At Home in His Heart (16 page)

Setting her tea glass on the glass-topped table between them, LeAnne’s tone softened. “I’m sorry about this, honey. I know what great store you put in that place. But this should come as no surprise. I told you, didn’t I, that Bryce would be up to no good? He’s been muddying the waters since he was a kid.”

“I don’t think he has any choice, LeAnne. His grandma can’t stay in that apartment upstairs much longer. She was hurt badly last year in a fall, and he’s concerned she could take another tumble.”

“Concerned? If you want my opinion, he’s shoving the museum out so he can fix the place up, sell it and pocket the old girl’s money.”

“I don’t think so.”

LeAnne again picked up her tea, nails tapping lightly on the glass. Click. Click. Click. “Sweetheart, I hope that you’re not developing an attachment to Bryce. He doesn’t hold a candle
to your husband. And certainly isn’t father material for your daughter.”

Memory flashed to the night he returned Gina’s cap. The way he’d followed through on her checklist. Walked her home. Had looked after her out on the lake. “He’s actually—”

“I know you’re vulnerable, lonely, but don’t fool yourself. Sure, he’s big and brawny. A good-looking guy with that hero aura all over him.” LeAnne laughed. “I’m sure it proves useful when he’s trying to pick up ladies down at the local bar. But do we really know why he so abruptly left the military? Hmm? Highly suspicious.”

“It’s my understanding he was already leaning toward not reenlisting when his grandma fell. So he came back here to take care of her.”

LeAnne sighed. “Honestly, Sandi, do you believe that? Does that make any sense at all? That a fifteen-year career sergeant would just up and decide to quit and come home and look out for granny? I’m guessing he wore out his welcome with the U.S. Army and found himself booted out the door.”

Sandi opened her mouth to defend him, but then realized she didn’t have a comeback. Nothing she could prove anyway. Just a gut feeling. And if she shared that, LeAnne would be all over her for “going soft” on Bryce.

“See?” LeAnne continued. “Honey, do yourself a favor and stay away from that man. I’m not saying he can’t be a charmer, can’t make you go all tingly inside. Fill your head with stardust. I’m sure he has that down to a fine art.”

Her mother-in-law leaned forward. “But is that really what you want in your and Gina’s life? A man with no substance? You always act like your faith is such a big part of your life. I know it was in Keith’s, little good it did him. But surely even bottle-thick, rose-colored glasses can’t blind you to the fact that Bryce never has and never will share that part of your life.”

“He says he gave his life to God after Keith died.”

“Oh, please. He certainly knows which chords to strum to capture your attention, doesn’t he?”

That’s not what was happening—was it?

“I’m quite happy where I am in my life right now. Things are going well at the school. Gina’s thriving. I’m in no hurry to add a man into the mix.”

No
hurry.
But…

“I’m relieved to hear that. When I saw him over here that night we had ice cream, heard you’d gone to the equine center grand opening with him—”

“I already told you I didn’t go
with
him.”

LeAnne waved her away. “Sweetheart, Keith isn’t here to look out for you. To protect you from the likes of men like Bryce. I’m not trying to cheat you out of a chance at happiness. I’d be delighted if a few years down the road—with the right man—you’re ready for another relationship. Ready to have more kids—even if they won’t be Keith’s.”

Sandi drew in a sharp breath, the piercing reminder of her final words to her husband echoing through her mind. No, she’d never have more children. She didn’t deserve them.

LeAnne reached across the table to give her hand a reassuring pat. “I have your best interests at heart, Sandi. Yours and Gina’s. And the bottom line is that Bryce Harding isn’t in your best interests. Be on your guard.”

“I
told her, Grandma,” Bryce said as he pushed the cart down the aisle of Wyatt’s Grocery on Saturday morning. “About the remodeling plans for downstairs.”

Grandma looked up from where she’d been reading the recipe on the back of a tomato sauce can. “How’d she take it?”

“Pretty good.” If you could call losing her spark and spunk pretty good. But no way was he telling Grandma he’d broad-sided Sandi with his announcement. She didn’t need to get down about it just because her grandson couldn’t come up with a better solution to the situation. Dealing with one dejected female was bad enough. He didn’t need to make it two.

“I’m relieved to hear that. The museum’s a big part of her life since her husband passed on. So what’s the plan?”

“I told her the remodel won’t start right away. Maybe spring, so there’s no hurry for them to get out. Told her I’d help her look for another place to relocate.”

“Did you, now?” Her eyes twinkled as she placed the can in the cart. “You poor thing. Having to spend extra time with that sorry-looking woman.”

He gripped the cart’s handle as he envisioned Sandi that day at the lake. How the breeze ruffled her hair. How she gazed at
the clouds in wonder. “It’s strictly business. Trying to do the right thing. I feel bad about moving the historical society out. But it can’t be helped.”

“Well, then, just make sure you don’t enjoy yourself too much in her company.” She winked. “You know, seeing as it’s strictly business.”

“It is.”

She didn’t look as though she bought a word of it. But he wasn’t going to admit he’d already picked up a stack of real estate guides from the chamber of commerce and had gone online to check out properties. Not a whole lot available for what Sandi was probably looking for at a price the society could afford. He didn’t see her setting up shop in a strip mall for long. She’d want more—what was it called on that home and garden TV program? Oh, yeah. Ambiance. Atmosphere. Character. But he’d spied a few possibilities.

So what if he was looking forward to helping out? That didn’t mean he was taking a too-personal interest in her. It was the least he could do. Not only because he was the driving force behind the museum relocation, but because she was his best buddy’s widow. He owed Keith, right?

Keith would have done the same had it been Bryce, not Keith, who’d been killed in action and left a beautiful, vulnerable young woman behind. One with captivating eyes, a more than pleasing figure and a very appealing mouth. A tenderhearted spirit. Caring mom. Woman of faith. A female any red-blooded man might take a second—or third or fourth—look at if her somewhat bossy nature didn’t send him hightailing it for the hills.

Although she seemed to be mellowing a bit.

Or was
he
mellowing?

“You’ve not heard a single thing I’ve said,” Grandma scolded, but her eyes held a shrewd look he didn’t much care
for. Some times it was as if that woman had X-ray vision into the workings of his brain. Scary.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“Do you want the pork steaks or chicken? You said you wanted to cook out tonight.”

“Mmm. Chicken.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

He eyed her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just never thought,” she said, eyes dancing, “that I’d see the day my grandson chickened out when it came to staking a claim on a woman he had an interest in.”

“I don’t have an interest in Sandi.”

She gave him a “look” that called him a liar. Right to his face.

“I told you before, our connection to each other is Keith. That’s all it is.”

Grandma Mae gasped, her eyes widening as she threw her arms in a protective gesture over her head. Ducked. Swiveled to look above the shelves. Toward the ceiling.

“What is it?” He braced himself, trying to spot what alarmed her. What he had to defend her from.

She lowered her hands, straightened up. Bestowed a matter-of-fact nod. “Flying pigs.”

He cracked a smile. “I’m telling you, Grandma—”

“Believe what you want to believe if it makes you feel better, young man.” She lowered her voice. “But don’t tell me it’s my imagination that you have, as the kids say, the hots for Sandi Bradshaw. Why can’t you admit you’ve taken a liking to the girl? No shame in that, is there?”

She pinned him with an amused gaze. Made him squirm.

“No. I guess not.”

“Well, then? Are you going to see her today?”

He gave the cart a push. “No. I’m going fishing.”

And the sooner the better.

Congratulations, Mrs. Bradshaw. I hope you’re proud of yourself for miring our beloved historical society in this mess.

Sharlene’s scornful voice echoed in Sandi’s head as she pressed her foot to the gas pedal. Hands shaking on the steering wheel and stomach churning, she sped from the Saturday-morning meeting where she’d delivered the news of the building’s fate.

Why’d you let her go off on me like that, God? Let her humiliate me.

Cate Landreth hadn’t been present to stand up for her this time. Or Earl. Everyone else had sat dumbstruck when Sharlene started her rant, calling for the society president’s removal from office before elections this autumn.

Still numb from the dismal turn of events clouding the museum’s future, Sandi hadn’t the willpower to defend herself. She’d sat there like all the others. Withdrawing into herself and bearing the staggering punch of every verbal blow. When at long last Sharlene had paused to take a breath, she’d found the strength to rise to her feet. Looked Sharlene in the eye. Then gathered her purse and jacket and headed out the door.

She’d never go back. Ever.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.

God, why is this happening? And why now?

She’d been so close to achieving her dream for Keith. Had already spoken confidentially with interior designer Kara Dixon about upgrading the space. Display cases were needed. Lighting. The damaged flooring should be replaced. Walls painted. All along she knew if she could foot the bill for most of it, work her tail off to win the society members’ admiration, it would be a natural next step to dedicate the room to her husband.

Or that’s what she’d thought until Bryce’s bombshell.

And then this.

Sharlene’s words hammered. Irresponsible. Mismanagement. Negligence. Poor judgment. She’d ripped her to shreds.

But where had her defenders been?

Did they just sit there because they were cowed by the former president—or buying into everything she said? Had all this time they let her think she was doing a good job? Led her to believe she’d won their support, friendship and confidence when all the while they had their doubts?

Sandi slammed a fist against the steering wheel.

How could they do this to her?

And how could You let it happen, Lord? What did I do to deserve this?

Chin trembling, she blinked rapidly, fighting tears as the answer stepped boldly into her conscience.

Keith. What she’d done to Keith.

A sob racked from the very depths of her being.

Keith.

She did deserve this. All of it.

She pressed the gas pedal harder as she neared the outskirts of town, and the car leaped forward. Maybe she’d keep driving. It didn’t matter where. If she had Gina with her maybe she’d drive right on out of this place and never look back. It wasn’t like her to turn tail and run. But she was tired. So tired of trying to keep everyone around her happy. Of trying to prove herself valuable. Worthy.

But why was all this happening
now?

The image of Bryce’s handsome face rose up.

It was
his
fault.

If he hadn’t come back, his grandma would have gotten a ground-floor apartment elsewhere and continued to rent the museum to the society. But oh, no, the Incredible Hulk had to move in with plans of his own.

Sailing down the road, faster and faster, she longed to put
the gas pedal to the floor. But she couldn’t go far. Not without telling someone. Gina, spending the day with the pastor’s kids, might need her.

Flying around a sharp corner between the towering ponderosas, she spied Casey Lake off to her right, stretching serenely across the treed terrain. Easing up on the gas, she braked to turn onto the graveled road winding its way among the pines to the picnic ramadas. Boat ramps. Heartbeat slowing and still determined not to cry, she found a spot in one of the parking lots. Shaky fingers opened the trunk and locked her purse inside.

A walk. A long walk. That’s what she needed. Time alone with God.

She’d barely reached the wooded trail when she heard someone call her name.

No. Not now. Not him.

She picked up the pace, pretending she didn’t hear.

“Sandi!” the voice called again, accompanied by the sound of running footsteps, rock and gravel crunching under his swift feet. She’d never outrun Bryce.

Drawing a deep breath to regain her composure, she pasted on a smile. Turned to where Bryce jogged toward her, fishing pole and tackle box in hand, his cowboy hat tilted jauntily on his handsome head. She’d been so preoccupied, she hadn’t noticed his old SUV in the lot.

“Hello, Bryce.” Could she sound any less enthusiastic?

“Hello, yourself.” He came to a halt in front of her, not even breathing hard and looking better than any man had a right to look in a T-shirt and worn jeans. He tightened his grip on the tackle box, a smile broadening as if he was genuinely happy to see her. “What are you doing out here on a Saturday morning? I don’t see any fishing gear.”

He glanced around her as if looking for bait and tackle. Then winked.

“Going for a walk.”

His dark eyes studied her a little too sharply.
What did he see? Red eyes? Mussed-up hair? Sniffling nose?
“Would you like some company?”

What she’d like is for a hole in the ground to open up and swallow her. Now.

She shrugged noncommittally, suppressing a still-smoldering anger toward him. She’d like nothing better than to get her hands around that muscled neck of his and—“Your choice. Just don’t expect me to be
good
company.”

Maybe he’d take the hint.

“Why’s that?”

She shrugged. “Just not a good day.”

“No? Maybe I can do something to turn that around.” With an almost tangible excitement, he tucked his fishing gear out of sight at the base of a nearby ponderosa. Then moved in beside her as she turned again toward the path. “I think I’ve found a few museum options for you to take a look at.”

Interest sparked. Then dimmed. It didn’t much matter if he’d come up with cheap rent for the Smithsonian itself. Her days with the historical society were over.

“Thanks.” She kept her eye on the trail. “But you should probably share that information with Sharlene Odel.”

“She’s heading up the relocation committee or something?”

“Or something.”

His warm hand on her arm drew her to a halt. “What aren’t you telling me?”

She looked into his troubled gaze. “I’m being ousted as the historical society president.”

His expression darkened. “What? Why?”

She tilted her head and looked pointedly up at him. Bryce Harding. The instigator of all her recent troubles.

His eyes widened momentarily, then his brows lowered.

“Because of me? Because of what I need to do to the house for Grandma Mae?”

“Ah, but you see, you wouldn’t be doing that if it weren’t for me. You know, because of my incompetence. My poor leadership skills. Had I been a capable president, I’d have foreseen this turn of events. Would have cleverly negotiated. Changed your mind.”

He snorted. “Then they don’t know me.”

“Tell them that.”

“Maybe I will.”

She shook her head with a bone-deep weariness. “Don’t bother. They’ve made up their minds.”

“They? The whole board? All the members? Or just Sharlene?”

“When she lit into me this morning, let’s just say no one voiced any objections.”

He folded muscled arms across his chest. “Then there will be no lease renewal. So they’d better start packing, because they’re out of there come July 31.”

Her heart soared at the determination in his voice. Someone on her side. But would they run her out of town—him, too—if he pulled a stunt like that? Shar knew a lot of people. Hung out with the town’s elite. Then again, would being run out of town be all that bad? If she couldn’t present to LeAnne a veterans exhibit named in honor of her son, what would be the point in remaining in a place she’d never truly belonged?

“I appreciate your support, Bryce, but if Shar wants to run the historical society again, thinks she can do a better job of it than I can, then she’s welcome to it.”

“Nobody’s going to treat you like that and get away with it.”

“This is a war I won’t win.” She stepped away from him to lean against the rough bark of a ponderosa, the last of her energy draining out of her.

He moved in closer, still looking disgruntled.

“Look, Sandi. I may be new at this God stuff, but don’t you think He sometimes wants us to take a stand? Not just roll over and play dead? Let me set them straight. None of this is your fault.”

She shook her head and stared at the uneven, pine-needled ground. She would
not
cry. “There’s no point. I’m finally realizing I’ve lived in a make-believe world since Keith dropped me off in Canyon Springs seven years ago. I’d fooled myself into believing I’d become a part of the community. But I haven’t. I’ll always be an outsider.”

“One person and her little clique doesn’t make a whole town. Not by a long shot.” He took another step and, to her surprise, gently cupped her face in his big, callused hands.

She drew a slow breath, mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes.

“It’s going to be okay, Sandi.” His soft words reassured. Then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. A quick I’m-on-your-side kiss like she’d so often given Gina.

Nevertheless, her heart rate escalated as his gaze embraced hers for a long moment, something fierce and powerful and protective flickering through his eyes. A smiled tugged at his lips as he gazed down at her almost as if in wonderment.