At Home in His Heart (7 page)

“Couldn’t be helped,” Sandi said lightly, passing a napkin to Gina so she could wipe the ice cream from her face.

“Grandma Mae and Uncle Bryce took me to the petting zoo,” Gina chimed in. “And Uncle Bryce is going to take me fishing.”

He nearly laughed at the way LeAnne’s lip curled in distaste. But whether at the fishing or Uncle Bryce reference—or both—was a toss-up.

Sandi gave her daughter a “look.” “You know that hasn’t been decided. You may be going with Davy and his dad.”

“I want to go with Uncle Bryce. He has a boat.”

Keith’s mom again fixed her eyes on him. So much for Gina’s innocent diversionary tactic.

“So Bryce, what are you planning to do with those additional museum funds?”

Amazing how some things never changed.
You’re missing
out, Keith, old buddy.
He bestowed her a serene smile he knew she’d find irritating. “Thought I’d spend a few months in the Bahamas. You’re welcome to join me.”

Now where’d that come from? Old Bryce. The smart aleck who hated being pushed into a corner, especially by Keith’s mom. Or any woman other than his grandma for that matter.

“Where’s the
Mahamas?
” Gina licked her spoon. “Can I go, too?”

LeAnne’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly, then she turned to her granddaughter. “Gina, dear. Why don’t you take your hat off while you’re at the table. Your
Uncle
Bryce thinks your mother didn’t teach you any manners.”

Bryce bristled at the uncalled-for slur on Sandi’s parenting but, unfazed by her grandma’s reprimand, a grinning Gina pulled off the cap and leaned over to plop it on top of
his
head. Much too small, of course, with the band adjusted as tight as it could go for the little girl. He knew he looked silly, and he reached over to poke her gently in the side. She giggled and squirmed, then both caught her grandma’s disapproving eye. Exchanging a mischievous look with Gina, Bryce placed the hat on the table between them and they both settled down to their ice cream.

Cute kid. Keith’s mom hadn’t yet managed to squash her spunk. He glanced at Sandi. She’d probably held up fine, too, under her mother-in-law’s dictatorial ways. The pair had been on the same page when it came to how Keith should live his life, so there must be some kind of bond between the two in spite of LeAnne’s parenting dig.

The older woman pushed back her ice cream bowl. “It’s a bit too chilly tonight for ice cream.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have opened the door.” Sandi cast her mother-in-law an anxious look. “I thought since you’re used to air-conditioning that it might seem too warm in here.”

Sandi got to her feet to close it, but LeAnne’s outstretched hand stayed her. “Don’t bother, dear. I need to get on home.”

Was this where he should say something like “don’t hurry off because of me” or “I should be going, too?” But he kept his mouth shut and concentrated on his ice cream as LeAnne retrieved her purse, kissed the top of her granddaughter’s head and moved to the front door with Sandi right behind her.

No goodbye for him.

He could hear the murmured voices of the two women. LeAnne’s brisk tones. Her pointed “I’ll call you.”

He’d go home, too, as soon as she left.

As soon as he’d finished his ice cream.

Just as soon as he confirmed Sandi intended to smooth talk him into rethinking the museum business.

L
eaning the side of her head against the doorjamb, Sandi watched her mother-in-law—illuminated by the porch light—make her way safely to her car. Its headlights came on as it started, then the vehicle moved down the darkened road.

Well, that had been more than awkward.

Now she had Bryce camped out in her kitchen. She owed him an apology. What was with LeAnne tonight? But although she herself was curious about Bryce’s job prospects and his intentions for the museum funds, LeAnne had been so rude about it. Flat-out bad-mannered wasn’t usually her style.

“I need to get going, too.”

Startled, she spun in the direction of the low, masculine voice. Looked up into the dark eyes of the bearded man standing right behind her, toying with the Western hat in his hands. Sneaky for such a big guy, which probably paid off in a war zone.

She took a step back and bumped awkwardly into the door frame. He caught her arm in a gentle grasp to steady her, and their gazes connected once again.

He released her arm and together, as if by mutual agreement, they stepped out on the deck, letting the door close behind them.

Her words came softly so Gina wouldn’t hear. “I’m sorry about the way Keith’s mom acted tonight.”

Bryce kept his own volume turned down, too. “You’re not responsible for her. I’m afraid we never hit it off. Keith probably told you about my background. Why it didn’t meet her standards?”

“Some.”

“Well, as you can imagine, a kid who didn’t even know who his father was and whose mother flitted in and out of his life didn’t meet LeAnne’s prerequisites for friendship with her son.”

“I’m sorry.” According to Keith, his mom had gone to great lengths to separate the two boys. That’s what instigated the move to a gated community when they were teens. But by then it was too late. A lasting bond had been formed.

Bryce shrugged. “It’s not like I imagined the two of us becoming buds after Keith’s death. But I have to admit I’m disappointed she still believes it’s her ordained role to keep me in my place. I thought she might have changed, but obviously she hasn’t.”

She gazed up at him, unable to curtail her curiosity. “What about you? Have
you
changed?”

He chuckled, and she couldn’t help returning his smile.

“I have. In a big way, even though sometimes it may not be apparent—not even to me. But I can admit as a kid I lived to ruffle her feathers. Keith considered it entertainment second to none. Egged me on.”

“He did?”

“It may be hard to believe, but the Keith you knew and the Keith I grew up with weren’t one and the same.”

“You mean because he got his life on track with God before I met him?”

The twinkle in his eyes muted. “When you live daily with the reality that someone’s trying to kill you, you can go one
of two ways. Get right with your creator or shake your fist at Him. Keith just wised up long before I did.”

“But you did?”

He nodded, his eyes meeting hers in solemn acknowledgment. “Took losing Keith to get me to unclench my fist.”

His revelation caught her off-guard, a million questions racing to the tip of her tongue. But Bryce placed his hat on his head and took a step toward the deck’s stairs as if that was as far as he intended to go on that topic.

“Guess I’ll see you around, Sandi.”

“Thank you again for bringing Keith’s hat back to Gina.”

“Happy to do it. And when you’re ready to take her fishing, the boat and tackle are at your service.”

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a fisherman.” Keith had tried to persuade her to join him during a leave of absence. She’d turned him down flat. Had her husband no clue he’d married a girly girl? Besides, she could barely swim.

But now she wished she’d gone, mermaid or not.

“Not a whole lot to it. Bait the hook. Drop it in the water. Sit back and relax.”

Relax? Trapped in a boat out in the middle of a lake with Bryce? “I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

“You can find out for yourself. Gina, too.”

Why was he persisting in this? For Gina’s sake, because he knew how much she wanted to go? “Thanks, but—”

The front door opened and Gina peeked out. “Are you leaving, Uncle Bryce?”

“Sure am. What’s that on your face?”

Grinning, Gina put her hands on her hips. “Grandma’s ice cream.”

Dismayed not only by the smear on her face but the chocolate chip dollop on her T-shirt, Sandi shook her head—and again her gaze grazed Bryce’s amused one. Her breath quickened.

Just go. Get on out of here. Git.

Shoo. Scat.

But he didn’t seem in much of a hurry. Took his own sweet time saying his goodbyes to Gina, crouching for a hug she insisted on giving him.

When he finally departed, Sandi turned off the porch light and scooted Gina to the bathroom to wash her off. Helped her into her pajamas—a bigger-than-usual challenge because Gina didn’t want to take off her daddy’s cap.

“Mommy? Does Uncle Bryce have little kids?”

“I don’t think so, honey. Why?”

“He needs little kids.” She emphasized her matter-of-fact words with a nod of her head.

“Why’s that?”

“Because he’s a good daddy.” Gina gave her a hug and headed to her room to await a bedtime story.

Sandi lingered for a few moments straightening the bathroom as she mulled over Bryce’s words—how he’d unclenched his fist. And Gina’s comment about him being daddy material. Would her daughter ask for a daddy-and-the-guinea-pigs story tonight?

Or an Uncle-Bryce-and-the-fishing-boat one?

Big dumb ox.

He thought he’d known what she was up to, thanks to Cate Landreth at the horse show clueing him in. Yet that night at Sandi’s place he’d lingered at the front door. Invited her—again—to join him on a fishing trip. Keith had once told him she’d refused to go with him, so he wanted to see just how far she’d take it to get on his good side.

But she hadn’t swallowed the, um, bait.

Now here it was a week later and he had to admit that unless you counted the sideways glances he’d intercepted at the horse show and at her place, he didn’t see anything he’d label as putting a “move” on him to get him to change his mind about the
rent. He’d had women put moves on him plenty of times before, so he had a good idea of what that might entail. To his shame, the possibility kind of caught Old Bryce’s fancy as some thing he might have some fun with. But obviously the woman who’d tipped him off had it all wrong.

So why’d he keep thinking about Sandi? Sure as shootin’, it didn’t appear she was thinking about him. She hadn’t said a word, either, when he mentioned Keith’s death had driven him to God. Probably didn’t believe it. Couldn’t blame her.

“What are you doing inside on a nice day like this?” Grandma Mae poked him in the shoulder as she made her way past where he sat at the kitchen table with his netbook open in front of him. She’d just gotten up from a nap.

“Checking email.” And running covert calculations on the current state of their finances. The minutes were ticking before a decision about what to do with the second-floor apartment had to be made.

For the time being, Grandma had agreed not to navigate on her own the outside back stairs leading to the apartment or the ones inside through the historical museum below. He could stick close by right now, with his part-time jobs and volunteer work at the fire department. Could drop in to check on her throughout the day. But when he got that firefighter position, he’d be gone for weeks at the fire academy. Then after that he could be called out in the middle of the night or be away for days.

He scanned the spreadsheet columns again. That increase in the rent couldn’t kick in any too soon.

At least Grandma hadn’t argued, as he expected she might, when he suggested they look for a part-time caregiver, a nurse to check in on her, help her with personal self-care that was awkward for a grandson. Someone who could be available at a moment’s notice if Bryce had to be away.

Gran had balked, however, at the necessity of raising the
rent on the Canyon Springs Historical Museum to cover some of the other plans he had for her. But eventually she’d been convinced that the figure she’d quoted to the society fifteen years ago was now laughable.

“Earth to Bryce.” Grandma waved a hand in front of his face. “You should get out more. Big strapping boy like you needs some activity.”

“I’m getting plenty of that digging postholes for Trey Kenton down at the equine center. You know, to fence that piece of forested property that burned a dozen or so years back. He’s had all the old stumps removed and will reseed it for pasture.”

He’d been unloading and stacking hay bales for Trey, too. And jogging every day to acclimate to the more-than-mile-high elevation. He didn’t want to fall on his face during the fire fighter physical qualifications.

Grandma turned to lean back against the countertop. “I’m talking recreational exercise. You haven’t been fishing since Memorial Day weekend.”

He grinned. “You’re thinking lifting that fishing pole will keep me in top shape?”

“Fishing’s good exercise for the soul. But now that you mention it, guess I don’t want you getting all flabby on me, either. I’m still praying you’ll catch the eye of some local gal so I can have great-grandkids before I depart this world.”

Jarred by her words—this was the first time she’d voiced anything like that—his thoughts flew unbidden to one local gal in particular. Glossy blond hair. Trim figure. Sweet smile. A bit on the bossy side at times.

He pushed Sandi’s captivating image away. No point in inviting any more trouble into his life.

“Not making you any promises on that one, Gran.” But he
had
promised to do his best to help her retain her independence as long as he could. Grandpa died when Bryce was seven
and Grandma moved them upstairs, then rented out the first floor—eventually to the historical society. So if that meant him sleeping on the sofa in the tiny living room, just as he had when growing up, so be it. And if it meant raising the museum rent to supplement remodeling the downstairs so she could have accessible living quarters, he’d do that, too.

“Well, then, at least make yourself useful. Go pick up one of those corn bread mixes and a bag of Anasazi beans for me. That’ll be our dinner tonight. Anasazis don’t have to soak too many hours before cooking.”

“Who carries them?”

“Only place I know is the Warehouse.”

“You want me to go right now?” It was only one o’clock in the afternoon. Sandi would still be working her shift. As near as he’d been able to determine, once school had let out she’d been covering the noon to 4:00 p.m. hours several days a week.

Not that he’d been keeping track.

But had Grandma?

“I’m sorry, LeAnne, but I can’t chat right now. A few customers just came in. But I wanted to let you know not to expect us this evening.”

“You’re not coming for pizza?” “Something came up at the last minute.” “We’ve always gotten together on Friday evenings.” Each summer since Keith’s death, Friday nights had been their night. Renting movies. Going out to eat. Watching a ball game at the city park. Attending a community band concert or a family-friendly play at the local theater.

But the change in plans had come unexpectedly, and she didn’t dare pass up the opportunity to make her voice heard. Not if what Cate Landreth had told her was true. Her presence might make all the difference—if it wasn’t too late already.

LeAnne’s voice sharpened. “You’re going out with Bryce Harding, aren’t you?”

“Why would you think that?” Sandi hadn’t spoken to him since last week. Thought about him maybe. Wondered where he’d been keeping himself.

“I saw the way he looked at you the night he showed up on your doorstep. I’m not so old that I don’t recognize male interest when I see it. He’s getting to you through Gina. Hero to the rescue with the hat. The Uncle Bryce thing.”

“I already explained that.” Had, in fact, explained it more than once since LeAnne’s regrettable encounter with Bryce. She’d clarified how she didn’t have the heart—even as much as she wanted to—to squelch the child’s spontaneous outpouring of affection that “uncle” played a part in.

But her mother-in-law still wasn’t buying it.

“I’m not seeing Bryce, LeAnne. I haven’t so much as talked to him since that night.”

“Then why the cancellation?”

She wouldn’t like the answer, but at least she’d get her off this Bryce fixation. “There’s a special meeting of the city council tonight. I’ve been told by a somewhat reliable source that with the new fiscal year starting July 1, there may be unanticipated cutbacks announced tonight.”

“You’re not on the city council.”

“No, but I’m a resident of this community and president of the Canyon Springs Historical Society. So if they’re contemplating cutting off our funding—as is rumored—I have a right to hear it in person, not in the weekly paper.”

“You’re getting yourself entirely too wrapped up with this museum business. It’s not good for you. Or Gina.”

She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. Why couldn’t LeAnne give her a little credit? She wasn’t throwing herself into the museum because she didn’t have anything better to do. She had a plan. A goal. One that LeAnne would
one day come to appreciate. “Keith loved this community, its history, and intended to get involved in the society when he returned.”

“But he didn’t return, now did he?” LeAnne’s voice cracked, and the sound pierced Sandi’s soul.

No, he hadn’t returned. Would never return.

Was that what this was all about? The suspicion? Accusations? All evidence that LeAnne was having a difficult time with the anniversary of Keith’s death, which was only weeks away? She blinked back the moisture in her own eyes, her voice softening. “Let’s get together tomorrow instead. Gina and I’ll bring pizza after work. We’ll spend the night. Okay, LeAnne?”

A choking sob echoed over the line and the phone in her hand went dead.

She let out a shaky gust of pent-up breath and wiped at the corner of her eye. She’d take LeAnne’s emotional response to her suggestion as a yes. It sounded as if her usually stalwart mother-in-law needed a heavy dose of TLC. The anniversary of Keith’s death always challenged Sandi’s own heart, as well, her faith—the latter of which LeAnne didn’t have to fall back on.