by Mae Nunn
He’d kissed her all right. On the head! Just the way he’d done with Casey.
Oh, Lord, Guy really does think of me like another sister! How disgusted he would be if he knew the reason I’m sitting on this table is that I want to hug him so badly I can’t trust my knees to hold me up. Father, strengthen me, please! Help me to stand on my own as I always have and not rely on Guy like so many women before me.
She tensed at the thought of making a nitwit of herself before a man who’d been nothing but good to her family. A man who was honorable, mature and accomplished in so many facets of life. Every muscle in her body tightened with anxiety over what he must be thinking of her weakness. Of her tears of self-pity! How embarrassing!
Guy must have felt the shift in her body language. His hands slowly dropped to his sides. He took a careful step back. His motions were cautious, like he was dealing with a potentially explosive situation. Was that how he thought of her? A ticking time bomb that had to be handled with care? Another sister who needed the kid-glove approach?
She had to put a stop to the useless fantasies that had somehow crept into the few quiet spaces in her mind. All evidence confirmed it. Guy didn’t even remotely see her as a romantic interest. How stupid she’d been to warn him that her folks thought there might be something brewing between the two of them. He must have gotten a belly laugh over that one.
She surreptitiously swiped at another runaway droplet as she shoved a hand through her hair. She didn’t believe for a moment that her motions fooled him, but at least she was trying to maintain a shred of dignity. His sisters sounded like strong women. There was nothing strong about her right now, not when all she wanted was to curl into a tight ball and dissolve in a puddle of self-pity. Hopefully this paltry effort at composure would earn her a little respect.
Respect. Lots of people found love but respect was often harder to come by. Yes, she’d settle for that if it were all she could have. Not the stuff fantasies are made of but she didn’t have time for daydreams anyway.
“Whew!” she huffed. “I just about let the pressures of life with Sarah and Shorty Reagan get to me that time.” She forced a smile, propped her elbows on her knees and met Guy’s sympathetic gaze straight on. “Sorry about that.”
His brows drawn together, he studied her. She was glad for the new outdoor lights so she could see his handsome face, note the way he pressed his lips together whenever he was considering what to say.
“No apology necessary. My—”
“I know. I know.” She held up a palm, dismissing what he was about to say and closed her eyes, resigned. “With five sisters somebody was probably blubbering all the time so you’re used to it.”
Guy’s hand closed around hers and she absorbed his warmth, tingling as it shot from her fingers to her bare toes. Her gaze flew open, locked on his as he spoke.
“I was about to say my emotions would be at a fever pitch all the time if I had half the stressors on me that you carry around constantly. So don’t apologize and don’t hold back. If you need a shoulder I’m here for you, even if it’s just to carry two-by-fours. Deal?” He switched from hand-holding to a handshake position.
“Deal.”
They shook twice and she prepared to let go. He held on.
“And is it also a deal that you’ll let me do a full investigation of this hospital statement before you lose sleep over it?”
She was silent, not sure she had other options anyway.
“Abby?” His voice was hopeful, his blue eyes so kind. How could she not trust him with this situation when she was basically powerless to affect the outcome?
“Sure,” she agreed, feeling a small wave of relief at giving this burden over to him. No wonder all the women in his past remained hopeful, waiting for him to have a soul-mate epiphany. That endearing quality was a powerful force that inexplicably drew them toward Guy like the moon pulled out the tide.
“Great.” He released her, slapped his hands together and rubbed them, a look of accomplishment on his face as if he’d just closed a big contract.
There it was again. More evidence that she was business, not pleasure.
“Now, let’s talk about a couple of areas where we do have some control,” he continued. “First, what do you do for stress relief?”
It was a basic question but one that had no answer he’d find acceptable. So she simply shrugged.
“Yep, just what I suspected. We’re going to have to change that.”
“And how about you?” She turned the tables, uncomfortable being the center of his concern.
“I have a hobby that lets me focus on something besides myself and corporate worries. It’s creative and restorative and I feel a sense of accomplishment that comes from working with my hands.”
“Really?” She waited for him to tell more, to claim the beautiful stained-glass pieces he’d anonymously positioned in her home.
“Yeah.” A sense of creative pride glowed in his eyes. “But the point is that I have something to do that lets me get outside of my head for a few hours. It recharges me. Has there ever been anything in your life like that?”
“Of course.” She didn’t have to think that over at all. “Competing on the rodeo circuit always had that type of effect on me. Winning was nice but it wasn’t everything. Just making a connection with the horse and running a clean cloverleaf pattern was so energizing. I couldn’t wait to get to the stables after school. Even the days when I didn’t ride, when all I did was muck out stalls and groom animals, I always came home happy.” The memories were vivid; the sounds and smells were as real as if they were still part of her life. “Exhausted and smelly, but happy.”
“Okay, then we need to find an outlet that will give you that same sense of exhilaration.” He pinched his nose and continued in a nasal twang. “Maybe minus the smelly part.”
They nodded agreement and smiled at the silliness.
“Okay, let’s talk about another area we have some control. How about if we take your family to the H&H barbecue next weekend? Your mom seems to be doing so well, I couldn’t help but wonder if the doctor would give us a day pass so we could take her out for some fun.”
“But that’s just for your employees, isn’t it?” Abby’s family would never crash a store function. And the last thing she wanted to do was give anybody else the absurd impression there was anything more than friendship between herself and their boss.
“If you’ll recall, my sister’s already expecting you. Aside from that, half the store employees knew or have met your family in the past month. They’ll be thrilled to see your mother up and around. It’ll reward their efforts and prayers, so how about it?”
Guy was right, as usual. How awesome of him to be the one to suggest they take her mother out of the rehab center for a break. It would do wonders for her parents to spend a carefree day together and was probably just the interlude they needed to get them through the final weeks of separation.
Final weeks.
She glanced at her watch to confirm the date then calculated the remaining number of days. Abby’s spirit plummeted at the thought of all the work that had yet to be accomplished at the church. She felt a Dillon-size pout coming on.
“What?” Guy’s voice was insistent. “You looked all enthusiastic and then your face fell like somebody stole the last corn dog at Curbo’s.”
She couldn’t help but smile. He really did try hard in so many ways.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I only have a couple weekends left to get the project completed and I can’t possibly give up next Saturday.”
He huffed a sigh, and shook his head.
“Hon, I know you want to do everything yourself and I understand why. I even understand the reason you’d rather not have any help from me, though it doesn’t make any practical sense at all. But there are plenty of other people who’d gladly pitch in with painting and planting. In fact—” he snapped his fingers then tapped his temple “—I’ve arrived at the perfect solution. I�
�m drafting Casey to be your right hand until the playground is finished.”
“I can’t take advantage of your sister. She’s a professional woman with a lot of responsibility of her own.”
Guy put his hands on his hips, arched his back and hooted up at the stars. Abby marveled at the sight of his unrestrained laughter. He tried to talk at the same time but the merriment took his breath away and made it impossible to comprehend his words.
Though she didn’t quite understand what was so funny, the hilarity was infectious. Abby began to snicker and snort at his laughter, which only made Guy wrap his strong arms around his sides and laugh that much harder. Eventually he ran out of steam, leaned forward with his hands on his knees and labored to catch his breath.
“Now, will you explain what was so funny about me being considerate of your little sister?”
“Oh, the idea of sweet, unpretentious Abigail Cramer worrying about taking advantage of the Warden is just priceless. That woman is a professional busybody, a workaholic and barracuda. She’s here three weeks early and she knows it. She can’t stand not being all up in my business, trying to best me at every turn. The fact that this is something she can do that I can’t will drive her to work as if her next meal depends on it. You are about to see Casey Hardy at her finest.”
“Well, she did say she was an able volunteer if there were home-improvement projects to be done,” Abby recalled.
“And the church is, after all, the Lord’s house.”
He wore the broadest smile Abby had seen on him yet, and that was saying something because this man was basically a happy camper. She had to admit he seemed to lack for nothing, which helped explain why he was perfectly at peace with his life the way it was. No wonder he wasn’t looking for any change.
“If you’re sure.” She still wanted to give him the chance to reconsider.
“Oh, I’m positive. You just plan to meet the two of us at the church tomorrow after school and tell her what remains to be done and leave it to Casey to throw her heart and soul into the work.”
“But there’s still stuff I want to do myself.” She was skeptical that take-charge Casey would take over.
“And she’ll respect that. Remember, she’s the youngest of six. She learned the hard way that when Meg and Tess told her to stay out of their closets there was a price to pay when she invaded their space. And it took Kate and Andrea locking her out of their bathroom for a week to teach Casey their makeup was off-limits. So she’s schooled in the ways of respecting another woman’s territory. You just tell her where the line is and she’ll toe it.”
“But she doesn’t seem to have that kind of respect for your boundaries.” Probably a bit too direct, but then Casey had shown up on the doorstep a few hours earlier all too willing to spill the beans on her brother.
He stilled, quieted, his eyes narrowed with introspection. “Oh, she respects me all right. It’s just we’re the only two kids who inherited our dad’s competitive spirit and we got it in spades. Neither of us is ever content to rest on our laurels. There’s always a bigger prize to be had and she delights in trying to beat me to it.”
“From what I’ve seen so far, she’s quite a character. I think we’ll get along just fine.” Abby gave in, knowing she had to have help from somewhere. A strange flutter filled her chest as her heart wiggled like a child’s wooden top, spinning and whirling out of control.
“That’s exactly what I figured you’d say when I imagined you two meeting. I know you’ll feel the same about all my sisters.”
The look on his face was puzzling. Hope and happiness tinged with a strange touch of sadness glinted in his mesmerizing eyes. Eyes she would miss terribly one day.
Eyes Abby feared she’d begun to…
Love.
Chapter Eleven
The New Harvest Church parking lot was empty when Abby arrived except for the familiar H&H vehicle that had become a symbol of comfort. Even as she had the thought, she felt the ache of sorrow, knowing her remaining time with Guy was slipping away.
The passenger door of the truck flew open and Casey bounded to the ground leaving no further time for spirits to lag. The slender brunette was lean and athletic, the muscles in her arms defined by a life of physical activity. By contrast Abby felt short and dumpy, still carrying weight in her legs and backside that she’d gained during pregnancy. She tugged the hem of her shorts at a futile attempt to cover her thighs.
Guy hadn’t exaggerated the thick mop of corkscrew curls that seemed to have a mind of their own, spiraling and waving in the warm wind. Though Casey must have been five years older, her energy level made Abby feel like a worn-out gym sock. An excited grin split Casey’s face as the beauty loped across the asphalt.
The driver emerged from the white vehicle and Abby’s insides lurched, then did a skip and a jump at the sight of Guy Hardy. He winked and raised his hands in surrender as if helpless to stop the speeding train that was his kid sister.
Abby was quickly engulfed in a friendly hug, her back being patted affectionately.
“Thanks so much for letting me help with your project!” Casey enthused. “I love working outdoors and I’ve always had the greenest thumb in the family. I guarantee Guy can kill plastic ivy so he’s definitely not the right choice when it comes to gardening.” This last was said loud enough for anyone in the parking lot to hear, definitely meant to goad her brother.
“I hate to admit it, but she’s right,” he gave in easily, as he reached Casey’s side. “My forte is working with inanimate materials. The only green things I get along with are the ones in my salad bowl.”
He rifled fingers through his sister’s wild locks.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around? I’m really good with a brush and I see that jungle gym still needs another coat.” He indicated the dome-shaped set of climbing bars that were only half-covered in rust-resistant paint. Tedious work she’d been avoiding.
Abby hesitated, loving the hopeful way his forehead was wrinkled in question. Then she caught sight of the young pecan tree, remembered her mission and shook her head. Maybe a little too emphatically, because the light in Guy’s lovely blue eyes dimmed just a bit. His smile slipped slightly as he rocked back on the heels of his boots and shrugged. She’d been close to giving in, to accepting his offer of help just to make his day. And the good Lord knew she could use the extra pair of capable hands.
“Oh, don’t fall for that sad puppy look of his, Abby. Stick to your guns and send him packing. Besides, after the last swing set he put together he said he’d never get himself in that position again.”
“Is that so?” Abby folded her arms and waited for the story that was sure to follow.
“Tell her, Guy. What was the name of that redhead you dated in Nashville? April? Amy?”
“I don’t remember.” He scowled at Casey.
“Oh sure you do. What was her name? Angel!” Casey snapped her fingers over finding the right answer. “That was it, Angel Merrett. You said she was the total package except for those two little monsters masquerading as children.”
“I doubt I was that crude,” he defended himself.
“But those boys were out of control.”
“Oh, tell Abby. It’s hysterical!”
“I think I’d better get going.” He began to back away, distancing himself from his sister and her tale.
Casey turned to Abby, chuckling as she recalled the story. “To be fair, nobody blamed him for feeling that way after we heard what happened.” She leaned in. “He was helping her save a few bucks by delivering and assembling the new backyard stuff she bought at our store for her kids. Guy took his boots off so he wouldn’t scuff the equipment while he attached the swings and slide. When he was distracted the little brats filled his boots with what they thought was mud!”
Abby sputtered laughter behind her hand. “Is that true? They put mud in your boots?”
Guy heaved a resigned sigh and turned back toward the two women. “Not just
any boots, either. The first and only pair I’ve ever owned that were completely custom-made. They were beauts.”
“Ask if he still has them.” Casey gave Abby a conspiratorial wink.
Guy growled like an angry bear at his sister’s insistence upon the details. Undeterred, she encouraged Abby again. “Go ahead, ask him what he did with that pair.”
Abby took a step closer to Guy, daring to follow Casey’s lead. “So, what became of the boots?”
“One of them is in my mom’s laundry room and the other is in Meg’s basement. They’re used as doorstops.”
“Huh?” Abby didn’t quite follow the transition from fancy footwear to doorstop.
Casey couldn’t resist beating him to the punch line.
“The ‘mud’ the boys put in Guy’s boots was really quick-dry concrete that he’d mixed up in the wheel-barrow to anchor the swing set into the ground!”
Guy grimaced. “By the time I caught on to their prank, the concrete had already set up. My boots weighed about eight pounds apiece.”
Abby made no effort to hold back the cackle of laughter.
“Hence, my brother’s handmade boots became the world’s most stylish doorstops.”
“Well, I don’t know about most stylish but they certainly were the most pricey.” He rolled his eyes heavenward over the loss, while the ladies continued to share a hearty laugh at his expense. When it was clear they wouldn’t give up the fit of giggles anytime soon, he turned toward the truck. “You girls enjoy yourselves. I’m glad I could provide a little comic relief for you today.”
“Thank you!” Abby called amid the dwindling chuckles. Guy climbed inside the truck and with a wave out the window merged into the afternoon traffic.
“Ooohhhh, that man is so much fun to pester. Just another reason he’s so popular with the ladies.”
The reminder of his appeal with the women sobered Abby. Time to get to work. The one thing that took her mind off her worry. Good thing there was lots of work because there were lots of worries.
