Please let there be a dress that Tara likes that I can afford.
With the prayer repeating in her head, she opened the car door and got out.
The secondhand clothing store was in a converted brick house in an older section of the city. If not for the store’s name and advertising, no one would have known the beautiful gowns inside had been worn before.
Before her husband died, Kimberly hadn’t entered thrift shops for any purpose other than to drop off items they no longer wanted or needed. She’d done her shopping in upscale department stores and specialty shops. When she’d seen something she liked, she’d bought it, scarcely noticing the price tag. It shamed her now to remember it. She’d been careless with their resources. She’d forgotten—if she ever knew it at all—that Christians were stewards, not the owners, of whatever God entrusted to their keeping. It had been a difficult lesson to learn—or relearn—and she often wondered if she hadn’t been a spendthrift when Ellis was alive would things have turned out differently after he passed?
Tara made a beeline to the round racks holding dresses in her size. Kimberly followed at a more sedate pace.
A clerk soon joined them. “May I help you find something?”
Tara looked up from the dresses. “I’m going to the prom next week and need a dress.”
“I thought all the Boise and Meridian proms had been held already.”
“We live in Kings Meadow,” Kimberly answered.
“Oh. Of course.” The woman eyed Tara. “We should have a good number of dresses that would look wonderful on you. Do you prefer long or short?”
Tara glanced at her mother.
Kimberly answered, “Whichever you like, honey.”
“Short, I think.”
“Well then, you’re in the right spot.” The clerk patted the top of the round rack. “But if you change your mind, the floor-length gowns are over there.” She waved her hand in the direction of the racks holding long dresses that lined the far wall. “Call if you need assistance. The dressing rooms are in the back.” Again she motioned.
“Thanks.” Tara started to look through the gowns before her.
Kimberly stood back and waited for her daughter to pick the ones she liked best, hoping they wouldn’t have any arguments. Like many mothers and daughters, she and Tara often disagreed on style choices, especially when it came to tops that exposed too much skin or cleavage. Kimberly refused to budge on that one. Not that they’d done much clothes shopping recently. Not even in secondhand shops.
The first dress that caught her daughter’s eyes was champagne colored with a rhinestone-embellished waist. Unfortunately, it was a strapless gown and a little mature for Tara. But Kimberly held her tongue, willing to wait until her daughter tried on all her finds.
The next one was a sleeveless black dress with various sized gold sequins scattered over the fabric. It had a sheer neckline and a keyhole opening in the back. Modest, yet appropriately flirty for an almost-sixteen-year-old girl. That was a relief.
Tara released a soft gasp. “Mom, look at this one.”
Her daughter drew a turquoise dress from the rack and held it against her torso. The gown had a wide strap over one shoulder, and the bodice—which covered all that Kimberly wanted covered—glistened with silver sequins. The top-layered skirt was scattered with beadwork. The underskirt had a playful ruffled hemline. It was perfect.
“How much?” Kimberly asked, afraid to know the answer.
Tara checked the tag. “Thirty-five dollars.”
Kimberly was able to breathe again. It was an amazing bargain. The dress must have cost at least two hundred dollars when it was new. “Try it on, honey.”
Tara didn’t hesitate for a moment. She hurried through the racks toward the dressing room, leaving her first two choices behind, along with her mother.
Kimberly smiled as she followed after Tara, her gaze scanning the store. In addition to gowns, there were shelves of shoes off to her right and trays of jewelry in a glass case near the register.
The woman who’d helped them earlier looked up from some papers on the counter and said, “I guess your daughter found something she liked?”
Kimberly nodded. “If it fits, it will be perfect.”
And it was perfect. When Tara stepped out of the dressing room a short while later and spun in a slow circle before the mirrors, tears welled in Kimberly’s eyes. Where had this stunning young woman come from?
“It’s beautiful, Tara,” she managed to say past the lump in her throat. “You’re beautiful.”
“Can I get it?”
Kimberly nodded, thankful that she didn’t have to say no. God bless Janet for telling them about this store. And thank God for her temporary job.
“What about accessories?” the sales clerk asked as Tara disappeared back into the dressing room.
“Perhaps some shoes. Nothing else.” To herself she decided they would stop at Fred Meyer to get Tara a strapless bra before heading back to Kings Meadow, right after they enjoyed a nice, relaxing mother-daughter lunch.
Kimberly sent up another quick prayer of thanks for the ever-increasing hope she was starting to feel in her heart.
Anna
1945
ANNA FELL IN LOVE WITH ABE AND VIOLET’S BABY boy the instant she laid eyes on him.
Richard George Leonard—named for his maternal and paternal grandfathers—bellowed at the top of his lungs, his eyes squeezed shut, his face bright red and blotchy. Although the midwife declared him one of the biggest babies she’d delivered over the years, he still looked small to Anna, especially when Violet passed him into her arms.
Anna touched her fingers to the inky black hair on his head. It was as soft as down. She couldn’t help but draw him closer so she could kiss the top of his head.
“Hello, Richie,” she whispered. “You are such a lucky baby. You’ve got a wonderful mommy and daddy. They’re going to love you and take care of you and watch you grow into a man. And I’m going to help them.”
As if he understood, the baby stopped crying. After a couple of hiccups, he went to sleep.
“Well, look at you, Anna,” Abe said. “Aren’t you the perfect big sister. Look at how he trusts you already.”
She wouldn’t have thought anything could make her feel any happier, but being called Richie’s big sister did. God had given her a home and a family to care for her. He’d given her hope for the fulfillment of her daddy’s dream for Shiloh’s Star, and now He’d given her something she’d always wanted—a little brother.
Anna passed the baby back to his mother, fighting hard not to let tears spill from her eyes.
Someday, she hoped she would fall in love with a man like Abe Leonard. And when she did, she hoped they would have a dozen babies just as perfect as Richie Leonard.
Fourteen
ON SUNDAY, TWO DAYS AFTER THE BROTHERS’ FIST-FIGHT, Sam and Pete still weren’t speaking to each other. Chet was fed up with both boys, but he didn’t know what to do to improve matters. It didn’t help that Kimberly and Tara Welch were going to work with Anna in the cottage that afternoon. Chet wouldn’t have minded a longer cooling-off period before Tara came to the ranch again. He didn’t need another fight on his hands because of the girl.
Okay, that wasn’t fair. None of this was Tara’s fault. At least not from anything he’d observed. If she liked Pete, it had more to do with their shared interest in horses than anything else. As for Sam, Chet hadn’t seen Tara spend much time with him at all when she was at the Leonard ranch. Perhaps it was different at school.
“They just need a little time,” Anna had said yesterday. “Let the boys work it out themselves.”
Easier said than done.
Sam and Pete had always been close. Just ten months separated their birthdays. Sam’s was on the first of June, Pete’s the first of April. Almost like having twins, Marsha used to say of them, and that was pretty close to the truth. Although their appearances were different, they thought, spoke, and acted m
uch the same.
Their dinner that Sunday was another silent affair, the same as every family meal over the previous two days. Anna and Chet tried to get some kind of conversation going, but neither of the boys did anything but shoot daggers at each other with their eyes. Tension sucked most of the air out of the room. It was a relief for everyone when the meal was over. After the dishes were washed and dried, Sam disappeared up the stairs to his room to do homework. Pete went out to practice roping the life-size steer dummy set up in the field on the back side of the house.
Anna patted Chet’s shoulder after the screen door swung closed. “It will be all right. You’ll see.”
“I’ve never seen them like this.”
“They’ll get over it.” She smiled briefly. “Now, I’m going outside to wait for Kimberly and Tara. They should be here any minute.”
Chet couldn’t decide whether he should make himself scarce or not. Despite acknowledging the fight between brothers wasn’t Tara’s fault, he still wanted to blame the girl, and he didn’t care much for that less-than-charitable inclination. Better not let others see it, he figured. He opted to go into his office and close the door.
Chet tried not to work on Sundays—not counting taking care of the needs of the livestock, of course. Animals didn’t know a Sunday from a Monday. They still needed food and water. Sometimes one of them needed doctoring. If a foal came in the middle of the night, Chet had to be there. It was all part of being a rancher, one he willingly accepted. But bookkeeping work on a Sunday was another matter. Still, it would keep him occupied for an hour or two and out of sight of the Welches, and that was what he wanted.
He sat at his desk and fired up his computer. His electronics were getting a bit long in the tooth, something that happened mighty quickly these days. Seemed a person walked out of the computer store with the latest and greatest in his arms, and by the time he got it home, the next newest thing was being touted on the Internet and in television advertisements.
He leaned back in his chair and released a soft groan as he closed his eyes. Another year and a summer and he would have a son in college. Two years and both of them would be off to college. He’d been putting a little away in their education funds since before they were born, but it wouldn’t be enough to cover four years each. Not even if they remained in Idaho for their schooling.
He opened his eyes again and reached for the mouse, but the crunch of tires on gravel followed by the closing of car doors drew him up from his chair and to the window. Kimberly and Tara walked toward the house, side by side. Both of them wore their long, dark hair in ponytails. With it pulled back like that, Kimberly looked more like Tara’s sister than her mother.
It bothered him that he noticed that. He wasn’t attracted to Kimberly. And even if he was, he wouldn’t act on it. Kimberly Welch didn’t plan to stay in Kings Meadow, which meant she was all wrong for him. Best he remember it.
ABOUT TWO HOURS AFTER THEIR ARRIVAL AT THE ranch, Kimberly pulled a dusty sheet away from a piece of furniture in the center of the bedroom, revealing a wooden cradle. The craftsmanship was simple yet exquisite. An obvious heirloom.
“Oh my word,” Anna said softly from the doorway. “I haven’t seen that since Chet was a baby.”
“This wasn’t purchased in a store.”
“You’re right. It wasn’t. Chet’s grandfather Abe made it. I watched him make it.” Anna came to stand beside Kimberly, then reached out to give the small bed a push, setting it in motion. “I rocked Richie in this cradle often. Until he outgrew it. That seems like only yesterday.” Her voice softened. “I rocked Chet in it too.”
Tara asked, “Did Sam and Pete use it when they were babies?” She turned away from the box she’d been sorting through.
“I don’t know,” Anna answered. “I was living in Florida by that time. But I’m sure they and their older brother must have.”
Tara’s eyes widened. “What older brother? I didn’t know there was another one. Where is he?”
“Rick was killed in a car accident. Not quite three years ago.” Anna covered her mouth with her fingertips, as if trying to stop the sad words. “So tragic. For the whole family.”
Kimberly’s chest hurt, thinking about what Chet must have gone through, losing a son like that. It was hard enough losing a spouse unexpectedly. But a child wasn’t supposed to die before his parent. It had to cause a special kind of grief.
“Did I have a cradle, Mom? Did you keep some of my baby stuff?”
Strange, how those words—so matter-of-factly asked—could sting. There had been things handed down in Kimberly’s family and in Ellis’s family that she would have loved to pass on to her daughter. She had saved Tara’s christening gown and her first pair of little shoes, among other items. Perhaps none had been as sentimental as this handmade cradle, but meaningful all the same. But they were gone now, casualties of a collapsing life. Keepsakes require a place to store things. Having a home foreclosed took away more than a place to live. She didn’t care for that reminder.
If only . . .
Sadness overwhelmed her. A feeling she’d come to despise. A feeling she didn’t want Tara or Anna to see.
“I think I need some fresh air. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Her words trailing behind her, she hurried outside. She didn’t have a destination in mind. She just kept walking. Her feet carried her away from the barnyard, home, guesthouse, and outbuildings, following a dirt track with open fields on one side all the way to where the mountains rose up, covered in trees, and a wire fence broken up by wooden posts along the other side. It wasn’t a road, exactly, but wagons, tractors, and trucks had carved their passing into the earth over the years.
The air smelled clean, and she breathed it in deeply. From the first day she and Tara arrived in Kings Meadow, Kimberly had been aware of how fresh everything smelled. Even in town, but especially out here on the Leonard ranch. Sad thoughts seemed to be blown away by the gentle breeze. She inhaled as peace settled, allowing her pace to slow now that the walk had served its purpose.
“You’re going to be all right,” she said to herself, her eyes fastened on the uneven ground before her. “God is faithful. Things are looking up. Life is getting better. Keep putting one foot in front of another. Keep moving forward. Tara is healthy and she’s happy again. You’re healthy and you have a home with your best friend for as long as you need it, and you have a job, even if it is temporary. Don’t think of all you’ve lost. Be thankful for what you have.”
It was a familiar pep talk. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.
The sound of hooves striking the hard ground caused her to look up. Chet rode toward her on a big golden-colored horse, his face shadowed by the brim of his ever-present cowboy hat. But she knew when he saw her because he reined in, drawing the horse from a canter to a walk. Kimberly stopped and awaited his arrival.
“Afternoon.” He dismounted. “Did you walk all this way alone?”
Kimberly glanced behind her, surprised at how far she’d come. At least a mile, she guessed. Perhaps even a mile and a half. She couldn’t see any of the buildings of the ranch complex because of a swell in the land.
“Nothing clears the cobwebs like getting outside on a day like this,” Chet added.
She met his gaze again. He and his horse had come a little closer. She felt a flutter of nerves. Because of the size of the horse? Or because of the man? The latter question disturbed her much more than the former.
A tiny smile played at the corners of his mouth. “If you’re headed back, I’ll walk with you . . . if you don’t mind the company.”
“No, I don’t mind.” What else could she say? It would be rude to say she didn’t want him to walk with her. And she did need to return to the cottage. Anna and Tara would surely be wondering where she went after the abrupt way she’d left.
She turned and began walking. A tall man with a long, easy stride, Chet fell into step beside her. Although she didn’t glance his way
, she was keenly aware of his muscled biceps beneath the short sleeves of his close-fitting T-shirt.
Oh, this was not good. This wasn’t good at all. She hadn’t been aware of men in any kind of physical way since Ellis. And the last man in the world she wanted to notice, even in passing, was a cowboy.
Fifteen
“MAY I ASK YOU SOMETHING, MR. LEONARD?”
Chet grinned as he looked at her. “I thought we were done with the formality. I’m Chet to everybody I know, except kids and teens.”
“All right. May I ask you something . . . Chet?”
“Sure.”
“How do you feel about Sam taking Tara to the prom?”
He didn’t know what he’d expected her to ask, but that wasn’t it. For a moment or two, he couldn’t put together a reply.
She stopped walking. “You’re against it.”
He’d taken one extra step and had to turn to face her. “No. I don’t have any objection to Tara as a date for Sam, if that’s what you mean.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. But I’m afraid it’s caused some hard feelings between brothers.”
She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to go on.
“Pete’s got a crush on your daughter.”
“Oh, dear. I didn’t know.”
“Maybe I should ask you the same question. How do you feel about Sam taking Tara to the prom?”
She gave him a somewhat shaky smile. “Nervous. She’s never been on a date before, let alone gone to prom.” She slid her fingers into the back pockets of her calf-length black pants. “I worry about Tara. Maybe more than I should. All she’s cared about is horses since she was little more than a toddler. I used to hate that, her constant asking for a horse of her own, her disinterest in pretty, girly things.” Her smile faded, sadness filling her expressive eyes. “But now I . . . I just don’t want her to get a broken heart. They take so long to mend, you know.”
Sympathy welled inside of him. Who broke your heart, Kimberly? He swallowed, not sure he wanted to know the answer even if he had the nerve to ask the question. “Yeah, I know.”
The Kings Meadow Romance Collection Page 9
