Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2 (15 page)

“Not so silly.” He said the words softly as he reached in to pet the pup. The baby
dog sighed, whimpered, then sighed again, blissful in sleep despite the gathered attention.
Seeing Jack’s big, broad hand gently stroke the tiny puppy made her wonder what he’d
be like with children...

Their children.

Tiny babies, then precocious toddlers, running amok, racing after puppies and dogs
and cattle. Naughty little boys and sassy little girls, pigtails flying as they learned
to ride herd alongside their daddy.

Heat blazed her cheeks.

She was wading into dangerous territory, day by day, moment by moment, knowing she
should back away, and helpless to do so.

“I’ve got to get back and help load the heifers. Will you be here later?”

She shook her head, not ready to trust her voice to words.

“We’ve got to get Grandpa home,” Trudy explained, and Jack stood, smiled, swiped his
hand to dirt-streaked jeans and extended it to Grandma.

“I’m Jack McGuire, Mrs. Mason. Welcome to Montana.”

Grandma took the hand and didn’t raise a fuss about cleanliness. “This place is something,
Jack McGuire. Really something.”

“It is.” Carrie smiled across the kids. “Brian and Maggie come alive whenever we’re
here. It’s as if they’ve come home.”

Liv exchanged looks with Brian. His quiet gaze agreed with his mother’s assessment.
He was home, here on the Double M, even though horses made him nervous and crowds
of cattle gave him reason to walk the other way. Something about the ranch...and the
ranchers...embraced the lonely traveler within.

“Liv, gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay.”

She longed to say more, much more. To tell Jack how the combination of puppy, little
kid and neglected horse rolled into her heart, but all that would have to wait, and
a good thing, too. Otherwise, she’d be throwing herself at Jack McGuire, and that
might not be the brightest choice of the day.

He tipped his hat, remounted Roy-O, turned and rode to the far paddock, the sight
of man and horse a rhythmic Western poem. She loved him. She knew it, heart and soul,
and probably had never stopped loving him.

Her bad, for thinking she was in control. But now, what should she do? Which direction
should she take? Opt for safe and take her own sweet time at age thirty? Or throw
caution to the wind?

Is a little time such a bad thing? Getting your bearings, feeling your way?

No, but a full-year commitment to the university wasn’t a little time. Not when she’d
cast eight years aside already. Why wait? Why hesitate?

Are you forgetting the broken heart he handed out the last time you got serious? And
the one that followed your last romantic choice? Are you kidding me?

Indecision plagued her, but as she and Grandma walked back to Dilly and Grandpa, the
warmth and scents of the ranch swept her. She’d promised to attend the morning service
with Jack, a leap of faith in many ways. But what would she find in the quaint, historic
church? Better yet, what was she looking for?

Liv wasn’t at all sure how to answer either question.

* * *

“Liv, you’re going with us.” Jane angled a look of surprised approval as Liv entered
the kitchen early the following morning. “I’m so glad. Are you bringing your car or
do you want to ride in the backseat with Grandma and me?” She fiddled with the timer
controls on a Crock-Pot of chicken-and-potato stew, then peered at Liv over the glasses
that had slipped well down her nose.

“Jack’s coming by for me.”

“Really?”

“He is?” Dave came into the kitchen from the back door, and the look he sent her—an
expression that wondered if she knew what she was doing—spoke more than words. “That’ll
add fuel to the tongue-waggin’ fire.”

“It’s not a marriage proposal, it’s a Sunday service. I wanted to meet the new pastor
before next weekend’s game.”

“Hey, if it gets you back in a pew, I’m not about to question the reason.” Dave laughed,
chucked her right shoulder with a playful nudge, then peered up the stairs. “No Grandpa
yet?”

“Not a peep.”

“Well, I’ll—”

“Dave? Can you help me with Grandpa?” Grandma’s voice put a quick stop to their discussion.

Dave winked at Liv and moved up the stairs at a quick clip. “Coming.”

By the time they got Grandpa convinced that it was Sunday and he needed to get dressed,
Jack had pulled up the driveway.

Liv’s hair was a mess of curls from going to sleep with it wet, she hadn’t had time
to even think about makeup and her white sandals were smudged with ranch residue,
leaving her nothing but sling-back heels to wear, which meant a skirt. And a summer
top. And a clip to pull her locks back, away from her face.

“You’re absolutely beautiful, Liv.” Jack stopped and stared, a look of pure male appreciation
lighting his eyes. He extended an arm and led her to the pickup truck. “Not like that’s
a surprise or anything.”

“Beautiful. Right.” She climbed in, made a face at him and ticked off her fingers.
“I barely had time to brush my hair, much less do something with it.”

His glance to her hair said he liked it just fine as it was, long and tumbling in
its own form of disarray.

“No makeup. My nails are a mess. And my sandals were dirty so I had to wear heels.”

Jack looked down, surveyed the shoes and grinned. A light, short whistle said he didn’t
mind the sassy shoes, either.

“It’s all well and good for you,” she scolded as he climbed into the driver’s seat
with barely enough time to make it to town, park and get into the old-fashioned church
at the opposite end of town. “But five people with one bathroom makes for a tight
morning when we’re all trying to get out of the house by eight forty-five.”

“Your grandparents are coming?”

“Yes. Grandma’s kind of excited, Grandpa was prickly as a trapped mountain bear because
he didn’t believe it was Sunday and then couldn’t imagine why anyone would be going
to church this early.”

“A lot of changes, Liv.” Empathy softened Jack’s expression. “A big move like this
could set a healthy person to questioning. Someone with Alzheimer’s?” He frowned as
he swung the truck into a fairly tight space half a block beyond the church. “It’s
a lot to digest in a fairly short span of time. But if we encourage him, and take
it step by step, it might get better. I hope.”

Liv hoped so, too, but the hectic hour before church had been a prime example of Grandma’s
concern the previous day. When Tom Mason didn’t want to do something, he made his
feelings known. She half dreaded going into the church of her youth, and not due to
years of avoidance. That was between her and God.

Was Grandpa behaving or making a scene? Would the entire town be at the early service,
watching her walk in with Jack? And would that ramp up the current gossip to a frenetic
pace?

The carillon bells began chiming the bright opening thrums of Beethoven’s
Ode to Joy
. The familiar music lightened her step, brightened her soul. She’d sung this countless
times over the years, but it had been a long time since the music had called to her.

Today it did. As she entered the church, the softly lit interior reminded her of old
days and new times. Jack came up alongside her and reached for her hand, a simple
gesture of great magnitude in a small town like Jasper Gulch.

Liv drew a deep breath. Glanced up.

Sea-green eyes met hers, eyes that promised everything would be okay. She slipped
her hand into his. The touch of his work-roughened palm felt good against her skin.
The grasp of his fingers, twining with hers, combined old memories with new hopes,
a perfect blend. And his look of promise, that everything would be fine, helped her
believe.

They slid into a pew behind Liv’s parents and grandparents. A young mother claimed
the space to their right. Two busy, bright-eyed, new-to-walking toddlers clambered
in with her, a mop-topped girl and a looking-for-mischief little fellow whose lopsided
grin would surely break hearts one day.

The new pastor walked to the front of the church, ready to begin the morning service.

Bam! Bam! Bam!
The little boy two-fisted his sippy cup against the aged wooden pew. His happy face
reflected his delight at the loud, repetitive sound while droplets of milk sailed
into the air with each strike. When his mother leaned over to caution him, he scowled
at her, said a very loud and emphatic “NO!” and proceeded to hammer the pew again.
Bam! Bam! Bam!

The young mother cajoled the cup from him, tucked it into a long-strapped bag, then
turned to where the barely walking girl was trying to scale her mother’s side in monkeylike
fashion.

The little girl took one look up at her mother’s frowning face and burst into tears.

Loud tears.

Liv reached over to tap the mother’s arm, wondering if she could help in any way.
The little girl saw the perfect stranger reaching in her direction and shrieked.

The mother turned quickly, her attention understandably torn. “Chrissy, what’s—” She
read the situation and tried to quickly apologize to Livvie. “She’s afraid of people
she doesn’t know. But thank you—”

The words were barely out of her mouth when the little boy reconfiscated the cup from
the quilted bag on the floor, turned it upside down and began dripping milk along
the pew seat as if he was watering flowers in a garden, happy as could be. “Ya, ya,
ya, ya...” His happy little voice caroled throughout the quiet church as the hapless
mother tried to intervene once more.

“Whaa!”
The little girl—Chrissy—seemed determined to outshriek her brother’s singsong milk
party. She quieted slightly when her mother turned attention her way, but began shrieking
again when the little boy’s antics required further intervention.

Half the church was watching the melee, the other half, well...they were behind Liv
and she couldn’t see them, but she figured they were most likely watching, too.

She’d worried about Grandpa causing a spectacle. He hadn’t, so far he was being good
as gold, but the racket set up by the two toddlers beat anything Grandpa might have
done.

The young mother started crying, overwhelmed, grabbed both babies and fled down the
aisle, the kids’ angst echoing as she went.

The ensuing silence seemed harsh and surreal. A young mother. Two small children.
No father with them.

Could they have helped more? Done something else?

A tap on Liv’s arm drew her attention around. Rosemary Middleton patted her shoulder,
sent the now-quiet entrance a glance and offered comfort as she grabbed up her purse.
“Hannah’s had a rough go, Liv. A widow, so young, with twins. She’s taken to staying
home, staying put, because toddlers are an unpredictable handful. I was glad to see
her come in, but now...” Her expression reflected the less than stellar outcome.

“Should I go help?” Liv asked.

“I’ll go. The kids know me from the store.”

She slipped out as the pastor began the service with a smile of gratitude in Rosemary’s
direction. He didn’t seem put out or disgruntled by the initial ruckus, nor did he
make a joke about kids and behavior. From the look on the young mother’s face—Hannah—there
was nothing amusing about the situation from her point of view, and Liv appreciated
the minister’s sensitivity. Sitting behind her beloved grandfather, she knew that
next time it might be him stirring up a fuss. Sensitivity for the old, the young and
the troubled took on new importance to her these days.

Thankfully, her worries for the day went unfounded. Grandpa Mason was the soul of
good behavior, and Grandma seemed happy to be in church again, surrounded by family.

“Kind of nice, isn’t it?” Jack whispered the words as they stood to sing a final hymn.
He indicated her aging grandparents with a dip of his chin. “Despite the hardships,
I think Grandma and Grandpa are still in love, even after all this time.”

They were. It showed in the gentle way Grandma helped adjust Grandpa’s prayer book,
the way she held the book of hymns just so, allowing Grandpa to see the words at his
own level.

Their actions exampled the promise of “in sickness and health.” Despite Grandpa’s
poor prognosis, Grandma stuck by his side, rarely showing her frustration. And that
was a lesson Liv needed, no,
wanted
to learn.

And when the sweet service was complete, Jack stepped out of the pew, allowing Livvie
to move before him. He didn’t take her hand on the way out, and that made her wish
he would, her fingers longing to be threaded with his again.

“Jack.” The young minister grinned as she and Jack came into the church foyer. The
propped doors bled sunshine into the entry, flooding the floor with golden light.
“Good morning! Let me know if you need another practice before the game next weekend.
I’ve been reshaping my glove, getting it ready.”

Jack laughed. “I should do the same thing. Mine has been sitting on a closet shelf
for a lot of years. Ethan, this is Olivia Franklin.”

“Dave and Jane’s daughter, right?”

Liv nodded, surprised. “How did you know that?”

Ethan aimed a funny face of disbelief toward Main Street and splayed his hands as
if to say how could he
not
know that?

Liv burst out laughing. “So you understand that there are no secrets in Jasper Gulch.
That’s the first step toward survival, Reverend Johnson.”

He shook his head and clasped her hand in welcome. “First, call me Ethan, please.
Second, I figured it out the minute the knitters and ladies’ auxiliary and Daughters
of the West discovered I was single. I have been the subject of ardent guesswork about
the future Mrs. Ethan Johnson from that moment.”

“Which means random folks dropping off casseroles, banana bread, cream-cheese brownies
and cookies to showcase kitchen skills.”

Ethan’s grin said she was correct. “I’ve tried to tell them that all is accomplished
in God’s time. But there are a few who long to give the Good Lord whatever help they
can.”