At Home in His Heart (5 page)

Little fingers stopped their drumming. “But you promised.”

“I know I did, sweetheart, but this can’t be helped.” She looked to Grandma Mae. “Fay just got asked to spend the day with an out-of-town guy she’s been dying to date. And earlier this morning Wanda called to say that her daughter’s family arrived unexpectedly late last night. What could I say?”

Grandma Mae patted her hand. “You’re too softhearted, Sandi.”

The pretty blonde grimaced.

Gina wiggled atop his shoulders. “Can’t we go to the petting zoo first, Mommy? Please?”

“There’s not enough time. We’re going to be late opening the museum as it is.”

“But Mommy—”

“We can take her, can’t we, Bryce?” Grandma smiled up at him. “I haven’t been to a petting zoo in years.”

Gina clapped her hands as he lowered her to the ground. “Can they take me, Mommy?”

“Well…” She cast him an uncertain glance. Conscious of Grandma’s enthusiasm, he didn’t shake his head, but he probably had “no” written all over his face. With any luck, she’d take the hint.

Grandma all but glowed. “We’d love to take her.”

There was that
we
stuff again.

With a squeal, the kid grasped his hand with both of hers, holding on for dear life as she danced in place, little pink lights on her tennis shoes flashing with every step. Somebody had already consumed way too much sugar this morning.

This isn’t a good idea, Grandma.

“That’s sweet of you, Mae.” Sandi glanced at him again—apparently not sold on the idea of leaving her kid in his care—then back at Grandma. “But only if you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“We were going to spend most of the day together,” Sandi continued with a regretful smile in the direction of her still-dancing daughter. “But now I’m stuck with every single one of the scheduled museum slots.”

He shifted his weight, primed to step in if she started complaining about the rent increase in front of Grandma. About how she had to give up her holiday with her kid to bring in more money to cover it.

“Then it’s settled.” Grandma beamed from Sandi, to Gina, to him.

With another squeal the little girl hugged his leg. “Come on, Uncle Bryce. Let’s roll!”

Conscious of her eyes on him, he met the troubled gaze of the too-pretty-for-
his
-own-good young mother. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something more.

Instead she turned to Grandma, that too-appealing mouth
ever so slowly curving into a grateful smile. One that grabbed him by the throat tighter than the grip her kid had on his hand.

He took a steadying breath.

No, Grandma, this isn’t a good idea.

“Y
our husband was a handsome man,” one of the women from Utah said, nodding to the photograph of a uniformed Keith adorning the local veterans display at the Canyon Springs Historical Museum.

“He was a good one, too.” While bittersweet, Sandi always enjoyed pointing out the photos and memorabilia of men and women who’d served in the armed forces. Each time it renewed her determination that the exhibit would be significantly expanded—and dedicated to Keith Bradshaw.

His mother would be so surprised.

And so proud.

She’d finally realize her daughter-in-law had been worthy of her youngest son.

“Don’t know what this world would do without men and women willing to make a supreme sacrifice for others,” a second woman said softly. “And thank you for answering our questions about the area. I’m still amazed that this oasis of cool pines exists in Arizona. I had no idea.”

When they’d departed, the last visitors of the day, Sandi locked the front door then headed to the rolltop desk and pulled out a cash box. At a two-dollar donation per visitor, a “take” for the day of fifty-four dollars might seem, to some, time not
well spent. Holiday-goers must have wanted to be outdoors enjoying the weather, just as a number of historical society members who’d declined to assist today had pointed out. But every bit helped keep the museum afloat, so she wouldn’t beat herself up about it.

She slipped the cash into a small plastic bag and stuffed it in her purse for a Tuesday bank deposit, then paused to let her gaze travel around the museum’s main room. Originally a living room when Bryce’s grandparents first moved there, it was now packed with mementos of Canyon Springs’s past. Her eyes lingered on the veterans display in the corner.

On Keith’s photo.

I’m going to make you and your mom proud. I promise.

“Come on, Gina,” she called as she slung her purse over her shoulder. “Gather your things and let’s get out of here.”

When Mae had returned with Gina after lunch—also bringing Sandi a still-warm gyro from a street vendor—she’d settled her daughter in the kitchen with books, games and crayons.

How she hated being in Bryce’s debt for helping her make up for the lost mom-and-daughter day. But when Mae offered to brighten Gina’s morning, how could she refuse? Even with that big boulder of a guy almost glowering at her, she couldn’t decline the offer. It was clear he thought she’d try to make his grandma feel bad about raising the museum rent, but he needn’t have worried about that. She knew who the guilty party was—and it wasn’t Mae.

“Come on, Gina. Let’s go.”

She pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. Crayons littered the white-painted wooden table. A ladder-back chair, Gina’s jacket draped over it, had been pushed to the side. But no sign of the six-year-old. She headed back to the front of the house, then through the adjoining rooms.

“Gina?”

Now where had she gotten off to? She glanced up the
narrow staircase to the apartment above. Could she have gone to see Mae? She knew not to bother her. And wouldn’t Sandi have heard the old steps creak even if she’d attempted to sneak up there?

She returned to the kitchen. The glass-paned back door appeared slightly ajar. Ah. She opened it wide, expecting to see Gina on the porch.

Uneasiness niggled. Gina knew better than to wander off. They’d been over the stranger-danger stuff enough times. Sandi stepped outside and walked between the towering ponderosa pines to peek around both sides of the old stone house.

She raised her voice. “Gina!”

Just as she was about to scale the exterior wooden steps to Mae’s apartment, she heard a squealing laugh. Gina’s laugh. Coming from behind the old garage. With a prayer of thanks, she hurried to the back of the property.

Rounding the corner of the structure, she halted. There in a metal fishing boat mounted on a trailer sat Bryce and Gina—her daughter in the bow and Bryce in the stern—both laughing and rowing away with imaginary oars for all they were worth.

Gina spied her immediately and waved her ball cap. “Mommy! Look! Uncle Bryce has a boat. He can take us fishing.”

Fishing? That wasn’t something high on her list of favorite things to do. And what was this
Uncle
Bryce stuff again?

She turned to him and his face reddened. He must feel as silly as he looked. Although kind of cute, too. A grown-up guy rowing away with gusto against make-believe waves just to make a little girl giggle.

Laying his “oars” aside, he stood, then jumped out of the boat. Graceful landing for such a big guy. What was he? Six-two? Three? His dark eyes met hers with uncertainty. “She wanted to try it out. I hope that was okay.”

“Next time—” she folded her arms, keeping her expression as straight as she could “—don’t forget the life jackets.”

He stared at her a moment, processing her words, then a grin split the handsome, bearded face. “Yes, ma’am. My oversight.”

A smile tugged at her own lips as their gazes held a little too long. Heart quickening, Sandi turned again to her daughter.

“Let’s go, Gina.”

The little girl’s lower lip protruded. “I want to go fishing, Mommy.”

“I don’t think so, honey.”

“Davy’s grandpa and daddy take him fishing.”

“Maybe you can go with them sometime.”

Gina gripped the edges of the bench seat on each side of her. “I want to go with Uncle Bryce. He’s going
now.
”

“Now?” She glanced at Bryce for confirmation.

He nodded.

Helpless in the face of her daughter’s obstinacy, she gave him a warning look.
Come on, big guy, give me a hand here since this is your doing.

Obediently, he reached out to Gina and she went willingly into his arms to be lifted from the boat. “I’m afraid I don’t have any little-kid life jackets, Gina. Just big people’s.”

He set her feet gently on the ground, but she turned to cling to his hand. “You can buy a little people one, can’t you?”

Inwardly Sandi cringed. Was her daughter drawn to him, to any man, because she didn’t have one in her life? A daddy?

“Gina, that’s enough. Don’t badger Mr. Harding.”

“But I want—”

“Gina.”

The little shoulders slumped, but she didn’t release his hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“What do you say I look around for a kid one, then—”

“That’s kind of you, Bryce, but you don’t need to do that.” And no way was she letting this stranger take her daughter out in a boat, Keith’s old buddy or not.

“You can come along, too,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I’d never take a kid in a boat without another adult as backup.”

“Thanks, but we have plans for the evening.”

Gina eyes brightened with curiosity. “We do? What?”

Think fast.
She intended a quiet evening and an early bedtime for both of them. Tomorrow was a school day. But at the excited look on her daughter’s face, she had to do something to make up for their lost day together—and for the never-ending piano brunch with Grandma yesterday. It had been a trial for an active little girl, to say the least.

“The High Country Equine Center’s grand opening,” she announced as if that had been her intention all along.

“The horse place?” Gina clapped her hands.

Sandi nodded. She’d give Devon a call. See if her cowboy-crazy sister-in-law wanted to join them.

Bryce studied her, his eyes questioning. “Maybe we can all go fishing another time.”

Surely he didn’t want to take them fishing any more than she wanted to go. He was being nice to a little kid he felt sorry for. Sorry because she didn’t have a daddy—and because her mommy didn’t deserve the husband she’d had.

How she hated not knowing how much Keith had shared with him. Not knowing if he sat in judgment of her.

“Come along, Gina. We don’t want to be late.”

Gina didn’t argue, but she turned to Bryce with outstretched hands, inviting him for a hug. He glanced again at Sandi as if seeking permission, then squatted down to envelop Gina in his brawny arms. The tiny girl all but disappeared as they folded around her, her eyes squeezed tight to hug him for all she was worth.

A heaviness settled into Sandi’s heart. She’d have to talk
to Meg and Joe this week. Maybe Joe wouldn’t mind an extra kid tagging along on a fishing trip. Maybe he’d be willing to give Gina a little “man time” to help make her less needy. Less vulnerable to Uncle Bryce.

Bryce watched them walk away, a lump in his throat. Guilt pierced as he savored the childish embrace that by rights didn’t belong to him. What a shame Keith wasn’t around to receive precious hugs from the sweet little lady he’d sired. It should be her daddy she was clinging to, not him.

And it should be Keith looking into the eyes of her lovely mother, as well, sharing a smile and a too-long moment of mutual awareness. Letting his gaze linger on her face…

Shaken, he turned back to the boat. He hadn’t expected an attraction to Sandi, knowing what he knew about her. It caught him off-guard now, just as it had at the Warehouse, museum and parade. He had no business looking at her like that, thinking about her. Didn’t need to be noticing she was a gentle and caring mom. Didn’t need to be wondering how hard life had been in the five years since Keith’s passing—and about who would look after her and Gina in the years to come.

No, he had to remember this was Keith’s wife. The woman who’d lured his unsuspecting buddy down the path to matrimony, then proceeded to dictate to him what the rest of his life would be like—just like Keith’s mom had attempted. Just like Bryce’s own mother, when she bothered to drop in on his childhood at all, had tried to do. Ordering him around. Imposing her will on his. Never pleased with anything he did.

He squared his shoulders. From now on he’d watch himself. With God’s help, he’d keep his mind from wandering off where it didn’t belong. He’d come back to town to help Grandma, not to get snared in some pretty woman’s web.

He studied the boat. He didn’t feel much like packing up his gear and hauling the watercraft out to Casey Lake. Maybe
he’d listen to those Bible-study CDs. Complete another online firefighting course assignment.

Or check out the equine center’s grand opening.

Grasping Gina’s hand, Sandi followed Devon through the crowded parking lot of the equine center. They’d arrived late and had to park down near the main road, then walk up the tree-lined lane leading to the massive indoor arena and stable. The High Country Equine Center—or “Duffy’s” as locals knew it—had been closed for over a decade. But now, under new ownership, expanded and remodeled, it was open for business again. Horse boarding, riding lessons, special events.

“Hurry, Mommy.”

Gina skipped along at her side, the oversize cap sitting crookedly on her head. The begged-for fishing trip seemed long forgotten as the evening air filled with shrill whinnies and the scent of sun-warmed pine, wood shavings, hay and horses.

Even Sandi’s own spirits lifted as she joined the excited throng of summer folks and locals. Always grateful when the crowds dispersed in the autumn, she nevertheless got caught up in the invigorating energy the annual influx of both familiar and unfamiliar faces brought with it. Seeking refuge in the ponderosa pine-studded community with its cool, more-than-a-mile-high elevation, the desert dwellers were the lifeblood of the economic health of Canyon Springs—and the museum.

“I had no idea this was such a big deal,” confided Devon. Nevertheless, she’d gone all out with a pricey brand of boot-cut jeans and a sparkly red shirt. Even sported cowboy boots and a sassy feather-accented Western hat. Knowing she couldn’t compete with her fashion-savvy sister-in-law, Sandi had stuck with Levi’s, a T-shirt and tennis shoes.

Over the sound system a booming voice of welcome sounded like Kara Dixon’s fiancé, Trey Kenton, who now
managed the facility. The opening notes of the national anthem soon followed.

Gina tugged on her hand. “Hurry.”

The threesome wove their way among other latecomers, paid their way in and slipped through the opening to the arena seating. The place was packed. They should have come straight here, not gone home to have dinner and wait for Devon.

“Way up there, Mommy. I see seats!”

With a laugh and a shrug in Devon’s direction, she let Gina lead the way. Her daughter scrambled up the bleacher steps as Sandi followed behind. Sliding in sideways, focusing on maintaining her balance and apologizing for treading on toes, she and Devon kept an eye on Gina moving down one of the rows ahead of them. The little girl finally plopped on a gap of empty bleacher space, then grinned back at them.

“See? Uncle Bryce saved us seats.”

Sandi’s gaze flew to the man seated next to Gina, his hand raised to the brim of his straw cowboy hat in greeting. Wouldn’t you know it. A huge arena holding hundreds upon hundreds and Gina had to find a spot next to him.

“
Uncle
Bryce?” whispered Devon, securing her hat with her hand and pressing in close to Sandi’s ear. “Woo-hoo, gal. You didn’t waste any time, did you?”

Sandi ignored her. Motioning to the open spaces, her eyes locked uncertainly on Bryce’s. “Are you saving these for anyone?”

“Just for three of the prettiest cowgirls I’ve seen tonight. Have a seat, ladies.”

Gina giggled and Devon poked Sandi in the back.

Reluctantly, she sat beside her daughter, and Devon squished in on Sandi’s other side. Wiggling to find a comfortable spot, she bumped Sandi and Gina even closer to Bryce.

What was Bryce doing here anyway? Wasn’t he supposed to be fishing? Self-consciously, she glanced at the sea of
spectators surrounding her. Most focused on the palominos with silver-studded tack galloping around the arena, cream-colored tails flying as their riders wove in and out of figure eights. Most paid attention to the spectacle in front of them—except an auburn-haired woman several rows down pointedly looking from Sandi to Bryce to Gina and back again.

Sandi reluctantly acknowledged her with a finger wave.

Cate Landreth. A teacher’s aide at the high school, historical society member and rumormonger extraordinaire. Had Cate been close enough to hear Gina’s shouted labeling of Bryce as “uncle”? She’d talked to Gina about that on the way home this afternoon. Explained that Bryce wasn’t her uncle. But she insisted he was like a brother to her daddy. And wasn’t daddy’s big brother, Lance, her
Uncle
Lance? And Scott,
Uncle
Scott? Nevertheless, she’d asked Gina not to call him that in public.