Love Inspired September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Montana Twins\Small-Town Billionaire\Stranded with the Rancher (3 page)

“It was. We talked about work and jobs and he told me being a carpenter was a good thing to do. That building houses was important. That maybe I should find a way to give to the community, as well. Step outside of myself. And that's when I volunteered for this gig,” he finished, his wave taking in the fire hall as they walked up the stairs to the dorms where they slept and kept their personal gear.

Brody felt a moment of letdown. “I always thought you signed up because of me.”

“Kind of, but mostly because of David. He did a lot of good for a lot of people.”

And Hannah, as well.

The hardest fire to fight is an old flame, Brody thought, reality falling into his life like the thud of an ax. He always had a vague feeling Hannah was out of reach.

Now he knew for sure.

* * *

By the time Hannah locked the doors of town hall, the pain behind her eyes had blossomed into a full-blown headache. Her feet ached and her back was sore and she generally just felt sorry for herself after such a busy day. But as she trudged across Main Street to her apartment, she stopped her moments of self-pity.

Forgive me, Lord,
she prayed.
Help me be thankful for what I have.

The twins were healthy and she had the support of her friends and family.

But I'm alone.

The taunting thought worried at her moment of peace. Truth to tell, her loneliness had taken on a new hue the past few months. Losing David so soon after they married had been difficult. He had been a part of her life since she was in grade school. They had dated since the ninth grade. He was all she had ever known.

When he had signed up for the army, she had tried to be supportive. But when he proposed marriage just before he had received his orders to ship out, she had struggled with his urgency to get married. Her parents had simply told her to go with her heart. If she had followed their advice, she would have put off the marriage. She would have waited, but when David's parents had added their voices to his, they created a pressure she was unable to withstand.

Two months later, she was a widow and pregnant with twins, unable to indulge in second thoughts. Her life had been a whirlwind of uncertain emotions and busyness ever since.

And in the past few months, a sense of loneliness had been added to the emotional stew.

Her thoughts slipped back to Brody as she opened the door leading to the stairs up to her apartment. Was it her overactive imagination, or maybe her lonely heart, that thought he had been flirting with her?

No sooner did that thought form than she heard Chrissy's wails growing louder as she walked up the narrow stairs. Hannah took the last flight two at a time, digging in her purse for the key to the door.

Inside her apartment her mother sat in a wooden rocking chair holding a sobbing Chrissy, Corey clinging to her denim skirt, also crying. Chrissy's blond curls clung to her forehead, and as Hannah closed the door, the little girl leaned away from her grandmother and reached out for Hannah, tears flowing down her scrunched-up cheeks.

“Oh, honey,” Hannah said, taking the hot bundle of sadness from her mother and tucking Chrissy's warm head under her chin. “You're still not feeling good, are you?” Chrissy released a few more sobs then quieted. Hannah dropped to the floor, shifted Chrissy to one arm, then scooped Corey up with her other arm. As he snuggled into her, blessed silence descended in the apartment.

“How was your day?” her mother asked, still sitting in the chair, her head resting against the back. Her glasses were smudged and her hair mussed and Hannah suspected the orange stain down the front of her shirt was from lunch.

“You look tired, Mom,” she said, guilt falling like a familiar weight on her shoulders. “I should have come here at lunchtime instead of going to the café.”

Her mother waved off her objections and smiled. “You needed the break. Your father came and helped me with the children. We had fun, though I'm sorry I didn't have time to clean up.”

Hannah took in the toys scattered around the apartment with its mismatched furniture given to her by friends and people from the community. When she imagined becoming a mother and bringing grandchildren into her parents' lives, this was not the picture she had envisioned.

“And how was your day?” her mother repeated.

“It was busy,” Hannah replied, nuzzling Chrissy, who lay quietly in her arms now, her chubby hands clutching at Hannah's sweater. “We received far more people signing up for the fair than originally estimated.”

“That will be good. I just hope the committee doesn't listen to all those people who want to fix the bridge,” her mother said as she folded her arms over her chest. “I much prefer to see the museum we had talked about for so long finally getting built. We don't need that bridge,” her mother continued. “Some things are better left alone.”

Hannah pressed a kiss to Corey's damp head, making a noncommittal sound. The entire bridge versus museum controversy and where the fund-raising money should go was starting to split the community. As an employee of the town, Hannah had found it best to simply listen and not get drawn into either side of the discussion.

“Did you get to the park today?” Hannah asked, diverting her mother's attention elsewhere. The sun, shining through the windows of town hall had taunted her all day and, once again, made her wish she didn't have to work. Made her wish she could live off the small pension she received from the military. Because David had barely graduated training and because he had signed up for the minimum of life insurance, Hannah was managing by the thinnest of margins. David's insurance payout was in a savings account she slowly added to each month.

In a year or so she might have enough saved up to buy her and her children a little house. Their own place. The twins would have a yard and be able to play outside. Though her parents had offered for her to move in with them, she valued her independence too much. In the meantime, she made do with this apartment and working as much as she dared.

“No. Chrissy was tired,” her mother said. “And I just wanted to stay in the apartment.”

“I'm sorry, Mother,” Hannah said. “I wasn't trying to make you feel bad.”

“I know, honey.” Her mother sighed as she stood. “I wished I could have gone out with them, but there it is.” She glanced over at the tiny kitchen beside them. “And I didn't do the dishes from lunch, either. By the time I got the children down for their nap, I needed one myself.”

Hannah waved off her concern, fighting her own weariness and another surge of guilt. “I don't expect you to do everything,” Hannah said. “I'm just thankful you and Dad help out as much as you do.”

“We're glad we can do this for you.” Leaning over, she brushed a gentle kiss over Hannah's cheek. “You've been such a brave girl, dealing with losing David. Never a word of complaint.” Her mother kissed each of the twins in turn and then straightened. “You know we pray for you every day when your father and I have our devotional time.”

“I know.” This created another flush of shame. The only prayers Hannah seemed to have time for were the panicky ones that were either
please, please, please
or
thank you, thank you, thank you
. Her faith life, of late, had become fallow and parched. “And someday I'll make it back to church.” She wouldn't soon forget the last time she had made the attempt with her toddlers in tow. It had been a disaster.

“I know you will.” Her mother gave her a smile, then walked over to the closet by the front door to collect her coat. “I'd better get going. I'll be back tomorrow,” she said, and then, with another wave, her mother left.

The apartment felt suddenly empty. Hannah fought down the usual twinge of loneliness and clutched her babies tighter. She had her kids. She had her family.

That should be enough.

She set the twins down on the floor to play, but as she stood to clean the kitchen, she stopped by the window overlooking Main Street and the fire station across the street from the hardware store.

Images of Brody Harcourt slipped through her mind. She shook them off. Brody was better matched with a young, pretty girl who had no attachments. No history.

And she was better off with someone more solid and settled.

If she could ever find anyone like that who would also be willing to take on another man's children.

Such a silly dream, she thought, turning away from the window and back to her reality.

Chapter Two

B
rody parked his truck in front of his cabin, turned off his engine and dragged his hands over his face as if smoothing out his thoughts.

All the way back to the ranch he had been thinking about what Dylan had said about David. When he heard Hannah was planning the fair, he was the one who had pitched the idea to his buddies at the fire station to set up a booth. All so he could find a reason to go talk to her.

When Rusty told him that Hannah was the secretary of the Time Capsule Committee, he thought this was another opportunity.

Then Dylan had told him what he had about David and once again Brody felt he was wasting his time.

He looked over at his parents' house perched up on the hill. His father had built it for his mother after they had talked about expanding the ranch. Brody had been dating a girl he met in Bozeman and he thought things were getting serious between them and he and his father started making plans for the future. Trista was perfect in every way. Young. Pretty. Loved the ranch. Loved horses. Loved him. Or so he'd thought until her old boyfriend came back into town and she started pulling away. Brody had no desire to play second fiddle to anyone, so they both decided it was best if they broke up.

His mother had been more brokenhearted than he had been. Which made him wonder just how much he had cared for Trista.

He had dated a couple of girls since then but nothing seemed to take. Somehow, in some twisted part of his mind, he compared every woman he ever met to Hannah.

Then David died.

Brody had bided his time, giving her space, and thought maybe now was the time. He had figured wrong.

Brody got out of the truck, a chilly breeze fingering down his neck. Fall was coming and with it the work of gathering the cattle.

He stepped inside his cabin and dropped the mail he had picked up on a table just inside the door. He was about to leave again but took a moment, looking around the interior, trying to see it through others' eyes.

Hannah's eyes?

It was the main ranch house when his parents moved here, but the family had only lived here until a new, larger home was built. When Brody graduated high school, he'd moved back here, preferring to have his own place. Though he had spent a number of years away from Jasper Gulch, traveling, he always knew he would come back to the ranch to stay. For the past six years this cabin had been his home.

An old leather couch, chair and love seat, all cast off from his parents, crowded around a woodstove in the living room. Opposite them stood a table with four mismatched chairs parked under a large window overlooking the ranch. The kitchen area was to his right. It had a few cabinets and a fridge and stove, also taken from his parents' home when they upgraded and renovated the main ranch house. Between the dining and living area was a hallway leading to two small rooms and a bathroom/laundry room.

For a moment he wondered what Hannah would think of this house.

He caught himself and stopped that thought before it had a chance to take root. He had to be practical, and Dylan's comments about taking on the twins and the ensuing responsibility were a reminder of what came with Hannah. The history he would have to compete with. Besides, Hannah didn't seem very interested.

He left to see where his father was. He strode up the graveled walk to his parents' house, a two-and-a-half-story home built into a hillside and surrounded by pine trees.

He knocked on the large double doors, then, without waiting for an answer, walked inside. The open foyer was piled with old boots, clothes and boxes of various sizes. All evidence of an ongoing cleaning operation his mother had undertaken in the past few months but was having a hard time finishing. He toed off his boots and dropped his hat on top of a pile of boxes labeled Jennifer and Sophia. His sisters who were both living in Denver.

His mother sat at the eating counter of the kitchen to the right of the entrance, hunched over her iPad, her elbow resting on the granite countertop, supporting her chin.

“Where's Dad?” he asked, looking past her to the open living room that took up most of the house. His father's leather recliner, sitting on one side of the rock-covered fireplace, only held a stack of papers. His mother's, on the other side, held her latest project, a scarf she had been knitting under Julie Shaw's tutelage.

“He headed out to check the high pasture,” she said, flicking through a series of pictures. “He took the old ranch truck.”

“He'd better not be moving cows,” Brody said, frowning. His father had recently had a bout of heart issues and though he claimed he was feeling better, Brody didn't want him doing the hard work he used to.

“Dad said he would wait until Lewis was back, which won't be until after next weekend.” His mother swiped her finger over the screen of the iPad again, smiling at what she was seeing.

Lewis was their hired hand. He had gone to Helena for the weekend courting a woman he had met at the rodeo held in Jasper Gulch a couple of months ago.

“What are you looking at?” Brody asked, pulling a tall stool up beside her.

His mother sighed lightly and turned the iPad toward him. “Aunt Kirsty sent me some pictures of her newest grandson, Owen.” This was said with a sigh tinged with envy. “The newest of six.” She looked up at him and emitted a second sigh meant to create a hint, but Brody simply patted her on the shoulder and grinned.

“Sophia sounds like she and her guy are getting serious,” he said, hoping to shift his mother's attention from him to his sister. “Someday they might give you grandkids.”

She looked back at the picture of the chubby baby boy sucking on his fingers wearing a blue-and-white-striped shirt. “So, how was your morning? Did you get your stuff all set up for the fair?” Hopefully the shift in topic meant that was the end of that train of thought. His mother had been getting all nesty lately, dropping hints left and right.

“Yeah. Looks like it will be a big deal. Lots of exhibitors.”

“This centennial sure has made a lot of people busy. The rodeo, the baseball game, the fair.” She sighed and her smile grew wistful. “The Old Tyme wedding next month.”

She angled her head and Brody knew his mother's mental train had merely taken a short side trip and was back on track.

“Maybe you could participate.” Her tone was teasing, but Brody sensed the hope behind it.

For some reason, his mind immediately went to Hannah, imagining her as a bride.

Really? He shook the thought aside.

“Yeah. Like I'm going to find someone by that time,” he returned with a grin.

“Your father and I met and were married in two weeks,” his mother said. “You've got time. Mayor Shaw has a couple of real nice daughters. Pretty, too.”

“Julie is engaged,” he said.

And he was sure Mayor Shaw, a man very protective of his daughters, would not allow Book-it Brody to have anything to do with Faith, his last single daughter. Besides, while Faith was pretty and fun, she didn't hold any attraction for him.

An image of Hannah slipped into his mind. How she bantered with him. How her eyes had lit up when they'd had that conversation in the café.

“What are you smiling about?” his mother asked.

Brody gave his mother a wry glance. Trust her to catch the tiniest shifts in his mood.

“Nothing,” he lied.

“Well, you better start thinking about my need for grandkids. I want to have them before I'm too old to enjoy them.”

Brody laughed and patted his mother on the shoulder. “Just give me time,” he said. “Things will work in God's own good time.”

His mother sighed. “I know. I just wish God would let me know when that time will be. So I can start a new knitting project. Julie Shaw just put some new wool up on her website that would be perfect for a baby sweater.”

“Whoa. Stop there,” Brody said. “One step at a time.”

“I know. I'm just nudging you a little toward that first step,” she said, turning back to her iPad.

Brody looked over at the pictures and smiled at the toothless grin of the little boy. Of their own accord, his thoughts shifted to Hannah and her twins.

And on the heels of that came Dylan's comment about taking on that responsibility. He wasn't so sure he was ready for that.

* * *

“I'd like to call this meeting to order,” Deputy Cal Calloway announced, glancing over the gathering. Rusty Zidek sat across the table from Hannah, fingering his long, gray mustache as he looked over the agenda in front of him. Abigail Rose sat beside him, frowning at Hannah. “And I would like to thank Mrs. Douglas for agreeing to take over from Miss Rose to be our new secretary. Abigail asked to step down, stating her obligation to the Centennial Committee, but we're glad she decided to stay with us.”

This netted Hannah a wink from Rusty and a sigh of relief from Cord Shaw. Cal gave her a quick smile of thanks, his blue eyes twinkling at her, then he returned to the agenda.

The meeting was being held in one of the smaller rooms adjacent to the council chambers. As Hannah opened the laptop she used to take minutes for the town meetings, she glanced at the time on the top of the screen.

Hannah had promised her mother she would be home by five. It was three-thirty now and she needed to stop at the pharmacy to pick up medication for Chrissy, whose teething pain still hadn't settled. Plus, she needed more laundry detergent. And juice and a new mop. Her old one had broken on her as she rushed around the apartment last night cleaning up while the twins were sleeping.

As her mental list expanded, Hannah felt another resurgence of sorrow mingled with anger at David's death. If they hadn't gotten married so quickly she wouldn't have gotten pregnant and she wouldn't be rushing around right now juggling all these obligations on her own.

Hannah dismissed that thought as quickly as it was formulated. She loved her babies. Fiercely. It was just that she wished her babies had a father and that they could have known David.

Her thoughts were broken off by the door opening. As it had the last time, she saw Brody Harcourt, and her heart gave a little jump. It had been almost a week since he had come into the town hall and somehow, ever since then, he had been on her mind. The fire station was only a couple of buildings away and she had caught the occasional glimpse of him when she returned to her place for lunch. But he hadn't come back to the town hall since that day.

Then, to her dismay, he pulled out the empty chair beside her and sat down. She gave him a nod of acknowledgment, then dragged her attention back to the flickering cursor on the blank screen. She typed a header for the document. Deleted it and started again when she realized her fingers were on the wrong keys. Seriously, she had to get her head in the game. It wasn't as if Brody was new in town and they had just met.

No, but it was the first time since David's death any man had shown interest in her.

And you shut him down.

And so she should have. She was a widow with two children who required all her time and attention. And Brody Harcourt was the kind of man who liked to take risks. Not the kind of person she should be attracted to.

She swallowed and focused on Deputy Cal Calloway, who was making a few additions to the agenda. Hannah started typing, mentally sorting and filtering what needed to go in the minutes from what was being said.

“The first item we need to deal with is if we need to do anything more with this note we received.”

“Which note is this?” Brody asked.

“I'll bring you up to speed, Brody,” Cal said, spreading a piece of paper in front of him. “Cord received this letter a while back. We're not sure what to do about it.” He rested a hand on the table as he looked down at the paper. “It says, ‘If you want to know what happened to your time capsule, you need to think about L.S.' Now, we aren't sure who L.S. is, but we have a suspicion it might be Lilibeth Shoemaker.”

“How did you get the note?” Brody asked.

“It came anonymously to Abigail,” Cord spoke up. “Sent in a dirty envelope. No return address. No idea who brought it.”

“Me and the mayor asked Olivia to look into what was in that time capsule,” Abigail put in, looking self-important. “And we both thought we should keep an eye on Lilibeth.”

“So now we need to decide what to do about this,” Cal said. “As you know, the sheriff's office is stretched thin, so we're hoping this committee could help us with this.”

“I say we confront her,” Abigail said, inspecting her electric-blue nails, her glasses glinting in the bright lights of the meeting room. “She was pretty angry about losing that beauty contest. I'm sure she did it to get even and she needs to know you can't steal stuff belonging to the town.”

“Now, Abigail, we don't know for sure she is a suspect in spite of her being upset,” Cal admonished her. “And whoever sent this note wasn't ready or willing to show his or her face. It could just be someone who has an ax to grind with Lilibeth.”

“Or it could be someone who knows something,” Abigail pressed.

Rusty leaned forward, looking over at Brody. “Say, Mr. Harcourt, I noticed at the town hall the other day that Ms. Shoemaker seemed mighty interested in you.”

Hannah was surprised at the twinge of jealousy Rusty's comment gave her. And why she should even feel that way.

She thought of their conversation in the café last week. How, for a moment, she had felt it again. That slow curl of attraction she hadn't felt in years.

Brody created a completely different set of emotions that made her feel as if she was being unfaithful to David's memory.

“She's a flirt, that's all,” Brody said, his voice disinterested.

“She's never flirted with me,” Cord said, grinning as he leaned forward to look past Hannah at Brody.

“Maybe it's because I'm a romantic, whereas you're a hardened bachelor who doesn't believe in love,” Brody retorted. “Which makes me wonder why you're on that Old Tyme Wedding Committee.”