Читать книгу Rocky Mountain Homecoming - Pamela Nissen - Страница 11

Zach stole another glance at Ivy from across the dining table. Though he couldn’t shake his frustration at the debilitating affect she had on him, his plan to avoid her had been completely discarded. For now, at least.

Despite his discomfort in her presence, something about the wounded look he’d glimpsed in Ivy’s gaze when her father had declined joining them kept his back end firmly planted in the thick pine chair. That, and the forlorn thought of Ivy sitting alone at this long trestle table, her only company being the memories contained within these four walls.

Mostly, though, a strong chord of compassion had been strummed deep in his heart when her father strode right past her out in the barn … without so much as a welcome-home embrace. That all-business, unaffected manner Mr. Harris had shown Ivy had been unsettling.

Zach had the utmost respect for the man, but he had a hard time figuring this response. He’d never known Mr. Harris to be anything other than fair. Dedicated. Loyal. Reasonable. What had transpired between him and his only daughter—his only child—to drive such a wedge between them, Zach could only imagine.

Contrary to all that he’d vowed regarding Ivy, he felt compelled to be a safeguard, of sorts. Her safeguard. Just long enough to ease the stinging effects of Mr. Harris’s rough edge.

With a gentle clank, Ivy set her knife and fork across the far edge of her fine bone china plate. She dabbed the white cloth napkin to her lips, her gaze never once straying to him.

“D-d-did you get enough to eat?” he asked, annoyed by his stutter that cropped up like some ungainly weed. With anyone else, he could talk up one side and down another without a single pause.

But with Ivy …

“Plenty.” She folded her napkin then set it next to her plate.

He peered at her nearly untouched food servings. “You barely ate enough to keep a bird—” He shot up his focus to find her beautiful eyes wide and peering at him as though he’d just tossed a feathered foe her direction.

“Really?” She locked an irritated gaze on him. “Could you think of nothing else?”

“All right then, a p-puppy alive,” he amended on an innocent wink.

When one corner of her mouth tipped ever-so-slightly, he couldn’t miss the way his heart skipped a beat.

Zach dragged in a steadying breath. He’d have to keep his head about him if he planned on being any kind of a buffer for her, especially when she seemed determined to put up a strong front.

“I don’t want to p-p-put my nose into someplace it doesn’t belong, but is there something wrong?” he braved, setting down his utensils and willing his throat muscles to relax. “B-b-because, earlier when you saw your father—”

“It’s a very long story, Zach.” She traced a single fingertip around the delicate flower pattern framing the plate, her wary gaze flitting to him momentarily. “One I’m fairly certain you won’t want to hear.”

“T-t-tell me, anyway.” He rested his forearms on the table and leaned toward her. As awkward and irritating as his stutter was, he couldn’t allow himself to be absorbed by its effects.

A silence, broken only by the gentle ticking of the hall clock, filled the room. He held her gaze, struck by the expert way she instantly cloaked any hint of vulnerability.

Perhaps it was just as well. He had no business rifling through Ivy’s past, present or future. If he knew what was best for him, he’d keep his distance.

But what was best for her?

She raised her chin a notch, her expression an unreadable mask.

“Well, if ever you want to talk …” he began, sidestepping his resolve yet again. He couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to Ivy. “I’d be glad to listen. I’m pretty good at that, you know.”

A dim smile inched across her face. “And how did you get so good?”

Leaning back, he draped an arm over an adjacent chair. “B-b-brothers who insist on communication when things get tough. Sisters-in-law who talk circles around them,” he added, keeping his words slow and steady in the hopes of limiting his stuttering. “And,” he continued, holding up his index finger, “I spent plenty of time not t-t-talking when I was younger.”

She pinned her gaze to the table. Fingered the tatted edge of her napkin. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then stopped herself with a jarring suddenness.

He searched her expression. Did she remember—was she even aware of just how difficult things had been for him then? “Just know that the offer st-stands,” he finally said, refusing to bend to any amount of self-pity. “All right?”

“Thank you,” she breathed.

When the sound of footsteps came from the long hallway leading from Mr. Harris’s office, Zach glanced up to see Ben coming to a stop at the dining room entrance.

“Come join us.” Zach motioned his brother in.

“Hope I’m not interrupting dinner.” Ben set down his bag at the end of the long table.

“We just finished.” Standing, Zach shook his brother’s hand. “Thanks for c-c-coming out. I know how busy you’ve b-been.”

His brother’s brow crimped for a brief, questioning moment, as though caught off guard by his stutter. “I was just finishing up for the day when Hugh found me at my office.”

As the oldest Drake brother, Ben had done all he could to encourage Zach in those years when Zach’s stutter had been so bad. But Zach had refused to be mollycoddled. His brothers had never known what, exactly, had transpired to cause the impediment. So they’d never known how closely connected it was to Ivy Harris. And that every beat of his childhood heart had been spent on her.

“D-d-do you remember Ivy, Ben?” Zach motioned across the table to her.

Ben grasped the back of the chair and slid a confused gaze at her. “I do. It’s good to see you again, Ivy.”

She pivoted in her chair to face Ben, the gracious tilt of her chin commanding Zach’s attention more than he cared to admit. “And you, as well. Should I call you Doct—”

“Ben is fine.” He held up a hand. “So what brings you back to Boulder?”

Ivy swerved her gaze to her plate as though unsure of what she should say.

“Violet sssss—” The word got stuck somewhere between his head and his mouth.

“Violet sent for me,” she finished for him, the gesture grating his pride. “My father’s been sick.”

He hated when he couldn’t speak clearly. Loathed even more when others, well-meaning though they may be, completed his sentences for him.

“Well, as far as your father’s concerned, there’s nothing wrong.” He pulled a hand over the shadow of a beard darkening his face. “As far as I’m concerned, with the dark circles under his eyes, the hollowness of his cheeks and a few other symptoms I noticed, he has to be fighting some kind of sickness. But he flat out refuses to let me check him over.”

“That comes as no surprise,” she murmured with a frustrated shake of her head.

Ben crossed his arms at his chest. “I’ll say one thing for him … he’s—”

“Stubborn,” she supplied, her eyebrows arching. “He always has been.”

“A family trait,” Zach put in on a muffled cough. He gave Ivy a quick wink, half surprised and pleased that he could hold his own with her.

She pushed up from the table, her scolding focus set on him in halfhearted chastisement.

Zach bit back a grin and casually swung his gaze to his brother. “Sorry you made the trip out for n-n-nothing, Ben.”

“Oh, it’s never a waste of time.” His brother tapped the top of his bag with hands that had eased many a patient’s pain—even his own wife’s, after she’d shown up on his doorstep, half frozen and nearly drained of all hope. “After all, Violet said she’d wrap up a pie for my trouble, and it’s not every day I get to see my baby brother.”

“Baby?” Zach challenged on a sigh. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stretched, unable to miss the wide-eyed way Ivy’s attention flitted to him. “Are you sure you want to ssstick with that?”

Though there’d never been a pecking order with his brothers, they’d all teased about it as though a certain hierarchy was well-established. In truth, Ben had been the family’s saving grace after their parents had both passed away when Ben was just seventeen. He’d raised his brothers, and Zach was grateful. But that didn’t mean he’d let Ben get away with treating him like he was still a young child.

“I’d think he’d be used to the title by now.” Ben directed his words to Ivy. “But for some reason, it ruffles his feathers every time.”

She gave a restrained smile, veering her cautious gaze to Zach. “Feathers?” she mouthed.

A grin tugged at the corners of Zach’s mouth. Poor thing. She hated birds, and yet it seemed she couldn’t get away from them. She was sure never to step foot in the barn again if she knew that Zach’s pet owl, Buddy, resided in the rafters.

“So, how long are you here for, Ivy?” Ben buttoned the front of his dark brown coat.

She slid her chair into the table. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Maybe you’ll get to meet my daughter, Libby, and her friend, Luke, in a couple days.” He shoved a hand into his coat pocket.

The eager smile that tipped her full lips seemed to brighten the room. “I’d love to.”

“That’s right,” Zach commented, remembering how much he’d enjoyed the last time Libby and Luke had visited. “They’re c-c-coming out this week, aren’t they?”

“Once every two weeks, that’s what you said, right?” Ben pulled a hand over his shadowed jawline.

“Absolutely,” Zach put in, nodding. “It was fun having them t-tag around with me last t-t-time.”

Ben’s low chuckle rumbled quietly in the room. “After those two begged me like a pair of unmannerly pups, I finally relented and asked Zach if he’d mind if they came out every now and then and helped around the ranch.”

Her quizzical gaze hadn’t left Zach. “That certainly is nice of him.”

He grasped the chair, trying to remain unaffected by her rapt attention as he willed his throat and mouth to relax so that his words could come out whole. “I’ll mmmmake sure to find some tasks for them to d-do.” He took a long deep breath to settle himself. “That is if they sssssstill want to come out.”

Obvious concern flashed momentarily in Ben’s gaze, but he seemed to know not to bring it up right now and for that Zach was inordinately grateful.

“Are you kidding me? They talk about their time here, nonstop.” Ben lifted his hat and raked a hand through his hair. “But you really don’t have to pay them this time.”

Zach scowled. “A good man is worth his wage. It’s a g-g-good lesson for them to learn.”

After a long pause, Ben gave his head a single nod. “All right. You drive a hard bargain. If you insist on paying them, then go ahead.”

Zach wouldn’t have it any other way. He loved his seven-year-old niece and Luke, an eleven-year-old boy Ben had taken under his wing two years ago. The boy’s mother had lived a harlot’s lifestyle. Ben’s caring influence on the boy had gone a long way in giving the child a chance. When a fire had nearly taken the boy’s life, and his mother’s, she’d made a dramatic turn for the good. She’d even worked alongside Ben and his wife, Callie, to get the Seeds of Faith Boarding House, a refuge for women in need of a fresh start, off the ground.

Ivy cleared her throat. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I am so tired I think I may fall over.”

Jerked out of his discomfort, Zach stepped around the table to stand beside her. He’d caught her in his arms once already today. He’d catch her again, if need be.

“You’ll have to come over and have dinner with my family when you’re feeling rested,” Ben remarked.

The smile she gave Ben had Zach wishing for one himself. “Thank you. I would love that,” she replied.

Ben nodded her way. “You’ll let me know if your father needs anything. Right?”

“Yes, of course.” Her eyelashes whispered down over her eyes.

“G-G-Good night, Ivy,” Zach said, keeping his voice low as he ushered her to the stairway. He would’ve walked her on up to her bedroom door just to make sure she was all right, but in no way did he wish to appear overly eager. Nor did he want to seem at all inappropriate.

“Good night, Zach,” she responded, the hint of jasmine wafting to his senses as she ascended the generous staircase.

As her footsteps faded, Zach turned to face his brother.

Ben gave a long sigh as Zach walked back into the room. “All right. Tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?” Zach braced himself. Ben’s big-brother demeanor wasn’t all that comforting, seeing as how Zach was the focus.

Ben jammed a hand on his bag. “I mean with her. With you.”

Crossing to the table, Zach stacked Ivy’s plate on top of his. “She came home to see her father. That’s what. And he insisted I have dinner at the main house tonight—not that that’s uncommon. I eat here more often than not,” he added, grasping her napkin as visions of her pressing it to her lips ricocheted through his mind. He thumbed the linen fibers, half tempted to breathe in any lingering scent of her there. “I couldn’t exactly disregard a sick man’s request, could I?”

Ben gave his head a slow shake. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

Zach swallowed hard, struggling to gather himself as he tightened his fist around Ivy’s napkin. It wasn’t Ben’s fault that Zach couldn’t seem to abandon his confidence-shattering feelings for Ivy.

When Ben rested a hand on Zach’s shoulder, his sympathetic manner had Zach squirming. “What is this with you stuttering again? I haven’t heard you stumble over your words in a very long time.”

He met his brother’s worried gaze. “I’m just fine.”

“Now you are. But just a few seconds ago, you were stuttering almost as bad as you did a long time ago.” Ben’s brow cocked in concern.

“Do you think that that fact escaped my notice?” Resisting the urge to shrug from his brother’s touch, he willed his feet to remain planted. “I am painfully aware of the fact.”

“Why now? Why all of a sudden?”

“It’s not that bad,” Zach defended, knowing, even as the words passed his lips, that it wasn’t that good, either. He might not be stuttering every sentence, but it was there, bold and sure. When Ivy was around, he seemed to have no control over his tongue, just like before. “See, I’m fine now. I haven’t stuttered for several minutes.”

“But you haven’t had a problem for a long time,” Ben argued, withdrawing his hand from Zach’s shoulder. “Why now?”

“I don’t know,” Zach threw back, inwardly cringing at the lameness of his response. He picked up the dinner plates and headed toward the swinging door leading to the kitchen.

Ben followed and grasped Zach’s arm, bringing him to a halt. Ben cleared his voice—something Zach and his brothers had defined as a this-is-serious sign. A growing sense of panic swarmed Zach’s waning confidence. He didn’t want to discuss the topic. Not now. Not ever. “Did something happen? I mean something bad?” Ben queried, dipping his head to grab Zach’s attention. “Listen, I know you’ve never really talked about what happened when you first began stuttering … and I can understand why. You were eleven. A raw age for something so traumatic.”

Any age was a raw age when it came to that. Sometimes Zach wondered if the devastating impact of that event would ever lessen. Once he’d grown tired of the effects beating him down, he’d fought back. Hard. But as much as he battled for confidence and wholeness of speech, a cavernous place in his heart still gaped wide open.

“What happened back then isn’t up for discussion.”

“The most we ever found out is that you got separated from the group of school kids you were with,” Ben continued, ignoring Zach’s declaration. “And that somehow you fell into an abandoned mine shaft. Isn’t that right?” Ben probed, obviously hoping Zach would seize the opportunity to rehash the past.

Struggling to keep his breathing even, Zach dragged in a lungful of air. He braced a hand on the doorknob as images from twelve years ago flashed through his mind.

He’d been head over heels in love with Ivy from the first grade, falling over himself to carry her books. Her lunch pail. Helping with any task, big or small, she’d allow him the privilege of doing. He’d dreamed of her more nights than not, of whisking her away from evil captors, of braving the worst of elements to carry her to safety. His whole life had hung in the balance as he’d been on the ready, waiting for any opportunity to garner her coveted attention.

She’d never shown him the slightest interest.

But when he’d tagged along with a group of kids into a cave just to be near her, and when he heard her screech in fright, he’d seized the moment. It’d been his chance to shine. To prove himself worthy of her affection. The moment he’d dreamed of.

Ivy had laughed in his face. The brilliance in her eyes sparking in the lantern’s light had grown almost brighter than the noonday sun as she’d made it clear that she didn’t need his gallant gesture.

Hugh Bagley’s riotous laughter had echoed off the cave’s dank dark walls, along with the other kids. Zach had utterly embarrassed himself. Hugh had hung back long enough to warn Zach to keep his paws off Ivy. Then he’d given Zach a rough shove, sending him stumbling backward, falling hard and long into an abandoned mine shaft.

Zach had hated confined spaces—still did. Loathed the unknown elements that hung like a mire of webs in the obsessive darkness. Still, he’d been too prideful to call for help, at first, anyway. But after Hugh and the others continued on, leaving Zach swallowed up by a darkness he’d never imagined, he’d called. Prayed. Yelled. Screamed until his voice had turned raw.

No one came.

It seemed that even God hadn’t been listening.

He’d remained trapped for two whole days, and by the time he finally found a way out—scratching and clawing at the walls until his fingers bled, the soles of his boots were worn to shreds and his words refused to come out as anything other than a stutter.

Desperate, Zach scrabbled his way back to the present, his face flaming hot. His blood boiling. And his heart somehow growing colder and harder after reliving the memory.

“I’ll say it again … this subject is not up for discussion,” he measured out.

A slow sigh escaped Ben’s mouth. “I can’t make you talk about this,” he began, his tone saturated with concern. “But know that if you don’t deal with what happened, it will continue to haunt you. It’ll affect you in ways you won’t be able to ignore. Like now. I know it’s been a deep dive taking on the role as foreman. Ask for help if you need to, because if you’re having a hard time keeping up out here, your stutter could’ve shown up as a direct result.”

“No,” he ground out, irritation now joining the other raw emotions flapping around like broken shutters in his soul. “I told you I’m fine. Things on the ranch are fine. I’ll work through this alone, just like I do with everything else. I can handle it, Ben. Just like I have everything else.”