by Jillian Hart
By the time she’d scrabbled up the side of the remaining stack, little infernos had ignited everywhere. There were too many. Maybe it’s time to let the barn go. The tractor’s engine roared and more crackling bales gave way at the ramlike punch of the tractor’s bucket. She caught sight of Hunter shifting into Reverse, covered with soot and brushing burning hay off his forearm. Sparks rained on him, incinerating chunks tried to land on him and still he made another go at the fire.
Definitely time to admit they were outmatched.
“Step back, missy.” A voice spoke behind her. Milton drove his pitchfork into a patch of burning hay. “We’ve got a barn to save.”
“We?” Through wisps of smoke, pickups pulled to a stop across the road. Men leaped from them, shouting orders.
“Hunter called on his cell,” Milton explained, pitching the flames and hay outside onto the gravel. “I turned around and called a few neighbors. Don’t worry, we’ll get this licked.”
Emotion pricked her eyes and she had to turn away. Hunter. Why did everything always come down to him? She watched him behind the wheel, in control, lowering the bucket to scoop burning debris away from the remaining haystack. So close she could see the heat reddening his face and an angry burn on his arm.
Her only goal in coming here had been to avoid him. Impossible. Somehow she was going to have to figure out a way to deal with him. She risked a glance across the road, where Simon sat next to Whip. She caught the nasty gleam in her old man’s eyes. He was the sole keeper of her secret.
The problem with secrets was that they rarely stayed truly hidden.
This one had to.
* * *
“I told Whip that hay was still a mite too damp.” Milton looked worse for wear as he sat on the bumper of the fire truck, letting Jerry, the volunteer fire marshal, patch him up. “But no, he wanted the men to stack it. Wouldn’t listen to me. You know how he gets.”
“Everyone knows how he gets,” Jerry assured him.
“You put up hay that isn’t totally dry, those damp spots build up heat. On a day as hot as today, it can ignite.” Milton sent a stream of tobacco into the ditch. “Truth is, those were some tough days with Whip sick and in pain and takin’ it out on us. Not sure the men stacking the hay cared much, and I was busy jury-rigging the water pump, so my hands were full.”
Hunter nodded, leaning against the fire truck’s fender. No doubt working conditions had been tough here for a while and considering his obvious financial problems, Whip hadn’t wanted to pay the hands an extra day’s work to wait around for the hay to dry. He took a moment to notice the peeling paint and the missing shingles. While he’d worked in this barn after high school, he and Whip had parted ways long ago, before Millie left. He’d never had much respect for a man who treated people the way Whip did.
“The fire’s out, we’ve mopped up, but you’ll have a big cleanup.” Jerry gave Milton a pat on his arm. “You make sure Doc Littlejohn takes a look at that tomorrow. Hunter, you’re next.”
“I don’t need patching up.” A few blisters were nothing to worry about. “Did you take a look at Millie?”
“First thing. She refused, too.”
“I’m not surprised.” That woman could take stubbornness to new levels. He’d nearly had heart failure seeing her climb the stack, standing in the rafters surrounded by flames. Not that he didn’t admire her for it. “If we’re done here, I’m heading home.”
“That’s what I’m gonna do.” Milton staggered to his feet. “It’s way past my bedtime.”
“Nearly midnight. Sleep tight, Milt.” Hunter followed the light of the moon to the open barn doors, where the volunteers rolled up the last fire hose. The dank smell of smoke and charred hay overwhelmed him as his boots hit the floor.
A close call. No doubt about it. He wandered down the aisle past vacant stalls to the fall of light from the office door. The wise choice would be to hop in his truck and head home, but he had to check on her. Some habits were hard to break, regardless of how bad they were for you.
“Okay, I’ll be there in a bit.” Nothing was prettier than Millie’s voice soft with affection as she talked into a handheld radio. “Just close your eyes and think of home.”
“But there’s funny noises in the wall.” The boy’s words crackled across the two-way.
“It’s nothing to worry about. Think of being able to play with your friends again. What’s the first thing you’re going to do when we get back?” Leaning against the wall, she smiled over at him, gave him an in-a-second look.
He nodded, message received, and stayed in the hallway. He jammed his hands in his pockets, just glad to see she was all right. Well, relatively all right, as she was streaked with soot and her T-shirt riddled with little burn holes. What was she doing refusing medical treatment?
“Then just think about Alexander’s tree house and going back to school with your friends and you’ll fall back to sleep, kiddo.”
The boy’s sigh rasped from the speakers. “I’ll try.”
“Good boy. Call again if you need me.” She set the hand unit on the battered wooden desk. Heaps of paper, junk mail and bills with red past due stamps were piled as high as the cracked computer monitor. Millie shook her head at the mess and focused on him. Big blue eyes full of gratitude. “You. Not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”
“Anyone around here would have done the same thing. No biggie.” He didn’t want her feeling beholden to him. That was a recipe for disaster. “Just wanted to check on you before I head out.”
“I’m glad you did. I owe you a huge, ginormous thanks.” She pushed off from the wall. “What you did tonight—”
“Forget it.”
“I can’t. You could have been badly burned. The entire stack could have come down on you.”
“I used the bucket as a shield. Not my first time knocking down a fire.” The air in the room vanished. He pretended it didn’t. “Had a big wildfire last summer. Most neighbors were out fighting it by hand. We stopped it before it got a hold and ripped through every field and barn in the valley.”
“Why am I not surprised? You were on the front line leading the charge, weren’t you?” She eased in, smelling of charred wood, smoke and faintly of lilacs.
Lilacs. That jogged his memory, flashing him back a decade. Easy to remember standing right here in this barn, with the haze of midsummer sunshine and the horses huffing softly in the doorway, waiting to get going with the trail ride. How he’d taken his time, laying his hand against the satin softness of her cheek, his pulse kicking double time, gathering up enough courage to kiss her. His chest squeezed, wringing out an old drop of affection. Affection he’d be a fool to give in to.
“Better go. I’ve got an early morning.”
“It is technically morning. You’re not going anywhere until I take care of those burns.”
“They’re fine.”
“Don’t even try that on me.” She opened a squeaky cabinet and hauled out a flat gray box. “Not sure how up-to-date this is.”
“It looks like World War II surplus.”
“Tell me about it. The cobwebs are a little worrying.” She swiped them off and opened the tin, shoving aside the pile of paper on the desk to make room to set it down. “There are a few cans of pop in the fridge, if you want to get them.”
“Now that does sound good.” He was parched from the inside out. The rumble of the fire truck faded, the men were gone and he and Millie were truly alone. Not sure he was comfortable with that. He yanked open the ancient refrigerator and let the cool wash over him before grabbing two cans from the shelves.
“Here.” He popped the tabs, set Millie’s down next to the first-aid kit and breathed in the sugary scent of grape soda. “Guess Milton won’t mind. We haven’t broken into his stash in ten years.”
> “It’s no good, Hunter. I know you always sneaked in and replaced the bottles.” She pushed out the desk chair with her foot, giving him a look that said sit.
He’d learned not to argue with that look, so he hunkered down. “It was only fair. Milton’s a good man. He’s stuck by your dad a long time.”
“Not an easy feat, but bless him for it.” She dabbed a cotton swab along his brow. “I hear from your sister that Luke has a serious girlfriend.”
“Don’t know how serious she is, but he’s smitten. I didn’t know you and Brooke kept in touch.”
“We reconnected over the internet a few years ago. Judging by your tone, you don’t approve of this girlfriend?”
“Does that really surprise you?”
“No.” She swabbed a clear balm onto his forehead. “Apparently your opinion on love and marriage hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Nope.” He gritted his teeth against the sting. There were tons of things he ought to say about Luke falling for a city girl, about love in general, about how he’d never make the mistake of handing his heart over to a woman. But did the words come? No, the ones that would reassert their differences and the rift between them lay mute on his tongue. What did come out? The one thing he never should ask. “How long have you been divorced?”
“I never married Simon’s father.”
While he winced at the boy’s name, the sadness in Millie’s eyes hurt him more. “I—I didn’t know. That had to be rough on your own.”
“Being a single mother isn’t easy.” She knelt in front of him, attacking a quarter-sized burn on his forearm with a cotton ball. “But I made it through. Simon was the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Hands down, the best.”
“What about the father? He doesn’t help with child support?”
“Why are you asking?” Her jaw snapped shut, she lurched back, stalking out of his line of sight. “I thought we agreed not to bring up the past. It was your idea, and here you are, bringing up the past.”
“Sorry.” Probably a sore subject, he realized. No marriage, raising a child on her own, had the man abandoned her? Anger roared through him like a riptide, taking him under. She had it hard. Coming here had to make it harder. “You’re down on your luck, Millie.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Either way it’s not your business.”
“True, but I can’t help seeing what I see. The coupons. The crackers you couldn’t afford to buy.”
“Again, not your business. Because you’re asking, life has been a bit of a challenge lately, but things are going to turn around any minute now.”
If anyone could will it to happen, then Millie could. She looked a mess—a cute mess. “You’re finally going to have to give up on that old T-shirt. How old is it anyway?”
“I picked it up at a thrift store, so no way for me to know.” She returned with a cotton swab and a bandage.
“You shop at thrift stores?”
“Nothing wrong with that.” Chin up, pride intact, her eyes shadowed with sorrow. “We get by. I lost my job a while back, so things have been tight.”
“How tight?”
“Not your business, bud.” Millie had always been the strongest woman he’d ever known. She crouched before him. “Life has its ups and downs. This is one of those downs, but not for long.”
“But the father, shouldn’t he be helping?”
“I don’t want to talk about him.” Her gaze fastened on his like a slap.
“Curious, the man you left me for left you.”
“What did I just say?” Honestly. He was going to notice her hands shaking if she didn’t change the subject. “What about you? You’re over thirty and have no one to love. No one loves you. How’s your philosophy working out?”
“Just great. No one to hurt, no one to hurt me. That’s all love is in the end, one big pile of hurt.” But the bravado he’d sported ten years ago was gone. He swallowed hard, taking a moment to pause. “It’s what I tried to save both of us from.”
“It didn’t work for me.” She’d been the foolish one, falling so far in love with a man who didn’t love her in return. He’d likely never love anyone. Really, she felt sorry for him. As hard as he fought not to make his father’s mistakes, he was just like him, alone, driving everyone away who wanted to love him. “I got Simon out of the deal, so I’m good. I’m grateful.”
“You’re grateful for the one big pile of hurt?”
“Absolutely.” Life was an unfathomable mix of pain and joy, but it all came down to what you focused on. She tore off the wrapping and slapped on the bandage, pressing to make sure the adhesive stuck.
The warm texture of his skin reminded her of all the times she’d been this close. Holding hands and laughing, giving him a lick from an ice-cream cone and sharing whispers, all memories she didn’t want. Memories she could no longer look at. He used to be her dream.
“Mom.” Her son’s voice crackled across the old two-way. “Mom, the noise is getting louder.”
She had a new dream now. She grabbed the radio. “I’ll be over in a few more minutes, okay?”
“Okay.”
She wasn’t surprised to hear the scrape of the chair as Hunter rose or the laid-back drum of his gait on the floor. Shadows clung to him. She didn’t know how long she could keep this up, but thankfully he grabbed his hat, tipped it to her and left without another word.
She dropped into the chair, breathing hard against a mix of emotions she was too exhausted to deal with. Mostly fear. Mostly relief he hadn’t guessed he’d been the one who wasn’t interested in his own son. Never once had he checked on her. Not once had he returned her calls.
She’d been six months pregnant when she’d given up hoping he would come back into her life. She’d gone on alone—to give birth, to make a new life and to raise her son.
Her son, not his.
Listening to his boot steps fade, she knew she’d made the right decision. He hadn’t changed. She took a long swig of soda and savored the sugary sweetness one moment longer. She heard the rasp of the barn doors closing, Hunter doing her work for her on his way to his truck.
She grabbed the radio, slipped out the office door and crossed the road, where a single light burned from Simon’s bedroom window. She didn’t look back.
Chapter Five
All anyone could talk about was the fire. Hunter measured milk replacer into the bucket, doing his level best to ignore the incessant ring of the barn phone. He’d hardly slept for the four or so hours he’d been in bed, thinking about Millie—and not wanting to think about Millie. She was stuck in his head against his will. She still smelled like lilacs, her soft dark hair as bouncy and untamed as ever and she could make him feel, when all he wanted was to keep his heart like stone.
“Got a good look at the fire scene.” His brother burst through the doors. “That was some job you did. Kept the whole place from going up.”
“You would have done the same thing, I was just the one there, that’s all.” He turned on the hot water tap and stuck his finger in the stream, waiting for it to run warm. “God was with us on that one.”
“Sure. That indifferent tone can’t fool me.”
“Fool you? Luke, you’re already ten times a fool for falling in love with a city girl.”
“Hey, she says she’s in love with me, so I’m in good company.”
“Grin any wider and you’ll break something.” He aimed hot water into the bucket. “You’re happy now, sure, but just wait. Heartbreak always follows.”
“Not necessarily. Some loves don’t end.”
“The romantic kind usually does.” Something stabbed him in the heart, some lame emotion he didn’t want. “Got to feel sorry for Millie, a single mom struggling.”
“I did a little recon and asked Brooke to spill what she knew. Millie was
laid off nine months ago. She worked as a receptionist, but companies aren’t doing a whole lot of hiring these days.”
“You'd think she could find something.”
“I’m sure she will, but right now she’s got Whip to deal with and all his problems.” Luke flipped through the storage closet.
“Think there’s any chance she can hire back Whip’s milking hands so you and I don’t have to help her?” He shut off the faucet, gave the batch a stir and dumped it into the two waiting bottles.
“Nope. Millie says she’s worked the books backward and forward and there isn’t a cent until the milk check arrives.” He pulled out a box of mousetraps and set them on the counter. “Told her you and I would help where we could. She’s got a few other problems. Thought we could donate some supplies.”
“Wouldn’t hurt.” It couldn’t be easy for her coming home. No good memories waited for her inside her father’s house, which hadn’t seen maintenance in a long while.
“Give me those.” Luke grabbed the bottles. “I’ll take care of feeding the calves.”
“Good, then I’m heading to church. Looks like I’ll be able to make it to the service early after all.” He grabbed his truck keys. “Maybe I can help with some of the picnic setup.”
Luke studied him with a frown. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to avoid her.”
“Who?” Best to act clueless, pretend the woman wasn’t stuck in his mind like glue.
“Who else? C’mon, Hunter. You never fell out of love with her, if you ask me.”
“I’m not asking you because you would be wrong. I don’t have any old feelings for the woman.” He grabbed his Stetson. “Just relief I dodged that bullet.”
“You never were going to marry her?”
“I never meant to get so serious with her. I recognized my mistake too late. It won’t happen again.” She’d gotten past his defenses and made him open up. She made him care. That was what kept him from REM sleep last night and what ate at him as he held up a hand in farewell and turned his back on his brother.
