Finding the Road Home

by Tina Radcliffe

  “Yes.” Daisy could only nod while she worked to process what Luna said.

  “For now, I have a cleaning service from Tulsa coming in this week. Since we are not cooking or eating on the premises, we don’t need any licensing. We’ll put a banner outside, and place an ad in the paper and in the church bulletin. The ranch will let their guests know.” She smiled. “That’s all there is to it. We will plan to open the shop for limited hours with your pies and my pastries.”

  “Your pastries. Mmm, what kind?”

  “Chocolate-almond croissants, coconut-crust raspberry tarts and perhaps my cinnamon sticky buns.”

  “I’m drooling already.” Daisy’s gaze spanned the shop. “This is so exciting.”

  “It is, and there is a room in the back where the children can play if you want to bring them along.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “Sí. And perhaps once you are here, you will not want to leave.”

  “I already feel that way.”

  Luna chuckled. “Now for the big question. Do you have time to produce enough pies? I predict that they will be in great demand.”

  “If we can sell them, I can bake them. It’s late June. The peaches and apples in my yard will be ready to harvest soon.”

  “I’ll take some for my pastries.”

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  Luna glanced at her watch. “I must leave. I have another appointment.” She smiled at Daisy. “Maybe you’d like to stay a few more minutes?”

  “Could I?”

  “Oh, yes. Lock the door behind you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll email you and we can discuss hours. Maybe we can find someone to help us.”

  “Officer McFarland expressed an interest. I’ll ask him.”

  “Excellent choice. He loves my pâte à choux.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I teach cooking and baking classes at the ranch in the off-season. Roscoe is always in attendance. He’s quite good.”

  “Yes. He is,” Daisy said. “Roscoe is quite a guy, and I may have underestimated him.”

  Luna laughed. “I can understand how that might happen.” With a hand on the door, she turned to Daisy once more. “Close your eyes and pretend you manage this bakery. I can see it. Can you?”

  Daisy smiled as the door opened and the chimes offered a delicate encore to Luna’s departure. Her heart began a steady thump, thump, thump. Closing her eyes, she imagined her pies in the glass cases and on crystal pedestal plates on the counters. Pies. Her pies. The meringue would be piled high and lightly browned at the top of the swirl. Blackberry pies with a golden lattice, the juice peeking through around the plump berries. Peach, apple and pumpkin all waiting for eager customers.

  She visualized her name on the awning outside. Daisy’s Pies.

  The front window would feature an eye-catching display to make passersby slow down and take a peek. Unable to resist, they’d step inside.

  Daisy smiled and opened her eyes. Could her dreams ever become a reality when she had the responsibility of five beautiful children in her life? Managing a bakery meant three o’clock mornings, and twelve-hour shifts. An impossibility with the demands of motherhood.

  The words on a scripture card in her Bible came to her along with a calm reassurance. “The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me.”

  “I give this to You, Lord,” she whispered.

  Chapter Six

  The sun made an appearance on the horizon as Mitch guided his pickup along the Rebel Ranch north entrance.

  “Everyone still awake back there?” he asked.

  “We are,” Grace called from the backseat of the pickup.

  Seth popped his head between the front seat’s headrests. “Where are we going fishing, Mr. Mitch?”

  “We’re there.”

  “That sign says Rebel Ranch,” Seth replied.

  “That’s right.” Mitch parked the truck and turned in his seat to address the young boy. “The ranch has a stocked pond. That means they put the fish in there for us.”

  “They do?” His blue eyes rounded with wonder.

  Next to him, Grace silently followed the conversation, her dark eyes moving back and forth.

  They were good kids, courteous, articulate and soft-spoken. About the same age as Kate when Mitch took over the care of his family. The surprise was that today’s excursion had stirred up some good memories. He’d thought all he had were the painful ones.

  “A pond stocked for fishing. That’s a very odd phenomenon,” Daisy murmured from the front passenger seat.

  “It’s a guest ranch, everything is about the guests. Reece hired someone to monitor the water quality, oxygen content, water temperatures, stocking densities, species selection and restocking. Pond management is a science.”

  “I guess so.” She yawned and stretched.

  Mitch reached for his travel mug before he got out of the truck, then went around to open Daisy’s door. “Have you ever cleaned a fish?” he asked.

  “I’m sure I could if I tried.” She met his gaze. Blue eyes peeked out from beneath the brim of the ridiculous olive-drab fishing hat on her head.

  He tried to keep a straight face as he continued. “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Truthfully, outside of a restaurant, the only fish I’ve ever spent time with were wrapped in white paper and came from the fish market.”

  Mitch laughed. “I guess that’s a no.”

  “Why did you ask?”

  “I wanted to know who was cleaning today’s catch. Me or you.”

  “Oh, sorry. I’m definitely washing the dishes.”

  “Works for me.” In fact, it all worked for him. The idea of cleaning fish while Daisy did the dishes made him smile. He pulled a faded ball cap from his backpack and slapped it on. “Does everyone have sunblock on?”

  “Sunblock.” Daisy pulled it from her backpack and handed it to the twins before slathering the white lotion on her own exposed skin. Then she faced him. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  “There’s a blob on your chin.” Mitch wiped it off with the pad of his finger a second before his good sense kicked in. Touching Daisy was not a good idea. Even sitting close to the woman in a vehicle did something to his sensory processing, causing his hands to fumble and his tongue to trip over itself.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. Her gaze remained fixed on the bottle in her hands. “I’m working on freckle mitigation.”

  “I like your freckles.”

  Her face pinked. “That makes two of you. My grandmother says freckles are a ginger’s superpower.”

  Mitch stared at the sprinkling of copper across her nose and scattered over her shoulders. So that was the secret lure she had over him. Freckles.

  He quickly moved to the back of the truck and picked up the cooler and the tackle box. Then he elbowed the tailgate shut.

  “Seth. Grace,” he called. “Grab your gear, and don’t forget the life vests. Be sure your sneakers are tied so you don’t trip.”

  “Yes, Mr. Mitch.” They said the words in unison.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  Daisy race walked to keep up with him. “You do that really well.”

  “Do what?”

  “Take command.” She glanced over her shoulder. “They’re following you like soldiers.”

  “As they should. Fishing is serious business, and we’re running late.”

  In the distance birds chirped and a flock of herons soared across the sky. Mitch took the long way to the pier, instead of down the muddy incline. The ground crunched beneath their feet as they walked a path blanketed with fallen pine needles, no doubt alerting the wildlife of their arrival. Overhead a screeching bird filled the air.

  “What was that?” Grace asked.

  “Red-tailed hawk. We may
have chased off his snack,” Mitch said.

  “Really?” Seth asked.

  “Really,” Mitch returned.

  Tall, lush conifers stood like sentries, forming a line to guide them along the path. The trees stretched high into an endless blue sky that chased off the pink-and-burgundy streaks of sunrise. Even the humidity had cooperated today. The air was a few degrees warmer than crisp. That was rare for late June, which usually heralded the oppressive heat of an Oklahoma summer.

  “What a perfect morning,” Daisy breathed.

  She was right.

  As they approached, the scent of pond filled his senses—dampness and algae along with the faint smell of late blooming lilacs. He inhaled deeply, hoping to capture the calming perfume.

  When they rounded the bend, Rebel Ranch pond came into sight. Lined on one side by weeping willows whose wispy, ground-sweeping branches skimmed the surface, the water was so clear he could see right to the bottom in places. Mitch glanced on either side of the pier, checking for weeds. Deciding there were less on the right, he set up there.

  “Oh, it’s so beautiful,” Daisy said. “Huge. It’s not what I imagined a pond to be.”

  “Rebel Ranch pond is a little over an acre.”

  “That’s a big pond.”

  “Good sized. When it’s not tourist season, I camp down here.” Mitch’s gaze skittered across the water to a protected area formed by a cluster of maples, where he’d usually set up his tent. Each night the sounds of nature lulled him to sleep. Each morning he drank a cup of coffee and silently prayed as he stood on the water’s edge.

  “I’ve never been camping,” Daisy said.

  “You’re kind of a low maintenance gal. You’d like it.”

  Daisy stared at him for a moment. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Mitch placed the cooler and tackle box down on the wooden planks of the pier. Slipping the backpack from his shoulders, he sat down. Then he rolled up the legs of his jeans and took off his socks and sneakers.

  “Is that part of catching fish?” Seth asked.

  “No. This is part of relaxing. Watch and learn.” He looked straight ahead. “See those bugs flying over the water there?”

  “Yes.”

  “They just scattered. That usually indicates that there are fish right below the surface. Maybe a whole school of them parked there.” He opened his tackle box. “We’ll cast there first.”

  “Cast?” Seth asked.

  “I’m generally talking about tossing the bait in the water using a rod. We can talk spinners and casting rods next trip.” Mitch turned to Seth and Grace. “Have a seat on the pier and put on those life vests. They are to be worn at all times. You two might lose your balance and fall in.”

  Seth and Grace scrambled to obey.

  “Let’s start with your pole,” he said to Daisy. He took the pole from her hands and carefully baited the line with a rubber worm.

  “Is that a fake worm?”

  “Artificial lures and flies are the only things allowed on the pond.” He glanced at her. “You know how to cast a rod?”

  She arched a brow. “Maybe I wasn’t clear. I’ve never been this close to a fishing pole in my entire life.”

  He chuckled. “Watch.” Mitch stood and pulled back. The line sailed through the air before landing on the water. He handed it back to Daisy.

  “Wow, that was cool,” Seth said.

  Mitch grinned at the enthusiasm on the youngster’s face. Maybe Tucker was right. He needed to remember more good stuff like the first time he took his siblings fishing. The day was not unlike this one.

  Once he’d cast another line, he offered the pole to Seth. “It’s yours for today. But be careful. It’s my favorite. Used to belong to my brother.”

  Levi’s pole. Somehow it seemed right. Mitch didn’t know why, and he was hesitant to overthink the sentiment.

  “Yes, sir, I will.” Seth assessed the rod and grinned at his sister while Mitch proceeded to prepare the next pole and cast the lure into the water.

  “This one’s yours, Grace.”

  She raised her face and offered him a sweetly shy smile. “Thank you, Mr. Mitch.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mitch,” Daisy said. She saluted him with her travel coffee mug.

  “There’s more coffee in there, along with muffins. Do you want one?” He nodded toward his backpack.

  “You have muffins?” Daisy’s blue eyes lit up.

  “Blueberry. From Eagle Donuts.”

  “Say no more.” Daisy wasted no time rifling through his pack and offering everyone a plump, sugar-sprinkled muffin. “Napkins?” she asked.

  “We don’t need napkins out here, city girl.”

  “Right.” Daisy pulled a tissue from her own backpack and set her muffin down on it.

  Mitch chuckled. “I take back what I said about camping.”

  “Decorum is what separates us from the animals.”

  “I thought it was opposable thumbs,” he returned.

  “What do we do now, Mr. Mitch?” Grace asked.

  “We eat these really good muffins, and let the fish do their part.”

  “That’s all?” Seth asked.

  “Part of fishing is knowing how to relax. And less talking. It scares the fish.”

  Daisy yawned again. “What if I fall asleep?”

  “Not a problem. Just don’t let go of your pole. Wedge it between the plank spaces on the pier, and the fish will holler when he’s ready to be reeled in.”

  She stared at him. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Am I?” Mitch baited his own pole, and cast it out a distance before he sat down on the pier between Daisy and the twins.

  “This is nice.” Daisy said the words softly, and glanced toward her niece and nephew. “Look how happy they are.”

  He followed Daisy’s gaze to Seth and Grace. The siblings sat on the pier, their knobby-kneed, skinny legs swinging back and forth while they quietly chattered.

  “You did this, Mitch. Thank you.”

  Happy? Was that the emotion that sat on his chest and clogged his throat when he glanced at the twins and Daisy? Or was it contentment? Either way, he knew it wasn’t about the fish.

  When he raised his face to the warming sun, a movement caught his attention. Mitch glanced across the pond to where the bushes shivered, and a mother deer and her fawn eased to the edge of the water for a drink. “Look.”

  “A deer,” Daisy murmured. “Seth, Grace. Look over there.”

  “Quietly,” Mitch said. “We don’t want to scare the deer or the fish.”

  “You have deer in Oklahoma?” Seth asked.

  Mitch chuckled and ruffled Seth’s hair. “Sure we do. They like to hang out in traffic sometimes, which can be a real problem.”

  “Uh-oh.” Daisy’s eyes popped open wide. “Something’s tugging on my line.”

  “Hold it steady,” Mitch said.

  “I need help,” she whispered, her voice panicked.

  Mitch wedged his own pole between the pier’s planks. When he reached around Daisy with an arm, she continued to pull the line until her back rested against his chest. For a moment he froze, realizing she was in his arms. Then he shook off the panic.

  “We got it,” he soothed. “This one’s feisty, but he isn’t large.”

  “What do I do?”

  His hands covered her smaller ones on the pole. “Hang on. We’re going to slowly reel him in.”

  Daisy tensed.

  “You’re doing fine,” he murmured. A moment later the trout popped out of the water, all the while struggling against the line.

  “Look, Aunt Daisy,” Grace said. “You caught a fish.”

  “Easy,” Mitch said. “We aren’t done yet.” He continued the steady motion of reeling until the fish hovered over the pi
er.

  “Aunt D, you really did it,” Seth said.

  “This is so cool,” Grace added.

  “Oh, he’s looking at us.” Daisy grimaced and turned away, disengaging herself from Mitch.

  “Mr. Fish is getting a kick out of the fact that he’s your first catch. I’ll take your picture. You have bragging rights now.”

  Daisy paused as if considering his words. “Maybe I should get a picture.” She pulled her phone from her pants pocket and passed it to him. “Sure. Okay.” Excitement laced her voice. “But only because my grandmother will never believe I caught a fish.”

  Mitch chuckled as he snapped her picture and handed the phone back. Then he took the pole once again. “Now, let’s get this guy back in the water.” He carefully removed the hook and tossed the fish into the pond.

  “Why did you do that?” Daisy asked, her eyes round with surprise.

  “Mighty as he was, that trout was appetizer-sized. I’m waiting for a meal. We catch and release anything smaller than fourteen inches. Ranch rules.”

  “That was fun though, wasn’t it?” She grinned, her eyes aglow with delight.

  He couldn’t help smiling back. The pure joy on Daisy’s face caught him by surprise. It wrapped around his heart and squeezed.

  “Yeah. It was.” Spending time with Daisy and Seth and Grace was fun. And he hadn’t had fun in a long time.

  “Do you always catch fish?” she asked.

  “No. It’s even more enjoyable when you sit here for hours, and don’t catch a thing but your peace of mind.”

  Daisy chuckled. “You lose your peace of mind often?”

  He couldn’t resist tugging on the brim of her cap. “Please. You’ve met Roscoe. You tell me.”

  “Your pole, Mr. Mitch,” Seth said. “It’s moving.”

  Mitch glanced over at his bobbing line. “It sure is.” He grabbed the rod and let out the line, maintaining a steady grip. “I do believe this one is our dinner.”

  He turned once more to glance at Daisy. She looked as if she belonged on this pier dipping her toes in the water. Her attention moved from Grace to Seth and finally to him.