Читать книгу The Cowboy's Bride - Carolyne Aarsen - Страница 9

As the deacons took the collection, Joe leaned sideways in his pew, looking past the man in front of him. From this angle he had a better view of the woman sitting in the wing.

Fortunately Joe hadn’t seen her until the sermon was over. She might have proved too much of a distraction otherwise.

Her high cheekbones and narrow nose served as an exquisite frame for her almond-shaped blue eyes and delicately curved mouth. He sighed as she lifted a hand to brush her hair from her face, then turned ahead once again.

Joe wasn’t a believer in love at first sight, but this woman created a feeling of rightness. He had to talk to her after church.

His neighbor elbowed him lightly, and Joe glanced at Lorna McLure, his old schoolteacher and the wife of his good friend. He smiled at her intrusion.

“You might want to think twice about that one, Joe,” she said quietly.

Joe grinned, knowing exactly what she was talking about and unashamed of it. “You know her?”

“Oh, don’t turn those puppy dog eyes on me as if I could help you out there.” Lorna winked at him.

“She’s Rebecca Stevenson. Jenna Burke’s younger sister.”

Joe glanced at the vision named Rebecca. Jenna’s sister. This was a major setback.

Jenna Burke was the wife of the local bank manager. She was proud of her husband’s position on the town council and their position with the town’s elite. But she was even more proud of her family’s wealth.

Joe sighed as he watched the vision smile at the deacon as she handed him the collection plate. Without moving an inch, this beautiful woman had suddenly been put out of the reach of a mere truck driver with the dubious last name of Brewer.

“You have enough girls to keep you busy, anyhow,” Lorna continued.

“What do you mean?” Joe turned to her, meeting clear green eyes that surveyed him knowingly.

“Kristine James has been spreading it around the café that she has her eyes on you.”

“Kristine has her eyes on any single guy who is still breathing,” he said with a grin.

“And what about Stephanie and Erika?”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Just where do you hang out when Allister is out on call?”

At that, the tall lanky man sitting beside Lorna McLure leaned over. “And what are you two chattering about?” he whispered with a light frown.

“Jenna’s sister,” Lorna said with a playful wink at Joe.

Allister shook his head, dismissing the conversation. “Catch me after church, Joe,” he said quietly, still leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped. “Got a line on someone who is looking for a horse trainer.”

As one of the veterinarians in the community, Allister got around and made connections. Joe wondered who he was talking about but knew his good friend would tell him nothing more until after church.

Lorna leaned closer. “And I got a line on Miss Stevenson,” she said with a smile. “I hear she’s moved here for awhile. I can keep track of her if you want.”

“You do that, Lorna,” he murmured as he caught another glimpse of Rebecca’s eyes. Joe knew he should stop staring, hoping she wouldn’t catch him at it. He couldn’t help himself. She had a serenity and poise that spoke to a loneliness in his own soul. A loneliness that grew as school friends got married and had children.

He smiled ruefully as the congregation rose for the final song. He opened the hymnal, letting the music and words pull his thoughts to where they should be.

“Love divine, all loves excelling,” he sang. As the words of the song drew him on, he couldn’t help but look toward that angelic face once more, a feeling of melancholy pressing down on him.

Someday, he prayed. Someday he would find a love divine on earth.

Rebecca ran her finger over the page of the hymnal as if to absorb the words of the song she was singing, as if to make them alive. She could have sung all three verses of the song without the hymnal, it was so well-known to her.

But knowing the song and experiencing it were two different things. She certainly didn’t feel lost in wonder, love and praise as the song promised. Friday she had received a reply on a position she had applied for as a physical education instructor, forwarded to her from Red Deer to Wakely. The message was, “Thanks but no thanks.” Her mother had tried to discourage her from applying. “You’ll just get disappointed,” she had warned.

And Rebecca had been. It seemed no school in Alberta was willing to give a Bachelor of Education graduate who limped a job as a phys ed instructor.

As the congregation closed the books and the minister pronounced the blessing, Rebecca looked at the ceiling of the church. The words of the benediction were as familiar as the song, but they didn’t lift her heart the way they once had. As she shifted her weight to her good leg, it was as if she was reminded of her unanswered prayers and struggles of the past months. A year ago she had been offered a position at a high school in Calgary as a physical education teacher. A year ago she had a boyfriend she thought would propose.

The accident changed everything. No one seemed to want her after that.

The organist played the first bars of the postlude, and Rebecca stepped carefully into the aisle, making sure she stayed close to the side in case she held up progress.

“Can you manage?” Jenna came up alongside her, carrying Shannon, her three-year-old daughter.

“I’m fine, Jenna,” Rebecca said evenly.

“We can wait until everyone is gone. It will be easier for you to walk out then.”

“I’m not that crippled,” Rebecca replied, struggling to keep the annoyance out of her voice. She knew Jenna meant well with her overprotective concern. But Rebecca had come to Wakely to get away from smothering love and pitying glances.

“Hello, Jenna.” A male voice spoke behind them.

Rebecca could see Jenna’s pleased smile and wondered what she was in for now. Jenna made no secret of the fact that she wanted to see her sister replace Kyle.

“Hello, Dale,” Jenna said, looking back and stepping aside to make room for him. “Have you met my sister, Rebecca?”

Rebecca politely smiled, turning to face a tall young man. She shook his hand as Jenna introduced them.

“Rebecca, I’d like you to meet Dale Aiken. You’ll be working with him at the bank.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Rebecca said dutifully, looking Dale Aiken over. He was good-looking in a preppy sort of way. Blond hair neatly cut, green eyes and a wide smile that contrasted with his tanned skin. But somehow his good looks and pleasant smile didn’t affect her.

“And I you,” he said, shaking her hand in a firm grip.

“Dale’s father is also one of the bank’s chief customers,” Jenna said, smiling at Rebecca over Dale’s shoulder. “He owns a franchise of hardware stores.”

Rebecca didn’t know why Jenna thought she needed to know this, but she received the information with a nod.

Dale paused, his eyes on Rebecca. “Are you visiting for awhile?”

“Actually Rebecca is coming to work for Troy,” Jenna said. “She’s going to stay with us.”

“How nice for you to have a sister around.”

Jenna agreed and with an approving wink at her sister, walked away, leaving Dale to turn his attention to Rebecca. Rebecca shook her head at her sister’s machinations. Obviously Dale passed muster, or Jenna would have hovered until Dale left.

As they walked down the aisle, they exchanged a few pleasantries. By the time they stepped out of church into the bright sunlight, Dale had asked the questions that signal an interest in continuing the acquaintance—where she lived before, what she thought of Wakely, her upcoming job at the bank. Rebecca answered the questions, surprised to find that she didn’t mind.

They were chatting at the top of the church stairs when a young woman brushed past Dale.

“Hi, Erika, what’s your hurry?” Dale asked.

“Got to catch Joe,” Erika replied with a grin. She skipped to the side of another man who began to descend the stairs beside Rebecca and Dale. “Hey, Joe, wait up.”

The tall man stopped and looked over his shoulder at the young woman who reached out and clung to his arm. He smiled briefly at her, then his glance moved past her and stopped when he caught Rebecca’s eye.

Rebecca didn’t know why she held this stranger’s gaze. The dimple in his cheek and the sparkle in his brown eyes combined to give him a flirtatious look that should be a warning to any single woman to guard her heart. But her bruised ego needed a lift after the past few months, she reasoned. She’d been mooning over Kyle too long. Having two men show interest in her in one day was reassuring. Emboldened by the attention, she met his gaze with a careful smile.

His expression became serious as he turned toward her. He reached up to finger comb his unruly hair from his handsome face as if in preparation to meet her. Rebecca stopped smiling, suddenly breathless as he took a step nearer.

“How’s it going, Joe?” Dale greeted the man with a casual wave, and the mood was broken. Disconcerted at her reaction to the man named Joe, Rebecca looked at her hands, suddenly absorbed in her fingernails.

“Fine, Dale,” she heard Joe say. “And with you?”

“Good,” Dale replied. “I’ll have some news for you in the next few days. I’ll call.”

“I’ll be waiting, that’s for sure,” Joe replied, his deep voice quiet.

“Joe, don’t talk business,” Erika said peeved. “Come with me. I want to show you some pictures.”

Rebecca couldn’t help one more look at Joe. She saw Erika tuck her arm in his. He glanced over her shoulder, his shapely mouth turned up in a grin. He winked at her, and Rebecca felt her heart stir in response.

“That Joe,” Dale said with a laugh as Rebecca shook her head to dispel the emotion. “Always got one girl or another following him around.”

“You know him?” Rebecca asked, forcing herself to look away from Erika, envying her slender, perfectly formed legs, the bounce in her step, the man to whose arm she clung.

“We went to school together. In high school, you seldom saw the guy without one or two girls hanging on to him.”

Rebecca dismissed her reaction to Joe’s good looks. She understood the attraction even as she chided herself for her response. “Doesn’t look like much has changed.”

Dale shook his head. “I doubt he’ll ever settle down.” He turned to Rebecca. “But I don’t want to talk about him. Why don’t we talk about you?”

Rebecca wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss that topic, either, but answered his impersonal questions. By the time Rebecca had worked her way cautiously to the bottom of the stairs, Jenna was there to meet them.

“Would you like to come for lunch, Dale?” she asked, smiling at Rebecca.

Rebecca almost groaned and was about to protest.

But Dale accepted gladly, and Jenna flashed Rebecca a triumphant look, which Rebecca chose to ignore. Ever since Kyle had dumped her, Jenna had been pushing her to go out with someone else. And it looked as if she was going to succeed, whether Rebecca liked it or not.

“You’re telling me you want the money now?” Lane Brewer, Joe’s younger brother, curled his fingers into a fist and glared at his brother. The two sat across from each other at the same scarred wooden table they had used as boys. The air was heavy with resentment.

Nothing had changed, Joe thought, holding his brother’s angry gaze. Lane’s eyes were hard, his thin lips pressed tightly together.

“Why now?” Lane exclaimed.

“Because I applied for a loan to build my arena and calculated in my share of the ranch as an asset. I need the cash.” Joe tipped his chair on two legs in an effort to relax. He tried to stifle the fearful premonition that Lane was going to put him off once again.

“But you told me you could wait awhile.”

“When Dad died, I said I could wait until you got things going,” Joe replied, rocking lightly in the chair. “But now I have plans. I’ve applied for the loan. I’ve gotten a few inquiries from some breeders in Montana to train and show their horses. I need my share of the money to build the arena now. Besides, you have the place up for sale, and you told me you finally have a buyer.”

“I can’t do it,” Lane said flatly.

“What?” Joe let the chair legs fall to the floor with a hollow thunk. “Why not?”

“The buyer backed out, and then I got this.” Lane got up, picked a folded piece of paper from the top of a desk overflowing with papers and wordlessly handed it to Joe.

Joe unfolded the letter and skimmed the contents, his heart pounding at what he read. He reread it more slowly, laid the letter on the table and pulled his hand over his face. “When did you get this?”

“A couple of days ago.”

Joe leaned his chin on his hand, turning to look out the fly-specked window. The same window he had spent much of his youth looking out, wishing he were anywhere else but here in this old house at this selfsame table. “How did this happen? A bank doesn’t begin foreclosure unless as a last resort. How could you let things go so far?” he asked, turning to Lane.

“You said you didn’t want to be involved with the day-to-day stuff of the ranch. Told me to make my own decisions. Well, I did. I’ve had nothing but problems with this place. Disease, a bull that was no good. A couple of lousy hay crops and I had to buy hay. I couldn’t keep all the cows we had so I had to cut down. Which made less income.”

Lane leaned forward, his gaze intent. “We’re going to lose the ranch, Joe. If things go the way the bank is talking, they’re going to foreclose. I’ll have to declare personal bankruptcy, and I can’t do that. They’ll run my life for the next five years. I can’t stand that.”

“I don’t know why you say we are going to lose this place, Lane. You got your name on the title when Dad died. All I got was a cash payout.” And a small one, at that, which he still didn’t have, Joe thought, staring morosely at his brother.

Lane wasn’t worried about the ranch, and they both knew it. Lane never did like having people tell him what to do. If he declared personal bankruptcy, he would have someone hanging over his finances for years.

“Joe, this ranch is a part of you.” Lane tried another tack.

“Not the best part,” retorted Joe. “I’m not exactly awash in fond memories of it.” He glanced around the cramped kitchen, its painted wood cupboards still the same grimy cream color they had been all those dreary years that Lane, Joe and their widowed father lived here. Under the table and in front of the kitchen sink, the gray floor tiles were worn away to the wood subfloor. Behind him, the wall sported a hole from Joe’s teenage years when he lost his temper over his father’s unreasonable demands on his time. He had put his fist through the drywall and kicked a chair across the kitchen. It had no effect on his father. Joe’s loss of temper seldom did.

“I don’t know where I’m going to come up with enough cash to pay out these loans,” Lane continued with a sigh. “The ranch is not selling. I’m stuck. I know you have a bunch stashed away. You gotta help me out.”

Joe sighed as he picked up the letter and again read the stilted language, trying to find a way he could salvage something for himself from this fiasco. “Why don’t you go to another bank? Get a loan to pay me out?” It was a long shot, and given Lane’s financial woes, hardly a solution, but Joe was grasping at anything.

Lane looked at the table, tracing his fingers in one of the gouges as he narrowed his eyes. “I went to the banks from Rocky Mountain House to Okotoks and even to Calgary. None of them would help me out.”

Joe put the letter down. “Let me see last year’s financial statement.”

Lane sighed, pulled at his ear and got up. He riffled through some papers and pulled a large manila envelope from a pile. “Here,” he said, throwing the envelope on the table. “I can’t make heads or tails of them so I don’t know if a high school dropout like you could.”

Joe let the slight pass over him as he opened the envelope. Lane would sooner eat glass than ask Joe for help. That Lane had was a measure of how desperate he was. In spite of that, Lane still couldn’t stifle his petty tendencies.

A quick look showed Joe that Lane had borrowed on virtually everything he could. The income side of the statement showed a decreasing amount for the past three years.

Joe closed the statement and slid the book across the table to his brother. “I can’t help you out. I don’t even have a quarter of what you owe in cash, and even if I had less, I wouldn’t give you anything. It wouldn’t help. You’re too far down. You can’t sell the place. Live with the consequences and let it go.”

“My brother,” Lane said, his voice heavily sarcastic. “This is how a so-called Christian like you helps out his own flesh and blood.”

“Giving you money isn’t necessarily a Christlike thing. I’ve got my own plans, Lane.”

“Your training arena?” Lane snorted. “Don’t be a fool. You don’t have enough money without your share of this ranch.”

Joe pressed his lips together, praying he could ignore the derision in Lane’s voice.

“There’s a perfectly good arena on this place,” Lane continued. “You could rent it from me.”

“We’ve gone over that already, Lane, and you know the answer. The money from that is only an inch against the mile of debt you have.”

Lane slammed his fist against the table. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you, you self-righteous—” Lane sputtered, trying to find the right words. “You know what your problem is? You’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous.”

As Lane ranted on, Joe reminded himself of the verse in Proverbs. “He who keeps his tongue is wise.” He didn’t feel very wise right now, because he didn’t feel like holding his tongue. And his new-found faith was sorely tested by the grain of truth buried in Lane’s many angry words.

Yes, he had been jealous of his brother. Jealous of the fact that his father’s approval was bestowed more quickly on Lane than Joe. That no matter how many blisters and bruises Joe got pitching bales, handling calves or putting in fences, it was never enough.

Joe had struggled with the jealousy Lane accused him of, and it was still a source of discontent in his life that required daily prayer.

Joe held on to his temper, his hands clenched. He took a breath, got up, took his hat off the table and set it on his head. “My advice to you is let the bank take the ranch and then go out and get a real job.”

Lane looked contrite as he tried another tack. “I’m sorry, Joe. Really. There’s got to be a way to save this place. Doesn’t it mean anything to you at all?”

Joe looked around once more. The kitchen counter held dishes from a few meals. The floor was littered with crumbs. Beyond the archway to the living room, Joe saw the couch from his youth covered with magazines. A couple of beer cans lay on the floor beside it. He knew that an inspection of the bedrooms would show him the same things.

It looked much as it had when he was growing up.

“No,” Joe said with finality. “It means nothing.” He turned and left.

“So after the accident you began your physio program in Calgary?” Heather Anderson picked up a clipboard that held Rebecca’s physiotherapy program and flipped through a few of the pages.

“Yes.” Rebecca smoothed a wrinkle in her sweatpants, looking around the physio department of Wakely General Hospital. It was smaller than the one in Calgary. But the department in Calgary didn’t have Heather Anderson as an employee. And Heather was the therapist Rebecca wanted to work with.

Heather nodded and made a note on the chart. “According to your report, you’ve sustained some residual nerve damage as a result of the accident. You realize that this can’t be repaired no matter who you see?”

Rebecca nodded, suddenly hating the words and what they meant for her life. “So I’ve been told,” she replied, her voice tight.

Heather dropped the chart on the metal table beside the bed in the examining room, crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “So what makes you think I can do anything for you?” Heather’s question was blunt, but Rebecca appreciated her honesty.

“Because I heard you’re the best.” Rebecca tucked her hair behind her ear and looked up to meet Heather’s level gaze. “When I found out that you got married and moved out to Wakely, I knew I had to come here, as well. I read an article about a patient of yours and I asked around. I heard you’re hard to work for but I know you get results.”

“And what results do you want?”

Rebecca took a breath, hardly daring to voice her faint hope. It hurt to talk about broken dreams and promises to someone who could only help with her broken body. But she knew she had to be honest with Heather. “Before my accident, I just finished getting an education degree with a physical education major. I still have hopes of getting a job in that field someday. For that I need better mobility, and for that I need the help of someone considered the best. I decided to move here to get it.”

Heather nodded. “I thought you were going to be working at the bank for your brother-in-law, Troy.”

Rebecca wasn’t used to having the different parts of her life intersect as they did in this small town. “It’s temporary. Troy understands my situation. I sent applications out before I came to work here. I’m waiting to hear back from a few places yet. If something comes up in my field, then I’m free to leave.”

“You’re fortunate.” Heather tilted her head and studied Rebecca from a different viewpoint. “And you’re right about one thing. I do expect a lot of work. The first week I figure on having you here every day for an hour and then we’ll set up your program. What time can you come in?”

“Troy and I decided I would be working until three. I would like to come in then.”

“One thing I want you to be very clear on,” Heather said sternly. “What we are doing here is not repair. What we are doing is trying to make your walk look as natural as possible, compensating for the loss by using other muscles.” Heather raised her eyebrows as if in question. “I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to play sports again, or even walk properly, but we can try to get your body working at its maximum capability.”

“I know,” Rebecca replied, her voice quiet. She resented for a moment the finality in Heather’s voice. She looked up, meeting Heather’s hazel eyes. “Miracles are in God’s domain, but I intend to do what I can.”

Heather smiled in return. “Good for you. But we can definitely help, if you’re willing to work.”

“That I am,” Rebecca said emphatically.

“Then we’ll see you tomorrow at three.” Heather picked up the clipboard, shook Rebecca’s hand, brushed aside the curtain dividing the examining rooms and left.

Rebecca blew out her breath and slowly got off the bed. She was surprised to see her hands trembling as she changed from her sweatpants to her regular clothes.

It was strange how things had conspired to bring her to Wakely. Heather was known and respected in her field. When Rebecca found out she was working in the same place her sister lived, she decided to make the move.

She mentioned the fact to Jenna, and Troy offered her the temporary job in the bank. She knew this was what she had to do. Working in a bank wasn’t her dream, but it was something to do until her leg was stronger.

Rebecca buttoned up her blazer and tugged it straight, making the transition from patient to accounts manager. She caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror on the wall and paused, rearranging her hair. She allowed herself a brief smile. She had a premonition that moving here had been a good decision. Heather would be able to do more for her than the therapist in Calgary, of that Rebecca was convinced.

She allowed herself a moment to dream and to feel that coming to Wakely would change the entire course of her life.