by Janet Dailey
If she approached him, would he listen to her? Or would her concern only make him more defensive? She needed backup, Kira decided. That would mean involving the one person who had the best chance of reaching him.
The backyard patio, built on the site of the filled-in swimming pool, was a private family place, surrounded by a brick wall. Consuelo’s cooking herbs grew here in pretty Mexican pots. There was a play area for Paige and a clothesline for drying linens in the sun. There was a doghouse with food and water bowls for Tucker, as well as a small picnic table and colorful outdoor chairs for sitting.
Kira found Dusty dozing in a lounge chair. His color was better than when he’d first come home, but he still seemed to need plenty of rest. She was about to turn and go, but then he opened his eyes.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Kira said. “Go ahead and sleep. I can come back later.”
“No, I’m fine.” He levered the chair to an upright position, reached for the glass of iced sweet tea, which was on the side table, and took a sip. “Sit down. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Where do I begin? Kira glanced in the direction of the stable, where the hammer blows were still ringing from the roof.
“Is it Jake?” Dusty asked, reading her body language.
Kira nodded. “He seemed fine until a couple of days ago. And he was so excited when he found that old motorcycle. But something’s changed. I think he needs help.”
“You’re the expert,” Dusty said.
“I’m supposed to be. But I’m finding it hard to be . . .” She groped for the right word. “Objective.”
“So it’s getting personal, is it?”
“It’s always been personal. He’s not a patient. He’s Paige’s father. He’s more like family.”
“Are you saying you’ve fallen for him?” Dusty’s words rocked her, but the old cowboy had always spoken his mind.
“That would be crazy.” Kira dropped her gaze to hide the rush of heat to her face. She couldn’t deny the chemistry between them. But Jake wasn’t a man any woman should “fall” for.
“Crazy happens to the best of us, girl,” Dusty said.
“Well, that’s not why I’m here,” she said. “Jake needs to talk to somebody he trusts. And right now, that isn’t me. Things are pretty . . . tense between us.”
“So you want me to talk to him.”
“Could you try?” Kira seized her grandfather’s hand. “Jake respects you. He trusts you—at least as far as he trusts anybody. And I’m truly worried about him. Listen to those hammer blows. He sounds as if he’s about to explode.”
Dusty squeezed her hand. “All right. I can see how much this matters to you. Give me a pull up and I’ll head out to the stable. Maybe Jake would go for a ride into town.”
* * *
Jake shimmed a cedar shingle into the empty slot, positioned the nail and drove it down with a couple of solid hammer whacks. He’d had roofing jobs before, so he knew what to do. The work was hot and physically hard, but it didn’t demand much thinking. Most of the time, that was all right. But today he would cheerfully beat his head with the hammer if it would blot out the question that played and replayed in his mind in a loop that wouldn’t stop.
Had Wendy been pregnant when she died?
If the answer was yes, there was no way the baby could’ve been his. He’d been in Afghanistan for ten months when he was given leave to fly home for the funeral. The baby’s father would have been some other man.
If there even was a baby.
What if he was tormenting himself for nothing? Maybe Wendy had given up drinking because she had a young child to care for. Or maybe she just hadn’t felt like getting drunk with her friends that night. Either way, he had no proof. Since nothing could bring Wendy back, why not give her the benefit of the doubt and move on?
Jake had tried that line of thinking. But his gut instinct argued for guilt. A stunning, vivacious woman with a long-absent husband, lonely and craving some excitement—how could it not have happened? And how could he not have realized it would? What a clueless idiot he’d been.
The hammer crashed down, splitting the wood and barely missing his fingers. He tossed the splintered shingle aside and reached for another. He’d been pounding out his frustration on the roof all afternoon, but it hadn’t helped. He could feel his anger simmering, heating to rage, building toward an explosion.
“Hey, Jake!” Dusty’s voice, coming from below, was a welcome distraction. “I could use a trip to the hardware store and the bank in Tucson. Want to drive me? There’s a double sirloin burger and a milk shake in it for you.”
“Sure. I could use the break.” Jake secured the bundled shingles and made his way along the sloping roof to the top of the ladder. Since Dusty wasn’t supposed to drive until after his next checkup, it made sense that he’d ask for help. But knowing the old cowboy, Jake suspected he could easily have something more up his sleeve. Jake was prepared to be cautious. But at least the drive might take his mind off Wendy for a couple of hours.
In his cabin, he peeled off his shirt, splashed away the sweat on his face and upper body and pulled a clean black tee over his head. Dusty was waiting in the Jeep when he came outside.
“Thanks for chauffeuring me,” he said as Jake climbed into the driver’s seat. “I do have errands, but mostly I just need to get out. I’m sick of being cooped up like some damn fool ninety-year-old in a rest home.”
“I get that,” Jake said, starting up the vehicle. “I could use a getaway myself. Does Kira know we’re going?”
“I mentioned it to her. She’s fine with it.” Something in his tone roused Jake’s suspicion that Kira might have put her grandfather up to this trip. If that was the case, he could probably expect more lobbying for him to stay.
He would listen out of respect, Jake resolved, but it wouldn’t make any difference. He had already made up his mind to leave—the sooner, the better. This place was a minefield of complications and entanglements, all threatening to catch him, hold him and tie him down. It was time he moved on.
They drove out the side gate and down the road through the foothills. The afternoon sun, coming from the west, was so bright that Jake had to lower the visor to shield his eyes. But the clouds rolling in above the distant city were dark. Rain, maybe, he thought.
They made small talk on the way to Tucson. In town, Jake picked up more roofing supplies at the Home Depot and piled them in the back of the Jeep while Dusty waited. The bank stop was a drive-through, where Dusty cashed a check.
“Is there anything else you need?” Jake asked the old man.
“I could use a good, rare steak, if you’re up for it,” Dusty said. “You treated me to dinner in Flagstaff. Today it’s my turn.”
“I bought you a burger,” Jake said. “And that’s what you promised me today.”
“Well, I lied.” Dusty’s blue eyes twinkled. “Consuelo’s a fine cook, but for her, the only way to serve meat is well-done. So I sneak into town when I get a craving for the good red stuff. I hope you won’t deny me the pleasure of sharing.”
“You’re sure it’s all right with your doctor?”
“He said I could eat anything that didn’t eat me first.”
Laughing, Jake gave in. He liked a good steak himself, and it had been a long time since he’d had one. “Show me the way,” he said.
They drove to a rustic steak house on the way out of town. Dusty said he’d tried it before and the food was excellent. Something told Jake he was being softened up for whatever the old cowboy had in mind, but he’d already agreed to this. Might as well enjoy it and deal with the consequences later.
The restaurant was quiet at this hour, and the hostess showed them to a booth. After asking Jake, Dusty ordered two rib eyes, his own rare and Jake’s medium rare, with salads and loaded baked potatoes. They were buttering their hot sourdough rolls when Dusty cleared his throat.
“I’ve never been one to beat around the bush,” he said. “Kira�
��s been worried about you the past couple of days. She’s got me a little worried, too. Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” Jake lied. He’d be damned if he was going to share his suspicions about Wendy with her grandfather.
“You’re sure?” Dusty asked. “You were bangin’ in those shingle nails mighty hard.”
“She’s worried because I was hammering too hard?” Jake muttered a curse. “Is that all?”
“Kira’s a perceptive woman. She’s worked with PTSD, and she knows what to look for. She’s afraid you’re headed for a crash.”
“So why doesn’t she come talk to me herself?” The server had just set a fresh mixed-green salad in front of him. But Jake’s appetite was fading.
“She doesn’t think you’ll want to talk to her. According to her, things have been ‘tense’ between the two of you lately—her word, not mine.”
“Tense”? He remembered Kira in his arms, her lovely body molding to his, her lips softening with his kiss—and how he’d spoiled the mood afterward.
“Any idea why she’d say that?” Dusty asked. “Did you have an argument?”
Jake took a forkful of salad and forced himself to chew it before he answered. “She tried to talk me into staying for Paige,” he said. “I told her it wasn’t possible, and things went downhill from there. But it’s not as if we had a fight. We’ve been working together fine.”
They just hadn’t been talking much. Or touching. Or even making eye contact. Was that her doing, or was it his?
“Are you sleeping all right?” Dusty asked.
“I’m sleeping fine.” He wasn’t, but that was nobody’s damned business.
“How about Paige? Is she upsetting you? Do you think she suspects who you are?”
Jake shook his head. Whatever Kira had told his daughter, it must’ve sunk in. Paige hadn’t been coming around to see him anymore.
“Take a day off, if you feel like it,” Dusty said. “Take a hike, or take the Jeep to town if you want. Go to a movie. Hell, go to a strip club. I don’t care. Whatever makes you feel better.”
“Dusty, I’m fine.” Jake reached across the table and put a hand on the old man’s arm. “I don’t know why Kira should be concerned about me.”
“She’s concerned because she cares about you.”
“She cares about everybody.”
“I know.” Dusty took a sip of ice water. “Kira’s the most caring person I’ve ever known. She gives so much of herself it hurts—to Paige and me, to the horses and to those poor mixed-up kids she tries to help. But with you, it’s something more. If you want to know the truth, I think she’s falling in love with you.”
Jake gave the shock a moment to sink in. Kira in love with him? The old man had to be imagining things. “No way,” he said. “Look at me. I’m a nervous wreck, with no money, no stability, nothing to offer a woman. And Kira’s a smart lady. She’s got a lot more sense than that.”
“Take it from a man who’s lived as long as I have,” Dusty said. “When it comes to a woman’s heart, sense has nothing to do with it.”
Jake stared down at the edge of the table. “If what you say is true—and I can’t believe it is—the best thing I can do is leave before I ruin her life.”
“Leaving isn’t the answer to everything. Maybe you’ve been running away for too long.” Dusty stopped talking as the server set two platters on their table. The thick, juicy steaks, still sizzling from the grill and accompanied by baked potatoes topped with bacon, cheese, chives and sour cream, halted the conversation for now. Jake gave a silent sigh of relief as Dusty reached for his fork and steak knife. “Dig in,” the old cowboy said.
Emotional turmoil had taken the edge off Jake’s appetite, but the food was good and he was hungry enough to eat most of it. By the time they’d finished the meal, topped off with apple pie a la mode, he was feeling stuffed.
Dusty paid the check. Jake thanked him on the way outside. Roiling black clouds had moved in to fill the sky. Lightning flashed across the horizon, followed by the roll of thunder. Jake’s reflexes jumped, but he held himself in check. There was no danger, he told himself. It was only a storm.
As they drove out of the parking lot, the clouds burst. Rain pelted the Jeep, streaming down in wet gray sheets. Jake turned on the windshield wipers. Water sprayed beneath the tires as he drove the water-slicked highway. Rain in the desert was rare, but when it came, it could pour like the biblical deluge, flowing along the streets, pooling in yards and sending flash floods roaring down the canyons. As he drove, he thought about Kira and Paige, the students and even the horses and the dog. He could only hope they were all in a safe place, out of the storm.
He cared, too, Jake realized. He cared about the ranch, which was already becoming like home to him—a place where he was accepted and valued. Maybe even loved.
The idea that Kira was in love with him was too far-fetched to be believed. The two kisses they’d shared had been delicious. But Kira was a smart woman, ruled by her head, not her heart. If she were to let herself fall in love, it would be with somebody who could offer her a future—say, a college professor, a scientist or maybe a doctor, like her father had been. She was way out of Jake’s league.
Even if the sparks between them were to grow into something more, he’d be a fool to think it could last. Sooner or later, he was going to screw up—have one of his crazy episodes and scare somebody, maybe even hurt somebody. Get involved with Kira, and she would only end up hurt. He had to get out of here before something bad happened.
Lightning sizzled across the sky, chased by a boom of thunder so loud it shook the Jeep. Jake clenched his teeth.
It’s all right. It’s only thunder. It won’t hurt you.
“I guess I should’ve stayed and finished the roof,” he said to Dusty. “I hope the stable isn’t leaking.”
There was no answer. When Jake glanced over at the old man, he saw that Dusty was fast asleep, a little snore escaping his lips as his chest rose and fell.
Jake returned his gaze to the road and the storm-swept mountains. How did a man live as long as Dusty and still keep his faith in people? Had the old cowboy just been lucky, or had he learned to forgive and move on?
Jake’s thoughts returned to Wendy—the wife who’d been his rock while he was overseas. Her smile and her loving voice had given him a refuge from the horrors that he faced every time his unit went out on patrol. And seeing his baby daughter on Skype had been one more reminder of the happy life that waited for him at home.
Had it all been a lie?
How long had Wendy been cheating on him? he wondered. Had she met someone toward the end of her life and fallen in love, or had she been playing around the whole time?
Or was his wife as blameless as he’d long believed her to be?
Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, gripping so hard that his knuckles ached. He’d tried to dismiss the question, telling himself it didn’t matter anymore. But the truth was, it was driving him crazy. One way or another, he needed closure.
And his only chance of getting it lay with the person who’d known Wendy longest—Kira.
* * *
The storm had caught the students leading their horses down the easy trail that snaked along the hills above the ranch. Kira had turned them back at the first distant roll of thunder, but the fast-moving storm had reached them fifteen minutes short of shelter. By the time they’d crossed the graveled yard and reached the barn, they, along with the horses, were soaked and cold.
All to the good. It was time for an important lesson.
In the stable, she turned on the overhead lights and passed out thick, dry towels—two towels each—to the shivering boys and girls. “These aren’t for you,” she said. “They’re for your horse. You take care of your horse before you take care of yourself. That’s a rule you never break—otherwise, you could end up with a very sick horse. Now get those wet saddles and pads off them, and give them a good rubdown with the towel
s. Then make sure they’ve got food and water before you leave.”
Teeth chattering, the students went to work. Nobody complained or argued. Kira was proud of them. They were learning about responsibility and about putting the welfare of others before their own.
Once the horses were dry and comfortable, she excused the students to go and change out of their wet clothes. There would be hot chocolate and donuts waiting for them in the house, and free time to play video games, read or do schoolwork before dinner.
Consuelo had lit a fire in the fireplace. When Kira came inside, Paige was sitting on the hearth with the baby book, the dog stretched out at her feet. “You look like you got rained on, Aunt Kira,” she said.
“We did.” Kira stood next to the fire for a moment, soaking in the warmth. “We all got wet, but we made it back okay and put the horses away. What have you been up to?”
“Drawing pictures and helping Consuelo make enchiladas. But I got tired. Where are Grandpa and Mister Jake?”
“They went to town. They should be back soon, unless they waited for the rain to stop.”
“Good. Grandpa promised he’d read me a story.”
“Great.” Kira knew the little girl was lonely. Next fall she’d be starting school. She was more than ready to be in a classroom, learning with children her own age. A bus would pick her up, down on the main road. She was already talking about it, asking every few days how much longer she had to wait.
Now she turned a page in the baby book. “Why aren’t there any pictures of my daddy in here?” she asked.
“He was in the army when these pictures were taken,” Kira said.
“Why didn’t he come back?”
“He did, when your mother died. He came home for the funeral. Do you remember him?”
Paige shook her head. “No. Maybe—I don’t know. I just remember somebody in a brown soldier suit, with a hat.”
“You don’t remember his face from the funeral?”
Paige shook her head again. “Why doesn’t he come back now? He’s been gone a long time.”
