Marianna continued, “Bill wants to come with her.”
Megan sighed. “I’m not surprised.”
“You need to make amends.”
Megan frowned at her sister. “They don’t mind that our relationship is superficial. They don’t care that—”
“But you’re the Christian.”
Megan smacked her hand on the table. “I get tired of being the one who has to forgive and forget. They’ve never once apologized to me, and you know they were wrong.”
Marianna averted her gaze and picked at one of her fingernails. Megan knew her sister. She was trying to figure the right words to say to make Megan change her mind. Well, this was too big. God should understand why she couldn’t just forgive and forget.
Marianna opened her arms. “You’re right. They owe you an apology. But you may never get it.”
Megan squeezed her eyes closed. Why did God ask her to forgive people who didn’t deserve it, didn’t even want it? A fresh wave of realization of Jesus’ covering of her sin washed over her. She hadn’t deserved forgiveness, and yet God granted it to her.
But God was bigger than her. He was God, after all. The Maker of heaven and earth and all of creation. He had a lot more power within Himself to draw from. And yet He still wanted her to forgive. She knew scripture said it. Knew God commanded it. But she didn’t feel it. And she didn’t want to.
Wind whipped through Megan’s hair as she drove the old country roads that led to the small town of Midway. She tapped the top of the steering wheel. Her fingers still ached from making pew bows with Marianna earlier in the day. And they were only half through with the pew decorations. She cringed at the thought of starting up on them again.
Megan turned a curve and slowed to a near crawl behind an oversized tractor. She allowed her gaze to sweep the countryside. She’d missed the beauty of her mountains and hills in eastern Kentucky, but the rolling pastures of Midway were just as breathtaking.
She passed a farm with several horses grazing. An ornate white barn with a gray roof and black-trimmed doors and windows sat a thousand feet or more away from the road. She lifted her brows. “Haven’t seen many houses nicer than that barn.”
She glanced at the GPS suctioned to her windshield. If the gadget was right, she’d stay on this road for two more miles. She lifted her pointer finger in the air and spoke in a monotone voice. “Then I’ll arrive at my destination, on right.”
She laughed at herself as she continued at a speed that would challenge a turtle. Two cars had slowed behind her, but with so little traffic on the road, she didn’t expect the farmer would pull over and allow them to pass.
Passing another horse farm, she drank in the whitewashed brick walls on each side of the entrance. Portfolio antique verde lights hung on the brick walls on each side. Though the decorative wrought iron gate was closed, Megan still spied the house that looked as if it had been copied off the pages of Gone with the Wind and planted in the small town of Midway. She whipped her hair over her shoulder, threw back her chin, and proclaimed, “After all … tomorrow is another day.”
The GPS jabbered at her, and she looked at the entrance to her destination. Though not as gaudy, the brownstone and wrought iron entrance opened up to a two-story white vinyl farmhouse with a charcoal roof and deep red shutters, an oak front door, and a wraparound porch.
She shifted into park, scooped the piano books and her purse off the passenger’s seat, then reached around to the outside of the car to open the door. She sucked in a deep breath as she shoved the door closed with her hip. “Marianna was right. Definitely rich.”
She had taken just a couple of steps toward the house when Old Yeller raced across the yard barking at her. Megan bit back a squeal as she booked it to the front porch. She loved dogs, and golden labs had been one of her favorites since reading about this one’s twin as a girl. She clenched her jaw when the massive creature leaped onto the porch and bared his teeth at her.
“Old Yeller!” A male voice sounded from behind the house. Colt walked around to the front and patted his thigh. “Get over here, boy.”
Megan blew out a breath and offered a weak smile when the animal nestled against Colt’s leg then sat beside him. “Your dog?”
Colt nodded. “Yep.”
Megan loosened her grip on the piano books. The canine winked, an involuntary motion she was sure, but adorable just the same. The dog panted heavily but remained obediently beside his master. He looked up at Colt. “His name’s Old Yeller?”
“Don’t you think he looks like him?”
“Definitely.” Megan lowered her hand palm up and started to bend down. “He won’t hurt me, will he?”
“I’d reckon not. Old Yeller’s about the sweetest dog I’ve ever owned.”
Colt patted the dog’s side, and Old Yeller walked to Megan and sniffed her hand. Once Megan had received a slobbery lick, she petted the animal’s head and neck. Old Yeller moved closer, and Megan fought the urge to wrap her arms around the dog’s thick neck.
Megan stood and wiped her hand on the side of her denim capris. “Is Hadley ready?”
Colt looked at his watch. “She should be back any minute. She’s been practicing her barrel racing.”
Megan lifted her eyebrows.
Colt cocked his head. “It’s a rodeo sport where the competitor rides around three barrels in a cloverleaf pattern as fast as she can without knocking them down.”
Megan shifted her weight. “I know what it is. I just didn’t know girls did it, especially girls as young as Hadley.”
Colt scoffed. “Well sure. Hadley’s one of the best in the nation.” His lips parted into a smile that would outshine John Wayne. “You should go with us to a rodeo sometime.”
Heat crept up Megan’s neck as she realized how accurate her sister had been in describing Colt as quite a hottie. She knew he was just bragging about his niece. He wasn’t asking her on a date. Besides, it was Hadley’s barrel-racing, sweat-flying, steed-stomping rodeo he was talking about, not some moonlit ride on a pair of tame horses. “Well, I—”
“That was some ride.”
Megan turned and saw Hadley stomping toward the porch, patting her hands against her jeans. Old Yeller bounded down the steps and ran around the girl until she bent down and petted the canine.
“You were supposed to be back half an hour ago to allow time to clean up.” Colt frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
Hadley looped her fingers through the waist of her jeans. “I know, Uncle Colt, but Fairybelle was riding like a champion, and I had to let her keep practicing at that pace.”
Megan watched as Colt’s expression softened. She had a feeling the preteen had her uncle wrapped snuggly around her pinkie finger.
He pointed toward the house. “Get on in there and clean up quick. I’ll show Miss Megan the piano.”
Hadley grinned as she rose up on tiptoes and kissed her uncle’s cheek. She waved to Megan. “Be right back.”
Megan’s heartbeat sped at being left alone with Colt again. She wished Hadley had listened to her uncle and been ready when she arrived. She also wished Marianna hadn’t cursed her into noticing Colt’s good looks.
Colt didn’t make a move to guide her inside. He just sort of stared at her. Which made no sense. What did he want her to say? Surely he couldn’t tell she thought he was quite the cutie. She inwardly growled. She had news for him. There would be no baring of the soul, no admission of his good looks.
He waved toward the house. “Come on in.”
Megan rolled her eyes at her own dramatics as she followed the man into his home. Listening to her sister go on about Colt Baker had her mind all in a tizzy. The man wasn’t that good-looking. Just because he had dirty-blond hair, blue eyes, and the swagger of a true homegrown cowboy didn’t mean he was any more than the average Joe she passed each day on the street.
She rolled her eyes at her wayward thoughts as she followed Colt through the living room and down a hall. The hou
se didn’t look like a bachelor pad. Though a bit dated, the décor was one of the more feminine Americana styles she’d seen.
He guided her into a room, and Megan gasped. The walls were covered with books and Victorian figurines. Dusty rose-colored drapes and an elegant swag cascaded from the top of the window. Beside a tall lamp sat an ivory satin-covered wingback chair. But it was the Victorian baby grand that stole her breath.
She gestured toward the instrument. “Does it work?”
“Tuned and ready.”
She placed a hand on her chest and nodded toward it. “May I?”
“Yeah. Give her a whirl. Let’s see how she sounds.”
Megan sat down on the bench. She caressed a few keys before placing her hands in position. But what to play? Something Victorian would be best. She searched her mind. She knew little from that era by heart, but there was surely something she could play a few chords of.
She remembered a song she’d learned in high school. Her fingers danced across the keys, and she threw herself into “The Dying Poet” by Gottschalk. She didn’t think with her brain, just allowed her fingers to remember the notes. The soothing melody filled her and reminded her of a time of happiness and innocence.
When she finished, she stared at the black music holder. She’d learned the piece just before she’d started the tenth grade. Things were easier then. Good and bad was absolute. Life wasn’t tainted.
“Am I gonna learn to play like that?”
Hadley’s question broke Megan’s reverie, and she twisted in the seat. She rubbed her hands together and smiled at the girl. “Absolutely.”
She glanced across the room at Colt. He was leaning against a bookshelf, his arms folded across his chest. Surprised pleasure etched his features, and she looked away from him. He really shouldn’t look at her like that.
Chapter 6
Generosity is giving more than you can, and pride is taking less than you need.
KHALIL GIBRAN
Colt blinked and shook his head as he pushed away from the bookshelf. He didn’t know enough about Megan to be swept away into some kind of strange ooshy-gooshy land just because she played a few chords. She reminded him of his mom. For a moment, he was the proverbial fly stuck to the wall, entranced by Cozette Baker who sat at the piano playing an elaborate tune. Her husband, Wade, leaned against the doorjamb, mesmerized into a deep calm after a laborious day on the farm. Colt knew his mother’s playing soothed his dad’s soul. He hadn’t realized how much it comforted his own. He missed her. His mom. And his dad.
With a wave of emotion threatening to rise out of his chest, Colt retreated from the room and headed to the front door.
“That was so pretty, Megan. Play another.”
Hadley’s awe-filled voice filled the foyer, and Colt wasn’t able to make it to the door fast enough. Another rhythm pealed from the piano. He recognized the old hymn “When the Saints Go Marching In.”
A low growl slipped through his mouth. That was the perfect song to uplift his spirits. One about when God’s children left this world to meet Him in the heavens. He sucked in a deep breath then stepped out into the warm spring air and lifted his gaze to the cloud-dotted sky. “God, I miss Mom and Dad.”
Growing up, life had been perfect. Better than anything shown on old television sitcoms. His dad, the hardworking farmer, and his mom, the doting wife and mother, raised his brother and him in God’s majestic Kentucky countryside. They’d attended their small country church each time the doors were opened.
Then things changed. His brother befriended Tina. They started drinking and doing drugs. She got pregnant. Then came Hadley. Then Mom and Dad’s car accident.
He pushed the spiraling gyro of hard recollections from his mind. No reason to dwell on them. He had a farm to tend. Horses and Hadley to raise. And God and his church stood beside him. Past was past. And he wasn’t going to allow a few tunes on a piano to set him off to wallowing in sadness about things that couldn’t be altered.
His big yellow dog meandered up the stairs and nudged his leg, begging for attention. “Hey, Old Yeller.” Colt bent down and petted his buddy, who’d been around nearly as long as Hadley. A constant companion through the ups and downs of the last decade. “Let’s say we go check on the horses.”
Old Yeller barked and took off toward the stables. Colt had finished his chores early and had planned to stay in the house for Hadley’s first piano lesson. He wouldn’t go far. Wouldn’t stay out too long. But he’d get away for just a bit. Get his thoughts and feelings back in check. Next time Megan came for a lesson, he’d be better prepared to hear the old piano come to life.
He thought of the young woman sitting on the piano bench. Though most of it was pulled back in a ponytail, blond wisps framed her face. Complete serenity etched her expression when she closed her eyes and dug into that first song. She felt the music with every fiber of her body, and it stirred something primitive within him.
He smiled. She was a good woman. Not like Tina. He could trust Megan with Hadley. She loved God. He could just tell it. Only a relationship with Jesus could cause such a peace in a person. He picked up his pace toward the stable. She was someone he could be proud of. Call home about. Even if there was no one but him and Hadley left to answer.
More than an hour passed. He pushed the saddle back on the rack. He’d gotten so wrapped up in oiling the thing he’d forgotten to check his watch. Megan may have gone ahead and left. He hoped not. She hadn’t been paid. And he hoped she’d let him know Hadley was alone before hitting the road.
He took long strides toward the house. But she may have had somewhere she needed to go, and he couldn’t fault her if she’d gone. People who were late grated on his nerves. He glanced down at his watch again and gritted his teeth. Fifteen minutes was a long time to wait when a person had somewhere to go.
Reaching the back door, he barreled in without stamping the dirt off his feet. He pulled off his ball cap, walked through the mudroom, coming to a halt at the kitchen door. Hadley and Megan stood over the island countertop. Hadley wore his mother’s pink-and-white polka-dotted BEST GRANDMA apron. She shaped a chunk of prepackaged cookie dough into a ball. Megan placed a ball of dough on the cookie sheet.
A knot formed in his throat, and he swallowed it down. It had been a long time since he’d seen a woman in the kitchen—outside of Hadley, and he most certainly couldn’t call her a woman. He cleared his throat. “Sorry I’m late. Got caught up with stuff in the barn.”
Hadley and Megan looked at him. A blush swept across Megan’s cheeks, and Hadley stuck out her bottom lip into a dramatic pout. “Uncle Colt!” She jabbed her hands onto her hips. “If you’d have waited ten more minutes, we’d be done with our surprise.”
He raised his eyebrows and made eye contact with Megan.
She placed a ball of dough onto the cookie sheet then wiped her hands on a paper towel. “Hadley wanted to bake you some cookies. She said they’re your favorite.”
Colt’s heart raced. Her shy gestures and deep blue eyes cantered on his senses like a horse in competition. “That was awful sweet.”
Hadley smacked her hand against her thigh, causing him to shift his attention back to his niece. She wrinkled her nose and wiggled her shoulders and head from side to side. “Yeah, but you had to go and ruin it and come back too quick.” She stuck out her lower lip. “You never let me surprise you.”
Colt bit the inside of his lip. The older Hadley got, the more dramatic she became. Some days the young’un would set off to stomping through the house and crying for no reason he could figure at all. It was as if turning twelve had caused some kind of weird metamorphosis in the girl about which no one had given him fair warning.
Having been raised with just himself and his brother, Colt didn’t know what to expect as a girl got older. He knew there were things young ladies dealt with that boys didn’t, and he figured he probably needed to look into finding out more about those things, but Hadley was only twelve. Not even a teenag
er yet. Surely he had a few more years before he needed to start initiating uncomfortable talks with his niece.
A wave of nausea swirled in his throat at the thought. Raising the girl on his own was more than he’d bargained for. Not that he regretted or begrudged it. He loved her more than just about anything in the world. In fact, he couldn’t think of a thing he loved more. Still, he hadn’t the faintest clue what to do with these emotional outbursts.
She shouldn’t be mad at him for showing up too soon when he was a full fifteen minutes late coming in from the barn. Hadley picked up the cookie sheet and shoved it into the oven with a bit more force than necessary. The kid made no sense.
Actually the whole thing was quite comical. He pulled out a stool from underneath the island and lowered himself down onto it. “Well, Hadley, I’m sorry for showing up too soon, even though I’m fifteen minutes late.”
She glared at him. “Don’t make fun of me, Uncle Colt. I was wanting to do something nice for you.”
Megan placed a hand on Hadley’s forearm. “Why don’t you play the tune I taught you? He’d probably like to hear it.”
Warmth swelled up in Colt’s chest as he drank in the ease with which Megan handled his niece. Her voice was calm. Her expression sincere.
Hadley tumbled right into Megan’s charms. Her expression softened, and her eyes lit up when she looked back at Colt. “You wanna hear?”
Colt stood and motioned toward the piano room. “Absolutely.”
Hadley pushed away from the counter and raced away. Colt noticed Megan set the timer on the oven before following his niece. Hadley’s impulsive behavior and mood shifts didn’t seem to faze the piano teacher. She took his niece in stride, and he wished he’d made himself stay and watch the lesson. See them interact. Spend a little time with Megan.
Wedding Song in Lexington, Kentucky Page 5
