Blessings of the Heart (13 page)

“Good. Then I think I'd better leave you now, before I have to lie to your neighbors about what did or didn't go on while I was staying with you.” He managed a tenuous smile. “You can talk to the boys in the morning. We'll all feel a lot better in the daylight.”

She watched him turn and walk away. Standing alone in the long hallway, she realized she'd never felt more isolated, more bereft, in her entire life.

Feel better in the daylight? Her thoughts echoed. Now that
would
be a miracle.

T
he following morning, Brianne accepted Mitch's offer to help her prepare a second meal of pancakes, but only because their food supplies were getting scarce, and she couldn't afford to make another error and waste precious ingredients.

They were both in the kitchen, sidling around and trying to work without getting too close to each other, when they heard a rumble in the distance.

She stopped in the midst of setting the table and turned to him. “Is that thunder?”

“No. I don't think so. It sounds like heavy equipment to me. Maybe Charlie and his crew have started working on that part of the road, like he said they would.”

“Oh.” Bree felt numb. Time was running out.

Ryan came barreling into the kitchen, almost knocking the plates out of her hands. “Dad! Is the road fixed?”

“If it isn't, it soon will be,” Mitch said. He carefully flipped the hotcakes he'd been tending. “Go get your brother and be sure your hands are clean. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Ryan left the room the same way he'd entered, at a dead run, shouting, “Bud! We get to go home!”

“How long do you think the repairs will take?” Bree purposely avoided eye contact with Mitch so she wouldn't inadvertently reveal her disappointment.

“There's no way to tell. Hours, days. It'll depend on how much clay is in the soil and whether or not they have to truck in a lot of fill dirt and rocks, I suppose. Why?”

“I just wondered.”

“You aren't going to miss us, are you?”

“Of course not!”

“Uh-huh. That's what I thought.” Mitch knew he'd sensed a lot more emotion in her denial than she'd intended. Still, as long as she kept refusing to consider the prospect that they might be right for each other, there was nothing he could do or say that would change things between them.

Of course, there was also the possibility that he
was mistaken, Mitch admitted ruefully. He'd consciously placed his whole life in God's hands before he'd gotten his boys back. Nothing had happened since then to change that unwavering commitment. Consequently, it made sense to conclude that if the good Lord had wanted him to stay with Brianne long enough to convince her they were compatible, He wouldn't have let the crew repair the road so quickly.

Mitch huffed in disgust. It was a lot easier to trust the Lord for answers to prayer when he was getting exactly what he'd prayed for, wasn't it? No kidding! It was also easier when he thought he'd figured out just what God's aim was in a particular situation. In this case, he didn't have a clue, unless… Unless he was supposed to be helping Brianne instead of the other way around!

Looking at the present dilemma in that light gave him a broader scope of ideas. As folks said, it isn't over till it's over. Therefore…

“Once the road is passable, would you mind driving us down to Serenity?” Mitch asked.

“What about your car?” She sounded disconcerted. “You can't just abandon it.”

“I figured to get a few friends to help me. We can come back later and use my work truck to pull the car out.”

“Oh.” Bree didn't think her raw emotions could
withstand the stress of a prolonged drive to town with Mitch Fowler seated next to her, yet she saw no graceful way to refuse. “Well, I suppose I can drive you. That is, providing the road is good and solid. I don't want to get my car stuck, too.”

He flashed her a winning smile. “If we get stranded we can always hike back up here like we did before.”

“No way. I've tromped around in enough mud to last me the rest of my life, thank you.”

“Speaking of mud, I noticed that the creek below the spring is running normally again. You don't intend to rebuild your lake, do you?”

“Not a chance,” she said quickly. “If I want fresh fish I'll buy it in the market.”

“You like to fish?”

“You don't have to sound so surprised. Fishing was fun the few times I tried it. I figured, if I stocked the pond well, it would be a good source of natural food.”

Mitch laughed at her naiveté. “Have you ever cleaned a fish?”

“No. So what? How hard can it be?”

“That's not the point,” he said, continuing to chuckle. “Trust me. It's
way
too messy for you.”

His smart-alecky attitude and the strain of knowing he'd soon be out of her life for good coupled to make her unduly short-tempered. “When are you
going to stop assuming I'm some kind of obsessive cleanliness nut? Just because I don't happen to be a slob doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me.”

“You're right,” he said sagely. “There's not a thing wrong with liking nice things. Or with getting dressed up to go to town occasionally. Take Sunday mornings, for instance. I'll bet you'd feel a lot better about me if I showed up in a suit and tie when I picked you up for church.”

Brianne crinkled her brow, stared at him. “What are you talking about? I never said I was going to church with you.”

“No, but it's safe. And public. And it will certainly help your reputation if you let me introduce you to the folks in town that way.”

“I told you. I'm not worried about my reputation. I don't want to meet a lot of new people. I like my solitude. I need to preserve it in order to work, remember?”

“So you said. What happens when you run out of ideas? Where do you go to recharge your batteries, so to speak?”

He had a point. Though books and movies were good as far as they went, it was more intellectually stimulating to interact with real people. Still, she wasn't keen on going to church with him. There was something awfully personal about it.

“Thanks, but no, thanks,” Bree said.

“Are you afraid?”

Her head snapped around, her eyes narrowing. “Of course not. You don't scare me one bit.”

“I wasn't talking about me,” Mitch said. “I was talking about God.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Is it? You told me once that you used to be a believer—until your mother died.”

“So? What did I know? I was just a kid.”

“When it comes to God, we all are,” he argued. “There's nothing wrong with that. It's not a sin to ask questions, either. Or to doubt God's love or His wisdom when we're faced with loss. I did the same thing when my boys disappeared. The sad part is when a person gets stuck in that rut and never works through it.”

“I'm not stuck in any rut,” Bree said flatly.

A broad grin spread across Mitch's face. “Good. Then as soon as the boys and I are settled in town and the phones start working again, I'll call you and we'll pick a Sunday that's good for both of us.”

I won't go, she assured herself. Call all you want. I won't go. I won't go. I won't go.

The return of the exuberant children didn't distract her. Nothing did. All during breakfast and the cleanup afterward the same declaration kept run
ning through Brianne's mind. She nurtured it as if it alone would ensure her unwavering resolve.

Adamant, she convinced herself that if she'd had her computer powered up she'd have programmed the negative statement into a screen saver!

 

Ryan was in the yard with Barney, so he was the first to spot the approach of their rescuers. He barreled into the house with a whoop that almost scared the poor dog into having another accident.

Everyone headed for the front porch to see what all the shouting was about. Bree paused just outside the door while the others ran ahead to meet the approaching vehicle. It was a medium-size truck with a light bar mounted above the cab and a second bench seat behind the driver.

Her heart lodged in her throat. She edged closer to listen to what was being said. Mitch was gesturing to the men in the mud-caked volunteer fire department rescue truck and pointing to the canyon, telling the story of what had happened to his cabin.

Three men in heavy yellow coats climbed out of the truck. Mitch shook hands with them, then looked at his children.

Bree heard him say, “Okay, boys. The firemen are going to give us a lift into town if we hurry. You guys need to go back in the house and gather up your stuff.”

Then he looked at Brianne. “Guess you're off the hook. You won't need to drive us home, after all.”

“Good.” She lifted her chin, managed a slight smile. “Whatever you do, don't forget to take the dog.”

Chuckling, Mitch stepped closer and gently grasped her hands. “There are lots of things I won't forget, especially your kindness and tolerance.”

“Or the fact that it was my fault you almost got killed.”

“Nobody's perfect,” he said, caressing her knuckles with his thumbs. “But I will have to admit, you're closer than most.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“You're welcome.” Mitch released her. “Well, I guess I'd better go get my gear, too. Not that there's a lot of it. I just don't want you to have to clean up after us when we're gone.”

He hesitated, looking from the house to the waiting fire truck. “Uh-oh. I just thought of something. I won't have time to scrub the spare bathroom before I go.”

“That's okay,” Bree said. “Now that the road is open, Emma will be coming again soon. Whatever cleaning I don't get done, she can finish.”

“Okay. But that bathroom door will have to be
replaced. I'll measure it the next time I'm here, then pick one up and install it for you later.”

Bree couldn't stand there and allow him to talk about their nonexistent future for one more second. “That won't be necessary. I'll call the firm that remodeled the house before I moved in and have them handle it. That way, you won't have to bother, and everything will be sure to match.”

Sighing in resignation, Mitch nodded. “Okay. Have it your way.” Backing away he added dryly, “Perfect, as usual.”

 

Rather than go into the house while Mitch was inside, Brianne waited on the lawn for the little family to come out. When they did, Mitch herded them past her as if she were of no more interest to him than one of her ornamental shrubs.

“Bud and Ryan, you ride in the jump seats,” he was saying. “I'll take Barney with me. Let's go. Move it.”

Ryan obeyed easily. Bud lagged behind, then doubled back to Brianne. There were tears in his eyes.

Overcome with more affection than she'd thought possible, she dropped to her knees and took his little hand. “You be a good boy, okay?”

Sniffling, he nodded.

Fighting her own tears, she smiled at Bud, gave
him a tender hug, then set him away and kissed his damp cheek. “I love you, honey. You remember that. Okay?”

“O-kay.”

“And take good care of your bear.”

“Okay.” Hesitating, he sniffled again and looked at Brianne, his eyes glistening with more tears. “I want you to be my new mama.”

That did it. Bree began to weep silently, unashamed. “Oh, honey, I wish I could be, but life doesn't work like that. Grown-ups have a lot of other problems to worry about. Not everybody in your family likes me the way you do. You wouldn't want them to be unhappy, would you?”

The child burst into tears and threw himself at her, clinging to her neck with fierce determination. She struggled to her feet and carried him to the rescue truck, no more willing to let go of him than he was to release his hold on her.

I won't have Mitch Fowler feeling sorry for me, she lectured herself. I can't let him see how upset I am.

While Mitch was leaning into the truck to check Ryan's seat belt, Bree handed Bud to one of the firefighters and hurried toward the house.

It would have been gracious to stand on the porch, put on a brave front and wave a friendly farewell to her accidental guests. Unfortunately,
Bree knew she didn't have enough self-control left to manage it.

It hurt too much to even
think
about what was happening. Seeing Mitch and the boys driving away would be far more pain than her wounded heart could take.

 

“Cute dog,” the youngest firefighter said. He and Mitch were leaning against the rear of the truck's cab, watching the road play out behind them while the others rode in the seats up front. Barney was curled in Mitch's lap, shivering in spite of the warm day.

“The kids found him during the storm,” Mitch said, petting the dog to soothe it—and himself. “I hope nobody comes forward to claim him when I place an ad in the lost and found. We're all pretty attached to him already.”

“I can see why. He does look kind of lost. Course, so do…” He stopped talking and looked away.

Mitch knew exactly what he'd left unsaid. “My boys? Yeah, I know. They've had it pretty rough lately.”

“I heard Miz Fowler'd died a while back. Sorry about that. So, you and the writer lady fixin' to get together after all a this? You could do worse 'n her, that's a fact. 'Sides, I heard she's rich.”

Mitch glared at him as if the other man had just spit in his face. “I suggest you keep your opinions of Ms. Bailey and me to yourself.” His voice was almost a growl. “You get my drift?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Fowler,” the younger man said. “Ain't none of my business who you're living with. No, sirree. If you and her want to shack up, nobody's gonna hear about it from me.”

Furious, Mitch figured it was a good thing he had to keep holding on to the dog to keep it from jumping out of the moving truck. If he'd had both hands free, he might have done something he'd have been sorry for later.

He clenched his jaw. This was exactly the kind of wild rumor he'd been worried about.

If he'd had only his welfare to consider when he learned that Brianne was living alone, he'd have left her house immediately, before anyone found out he'd even been there. Responsibility for Ryan and Bud, however, had eliminated that option.

Although he hadn't consciously made the choice to damage Brianne Bailey's reputation, he had chosen to put the health and safety of his sons first. It had been the right thing to do. Unfortunately, this was the result.