by Tanya Hanson
Christy tried to forget today was her last. Unless, of course, she decided on Cowboy College. Realizing she’d never see Kenn again if she didn’t might be reason enough, but there was always Mom to worry about. And her job. Even though her assistants were trustworthy and competent, Christy liked to take charge and see a project to the end.
Oh well. Things always seemed to get figured out. Right now, the surroundings touched her with so much beauty she almost trembled.
“I’ve always wondered if this is kinda what Walden Pond is like.” Kenn’s voice came across the breeze and shouts of the others.
A little thrill pittered across Christy’s heated skin as he neared. “It’s about the same size,” she said, amazed her own voice didn’t shake. “But small hills, no mountains.” She smiled as waves of happy memories washed over her. “Daddy did the New England drill with me when I was in eighth grade. Boston. Lexington. Concord. You’d love it. You could make an awesome Power Point presentation for your students.”
“Ah, I mean to. Someday.” He stretched his arms, reaching tall and wide; the chambray shirt pulled tight over his muscles, his boot heels firm on the pebbled shore. With that perfect Stetson and the sub range of the Rockies as a backdrop, he could easily be part of a painting on a museum wall. “But I’m so busy every summer. Maybe some day.”
Maybe someday. Christy liked the sound of that. “I hope so.”
Shouting and laughing, the wranglers and other guests bustled around as they struck camp. With a contented sigh and a sweating tin cup of Kelley’s fresh lemonade, Jennie Blake plunked herself into a hammock as her noisy boys dashed toward the lake. They’d quickly changed into swimming trunks after tending their horses while Christy had unsaddled and curried Sugarfoot.
“So what do you want to do?” Kenn asked, not looking at her. She couldn’t decide if it was a bona fide invitation or merely the polite banter of a good host. Could he possibly be shy?
“Well now, cowboy.” She placed her hands on her hips in a businesslike way. “I should take a long hike around the lake. Or swim a few hundred laps to take care of that delicious lunch Kelley just made. That girl needs her own cooking show on Food Network. But…” She looked longingly at the silver sheen of water. “I think I could go for a rowboat ride.” She chortled. “Slip-sliding away without my backside taking a beating sounds mighty fine.”
“Let’s do it then, cowgirl. I officially have the afternoon off.” He offered her his hand, and she took it gladly, the spark from his touch landing all the way down to her toes.
At the small wooden dock, he helped her into Life Is But A Dream, a weathered but sturdy-looking craft of deep forest green.
“You row?”
Christy felt a flush. “Well, not exactly. I got my oar taken from me by a kahuna on an outrigger in Waikiki one time. But I am a fast learner.”
“Nah. You just relax. You gave Sugarfoot a good workout today. You deserve a break.” He grabbed the oars and tossed her a crooked grin so engaging her breath caught.
“You’re on,” she managed, heart thumping like she’d run a 10K.
“Anybody else want a boat ride?” He called out in his professional way, and Christy held her breath. She exhaled with relief when everybody else waved them on.
The little boat glided through the water, and the sound of oars slapping almost lulled Christy. But she wasn’t about to waste her limited time with Ken by dozing. Deep in her heart, she longed to know everything she could about him. “So who’s Joe?”
Kenn’s strong arms pulled the oars effortlessly, and she grinned. It was probably a piece of cake after wrangling cattle. She admitted deep down she liked the sight of his carved muscles moving beneath his blue shirt.
From under his brim, his deep brown eyes smiled at her. “Josephus Martin came through the cove in 1854 and summered here. Loved it. Staked a claim later on.”
“So the ranch has been in your family for a century and a half?”
The black Stetson moved in a nod as Christy dangled her hand in the cold water. He’d warned the water was snowmelt, but the hot sun—or maybe the warmth of Kenn’s smile—took the edge off.
“Yep. Along the way, a female descendent inherited and insisted her husband take her name when they wed up.”
“Women’s liberation, nineteenth century style?”
Kenn howled.
“But I don’t get the cove thing,” she said, liking the crinkle of humor around his eyes. “Sounds like I’m near an ocean, but the only water I’ve seen is Old Joe’s Hole and Hawk Creek.”
Kenn took his hand off an oar and pointed. “Notice how the foothills curve? Almost like a half circle? Imagine all of this land full of water, like a bay or cove. Same thing. Same shape.”
“Oh. I do get it.” So, those questions answered. What else without being nosy? He’d already told her a bit about the family. She recalled Kelley’s tattoo and the ranch’s brand. The double interlocking hearts. That seemed safe enough.
“So is your liberated ancestor the one behind the brand?”
A stand of alder along the shore created a shadow, and the sudden shade cooled her warm cheeks. It was hard to be close to Kenn and not have the giddiness intensify, the giddiness left over from her first glimpse of him, lolling against the hitching post the day she’d arrived. Oh, he’d taken her breath away, and she wasn’t sure she’d gotten it back. Kelley’s words still rang in her ears. Men, meaning Kenn of course, didn’t want a lapdog. Indeedy, Christy could hold on to her own self as well as handle falling in love with this man. For sure. Maybe even forever.
The boat slid back into the sunshine, and Kenn’s cheeks blushed underneath the dusting of whiskers she longed to touch.
“Aw, that was all Pa and Ma. She was the ‘ancestor’ who asked her mate to take her name. They were a love match that almost made you gag. I mean it. ’Til his dying day. Cuddling. Smooching. The ranch had been the Rockin’ M or something but when they got married, Pa and the ranch got new names. And new brands.”
Christy remembered what Kelley had said about her father. “You all must miss him very much. Especially your mother.”
Kenn nodded as he busily looked down at an oar. Christy suspected he hid a manly tear or two. “Yep. But Ma says God got them together and she’d do it all over again.”
Then Christy remembered something. “But you said Kennedy was your mother’s maiden name.”
He laughed. “I lied a little and beg your forgiveness. I don’t confess my family’s deep dark secret up front. I gotta wait ’til I know a person better to reveal it. But first off, some of what I said is true. Ma has never forgiven me for shortening the name. And she does make sure all the PR materials display the entire moniker.” He bent close to confess the deep dark secret, and her heart pounded. “You see, Kennedy was Pa’s maiden name.”
Christy laughed along with him so hard the boat rocked.
“Help! Help!” The frantic scream surged over the birdsong, killing their laughter.
With horror, Christy saw P.J. Blake flailing in the water, his despairing brother treading water nearby and unsure of what to do next.
“He’s cramping up!” screamed Mitch. “Help him. Help him.”
And without hesitation, Christy stood and jacked her boots against the seat, wriggling out of them. “Dear God, keep him safe. Give me strength; help me remember what to do.”
She dove into the lake.
4
Thank you, God. Thank you, God.
As Christy sat on the dock wrapped in a blanket, the simple prayer ran through her brain like the refrain of a hymn. She was fine, P.J. was fine, but in the aftermath, she needed strength and peace.
Her waterproof wristwatch said thirty minutes had passed, and she shivered again, amazed. Amazed her first reaction had been to pray. Amazed her long-ago skills had worked. Watching Kenn jog over, her heart tumbled both with pleasure at seeing him and with relief at P.J’s health. He sank down on the planks.
“He’s
fine,” he said with a big grin.
Christy smiled back. She’d guessed as much from watching the medical attention on shore, from the grateful waves and kisses Jennie Blake had sent her way. She hadn’t wanted to be underfoot. But Christy doubted she’d ever tire of hearing the words out loud.
Then Kenn’s eyes crinkled in concern. “How about you?”
She nodded to reassure him. “I’m all right. Honest.”
“Where’d you learn life-saving?”
“Girl Scout camp.” In spite of the warm sun and wool blanket, Christy’s teeth threatened to chatter. The water had been snow-cold and, and the shock was just beginning to set in. She liked that Kenn’s presence calmed her down enough to talk. “It had a pretty comprehensive curriculum. Like riding a bike and typing…” she hesitated long enough to look into his eyes, liking the comfort and compassion she saw there. “…..life-saving is apparently something you don’t forget. I’ve never used it until now. Thanks for getting the boat there so quick.”
“Didn’t want P.J. to pull you under in his panic.”
“That’s something we learned to avoid.” Heart pounding, she scanned the camp and then looked back at Kenn. “He is fine, right?”
Kenn’s smile reassured her. He wasn’t wearing his hat, and the sun cast golden highlights across his brown hair. “Pike says the boy’s fine. Belly cramp. Pike’s a vet and also a certified paramedic.”
“For times like this.”
He squeezed her shoulder, and her heartbeats calmed. “For times just like this. I think he’d like to check you. You’ve had a shock, too.”
“I’m fine, really.”
His forehead creased with a twinge of concern. “Well, at least let’s get you changed. You’re cold and damp.”
Instead, she scooted closer to him, needing his warmth. The sun and the blanket worked well but weren’t what she wanted. She didn’t need a paramedic. “I know I should change. I should go see how he is. I should thank Pike. Hug Jennie. But…”
She finished the sentence inside her head, how safe and content she felt, sitting here close to Kenn. All was well in the little wagon train world where she’d spent these last days. God be thanked.
That little refrain again. Was it possible P.J.’s near-tragedy had started up her faith again? Was it the beauty of nature? Or was it the burgeoning love for Kenn…and his possible need of her?
Maybe all three. She’d always been taught the Lord works in mysterious ways.
And likely this was one. Wow. A strange but welcome satisfaction enveloped her.
“Let’s just sit here for a bit while I dry off. Then I’d like to finish that boat ride. Unless…” Christy cast another concerned gaze at the camp where things obviously had settled back to normal. P.J. was loudly arguing with his mom and Christy definitely heard the words tire swing. “Unless you’re needed.”
Kenn shook his head. “We’re staying put at camp. The Blakes have already decided they aren’t cutting the trip short. P.J. honestly is fine. Although he was pretty intrigued when Pike mentioned a helicopter airlift to the hospital if needed.” Kenn looked away and then met her gaze. “We do have a radio and a tower for emergencies on the trail.”
Christy burst out laughing in genuine joy. Right now there wasn’t much more to want.
“I had a cramp once in my grandma’s pool,” she said, shuddering at the sudden memory. “It hurt so bad, but once it was over, I was good to go. Kids are resilient.”
“Had ’em too. And I agree.”
She glanced shyly at him. “So how about our ride?”
“I’m good to go.” His eyes sparkled at her. “You want anything to eat?”
After another of Kelley’s massive meals at noon, Christy wanted no such thing, but she recalled something about a man’s bottomless stomach. “No thanks. But a hot cup of coffee or tea might be nice.”
“You stay here. I’ll bring something back.” Slowly, as if reluctant, he got up, but touched her fingers before he headed over to the chuck wagon. Her heart thudded again.
A few minutes later, she caved, devouring Kelley’s sugar cookies like a condemned man’s last meal, a tin cup of hot Arbuckle’s resting in the center of her crossed legs. The boat slid through the silver lake, and Christy felt calm at last. The coffee warmed her through and through, but nothing like the heat of Kenn’s presence. His muscles moved again like magic and music, a sight she’d never tire of whether she stayed on for Cowboy College or returned home.
“Have you thought about staying on?” Kenn asked casually, as if reading her thoughts. “Cowboy College?”
She fought for the correct reply, not wanting to sound eager. Or reluctant. Both emotions scrambled together in her heart. “I can’t deny I’m intrigued. But there’s my job. And my mom.”
“Do you think she’s worried about you? Our no cell phone rule, I mean.”
“Sure.” Christy shrugged, her throat tightening. She hadn’t given Mom much thought for a while, and guilt washed over her. “She worries about everything. And it confuses me so much. She’s supposed to be this strong Christian woman, yet she can’t seem to trust God’s will at all.”
Kenn sighed, long and loud. “I think I’ve learned faith isn’t some pinnacle you reach where you get to stay forever. There are hills and valleys all over the place.”
His quick glance stopped her heart before he looked away, as if ready to bare his soul. For a flash, she wondered if he was about to reveal to her the load Kelley had hinted at.
Christy’s voice was soft. “You think you’ll ever reach the pinnacle again? Once you land in a valley?” For some reason, today had her feeling the valley of the shadows might be a thing of the past. Or at least she was on her way upward. It wasn’t mere coincidence or habit, was it, which had her beseech God at the moment she needed Him?
“I don’t know.” Kenn’s forlorn voice touched her heart as their gazes traveled the shoreline to land on Bragg, who was busy showing Mitchell how to cast a fly rod. Maybe God had led her here to Hearts Crossing to find her own peace and to help Kennedy Martin regain his faith. Instinct said his load had something to do with Bragg as much as the woman who had betrayed him. He’d tensed just now. But she’d be sensitive in drawing him out.
“There always seems to be somebody who’s got it worse,” she mentioned casually, dragging her hand in the water. She’d warmed enough in his presence, in the heat of the day, not to feel the shock of cold anymore.
He nodded. “I gotta say I was surprised to hear you launch out a prayer when you dove in. After our talk last night, I mean. When you didn’t want to stay for evening prayer.”
“Surprised me, too,” Christy confessed. “I guess it means my faith is still part of me. God hasn’t left me after all. Maybe I’d left Him because I didn’t like getting knocked off that pinnacle.” She stared down in her cup. “I blamed Him as well as that drunk driver, but I shouldn’t have. It was a decision a man made. Not the hand of God.”
Kenn gave a little sigh but then changed the subject. “I’ll have to use valleys and pinnacles next term, when my students discuss metaphors.”
Still, his eyes were sad, and he didn’t say another word. Christy realized she’d made up her mind in the last few minutes. Her decision might be sudden, but it felt right. It was time to let him know. Since there were no cell-phone restrictions back at the modern ranch, she could call Mom and her office manager with her decision when the wagon train returned from the trail tomorrow.
“Kenn, I’d like to stay on a few more days. For Cowboy College.” At the surprise in his eyes, she nodded, firm. “I can’t think of another degree I’d value more.”
Without his Stetson, his sun-kissed hair crinkled on his forehead as it furrowed in surprise, hopefully a delighted surprise. “Why, I’ll be. Ought to let you know right off. Headmaster Martin doesn’t grade on a curve. Although…” Kenn stopped rowing for a few seconds and drawled, “…I’ve a good mind to have me a teacher’s pet this term.”
> She flushed all the way to her toes at the warmth in his eyes. “All right by me, Mr. Headmaster,” she managed to murmur. “As long as said teacher’s pet is me.”
****
What in the whole wide world was he thinking? His feelings were nothing but a loose cannon and the last thing he needed close by was this girl to ignite them. He needed to get away from her quick.
She had put her hat back on, but he could see her face, tranquil finally, eyes closed as she relaxed in the sun. But no way could he get involved. And yet. He had promised himself one perfect day with her.
Surely that wasn’t too much to ask of a loving God. Even if the day had hit a rough patch just now. Glancing quickly on shore, he watched P.J. briefly argue with his mother, then purposefully grab a fishing pole, hale and vigorous the way kids tended to be.
“Kenn, there’s a beach.” Suddenly Christy’s soft, lovely voice roused him from his reverie, and he marveled how she could make a simple sentence sound like a poem. As she pointed to the sandy shore, she asked, “Could you pull up there? My knees have finally stopped shaking. I’d love a walk.”
A walk. Oh, his heart pittered and he was tempted. Strolling close by her side, alone on a pretty shore, fragrant air rustling around them with birdsong and a rippling lake all they’d hear. Even more, slinging his arm across her shoulders, holding her close. Stuff of dreams.
Too bad it was daytime, the time for real life, not misty dreams that would never come true.
He made a big deal about checking out his watch so he didn’t have to meet her eyes. Something about body language; maybe she’d realize he had other things to do. “I guess,” he drawled out. “I guess we got time for a short stroll.”
Her brow wrinkled a bit under her brim, confused at his businesslike tone. While she pulled boots back on, he beached the rowboat. Shadows rustling on the ground from the wind in the trees seemed ominous somehow. Not that there was danger…unless he counted the hazards to his heart. It was dangerous to be alone with her, to promise her, to promise himself they had more than this one afternoon. But it was her own words the night before that promised they’d never have a future.
