Painted Montana Sky: A Montana Sky Series Novella (11 page)

Under his hands, he felt her shiver. “Lil,” he whispered, making the word a caress. He touched his forehead to hers, fighting for control.

The sound of the schoolhouse door opening and footsteps on the stairs brought him back to an awareness of their surroundings. He needed to preserve Lily’s reputation and not allow them to be caught in an embrace.
She’s leaving in a few days,
he reminded himself in an effort to break the spell. The warning didn’t douse the flame of his ardor. He’d think about the future later, when he
could
make his brain work.

Tyler placed a kiss on Lily’s forehead and took her hand. “Come. Let’s go back inside and have some ice cream to cool off.

~ ~ ~

Four days later, Tyler sat in Mrs. Pendell’s rocker in the kitchen. The room was lit by several lamps and still smelled of the roasted chicken and saskatoon pie they’d eaten for supper.

Tyler had started to mend a harness. Or at least, that was what he’d intended to do.

Instead, his hands rested in his lap as he watched Lily, sitting at the kitchen table and giving Oliver another drawing lesson. Normally after supper, he’d have ensconced himself in his leather chair in the main room, reading, preferably Issak Walton’s,
Complete Angler
. But his fascination with Lily had his backside firmly planted in the rocker, and he couldn’t tear himself away from the woman and his son.

Given his antipathy toward artists, he’d surprised himself by allowing his guest to teach Oliver to draw. But spending time with Lily, watching her work, seeing her skill and talent, and most of all remembering the kisses on the night of the ice cream social, had mellowed his hostility until it dried up like a puddle in the sunshine. And, indeed, he’d enjoyed watching the two heads bent together over a project each night, hearing her gentle instruction, seeing Oliver’s pride in his work and how the boy basked in Lily’s attention.

Lately, Oliver had been disappearing once he’d come home from school and finished his chores. He was working on a surprise was all he’d told everyone. Although Tyler was curious, he figured the boy had a right to his privacy. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wait until Christmas to find out what his son was up to.

Lily laughed and tousled Oliver’s hair.

Laura’s missing this.
How many times had those words crossed his mind?
She should have been here with our son.
But as soon as the familiar thought ran through his head, Tyler realized it no longer came attached to bitterness and pain. As if picking at a scab, he explored the old wound, only to find smooth skin underneath. He’d healed, and the awareness of his release almost made him light-headed.

Oliver let out an expression of delight.

Lily glanced up at Tyler and smiled. They shared a look, the type parents exchanged when they both had a feeling of pride in their child.

Suddenly, Tyler realized he and Laura had never had those moments.
No, that can’t be.
He frantically scrolled back through his memories. Surely when Oliver first smiled…when he took his first steps…when he first sat unassisted on his pony. But no memory of shared pleasure came to mind.

Tonight, Tyler realized what he and Oliver had missed even when Laura was around. Like a blow, the thought hit him that perhaps Laura had done her son a good turn by abandoning him.

That realization made his head spin, twisting everything he’d ruminated about these last years. His chest tightened, and his body ached like he’d taken a header off his horse. He rocked back in the chair, trying to absorb this new way of seeing his marriage.

Tyler took a deep breath, feeling freer than he could even remember, and re-focused his attention on Lily and his son.

Lily ran a gentle hand over Oliver’s back.

The boy wiggled like a happy puppy.

She laughed softly.

My son needs a mother.
 
Tyler regarded the two of them wistfully, wishing these nights could go on and on.
 

I need a wife to take to that big lonely bed after we’ve tucked Oliver in for the night
. Inside, he ached. Lily had made so much progress on her paintings that he knew she’d be leaving the ranch soon.

What if I ask her to stay?

His stomach clenched at the thought…at the fear that she might say no…at the even bigger fear that she might say yes, and then later change her mind. Her leaving would rip his heart out and Oliver’s as well. He couldn’t put them through that experience again.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The next morning, Oliver sat at the picnic table under the big oak, far enough from the house that he could hide his secret project in case anyone approached. He’d spread the pictures he’d drawn and painted over the wooden surface. With an awl borrowed from Habakkuk in his hand, and his brow furrowed with concentration, Oliver carefully punched a line of holes down the left side of each paper, adding the pierced pages to a pile on his right.

Periodically, he scanned the area to make sure no one was around. Miss Lily had driven out to paint, and his pa was working in the barn. Mrs. Pendell was cooking in the kitchen. He’d taken the housekeeper into his confidence, for he needed help in figuring out how to make a book. But she’d crossed her heart not to tell.

Once he finished making the holes, he stood and began to arrange the pictures. He set them in a line, reshuffling a few and changing them again until he had the order he wanted. Some he’d made with Miss Lily’s help, while others he’d done secretly with the paper and paints she’d loaned him.

He tapped a finger on the beginning one—the first flower he’d drawn with Miss Lily. Next, came the story of Dove’s rescue from the river. He’d also drawn a picture of the ranch house and a second of the barn. Another featured the cattle in the pasture, most looking like blobs, but the heifer in the corner had turned out to his satisfaction. By the time he’d got to her, he’d had plenty of practice.

Miss Lily liked the view of the mountains behind the ranch, so he made sure to include a picture of them, using plenty of purple. He’d done a sunset because Miss Lily loved to see the sun setting and watch God paint the sky.

On several days, Oliver had stayed late after school to draw the schoolhouse and the church. And he’d snuck around the fence of the ladies’ pool to paint the hot spring he knew Miss Lily loved to soak in.

Second to last was a group portrait of Mrs. Pendell, Habakkuk, Aaron, Hank, Pa, and him.

The last page was the most important. He’d drawn Pa and Miss Lily holding hands. Oliver stood at Pa’s side. Dove sat at their feet. The dog showed her tongue because she was happy. Miss Lily wore a white dress, and he’d painted a big red heart above them. He’d added printing to this one, asking his teacher, Mrs. Gordon, how to spell
married
so he’d be sure to get it right.

Oliver took the pages and neatly stacked them. He picked up a blue ribbon, given to him by Mrs. Pendell, and carefully threaded it through the holes. When he finished, he knotted each end. Once he was done, Oliver flipped through the book one more time, pleased with how his project had turned out.

He’d completed the book just in time. His pa walked out of the barn, propped a shovel against an outside wall, and headed toward the house.

Oliver snatched up his book and raced to catch him. By the time he reached his pa, he was winded and had to gasp for breath.

Pa grinned. “Bear after you, boy?” he teased.

“I made something for you, Pa.” Oliver held out the book.

“Well, what have we here?” Pa drawled, eyebrows lifted high. “Don’t rightly recall that it’s my birthday. And it’s certainly not Christmas.” He pretended to look around. “No snow.”

“It’s for you to give to Miss Lily.”

“Why don’t you give it to her yourself?’

“Pa!” Oliver said with a dramatic sigh.

“What?” Pa’s brows pulled together. He pushed back his hat and gave Oliver a searching look before opening the book, carefully studying each page. When Pa got to the end, he looked at the last picture for such a long time that Oliver wiggled with impatience.

Finally, Pa looked up at Oliver, his eyes troubled. “What do you mean by this, son?”

“I want Miss Lily for my ma. But at school when I talked about asking her, Mark Carter told me that you have to do that.” He shrugged. “I just figured I’d help.”

Pa’s eyebrows drew together. “Miss Lily might say no. She lives in the city. Has a nice life in Chicago as a painter. Living on a ranch might not suit her.”

“Ah, Pa. She loves it here. She tole me so.”

Oliver couldn’t understand why Pa wasn’t looking excited. He
knew
Pa was sweet on Miss Lily. He’d seen the way his father watched her when he thought no one was looking. “She can read the book, and she’ll know why we’re special, and we want her to stay.”

Pa smiled then and gave Oliver’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “I’ll give your book to Miss Lily, and we’ll see what she says.”

~ ~ ~

Tyler held Oliver’s book and realized his son possessed more courage than he did. Humbled by the gift, seeing the expectant look on the boy’s face, Tyler was unable to deny his child’s appeal for a mother, no matter how much he doubted the outcome of a proposal. When he agreed to deliver the gift, Oliver’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, Pa!”

Feeling protective, Tyler held up a hand to moderate his son’s exuberance. “You need to be prepared that she might say no.”

The boy gave a little bounce. “But she might say yes.”

“We can hope. But I don’t want you to be disappointed if Miss Lily says no.”

“Ah, Pa.”

Tyler set his jaw. “Guess I’d better go saddle up Domino. You go inside. I’ll bet you have studying you haven’t done because you’ve been working on this.” He gave the book a little shake in front of his son’s face.

Oliver’s guilty expression gave him away.

Suppressing a smile, Tyler jerked a thumb toward the house.

Oliver spun on his heel and shuffled off.

Tyler looked down at the book in his hands. The boy had written
For Miss Lily
on the cover page.
Will Lily’s liking for the ranch and Oliver…for me…be enough to keep her here?

Only one way to find out.

Before he headed to the barn, Tyler made a trip to the house. Entering through the front door to avoid encountering his housekeeper and his son, Tyler hurried through the main room and into the big bedroom that had been his parents and grandparents’ before him. Never his and Laura’s. He’d only moved in after his mother had died. A patchwork quilt made by his grandmother covered the big bed. He tried not to hope that soon Lily might be sharing it with him.

Tyler quickly stripped and washed up. He ran his fingers over his jaw, felt stubble, and decided to shave again. After finishing, half-naked, he wondered if he should wear a suit, but the thought made him too uncomfortable. He already felt anxious enough. So he chose clean work pants with the nice gray shirt that Mrs. Pendell said made his eyes look good. She was a female, so what his housekeeper liked, hopefully Lily would too.

In the mahogany bureau, he opened a drawer and pulled out a small wooden box. Inside, on a bed of cotton, laid his mother’s diamond engagement ring. The diamond wasn’t a big gem. Would that matter to Lily? He had a feeling she came from money.

He shrugged.
Can’t be helped. She’ll either take it or not, diamond size and all.
He tucked the ring safely into his pocket.

From the trunk at the end of the bed, he took out his mother’s lace shawl and wrapped it around Oliver’s book. Then to keep the lace clean, he pulled out a fresh neckerchief and folded the cloth around the package. Then, as silently as he’d entered, Tyler snuck out of the house.

The whole time he busied himself saddling the horse and riding up hill where he’d guided Lily earlier today, dread built in his stomach. He couldn’t remember being this nervous when he asked Laura to marry him. He’d done it all right and tight, too—applied to her father for permission, showed up at her parent’s soddy with a ring in his pocket, asked her in the parlor, kissed her for the first time after she said yes. Then again, Laura had been angling for marriage for months, and he’d had no doubt of her answer.

With Lily, all he had were doubts.

He’d left her on the edge of the foothills in sight and sound of the house, a tiny figure sitting at her easel, surrounded by a half-circle of pines. Throughout the day, far too often, he’d set down his work and stepped out of the barn to shade his eyes and look up to where she painted.
For her safety
, he’d told himself, even though he’d left Patches with her, and knew, if need be, the dog would protect her and bark loud enough to summon help.

But now when he rode into the clearing, saw the graceful line of her body as she bent over the easel, her profile when she glanced at the purple and blue violets peeking out through the grass, Tyler realized he had no doubt about one thing.
I love her.

~ ~ ~

Lily sat at her easel in the middle of a beautiful alpine meadow overlooking the ranch. Wearing his harness, Chico grazed in the lush grass not far away. Dove curled up next to her, worn out from chasing birds and butterflies. Patches lay nearby, dozing, but alert. Every sound would bring the dog’s head up, ears pricking as he surveyed their surroundings. Once assured all was well, he went back to sleep.