Now she was David Douglas’s widow and the mother of his twins and, from the way she had just treated him, still not interested in him.
“If I make a basket, you’ll have to make sure to bid on it,” Lilibeth was saying to him. “I’ll let you know what it looks like.”
“Isn’t that against the rules?” he said as he tugged his cell phone out of his pocket.
Lilibeth simpered at him, then shrugged. “My sisters do it all the time.”
“I might be too busy to bid anyway,” Brody said, giving a quick glance at the screen. A text from his friend Dylan. He was already at the café and waiting for him.
“Well, you set some time aside for me,” Lilibeth gave him a coy smile, then sashayed down Main Street.
“She’s quite the spitfire, isn’t she?”
Rusty Zidek’s gravelly voice behind Brody made him spin around. “Yeah, she is,” he agreed, looking back at Lilibeth, who shot him one last look over her shoulder as she stepped into her car.
“She seems overly upset lately about not winning the Miss Jasper Gulch contest,” Rusty continued, stroking his mustache, his grin showing the glint of a gold tooth.
“Her pride probably got bruised. Two of her sisters won before and I think she’s feeling the sting of sisterly competition.” Brody gave the elderly man a quick smile. “I have two sisters. They’re always one-upping each other. Clothes, boyfriends, jobs.”
“So was she nattering to Hannah about the contest, then?” Rusty asked, his voice nonchalant. But Brody caught a flicker of intensity in his eyes and was curious about his furtive movements.
“All I know is that she wanted to find out more about the Miss Jasper Gulch contest. Claimed it was rigged. She was asking if Hannah could access the minutes from the council meetings.” Brody felt like a tattletale, but he was curious where Rusty was going with this.
Rusty nodded slowly, as if digesting this information. “Well, we’ll need to discuss that later.” Then he looked up at Brody, his expression serious. “And I heard that you’ve said you would be willing to be part of the Time Capsule Committe.”
“Yeah, about that...” Brody paused a moment, thinking of the work ahead of him and his father on the ranch. They had just expanded and were busier than previous years. “Not so sure I can do it.”
“We could use your help trying to find the town’s missing time capsule. Deputy Calloway had his concerns about your being on the committee, but he did say if you were willing, he would overlook them.”
Brody knew exactly what those concerns were. He and Deputy Calloway had had a few run-ins during Brody’s wilder years. But Rusty’s comment made him uncertain, his pride battling with his ongoing desire to prove himself trustworthy.
“Hannah is the new secretary,” Rusty added with a little nudge of his elbow.
Brody held Rusty’s gaze, his piercing blue eyes nestled in a valley of wrinkles, a road map of his years and experience. Rusty had seen a lot coming and going in this town, and Brody knew the older man didn’t miss much.
“Well, that has a certain appeal,” he admitted. No sense being less than straight up with someone like Rusty.
“Kind of thought it might,” Rusty said with a smug look. “We started meeting in the late afternoon, to accommodate Hannah’s schedule. Our next meeting is Wednesday.”
“I’ll be there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet Dylan at Great Gulch Grub.”
“See you later,” Rusty said, then turned and walked across the street to the bakery where Brody saw his camouflage-colored Mule was parked.
Brody followed him but ducked into Great Gulch Grub. He saw Dylan sitting at a table toward the back of the noisy café, his hands clasped on either side of his shaved head, glowering at a large manual lying on the scarred, Formica-covered table.
“Can I please get a coffee and a piece of Vincente’s amazing apple pie?” Brody asked Mert, who stood behind the counter. Behind her he could hear Vincente singing snatches of an unfamiliar song. Probably some opera thing that he seemed to enjoy.
Mert’s hair was pulled back in her perpetual bun, but this late in the day a few hanks of hair had come loose and hung around her narrow face.
“What am I, your wife?” she quipped, giving the empty counter a wipe with the cloth she held.
“I still live in hope,” Brody said, sweeping his hat off his head and placing it on his chest.
“You should get your own in time for the Old Tyme wedding going on next month,” Mert teased. “I thought a romantic like you would be all over that event.”
Brody just laughed, Mert’s innocent comment making him think of Hannah. “Not yet, Mert. Not yet.”
“Don’t worry, cowboy, I know your future bride is out there. And if she’s not ready, we’ll find someone for you.”
“That makes me worry,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “I can find my own wife, thank you very much.” Then, before Mert could carry the conversation any further, he strode to the back of the café, greeting a few of the people he knew and dropping into an empty chair across from his friend.
“Troubles with the motorbike?” he asked, glancing over the pages Dylan was studying.
“Yeah. Something with the manifold.” Dylan sighed. “Sure wish you hadn’t sold yours. I could’ve scammed some parts from it.”
“Everything has its season and the motorbike’s was over.”
“We sure had some good times with them,” Dylan said.
Brody’s thoughts ticked back to those trips with Dylan, roaring through the countryside, carefree and foolish. He also remembered how happy his parents were when he sold the bike.
“So, thoughts about the booth for the fair?” he asked, changing the subject. “I already picked one out.”
“Me and the other guys were thinking we should get a corner one so we can park the fire truck behind it. Kids can sit in it. They love that kind of thing.”
“Here you go, cowboy,” Mert said to Brody, setting his pie and coffee in front of him. “Enjoy, and let me know when you’re ready to go wife shopping.”
“I’m fine,” Brody said with a grin. He picked up the fork and dug into his pie, his mouth watering. “I’ll have to go back and talk to Hannah again and change the booth if you want a corner one,” he said to Dylan between mouthfuls of cinnamon-laced apple pie.
The idea appealed, but he wanted to take a day to regroup and find another way to turn on the charm.
“You could talk to her now,” Dylan said, raising his chin toward the door.
Hannah came in, glanced around the café, then seemed to hesitate when she saw him, the smile on her face fading away. Brody knew the only empty table in the café was beside him and Dylan.
Her hesitation stung. A little. Though he knew she was a widow, he had nurtured a faint hope that maybe, eventually, he could let her see there were other fish in the sea. Him being one of the fish.
Then, with a gentle smile for Dylan and a polite one for him, she sat down at the empty table, her back to Brody.
Dylan raised his eyebrow, as if in question, and nodded toward Hannah again. “Here’s our chance.” He leaned over to look past Brody. “Hey, Mrs. Douglas. Brody needs to talk to you.” Then Dylan nudged Brody under the table with his foot and Brody had no choice but to deal with this.
With a glare at his friend, Brody wiped the piecrust crumbs off his face, put on a smile and turned around in his chair.
“Hi again,” he said, leaning his arm across the back of the wooden chair. “So. About that booth. Could we make a change?”
Hannah held his gaze and then looked down at the cell phone she clutched as if she needed to do something with it. “Depends on what you want to do.”
Still not too eager to talk to him, he noted. He pulled in a breath and pushed on. “Dylan and I
were just talking. Could we snag a corner booth instead? We were hoping to set up a fire truck behind it if there’s room.”
That caught her attention. Her subsequent smile and excitement reignited a glimmer of hope. “That would be a great idea,” she said.
“We thought the kids would like that, too,” Brody said, encouraged by her enthusiasm. “We could get some little fire hats to give away.”
“What do you think of getting someone to take pictures of the kids with their hats on standing by the truck?” Her infectious smile increased her appeal. Her dark eyes lit up, and the light from the window behind her made her brown hair shine. She wore it loose and it flowed over her shoulders. Like melted chocolate.
“I think Scottie Sawchuk at the station has a good camera. We could get him set up. What do you think of selling people the pictures?”
“As part of the fund-raiser. Great idea.” Her eyes sparkled with eagerness and a full, genuine smile curved her soft lips.
And dived into his heart and settled there.
“Perfect. If you could get us that corner stall, we’re in business.”
“I’ll do whatever I can,” she said.
Brody nodded, unable to ignore the knock of awareness he felt. She blinked, and her smile slowly faded. A cloud slid across the sun and the light left with her smile, followed by an awkward silence. Brody felt his brain seize up as he tried to find something clever to say.
“If there’s nothing more...” Hannah let the sentence hang, giving him the perfect opportunity to capitalize on the moment, but nope. Still nothing.
Since when was he tongue-tied in the presence of a woman?
Since it was Hannah Douglas. And though his mind was blank, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
“No. I think that’s it,” he said finally.
“Then I’ll let you get back to your dessert,” she said.
Her words were polite and her voice cool and once again Brody got the impression she was trying to get rid of him. Then she turned away and Brody returned to his pie.
“So I guess we’ve got that settled then,” Dylan said, closing his book and looking up at his friend, thankfully unaware of Brody making unsuccessful googly eyes at Hannah Douglas. “You stopping at the hall before you go to the ranch?”
“I need to pick up a shirt I left behind there after our last call to Alfie Hart’s place.”
“Still can’t believe you were about to go into that barn for his dog.”
Brody just shrugged as he took another bite of pie. The fire Dylan talked about had been straightforward until Alfie called out that his dog was inside the barn. Alfie was a bachelor and he and his dog were inseparable. Alfie had run to the barn with the idea of getting the dog out himself. Brody had pulled him back and had promised he would check it out. But as he put on his mask and headed into the building, the dog came charging around the other side.
“Someday you’ll have a reason not to be such a daredevil,” Dylan said, closing the manual and leaning back in his booth. “Like a girlfriend.” He gave Brody a smirk as if he knew that Brody was far too aware of Hannah sitting right behind him.
Brody just ignored him, wolfed down the last of his pie, chased it with coffee and stood.
“Let’s go.” Brody pulled out his wallet, fished a few bills out and dropped them on the table.
But before he left, he chanced another look at Hannah. And was surprised to see her looking at him, her eyes holding a question.
Then she turned away, effectively dismissing him.
Again.
“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Dylan asked Brody as they walked down Main Street back to the fire station.
“Who?”
Dylan nudged him with his elbow. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. Hannah Douglas. I know you’ve always liked her.”
Brody shrugged off his friend’s comment, preferring not to go back to that time. “That was many years and a lot of experiences ago.”
“Just as well. Those twins are a big responsibility. You want to date that woman, you’ve got huge shoes to fill.”
“David had big feet?” Brody asked, deliberately misunderstanding what Dylan was saying.
Dylan seemed to ignore his remark. “David Douglas was a good guy,” he said, his voice quiet. Almost reverent. “A man that good shouldn’t have died on some Afghani field by a roadside. Lousy bombers making Hannah a widow and single mother.”
“Only the good die young,” Brody murmured.
“He was always the first to volunteer for stuff. Always helping people.” Dylan was quiet a moment, as if remembering all the good things David Douglas had done. “Remember that summer when I was thinking of quitting my job as a carpenter? Leaving Jasper Gulch?”
“Was that the summer we cruised down the Oregon coast on our motorbikes?” Brody sighed. “I don’t think we drove under ninety that whole trip.”
“Yup. That summer. I never told you what happened when I came back from that trip because I felt embarrassed.”
“About what?”
Dylan shrugged, then crossed over the street. “You and I were pretty wild then. Neither of us attended church anymore.”
Though his relationship with God was an integral part of Brody’s life now, for many years the faith he had been born and raised with had been relegated to the “someday” corner of his life. The same place the wife and the three kids were always put. Somehow, in his wilder years, he had always assumed when he was ready for God, the rest would fall into place, as well.
Now he was twenty-nine and still no closer to finding a wife than he had been then.
“Well, I was feeling down,” Dylan was saying.
Brody punched him in the shoulder. “That was why we went on the trip. To get you out of that funk.”
“Trouble was, it didn’t help. I didn’t know what I wanted. David came over when we got back from our trip. He said he was concerned about me. Said he wanted to pray with me. It felt a little funny, especially after all the goofing around you and I had done, but I said yes.” Dylan shrugged, as if still self-conscious about what had happened. “Anyhow, praying with him gave me such peace and comfort. He came once a week just to talk and see how things were with me. He encouraged me to start coming back to church.”
Brody felt a flash of guilt at the memory. What a contrast. One friend who figured going crazy was the way to fix the problems in Dylan’s life. The other, who wasn’t even as close to Dylan as Brody was, knowing the right thing to do.
“So that’s why you started going back to church,” Brody said quietly as he punched in the pass code to get into the fire station. “I always wondered.”
“It was. We talked about work and jobs and he told me being a carpenter was a good thing to do. That building houses was important. That maybe I should find a way to give to the community, as well. Step outside of myself. And that’s when I volunteered for this gig,” he finished, his wave taking in the fire hall as they walked up the stairs to the dorms where they slept and kept their personal gear.
Brody felt a moment of letdown. “I always thought you signed up because of me.”
“Kind of, but mostly because of David. He did a lot of good for a lot of people.”
And Hannah, as well.
The hardest fire to fight is an old flame, Brody thought, reality falling into his life like the thud of an ax. He always had a vague feeling Hannah was out of reach.
Now he knew for sure.
* * *
By the time Hannah locked the doors of town hall, the pain behind her eyes had blossomed into a full-blown headache. Her feet ached and her back was sore and she generally just felt sorry for herself after such a busy day. But as she trudged across Main Street to her apartment, she stopped her moments of self-pity.
F
orgive me, Lord, she prayed. Help me be thankful for what I have.
The twins were healthy and she had the support of her friends and family.
But I’m alone.
The taunting thought worried at her moment of peace. Truth to tell, her loneliness had taken on a new hue the past few months. Losing David so soon after they married had been difficult. He had been a part of her life since she was in grade school. They had dated since the ninth grade. He was all she had ever known.
When he had signed up for the army, she had tried to be supportive. But when he proposed marriage just before he had received his orders to ship out, she had struggled with his urgency to get married. Her parents had simply told her to go with her heart. If she had followed their advice, she would have put off the marriage. She would have waited, but when David’s parents had added their voices to his, they created a pressure she was unable to withstand.
Two months later, she was a widow and pregnant with twins, unable to indulge in second thoughts. Her life had been a whirlwind of uncertain emotions and busyness ever since.
And in the past few months, a sense of loneliness had been added to the emotional stew.
Her thoughts slipped back to Brody as she opened the door leading to the stairs up to her apartment. Was it her overactive imagination, or maybe her lonely heart, that thought he had been flirting with her?
No sooner did that thought form than she heard Chrissy’s wails growing louder as she walked up the narrow stairs. Hannah took the last flight two at a time, digging in her purse for the key to the door.
Inside her apartment her mother sat in a wooden rocking chair holding a sobbing Chrissy, Corey clinging to her denim skirt, also crying. Chrissy’s blond curls clung to her forehead, and as Hannah closed the door, the little girl leaned away from her grandmother and reached out for Hannah, tears flowing down her scrunched-up cheeks.
“Oh, honey,” Hannah said, taking the hot bundle of sadness from her mother and tucking Chrissy’s warm head under her chin. “You’re still not feeling good, are you?” Chrissy released a few more sobs then quieted. Hannah dropped to the floor, shifted Chrissy to one arm, then scooped Corey up with her other arm. As he snuggled into her, blessed silence descended in the apartment.
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