Love Inspired September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Montana Twins\Small-Town Billionaire\Stranded with the Rancher (16 page)

He showed the kids the various parts of the truck. Let one sit in the driver's seat, and when they were done, he gave them each a plastic hat and got them to pose in front of the truck where Sawchuk stood with a camera.

“I understand we can buy a copy of the photograph?” the boy's mother asked.

“Just fill in this sheet with your name, address and phone number if you want a print.” Brody got the numbers of the pictures from Sawchuk and put them on the sheet, then handed it to the woman. “If you pay us now, we'll mail the photo to you.”

He blinked back his own weariness as he watched her fill in the paper, smiling at the little boy who stood at the table, barely able to look above it. In a couple of years that would be Corey.

Would he be around to see him?

And where else would you be?

Brody dragged his hands over his face, as if to erase what had happened this morning and the consequences. Could he truly stay around in Jasper Gulch and see Hannah and her kids regularly?

Another family came by and he helped the kids get their pictures taken, all the while fighting his own weariness. He wanted to get back to the ranch. Leave town behind. Retreat and regroup. Pray. Think. Figure out where he should go from here. Move on, like his dad always told him. Don't look behind you.

Then, as he was helping a little boy out of the fire truck, he heard the familiar laughter of a child. A woman calling out Corey's name. And then—

“Brody. Brody.”

Corey?

He spun around, his heart twisting as he saw little Corey toddling toward him, his grin as wide as his outstretched arms as he wobbled and wove over the uneven ground, Sam Douglas right behind the little boy.

“Come back here, you little stinker,” Sam said, catching him and picking him up. But Corey leaned away, arms out to Brody, calling out his name. “Brody. Brody.”

Then, right behind Sam was Hannah, looking flustered and worried as she hurried to her father-in-law's side. “How did he get away?” Hannah was asking, reaching out for Corey.

“Brody,” Corey called out again, in single-minded determination.

Brody looked from the little boy, then over to Hannah. She was watching him, a curious expression on her face.

I need you to leave and not come back.

Those words, uttered with such a sense of finality, reminded him that it was over.

So why was she looking at him?

He looked from her to David's father, who was watching him, his expression puzzled.

Probably wondering why his grandson was calling out his name, Brody thought. Then Allison Douglas joined her husband and the look she gave him was one of polite dismissal.

If ever he needed a reminder that he would never be able to supplant David in Hannah's life, that was it.

He turned away from her, gave Corey a pat on the head, then forced his attention to a group of children who came running toward the booth.

“It's the fire truck place,” one of them called out, a young boy of ten with bright red hair and a mouth smeared with cotton candy. “Can we go on it, Mr. Fireman?”

“Of course you can,” Brody said with false heartiness. He didn't want Hannah to see how badly she had hurt him.

He brought the kids to the truck, but, unable to stop himself, he shot a quick backward glance over his shoulder. But she and her in-laws and the twins were gone.

“So what was that about?” Dylan asked him after the kids left.

“They wanted to see the truck,” Brody said, deliberately misunderstanding his question.

“I mean, what was that about with Hannah, doofus,” Dylan said, cuffing his shoulder with his hand. “I thought you two were, well, dating? You didn't say anything to her. You two acted like each other didn't exist. You have a fight?”

Brody tidied the packages of crayons and straightened the coloring books. “It's over.”

“What happened?” Dylan insisted.

“You're like a girl,” Brody grumped, walking away from him to the truck.

But Dylan followed him inside, watching as Brody fussed with the flashlights, straightened the gear and wiped an infinitesimal spot of dirt from the shining steering wheel. Finally Brody couldn't stand it anymore. He swung down from the truck and turned on his friend, hands on his hips. “I went to see her this morning. After the fire last night. I was barely in her apartment when she told me it was over between us. Told me to never come back. Sounds kind of over to me, okay?”

“Did she say why?”

Brody dragged his hand over the back of his head and grabbed at his neck, wishing he could ease away the tightness that had taken residence there. “Said something about being so scared and she couldn't do this again. Said that she couldn't live with the not knowing and the fear.”

“Hmmph” was Dylan's comforting response.

“And then she shows up here with David's parents, which is a reminder that I can never live up to this guy. So there you have it,” Brody said, pushing past his friend. “And now it's time for me to go home.”

“Why? Why home?” Dylan asked, following him.

Brody grabbed his jean jacket from the back of the chair at their table and slipped it on. “Because I'm done here. I'm exhausted and I need my sleep.”

“But what about the picnic basket auction?” Dylan asked.

“What?”

“I thought you were going to bid on Hannah's basket?”

Brody just stared at his friend, trying to understand what he was saying. “Are you kidding me? Didn't you hear me say that Hannah doesn't want me around?”

“I heard you tell me about a girl who was scared and who probably overreacted.” Dylan handed Brody his cowboy hat. “Maybe she didn't mean it.”

“She sounded convincing to me,” Brody said, flipping his hat onto his head.

“So you're just going to walk away. Book-it Brody doesn't look back,” Dylan said, making quote marks with his fingers and making a face.

“I have my pride.”

“And isn't that great company to have in your cabin when you're all alone. You and your television and your dog and your Harcourt pride.”

“What is your problem?” Brody glowered at him.

Dylan folded his arms over his chest, his feet planted, looking as if he was getting ready to dress down an incompetent rookie. “You. You and your pride. That's been your problem with Hannah from the beginning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You've always liked her. I know you have. You had a chance when she and David broke up that one summer, but you didn't do anything.”

“What could I have done? Swooped in and told her that I'm the one she needs to be with? You're the one who told me that anyone following David would have big shoes to fill.”

“What do you mean?”

“That morning we met Hannah at the café a couple of weeks ago and we walked back to the fire station together. I got to hear that story about David and how he got you going back to church.”

“I was just telling you that David was a good guy, is all,” Dylan protested. “I wasn't telling you to stay away from her.”

Brody felt confused.

“See? That stumped look on your face,” Dylan said, pointing at him. “It's like you don't think you have anything to offer her. It's like you don't want to fight for her. Like you've always been willing to let David be her guy.”

“He was her guy.”

“Was. He's gone. You're not.” Dylan raised his hands in a gesture of frustration. “Fight for her, man. She pushed you away 'cause she was scared. Show her that you're not giving up on her. Show her that she's worth fighting for. She's probably scared 'cause she doesn't want to lose you like she lost David.”

“That's exactly what she said. And how can I convince her otherwise?”

“Just show up. Just be there. Don't give up on her. Swallow your pride and go for her. I've never seen you happier than you've been the past few weeks. I don't think you should just let her go.”

Brody looked at his friend, still not convinced.

“Go back to the firehouse or your ranch,” Dylan urged. “Take a break. Pray about this and then grab a nap. Come back in a couple of hours and bid on her basket. Let her know you're not letting her go without a fight. It's worth it, isn't it? I mean, what else would you sooner do? Roll over and play dead? That's not the Brody Harcourt I know.”

Brody looked at his friend, and, for the first time that day, felt a ray of hope.

And as he drove back to the ranch, he took his friend's third piece of advice and started praying.

Chapter Twelve

T
he GGG was a hive of activity when Hannah stopped by later that afternoon.

Chauncey Hardman, Jane Franklin and Carrie Landry were busy packaging sandwiches, wraps and baked goods, and from the kitchen Hannah heard more voices of people working. Lilibeth and her sisters were running point, making sure things ran smoothly. Finished boxes were stacked up on a couple of café tables, each box a different size and shape. Young Maggie and Brian Landry were marking them, decorating them with bits of paper and felt markers.

“Hannah, Hannah, a word, please.” Vincente Forbes hurried toward her as fast as his portly build allowed, his dark hair even darker with sweat. “I heard you said that the town is paying for the food.” He stopped in front of her, huffing as he caught his breath.

“That's right,” Hannah told him. “We don't want you to be out for the extra work you're doing.”

Vincente pulled back, looking hurt. “I don't want to be paid. I want to donate what I'm doing today. And the food.”

“Really,” Hannah assured him, “that isn't necessary.”

“I'm here to help,” Vincente said. “I don't want to be paid. That's my donation to the centennial. I got a lot of extra business from all of this and will be getting a whole lot more. So I want to do this one small thing.”

Hannah was touched by his offer. “Thank you so much. That is very generous of you.”

“I want this auction that you put so much work into to be a success.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “You're such a brave girl, taking care of those kids by yourself.”

Here it comes, she thought. David again, but he simply patted her on the shoulder.

She gave him a quick nod, pleased how she could go through the motions of work, thankful for the busyness that kept her occupied. She didn't feel brave right now. All day she had struggled to keep thoughts of Brody at bay, reminding herself that it was for the best. Better to stop things now, before she got too involved.

But even as that thought formulated, she knew it was already too late. Brody had become so important to her that breaking things off with him now was as painful as anything she had ever experienced with David. More painful, she amended.

When she saw him just a few moments ago at his booth and he turned away from her, she felt a sorrow that had pierced her soul. She kept reminding herself that this was what she wanted. She had done exactly what she knew she should, yet it hurt so, so much.

“We only have a couple more to do,” Lilibeth said, joining her. “You sure you don't want to make one?”

“No. I don't,” Hannah said. “I think we have enough. Did Pastor Ethan put one together?”

“It's right over there,” Lilibeth said, pointing to a large box that was covered with blue tissue paper and decorated with silver stars. “But we should start bringing them to the fairgrounds.” She held up an envelope. “I also got the kids to make up name tags that we'll put inside the boxes and baskets so at least our auctioneer, Mick, knows who is bidding on whose basket.”

“But how will we get them there?”

“Me and my Mule are at your service.” Hannah heard a gravelly voice behind her and laughed when she saw Rusty Zidek standing behind her, his blue eyes twinkling.

And twenty minutes and two trips later, all the finished boxes and baskets were set out on the bandstand, filling up most of the available space. Hannah was arranging the boxes as Lilibeth handed them to her.

“This is amazing,” Hannah said, leaning back on her heels to check their handiwork. “After last night, I didn't think this would come together at all.”

“Funny how things can change.” Lilibeth carried the last box and gave it to her. As Hannah took it, the young girl gave her a sympathetic look. “So, you okay?” she asked.

Hannah wanted to be able to say she was doing fine. Her stock phrase whenever people asked her that after David's death. But this time she only shook her head slowly. “I'll get by,” she said quietly, standing up. “I was the one who called it off. I shouldn't be upset about it.”

So why did her voice waver like that?

Lilibeth put her hand on her shoulder. “I'm so sorry. I think you and Brody would have made a great couple. He was obviously crazy about you. But then, according to my sisters, he always has been.”

“What do you mean?”

“My sister Anabelle was all gaga over Brody when he first moved here,” Lilibeth said. “When they started dating, she found out that he kind of liked you. That was one of the reasons she broke up with him. She tried to tell him that you were with David. Always had been and always would be. But Brody only said that sometimes people change and that he was willing to wait and see.” Lilibeth gave her a sympathetic smile. “Guess he knows for sure now that it won't happen.”

The finality in Lilibeth's voice canceled out the surge of hope Hannah felt when the young girl told her about Brody's ongoing attraction to her.

“Guess not,” Hannah said. She felt her heart twist but then glanced over at the boxes, thankful that this, at least, had ended well. “But thanks so much for your help,” she told Lilibeth. “You may have not won Miss Jasper Gulch, but I think you've shown your loyalty to the town more than the crowned Miss Jasper Gulch has.”

Lilibeth just shrugged off Hannah's praise. Then she looked past Hannah. “Evening, Mayor Shaw,” she said.

“Evening, ladies,” Mayor Shaw said, doffing his large, black cowboy hat. He glanced over the bandstand and the rows and rows of baskets and boxes. “This looks impressive. You have been busy, Hannah.”

“It was Lilibeth's doing,” Hannah said, giving the young girl her well-deserved credit. “She was the one who organized the work bee at the GGG. She's been busy all afternoon.”

Lilibeth just shrugged off her praise, then beeping from her pocket made her pull out her cell phone. “Gotta run,” she said, then turned to Hannah. “You going to be around for the basket auction?”

“I'll see it to the end. Why?”

“Perfect. See ya.” And with that she jogged down the steps of the bandstand and was gone.

“So all suspicion has been removed from that young lady,” Mayor Shaw said, settling his hands on his hips as he glanced around the busy fairgrounds, as if taking stock.

“Absolutely. She is loyal to the town and has proven herself,” Hannah said.

She thought Mayor Shaw would be pleased, but he still looked troubled. “I realize that, but what bothers me is the fire last night. Theft and vandalism are one thing, but that fire could have killed someone. We need to find out who is behind all this, and now that Lilibeth is no longer a suspect, I have an idea who it might be.”

“Who do you think it might be?”

“I have an idea, but I don't want to spread any false rumors again. However, I do want to congratulate you on a job well done,” he said to Hannah, smiling again. “I'm sure that the auction will raise a goodly amount of money for the town.” And with that he was gone again.

Hannah watched him leave, then glanced at her phone. Time to revert to mommy role, she thought, fighting another wave of weariness. Though she had promised Lilibeth she would stay for the auction, part of her just wanted to go home and sleep. Although, she doubted she would be able to do much of that, either.

She shook off her maudlin thoughts. She had to be more like Brody. Keep moving. Look ahead. Don't look back.

It was the only way she was going to get through the next few days. Weeks. Months, even.

Dear Lord,
she prayed,
help me get through this. Help me to know that my strength is in You.

She felt herself waver and leaned against a beam of the bandstand. She stood a moment like that, her head down, waiting for the moment of weakness to pass. She had gotten through this before. She would again.

After a few moments, she straightened and caught herself looking directly at Gina Harcourt, who was watching her, concern etched on her features.

Hannah held her troubled gaze a moment, then turned away. She couldn't deal with Gina right now. She needed space. Space and time. But even as she assured herself, she knew that this time it would be harder.

This time she would be reminded in a physical way, each time she saw Brody, of what she had lost.

* * *

“My heart is not proud, Lord, my eyes are not haughty.”

Brody leaned back in his recliner and reread the first verse of Psalm 131, trying to put his current life in perspective.

He had been working his way through the Psalms and this particular one was the reading for last night. But he hadn't read it because last night he had been out fighting a fire. So when he had come back from town, he had grabbed his Bible, sat down and turned to where he had last left off, and the words of this psalm had jumped out at him.

You never fought for her. You were too proud,
he thought.

As they had all the way to the ranch, Dylan's words circled around the edges of his thoughts.
Show her that she's worth fighting for.
Brody lowered the Bible and let it rest on his lap as he looked off into the middle distance, reliving this morning when Hannah had told him to leave, that she couldn't do this. His first reaction had been frustrated anger. He had just gone through an exhausting fire and instead of being happy that he was okay, she broke up with him.

So he had taken her words and walked away with them.

What else was he supposed to do? She asked him to leave. She pushed him out of her life.

She was emotional. Overwrought.

That much was true, Brody thought. When he saw her face, he was more worried for her than he had ever been for himself.

Swallow your pride and go for her.

He wanted to. So badly. He had cared for Hannah so long and the past few weeks were like the culmination of all that yearning. As if God was rewarding him for his patience. He had given Hannah enough time to mourn and then, when he thought the time was right, he had tried to woo her.

Did he want to give up on all that now?

Brody blew out his breath and got to his feet. Maybe he should go for a ride on Rowdy. Clear his head. He glanced at the clock sitting on the mantel. He had about an hour and a half until the sun went down.

And about thirty minutes until the picnic basket auction.

Please, Lord, I don't know what to do.
The prayer was a cry of desperation and confusion. Did he dare go and try to win her back? What if she said no? He would look like a fool. Again.

He paused, trying to decide. Maybe he was making too much of this. So what if he went and bid on her basket and she turned away again? At least he could say he tried. At least he could tell Dylan he had fought for her. And he could tell himself the same. Was his pride more important than the chance that maybe, possibly, she regretted what she had done?

He made a decision and, grabbing his keys, he strode out of his house and got into his truck. A few minutes later, as he was driving down the highway, probably going too fast, his cell phone rang. He hit the receiver for his hands-free unit, staring at the highway ahead, trying to outrun his second thoughts.

“Hey, Brody. Where are you?” his mom's voice demanded.

“I'm on my way to town.”

“Good thing.”

“Why?”

“I would come down and drag you back here myself. You had better make sure you get here in time for that auction, young man.” His mom sounded cranky. “I saw Hannah Douglas standing by the bandstand. That poor girl looked like she'd been kicked by a horse.”

His mother's comment made him push a little harder on the accelerator. “What has that got to do with me?”

“I heard from Dylan that she broke up with you.”

“Yeah, which means I'm the one who should look like I've been kicked by a horse.” He knew he was being contentious, but for some perverse reason he wanted to be reassured that Hannah might have regretted what she had done.

“She's been through a lot. She was probably worried sick when you were out fighting that fire. You need to swallow your pride and give her another chance.”

Brody felt a smile tease his lips. “You think I have a chance?”

“You won't know if you don't try.”

That didn't sound reassuring, but Brody had to agree with her. He didn't know what would happen, but he also knew that, like his mother and Dylan had said, he had to try.

“Well, I'll be there in about ten minutes.”

“You better make it less. They're already starting the auction.”

Brody tried to still the panic his mother's words created. He would get there when he got there and in one piece. Even if someone else bought Hannah's basket, he needed to talk to her.

But just to give himself a bit more insurance, he stepped harder on the accelerator.

There was no parking on the fairgrounds and he ended up parking his truck on Massey Street. He had to jog to the fairgrounds, past numerous cars and trucks that filled the grounds. Looked as if there were a lot of strangers here to enjoy the fair. He could hear the sound of Mick's deep voice echoing over the grounds as he called out, “Sold.”

Brody doubled his speed, dirt kicking out from his heels, and by the time he came to the bandstand, he saw a few people had already purchased boxes and were finding the owners. Gary Finney stood by Chauncey Hardman holding a box and both of them were laughing. It looked as if Ryan had purchased Julie's, and Mick was announcing another box. Heart pounding with exertion and fear, Brody scanned the crowd but couldn't see Hannah or the twins anywhere.

Were they still here?

He worked his way through the gathering but was stopped by a knot of strangers taking pictures. Ethan stood beside them and gave Brody a quick nod when he joined him.

“So this basket or, shall I say, box, looks like it has been made with lots of love and care,” Mick was saying, holding aloft a blue box decorated with gold stars. “I can't say who donated it, but I know that it came from someone very special.”