Any Man of Mine (Holmes Crossing Book 5)

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Did I really like the challenges my current life gave me? Did I really want to move away from Tracy, from my brothers?

  From James?

  I love him. The words circled back again and again growing louder each time.

  I pushed myself up and, as I often did when struggling with the big or small issues of my life, pulled my Bible off my bedside table. I started randomly flipping through it and reading. Grazing. Seeking. My eyes fell on an underlined passage in the Psalms, my preferred destination when I needed comfort or assurance.

  Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desire of your heart.

  The words from Psalm 37 verse 3 resonated through my tired and confused mind. I closed my eyes and pressed my hand to my face. "Dear Lord, I don't even know what the desire of my heart is anymore," I whispered. "I'm confused and mixed up and I thought I knew what I wanted, but now I don't know."

  I waited a moment, waiting for a divine revelation, but all I felt was a sense of coming to the top of a scary roller-coaster ride, waiting for the free fall. Was that fear I was feeling or the exhilaration I felt when I took Spook out? Were the two closely related?

  I imagined myself living here, with my brothers and my father, with them clinging to me, I thought of Casey and his endless demands and I panicked, I imagined myself moving to the city, starting over, making new friends. Leaving James. I panicked again. Either scenario was fraught with problems and difficulties.

  I didn't know what I wanted.

  I wanted to serve the Lord. I wanted to delight in Him. To do good. I wanted to be with James.

  "Show me what to do, Lord. Please," I breathed. "I don't know anymore. Help me to seek You first. To serve You first. To let go of all the other stuff and put You first."

  16

  This week couldn't end soon enough, I thought looking around the meeting room in the Social Services Office.

  It was Friday and Casey decided we needed to have a quick connection meeting, which was usually code for 'which cases can we dump onto Danielle.’ Or so it seemed to me.

  "I don't know what to do with this girl," Henry said in his patent nasally whine. "She won't listen to the foster parents and they don't know how to handle her. I think this case needs further investigation."

  Casey nodded, balancing a pencil between his fingers. "Danielle, maybe you could look into that. Before you leave."

  I thought of all the things I had to do. Before I left. I thought of the cases I knew I would not have time to handle properly. I imagined them going to either Oden, or Henry or Annette, or any of the other workers. I glanced around the room, then at Casey.

  James' words, once again, rang through my head. Maybe people don't do what I want because I don't have expectations.

  "No," I said, my voice crisp and no-nonsense. "I won't do it."

  Casey's eyes widened a fraction. "What do you mean?"

  "I've got a full caseload. I'm not taking on any more." I held his gaze, remembering that moment when I had gotten my brothers to do the dishes. Not exactly a "woman, hear me roar," moment but in this case I had nothing to lose professionally. I had another job waiting for me. As I held his shocked gaze, I couldn't stop the faint smile teasing my lips. "And while we're at it, I think you need to look at hiring at least two more caseworkers and getting rid of some of the dead wood around here."

  A gasp, a stifled cough, and Casey's eyes got wider.

  "You're out of line, Miss Hemstead."

  "Actually, I think I'm right on the line and you've been pushing me over it for the past seven months." I held his gaze. "I was too concerned about doing my best job, about being indispensable and a good worker that I forgot one of the skills of being a good worker is the ability to say no. For your sake, and mine, I'm saying it now. No. I'm not covering for Henry anymore. I'm not taking the cases you don't want to give to the other workers because you know I'll say yes. I'm not working myself into a nervous breakdown while I keep hoping you'll see what I'm doing and tell me to slow down. Because you're not going to do that. The more I take on, the more you give me. It's up to me to decide how much is too much, and I'm saying no."

  This little speech would have been a good time to tell my fellow workers about my new job, but I didn't. It had been a week since Les had come to my house with the letter and in that time I still hadn't given Les or Dan a firm decision or turned in my resignation. James had moved off the yard, and I had heard nothing from him, either.

  I was in limbo. Waiting for something. Maybe to figure out what the desires of my heart were, though I had a clearer idea of what they might be. I knew I couldn't expect some miraculous sign from God, but a quiet, still voice told me to wait. That hurry and worry are tools of the devil.

  And now, facing Casey, something grew and changed within me. I wasn't waiting for people around me to do what I wanted anymore. I wasn't waiting for them to pick up on clues. I was making myself very, very clear. I am woman, hear me say no.

  "I hope you realize the ramifications of what you are doing," Casey said.

  "I have no idea what the ramifications are, Casey," I said innocently, determined to see this through. "Why don't you tell me?"

  His face grew purple and the words A is for Airway, B is for Breathing, C is for Circulation, flashed through my head.

  But he kept breathing.

  Then, to my complete amazement, Casey hunched over the files and glanced at Henry. "You might have to rethink your approach on this one," was all he said.

  I allowed myself a tiny smile of victory as I looked down at my case files. Then, behind that moment of victory slipped the thought, "Why hadn't I done this before?"

  Because I wasn't ready to let go of control and this desire to be needed. Because I was afraid. Because I didn't think I was worthy.

  It was because of Wyatt, I realized in that moment. My conversation with Neil showed me how deeply my guilt had been entrenched in my interactions with my brothers and, possibly other people.

  I thought of James then. Thought of how he had encouraged me to push my brothers to do more.

  A nudge of pain followed the memory of James. I hadn't heard from him in a week. In the evenings I joined my brothers and father, watching televised sports, so I could be close to the phone when it rang. But James didn't call and his silence hurt more than any pain I'd experienced before.

  I heard about the progress of his training facility. The guys were excited and James was already getting some business. He would do well, they predicted. I heard that Robin had moved in with him and that James was in the process of getting her a job. A good brother, I thought. A good man. A great guy.

  My heart stuttered at the memory of him. How easily I recollected his eyes, how they crinkled at the corners when he smiled, how they got dark before he kissed me.

  I missed him. I needed him.

  But he was still riding in the rodeo.

  Wyatt's death wasn't your fault.

  But could I get over that memory? That pain? Though I felt freer than I had in a while, the memory was still too strong.

  My pen fell out of my hand and I glanced around to see if anyone else noticed my mind wandering but my fellow co-workers were all intently taking notes. I glanced down at mine, and to my dismay noticed that I had scribed out the letter "J" in the margins of my notebook and embellished it. A wishful doodle? Or an internal signal that I would do well to pay attention to?

  I struggled through my day, dealing competently with my cases, but I knew my mind wasn't engaged. I stayed only fifteen minutes longer, and when I left, my head was aching from the indecision.

  But as I put away the papers of my latest case, I knew I wasn't going to Edmonton and the other job. I was helping Laurel through with her problems, I was staying involved with Stan and his family. I wasn't leaving anyone in the lurch.

  And I would find a way to let James know how I felt. What would happen from there? That was up to the
Lord.

  I felt a clutch of fear and dread and as I walked to the car, I felt the exhilaration of the roller coaster slowly peaking and heading down. Raindrops spattered on my windshield and I had to turn my wipers on, streaking the dust in wide, long smears. I knew I was out of windshield washer fluid and had forgotten to fill it up. On a whim I tried it anyway and, to my surprise, blue liquid streamed out of the wipers, creating a crystal clear arc of clean windshield. One of the boys must have filled it I thought.

  Guys. I took it as a positive sign and though knots clenched my stomach, I felt a lightness in my heart I hadn't felt for months.

  I blew out my breath and took another critical look at myself in the mirror.

  Plaid shirt. My most faded blue jeans. Denim jacket. My old faithful cowboy boots.

  At least I didn't look like a poser. Everything I had on had been worn, at one time, while riding a horse. It was authentic cowgirl.

  Just not clothes I had put on in a while. I had to hunt to look for my old cowboy hat and then decided, at this last minute, to leave it behind.

  I wore my hair loose, but clipped to one side with a barrette that my mom had given me years ago for my birthday. I allowed myself a small moment of sympathy, wondering what she would think of this whole situation.

  She would tell you to go. Swallow your pride and realize what you might be missing out on.

  I pulled in a deep steadying breath. Was I up to this?

  I sent up another quick prayer, tugged my denim jacket closer, grabbed my purse off the chair and headed out of the house.

  I was off to the rodeo.

  For a moment I had thought of asking David and Tracy to come along with me, but I had to do this by myself.

  My timing wasn't great, I thought as I pulled into the already full parking lot. It took me a while to find a spot. Thankfully, I had a small car and squeezed it between two oversized pickups. Neither of which were James’s, or my brothers’. I knew from past rodeos they would've been parked in the back.

  I gave myself another moment in the car, just in case I wanted to change my mind.

  Then I shook my head and got out of the car slipping my purse over my shoulder. I locked the car then headed toward the arena. I knew I needed to be here. This was my chance to show James I supported him. I may not like the situation, but I had to trust that he knew what he was doing, and believe that he needed to do this. No matter what I thought, I had to respect that.

  He mattered to me and therefore the things he liked should matter to me as well. I thought of how few people had made sacrifices for him. Well, this was one thing I could do for him.

  The arena was full when I came inside. It would be tricky to find a good spot. I paused for a moment by the boards, looking over the packed dirt and sawdust to the bucking chutes at the far end. Right now nothing was happening and a small quad was pulling a set of harrows over the dirt and sawdust to smooth it out. Country music blared from the speakers and the smell of popcorn blended with hot dogs and onion rings.

  As I looked around the gathered people, catching snippets of conversation, I realized with a hitch in my heart that I had missed this. All of this had been such a large part of my childhood, and I had set it aside because it hurt too much to face.

  And now? What has changed?

  James. He was the one that made it all different.

  There were empty seats at the far end of the arena so I made my way there acknowledging some of the people that said hello. I saw Dan and Leslie VandeKeere with their two kids sitting beside Terra and her husband Jack. I recognized Miriam and Duncan, who was handing Celia a bag of popcorn teasing her. I knew most of the people there somehow or another.

  I also realized that that thought I had kvetched to Tracy about, how people knew me too well, created a warmth and a welcome I sensed I wouldn't get in the city.

  I swallowed down a sudden knot with apprehension, then made my way through the crowd to the empty seats at the end.

  I heard my name, and I turned to see Chip and Juanita sitting with Kent.

  "Hey, you're here," Chip called out, standing up and waving at me, grinning like a kid at the circus. "Come up and sit with us."

  I walked up the stairs, then worked my way past the people apologizing as I went. Finally I made it to where Chip sat.

  "I can't believe you came," Chip said, surprise present in his voice. "She never comes," he said turning to Juanita. "Hasn't come for years."

  "Why not?" Kent said. "It's so much fun."

  Chip held my gaze a beat longer than necessary and I wondered if he and Neil had chatted.

  "Well, I'm here now," I said with a bright smile.

  "You already missed the team roping," Chip said.

  "How did Neil and Carter do?"

  "Not so great," Chip said with a sigh of resignation. "Carter got the head that Neil missed his toss. Trouble was he didn't even seem too upset about it." Chip shook his head as if he couldn't understand.

  "What's up next?" I asked settling down beside Kent.

  "Barrel racing for the Pee-wee's," Juanita told me consulting her program.

  As I watched the barrel racers make their way around the barrels, leaning in and pulling their horses head around with one hand, the other held out for balance, I felt a flicker of nostalgia. At one time my brothers had encouraged me to take it up. They had even set barrels out, measuring the precise distance, and helped me through the whole process. My mother had talked about hiring someone to train me. Though I enjoyed the rush of completing a ride without knocking the barrels over, I didn't have the dedication or the drive.

  I was full of admiration for these young girls. But the entire time I watched, I had one eye on the chutes, my apprehension growing with each minute the clock ticked us closer to the saddle bronc riding event.

  Chip got up in the middle of the competition and left without saying a word. My guess, was that he was going to the back to help support James. Of course he wouldn't tell me why he was leaving, guessing how I still felt about the whole business.

  Finally the barrel racing was done, the winner was announced and she did her victory lap, cantering easily around the ring. As she finished, the music grew louder, more insistent and over its heavy beat the announcer informed us we were now getting ready for a wild ride. Men pitting their strength and brains against rank horses for the longest eight seconds of their lives.

  The announcer, and the dramatic music, weren't helping my nervousness one bit.

  "Are you okay?" Kent was asking me. He tossed some more popcorn into his mouth, watching me as if expecting something to happen. "Your face is kinda pale."

  Juanita reached over and gently touched his arm. "Kent, that's not very polite to say," she admonished. Though the way she looked at me, I could tell she felt the same way her son did. I flashed her a smile, wishing I could regain some confidence. My heart was now pounding in my chest and I had to stop my foot from bouncing. Always a sign of nerves.

  "I'm okay," I told Kent, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt.

  I heard the clanging of hooves on metal as horses were led into the chutes. A couple of them tossed their head and around each chute hovered a crowd of other cowboys. Friends and supporters and fellow contestants. They all helped each other, knowing they needed each other.

  Music pounded from the speakers as the announcer increased his own volume reminding us of the risks these guys were taking.

  Please Lord, let everything go okay. Please let nothing happen.

  I repeated the prayer again and again, wondering if maybe I should leave. But I had to stick this out to the end. I had to get through this, it was the only way things would work for me and James. I knew he wasn't quitting and after he told me about his father, I knew it wouldn't be fair for me to ask him to. So I had to find a way to keep myself parked on this seat and see it through.

  The announcer brought our attention to chute number two where the first cowboy was getting ready to go. The horse's head came up
and a couple of guys pushed it down. Everything needed to be in exactly the right position to prevent injury to both the cowboy and the horse.

  I saw the cowboy push his hat further down on his head, give one quick nod, and the gate was yanked open.

  I wanted to watch, I really did, but I couldn't. Instead I looked down focusing on my feet. The music pounded out of the speakers and even though my head was down, I caught a flash of horse and rider. The buzzer sounded, a roar went up from the crowd. The cowboy had completed his ride.

  One down, only nine more to go.

  I swallowed my nervousness and reminded myself that the majority of the time the cowboys were okay. And if they got hurt, it wasn't always fatal. Wyatt's accident was a freak accident. A combination of events. James would be okay.

  The cowboy in the arena was waving his hat at the crowd, grinning his triumph. I knew how he felt, sitting through this first ride, I felt exactly the same.

  I folded my ice cold hands on my lap making myself look straight ahead.

  I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, and turned to see a cowboy wearing fringed chaps, a cowboy hat low on his head, and gloves on his hands working his way along the board on the wrong side of the stands.

  He looked like a competitor. What was he doing here?

  He lifted his head as if scanning the crowd. And my heart flopped over in my chest. It was James.

  He looked some more and then finally his eyes zeroed in on me. He stood a moment, watching me. Had Chip sent him over here? Was he going to give me a pep talk before he rode? I gave him a little wave and a feeble smile, hoping to encourage him. My heart wasn't in it, but at least I was making the attempt.

  He worked his way past the people who made way for him, and then to my surprise he sat down beside me.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked. "Aren't you supposed to be getting ready?"

  "Probably," he said. He leaned his elbows on his knees, then angled his head to look back at me. "So now I'm asking you, what are you doing here? I thought you didn't come to the rodeo."