The Cowboy Next Door (6 page)

“I'm not going to church.”

“If you're staying with me, you're going to church.”

“Make me go and you'll regret it.”

“I probably will, but you're going.” Lacey shook the bottle to mix the formula with the water. “I've already taken a shower. You can have yours now.”

She turned away from Corry, but shuddered when the bathroom door slammed. “Well, little baby, this is probably something I'll pay for.”

Rachel sucked at the bottle, draining it in no time and then burping loudly against Lacey's shoulder. She put the sleeping
baby into the infant car seat and was strapping her in as Corry walked out of the bathroom. She wore a black miniskirt and a white tank top.

“You can't wear that.”

“It's all I have.” Gum smacked and Corry busied herself, far too happily, shoving diapers and wipes along with an extra bottle into the bag.

Rachel cried, a little restless and fussy.

“I think she's sick.” Corry looked at the baby and then at Lacey. “What do you think?”

“She feels warm and her cheeks are a little pink. I don't know.”

Corry unbuckled the straps and pulled Rachel out of the seat. “I think she has a fever.”

“Do you have medicine for her?”

Corry nodded. “I have those drops. I'll give her some of those.”

“And stay home with her. She shouldn't be out. You can stay here and let her sleep.”

Corry's eyes widened. “Really? You're not going to make me go to church.”

“I'm not going to make you.” Lacey sighed. “Corry, no one can
make
you go to church. I only want you to try to get your life together and stay clean.”

“And church is going to make it all better?”

“Church doesn't, but God does. He really does make things better when you trust Him.” The act of going to church hadn't changed anything for Lacey. She had tried that routine as a teenager, because she'd known, really known that God could help, but each time she went into a church, thinking it would be a magic cure, it hadn't changed anything. Because she had thought it was about going to church.

In Gibson she had learned that it was about faith, about trusting God, not about going to church wishing people would love her. She had learned, too, about loving herself.

She needed to remember that, she realized. Since Lance, she'd had a tough time remembering her own clean slate and that she was worth loving.

Corry pushed through the diapers and wipes in the diaper bag and pulled out infant drops. She held them out to Lacey. “How much do I give her?”

Lacey took the bottle and looked at the back, reading the directions. “One dropper. And don't give her more until I get home. I'll be late, though. You'll have to fix your own lunch.”

“Where are you going?”

“After church there are a few of us that go to the nursing home to sing and have church with the people there.”

“Ah, isn't that sweet.”

Lacey let it go. “I'll see you later.”

Today Jay would be joining them at the nursing home. She wondered how the return of one man to his hometown could change everything. For years Gibson had been her safe place. Jay's presence undid that feeling.

J
ay looked across the room and caught the gaze of Lacey Gould. She sat next to an older woman with snow-white hair and hands that shook. They were flipping through the pages of a hymnal and talking in low tones that didn't carry.

But from time to time Lacey looked up at him. This time he caught her staring, and he hadn't expected the look in her eyes to be wariness. She didn't trust him.

Distracted, he dropped his guitar pick. He leaned to pick it up and Bailey kicked his shin. He nearly said something, but the way she was smiling, he couldn't. She'd been teasing him for twenty-some years. She probably wasn't going to stop now.

For years she'd been the little girl on the bus that he looked out for, and sometimes wanted to escape. She'd sent him a love note once. She'd been thirteen, he was sixteen. When he told her it wouldn't work, she cried and told her dad on him.

“She's a good person, Jay,” Bailey whispered.

“I'm sure she is.” He remembered that Bailey also had a good left hook and he didn't want to make her mad.

He didn't doubt that Lacey was a good person. He had watched her at church, making the rounds and speaking to
everyone before the service began. As soon as church ended, she said her good-byes and drove to the nursing home.

He had questions about her community service, but it wasn't any of his business. It should be up to Pastor Dan, or even Bailey, to explain to Lacey Gould that God wasn't expecting her to earn forgiveness through good works.

“What song do we sing first?” Lacey asked from across the room. The sweet-faced older lady had her arm through Lacey's.

Jay lifted his guitar and shrugged. He grimaced at the jab of pain in his lower back and Lacey grinned, because she knew that a bull had dumped him hard the night before.

“‘In the Garden'?” He didn't need music for that one.

Lacey knew it; she was nodding and turning the pages of the hymnal. Her elderly friend clapped and smiled, saying it was one of her favorites, and then her eyes grew misty.

“My husband is there waiting for me in that garden.” She said it in such a soft and wavering voice that Jay barely heard. He did see tears shimmering in Lacey's eyes, from compassion, always compassion. He wondered if she felt the emotions of everyone she met.

Lacey held the woman's hand and as Jay started to play, Lacey led the song, her voice alto and clear, the meaning of the words clearly written on her face. The wavering voice of her friend joined in, sweet and soprano.

Jay stumbled over the chords and caught up. Next to him, Bailey giggled, the way she'd done on the bus years ago. He was glad she was still getting enjoyment out of his life. He'd been gone nearly eight years, working on the Springfield PD, and it felt as if he'd never left.

Over the next thirty minutes, he found firm footing again. He forgot Lacey and concentrated on the music as the people gathered in the circle around them. He had missed Gibson. He had missed these people, some of whom he had known all of
his life. The gentleman to his left had been his high school principal. One of the ladies had lived down the road from his family.

Most of the kids from Gibson had moved to the city or left the state. So many of the people in the nursing home were without close family these days, and this touch from their church made the difference.

Lacey made the difference, he realized. With her flashy smile and soft laughter, her teasing comments and warm hugs, she made a difference that he hadn't expected.

In the lives of these people.

“Not interested, huh?” Bailey teased as they finished up and he was putting his guitar away.

“Interested in what? Helping with this ministry? Of course I am.”

“In Lacey.”

“Go away, Bailey. You're starting to be a fifth-grade pest.”

“Write her a note and ask her out.”

“You stink at matchmaking. Matchmakers are supposed to be sneaky, a little underhanded.”

Bailey laughed, her eyes watering. “Oh, thank you, now that I know the finer points of the art, I'll do better next time. Maybe you should learn the fine art of realizing when a woman is perfect for you.”

“That's obviously a lesson I never learned.” He closed the case on his guitar. He saw Lacey walk out as if she had somewhere to be. “Bailey, I'm not interested. I really thought I'd found the right woman, and I dated her for three years only to find out she wasn't interested in a cowboy. So if you don't mind, I'm on vacation from romance and I'm boycotting matchmakers.”

Bailey's laughter faded, so did her smile. “She didn't hurt you, Jay. You're still thinking about Jamie. Maybe it's time to let her go?”

Gut-stomped in the worst way, by a woman with a soft
smile. He smiled down at Bailey, happy for her, and sorry that she knew all of his secrets.

“I'm trying, Bay. I really am. I guess that's why I decided to come home. Because I have to face it here, and I have to deal with it.”

“I'm sorry, Jay. I thought that enough time had gone by and I was hoping you were ready to move on.”

“You were wrong.” He smiled to soften the words, because Bailey had been a friend his entire life. A pest, but a friend.

“So, you've given up on love?”

“For now. I want to build my house and get settled back into my life here. I'll be thirty this winter and maybe I'm just going to be a settled old bachelor, raising my horses and doing a little singing for church.”

“What a nice dream.” She patted his arm, not the slap on the back that Cody had given him the night before. She was getting all maternal. “See you later.”

He nodded and picked up his guitar. When he walked out the front entrance of the nursing home, it was hot, unbearably hot. He pulled sunglasses out of his pocket and slid them on as he walked across the parking lot. The sound of an engine cranking, not firing, caught his attention.

Of course it would be Lacey. They were the only ones left and she was sitting in her car with the driver's side door open.

Jay put his guitar in the front of his truck and walked over to her car. “Won't start?”

“Nope.” She tried again. “It always starts. Why won't it start now?”

He shrugged. Probably Bailey did something to it, something less conspicuous than just telling him he should ask Lacey out. He smiled at the thought, because he could picture Bailey out here removing the coil wire from Lacey's car. But she wouldn't do that. He didn't think she would.

“Pop the hood and I'll take a look.”

She did and he walked to the front of the car to push the hood up. The coil wire was there. He smiled. Nothing looked out of place.

“Lacey, it isn't out of gas, is it?” He peeked around the raised hood at her.

“I don't think so.” And then she groaned. “First the mower and now this.”

“I'll drive you home and we'll come back later with gas.”

“I can't believe I did that.” She got out of the car and closed the door. “I always make sure it has gas.”

“Not today.”

She shook her head. “I'm not sure what's wrong with me.”

“You have a lot going on in your life.” He opened the passenger-side door of his truck. “Maybe having today off will help.”

“Maybe.”

Jay closed the door and walked around to the driver's side with a quick look up, wondering what God was thinking. He got in and started his truck. Lacey kept her face turned, staring out the passenger-side window.

He wondered if she was crying.

 

The front door of the house was open. Lacey sat in Jay's truck, her stomach tightening, because it didn't look right. She glanced at Jay, who had remained silent during the drive home. She hadn't had much to say, either.

What did you say to a stranger whose life you felt like you were invading?

“Do you always leave the front door of the house open?” He turned off the truck.

“Of course I don't. Something's wrong.” She reached for the door handle and started to get out of the truck.

Jay's hand on her arm stopped her. “No, let me go in first.”

“Don't say that.” Her skin prickled with cold heat. “Don't say it like something has happened.”

“Nothing has happened, but we're not taking chances.”

She nodded, swallowing past the lump that lodged between her heart and her throat. Jay got out of the truck and walked up to the house. He eased up to the front door and looked inside. Then he stepped through the opening into the dark house.

Lacey waited, her heart pounding, thudding in her chest. She should have known that something like this would happen. Whatever
this
was. She didn't even know, but she knew without a doubt that something was wrong.

Jay walked back onto the porch and shook his head. He motioned her out of the truck. Lacey grabbed her Bible and got out. She walked to the front porch, not wanting to hear what she knew he would tell her.

“There's no one in here.”

“Maybe she went for a walk. Or she might have gone to use your phone.” Grasping, she knew she was grasping at straws.

And Jay was just being the nice guy that he was by staying, by not making accusations.

“That's possible,” he finally said.

“She might have left a note, telling me where she went.”

“Okay. We can look.” But he didn't believe it. Lacey didn't know why that hurt, but it did. Because it felt like he didn't believe her, or trust her. She was an extension of Corry, because they had come from the same place.

She walked into the house and he followed, slower, taking more time. “I knew I should have made her go to church.”

“You can't force someone.”

“I know, but if I had, she'd be here and Rachel would be safe.”

Lacey wouldn't feel so frantic, like some unseen clock was ticking, telling her she was nearly out of time. And she didn't know why, or what would happen when the time ran out.

“Lacey.” He stood in front of the desk where she kept her bills and other paperwork. “You know she has a record, right?”

Lacey turned, and he was watching her, pretending it was a normal question. “I do know.”

She wanted to ask him if he knew that
she
had a record. Did he know what she had done to put food on the table, to pay the rent to keep the roof over her younger siblings' heads? She looked away, because she didn't really want answers to those questions from him.

It was too much information, and it would let him too far into her life, and leave her open to whatever look might be in his eyes.

It might be too much like the look in Lance's eyes when he'd said he could love her no matter what. With Jay it was different; they hadn't stepped into each other's lives that way. He just happened to be here with her now.

“Lacey, do you know who she's been in contact with?”

“No.” She stood in the doorway of Corry's room. The bedding was flung across the bed and dragged on the floor, and a few odds and ends of clothing were still scattered about.

Jay walked into the room, an envelope in his hand.

“She's gone. This was on the table.” He handed her an envelope.

Lacey's fingers trembled as she took it from him. She ripped it and tore the paper out. Eyes watering, she read the scribbled lines, trying to make sense of misspelled words and her sister's childlike handwriting. But she got it. She crumpled the note in her hand. She got it.

“She's gone.” She held out the note and Jay took it from her hand.

“Let's take a drive and see if we can find her. She couldn't have gotten far.”

Optimism. Lacey had worked hard on being an optimist. She
had worked hard on finding faith in hard times. She didn't know what to think about Corry leaving with the baby.

She glanced at her watch. “Jay, if they left right after I left, they could be back in St. Louis by now.”

He inhaled and let it out in a sigh. “That's true. Let's go inside and we'll see if she left anything behind.”

“We should call the police.”

Dark brows lifted and he sort of smiled at her. “Lacey, I am the police. And unless she's committed a crime, there's no reason for going after her. She's a grown woman who left your house with her own child.”

“But she can't take care of Rachel. She can barely take care of herself.”

“She's an adult.”

“An adult who reads and writes at a first-grade level.” Lacey looked away from his compassion, his sympathy.

“Can she take care of Rachel?”

Lacey walked through the dark, cool interior of the house, her house. She kept her eyes down, thinking of what to do next. She couldn't face the empty bassinet or thoughts of Rachel with Corry.