Читать книгу A McKaslin Homecoming - Jillian Hart - Страница 11

Over her grandmother’s shoulder, Lauren caught sight of Caleb’s slow, silent retreat. He held her lemonade glass in one hand as he backed away. Their gazes met. For one instant, the breeze stopped blowing. Her heart stilled and the tightness in her chest faded.

“I told you.” He mouthed the words, lifted a hand in farewell and headed silently out of sight, leaving behind the impression of his kindness. A kindness she appreciated.

Mary released her from the hug, but held tight to her hand, as if she were determined not to let go.

Strange, Lauren had come here feeling vulnerable, but this woman’s arm was so frail, nothing but fragile bones and a silk sleeve. Lauren took a more guiding hold on her to make sure she was all right. “You look like you need to sit down.”

“No, dear. Just taken back. You wouldn’t remember my dear sister. Cancer took her. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss her sorely.”

“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t imagine what that must be like, to miss someone so much. To love them so much.

Judging by the pain stark on her grandmother’s face and how it seemed to drain her of strength, Lauren decided that she might live a lonely life, but maybe she was lucky, in a way. She would never know her grandmother’s sorrow and loss and heartbreak.

Maybe that was better, to be safe from that kind of pain.

“I’m so glad you’ve come. Now, let me get a good look at you. My, how you’ve grown. A little underfed, but that’s an easy remedy. I can’t get over it. All this time.” Tears silvered Mary’s eyes. “Twenty-two years just flew by and it’s an eternity all the same. It’s been enough for the sweet little toddler you were to grow up. You don’t remember me at all, do you?”

“No, but I wish I did.”

“Well, here I’m going on and on and you must be tired from such a long drive. You must have come up through Utah.”

“I did. It was a gorgeous drive. It’s lovely here, too.”

“I think so, too. It’s home.” Mary slipped her arm through Lauren’s. “I hope you don’t mind I’ve put you out here.”

Sadness seemed to stick with the older woman and her voice was brittle sounding. Lauren didn’t know what to say or how to make it better. She looked up to realize there was an in-ground pool to her left, glittering around an enormous brick patio. Ahead, there was a garden gate that led to a small cottage, hidden behind climbing roses and flowering shrubs.

It was sweet, like something out of a gardener’s dream.

“This used to be my studio, and then a guest house. Your sister Katherine lived here for a long while, until she got her own place in town. Caleb stayed here when he went to college. He lives next door now, and takes care of the place for me when I’m gone. These days I spend most of my time in Arizona.” Mary led the way along the cozy porch to the front door. “Speaking of Caleb, where did he get off to?”

“To see to the horses, I think.”

“He’s a fine man. I don’t know what I would do without him. I’ve known him since he was a wee thing. He’s a man a woman can count on.”

How could she tell her grandmother that she hadn’t thought that a man like that existed on this entire planet? Mary obviously held Caleb in high regard and for good reason. The image of him in his cowboy hat, calming the horses seemed implanted in Lauren’s brain. There was goodness in him and a lot of dependability. Even she could see that. But a lot of men were that way—except when it really counted.

“I thought you might be more comfortable out here,” Mary was saying as they ambled along the flagstone path to the little cottage. “You’ll have your privacy. I know this is going to be a lot for you to adjust to, meeting your family. There are a lot of us.”

“It’s already overwhelming. But nice.”

Mary’s beaming smile was reward enough. Lauren was deeply glad that she’d come. No matter what. A flicker of joy filled her right up. She, who’d always felt so alone, had a grandmother—a real one, a caring one. It was hard not to care right back. And didn’t that mean she was completely out of her element?

Yes.

The little house had a fan-shaped window in the rounded top of the door. It was like a storybook cottage.

Another clue that she was out of her comfort zone. Inside, the cottage was as sweet as promised from the outside, with sheer white curtains swinging in the breeze from the open windows, gleaming honey-wood floors and a cabbage rose covered couch. There was a matching chair and ottoman, which looked good for reading, and scarred end tables topped with colorful pottery lamps. Lauren spotted a tiny kitchen in the corner, with an avocado-green stove and refrigerator. The place was so homey, she was afraid to believe it was real.

Just like with Mary.

“You go ahead and freshen up, dear. I know it was a long, hot and dusty drive. I had Caleb stock the little kitchen with a few necessities, so poke around if you like. When you’re ready, come up to the main house. I should have supper on the table in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

During the whole trip Lauren had wondered what she would say to her grandmother. She’d made a mental list of the questions to ask and of the things she needed to know. Now those questions flitted away like dry leaves in the wind, rolling out of sight.

She felt lost. Nothing was as she expected it to be.

Mary reached out and squeezed her hand. The contact wasn’t something she was used to, but for that one microsecond, the vast canyon she always kept between her and everyone else was bridged. She was no longer painfully alone.

Then Mary let go and stepped away. The canyon around her returned and she didn’t know what to say next. She wrapped her arms around her middle, but that was no comfort from the loneliness.

She was trailing her grandmother to the open door, to close it after her, when she spotted a framed picture hung on the wall. It was one among many with unfamiliar smiling faces, but this photograph called to her.

“Oh, that’s you right there.” Mary brushed a manicured fingertip toward the family portrait. “Do you remember?”

“Not really.” She stared at herself, the little girl in the photograph, chubby with the look of a tot who was more infant than toddler, dressed in a poufy white-and-blue sailor dress and bonnet. She sat on her mother’s lap. She recognized her mom, of course. Perhaps that was what had made her stop in the first place.

She studied the face of the tall, capable-looking man standing behind Mom. She didn’t recognize her father’s face, which was more lean than round, with a hawk-like nose and square jaw. He had a friendly look to him.

Her dad. The dad who’d never wanted to see her. She swallowed hard against the pain. Maybe what her mother had told her about her father was not true, either. Why didn’t she remember him? Or her brother and sisters? Her brother was a tall, teenage boy who closely resembled their father. There were three other girls—a slim preteen, who had wide eyes and a pretty smile even with braces, and two grade school girls who were shockingly identical.

Twins? Lauren didn’t even know there were twins in the family. Her family. People she was connected to by blood, but nothing else. They were simply strangers.

Strangers.

She studied the smiling family. The clothes were dated, fashionable twenty years ago and of modest department-store quality. The kids had the same blond hair and violet-blue eyes that she had.

An eerie feeling of recognition crawled through her, but it was nothing she could grasp. No tangible memory came to the surface through the void.

“That’s your father, of course. He’s remarried. Spence runs the family bookstore these days, along with Katherine. You won’t be meeting her on this visit, since she’s off on her honeymoon. The twins are Aubrey and Ava. Of course, they’re all grown up now. Don’t think, because you didn’t grow up here, that you were out of my thoughts or my heart, because that wouldn’t be true. You’re my granddaughter, regardless of what your mother did.”

How could that be said so simply, as if Linda hadn’t done everything she could to upset and bribe and wheedle money out of Mary? Lauren swallowed hard against the memories that settled like a boulder in her throat. She may have been very young, but she remembered many of mom’s phone calls and how she’d behaved. It all made sense now. Is that the kind of person she seemed like to Mary, someone like her mother?

She looked again at her mother’s face, young and unlined, sun browned, even back then, to a shocking shade. The striking woman in the pretty blue dress that matched the light shade of her eyes and her hair in a sleek bob resembled her mom. But Lauren didn’t know this woman. The mother she knew never would have been anything like the calm, cheerful-looking woman in the photograph.

Lauren felt even more alone, a stranger to herself.

Her grandmother broke the silence. “I’m terribly glad you’re home now. I’d best go put the potatoes on. You must be hungry.”

Lauren’s heart stood still. She saw the older woman to the door and waited a moment to close it so she could memorize her grandmother’s figure—her natural poise, straight spine, her slenderness and elegance. Mary walked through the little picket gate, where an arbor thick with red roses arched overhead, and then disappeared from view.

This was not what she’d been expecting. Boy, talk about being out of her comfort zone. Lauren closed the door and leaned against it. She was just tired, that’s why she felt so fragile. She blinked back the rising tears in her eyes. She’d come to find the truth. She had a feeling the truth was something she wasn’t going to like.

Still, it was hard not to adore her grandmother. She seemed like the nicest person. She’d come thinking, at best, she would meet this lady. And now she had to wonder if there was a chance finally to have a real family tie. Or was this welcome simply to satisfy curiosity? A meeting and then that was all. Her grandmother would see her granddaughter all grown up, and she would have answers.

Tucking away her hopes, Lauren went in search of her bags, which she found on a little cedar chest at the foot of the quilt-covered bed. The bedroom was sweet with tiny rosebud wallpaper softening the walls. White ruffled curtains framing a large bay window seat rippled in the wind.

The view was stunning. Jagging mountains dominated the horizon, and the sky was the bluest she’d ever seen. Deep greens of trees and the neat rows of a garden gave way to white fencing beyond. And, she realized, as she eased onto the window seat’s plump cushion, to Caleb.

Tucked in the shade of the stable, he was brushing the white horse. He hadn’t noticed her and she didn’t seem able to look away. There was something about him that felt as calming to her as the gentle breeze through the open window. It wasn’t every day a girl got to round up runaway horses with a handsome—and kind—cowboy. It was a new experience for her. She couldn’t help wondering about her brother and sisters in the family photograph. This was probably the way they’d grown up, with visits here and adventures on those horses and family meals made with vegetables grown in the garden.

Her grandmother’s words replayed in her mind. Don’t think because you didn’t grow up here, that you were out of my thoughts or my heart, because that wouldn’t be true.

Those words had meant a lot. For the first time in her life, the haze of unhappiness from her childhood felt far away and she could see clearly. The meeting with her grandmother had gone well—her initial worries were over. Now, there was the rest of the family to meet—tomorrow. For now, she was grateful to have the time to get to know Mary.

She checked the time on the way out the door. She wanted to make sure she helped her grandmother in the kitchen. Rose-scented air greeted her as she skipped down the steps. Caleb’s baritone carried on the hot wind. He was calling her name. Still brushing the white horse’s sleek coat, he flashed his dimpled grin. He raised a hand, gesturing her over.

He was a kind man and hard not to like. So she headed his way through the fragrant flower garden ripe with full blooms of colorful roses then along the edge of the vegetable garden.

He came up to the fence, his Stetson shading his granite features. “Things look like they’re goin’ pretty well.”

“Better than I’d let myself hope.”

“You must have awful low hopes as a general rule. You said you talked to Mary on the phone. You had to suspect she’d be as nice in person.”

“Yes, but you just never know how things are going to turn out.”

“You’ve got a smile on your face. That about says it all.”

She shrugged, not wanting to talk about her feelings. She was a private person, Caleb got that. He was pretty private himself. Her gaze went behind him to the mare standing in the shade of the horse barn. There was a look of wistfulness there. “I hope they don’t get out again. What if you hadn’t been around to catch them?”

“Ah, but you see, that’s the fun part of the game for Malia. She wants me to know she can get out any old time she wants. But what she really wants is for me to chase her. She loves to run. And to win.”

“I see. You indulge her by letting her outrun the pickup.”

“Now, don’t you let her hear that, or it’s gonna make her cranky.” Caleb checked over his shoulder at the mare who’d pricked her ears and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t let her fool you. She understands English about as well as I do. Maybe better, since she’s got nothing more to do than to stand around all day pondering it.”

That made Lauren smile. “You seem to know her pretty well. I hear from my grandmother that she’s known you all of your life.”

“That about sums it up. My family has known hers for generations. I spent summers out here, until my grandparents downsized to a small house in town and I bought the place from them. I keep an eye on Mary’s place, take care of her horses, that kind of thing. I keep my own horse here, he likes the company. You’ve already met him. Here he comes.”

The brown and white paint pushed up to the fence, sniffing the air in hopes for any kind of treat. He pressed right up against the fence and reached over it with his long neck.

“I’m used to horses on television.” Lauren took one step back. “I didn’t know they were so big in real life.”

“They look even bigger when you’re on one of ’em, looking down.”

“I believe you.”

She wasn’t scared, he realized as she hung back, just uncertain. His fiancée, Jayna, had been petrified of horses, and that had been a problem. One of many that had been impossible to overcome. He ran a hand down his boy’s neck. “Hey, you big lug, listen up and use your manners for the lady. Stop nosing around for food, Leo.”

Leo took exception to that and gave a head toss, his silky brown mane rippling handsomely. A charmer from the day he was foaled, the gelding preened, arching his neck for the lady watching him. The horse was determined to impress her.

It seemed to work, although by the instant adoration in her eyes, clearly Lauren was softhearted. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Sure, and he knows it, too. Look at him showing off. He’s winking at you.”

“He’s cheeky. You taught him that, didn’t you?”

“Sure did. I suppose there weren’t horses where you grew up.”

“The kind on the merry-go-round. As a little girl, I always wanted a horse. I read every book with a horse in it. Watched everything I could find on TV. It was just a phase, I guess.”

“It’s a phase I never grew out of.”

“It must be nice.”

That made him wonder about her life and what she thought of him. There was a polish to her that made him guess she was right at home among skyscrapers and jam-packed streets and people everywhere. He was country through and through, but he understood. He’d liked living in Seattle, even if he’d felt hemmed in now and then.

Her sleek golden hair fluttered around her sweetheart’s face, framing it perfectly. In the mellow evening sunshine, she looked kissed by innocence. Like everything sweet and good in the world.

Not that he ought to be noticing that. Or the graceful way she moved, like the sunlight itself, with an unconscious poise that made her seem completely out of place in the rugged rural countryside of central Montana. His chest ached a little, but he couldn’t say why. Only that he couldn’t seem to look away as she reached up to stroke Leo’s nose. The gelding leaned into Lauren’s touch, as if he’d already made up his mind about the newcomer.

Yeah, that’s what he thought, too. Caleb tried to clear the ache out of his chest with a good deep breath of warm summer air, but it didn’t work.

“Well,” she said as she took a step back. “If I want to help with dinner, I’d best get going.”

Maybe it was the longing look as she gazed at the horse or simply his curiosity about her, but the words tumbled across his tongue before he could stop them. “Come meet me out here tomorrow morning and I’ll take you riding with me.”

“I’d love that, but there’s one problem.”

“Let me guess. You don’t know how to ride.”

“Yes, and it’s a rather huge problem.”

“Nope. I can teach you to ride in five minutes.”

“That’s a fib. Flaw number one.” Why wasn’t she surprised? Lauren kept backing away, because it was safer. Even a man as awesome as Caleb Stone had his flaws. “I know it takes more than five minutes to learn to ride. All those horse books and movies, remember?”

“Well, I didn’t say you’d ride like an expert, but in five minutes I can have you on the back of a horse riding around the corral.”

“Overconfidence. Flaw number two.”

“Hey, are you keeping count or something?”

“Me? Of course not. It’s habit, that’s all.” Maybe it was better to escape while she could, before she had to explain that. But maybe—down deep—she wanted to get away before she thought too much. She couldn’t let herself think that he was as great as he seemed, as she seemed to want him to be.

So she left the man with his horse awash in sunlight. And tried to turn her thoughts to other things as she hurried back to the path. She didn’t look back, although she could feel him watching after her, even when she’d disappeared around the garden patch and hurried out of his sight.

She climbed the porch steps, wondering if there was a man on earth a woman could truly depend on? She sure hoped so. But people let you down. Especially men. That was a proven fact in life—both in hers and in her mother’s.

Although the kitchen door was open, the screen door was closed. The mesh screen offered a view into the big sunny room with kettles boiling on the stove and a table scooted up to the wide picture window. Touches of lace were everywhere—delicate and handmade and frilly, they graced the windows, lay across the honeyed wood of the table and framed the snapshots on the walls. The room was like something out of an old television show as safe and as welcoming as home should be.

Lauren rapped her knuckles gently on the wooden frame of the screen door.

Mary peered around the inside archway. “Lauren. Come in, dear. I couldn’t help noticing you were talking to Caleb. He’s a very nice boy, don’t you think?”

Uh oh. Here it came. Lauren closed the screen door behind her, wincing at the look of hope shining on her grandmother’s sweet face. “Yes, Caleb seems very nice, but he’s not my type.”

“Really? You mean you’re not looking for a responsible, dependable, kind, smart man with old-fashioned values?” A challenge sparkled in Mary’s gentle smile.

“Sorry, I’m not looking for that. Not at all.” Lauren hoped she was able to cover up her real emotions, feelings that were too complicated to get into. “I’m more of a solo kind of girl.”

“That’s too bad you feel that way. My marriage was one of the greatest blessings of my life.” Mary’s smile changed and the look in her eyes did, too. “Being his wife, sharing his life, why, it was the greatest privilege.”

That was something Lauren couldn’t understand. She couldn’t imagine trusting anyone so much or letting anyone get that close. She held back her reasons why: the up-and-down relationships of her mother’s; the short and stormy marriages; the quest for the next husband, none of whom could possibly have been described as a blessing.

“I don’t really want to be a wife.” It was the closest thing to the truth she could say, the only thing that was easy. Everything else was too personal. Too painful. She hadn’t come all this way to share that with her grandmother.

“Don’t want to be a wife?” Mary looked truly confused. “Whatever do you mean? You don’t want a husband? A family? Love in your life?”

What did she say to a woman whose life was as removed from her reality as a fifties sitcom? “I’m happy with the way things are right now.”

“I see.” Mary studied Lauren for a long silent moment and in the stillness between them, the evening light shone a deep-hued rose. The room was painted by it; Mary seemed transformed by it.

Lauren could see the windows awash with the tone, the entire sky beyond a translucent turquoise and the clouds a neon pink. It was unreal, like a filter over a camera’s lens changing the hues of the world. That’s what it was like. The streaks of last light fractured as the sun lowered beneath the craggy rugged mountain peaks. The neon pink remained, lighting the underbellies of the long stretch of clouds. The sky turned a navy-purple tone, darkening as the moments passed.

“I’ll leave well enough alone, then,” Mary said as twilight deepened in the room. “You can’t blame a grandmother for hoping. I want all my grandchildren married and settled and happy in life.”

Lauren knew that Mary meant well. Maybe if she’d grown up here in the gentle shadow of the breathtaking Rocky Mountains with the love of this sunny, kind woman, she would be different. More trusting. Looking for love and marriage and happily-ever-after like a heroine in a romantic movie. It was a nice thought.

“It’s just that Caleb has just come out of a bad breakup.” Mary traced a finger over the words on the cover of a photo album. “He’s a good man and he deserves to find the right young woman. Someone nice.”

“Wait, you hardly know me. How do you know I’m nice?” She’d meant it to lighten the mood, but Mary’s face fell.

“My dear, why of course I know you.” Mary stood, coming after her, with her hands held out. “I’ve loved you forever.”

Mary brushed her free hand over the wisps of Lauren’s hair and tucked them behind her ear, as one would do to a small child. “I hope that you and I can get to know each other well before you head back to your life. I want you to find what you’ve come for.”

Pain jerked through the core of her being. “I haven’t come for anything. I’m not like my mother. I vowed long ago not to be like her. You don’t know that, I know, but it’s true. I didn’t come here to get something.”

“Oh, yes you did,” Mary said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And it’s what I need, too. God bless you for coming when I asked. Forgive me, but it’s getting late and my old bones are tired. Thank you for coming all this way. I wanted to meet you while I can remember.”

This she said with a smile. Shadows clung beneath her vibrant eyes and cut deep brackets around her mouth. In this light, it would be easy to believe Mary wasn’t well. Affection for this dear lady warmed Lauren through, but she also felt concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, dear. I’m as right as rain. But I’m not getting any younger.” Mary turned to the stove to check on the boiling kettles. She poked a fork into a potato inside one of the pots. “I guess none of us are. I gathered up a few family photo albums. They’re on the edge of the counter, right by the table. You missed so many good years, maybe this will help you understand when you meet your brother and sisters tomorrow.”

Okay, that idea made her seriously anxious. So much could go wrong. She tried to remind herself that so much could go right, too. She would be the outsider either way—and that was a role she was used to.

But this feeling of, well, connectedness was new.

There was understanding bright in Mary’s eyes. “Well, the potatoes are done. Let me get them drained and the pot roast on the table, then you and I will catch up. I want to hear all about your life. Your college classes. Your drive here. Meeting Caleb. Everything.”

It was hard to say no to that. Lauren went to help put the meal on the table.