by Tanya Hanson
His laughter rang like a song in her ears.
Down a looping road, he stopped at a townhome softly lit in front with an old-fashioned fixture. Lights flickered in neighboring windows, and Rachel smelled wood smoke on the cold night air. When she tucked her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Brayton noticed; his strong arm fell gently across her after he helped her down.
Stacked rockwork decorated the outer walls and chimney. “Nice place.”
“Sorry it isn’t more accommodating. I hope to get some furnishings and things ordered this weekend.”
“Wow.” Even without furniture, the interior projected a warmth she could feel on her skin. Not only did the grate blaze with a hearty fire, but Brayton must also have bought every candle at the mercantile in town, in Promise, maybe even in River Ridge. At least a hundred candles of every size flickered across the mantle and along the baseboards of the hardwood floors.
A candle on each step halfway up the stairs. “I don’t know what to say. Either you stockpile candles for emergencies or you are a way confident guy.”
His smile grew, and she knew he agreed with the latter. “And before you berate me about leaving my house empty with open flames, I made acquaintance with my neighbor here on Gray Eagle Circle. Mrs. De la Garza watched the stove, lit the candles, and minded the fireplace when I left to get you. Her final instruction was skipping out the backdoor soon as she saw my headlights.”
“Well done, Mr. Metcalf.” She swiveled to check out as much as she could see. “Well done.”
Overhead recessed lights had obviously been set on dimmer, and the shadowy effect was charming, a bit mysterious, and definitely romantic. She could easily visualize plump chairs and an overstuffed sofa in front of the fire, maybe a braided rug warming the great room. Dark-stained plantation shutters covered the windows but in between the slats, moonlight had started to peek. “I must say. The architects did as well with the interiors as Christy did landscaping.”
True, she could see her and Matty in a similar place. For whatever reason Brayton seemed pleased. “Why don’t you sit down?” He gestured grandly across the great room to the card table under a stylish chandelier. “Being this is the only choice you have.”
“Thanks.” She smiled at his efforts. Next to a wine decanter, a big hurricane candle glimmered in the center of the humble card table disguised by a long white cloth. Even the folding chairs wore matching covers that touched the floor.
“Innkeeper uses those linens for bridesmaids’ luncheons,” Brayton laughed as he pulled out her chair. “I commandeered ’em.”
“I’ll try not to spill.”
“Let me check dinner.” He headed toward a counter surrounded by high-end appliances. “And I must confess. Despite my prior announcement proclaiming my cooking skills, my children’s palette was quite limited. They always praised my beef stew, though. And I thought that a dish a rancher’s daughter might appreciate.”
“One of my favorites,” Rachel admitted.
“Aw, I knew that. I asked your Ma. And I hope you all don’t think I’m trying too hard, but I also commandeered the veggies and herbs from her garden. The beef I admit I purchased from the ranch supply, and pie and bread from Kelley’s display case.” He tried to act downcast and apprehensive, but she shook with laughter.
“Well, you already know everything around here’s a family affair. Now come on, I’m starving.”
He set down two bowls, seated himself, and he poured two glasses from the decanter. Sparkles of light from the chandelier tossed flickers of gold into the deep red wine. Then he folded his hands.
Grace.
Rachel was more than pleased. For some reason, God was going down easier these days.
Oh, Brayton’s food went down easy, too. Conversation flowed, and the wine smoothed. More than ever, Rachel was glad she hadn’t run screaming from that telephone call.
“Mmm, good. I never imagined putting basil in blueberry pie.” Brayton hadn’t swallowed the second bite of the dessert yet, but his talking around the food was elegant and not unmannerly at all.
“Kelley tries everything. And in case you’re wondering, Ma grows the blueberries, too.”
“Gosh, is there anything she doesn’t do?” He stretched as well as he could against the little chair, long, strong, burly, and graceful all at the same time. “Seems as amazing as your grandmother.”
“I guess I’ve got some good blood in my veins.”
“I’d say so,” he said. Candlelight danced in his eyes.
Rachel’s heart stirred, desires built in her blood. She finished her pie with shaking hands. Brayton liked Matty, she liked Addie. They might soon be neighbors. What was not to like? The possibilities tantalized.
“I’d show you around, but the upstairs lighting doesn’t have bulbs yet. I just ran out of time today.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll call a realtor tomorrow. I can take a look at the available models then. It’s...just nice. Everything’s nice.“
And the words weren’t hard to say. Whatever, whoever—Whoever—had helped calm her heart and ease her reluctance had done a great job.
“Sorry. I remembered dishwasher soap but not a coffeemaker.”
“Not a problem. We can have a cup of decaf when you take me home.”
“I don’t want to take you back yet, but I think it’s best,” he said, eyes and voice soft. “This isn’t exactly a comfort zone yet. But next time...”
“I know.” Thrilled. There’d be a next time. And she didn’t mind going home now. Ma would be fast asleep. “You cooked. That means I clean up. You can put out all these candles and douse the fire while I load the dishwasher.” She took their bowls to the upscale granite counter, Brayton close behind with their glasses. “This was a scrumptious meal, Brayton. And I’m having a good time. A great time.” She opened the appliance door to avoid his gaze. “Even still, you can’t imagine how nervous I was.”
“It doesn’t show.” He turned to her, and his hand landed gently on her cheek, held her face still and looked deep into her eyes. She covered it with her fingers, and a spark zinged her toes.
“It’s over now. Being nervous. It’s all over now. I promise.”
“Good. Great.” His gaze deepened, but he didn’t move to kiss her.
The spark zinged harder anyway. Maybe, after coffee. Snug on an overstuffed couch in front of the Hearts Crossing fireplace.
“Let’s get going,” she said, eager. “You’ve got to get Addie up in the morning. I doubt she’s a natural alarm clock like a three-year-old.”
Brayton grinned. “You got that right. Getting her up for chores all summer was a chore all by itself.”
Back at the ranch, Rachel’s anticipation hit simmering point while she made coffee and Brayton stoked the fire in the big front room. She even longed for a handful of his candles, just to strew around for ambience. Putting on a country music CD, she heard lyrics that perfectly fit the occasion, and hoped he got it. Snug against the sofa cushions, he made such a comfortable, appealing sight she hurried over with two steaming mugs.
“Come, set a spell,” he quipped as if he were the host. “I could almost just sit here forever.” His gaze fell upon the row of family pictures in formation on the mantle.
“I know. The ranch sure is the king pin. The keystone, you know.”
He nodded, “I do feel that here. But it wasn’t that way in California. Nate going off to college, the big old house in Brentwood started to feel like wasted space. And the traffic.” He shuddered elaborately and with a huge grin. “It was killing me.”
“Well, I’m glad it didn’t.” Rachel didn’t hesitate to snuggle a bit next to him, like she’d wanted to at the campfire. And had no chance to in his unfurnished house. “And I’m glad you’re here now.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m glad I can do most of my business online or through teleconference. And take advantage of the open spaces, the beauty, I find around me now.” With no boyish
hesitation, his arm settled around her shoulder and pulled her close. She trembled, wondered if he could feel it.
“I’m glad, too. But why Colorado? You know, when your blood’s in southeast Idaho.” She almost bit off her tongue. The plane crash!
He breathed deep for a while, but not as if she’d just jammed her foot in her mouth. It was as if he drank in her presence, her scent. The trembles burgeoned.
“I had agents look around for properties all over the west. With the Red Hill, though...” He paused, his fingers stilled against her hair. “I could buy the herd along with it. With a cash payment and quick escrow, I could keep the horses. They wouldn’t have to be auctioned. Or worse.”
She shivered. Slaughterhouse.
“So I swooped in. Addie didn’t like much of anything I was doing then. I just took a chance she’d come around somehow. I knew she needed to stretch her legs. I figured the horses would win her over.”
“Looks like you got your way. I think she’s come right around. Do you always get your way?” She teased. “I’d say you do. Look at me.”
He didn’t, though. The arm across her stiffened a little, and he took a while to answer. “Most times. That’s why...there’s something I need to tell you.”
She went on red alert. Some instinct ran deep that this hadn’t been a simple date at all. Disappointment all but swamped her despite the wonderful evening they’d shared. And she didn’t like the phrasing, need to tell. “Want to tell” was so much kinder.
“When I saw your grandmother’s art, well, it just knocked my socks off.
“So? Happens to everybody.” Rachel tried to relax, but she steeled herself for whatever was coming. For once Brayton seemed a bit off his game.
“Years ago when it first happened”—to his credit, he looked straight in her eyes. She read right away what “it” was—“I realized I should do something in Marianne’s memory. Yeah, I did a couple of art scholarships, but one day I got it. What I should do. Establish an art gallery in her name at our alma mater. But I sat on the project, I’m not sure why. I’ve got the resources. It hit me like a lightning bolt yesterday, why I’d waited. Because I didn’t know about your grandmother. The first show in the gallery will exhibit her collection.”
“What? Her collection? What on earth?” Cold prickles ran up and down Rachel’s spine beneath the soft silk.
“It wouldn’t just be meaningful for me, for Marianne’s memory. It would honor your grandmother’s memory too. Her work is spectacular. It needs to be seen.”
Confusion wracked her. “I think a memorial gallery is a great idea, Brayton. I do. But Grim-Gram’s art? I’m not seeing that. She was something of a recluse. I don’t know. I don’t know if she’d want to be on display. The altar piece, that’s different. Church was the one place she did go.”
“Well, think about it. It’s a great idea for Hearts Crossing, too. Of course the artistic element is the most important, but in a business sense, it’s a wise marketing venture, sharing her unique, unusual western art with the world.” His excitement almost touched her. “Even if the originals aren’t for sale, you could trademark images for note cards and post cards. Affordable Giclée reproductions and lithographs. All available at the show. Your gift shop, too. I even envision a line of jewelry, earrings, made from tiny tiles to mirror the mosaic altarpiece.”
He touched her ear. “I can see them drifting atop your shoulders.”
Of course she tingled, his flesh meeting hers. But doubt roiled more.
“Brayton, I don’t know.” And she didn’t. Such an enterprise would take much thought, much family discussion. True, Hearts Crossing featured low-key souvenirs in the gift shop, but this sounded like mega-marketing beyond the ranch’s philosophy. Not to mention it not sounding like Grim-Gram at all.
“Rachel, it’s a wonderful plan. I’ve already set things in motion. I called Pac Arts this morning.”
“You what? You called them?” Skin freezing, she pulled harshly away from him. “Did you consult with my mother?”
He flushed. “No. But I told Kelley.”
“You told my sister? Kelley?”
He nodded.
“Just not me?” An indescribable hurt coursed over her.
“Kelley did say I need to talk it over with you.”
Ah. Everything made sense now.
“Oh, I get it.” She looked away so he couldn’t see her swallow tears. “That’s what tonight was all about? This wasn’t a date! You didn’t take me to your house to romance me. You took me to seduce me into displaying my grandmother’s ‘artistic element.’ But she didn’t like to be on display, Brayton. You’d have known that, had you asked me.”
His enthusiasm withered in front of her. She reined in her thoughts.
“That’s not fair, Rachel. This was a real date. I’ve wanted to be with you since the first time I saw you.”
“Sounds like a pick-up line.”
“This was a real date, Rachel. A real, man-woman date.” His eyes blazed then softened, the intensity of his gaze stealing her breath.
“Here’s the thing,” She grabbed for air. “My husband kept secrets. About what happened over there. By the time he let me in, much damage had been done. So much trust lost. I thought you got that. I mean, I trusted you enough yesterday to open my heart. Something I haven’t done with anybody.”
“Rachel, you must know how that touched me, that you’d confide in me and allow me to comfort you. We’ve been through some similar stuff. But the gallery... I got the inspiration this morning, in the café and when I get an instinct that something’s right, I tend to jump in. And when the woman at Pac Arts picked up the phone directly, I just went in head on.”
For an uneasy second, Rachel wondered about the plane crash. Had he been careful enough? She answered herself right away. Of course. His baby girl had been there. “So, no phone tree?”
He relaxed. “No. A real live person. I just...”
“Well, that’s something,” She smiled, reaching for relaxation, remembering the lovely evening. Deep inside Brayton was a good man. She had good instincts, too. “I think I get it, Brayton. Your motivation. Your enthusiasm. But you need to know something. Nick was impetuous, too. Jumping headlong. I’m not saying it’s bad, or that your business sense is bad. Nick had no qualms about jumping into a hell hole to save his men. But that same impetuosity well, got him killed.” Her throat grew thick for one split second. She swallowed. “I’m analytical. Nothing like that is in my nature, so it’s something I don’t get. And even between us, well, I’ve got to be cautious. Tonight was great, but you get it, right? That I need somebody with a dose of caution?” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’m not saying no. I’m just thinking...not now.”
He looked so bereft she wanted to comfort him, yet part of him dismayed her. Suddenly she knew what to do. What she had to show him. What she herself had to feel.
“Come on.” She got up and held out her hand. “In the study.”
Next to her down the hallway, he followed, but not meek. Strength and confidence tightened the fingers he knotted through hers. “What’s in the study?”
“One of her first. And maybe her best.”
Without a word, Brayton stopped at the painting hung over a smaller, unlit fireplace. The textured brushstrokes depicting Jesus the Good Shepherd begged to be touched, and she could see Brayton restraining his fingers. In a brown fringed robe, Jesus held a baby bighorn lamb against His breast as He gazed across mountains much like the range surrounding Hearts Crossing. Off to the left of the canvas, red rocks, like faraway Sedona, gleamed crimson and copper.
“Jesus looks real. He could be right here. Right here at the ranch.” Brayton spoke so softly Rachel could barely hear him.
“I know.” She nodded. “And maybe here He should remain.”
12
Business had sure kept him busy all day long at the inn in front of his computer. And kept Rachel Martin far out of his thoughts. Although not compl
etely.
Hoping he hadn’t blown it, he dissected all of her arguments one more time. He stretched his legs under the laptop stand and closed the lid, satisfied. Checking his Swiss investments had assured him that his portfolio could easily bear the art gallery makeover. As for Rachel—just the thought of her set his blood racing—she was sensible. And he usually didn’t have his ideas turned down.
Time to get Addie at school and then take her to Woodside Meadows to show her the new digs. Having Rachel there last night made him wish she could come along for the whole tour, maybe offer some suggestions.
Driving to the middle school, a calm settled over him as he absorbed more of the beauty of this place. Historic false-fronted buildings could well have been a movie set, but real people walked down the wooden sidewalks in front of them, and real commerce took place behind the walls. Like the mercantile where he’d found Addie’s sweatshirt and bought out their stock of candles. Spires of pine shaded the street and his heart lightened further when folks he didn’t yet know waved at him.
Addie waited by a crossing guard, so firm and tall he felt both pride and relief. God had indeed brought her health full circle. Her pink sneakers tapped in impatience. Make that excitement. She chatted happily to a girl next to her. He parked, and she loped over, her gait secure, leaving her companion. He unrolled the window, and Addie leaned in.
“Dad, that’s Stella. I told her we’re going to check out the new house and can she come, please? And you always said you need a woman’s touch.”
“Well, I...” Disappointment flared. They might have had some good father-daughter bonding. Yet he hated to dash her new happiness and her new friendship. But...all the candles, the decanter from last night. He had to jump in headfirst again. “You know I had a date last night?”
“Yeah. I don’t mind you dating. Playing the field a bit. It would be OK to go out with Stella’s mom, too.
“I made Rachel Martin dinner in our new place.”
“Oh.” Addie’s face changed, but definitely not for the worse. “Well, I like her, too. She’s really pretty. If you two got together, I’d really belong at Hearts Crossing. But she seems kinda snooty.”
