by Myra Johnson
Like now. As Christina sat at the small table in the kitchenette, Gracie’s soft whine alerted her to the fact that she’d scarcely eaten half of the delicious meal Mrs. Peterson had sent over. She tore off a piece of ham and offered it to the dog, who happily gobbled it down.
Concentrating on the tasty supper and Mrs. Peterson’s kindness helped Christina put the stress of the day behind her. After washing the dishes and stacking them on the tray to return in the morning, she unpacked a few things and arranged her daily medications in the bathroom medicine cabinet. She didn’t like having to depend on prescription meds and prayed the day would come when all these drugs for depression, anxiety and migraines would no longer be necessary.
She swallowed her nighttime pills, then changed into her pajamas and propped herself up in bed with the novel she’d brought along. Gracie hopped up beside her and snuggled in close, laying her head on Christina’s knee.
Before Christina had read two pages, her cell phone rang. Recognizing the chime she’d assigned to her mother, she snatched the phone off the nightstand. “Hi, Mom.”
“I’ve been waiting to hear from you.” Her mother couldn’t disguise a note of worry. “Where are you? Did you get there okay?”
“All tucked into my cozy little cabin. A day late, but I’m safely here.”
“I was worried after you called from the motel last night. You sounded so frazzled.”
“I told you, it was just travel stress. You were right—I had no business trying to drive straight through in one day.”
“Well, I’m glad you had sense enough to stop for the night and get some rest.” Mom sighed through the phone. “Honey, are you sure you’re doing the right thing?”
Gracie crept closer and nuzzled Christina’s arm. Her expressive eyes seemed to say, You’re fine. I’m here. Just breathe.
“Mom, I told you, I need to do this. Yes, it’s going to be hard, but I’ve got to start depending on myself again.”
“But you could have done so right here in Little Rock, with Dad and me close by if you needed us.”
Christina combed her fingers through Gracie’s thick coat and sought the words to help her mother understand. “I love you, Mom. And I can never, ever thank you and Dad enough for how you’ve been there for me every step of the way. But if I’d stayed in Little Rock, it would be too easy to fall back on your support when any little thing went wrong.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“No, of course not. But I wouldn’t be getting better. I need to get stronger, Mom.” Tears pricked Christina’s eyes. “And I need you to help me by giving me the space to do it.”
Her mother grew silent for a moment. “Are you telling me not to call? Not even to find out how you’re doing?”
Swallowing hard, Christina squeezed her eyes shut. “Just for a while, okay? I promise I’ll call you in a few days, after I’ve had a chance to learn my new job and...” She started to say, see if this is going to work, but that would only play into her mother’s concerns, not to mention feed her own.
“Chrissy...”
“I’m really tired, Mom, and I’ll be getting an early start in the morning, so I need to go.” Christina forced a smile into her voice. “Give Dad a hug for me. Love you both. Bye!”
She clicked off before her mother could wheedle another minute or two of conversation out of her. It was barely past eight, but two days on the road had taken their toll. After slipping on a robe and slippers and tucking the cabin key securely into her pocket, she took Gracie outside for one more trip before lights-out.
As she looked up into the night sky, a gasp caught in her throat. Never in her life had she seen so many stars! The words of a psalm bloomed in her thoughts and swelled her heart: The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.
She could do this. With God’s help, she’d get back into life and once again stand on her own two feet.
* * *
By noon the next day, those feet Christina was so insistent on standing on hurt like crazy. She’d trekked from the main house to the storage building to cabin after cabin with Marie Peterson.
Marie’s first request, gently worded but firm, was that Gracie remain outside the guest cabins, the public rooms in the main house and the kitchen food-preparation area. “Well-groomed and obedient as Gracie is,” Marie stated, “we have to abide by health department regulations and can’t risk complaints about dog hair or allergy issues.”
Christina understood perfectly, and at each cabin she asked Gracie to stay outside by the door. It was enough to know the dog waited nearby.
Learning what her housekeeping duties consisted of, where supplies were kept and how to find her way around the ranch had taken most of the morning. And not once had she caught a glimpse of Seth Austin. Since his macho-looking maroon truck was nowhere to be seen either, Christina guessed he’d gone off somewhere with his children and was intentionally avoiding her.
“So the soiled sheets and towels go in this bin,” Marie said as they stood in the workroom behind the garage. “And then a service picks them up once or twice a week as needed and delivers a fresh batch.”
“Got it.” Jotting the instructions in her pocket-size notebook, Christina glanced longingly at a metal folding chair propped against the wall. “You said you aren’t expecting guests until the weekend, right?”
“They’ll start trickling in sometime tomorrow, but most won’t arrive till Friday afternoon. You’ll need to tidy their cabins each day while they’re at meals or out on excursions or whatever.”
Good, she needn’t worry about too many personal encounters, one huge reason why she’d initially thought this housekeeping position might be something she could handle.
What she hadn’t weighed into the equation was the amount of physical labor involved. Pushing a fully loaded maid’s cart from cabin to cabin would require the use of muscles Christina hadn’t called upon in longer than she cared to admit. At home, her parents paid for biweekly maid service, which had made it easy to grow lazy about everyday household chores. Mom’s hovering hadn’t helped, and she wouldn’t accept that babying Christina so much only prolonged her recovery.
Marie scanned her notes on a clipboard. “That about covers it. Ready for some lunch?”
“Starved!” Christina tucked away her notebook, already overflowing with the lists and reminders she relied upon daily, and fell in step with her employer on the path to the house. “I’m planning on picking up some groceries this afternoon, though.”
“No hurry. You’re welcome at our table anytime.”
“Thanks, but...” Christina’s voice faded as she caught sight of Seth leading a horse out of the barn. He moved with the same easy grace she’d observed yesterday when he’d carried the turtle across the road.
“Oh, good, Seth’s back.” Marie climbed the porch steps and yanked the cord of a big iron bell hanging from the eaves. The sharp clang made both Christina and Gracie jump. “Sorry,” Marie said with a chuckle. “Better get used to the sound of the dinner bell.”
Seth glanced their way and waved, but when he met Christina’s gaze, his smile stiffened and he abruptly turned away.
Following Marie inside, Christina said, “Maybe I should just take a sandwich back to my cabin.”
“Nonsense. We’re still getting acquainted.” Marie pointed through a door off the kitchen. “Powder room’s that way. Go wash up, and then you can help set the table.”
Clearly, no one argued with Marie Peterson. Besides, it was refreshing not to be pampered.
Hands washed, Christina returned to the kitchen with Gracie ambling alongside. Christina didn’t see Marie anywhere, but Seth stood at the counter, a jar of mayonnaise in one hand and a knife in the other.
A scuffling sound to Christina’s right alerted her to Seth’s little
girl clambering up the farthest barstool. Stark terror widened Eva’s eyes as she stared at Gracie. “Daddy, the doggy’s in here!”
The look Seth shot Christina cut deeper than a knife ever could. “I told you to keep your dog away from my kids.”
“I—I’m sorry.” Hands trembling, she groped for Gracie’s collar, prepared to make a hasty exit.
Gracie had different ideas. The dog plopped down on her haunches and refused to budge.
“Come on, girl. Let’s go outside, okay?” Christina flicked a nervous glance at Seth.
He smirked. “I thought service dogs were supposed to be well trained.”
“She is. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Now the dog lay sprawled across the tile floor at the end of the bar. Her mouth opened wide in a yawn, then she rested her chin on her paws and her eyes drifted shut.
“Gracie! What are you doing?” Christina knelt and lifted the dog’s head. “Are you okay?”
Gracie responded by swiping her tongue across Christina’s nose. Nothing in those bright eyes suggested illness. In fact, Christina had the sudden suspicion that Gracie knew exactly what she was doing.
From the far side of the room came a tiny voice: “Daddy, is the doggy sick?”
“Not sure, sweetie.” Two scuffed boot toes appeared at Christina’s left. “What’s going on with your dog?”
“I don’t know. She’s never acted like this before.” Sitting on her heels, Christina looked up with a helpless shrug.
Marie returned through the door leading to the reception area. “Oh my, is your dog hurt?”
Just as quickly as she’d lain down, Gracie scrambled to her feet. Tail wagging, she trotted over and licked Marie’s hand.
Eva whimpered. “Omi, don’t let it bite you!”
“Oh, she’s fine, honey.” Marie gave the dog a scratch behind the ears. “Hey there, sweet thing. Are we friends now?”
Pushing up from the floor, Christina edged away from Seth, who looked ready to charge to his little girl’s defense. But Eva’s expression, though still fearful, now held a glimmer of curiosity.
Social worker instincts kicking in, Christina saw an opportunity. “Eva, I think Gracie may be a little bit scared, too.”
The child’s lower lip trembled. “Why?”
“Well, we’re both new here, and we both want very much to fit in. She’d be very sad if she thought you didn’t like her.” Christina scooted one of the barstools closer to Eva’s and climbed on so that they were both looking toward Gracie. The dog now sat quietly at Marie’s feet.
Marie cast Christina a knowing smile as she knelt and continued stroking Gracie’s head. “We like you just fine, Gracie, so don’t be scared. You’re a good dog, aren’t you?”
“But she’s so big.” Eva’s hand crept into Christina’s, and her voice fell to a quavering whisper. “I’m scared of big dogs.”
Such great fear in such a little girl—it broke Christina’s heart. Eva reminded her so much of another little girl, a child who had good reason to be terrified of her abusive father. A child Christina had tried so hard to protect.
And nearly failed.
The blast of a horn. Screeching brakes. The explosive crunch of metal against metal.
As calmly as she could, Christina slid off the barstool and prayed her legs would hold her. “Gracie, let’s go.” This time, her tone left no room for the dog’s disobedience. “Please excuse me. I—I’ll get something to eat later.”
Before anyone could stop her, she bolted for the back door and hoped she’d make it to her cabin before she completely fell apart.
* * *
The look on Christina’s face as she barged out brought a twinge of guilt to Seth’s gut. Why he should feel guilty he had no clue. Everything he did was for the sake of his kids, and if this new housekeeper couldn’t see how her dog terrified his daughter, then it was her problem, not his.
Opi and Joseph came in shortly afterward, oblivious to the previous goings-on. Omi took over the sandwich fixings, and a few minutes later they sat down for lunch. Though no one talked much while they ate, the disgruntled frowns Omi flashed Seth’s way left little doubt as to the direction of her thoughts.
Later, with Eva down for a nap and Joseph stretched out on the family room sofa with a favorite book on his e-reader, Omi informed Seth she needed to talk over some business matters with him in the office.
He didn’t need his imagination to guess what “business” his grandmother had in mind.
“Sit down, son.” She motioned toward one of two leather barrel chairs in front of the massive mahogany desk. Seth obeyed, and she took the chair opposite his.
He drummed his fingers on his thighs. “If this is about Christina—”
“Actually, it’s about you. Your attitude isn’t cutting it, mister. I won’t tolerate you being rude to that sweet girl.”
“Omi—”
She silenced him with an upraised hand. “You think I didn’t notice those ice-dagger glances you were shooting her way? You’ve got to give Christina a chance, son. You know what the Bible says about judging people.”
“‘For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.’ Yeah, I know. You’ve quoted the verse so many times I know it by heart.”
“Then heed it.” Omi sat forward, her gaze earnest. “Seth, honey, I know full well the pain you’ve suffered. But you don’t have a corner on suffering. Grant Christina the benefit of the doubt and stop giving her such a hard time.”
Okay, so he’d been a little tough on the woman, but only because of the dog she couldn’t seem to go anywhere without. Controlling his tone, he said, “Can you at least tell me why she needs a service dog? Because I’m just not seeing it.”
Omi sat back with a tired sigh. “All I’ll say is that she was in a bad car wreck a couple of years ago. She suffered severe head trauma, among other things. Her disability is post-traumatic stress disorder, along with the lingering effects of the brain injury. Gracie helps keep her on an even keel.”
Swiveling toward the window, Seth silently berated himself for being so insensitive. Omi was right—he’d been too quick to judge. “I’m sorry for what she’s been through,” he said through tight lips. “But she still has to respect my need to protect my kids.”
“She does. More than you know.”
Seth swung around to face his grandmother. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She merely shook her head as she rose and moved behind the desk. “Tomorrow will be here before we know it. Best get back to work.”
When it was clear his grandmother would say nothing more, Seth stood and marched out of the office. He had plenty to do—tack to clean, a pasture gate to repair, a low spot to fill where the horseback-riding trail cut across a creek. Maybe a few hours of hard labor would take the edge off the bitterness that followed him around like his own personal dark cloud.
Later, returning from spreading a load of gravel at the creek crossing, he glimpsed Christina’s little blue car turning down the lane to her cabin. His next stop was the broken pasture gate, which meant he’d be working only a scant distance from Christina’s door. After parking by the gate, he grabbed his toolbox from the pickup bed and hoped the housekeeper wouldn’t decide to walk her dog anytime soon.
While he searched for a replacement bolt for the gate hinge, the cabin door opened. One hand pressed hard against her left hip, Christina trudged to her car. She popped the trunk and leaned inside, then straightened with plastic grocery bags in each hand. With a grimace and a hitch in her step, she started for the cabin.
Go help her, you idiot. The voice inside Seth’s head shouted with the volume of a megaphone.
Muttering a few choice words, he slammed down the toolbox lid and strode
up the lane. Wedging a neighborly smile into his tone, he called, “Looks like you could use a hand.”
Christina halted on the porch steps, her head snapping around in surprise. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
The dog stepped between Christina and Seth, not menacingly but clearly sending a message: Don’t mess with my mistress.
Keeping a respectful distance, Seth firmed his jaw. “You look like you’re hurting. Sure you’re okay?”
“Fine. Just a little sore.” Christina nodded toward the open cabin door. “Excuse me, but these bags are getting heavy, and I’ve got groceries to put away.” When she lifted her left foot, pain slashed across her face. One of the grocery sacks slipped from her grasp.
Seth charged up the steps. With one arm bracing her around the waist, he relieved her of the other bag. “Let’s get you inside. You need to sit down.”
“I told you, I’m fine.” She made a feeble attempt to pull away. “It’s just a muscle spasm. I get them from time to time when I overdo.”
“Like biting off more than you can chew with a heavy-duty housekeeping job?” Shooting a glance skyward, Seth ushered her inside. He needed to let go of her quickly, because he hadn’t held a woman this close since Georgia, and look where that had gotten him. Gently, he eased her into one of the padded side chairs in the sitting area.
She sank down with a groan. “I need time to adjust, that’s all. I haven’t done anything quite so...” She clamped her mouth shut and reached out for the dog, now poised beside her chair.
After gathering up the grocery bags and depositing them on the kitchen table, Seth planted himself in front of Christina and crossed his arms. “My grandmother explained about your accident. And why you need your service dog.”
Christina cast him an uneasy glance. “What exactly did she tell you?”
“Just that you were hurt pretty bad and now you have PTSD.” Exhaling sharply, Seth propped a hip on the arm of the chair across from her. “Look, I know we got off to a rough start, and I should probably apologize.”
