Shoulda Been a Cowboy, page 13
Caroline leaned her head against the cushion and stared at the ceiling. “I did a lot of thinking this afternoon.”
“And?” He held his breath.
“Watching Hannah, seeing how needy she is, I realize how truly selfish I am.”
“Thought we’d already covered the selfish angle and discounted it.”
She shook her head. “Only in theory. It takes on a whole other dimension when I’m with Hannah and see how unhappy she is. In light of that, what difference will another year make in fulfilling my dream?”
“You tell me.”
“I’m an adult who, as you said, should be used to delayed gratification. But Hannah needs so much, someone who’s always there for her with love and attention. And she needs it now.”
He sat very still, digesting her words. “Are you saying you won’t be leaving soon?”
Caroline bolted upright. “How can I? I’d be the worst kind of monster to abandon a little girl who needs me.”
I need you, too, he wanted to say, but didn’t. “What about your dreams?”
“New Mexico will still be there in a year.”
He needed every ounce of muscle control to keep from leaping from the couch and punching his fist in the air in celebration. He’d known Caroline couldn’t abandon Hannah. She was too innately good.
“But what happens to Hannah at the end of the year?” he asked. “If she grows to love you and you leave, won’t you be placing her in a situation similar to what she faces now?”
Caroline’s bright eyes dimmed. “I’ll have to find a new family for her in plenty of time for her to make a transition before I leave. In the meantime, she’ll be close to Daniel, and I can give her my undivided attention and care.”
“Maybe you’ll take her to New Mexico with you.” He hated to think of Caroline going away, but her amended schedule gave him time to plead his case. If things worked out the way he hoped, maybe she’d take him to New Mexico, too.
A ready-made family. The prospect pleased him.
Caroline shook her head. “It’s too soon to plan. I’ll just have to wait and see what develops. Maybe Cat and Jim Stratton will agree to take Hannah in a year when I get ready to leave. Cat’s a teacher and wonderful with children. And Jim’s a vet who could provide her with exposure to the horses she loves. Hannah would be happy there.”
Ethan reached for her hand and twined his fingers with hers. “What’s important is that you’ll be here now, when Hannah needs you.”
“What if I’m not enough? What if I can’t melt that icy shell she’s encased in?”
“Don’t borrow trouble.” With his other hand, he hooked a blond curl behind her ear and caressed her cheek. “Hannah hasn’t been here a full day yet. She needs time to adjust, to trust you.”
“What’s trust got to do with it?” She leaned into the palm of his hand.
“Everyone has walked out on this kid in one way or another. Her father, her mother. Even Daniel, when he got into trouble. She needs to trust that you’ll be here for her.”
Caroline jerked away, stood, and paced in the middle of the room. “But I won’t. Not if I’m leaving in a year, once Daniel finishes high school. Hannah will just add me to the list of people who’ve deserted her.”
He pushed to his feet, went to her, and wrapped his arms around her. “It will work out. One way or another.”
She leaned back in his arms and stared at him, as if searching his face for answers. “How can you be so sure?”
“You have to have faith that events happen for a reason. That there’s a purpose, especially for the people who come and go in our lives.”
Her scrutiny deepened. “You really believe that?”
“I do.”
To his surprise, he felt a shift in his heart, a hairline crack in the hard shell that had imprisoned him since Jerry’s death. The pain wasn’t gone, but it was different, not as all-consuming and relentless as it had been. And in place of the agony flowed an emotion so powerful, it took his breath.
Forgetting his promise to himself to take things slow, he bent his head and claimed her lips. She stiffened at first, then melted against him. He could feel the thud of her heartbeat and the softness of her breasts through the thin fabric of his shirt. She lifted her arms to the back of his neck and opened her mouth with a soft moan. He tightened his embrace and explored the softness of her mouth, the honeyed taste of her. Desire flooded through him like a deep red haze, as well as a happiness he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.
“I shouldn’t,” she murmured against his lips.
“Want me to stop?” He hoped she didn’t, but he was prepared to accede to her wishes. She shook her head slightly, and he pulled her closer. She yielded without resistance. Time stood still, and he became lost in the scent, taste and feel of her, all even more exquisite than he’d imagined.
Suddenly she jerked away and cocked her head. “Listen.”
With reluctance, he released her and heard what had captured her attention. In the stillness of the old house, small sobs sounded in the upstairs bedroom.
“It’s Hannah,” Caroline said. “She’s awake. And it sounds like she’s crying her eyes out. I should go to her.”
Caroline broke from his embrace, crossed the room and hurried up the stairs. Frustrated at the interruption but concerned for Hannah, Ethan followed.
He entered Hannah’s room as Caroline climbed beside the little girl on the big bed, put her arms around the sobbing child, and stroked her hair. The only illumination came from a daisy-shaped night light and moonbeams filtering through the curtains, but Ethan could see well enough to make out the streaks of tears on Hannah’s face.
“Shhh,” Caroline whispered to the child. “It’s all right. I’m here, and I’ll stay with you tonight.”
“I’m here, too.” Ethan settled into the wicker chair beside the bed.
Caroline held Hannah, crooned lullabies, and rocked her. Ethan stretched his legs in front of him, determined to remain until the child fell asleep. Eventually, the only sounds were the ticking and occasional chime of the grandfather clock in the downstairs hall, the rustle of wind in the maples outside the open window, and Caroline’s soft, even breathing, synchronized with Hannah’s.
Ethan waited until he was certain both Hannah and Caroline were asleep. Then he took a quilt from the foot of the bed, tucked it around Caroline, kissed her forehead, and left the room.
He eased down the stairs and out the front door to keep from waking them, and, although he was headed to his lonely room at Orchard Cottage, his spirits lifted with an emotion he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Hope.
Chapter Twelve
Caroline pulled off her broad-brimmed straw hat, wiped berry-stained fingers on her cutoff jeans, and called to Hannah a few feet down the drive from the entrance to the farmhouse. “Ready for a break? I have lemonade in the cooler.”
“Okay.” Hannah dropped the blackberry she had just plucked into the galvanized pail at her feet, picked up the bucket, and brought it to Caroline.
Caroline peeked inside the pail where berries barely covered the bottom. With Hannah using only thumb and forefinger and selecting each berry with the precision of a quality control inspector, the girl might pick all day and not fill the bucket. But lack of production wasn’t Caroline’s concern.
“Are you having fun, sweetie?”
“Yes…but not as much fun as the rodeo last week.” Hannah turned her face upward and met Caroline’s gaze with her customary solemn expression. “I really liked the horses.”
“I did, too.” Wanting to hug the child but knowing from experience that she’d resist, Caroline instead took a can of lemonade from the ice in the cooler, popped the top and handed it to Hannah. “Some day, I’d like to have a horse.”
Hannah’s expression brightened to almost a smile. “Will you let me ride it?”
Caroline hesitated. She hadn’t broached the subject of her eventual move with Hannah. The girl had been settling in so well the past two weeks, Caroline didn’t want anything to cast a pall on the child’s adjustment.
“Give her a routine she can count on,” Gofer had recommended the afternoon he’d brought Daniel to visit his sister. “It will make her feel secure.”
So Caroline had concentrated on establishing a pattern—regular bedtimes and risings, minor chores and a little television and reading a chapter from a favorite book before bed each night—except Saturday, when they stayed up later to watch Disney videos and eat popcorn.
Ethan had surprised her by wanting to watch movies with them, and Caroline had been glad of his presence. He had a unique ability to relate to Hannah, while Caroline was still feeling her way. Hannah obviously enjoyed Ethan and his teasing, and although she still hadn’t laughed—except an almost-chuckle at the rodeo clowns last Friday—Ethan with a funny face or silly joke could occasionally coax her to smile.
Last night at supper, as they’d gathered around the big pine table in the kitchen for fried chicken and fresh vegetables from the garden, their resemblance to a real family had struck Caroline. Ethan had discussed the progress of his repairs on Orchard Cottage, Hannah had told him about learning to make jelly, and Caroline had marveled at the turn her life had taken in such a short space of time.
Except for a quick peck on the check whenever he arrived or left, Ethan hadn’t kissed her since the night of Hannah’s arrival. But Caroline knew he wanted to. She could see the passion simmering in his eyes and feel the heat of his gaze that produced a corresponding warmth down to the bare toes in her sandals. She hoped her own expression didn’t give her away. She wanted his arms around her and his lips on hers as much as he did, but she resisted the desire, shoved it into a corner of her mind and locked the door. When the time came to leave the valley, saying goodbye to Hannah would be hard enough. Caroline didn’t want the extra complication of pining for Ethan or to have her independence fettered by an infatuation with no future. If she wasn’t careful, the tender snare of love for the little girl and bonds of attraction for Ethan would trap her in the valley more firmly than any obligations to her mother ever had.
“It’s all right.” Hannah’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“What?”
“You don’t have to let me ride your horse if you don’t want to. It was rude of me to ask.”
“Oh, Hannah. Of course I’ll let you ride my horse. I was just thinking how long a time it will be before I get one.”
Hannah swigged lemonade from the can and cast Caroline a worried look. “I haven’t helped very much, have I?”
“What?”
The child nodded toward her pail. “I’m not very good at picking blackberries.”
“It’s not a contest, sweetie. You do it because it’s fun. Fresh air, sunshine, a gorgeous summer day. And all the blackberries you can eat.”
“I can eat them?”
Caroline noted the girl’s lips were clean without a trace of berry stain anywhere, except her fingers. “Of course you can. Do you like them?”
Hannah shrugged. “I never ate a blackberry.”
“Close your eyes and open your mouth.”
As always, Hannah did exactly as she was told. With her fragile bones, delicate build and open mouth, she reminded Caroline of a needy baby bird. Caroline selected the plumpest berry from her own pail and popped it into Hannah’s mouth.
“Now chew,” Caroline instructed.
She half expected Hannah to spit it out, but her lips closed on the berry and her eyes flew open in surprise. “It’s good.”
“You betcha. And you can eat as many as you want.”
“But what about our jelly?”
Caroline waved her arm at the brambles lining the fence. “We have more berries than we can ever pick. We’ll have plenty for jelly.”
“When will you open the stand?”
“In a few days, as soon as we make jelly from this batch. And as I promised, you can keep all the money we make.”
“Thank you.”
“What will you buy? More books? Some clothes for school?”
Hannah shook her head. “I’m saving for a pony. Ethan promised to help me pick one out.”
Caroline bit back a sharp reply. Ethan knew no more about ponies than she did. Besides, encouraging the girl was cruel. Even if Hannah could save enough to buy one, which was highly unlikely, her next foster family might not have space for a pony.
Dreams, however, had their place, she reminded herself. They brought comfort and something to look forward to. Maybe Hannah’s dreaming of a pony couldn’t hurt, although the chances of her dream coming true were slim to none.
A horn sounded on the road and Ethan drove up in his pickup in a cloud of red dust. Damn, she wished she could make her body behave, but the sight of him threw her chemistry to hell and back. Knocked her breathing out of whack, too.
She struggled for control, checked her watch and called to him through the open truck window. “Hi. Is it that late already?”
“You said three o’clock,” Ethan said with a warm grin that was no help in restoring her equilibrium. “Hi, lady bug,” he called to Hannah. “How’s my favorite girl?”
“Hi, Ethan. I ate a blackberry.”
“Only one?”
Hannah nodded.
Ethan climbed from the truck and grabbed a handful of berries from Caroline’s pail. “They’re like potato chips. You can’t eat just one.”
He popped the berries into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Mmm-mmm. They taste almost as sweet as kisses.”
“Chocolate kisses?” Hannah asked.
Ethan looked at Caroline, his expression morphing from warm to wicked. “Right. Chocolate kisses. They’re the best kind. Until you’re older.”
“Don’t give her ideas,” Caroline warned.
“Nope, I’ll keep those to myself, unless you want to share.”
Hannah looked from Ethan to Caroline as if aware they were talking in a code she didn’t understand.
The memory of kissing Ethan weakened Caroline’s knees and her resolve to keep her distance. She groped for a change of subject to something safe. “How’s your new sculpture coming?”
“It’s almost finished. I’ll show it to you when you pick up Hannah.”
“I’d like that.” Caroline gathered up the pails and cooler. “I have to go, sweetie. You’ll be staying with Ethan for a little while, remember?”
“Okay.”
“You can help me paint,” Ethan said, “while Caroline visits her mother.”
“I’d rather be painting, too,” Caroline said with a grimace, “and you know how I feel about painting.”
Ethan opened the passenger door of his truck and boosted Hannah onto the seat. He closed the door and turned to Caroline.
“Be glad you have a mother,” he said in a voice too low for Hannah to hear.
“You’re right.” Caroline felt a pang of remorse, thinking of Hannah, who still cried herself to sleep at night, missing her mommy. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Say hello to Agnes for me.” Ethan brushed Caroline’s lips with a brief kiss that left her wanting more and climbed into the truck. “We’ll see you at supper.”
He backed the truck into the drive, then turned it toward Orchard Cottage.
Caroline lifted her fingers to her lips. Blackberries were sweet, but nothing could match Ethan’s kisses that, unfortunately, always left her feeling disoriented. She remained determined to leave the valley and have that ranch she’d always wanted, she reminded herself. Besides, the man had problems, secrets and a yen to return to Baltimore next summer. Even if she were looking for a permanent relationship—which she wasn’t—she knew better than to follow a dead end.
Why did life have to be so complicated?
With a sigh, she walked toward the house to clean up before heading into town.
ON THE FRONT PORCH of Orchard Cottage, Ethan handed Hannah an old but clean white T-shirt to pull over her new shorts and shirt. He glanced at the child’s new sneakers. “Better take those off, so they don’t get ruined.”
Hannah sat cross-legged on the floor, ripped open the Velcro fastenings, and removed her tennis shoes. “What about my socks?”
“Those, too, or they’ll get covered with paint.”
“What are we painting?”
“My living room.”
“What color?”
“Yellow. It reminds me of sunshine.”
“Me, too,” Hannah said, “but I don’t know how to paint.”
“It’s easy. I’ll show you. Or you could just watch, if you like.”
Hannah shook her head. “I should help. It’s only fair.”
“How come?” The way the girl’s mind worked fascinated him.
“Because you painted my room,” she said in her solemn way.
“One good turn deserves another?”
She nodded.
“Who taught you that?”
“My mommy.”
“You miss her, don’t you, kid?”
Hannah nodded.
“My brother Jerry died a few months ago.” He surprised himself with the admission.
“Do you still miss him?”
“I’ll always miss him.”
“But he lives in your heart, just like Mommy lives in my heart.”
“Who told you that?” Ethan asked.
“Mr. Gofer, Daniel’s friend.”
Ethan felt the pain that had been his constant companion since Jerry’s death ease the slightest fraction. “Mr. Gofer is a very wise man.”
“That’s what Daniel says.”
“And your brother is a fine young man.”
“I know.” Hannah scrambled to her bare feet. “I’m ready to paint.”
The kid was a wonder, better than antidepressants or therapy. If she could survive what life had thrown at her, Ethan could, too. After less than three weeks in Pleasant Valley, with the help of Caroline and Hannah, he felt himself coming alive again. He was sleeping better at night, his anxieties had eased, and he found himself more often looking forward with eager anticipation instead of always backward with regret.
