Small-Town Moms (12 page)

“S
o what do you think?” Norma Sue Jenkins asked with a robust smile.

Georgetta was joining her three friends for coffee because she needed their advice on how to help Gabe get past the anger he felt toward his ex-wife and move forward. She wasn't sure why she felt so strongly about it, but she had a good feeling about Olivia.

“I think she's wonderful. She's been raising her daughter ever since her young husband died, and though she hasn't said so, I can tell she is desperately lonely. She's involved with every kind of function and committee a person can get on. To me that means she's staving off loneliness. Filling her days with busywork.”

“I agree,” Esther Mae said. Her green eyes sparkled with possibility as she patted her freshly dyed red hair. “So how about sparks? Do you see any?”

Georgetta nodded. “Oh, there are those, but I'm not sure any of them come from a romantic idea. Although I've seen Gabe watching her even when he doesn't realize it. At least I don't think he does. He's so upset about her being here that I just can't tell. But wouldn't it be
wonderful if they did fall in love—then Wes's aunt would get to help raise him, and Trudy would have my Gabe as a step-daddy. I think romantically, it fits wonderfully.” She was wishing for too much, but it could work…couldn't it? “Gabe deserves so much more than he's had.”

“Yes,” Adela interjected. “But it has to be about the heart and God being in it. I've been praying ever since you told us Olivia was coming. I have a good feeling about this, too. If not for a romantic matchup, at least, I believe God is going to work in the situation for everyone's good. Especially the children.”

Georgetta loved Adela. She was such a strong lady despite her very fragile look, with her porcelain skin and fine bones. “I believe so, too. So what do you ladies suggest I do?”

Norma Sue grinned. “Simple. They need as much time alone as possible. Your job is to figure out how to get it for them.”

Georgetta prayed all the way home that she wasn't making a mistake pushing for Gabe and Olivia to get to know each other. She was worried, but really, she continued to tell herself, if it didn't work out, what could it hurt? It was better for her to try to help than to sit back and do nothing.

Wasn't it?

 

Trudy was sitting on a hay bale watching Pony Boy when Gabe walked into the barn. He felt for the kid. He wondered if Pony Boy saw the kid he saw. The one missing her dad so much it was written all over her for anyone to see. Olivia saw it; he was certain. He'd seen it in her eyes several times.

“I'd love it if you decided to let me teach you to ride him. He needs more exercise than Wes can give him, as young as Wes is.”

She looked at him, not as startled by his approach as he'd thought she might be. Obviously her headphones weren't turned on, though the earpieces were planted in her ears. Slowly she pulled them out and let them drop around her shoulders. “I don't want to.”

He shrugged. “That's fine.” Walking over, he picked up a brush and opened the stall gate. “You want to help me brush him down?”

It was her turn to shrug. But she followed him inside and watched as he began brushing the horse's coat. “You know, I lost my dad when I was ten.” He said the words carefully. Remembering as the feelings of loss beat heavy in his heart. “It hurts.”

She walked closer. Her head bobbed. “Yeah, it does.”

“Are you doing okay?” He wanted to hug her.

She looked at the ground and nodded.

His heart twisted tighter. “You want to brush?”

She pushed her long hair behind her ears and thought about it. She looked like her mother in a slight way but he was pretty positive, by the lighter color of her hair and the square, stubborn set to her jaw, that she looked more like her dad.

“Sure,” she said at last.

He handed over the brush. “Have you ever groomed a horse before?”

“A few times at my friend's house. But it's been a while.”

“Don't be nervous. Do just what I was doing, using long strokes. It will get all the dirt off his coat and make him shine.”

He watched as she worked. She seemed to relax. He wanted to ask if she needed to talk about anything. But he didn't. He'd told her they had common ground—sad but true—and he knew, like he had when he was her age, that she'd open up if she needed to.

“Does it always hurt?”

Her soft words touched him. “Yes. But the pain eases up after a bit.”

She didn't look convinced but kept on working. “I like this horse.”

“Good. Do you want to ride him?”

 

Trudy was riding Pony Boy! Olivia rounded the corner of the barn and almost tripped. Standing in the center of the riding pen, Gabe held the halter rope as Trudy rode the horse. Not wanting to disturb them but not wanting to miss out on her daughter on a horse, Olivia chose to watch from the shadows. Twenty minutes later Trudy climbed from the horse—and gave Gabe a hug.

It hit Olivia's heart hard and kicked her feet from beneath her. Weak in the knees, she hurried to the house, sank into the swing on the front porch and waited for Trudy to head inside. Her daughter needed a daddy.

The idea hurt. She'd had a daddy, and to consider replacing Justin was unthinkable. And yet—did God have someone out there to fill this void left inside of her and her child?

That remained to be seen, but Olivia knew it was a possibility she needed to open her heart to.

 

“Thank you.”

Gabe's pulse hummed at the sound of Olivia's voice
behind him. He'd been thinking about her a lot, and it bothered him that he found her so attractive. “For what?”

He tensed as she came to stand a few feet away from him. At supper she'd laughed and told stories of the older people she enjoyed working with at the senior citizens' home. She seemed to enjoy spending time there, and it didn't even have to be said that her being there was good for them. Just her smile alone lit up a room, but when she laughed…it bubbled out of her and made everything seem lighter. Even Trudy, as sullen as she could be, couldn't help but laugh at her mother talking about racing Mr. Blossom around the nurse's station in a wheelchair.

He'd been even more surprised when Trudy told him, while she was riding, that her mother had had twenty proposals of marriage last year alone from the men in the nursing home.

It was obvious that he may have made a mistake believing that she could be like her sister. Still, he couldn't be too careful. What if she knew that Wes wasn't actually his son? He knew rationally that the courts would look at him as Wes's dad. He was. But still, the idea bothered him.

“Thank you for doing what you did for Trudy. She told me she rode Pony Boy, but I have to admit that I stood in the shadows and watched her for a few minutes.”

“She's a good kid. She did well.”

“She said your dad died when you were her age.”

He nodded. “It's a difficult time.” They stared at each other for a long moment. He felt a pull between them, as if there was an elastic cord attaching them, drawing them closer.

“You are a curious man, Mr. McKennon. Very rude sometimes, but you have a big heart.”

He didn't say anything but pulled the lid off the feed bin.

She came closer. “It's not going to work.”

He gave her a sideways glance, wishing she'd go away. “What's not going to work?”

“You aren't running me off. And I no longer believe you are a curmudgeon.”

“Maybe you should.”

She shook her head. “I believe we need to learn to be friends. Or maybe friends is too strong a word for you to be comfortable with. Maybe we just need to learn to tolerate each other for Wes and Trudy's sake. They're first cousins, and it should be important to you that Wes have family. You love him, and I do believe that if you look past yourself, you'll see that. He is such a wonderful little boy.”

“Yes, he is.” He was trying to protect Wes—right? From what, though? This woman seemed to be truly good, by all appearances. But Dawn had deceived him, and so could her sister. Yet she was right. Trudy and Wes were cousins, and despite everything, he knew that he was wrong on this issue. Wes did need family. Looking at her, he wondered was it himself he was trying to protect from Olivia?

He offered her the feed bucket. “One bucketful of that,” he said, watching as she took it from him. Her fingers touched his as he handed the bucket over, and her eyes widened ever so slightly at the contact. So she'd felt it, too. Why he'd done it, he wasn't sure, but he was drawn to her.

Despite not wanting to be.

“Thank you,” she murmured, then dug the bucket into the vat of feed.

“Why are you so sure I'm not selfish?”

“Because you love your son too much.”

“And how do you know that?”

Instead of answering him, she carried the bucket to the stall and dumped it. He watched from the gate, waiting.

“Are you telling me you don't?”

“No! Of course I love my son.”

She came to stand in front of him. “See, there you go. I rest my case. Even though I'm not at all certain why you weren't saying that from the very beginning. Was it some sort of test?”

He propped a boot on the stall's lower rung. “Maybe. I wanted to see what you'd say. Find out how your mind works.”

She chuckled. “Or if I have a mind.”

“You do.”

“Did my sister?”

Like a thunderous storm, his mood darkened. “If you're going to bring her into this conversation, then we're done. I've told you I don't want to talk about her.”

“I never took you for a coward.”

Anger flashed through him. “Look, lady, who died and made you the smart one?” The instant the words came out he regretted them. Olivia went white as a sheet before stalking from the stall.

“Aw, no,” he muttered, looking up at the rafters as he raked his hand across the back of his neck. Knowing he had to fix this, he strode after her.

“Olivia.” He caught her before she made it out of the
barn. “I'm sorry.” He reached and took her arm, hoping to halt her. She stopped but didn't turn around. “I'm an idiot,” he said, sick about the whole thing. Her shoulders sagged as he pulled her around to face him. The moisture on her dark lashes made him feel even lower. “Honestly, I didn't mean that. It was unsympathetic.”

“You were right, though. I'm not the smart one,” she said softly. “He died. I'm just the survivor. Taking one day at a time.”

“And I'm the selfish jerk.” Not sure what to do, he did the only thing that felt right—he drew her into his arms, offering comfort even though she might not want it from the likes of him. She came despite herself and for a moment seemed to wilt against him. Her hair was soft against his chin, and she smelled of that same soft scent that he'd been unable to get off his mind. “Are you doing okay?” He felt clumsy and awkward. “I mean, have you made it through your husband's death okay? It sounds like the total wrong thing to ask. I know it was horribly hard on my mom when she lost my dad. It was callous of me to say such a thing when I've been so close to the fire.”

She dragged in a long, shuddering breath and trembled in his arms. “Most of the time. I just get caught off guard sometimes. Like now. I'm sorry.” Her words were muffled against his chest.

“Don't apologize.” He tightened his hold, hearing the trace of pain in her words. He understood, though he didn't want to. He'd rather that Dawn's betrayal hadn't hurt. He'd rather that he hadn't fallen for her. But there it was. He wouldn't have married her if he hadn't cared…at least a little.

Olivia drew away, looking up at him. Her lashes
were dark and fringed rich, amber eyes. He'd thought they were Dawn's eyes but now realized that they were lighter, and her lips were shaped much fuller with a tiny indent at the edge. Funny how she didn't really look as much like Dawn as he'd thought. “You look like you've made it. You're strong.”

“I had to be.” She blinked hard and turned her head to hide the tear that slipped from the edge of her eye.

He lifted his hand and gently touched her cheek, turning her back to look at him. “You loved him very much?”

Olivia nodded. “He was a good man, the best. Funny. Sweet. Strong. Ever my protector. A wonderful Christian man.”

Gabe wondered suddenly what words someone who loved him would use to describe him. Funny and sweet certainly wouldn't make the cut. Strong might not even be used. Protector—he could fill that role and feel comfortable doing it. A Christian man. He was, but these past three years had changed him. He'd grown more distant from God than he'd ever been.

Looking at Olivia, he felt totally helpless as the tear ran slowly down her cheek. He brushed it away. “I'm sorry you lost him.” He offered the only thing that felt right to say.

Blinking away the last of the dampness lingering on her lashes, her eyes searched his. “Thank you.”

Time seemed to stop as he stood there. It was like everything came into focus looking into her eyes. It was as if he looked into twin pools and saw the future.
Crazy.

He wanted to pull back but found himself stuck where
he was, holding on to her. Drawn to her like nothing he'd ever felt before. His gaze dropped to her lips.

She stiffened in his arms, drawing his eyes back to hers, and they were as startled as his were. Propelled to action, they both stepped away from each other.

“I—I—” she stuttered, turning to go but walking the wrong way before turning back. “I have to go. I have to—” She froze a few steps away from him, and her words broke off as she turned around and met his eyes with her own beautiful uncertain ones.

He stepped back. “I, um, I'm sorry,” he managed before stalking out the back of the barn into the pasture behind him. He didn't stop until he was at the edge of the stand of trees fifty yards from the barn. His head was drumming, and his heart was pounding like an angry bull out for revenge. He couldn't focus. What had he been thinking?