jodie’s smile was broad, open, natural. And then her eyes wandered over the gathering, as if looking for him. If anything, her smile widened.

  Finn wanted to hold on to this moment. The connection between him and Jodie, the satisfaction of the success of the concert. The joy of the music.

  It all came together in the same perfect harmony that he had just witnessed between Jodie and Mandie.

  In that moment he was thankful his mother hadn’t played. He shot her a glance, surprised to see the genuine joy on her face. Then felt a surprising peace and contentment.