Avery couldn’t still be expecting a ride from Lana, could she? After publicly humiliating Lana about her wedding, surely she’d found another ride or decided not to go. Lana would just text her to confirm.
She swiped through her contacts, found Avery’s number and opened a text message box.
Her thumb over the keyboard, she paused. Maybe it was too early to text Avery. She’d wait until after getting dressed.
She slipped into the dress, grabbed her hairbrush and brushed her hair, harder than usual. It would be nice if this apartment had a full-length mirror so she could see if her shoes looked okay with the dress.
She’d better text Avery now.
More uneasiness nudged at her. But why? Avery was the one who had something to feel guilty about, not Lana.
Forgive.
The word popped into her head out of nowhere. Inadvertently, she glanced over at her Bible.
Forgive.
It was at the center of the New Testament.
But Avery was so...awful. In addition to embarrassing Lana, the woman was trying to ruin the boys ranch.
Lana leaned close to the small mirror, adding a little eyeliner and mascara. Light and natural, for church. Just an enhancement.
Just something Flint might notice and admire.
Except she couldn’t meet her own eyes, and reluctantly, she finished up her makeup and sank back down into her chair.
If Avery was telling the truth, she’d been raised in foster care and hadn’t had an easy time of it. That her pain came out in difficult behaviors shouldn’t be a surprise. Lana saw it all the time in her first-graders. The kids who needed love the most acted the least loveble.
What had Avery said? Haven, Texas, was a hard place to move to from Dallas. And it would be, if you didn’t know anyone.
Lana knew about loneliness. Maybe that was why the Lord had put it on her heart to invite Avery to come to church.
She blew out a sigh. The Lord had put it on her heart. She needed to obey.
If nothing else, church would keep Avery out of trouble for a few hours. Lana didn’t like the woman, and she didn’t expect to enjoy their time together. But at least she could take the right action. Maybe a better attitude would follow.
Resigned now, Lana was just about to leave her pleasant armchair and finish getting ready when she sensed God keeping her anchored there.
What is it, Lord?
Forgive.
She didn’t actually hear the word, but the idea of forgiveness filled her mind, and she propped her cheek on her hand, wondering. She’d decided to do the right thing by Avery, right? She was trying.
Forgive.
There was that idea, echoing again. So it was something else, and reluctantly, Lana sank back into the chair and closed her eyes, Bible in hand.
Something fluttered out of her Bible. The prayer card one of her friends had given her after she’d been jilted at the altar.
She picked it up, blowing out a breath.
Really, Lord?
She guessed it was time. Tentatively, cautiously, she let her feelings and thoughts turn to the second most difficult day in her life, just behind the loss of her parents.
Her supposed-to-be wedding day.
Did she have to go there?
Probably so.
She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her knees to her chest and forced herself to think about that day. To remember standing in the back of the church among her three purple-clad bridesmaids, heart fluttering. To remember the warm spring air blowing through the open church door and the fragrance of her lilac bouquet.
Then, through the side door that led to the pastor’s study, Gregory had approached with the pastor. He hadn’t looked like a joyous groom. No, his face had been full of anguish and dread.
They’d pulled her into a small back parlor. And she’d known. Actually, the moment she’d seen them approaching, she’d known.
Hearing Gregory say the words, seeing the tears stream down his cheeks, feeling the pastor’s hand patting her shoulder...each moment had sealed the lid on her romantic dreams of a happy, traditional married life.
Now, she forced herself to remember Gregory’s words, to pay attention. He’d said he just wasn’t ready, wasn’t sure he even wanted to be married. That he’d let physical attraction push him toward something he now felt was wrong for him.
A couple of tears escaped as she felt the loss and humiliation all over again, but she brushed them away and forced herself to think about what he’d said, about the relationship they’d had. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, she realized she should have seen the signs. Unlike Gregory, she’d been more than ready for marriage, absolutely sure she was made for it. Possibly to the point where she’d seized on the first somewhat promising candidate and pushed him in a direction he wasn’t ready to go.
She saw now that her own deep longing for a family had made her too hasty to encourage Gregory into a proposal and then a wedding. Yes, he’d been wrong to go along with it. A gentle fellow teacher, eager to please, he hadn’t had the spark to stand up for himself until the reality of marriage was upon them.
Flint would never have done that.
Where in the world did that thought come from? But it was true; she knew the quiet cowboy would never go along with an idea he knew wasn’t right. He could listen, and he was willing to change, as he’d begun to do in his treatment of Logan, but only when he fully believed it was the right thing to do.
He was too strong to be pushed around, and Lana, knowing she could be a little too enthusiastic and assertive at times, would be better suited to a man like that: a man who was able to be strong in return.
The canceled wedding wasn’t entirely Gregory’s fault. She needed to accept her share in the problem. She needed to forgive him for his lack of courage in waiting until the last minute to break it off.
Tears stung her eyes. Lord, You’re sure building humility in me, aren’t You?
But one thing at a time. She’d work on acting forgiving toward Avery, and maybe do some thinking about Gregory. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. The truth was, being jilted had saved her from a marriage to someone who wasn’t strong enough for her and wouldn’t ultimately have made her happy.
Thank You, Father. She stood up, still pondering. She might not have her earthly parents, but she had an even better guide in her heavenly father.
She stretched, caught a glimpse of the clock, and rushed to her closet to find shoes and a necklace. She’d have to hustle to pick up Avery in time. But being with God in prayer was definitely more important than lingering over what shoes to wear to church.
Fifteen flurried minutes later, Lana approached the Blue Bonnet Inn. Just one street away from Haven’s downtown, the large, stately bed-and-breakfast boasted true Southern hospitality. On another day, Lana would have lingered on the walkway, but today she was hurrying.
At peace, but hurrying.
She’d just raised her hand to open the screen door that led into the foyer when she heard Avery Culpepper’s voice. “I know, can you believe it? But one of the locals invited me, and I couldn’t think up an excuse on the spot.”
Lana paused. Was Avery talking about church?
“No! You know me. I only worship one thing in this life—money.”
Taking a step back, Lana swallowed. Now she knew for sure that Avery had been talking about church. And that Avery’s heart was very, very hard.
Which made Lana very, very worried about the boys ranch’s future.
You’re sure about this, Lord? But Lana knew He was. Sometimes the least lovable need love the most, she reminded herself. She knocked on the door and then opened it. “Hey, Avery! Ready for church?”
* * *
It turned out that Avery had been, in a certain
way, ready for church, Lana reflected as she exited the pew at the end of the service. The woman looked way dressier than most of the congregation in her heavy makeup, formfitting dress and super-high heels, her blond hair big and curled and bouncing down her back. She’d spent most of the service texting on her cell phone, but now that it had ended, she looked up and narrowed her eyes, scanning the sanctuary.
It was almost as if she was looking for her next opportunity to stir up trouble. Lana could only hope that some of the pastor’s message had gotten into Avery by osmosis.
“There’s coffee and doughnuts out in the church hall,” she forced herself to offer. “And a couple of adult Sunday school classes, too. Everyone’s very friendly, and you would be welcome to attend either one.”
Avery stood. “Thanks. I’ll probably check one out.”
“Great! I can’t go, since I teach a kids’ class, but—”
“Well, of course you do,” Avery said in a decidedly hostile voice.
Lana blinked. “But we can meet up afterwards so I can drive you home,” she said, making herself continue in an even tone.
Avery’s eyes lit on Eduardo Gomez, the recently widowed father of one of the girls in Lana’s class. “That’s all right, I’ll find my own way home,” she said, tossing back her hair and heading toward Eduardo just as his daughter, Valentina, rushed up to cling to her father’s leg.
Lana blew out a sigh. Eduardo was still grieving the loss of his wife, and so was Valentina. He was also a member of the Lone Star Cowboy League and quite wealthy.
She watched as Avery put a hand on Eduardo’s arm and then squatted down to pinch Valentina’s cheek.
“I suppose you thought that was your Christian duty, bringing her here, but I call her a viper.” Marnie Binder appeared at Lana’s side. “Look at her, flirting with poor Eduardo.”
“I’m sure Eduardo can take care of himself, but I worry about Valentina. She’s so needy right now.”
“And what she doesn’t need is a gold digger trying to get at her daddy’s money.”
Uncomfortable with the conversation as much as with the scene in front of her, Lana turned away. “I’m going to grab some coffee and round up my munchkins before they get too sugared up. They’re already a little crazy with Christmas coming.”
But when she reached the large open hallway where refreshments were served, she realized she was too late. Several of the kids who were in her class were running through the area, jostling adults and generally causing a ruckus.
Lana squatted down and intercepted the two boys nearest her. “Colby! Damon! Time for class. Walking feet, please.”
Colby, a former ranch resident who now lived with his aunt in town, looked ashamed. “I’m sorry, Miss Alvarez. C’mon, Damon.”
The other boy, who’d taken Colby’s place when Colby left the ranch, frowned as if he was about to defy the order. But between Lana’s stern look and Colby’s tugging at his arm, he turned toward the classroom wing.
“Disaster averted,” Pastor Andrew said at her elbow, chuckling. “Thanks, Lana—”
Behind them, a crash sounded. All the chattering voices went still.
Lana turned. What now?
Logan and six-year-old TJ Johnson, stood, eyes wide, staring at Fletcher Snowden Phillips. The blustery lawyer must have been knocked down, because he sat on the floor, legs sprawled, with coffee spilled down the front of his white shirt. His Stetson lay beside him, and his hair hung to one side, revealing his bald pate. His face was almost purple, his mouth open.
“Prepare for explosion,” Pastor Andrew murmured at her side. “I’m going in.” He headed toward the man.
“I’ll have your hides, you little hooligans!” Fletcher yelled, jamming his Stetson back on his head.
Conversation burst out again as everyone tried to explain what had happened. Two members of the Lone Star Cowboy League pulled Fletcher to his feet, and Marnie Binder bustled over with a handful of napkins.
“Now, Fletcher,” Lana heard Marnie say as she dabbed at his shirtfront. “Those boys meant no harm. They just happened to knock you off balance. Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not all right!” he roared. “This is an outrage. Those boys run roughshod over our community, and it’s got to stop.”
Logan and TJ were backing away, both looking like they were about to cry. They needed to be taught how to do what was right, so Lana stepped forward and knelt between them. “What do you say to Mr. Phillips, boys?”
Logan gulped. “I’m sorry for knocking you down.”
“Me, too,” TJ quavered.
“Sorry isn’t good enough.” Fletcher’s voice wasn’t quite as loud, but his face remained dangerously red. “Town meeting. Tomorrow night. The Boys Ranch has to go.”
As more members of the League circled around Fletcher, obviously trying to calm him down, Lana looked for Flint but didn’t see him. Well, he’d find out what had happened soon enough. And fortunately, dealing with Fletcher Snowden Phillips was not part of her job; her responsibility was the children. “Come on, boys. We have a lot of fun things to do in Sunday school.”
* * *
After an hour on the phone trying to find a part for one of the old tractors, Flint headed back into the church. He went to services for Logan’s sake—and because he knew he needed to give the Lord some chance to work in him—but he wasn’t about to participate in a Sunday school class. That was a little too personal. He might be called upon to talk about his faith.
Besides, he was in a foul mood. He’d glanced through the window into the church lobby just in time to see Lana Alvarez and the preacher talking intently together. Then, they’d rushed off to do something.
Which was absolutely fine. A good reminder. Lana needed to be with someone closer to her age, a young man like the preacher who wasn’t weighed down with responsibilities. And Flint needed to get back to his quiet, independent life and to keep Logan on the right track.
Speaking of which, he wasn’t pleased that Logan had played a role in Fletcher Snowden Phillips getting knocked down. Several churchgoers had pounced on him, one after another, to tell him about his son’s misbehavior. He’d scold Logan and have him write Fletcher a note to apologize. But kids were kids, and it definitely sounded like Fletcher had overreacted.
No big surprise there.
He heard the church bells strike noon, which meant Sunday school should be over. As usual, he headed around the church to the back door rather than making his way through the crowd inside. He’d get to the classroom, collect Logan and head back to the ranch.
Once inside, though, he saw that it wasn’t going to be that easy. A crowd of parents stood in the hallway, while others drifted into the unoccupied side of the large room. Obviously, Logan’s class wasn’t over yet.
He got there just in time to help push aside the heavy vinyl curtain that divided the classroom in two. So he caught the sweet scent of the gingerbread cookies one of the families had brought. And even in his antisocial mood, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw the kids decked out in their cute Christmas outfits. He was grateful Logan had insisted on wearing the Christmas sweater Marnie Binder had knit for him. He fit right in.
Lana Alvarez rose gracefully from the low table where she’d been sitting on a child-sized chair. “I’m sorry we’re running behind,” she said to the assembled parents. “Do you mind waiting five or ten more minutes? We’re just putting the finishing touches on our project for today, and then we need to pray.”
Everyone assured her that it was fine—well, everyone but Flint, but she didn’t seem to notice—and started gathering around the coffeepot in the empty side of the room. Lana turned back to the stack of colorful drawings and notes the children had been making. And then she snapped her fingers. “You know what? Logan, Allie, could you ask your dad and mom to come in here?�
�
Logan ran to get Flint, and another little girl ran toward a twentysomething woman with short blond hair. Flint found himself tugged into the classroom, toward a table seating about ten kids close to Logan’s age. Tugged into close proximity with Lana Alvarez, neatly thwarted in his desire to escape entanglement.
“Children, who can explain where we’re sending these letters, and why?” Lana asked.
“To the soldiers,” one child said.
“To heroes,” said another.
“They’re sad because they can’t come home for Christmas,” Logan explained seriously.
“Yes! And, children, did you know we have two soldiers right here?” Lana gestured toward him and the blonde woman. “They’re called veterans because they aren’t fighting anymore, but they’re still heroes.”
Flint kind of hated this type of thing, but he knew it was important for kids. He looked over at the blonde, wondering if she was one of the few vets who ate up this kind of attention. Her subtle wince made him smile. She must feel the same way he did.
The children’s eyes were round.
“Do you have any questions for Mr. Rawlings or Mrs. Pfeifer?” Lana looked up at them apologetically. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your correct rank and title.”
Flint waved a dismissive hand at the same time the Pfeifer woman did.
“Did you have to go away from home at Christmas?” one of the kids asked.
The blonde nodded. “I was overseas at this time last year,” she said, squatting down to put her arm around her daughter. “And I’m so happy to be home with my Allie this year.”
“How about you, Flint?” Lana asked. She was looking at him with something like compassion in her eyes. “Did you ever spend a Christmas away when you were serving?”
Flint didn’t have to think about it, because he remembered all too vividly. He’d been in his early twenties and homesick as the sky darkened on Christmas Eve, thinking about his brothers attending services together back in Colorado. He’d watched as one of his buddies approached a truck that had stopped at their checkpoint outside the base.
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