by Tanya Hanson
“Hustle and bustle?”
“Bustle, too.” She hugged her sweet boy so hard he groaned. Ma served breakfast buffet style, so there was no hurry. She always led grace to start with, but that was something Rachel and Matty could do on their own. And did she want to hustle, to hurry?
Did she want to see Brayton? Of course...not? If she hadn’t been ready yesterday, what could possibly have changed in her sleep? Despite the conflicts warring deep down, some instinct had Rachel take her time over makeup, hair, dressy black jeans today, and a teal silk blouse. Rather than her denim jacket, she grabbed a black wool blazer, plenty sturdy enough against a chill morning when all she had to do was walk to and from cars in a parking lot.
Ten minutes later, her heart thudded all the way down the stairs, for she could hear Brayton’s voice over the bridesmaids’ chitchat and the male guffawing of the Boy Scouts. In the big front room all around her, folks sat every which way, plates balanced on knees, TV trays, or end tables. Matty ran shrieking to one of his uncles, giving her no chance to sneak unnoticed into the kitchen. She’d die if she saw Brayton. She’d die twice if she didn’t.
What on earth was wrong with her?
Instincts and sense all gone awry, Rachel urged herself not to look, but the sight of him was too blasted beautiful. The giant fireplace blazed warmth, and he sat in front of it, completely at home. At least the bridesmaids fawning over him were all already attached even if little Cricket announced her doubt. Nonetheless, Rachel’s belly twisted with jealousy.
She pooh-poohed her reactions. Her stomach was empty. Brayton was handsome and charming. She was lonely. That was all.
That was enough. Nothing wrong with temporary flirtation. A temporary tweak to her ego whenever he appeared for Addie’s lessons. That was all.
“Hi Rachel.”
Even above the din, she heard him and only him. Saw him and only him. At her approach, he’d sat forward in the leather armchair, expectantly, and in her mind’s eye, they were the only two people in the room. It was a vision she needed to squelch even in its deliciousness. Half of her wanted to dash to his side. The other half, to run screaming up the stairs.
Instead, she controlled both trembling lips and pounding heart and tossed him a casual smile. Then she acted as though she’d forgotten something and headed back toward the dining room where the breakfast buffet was set.
Ma was fast on her heels. “What’s up, Rachel?”
Getting followed was annoying. “Ma, I’m just after some coffee. Now go entertain our guests.” She wanted to be snarky about the Metcalfs’ unexpected stay, but deep down, she had to admit she liked Brayton not all that far away. But still. Her hands shook as she worked the coffee urn.
Ma turned bright, intense eyes to her. “I can see something happening between you and Brayton. There’s chemistry there.”
Harrumph. “So that’s why you invited him to stay over.”
“It was Mr. Ruggs’s fine suggestion first. I just affirmed it.” Ma’s nose rose.
“You would have gotten the Metcalfs to stay somehow, with or without Mr. Ruggs. And you know it. ” Rachel knew her mother well. It was time to let loose, to let Ma know for sure. “Listen, Ma. I know you’ve lost a spouse, too. But you’ve never taken on another. As for your romance with Doyle, well, even you say marriage is a logistical nightmare. All but impossible.”
Ma rolled her eyes, setting her hands on the buffet. “My situation with Doyle is different. We both head up large ranching enterprises. And mine’s a birthright I can’t leave. You admit you’re slowing down your practice for more time with Matty. Doyle and I are done raising kids. You, my dear, are young enough to have more children.”
Rachel’s temper flared as she tipped the creamer to her cup. “Ma, that’s enough. It hasn’t even been a year and a half.”
“You’ve got a biological clock.” Ma’s lips pursed.
“It was a miracle getting Matty, for one thing.” As if her mother hadn’t spoken, Rachel went on insistently. “For another, you talk like Brayton has asked for my hand. He’s charming and I like him, but remember, he lost a spouse, too. And he’s not found anybody in ten years.” Her spoon tornadoed cream through her coffee. “I spent enough energy trying to fix what went wrong with Nick and me. I don’t have the strength to fix what might be wrong in Brayton’s life.”
“Well, just like you said, it’s been ten years. I think he’s on the mend.” Ma gave a firm nod.
Rachel wasn’t. Not yet anyway. She tried a courtroom glare. “Well, it hasn’t been ten years for me. Are we done here?”
From the big front room, she heard somebody say the words “Woodside Chapel” and she knew how her morning ordeal could ease. While most folks hereabouts attended Mountainview Church in town or St. Anthony’s in Promise a few miles farther, Pastor Hale’s vicar held a prayer service first Sunday of the month for the residents of the pretty development of Woodside Meadows. She’d attend there and appease Ma. Oh, she loved the friends and neighbors at Mountainview Church, no doubt about it, but this once, she wouldn’t have to endure all the sympathetic stares or relive difficult memories. Besides, since she was growing serious about moving to one of the condos there, helping build up a new little congregation might be a wonderful goal.
“I think I’ll go to Woodside Chapel this morning. I doubt Vicar Wegner gets a big turnout with the summer renters back home.”
Ma’s eyes were shrewd, but she nodded. “All right. You want Matty to go with me? There’ll be a Bible story going on in the nursery.”
Rachel nodded. She knew well the chapel didn’t have any such facility. “That’d be nice. I’ll be getting back here before you all, so I can get Sunday dinner started.”
Ma removed a big white apron, showing off a new forest green pantsuit. “Bragg’s already got brisket on that big smoker of his. And I’ve got the chili beans slow-cooking. If you can grate up the cheese for the macaroni, we’ll be in good shape.” She waggled a finger. “There’s six kinds of cheese, remember.”
Rachel couldn’t help a smile. Ma’s mac and cheese was legendary, and one never dared to skimp on the Velveeta, smoked gouda, extra-sharp and Vermont cheddar, pepper jack, and a smatter of Swiss.
“Now, go get some grub and keep our guests company.” Ma talked to her like she was six years old and headed out.
Keep our guests company. Rachel knew precisely what Ma meant. Keep Brayton company. Her blood began a torrent through every inch of vein and artery.
6
“Woodside Chapel.” One of the bridesmaids cooed. “Ooooh, let’s go to church there.”
“Woodside Chapel?” From his armchair, Brayton turned to the bride on a settee nearby, polite, but aching for Rachel as he did so. Spending last night here at Hearts Crossing he’d had more than one ulterior motive: staying nearby Rachel and checking out the development up close and personal today. Attending church there would be killing two birds with one stone.
“Oh, yeah. We rode by it on our trail ride yesterday,” the girl continued. “So pretty there. I don’t go to church on regular weekends, but seems the proper thing to do here, you know. At a place called Hearts Crossing.”
“That it does. Sounds nice.”
“Hey, Brayton?” Charlene, the bride, perked up. “We rented a big old van in Denver to get all of us and our stuff up here. Why don’t you and Addie come along?”
Part of him wanted to, to see the community in action. But the bigger part wanted to be with Rachel. And if that meant attending Mountainview Church in town with the family, well then, that’s where he wanted to be. “Ummm. Thanks.” He looked over at Addie who made an I don’t care face.
Bustling into the room, Elaine Martin, Rachel’s take-charge mother, must have heard something. “Why, why don’t you all give Rachel a lift to Woodside? She has a hankering for the vicar’s ministry this morning. And Addie could come with me to Mountain Cove. Lots of kids Addie’s age attend Mountainview Community Church there.”
&n
bsp; “Vicar?” Charlene asked.
Elaine answered, but Brayton didn’t hear a word. From across the hall, Rachel gently swooped into the room next to her mother, and his heart clobbered his ribcage. She held a full plate so she likely wasn’t going anywhere for a while.
“I’d like to meet some kids,” Addie was saying after Brayton’s blood pressure quieted a notch. “It’s OK with you, right, Dad?”
Well, if something involved Addie, he had to make sure. “Say again?”
Addie’s eyes rolled big time. “Mrs. Martin just said there’s a cool Bible study for kids my age while the grown-ups have coffee hour after church. I can go, right?”
“Is the Boy Scout going?” Brayton’s fist clenched just a little bit. Irrational, but...
“What?”
“Harper? From last night.”
“Oh, Dad,” Addie wailed, and Brayton watched Rachel hide her chuckle behind her hand. “Of course not. The troop’s had devotions and are already starting their horsemanship requirements. Gosh, Dad.” She shook her head. “Anyway, can I go with Mrs. Martin?”
He nodded. “Sure. Enjoy.” It would be good for Addie to meet local kids, especially if he settled at Woodside Meadows and sent her to school in town. Already she looked brighter and happier than she had since the move from California.
Elaine clapped her hands loud. “Let’s get finished so we can be on our ways. Come on, Addie, grab your jacket. Meet me on the porch. Then we can settle Matty in his car seat.”
Some of the guests who had finished eating stood to gather their dishes, but Rachel hadn’t eaten yet. Brayton rose, patted the settee next to him. “Come sit.”
Brayton’s breath stopped without him really knowing why. But in his heart he did know. Rachel was close by. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t been a goofy teenager for a very long time. A couple of the bridesmaids still gabbed over their coffee, and he realized he hadn’t answered Charlene. Deep down he wanted to drive Rachel in his own car. Maybe get coffee in town afterward.
“Good morning, Brayton. Hope you slept well.” Her voice trembled as she sat.
Brayton’s ego tweaked in a good way at the thought he might be the reason.
“Maybe I could drive you to Woodside Chapel,” he said. “I’d like to see the place.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice soft as dandelion puffs.
He longed for the day to tell her that the development was his own, and he was thinking of moving there. But now wasn’t the time to reveal it. He hadn’t told Addie yet, and she had to be the first.
“Charlene said it’s beautiful.” For a minute, he conspired how to answer a second possibility to her “why”—why did he want to drive her.
Because he wanted to be with her. But he couldn’t tell her. Not yet.
Rachel chewed heartily for a while. He liked it, liked that a woman enjoyed eating. The bright blue blouse turned her eyes to sky.
“I think Charlene wants us all to go in their van,” she mentioned.
“I was thinking I could drive us. Addie’s off to Mountain Cove with your folks.”
Her mouth was full, so he took a chance. “I thought maybe we could have coffee in town, afterward. Pick up Addie after her Bible study.”
She swallowed first. “Oh, I can’t.” Regret softened her tone, and he willed it to be real. “I need to get straight back here to start Ma’s mac and cheese. Believe me, that’s a specialty worth waiting for. Let’s go with the girls. I can show ’em how to get there.”
Disappointment wanted to cloud his mood, but he shook it off. A bridesmaid took Rachel’s dish, and he offered her his arm. He felt the heat of her fingers even through his jacket as they headed outside. All around, autumn covered them in a patchwork of both warm sun and chill breeze.
Behind the wheel of the massive van sat a bridesmaid so tiny Brayton stifled an offer to drive. However, he held his tongue as they headed off, the heater blazing. Deep down, though, it was Rachel settling herself right next to him in the very back seat that amplified his warmth. Their distance from everybody else made it seem as though they were completely alone. To take his mind off the allure of her nearness, he studied the landscape as she directed the driver. White-tipped peaks peered down on plump hills still wearing summer tans, and Hearts Crossing’s house and outbuildings gleamed like a glossy picture postcard. What a place. He might not have believed something like this existed if he hadn’t seen it for himself.
“Turn onto the gravel road—you can’t miss the sign,” Rachel was saying to the driver. “It won’t take but ten minutes.”
The sound of her voice coursed over his skin like clean fresh air. She smiled at him, and it was a special gift he’d take with him to his grave, no matter if the future didn’t bring his hopes to life.
“Beautiful day,” was all he could think to say although he cleared his throat carefully first.
Maybe she, like he, wanted to enjoy the scenery in silence, for she said nothing further. Around them, the chatter of the bridal entourage scattered throughout the over-warm van. But still, neither Rachel nor he moved apart.
Fence posts weathered to an appealing degree bordered the roadside with downhome charm. As the rustic scenery wrapped Brayton in contentment, Rachel’s nearness tickled his senses. Sights of pasture bare and brown as winter approached, and cattle content in fields laid with rolls of hay, thrilled him more than a high-reaching city skyline. Scenes of tidy ranch houses bundled up against approaching winter, and corrals teeming with livestock carved into his memory. Above all, the Rocky Mountains wearing their crowns of early snow smiled down.
“That’s nice, you letting Addie go to town,” Rachel said at last, close to his ear.
“She seems a different girl, just getting asked to stay the night.”
Rachel sighed. “There’s something about Hearts Crossing that does it to you. Some kind of tranquility you just don’t get other places.”
He almost startled. Tranquility. The name of his development group. “I know. I’m feeling it, too.”
Although her lips smiled at him, her eyes didn’t. Whatever her thoughts were right now, they obviously didn’t include him. Nick. Of course. He couldn’t blame her. It had taken him years to mend. More than ever he wanted to take Rachel’s hand, but his heart listened, reluctant, to the logic that the time wasn’t right for this, either.
The chatter-filled van quieted as the little redwood-sided church came into view, guarded as it was by woodland of alder and fir. Reaching to the clouds, a white, cross-topped steeple invited everyone inside. For a flash, he considered which category he fit—faithful believer or struggling soul. Lately, God had started calling him after nearly ten empty years.
“Wow.” Charlene breathed. “I kinda wish Kyle and I were getting married right here.”
Several churchgoers, dressed warm against the wind, tramped up the steps inside. Brayton rejoiced at helping Rachel climb down from the van, and breathed deep of the pure morning-soaked air and her cinnamon aura. Nothing like the scent of evergreen trees to invigorate a lonely body or the nearness of a beautiful woman to enliven a yearning soul.
Without prompting, Rachel laid her hand in the crook of his arm as they crossed the leaf and needle-strewn path and walked into the tiny sanctuary.
“Whoa.” Brayton couldn’t help himself. There was no narthex; the open doors led right into the nave, and the altarpiece stole his breath. The magnificent mosaic was unlike anything he’d ever seen before.
Air stuck in the back of his throat with good reason. Backdropping Woodside Chapel’s altar, two crosses set in tiny tiles topped a glistening snow-dappled mountain peak that shadowed a red-rock landscape. A massive third cross constructed of two natural logs hung in the center. He felt a downright shiver. The scene almost seemed to depict Pike’s Peak merging with Colorado’s historic Mesa Verde ruins. Amidst the tiny stone pieces at the base of the crosses, he easily recognized a shining, empty Tomb.
“We’re early,” Rachel said, stoc
k still at his side. “The candles aren’t even lit yet. There’s usually a pianist or guitar player doing pre-worship music.” She started toward one of the rough-hewn pews.
However, Brayton was so moved he couldn’t, well, move. “That mosaic. Rachel, I…it’s positively stunning. I can barely take my eyes away.” He couldn’t yet articulate its uniqueness, particularly compared to the many masterpieces of religious art he’d seen in the world’s great museums. “It’s like…what I recall of the Easter story happening right here in the American West.”
Rachel stopped mid-aisle and nodded. “This was my grandmother’s view of the world. That Jesus Christ is everywhere, no matter where we find ourselves.”
For a second, she stopped talking and smiled at him. His blood heated in his veins then raced through them. They slid into a pew. “So she designed the altarpiece?”
“In a way.” Rachel nodded and whispered. “Grim-Gram painted the original that Scott and Mary Grace received for a wedding present.”
“It’s amazing.” The word wasn’t at all adequate. “Like the painting in your dining room. I remember you said she painted ‘relentlessly’ in her golden years.”
“Yes, indeed.” Her face glowed, as if pleased he remembered. “After Grampa died, she painted all hours of the day and night. Not all her works had religious themes, but many did. Every aspect of her life was covered somehow. She left a picture for each of us as a wedding gift. Nick and I got a depiction of the Last Supper around a campfire. I guess somebody close-minded might think of her work, of her, as sacrilegious, but it just fit. Fit her, fits our way of life. It’s perfect.”
“I honestly see what you mean.”
“Mary Grace fell so in love with the original that she used it in her art class as an example of primitive art. One of her students then depicted it in mosaic for his semester project. Got a lot of help from fellow students who go to our church.” Rachel quickly glanced at him, and his heart froze in delight. “She teaches part time at Mountain Cove High. The kid took to the project like moths to a flame.”
