If she weren’t afraid of heights, Nina would dangle from that wall all day if there was a chance of gaining insights from that vantage point.
It made her think of her parents. For the most part, she preferred to stuff down the memories and forge ahead with life. Thinking about her folks just hurt too much. But truth be told?
She hated this time of year.
October skies carried Canada geese flying south in a vee. Each flap of a wing sent a silent shudder through the group. A reminder of the consequences of small gestures, little choices. The fleetingness of movement and life.
Like what had happened with her parents. Grief, even all these years later, had such a peculiar way of showing up—an uninvited houseguest burrowing down, down, down into her chest.
She swallowed a gulp of air before clenching her jaw. Before her thoughts drifted to that time when her world collapsed, when her parents died. Guilt rose in her breath as she trailed the geese in the sky, falling back to that moment when everything changed. To another sun-soaked day with blue skies and potential. She’d been looking forward to the day at the lake all week. Her parents had saved up to buy a boat, full of plans of all the dinners they would catch. She’d been careful to do her homework and her chores. She’d accepted a ride home from school with a friend so she could get a head start on packing.
Her mom had been angry in that quiet way that was somehow scarier than if she’d shouted. Nina wasn’t supposed to take rides from people her parents hadn’t met, and she definitely wasn’t supposed to get in a car with anyone without contacting her parents about the change in plans.
She knew the rules. And she’d broken them. If she hadn’t, she’d have been on the boat with her parents instead of grounded, being watched by a neighbor. She would have died, too. Or maybe they wouldn’t have died at all.
Survivor’s guilt was a heavy weight to carry. And how sad was it that on most days the way things ended eclipsed the good from all the years before?
Before her parents died—such a strange line to have in her life so young—there had been laughter in her household. Her mother would bake dozens of muffins every Easter. Cinnamon streusel, blueberry, lemon-poppy seed. Flavors of spring and new life, her father had said. They’d save about a dozen for themselves. But then they took muffins to neighbors and friends, sharing conversation in many households over coffee and tea and the simple act of offering food. And that tradition sank with the death of her parents. It had never been the same.
Traditions like that hadn’t been a part of her foster homes, not with so many kids and so many life skills they had to learn by eighteen. And so a part of her had ceased to be after the boating accident. A line running through her life. Before and after.
And now? She felt queasy, imagining yet another before and after.
“Nina,” Douglas whispered over her shoulder. “The girls are settled here for at least an hour. We need to talk about last night.”
Talk? Alone? Nope. “It was a kiss, Douglas, nothing more.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He looked around. “And I don’t want the girls to see us arguing. Let’s step outside.”
She hesitated.
“Nina, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” He splayed his arms wide. “I’ll keep my hands to myself. Promise.”
“Fine, ten minutes, though. Then we need to get back to the girls. They’re really excited about goat yoga later today—that was Kelsey’s pick.”
“Goat what?” He gestured her away from the rock wall and toward stepping-stones shaped like paws, leading toward a pond.
“You heard me. Goat yoga. Didn’t you read the agenda Kelsey printed out for us?” Dew coated the grass, footfalls rustling as they walked toward the lily pad–covered pond.
He scrubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “I was a little late getting moving this morning.”
She glanced sideways at him. “Yes, what was that all about? You never oversleep.”
Lake-colored eyes, deep blue and serious, assessed her. “I found Kacie up in the great room in the middle of the night practicing her lassoing skills.”
“Was she having trouble sleeping?” Nina took a seat on the wooden bench. “Was she working the lasso to soothe herself?”
“She looked dead exhausted on her feet. She said something about running out of time to win this year’s festival competition.”
“Okay, she’s been wanting that for a while.”
“Yeah, but she’s afraid this year will be her last chance since we’re moving.” Sitting beside her, he leaned forward, forearms bracing on his knees. “She’s guessed that we’re getting a divorce.”
Gasping, she gripped his arm. “What did you say?”
“I told her that we had not ‘filed’ for divorce and then tried to change the subject.”
While she appreciated him not sharing that with their daughter, she also couldn’t help but imagine him sidestepping the emotional conversation as he did so often. “I guess we haven’t done as good a job at shielding them as we thought.”
“Seems so.” He looked at her sidelong beneath the brim of his Stetson, his eyes piercing...with a surprising flash of vulnerability. Even if she and Douglas still loved each other, their world would be changing forever once the farm was sold.
Initially, she and Douglas had been drawn to each other by their mutual loss, each understanding what it was like to lose parents so young. But he just didn’t understand what it felt like to have no one, nowhere to go, no place to call home. In his grief, he’d had his brother and his childhood home, a home he would lose soon.
Her parents’ assets had been sold off to pay off the hospital bills from the accident. Their home had been a rental. Everything she’d owned fit into an old beat-up suitcase and a big black garbage bag.
She scratched a hand along the ache in her ribs. “I hate this for the kids. I know what it’s like to lose your home, your family. I guess I need to remind myself it’s not like they’re going into foster care.”
Movement from the corner of her eye sent Nina’s heart pounding. Water splashed from the pond, sailing over the low railing on the dock. Instinctively, she moved closer to Douglas. Whipping her head to the pond, she caught shimmered scales receding from view. Nerves quieted for a moment.
Until another awareness settled in. Douglas. So close she could feel the warmth move from his body to hers—a personal jet stream that brewed and calmed the storms churning in her soul.
She imagined the photograph they made right now. Her plaid shirt slightly wet, leaning imperceptibly closer than moments before. His tanned face and strong chest contrasting her curves. Yes, photography anchored her.
Her photos had been a way to find beauty in a world gone so very ugly.
“You’ve never talked much about that time in your life after your parents died.”
She frowned. “I’m sure that’s not true. We’ve been married for over a decade.”
“You haven’t.” He went still. As if he was determining a path forward. So close. In a quiet voice, a gentle one she hadn’t heard in some time, he pressed, “I may not talk as much as you would like, but I do listen, Nina.”
“I know. I guess I’m more surprised at myself for not sharing more about my childhood.” She searched her mind for something to dispute what he said, only to realize he was right. Had her pride in her ability to communicate been false pride? She’d shared her emotions, but so very little of what shaped her.
“Life has always been packed for us. It’s easy to see how we just fell into bed at the end of the day.”
Their eyes caught. Locked into place with a call and response. One she had trouble shifting away from. Part of her never wanted to stop looking into those eyes, noticing the way light set them ablaze. And chemistry was so much easier to focus on than her own shortcomings.
He rested a hand
on the back of her neck, rubbing softly. “I’m sorry that foster care was so bad for you.”
She cleared her throat. Even if she’d fallen short in the past, she could do better now. “Well, after three quick pit-stop placements, I actually landed with some good people, an older retired military couple. No cliché there.” Her lips twitched with a half smile. “They took in a lot of us older kids. It was better than a group home, but still pretty packed.” An especially tough transition for an only child. “Not a lot of emotional space to grieve for my parents.”
“They were taking in extra kids and pocketing money?”
“Not at all,” she rushed to explain. “We were each taught how to open a bank account and they deposited half the money there for us to learn to budget. The other half, they put into a savings account we were each given when we turned eighteen.”
“Wow, so they sound like special people.”
“That’s an understatement.” Truly. Things could have been so much worse and there was no gain for them other than giving teens a helping hand. “As long as we kept the grades up and followed the rules.”
“And if you didn’t?”
“Then money was deducted from the bank account and moved over to savings, since life was going to be harder at eighteen if we had crummy grades or got into trouble with the law.”
“I assume you behaved?” He stroked a lock of her hair.
“I did, and I was able to leave town for college. Ashlynn wasn’t as lucky.” Again, Nina wondered how she’d missed sharing this with her husband. Had they talked about anything of substance? “She got in trouble with the law.”
“Ashlynn got arrested? I can’t imagine her doing something like that.”
Down the dock, a fluffy white golden retriever let out a woof, drawing her attention away for a moment. Tail wagging, the dog started into a headlong run toward them, full of boundless puppy joy and energy.
Skidding to a stop, the golden retriever pranced over. Nudged Douglas’s hand, demanding a proper head scratch, which he obliged.
“She wasn’t an angel back in those days, so full of anger over the crap hand life had dealt her, but she didn’t do anything extreme. She had a crush on a boy and did whatever it took to spend time with him, including skipping school. Some schools may be looking for other ways to deal with truancy these days. But back then? Not as much. She ended up in juvie.”
“How awful. Was the guy just leading her on?”
“She wasn’t wrong that he loved her, but he died in a DUI accident. She’s still in the same town working at the same restaurant.” With his tail wagging, lightly smacking Nina’s jean-covered leg, the dog sat in the small space between them, like a sort of bridge connecting them. Unable to resist, she reached down to pet the silken dog.
“I know you care about her very much.”
Her chest went tighter with more emotion than even she cared to admit. The golden moved his head, causing her fingertips to slightly brush against the back of Douglas’s hand. Heat rose in her as emotions rocked through her, unsteady waves of possibilities and dreams deferred, dreams broken. “It doesn’t seem fair. I ended up throwing away my chance at college, too. I remind myself I have two amazing children and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.”
The golden adjusted, lying on her feet. She took a breath in as the dog’s gentle presence soothed the tempest inside her. The one she couldn’t let make landfall. Tears threatened but she felt them ebb with the steady heartbeat of the dog that grounded her.
Just as did the warm press of Douglas’s leg against hers.
Douglas leaned forward. “And?”
Unable to resist, she stroked a hand along his jaw, soaking in the familiar feel of him. “I’m so sorry about Tyler and all that you’ve lost.”
The warm bristle of his unshaved face rasped against her nerves, delicious, tempting. Touch had a way of igniting so much between them.
“I’m sorry I let you and the girls down.”
She hated that he felt like a failure when she knew all too well how much of himself he’d poured into trying to save the farm. She especially hated that she couldn’t figure out how to get them back to what they’d once had. But she was so very weary with carrying the whole relationship. Time after time when she or the girls needed comfort, or just to vent, he would find some task that needed doing around the farm. Their fence had been “repaired” so often he could have rebuilt the thing twice over.
Rising, she stepped back from her husband and the lure of whatever magic the ranch was trying to weave around them. “We should get back to the girls. This trip is for them, after all.”
And she would do well to remind herself of that.
Chapter Six
How had he lost sight of the simple things in life?
A bonfire.
Dinner under the stars.
Having his family in one place.
Standing by the pit with massive flames shooting up from the wooden pyre, Douglas speared a hot dog onto a skewer for Kelsey. Kacie, of course, had insisted on making her own, half of which was about to fall off and into the fire. He could already imagine her declaring that’s just what she intended.
Her independent streak would serve her well. She was a lot like her mom that way, even if folks assumed she was more like him because of her love for animals.
A fiddler sat on a bale of hay, filling the night air with old country tunes. About fifty guests gathered, scattered around, some sitting on wooden benches, others parked on blankets.
Crouching beside Kelsey, Douglas passed the skewer to her. “Here you go, Princess.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she said softly, more subdued than usual.
“Is everything okay? Do you feel all right?” He pressed his wrist to her forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever.”
She shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. I just need to eat some supper. Thanks for fixing this.” She grinned. “Mine will taste much better than Kacie’s burned and twisted hot dog. We should do this at home. Don’t you think?”
“Sure, kiddo. We’ll talk to your mom.”
Back when his parents had been alive, they’d hosted gatherings like this every week. Everyone would bring a side dish. Whoever played an instrument would strike up tunes.
He’d asked Tyler once if they could start the tradition back up again. Tyler had said it made him too sad—one of the few times he’d voiced his own grief.
Douglas hadn’t asked again.
Would Nina have been happier if he’d expanded their world more? She probably could have used another outlet during Tyler’s illness. Especially when Douglas had struggled with handling the emotional stuff. He’d often wished her foster sister had lived closer to give Nina someone to talk to on a regular basis. Confide in.
At least here, now, he had a chance to find a way to rebuild and he intended to make the most of every opportunity.
He shifted to sit beside her on the quilt while keeping a watch over the twins standing at the outskirts of the fire. Nina hugged her knees, swaying to the music. Her golden-blond hair, gathered in a ponytail, swished along her back. The firelight threw a warm glow around her. She hummed along with the old folk song. Her voice wasn’t pitch-perfect but sweet. Happy.
He’d missed her smile.
She tipped her face to him, her grin lighting all the way up to her eyes. “You were a good sport about goat yoga today.”
“Well, it was certainly a new experience for me.” Thanks to farm life, he’d spent plenty of time around goats. Milking them. Corralling them. Getting kicked by them. But he’d never held a baby goat while trying—unsuccessfully—to strike a tree pose.
Nina toyed with the end of her ponytail, playing with her hair as she did when nervous. “Thank you for going along with it. Kelsey was so very excited. And Kacie couldn’t stop laughing at us.”
/> “It was pretty funny when our goat bridge collapsed. I’m glad you took pictures at the end.” Bleating goats with their rectangle-shaped pupils tumbling and arching in the air. Desperate to get away from the high-pitched laughter of Kacie and Kelsey. Even he and Nina had laughed from deep in their bellies. Rare. And utterly awesome. She took his breath away.
“How could I not take photos? That was definitely a unique opportunity.”
Flickering warm light caught in her eyes like twinkling stars. Their gazes locked. Outside sounds were muffled as more than the fire sparked and danced in the small space between them.
He reached, watching for a sign of hesitation in her, and when finding none, he stroked down the length of her ponytail. Her hair had always been so impossibly soft, tempting, especially when brushing along his chest when she was on top. “It’s been good for us to get away.”
“You’re right. It has.”
Drawing waves in the dirt with the toe of his boot, he looked at her sidelong. “I’m sorry I haven’t been better about finding time for R and R.”
As his fingers entwined tighter around her golden hair, her shoulders sagged. “It’s not all on you. I bear responsibility for that as well.”
“You asked for trips and I always said we didn’t have money or couldn’t take time away from the farm.”
Things had gotten so bad, it was tough for him to see beyond the next chore. He kept thinking if he worked harder, he could fix the mess they were in. But all he’d done was dig them in deeper by sacrificing their marriage.
“And I didn’t push. I could have pressed, and you would have agreed. But to be honest, I let it slide because trips make me anxious. Because of what happened to my parents.”
Had he known that? Sometimes he forgot how much she’d faced on her own. Her life had been tough before him, and he’d wanted to make it easier. Better.
Last-Chance Marriage Rescue Page 7
