He needed to nip this attraction in the bud. He would nip it in the bud. Now. Right now. His heart had been broken once before. Once was enough.
Nineteen
FOR CHET, THE NEXT TWO WEEKS WERE FILLED with insurance forms and bank loan documents and talking to contractors and suppliers. He hardly noted the end of the school year for the boys, although he was thankful for two extra pairs of hands on weekdays. He was also thankful that Anna didn’t let him forget Sam’s birthday, which he would have without her reminder. They marked the date with a cake and a few gifts, but nobody felt much like celebrating. The fire was too fresh in everyone’s minds.
Tara came out to the ranch more frequently with the arrival of summer break, but Chet rarely saw Kimberly, other than at a comfortable distance at church. Tara told him her mother had a new job, thanks to the recommendation of Christopher Russell, the insurance broker. Kimberly was now working for the mayor of Kings Meadow as his personal assistant and, according to Tara, found her new position interesting.
Chet didn’t doubt that. Mayor Oliver Abbott was as colorful a character as he’d ever known. In his sixties, Ollie—as everybody called him—knew a thousand stories about the valley and its residents, and he loved to share them with anyone who would listen. He had a long, bushy beard and matching bushy eyebrows and crooked front teeth that showed when he smiled, which he did often. Ollie could have been the picture in the dictionary under the term mountain man. When he was in the office, he dressed up his boots and jeans with a plaid jacket he’d owned since the dawn of time—or at least since the ’70s.
On the second Monday in June, Chet drove into town to sign a few more documents for his loan. When he was finished at the bank, he walked a block and a half east to Heather Books. He’d ordered a handbook on horsemanship to give to Tara for her birthday, which was a couple weeks after Sam’s. Chet knew they didn’t have to give the girl a gift, but he wanted to anyway. She’d been more help than bother over the past couple of months. A pleasant surprise.
Upon entering the narrow but deep bookshop located on the main drag through town, he greeted the owner, Heather Kilmer.
“I’ve got your order under the counter here,” she said, reaching for it.
“I’m going to browse a bit first.”
“Okay. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
He nodded before moving down the aisle on the right side of the store. Midway, he came to the history section—his favorite—and began to peruse the titles on the shelves. Not that he had much time to indulge in pleasure reading.
He pulled a large paperback volume on the Irish off the shelf and started to read the back cover.
“Hello, Chet.”
He glanced left to find Kimberly standing nearby. He felt a strange catch in his chest. Did she always look this pretty? Her hair fell in dark curls over her shoulders. Her eyes looked a deeper green than usual. Probably the lighting in the store. No denying it. He’d missed seeing her, talking to her.
“Book shopping?” she asked.
“Just browsing.” He shelved the book in his hand. “I hear you’re working for the mayor now. How’s it going?”
“Quite well, actually. It’s never the same from one day to the next. Mayor Abbott is nice . . . and amusing.” She smiled, her expression saying more about her new job than her words had. “Tara says it won’t be long before the new barn starts going up.”
“Not long. By the end of the week, maybe.”
Kimberly glanced toward the shelves nearest her, then back to Chet. “And the guesthouse? Has Anna found any more antiques of interest?”
“Afraid I’ve been too preoccupied to ask her. I’m not even sure Anna’s been going over there since the fire. If so, she hasn’t mentioned it to me.”
“But Tara’s supposed to be helping her. She—”
“Don’t worry, Kimberly. Tara’s working hard around the ranch. She’s more than paying for her lessons and Wind Dancer’s keep.”
Relief filled her eyes.
“You know,” Chet said, “the Leonards owe you and Tara a dinner.” He hadn’t planned to say that. The words spilled from his mouth of their own accord.
“What?”
“The day of the fire. You were supposed to stay and eat with us that night. Something more than those sandwiches you helped make for the volunteers.”
“Oh.” A breathy sound, one that could mean anything. Then an expression he couldn’t quite read flitted across her face and was gone. “You don’t owe us, Chet.”
“And the next day you brought chicken and potato salad and coleslaw to feed everybody who was helping with the mop up. We owe you two dinners.”
She shook her head, which only made him all the more determined to make her accept his invitation.
“Come out to the ranch on Saturday with Tara. Anna’s missed talking to you. I know that without asking. You can stay for supper. We’ll have a cake for Tara’s birthday. Bring Janet with you and it’ll be a party.”
“You know it’s Tara’s birthday?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “But if you have other plans . . .” He let the words trail into silence, wishing he hadn’t given her an out.
Kimberly glanced at her wristwatch, as if it would provide an answer for her. “All right. We’ll come. Now, I must get back to the office. My lunch hour is almost over.” A fleeting smile. “It was good to run into you, Chet.”
WHY DID YOU AGREE TO GO? WHY?
Kimberly quickened her pace as she headed toward the mayor’s office.
Of course, she didn’t have to look hard for an answer. She wanted to spend some time with Chet. She’d missed him. Which was silly. It wasn’t as if they’d spent a lot of time together in the past. And yet, it had been enough that not seeing him left a vacuum in her life.
Okay, she would admit it. She found Chet Leonard charming in the extreme. Not to mention gorgeous to look at. But admitting it reminded her why it would be a mistake to give in to those feelings. He was completely unsuitable for her. Oh, there were attractive things about him and about his ranch, about the life he led there with his sons and Anna McKenna. Attractive . . . but not right for someone like her. She could admire the night sky without wanting to become an astronaut.
And besides, his invitation could be nothing more than neighborliness. It didn’t have to mean he was attracted to her too. Folks were big on being neighborly in this town.
She opened the door to the city office building and walked to her desk where she opened a drawer and dropped her purse into the empty space.
“That you, Kimberly?” Ollie called from inside his office.
“Yes, it’s me. Did you need something?”
“Nope.” The mayor appeared in the doorway. “Don’t need a thing.” He pointed at her desktop. “You didn’t find the novel you wanted?”
The novel! She’d forgotten the reason she’d gone into Heather Books on her lunch hour. Janet had talked her into joining the book club that met in the library each month, and she needed to buy and read this month’s selection.
She settled onto her chair as she shook her head. “I’ll have to check back later.”
“That surprises me. Long as the club gives her enough notice, Heather always has plenty of copies on hand for the women.” The mayor knew just about everything that went on in his town—including, it seemed, what happened in the women’s-only book club.
“It’s my own fault. I ran into a friend and got to talking and forgot to ask for the book. It’s almost time to start reading the next selection. Maybe I’ll get that one instead.”
Ollie closed his office door behind him. “I’m headed to a meeting with a couple councilmen. Then I’ve got a repairman due at the house. My wife wants me to be there. We may need a new furnace, and she doesn’t want to make that decision on her own. Don’t expect I’ll be back to the office today. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay. See you then.”
“Don’t forget. We lock up at three t
oday.”
As if his reminder was necessary. “I won’t forget.”
The place was quiet after the mayor left. The phone didn’t ring even once. Tuesdays through Thursdays, there was a part-time employee in the office with Kimberly. Bonnie Clark was young, only two years out of Kings Meadow High. Her job was to answer the phone and to research any questions that came her way. On Mondays and Fridays, the two days they closed early, Kimberly was the only employee in the office. Last week, she hadn’t minded. Today she did. Perhaps because her thoughts kept returning to Chet. She sighed. If only she could trust her heart to not get itself broken again.
Anna
1947
IT WAS SEPTEMBER BEFORE MILES—HAVING FINISHED the Leonard family portrait—began to paint the portrait of Shiloh’s Star. Only the painting wasn’t to be of the blood bay stallion by himself. Miles insisted Anna be in the portrait too. She couldn’t refuse the request. Didn’t want to refuse it. Agreeing meant spending more time with Miles, and she always wanted more time with him.
There was no doubt about it. Anna McKenna was in love. Thoroughly, completely, devastatingly in love. Did Miles have any idea how she felt about him? If he did, he didn’t let on.
“That’s perfect,” he called to her from behind his easel. “Keep that expression. Try not to move.”
It was much harder than it sounded, to hold any one particular expression, to stand like a statue. “Have you thought of asking Miss Carter to take a photograph and then paint from it? Everyone says her pictures are gorgeous. Then both me and Star would stand still for you and never change an expression or swat at a fly.” The idea appealed to Anna for more than one reason. If Miles was looking at a photograph while he painted, Anna would be free to move about and to gaze upon him with complete freedom.
“Hold still. And forget about a photograph. I could never capture the colors and the life I see before me now if I was looking at a black-and-white picture.”
Anna forced herself to focus on the palette Miles held in his left hand, thumb stuck through the hole, board resting on his forearm. A kaleidoscope of oil colors covered the palette’s surface. Miles twirled the tip of the brush in his right hand in one color, then another, then applied it to the canvas on the easel. It was pleasant to watch him work, even though she couldn’t see what he was doing. He often pressed his lips together, one corner slightly higher than the other, and squinted his eyes. Whenever he glanced up, he seemed to see her but not see her. As if she were in his dreams.
She smiled at the thought. How grand it would be if Miles Stanley dreamed about her. It would only be fair. She dreamed about him. Often.
“Hey, Anna, I told you to hold your expression. Now you’re smiling and your smile is too . . . happy. I want a look that’s a little mysterious.”
She laughed. “But I am happy.”
“All right then. I’ll paint the horse. He isn’t smiling.”
“You are.”
“Am I?” He set aside palette and brush, then touched the corners of his mouth with his fingertips. “Well I’ll be. You’re right.”
Any attempt to compose herself would be useless now. So she didn’t even try. Instead she pushed away from the fence and walked toward Miles. “I want to see what you’ve done.”
Miles stepped around the easel, planting himself in her way. “No peeking.”
“But—”
“No.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Not until it’s finished.”
“How long will that be?”
“A lot longer if you don’t stand still.”
She laughed again as she looked up into his eyes. Miles stood so close. It would be easy for him to lean in and kiss her. She wished he would do it. Whenever she dreamed of him, he always kissed her. If only he would do it for real.
Instead of kissing her, he turned her around and gave her a gentle push back toward the fence. “Go on. I need to work while the light’s right.”
Oh, the frustration! She wasn’t a child. Young, yes, but not a child.
She arrived back at the fence and turned around.
“Move a little to your right. That’s it.”
You see so much, Miles, with those artist’s eyes of yours. Why can’t you see how much I love you?
He smiled as he picked up his paintbrush. “Perfect. Now stay put.”
Somehow she would make him see more than the expression she wore. Somehow she would make him see into her heart.
Twenty
“DAD?”
Chet looked up from the computer screen.
“I need to talk to you.” Sam’s expression was grim as he entered the room.
Chet had always tried his best to be available to his sons. No matter when he was needed. No matter what they were interrupting. It had become even more important to him after they lost Rick. “Sure. What do you need?”
Sam sat on the chair at the corner of Chet’s desk. “I think it was my fault.”
“What was your fault?”
“The fire.”
Chet leaned back in his chair, surprised into silence.
“It’s been eating at me ever since it happened.” Sam stared at a spot on the floor. “I was smoking a cigarette. In the barn. I heard something, thought somebody was coming. I didn’t want to get caught so I put it out and left the barn quick.” He looked up. “I . . . I’m sorry, Dad. I must not have put it out like I thought.”
There was a lengthy silence, one Chet thought he should fill. Now wasn’t the right time for a lecture on the dangers of smoking, but that seemed to be all he could think of.
“I thought I put it out, Dad.”
“I’m sure you did.” Chet cleared his throat. “How long have you been smoking, Sam?”
“Off and on for the past few months.” The boy lowered his gaze again. “I don’t do it much.”
“Any is too much.”
“Yes, sir. And I don’t plan on doing it again. I promise.”
Chet nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Possible causes of Sam’s behavior—sneaking around, smoking on the sly, lying to his father by omission if not commission—raced through Chet’s mind. But in the end, the reasons didn’t seem to matter. Sam knew better.
“I’m going to have to think about this,” he said after another silence. “There’s going to have to be some kind of punishment, you know.”
“Yeah. I know. But could we keep the reason between us?”
“Yeah, I suppose we can.”
Sam stood. “I really am sorry, Dad.”
“I know you are. And, Son?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for owning up to it.”
“Sure.”
After Sam left the room, Chet got up and closed the door. Then he did some pacing, hands clasped behind his back. His office wasn’t a large room, and pacing required frequent turns. To the window. To the bookcase. To the window. To the bookcase. It didn’t take long to become almost dizzy with it. Or maybe what made him feel that way were the troubled turns of his thoughts.
How was he to handle this? As he’d said, there had to be some kind of punishment, whether or not a cigarette had been the cause of the fire—and they would never know for certain. So what did Sam’s behavior warrant? He wasn’t a grown man, but he wasn’t a kid either. That made punishment a little trickier. There weren’t a whole lot of options available to Chet. No cell phone to take away. No extra chores to be added when the kid already worked as hard as the hired hands.
Chet released a sigh. Looked like the truck would be off limits to Sam for a while.
LYING ON THE SOFA, KIMBERLY AWAKENED BY degrees. The book she’d been reading before drifting off was open on her chest, pages down. The television’s audio had been turned low.
“Welcome back,” Janet said from the easy chair.
“How long was I asleep?” She sat upright, lowering her legs over the side of the couch.
“Over an hour.”
She pushed her hair back from h
er face. “Where’s Tara? In her room?”
“No. She went over to Ned and Susan’s. Helping out with Ned’s colt, I think.”
“You’d think after spending almost the whole day at the Leonard ranch she would get her fill of horses.”
Janet laughed softly. “Only someone who was never horse-crazy herself would think that.”
“You would know.” Kimberly stifled a yawn, then said, “We’re so different, Tara and me. How did that happen? I raised her. Shouldn’t we appreciate the same things?”
“Not necessarily. We are all uniquely made. Besides, the two of you aren’t all that different.”
“You think not? It’s like she was born and raised in Kings Meadow. She’s happier in this small town than I’ve seen her in a long, long time. Maybe ever.” She shook her head slowly. “What’s going to happen when I find a job back in the city and we have to move?”
Janet tipped her head to one side and studied Kimberly. “Are you still looking? You haven’t mentioned it in a while.”
“Of course I’m still looking. Anytime I discover a position I’m remotely qualified for, I submit an application. So far, not even a nibble. It’s depressing. That’s why I don’t mention it.”
“Maybe you aren’t supposed to go back to Seattle. Are you sure it’s still what you want?”
“Of course I’m sure.” Kimberly emphasized each word, as if to better convince her friend of its truth. Or maybe it was herself she needed to convince.
“You could do worse than settle down in Kings Meadow, you know.” Janet turned off the TV as she rose from the chair. “I’m getting a Diet Coke. Want one?”
“No thanks.” But she stood and followed her friend into the kitchen, where she leaned her backside against the counter. “I like working for the mayor, but it isn’t a career. There’s no way to advance or make more money.”
“Are money and advancement so important?”
“You’ve never had to wonder how to feed your child, or you wouldn’t ask that question.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive. I know you have to earn a decent living. But maybe not in the way you think. Maybe God has something different in mind for you.” Janet sipped her soda. “You’ve been happier these past few weeks. I’d like to see you stay that way.”
Love Without End: A Kings Meadow Romance Page 13
