Angel Child

by Tanya Hanson

  So close and yet so far.

  3

  The hustle and bustle in the kitchen didn’t portend well for Mary Grace. Her grabbing something and eating on the run, that is. As soon as she walked in, Elaine Martin decked her out in a ruffly calico apron.

  “No, no.” She tried to laugh it off, but the scents of home cooking and the chatter of family wrapped around her. Scott was whirling a little girl around the room, and a pretty blonde was busy with biscuits. “Scott is insisting I pick up something for the road. But I don’t want to impose…”

  Mrs. Martin made brisk introductions. “Mallie, Ella? This is Mary Grace. She’s taking over Kenn’s classroom. My granddaughter Ella, and my oldest son Hooper’s wife, Mallie. And nonsense, girl.” Elaine, an imposing woman who had passed on her height to most of her boys, stared down Mary Grace. “You’re staying for supper and that’s that. Scott can follow you home after, up Eagle Ridge. Right, son?”

  Mary Grace had to laugh at Scott’s cringe of surprise. “Mrs. Martin, I’m not afraid of the dark or a little old mountain pass. I don’t need an escort.”

  Elaine Martin stared into the big pot she was stirring. “Call me Elaine. Come to think of it. You’ll just stay the night. After church, Scott can get you home for the clothes you’ll need for next week.”

  While Mary Grace would never have thought the idea on her own, it wasn’t a bad one. For a moment, a tomato and paring knife kept her busy as she thought things through. She was tired. Her weekly visit with Creighton yesterday had wrenched her as it always did. The drive today, the tension of the interview and nerves about next week all topped by a trail ride with that breathtaking buckaroo conspired to make the long ride back to Lost Canyon unappealing. But…

  “I don’t have clothes for church. Not even a tooth brush.”

  Mrs. Martin smiled and counted on fingers as she spoke. “I’ve got daughters and daughters-in-law aplenty. You’re bound to find whatever you need. Besides which, we’ve got a gift shop full of things. And in closing, I direct guest services for dozens of folks at a time. There’s no more to be said. You just let your folks know, all righty?”

  “Whew. All righty, then.” As Mary Grace finished the tomato and laughed along with the group, Scott streaked to her side.

  “Sorry about that,” he muttered. “I sure didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

  “No trouble.” She honestly meant it. “It’s been a long day. I admit I’m almost relieved. And this way I can start studying the lesson plans.”

  She had to make sure he knew he wasn’t obligated to keep her company. The trail ride had been enough. “And I sure don’t need you to drive me home tomorrow.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Scott gave an affectionate snort. “Ma’s been known to get her way. Truth is…” His voice and eyes softened. “I wouldn’t mind a bit. If you don’t.”

  Of course she didn’t, as long as they kept things strictly friendship. “Only if Space Cowboy comes along. Where is the mutt anyway?” She hadn’t seen him since he’d sprinted down the hill during their ride.

  “Who knows? He’ll show up when he’s hungry enough. Probably chowed down on a ground squirrel halfway home. But he’ll for sure want to take a ride in the truck.”

  A wave of warmth and comfort fluttered over her, and for a foolish moment, she felt right at home, wishing her folks were here, too.

  But it was a skeleton crew of Martins who settled down for an informal supper around the big front room, fireplace roaring at their toes, balancing plates on knees, TV trays, end tables and ottomans. Even though she was new around here, Mary Grace knew the family was far bigger than the smallish group gathering to eat vegetable beef soup, salad, biscuits for dipping or jam, and homemade applesauce from the family’s orchard.

  Hooper, the oldest son and ranch foreman, said grace, and after the Amen, his little girl Ella piped in. “This is a day the Lord has made. Let each one of us rejoice in one good thing that happened today. Me, I broke the piñata at Teagan’s birthday party.”

  Her dad said, “We’re nearly done bringing in the herd from summer pasture.”

  “My latest scan is clean,” said Mallie, Hoop’s wife. Mary Grace watched relief and joy wreath Hooper’s face, unsure what was wrong but grateful for the couple’s happiness.

  “I’ve got me a good substitute.” Kenn smiled.

  Mary Grace reckoned she’d be getting a turn, but just as she tried to formulate something appropriate to say, another young woman burst through the front door, a baby in her arms.

  “Sorry I’m late. Getting things done without Tiffany is all but impossible.”

  “Get some grub and save your breath.” Mrs. Martin sounded stern, but her eyes sparkled. “I had seven of ya in nine years and managed just fine.” Then her voice caught. “But I had your pa to help out.” She was up at once, hugging the newcomers. “Mary Grace, my eldest daughter, Rachel. Second after Hooper. And her little guy, Matthew. He’s fourteen months.” She finished the introductions with a nod. “Mary Grace is Kenn’s substitute. Tiffany is Matty’s nanny. Today she and Bragg are visiting her relations over in Sunset Hills.”

  Mary Grace nodded. From the way Mrs. Martin’s words rounded over the name of the nearby town, she reckoned it was a place special to her.

  “Ma’s got a beau there,” Scott said with a tease as if reading Mary Grace’s own thoughts. “Doyle Calhoun. If you know the reality show ‘The Last Real Rancher,’ well, Mr. Calhoun’s the star of it.”

  “Pshaw, Scott. Doyle’s no such thing to me. Now you hush your mouth.” Mrs. Martin blushed like a young girl, so Mary Grace figured Scott was right, but she stepped up. She knew all about sensitive romantic entanglements.

  “Oh, I just love that show!” Her enthusiasm rang throughout the room. “I watched it with my dad every week during the summer. So you all know Doyle Calhoun?”

  “Everybody’s friends around here for a hundred miles or more,” Mrs. Martin said. “Tomorrow, Mary Grace, you’ll be meeting the entire clan at Sunday dinner. Except for Christy, of course. You’ll be meeting up with her when she’s back from her convention, and my baby girl Chelsea who’s off to college in Boulder.”

  Mrs. Martin stopped for breath, and Mary Grace joined her in a sigh. She spooned some of the delicious soup into her mouth. Hearts Crossing beef, she reckoned, and homegrown vegetables. Dusted with cinnamon, the cold applesauce full of crisp chunks was close to ambrosia.

  As the happy chatter continued, she sighed again, not as contented now. In the early days of marriage in Grosse Pointe, Mary Grace had had a cook-housekeeper, but often during her life with Creighton, she’d had to depend on frozen meals and take-out pizza. He had taken every spare second. Living back home provided better fare, but her mom was tired out from long years feeding farm hands. Mary Grace, no cook at all, did what she could with semi-prepared meals and convenience foods. Maybe she could learn some down-home techniques from Mrs. Martin and Kelley, the chef.

  Laughter and chit-chat paused while folks tended to their stomachs, and Mary Grace peered around the spirited family, soaking up the comfort and love around her. Her heart pulled at the sight of Hooper’s adoring look at his wife, the brush of his hand atop his little girl’s head. All reminders of what she’d lost. A man to love, because hers had left. A child close by, because his issues demanded professional care she couldn’t give.

  The sights and sounds around her reminded her of what she wanted. A man to love her, to want her. But more than that, a man to love Creighton.

  Her gaze landed on Scott, and she turned quickly away. He was far too appealing.

  At that precise second, he spoke. “We never finished Ella’s request now, did we, Rachel?” His eyebrows rose with affection at his busy older sister.

  Rachel’s eyes closed. “I rejoice because Nick is…feeling better. Getting used to being a civilian again.”

  “Praise God,” the family said, almost as one.

  Mary Grace ached to grip Rachel’
s hand. Her own experiences as a troubled wife echoed in Rachel’s tone and tension.

  “As for me, I rejoice today because of Heather.” Scott’s voice changed, slow and soft as a feather in wind, as he described his therapy ride with the little handicapped girl. In her head, she saw Creighton atop a gentle horse, tied safely somehow, with Scott’s capable, caring hands leading him into the adventure of a lifetime. He glanced at Mary Grace, and she shook her head.

  “I’ve been thinking.” Scott took a sip from his mug of coffee. “I’m looking into how to best give therapy rides, for one thing. But not just to Heather. I think we should look into opening a therapeutic riding center here at Hearts Crossing.”

  Hoop’s face split into a grin. “I think that’s fantastic idea. We ought to get Bragg and Pike in on this, though.”

  “By all means,” Ma intoned. “It’s another way for our ranch to service God through helping others. I’m all for it should our due diligence make it doable.”

  “Well, Mrs. Clark said the nearest center is in Broken Bow. I’ll look into starting an official program here. I’m thinking like Ma. If it’s something we can do, we should.” Scott looked at his hands for a quiet moment before he said, “That ride with Heather, man, that was one of the best rides of my life.”

  Mary Grace’s heart thumped. What if…just what if Scott Martin might be a man to look into, after all? If she could ever rid herself of the bad memories of men who had let her down in the past, that is. The heat of her coffee mug warmed her hands as her lips trembled around the brim.

  ****

  Scott grumbled a bit over his blueberry pie. If he had a chance with her, he’d have loved how well Mary Grace fit right into his cozy family. She and Ma were practically best friends, and right now, Mary Grace and Mallie, a wedding coordinator, were agog over plans for Tiffany and Bragg’s to-do next month.

  “Right after Thanksgiving,” Mallie explained. “Everybody’s relatives will still be around after Turkey Day.”

  “Which means you’ll have chocolate turkeys as favors.” Scott guffawed. “What, with little veils pasted on?”

  Mallie’s smile was as bright as Mary Grace’s laugh. “No, but we are seriously considering boy and girl Pilgrims on top of the cake.”

  “Lame,” Scott remarked into Mallie’s completely straight face.

  With an eye roll at him, she turned back to Mary Grace. “The bridesmaids are wearing champagne silk with bouquets of fall flowers.”

  His attention drifted, but his gaze remained on Mary Grace without actually staring. Weddings. What was it with girls and weddings? In their months together, he had never gotten far enough to propose to Lori, but she’d sure made his blood jump through his veins, and he supposed even now it had just been a matter of time. And he knew he’d never have let her down or back out of it if he had. After he’d found out what had happened, of course. A fiancé or husband stood by his woman no matter what.

  Pie slid down his throat, pies of berries the ranch grew and harvested. Mary Grace’s eyes, blue as those berries twinkled at some detail Mallie imparted and little Ella ran up to them both, settling on Mary Grace’s lap even though they’d only known each other an hour.

  Hmmm. Might be nice to have a woman to keep him warm, a kid to spoil. In the last fifteen months, all of his brothers had found The One, even Bragg, who was younger. Logistically the moment couldn’t be that far behind him. The possibility burned in the best way.

  As for Mary Grace having a child, well. A ten-year-old to go riding, fishing, skiing with as well as playing computer games. Melding the natural world that kept his body active and the cyber world that engaged his mind. Had potential.

  If she could untangle whatever it was that kept them apart. After all, their ride had gone well. She hadn’t been reluctant or indifferent; he knew that much about women. She’d said she didn’t date, and she might have refused his first request, but maybe he could unwind whatever complications stalemated her dating plans and ask her out again.

  Folks scraped plates and started to pile used napkins and silverware onto their dishes. Wilting like a flower, Ella drooped over Hooper’s shoulder.

  “Gotta get the munchkin home. Time for a bath.”

  “And shampoo,” Mallie said, brooking no argument. As Ella squawked, Mallie dropped a kiss on the soon-to-to-be washed head. “You want to look nice for Sunday School.”

  Scott’s heart lifted. If Hoop and Mallie, both cancer survivors, could find love and commitment, it sure wouldn’t be that hard to get Mary Grace to go on a simple date.

  As he chewed his last bite, he wondered. Was she a woman of faith? If not, that would be a deal-breaker. She’d shaken her head at her turn during Ella’s grace request. What would Mary Grace have said?

  He’d been raised on faith every second of his life, and it was God who guided Hearts Crossing Ranch through sickness and health, better or worse. Financial disaster and prosperity. Scott almost chuckled. Sounded like a version of wedding vows. He snuck a peek, wishing she didn’t take his breath every time he did, even carrying a load of supper plates like she was now.

  “Hooper, I want to stay and clean up,” Mallie insisted. “You go ahead. I’ll be along in a bit.” Their little log-sided house wasn’t far, built on the property near a shallow gully strewn with cottonwoods.

  “No. I’m doing the wash-up. It’s only fair.” Mary Grace’s voice was firm, and for a flash, Scott could hear that same tone going after a naughty student.

  Well, no time like now. “I’ll help,” he told her, then nodded at the rest. “You all go on about whatever it is you do on a Saturday night.”

  “No argument there,” said the weary Kenn as Ma wheeled him out in the “transport” chair to settle him in the single downstairs bedroom.

  What Scott normally did on Saturday nights was go into town with the ranch hands, now that none of his brothers were single any more. Catch a quick beer at the Rusty Spur or a movie at the old-style Lodestone Theatre in Promise. Oh, he’d seen Cineplexes during his studies at tech school, but nothing compared to the old Art Deco charm of the Lodestone. And now, well, since Kelley owned and ran the Butterbean, his little posse never missed an opportunity to harass her good-naturedly.

  But tonight, washing dishes with Mary Grace Gibson seemed the highest priority on his list of things to do on a Saturday night. Besides, only a couple of the cowboys remained at Hearts Crossing. Most had moved on to other ranches for roundup and auctions. Of course they’d be back in the spring. So right now, he had nothing better to do than clean the kitchen.

  She lowered her head and eyelids in a shy way that had his heart tumbling. “Scott, I’m OK, really. It’s the least I can do to earn my keep.”

  “I’ll only let you if you let me help.” He tried to act all John Wayne on her.

  Tilting her head, she actually flirted. He was certain of it. “All righty, then. So, cowboy, did you get all the critters fed?”

  “Yep. All the trail horses. Draft horses. Kelley’s mules. Even loaded up Ma’s chicken coop.” He flirted back. “And I’ll get to do it all again at sun-up. You’re going to church with us, right? “

  He thought she hesitated for a second, and a riff of alarm fringed the back of his neck.

  “Of course. But I don’t really have anything to wear.”

  “What you have on is fine. Ma likes to dress up, but lots of folks don’t. Some ride their horses in from the range. Pastor Hale doesn’t care a whit about such things. Do you know him?” Scott thought to ask. He didn’t remember beautiful Miss Wesley attending services when she taught at the high school. Her presence would really have made concentrating on the sermon a difficult thing to do for the teenaged doofus he’d been.

  Her face pinked. “I don’t think so. I…didn’t get to church much when I lived here. I, um. Grant was always sending a private jet or a round trip first class ticket to get me to his games.”

  “Wow.”

  Her head shook, hard, her hair swinging against
her face. He loved the look, loved the mannerism he’d noticed before. “Not so wow, Scott. Unreal. After about five minutes, none of it was glamorous, not at all.” Her smile, he reckoned, was forced. Then her face turned to absolute glory. “But I don’t regret a thing. Without Grant, I wouldn’t have my wonderful boy.”

  Of course she missed him, who likely lived in another state with his father. He recalled his own Pa, never far from his kids’ lives in life, never far from their thoughts in death. A warm satisfaction rumbled through him at the wonderful memories, the true examples Pa had left behind.

  After they’d stacked rinsed dishes on the counter, Scott came close to help Mary Grace load the industrial dishwasher. It seemed a foolish appliance for just the family, but the big machine helped during the tourist season. Her perfume swirled around him on the warmth of the hot water. Spicy, somehow. Just like fall. When she turned to load plates, she brushed against him, and his breath tangled in his throat. Perfect timing to draw her close…

  …if she didn’t have all those complications she’d hinted at.

  Then her face turned to him, glowing. “So…do I detect a bit of a romance between your mother and Mr. Calhoun?”

  He had to chuckle. “Aw, she refuses to admit it. But since Christmas, Doyle has stopped by here more times than the total of all his visits in the past five years. He’s a widower.”

  “How nice for her.”

  “Yep. Pa’s death took a toll on her, but her faith and trust in God has helped her heal. Would be nice if she had a happy ending with a man as fine as Doyle.”

  Mary Grace held up a glass. “Faith and trust, now, there’s some good things. Here’s to Elaine and Doyle, then. And happy endings, too.”

  Scott saluted. “Hear, hear.” Suddenly the time seemed right. To ask her that all-important question. She was going to church, after all. He gulped and took a chance at being nosy. “You a woman of faith, Mary Grace? I don’t want to intrude. But…do you know God?”