by Tanya Hanson
He jumped out, then reached to assist her, both hating and loving the way his fingers wrapped perfectly around hers. Unable to help himself, he dropped her hand like it was a hot stone.
“Kenn?” Her boots stopped in three inches of water. “What’s wrong? If you need to go back, say so. I don’t want to monopolize your time.”
Yet that’s exactly what he wanted. “No. I’ve got the afternoon free. I just…have something to sort out.”
Swiveling her head from side to side, she pointed around the lake. “This seems like a good place for contemplation. I can walk around the lake to get back.”
“Nah. That’s not what I meant. I don’t want to bother you with my baggage.” He grumbled out a laugh and took her hand again, treating himself to the exquisite indulgence. “Come on. There’s a path to Posy’s Grave.”
“A grave? Oh, no.” Her eyes widened in horror. “An Indian massacre? A wagon stuck in snow like the Donners?”
He couldn’t help another laugh. “Nope. Old Joe’s mule.”
“His mule?” Christy’s dark eyes shaded to deep mahogany, then crinkled with amusement. “This better be good, Mr. Martin. Let’s see. She brought him over the Rockies?”
“Yep. Even better, saved his life.” Arms swinging between them, he led her up a little knoll to the tree-lined path.
“Then this better be really good.”
“Yep. Supposedly he fell down a ledge—” Kenn paused dramatically. “—while prospecting up Shadow Ridge. He hung onto a shrub for dear life. Ole Posy nosed around in their gear until she found a rope. Held it ‘twixt her teeth,’ so the story goes, and tossed him the other end and dragged him up.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“You doubt me?” Kenn winked, then shrugged. “Legend’s been passed down for a hundred and fifty years. And I do believe animals are righteous critters when it comes to helping us humans. But nonetheless, I’m just telling it like I learned it.”
Her laughter was bright. “Well, this grave is something I need to see. Let’s go. Lead on, McDuff.”
“All righty.” Kenn latched tight to his self control and laid his arm gently across her shoulders, drawing her close. She leaned into him as their footfalls echoed across the breeze. For a moment, he felt like they were the only two people in the world, and for another moment, he wished it were so.
“I don’t want to stick my nose in,” Christy said finally, rubbing her hand along a lichen-covered boulder as they passed by. “But I don’t mind at all. You having some baggage, I mean. If it’s Daisy, well. Kelley talked to me last night, said you could use a friend.”
“Kelley?” Kenn stumbled against a root and dropped his arm from her shoulder. Kelley? What was his sister doing, sticking her nose in? And Daisy? What was that all about? He remembered Christy and his sister deep in conversation last night, catching his eye more often than not. A ripple of disappointment coursed across his shoulders. All this time he’d thought Christy had sought Kelley to find out about him. Now it seemed Kelley was the one running interference. Daisy?
For an unwise moment, he opened his mouth, ready to spill it about Bragg, but he just couldn’t. He’d destroy whatever flimsy friendship he and Christy had. Hard to believe the miserable Daisy Densmore was the safer subject.
“I don’t know what my little sister is up to,” Kenn said lightly as he reached for Christy’s hand again and led her down the path he’d hiked a thousand times. “Daisy, well. It’s complicated.”
Christy held tighter to his fingers and giggled. “You sound like every single screenplay that deals with relationships. ‘It’s complicated.’” She laughed harder.
“Yep, but it’s too true.” He might as well reveal some of it but leave off the parts concerning Bragg. “We taught together and dated pretty steadily my first couple of years, and everything seemed great. Not perfect, but great. I had some serious and as yet unresolved issues with a colleague, and lo and behold. He’s the guy she dumped me for.” Kenn shrugged, but remnants of the pain and humiliation still lingered. “It was pretty rough for a while, but neither of them teaches at Mountain Cove High any more. So it’s all good.”
Except he’d heard rumors she’d be coming to the Fourth of July Reunion. He brushed at his crawling skin.
Suddenly the path entered a clearing so beautiful he could understand Christy’s total gasp for air. When he was a kid, he’d felt it himself.
“My heavens,” she breathed like a prayer after she fought for oxygen. “I don’t think I’ve ever literally seen anything that took my breath away.”
Surrounded by oak and ponderosa, the path exploded into a gorgeous grotto, leading up to a waist-high boulder, its boundaries edged by smaller rocks. On each side of the path, the north sides of tree trunks wore moss and lichen like green velvet gloves, and a shaft of sun poked through the tree tops and aimed right for the large boulder. Behind the rock, a small stream flashed silver and sang lullabies as it burbled down the knoll to the lake.
“Supposedly that’s Posy’s gravestone,” Kenn said, almost hating to break the reverent silence. “There’s some weathered scratching on it where folks think Old Joe tried to carve her name.”
“Why, this is a sacred place for more reasons than that. Kenn, this is like a forest gazebo for a wedding.”
“What?” His nerves rattled a bit at the word. It wasn’t one he thought much about although Ma nagged him plenty about being thirty and single. He gulped. “Wedding?”
Christy stamped her foot to make her point, but it was a delicate, endearing gesture. “I mean, can’t you see a small group of guests gathered here?” she asked. “Underneath the trees? That rock…Posy’s headstone or whatever, could be the altar, a pastor standing in front of it. This...” Her hand waved eagerly over the pine-needle encrusted path, “why, it’s a ready made bridal aisle.”
Kenn didn’t want to burst her balloon, but it was an absurd notion. “Sorry, darlin’. Can’t say I ever thought that. Ma or the girls, either.”
“Well, I see it. I truly do.” She stomped her boot again. “I’ve landscaped plenty of wedding venues. I did one similar to this at a resort in South Lake Tahoe during my studies. It would be perfect.”
“Impossible to get to,” Kenn snorted although he loved the enthusiasm brightening her eyes.
“Not one whit. A destination wedding? That’s hot right now. A bridal party could travel here on the wagon train, have a pioneer wedding when they get here.” She sighed. “A picnic reception in the meadow. Kelley could cater.”
“Sounds lame.”
Christy gave him a delightful glare as if he didn’t know a single thing. “Or come out here quicker in Jeeps and ATV’s. This is absolutely the setting country music-lovin’ suburbanites ache for.” Her boots crunched across fallen leaves and needles. “I’m not kidding, Kenn. This could be another gold mine for Hearts Crossing.” She sing-songed with a twang, “’Wagon Train Weddings.’”
Hmmmmmmm. He kind of liked the sound of that. Hooper and Ma were always looking for more sources of revenue. But he tried to appear off-hand now. “All righty. Guess I could mention it.”
“You do that.” She shoved him playfully. “You’re gonna find out I’m right. It won’t be Posy’s Grave for long. It’ll be Posy’s Grove! The ultimate destination wedding.”
He jostled her lightly in return, letting the reverence of the place fill his spirit. It wouldn’t be his decision about making this a wedding venue. He might have input, but Ma, Rachel, and Hooper called all the shots for Hearts Crossing.
But whether the spot was the final resting place of any living thing, he didn’t know for sure. Family lore was fun to believe. He’d sure want to do right by Joe Montana when the gelding breathed his last. But now, it was time to talk about Christy again.
“So what about those studies of yours?” He asked as they both sank down on leaves piled against the boulder. The monument. Christy’s so-called wedding altar. Figuring her still-damp clothes might ch
ill her in the shade of the heavy thicket, he wrapped his arm around and snuggled her close.
Christy relaxed into the curve. “I got my degree in landscape architecture at Cal Poly. The Lake Tahoe thing was one of my school projects, and I received a design award.” Her cheeks colored lightly even in the shadows of the leaves. “That distinction helped me land a much-envied internship with a very prestigious development firm. In turn, they hired me after graduation to landscape residential projects all around California.”
“But you have your own business now, right?”
She nodded. “Forrest for the Trees. After a time, I wanted to stay put. Not travel as much. Tranquility Group was delving into commercial development, too, all over the Southwest.”
Tranquility Group? He could hardly believe his ears. To diversify and increase revenue, Rachel and Hooper had recommended selling off two hundred less arable acres to build a planned village of vacation homes complete with mall, gym, community church, restaurants, even a spa and beauty salon. Tranquility had landed the job after easement had been petitioned and obtained.
“I loved working for them, though,” Christy said almost wistfully. “They were awfully good to me.”
A thrill tingled across his spine, and something wild and crazy stewed in his brain. What if Christy came on board to landscape the project?
Something surreal was going on. Was there an almighty Hand trying to get them together? Was Kenn finding a pinnacle after all?
“Would you ever work for Tranquility again?” he asked casually.
She smiled with a shrug that wafted the scent of her sun-warmed skin into his senses. “I don’t know. They headhunt me all the time. When things get hectic at work, I can’t deny that I’ve thought about it.” Stretching her legs, she breathed deeply of the fresh summer air, quiet for a moment as if lost in thought. Her shoulder fit nicely in the notch of his arm.
With a smooth gesture, she combed her fingers through her long hair. He liked her hands, well-kept but no long fake nails. He thought he spied a callus or two.
“Being an independent contractor, owning my own business does have its set of headaches,” she went on. “And I don’t get to work outside as much, with so much administrative and PR work on my mind.” She looked at him straight on, with what he read as a wink and a prayer. “I love Forrest for the Trees. Don’t get me wrong. But I do have a fondness for Tranquility. They gave me my start. Who knows? There might even be a time when I have kids and a husband and a home of my own. Then it might be easier having somebody else in charge.”
Her words sent a spark to the tips of his toes.
5
Christy almost swallowed her tongue as she tried to relax against his side. Husband, kids, a wedding grotto? What was she saying? If anything, Kenn would think her husband-hungry after all that.
Worse, she hadn’t planned on saying any of it. Just last night she’d told Kelley she didn’t want a husband at all. She closed her eyes in disbelief. It had all popped out. Must be the cold water and a brain freeze. But she couldn’t read his reaction at all. Self-conscious, she started to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Irony.” She might as well confess and make light while trying not to squirm nervously. “Another example you can use on your students. I just yapped about weddings and family after spending all of last evening convincing Kelley I’m too independent to be some poor guy’s wife.” There. That should let him know she wasn’t on the prowl for a mate. Yet the warmth of his gaze made her wiggle uncomfortably against the hard surface of the boulder. Confused, she rustled to her feet. “This boulder is better off as Posy’s tombstone than a settee.”
Kenn swiftly got up, too. “Yep. We probably ought to get back to camp. We’ve got time for a horseback ride. You game?”
With a grin, Christy slapped her hip. “I believe I am. I think my dive into that snow-fed lake shocked my sore muscles into paralysis.”
But leaving the grotto was hard to do. For that little space of time, she and Kenn had shared something special. Nothing permanent, nothing serious, just something special. He didn’t take her hand as they took the path back to the boat, and she decided against reaching for him, especially when he whispered into the top of her hat.
“Maybe that poor guy would find himself lucky.”
She feigned a little nap as he rowed across the lake. What on earth had he meant? She wasn’t about to be some rebound from Daisy. Not to mention she had her own life in California. Maybe Cowboy College would be a mistake after all. She still had time to get out of it. Mom was the perfect excuse.
On shore, more drama stewed for the Blake family as Kenn helped her step out of the boat.
“You’re resting in this hammock, P.J.,” Jennie told her son, hands firm on her hips. “You are not getting on that horse. Not after what you went through.”
“Pike said I’m all right.” The strength and non-whine of the boy’s voice impressed Christy as she caught his dad’s eye. Paul Blake shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“Jennie, P.J’s right,” he said to his wife. He wasn’t a tall man, but he had a great sense of authority. “I had a swimmers cramp once. It doesn’t kill you. When it’s over, it’s over. Besides, P.J. isn’t going back in the water.”
“But he might fall off the horse.” Jennie’s eyes gleamed frantically while Mitch, her other child, rolled his eyes.
“Where are you going?” Christy asked the boys.
“Barrel Bridge over Hawk Creek at Elk Grove. We wanna see it,” Mitch said, engaging in a fist bump with his brother.
Christy watched Jennie’s jaw clench.
Stepping in, Kenn said kindly, “Christy and I will ride along. We’ll be right by his side. I assure you. If there is anything to worry about, Pike would have had him med-evac’ed out of here.”
“Mo-om, I’m fine. Honest.”
Lips pursed tight, Jennie obviously didn’t like being outnumbered, but she didn’t say another word as Paul helped her into the hammock. Then her husband walked back to Christy and gave her a hearty hug.
“Christy, I can’t thank God enough for you saving my son. It was His strong hand guiding you, I know that, but I must thank you for your quick thinking and expertise. It’s nothing short of a miracle, you being on this trip with us.”
“The Lord does work in mysterious ways,” Kenn agreed, and Christy felt her heart tumble to her toes. Was it a miracle? Was there significance to her presence here, to her ignoring Mom’s pleas that she stay home?
Jaw firm, the young father said, straight from the heart, “We were attracted to Hearts Crossing right away. There were other family wagon train adventures, but this one was the only one we considered.”
“Why is that?” Christy asked. She hadn’t known why Daddy had picked this particular venue. After she found the travel folders in his papers when she cleaned out his office, it seemed the right place to honor his memory.
“On the logo where the hearts intersect,” Paul said, “there’s also a cross. That’s the ‘crossing’ part of your name, right, Kenn?”
Kenn seemed surprised as if he didn’t really know. But he faked it well, just as he probably did in the classroom when a cocky student tried to trip him up with something. “Yeah. Pa and Ma were all about faith.”
“And salvation. Saving my son’s life. Like God saved his soul.” Paul’s voice wavered with emotion. “Well, I see my missus waving. Wonder what she wants this time.” He drawled like a cowboy and then said, sounding relieved, “Thanks again, Christy.”
She smiled, too moved to say a word. God didn’t make mistakes. And it was humans who made the decisions that affected others. Maybe she had been part of His plan to save P.J.’s life.
Or to help Kenn with whatever baggage he carried.
“Hold up a minute,” Kenn said to the twins, who were as eager as their horses. He turned to Christy. “Your damp jeans will chafe you. You best get changed. We can wait a few more minutes.”
/> She nodded. Although her clothes were nearly dry, the thought of rough damp denim rubbing her sore muscles was mighty unpleasant. Grabbing her duffel bag from the buckboard, she changed quickly behind the privacy tarps. When she emerged in clean jeans and a fresh white tee-shirt, she saw Kenn’s eyes brighten in such a way her heart pumped double time against her ribs.
On the way to Elk Grove, Kenn rode close to her, the boys a little ahead, babbling and chortling. Christy felt no awkwardness in the silence between them. The heat of the sun, the casual laughter, and Kenn’s quiet strength patching up the Blakes’ little family squabble settled about her in a cocoon from which she didn’t want to emerge. Around them, the foothills sheltering Mountain Cove gleamed gold and green with drying summer grasses and deep dark groves.
Riding like this, with the kids and Kenn, almost felt like a family. Stirrings assailed Christy that delighted and surprised her.
Suddenly the twins stopped their horses along a broken down log fence in the shade of a ponderosa pine.
“You OK?” Kenn called, as he kneed Joe Montana into a trot, Christy close behind. In the afternoon warmth, sweat had started to slide down her backbone.
“Aw, I’m fine. Just figured I ought to thank Miss Forrest, you know. For saving my life.” P.J. smiled shyly, then looked down at the ground. Christy hid a smile. Of course Mitchell had badgered his brother into the declaration.
“You’re very welcome, P.J. But I don’t think you would have drowned. There were other folks around as well, surely just as capable.”
“Whatever. But it was you. Thanks.” Then he looked at Kenn. “Where’s Elk Grove?”
All eyes turned as Kenn pointed to a vast clump of trees hugging the foothills. “That’s the grove. Named for a little herd that’s seen there from time to time.”
