No Place Like Home

Abby Diaz longs to reestablish a relationship with her father, so she heads to Canyon Springs, her Arizona hometown, with a painful past she can’t share with anyone. But then she’s needed to care for her young nephew. The little boy takes a shine to a happy-go-lucky cowboy, a handsome man who’s everything Abby can never have. The more time she spends with Brett, the more she realizes he’s harboring a heartache of his own. As she works on repairing family ties with her father, Abby knows that opening up to Brett is key to forging a new future…together

“Are you in town for long, ma’am?” Brett’s voice drew her attention.

No. I’m leaving as soon as I drop Davy off at home.”

“That’s a shame.”

Why? Because he wouldn’t have an opportunity to weave his charming wiles around another susceptible female heart?

Abby glanced again toward her nephew, who was still talking with Trey. Come on, Davy, let’s go.

Brett motioned in their direction. “A bright boy, that one, and he has a natural way with horses. You may have an accomplished horseman in the family one of these days.”

“He wants a horse. Bad.” She smiled inwardly at the remembrance of her own childhood demands.

“Is your brother harboring any other pretty sisters?” Brett quirked a smile. “I may have to talk with him about holding out on friends.”

He’s a flirt. The women warned you. Don’t take his flattery to heart. Nevertheless, her breath came more quickly at the approving sparkle in his eyes.

GLYNNA KAYE

treasures memories of growing up in small Midwestern towns—in Iowa, Missouri, Illinois—and vacations spent in another rural community with the Texan side of the family. She traces her love of storytelling to the many times a houseful of great-aunts and great-uncles gathered with her grandma to share hours of what they called “windjammers”—candid, heartwarming, poignant and often humorous tales of their youth and young adulthood.

Glynna now lives in Arizona, and when she isn’t writing she’s gardening and enjoying photography and the great outdoors.

Pine Country Cowboy

Glynna Kaye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted

and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

—Psalms 34:18

Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up;

do you not perceive it? I am making a way

in the desert and streams in a wasteland.

—Isaiah 43:18–19

To Uncle Ron and Aunt Kay…and in memory of my cousin Teri, who inspired those whose lives she touched as she courageously battled cystic fibrosis.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Chapter One

The last thing Abby Diaz needed was to be surrounded by little kids and pestered by a flirtatious cowboy.

At the moment, she had the misfortune of both.

She sucked in a steadying breath, acutely aware of the echoing chirp of sparrows in the indoor arena’s rafters, the smell of straw, hay and horses—and the engaging smile of the good-looking man patiently awaiting a response to his question.

At least she wouldn’t be in Canyon Springs much longer. In a few hours she’d be sailing her Chevy down the curving mountain road to Phoenix, then pushing farther southward through the desert to Tucson and home. It had been foolish to make the trip anyway, a futile, final grasping by her rapidly ebbing faith.

“So what do you say, pretty lady?” the sandy-haired cowboy with impossibly wide shoulders urged again, his low, mellow voice teasing her ears. Dressed in boots, faded jeans and a Western-cut shirt, he tipped back his summer straw hat as twinkling hazel eyes studied her with unconcealed interest. “It will take half a minute to lead another horse out here and get your lessons started right along with these kids.”

Was he out of his mind? “I’ll pass, thank you.”

He briefly dipped his head in acknowledgment, a smile twitching at his lips. Then he glanced at the half dozen grade-schoolers milling around them, including her brother Joe’s son. Since entering the arena, Davy had stuck gluelike to her side despite only having met her three days ago.

The seven-year-old had been excited about coming today, begging his almost-nine-months pregnant stepmother not to renege on his first riding lesson. But after another sleepless night of acute discomfort, Meg hadn’t been up to it. With his daddy working an extended shift as a regional paramedic and Grandpa Diaz seeing to an RV park crisis, Aunt Abby had been dragged into this family-oriented outing. She’d planned to drop Davy off and return for him later, but on the drive to the High Country Equine Center—which most locals still called Duffy’s after the original owner—the brown-eyed boy seemed to be having second thoughts about the adventure. She’d hung around for moral support.

Avoiding the cowboy’s assessing gaze, Abby rested her hand on her nephew’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring pat. “This will be fun, Davy—won’t it, Gina?”

His best buddy, a blonde pigtailed dynamo, nodded emphatically, her instructor-issued riding helmet bobbing atop her head. “Majorly fun.”

Not to be outdone by a girl, Davy shook off his aunt’s hand and gave a manly nod reminiscent of his father. “That’s right. Majorly fun.” He cut a glance upward. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, Aunt Abby.”

That caught the cowboy’s attention. “Aunt Abby?”

“Daddy’s little sister,” Davy announced proudly, stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.

“Well, what do you know?” The man’s smile broadened as he again caught her eye. “Joe has a sister? Where’s he been hiding you, ma’am?”

Obviously this man, no more than a handful of years older than her, wasn’t a Canyon Springs native or he’d know the whole story. But there was no point in enlightening a stranger on the Diaz family history.

“He didn’t hide her,” Davy piped up with a giggle. “Aunt Abby lives in Tucson. She’s a librarian.”

“Davy,” Abby said firmly before the boy could further elaborate on her personal affairs. She didn’t want him sharing with the world that she’d recently lost her librarian position and not too many months before that had sent her fiancé packing. Or at least the latter was what she’d allowed her family to assume.

Today—the first of June—was to have been her wedding day.

“A librarian,” the cowboy echoed, his gaze flicking over her appreciatively. If the sparkle in his eyes was any indication, for a reason known only to him he found that bit of information amusing.

He held out his gloved hand. “Good to meet you, Aunt Abby. Diaz, is it?”

She nodded and reluctantly shook his hand.

“I’m Brett Marden.”

A shrill whistle pierced the air.

“Brett! Let’s go!” Another cowboy-hatted man, this one taller and walking with a slight limp, made his way across the arena’s expanse. He clapped his hands and motioned to the portable corral assembled on the far side of the arena where half a dozen saddled quarter horses waited quietly.

Abby had met Trey Kenton, manager of the equine facility, her first night back in town and remembered his wife, Kara, from grade school. It had come as a shock to discover she and the other woman might be stepsisters in the not-too-distant future. Thanks for the warning, Dad.

Brett studied Abby a moment longer. “Why don’t you stick around, Aunt Abby? You never can tell... Could be you’ll find something that catches your interest.”

He stepped back with what she instinctively knew was a well-practiced wink.

Warmth crept into her face. Did he mean him? Of all the...

Not waiting for a response, he lightly rapped his knuckles on her nephew’s helmeted head, then spread his arms wide to herd the youngsters toward the corral. “No running, no yelling. We have things we need to go over before you get to ride.”

Abby stared after him. Find something that catches your interest, indeed. Talk about an over-the-top ego. Nevertheless, her gaze lingered on the masculine form as he crossed the arena, a booted Pied Piper with a covey of trailing kids attempting to mimic his confident stride.

“You may as well come on over here and have a seat,” a feminine voice called from somewhere behind her. “Abby, is it?”

Jerked from her reverie, Abby turned toward a small semicircle of folding chairs placed just inside one of the arena’s side gates. She hadn’t noticed the arrangement when she and Davy had slipped inside to join the other kids. Apparently Brett Marden had been a bit too distracting. Four women now claimed the seating area—a gray-haired lady and three others near Abby’s late twenties or slightly younger. One, the spokesperson she assumed, patted the sole empty chair next to her in invitation.

A knot tightened in Abby’s stomach. Why’d the most friendly one have to be holding a baby?

“Yes, Abby. Abby Diaz.” With considerable effort she returned the smiles of the women. Then she reluctantly closed the distance between them to take the seat next to the woman who cuddled her napping infant close. If they’d caught her name, they’d probably heard the whole conversation between her and the flirtatious cowboy.

“I’m Davy’s aunt,” she nevertheless confirmed. “From Tucson.”

“Joey’s sister.” The familiar-looking older woman on the far side of the semicircle nodded knowingly. Abby sensed she was aware of the family’s sordid history, how Abby’s parents divorced when she was ten, with her mother taking both her and middle child Ed and leaving teenage Joe to be raised by their father.

“Are you visiting, Abby?” the woman continued with an encouraging smile. “Or have you come home?”

Even though she’d once lived here for a decade, it had been more than strange to drive through Canyon Springs a few days ago for the first time since childhood. To pass down Main Street and by the elementary school. To eat lunch at Kit’s Lodge. To again spend the night under her father’s roof at his Lazy D Campground and RV Park. It was surprising how much she remembered and how little had changed. But home? Not even close.

“I’m visiting my family for a few days.”

The woman to the left of Abby leaned forward and she caught the faint scent of baby powder and a glimpse of a pretty, rounded face in the blanketed bundle in her arms.

“How is Meg?” the brown-haired woman whispered.

The other three women nodded at her words, concern darkening their eyes.

“She’s hanging in there.” Abby didn’t know how well these four knew Meg and Joe, so she wasn’t about to elaborate on the family’s whispered concerns for Meg’s health. “She’s looking forward to being a few pounds lighter.”

The women laughed and Abby’s tension eased. She could get through this.

“I’m Mina Ricks, here with my boy,” the woman next to her offered before glancing down with a proud smile at the infant in her arms. “And this is Ruthy.”

Then she motioned to each of the women, starting with the blonde seated on the other side of Abby. “This is Melody Smith, who brought a neighbor’s daughter today. Joy Haines is here with her twins. And Janet Logan accompanied her grandson.”

Memory clicked and Abby again focused her attention on the woman who’d asked if she’d come home. “Mrs. Logan. You ran the school library and were my Sunday school teacher, too.”

A sturdy, outdoorsy, take-charge kind of woman who didn’t fit any of the librarian stereotypes Abby was all too familiar with, she’d seemed as old as the hills when Abby had been in grade school. But in reality she was probably even now only in her early to mid-sixties.

“Call me Janet. I’m still the librarian and a Sunday school teacher.” The woman’s gaze warmed. “I wondered if you’d remember me. It’s been such a long time. But my goodness, how you remind me of your beautiful mother.”

“Thank you.” The compliment was well intended, but she wasn’t fooled. In reality she didn’t come close to her mother’s striking looks or her vivacious personality.

“Do you remember me, too?”

Abby turned to the young woman next to her who was looking at her hopefully.

Melody. Melody. She hated this. Everyone knew who she was, but she’d been put on the spot so many times over the past few days that she’d become paranoid about meeting people. That was one more reason to get out of town. She hoped this woman about her age wasn’t another cousin. The whole town seemed to be crawling with them.

“I wasn’t a Smith back then. Or a blonde.” Melody brushed back her layered golden tresses. “You might remember me as the chubby carrot-haired girl who tried to crawl out the second-grade-classroom window—and got stuck.”

Abby’s eyes widened with belated recognition. What a fuss that incident had created. “Oh, that Melody!”

“I’ve slimmed down considerably....” The young woman laughed as she spread her fingers wide to protectively cradle a barely rounded abdomen, and Abby tensed, sensing what was coming next. “But I understand that won’t last much longer. I’m due in November. Our first.”

“Congratulations.” Abby swallowed the knot in her throat. “That’s wonderful.”

The others joined in with cheerful words of encouragement, an exclusive little club of women who’d been there, done that, who reveled in the blessings and agonies of childbearing and motherhood.

Grasping for a diversion, Abby turned toward the corral where Brett and Trey instructed the kids on horse safety. Trey was a handsome man, but it was the self-assured Brett who now held her attention. Brett, with the broad shoulders, dimpled grin and laugh lines crinkling around his eyes. In spite of his unapologetically flirtatious behavior, her heart beat faster.

“Don’t pay any mind to Brett,” freckle-faced Joy commented almost as if following Abby’s train of thought. “He can’t help but turn on the charm when he’s around a female.”

Melody laughed. “A born sweet-talker if there ever was one.”

So Abby had pegged him right. A superficial skirt chaser.

“Don’t be too hard on that young man,” Mrs. Logan—Janet—chided gently. “He’s got a heart of gold.”

“He’s been in Canyon Springs about a year and a half and everyone seems to love him. Hard not to.” Mina shifted the sleeping baby in her arms. “But my advice, Abby? If you’re looking for a keeper, steer clear. I’m not sure even a lasso and piggin’ string could keep that one corralled.”

Joy laughed, then Melody chimed in. “But let it be said that Britney Bennett isn’t one to take no for an answer.”

“Isn’t that the truth. Poor Brett.”

Janet smiled, shaking her head.

Little towns. Abby had just met these women and already they were sharing advice of the heart with a total stranger.

“Don’t worry about me.” Abby lifted her chin slightly, as if to assure them she wasn’t the susceptible sort and could take care of herself. “I’m going back to Tucson today when Davy’s finished with his lesson.”

“So soon?” Janet’s forehead puckered. “I was hoping you’d stay awhile and could be recruited to help at an upcoming summer camp for kids. You should at least stay for church tomorrow. I’m sure there are many others who’d love to see you all grown-up.”

Abby forced a smile, again conscious of the empty, echoing rafters above, the tinny cheep of sparrows and a horse’s whinny reverberating through the vast space. Reasons to make a getaway were rapidly multiplying. But she wouldn’t admit to these kindhearted women that she hadn’t been to church in five months. Not since the day doctors confirmed she’d forever remain childless—and her displeased fiancé had walked out the door.

* * *

From across the arena, Brett’s gaze again roamed to Davy’s aunt Abby. She was a pretty little filly with big brown eyes and below-the-shoulder, straight black hair demurely pulled back with a satin ribbon. Although dressed conservatively in dark gray slacks and a simple white blouse, that slim waist nevertheless invited a man to slip his arm around it and draw her close. But except for a glimpse of warmth directed at her nephew, he’d yet to see a smile and could only imagine how a laugh might transform her sadness-kissed features.

That there was a melancholy reflected in her eyes, in her bearing, he had no doubt. Did others notice or was he too finely attuned to the nuances of sorrow? He’d worn that heavy cloak himself, hadn’t he? Sometimes it still weighed on him when he least expected it.

“When do we get to ride?” Abby’s nephew demanded as Trey, the equine center’s manager, expounded on safety precautions when working around horses.

The other kids nodded eagerly, including Janet Logan’s grandson, Ace, and Brett grinned. Small for his age, the fair-haired fifth-grader had good coloring today and appeared to be breathing well. That wasn’t always the case. He might not be up to every lesson this coming summer but, when it came to facing challenges head-on, the kid took after his grandma with a can-do attitude they could all learn from.

“We’re almost to the riding part,” Trey assured the children as he turned to his own saddled horse to demonstrate mounting and dismounting.

Today they’d let the kids ride in the corral, closely supervised, to allow them a taste of what they were here for. The next lessons would include vocabulary, equine anatomy and basics of horse and equipment care, as well as getting them started on the fundamentals of horsemanship.

Brett glanced again at Davy, several years younger than Brett’s own son would now have been. Jeremy, who’d been held close in his father’s arms for five hard but precious years...and was now held even more tenderly by his Heavenly Father.

Smiling down at the dark-haired boy, a deeply buried longing of his heart surfaced. Would he ever have another son? A daughter? Could he ever love another woman in such a way that she’d choose to commit to him for a lifetime and not shake her fist at God and walk out when the road became unbearably rocky?

He again looked over the tops of the children’s heads toward the group of women seated near the gate. He’d glimpsed heartache in the eyes of Abby Diaz. With three sisters of his own, he never liked seeing a lady in distress and always did his best to cheer them up, to make things right. Maybe when they wrapped things up here he could have a few words with her. Tease out a smile. Maybe even coax a laugh.

* * *

“Hand over that little lady, Mina.” Brett Marden tucked his gloves into his belt and reached for the now wide-awake infant. He paid no mind to Abby, for which she was grateful. The chattering, elementary-school-aged children still dawdled as they made their way across the arena toward the adults, but Brett had beelined to the group as soon as lessons concluded.

When the young mother released her baby to Brett’s care, he cuddled the squirming bundle close, nuzzling her until she rewarded him with a squealing, toothless grin. “She’s getting prettier every day, just like her mommy.”

Mina gave Abby a “what did I tell you?” look, but nonetheless smiled up at Brett, basking in his generous praise.

“Everyone says she looks like her father,” Mina corrected, and Brett pulled back with a frown to stare down into the little girl’s eyes.

He shook his head. “I have to disagree, ma’am. Anyone who says that must be trying to get on the good side of her daddy. Everybody knows her old man’s a big ugly brute.”

The ladies laughed as he handed the child back to Mina. Then placing his hands firmly on his narrow, jeans-clad hips, he pinned Melody with a knowing gaze.

“Now, young lady, what’s this I’m hearing around town about you and Kent having a bun in the oven?”

Melody’s cheeks flushed crimson, her hand again self-consciously dropping to her abdomen, the snug knit top obviously designed to enhance the barest of baby bumps. “A few weeks before Thanksgiving.”

Brett squinted one eye. “Boy or girl?”

“We don’t want to know,” she teased back with a saucy tilt to her head, obviously relishing being the focus of his good-natured attention. “We want him—or her—to be an old-fashioned surprise.”

“Good plan.” Brett nodded approval. “Congratulations, little mama.”

He turned to Abby and winked as if fully aware she’d been watching him. Caught off guard, she looked away, searching for Davy, who still lingered at the corral with Trey, patting the nose of a chestnut horse.

Behind her, Brett reminded Janet he’d be in touch before his shift at Singing Rock Cabin Resort started tonight. So he worked for her aunt and uncle, too? Then as the ladies shooed their charges out the arena gate, Abby rose and slung her purse strap over her shoulder, uncomfortably aware of Brett’s lingering gaze.

Didn’t the man have anything better to do than to torment her? Okay, maybe torment was too strong a word. But it seemed clear he wasn’t satisfied having the bevy of young mothers eating out of his hand. He needed assurance that the newcomer’s adoration was secured, as well.

Don’t hold your breath, cowboy.

She started off to get Davy, but less than half a dozen yards into her journey Brett joined her, his eyes still smiling almost as if holding on to an unshared secret.

“So Joe has a little sister.”

Reluctantly, she drew to a halt. “That’s me.”

For a moment she thought he was going to say “Why didn’t he ever mention you?” She couldn’t take offense if he did. Family usually talked about family. But there would be no reason for her brother to mention her in casual conversation. Five years apart in age, they’d barely been in contact after Mom took off with her when Joe was fifteen. Nevertheless, her little-girl heart had missed him and he’d told her a few days ago that he’d missed her, too.

“Are you in town for long, ma’am?” Brett’s voice drew her back to the present.

“No. I’m leaving as soon as I drop Davy off at home.”

“That’s a shame.”

Why? Because he wouldn’t have an opportunity to weave his charming wiles around another susceptible female heart?

She glanced again toward her nephew, who was still talking with Trey. Come on, Davy, let’s go.

Brett motioned in their direction. “A bright boy, that one, and he has a natural way with horses. You may have an accomplished horseman in the family one of these days.”

“He wants a horse. Bad.” She smiled inwardly at the remembrance of her own childhood demands. What kid doesn’t think they want a pony? “Joe thought it might be good to let him try it out. Kids often lose interest when they discover an imagined event, toy or pet isn’t as advertised.”

The cowboy nodded. “You can say the same thing of adults, I imagine.”

Where was he coming from with that comment? But he sure nailed it on the head. The shallowness of commitment on the part of her fiancé had been nothing short of deplorable. “I guess so.”

“Is your brother harboring any other pretty siblings?” Brett quirked a smile. “I may have to talk with him about holding out on friends.”

He’s a flirt. The women warned you. Don’t take his flattery to heart. Nevertheless, her breath came more quickly at the approving sparkle in his eyes.

“There’s one other...” She couldn’t help but toy, noticing with gratification how a brow lifted in surprised interest. “But our brother, Ed, might take exception to being termed pretty.”

Brett’s amused gaze pinned her just as her cell phone vibrated silently in the purse resting against her hip. Please don’t let it be Gene again. Since Sunday evening her ex-fiancé had been calling. Emailing. Texting. His messages were brief, only that he needed to talk to her. With each attempt to make contact, her hopes—and outrage—rose in unison.

Brett cocked his head to the side. “Is something wrong, ma’am?”

She wished he’d stop calling her that. It made her sound as old as dirt. “My phone’s vibrating.” She patted the purse at her side. “Incoming call.”

“Don’t mind me. Go ahead. Take it.”

With a grimace of apology, she pulled out the phone. Not Gene, thank goodness, but her older brother, Davy’s dad.

It was already nice getting more frequent calls from Joe. While they’d kept in contact sporadically through the years, they had a long way to go to rebond. Maybe they never fully would. But despite him not being around much the past few days, he was making an effort to reconnect, which was more than Dad seemed to be doing.

“Hey, Joe, what’s up?”

“Meg’s being air-vacced to the hospital at Show Low.”

Her throat tightened at his flat tone, recognizing he’d shifted into paramedic mode. The levelheaded corpsman pattern from his navy days divorced emotion from the situation at hand, conveying that the air transport was more serious than Meg merely going into a much-anticipated labor.

“Is she—”

“I’m on my way there now. She says you have Davy.”

Abby quickly confirmed the boy was still deep in conversation with Trey. “I do. He’s right here.”

“Can you keep him for a while? Stay with him at the house if we don’t get back by tonight?”

“Maybe...” Dad could take care of Davy, couldn’t he? Or Olivia, Joe and Abby’s cousin who’d married Meg’s brother? But no, Joe needed immediate assurance that things were under control on the home front. “Sure. No problem.”

“Davy has a key.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, sis. You’re an answered prayer. I’ll call you when I know more.”

Heart still pounding, she gripped the phone as her gaze met Brett’s troubled one. “Wait— Joe? Will Meg— Is the baby— Are they going to be okay?”

Chapter Two

Gut-punched at the implications of the one-sided conversation, Brett watched as Abby slipped the phone back into her purse with trembling fingers.

“The baby’s on its way?”

“Maybe.” Abby’s dark eyes, wide with alarm, met his. “Meg’s not due for two more weeks, but she’s being air-vacced to Show Low. Joe will call again after he gets there and has more details.”

“But he thinks she and the baby are going to be okay?” He’d heard her ask that question.

She bit gently down on her lower lip. “He doesn’t know. He says to keep them in our prayers.”

Brett gave a confirming nod, a prayer already pumping through his being along with the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Babies. Moms. He knew what was at stake. “You can count on me.”

Something in Abby’s eyes flickered. Surprise? Doubt?

“Thank you.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The baby... It’s a girl. Jorelle. Jo. After her daddy, except without the e.”

“I imagine everybody will be calling her Jori before she’s even out of diapers.”

“Jori. I like that.” An ever-so-faint smile touched the woman’s lips, then she turned to watch as Davy and Trey headed in their direction, her nephew proudly leading Trey’s horse, Taco. “I’d better round up Davy and get him back home.”

“You’ll be lucky if you can drag him out of here with a tractor. Looks like he and ol’ Taco are buds now.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” She took a strengthening breath and he intuitively knew where her thoughts had headed—to what she’d tell Davy about his stepmother’s situation.

He lightly touched her arm and, as she turned uncertainly toward him, he clearly read concern for her family in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. You’ll be given the words to explain his mom’s absence. To reassure him. He’ll be fine.”

She blinked rapidly, hugging her arms to herself in an almost protective gesture.

“But he hardly knows me. What if—” She compressed her lips together, her dark eyes challenging him for answers to questions she dared not utter. What if something was wrong with the baby? What if his mommy... What if she was all alone with Davy should she get such a call?

Stepping closer, he reached for her hand, holding it securely when she tried to draw it back. Warm, soft, fine-boned. “God will tell you what to say, what to do. But don’t dwell on the negative. I don’t know if there’s any truth to it, but I’ve heard babies sometimes come early at higher elevations. Everything’s going to be fine. You wait and see.”

She stared into his eyes, absorbing his words, and his heart rate ramped up a notch. Calm her, Lord. Let her feel Your presence. And while You’re at it, You may need to give me the strength to let go of her hand.

After a long moment, she gave a slight nod, the worst of the worry in her eyes subsiding. He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Aunt Abby! Look at me.”

Abby immediately pulled her hand from his and the two again turned as Trey and the boy neared, a toothy grin spread across the youngster’s face.

When they’d come to a halt in front of her, Abby gave a firm pat to the chestnut’s neck, not timid about it as he would have expected.

She smiled. “You looked good out there, Davy.”

“He did,” Brett confirmed as the boy reluctantly handed over the reins to Trey, then removed his riding helmet and reached up to set it atop the saddle horn.

Brett whipped off his own hat and stepped up to place it on the dark-haired head. “Now you look like a real cowboy.”

Davy beamed up at him.

“Get your daddy to buy you a hat.”

“And some real boots, too?” With a roll of his eyes, Davy looked down at the indignity of his makeshift attire. The class required footwear with a heel so little feet couldn’t slip through stirrups, but today Joe’s son was making do with a pair of laced, heeled work boots. Yep, the boy needed himself a hat and a pair of genuine cowboy boots.

Brett clapped him on the shoulder. “Mention that to your daddy, too.”

“Good job, Davy.” Trey lifted a hand in farewell. “See you at church tomorrow.”

Bubbling over with barely contained happiness, the boy returned Brett’s hat, then turned to half walk, half skip his way across the arena floor. Abby watched him in thoughtful silence, then turned again to Brett.

“Thank you,” she murmured almost shyly, and he again detected an underlying sadness in her eyes. She nodded to Trey and had barely turned away when a laughing Davy dashed back to grab her hand. Together they jogged toward the arena’s exit.

Brett twirled his hat on his finger, unable to suppress a grin.

“I’ve seen a lot of things in my day,” Trey said, shaking his head as he scratched Taco behind the ear. “But now I’ve seen it all. Nobody tops you, buddy. Ninety minutes into an introduction and you’re already holding hands with Davy’s aunt. What was that all about?”

Avoiding Trey’s incredulous stare, Brett gripped the brim of his hat as he recalled the delicate softness of Abby’s fingers cupped in his work-roughened hands. The sweet, clean smell of her up close and her raven hair shimmering, waiting to be loosed from its ribbon clasp.

A not-unexpected weight pressed in on his heart and he scuffed a boot in the dirt, shaking off the too-vivid memory. While they were nice to look at and fun to flirt with, he wasn’t in the market for another lady in his life. A wife. It wasn’t likely God would give him the go-ahead for such as that again, anyway. Besides, he needed to stay focused on helping Janet Logan revive that weeklong summer camp for disease-disabled kids. She was the sole person in Canyon Springs who knew why the project was close to his heart. He liked it that way, between the two of them and God.

“It was all about nothin’, that’s what,” he said with a chuckle as he belatedly remembered Trey was waiting for an answer. “At least nothing like what you’re thinking.”

“Yeah, right.”

Sobering, Brett cut a look at his friend and employer. “She got a call that Joe’s wife’s being rushed to the hospital in Show Low. She needed reassurance, that’s all.”

Trey smiled as the truth dawned. “The baby’s coming?”

Brett squinted against the light coming in from the open doorway at the end of the building, watching a silhouetted Abby and her nephew heading out to their vehicle. She’d be telling him now. Telling him his mommy wouldn’t be home when they got there because she and his daddy had gone to see about the baby. She’d be assuring him Aunt Abby was excited to spend more time with him and they’d have fun together.

“Sure sounds like the baby won’t be long in coming.” He settled his hat on his head. “But things are getting off to a rough start. They’d appreciate prayers.”

He glanced again at the now-vacant, yawning doorway, his spirit whispering a prayer for father, mother, brother, unborn baby sister.

And for the sad-eyed Abby, too.

* * *

“Davy!” Abby called up the stairs of Meg and Joe’s place the following morning. “It’s time to go.”

She planned to drop Davy off for Sunday school, then he could join her father—his grandpa—for the church service afterward. Dad could take him out for lunch and bring him back home. That way she wouldn’t have to deal with vaguely familiar faces asking if she remembered them or inviting her to take a trip down memory lane.

Besides, her father admitted he was serious about his girlfriend, Sharon Dixon, owner of Dix’s Woodland Warehouse, so Sharon would likely join them for lunch. Girlfriend. What a dumb label for a woman in her mid-fifties, conjuring up images of starry-eyed teenagers. But companion sounded equally silly and romantic interest stilted. Even though eighteen years had passed since her parents’ divorce and Mom had remarried when Abby was twenty, she hadn’t been prepared to see Dad with another woman. It had been more than awkward that first day when she’d arrived unexpectedly on his doorstep and found Sharon there, fixing lunch for the two of them.

No, this spur-of-the-moment visit hadn’t turned out as she’d hoped at all. She’d never been an impulsive sort and this was one more confirmation that racing ahead without thinking wasn’t in her best interests.

“Davy!” she called again.

“Camy won’t give me my shoe,” the boy’s voice echoed from the second story.

She cringed. That was her fault. With Davy anxious while his parents were gone, she’d given in and allowed him to bring the year-and-a-half-old Labrador retriever inside to sleep on the floor by his bed. Mistake. At least feeding Skooter, Meg’s blue betta fish, had been uneventful.

She made it halfway up the stairs to assist him when the cell phone she’d left in the kitchen chimed. Gene again? She’d come to terms with their parting, determined to trust God that it was the right thing for both of them. But with each attempted contact, the dreamer inside her irrationally hoped he was experiencing regrets about their breakup. The pragmatic side, of course, insisted he’d remembered he’d given her a valuable volume of poetry for her last birthday and wondered if he could have it back. Either way, she wasn’t ready to talk to him.

Backtracking to the kitchen, Abby snatched up the phone, relieved at the caller ID. “Good morning, Joe.”

“Things okay there?” He sounded weary. “Davy’s not giving you any trouble?”

“Of course not. He’s a doll.” The kind of little boy she’d always dreamed of having. “How’s Meg?”

“Stabilized. Tired.”

“And the baby?”

“They’re keeping her closely monitored. So far so good. They may be released this afternoon.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Doubly so. Meg’s return meant Abby could head home, too. Hanging out with Davy the past twenty-four hours, playing temporary mom, had been more than her heart was ready to bear.

“Hey, Meg has something she wants to talk to you about. Just a sec.”

She eased herself down onto a kitchen chair, waiting as he handed the phone to his wife with a few murmured words. Heard a kiss. Must be nice to have a supportive spouse, one who stuck by you no matter what.

“Abby?”

Meg’s usually perky voice was far less so today, and Abby envisioned the short-haired brunette, her face now much fuller than in her wedding pictures, stretched out in a hospital bed after the upset of the previous day.

“I hate to ask one more thing of you,” her sister-in-law continued. “So I apologize in advance. I know you intended to go home yesterday.”

“Never mind that.” She plucked absently at a woven place mat. “What can I do for you?”

“Until a few minutes ago, I’d forgotten the kindergarten Sunday school teacher is out of town this weekend. I’m her assistant. Her backup. Would you fill in for me this morning?”

That meant a room full of little kids, probably next door to the nursery. She’d be facing another battery of “do you remember me?” people, too. But how could she say no?

“I’ve prepared the lesson,” Meg rushed on. “The activities, too. Everything’s in the wicker trunk in the living room.”

“How many kids are we talking about?” Although she’d long dreamed of one of her own, Abby hadn’t much interaction with the younger set. Brother Ed had no children and Joe’s son, Davy, by his now-deceased first wife had grown up in San Diego, where she’d had no in-person contact with him until now.

“Usually four kids, maybe five. But this time of year, with the tourist season beginning, we plan for eight, then up to twelve once school is out and the season is in full swing.”

Potentially eight kids. “Ohhh...kay.”

“You don’t sound like it’s okay.”

Abby glanced down at her jeans and tank top. Not exactly grubbies, but hardly churchwear. She’d have to change. “I’m reconfiguring the morning in my mind. Davy and I aren’t quite ready to dash out the door.”

“Sometimes you have to light a fire under him to get him moving.”

“Oh, he’s up and had breakfast. We’ve run into a slight delay.” She hoped the yellow Lab hadn’t chewed up the shoe beyond repair. “Don’t worry about the class. I’ll have it covered.”

“Thanks, Abby. I feel bad asking people to step in at the last minute. I had to call the school district to tell them I’ll miss these final days of the semester.”

From the dismal tone of her voice, disappointment weighed heavily on the high school science teacher. It was obvious even from their brief acquaintance that she loved teaching and her students.

“Joe says you might be released this afternoon, so get plenty of rest. You and Jori—” she tried out the nickname on her tongue, still liking the sound of it “—need all your strength for the final big event.”

“Jori?”

“That’s what one of Davy’s riding instructors, Brett Marden, is calling her.”

“So you met Brett, did you?” A lilt of amusement colored Meg’s innocent question.

The image of Brett’s dancing eyes and flash of even white teeth returned with a rush. His “could be you’ll find something that catches your interest” comment echoed in her ears as she rubbed her palm down the side of her jeans, recalling yesterday’s surprisingly gentle touch when he’d unexpectedly taken her hand in his. “We spoke for a few minutes.”

“What do you think of him?”

She stood and moved to stand at the French door leading to the patio, focusing on the beautiful morning in an attempt to force out lingering images of her nephew’s riding instructor.

“He’s nice. Davy seems to like him.”

Meg snorted. “You’re holding back on me. How about the part that he’s gorgeous, has a killer smile and can charm the hair right off your head?”

“I guess I wasn’t paying that much attention.” Would lightning strike her for the denial?

Her sister-in-law’s laughter pealed through the phone. “It sounds as if we need to get your eyes checked. He has so many female hearts wrapped around his little finger it’s not even funny. So be on your toes, girl, if you run into him again.”

She wouldn’t be running into him again if she had anything to say about it. There was something unsettling about the man, something that set her senses on high alert with red flashing lights. Caution. Warning. Do not enter.

“You forget, Meg.” Abby shoved away thoughts of the too-friendly cowboy. “I’ve come out of a relationship that didn’t end in a happily ever after. I’m in no hurry to walk that path again.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Hearing the sincere regret in Meg’s voice, Abby wished she hadn’t said anything. She didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. Not about any of it, which is why she’d kept the truth behind Gene’s departure from her family and had allowed them to assume she’d broken off the relationship as she’d done others in the past. No one anticipating the celebration of a new arrival needed the downer of her childless reality intruding into their midst.

“That’s okay. I’m fine. I’m not looking for a replacement anytime soon.” Abby turned away from the pine-studded view to pace the kitchen floor. “So forget about me and concentrate on your new arrival. You’re going to have that baby before you know it.”

Meg sighed. “I hope so. I know God has it all under control, but yesterday I was so scared. I still am even though I’m trying not to be.”

Abby halted. It seemed strange for Meg to confide in her, an almost stranger. She must be searching for reassurance wherever she could get it. Would they have been friends by now had Abby not eschewed her brother’s wedding last year? Her relationship with Gene had been off to a promising start and he’d invited her to meet his Seattle-based parents during spring break—which happened to coincide with Joe and Meg’s wedding date. With hardly a second thought, she’d eagerly joined Gene. Bad choice on her part, in retrospect.

“I want my little girl to be healthy and happy,” the voice over the phone murmured softly.

“She will be, Meg. Everything’s going to be fine.” Would it? That’s what Brett said and, for some crazy reason, she’d believed him. He’d seemed so certain and had promised to pray. Abby had been praying, too, but felt like a hypocrite asking favors for someone when she’d seen prayers for herself come to nothing. “Take a deep breath and don’t worry about anything here. Davy and I will be on our way to church shortly.”

Just as soon as she got that shoe away from the pup.

Chapter Three

“Hey, who’s the gal with Davy Diaz?”

Jake Talford, standing outside the front door of Canyon Springs Christian Church, nodded toward the education wing of the building.

Brett turned to take a look and his spirits inexplicably took flight. As always, he felt a sense of anticipation as he approached the native stone building nestled among tall-trunked ponderosa pine trees, its bell tower topped by a cross. But today that expectancy was heightened by the sight of Abby ushering her nephew toward a side door. So she hadn’t gone home yesterday after all.

Abby was dressed in a black skirt, burgundy V-neck top and what his sisters called espadrilles, with her hair fastened behind her head in a schoolmarmish bun. Despite her reserved manner, the look didn’t suit her.

He watched until the pair disappeared inside, then turned back to his friend. “That’s Abby Diaz. Joe’s sister.”

The city councilman raised a brow. “You’re kidding. I didn’t know he had a sister.”

“Welcome to the club.” At least he wasn’t the lone person Joe hadn’t confided in.

They chatted for several more minutes about the promising Arizona Diamondbacks season and Jake and his fiancée’s wedding plans. But Brett had a hard time concentrating on the conversation. If Abby was at church with Davy, did that mean Meg had safely delivered the baby—or not?

As an older couple approached the doorway where the two men stood, he stepped back and gave Jake a parting nod. “See you later.”

He jogged down the covered walkway to the education wing door, whipped off his hat and entered. What was Davy now? A first-grader until school let out for the summer? Abby would likely have been taking him to his classroom, then maybe joining one of the adult classes as he, too, intended to do.

He peeked in the interior window of the first grade class and spied Davy pulling out a chair at the table. Brett opened the door with an apologetic smile at the teacher and whispered to Abby’s nephew. “Davy, where’s your aunt?”

The boy looked up and smiled a greeting. “She’s teaching kindergarten for Mommy.”

His heart hitched. Kindergarten. Roughly the same age as Jeremy when he’d held him in his arms those final hours and kissed him goodbye.

Squaring his shoulders, he nodded his thanks, then shut the door. At the next classroom he looked through the window. Sure enough, a bewildered-looking Abby stood in the midst of half a dozen or so little kids, the noise level rising with every passing second even with the classroom door closed. Unsmiling, she appeared to be pleading with her charges to settle down, but the kids didn’t pay her any attention.

This looked to be a rescue operation.

He opened the door and slipped inside. Then he shut it behind him, tossed his hat to the top of a supply cabinet and squatted to kid level, savoring the memorable scent of glue sticks and crayons. It took two seconds for the majority of the children to come running. The remaining two, probably summer visitors, hung back, watchful.

The local kids crowded in close.

“Hi, Brett! Can I wear your hat?”

“Are you going to teach our Sunday school class?”

“Did you ride your horse to church?”

“Where’s Elmo?”

Laughing, he glanced up at Abby, who didn’t look happy at the interruption. Couldn’t she see he’d come to her aid? He gave each child a hug, then shook the hands of the new kids, solemnly introducing himself and asking their names.

“Brett is awesome,” Betsy Davis, motherlike, assured the visitors. “We love him.”

“Yeah.” A ponytailed Mary Kenton, the pastor’s oldest daughter, gave him another hug.

The others joined in with a cacophony of affirmations and the noise level escalated again. Conscious of the nursery across the hall and the adjoining first grade classroom, Brett stood and placed his finger to his lips. “I think it’s time to play—”

“I do have a lesson prepared.” Abby lifted a teacher’s guide in protest as if suspecting he intended to hijack the sharing of God’s word for an hour of recreational pursuits.

“Little red schoolhouse!” the local kids shouted in unison, guessing the game Brett had been about to suggest. Giggling, they hurried to be seated around a low, rectangular table.

He shrugged as he shot Abby a grin that she didn’t return.

“This is so cool,” Betsy informed the visitors as the chatter continued around the table. “His mom taught him this game.”

“And her mom taught it to her,” Brett added. Grandma was a sly one. As a youngster, he’d fallen for it for years. Glancing at an obviously disapproving Abby, he merely waved her toward one of the diminutive chairs. “Come on, ma’am, you won’t want to miss this.”

With a crease still etching her forehead, she pulled out a chair and carefully perched on it, almost as if expecting it to collapse like in the old Goldilocks tale. He gave her an approving nod, but didn’t coax out a smile.

“Okay now.” Brett clapped, getting the attention of the still-jabbering children. “When I say the words little red schoolhouse...one, two, three, what do we do?”

“We see who can go the longest without saying anything,” Betsy piped up, proud that she knew the answer.

Abby’s eyes widened as she stared at him in disbelief. Catching on now, was she?

“Does the winner get a prize?” one of the visitors demanded, his freckled face screwed up in concentration at the challenge ahead.

Brett’s Jeremy had sported freckles, too. Blond hair and the biggest blue eyes, just like his mama. “There’s no prize. But it’s fun, so we don’t need prizes.”

The boy didn’t look convinced, but Brett pulled up another tiny chair and sat down, too. Then he leaned forward to clasp his hands on the table and the children likewise clasped theirs. After a slight hesitation, Abby followed suit.

“Are we ready?”

Nods all around the table. A giggle from Mary garnered her a glare from the others.

“Okay, here we go. Say it with me.” He made eye contact with each eager face, making sure all were on board. This was such a fun age. Or it could be when kids were healthy and whole, not laboring for every breath drawn into fragile lungs.

“Little red schoolhouse...” a chorus of childish voices chimed in with his. “One...two...three.”

Blessed silence descended as each child pressed lips tightly together, watchfully peering around the circle of faces in search of the first culprit to break the quiet.

As the blissful moments stretched, a broad smile appeared on Mary’s face and several others pointed accusingly, hands clamped to their own now-smiling mouths to keep from saying anything.

“She’s still in the game,” Brett assured softly. “She hasn’t said anything.”

Mary gave them a “so there” look, lips tightening with renewed resolve. Brett winked at Abby, who slowly shook her head. He imagined she’d remember this crowd control ploy for some time to come. It was so quiet he could hear a baby crying in the nursery across the hall.

Abruptly, the boy who’d demanded a prize gave a loud, overly dramatic gasp and gulped in mouthfuls of air. “I can’t breathe!”

Initially startled, the other kids stared with rounded eyes. Then almost in unison, they cried out in grinning triumph. “He talked!”

“You don’t hold your breath, silly,” red-haired Skyler admonished with a sigh of disgust. “Can we start over, Brett? He’s doing it wrong.”

Brett leaned over to pat the visitor on the back, making sure he was okay. He was fine, but liked putting on a show.

“That’s right, don’t hold your breath. You can breathe through your mouth or through your nose or...through your ears if you want to.”

The kids giggled.

Mary plugged her ears with her fingers and made a face of distress. “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!”

The room erupted in laughter, and Brett caught Abby’s eye. She was laughing, too, and his heart unexpectedly lurched. Man, was that glimpse behind the starchy-mannered exterior worth waiting for.

The now-composed boy grinned. “I won’t hold my breath again. I promise.”

“We’ll play one more time.” Brett again caught their teacher’s eye. “Then I believe Miss Abby here has a Bible story for us and probably something fun to make to take home.”

Abby nodded and the kids turned to look at her as if noticing her for the first time. Another round of the game and the kids were settled down enough to focus on a Bible lesson. All except Skyler, that is, who gave Mary’s ponytail a tug. Brett hauled him into his lap and, after a halfhearted struggle, the boy finally relaxed against him, a too-familiar weight and little boy scent that brought back memories. Wrapping his arms around Skyler’s waist, Brett rested his chin atop the soft thatch of hair and nodded for Abby to begin.

David and Goliath. A bittersweet heaviness settled into Brett’s chest. Wouldn’t you know it? One of Jeremy’s favorite stories. Right up there with Noah and the ark, Jonah and the whale, and Daniel in the lion’s den. Thankfully the Lord had gotten hold of that precious boy’s daddy just in time or he’d never have heard those stories—or about how Jesus loved the little children.

Brett swallowed, forcing away the past as he concentrated on the woman in front of him. She recited the story slowly, with enthusiastic animation, as she moved magnetic cutout characters across the whiteboard. The gentle voice, tinged with a slight huskiness that lent it a distinction of its own, held the children riveted.

Brett shifted Skyler on his lap, as captivated as any of the kids. His ex-wife, Melynda, never read Bible stories to Jeremy. She’d wanted no part of God after the cystic fibrosis diagnosis, and no part of her husband, either, once Jeremy passed away. Brett didn’t often allow himself to dwell on those dark times and God had been faithful to ease the relentless, piercing pain of loss. So why today?

If there was anything he’d learned over the past seven years since losing Jeremy and the shock of his wife’s departure, it was that there were good days and there were bad days. On both, he could only thank God for allowing him to have a wife and a son in his life for as long as He had—and take another step into tomorrow without them.

* * *

Abby had never seen anything quite like it. The man had merely entered the classroom and suddenly the world was all about him. Or the children’s world anyway. Even when at the hour’s conclusion they’d gathered up their papers to await their parents, Brett had once again become the focus of their attention and she was all but invisible.

Had she known Brett went to Canyon Springs Christian, she wouldn’t have been so easily persuaded to take on Meg’s Sunday school class. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate how he’d settled the children down with that clever schoolhouse game of his. She’d been on the verge of panic before his arrival. But really...had he needed to remain through the entire lesson? Help out with the crafts? Not that she wasn’t grateful for the assistance, but his watchful eyes, teasing remarks and knowing smiles had made it harder on her, always wondering what he was going to do next.

That was one thing she’d appreciated about Gene, her steady-as-he-goes fiancé. Twelve years her senior, the long-widowed university professor was a man of fixed routine and predictability. A creature of habit. No surprises there. Or at least that’s what she’d thought until he broke off their engagement, annoyed that she’d be unable to fulfill her part of the marital bargain and had messed up his carefully laid plans to father a child of his own. He’d acted as if it hadn’t been as equally a painful blow to her.

Brett saw the last of the kindergartners off with a wave, then turned to where Davy had joined her to help gather materials back into his mother’s canvas bag. Snatching up a roll of paper towels, the cowboy moistened a few in the room’s corner sink, then wiped down the tables with every bit as much enthusiasm as he seemed to lavish on anything he set his mind to. Which, she had to admit, could be irritating. Must be nice not to have a care in the world.

But why did he keep hanging around? Didn’t he have any place he needed to be?

Slinging the lesson bag over her shoulder, she patted Davy on the back. “Why don’t you find Grandpa? I’m sure he’ll be expecting you in church.”

Davy’s brow wrinkled. “You’re not coming?”

“No, I have a few things to attend to. But I’m sure your grandpa will see that you get lunch and bring you home afterward.” Or at least that’s what he used to do when she was a kid.

Even though only the Diaz children—not the adults—had actually attended church, Dad enjoyed Sunday family times and they’d given his wife a break from meal preparation. Mom still hated cooking. Dad had done much of it whenever he could, so they’d probably consumed way too many meals prepared on his oversize grill and Sunday specials at Kit’s Lodge.

“You’ll still be there when I get home, won’t you?” Davy’s eyes sought hers for reassurance. Thank goodness his mother would return this afternoon. Abby was already losing her heart to this little guy and he seemed to be latching on to her, too.

“I’ll be there. Me and that shoe-chewing pooch of yours.”

Davy grinned, then with a wave to Brett he disappeared out the door.

“Good kid.” Brett retrieved his hat from atop the supply cabinet, a version that was in more pristine condition than the one he’d worn at the equine center yesterday. He’d donned his Sunday best, too—well-oiled boots, dark jeans and a crisp white Western-cut shirt. “So how’s his mom and the bambina?”

So that’s why he’d lingered. He wanted an update on Meg.

“She and the baby are both stabilized and she’s hoping to come home this afternoon. She can’t return to work, of course, but at least she may be able to wait things out at home.”

“Glad to hear it.” Rotating his hat in his hands, he didn’t seem in any hurry to be on his way.

She patted the bun on her head, ensuring it was still secure, then took a step toward the door. “Thank you for helping out. That little red schoolhouse thing is ingenious.”

“I was more than happy to assist.” He cocked his head, eyes twinkling. “But I thought you librarians knew all the tricks in the book about kid control. Assuming, of course, they still have story hours at libraries these days.”

Abby shrugged. “I was a high school librarian.”

“Was?”

Ugh. He’d picked up on that slip of the tongue.

“Yes, was.” But she didn’t intend to discuss it. Cutbacks in funding weren’t kind to a private school librarian with a paltry four years of experience. Even with a master’s degree, she’d been among the first to be let go at the end of the spring semester.

In the weeks since school ended, she had no idea how she’d managed to motivate herself to apply for the few available librarian job openings in the Tucson area, let alone make a good showing in the interviews. Nevertheless, she hoped to hear an affirmative for the fall semester soon. It didn’t much matter which one. With an apartment to maintain and car and education loans to pay off, she couldn’t afford to be choosy.

Eyeing her curiously, Brett nevertheless didn’t press her for an explanation, for which she was grateful.

“There you are.” A masculine voice came almost accusingly from the doorway. Her dad. The stocky, mustached Bill Diaz stepped into the room, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his hawklike nose and salt-and-pepper hair highlighted by the fluorescent overhead lights.

“Hey, Bill.” Brett stepped forward to shake his hand.

He knew her dad?

The older man’s smile broadened. “I should have known you’d manage to find the prettiest girl in the building.”

Brett darted a look in her direction, the first uncomfortable one she’d seen coming from him. Had he naively assumed she hadn’t already heard of his ladies’ man reputation and thought Dad was spilling the beans? He must have forgotten she’d observed him with the women at the equine center and borne the impact of his heart-stopping grin.

Brett sheepishly returned her father’s knowing smile. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on them. Keep the rounders at bay.”

“You’re the man for the job, son.” Her father gave him a nod of approval, then turned to pin Abby with a frown. “What’s this Davy’s saying about you not staying for church? Come on now, folks are wanting to see you again. Since you’re staying the weekend after all, you need to give your old man a chance to show off his beautiful daughter.”

Why was Dad being so jolly this morning? When they’d last spoken as she packed her car on Saturday morning—before Meg’s SOS to help with Davy’s riding lesson—things had been extremely awkward. “Dad, I don’t want to be shown off.”

“Indulge me. Sit beside me during the worship service and join me and Davy for lunch at Kit’s.”

Her hopes lifted. Did he want to put more effort into bridging the gap of too many lost years? To try again to establish a relationship with his long-absent offspring?

Then she remembered Sharon.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

He lowered his glasses on his nose to peer at her. “Intrude? On what?”

She cast an uneasy look in Brett’s direction. He didn’t need to be privy to family matters. “I assume Sharon’s joining you?”

Her father’s brows took a dive. “She’s not. She has a ladies luncheon to attend. But what if she were coming? She wants to get to know you better, honey, just like I do.”

“Dad—”

“You can bring your friend here, too.” He waved his hand toward Brett.

Brett wasn’t her friend. He wasn’t her anything. “Dad, I don’t—”

“You both have to eat, don’t you? My treat.”

Brett shook his head. “Thank you, sir, but—”

“Come on, join us. Abby needs to get to know some young folks in Canyon Springs. Maybe you can talk her into staying a few weeks. Maybe all summer.”

Hope flickered. Dad wanted her to stay? It sure hadn’t felt like that yesterday morning. He’d seemed as bewildered as she was about how to build a real-life bridge between them, not just communicate through birthday cards and an occasional ill-at-ease phone call. The past few days she’d spent with him had seemed, well, more than weird. And disappointing. Maybe he’d been disappointed, too?

“Come on, Brett,” Dad urged again, almost as though needing an ally in the struggle to find comfortable ground with his only daughter. A third party to balance things out?

While her instincts warned to stay away from Brett—he was a heartache waiting to happen—his presence at lunch might ease the tension between her and Dad. He and Davy would keep conversation at a superficial level and his happy-go-lucky approach might deflect the wounding sparks that sometimes flared between father and daughter. Despite her misgivings, Brett’s accompanying them suddenly seemed vital to paving the path to a harmonious connection with Dad.

Brett’s eyes narrowed as if trying to read her thoughts, then he dropped his gaze to the hat in his hands. “I appreciate the invitation, Bill, but I’m sure Abby can make up her own mind as to how long she wants to stay in town.”

He moved toward the door.

“You’re welcome to come.” Her rapid response provoked a surprised lifting of a brow as his gaze met her now-pleading one. Couldn’t he see that just as he’d barged into the Sunday school class, he needed to barge in here now, too? Needed to be a buffer between her and Dad?

Come on, cowboy. Say yes.

Chapter Four

Monday morning Brett rolled over with a groan and felt around blindly on the nightstand for his ringing cell phone. Six o’clock. It was his day off, but he’d overslept by two hours. He had someplace he had to be. Early. Before the wind picked up.

“Brett?”

He recognized the voice of his sister Geri, one of the twins. Two years older than him, both sisters sported red hair, a sprinkling of freckles and energy that wouldn’t quit. He collapsed back on his pillow. “What’s up?”

“It sure doesn’t sound like you are yet. Oversleep?”

“I forgot to set the alarm.” A Singing Rock emergency had ensured he’d gotten to bed late, then he’d lain awake too long kicking himself for not taking Bill Diaz up on his lunch invitation yesterday. Abby had clearly wanted him to come with them, as he’d interpreted it anyway, to be a buffer between her and her father. Not a spot he cared to be in. But it had eaten at him the rest of the day, second-guessing his decision not to go along. He’d wondered about Abby’s sadness when he’d first met her and it seemed likely the father-daughter relationship played a role in it. There had been an evident tension between the two of them in the brief interchange he’d witnessed.

“You have to plan a weekend at Mom and Dad’s sometime soon,” Geri insisted. Despite being the bossier of the twins who often acted like a second mom to him, she was the sibling he felt closest to. Even though she had a look-alike playmate, she’d nevertheless loved joining him in his childhood adventures and they developed a special bond. Through the years Geri had become—and remained—his confidante.

“That’s not on my agenda. Why?”

“Amber, Erin and I were thinking about getting everybody together. We haven’t all been in one place since Thanksgiving. Maybe you could stop in Ashfork and pick up Grandma and Grandpa on your way.”

He scrubbed his free hand over his face, cognizant of the morning stubble along his jaw. A Marden family get-together at the ranch his folks managed was always an event to look forward to. He hated to miss out.

“You know summers are the busiest time of the year for me. That popular blog that’s been featuring our town jump-started the tourist season early, too. We have a lot of events scheduled at the equine center, and here at Singing Rock we’re already filling up.” He worked part-time at both locations, having been fortunate enough to snag accommodations as a part of the deal at the cabin resort, where he was usually on call evenings. “I’m still picking up work on the side and the kids’ camp is coming along, too.”

For a long moment his sister remained silent.

“What?” he prompted. But he could guess what she was thinking. He’d heard it enough times from all three sisters. And Mom. His three older brothers and Dad weren’t so disapproving of his choices.

“You’re still burying yourself in your work, Brett.”

Readying for a lecture, he reluctantly pulled himself up and propped the pillow against the headboard, behind his back. “It’s called being fond of eating and having a roof over my head. Oh, and providing the same for that spoiled horse of mine.”

After a too-long time in the city, it had been a joy to have a horse of his own again and to hit the forested trails surrounding Canyon Springs. Just him, Cinnabar, Elmo and God.

“I’m not making light of your situation, but it’s been seven years since you lost Jeremy and Melynda left you. Care to share when you’re going to let yourself have a life again?”

He had a life. Maybe it wasn’t how the happily married Geri with her two rambunctious kids thought it should be. But he had a good life. Interesting work and a kid-oriented project occupied his time, involvement with children being a step he’d once thought he’d never again choose to take.

“Does anyone there even know what you’ve been through? Offer support?”

He’d shared bits and pieces of his past with Janet Logan, who’d skillfully and compassionately pried them out of him. A no-nonsense, practical type, she hadn’t fawned over him and his losses. No stranger to heartache herself, she could be counted on to keep private what he’d confided to her.

“I’ve mentioned it to a discreet, older lady from church. But you know I don’t like people knowing my business.”

Geri made a scoffing sound. “Doesn’t that strike you as odd? I mean, you are one of the most open, gregarious men I know. Yet you’re still keeping all of this to yourself.”

“I don’t imagine hearing about it would brighten anyone’s day.” It hadn’t brightened Janet’s by any means, but her grandson’s challenges with cystic fibrosis had built a strong bond between them.

“Maybe not, but you’re not allowing anyone outside the family to serve as a support system. Don’t you dare tell me doing that is ‘a guy thing.’”

Why couldn’t the females in his family leave him in peace? He shook his head and leaned over to turn on the nightstand lamp even though sufficient sunlight peeped in around the edge of the curtains to make it an unnecessary effort. “I don’t need a support system. I’m doing fine. God is good. Life is good. And I’m better than good.”

Considering what he’d been through, that was the truth. He was happy...for the most part. Enjoying life. No, maybe it wasn’t all he’d once dreamed of, but did anyone ever have it all? Doubtful.

“You still aren’t seeing anyone, are you?” Not surprisingly, her tone rang with accusation. “No one special, I mean.”

Special. That meant letting a woman get close enough that you cared when she walked out. “In God’s time, Geri. I’m in no hurry to run ahead of Him.”

He hadn’t even been much tempted to. No woman had caught more than his slightest interest in a long time. Unbidden, the image of Abby Diaz reading the Sunday school lesson to the kindergarteners slid into his sleep-fogged mind. He could picture how the kids sat rapt, listening to the animation in her somewhat husky voice—a voice that could get under a man’s skin real quick if he let it.

He ran a hand through his hair, dismissing the memory.

“Maybe you’ve barred the door to God’s plan,” his sister persisted. “Have you ever considered that?”

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, the hardwood floor cool under his bare feet. He needed to replace the rug his overgrown pup, Elmo, had chewed up last week. “So now you’re evaluating my spiritual life?”

“Of course not. But a man who is looking for a wife—”

Where’d she get that idea?

“—doesn’t move to a town with a population of less than three thousand souls and hide out with his horse.”

He cracked a smile. “I lived in Phoenix for five years before coming here. Fifth largest city in the country, with probably half the population female.”

“And the whole time you were there you were hanging on to the hope Melynda would come back, so you didn’t date even then.”

“I was doing what I believed God wanted me to do.” Working full-time to pay off the medical bills and taking classes on the side didn’t cater to an active love life.

“If you hadn’t been funneling money to Melynda through her folks,” she chided, “maybe you could have paid the bills off sooner. Her folks blindsiding you with the news that she’d gotten pregnant and remarried proves she didn’t deserve your help.”

Brett held back the growl forming in his throat. Geri would have to remind him of Melynda carrying another man’s child. But helping his ex-wife financially was something else he’d felt led to do even though it hadn’t been a requirement of the divorce settlement. Up until two years ago when she’d remarried, he’d never thought of her as an ex. After all, he’d signed on for the long haul even if she hadn’t. He’d hung on to the belief that if she saw him living a convincing life of faith, walking in Jesus’s footsteps, she’d eventually give her life to God, too, and find her way back to her husband.

That had been his prayer anyway.

Hearing a robin’s insistent chirp, he moved to a window of the one-room cabin and pulled back the curtain to a day well on its way. His day off and he was already burning daylight.

“Face it, Geri. I could move to a planet populated entirely by women and not meet Ms. Right if it’s not in God’s timing.”

“You have to at least give Him something to work with. Canyon Springs is beyond remote.”

He let the curtain drop and headed to the kitchenette to get coffee started. “You’ve forgotten that Mom and Dad’s pastor met his better half on the mission field in Peru. God picked up another missionary and plopped her right down in the middle of that remote mountain village. When the time is right, it happens.”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m not saying God can’t do anything He wants to. I’m just saying—”

“That you love me and you want me to be happy.” He picked up a ceramic coffee mug from the stack of dishes in the sink, rinsed it and set it on the counter.

Her voice softened. “You’re such a wonderful guy, Brett.”

“I know. I try not to let it go to my head.”

She snorted. “I’m serious. You deserve to have a woman who loves you. You’re so good with kids, too.”

“I’m an uncle times fifteen, does that count?” With six siblings, the youngsters had added up fast, now aged four through nineteen years.

“It counts, but...you were such a great dad.”

Silence hung momentarily between them as they reflected on unspoken memories of son and nephew.

“Thanks, Geri.” He’d like to think his child had a father he could count on, that Jeremy had known he was loved beyond measure. Yeah, he’d see his boy again when he himself departed this world, but he’d long harbored a dream that he might one day hold another of his children in his arms in the here and now. His sisters meant well but, unfortunately, tended to forget one critical factor.

He again picked up the coffee mug, scrutinized it, then rinsed it out a second time. “It’s awkward to bring up in casual conversation with a woman you’ve just met that you’re a carrier of the defective cystic fibrosis gene. Even harder to suggest it might be a good idea that she get tested before a relationship progresses too far.”

He’d tried that once with a classmate he’d become friends with after Melynda remarried—it hadn’t gone over well. But the truth of the matter was that if both partners were one of an estimated ten million who were carriers of the flawed gene—as had been he and Melynda—each time you got pregnant you had a 25 percent chance of having a child with CF.

He couldn’t lose another child like that again.

“I’m aware it’s a challenging situation,” Geri resumed with a gentler tone. “But I’m praying and so is the whole family, that you’ll find your Ms. Right. Soon. Sometimes when I pray, I feel such an expectation that it won’t be long.”

A smile twitched. “Even if I’m hiding in Canyon Springs?”

“It’s a long shot,” she teased back. “But like you said, God can do whatever He wants. Just promise me, Brett, that when your Ms. Right shows up you won’t sneak out the back door and hit the road running.”

Most of the women he’d met here in town were married, engaged or obviously not a good match for any number of reasons. Like Britney Bennett. Or they were tourists briefly visiting mountain country to escape the heat in other regions of the state or visiting family. Like Abby Diaz.

He’d heard at Camilla’s Café last night that Meg hadn’t come home from the hospital yesterday after all. Which meant Abby might still be in town today...

He leaned back against the counter, the scent of coffee in the making luring him closer to a waking state. His big sis wanted him to promise not to sneak out the back door and hit the road running, huh? “We’ll see.”

“Brett! You have to cooperate. You know God doesn’t strong-arm us into His will.”

Would not canceling his commitment to paint Joe Diaz’s garage today be considered cooperating? He didn’t have any designs on his friend’s sister, but Abby would only be here for another day or two at most. He still felt bad about ducking out on lunch yesterday. It wouldn’t hurt to check in on her.

“We’ll see,” he said again, tamping down an unexpected flicker of anticipation. “We’ll see.”

* * *

“Davy! Breakfast is ready!”

Abby poured a glass of milk for her nephew and set it on the kitchen table. Then she popped a striped straw into Davy’s glass and stepped back to view her handiwork. What would he think of the colorful table setting she’d thrown together? She’d woven a place mat from wide strips of yellow and lime-green construction paper and cut out the toast with a round cookie cutter to make a smiley face. A blueberry-eyed peeled banana now stood on toothpick legs.

Davy had been disappointed when Joe came home late yesterday afternoon only long enough to shower and head back for a shift of work. His mother hadn’t come home at all—the doctors wanted to keep her another night for observation. But maybe the whimsical breakfast table would start his day on a positive note and after school his mom would be home.

She could hear him bumping around upstairs, but she hadn’t let the dog in last night so that shouldn’t be the cause of his delay this morning. Is this how Meg always started her day? Trying to get out the door to work while rounding up a foot-dragging Davy? Nevertheless, Abby couldn’t help a twinge of envy. Meg was mother to an adorable stepson and soon to give birth to a baby girl. Would Jori have Joe’s smile? Meg’s eyes?

“Here I come!” Davy hollered, footsteps pounding as he clambered down the stairs. He dashed into the kitchen, then came to a halt in front of the table, eyes wide. “Is it your birthday or something, Aunt Abby?”

She laughed. “No. I thought you might enjoy an extra happy breakfast.”

“My toast has a jelly smile,” he pointed out as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “Can I eat it?”

“Yes, you can eat it. I’ll dish up your oatmeal when you’re done with that.”

“Awesome. Is Brett coming to breakfast, too?”

She certainly wouldn’t invite Brett to breakfast, especially not after he’d turned down the invitation to lunch yesterday. She couldn’t decide if she was more disgruntled with him for not helping her out when she’d practically pleaded or with herself for looking to a stranger to ease tensions between her and Dad.

“What makes you think he’d be coming to breakfast?”

Davy leaned over to grasp the strings attached to the drapery rod and drew back the curtains of the French doors overlooking the patio. He pointed to the detached two-car garage at the rear of the spacious treed lot. “I saw him from my window upstairs.”

Sure enough, there was Brett, a cowboy hat topping his head as he hauled a ladder from the back of a gray pickup. What was he doing here? Shouldn’t he be on his way to work?

“Maybe he’s hungry.” Davy took a bite of his toast. “Brett’s always hungry at the church potlucks.”

Abby looked down at the festive table, where she’d been about to join Davy. Toast. A banana. Soon-to-be oatmeal. Hardly enough to sustain a man the size of Brett.

She moved closer to the glassed door. “Where’s he going with that ladder?”

“Dunno.”

She watched a moment longer, then returned to the stove to stir the oatmeal. “Go ahead and eat. He won’t be expecting breakfast, and you need to finish getting ready for school.”

Davy took another bite of toast, then again leaned back in his chair for a better view of what was going on outside. “Oh, man, he brought Elmo.”

“Who’s Elmo?” She doubted a Sesame Street character had accompanied Brett but, if the sudden onslaught of barking was any indication, she could almost guess the answer.

“His black Lab. He and Camy are best friends.” Davy stood up. “Look at her. She’s going crazy to get out of her pen.”

Abby moved to the door once more, then looked up at the wall clock. Seven-fifteen. The neighbors probably loved the canine serenade, but the two young dogs did seem particularly pleased to see each other, tongues lolling as they cavorted on either side of Camy’s enclosure.

“Sit down and eat, Davy. You can’t be late for school.”

“I don’t want to go to school.” But he nevertheless slumped back into his chair. “Nobody would miss me if I stayed home and played with Camy, Elmo and Brett today.”

She again returned to the stove and dished up a bowl of oatmeal, then set it in front of him. “There are three more days of school left and these last days before summer vacation are always the most fun. I doubt Brett and Elmo will be here long. It looks like he’s dropping off a ladder for your dad.”

Davy didn’t look convinced.

They were finishing breakfast—Davy had only to eat his banana and he’d be done—when a knock came at the back door off the utility room.

“Brett!” Davy jumped up, but she reached out to stay him.

“Sit down, please. I’ll get it. You just eat.” Meg and Joe were trusting her with Davy. She couldn’t allow him to be tardy on the one day she saw him off to school. Not surprisingly, when she opened the door Brett stood on the back porch, hat in hand.

To her irritation, her heart beat faster at the sight of his cheerful smile.

“Mornin’, ma’am. Sorry for the ruckus a bit ago. I guess the pups were happy to see each other.”

“I got that impression, too, as I’m sure the neighbors did, as well.”

His eyes sparked with amusement. “I thought I’d better stop by and give you warning that Elmo and I’ll be around the property painting Joe’s garage today.”

Didn’t he have a job at the equine center? “So your dog’s good with a paintbrush?”

A dimple surfaced. “Probably as good as I am, sad to say.”

She glanced over his shoulder toward the building in question. Joe hadn’t mentioned Brett would be doing handyman work. From where she stood, the garage didn’t look like it needed paint. But what did she know? “So, you’re telling me this will be a ‘pardon me, ma’am’ day?”

He cocked his head in question.

“That’s what my mother calls it when you have a repairman popping in and out interrupting you. You know, pardon me ma’am but may I borrow a wrench? May I use your restroom? May I have a drink of water?”

Brett grinned. “I shouldn’t need any wrenches.”

But he’d be underfoot all day. She glanced again at the garage. Did it truly need sprucing up? “It’s nice of you to paint Joe’s garage.”

His eyes twinkled. “Not really. He’s paying me.”

Should she invite him in? Offer a cup of coffee to start his day? She couldn’t afford to have him engage Davy in lengthy conversation and risk making him late for school.

“Do you want my banana, Brett?” Davy called from the kitchen table, just out of the cowboy’s line of vision.

Brett’s amused gaze momentarily caught hers, then he called back. “Thanks. But I’ve had breakfast. That banana’s all yours.”

“I don’t like bananas.”

Great. He’d kept quiet about that.

“This one has legs, too.”

Brett raised a brow and she nodded.

“And eyes,” Davy added.

As Brett’s disbelieving gaze questioned her, Abby sighed and stepped back from the open door. “Come on in. You may as well see for yourself.”

Chapter Five

Brett toed off his boots outside the door. He’d been briefly to Duffy’s that morning only long enough to feed Cinnabar and didn’t want to track anything untoward into the house. But from the look on Abby’s face, it was clear he’d only been invited to step inside because of Davy’s bidding and he’d better not plan to linger long.

Following her trim, jeans-clad figure into the kitchen, he got the impression she preferred the events of her day to be well-ordered, like library books categorized by the Dewey decimal system. She was probably one of those who had her own personal reading materials grouped by author or subject and probably had them inventoried on a spreadsheet that noted publishers and copyright dates. While he was an avid reader, his books were stacked in no particular order wherever he found empty space. Dresser top. Back of the closet. Corner of the living room floor.

“See?” Davy pointed to an arch-backed banana with toothpick legs and raisin feet, then he poked the milk glass straw in his mouth and took a long swallow. “Aunt Abby made him.”

Brett placed his hat atop the refrigerator, then pulled out a chair from the table. He whipped it around backward, straddling it and crossing his arms along the back. A smile twitched as he took in the colorful breakfast trappings. “That’s some critter you have there. I’m impressed.”

“You can have it.” Davy scooted the plate toward him, then glanced at Abby. “I already ate the smiley-face toast and oatmeal. Do I have to eat the banana, too, Aunt Abby?”

She glanced up at the clock, a crease forming across her brow. “No, that’s okay. I didn’t know you didn’t care for bananas. You need to let me know what you like and don’t like so I don’t fix things you won’t eat.”

If he’d had any doubts before, that nailed it. Leaving a door open like that labeled her an amateur when it came to kid dealings. He could almost see Davy’s mind whirling. Likes: ice cream, hot dogs, pizza, French fries. Dislikes: spinach, green beans, peas—and bananas.

The boy pushed the banana plate closer to Brett. “My mom is going to have a baby.”

“So I heard.”

“I think everybody’s having babies, like at church and the grocery store and stuff. You can tell because the moms get big, big, big.” That matter-of-fact wisdom shared, Davy drank down the remainder of his milk before setting the glass onto the table with a clunk. “I’ll be right back, Brett. I have to brush my teeth. It’s a school day.”

The boy scrambled to his feet, then dashed out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

With a grin, Brett reached for the leggy banana. “Observant kid. I have to admit it does seem like every other woman in town is in a family way. A Canyon Springs population explosion.”

Unfortunately, for the past few days every time he saw one of those moms-to-be, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the nine months he and Melynda had eagerly awaited the arrival of their precious Jeremy.

Abby glanced at him uncertainly. “You don’t have to eat the banana if you don’t want to.”

He studied it for a moment, the beady, unblinking eyes almost appearing to look back at him. “I think I’ll give it a try. I’ve never eaten anything quite like this. Special occasion?”

She shrugged, looking a tad sheepish. “I was trying to start Davy’s day on a bright note. He misses his mom, and Joe didn’t get to stay long yesterday.”

“I’d heard Meg’s return was delayed, that she’d probably be released this afternoon.”

Surprise lit Abby’s eyes. No doubt she didn’t yet recognize the effectiveness of the Canyon Springs grapevine.

“That’s what we’re hoping,” she said almost cautiously. “Her doctors want to keep an eye on her awhile longer.”

“Whatever it takes to ensure a safe delivery.” He pulled the toothpick legs from the banana and placed them on the edge of the plate, then motioned toward a chair at the table. “Have a seat, Aunt Abby.”

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