Читать книгу At Home in His Heart - Glynna Kaye - Страница 9

“Mommy, tell me about the time Daddy took me to see the guinea pigs at the pet shop.”

Sandi pulled her thoughts from the latest encounter with Bryce Harding—he’d already taken down the wasp nest—and wrapped her dripping-wet daughter in a big fluffy towel.

“I’ll tell you about the guinea pigs while we eat supper, okay?”

Gina had been asking for daddy stories ever since they’d left Meg’s. Apparently Davy’s tales of all the things he and his father had done since Joe’s return from the navy last year had sparked her own need for a renewed connection to the man she didn’t remember. She’d already been told the guinea pig story on the way home, but now she demanded it again. When you were only a year old when your daddy died, there weren’t that many stories to choose from.

A heaviness settled into Sandi’s chest as she finished drying Gina and got her into her pajamas. It was still daylight, but with the fresh air and hard play it was evident Gina would be ready for bed soon after they ate. And sure enough, a small bowl of soup and half a sandwich later she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Tucked into bed at Bradshaws-in-the-Pines—as Keith had dubbed their house trailer in keeping with local custom—Gina was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

No more daddy stories tonight.

Busy days ahead, though, so tomorrow after church they’d both rest. Monday was Memorial Day and, except for her two-hour afternoon slot at the museum, she’d promised the whole day to Gina. Parade. Petting zoo. Face painting. The works.

Just as she pulled her daughter’s bedroom door closed, her cell phone rang and she hurried to the kitchen, where she’d left it on the counter.

“Hi, doll,” a warm female voice greeted her. “Happy belated birthday.”

“Thanks, Sharon.” Envisioning her friend Kara’s mother, owner of Dix’s Woodland Warehouse, she flipped off the glaring overhead kitchen light then strolled into the shadowed living area of the open floor-planned space.

“How’d things go for your birthday dinner last night?”

“Pretty good. Devon was there, so that helped. Thanks for the prayers.” She sat down on the sofa and stretched out socked feet to rest on the coffee table. “It’s always hard when LeAnne first comes back for the summer, but after a few weeks it will be okay.”

“I know you’ve grown closer through the years.”

“I think the world of her. But I wish I wouldn’t always remember how she never wanted Keith to marry me in the first place. I still can’t seem to shake that.”

Nor could she shake off the certainty that her mother-in-law had been right. She hadn’t deserved Keith. Wasn’t worthy of him. But she’d never spoken aloud that conviction—and why she believed it—to anyone. Ever.

“Now stop that right now. It doesn’t matter what Keith’s mom did or didn’t want. What’s important is what Keith wanted. And he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.”

“Guess he did that all right, huh?” She gripped the phone tighter. “The remaining two years of it anyway.”

Had she only known Keith four years—and most of that long distance? And only been married to him barely two of those?

“Doll, am I going to have to come over there tonight and—”

“No, no.” Sandi laughed, picturing Sharon clomping into the room on her walker to pull her into a big bear hug and give her a good chewing out. “I’m not going to lower myself into a pity-party pit. I promise.”

“Good. Now get yourself into a bubble bath with a good book. The opening hurdle with your mother-in-law is behind you.”

But what about the hurdle that yet faced her with Bryce Harding back in town? She’d managed to avoid him until now, done her best to forget he even existed. But Thursday night’s inevitable encounter—and two subsequent ones—brought home that even though he hadn’t uttered a word about it, he still thought she’d been all wrong for Keith.

She hated his being right.

The two friends said their goodbyes, but when Sandi shut off the phone it immediately rang again. It was LeAnne Bradshaw. For a too-tempting moment she almost let it go to messaging.

“Sandi, I just found out the club is bringing in a San Francisco pianist for brunch tomorrow morning. I’ve heard he’s divine. You and Gina must join Devon and me.”

Must?

Golf, tennis, bridge and book-club chats filled her mother-in-law’s days behind the walls of the gated community where she resided three months out of the year. Nevertheless, Sandi long ago recognized Keith’s mom was lonely.

Like her.

If the pianist played early enough, maybe they could still get back in time for their morning’s commitments. “When will—”

“Ten o’clock. Nothing fancy. A sundress is fine.”

“Church starts at ten-thirty.” LeAnne must have forgotten.

“You go to church every week, don’t you?” Her mother-in-law sounded puzzled, as if not understanding her hesitation. “It’s not every day a concert pianist of Philemonn’s caliber comes to the high country. Gina needs to be exposed to some of the finer things that small towns don’t usually provide.”

“I know, but we—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer this time, Sandi. You need to treat yourself and Gina to something special every so often. I realize you didn’t have these opportunities growing up like Keith did. But he’d want that for you. For Gina.”

“Maybe we—” They could go to the early church service.

“Good. Then it’s settled. And while we’re lunching, let’s plan our Memorial Day visit to the cemetery.”

She took a steadying breath. “I went early this morning. To ok Gina.”

“You did?” The affront in LeAnne’s voice came through clearly—without me?

In the past they’d gone together. But for some reason Sandi couldn’t put into words, she’d needed to go alone this year. With her daughter.

“It just worked out better for me with my work schedule and museum obligations.”

“I see.” Unspoken words of hurt and reprimand hung in the air.

Although she couldn’t hear them over the phone, LeAnne’s well-manicured nails would certainly be clicking away, counting the seconds until Sandi came up with an alternative proposal. She didn’t want to go again. Summer hadn’t even started yet and time alone with Gina already seemed to be slipping away. But LeAnne was Keith’s mom, whom he’d loved dearly and worried about after his father’s death. Accompanying her to the cemetery was the least she could do, if for no other reason than the most glaring one—she owed it to Keith.

“Maybe we could go Sunday afternoon?” she offered, capitulating. “After the brunch?”

There was a long silence, as if LeAnne was deciding whether to accept the offer graciously or refuse and leave her daughter-in-law to repay her in some other way at a later time.

“I don’t want to disrupt your schedule. But you know it is a family time, a time to remember and honor Keith.”

Did she think Sandi didn’t remember Keith daily? Wasn’t doing her best to honor him?

When she didn’t respond, LeAnne continued. “So that’s what we’ll do. And tomorrow we’ll plan our Friday nights for the remainder of the summer, as well. Maybe a movie this week if we can find something suitable for Gina. Oops. Have to go. Another call coming through. See you tomorrow.”

Sandi shut off the phone and leaned back into the sofa. She sat in the fading twilight for a seemingly endless stretch of time, staring across the room to where she knew a framed photo of Keith rested on a built-in bookcase shelf. If only…

How many things she would change if only she could.

A few words. Spiteful, wounding words she couldn’t take back. Words that drew an immovable line in the sand. Words—born of fear for Keith’s safety and her own loneliness—that demanded that if he didn’t quit the military, didn’t come home immediately, she’d have no more children with him.

The flash of headlights from a vehicle traveling along the hard-packed gravel-and-dirt road momentarily illuminated the photograph. The proud smile and twinkling eyes of her husband seemed to focus on her as he cradled Gina on his lap.

Her first birthday.

Three months later he was gone.

And yesterday was her own birthday. Twelve months from now she’d hit the Big Three-Oh. If she lived the life expectancy of an average American woman, that left another fifty years.

Without Keith.

Alone.

Sandi sank deeper into the sofa as the car with the headlights passed by and the room returned to darkness.

“Move!”

Something shoved roughly against Bryce’s leg as the high school band down the street struck up the opening bars of the “Star-Spangled Banner.” Almost caught him off-balance as he’d leaned over to speak to his grandma, seated in the wheelchair next to him.

What the—? He shifted, glancing down to see the ball-capped head of a kid pulling back to give him another hearty shove. He grabbed one of the hands. “Hey. Cut that out, kid.”

The child jerked free, head tilting up to look at him. Chin jutting and eyes flashing.

Bryce chuckled. A girl. And except for the affronted expression, she was the spittin’ image of her daddy. He turned to scan the faces around him, expecting to see her mother nearby. No sign of her. But he couldn’t be mistaken about this kid’s identity. The resemblance to her father was striking, and he’d caught occasional glimpses of her at church, too.

He squatted to eye level. “What’s the problem here?”

“I can’t see.” She pushed back the oversize ball cap—desert camouflage with an army insignia—and put her hands on her hips in a gesture that reminded him of her mom. “You’re too big. You hafta move.”

If he hadn’t any other clue as to her maternal parentage, that sealed the deal. Only another Bradshaw female would tell him what to do. Without a second thought, he handed his Western hat to his grandma. Then he lifted the now-giggling child over his head to sit atop his shoulders, her jeans-clad legs horseshoeing around his neck.

He grasped her ankles to steady her. “How’s that, little lady? Can you see now?”

She giggled again, tiny hands pressing against his forehead as she tilted it back to look into his face. “Do I know you?”

“I’m a friend of your daddy.” Should have said mom, too, but that would be stretching it.

“You know my daddy?”

“I sure do.” Did. “We were like brothers.”

“Mommy!” She released him and he felt her twisting and turning, searching in vain for her parent. “Mommy! Guess what?”

He patted her leg. “Hey, hey. Pipe down. The band’s coming.”

A moment later the color guard with the Stars and Stripes of the United States of America passed by. Bryce’s heart swelled as his hand shot up in salute, and he caught the eye of his friend Joe Diaz across the way likewise standing at attention.

The little girl leaned down to shout above the blaring band. Right in his ear. “Are you a sojur, too? Like my daddy?”

“I am.” Still felt like he was.

“What’s your name?”

“Bryce. What’s yours?”

“Gina.”

That’s what he’d figured. He’d always remember the call from Keith announcing her arrival. How excited he was. How much he considered her a personal gift from God. How he wanted a dozen more just like her. Bryce had hardly been able to get a word in edgewise even to congratulate him.

Gina pointed. “Look! Horses!”

Sure enough, following the band and pom-pommed high school cheerleaders came a mounted Kara Dixon and ex-rodeo cowboy Trey Kenton leading two dozen other riders in Western garb. Saddle leather creaking, bits jangling and metal-shod hooves ringing on the hard-topped street, they passed by in style.

“Mae!” a familiar female voice cried out, and he glimpsed Sandi worming her way through the crowd to his grandma’s side. “Oh, thank goodness, a familiar face at last. Have you seen Gina? I’ve been looking all over—”

“Hi, Mommy! I’m up here with Uncle Bryce.”

Uncle Bryce?

He turned to catch the displeasure on the face of the pretty, sun-hatted woman. She looked torn, as if wanting to order him to unhand her daughter but mindful of the prime parade-viewing spot the little latecomer managed to nab.

He almost laughed but thought better of it. “Take it easy, Sandi. I told her Keith and I were like brothers. That’s why—”

“I see.” She tilted her head to look at him with that appealing little mannerism. Was she even aware of it? Know how engaging it was? Especially to a guy who hadn’t gone near an attractive single woman in three years.

But no way was he touching Sandi Bradshaw with a proverbial ten-foot pole. He might be a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.

He did laugh then, and he didn’t care when she frowned.

Still smiling, he turned himself and Gina back to the parade just as the historical society’s contribution to the day rolled by, a festively decorated buggy pulled by a flashy chestnut. A placard on the back announced the museum’s open-for-business holiday hours.

His smile faded. No doubt the economy had played a hand in the downturn in the historical society’s finances just as it had for almost every other business in town. But Grandma had given them a too-generous deal that they’d taken advantage of for far too long. Had he been aware of it years earlier, he’d have called a halt to it then, not waited until circumstances dictated a significant dollar increase all at one time. Even then, the escalation likely wouldn’t be sufficient for what he needed to do.

Then what?

He shoved uneasy thoughts aside to pat Gina’s leg and point out the miniature ponies coming along the parade route. Thirty minutes later, with the last tractor-pulled float rolling out of sight, he turned just as Sandi took a call on her cell phone.

She glanced in his direction and, catching his eye, turned slightly away. “What’s up, Fay?”

She listened intently as Gina drummed a light rhythm on the top of his head.

“I’m thrilled for you,” she assured the caller, but she didn’t sound convincing to him. “Of course. No, go and have a great time. Don’t worry about it.”

She dropped her head in resignation for a moment, then took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and stuffed the phone back in her purse. “Let’s get going, Gina. Change in plans. We have to cover at the museum this morning, too.”

Little fingers stopped their drumming. “But you promised.”

“I know I did, sweetheart, but this can’t be helped.” She looked to Grandma Mae. “Fay just got asked to spend the day with an out-of-town guy she’s been dying to date. And earlier this morning Wanda called to say that her daughter’s family arrived unexpectedly late last night. What could I say?”

Grandma Mae patted her hand. “You’re too softhearted, Sandi.”

The pretty blonde grimaced.

Gina wiggled atop his shoulders. “Can’t we go to the petting zoo first, Mommy? Please?”

“There’s not enough time. We’re going to be late opening the museum as it is.”

“But Mommy—”

“We can take her, can’t we, Bryce?” Grandma smiled up at him. “I haven’t been to a petting zoo in years.”

Gina clapped her hands as he lowered her to the ground. “Can they take me, Mommy?”

“Well…” She cast him an uncertain glance. Conscious of Grandma’s enthusiasm, he didn’t shake his head, but he probably had “no” written all over his face. With any luck, she’d take the hint.

Grandma all but glowed. “We’d love to take her.”

There was that we stuff again.

With a squeal, the kid grasped his hand with both of hers, holding on for dear life as she danced in place, little pink lights on her tennis shoes flashing with every step. Somebody had already consumed way too much sugar this morning.

This isn’t a good idea, Grandma.

“That’s sweet of you, Mae.” Sandi glanced at him again—apparently not sold on the idea of leaving her kid in his care—then back at Grandma. “But only if you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“We were going to spend most of the day together,” Sandi continued with a regretful smile in the direction of her still-dancing daughter. “But now I’m stuck with every single one of the scheduled museum slots.”

He shifted his weight, primed to step in if she started complaining about the rent increase in front of Grandma. About how she had to give up her holiday with her kid to bring in more money to cover it.

“Then it’s settled.” Grandma beamed from Sandi, to Gina, to him.

With another squeal the little girl hugged his leg. “Come on, Uncle Bryce. Let’s roll!”

Conscious of her eyes on him, he met the troubled gaze of the too-pretty-for-his-own-good young mother. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something more.

Instead she turned to Grandma, that too-appealing mouth ever so slowly curving into a grateful smile. One that grabbed him by the throat tighter than the grip her kid had on his hand.

He took a steadying breath.

No, Grandma, this isn’t a good idea.