A Love Like Ours (7 page)

“I wish I had a medium-sized dad and tiny mom. Instead, thanks to my parents, I was six feet tall by the seventh grade.”

Lyndie winced. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Zoe switched to a dandy brush that resembled the end of a long broom. Expertly, she moved it in short, fast strokes across Silver’s body. “I was taller than my middle school teachers, even. I was probably the tallest person in the whole building. I started walking around like this”—she curved her back into a
C
shape and hunched her shoulders—“hoping nobody would notice. It wasn’t that great for my self-esteem. Horses saved me.”

Lyndie understood. Animals had helped her through numerous rough patches. “Did you have any horses of your own?”

“Our family only had one old mare. Her name was Sweetie, and she was in her twenties. I’d talk to her and take care of her and ride her every day. A few times a week at least, I’d have a little sobbing fit on her neck, and she’d make me feel better. I’m guessing you know what I’m talking about.” Zoe raised one copper-colored eyebrow hopefully.

“I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“You see? This is why I like you. I can tell you stuff and you get me.”

Lyndie tossed the granola bar wrapper in the trash. “I love your height.”

“I don’t. You know how hard it is to find tall guys to date?”

“You’d make a great character in one of my picture books, Zoe.”

“Seriously? That’d be awesome.”

An image took shape in her mind. A willowy fairy who had a way with unicorns. She’d draw Zoe with pale skin, green boots,
and long, fiery hair. She’d put her in a backdrop similar to the one that stretched away from them now. Land broken only by wooden fences. Baby wildflowers sprouting in patches. Shades of color ranging from olive to emerald.

This past week, her enthusiasm for her fairy story had been growing each day as she sketched and brainstormed ideas. At last! Whispering Creek had been feeding her imagination the way kids with handfuls of bread feed ducks. When she reached her apartment later today, she’d test out a drawing of a Zoe-inspired fairy.

Zoe turned on the water, waited for it to warm, then aimed the spray at Silver’s hooves.

The horse submitted to the ritual of the bath like a monarch accustomed to being cleaned by his servants. So far he’d tossed his head a few times and stepped from foot to foot. Otherwise, he’d barely moved except to prick his ears and listen to Zoe talk. “Aren’t you a beautiful boy?” Zoe murmured to the stallion. “Such a dream horse.”

“Okay,” Lyndie said. “So we’ve talked all week long about Silver’s history.” Zoe had been Silver’s groom ever since he’d arrived at the training barn.

“Yep.”

“And we’ve covered all there is to cover about his personality.”

“Pretty much.” Zoe tugged on a bath mitt and started shampooing Silver’s coat.

“Why do you think he hasn’t had success on the track? What’s your best guess?”

Zoe’s motion paused as she looked across at Lyndie. “I don’t know.” She shrugged a thin shoulder. “He’s had the same opportunities that Mr. Porter’s best runners have had. I’m sorry, Lyndie. I wish I could help you more.”

“It’s okay.”

“I know we’re here to prepare racehorses. But he seems pretty perfect to me just the way he is. Are you a perfect boy?” she asked the horse. “You are, aren’t you?” She turned her face up, and Silver answered by placing his head next to hers and exhaling a
sigh against the place where her neck met her shoulder. Zoe gave his damp neck a few delighted pats. “It could be that he’s meant to spend his life over at the barn where Zach works, giving trail rides and making everyone who lives at Whispering Creek’s big house happy. If he goes, though, I’ll cry buckets. I’d have to . . .”

She didn’t finish her thought. In fact, Zoe often left ideas hanging. And Lyndie never could resist supplying endings. Would Zoe have to . . . go to the beach? Fly to Vermont to make maple syrup? Drive to an auction to buy herself a new gray stallion?

Once Zoe completed Silver’s bath, the two women escorted him to his stall. As they approached, Blackberry, Silver’s next-door neighbor, stuck her head into the row and whinnied in welcome. Silver returned the greeting.

Zoe offered Silver water and fed him exactly what Jake had specified. When Zoe moved on to care for another of the horses under her charge, Lyndie stayed. As she’d been doing all week, she let herself inside the enclosure with Silver and sat on the straw, leaning her back against the wall.

Was Silver meant for a life as a trail horse, as Zoe had just mentioned and Jake had come to believe? Or could it be that racing greatness lived within him still, and someone simply needed to find the key that would unlock it?

If so, there were no horse psychotherapists or mind readers on staff. The “someone” that needed to find the key to unlock Silver Leaf’s greatness . . . was her.

She’d spent a good deal of time already observing this horse. But unfortunately for her—and maybe for the horse and definitely for Jake—she’d drawn no closer to unraveling his mystery.

A
mber had the
will
to go on a date—but not the
way
. She needed reinforcements.

Thus, on Monday Amber let herself into Cream or Sugar, her most favorite bakery on all of God’s green earth. She’d come in search of dating advice. It didn’t hurt that the bakery also offered addictive desserts.

Dr. Dean’s office was located in a corporate building that sat three plots away from Holley’s town square. To save money, Amber typically brought her lunch from home and ate in the small kitchenette at the rear of the office. A few times a week, though, she gobbled down her boring food just so that she’d have time to walk to Cream or Sugar and treat herself to something fattening before the end of her lunch break.

Like all the storefronts on the square, the bakery faced inward toward the central courthouse. The words
Cream or Sugar
scrolled across its picture window in cursive.

“Hi, Amber.” Celia Porter, the bakery’s owner, greeted her with a smile. Celia had a petite build, curly brown hair, delicate features, and wicked baking skills.

“Hi, Celia. How’s it going?”

“It’s going well.” Celia bent down to the Pack’n Play behind
the counter and pulled a fussing baby into her arms. “It would be better, however, if I could convince Hudson here that he likes to sit and play with his toys.”

“Aww!” Amber went into her usual crooning fit over the baby. “He looks so cute today, Celia.”

“Thank you.”

Six-month-old Hudson had blond peach fuzz for hair, a face worthy of a Gerber jar, and shining blue eyes. Celia had dressed him in a soft and miniature pair of jeans and a T-shirt that read,
Keep Calm and Give Me to Mom
.

Since Hudson’s birth, Celia had cut back on her hours at the bakery. Amber still saw her often, though, because Celia tended to work during the hours when Amber stopped by—the middle stretch of each weekday.

Now that his mother had picked him up, Hudson looked as self-satisfied as could be. The twinkle in his eye assured Amber that Ty Porter’s son had come out of the womb every bit as confident and mischievous as his father.

Amber peered into the display case. “What’re my choices today?”

“All the usual plus iced sugar cookies in the shape of shamrocks for St. Patrick’s Day, a flourless chocolate cake, and oatmeal and apricot cookies.”

“Just kill me now, Celia. I’d die happy.”

Thanks to four years of friendship with Meg Porter, Amber had come to know the entire Porter family. Bo and Jake, of course. But also their sister, Dru, only twenty-two and recently back from serving in the Marines. And their brother Ty, a former professional bull rider. Ty had reconfirmed his wedding vows to Celia about a year and a half ago in a big, happy ceremony. In addition to baby Hudson, Ty and Celia had a six-and-a-half-year-old daughter named Addie.

Amber ordered the cake, a shamrock cookie to take home for Jayden, and a cup of coffee. Celia rang her up while balancing the baby on her hip.

“I was hoping to talk to your uncle,” Amber said. “Do you
think he’ll be coming by?” Danny, Celia’s surfer dude uncle, rarely missed his daily twelve-thirty latte.

“He should be here any minute.”

Amber lowered onto one of the padded barstools that cozied up to the countertop. “I’m planning to ask him for dating advice.”

Celia threw her an amused look as she used a triangular spatula to serve a slice of cake. “He’ll enjoy that.”

“I need his input. Have you met Lyndie James?”

“I have. Her family joined us for a few of the Porter family lunches.”

“She’s my upstairs neighbor at the Old Candy Shoppe.”

“How lucky is that? Lyndie will make a great neighbor for you, just like you will for her.” Celia settled the cake and an antique china cup full of coffee in front of Amber.

“Lyndie and I have agreed that we’re each going to go out on three dates over the next three months.”

“Interesting.”

Amber pretty much felt that if someone
did
kill her while she had this bite of flourless chocolate cake in her mouth, she
would
die happy. She made herself chew and swallow slowly so that she could enjoy it longer.

A group of lady friends entered the shop, and Celia went to wait on them. Amber watched little Hudson wrap his hand trustingly into the collar of his mom’s shirt.

Hudson always reminded Amber of Jayden as a baby. Unfortunately, her memories of Jayden at that age were always chased with regret. She’d been young and immature and alone when she’d had Jayden. The first eighteen months of his life had been a nightmare.

When other girls her age had been enjoying their senior years in college, she’d been struggling to earn enough money to feed Jayden and to keep them from getting evicted from their apartment. Whenever she thought about those days now, she did so with a heavy heart, wishing she could have given Jayden a better beginning.

The lady friends had situated themselves at a table, so Celia returned to stand on the other side of the counter from Amber.

“This cake is delicious,” Amber informed her.

“Thank you.”

It reminded Amber of a Charles M. Schulz quote:
All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and
then doesn’t hurt.

“Tell me more about the dating thing,” Celia said.

“Basically, Lyndie and I need help. I’m not sure how to find men for us to go out with.”

“Hmm . . . Let me think who I might know.” Celia held the baby out, grinned at him, then brought him close to kiss him under his chin. He giggled. “How many eligible single men do we know, Hudson?” She brought him back out, then in again. “Oh.” Celia lifted her head and stared at Amber. “I just thought of someone.”

“For me or for Lyndie?”

“For you, I’m thinking.”

Amber set down her fork. “Who?”

“Will McGrath. Have you met him?”

“Nope.”

“He’s older than you are. What’s your upper age limit?”

“Um, I don’t know. Maybe thirty-seven? Ten years older than me?”

Celia clicked her tongue, thinking. “I’m not sure, but he may be a few years past thirty-seven.”

“Is he even somewhat good-looking?”

“He’s a fireman. Actually, he’s a
captain
in the fire department. He’s tall and ruggedly handsome.”

“Suddenly I’m not so concerned about his age.”

Ty Porter rounded the corner from the kitchen into the bakery. “Who is my wife calling tall and ruggedly handsome?”

“Will McGrath,” Celia said.

A blush rose up Amber’s neck. Ty Porter was so crazy good-looking that he always made her self-conscious. Like the sun, she found it hard to look directly at him.

Ty exchanged greetings with Amber, then faced his wife and son. Baby Hudson squealed with happiness and stretched both
arms toward his father, who scooped him against his chest. “Will’s not taller or more handsome than I am, sweet one.” He gave Celia his most irresistible smile. Oh, the flash of white teeth. The dimples!

“He’s twice as tall and handsome as you, showboat.”

Ty lifted an eyebrow. “He’s twice as tall?”

“Twice
.
”

“Whatever you say.” He tugged Celia close to kiss her temple. “Did you hear that, Amber? I’ve learned the three magic words every husband needs to know in order to have a happy marriage: Whatever. You. Say.”

Amber laughed. Ty was so famously wild about Celia that he’d bought this bakery for her, then gutted the second floor and built “his and hers” offices for the two of them just so that he could be close to her.

“Ty,” Amber said, working herself up to speak a full sentence to him, “Jeannie had an appointment with Dr. Dean last week. She raved about the great job you’ve done with her mom’s financial portfolio.” Ty’s investing smarts had become a point of pride for the whole town.

“Shoot, Amber. I’m not sure you should believe Jeannie. I wouldn’t know a financial portfolio from a modeling portfolio.”

“He’s so falsely humble,” Celia said to Amber, laughter in her voice, “that he’s actually vain.”

Just then, Cream or Sugar’s front door sailed open, admitting Celia’s Uncle Danny. “What’s up?” He raised a hand to everyone in the place and several of the bakery’s faithful greeted him in return. Grizzled, tan, and pushing the age of sixty, Danny was beloved by everyone in Holley, Texas.

“Huddie Potuddie!” Danny said to the baby, leaning over the counter to offer his fist. “You cool?”

Ty encouraged Hudson’s fingers to close into a ball, then helped him return Danny’s fist bump. “He’s cool,” Ty supplied.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Celia said to Danny. “Amber was hoping to ask you for some dating advice.”

“Sweet.” Danny took the stool two down from Amber’s and turned his full attention on her. “I’d be happy to help you out, Amber.”

“Let me get you some cake, Danny,” Celia said, “then Ty and I will leave you two to talk.”

“Good,” Ty told Celia, “because I have something I want to ask you about in the, um, pantry.”

It sounded to Amber like Ty wanted to kiss Celia in the pantry. But then it had been years since she’d spoken in code to anyone about kissing, so maybe not.

Ty disappeared with the baby. Celia brought Danny cake and a latte.

“Just so you know, Celia, I’m definitely interested in the fireman,” Amber said, wanting to make herself clear before Celia dashed off.

“Will comes in once a week or so for coffee and the occasional donut right after he drops his girls off at school.”

“He has daughters?”

“Two. They’re in high school. Is that a deal breaker?”

He was a tall and ruggedly handsome fireman. “No.”

“Next time he comes in, I’ll text you.” She nudged a notepad in Amber’s direction. “Jot down your number.”

Amber scribbled it across the page. “I’ll do my best to get here when I hear from you.”

“Perfect. It’ll seem to Will like a happy coincidence. I’ll introduce you two, and once he leaves you can tell me what you think.”

“I have pantry questions!” Ty called from the kitchen.

Celia winked at them and headed back.

Over cake, Amber explained to Danny about the three-date goal she and Lyndie had set for themselves.

Danny listened, nodding as seriously as a United Nations peace negotiator. As always, he’d dressed in the surfer wear of board shorts and flip-flops. Today, he’d topped them with a faded In-N-Out Burger T-shirt.

“I think it’s great, what you girls are doing,” he said. “It’s always
good to work the scene, you know? To inspire yourself to get out there on the market and meet new people. Had you heard that I have a girlfriend now? Oksana Shevchenko?”

“Yes, I’d heard.” Holley operated on gossip the way cars operated on gas. “Congratulations.”

“She’s a widow with married kids. Not much of a surfer or a mountain biker, but really supportive, you know?”

“That’s great.”

“Just goes to show that there’s someone for everyone, even in a small town.”

“Hear, hear!” Amber raised her china cup, and he clinked his against it.

“Fellowship Church is having a meet-up event for young singles soon.” He paused to sip his latte, then returned it to its saucer. “I think I read that there’d be dancing.”

“I love to dance.”

“Then be sure to go to the church’s website and sign yourself and Lyndie up.”

“Will do.”

“I must still be a member of five different local dating groups. I’ll let you know whenever I see a good mixer on the schedule.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate the help.”

“There’s someone for everyone, Amber.” His face crinkled into a smile.

For the first time in a long time, hope for her dating life began to push upward within Amber like a new flower making its way past the dirt. “There’s someone for everyone.”

Maybe, God willing, even for her.

The next afternoon Jake walked the row of the training barn, troubled. He’d been driving past the training barn just now, on his way to work with his yearlings, when he’d spotted Lyndie’s Jeep parked out front. Irritation had caused him to pull his truck into the lot.

More than two hours had passed since she’d finished exercising his horses. She should be at her apartment by now, dry and warm. Instead she was still here, in a cold barn on a rainy day, so that she could spend more time with Silver Leaf.

Enough already. If she didn’t have the sense to go home, then he was going to have to force her.

When she’d asked him if she could remain at the barn with Silver Leaf after work hours, he’d thought it would be a short-term thing. Instead, she’d proven her determination and stubbornness by sticking around every day for more than a week. March was about to turn into April, and still she spent hours sitting in Silver Leaf’s stall.

It was bad enough that Jake had to watch her exercising his horses each morning. The whole time she was out on the track, worry clawed at him. And deep beneath the worry, anger.

Since he couldn’t understand or explain the anger, even to himself, he focused on trying to talk himself out of the ridiculous worry. She was one of the most qualified riders he employed. His horses were all well-trained.