Kitabı oku: «Western Christmas Wishes»

Chapter Two

“How long are you staying?” the girl in the passenger seat asked without looking at Laurel.

“A week or two.”

“Figures.”

Laurel kept driving, looking for the turn before the bridge that Cameron Hunt had mentioned. “What does that mean?”

“Aunt Gladys said you wouldn’t stay long because the past hurts too much. Or something like that. But I think the past shouldn’t be as important as your grandmother. Or maybe you should deal with the past and move on.”

Laurel spotted her turn and hit her turn signal. “How old are you?”

“Thirteen.” A mew from inside her pocket punctuated the sentence.

“Thirteen and you’re a self-designated life coach?”

“Nope, I just know stuff. I’ve lived a lot of life in thirteen years.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure you don’t know as much as you think you do. I’m not sure what your problem is, but you can’t sit there and diagnose my life.” Laurel sighed. She was arguing with a kid.

From the passenger seat, Rose whispered something to the kitten in her pocket.

“What?” Laurel asked, softening her tone.

“You asked what my problem is. A lot of things. I’m difficult, dysfunctional, dyslexic and a lot of other D words. Some of them I can’t repeat because my mother had a colorful way with words that Aunt Gladys doesn’t appreciate.” Her tone was dry but there was a brief flicker of pain that Laurel couldn’t miss.

“I’m sorry,” Laurel said. “Is this the right way?”

It definitely didn’t look like the right way and her phone didn’t have a signal, so there was no GPS.

“I don’t think so.”

“Rose, maybe you could give me directions?” she said as she pulled over, just as a red truck drove by. “I’m sure you’ve visited Gladys and know how to get there. And why do you have a kitten in your pocket?”

Rose grinned and pulled the kitten from her coat. “I’ve never had a pet.”

“You can’t just take a kitten. It might need to be with its mother.”

“It’s six weeks old. They’re ready to be weaned. That’s what Cameron said last week. If Gladys won’t let me keep it, I’ll take it back to the mama cat. But I’m going to tell Gladys I got it for her. She won’t turn away a gift.”

“You think that’ll work?”

Rose shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

“Good luck with that. Now, how do I get to the nursing home?”

“You’re on the right road. It looks like a driveway but it really is a road.”

“Thank you.”

She put the car in Drive and continued on down the road. As they rounded a bend, she saw the red truck ahead of them.

“That’s Cam’s truck,” Rose informed her.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, he must have worried that I would get you lost. He acts all grouchy and tough but he’s really okay.”

“Good to know.”

“Pretty cute, too. If you just look at the side without the scars.”

“I’m not interested,” Laurel informed the teen.

“Right, because you’re getting over a bad breakup and you resent men because you never knew your father. I didn’t know mine, either, but I don’t plan on being single my whole life. I want a husband and kids, a good job, the whole package.”

Laurel blinked. “You’re a bit of a mess.”

“Yeah, well, my mom is your second cousin, Tarin. She’s not exactly a role model.”

“Where is she these days?” Laurel asked as the brick facility came into view.

“Tarin? Who knows? We were living with a friend of hers in Grove and she took off one night, left me sleeping on their couch. After a few days they called Family Services because I’m not their responsibility. DFS found Gladys and she took me in. My grandmother was Gladys’s sister. She passed away years ago.”

Laurel had to give it to the girl—she was an optimist. Laurel thought about romance in terms of the father she’d never known because he’d failed to tell her mother he was engaged to someone else. He’d dated her mother on summer break, but his fiancée was the woman he’d met in college.

“You don’t know why your mom left?” Laurel asked as she parked.

“Who knows? She’s an addict. Aunt Gladys says everyone’s an addict these days and who knows what society is coming to. Anyway, Tarin’s a rotten mom and a horrible person.”

“She’s an addict, Rose. She probably didn’t plan for that to happen. Sometimes it happens to really good people.”

“Yeah, I guess. She told me one time that she was a straight-A student until her junior year, when she fell in with the wrong crowd. One time, one wrong friend, and her whole life changed. I guess I kind of wonder why she doesn’t just change it back.”

Easier said than done, Laurel thought. But she didn’t say it out loud. She’d lost friends to addictions. Knew the devastation it could do to a family. She cleared her throat and moved on, because Rose had a shimmer of moisture in her eyes.

“Hey, there’s Cam.” Rose opened her door to get out.

Laurel let her go. She knew about deflecting, about changing subjects and trying hard not to let things hurt.

Cameron Hunt waited on the sidewalk in front of the nursing home. Laurel took her time getting out of her car. She wasn’t quite ready for this visit. It had been too long since she’d seen her grandmother. Gladys had visited Chicago but her last visit had been for Laurel’s college graduation, just over eight years ago. Laurel’s mom had visited Hope but Laurel had avoided the town that held too many bad memories.

She’d been a small-town girl whose mom had made a mistake. She knew all about gossip, whispers and dirty looks. Her mom had never told anyone the name of the father of her child. She’d said it didn’t matter. But it must have mattered to her, because she’d never married.

“You made it,” Cameron said as she got out, joining him on the sidewalk.

Rose was ahead of them, nearly to the front door of the facility. Laurel let the girl go because she obviously knew her way and hopefully couldn’t get into trouble between here and there.

The man walking next to her switched sides, giving her the unscarred side of his face. She started to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but she didn’t know him well enough to tell him what was or wasn’t necessary.

“We made it. I was afraid she would purposely get me lost.”

“Your fears were well-grounded,” he agreed with a grim look. “I headed this way shortly after you left with Rose, to make sure you found the place. And yet, I beat you here. That must have been you pulled over on the side of the road.”

The gesture of kindness surprised her. From the look on his face, it surprised him, as well. He obviously hadn’t meant to get involved. After knowing Rose for less than two hours, she could see how the girl would drag someone in, not giving them the opportunity to decide if they wanted to be involved or not.

They were close to the entrance when the door opened and a man exited. Laurel glanced his way, but then she took a longer look as he stopped to talk to Rose. He was tall with dark auburn hair and hazel eyes. Laurel hesitated as the world seemed to spin a little too fast.

“You okay?” Cameron Hunt asked.

She watched as the man, a stranger, turned toward her. He saw her and his smile faltered. He drew in a breath and seemed to hold it.

“I’m good,” she lied. “Please go inside with Rose.”

She could be wrong, she told herself. He was a stranger with hair a darker shade of red than her own. It meant nothing. The way he looked at her meant nothing.

“I think I should stay here with you.” Cameron’s hand was on her arm, steadying her. She thought she didn’t need to be steadied but realized that her legs were weak and the world had faded a little. She shook her head to clear the strange fuzziness.

“Laurel?” Cameron’s voice seemed to come from far away. And then Rose was next to her, staring at her, looking concerned.

“I’m okay,” she assured them.

But she wasn’t. The man who had left her mom to be a single mother, the man she’d spent her life resenting, was standing in front of her.

After all of these years of wondering, it had been this simple. The two of them on a sidewalk, instantly recognizing one another. That he was here brought up questions, but those questions weren’t for him. They were for her grandmother.

Cameron and Rose disappeared into the building. She stared at the man who had given her red hair and fair skin that burned too easily in the sun. She didn’t even know his name.

Her own father and she couldn’t call him by name. She didn’t know his age, where he lived, what he did for a living. A small voice inside her told her that her mother shared some of the blame for her lack of information regarding her father.

“What are you doing here?” She asked the first question that came to her mind.

He seemed surprised by it.

“I was visiting my mother,” he said simply, gently. “I guess I should introduce myself.”

“You’re about thirty years too late for that.” She shifted her gaze away from him, from the sympathy in his expression. A wreath hung on the door of the nursing home, a sign of the coming holidays. Thirty Christmases. Missed.

“Yes, I know.” He reached out to her but let his hand drop before touching her. “Your grandmother called me to let me know you’d be in town. She thought that perhaps this would be a good time for us to meet.”

“I doubt she meant like this, on the sidewalk, with no one to introduce us.”

“No, I’m sure this isn’t what she intended.” He looked around, as if trying to think of a better plan. It was too late. “We could sit down and talk.”

“I don’t think so.” For years she’d rehearsed what she would say and do if she ever met him. When she’d been younger, she’d dreamed of him walking through the front door and being everything a little girl wanted a daddy to be.

As a teenager those dreams had turned to anger and resentment.

Anger was easier to deal with than disappointment. Anger worked as a shield to keep her heart safe.

He studied her, as if he knew the direction her thoughts had taken.

“Maybe you could think about it and if you change your mind, you can call me. Gladys has my number.”

She shook her head. “I have to go inside. My grandmother is expecting me.”

He seemed to want to say more, but when she shook her head, he didn’t. “I’ll leave you for now, but I’ll be waiting. I’m praying for you, Laurel.”

The words stopped her. Her hand was on the door and she needed to go inside. Rather than saying something she couldn’t take back later, she hit the buzzer and waited for the door to unlock. She walked inside, aware that he was still there, watching her walk away.

Ten steps into the building, Cameron Hunt appeared in front of her. She looked up, focusing on the ceiling because she didn’t want to cry, not in front of this man, a virtual stranger. She didn’t want to cry period.

“You okay?”

She lowered her gaze from the ceiling to the man standing just feet away from her. His expression remained impassive. He didn’t want to be involved. And yet here he was.

“I’m good,” she assured him, although it didn’t feel like the truth. “Did we lose Rose?”

“She’s with Gladys.” He surprised her by grabbing a box of tissues from a nearby table. “Take a minute. They’ll be fine on their own. Hopefully.”

She started to object—to the tissues, to taking a moment—but she knew he was right. She took his offering and leaned against the wall as she pulled herself together.

He stood next to her, his back against the paneled wall. His nearness provided an odd sense of comfort, as if he was an ally. It didn’t make sense but she wasn’t questioning it, not right now when she desperately needed a calming influence.

His presence was the furthest thing from calming. He smelled like mountains and Oklahoma. His boots were dusty and worn. He’d placed himself so that the eye patch and scarred side of his face weren’t what she saw when she looked up at him.

The moment was cut short by raised voices and some sort of ruckus.

“Uh-oh,” she said as she pushed away from the wall. “That can’t be good.”

“Doesn’t sound that way,” he agreed. “Time to intervene. I should have known that the two of them couldn’t stay out of trouble.”

“It might be someone else.”

He turned his head to peer at her with that one startling blue eye. A flash of humor flickered for an instant. “That is wishful thinking.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She tossed the tissue in a wastebasket. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For insisting I take a minute to get it together.” She hesitated. “Do you know him?”

He pushed back his cowboy hat and gave her a thoughtful look. “You don’t know him?”

“I think I know who he is, but I don’t know his name.”

“Curt Jackson. Local rancher. He just moved back to the area six months ago. His father passed away and his mother couldn’t handle the ranch on her own.”

Curt Jackson. Thirty years of wondering had come down to this. Suddenly, the ruckus from down the hall grew louder.

“This way.” Cameron motioned her forward, his hand just barely skimming her back as he moved her in the right direction.

Seconds later they entered a large room where a variety of people had gathered: staff in scrubs, residents, some standing, some sitting, and a woman at the center who seemed to be in charge of the chaos. She was tall, dressed in a skirt and jacket, her hair pulled back in a tight bun.

The man facing her wore a jogging suit of light gray, the same color as his thinning hair. He was pointing at her with a gnarled finger.

“Are you telling me we can’t have a Christmas tree?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Clyburn, but the new owner said there will be no Christmas tree in the common area. It isn’t my rule, it’s the rule of the management.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks, Dora, you’ve been here long enough. You could fight for us.”

“I can’t fight this. No Christmas tree. Jeremy will take it back to storage.” She looked around at the group that had gathered. “I am sorry.”

The gentleman in the jogging suit shook his head. “Oh, Dora, what in the world are you thinking? There are folks here who have next to nothing and no family to bring them gifts.”

“My hands are tied.” She nodded at a man in gray coveralls who had a perplexed look on his face. “Jeremy, please take the tree and decorations back to storage.”

The gentleman in the gray jogging suit sat down at a nearby table. “It’s a tree. You put lights on it and shiny things.”

“Mr. Clyburn, you have to understand, this is not my rule. There will be no religious celebrations anymore, per the new owner.”

“There’s little enough cheer in this place without you taking it all away.” An older woman with curly gray hair and a determined look stepped forward, Rose at her side.

Laurel’s grandmother. Gladys Adams hadn’t seemed to age. Other than her arm in a sling, she was as spry as ever and obviously as willing to take on the administrator as she was the horse that had thrown her.

“You will still have Christmas dinner.” Dora made the announcement, turning right and left so that the dozen people gathered in the room heard her.

“A dinner made of government commodities that they spend almost nothing to purchase,” Gladys protested with a grim look of determination.

“Gladys,” Dora responded, “it appears you have company.”

Laurel smiled and waved at her grandmother.

“That I do,” Gladys replied. “And since I’m just here for physical therapy, I’ll be going home soon. The rest of these poor souls have to suffer through your tight budget.”

Gladys hurried over to Laurel, hugged her tightly and then allowed herself to be led from the room.

“That didn’t sound good, Gran,” Laurel observed.

“They’re stealing Christmas,” Rose chimed in.

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Cameron asked as he came up behind them.

Rose shot him a look. “Of course it is, but I’m all about the D’s.”

He looked perplexed and Laurel found herself smiling, because she knew about the D’s. Her grandmother’s hand on her arm made her feel better than she’d felt in weeks. Since her bakery had failed, then she’d learned the man she’d been dating was also dating another woman, upheaval seemed to be too calm a word to describe how her life had felt.

For a moment she forgot that a man named Curt Jackson existed and he was more than likely her father. Somehow her quick trip to Hope, a needed visit with her grandmother, had turned more than a little bit complicated.

Cameron Hunt stepped around her, pushing open the door to her grandmother’s room. He made quick eye contact with her and she smiled. She would leave in a couple weeks but he would always fill a space in her memories. He’d been the person with her when she met her father for the first time.

Not her mother. Not her grandmother.

This man.

Chapter Three

Cameron stood there awkwardly, watching as Gladys looked her granddaughter over. He should leave. He couldn’t even explain why he’d decided to visit today, other than to make sure Laurel and Rose got here safely. Not that they’d needed an escort.

He had things to do. He was building a house. He had horses that needed working while the weather was good. He didn’t need to be involved in this reunion. He lived in Hope because the town was peaceful, and he was in need of peace.

“Who is Curt Jackson?” Laurel’s question jerked him back to the present. He looked from the younger woman to her grandmother.

Of course, Gladys didn’t look shaken. If she could take on a half-broke horse, she could handle a question like that. But then Rose pulled the kitten out from her pocket. Gladys noticed the animal and her eyes widened.

“Is that one of Cam’s kittens?” Gladys asked.

Rose immediately put the kitten back in her pocket. “What kitten?”

“I can promise you, young lady, my vision is very good.”

Cameron put a hand on Rose’s back and gave her a little nudge toward the door. “Let’s go find the vending machine.”

“Thank you, Cam.” Gladys gave him a winning smile.

“Hey, what’s up with that?” Rose asked as he guided her down the hallway. “I wanted to visit with Gladys, too.”

“I’ll buy you a candy bar.” He had a suspicion Laurel needed to talk to her grandmother about more than her stay in the nursing home.

“Is that a bribe?”

“It is,” he answered.

“It’s wrong for them to take away the tree and gifts from these people,” Rose told him as they entered the lounge with the vending machines. “I don’t think it’s about Christmas. I think they’re just being cheap.”

“I would agree.” His guess was that the new owners planned to flip the business and wanted to cut corners and increase profit to make it look like a good investment.

Rose glanced at him after perusing the selection in the vending machine. “We have to do something.”

“Not my place,” he answered.

“I’ll have to come up with my own plan, then.” She held her hand out. “Dollar please.”

He handed over the money and tried not to worry about Rose coming up with a plan.

“Do you think she’s pretty?” she asked.

“Who? Dora?” He pretended ignorance.

“Good try.”

“I think she’s none of my business,” he told the teen. He looked at his watch. “And I have to go.”

“Chicken,” the girl clucked.

He refrained from rolling his eyes—something a grown man shouldn’t even think of doing. “I’m not going to respond to that. I have an appointment with my contractor.”

He ignored the look she gave him. He wasn’t chicken, he just needed his space. He needed his horses, a few head of cattle and no awkward looks as people pretended they weren’t staring, weren’t wondering what had happened to him.

“What about Gladys?” Rose continued, following him down the hall.

“What about her?”

“She has to stay here for twenty days. They’ll ruin her Christmas.”

“Rose, Gladys isn’t going to be here at Christmas. I know Gladys and she’ll be done with this place before then.”

“She can’t just leave, can she? It’s like prison. When they put a person in a place like this, they lose their freedom. The doors are locked. Didn’t you notice the doors are locked? You’re a lawyer, you know how these things work.”

“I have a law degree. But I’m not a lawyer.”

“Yeah, yeah, your face, and all of that. But you know how it works. Legally they can keep people here.”

The girl was truly frightened. He could see it in her eyes. She might try to act like life was all fun and games, but Rose had been through some hard times. Gladys was probably the first properly functioning adult in her young life and she was giving Rose a first taste of a normal and safe home.

“Gladys is here voluntarily. It’s a twenty-day program to help her with physical therapy and to regain full use of her arm and shoulder.”

“So she can leave? She’ll come home?” Rose stood in front of the door, not allowing him to leave. “I won’t have to go to a foster home with strangers? Or a group home?”

“Rose, I am not an expert at these kinds of cases, but I think you’re safe.”

“If they try to take me, will you be my lawyer?”

He pulled his hat low and sighed. “I’m not a lawyer but I’ll do what I can to make sure they don’t take you from Gladys.”

She wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug. “I hope she stays.”

“What?” He shook his head at the quick change. “You were just saying you want her out.”

“I mean Laurel. I hope she stays. It would be easier for Gladys to keep me if she had help. The caseworker says all the time that Gladys is eighty and probably too old to raise a teenager. If Laurel stays...”

Yeah, yeah, he got it. If Laurel stayed, Rose would be happy. Gladys would be happy. Everyone would be happy. Except Laurel, he suspected.

Cameron needed to get home and focus on his life, instead of getting involved in the lives of these three ladies.

“I should have come down when Mom visited,” Laurel inserted. “I’m sorry.”

“Life is full of regrets, Laurel. We can’t let them eat us up. Instead we make the best of the days we’ve got. You learn something about that when you take a hair-turning ride on a half-broke horse.” She took hold of her granddaughter’s arm. “Sit down. I think we have a lot to discuss and Cameron won’t be able to contain Rose for very long. The girl has so much energy. Home sweet home. Have a seat.”

“It’s nice,” Laurel offered.

Gladys sat on the straight-back chair near the window. “Oh, it isn’t nice. It’s necessary. And it’s a reason to work hard on my physical therapy and get home.”

“I’m sorry,” Laurel said as she took a seat on the bed.

“Don’t be. I’m glad you’re here. If I’d known it took surgery to get you here, I would have tried it sooner.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m kidding.” Gladys shifted to pull the blinds closed and block the sun, which had suddenly decided to shine through the window. “How long will you be able to stay?”

“I planned on just over a week.”

“I see. Well, I plan on getting out of here as soon as possible. Your mother told me about your bakery.”

Of course she had. “Yes, I guess it was the wrong time to start a business.”

“It’s always iffy when you start up something like that. And I heard about the boyfriend, too.”

“It seems you and Mom have talked a lot.”

Gladys looked surprised by that. “Well, of course—she’s my daughter. We talk several times a week.”

She should have known that. Of course her mother and grandmother talked on the phone. Patricia Adams might dislike her hometown but she loved her mother. Her visits to Hope had been more frequent than Laurel’s. Since Laurel moved off on her own, her mother had returned each summer to spend a week in Hope.

“So your boyfriend turned out to be a cheater. And your bakery went belly-up. Time to reinvent yourself and start over.”

Her mother and grandmother were definitely cut from the same cloth. It was hard to think about starting over when she’d thought the bakery was her new start.

“Has your mother told you that she’s thinking about moving here?”

Another bomb dropped without warning. “No, she hasn’t. I mean, I think she mentioned it in passing. But she also mentioned Florida. Anywhere warm and away from the city.”

“Yes, I know she’s considered Florida but lately we’ve talked more about her moving here. I should have let her tell you.”

“It’s okay. I can handle hearing that she might have plans for her future.”

“Laurel, I’m just so glad to see you.” Gladys reached for her hand. Laurel took the cool, thin fingers in her own and warmed them.

“I’m glad to see you, too, Grandma. Is there anything I can bring you?” She grinned. “Other than a Christmas tree?”

Her grandmother laughed. “You’ll get me kicked out of here. But maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” She was quiet for a moment, then she sighed. “You could bring me a home-cooked meal.”

“I’ll bring you lunch tomorrow.”

They chatted for several more minutes, then silence. Laurel looked down at her hands, wondering, as she often did, if they were “his” hands, Curt Jackson’s. They weren’t her mother’s. Her mom had long slim fingers. Laurel’s fingers weren’t long. She had strong hands.

“Is Curt Jackson my father?” she asked without preamble.

“Oh, goodness,” Gladys gasped. “Well...”

“He was leaving just as I got here, so I know you probably know he was here.”

Gladys nodded. “He was here visiting his mother. She had a stroke not long after his father passed. But the rest, that’s something your mother needs to tell you.”

“So he is my father? Have you always known?”

Gladys shook her head. “No.”

Laurel felt like she was falling apart inside. Like everyone she’d counted on had lied to her. They had, she supposed. Probably with good intentions but it didn’t feel good or right.

“Laurel, your mother had her reasons.”

“Really? She had reasons for not telling me who my father is? Maybe he didn’t want me. Maybe he wouldn’t have been a part of my life. But a name would have been nice. When everyone else in this tiny, gossipy town was talking about me, knowing things or acting as if they knew, it would have been nice if I had known.”

“This isn’t a bad town,” Gladys inserted. “Most of the people in Hope are good people. There are always a few busybodies.”

“Yes, I know.” Laurel wiped a hand over her face, trying to pull herself together. “What do I do now? I don’t want to be the town scandal again.”

Gladys reached for her hand. “You were never a scandal and still aren’t. Thirty years ago, two young people made a mistake. But you’re not a mistake. You’re my granddaughter. You are your mother’s joy. And your father would like to get to know you. He regrets not being a part of your life.”

“That’s something he should tell me himself. You’ll say whatever you need to say to make me feel better. It’s your job as a grandmother.”

Gladys laughed at that. “I do love you, honey, but I promise, I won’t say what makes you feel good. If you need honesty, I’ll give it to you.”

“Thank you,” Laurel said as she scooted off the bed and leaned to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “Is there anything you need me to do while I’m here?”

“Take care of Rose. Make sure if that caseworker calls or comes around that she knows Rose is safe and I’ll be home soon. Every time I take a breath, they threaten to take that girl away. She doesn’t need to be moved again.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Laurel promised.

“And you’ll be nice to my neighbor?” Gladys reached out a hand. “Help me up.”

“I doubt I’ll see much of him. He doesn’t seem to be a social butterfly.”

Gladys smiled at that. “No, but Rose has taken it upon herself to drag him out from time to time. Also, Rose likes church. She’s involved in the youth group. It gives her something to do with her time aside from school, and it keeps her out of trouble.”

“I doubt that.”

Gladys laughed. “Well, maybe you’re right. But still...it helps.”

“Do you still go to Hope Community.”

“I do,” Gladys confirmed. “Don’t get that look on your face. You can’t make judgments based on the people and situations from twenty years ago.”

“I know.”

Something in her face must have given her away because Gladys pointed a finger at her. “You have to go with her.”

“I’d rather not, Gran.”

“There are always things we’d rather not do. But we do them because it’s right. I hadn’t planned on taking in a teenager at my age. Yet here I am. We never know what God has in front of us, Laurel, but we can rest assured He has a plan.”

A knock on the door ended their conversation.

“Come in,” Gladys called in a singsong voice.

Dora stepped through the door, a hand on Rose’s shoulder. The girl squirmed out from under the hand and hurried to Laurel’s side.

“This young woman brought a kitten into our facility and it frightened one of our residents and then climbed the curtains. She and her kitten need to leave.”

“Oh, fine, kick me out.” Rose put a hand over the hissing feline in her pocket. “Me and Christmas. Kicked to the curb like yesterday’s bad news.”

“That is not what I’m doing,” Dora exclaimed. Her gaze shot to Gladys. “Gladys, I am not responsible for eliminating Christmas from this facility. Just the tree.”

“And gifts for residents who have no family,” Gladys reminded. “Don’t worry about it, Dora, we’ll think of something.”

Dora nodded, then gave Rose another hard glare. “The child and the kitten need to leave now.”

Gladys waved her away. “We understand. I’ll say goodbye and they’ll go. Thank you, Dora.”

Dora gave them one last look that said she clearly didn’t trust them and then she left the room.

Gladys climbed onto her bed. “I’ve always liked Dora. She lives in Grove and she’s been the administrator here for years. But this new owner, she’s just caved to them.”

“Probably out of her control,” Laurel offered. “She needs the job and they’re calling the shots.”

“We’ll do something to bring Christmas to the nursing home, Gladys,” Rose said with a big smile. “I have ideas.”

“I can’t wait to hear them! Now, you two head home and feed my animals. I’m going to take a nap.”

Laurel gave her grandmother a hug, watched as Rose did the same and then they both left. She didn’t know how her quick trip to Hope had changed so much.

Her mother had failed to mention Curt Jackson, a recalcitrant teen, a terrorizing kitten and a reclusive cowboy.

All just in time for Christmas.

Chapter Four

“Can we decorate the tree?” Rose asked as she skipped into the kitchen on Wednesday morning.

Laurel had been in town not even a week but it hadn’t taken Rose long to adjust to the new person in the house.

Laurel pulled eggs out of the fridge. “Want to help me make muffins?” Baking was how she and her mom had bonded, also it had given them time to talk during Laurel’s difficult teen years. It made sense, in light of that, that Laurel had developed a love for baking. She’d found that it helped her relax. The kitchen was where she found peace.

“Sure, but I only have thirty minutes before the bus gets here. Or you could drive me to school.”

“I just might do that. Can you crack eggs and then measure out the milk and melted butter? The recipe is on that card in the stand.”

“You’re really going to let me help?” Rose tossed her books on the counter.

“That’s the general idea when someone says, ‘Do you want to help?’”

Rose cracked an egg into a large bowl. Laurel tried to hide her cringe as the girl reached into the bowl to pull out bits of eggshell.

“Here’s a spoon. If you get shells in the bowl you can use it.”

“No problem, I got them.” Rose wiped the shell on a paper towel. “So about the tree?”

“I don’t know where the tree is. I’m sure Gladys will put it up when she gets home.”

Laurel’s smile dissolved. She reached for the cup of melted butter and poured it in with the eggs she’d beaten. “Yeah, I guess. But that will be almost Christmas. And what if I’m gone?”

“You won’t be gone.” Laurel measured out the baking powder. “Pour in the milk and mix it all together so I can add the dry ingredients.”

Rose did as she was told. “What kind of muffins are we making?”

“Pumpkin.” Laurel handed her the can. “Scoop that out and add it to the bowl.”

“This looks like a lot of muffins.”

“I’m going to take some to the nursing home.”

Rose’s smile reappeared. “You do have a heart.”

The teenager hopped onto a stool at the counter and pulled the kitten out of her pocket. Laurel looked up from mixing the dry ingredients in with the wet.

“Kittens do not go on counters,” she said as she picked it up. “Have you fed it?”

“It’s a she, not an it.” Rose plucked the kitten from Laurel’s hand. “And yes, I fed her. And I fed the dog, too.”

“The stray?”

“It’s still a dog and deserves to be fed. But I think the kitten is too young to eat the dry cat food. She cried all night.” She grabbed the milk jug and poured milk in a saucer.

Laurel looked up from filling the muffin cups. She studied the kitten and then the girl. Rose’s eyes were puffy, her nose red. She thought maybe the kitten hadn’t been the only one crying all night. With limited kid and kitten experience, she didn’t know if she should say something, ask if she was okay or pretend she didn’t notice.

She thought about what her mother would have done in this situation. She should call her mom. They’d had a brief conversation her first night here, very brief. Laurel had asked about Curt Jackson and then she’d been too upset to finish talking to her mother, the person she’d always been able to talk to.

“What do you think is wrong with her?” Laurel asked.

“Misses her mom.” She shoved the kitten back in her pocket. “She wants her family.”

“She won’t fit in your pocket much longer.”

“I know, but for now she does and she likes it. I think because it’s warm. Anyway, she has to go back to her mother. I don’t think she can wait until I get home from school.”

“What’s your suggestion?”

“You could take her up to the barn.”

Laurel slid the muffin tin into the oven and set the timer. “Me? I’m not the one who took her from her mother.”

Rose glared.

“All right, I’ll take the kitten to her mother.” Laurel leaned against the counter. “But I’m sure she’s happy with you, too. She knows you love her.”

“Don’t,” Rose warned. “I already have a therapist. I don’t need to be analyzed by you.”

“Oh.” Laurel didn’t know what to say.

“Sometimes I miss my mom. She was a bad parent but that doesn’t mean I don’t love her or that she didn’t love me. I can miss her. I learned that from my therapist. I can especially miss her at Christmas, even though she never really did anything Christmassy. I really want to decorate a tree.”

Laurel gave Rose a minute to collect herself. She poured the girl a glass of milk, checked the muffins in the oven and returned to continue the conversation.

“I’ll see if I can find the tree. And I’ll take the kitten over to her mother in the barn. And I know it isn’t easy, missing someone.”

She’d never known her dad, but she’d always missed him.

“Yeah, okay.” Rose buried her nose in the kitten’s soft fur. “Those muffins almost ready? Maybe you could take Cam a couple and ask if he knows where the tree is?”

“Cam?”

“Cameron. You know, the guy that lives in the cottage.”

“Yes, I know who he is.”

“He might know where the tree is. Maybe if you take him food, you can ask.”

“If I see him, I’ll ask him.”

From the road she heard a car honk. She hurried to the front of the house in time to spot the school bus slowing. She started to yell for Rose but the girl already had her backpack thrown over her shoulder as she was running out the door, waving as she ran down the drive.

“The kitten is on the kitchen floor,” Rose yelled back to her. “I’ll have muffins for a snack after school.”

“I was going to drive you,” Laurel called out, but it was too late. She closed the door and then leaned against it. “This can’t be my life.”

From the kitchen she heard a small mew and then the timer on the stove beeped. She removed the muffins from the oven and picked up the kitten. The tiny gray feline purred and nuzzled against her.

“You do need your mommy, don’t you? Let’s go see if we can find her.” She would take the kitten back and ask about the tree.

As she approached the building, she heard music. She slowed, taking cautious steps forward. What she was hearing wasn’t coming from the radio. The strumming of the guitar was soft and the words of the song muffled. She leaned in closer, trying to catch the words of the song. For several minutes she stood listening. The music grew louder, then boot steps shuffled.

“Are you enjoying the concert?”

She jumped. Cameron Hunter stood in the doorway of the stable, a tall and imposing figure with his black cowboy hat pulled low and a flannel jacket over a dark T-shirt. A guitar hung from the strap around his neck. Her first instinct was to make an excuse or deny that she’d been listening. But, of course, he knew the truth. A person lurking outside a barn was obviously a person up to something.

She said the first thing to pop into her head. “I’m looking for a Christmas tree.”

“Out here?” he asked, a half grin tugging at his mouth. He looked around and shrugged. “I think I’d look somewhere else. Unless you’re planning to cut one down.”

“No, of course not. I promised Rose I would ask. I also had to bring the kitten back to her mother. Have you seen the mama cat?”

“She was lurking in corners. Sound familiar?”

Laurel rolled her eyes at the accusation. “I wasn’t lurking, I was listening to your music. You’re very good.”

“Thank you. And the mother cat is in the far stall with her kittens. I think she’ll be glad to see that one. She’s been looking for her.”

“Yes, Rose realized she took her away from her family too soon.”

He motioned her to the end of the barn. “I think Rose wants something of her own. Even if it’s just a kitten. Having a pet is a sign of permanence.”

Of course, that made perfect sense. She’d been so immersed in her own thoughts, feeling sorry for herself, she hadn’t thought about Rose. She might be Trouble with a capital T, but she was also a child whose mother was missing and her only real stability was an elderly woman in a nursing home.

“She seemed sad this morning,” Laurel noted as she walked through the door of the stall to find the mother cat with the rest of the litter.

He paused at that. “I can imagine. She’s lost everyone, and even though Gladys isn’t going anywhere, I could see that it would worry Rose.”

“Do you know where her mother is?” Laurel asked.

“No one knows. Family Services has tried to locate her but she hasn’t made contact in six months. She left Rose on a friend’s couch and took off, supposedly for California.”

“That’s tough. Poor Rose.”

“Yeah, it is. But Rose is also tough.” He leaned on the stall door to watch as the kitten reunited with her mother. The orange, black and white calico immediately curled up with her baby and began to give the gray kitten a good bath.

“Oh, I brought muffins.” Laurel handed him the bag she’d carried from the house. “Rose said I’m required to feed you.”

“You’re not, but thank you.” He took the bag and opened it.

She backed away and as she did, he gave her his right side. Did he do it consciously, to make people more at ease? Or was it habit? She started to ask but then didn’t. They weren’t friends. They were barely acquaintances. She didn’t have a right to know his stories. And yet she couldn’t walk away.

“I’m going to see my grandmother. I promised to bring her lunch.”

His fingers, long and slim, suntanned from time working outside, strummed the guitar. She watched, mesmerized.

“I considered visiting her this afternoon. She made me feel guilty the other day. I should visit more often.”

“I’m sure she understands.”

“I’ll give you a ride if you think you’ll be ready by eleven,” he continued. The offer took her by surprise.

“Oh, that would be good.”

“We can’t have you getting lost.” He winked and she thought he had no idea how lost he could make a girl feel. It had nothing to do with a malfunctioning GPS or a not-so-helpful teen.

Maybe it was just that he had that unavailable vibe and every girl liked a challenge. Every girl but her. She didn’t want to conquer the walls he’d obviously constructed to protect himself. She didn’t want to know all of his secrets and heal his brokenness. She would leave that for some romantic soul out there waiting to fix a broken man and call him her own.

Laurel wasn’t that person. She was here for a week or so, just long enough to make sure her grandmother was okay.

“I’ll be ready to go by eleven,” she told him as she walked away, totally unaffected.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Cameron had been surprised that Laurel took him up on his offer to give her a ride to Lakeside Manor to visit Gladys. He should have been more surprised with himself for offering. As he stepped out into the hall of the nursing home in order to give Laurel time alone with her grandmother, he realized he’d fallen into Gladys’s plans, the ones that ultimately dragged him into her granddaughter’s life. He had to give it to her, she was good at meddling.

As he left the room, he heard Laurel telling Gladys that she couldn’t stay in town more than two weeks. She had signed up to start classes in January. She was going to be a teacher. Reinventing herself, Gladys had said, almost approvingly.

He didn’t get it. He didn’t want to reinvent himself; he just wanted to find a way to live the life he already had. He’d spent the better part of two years figuring it out. He’d spent a lot of that time alone. As Gladys liked to say, “licking his wounds.” He couldn’t disagree.

A lot had changed in his life. Too much. And it went beyond his injuries. He’d lost his dad. The family ranch had been sold because Cameron and his siblings hadn’t wanted to return to the place where they’d spent their childhood years working long hours side by side with their father rather than doing what other kids their age had been doing—movies on Friday nights and swimming on weekends.

The sale of the ranch had given them all the freedom to make their own choices. His choice was to stay in Hope, raise horses and live his life exactly the way he wanted.

He bought a soda from a vending machine and headed back to Gladys’s room.

Gladys waved him in, a smile of greeting quick to replace the frown she’d worn when he stepped through the door. If he had to guess, they’d been discussing Curt Jackson. Laurel stood at the window, her back to him. The light cast her in silhouette but didn’t hide the fact that she surreptitiously swiped her hand over her cheek.

“Did Laurel ask about your Christmas tree?” he asked. “Rose wants to put up a tree.”

“Christmas tree?” Gladys shook her head. “I don’t have an artificial tree. I usually buy one in town. Laurel, you’ll have to get a tree for Rose to decorate. I think she hasn’t had much of a Christmas the past few years. Probably ever, if I had to guess. Get one of the trees that are in planters, so we can replant it after the holidays.”

“I’ll take Laurel by the feed store,” Cameron offered. “We can put the tree in the back of my truck.”

Gladys gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Well, now, isn’t that nice of you.”

“I usually am nice,” he reminded. “And it isn’t as if Laurel can put a tree in her car, can she?”

“It’s just... You usually avoid town like the plague. But since you’re being so nice, you can make sure Rose gets to church on Sunday, too.”

Cam frowned. “I think I’ve just been set up.”

“It’s important to Rose,” Gladys insisted. “She’s so excited about being in the Christmas program. There are also a couple of programs at school that she will attend. Now you have to make sure you ask because she’s so used to not being able to do those things that she’ll probably just assume that no one is interested in going or taking her.”

“I’ll make sure she gets to church and I’ll take her to the school programs,” Laurel assured her grandmother. “I won’t let you down.”

Gladys patted her hand. “I know you won’t. And now, the two of you should go. I need a nap.”

Once they were outside, Laurel turned to him. “You don’t have to take me to get a tree.”

Walking toward his truck, she was on his left side. He slowed, and with his hands on her arms, he guided her to his right side.

“I like to see the person I’m talking to and I don’t like walking with my head constantly turned to the left.”

Pink tinged her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.”

“There’s no reason you should have. I just thought I’d let you know.”

When they reached his truck, he opened the door for her. She looked surprised by the gesture. “Do men in Chicago not open doors for women?” he asked.

“I’m sure they do. I just haven’t met any of those men.”

“Well, now you’ve met one.” He closed the door, needing that solid piece of metal between them.

He counted to ten, then got in behind the wheel. “I don’t mind taking you to get the tree but do you think we should wait till after school and let Rose help pick it out?”

“That sounds great, except I’m starving.”

He started his truck. “We can have lunch at the café in Hope.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He glanced her way before pulling from his parking space. “I don’t mind.”

“I think you do.”

He sighed. “I think you like to argue. This back and forth is making me dizzy.”

She laughed. “I guess maybe I do like to argue. But I also don’t want you to feel like I’m making you do this.”

They drove in silence for several minutes before he responded. “It’s okay to be pushed from my comfort zone. When I moved into the cottage at Gladys’s, I knew she’d push. It’s her nature. She pushes herself and everyone around her.”

“Yes, she certainly is a force to be reckoned with. And now you have Rose.”

“Capital T,” he reminded her. “And she is a force. But so are you.”

Surprise flickered through her hazel eyes. “Me? I’m not a force.”

He laughed at her. “Oh, you’re a force, all right. Kittens, Christmas trees, trips to the nursing home.”

“I’m not making you do any of those things,” she reminded him.

How well he knew that. The problem was that she didn’t have to force him out of his den—he came willingly for her. He used his music to soothe his horses or to gentle an unexpectedly shy or difficult animal. She was his music.

That was probably the most dangerous thought he’d had in a long time.

Chapter Five

When they walked through the door of Holly’s Café, all eyes turned in their direction. It was unconscious but she sidled in close to Cameron’s side, where it felt safe from prying eyes and questioning gazes. Once she was next to him, she realized she liked how it felt there, at his side. It felt more than safe, it felt strangely right.

A woman with long dark hair and dark eyes hurried their way. “Cameron Hunt, it’s been months! What’s brought you out for lunch? And who’s your friend?”

“Holly, this is Laurel Adams, Gladys’s granddaughter.”

“Laurel Adams. Oh, my goodness. We went to school together.”

Laurel had to think back more than twenty years, to Mrs. Parker’s third grade class, then she remembered. Dark-haired, dark-eyed and with a home life less than perfect. The two had been the class misfits—and best friends.

“I do remember!” she said. “It’s been a long time, Holly.”

“It has. Come on in and I’ll give you two my best table.” Holly laughed. “As you can see, it’s past the lunch-hour rush. The crowd that’s here now are all just big gossips taking up space and drinking my coffee.”

Cameron had stopped to talk to a group of men at a big table for ten. One older gentleman, with graying hair, stubbled cheeks and a strong jaw, looked from Cameron to Laurel and back to Cameron. A sly look entered his eyes.

“For a man escorting a pretty woman, you sure look down in the mouth,” the man said, a faint tremor in his voice. “I’m guessing this is Gladys’s granddaughter, Laurel. I remember her from when she and her mother lived in Hope.”

Cameron sighed and pulled her to his right side again. “Laurel, this charming gentleman is Jack West.”

Laurel reached for his extended but trembling hand. “Mr. West, it’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s good to have you back in the area. I hope you’ll stay awhile.” He released her hand. “The two of you should join us. It isn’t often we get Cameron to town and I’m curious as to what he has on his mind.”

They sat opposite Jack West and introductions were made. Laurel tried to catch the names of all the men at the table. Two were obviously Jack’s sons, the others lived and worked on Mercy Ranch.

Holly handed them menus and filled coffee cups. Jack tapped his cup. “And by the way, I heard you call us gossips, Holly,” he told the café owner.

She filled his cup, then stirred in a spoon of sugar for him. “You know I was only telling the truth.”

Jack West laughed. “I guess it might have been at that. Go ahead and put their order on my tab.”

“How’s Gladys doing?” Jack asked Laurel.

“Good,” she said. “She’s scheduled to be out the day after Christmas but I have a feeling she’ll try to get home sooner.”

During their visit that morning, her grandmother had filled her in on the situation with Rose, and relayed the caseworker’s threat to move her to a foster home with a younger couple. Or a group home. But the group home would be in Tulsa or Oklahoma City. Laurel could see how much that threat affected her grandmother and she knew that Rose would be devastated.

“I’m afraid if she isn’t out of there by Christmas, she’ll have the residents staging a revolt,” Cameron added.

Jack grinned at that statement, revealing a charm that he’d probably perfected over the years. “What’s going on at the Manor?”

“They won’t allow a tree or any other Christmas decorations or celebrations. I think it’s just a way to make the place look more profitable, but it definitely hurts the residents who have little enough cheer in their lives.”

Jack sat back in his chair and waited as Holly took their orders. She didn’t hurry away but instead remained at the side of the table to listen.

“Now that’s a real shame,” Jack said in a gravelly voice. “I can’t imagine we’d let them get away with that. They might not want to provide Christmas but we can figure something out. We all know folks that live there, and some of them don’t have any close family or friends in the area. I think we should add Lakeside Manor to the list of people and charities that can be helped by the Christmas at the Ranch event we’re planning. Obviously folks from the manor can’t attend, but we can make sure donations are taken to them.”

The door to the café opened. Jack West shot a quick look at the person entering, then he shifted his concerned gaze to Laurel. He cleared his throat.

Laurel moved in her chair so that she could see who had caught his attention. Her breath caught as Curt Jackson stopped in the middle of the café. So, not everyone in Hope was unaware of who her father was. Jack West obviously knew.

“I need to go,” she said, scooting her chair back from the table. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Cameron had just picked up his glass of sweet tea. “Didn’t we just order lunch?”

Jack jerked his head toward the door, a not-so-subtle gesture that made Laurel cringe. Cameron turned around to see who’d just entered.

“You stay and eat. I’ll go.” Laurel grabbed her purse and headed for the door. She wasn’t surprised when Curt Jackson reached for her. She evaded the gesture and hurried for the door.

“Just give me a minute,” he called out as he followed her out the door.

“I don’t think you deserve a minute,” she told him.

He followed her down the sidewalk. At the corner they both stopped. That’s when she turned to face him. He was close to fifty, or so she guessed. His red hair had more brown in it and his face was weathered and deeply lined.

“Laurel, I would have married your mother but I didn’t know about you until after I was married.”

She waited, needing more than that. She wanted him to say something that mattered but didn’t know what.

He tugged down on the brim of his cowboy hat and shifted his gaze to the lake.

“I was a coward,” he finally said. “It was easier to send your mother the money to start over in Chicago than to explain to my wife, Marla, that I had a daughter living in Hope. I eventually told her and she said she’d always known. Someone here told her. But again, we just didn’t communicate.”

“That’s it? Lack of communication is why I grew up not knowing my father’s name?”

He looked sad. He looked sorry. And she didn’t know what to feel, other than anger and loss. She didn’t feel much like forgiveness right now.

“At least now I know your name and I know who I look like.” Questions she’d had her entire life finally answered.

She’d actually prayed for this. She told herself she should be thankful but it was hard to do after so many years of feeling ignored.

Somewhere in the distance a church bell rang. She closed her eyes as the tones filled the quiet country afternoon.

“Have you talked to my mother?” she asked him.

“I have.” He glanced in the direction of the café. The door had opened and Jack West was exiting with the help of his sons. Curt nodded a greeting. “She thought we would meet eventually, but not this way. I planned on having Gladys set up a time.”

“Surprise.”

He grimaced. “I know we should have done this differently, but I am so glad to finally meet you, Laurel. I hope we can take some time to get to know one another.”

“Do I have siblings?” She ’d always wondered about that.

“No.” He shrugged. “Marla and I couldn’t have children.”

“I see.”

The bell on the café door jangled again. Cameron exited with a to-go bag in his hand.

“I have to go,” she told the man standing in front of her. Her father. A stranger. She let her gaze drop to his hands. Her hands.

“Can we set a time to talk?” he asked.

She nodded but she wasn’t ready. Not yet. “Soon.”

He touched her shoulder and, with a nod, walked down the sidewalk, leaving her alone. A moment later Cameron joined her, his already familiar cologne a steady presence. He stood next to her, his gaze on the lake less than half a mile away.

“Well, that went well.” She smiled up at him. “Thank you for bringing my food.”

“You said you were hungry.”

“Yes, thanks.” She took the bag from him.

Together they walked toward his truck. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I mean, why wouldn’t I be? I just met my father.”

“Curt Jackson. He’s a decent man.”

“Is he?” She thought about that, about all of the things she might learn about the man who was her father.

“Let’s walk a bit. It’s warm today and taking a walk always helps me clear my head.” He made the offer and started to walk, not waiting for her reply.

“You have other things to do. I’ve dragged you to see Gladys, forced you to get lunch with me...”

“I can assure you, you haven’t forced me to do anything. I’m fully capable of saying no when I choose to.”

They walked side by side down the sidewalk to a park located across the street from the Hope Community Church, the church she’d attended as a child. It looked the same. The white siding, the tall bell tower, a side wing that had been added in the seventies. A nativity had been set up in the front of the church.

The entire town had been decorated for Christmas, it seemed. Lights hung from electric poles. The stores were layered in lights, garland and wreaths. Trees sparkled in storefronts. She loved that the little town had come back to life with the help of Jack West and people willing to start fresh with new stores.

Starting over. Something she would soon be doing. With the demise of her bakery, she knew it was time to go in a new direction. Or perhaps return to her previous plan. She’d always wanted to teach but she’d pushed aside that career goal when she’d started a catering business with a friend, and then had started her bakery.

She sat on a bench facing the church. Cameron sat next to her. A cool breeze blew but the sun was warm on them. It did feel good to be outside.

“I didn’t enjoy church when I was a kid,” she admitted. “I knew people judged my mother. I heard whispers. People would talk about my red hair. I never heard them mention Curt Jackson, but they all must have known. Or suspected.”

“It’s a small town. People talk. You can’t run from that.”

She gave him a sideways glance because she wondered if he hadn’t been doing his own share of running.

“No, you can’t outrun the past or the gossip,” she agreed. “What about you, Cameron? Are you running?”

Surprise registered on his expression. He hadn’t expected the question. She hadn’t expected to ask him something so personal. That wasn’t who she was, delving into the lives of people who were little more than strangers. She’d always had a live-and-let-live policy. But sitting here with him she realized it was more than average curiosity that caused her to ask the question.

She found herself truly wanting to know him.

Cameron was taken by surprise, by the question, by the woman sitting next to him. He watched as she buttoned her jacket, maybe to avoid looking at him. The wind suddenly picked up and clouds began to cover up the blue sky above them. In the distance he could hear Christmas carols playing over one of the speakers hooked up to light poles on the main street.

The woman sitting next to him looked beat up. Emotionally. She’d picked at the salad she’d ordered and was now staring at the church across the street from the park.

“We all have things we’re trying to run from,” he admitted. “A law degree was my way of escaping the family ranch, church on Sundays and my father, with all of his rules. Church had even more rules. I guess it made sense that I considered a degree in law. Law follows rules. But now I regret running. I regret the years I lost with my dad.”

“I think we all have regrets. I shouldn’t have avoided my grandmother. I think that’s the good thing that has come out of this trip. I can rebuild my relationship with her.”

“And meeting your dad?”

“I’m not sure about that yet.” Her voice took on a faraway tone and she slipped the takeout container back into the bag. “Thank you for sitting here with me.”

The side door of the church opened and the pastor’s wife walked out, carrying a box. She saw them and waved, then headed for the sign at the edge of the lawn.

“Sermons on a sign,” Laurel said.

“Yes, I guess they are. Sixty-second sermons for people driving by. Get their attention, make them think and maybe they’ll show up on Sunday morning.”

“Does it work that way?”

“Maybe.”

The words began to take shape on the sign. “‘Faith is more than a building or church attendance. It’s a way of life.’”

“That’s a good one.”

Cameron glanced at the woman sitting next to him. “Sermon on a sign.”

“Yes. I have some good memories in that little church. Willa Mae Wilkins taught our Sunday school. It wasn’t all bad. I think people just don’t stop to consider how their words can wound the heart of a child. Of anyone, really.”

“No, sometimes they don’t.”

She shivered and hugged her arms around herself. He wondered if it was the memories or the cool air blowing in from the north.