Any Man of Mine (2 page)

“I would come home most weekends,” I said, still loading up my own groceries. A week's supply of healthy food obviously took less time to load than three days' worth of junk food. “I have enough reasons to come back to Preston.”

Tracy didn't reply as we got into the car. She didn't say anything as I reversed out of my spot and turned onto the street. She didn't say anything when we headed toward the garage where they were working on her car. She didn't say anything as I pulled into the customer parking stall.

It was her turn to talk, but as I put my car into Park I gave in. “Tracy, you said yourself that I needed to get another job. I heard you.”

“I said you needed to talk to your boss about your job. Not…not…” She spun her hand in a circle, wiping away what I had told her. “This moving thing you want to do. That you didn't even talk about with
me. That you couldn't even bother to ask me questions about even though you knew I would be as upset as I am now.” Tracy complained in a voice that conveyed to me her utter disbelief that I would seriously want to leave home and community and head to the big, bad city.

I tried to find the words that would make her understand, as I wrapped my hands around the steering wheel and rested my chin on it, staring through the window of the garage in front of us. “You see that man?” I asked Tracy, lifting my pinky finger to point at Tom Grady. “He pulled me out of Frieson's pond when my brothers dared me to skate across it. He told me to be quiet in church when I was a crazy teenager sitting with her friends. He loves to tease me about an especially touching moment of the Christmas program when I, as an innocent girl of five, lifted up the skirt of my best Sunday dress as I stood on the stage displaying my underwear to my horrified family members and an amused public. There are at least a dozen people who have some kind of memory of me that is either unflattering or embarrassing. There are no secrets in this town for me. There is no mystery. No surprises.”

“I can see why you want to leave. Sort of,” Tracy conceded. “But I'm selfish. And I want you here. With me and David.”

“I know. And I love you and David, too. But with me and my brothers, well, I'm losing the love.
They're turning into permanent residents. If I want to be released from guy-dom, I have to move out.”

“But the city…”

I don't know why I had hoped she would support my decision. Tracy was warming to hearth and home of late. She had even bought David a pair of slippers. Next was an SUV and the requisite Labrador retriever. From there it was a quick slip into having children, and I knew she wanted to share each step with me. The way my love life was unfolding, I wasn't going to catch up any time soon.

“It might not happen,” I said with a lame attempt at reconciliation. “I could spend the rest of my days stuck here in town with Dad and the boys and their toys and dirt and stuff, turning into an old maid who reminisces about the few dates she went on with the occasional man that made Preston a momentary stopping point in his climb up the career ladder.”

“I can see that I'm not going to get anywhere with you today,” Tracy said primly, pushing open the door. “I'll go see if my car is ready.”

Tracy disappeared into the building, the tilt of her dark head telling me more than her parting comment did. The vibration of my cell phone gave me something else to think about. The number gave me something else to sigh about. It was my brother Neil.

“Hey, babe,” he said as I flipped open the phone and mumbled hello. “Can you stop by the shop? Chip needs a ride home to pick up my truck and bring it here.”

“I was going to come anyway to get you guys to fix my flat tire,” I said, glancing quickly at my watch. Neil and Chip worked at another mechanic's shop in town and I liked to give them my business. Tracy's husband David got all his mechanic work at Grady's. When they got married, Tracy started going there, too. I thought this took the whole “whither thou goest I will go” part of the wedding vows they exchanged too far. As for me, I went to the place my brothers worked at because I often got a deal on work done on my car. “But first I have to stop at the office then run a couple of errands.”

“So?”

“So that means he'll have to wait for about an hour.”

“Hang on a sec, I'll tell him.” He put the phone down. Over the clanging of metal I could hear Neil deliver this information to my other brother, then some muttered conversation, followed by a shouted-out greeting to someone entering the shop. Then a burst of laughter. Sounded like they were having fun. I waited and waited. No surprise that their time was more valuable than mine.

I heard the low murmur of conversation and then another burst of laughter. Neil picked up the phone again. “You comin' right away after that, though? It's okay with Chip.”

Be still my heart.

Tracy poked her head out of the door and gave me a thumbs-up to indicate that her car was ready.

“I'll be there as soon as I'm done,” I muttered as
I got out of my car to help Tracy bring her groceries to hers.

I snapped the phone shut, grabbed a couple of bags out of the car and brought them around the side of the building where her car was parked. She closed the door on the groceries in the backseat, then waited a moment as if she wanted to say something more to me.

I knew I had thrown out the information about my move without much preparation, but at the same time I didn't know a better way to tell her. Between working with kids whose first language was not found in any respectable dictionary and brothers who thought tact was something you used to spear notices to the wall, my diplomacy was worn thin.

“Well, I don't want to keep Casey waiting.” I waited another beat, then, as I turned to leave, Tracy caught me by the arm.

“I'm sorry. I'm feeling a little pouty right now.” She gave me an apologetic smile. “I had visions of me and David and you and Someone Special growing up in Preston together and sharing recipes and swapping babysitting and all those kind of things that you see in life insurance commercials.”

I knew full well what Tracy had grown up with and how she longed for a life that at least veered toward normal territory. And I knew she wanted me to be a part of that.

“Hey, you never know. Maybe I'll meet the perfect man and he'll want to move to Preston….”

“And maybe your brothers will buy you red roses,” Tracy put in, referring to an ongoing joke.

“It could happen.”

“I don't want to think about you going yet. For now, I'm going to go home, unload my groceries and then sit down and start praying.”

“No fair,” I protested. “I have to do all my praying on the run. There's no way I can compete with you.”

“It's not a competition,” Tracy said.

“Well, I know what you'll be praying for,” I muttered. “For me to stay here.”

“You're just guessing at that.” She grew serious and laid a hand on my arm. “I always pray for you, Danielle. I pray that God will keep you safe. I pray that you will find strength to do your job. Now I have to add that you'll find someone here in Preston to love.”

“That's unlikely,” I said.

“Well, you make sure you get your brothers to help you unload that tire.”

I laughed. “That would never happen. My brothers haven't spent all those years teaching me to be self-sufficient only to jump in at this time of my life.”

Tracy shook her head. “Someday, some woman is going to have one of those guys on the run. Mark my words.”

“I will. And I'll be there with pom-poms cheering her on.” I punched the air, underlining my comment.

Thankfully the meeting with Casey turned into
his usual petty whine about me taking too much overtime and how I should learn to prioritize. I pulled out my “understanding” expression, listened dutifully for twenty minutes while I twisted my hands in my lap so I wouldn't be tempted to hit him. Striking your boss does not look good on a resume especially if he's the only reference you have. With Casey I had to tread extra carefully since I told him I was looking for other work. I had to make sure he had no reason to get petty. Soon I was back in my car headed back downtown. At the dry cleaner's, I chatted with an old friend and made the appropriate admiring noises when she showed me her engagement ring. I knew the guy she was marrying, so jealousy wasn't an issue, but being reminded of my own single status was. I knew in this day and age I should be embracing my independence, but truthfully, I'd sooner be embracing a man.

Next stop was the shoe store to pick up my now fixed boot and endure a lecture on how to polish them so this expensive footwear would last longer. Then, I finally pulled up to the mechanic's garage where Chip and Neil worked.

The front door was locked, but I knew from past experience that the side door would be open. I parked beside an unfamiliar truck with an unfamiliar logo, whipped that tire out of the trunk of my car with an expert twist of my hips and kept my skirt clean.

I was good.

Tracy's comment about getting the boys to help made me laugh. They would say they were busy; they would ask me if my arms were broken, I was tough. I'm sure there were times they thought the skirts and dresses I wore were clever disguises to fool them into thinking I might actually be different from them.

The flat tire was hard to roll, but once I got it going, it went okay. The door was tricky and from the sounds of laughter inside, I guessed the truck belonged to a long lost buddy of one of my brothers.

Yay. Just what I needed in my current mood. Another guy.

And wasn't it simply divine justice that the guy perched on the bumper of Chip's truck was the same “guy” I had seen in the grocery store still wearing his sunglasses.

“And out of nowhere comes the sunshine,” he announced, watching me as I manhandled the tire toward the tire changer, but making no move to help. Did these guys think rolling flat tires qualified as a spectator sport? “Pretty little lady is pretty tough,” he said, angling me another smile.

He had to be kidding. Sunshine? Pretty little lady? Could this guy get any more guyish? I ignored him this time.

Chip wiped his hands on a greasy towel and watched me. Neil finally grabbed the tire. Jace leaned against the truck, grinning at their new friend as if he had said something wildly original.

“Hey, sis. You're late,” Jace called out as Neil dropped the tire by the compressor.

“Hey, Jace. I don't care,” I retorted, not bothering to pull out my manners. Even though Tracy and I had made up, I still felt grumbly. This guy's unsubtle come-on as he watched me struggle, piled on top of Casey's earlier patronizing attitude, didn't help to push my mood out of the red zone.

“Okay if I bring this back later on?” Neil asked.

“I can make it home on the spare.”

“Jigs, this is our sister Danielle,” Chip said as he tossed the towel into a nearby can. “Jigs likes fishing.”

I presumed this was Chip's way of explaining how he had come up with this particular nickname. Chip only re-christened guys he considered good friends. Jigs obviously made a huge impression very quickly. I'd heard vague references to Jigs in the past few days but I'd been too busy to follow through. And definitely not interested.

I gave him a careful smile accompanied by what my brothers called my office telephone voice. “Welcome to Preston,” I said, pleased that I sounded so civil.

“Thanks for that,” he said, tipping his hard hat back on his head and grinning at me again. “Preston seems like a real friendly town.”

I gave him a vague look.

“I'm thinking of moving here,” he continued, obviously oblivious to my not-interested attitude. “I've heard good things about this place and—” he paused and grinned at me “—the people in it.”

“Isn't that great?” Jace said, looking as if his favorite dog had just come home.

“Wonderful,” I murmured, ignoring the vague innuendo in Jigs's comment. Duty done, I turned back to Chip. “You ready to go?”

Chip glanced from me to Jigs, then to Jace, his expression clearly puzzled.

I lifted my eyebrow in question and resisted the urge to tap my foot.

I saw Jace shrug, then slowly shake his head in surprise.

I wasn't stupid. I read in their unsubtle body language that I hadn't done something I was supposed to.

Then I saw Neil poke Jace in the side and give him the taunting grin of winner to loser. “Told you she was fussy,” I heard him whisper.

“That's okay,” Jace said with a grin overflowing with masculine self-confidence. “She'll come around.”

A
s I looked at the expectant faces of my brothers and Jigs's smug expression, realization dawned in Technicolor.

I was supposed to have fallen for the obvious charms of this Jigs guy, thereby making my brothers the happiest men in the world. I couldn't believe these guys. They were a testosterone-laden version of The Little Engine That Could. They didn't quit.

A month ago they introduced me to a heavy-duty mechanic who was, they claimed, sensitive because he owned two black Labs that rode around with him in the cab of his pickup. Two weeks before that, it was a guy who worked for the department of highways and did extreme mountain biking in his spare time. Before that it was some cowboy who was always on the road but was in the top ten in the
Wild Rose Rodeo Association—like that was enough to make me fall head over heels in love with him.

My brothers lived in mortal fear that I would end up marrying someone who could talk for over five minutes and not bring up internal combustion engines, the fate of certain hockey teams, the price of feed wheat or anything to do with horses.

I suspected this Jigs guy was their latest effort at the game, but with their usual ineptness, once again they missed the matchmaking mark.

I gave Jace my vintage ticked-off-sister look—the kind reserved for moments when my brothers had gone over their quota of silliness.

Jace had the grace to look somewhat abashed. Chip was looking at me, as if he expected me to throw myself into this bushman's arms and declare undying love. Neil just looked interested.

Jigs, however, had a curious half smirk on his face, as if he saw me as a prize that, given time, would be his. That annoyed me most of all.

As I stalked out of the garage I heard Neil say, “I'll bet you any money, she'll change her mind.”

“You're on,” I heard Chip cry out.

Brothers, I thought dismissively. Guys one and all.

I started my car again and waited for Chip to join me. I closed my eyes, laid my head back against the headrest of my car and prayed for patience. And whatever else I would need. I loved my brothers but they had to stop thinking that all they had to do was
parade what they thought was a suitable guy in front of me and I would fall for him like a roped calf.

The car door opened and Chip jumped in. “Sorry to make you wait. I had to…uh…answer the phone. Business stuff.” He gave me his best sweet-little-boy smile, pretending that awkward moment in the garage hadn't happened.

“Chip? This guy, Jigs? Not such a good idea. You're going to lose your bet.”

“You haven't even given him a chance,” he sputtered. “Jigs is a great guy. He loves to play hockey, he likes fishing and even did a few circuits of the rodeo a couple of years ago.”

Chip didn't even seem to realize that all of these so-called good points were severely impairing their friend's appeal quotient.

“He thinks you're cute,” Chip added. This, of course, sealed the deal. How could I
not
fall for a guy who thought I was “cute.”

“He hasn't even met me,” I said, pretending to forget that I had seen him in the store.

“He saw your picture on the wall.”

In spite of my frustration with my brothers from time to time, I knew they loved me. How many guys would hang a picture of their sister up alongside the requisite calendar girls in the place they worked?

“He's a great guy,” Chip said, clearly campaigning for his friend.

“I'm sure as far as you guys are concerned, he fits right in,” I agreed, hence my hesitation. “But I'm not
interested. Besides, if I get this job in Edmonton, I won't be around anyway.”

Chip tapped his fingers on his leg. “Why do you want to go, anyway?”

I had gone over this ground so many times it was dust. “I've told you enough times, Chip. I want to get out of Preston. I want to meet new people. I want to run away and join a different circus.”

“You just hope to connect with some lawyer or accountant or some guy who goes to work in a suit.”

“You make that sound like a disease,” I said turning my car onto Preston's main road.

“It's unnatural, is what it is,” Chip grumped. “You're going to end up with some guy who uses words like ‘actualize' and ‘agenda' and we're going to end up looking like a bunch of dumb farm hicks.”

“You're being prejudiced. There's lots of nice men out there,” I said, knowing partially where his anger came from.

Because of his dyslexia, Chip had struggled through his classes until he got to high school. There he enrolled in a good vocational program where he excelled in mechanics. Chip had always helped my dad and brothers fix the machinery on the farm and he had a surprising connection with engines. He parlayed that into an apprenticeship and as soon as he got his journeyman's ticket at a tech school in Edmonton, he had come back to Preston to work at the same garage Neil worked at.

He had done well for himself, but along the way
his self-esteem had taken a few blows from those who had done better in school. He'd had a dream of starting his own business with Neil, but when he'd gone to a bank to apply for a loan, he'd been treated poorly by one of the loan officers there, an old schoolmate. A man in a suit who used words like “agenda” and “actualize.”

My other brothers' own disregard for professional men didn't have the same deep-seated angst. They plain didn't like men who they couldn't relate to.

“You're only as dumb as you let people think you are,” I said, letting a touch of anger slip into my voice. “And if you were serious about starting your own business, you wouldn't let one petty loan officer scare you away. There are other banks and other people you can deal with.”

A stubborn silence met that remark, and I backed off. Chip was immovable once he'd made up his mind.

“And how was work today?” I asked, shifting back into sister mode.

“Busy. Old man Thompkins brought his tractor in. A gear in the tranny piled up. Then one of Brody Cherwonka's guys brought his buncher in and it's going to need a final drive. We're swamped.”

Chip delivered this information like I should know what a final drive was and that I knew Mr. Thompkins would need a new transmission.

The trouble was, I did.

For a woman who liked pastel colors, manicures, gourmet food, classical music and good books, I knew far too much about mechanics, farming, welding, hockey and rodeo.

“What time are you guys going to be home?” I asked as I turned the car into the driveway of the farm.

“Not for another hour, maybe more,” Chip said. “I got to bring Neil's truck back and maybe have a quick look at it to see if I need to order any parts.”

I knew from past experience that Chip's “quick look” meant that I wouldn't be done with the dishes until nine o'clock.

As we got closer to the house I saw smoke pluming out of the chimney. My mood lifted. Dad had obviously been feeling well enough to start a fire in the fireplace, which meant the house would be toasty warm. I longed for a cup of hot tea and a moment to sit and relax in front of a snapping fire before I started making supper. If Dad was in a good mood, I would at least have a few hours to read.

Chip got into Neil's truck as I parked my car and hurried to the house, to enjoy the warmth and the company of my father.

 

It was late afternoon the next day and the restaurant of the Preston Inn held only a smattering of people, most of whom I recognized. Wednesday at the inn was usually a quiet affair.

Tracy had called me before I left, apologizing for the fact that she wouldn't be able to meet me for our
biweekly supper date. One of David's clients had cancelled, which left David free. Then Tracy's mother had called and unexpectedly asked her and David to come for supper.

Tracy had only recently reconciled with her estranged mother so I encouraged her to take Velma up on the offer.

That left me dateless, and I didn't feel like going home to cook for my brothers.

“Are you waiting for Tracy?” Jessica, one of the regular waitresses at the inn, asked me.

I shook my head, trying not to feel sorry for myself. I was getting really good at it, but even though practice makes perfect there were some skills that didn't look good on a resume. “She couldn't come. So I'm on my own.”

“Too bad. Well, just go sit down, and I'll be right there,” Jessica said and hurried toward the kitchen.

I wandered over to Tracy's and my usual spot. When Jessica came, I ordered my usual cup of Earl Grey tea and my usual chicken breast entrée, and glanced out the usual window at the unchanging face of Preston. Across from the inn a few cows had their heads buried in a feeder. The rest of the Samson herd was huddled in the shelter of a wind-fence that Donald Samson had put up two summers ago. I knew that because Tracy and I had watched the progress from these very seats by this very window.

As I waited for my dinner, sipping my tea, I reminded myself that sitting by myself would be
good practice for when I moved to the city. I would have to get used to being on my own until I established a network of friends.

I felt a moment of panic. In spite of my big-city pretensions, I couldn't hide the fact that I was born and raised in the country. Would I be an obvious hick? I didn't know what a Hermès scarf looked like and had no clue about Prada or Chloe or any other designers. I was strictly a Sheiling Boutique and Arth's Fashion Centre kind of girl. Wasn't a city girl supposed to aspire to this kind of knowledge?

A movement on my right side caught my attention and drew me back to the land of the normal. Well, Preston normal.

A tall man sat down at the table beside me, taking a seat on the opposite side and giving me a clear look at him. His well-cut suit emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, its soft grey setting off his light brown hair with its faint wave. His hazel eyes were fringed with thick, dark lashes that made me jealous. Well-defined nose, firm mouth. Faint hint of a five-o'clock shadow but not enough to make him look scruffy.

He didn't look familiar but he certainly looked good. He looked like the kind of man my brothers would immediately distrust.

He glanced up in time to catch me staring at him. When he smiled I blushed and looked away.

This was not being responsible, I told myself. He's a complete stranger. Didn't your mother always tell you…

But then another man stopped by his table. It was Eric Lougheed, the manager of one of the banks in town. Eric was as straightlaced as a Victorian grandma. He glanced at me, gave me a vague nod, then turned back to my mystery man. I tried to listen and tried to look as if I weren't listening, but in spite of my nonchalance, I still didn't catch the handsome stranger's name. Either Eric and he weren't on a first-name basis or they knew each other so well, they didn't have to exchange names.

After Eric left, I waited a suitable moment, then let my eyes wander oh-so-casually around the restaurant, drifting past the stranger, then stopping when I saw that he was reading a book. I couldn't see the title, but I could see that it was fiction. Huge points here. The only book my brothers read were the Truck and Heavy Equipment Traders or parts books.

After a few minutes, he glanced up at me and smiled again. As if he knew me. “Hello, Danielle. How are you?” he asked, his voice deep, with a hint of roughness.

He knew who I was. But who was he?

Client? Lawyer I had met during one of my cases? Department person? Social worker? Salesman?

Out of habit I glanced at his left hand. No ring, so not married. Eric knew him so that ruled out potential axe murderer.

“I'm fine,” I said, holding his gaze as my mind raced, feeling dumber the longer he looked at me. Maybe I'd remember his name if I kept him talking.
“And you? How are you?” Oh, very intelligent repartee. “Are you here on business?”

He nodded.

Just then Jessica came between us carrying my supper. I thanked her for the food then waited for her to go so I could try to remember this good-looking man.

“So how are Tracy and David doing?” Jessica asked, lingering a moment. “I think it's so cool that they are building their own house.”

Usually I didn't mind a bit of conversation. Usually I was glad to talk about Tracy and David, my good friends, and their happiness and how things have worked out so well for Tracy.

But right now all I wanted was for Jessica to leave so I could chat with the mysterious but good-looking man sitting a few feet away from me who knew who I was.

I am a pathetic and sad creature, but I figured I was due for a good look at a real live man after the little Jigs deal the other day. So I gave concise, noncommittal answers until Jessica left and I was alone.

And the very good-looking maybe-single man was still sitting at his table, still looking at me.

I usually prayed before my meal. But this man was watching. Would he figure I was a fanatic who was going to push tracts at him while he ate and ask him if he had a personal relationship with Jesus?

He who honors Me I will honor him.
The words from Samuel gently settled in my head and I realized
that I was quickly splashing toward the shallow end of my gene pool.

So I sent up an apology, bowed my head and tried to concentrate on my prayer. It took a bit, but I slowly worked my way toward sincerity and when I was done, gentle peace suffused through me. I was thankful God understood and forgave. And He knew my constant need of both.

I looked up to see the man watching me with a whimsical expression on his face.

“I'm sorry for staring,” he said quietly. “It's not often you see someone praying in public. I think that's wonderful.”

“Thank you.” Did he go to church, too? Could I be so fortunate as to meet not only a man, but a Christian one? “It's not a big thing.”

“Maybe not to you, but I think it's admirable.” He put his book down and picked up the menu. “So, Danielle, is there anything on the menu that you recommend?”