Lost & Found Love (3 page)

Tabby decided she would use the weekend to get things in order in the house and finally go to Tarpley’s to stock the kitchen. When she arrived home a little after noon, she spotted a tall, lean figure with broad shoulders and a tight butt headed through the backyard next to hers over to the Baptist church. His caramel-colored hair glinted with golden highlights in the sun. No way was that the minister. She had pictured an older man with slicked back hair and a bit of a paunch when the real estate agent mentioned she would be living next to the parsonage. Tabby was surprised to find out he was not married, having assumed he was an older, widowed man. Maybe this guy was a parishioner.

Well, no matter. Minister or not, she had no intention of making his acquaintance. Tabby made a point of staying as far as possible from organized religion. Some of the biggest hypocrites hid behind the pages of Bibles they made a habit of thumping. In her experience, the more of a hypocrite they were, the louder they thumped.

Tabby retreated inside her house to assess what she’d need from the store. When that was done, she changed her skirt and long-sleeved shirt for a pair of biking pants and shoes. As hot as it was, she still slipped a long-sleeved shirt over her head so her arms and torso were covered from her wrists to her neck. She scraped her hair back into a ponytail, put on her helmet, and went for a ride.

Heading out of town quickly, she enjoyed the wind and the sun on her face as she rode along a narrow, twisting back road. She had a specific destination in mind, at least an address she wanted to check out, and was vaguely disappointed when she pushed her bike up the long, drive to find not the house her mother had described, but a newer, log home, and it appeared deserted.

Tabby studied the small grove of trees at the top of the hill behind the house and left her bike near the drive as she climbed to the top. Mama had told her she used to sit there, and Tabby wanted to see it close up. She was surprised when she reached the summit to find a tiny headstone there inscribed with the name Hope Richardson and a date thirteen years earlier. There was also a quote, “Like our love, born too soon. You will always be our best and brightest Hope.”

The stone didn’t look weathered enough to be thirteen years old, but it also wasn’t brand new. Why would a stone with the name Richardson be here on this land? Tabby’s fingers tingled as she touched the cool stone. The edges around the engraving were rough. Tabby frowned. She looked at the quote again, overcome with the feeling that she didn’t know nearly enough about the woman she had come to find.

All at once, she felt as though she were intruding, which in fact, she was. A nervousness she couldn’t explain overwhelmed her, and she leaped to her feet before running down the hill back toward her bike.

“Whoa!” A voice like a whip cracked, and strong hands grabbed her arms. Tabby froze. She fought back the urge to struggle away from the firm grasp as mental images of another man in another time flooded her brain. She had to fight the panic nearly blinding her, but it was a losing battle.

“Let me go!”

The tall man’s scowl deepened. “Who are you? And what are you doing here? You do realize you’re on private property, don’t you?”

As soon as he released her, Tabby took a deep breath and brushed her hair off her face. Back under control, she looked up, not that she had to tilt her head far. He paused for a moment, his thick brows still drawn together over dark gray eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked again, now with an underlying curiosity that bordered on intense. He wore authority like a well-worn coat, an obviously complex man who, right now, was frowning ferociously.

“Tabitha MacVie,” she whispered, desperately trying to think of an excuse for why she was there. She cleared her throat. “The new art teacher in Mountain Meadow. I—I’m sorry. I was riding and thought this was a road, and then—then I got up here and saw the trees, and…”

“…And you’re a very bad liar,” the man said. While she no longer sensed any real hostility from him, persistence burned in his gaze. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Evan Richardson, the commonwealth’s attorney. Now, maybe you could tell me who you really are?”

Tabby’s chin jutted. “Tabitha MacVie, and I
am
the new art teacher.”

“But you didn’t just stumble on this place, did you? Are you from here?”

“No.” She tilted her head at him. “You said your name is Richardson.” She glanced over her shoulder, deciding to take a stab in the dark. “Like the baby?”

He nodded, still watching her with narrowed gray eyes. “Why are you here, Miss MacVie?”

“I came here because my mother used to live here, and I came because I was hoping to find my sister. Maybe you know her.”

“Why don’t you tell me who you believe this sister is?” Caution shadowed his words as if he somehow already knew what she would say, but wasn’t sure he wanted to hear her actually voice it.

“Her name’s Jenny. Jenny Owens. Mama said I would find her here. This was where she grew up, but it looks deserted. Has she moved, Mr. Richardson? I would like to find her, to tell her about Mama. I have a letter for her.”

“Jenny’s my wife.” His eyes narrowed. “She’s expecting our child in less than a month. I don’t want her upset at this point, so what’s in this letter?” His gaze shifted to the tiny gravestone on the hill. “We’ve already had our share of troubles—then and now.”

“Mama’s dead,” Tabby said. “She died last year of cancer, but she wanted Jenny to know why she left. I—I came to tell her.” Her voice died as she, too, looked up the hill and her brow furrowed. “Never mind, Mr. Richardson. It’s been my secret for the last year. I can keep it a while longer.”

Worry darkened his expression, making it obvious how much he cared for his wife. Tabby wondered if Jenny knew how lucky she was. This was the kind of man who would always look after her first, even before himself. Tabby smiled. “My sister’s lucky to have you. I’ll go. I’m sorry I trespassed.”

“Wait.” He reached out to touch her arm, but Tabby avoided the contact without making it obvious. She didn’t liked to be touched, a holdover from her childhood that she couldn’t seem to shake. “I could give you a ride.”

She shook her head. “No. I need the exercise to clear my head.”

Evan nodded as if he understood. “We live on Maple Street. If you’d like to come by this weekend, we’ll be around.”

Hope stirred, but Tabby had learned long ago to be cautious. With a shift and a tug at the long sleeves of her shirt, she asked uncertainly, “Are you sure?”

Evan smiled. “Jenny would have my hide if I kept you away. In fact, why don’t we make it for dinner tomorrow night? Nothing fancy. We’ll throw something on the grill and invite our neighbors, Holly and Jake. Holly’s brother, Tyler, might even be one of your students.”

“Tyler Morgan?” At Evan’s nod, she smiled. “I’ve met him. I’d like to meet some other people, if you’re sure.”

“Four-twenty-four Maple Street. Around six tomorrow.”

He slipped behind the wheel of the big SUV he was driving, reversed, and headed down the drive. Tabby twisted her hair into its ponytail, put her helmet on, and mounted her bike to head home. She would meet her sister. She could give her the letter Mama had dictated to her. Then she would be done. Tabby had purposely kept herself from forming any expectations beyond that.

* * * *

Joe couldn’t stop smiling. Vacation bible school finished Friday night with a big, noisy cookout in the back of the church. Joe watched all the younger kids running around playing on the swing sets and the jungle gym while the older kids engaged in a spirited game of volleyball. He moved from group to group, spending time not only with the kids but also with the parents who were invited to this final night.

As he locked up the church and walked home, he reflected on where he was. A full year in Mountain Meadow and his ministry was paying off, particularly with the kids, which was exactly where he wanted to have an impact. Membership was up among younger families, but even the older members were content with some of the changes he’d introduced.

Things had turned a little sticky last year when Jake and Holly first showed up, but since the entire town soon fell in love with Holly and her baby, Noelle, that awkwardness was long forgotten. The only unsettling moments from his point of view were the constant invitations to dinners where someone’s unmarried sister, cousin, or best friend from high school suddenly showed up. He wouldn’t mind a date now and then, but he’d prefer to do the choosing on his own. He’d also prefer to eat something other than spaghetti or meatloaf.

Joe’s glance slid to the house next to his. He glimpsed a tall, slim woman lifting a bike and setting it on the veranda before she disappeared indoors. Ah. That must be the elusive Tabitha MacVie, not at all old it seemed. In fact, what he’d so briefly glimpsed had made his breath catch. Though her hair had been back in a braid, Joseph could tell that Tyler hadn’t exaggerated, it was long and nearly as black as her cat.

He wondered if Miss MacVie ate spaghetti or meatloaf. He hoped not.

As the evening wound down, his eyes strayed to the house more and more. When darkness fell and he saw the only light was once again in the third floor room, he was disappointed. What was she doing up there? He was tempted to grill Tyler, but that would be a bit too obvious. Not to mention pathetic.

With effort, Joe put her from his mind and returned to his house. He had a lot to get done Saturday, plus rehearsing his sermon one more time, and he didn’t need to be thinking about the mystery woman. But despite his promise to himself, when he got up the following morning to run, his eyes settled on her back door. The first thing he noticed was the bike was gone. Was she out riding again?

Joe stretched and began the longer run he normally saved for Saturday mornings. Five miles before he came home, showered, then stopped in at Tarpley’s to do his grocery shopping. It was a weekly ritual.

While he ran, he amused himself with ways in which he could meet his new neighbor. He envisioned offering her help getting settled, but she’d probably already done that. He pictured heroically rescuing her from something—maybe a burning house. No. He certainly didn’t want to see her house burn down. Maybe…

In the end, he met her in an aisle in Tarpley’s when they both reached for the same box of macaroni and cheese. It should have been the most mundane of ways in which to encounter an attractive woman, except that as soon as their hands touched, she stumbled back with a startled gasp and clutched her hand within her other as if she’d been burned.

Joe got that. He felt the same way as he stared into eyes as wide and golden as his next door neighbor’s cat. Her hair was only a shade lighter than the cat’s. This was the elusive Miss MacVie. She was tall, he noted, nearly eye-to-eye with him, and he was a shade over six feet. He smiled, but received only that shocked look in return.

Resisting the temptation to see if he’d spilled something on himself or had a smudge of grease on his face, he held out his hand. She didn’t take it.

“I’m Joseph Taylor.” He persevered, hoping to high heaven he didn’t blush. “Most folks call me Joe. I believe we live next door to each other.” When she still didn’t say anything, he continued. “Most of the time people say their name back to me. Have I upset you in some way?”

Finally, as if she pulled herself out of a trance, she shook her head. “No. I’m Tabitha MacVie—Tabby.”

He was still smiling, he realized, feeling awkward, but she had such a wary, watchful look on her face that he suspected she already knew most people called him Joe, just with Pastor with a capital P in front of it. It looked like she fit firmly in the first category of women, the ones who wanted to run like hell. “I’m sorry we didn’t meet sooner. Every time I stopped by, you were gone or it was late. It’s been a busy week.”

She seemed to shake herself, and a myriad of emotions flickered over her face, but when warmth and hope were once more overshadowed by wariness, Joe sighed.

“It was a busy week for me too. I’ve haven’t even had time to shop until today. Tyler brought me food the first day, and I’ve lived on that until now.”

She had spoken to him. That was a shade better than some encounters he’d had during seminary.

“Now I feel guilty for not making more of an effort to meet you sooner,” Joe said. “Why don’t I cook dinner for you tonight—welcome you to the neighborhood? I was going to throw a couple of burgers on the grill.”

Her smile was regretful. He was already getting the avoid-the-pastor two-step. “I already have a dinner engagement,” she said. “Evan and Jenny Richardson.”

Not a date. Maybe there was still hope. “You’ve met them?”

She was wary again. He saw it in the inscrutable look blanketing her eyes, almost as veiled as a cat’s. “I met Evan yesterday.”

He wanted to prolong their conversation, but couldn’t see any way to do so, especially when she was so obviously uncomfortable. He handed her the mac and cheese, and noticed she was careful not to touch him again. “Here. Take this. I can get a different box.”

Joe finished shopping, berating himself the entire time for mishandling the encounter. He was also overly conscious of Tabby’s tall form gliding up and down the aisles. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved man’s shirt with the cuffs turned back. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat braid. Heaven help him, she was beautiful. And every inch of her screamed hands off.

He should have been more assertive. She hadn’t been rude. He’d encountered that as well from women who obviously didn’t even consider him human. She just hadn’t been encouraging.

He finished shopping first and hurried home, careful to keep one eye on her drive as he put away his groceries. He would offer to help, that way they could talk some more. It would buy him some time.

* * * *

Tabby still tingled from where her hand had brushed Joe Taylor’s. For an instant, his touch had felt overwhelmingly right, a little zing of electricity that had made other parts of her zing too. She cringed at the thought. How could her own mind betray her in such a way? A preacher? She shuddered. It brought back horrible visions of her childhood. Still, Joe’s touch was different than those holier-than-thou men who had made her life hell.