“And Jack said it was all right with him.”
Those words snapped her attention back to the boy. “What did Jack say was all right? When did you see him?”
“Mom, you’re frowning again.”
“Austin, I thought you were in a go-cart race.”
“I was.” He answered her but looked elsewhere, distracted by a boy a year or two older and his parents who stood before the registration desk. Curiosity laced his voice. “Are they coming or going, Mom?”
“Coming.” Abby reached for patience. She had to remember that he wouldn’t understand why she placed so much importance on any meeting he had with Jack. “Austin, where did you see Jack?”
“In the stables.”
When? “What were you doing in the stables?” She wanted to give him freedom to enjoy the sights and sounds of the ranch, but she couldn’t have him wandering around without her knowing where he was.
His eyes went wide with worry. “Am I in trouble? Did I do something wrong?”
“Did you tell me you were going there?”
“I thought it was all right. I went with the other kids after the go-cart race. Guy took us there.”
Aware that Guy was helping with the kids, Abby mentally grimaced. “Austin, I’m sorry,” she said about jumping to conclusions. “I thought you went by yourself.”
An expression of bewilderment bunched his eyebrows. “That’s one of the rules, isn’t it? I’m not supposed to go somewhere without telling you or Aunt Laura.”
Abby touched the top of his head. He was a good boy. “So you saw Jack.” It hadn’t been a meeting of only the two of them, she knew now.
“He used a—a pick to clean dirt from the horse’s hoof. He said it would be all right for me to try doing it sometime.”
She wasn’t so sure she wanted her son that close to a horse’s hoof.
“He’s a real cowboy, Mom. Did you know that?”
“Yes, I know,” she answered, not unaware of how impressed Austin was.
“There’s Nicki.” Austin pointed at a little girl, a guest, he’d met yesterday.
Abby had talked to the girl’s parents, made sure they didn’t view her son joining them as an intrusion on their family fun. She’d thought of suggesting a hike together, but she guessed his eagerness to be with his new friend. “Go ahead and play.”
As he dashed off, calling the girl’s name, Abby looked around her. Now what? This was impossible, she decided. She wasn’t used to so much free time. She needed something to do or she’d go crazy for the next two weeks. Surely Sam and her aunt could use help with the wedding plans.
On the way to Sam’s office, she snagged a magazine from the rack in the lobby. She saw the office door was open and stepped near, but voices stopped her at the threshold. Wendy was talking nonstop, not to Sam, but to Jack. Perched on the edge of the desk, he looked her way, pinned her with smiling eyes.
“She called and said she’s been arrested,” Wendy was telling him. “Sunbeam—”
“Sunbeam is an assistant cook,” Jack said, offering Abby information that drew her in to their conversation.
Wendy rolled her eyes. “That’s the name she wants to be called by this month.”
Amused, Jack grinned wryly. He’d entered the office to get the keys for a shed, and Wendy had cornered him with her problem. “Did you tell Sam that his assistant cook is in jail for growing something other than basil on her windowsill?”
Exasperation threaded Wendy’s voice. “That’s what I’m telling you. I can’t find him to tell him, and I can’t wait around. What if he doesn’t come back until evening? We’ll have wasted a full day. We have to put out the word that we’re short of help and get a replacement.”
“You can manage without her, can’t you? Being short one employee won’t shut down the lodge,” he said as he placed a calming hand on Wendy’s shoulder.
“I don’t have a problem with today. But we have the Saturday-night barbecue for tourists and then the ranchers’ meeting. I’ll need help cooking. She was my assistant, Jack. You know everyone has specific jobs. One person missing will cause problems that night and I can’t train someone new in a few days to know the kitchen, know where to find supplies, what to do, and—Oh, Abby,” Wendy said as she caught sight of her in the doorway. A speculative tone brightened her voice. A light came into her eyes. “Abby, would you...?”
Abby was already nodding in response to the unasked question.
“You’ll do it?” Wendy left Jack’s side to close the distance to her.
“Until you get someone.” She was grateful to have something to do. “It’ll be like old times.”
“What have they talked you into?” Sam asked from the doorway.
“Oh, Sam, you’re back.” Wendy looked jubilant. Quickly she filled him in on her dilemma. “And Abby’s volunteered to help for the next few days, so I won’t be short help for the weekend barbecue.”
Sam’s troubled gaze angled toward Abby. “We couldn’t ask you to do this.”
She saw no problem. “I don’t need training.” Since arriving, she’d written off her discontent as nerves about seeing Jack, but that was only part of the problem. She’d been feeling out-of-step with her surroundings, because she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of sitting around as a guest. “I know how to make the recipes. Remember?”
Laughing, Sam held his hands in the air. “I believe you.” Affection slipped into his voice. “You are a lifesaver. But what will your aunt say?”
Abby thought it sweet that he was so concerned about Laura’s opinion. “If she knew what to do, she would help.”
Sam broke into a smile. “You’re right, of course. She’s a good sport. And not afraid of hard work.”
“Good,” Wendy was saying as she began walking away. “That’s settled then. Come to the kitchen when you’re ready,” she called back to Abby.
“You really don’t mind?” Sam questioned one more time.
Abby’s only concern was the time she would spend away from Austin during the next two days. But with the friends he’d met and all the activities available, she knew he would be busy. “Really,” she assured Sam.
In a brief all-too-familiar gesture, Jack’s fingertips caressed her waist before he passed her and Sam and left the room.
Sam returned a semblance of a broad grin, but a disturbance lingered in his eyes. “I’m sure sorry you two aren’t still together,” he said when Jack was gone.
Abby managed a weak smile. She could hardly say, He left. I was pregnant, so I left.
Sam’s expression turned wistful. “I really thought you were going to stay in his life. But I guess you did all right with someone else. That’s a fine boy you have.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Abby averted her gaze. The rippling effect of her deception suddenly occurred to her. Like Jack, Sam had been cheated of years with Austin. As Sam’s phone rang, she took a step back and toward the door. “Bye.”
Her own guilt shadowed her while she ambled into the kitchen to help Wendy. Though Jack had wanted no part of fatherhood, Sam would have welcomed being called grandpa, and she’d taken that from him.
For hours Abby helped one of the kitchen staff. They counted tm plates, rolled silverware in napkins and lined up plastic glassware for the following evening’s barbecue. It was a night for over two hundred tourists that offered a quickly served western dinner, country music and silly skits under the stars. Abby had always enjoyed the fun weekly barbecue, even as a worker.
At six that evening, she stopped working to have dinner with Austin, then returned to the kitchen. Later, she left again to get him settled in bed. In his room, while he undressed, he told her about the boy who’d just arrived.
“Chris and me and Jack played baseball after dinner.”
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Abby handed him his pajama top. “Did you?”
He yanked the top of his Captain Cosmo pajamas over his head. “Jack can hit a ball far, Mom,” he said in a muffled voice.
His head popped through the opening. “He’s real good at lots of stuff.”
Abby knew that too well. She summoned up a smile, but troubled thoughts stayed with her. She waited until he fell asleep and the baby-sitter had arrived, then returned to the kitchen. She’d never considered the possibility that Jack would show such interest in Austin.
“Hello, sweetheart,” her aunt said breezily when Abby pushed open the kitchen’s swinging door.
Abby nearly misstepped at the sight of her aunt standing at one of the counters, dicing celery. “You’re helping?”
“I’m not totally inept in the kitchen.” Laura made a face. “Although I do make pancakes that resemble Frisbees,” she told Wendy who was cutting watermelon into bite-size pieces. “Sam is in his office compiling information for the ranchers meeting, so I thought I’d do something useful.”
“Glad to have the help,” Wendy said.
“She’s a lovely girl,” Laura said when Wendy went to the cellar. “In fact, everyone is so nice.” She set down the knife. “I was nervous about meeting Jack.”
Abby hefted a bag of potatoes onto the table. “Why?” she asked while retrieving a potato peeler from a drawer.
Laura had resumed chopping. “Sam hasn’t been serious about anyone since his wife died.”
“Aunt Laura, Jack never knew his mother. She died when he was born.” Abby dug into the potato sack. His mother had died and he’d carried the burden of that for the rest of his life. Abby always wondered how different everything would have been between them if she’d lived. “I never want to risk some woman’s life to have my child,” Jack had told her one night.
“I heard that,” her aunt replied, “but he might have some image of a woman who is larger than life.”
Abby leaned over the table toward Laura, and squeezed her hand. “Someone just like you.”
Laura’s laughter rippled out. “You, my dear, are silly. But I don’t need to worry. Jack has been so wonderful.”
Abby had thought the same thing about him for months one summer.
“Here you are.”
Abby silently groaned as Wendy entered the kitchen and hauled in a second sack of potatoes.
For the next few hours, the three women passed time telling stories, drinking coffee and munching on cookies while peeling and cutting potatoes.
Though Laura left at eleven-thirty, Abby kneaded dough for biscuits for a while longer.
Yawning, Wendy stood and stretched. “Enough,” she insisted and nudged Abby toward the door. “Tomorrow we’ll do the rest. Go to bed.”
Abby wasn’t ready for sleep. Needing to unwind, she wandered outside. A drizzle had begun. She’d always liked walking in the rain, liked the excitement of sound that came from the pelting rain. She liked the way the sky lit up as if a celebration was taking place.
In the distance, lightning streaked across the sky. A downpour began, fat raindrops plopping on her. Abby scrunched her shoulders and darted toward the barn to take shelter until the storm passed. As the sky burst with light, she stepped into the barn.
“You once told me it took your breath away.”
Abby jolted, her head snapping up. A hand to her chest, she felt her heart’s fast beat.
Perched on a bale of hay only feet from her, Jack smiled slowly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
His hair, glossy and darker from the moisture, was slicked back, his face was beaded by raindrops. Unexpectedly she felt a longing to press her hands against the wetness of his lean cheeks.
“Only you would be out in this weather,” he teased.
Was that lazy drawl of his what she’d fallen in love with first? She couldn’t say now what had brought them together. Chemistry? Probably. “And you.” His eyes met hers, and she felt swept back in time. Was the sight of the rain reminding him of moments when the headiness of lovemaking had enveloped them? What did it matter? she wondered. “I heard you spent time after dinner with Austin.”
“Playing ball.” To Jack’s surprise, he’d enjoyed himself. The boy had rambled, told him about their life in Boston. They lived in a five-room apartment in a three-story brownstone with a neighbor above them who played the accordion. The boy liked school but not math. His mom made him cookies, his favorite snack, and when she had time, she baked cupcakes, too. Jack had listened, amused by the boy’s stories about a bird he’d found hurt and had cared for, about the snowball he’d tried to save in a dresser drawer that had melted all over his socks. “He told me he has a dead scorpion in a jar,” he said, sharing a story with her that had made him chuckle.
“He does,” Abby said, aware he’d thought Austin was making up some tale. The desert souvenir was her son’s subtle way of reminding her that he wanted a pet. She felt terrible that she couldn’t give Austin the one thing he wanted most, a dog. “I’ll be glad when his fascination with bugs and reptiles ends.”
“I gathered he liked them. It’s a phase,” Jack said with certainty. “I was fascinated with them, too.”
Lightning flashed again, casting the inside of the barn in a ghostly whiteness, illuminating his face in an eerie glow. “When did it end?”
“When I noticed that Michelle Adams didn’t like them.” She responded with a smile, but he noted that she looked sleepy, her eyes hooded. “Are you sorry you volunteered to help in the kitchen?”
Abby didn’t hesitate. “No.” She finally felt comfortable being at the ranch again. “I wanted to do something.”
“You like peeling potatoes?”
“Actually, my aunt finished that” She noticed the surprise that flickered in his eyes at her aunt helping. “I’m the biscuit maker now.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the ranch cat nervously stalking in the overhead loft as the wind wailed and whistled through the building. “I’d forgotten how much work goes into one of these evenings. My aunt asked when Sam had started these dinners for the tourists. Neither Wendy nor I could remember. Do you?”
Just one more time he’d like to be with her, he realized. “One summer about ten years ago, a busload of folks got stranded here. Sam organized the dinner for them, and it’s grown bigger every year.”
“If I remember right, a couple of hundred people come to it.”
Lazily his gaze roamed over her face. “That sounds right.”
The western-style barbecue with entertainment was profitable to other businesses in town, drawing in tourists. In fact, it had become a highlight of Saturday nights during the summer.
“Sam said you’re working for a newspaper in Boston now.”
Abby nodded. She saw no harm in the casual, let’s-play-catch-up conversation. “I do special-interest articles.” She’d spent years of hard work, of playing gofer, doing whatever to get a column. For a while, she’d written obituaries. “I was Dear Emily for a few months.”
Her smile, a familiar one, appeared whiter in the dark interior of the barn. “Who’s Dear Emily?”
“That’s the advice columnist.”
As amusement spread over her face in a way he’d seen dozens of times, Jack ached to grab her and draw her close. Nothing was over between them, he knew in that second. “I heard you won a press award for a story about day-care centers.”
That he knew such a detail about her life surprised her. “Who told you?”
“Laura mentioned it.”
“Oh.” Abby could guess how that conversation had gone. “She went on forever about me, didn’t she?”
Jack hadn’t minded listening to Laura, learning what Abby had done with her life since leaving the ranch. “Why shouldn’t she have bragging rights? You worked really hard.” The serious young girl who’d told him once that she couldn’t waste her education had done well.
Everything had been easier for him. He’d stopped rodeoing to go to agricultural college for two years, then had walked away from education for rodeo again. It had been in his blood.
But she’d worked, struggled for her education. She’d just turned twenty-one when she’d come
to the ranch. Looking back, Jack realized how vulnerable she’d been. The month before that, her mother had been hit by a truck while walking home from work. Abby had told him that she’d reeled from the shock of her death and had grabbed at somewhere to go, to get away from their apartment. That was the real reason she’d taken the job at the ranch.
“Why so quiet?” A blast of wind tossed her hair back from her face, emphasizing her fragility.
“I never listen to the rain when I’m in the city,” she said as an excuse. Looking up, she saw him bend his right leg slowly in an exercising motion, saw a trace of discomfort in his face. “Your father said you had an injury. What happened?”
“The bull was anxious to get out and sandwiched my knee between him and the chute. I’ve been out of commission for the past three months.”
She knew him. He must have hated that inactivity.
“I’ll bet Sam said lots more.” That she kept silent forced him to go on. “He thinks I should stay. He thought I might have gotten rodeo fever out of my system when I had the injury.”
“Why would he? Rodeo has always been part of your life.”
He felt old suddenly. Sam knew what he didn’t want to face. Too many injuries and he’d be sidelined for good. “Since I was away from it for a while, and out of the limelight, he probably figured I’d get used to a life that didn’t include driving for two days to spend eight seconds on a bull.”
She doubted his plan to return to rodeo was what had caused the tension between father and son, but she knew prying was hopeless. If Jack didn’t want to talk about something, nothing changed his mind.
“It rained the night we met,” he said. “Remember?”
Abby noticed he’d moved to view the rain, and found herself staring at his broad back. “I remember.” She’d never forget any moment she’d had with him. She’d been in town after spending a couple of hours in the movie theater. Ray had spotted her walking through the parking lot to her car and had stopped for a moment to talk to her. He’d stood beside his truck, told her he’d come to town to pick up Guy, his nephew, and Sam’s son from the airport.
Forever Mine Page 4
