Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2 (8 page)

Mick raised a blazing marshmallow, puffed air over it, then shifted his gaze to her.
“Life gets busy. And we get caught up in the day-to-day. Sometimes we just forget
to appreciate what’s around us until it’s gone, but that doesn’t make us bad people,
Liv.”

“But it surely can make us more aware,” Coach added. He set his cake plate down and
leaned back on the bench. “When Gladys was alive, we had such plans, such dreams for
retirement. Neither one of us had a notion of not being here to enjoy it. We thought
of things to do over the winters, places to go once the baseball season wound down
midfall.” He shrugged forward and clasped his hands together. “But I don’t let myself
think of what we missed, uh-uh. I focus on what we had.” He emphasized the last word
with a firm nod. “Nearly thirty years together. Now,
that’s
something! Two fine kids who go to church regular and raise their youngsters right.
Three sweet grandsons and another baby on the way, a little girl this time. When I
look at what we have versus what I’ve lost, I realize the Lord’s been mighty good
to me. Why, this cake alone is worth a round of the ʽHallelujah Chorus’!”

Carrie laughed out loud. “Well, thank you, Coach. And as much fun as this has been—”
she aimed a pointed look at the two kids “—we have to go. I have work in the morning
and Maggie and Brian need to finish up their last week of summer camp.”

“Couldn’t we just do camp here?” Maggie added charm to the wheedling tone of voice
by tilting her head back to catch Mick’s eye. “You have horses and cows and woods
and water and maybe you’ve even got crayons. I think we should just make our summer
camp here, Mr. Mick.”

Mick smiled down at her, eased to his feet with her still in his arms, then stepped
away from the fire to toss her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. “Nice try, kid.
When Mom tells us what to do...?”

Maggie huffed out an overdone sigh with a hand flourish to deepen the dramatic effect.
“We do it.”

“Bingo. How many stars do you see, Mags?”

The little girl craned her neck as Mick eased her into a more upright position. “So
many. So very many. Like a bajillion, at least.”

Brian stood and yawned before stepping away from the fire. At the corner of the squared-off
stone patio he turned back. “Hey, Jack. Thanks for letting me help.”

He didn’t look at the fire, but Jack read the emotion behind the words. Such a little
guy to carry so much woe. “You did good, bud. You did good.”

The boy’s gaze locked with Jack’s and they both understood the deeper meaning behind
the praise.

“Liv, Coach, nice meeting you. You, too, Jack, and thanks for taking Brian under your
wing.” Carrie settled an easy hand around the boy’s shoulders. “He gets tired of girl
talk.”

“Then bring him around more often.” Jack jerked his head toward the house behind them.
“With cake like that, I wouldn’t mind having you guys stop by regular.”

Carrie met his gaze. Seemed to read his meaning. And in the dancing light of fire-pit
flames, he was pretty sure she blushed, but maybe the pink in her cheeks was from
the heat of the fire. She glanced up, saw Mick’s smile and ducked her head slightly.
And this time Jack was certain the blush had nothing to do with the ebbing campfire.
Quietly, she and Mick moved toward her car with the two tired kids, cricket chatter
murmuring through the human silence.

“You did okay.” Coach broke the quiet as he set his plate aside and stood, nodding
in the direction of Jack’s dad. “But I’ve got an early day tomorrow, too, then a week
of play-offs coming up. If you’ve got time to do some batting and field practice with
my boys, I’d appreciate it.”

Coach had asked before, and each time he did, Jack had refused politely, avoiding
baseball at all costs. Now he saw the childish aspects of his former actions and stood.
“What time?”

A spark of approval brightened Coach’s face. “Four-thirty. We’re using the fields
in Ennis because the slope’s different and I wanna change things up a little.”

“See you then.”

“Miss Livvie? Good night.”

“Night, Coach.”

Jack turned her way as Coach strode toward his van. “Pretty nice, this.” He shifted
his attention to the fire, then the sky. “A pretty girl, a campfire and a bajillion
stars.”

“Except, while I’m a woman of too much leisure at the moment, you’ve got to get up
at dawn and ride herd. Or something like that.”

Jack laughed because they’d just repastured the herd, but he would be up early, caring
for animals, then shifting hay to winter quarters with a couple of hands once the
dew dried. As summer wound down, each task done put a rancher one step ahead of Mother
Nature’s eventual onslaught. “Plenty of work, for sure. And we didn’t get much planning
done today, Liv. I’m sorry about that.”

She stood, dusted off the seat of her pants and shook her head. “I’m not. I had a
great time, it was nice to just sit and relax with great people. I can’t remember
the last time I let myself sit and chat with no work involved.”

Neither could Jack, and the reality surprised him. “It seems like we both need to
get out more. Probably not much harm in doing some of that together.”

Liv put her hand up, fingers spread. “Stop right there, cowboy. I put you in the off-limits
category years ago. You might think you’re ready to be upgraded, but I’m not so sure,
and I’ve got a hefty to-do list right now, including getting this town history accomplished.
While it might seem like I’ve got plenty of time, not everyone’s as forthcoming about
Jasper Gulch’s historical roots as Chet and Let Shaw seem to have been. I keep stumbling
on gaps with very little said, and for a fairly recent history, you’d think my task
would be easy.” She made a face as they walked to her car. “But it’s not, and that
tweaks my interest. Why are there gaps? And who benefits from them?”

“Not everybody’s inclined to write down history, Liv.” Jack shrugged when they arrived
at her car door. “Couldn’t it be that simple?”

“It could,” she admitted. “But the gaps are spaced in such a way that some of them
are in the early days of the town and others are around the time of Lucy Shaw’s death.
As if someone deliberately left things out or removed pages to change the look of
the town’s history.”

“Who would do that?” Jack asked, then went on to the more obvious question for a non-history
buff. “Who’d care?”

“See, that’s it, Jack. Most people don’t embrace history like I do, so when things
go missing or spaces of time disappear, the average person wouldn’t know or care.
But I got a call today from the mayor himself.”

“Because?”

Liv scrunched up her face in annoyance. “It seems the council received a note.”

“A note?” Jack frowned, not understanding. “About what?” The idea of passing notes
seemed pretty adolescent to him.

“‘If you want to know what happened to your time-capsule, you need to think about
L.S.,’” Liv quoted.

Jack pretended to clean out his ears. “Say what?”

“Exactly. Now the council wants me to study any and all things that might give them
clues about why the capsule might have been stolen. What was in it that brought someone’s
attention. And then the mayor asked me point-blank to keep an eye on Lilibeth Shoemaker
because she might be involved.”

“Only if the capsule harbored makeup and shoes,” Jack supposed. “Why would they target
a girl like Lilibeth? It— Ah. The initials.”

“L.S.,” Liv confirmed. “But you’re right, there is no reason to think Lilibeth would
have anything to do with digging up a time capsule.”

“Getting dirty,” Jack deadpanned.

The truth of his words lightened Liv’s expression. “That sums it up, right there.
Lilibeth might be self-serving and obnoxious, but she’s young. Silly. And she doesn’t
get her hands dirty for anything. I’m kind of amazed she’s working at the ice-cream
parlor, but it does give her proximity to all of the Middletons’ customer base, and
single, cute guys need food. In Lilibeth’s world, that’s a simple equation. Anyway,
Jackson and Abigail Rose at the town hall want me to hunt for anything buried in the
capsule that might have caught Lilibeth’s eye.”

“A prospect for a rich husband?” Jack wondered, but the quest about Lilibeth made
him further question the sensibilities involved. “No one in their right mind would
suspect Lilibeth of being involved in anything more than borrowing her sisters’ clothes.
Although with three girls in the house, that might be considered a capital offense.”

Livvie’s grin rewarded him.

“I’ll think about it, too,” he promised. Of course he’d think about it, because he
didn’t like Liv’s look of worry. Her furrowed brow. He’d made a pledge to make her
smile again. Hear her laugh more often. This was a chance to meet that goal. “And
I don’t put much worth in anonymous notes, Liv. If someone knows something, he or
she should have the gumption to just say it outright.”

“Maybe they’re scared?”

“Here? Really?” A crazy thought, right until Jack matched up the intentionally set
fire at the rodeo. Maybe the note writer was worried for good reason, even in Jasper
Gulch. “We might all have to take this stuff more seriously. The capsule theft. The
fire. The gaps in the history.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure the council didn’t expect these gaps. I’ve got to give them
my initial report next week, and explain that someone may have been doctoring the
town’s historical records. I think it’s too much of a coincidence to not be related
to the capsule theft,” she admitted. She shifted her gaze to meet his. “The capsule’s
missing and so are parts of Jasper Gulch’s history. And now this note, unsigned. I
think it’s pretty clear that the stuff going on is linked somehow. But I can’t think
how or why.”

Right now it was hard to think at all, looking down into Liv’s blue eyes. Her face,
half-shadowed, reminded him of all the times they’d stood like this, saying goodbye
at the end of an evening. The sweetness of her face, the earnest look in her eyes,
the curve of her cheek in the sweep of barnyard light.

He reached one hand to her cheek, just to see if the skin he remembered as if it was
yesterday was still as soft and sweet.

Yup.

And was it his imagination, or did she turn her face into the palm of his hand for
one quick second, letting him cradle the curve of smooth, feminine skin?

But then she straightened, stepped back, sent him a scolding look and tsk-tsked him
with her finger. “Knock it off.”

He smiled, knowing she wasn’t putting too much sting into the reprimand as he opened
the car door for her. “I didn’t promise, remember? I merely said I understood the
rules.”

The look on her face said she remembered, all right, but as she offered him a pretend
frown through the driver’s-side window, he saw something else, something that nearly
brought him to his knees, begging forgiveness.

A sheen of tears, blinked back.

Nothing major, Liv had never been a crier, but he knew what he saw. His gesture, so
sweet and good on his part, took her back to a broken heart she never should have
had. His stupidity and stubbornness had created a chasm that couldn’t be shrugged
away because he was finally growing up enough to put things right in his world, mostly
because it took him way too long.

He’d knocked her universe into disarray eight years before, and it would take more
than a few bowls of rice pudding to set things right. But if God gave him time?

He’d do what he could.

Chapter Seven

Y
ou should be tucked in the center of downtown, squinting over scripted penmanship
and wiping off dusty volumes of decades-old facts. What are you thinking, girlfriend?

Liv hauled in a deep breath, the scent of horse, hay and Big Sky drenching her.

This felt like home. A home she didn’t dare long for, a home she’d written off long
ago, but there was no denying that whenever she set foot onto the Double M, the place
engulfed her like a cozy room on a winter’s night.

Home is where the heart is.

Jack’s mother had loved that saying and Liv had spent a lot of time talking with her
back in the day. She’d learned horse husbandry at Mary Beth’s side, the blend of gentle-to-firm
so important with large animals.

At present, the young stallion was taking direction from Jack. He’d decided right
off to take the young horse under his wing, urging and guiding him to Double M standards.
The mares were set apart for a bit, long enough to make sure they weren’t harboring
anything dangerous to the rest of the herd, and caring for them was a simple task.
Animals brought up with love just expected it along the way, and the mares were no
exception.

But the buckskin, timid, tired and torn about whom to trust, was Liv’s personal responsibility
and she waited every morning until Jack should be out on the range before heading
to the Double M.

Bawk! Bawk!

I’m not a chicken, she scolded her inner voice. I’d call it smart. Savvy. Avoiding
conflict isn’t cowardice, it’s wise.

It’s not conflict you’re avoiding,
her conscience returned.
It’s emotion because you went moony-eyed when Jack cupped your cheek last week. And
then you acted surprised by the old feelings it stirred, as if you’d ever gotten over
him. Please. Let’s play this straight, shall we?

Liv shoved the inner scolding aside. She’d gotten over being dumped years ago. Hadn’t
she proved that by living in Chicago and ignoring Jack’s presence? And then she’d
moved on to a new life, a new job, a marriage. Proof enough right there.

The horse sighed as she smoothed the brush over his back in long, slow strokes. She
was building confidence with him. And maybe with herself.

An engine rolled into the barnyard and Liv paused, startled. Jack? Mick? Why would
they be back here midmorning?

Two young voices shouted glee as Maggie and Brian Landry raced past the open barn
framing the paddock’s far edge. Carrie’s caution sounded behind them, a reminder to
calm down, go slow, lower their voices. She poked her head into the near paddock,
spotted Liv and came her way. “I saw your car tucked on the far side of the barn and
figured you were back here. How’s he doing?”

“Better, maybe. It’s hard to tell because his condition was so bad.” Liv kept her
voice crooning-low, comforting the gelding while answering Carrie, a trick Mary Beth
McGuire had shared years back. “If we’re on the right track, another two weeks should
work wonders. And two months down the road? We should see him for who he really is.”

“Amazing endurance,” Carrie said softly. She watched the kids as they circled the
far paddock, Maggie fearlessly perched on the bottom rail, chatting with the new mares,
while Brian hung to the outside, watching. “I didn’t used to think about things like
that. Faith. Fortitude. Endurance. But when my husband died, I started to see things
in a new light because I had to.” She reached in and stroked the horse’s face with
a smooth touch. “I didn’t realize I was kind of going through the motions of living
until I got slapped upside the head with a dose of reality. Nothing like a total left
turn to remind us how precious and tenuous life is. So much we take for granted.”

Liv worked the brush over the horse’s hindquarters, keeping her touch light. Hints
of new hair growth along his flank said the upgraded diet was starting to take effect.
“It had to be hard.” She turned her gaze toward the two children, a summer picture
of Montana ranch life. “To lose someone you love and become a single parent overnight.
How do you manage, Carrie?”

Carrie’s smile said the answer was obvious. “God. Faith. Time. Healing. Once I got
over being mad, crazy overprotective of the kids and fairly self-defeating, I realized
life offers us opportunities all the time. But it doesn’t come with guarantees, so
I took off my blinders and grabbed hold of the reins. My husband was a good man, a
wonderful father and he had a heart of gold. But he laughed in the face of God, shrugging
off faith as a nonessential entity.” She grimaced, remembering, then paused and called
out a soft caution to Maggie.

“He’d quote scientific jargon to minimize God’s reality,” she went on once Maggie
was back on safe ground. “I figured it was his way. But when he was gone...” She breathed
deep, consternation marking her gaze. “His fate plagued me. Was he saved? Did he accept
God or dismiss him to the very end? I nearly drove myself crazy worrying about it
until I realized there was nothing I could do to change the past, but I was plenty
strong enough to influence the future of these children. So I moved out of the city,
got a job at a thriving medical practice between here and Bozeman and brought the
kids out to the country and into church. For the first time in a long time, I feel
like I’m totally on the right track, despite our loss. In time, God’s love prevails.”

Her words piqued Liv. “Didn’t you feel betrayed when he died, though? As if God wasn’t
watching out for you?”

Carrie pondered the question for a moment, then nodded. “I was so sad, then angry,
and then depressed and angry again, but I kept praying, hoping I’d understand why
things happen the way they do.”

“And do you? Understand them?”

Carrie called a second note of caution to Maggie, who seemed to think the top rail
was okay to rest on. It wasn’t, and Carrie reminded her of that in no uncertain terms.
“I think I’ve learned to separate what God does versus man’s free will. That things
happen, and we bear the weight of our own choices, but sometimes we’re affected by
those of others. Family. Friends. People who seek evil. And that made me remember
that while I’m not in charge of the world, I’m in charge of my home and my family.
It helped me to surround myself with the kind of people I want Brian and Maggie to
be when they grow up. Faithful. Strong. Hardworking.”

“Like the McGuires.”

Carrie smiled quickly. “Yes. And Mick’s gentle manner and big old hugs don’t hurt
anything. He doesn’t have to prove himself day after day the way my husband did, although
he’s every bit as strong and brave. He’s just not a crazy risk-taker. I’m okay with
that. I’m going to take the kids down to the creek to look for turtles in the sun.
They’ll be back in school before too long and there won’t be time for turtle watching.
See ya’.”

Carrie’s words reminded Liv of herself, only in reverse.

When Jack left her, she’d cocooned herself. She didn’t look left or right, and refused
to think about dating. And when she finally did start going out again, she sought
the total opposite of Jack McGuire. Billy Margulies was a quick-talking sales representative
for a pharmaceuticals company, a guy who made his living telling medical staff what
they wanted to hear, and blurring the lines of integrity to clinch a sale was in his
comfort zone. That should have given her a clue right there.

Jack?

He wasn’t a risk-taker the way Carrie described, but he embraced everything with a
winner’s touch. Baseball. His finance career in Illinois. And now the Double M, growing
and thriving under the direction of the McGuire men.

Had she deliberately chosen a man different from Jack to push aside the memories?

When Billy left, he told her he needed a wife whose head wasn’t always in books. Did
she immerse herself in her work and research in Helena to avoid a deepening relationship
with her husband?

No.

Her gut clenched, because the real answer was “maybe.” Internal guilt spiked. She’d
been a good wife to Billy in many ways, but were they made for each other? Had she
taken God’s directive into consideration or gone headlong into her marriage thinking
she had total control?

With her divorce final, her job gone and doors to opportunity open in multiple directions,
how could she pick? How dare she choose? What guarantee was there that she was making
the right choice after so many wrong ones?

A soft sigh from the horse reminded her of the task at hand. She hummed softly as
she groomed him, letting him adjust to her touch, her voice, while she wondered at
Carrie’s words.

God’s touch versus free will. The two were sometimes at odds, but it had been a long
time since she sought the former. Maybe it was time for her own leap of faith.

Her phone buzzed. She set the brush aside and checked the caller.

Jack.

She hesitated, surrounded by the beauty of Jack’s life, the ranch, the paddocks, the
dry grass meadow. In the distance, three figures grew smaller as they hiked toward
the creek, a reminder that life goes on. Hauling in a deep breath, she answered the
phone. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. What have you been doing these past few days? I’ve called and gotten
no answer.”

“I answered now.”

“True enough. Okay.” He paused, then asked, “We’ve got some things to finalize for
the game. Can I stop by tonight?”

Her parents would arrive tomorrow with Grandma and Grandpa, so tonight worked well.
“Tonight’s good. Around seven?”

“Can we make it seven-thirty? We had a problem upland and Dad and I need to repair
some fence, then shift cows and we’ve only got one extra hand here today. I probably
won’t get back to the house until close to seven.”

“A long day.”

“But worth it. And if I get to see you at the end of it, then I’ll spend the rest
of the afternoon counting my blessings.”

Was she a blessing? Had she been a blessing to anyone these past years? Maybe not,
but that could change, couldn’t it? “I’ll make you supper. You come and eat, we’ll
figure out the last of the concessions and the raffles and we’ll be all set for the
game. As long as the remaining five guys got back to you.”

“They did. All but one are coming. And Garrison can come but he can’t play because
of contract stipulations to avoid injury.”

“We can have him sign autographs, then. He can be a side attraction while you guys
are the main event.”

His laugh warmed her. “I like how you think. All right, see you tonight. And, Liv?”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“Thanks for coming by every day to take care of the buckskin. He needs a name, but
I figure that’s your job.”

“But he’s not my horse.” She’d asked for naming rights the day of the auction, but
Liv knew the score. If you named an animal, he or she became your responsibility.
It was a thought she welcomed and a reality that made her gut-clenching nervous because
keeping her distance from Jack was tough. If she let the horse draw her further in?
Tough could become downright impossible.

“Near enough. And he deserves a name from someone who truly loves him.”

Her heart melted. She’d never been asked to name a horse before, but she’d already
christened this guy in her head. “Then he’s Little Dill,” she told him. “We’ll call
him Dilly because he reminds us of Dillinger.”

“Perfect.”

It thrilled her to hear the approval in Jack’s voice. “See you tonight, cowboy.”

“Until then.”

She imagined him touching the brim of his hat, the courtly move destined to win a
girl’s heart. He’d won hers years ago, and if she was honest with herself, she was
in danger of losing it all over again.

Common sense said she should finish the town history and hit the road. She could hole
up in a college town and spend her days teaching about old times, former lives.

But the air and the sky and the trees laughed at that option, so she finished caring
for the gentle-natured horse and headed back to her parents’ house. She’d promised
Jack supper.

Was she a good cook?

Not really. But with time on her side and the right recipe, she could pull this together.
She’d go home, clean up, head to the Middletons’ grocery and get whatever she needed,
because this one night she intended to be the best cook she could be.

Right until a midafternoon thunderstorm swept through in an angry fifteen-minute tempest
that downed tree branches and a few wires, nipping electricity for over half the town.
From that moment on, things went from bad to worse and by the time Jack showed up
on her step for his promised meal, she was still airing out the house from her current
cooking mishap with a score of Liv–0, old propane cook-stove on the back porch–1.

* * *

“Burning supper isn’t a big deal. Really. We’ll just grab food someplace. Can I come
in?” Jack looked over Liv’s head to the rooms beyond and pretended to ignore the heavy
scent of burned meat and vegetables. “I won’t laugh. I promise.”

He didn’t laugh when he stepped through the front door of the Franklin house.

He sighed.

The gracious old oak dining room table was set for two. Twin candles stood tall in
cut-crystal candleholders, and Mrs. Franklin’s gold-rimmed china sparkled against
an antique crocheted tablecloth, ivoried with age. “Liv, that’s beautiful.”

“What? The table?” She looked up at him as his meaning dawned and half choked out
an answer. “You think I set that for you? Us?”

“Well, it’s set for two and looks romantic.” Jack stepped past her, swept the table
another glance, then drew his attention back to her. “And it is just you and me here.
One plus one equals—”

“An old-fashioned dining-table photo op to go with my historical presentation,” she
cut in. “I’m doing a self-made movie of Jasper Gulch as part of my assignment, so
I’m using stills of some things and live shots of others for the slide show component.
Jack McGuire, did you really think I spent the afternoon sitting here making a romantic
play for you?”