A Town Called Valentine: A Valentine Valley Novel (22 page)

Brooke squeezed her arm, and whispered, “That’s him.”

Though his hair was faded and thin on top, Steve Keppel was a redhead. Emily thought of her own strawberry blond hair—could this be her father? Her stomach twisted in knots as she continued to study him. Besides a slight paunch, he had the broad frame of a man who worked with his hands for a living. He talked to each employee doing repairs in a polite, unemotional voice. No kidding around, no cracking jokes. He looked down the aisle toward someone in the back, and she thought his eyes were dark. Too dark. But she wasn’t close enough to be certain. Her gaze stayed glued to Steve, who walked down to the stage and began going through boxes.

“One of his daughters dated Josh, now that I think about it,” Brooke said slowly. “I think he complained that her dad was a stickler about curfews. A real straight arrow.”

“Doesn’t sound like the kind of man my mom preferred,” Emily replied, sighing. “People do change, of course. And there’s the hair. And did his eyes look dark to you?”

Brooke glanced at her. “The hair doesn’t look like your color, so it’s hardly proof of anything. But yeah, I thought his eyes seemed dark, too. Do you want to go talk to him?”

“No. It just feels wrong. Let’s go find Joe Sweet.” As they stood up and walked up the aisle, past a couple of gawking tourists, she added, “Thanks for not pushing the issue, Brooke. I need to take things at my own pace.”

“And that’s why you didn’t go to my brother about this.” Brooke grinned.

As they walked through the lobby, Emily shook her head. “No, that’s not it at all. Nate respects whatever I ask him to.” She didn’t meet Brooke’s eyes, feeling a high-school blush heat her face. She was hardly a teenager hiding her first sexual encounter, but her intimacy with Nate seemed too private and special to be shared right away. Especially with his sister. “It’s just . . . I need to rely on myself.”

Brooke laughed. “I understand, believe me. On to the Sweetheart Inn. If it was a beautiful day, I’d suggest walking, but in this rain, let’s hop in my Jeep.”

Like everything in Valentine Valley, the inn wasn’t too far away. Emily had often seen its windows reflecting the sun during the day, and its lights twinkling at night, seeming to float above the town on the slopes of the Elk Mountains. They entered the grounds from Mabel Street, and Emily admired the lush gardens and trees, giving her a feeling of remote peacefulness. The inn itself was three floors of elaborate white-sided Queen Anne, with levels of gables and turrets, towering chimneys, and several covered porches trimmed with sunburst details in the corners. A few stained-glass windows added color. Daffodils and tulips bloomed everywhere, and banks of forsythia bushes were bursts of yellow among the greenery.

“Wow,” Emily breathed, as they drove past the inn and toward the parking lot off Bessie Street.

“Beautiful, huh? The original Sweets were miners who hit it rich, then came here to Valentine to expand into ranching. Joe’s dad built a modern ranch house nearer to their fields, and his mom turned this old place into an inn. Not as pricey as in Aspen, but the most expensive place in town. The most elegant restaurant, too.”

“And the pastry chef,” Emily said, remembering how everyone ordered his work.

“Oh no,” Brooke suddenly said, pulling into a parking spot and looking over her shoulder. “I just saw Joe’s truck heading down the road.”

“Are you sure he was in it?” Emily asked with disappointment.

“I’d recognize that blazing white Stetson anywhere. Should we follow him?”

“That won’t accomplish a look into his eyes.”

“Well, there’s a family portrait in the lobby of the inn. Do you want to see that?”

“Yes!” Emily’s frustrated disappointment turned into eagerness. Maybe she’d have an answer sooner than she thought.

After parking, they walked across the long porch, where baskets of impatiens hung like Christmas decorations. Inside, the “lobby” must have been the original front parlor, now decorated with a collection of antique stained-glass lamps on mahogany furniture. A wide staircase led up to the next floor. The front desk resembled an old-fashioned bar, where a young man waited on guests. On the far side of the lobby, she could see the elegant restaurant through closed French doors.

But it was the portrait that captured her interest, and she didn’t need Brooke to point it out. It dominated the wall just to the right of the entrance, a huge sprawl of many generations of a family. They’d been photographed outside against a backdrop of green bushes and trees, making them look like a colorful flock of birds—very happy birds.

Scanning the several men in the photograph, Emily whispered, “Which one’s Joe?”

Brooke silently pointed to a middle-aged man, lean and fit. The Stetson was tipped back on his head, just revealing blond hair lightened white. Above his confident smile were Paul Newman blue eyes that made Emily gasp.

“I thought his eyes might be blue,” Brooke mused. “But I didn’t want to get you excited for nothing.”

Emily nodded and kept studying his open face, the contentment she could sense beneath the surface. There was family all around him, and she wondered if the dark-haired woman beside him was his wife, and which were his kids. But always her gaze returned to his face, while her heart beat an excited yet terrified rhythm to her thought of
Are you my dad? Is this my family? My
huge
family?

She backed away from the portrait, knowing that Brooke was studying her closely. “We can go now.”

Though Brooke started to talk about the Sweet family on the drive back to the restaurant, Emily stopped her, still too dazed.

In the flower shop, Monica was in the workroom, arranging cut flowers in a wet foam base in a basket. She looked up and smiled. “What have you two been up to today?”

Emily eased onto a stool. “I . . . I think I may have found my father.”

Monica gasped and listened avidly as Emily and Brooke recounted their adventure.

“You don’t want to look into Hal’s eyes?” Monica asked.

“I already did once, and I certainly wasn’t blown away. I don’t even remember them. But a high-school girl gushing about blue eyes—Joe Sweet was the perfect target for that.”

“What’s next?” Brooke asked, rubbing her hands together.

“I guess I’ll go introduce myself eventually, hear what he has to say. But not yet. I’ve got a name—let me just absorb it.”

“I think you need a distraction,” Monica continued. “I’m taking my sister to a hockey game tonight.”

“A hockey game?” Emily echoed in surprise.

“There are lots of rinks in these mountains, and a lot of leagues. I need to amuse my sister with something that doesn’t involve me hearing about her running from protestors in the Middle East.”

“It sounds like a dangerous job,” Emily said.

Monica sighed. “It is. And I know she’s brave. But it’s not the only kind of job. So wear some warm clothes. We leave at six.”

Chapter Nineteen

A
fter a lunch shift at the flower shop, Emily worked on the damaged finish to the restaurant bar, glancing at her cell phone too much. Nate was working all day, she knew. He certainly didn’t need to call her right away. But she was surprised how much she longed to hear his voice, how much she wanted to feel his arms around her and bask in the admiration he so openly showed her. She hadn’t felt so excited in years, and it was wonderful and scary all at the same time. She found herself hoping the hockey game would end early, so she could meet up with Nate.

She got a text from Brooke at six sharp, and met her and Monica in the alley. All of them wore jeans and long-sleeve shirts and carried fleece or denim jackets.

“I thought your sister was going?” Emily said to Monica.

Monica rolled her eyes. “She’s coming. She didn’t bring the right clothes for a rink, so she’s going through mine.”

They sat in the Jeep and chatted for another ten minutes until Melissa came outside, looking cool and unhurried, still elegant in jeans and a silk blouse. Monica grumbled something under her breath, and Emily bit her lip to keep from smiling.

When they reached the rink in Aspen, Emily bought a hot dog and Diet Coke before donning her fleece jacket to leave the warm lobby.

“So is this a local college team?” Emily asked Monica. “Do you know the players?”

“Sure I know the players. The Valentine Massacre is an adult rec league team. You’re dating one of the stars.”

Emily’s mouth dropped open, and she hurried ahead of the women toward the boards surrounding the rink, where Plexiglas windows protected them from the puck. She saw several dozen men skating around, warming up, shooting at the goal, bumping into each other.

Then someone slammed into the boards right next to her, and she flinched back. The man pulled off his helmet, and she saw Nate, his hair already damp with sweat.

She spoke loudly near the crack between the Plexiglas. “Your sister didn’t tell me you were on the team.”

He leaned against the boards and slowly smiled at her, green eyes glittering, making it very clear he was remembering what they’d been doing last night. She felt a wave of heat sweep over her and wondered if she was giving off steam in the cold rink.

“I’ll talk to you after the game,” he said, then winked at her.

She melted into a smile that made her feel positively glowing, then followed the other women up into the bleachers, filing past a few handfuls of people who’d come to cheer on friends.

“Woo-hoo, did you see that smirk on Nate’s face?” Monica called to Brooke.

Emily blinked and tried to appear innocent as she took a seat next to Melissa, who eyed her with interest, popping a cheese-coated french fry into her mouth.

Brooke sat down on the end, jostling Emily. “I saw it, and believe me, I know damn well what it meant. Someone’s been holding out on us.”

Emily munched her hot dog and just looked back and forth at them. They waited impatiently while she chewed and swallowed. “I’m not sure what you expect me to say.”

“Dish it out, girlfriend,” Monica said. “The truth.”

Emily opened her mouth, then embarrassment made her hesitate. She wasn’t used to talking about something so private. Nate probably wouldn’t appreciate it if she—

“Look at her,” Brooke said with a snort, “she can barely get the words out, and her face is as red as a tomato.”

“Leave the girl alone,” Melissa said mildly. “She doesn’t have to tell you busybodies everything.”

“Busybodies?” Monica echoed, rearing back as if affronted. “Are you my grandma? And
you’re
the one who heard Nate’s truck in the alley late last night.”

“I didn’t bring it up to her, did I?” Melissa said with exasperation.

They sounded like sisters, not distant acquaintances, Emily thought, feeling relieved for them. Maybe things were starting to get better.

“You brought it up to me, leaving me all wondering,” Monica grumbled.

“You didn’t tell
me
!” Brooke shot back.

“Okay, okay, you need to give this a rest.” Emily felt like another black-and-white-striped referee. All she needed to do was lace up a pair of skates and hold them all back from fighting.

They looked at her expectantly.

And again, she felt her face go all hot. “I can’t just . . . talk about it!”

And then they laughed, even Melissa.

When a whistle blew, Emily was vastly relieved. She watched the game, glad there was no outright fighting, the one thing she usually hated about hockey. And Nate was pretty good—fast on his skates, deadly with his aim, absorbing the occasional blow to his body when a defender got ambitious. She didn’t understand the rules, but it didn’t really matter. She found herself cheering when the score got too close, then giving a final whoop when Nate’s team won.

They waited in the lobby for the men, along with several other women Emily was introduced to. The players appeared, their hair slicked back from showers, carrying huge duffel bags stuffed with equipment.

“Hold your breath if one of those bags is open,” Brooke whispered. “The smell will kill you!”

Emily expected Nate to treat her as casually as always, but, instead, he gave her a smacking kiss and kept his arm around her. Monica and Brooke rolled their eyes knowingly, and all Emily could do was grin and shrug.

More food was ordered, and everyone sat down at tables to eat. Emily found herself next to Tony of Tony’s Tavern fame, and he grinned and held out his hand.

“Maybe we should meet properly—I’m Tony De Luca.”

She laughed. “Emily Murphy.”

“See you two are still kissing.”

Would she ever stop blushing? “Guess we are.”

“Hey, Dad!”

To Emily’s surprise, a boy of maybe ten or eleven came running up to them. He was overheated, his brown bangs damp, chocolate smeared on his cheek as he held out his hand.

“Dad, can I have some quarters?”

Tony groaned. “I gave you everything I had when I got here, Ethan. Didn’t your mom have any for you?”

“You know she doesn’t like me playing the games here.”

Emily said, “I have a couple quarters, if it’s okay with you, Tony.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, but didn’t seem upset at her interference.

She reached into her wallet and held out some coins. With a quick “Thanks!” Ethan grabbed the coins and took off with the other boys.

Emily eyed Tony, who shook his head. “So you’re a dad.”

“A single dad,” he said with a sigh. “His mom and I split a couple years ago.”

That perked her interest. “Do you find it hard being a single parent?”

“Sure, sometimes.”

“I’m thinking of adopting. I’d love to talk to you sometime about what it’s like raising a child by yourself.”

But was he truly alone, when he had everyone in Valentine? He must have all the support—and nosiness—he could ever need.

“I share custody with my ex, so it’s not quite like doing it by myself, but I’ll answer any questions I can.”

“My ex wanted kids, too,” she said ruefully. “But I found out that was all he wanted from me.”

Nate walked over just in time to hear this, and he stared at Emily, surprised she’d reveal something painful so easily. He told himself it was good that she could talk about the past instead of keeping it inside; but to his discomfort, he realized he wanted her to talk to
him
about those things, not Tony.

Why was she so determined to adopt if both she and her ex had wanted kids? It wasn’t like she was ancient. Or did she just not want to marry again? That should make him feel relieved, but it didn’t. It was as if every wall he’d built up around himself these last few years was starting to crumble. Emily was getting to him in ways he thought he’d long been on guard against.

He couldn’t let this happen again, couldn’t risk hurting Emily. And deep inside, part of him began to turn to ice.

“Hey, Nate,” Tony said, looking curiously between Emily and him.

Nate wondered what his face had revealed. He forced a smile. “Nice goal in the third period. You saved us.”

“Thanks.”

Another teammate called out, “Hey Nate, how’s the rodeo prep going? You doing like I said, and taking bets on the bronc riding?”

“Why should I, when you know I’m going to win?”

There was booing and cheering all mixed up together, and he saw Emily watching him with curiosity. He almost slid an arm around her waist, knowing he’d be aroused by the flare of her hip and the warmth of her all pressed to his side. But he stopped himself, and was relieved when she said she was going home with the girls.

“I came with them, Nate.” Her tone was apologetic.

“She’s our date,” Brooke said, spreading her hands wide. “Girls’ night out.”

He nodded, forced a smile. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

Wearing a saucy smile, she said, “I’ll look forward to it.”

And he watched her go through the double doors out into the night, not realizing Tony had come to stand beside him.

“So it’s like that,” Tony said mildly.

Nate shrugged. “Guess you could sort of tell the first night that we were interested in each other.”

“Guess I could. Don’t enjoy yourself too much. I’ll try to pretend I remember what it’s like have a free social schedule and time to pursue a woman.”

“Kids’ll do that to you.”

“Seems like Emily wants ’em, but without a husband.”

Nate eyed his friend. “She’s mentioned it.”

“Guess you should feel relieved.”

Nate smiled but didn’t say anything. He
should
feel relieved. But he didn’t.

“T
ony’s a nice guy,” Monica said, as they drove back to Valentine.

Emily looked out the window at the solid darkness of the mountains blotting out the stars. She thought about young Ethan, running toward his father, his face alive with excitement and mischievousness. The slumbering ache inside her awakened as she remembered her brief motherhood.

And the way she controlled her grief was reminding herself that she’d taken control, that she was going to make a happy family life happen. She was already making good friends who could be like sisters to her.

Then Brooke launched into the story about spying on Steve Keppel and believing that Joe Sweet might be Emily’s dad, all for Melissa’s benefit.

“If you’re hesitant to talk to him outright,” Melissa said, “maybe there are hospital records you don’t know about. Were you born here?”

“San Francisco.”

“Oh.”

“Guess we’ll have to handle this with our own small-town ways,” Monica said dryly.

Emily saw Melissa press her lips together and look out the dark window.

“You know, Em,” Monica continued, “you could think about this from another angle, from people’s motivations. Maybe Joe would be thrilled to know he has another child, and you’re worried about approaching him for nothing.”

“Listen to Monica,” Melissa chimed in. “She’s always been good at reading people.”

Monica stared at her over the seat. “Is that a compliment?”

“Of course it is. You should go back for your master’s in psychology. Those were always your best classes.”

Emily couldn’t miss the hurt that flashed briefly in Monica’s eyes.

“I use my skills with people every day,” Monica said between gritted teeth. “What about you?”

“What do you mean? We’re twins; I certainly have people skills as well, and I use them.”

“From everything I hear, you’re only with people at work. Sounds to me like you lead a lonely life.”

Melissa stiffened. “That’s not true.”

“Okay, no squabbling, kids, or I’ll have to stop the car,” Brooke said mildly, looking into the rearview mirror to meet Emily’s eyes.

“I heard the guys mention a rodeo,” Emily said, changing the subject.

“The Silver Creek Rodeo,” Brooke said. “My family’s been running it for decades. You mean you haven’t heard about it?”

“I’ve seen the posters—who could miss them?” But Nate had never told her, and now that he’d confided in her, she understood why. But after all their intimacy, it was hard for her to still feel casual about him, which should be a blinking Caution sign for her to pay attention to.

“It’s only a few weeks away,” Monica said. “You can’t leave before then. It’s the highlight of early summer around here.”

“I’m a champion barrel racer,” Brooke said, holding up her arm to flex a muscle.

Monica laughed. “And so modest, too.”

Brooke continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Josh and I do a little team roping, although Nate and Dad often beat us. Emily, there’s even a baking contest. I’ll forward you the info.”

Emily nodded but figured she’d talk to Nate first.