Dream a Little Dream (15 page)

The diner was packed when they walked in. Cassie greeted them with a squeal and open arms. She'd begun working some mornings and evenings for Sam since he'd started staying open later, a fact that, in itself, reflected the town's growth.

“Bob, you're out!” she exclaimed after her initial squeal had alerted everyone to his presence. She gently hugged him and Molly had to smile watching her. Though she'd come to town targeting Bob for marriage, his compassion for the girl had helped her through a tough time and solidified a big brother–little sister friendship between them.

The small diamond solitaire on Cassie's left ring finger caught Molly's attention. “What is this?” she asked, taking Cassie's hand when she let go of Bob. Of course, she knew from the glow on her young face what it was.

“Jake popped the question,” she gushed, moving her hand so that the small diamond caught the light and sparkled. “Isn't it the absolute most beautiful ring you have ever seen?”

Bob leaned in, looking at it then her, his expression intense. “I'm assuming Brady has spoken with Jake and laid down the law to him.” Bob's voice was stern. It drew a laugh from Cassie and made Molly's insides go all gushy. The man was too cute.

“Yes, he did,” Cassie replied, wonder in her words. “You'd think he was my daddy the way he scared poor Jake to death with all that serious talk about how he has to cherish me and take care of me.”

Molly was touched once again by the sweetness of God's love and the way He'd protected Cassie. She also said a prayer of thanksgiving that her articles had been used to lead Cassie to Mule Hollow. She never knew exactly how God was going to use what she put on paper, but it was reassuring to know that He was in control. It gave Molly more confidence that maybe God would use this mess she'd made of Bob's life for good. Maybe his wife really was in those letters. She decided that tomorrow she'd start sorting through them again. If Mrs. Bob Jacobs was in that pile, Molly was determined to sort her out and do a little matchmaking of her own.

Cassie smiled. “Well, I've got to get back to work. If the two of you will visit for a few minutes, I'll have your
table cleared off in a second. Sam's busy at the fryer, and even though he's got Hank Wilcox and Roy Don Jenkins back there helping him, they're having a hard time keeping up with the cooking. That leaves me to wait the tables and clear by myself.”

“I can help you if you need me to,” Molly offered, but Cassie shook her head.

“No way, this is my gig. Believe me, this ain't nothing compared to when I waited tables in Austin. Just give me a minute.”

Molly and Bob's eyes connected as Cassie hurried away. “One thing you don't do with that girl is step into her territory.”

Bob nodded. “I think it's from growing up in the system. She had to be assertive to survive.”

Molly smiled at him with admiration. “It's nice that you're her friend.”

He placed his hand at the base of her back, giving her a gentle push toward the crowd of people. “I'm a better person for having met her. Thank you for bringing her into my life.”

Molly looked up at him over her shoulder.

“Close your mouth, Molly. That's right. If it wasn't for you, she wouldn't be here. Safe and in love. You did a good thing with those articles. And if it took me getting stalked a little bit, then like I told you earlier, it was worth it.”

Molly wasn't sure why that statement made her sad but it did. She blinked and then was saved by the crowd as they engulfed them. Dinner at Sam's had always felt more like what Molly figured a family reunion would feel like. People clustered together talking and laughing
with one another, passing out hugs and slaps on the back as they told stories and shared their day.

Walking through the group, feeling Bob's touch on her back, Molly experienced a connection she'd never felt before.

T
he calves were hollering for breakfast as soon as they reached the gate the next morning. Molly didn't waste any time. She strode into the pen, talking calmly, and was shocked when Baby Two came up to her and all but asked for his morning bottle.

“Look at him, Bob! Baby Two knows me. He actually wants me to feed him.”

“I told you it would get easier. I'll be calling you Mary pretty soon.”

Reminded of what he'd said the first day, she laughed and happily started humming “Mary Had a Little Lamb” as Baby Two greedily sucked his formula down. He bumped her with his flat head a couple of times and Bob explained it was natural for them to bump their mamas while they nursed.

She couldn't explain how happy that made her. Just think, she was the mother of a hairy, humpbacked,
hundred-pound baby boy! Wonders never seemed to cease out here in the country.

Of course Baby One, always the wise guy, promptly dragged her around the pen like a dishrag and left her lying in the dirt as if he'd never seen her before in his life!

 

Bob was hurting, his insides shaking with laughter as he watched Baby One bring Molly straight off her mountaintop by sending her to the dirt once again. Breathing heavy, Molly propped up on her elbows and glared first at him then Baby One. “So you think this is funny, do you?”

“Hey, I told you not to make me laugh.” His ribs were killing him, but he couldn't help chuckling at the picture she made. “I'm telling you, honey, just when you think you have these kids figured out they change course on you. Parenthood—who says you need to travel the world to find adventure?”

She shook her head, huffing out a stream of breath. “I don't have a comeback to that at the moment. I have to say this
has
been an interesting, though dirty, adventure. But I'm not so sure I'll be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Well, rest easy. I'll repay the favor and be glad to take care of you if I need to.”

Spitting dirt, Molly rolled to her knees and pushed up from the ground, grunting. She made a cute picture in her jeans, which accented the length of her legs, and her lavender shirt. Dirty or not, he could watch her maneuver around in the pen all day.

“Third time's the charm,” she said, latching on to the runaway calf.

And it was. He dragged her when she grabbed him,
but she found her feet, and manhandled him into the corner. Then holding on to him like a pro, she extended her hand for the bottle, not looking at him but instead concentrating on talking sweetly to Baby One. Bob passed the bottle through the fence, overwhelmingly proud of the effort she'd put out. When his fingers touched hers, he had to fight the urge to hang on.

There was no denying it. Every moment that passed made it harder for him to pretend he didn't care.

“We made progress with Baby Two, so there's still hope for One,” she said, taking the bottle and breaking contact with him, completely unaware that he was fighting a battle he'd just realized he couldn't win.

Struggling to push away the morose reality smothering him, he focused on being in the moment. “If they'd been newborns, it wouldn't have been so strenuous. But since they're older and stronger and you're a girl…” He stopped speaking when she glanced over her shoulder at him. Her chestnut hair fell across one cheek and her eyes were sparkling in the sunlight.

It was no use. Nothing about this was going to get easy. If anything, looking into her eyes, he saw that not letting himself fall for Molly was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done. Because he just realized that it was already too late.

When her lips curved into a tender smile and the edges of her eyes crinkled, he was done for. The surge of connection was so swift and strong it made the adrenaline rush he'd gotten as a bullfighter before meeting a two-thousand-pound angry bull feel like child's play.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked.

He blinked at her in the morning sun.

Oh yeah, there was most definitely something wrong.

 

They were on Bob's back porch. She was collapsed in a lounge chair, filthy but content. John Boy was using her as a surfboard, tramping from her chest to her legs and back up again, tumbling on and off her as he went. Bob was balanced on the porch railing, because though he'd made progress over the past few days, sinking down into a lounger was still an impossibility. He'd insisted on making sandwiches for them, saying that she'd gone beyond the call of duty by taking care of Baby One and Baby Two. She'd been too worn-out to argue and had listened to him maneuver slowly around in the kitchen. Sadly, she realized he didn't need her anymore. The man was very capable and resourceful.

Looking at him, she took a bite of her ham sandwich and thought about the “sadly” part. Sadly, he didn't need her. Sadly, she regretted that fact. Very much.

Baby One and Baby Two needed her though. Feeling conflicted and confused, she was inexplicably grateful for that. Of course, as soon as Baby One came around and started behaving, Bob would only need to hold the bottle through the fence and let them eat. Then she wouldn't be needed anymore by them either.

As a cloud of gray depression moved over her, she just did not understand what had happened to her. She had a plan. A plan she loved.

“Did anyone say last night if they'd figured out why Applegate and Stanley are mad at Sam?” she asked, more
than ready to switch gears. She'd been wondering about the “feud” all week but had been too busy to look into it.

“I did hear someone say that Pete thought it had something to do with Adela.”

That got Molly's investigative juices flowing. “What in the world could it be? I can't help it, I think at the shower today I'm going to ask some questions and see if I can come up with some answers. Last night when we sat at the table where they usually play checkers, it didn't feel right. You know, us being there and them not being around.” Molly frowned. “And I can't help thinking part of the reason Sam's been so grumpy is because he misses his friends.”

“You're the reporter,” Bob said, setting his plate on the railing as he studied her for a minute. “Molly, for a while now I've been thinking about something you said that night at your apartment. When you cooked the lasagna, you said you hid in your closet. Why was that? Were you afraid? Or being punished?”

“No. Nothing like that,” Molly said, startled by the question. She'd let that information slip out accidentally. She'd never discussed her past with anyone and had been relieved when he hadn't seemed to pick up on the reference that night. Obviously, he'd been listening. She took a deep breath.
Why not?
What was so traumatic about her past? Nothing that she couldn't talk about—at least with Bob.

She inhaled and met his questioning gaze. “You said your father hadn't been there for you.” Sitting up, she placed John Boy on the ground to explore and watched him for a second. “That he was always traveling. Well,
my life was a little different, I lived with my parents in a middle-class neighborhood in Houston. To most people it looked like we had a perfect family. But my dad and mom had this love-hate thing going on and they argued constantly. As a child I couldn't understand it, and still don't really. I mean they loved each other, but they seemed to hate each other. When I was about four, I was playing with my dolls in my closet, pretending it was my dollhouse. That day when they started their usual round of fighting, for some reason I reached up and closed the door, muffling their angry words.”

Molly looked away from Bob, out to the clear summer day, with its soft breeze and uncomplicated open space. “It was unexplainable almost, sitting inside the darkness, trying to hide from their yelling…I don't remember being angry at them, I just remember disconnecting from their drama. I started daydreaming to block it all out. As a kid, it was my way of controlling my surroundings, I guess.”

“How long did you do that? Hide in your closet like that.”

She shrugged. “Years. At first I daydreamed because I found the dark soothing, like another buffer between the yelling. But as soon as I began to learn to write, I started turning on the light and journaling and it was like the light bulb came on inside of me. I became an observer during the day at school and a crazed diarist by night. Because there was always a fight between my parents, I got plenty of practice.” She smiled at him, trying to reassure him that all was well—because it was, for her.

He didn't say anything for a moment. “I'm sorry.”

“For what? You didn't do anything. And besides, I started early wanting to focus on stories about people and kids with real hardships. With real needs and hurts. I mean, after all, my home life might not have been perfect, but I had a roof over my head and food in my stomach.”

“Then I guess on that matter, we're even,” he said softly.

Molly nodded, feeling better somehow. “I guess so. You had a cross to bear that was different than mine, but linked. There are so many ways the world can break a person. I thank God that He entered my life when He did.”

“Me, too. I was able to cope with the anger on my own, but it means the world to me to be free of it, although I find myself backtracking sometimes. When that happens God reminds me that He's freed me from it. My heart aches for those who haven't learned that God is the key to healing.”

Molly thought about that, her mind churning. “I've toyed with writing a set of Bible studies on the subject of women transitioning from brokenness to healing. It was something I thought about right after I accepted the Lord, but I put it away. I mean, I'm not really qualified to produce something of that magnitude. You know I wouldn't want to lead anyone wrong. But, I could get qualified help, like Biblical advisors and a psychologist.” She hadn't thought about it in a while. She'd written an article that skirted the issues, thinking it would appease the idea that had tugged at her heart right after she'd come to know the Lord. Nothing had been appeased, but the devotional was one of those things that
had made her question the dream she was chasing. It was one of the things she'd become so adept at ignoring over time. She wasn't one of those people who could dream something all of her life and toss it away.

“What about your dream of travel? I wouldn't think there would be much travel involved in writing Biblical self-helps,” Bob said.

“It was just a thought. You know how it is with me and ideas. I get them by the truckload…” She paused. Why did that suddenly sound so wrong?

Bob's lips flattened. “Yeah. I remember,” he said, his eyes glinting in the sunlight. “Here, let me take your plate in. If you're going to make it to Dottie's wedding shower you need to head out.”

Molly watched him go into the house. He'd moved so quickly that she almost forgot the cumbersome therapeutic boot on his left foot. Standing slowly, she followed him. Was it her imagination or was he irritated? “I'll come back out later to feed the babies. Can I bring you anything? Maybe some cake?”

“You're too sore to worry with those misfits today,” he said gruffly. “I'll get one of the guys to come out and take care of it.” He plunked the dishes into the sink. They clattered together, an unmistakable acknowledgment that all was not well.

“I can do it, Bob. I don't mind.” What was wrong with him?

She stepped back when he swung around and glared at her. “Do what you want, Molly,” he snapped. “I've got to do some paperwork I've been neglecting.”

Molly watched him stalk down the hallway and into his office, closing the door behind him. She didn't have a clue about what had just transpired, but he'd gone from pleasant to angry in sixty seconds.