Love's Lingering Doubts (Love's Texas Homecoming Boo 1; First Street Church #9)

by Sharon Hughson

  Her friend leaned and whispered in her ear, “Did I see you holding Bailey’s hand?” Elise waggled her eyebrows.

  Jaz rolled her eyes. “You’re so juvenile. I was comforting him.”

  “The way his eyes followed you when you walked away.” Her eyes widened. “Thought it might set you on fire.”

  Pastor Bernie started speaking. Jaz sighed, grateful not to have to address Elise’s teasing.

  The funeral director pulled the privacy curtain in the family room. She could make out three silhouettes in a row. Her fingers fisted at the thought of that woman.

  Did Honey truly have the strongest claim? Jaz couldn’t let those claws grasp the ranch Tess planned her future around. Surely a judge would agree that the continued relationship between Fritz, Bailey, and Tess merited estoppel.

  What sort of proof should she be trying to amass to help them in court? Her stomach dropped.

  Please, God, don’t let this be a lengthy court battle.

  She stole a glance at the ceiling as the congregation stood. Jaz bolted up a beat later, earning a frown from Elise.

  If she couldn’t figure out this mess, everything Fritz Travers worked for would go to the daughter of a woman who robbed him of his own inheritance.

  Jaz gritted her teeth. Not on her watch.

  During the closing prayer, a nudge in her spirit twisted her heart. She’d been so frantic searching for a job and trying to help Bailey she’d forgotten her plan to pursue the Jesus she’d first met in Sweet Grove.

  If you still care about me, help me find a way to save Bailey’s ranch.

  As far as she could tell, her prayer hit the ceiling. Pastor Bernie said his amen. People filed past the open casket at the front of the room, and Jaz slipped out the back door while Elise talked to a woman in front of them.

  Jaz scribbled her name in the guest book and slid into a spot in the reception line. Town folks spoke to Bailey and Tess on their way out the door. Honey Campbell stood on the opposite side of Bailey, dabbing at her perfect makeup and gushing over everyone who passed.

  Jaz narrowed her eyes. What sort of person snatched everything away from so-called family members? They’d already lost so much.

  The line deposited her in front of Tess. Jaz hugged her, noticing the jab of shoulder blades against her palms.

  “I’m so glad you’re helping us.” She squeezed Jaz’s shoulders. “And I’m glad Bailey found someone.”

  Jaz ignored the surge of guilt. Her heart wasn’t ready to fall for a man, no matter how handsome and generous he might be. Besides, she was leaving in a week.

  Then the man who’d invaded her dreams and tried to steal her heart stood before her. He stretched his hand out, but she pushed it aside and threw her arms around his neck. His warm breath fanned the sensitive spot beneath her ear, and her heart revved its engine.

  “We’ll figure this out.” She put as much confidence into her words as she could.

  Warm hands squeezed her waist. A line of people stared at them, she was sure, but Jaz didn’t want to let go. Some unexplainable force she had never felt pulled her into him like gravity kept her feet on the ground.

  “Thank you.” His husky whisper sent thrills through every cell of her body.

  He released her, and she stepped away, the tug toward him unchecked. She fought it and sidled in front of Honey Campbell. The warmth fled, and she narrowed her eyes.

  In response, the woman’s rusty eyes slitted. Her fingernails scraped across Jaz’s palm as they shook hands.

  “I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish, but you won’t get the ranch.” Jaz kept her voice low.

  Honey ducked toward her. “Oh sugar, the ranch is mine. Whoever you think you are, you can’t stop me.”

  Her heart dropped into her stomach.

  “The law’s on my side.” Jaz snatched her hand away.

  “The law never keeps me from what I want.” Honey sneered and turned to grace the next person in line with a syrupy smile. Jaz gagged.

  “I understand your land adjoins mine.” The southern accent was so false it grated on Jaz’s eardrums. “I’ll be selling, if you want to put in an early bid.”

  Jaz whirled. The woman clung to Herman Wells’s hand. Behind him, Norma Wells stepped out of hugging Bailey to extricate her husband from the vulture’s claws.

  “Fritz’s son and daughter will inherit the ranch.” Herman Wells’s gruff voice carried well.

  “They were never adopted.” The smug look on Honey’s face needed to be swatted off. “So the ranch comes to me. I have documents.”

  Norma glared at the woman’s hand like it was a viper. “We’re not interested in purchasing the land.”

  Jaz held the door for the older couple, willing Bailey to look up at her. His attention was on the people in front of him.

  She stepped into the warming afternoon. The stew inside her sloshed and burned.

  She had to stop Honey Campbell. But how?

  10

  Honey Campbell relentlessly dogged them to the cemetery and then to the church. Bailey couldn’t stand her grating voice, and when he caught her cornering Tess, he was done.

  Tess stared straight ahead on the drive to the ranch. His firm grip guided her into the house. After changing into normal clothes, he knocked on her bedroom door. She didn’t answer.

  In the entryway, Poppet whined. The dog stared at the closet’s ajar door. Bailey’s heart plummeted. Their first night in this house, Tess huddled in that closet, but she wasn’t five years old anymore, and the idea of her feeling that scared and insecure ripped away the veneer he’d been wearing all day.

  He nudged the dog with his boot and swung the door wide. The ball of flesh curled in the corner killed any residue of hope inside him.

  “Tess.”

  She didn’t look up.

  He knelt in front of her, smoothing her hair. The soothing sounds he used with injured animals flowed from his lips. Her sniffles escalated. In his arms, she shook with sobs.

  Bailey hauled her against his chest and carried her to her bedroom. His throat ached and eyes burned while he held her on his lap until the tears stopped.

  “We’re not losing our home.” There was no strength in her words, which almost sounded like a question.

  “We’ll hire a lawyer.” With what money?

  He had to find a way to hand his sister her dream. She wasn’t the throwaway child. The adoption documents—unsigned but emphatic—on her dresser proved as much.

  “I should pack things. Just in case.”

  Bailey bristled. His arms tightened around her thin frame. “Only pack what you want to donate.” The growl in his tone made Poppet, who’d followed them into the room, stare at him.

  When Tess pushed away, Bailey let her go. In his own room, he stared at nothing until his gaze landed on Dad’s Bible, forgotten on the dresser. The leather was soft against his palm, and an inky fragrance drifted upward when he opened to a bookmark.

  A highlighted verse in the corner of the page drew his attention. “When a man’s ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him.”

  Guilt stabbed him. This was his fault.

  Since his mother passed, Bailey had banished God from everything. What use did he have for a deity who wouldn’t protect those He loved? For a while, he’d almost been convinced that he wasn’t cursed, but once MaryAnn was gone and his dad slipped into melancholy, the old fears returned to plague him.

  So he’d stopped going to church. And his father hadn’t nagged him like his mother would have.

  He closed the book and tucked it under his arm. As he headed for the door, he called, “I’m going out.”

  Footsteps scuffled out of the master bedroom. Tess cocked her hip against the doorframe, one of Dad’s flannel shirts hugged against her chest. “Don’t be gone long. That…woman will be back.”

  Bailey’s stomach knotted. Through gritted teeth he said, “Text me if she shows. I’ll lock up.”


  Tess shook her head. “Dad never locked anything.”

  Bailey’s arms itched to hug his sister, but she shuffled through the doorway before he could.

  After securing everything that had a lock, Bailey gunned the truck’s engine and headed for Mill Creek Pond. He took a left turn before he reached the park’s main entrance. The dusty path wound through the trees and dead-ended in a wide spot on the opposite side of the pool.

  Decades ago, Drew Rolle had brought him here. A huge willow shaded a portion of the pond, and the two of them had climbed up, legs dangling as a late spring thunderstorm dumped a gallon of water on their heads.

  Since then, Bailey had returned on only a few occasions: after his mother’s funeral, and now after his father’s. Would he live to see this place in the wake of his sister’s death, too?

  He shook off the macabre thoughts. As he squatted beside the pond, he stared into the murky depths, willing them to provide the solace he’d found at other times.

  Instead, Honey Campbell’s threats swirled through his mind. The woman might be related by blood to his father, but she’d never been part of their family. What about Dad’s promise?

  “No will. No adoption.” He grunted and tossed a stick into the water.

  It floated on an invisible current for a moment and then sunk. Like his dreams and plans. Unless he found a way to fight that greedy woman, Tess’s dreams would drown, too.

  He surged to his feet and paced along the curving shore. A line of thick underbrush blocked access in one direction, hindering people from circling from the park to this side of the pond. His boots crushed twigs as he stomped from one edge of the clearing to the other, where a line of shrubs marked the boundary of a homestead.

  With every step, he cursed his horrible luck. Eventually, the sound of a car rattled him from his dark musings.

  An old red Subaru parked beside his truck. Shadows made it impossible for him to see the driver, but his mind recalled the straight black skirt and royal blue blouse she’d worn at the funeral. He licked his lips and shoved his hands into his back pockets.

  Maybe that would keep them from grabbing her and holding on until this nightmare passed.

  His life was a nightmare.

  Jaz stepped out of the car. She’d changed into brown walking shorts and a lighter brown shirt with filmy cap sleeves.

  The sight of her punched the air from his lungs. He pressed his fingers deeper into his pockets until they curled against the seams.

  “I didn’t know anyone else came here.” Her voice was breathless, as if she’d sprinted to meet him, but she’d hardly taken two steps away from her car.

  “Drew brought me here.” Bailey forced his gaze to her face.

  “Me too.” A small smile curled one corner of her luscious lips.

  Maybe looking at her face wasn’t the best idea. He stared at the ground in front of her.

  “I’m sorry about that woman.” Jaz walked closer until a scent of ginger and oranges breezed toward him.

  His pulse throbbed in his neck. He curled his fingers tighter and angled toward the pond.

  “We’ll call that lawyer tomorrow. And fight her.” He’d worry about the cost of such a thing later.

  “You have a strong case for equitable adoption. Maybe the attorneys will convince Miss Campbell to settle out of court.”

  Bailey doubted anything weaker than a stampeding herd of wild horses would divert Honey Campbell’s attention from the ranch. Her mother had stolen Fritz’s inheritance, and it looked like she was proving the truth of that adage about the apple and the tree.

  “It doesn’t make sense.” Jaz stood beside him, and the heat of her bare arm taunted him.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw her face him. Those green eyes stared past him, and a furrow marred her smooth forehead. His stomach bucked into his heart, which skittered like a rabbit on the run.

  “You asked your dad about this situation. He said it was handled.” She crossed her arms. “That means there has to be a will or something.”

  “There’s no will.” Bailey sounded like death.

  “Think, Jaz,” she muttered, and paced away.

  His gaze followed. She continued talking to herself and shaking her head. When her arms flailed upward, he smiled.

  She turned back, and her eyes widened. That undefinable cord locked their gazes together. Her lips were slightly parted, and Bailey licked his. On the edge of losing everything, and still his body screamed for her.

  “There has to be something. Maybe he gave you an envelope. Months ago?”

  Bailey shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “He left you something. Mentioned something was important but it didn’t mean anything to you at the time.”

  Bailey sighed. “There’s nothing.”

  Except his Bible.

  A jolt shot through him. The Bible.

  Bailey strode past Jaz and yanked open the truck door. The worn black book lay innocently between the seatbelt locks.

  Everything you need is in here, son. His father’s words whispered to him. Why had Bailey assumed his father was referring to spiritual things?

  Son. The echo of that word reverberated in his heart as he gripped the book and pulled it to his chest. No matter what Honey Campbell said, Bailey had been Fritz’s son. And there was no way he would let his family’s ranch become carrion in her clutches.

  He set the book on the seat and fanned the pages. Jaz squeezed in beside him, warm breath tickling his forearms.

  “Is that your dad’s Bible?” Excitement pitched her voice higher.

  He nodded, glancing at various bookmarks, a small pink envelope, and a strip from a string tie. Curling the cover in the opposite direction, he thumbed the thin pages, making them tumble more slowly.

  Please, God, let me be right about this.

  Toward the end of his flipping, a folded paper slid forward. He opened the Bible and stared at the yellow page from one of the legal pads his father favored. A verse near Bailey’s right thumb was circled in dark ink.

  “But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.”

  Bailey covered the sudden fluttering in his chest. His other hand lifted the paper. Jaz bumped his arm, and he glanced toward her.

  She reached for the paper. “Want me to read it?”

  Bailey pulled the paper out of her reach. “You’d think your ranch was at stake.”

  “It would be easier for me to handle that than to think of you…and Tess losing everything.”

  She glanced up at him, color riding high on her cheekbones. He believed her. It made no sense, but she cared about this issue as much as he did.

  Bailey unfolded the paper. His heart stalled and his gut twitched. What if this was another dead end?

  I can’t take it. Please.

  His father’s scrawling cursive filled the page. In places the ink thinned, as if the pen he used was running dry, but all the words were legible. Bailey scanned them. His lips twitched, and the hundred-pound weight that had settled over his heart when he found Tess huddled in the closet lifted.

  He handed the paper to Jaz. “What’s your opinion? You’re the legal expert.”

  Rather than snatching the paper, Jaz pushed his hand lower, keeping hers on his while she scanned the page. She whistled.

  Bailey stared at her dark fingers against his work-tanned hands. They weren’t so very different.

  She whirled toward him and threw her arms around his neck. Warm lips pressed against the pulse point, and his heart lunged toward her.

  “This is a will. Your father left everything to you and your sister.”

  Paper forgotten, Bailey wrapped his arms around Jaz. A smile lit her face, and she tapped his hat, pushing it up.

  “You shouldn’t even need a lawyer—”

  He couldn’t stop his lips from cutting off her excited spiel. Breaths mingled as he savored the sweetness of her soft mouth. She sighed, sagging against him.

&nb
sp; His arms tightened. He nuzzled his way to her ear. “Thank you.”

  He started to pull back, but her strong, hot hands pressed against the back of his neck, fingers twining in his hair. Their mouths joined. His heart frolicked in his chest, and when she opened to him, his tongue dove in. She tasted of sunflower seeds and fresh vegetables.

  A minute later, he gasped and broke the contact. He pressed his forehead to hers, knocking his hat even higher. He closed his eyes and imprinted the scent and feel of her in his mind. It was already engraved on his heart.

  “Tess!” He stepped back, slamming into the open truck door behind him. How could he forget his sister? And what if the greedy niece showed up?

  Jaz looked dazed, smoothing her lips together to close her gaping mouth.

  “Honey threatened to kick us out today.”

  “Not happening.” She traced a finger along his jaw.

  A shudder of pleasure trilled along his nerves. He reached out to touch her face in the same spot.

  She blinked and twisted toward the interior of the truck. Her fingers pinched the edge of the yellow paper—the will—and she sidled out of the narrow trap his body and the truck formed.

  A chill robbed some of his euphoria.

  “I’ll show this to the sheriff. He’ll have a legal reason to chase her off.”

  Bailey closed the door, granting access to her car. He leaned against the truck, wondering at the void in his chest.

  “See you out there.” She ducked into her car and tucked the paper in her folded visor.

  The engine rumbled to life, and she backed along the rutted trail.

  When the dust concealed her, Bailey drew a deep breath. The hole in his chest ached.

  He might have secured the ranch, but Jaz had driven away with his heart.

  11

  Jaz checked the rear-view mirror again. When the vehicles bounced onto the dirt road, the police cruiser had fallen further behind. A glance at her speedometer showed her at the speed limit.

  Her toes itched to floor the accelerator. Although her watch told her only forty minutes had passed since she’d left Bailey beside Mill Pond, her tumbling gut urged her to hurry.