First and Again

by Jana Richards

  She opened the door and left, shutting it softly behind her. Bridget stared at the door, the sound of its closing echoing in her ears. A sudden sadness pressed heavily on her heart. Though she stubbornly told herself she was in the right, a part of her wondered what the cost of being right might be.

  * * *

  Bridget worked hard the rest of the evening, taking orders, mixing drinks, cleaning tables. When there was a lull in the action around eight o’clock, she washed the shelves beneath the bar and polished already clean glasses. If she kept busy enough she didn’t have to think about Rebecca or Celia or the complicated mess her life had become. Her plan was only marginally successful. No matter how much she tried to distract herself, she couldn’t stop worrying about her daughter or obsessing over her fight with her sister.

  By the time Gavin and Jack arrived at the bar just before nine, she was exhausted. Dredging up a smile, Bridget took their order.

  “Has Celia been here tonight?” Gavin asked.

  She averted her gaze. “She was in earlier, but she left a couple of hours ago.”

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No, she didn’t say.”

  Her sister had appeared genuinely hurt by her accusations. She could almost believe Celia was completely innocent.

  But that still didn’t explain how Tina knew so much.

  Bridget nodded politely at Jack. They’d seen each other a couple of times since the day she’d had her little meltdown, though neither of them spoke of it. For that she was profoundly grateful. She didn’t need to be reminded of her embarrassing stroll down Bad Memories Lane, or the dismissive way she’d treated him.

  When she came back with their drinks, Jack was at the pool table, playing against one of their regular customers. For a moment she watched him, enjoying his graceful movements as he bent over the table to make a shot.

  And the view of his delectable, tight butt was pretty awe-inspiring as well.

  She quickly turned away, chastising herself for noticing the way the denim of his faded jeans hugged his slim hips, his powerful thighs...

  Good lord, what was the matter with her? Jack’s physique was the last thing she should be thinking about.

  She slid into his empty chair, taking the opportunity to talk to Gavin alone. “I wonder if you could give me some information.”

  “Ask away. If it’s about Paradise I know everyone in the area.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on. Do you know someone who has horses?”

  He grinned. “I didn’t know you were interested in horses. I always thought you were too much of a city girl.”

  She smiled. “I am a city girl. It’s for Rebecca. She’s crazy about horses. I was hoping maybe somebody around here could give her lessons.”

  “I don’t know anybody who gives riding lessons, exactly, but if Rebecca wants to ride, you should talk to Jack.”

  “To Jack? Why?”

  “He runs a vacation farm, or what some people call a dude ranch. He’s got several horses he uses for trail rides. If it’s horses you want, Jack’s your man.”

  “I can’t pay much. Do you know how much he charges?”

  Gavin shrugged. “He doesn’t usually give lessons and the trail rides are only for guests. All I know is that he charges people from the city an arm and a leg for the privilege of shoveling manure in the barns. You’d have to ask Jack.”

  “She’d have to ask Jack what?”

  Bridget glanced over her shoulder to see Jack standing next to the table, a pool cue in one hand. She got to her feet.

  “It’s nothing really.” What was the point in even asking? She couldn’t afford riding lessons even if he were willing to teach Rebecca. She’d struggled to pay for lessons in San Francisco when she’d actually had money. She picked up her tray and began to move away. He put a hand on her arm, stopping her.

  “You can tell me. After all, I told you about my secret fetish for Bozo the Clown.”

  Gavin’s beer stopped halfway to his mouth. “What?”

  Jack winked at Bridget before grinning at his brother. “Just a joke. Relax.”

  Gavin shook his head and concentrated on his beer once more. Jack took his seat and pulled another chair over for Bridget. She sat and took a deep breath.

  “My daughter loves to ride. Gavin tells me you have several horses and I was hoping she could take a few lessons.”

  “How much experience does she have?” Jack asked.

  “She took lessons for about three years. I don’t really know anything about riding, but her instructor told me she had a good seat. I assume she wasn’t talking about Rebecca’s anatomy.”

  He chuckled and raised his beer to his lips, drinking deeply. She watched as his long, tapered fingers wrapped around the bottle. His hands and arms were bronzed from the sun, the biceps well-muscled. Jack was still a very handsome man. She looked away, remembering the feel of his arms around her.

  Why couldn’t he be bald and have a paunch?

  “The thing is, I don’t have much money. Actually, I don’t have any money. I was hoping to work out some kind of trade, maybe house cleaning in exchange for some lessons.”

  He gazed at her intently for a few moments before setting his beer on the table as if he’d come to some sort of decision. “You’re a chef, right? Celia said you managed your own catering company.”

  Her stomach tightened. “I used to. Like I said, the business went under.”

  “But you can still cook?”

  “I make blueberry pancakes for Rebecca every morning.” She didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. “What does my cooking have to do with riding lessons?”

  “If it’s a trade you want to work out, I have a proposition for you. I’ve got a delegation of German tourist operators coming to look over the ranch to see if we’re someplace they would recommend to their clients. Unfortunately the timing coincides with my cook’s daughter’s wedding. I promised her the time off and I’m not about to go back on my word. But it leaves me with the problem of not being able to provide my guests with the kind of food we would normally serve at the ranch. I’d hoped to serve them lunch. That’s where you come in.”

  For a second Bridget thought she’d be sick. He was asking her to cater an important meeting. The thought of being responsible for the well-being of Jack’s guests, not to mention the success of his business, made her want to sprint out the door.

  “I’m hoping if we get enough business from German tourists, we could extend our season a little longer and maybe hire more people from the community. There’s not a lot of good paying jobs in Paradise.”

  Even more pressure. A trickle of sweat inched its way down her back. She shook her head. “No, I can’t do it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because...”

  Her voice trailed off. He was offering her the perfect opportunity to help her daughter. Without the incentive to ride, Rebecca might never accept counseling, and unless she got help she could be expelled. Where would they go then?

  For Rebecca’s sake she had to get past her fears. She just hoped she didn’t throw up on any of the guests.

  She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Okay. When is this luncheon?”

  “In three weeks.”

  She took another deep breath. “Okay,” she said quickly before she could change her mind. “You’ve got a deal.”

  Chapter Four

  The following Saturday Bridget and Rebecca headed toward Jack Davison’s guest ranch using the directions he provided. It was a short drive, only about two miles from town, but it had been years since Bridget had driven on gravel roads. She clutched the steering wheel, her body tense and her heart racing.

  But it wasn’t just the gravel roads that made her nervous. The prospect of catering Jack’s event had her stomach churning wildly. If she could find another way to get Rebecca the help she needed, she’d take it.

  They pulled into the driveway of the Lazy J Ranch, and d
rove down a tree-lined lane that opened on to an expansive farmyard. A two-story log house fronted by a wide veranda was set on the right side on the yard. The flower beds surrounding the house were freshly turned, the soil waiting in anticipation of spring planting. The trees sported fall colors of gold and orange, while the subdued browns of the lawn reminded her that fall would soon give way to a frigid prairie winter. After spending nearly twenty years in California, the thought was daunting.

  To the left, some distance away from the house, a large red barn, fairly new and recently painted, stood next to a tall silo. Beside the barn, horses grazed inside a corral made of log rails. Off in the distance, nestled among a grove of mature poplars, sat several rustic log cabins, presumably used by guests of the ranch. The ranch immediately gave the impression of a home and a business run efficiently with loving care. She felt her stomach muscles relax slightly.

  After parking the car, she and Rebecca walked up the veranda steps to the front door of the house. Their knock on the screen door was answered almost immediately by an older, heavyset woman who greeted them with a welcoming smile. She took Rebecca’s hand.

  “You must be the young lady coming for horseback riding lessons,” she said. “You’ll have wonderful time.” She turned to Bridget. “And you must be Mrs. Grant. I’m Gladys Clark, chief cook and housekeeper around here. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’ll be stepping in to cook for our guests while I’m away at my daughter’s wedding. I hated leaving Jack in the lurch, but it’s my daughter’s wedding. What can I do?”

  She shook Gladys’s outstretched hand. “I’m sure everything will be just fine, Mrs. Clark.” She wished she could believe it herself.

  “Oh, just call me Gladys. Jack is waiting for Rebecca. He’s out on the back porch with Leslie and his mother. I’ll take you out to them and then we can discuss the menu plan for our guests.”

  Bridget smiled, though her stomach did a few backflips at the mention of the task that lay ahead. The only thing that kept her from jumping into her car and heading back to town was the excitement on Rebecca’s face.

  They followed Gladys through the immaculate kitchen to a mudroom and a back door that led to a covered wooden deck. Jack, his mother and a young girl sat at a round patio table sipping lemonade. Jack fed the child pieces of fruit from a bowl. The little girl’s eyes were almond-shaped, her face round. Bridget tried to hide her surprise. Why hadn’t Celia told her Jack’s daughter had Down syndrome? Maybe because she’d always steered their infrequent telephone conversations away from Jack.

  Jack’s mother extended her hand. “Bridget, I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Jane Davison, Jack and Gavin’s mom. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

  “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Davison.” She didn’t know Jane Davison well, but she knew Celia had always liked her mother-in-law. She was a tall, slim woman in her sixties with iron-gray hair cut in an attractive bob. She wondered briefly if Celia cut her hair. She couldn’t stop the pang of regret that hit when she thought of her sister.

  “Please, call me Jane. Everybody does.” She turned her attention to Rebecca. “So you’re the young lady who wants to ride. What kind of riding did you do in San Francisco?”

  “Mostly Western but we rode on English saddles sometimes.”

  Jack got to his feet and extended his hand to Rebecca. “Hi, I’m Jack, your Uncle Gavin’s brother. How about if Leslie and I introduce you to Candy? She’s the mare we’ve picked out for you to ride.”

  A wide grin split Rebecca’s face. It was so good to see her excited and happy about something again.

  “Yeah, I’d love to meet her,” Rebecca said.

  “Can I feed Candy, Daddy?”

  Jack smiled into his daughter’s round face, into eyes that were slightly crossed. He lifted a hand to pat her back and there was no mistaking the love in his touch.

  “I’ve got the carrots in my pocket. You can give one to Candy, and Rebecca can give her one too.”

  Leslie giggled and clapped her hands as she rose awkwardly to her feet. She came around the table and held out her hand to Rebecca.

  “Come. Let’s see Candy.”

  A look of surprise crossed Rebecca’s face and Bridget held her breath. But after an initial moment of hesitation, Rebecca smiled and clasped Leslie’s hand in hers. Together they walked down the steps of the deck to the gravel path that led to the barn.

  “Does Candy like carrots?” she heard Rebecca ask. She couldn’t hear Leslie’s reply, but she saw her gesture with her free hand, her movements illustrating her excitement.

  Jack moved next to her, a smile on his face as he watched the two girls amble toward the barn. “Rebecca seems like a real nice girl, Bridget. You’ve done a good job with her.”

  His compliment took her by surprise. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He gave her a smile that transformed his face. For a moment he looked nineteen again, and so handsome she had to clasp her hands together to keep from touching him. She forced her gaze away. The last thing she needed was to feel this pull, this attraction toward him. She already had too many complications in her life.

  “I promise I’ll take good care of her,” he said.

  With that, Jack and his mother followed the girls. She stared after them for a minute, wondering if he judged everyone by the way they reacted to Leslie. Would he have refused to give Rebecca lessons if she’d failed the test?

  Gladys gathered the empty glasses from the patio table. “Why don’t we go inside and have a glass of lemonade and I’ll show you around the kitchen?”

  “Sure.”

  She followed Gladys back into the house. On closer inspection, Jack’s kitchen was not only efficient and sparkling clean, but beautiful as well. Handsome cherry cabinetry covered two entire walls of the kitchen, with a large island set in the middle of the room. Restaurant quality stainless steel appliances gleamed in the afternoon sun.

  “What were you thinking about for a menu?” Gladys asked.

  The question took her by surprise. She assumed Jack would have a set menu that he wanted her to prepare. She hadn’t expected any input.

  “I don’t have anything in mind yet,” she said cautiously. In her days as a professional caterer she would never have gone to a meeting with a client without several different menu plans in various prices ranges to show them. How stupid of her to show up so completely unprepared.

  “Not to worry. We’ll work on it together, shall we?”

  Glady’s kind smile said the offer was genuine and made without judgment. Bridget’s stomach unclenched “Yes, I’d like that.”

  Gladys pulled a pad of paper and a couple of pens from a drawer. “We like to serve as much locally grown food as we can to our guests. Beef is usually a staple on our menu, but I prepare vegetarian dishes if a guest requests it. Something that’s become a tradition at the ranch is our apple pie. I know Jack would like to have that served at his luncheon.”

  Bridget’s heart fell at the mention of apple pie. Pastry was not her specialty. Far from it. Her specialty was appetizers. She’d been known in catering circles as the queen of the cocktail party.

  “If you like I can make up some pies before I go,” Gladys offered.

  “No, that won’t be necessary.” She didn’t want Gladys, and especially Jack, to think she couldn’t handle the job. She still had some pride left.

  “So apple pie for dessert,” Gladys wrote. “And I think two main dishes, one beef and one chicken. Or if you prefer, maybe a vegetarian dish.”

  Over lemonade and brownies they discussed food and the best places to buy produce in the area. It was decided that Bridget would choose several beef and vegetarian dishes and the three of them together would make the final decision in a few days. She began to think that maybe this venture could turn out all right after all. Perhaps Jack’s luncheon would be a turning point for her and Rebecca.

  The others came back to the house an
hour later. From the cheerful expression on Rebecca’s face, Bridget knew her encounter with Candy had been a success. Leslie jabbered happily, still holding Rebecca’s hand.

  “Your daughter is going to be a fine rider,” Jack said. “She’s a natural.”

  Rebecca beamed with pride at his words, and Bridget could have kissed him. It was clear his praise meant a lot to her daughter. Perhaps part of the reason she’d acted out so much was because she’d been starved for attention. Lord knew Rebecca’s father rarely made time to see her. And she was almost as guilty. She’d been so busy trying to make ends meet the last couple of years that the only real attention she’d paid to Rebecca was when she got into trouble.

  “It was so much fun, Mom,” Rebecca said, her eyes shining. “I can hardly wait to ride Candy again.”

  Bridget felt almost faint with relief. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart.”

  “How do Saturday mornings work for you?” Jack asked.

  “Saturday mornings are fine.”

  “Good.” He turned to Rebecca. “We can work on Leslie’s lessons on Saturday mornings for about an hour and then you can ride Candy for as long as you want. I’ll give you whatever pointers you’d like.”

  Rebecca grinned. “That sounds great.”

  As they drove back to town, Rebecca couldn’t stop talking about the fun she’d had. When they pulled into the lot behind the motel, she turned to Bridget.

  “If you want me to, I’ll talk to that counselor.”

  “Okay,” Bridget said, holding back tears of gratitude. Maybe, just maybe, their lives were beginning to turn around. She knew she had Jack to thank for that.

  * * *

  Jack smiled wistfully as he watched Bridget’s little red Chevy leave his farmyard. Rebecca bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother at that age. Looking at her was like looking back twenty years.

  He shook his head. Enough living in the past.