Heart of Grace (Return to Grace Trilogy Book 1)

by Abigail Easton

  “Oh no, I couldn’t eat a whole pie.” Angela’s stomach turned at thought of it.

  “No, no, no.” Mrs. Bradley shook her head and laughed. “Jerry was one of the judges. He got sick. We need you to take his place judging the contest.”

  “Oh, all right then.” She turned to Sophie. “Will you come with me?”

  “As much as I excite at the idea of seeing grown men glutton themselves, I have to help out at the dunk tank.” She stood and gathered both hers and Angela’s paper baskets to discard. “Enjoy!”

  Angela waved as Sophie walked away and Cole came up behind Mrs. Bradley, setting a hand on her shoulder. “Mrs. Bradley, you look beautiful today.”

  The older woman blushed, nearly swooning as Cole kissed her cheek. “Such a charmer you are, Cole.”

  “Then you’ll save me a banana cream pie?” he asked.

  “I’ll save you two. Baked ‘em myself.”

  Cole looked heavenward and sighed in appreciation. “I think I love you.”

  Angela couldn’t help that giddy roll in her tummy when his gaze met hers.

  “Angie’s going to help us judge the contest.” Mrs. Bradley beamed at them both.

  Cole smiled at Angela, his eyes speaking of the moments they’d had together and the distance between them.

  “Let’s go dear,” Mrs. Bradley tugged on her arm. “They’re starting in few minutes.”

  ****

  “I didn’t think it was possible,” Angela said, laughing as she and Mrs. Bradley walked away from the judging table and toward a group of chairs beneath the oak tree on the courthouse lawn. “Absolutely disgusting.”

  “Imagine, five pies. Goodness, I don’t think I’ve eaten a total of five pies in five years." Mrs. Bradley set the two pies she had saved for Cole into a cooler. She collected her knitting and sat down beside Maisy Markey, who looked up from the book she had been reading.

  "Bruce'll be sick for sure," Maisy said, closing the book and laying it on her lap. "But a side of beef from Mr. Simpson's Butcher Shop should tide him over for a good six months. My, it was nice of Donny to donate such a lovely prize. Why don’t you have a seat, Angie dear?”

  “Oh, I should go make sure the stage is ready for the concert.”

  “Now, don’t run off. You’ve done enough today. Have a seat,” Maisy insisted, “and tell me how your flowers doing.”

  Angela gave in and sat down. “Better. The fertilizer did the trick.”

  “It’s amazing what a little crap will do.” Mrs. Bradley chimed in, not taking her eyes from her knitting. “It stinks and it’s messy to work with, but in the end you sure do get a pretty garden.”

  “Speaking of pretty,” Maisy said, “you got a nice glow about you today, Angie. That man of yours must be doing something right. Oh, now, don’t start that blushing.”

  Mrs. Bradley peered at Angela momentarily over the top of her rose colored spectacles and then looked back down to continue her knitting.

  “I’m telling you, Joan,” Maisy said, “Cole’s got himself a winner here. What did I say about these two?”

  “Why, you said they were just about right for each other.” Mrs. Bradley responded, amusement infused in her voice. “If anyone can get that Jordan boy to settle, it’s our Angie.”

  Angela shook her head. “Cole and I are just business partners. And friends.”

  She pretended not to notice when the old ladies smiled knowingly at each other.

  ****

  Hours later, as the sun dipped low and the sky gave way to night, the town gathered near the stage on the lawn of the City Hall building. A wood floor lay in front for dancing and the turrets and stone of the century-old building rose up behind the stage, shading it from the setting sun.

  Angela stood to the side, beside the oak tree as her cohorts packed up to “leave the ruckus to the young ones,” as Maisy had tsked moments earlier.

  The band took the stage amidst applause from the crowd, their first song heavy on the banjo and violin. People all around the stage cheered and hollered beneath the glow of stringed lights and rust-tinted clouds. Angela was content to watch from afar.

  She hadn’t been looking for him, but she noticed him anyway. He stood on the other side of the dance floor, laughing with Ralph. As though sensing her stare, his eyes found hers across the space, through the throng of dancers and the flicker of children’s sparklers. His smile faded. He said something to his companion, tipped his hat, and walked toward Angela.

  The musical number sobered. The banjo went to its stand, and someone pulled out an acoustic guitar. The drummer set the rhythm, and then the guitar joined in.

  Cole came to her, his hand extended.

  “Dance with me?”

  “Cole.”

  “It’s just a dance. Not a marriage proposal.” He winked, his lips curving into mischievous smile, as if he were tempted to add not yet, just to tease her.

  She took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. Mrs. Bradley gasped and patted Mrs. Markey on the shoulder three times to get her attention. Mrs. Markey looked up and held her thumb high in the air, her wrinkled face stretched with a lipstick-smeared smile.

  Angela turned away from them, feeling the heat rise to her hair line as she and Cole stepped onto the dance floor. She set her hand on Cole’s shoulder, the hand of his casted arm at her waist, the other curved in hers.

  "You're friends seem curious." He chuckled and jerked his head toward the oak tree. Joan and Maisy watched them from behind it, doing a poor job of hiding the fact that they were spying.

  Maisy gave another thumbs up – this time with both hands

  – when she caught Angela looking. Joan shook her head and swatted at Maisy's hands. Then the pair walked away.

  “Are you blushing Miz Donnelly?”

  “People are staring. Not just them. Other people.”

  “So?” He smiled wickedly and wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe we should give ‘em something to see?”

  He leaned in, but she arched back. “Just stay on your side, pal.”

  “Fine.” He pulled her closer and spun her around.

  He smelled good, his skin warmed from the heat of the air.

  “It was good to see you at church this morning.”

  “Sophie dragged me,” Angela rolled her eyes, but she smiled. “I ran into Mitzi and Joanne.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. Some things just haven’t changed around here. Same hymns, same church, same corner store on Maple and Eight. Same Mitzi and Joanne.”

  “Nah, things changed. For instance, that’s new.” Cole jerked his chin toward Michael and Sophie. The two of them stood in the center of the dance floor, mooning over each other instead of dancing. “What’s going on there?”

  “They’re together.”

  “Just like that?”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” She couldn’t look him in the eye, so she focused on a tuft of hair curved around his ear. “It took her almost a week to wear him down. That's a long time according to Sophie's timetable.”

  "But what will they do when...nevermind." He pulled her even closer. "I'm not really interested in them right now, anyway."

  “Me either,” Angela agreed.

  The crowd erupted into shouts and laughter. It occurred to Angela to look up and see what the commotion was all about, but the feel of being in his arms had her leaning her head against the side of his jaw, her eyes drifting shut. People all around them clapped to the tune of a fiddle. Cole sighed and tightened his grip.

  Someone bumped into them. Angela pulled back quickly as a woman holding a child apologized and then hurried toward Sophie. The woman and Sophie both squealed amidst the fiddle’s whine and the shouts of the crowd. The toddler, her pigtails and pink ribbons bouncing with excitement, shifted easily into Sophie’s arms.

  Cole smirked and took Angela’s hand, leading her to the center of the dance floor. Sophie met them halfway, the woman and Michael at her side.

  �
��My niece, Emily,” Sophie explained to Angela, “and this is Pam, my sister. She’s visiting from Missoula. Pam, you remember Angie, right?”

  “Of course!” Pam ignored the hand Angela held out and yanked her into a hug.

  “I haven’t seen you since I was…what? Twelve? Thirteen?” Angela remembered Sophie’s older sister, who had seemed so sophisticated when she had picked up and moved to the “big” city of Missoula. Now she looked simply happy in the role of a mother, her smile as warm and joyful as her sister’s.

  “How’s that man of yours doing, Pammie?” Cole asked, taking his turn at a hug.

  “He's fine, I imagine.” She shrugged. “He’s back in Missoula working, so Emily and I thought we’d drive up here in time to catch the fireworks.”

  “Glad you did,” Cole said easily, not missing the suspicion in Pam’s eyes as she shifted her gaze to Michael. As Sophie introduced Pam to the new man in her life, Cole turned his attention to the little girl Emily.

  “Well, there you are, Cinderella!” Cole teased and the girl laughed. “May I have this dance, princess?”

  “Yes, yes, yes!” Emily bounced in Sophie’s arms and reached for Cole. He took her to the dance floor and swung her around, awarded with more laughter. Angela watched them and smiled.

  “He’s great with kids,” Sophie offered, clapping along.

  “I see that,” Angela laughed as Cole attempted a modern dance move. He tried to swing his hips, but it ended up looking more like a seizure. “But he’s a terrible dancer!”

  “There are many things that cowboys are good for, honey,” Sophie said.

  “But dancing ain’t one of them!” Pam interjected, drawing a giggle out of Sophie. “Unless, of course, it’s a two-step. And what he’s doing out there is most definitely not a two-step.”

  Both sisters cupped their hands around their mouths and cheered on Cole and Emily. Angela caught the bewildered expression that briefly crossed over her brother’s face. She knew what he was thinking: two Sophies.

  Angela had a hard time sympathizing with her brother. She joined in with the two sisters, shouting and laughing as Cole made a fool of himself to the tune of the fiddle.

  “Again!” The little girl pleaded as they finished the dance and Cole walked back with Emily still on his hip. “Please, Cole, please can we do it again?”

  Cole laughed. “Maybe later, princess, but it’s Angela’s turn now.”

  “Oh, no.” Angela shook her head and took a cautious step back, even as Cole handed Emily to Sophie and made a reach for her. “I can’t dance!”

  “You were just dancing with me five minutes ago.”

  “That was different. I can’t dance like this.”

  “Me neither,” he shrugged, “but that’s not the point.”

  As the band started up another fast tune, Angela found herself being half carried, half dragged onto the dance floor. She let out a breathy sigh and met the challenge in Cole’s eyes as he spun her around. In spite of herself, she giggled, much as that little girl had done. Within seconds, she gave in, ignoring her own self-consciousness as she let him lead her through a jig. The dance was completely wrong for the type of music that played, but as Cole had said, that wasn’t the point. They laughed and stumbled through most of it, garnering the attention of everyone around them. At the end he curved her back into a flourished dip and kissed her fully on the lips.

  Angela’s stomach gave an exhilarated little roll as the world tipped in her vision and then Cole was the only thing she could see, and all that she wanted to see. He lifted her up among cat calls and whistles, the intensity in his eyes quickening her heart.

  “Hey Beau!” he called up to the lead vocalist. A look passed between the two men. Cole winked at Angela an instant before jumping on stage.

  Sophie, Michael, Pam and Emily joined Angela before she could think to question what was happening. Along with the rest of the crowd, her companions cheered at the sight of Cole on the stage. He picked up a guitar and played a few bars of random jams with the fiddler. The drummer joined in and before long Cole was very much a part of the band.

  He looked amazing in his black T-shirt, snug jeans and boots, his Stetson perched on his head. He held the guitar as if he had been born to play it. When he looked down at the crowed, his eyes found only her.

  They finished the song and Cole handed the guitar back to Beau, who leaned in and said something into Cole’s ear. The men conversed for a moment, and although Angela could not hear what they were saying, the crowd seemed to know. They started shouting and demanding that Cole do another. He shook his head, to Beau and the crowd, but after a few moments he gave in and took the guitar back.

  “We just want to thank everyone for coming out tonight,” Beau said into the microphone as someone brought a stool for Cole to sit on. The rest of the band left the stage. “You guys have been awesome, but we’re gonna take a little break. Now, I’m sure you all know Cole Jordan.”

  The crowd applauded and whistled.

  “We sang at a rodeo a few years back,” Beau continued, “and as luck would have it, Cole was competing that night. He heard us and the next day he introduced us to his manager. So I guess you could say Cole has a lot to do with the reason we are where we are today. But what few of you may know is that aside from kicking it on the guitar, he’s also quite the singer.”

  Cole shook his head again and muttered something under his breath. He turned into the microphone and started to say something, but the laughter bubbled up in response to the good-hearted banter from his friends in the crowd. He took the pick from the strings at the neck of the guitar and strummed the first note, letting the last of the chuckles fade as Beau walked off stage.

  Angela stood at the edge of the stage as the crowd quieted, looking up at him as he played the opening bars. It was a light, sad tune, his foot tapping silently to the rhythm.

  The sound brought Angela back to a morning a week earlier, when she had sat in her garden and cried to the distant thrums of a guitar. The music she heard now was the same music that had given her such peace in the midst of her fears. It had opened her up to an understanding she still could not completely grasp, and it had been created by Cole.

  When he started to sing, he opened his eyes and focused them directly on her. The smooth tenor of his voice mixed fluidly with the soft strums of the guitar. Her eyes wanted to drift shut, but she forced herself to look at him and to listen to the lyrics.

  It was a love song, speaking of the gentle tug of a woman on man’s heart. She was fire and grace, burning through him to singe and heal all at once. She stoked the fires of desire and calmed his storms. He was terrified of his love for her and overcome by the reassurance of her love for him. On the last note of the song he stilled his hand over the strings and paused, eyes closed as he dragged out the note.

  “I didn’t know for sure,” Sophie said into Angela’s ear as Cole set the guitar in its stand and the crowd cheered, “but now I knowthat he’s in love with you.”

  The first boom of the fireworks resonated through the sky. Her friend’s words resounded almost as loudly as those explosions. Cole jumped off the stage and planted a noisy kiss on Angela’s lips.

  “You sing.”

  Cole shrugged. “A little.”

  “And you play guitar.”

  He smirked. “You’re a sucker for a guy with a guitar, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe.” She took a hold of his shirt, unable to keep herself from looking at him as though he were some sort of apparition. The fireworks exploded over their heads.

  “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?” The heat came back to his eyes.

  “You broke your promise.”

  His easy smile receded.

  “Cole, thank the Lord you’re still here!” Stephanie, Tina’s mother, tore through the crowd and jerked him aside.

  Angela couldn’t hear their muted conversation through the boom of fireworks, but after a few moments Cole hurried back to Angela and took ho
ld of her arm. The first rain drops started to pelt down, harder and harder as he pulled her across the lawn and toward his truck, Stephanie hurrying behind them. Fourteen

  “What’s going on?” Angela asked from the passenger seat of Cole’s truck.

  “Tina didn’t come home.” Cole shifted into reverse. Stephanie settled onto the bench seat behind them.

  “I told her to be home by sunset and she’s not answering her cell phone.” Stephanie leaned forward. Wet hair stuck to her face. She pushed it away with unsteady hands. "I thought she'd be here."

  “She left with Billy over an hour ago,” Angela said, “did you call his parents?”

  “They don’t know where he is, either. I tell you, that Billy is trouble. Ever since Tina got together with him I’ve been a nervous wreck, just waiting for him to get her into a mess.”

  They drove through town, but Tina could have been anywhere. Angela thought of the conversations she had had with the girl, trying to remember the places she liked to go. “The café,” she said quickly as Cole slammed to a hault at a stop sign.

  “I looked there,” Stephanie said.

  “The rec center?”

  “It’s closed by now.”

  “What about the quarry?” Cole asked. “We used to hang out there when we were kids.”

  “Yes!” Angela turned fully toward Stephanie. “Earlier today I overheard Billy asking Tina to go to the quarry.”

  “Oh dear,” Stephanie muttered. “There were only two reasons we’d go up there as kids. And I doubt they're swimming.”

  Angela rubbed Stephanie’s arm. “I’m sure she’s fine.” But she wasn’t really sure, and a pit of dread settled in Angela’s belly as Cole made a u-turn and headed out of town.

  Cole drove straight down the middle of the road to avoid the streams of water running along the edges. He sloshed through mud as they neared the quarry, leaning forward to see through the sheets of rain spilling over the windshield. Lightening lit up the clouds, illuminating vehicles parked along the cliffs. Stephanie rushed out of the truck even before Cole brought it to a full stop.