by Irene Hannon
“Twenty?” That guess was offered by a towheaded boy of about nine.
“Why don’t we find out? Let’s count them together.”
From her spot on the sidelines with some of the other parents, Kristen watched as Clint led his junior rangers around a circle of sprouts, counting aloud with them as the group made the circuit.
The man knew his stuff. And he knew how to share it with kids in a manner that fanned their interest and enthusiasm. So far, his junior rangers had gotten down on their hands and knees to observe a banana slug’s habitat up close; learned about the redwoods’ resistance to fire by going inside the hollowed-out base of a living tree to examine the thick bark; and felt droplets of water that had condensed on the crowns and dripped down to the roots, thanks to the fog the trees themselves had created as part of their built-in watering system.
Kristen had been as enthralled as the kids.
And Beatrice was eating it up.
Smiling, Kristen watched her daughter’s animated face as she counted along with the rest of the group while Clint led them like the Pied Piper around the circle of the sprouting stump.
As he wrapped up the hour-long session and escorted his young students and their parents back to the visitor center, he pointed out other items of interest along the way. But Kristen found herself focusing more on the man’s broad shoulders than the natural wonders around her.
And wishing she’d met someone like him a long time ago—before life had grown complicated.
To his credit, he hadn’t seemed put off by her past. He’d also connected well with Beatrice—far better than she had. Still...why would someone like him, who appeared to have his act totally together, be interested in a woman with so much baggage?
“That’s it for today.” Clint stopped and smiled down at the children clustered around him. “What was your favorite part of the hike?”
A chorus of answers rang out, and Clint spoke with each child before sending them off to their parents. He finished with Beatrice.
“Well, what did you think of my land of the giants?” He dropped down to balance on the balls of his feet beside her as Kristen approached.
“It was awesome.”
Clint transferred his gaze to her, and one side of his mouth quirked up. “I think someone had fun.”
“Can we come again?” Beatrice addressed that query to her.
“Of course.” Kristen stopped beside them. “I couldn’t hear your answer when Clint asked what your favorite part was.”
“I liked the hollow tree that was as big as my old room at home.”
Home. As in Denver.
Kristen tried not to let that bother her.
“But I think I liked the sunbeams coming through the trees best. It reminded me of God. The sun used to come through the windows of our church just like that. It always made me feel like God was close by. I felt like that here, too.”
Clint squeezed her shoulder. “That’s exactly how I feel in the forest, especially when the rays of the sun filter through the trees. It’s like light from heaven.”
“I miss going to church.” Beatrice swiveled toward her, and Kristen braced herself for the question she knew was coming. “Can we go tomorrow?”
She could feel Clint’s scrutiny as he stood.
“Like I told you last week, Beatrice, I’m pretty new here, too. I haven’t had a chance to check out the churches.”
Her daughter eyed Clint. “Do you go to church?”
He hesitated, sending Kristen an apologetic look as he responded. “Yes.”
“We could go to his church.”
How was she supposed to get out of this?
“Um...I’ll have to think about it, honey.”
Beatrice made a face and lifted her chin. “That’s what you said last week. Are you mad at God or something?”
“No.” Her denial was swift—and sure. She’d never been mad at God. But He had a right to be mad at her.
Her daughter’s skeptical expression told Kristen the little girl wasn’t buying her reply. “You told me I shouldn’t be mad at Him, even though He let my mom and dad die.”
“I’m not mad at Him, Beatrice.”
“Then why won’t you go?”
She tried—and failed—to think of a plausible reason.
Okay. Time to regroup. If it gave Beatrice some measure of comfort, made her feel more at home, what could be the harm in attending a Sunday service on occasion?
“I guess we can go, if Clint will give us directions.”
“I can do better than that.” He’d taken a discreet step back during their exchange, but now he rejoined the conversation. “Why don’t you ride with me? The church is in Trinidad, which isn’t far, but there’s no sense taking two vehicles.”
“Are you certain? I don’t want to impose.”
The slow smile he gave her sent a tingle up Kristen’s spine.
“I’m certain. It’s been a long while since I escorted two lovely ladies to church.”
That elicited a giggle from Beatrice. “I’m not a lady. I’m a little girl.”
“You’ll be a lady someday.” He smiled and touched the tip of her nose before turning his attention to Kristen. “There’s a ten o’clock service. I try to leave by nine-thirty.”
“We’ll be ready. And now we need to let you get back to work.” The rest of his junior rangers and their parents had wandered off while they talked.
“Duty does call. But I’ll look forward to seeing you both tomorrow.” With a parting touch to the wide brim of his hat, he took off toward the visitor center.
Beatrice watched him for a few seconds. “I like him. He’s nice.”
“Yes, he is.” Too nice for her. That was the problem. He deserved a woman as together as he seemed to be.
Kristen started toward the parking lot, Beatrice beside her.
“He reminds me of my dad. Not in looks, though. My dad’s hair had a lot of gray in it, and he wasn’t as tall, but he always listened to me, like Clint does. A lot of grown-ups don’t listen to kids.”
“I’d be happy to listen if you ever want to talk.”
“But you’re gone a lot.”
For the first time, Kristen fully understood the conflict—and guilt—working mothers faced. That remark was like a direct hit in the solar plexus.
She paused at the car and dropped down on one knee beside Beatrice. “I have to work, honey. That’s how I make the money to pay our bills.”
“My mom didn’t work.”
“She was very lucky to be able to stay at home with you. That can happen if a little boy or girl has a mom and a dad.”
“Maybe someday you’ll get married.”
An image of the tall ranger flashed across her mind, but she quickly squelched it. Despite the sentiment on the place mats at the Orchid, she wasn’t going to start believing that wishes—or dreams—could come true. Even in Starfish Bay.
Standing, she reached for the car door. “I suppose that could happen. In the meantime, we need to take a look through your clothes and find a pretty outfit for you to wear to church tomorrow.”
Beatrice climbed into the car and buckled her seat belt. “Are you going to wear something pretty, too?”
“Yes.”
“God will like that.”
“I’m sure He will.”
But as she shut the door and circled around to the driver’s side, Kristen was more interested in a certain ranger’s reaction to her attire.
Heaven forgive her.
Chapter Twelve
As the organist played the closing hymn, Clint slanted a sidelong glance over Beatrice’s head at the slender woman whose attention was focused on the sanctuary.
He should be singing. Or praying. Or m
editating. But in that delicate silky dress that swirled around her knees and softly molded her curves, Kristen was one big distraction. His concentration had been off for the whole service.
Truth be told, he was still finding it hard to believe she’d come. Until the moment she’d climbed into his truck, he’d expected her to find some excuse to back out. If it hadn’t been for her daughter’s persistence, she probably would have. She’d been honest about her estrangement from God, and despite their discussion on the subject, he didn’t think he’d persuaded her she was worthy of forgiveness or second chances.
Yet based on her peaceful expression, he had a feeling she wasn’t sorry she’d come.
And that was good. Because he’d been honest with her, too. If he ever got serious about a woman, she’d have to share his faith. Relationships faced enough unforeseen obstacles; adding more by choice was foolish.
As if sensing his perusal, Kristen turned her head toward him. He had a tiny window of opportunity to look away and pretend he hadn’t been staring...but chose not to. Instead, he gave her a slow smile—and watched soft color steal over her cheeks.
“Are we leaving now?”
At Beatrice’s question and the tug on his sleeve, he pulled his gaze away from Kristen to respond to the little girl. “What?”
“Isn’t it time to leave?”
He checked out the church. The organ had gone quiet, and the pews were emptying. “Yeah, it is.”
Exiting into the aisle, he ushered them out. As Kristen passed, a faint whiff of the fragrance that was all her drifted his way, and he leaned closer to inhale it.
Mmm.
He could get used to having these two females share his pew on Sundays.
And he was beginning to wish they’d share even more.
Mulling that over as they passed through the crowd assembled on the church lawn, he paused to introduce Kristen to a few people. But when he suggested they stop somewhere for lunch, she demurred.
“We had a furniture delivery yesterday while you were at work. I need the rest of the day to assemble some things and get the place in order.”
“My bedroom stuff from home came.” Beatrice climbed into the truck with his assistance, picking up Kristen’s story. “We’re going to put it all together this afternoon.”
Once Beatrice was settled, he turned to the woman beside him. “Could you use a hand?”
She bit her lower lip, telling him she was tempted, but in the end she shook her head. “Thanks. I think we’ll be okay. The movers already did a lot. Besides, it’s your day off.”
Dusting off his most persuasive dating-game smile—the one he’d last used years ago on Lisa—he propped a shoulder against the truck door and folded his arms over his chest. “If I don’t help you, I’ll end up chopping trees on the trail at The Point. Besides, I have to admit my altruism had an ulterior motive. I’m hoping you might reward me by sharing whatever you baked last night. The aroma was driving me crazy.”
“Ginger cookies.” Beatrice leaned forward from her seat to join the conversation. “They’re real good. But we made them for you, anyway, to thank you for inviting us on the hike yesterday.”
“That’s right.” Kristen flexed her fingers on the strap of her purse. “There’s a whole plate of them for you on my kitchen counter. I was going to bring them down this afternoon.”
“I’ll save you the trip and come up. And while I’m there, I’ll move a few pieces of furniture. Deal?”
A smile teased the corners of her mouth. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“Anything to get my hands on those famous ginger cookies ASAP. My mouth’s been watering since you tried to bribe me with them when you wanted to rent the apartment.”
Her lips softened into a full-fledged smile. “I think I’m getting the best end of this deal.”
“Not if those cookies are half as good as you promised.”
“They’re yummy,” Beatrice pronounced.
“Sold. Let’s not waste another minute.” With a hand under her elbow, he gave Kristen a boost into the truck.
Once she was settled, he closed the door and took his seat behind the wheel. He’d been hoping to extend this morning’s church outing, and while assembling furniture wasn’t high on his list of favorite activities, he was nevertheless looking forward to the afternoon.
Because when he was with Kristen, his heart was lighter...no matter what he was doing.
Snapping his seat belt closed, he analyzed that reaction—and came to the obvious conclusion.
If he wasn’t careful, he was going to find himself falling head over heels for his tenant.
And truth be told, that prospect was becoming more and more appealing with each passing day.
* * *
“Can we put that picture on the wall between the windows?” Beatrice pointed to the spot.
Clint hefted the Disney poster of Ariel from The Little Mermaid and gave a mock bow. “Your wish is my command, fair lady.”
As he ran a stud finder over the drywall, Kristen observed from the doorway. She’d shipped every single item from her daughter’s room, and they’d re-created it as best they could, given the smaller size and different window configuration.
But all the essentials were in place—pink comforter, gauzy curtains with a matching mock canopy above the bed, white furniture, toy chest and an array of pictures that included the one Beatrice had been keeping in her backpack, of her with her parents on a family vacation at the beach. Until today, she’d only taken it out when she cried herself to sleep at night. More than once Kristen had found the little girl slumbering, her arms wrapped around the frame as she hugged it to her chest.
The photo was now front and center on her nightstand, next to the Disney princess lamp.
As for all the things Kristen had bought on her whirlwind shopping trip before she’d left for Denver—the Cinderella bedspread, the stuffed animals and the fairy princess posters—they’d been relegated to a large discard pile on the floor by the door.
At least she’d tried.
As she stood there, Beatrice came over, rooted through the pile and extracted one of the posters. “Can you hang this over there?” She indicated a bare spot on the wall by the closet as she addressed Clint.
Beatrice hadn’t rejected everything she’d bought, after all. For some reason, that small gesture made Kristen feel better.
“Sure thing.” Clint took the framed poster, pausing to give her a quick inspection over Beatrice’s head. “Everything okay?”
The man had an uncanny ability to sense moods.
Kristen forced her lips into a smile. “Fine. And thanks for doing all this.” She gestured around the room. “It would have taken me hours.”
“No problem.” He continued to work as he spoke. “Small repayment for those great cookies.”
Since he’d scarfed down half a dozen already, she took his praise at face value—and made a mental note to bake another batch for him soon.
Pushing off from the doorframe, she wiped her palms down her slacks and smiled at Beatrice, who was sitting in the middle of her bed taking in the familiar objects that perhaps, at last, would help her feel at home and keep her from crying herself to sleep at night.
“I have a surprise for you, honey. Wait there.”
Leaving Clint to finish up, she walked down the short hall to her room, pulled a photo album out from under her bed and ran her fingers over the cover. She didn’t know if a child psychologist would approve of her version of grief management, and she prayed the outcome would be positive, not negative. But Beatrice had clung to the family album she’d brought with her from Denver, spending hours paging through it; this might give her an added measure of comfort.
Album under her arm, she retraced her steps and sat on the bed next to her daughter as C
lint began collecting his tools.
“When I was in your house in Denver, before the movers came, I took some photos. After I got back here, I had prints made and put them together in this album for you so you could always remember the house you shared with your...mom and dad.”
Kristen set the book in Beatrice’s lap. The cover featured an eight-by-ten picture of the front of the two-story brick colonial, and for a long moment her daughter examined it. Then slowly she began to turn the pages.
Beatrice scrutinized the entire book in silence, her expression solemn. Kristen had tried to capture all the rooms—and the yard—from various angles, so her daughter would have a photographic record of every nook and cranny of the place she’d called home with the parents she’d loved. But as the minutes ticked by, Kristen’s stomach knotted. Maybe she’d made a mistake. Maybe she should have let her daughter’s memories recede. Maybe she...
A sudden hand on her shoulder interrupted her panicked thoughts, and she looked up to find Clint watching her. The tenderness in his eyes warmed the cold place deep in her heart, and she exhaled. Mistake or not, he recognized that her intentions had been good.
Beside her, Beatrice closed the book, hugged it to her chest and lifted her chin. Her eyes were shimmering. “Thank you for doing this. I was afraid I was going to forget everything. Now I can remember it for always.”
Her daughter’s words, along with the comforting squeeze on her shoulder, reassured her she hadn’t made a mistake, after all.
And half an hour later, as she walked Clint to the door while Beatrice sat on her bed hugging her Raggedy Ann doll and paging again through both her albums, he reaffirmed that.
“That was a very nice thing to do.”
She lifted one shoulder as she followed him out to the landing. “It didn’t take much effort. And can you imagine how traumatic it would be to have your whole world turned upside down like that, then find yourself in a new place where everyone is a stranger?”
